#Would Refuse to Help Me with School and then Berated me for Failing

[authoralexharvey]

It's my mother's birthday and all I can think of is all the ways she traumatized me growing up.

[spacelazarwolf]

making a separate post but like. i don’t think some of y’all understand how genuinely traumatizing it is to have undiagnosed (or even diagnosed) adhd and go through school as the lazy stupid kid. i’ll tell you a little bit about what school looked like for me.

when i was in second grade, my teacher used to drag my desk up to the front of the class in the middle of lessons if i tapped my pencil or bounced my knee. she wouldn’t let me talk to any of my friends, and wouldn’t let me read my books when i was done with my assignments and was waiting for everyone else to finish. she would berate me in front of the whole class until i cried. her treatment of me got so bad my parents had to pull me out of school.

when i was in fifth grade, my teacher gave out “assignment alerts”, bright orange pieces of paper that indicated you’d forgotten to turn in an assignment. i was given dozens of these papers, and they started to build up, so it was harder to hide them. she would give these out in front of everyone in the middle of class, and she always made sure that when it came to me everyone knew i had the most. she would mock me in front of my classmates for my inability to keep up with homework and said that because my test scores were good it was because i was just lazy and didn’t care.

when i was in seventh grade, my teachers made me come up to the front of the class at the beginning and end of the period so they could inspect my assignment book and sign it, in view of the rest of my classmates, and announce whether or not i’d done my homework. when i inevitably forgot about assignments, they would berate me in front of the class.

when i was in high school, i wasn’t allowed to try to test into higher level classes because my teachers had decided that even though i did well on tests and papers, i wasn’t intelligent enough to take them because i couldn’t keep track of my assignments and deadlines. I was told over and over again that i was just lazy, and anytime i tried to explain what i later learned were symptoms of adhd i was berated and told i was making excuses.

when i was in college, i failed two classes my first year because i couldn’t keep up with the deadlines. the day before my second year, my best friend died, and i stopped going to classes. my teachers didn’t connect the dots because they assumed based on the previous year that i was just lazy and didn’t care about school. i failed several classes that year and never got the mental health assistance i needed, and my reputation at the school was pretty much shot. one teacher even went out of his way to try and fail me because he didn’t believe i deserved a degree. he tried to claim i’d plagiarized one of my papers to put a mark on my transcript. luckily he didn’t or i may have had to drop out. i had to do an extra year to make up for all the classes i’d failed, and barely graduated.

i did end up dropping out of my attempted masters degree (the only school that would take me with such a low gpa, and the only school that offered no scholarships or assistantships) because all of the teachers refused to give me any sort of accommodations, noting my bad grades from undergrad. i was given no patience or grace, my disability was not respected, and i had to drop out.

these experiences (which are just a handful of many) were so traumatic that they gave me diagnosed ptsd. i’m almost 30 and i’m still in therapy learning to cope with the horrifying levels of self hatred, anxiety, and dysfunction that my academic experiences gave me. i’m still learning how to even begin to function and take care of myself after i was told for so long by people who were supposed to help and support me that i didn’t deserve to succeed.

i fully understand how stressful it is to mask your neurodivergence in order to succeed, and how that can affect your mental health. i understand the high levels of anxiety and dysfunction in former gifted kids. i get that, and i respect it. but i’m honestly so tired of ppl trying to say there’s no difference in that experience vs. mine. that someone who had a 4.0 all through high school and college and got a good job is just as materially affected as someone who couldn’t just push through, who couldn’t make it through higher education, who couldn’t graduate high school, who can’t hold a job at all.

these experiences are all valid but they are DIFFERENT. and when the only people i ever hear about when talking about adhd are the former gifted kids, it makes me feel so incredibly alone. and maybe if there were a greater variety of voices and experiences that were showcased, people like me wouldn’t feel so isolated and self-critical. maybe we’d realize that we deserve grace and kindness too, even if we didn’t get to be the gifted kids.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

The Beginning (The Riddler x Reader)

You worked for the Riddler. It wasn't your plan by any means but being new in Gotham and completely alone often led to this outcome. Over the last nine months, you had taken every insult, condescending lecture, patronising comment and snarky remark of your lack of intelligence. You did a damn good job of it too. He had told you with nonchalance about his multiple stays in Arkham and each one sounded like hell. Ever since, you have had little to no sympathy for Arkham's staff. Ironically, those who were to help these tortured souls had no empathy for the patients. They spoke of rehabilitation yet used unspeakable violence against patience and to make matters worse, patients were treated less than humans and used as experiments when authorities weren't looking. So it really was no wonder that those like the Riddler did not get any better.

He seemed to warm up to you and whilst it didn't save you from his remarks, it did put you in better graces. Not to mention the occasional extra money he paid you. When you tried to return it, he berated you for being such an idiot that you wouldn't think to keep it to yourself. It took you weeks to figure out that it wasn't a mistake and he was giving extra on purpose.

If he could depend on anyone, the Riddler thought he could depend on you. However, that came with the heavy reminder that he never needed anyone or anything. The glaring hint of his fondness was actually in what he didn't do. You had seen many henchmen who had failed him be beaten within inches of their life or even to death with anything he had at the time. If not building anything, it was his gold cane. If he were building, it was spanners, hammers and anything with some weight. He could make anything a weapon if he was angry enough.

Yet he never raised a hand to you. Oddly enough, you weren't afraid of him. You couldn't help but consider him a tortured soul so you tried your best to accommodate him. Even though you worked for him, you liked to think the two of you had developed some kind of friendship over the months as he began to trust you more with details about his life. Then when a budding romance was on the table, he gave you more information about himself- specifically his childhood. He was bullied through school, his mother abandoned him and his father when he was seven as she didn't want to be tied down.

His father blamed him for her leaving and refused to look at himself when he was nothing more than a grotesque, life-sucking alcoholic. He refused to go any further into his relationship with his father which was odd considering Edward adored details. He wasn't his usual self when he appeared at your door unannounced. He avoided your gaze and at first would only say he had to speak with you.

After a bit of talking, he admitted he hadn't told you everything- something you already knew but weren't going to comment on that. However you never expected him to tell you what he did. "I was abused by my father." Edward said flatly. "Physically, verbally, mentally. He hated me." "Yeah?" You didn't know what else to say but what you found more important was to give him complete control in the conversation along with your full attention. He was always comfortable most when he was in control and to tell you something so vulnerable?

Well, he deserved it now more than ever. He nodded. Risking that you might sound rude, you tried to be careful with your tone. "So why are you telling me now?" You asked carefully. "Has something happened?" You immediately thought it to be your imagination when you could have sworn you saw Edward's lip quiver slightly. "Because you're more than work and more than a friend. You should know why I..." He paused, averting his gaze. "...why I am the way I am." He blinked a couple of times and through the light of the window you saw his eyes glisten slightly. "I owe you that much after everything. I'd like to see where this goes. I want you to know me and that's something." There it was again, the lip quiver. It was so quick that you once again had to shrug it off as your imagination. "I am a selfish man, (Y/N). I make no apologies for that. Don't expect me to give you anything of the sort when I don't have time for you. It's all I...am."

The more he spoke, the more he struggled but you didn't move to silence him. That isn't what he needed. As much as you wanted to console and reassure him through his emotions, you did neither because in your eyes, such a move could make him recoil and lose his nerve.

You trusted that Edward had thought this through and would commit to sharing with you until he was done and then you would do something. In that moment, you'd listen only. Sometimes that's all that is needed- to be heard. You speculated that's all Edward ever wanted was to be heard and not just heard but listened to.

He continued. "My immediate response is to berate, not to empathise. I have to be the best at everything. All because that was how my father treated me. I was never good enough to amount to anything. He'd beat me for good grades because I was too much of a moron to ever succeed in anything and must have cheated. I'd be beaten if I lied or if I told the truth. Nothing pleased him. To my peers, I was weird. No one cared. Even now I prove my brilliance and I am disregarded by incompetent fools who can barely do basic arithmetic." Edward sucked his teeth with frustration. A hint of sadness in his eyes. "So I can't help but enjoy every jab I make towards everyone. Including you. Only you have just taken it time and time again. I get no reaction out of you. I-" His voice cracked. "When I do that to you, I am reminded that's what my father did to me and I took it. For years and years and it makes me sick as I see you do it now.So I'm telling you this to give you the chance to run. I'm giving you that. The opportunity to get out whilst you can before I-" He cut himself off sharply, shaking his head and averting his gaze one again.

Bzzt...bzzt...bzzt... Your attention moved to your phone. "It's Jenson. I was to meet him for the...you know." Just like that, Ed recoiled into himself and sat back. "Alright." He mumbled. He was clearly dejected. Once again feeling dismissed as you answered the call.

"Jenson, hi, I didn't realise the time. I would have called sooner." You were silent for a moment, eyes flickering to Ed and he waited. He waited for you to excuse yourself and leave him hanging with the most vulnerable piece of him that he had tried to bury for years. "Actually, Jenson, there's a family emergency. I can't do the meeting today." The Riddler's gaze snapped back to you with surprise. "Can we meet tomorrow? Tell the guys yeah? I'll call them tonight or something and apologise. I'll also explain myself to Penguin's guys."

Even as you hung up the phone, Edward could only stare at you with disbelief, a flicker of hope brewing in his chest. Of all possibilities, you dropping everything for him- even the job he hired you for and ultimately risking your paycheck- wasn't one of them. "I've to explain to you why the meeting didn't happen five minutes ago but I think you understand." You informed him and he let out a breathless laugh in disbelief. "So..." You began as you clasped your hands on the table in front of you. "...would you be understanding if I told you I didn't go to the meeting I was supposed to be at five minutes ago?" He hummed with a nod in response, lips quivering as tears threatened to spill.

He was no longer able to trust his voice as it cracked through his hum and breathing took a little bit more effort. "So what I'm getting is, correct me if I'm wrong, is that you've told me this because you'd like to take a step forward with me and are worried that I wouldn't be ready for that and run from you screaming?" You asked with a slight head tilt.

Reality seemed to hit him hard as it struck him what he had done. He had given you his weakness, his flaw. He had shown you the other side of him that not even he could love or have the time for...with the hope you could. Anxiety bubbled in his gut but also an unexpected feeling of relief that someone he cared about in this world knew of this piece of him. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. All the control, Ed loved he had let go and given to you. You hadn't thrown it back in his face like others had before, just as he was used to. You were different in every sense of the word. The emotion was so much he had to vocalise it. Now that he had opened the floodgates, he couldn't stop.

"I've never told anyone this before." He said shakily against the lump in his throat. "How do you feel now that you've told me?" You asked gently. That was all it took. That opportunity to be heard and the validation that came with it was everything he had craved throughout his childhood and even now. Tears finally fell and a sob escaped him. "Relieved...like I can breathe around you again." Another sob escaped and Edward quickly lowered his head, covering his face with his hand, elbow propped against the table.

He hadn't been allowed to cry as a child and Edward kept that rule for himself into adulthood. Yet he couldn't push it all back down the way he had before. He couldn't stop his tears. You leaned forward. "I'm glad you told me." You said softly, immediately reaching for a nearby napkin and passing it to him. Then you stood up and moved to his side before crouching down by his chair. "I'm honoured that you trust me enough to tell me this and I'm happy because now its not an invisible obstacle between us, you know? Like you've given me a key to connect you more and that's what I want. I want to connect with you more." You put a hand on his arm and he looked at you. "Thank you, Edward." You said quietly with a warm smile. "You really want this? With me?" He managed out. "I want all of you. Everything you have to offer- I'll have it all." You answered.

As he looked at you, he tried to wrap his head around how you could. Yet he could see the honesty in your eyes. You meant every word- but he didn't understand how you could. Edward was frightened of his uncertainty for all of this. He'd spent so long deflected and avoiding these emotions that he had forgotten what they were like until now and they were overwhelming.Yet with you, he felt completely safe. Then you caught him off guard again.

"Can I hug you?" You asked lightly. Ed nodded tearily, pressing his lips together in a tight line as he tried to suppress another sob. Your smile widened and you mumbled something about having to stand before your legs went dead. Whilst he didn't show it, he couldn't help but find small amusement in that. You straightened slightly and held him to you, one hand in his hair other holding him to you. To your surprise, Edward wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tightly. "So I think..." You mumbled to him quietly. "...I should get us something to eat and then you can teach me chess. How's that sound?" You knew he'd figure out what you were giving him. Time alone to collect himself as he often required, away from any prying eyes so he didn't have to continue a show. You felt him nod against you. "Good because you've been telling me you would and you've been so busy." You smiled. "You're brilliant, Ed." You whispered to him quietly. "Every moment I get with you is a gift and I'm not letting you go." You assured him quietly.

[rulanarinrush]

d/rdt rewatch ch2 part 2. please do not interact if you find this

ep4

i don't talk about j a lot but what arturo does is genuinely creepy, and unfortunately something so many women are familiar with

whit: not a relationship counselor

charles: DO IT BOYFRIEND. OTHERWISE, GO MY BLOODHOUND LADIES

"why so boyish and rude?" oh misogyny welcome back to 2080

eden, while i do get your sympathy for him after receiving his secret, j is definitely the one you should take the side of here. stalking gets nasty really fast, even if you ignore the misogynistic comments

veronika+nico is kind of cute...

nico, you should know ace is a sensitive boyo..., too self-aware to try to improve

"you're not really fighting with nico because you care about what [they] say(s). After all, it's not like you ever valued [their] opinion in the first place." you're afraid you'll be next.

"when i was in middle school, people would send me boxes with a bunch of rope on my birthdays and tell me to go kilI myself, all the time. You're totally doing the same thing."

"failed hanging attempts are pretty painful"

"sorry im late" EVERY DAY DAVID

charles is learning how to cook

i like how arei makes a face at david's "secret reveal". more foreshadowing i missed

"imagine it as a confession of sorts" OH JUDAS GOT JOKES NOW

"but even though you want to prevent murders just as much as i do" OH JUDAS 2 ALSO GOT JOKES

teruk/o and arturo being reluctant to share

whit: bi, cheated on 10th math and history final, chronic shoplifter. JUDAS 3 GOT JOKES WITH THE "I AINT KNOW WHAT MY SECRET IS"

still a weird motive for murder but whatever

oh i forgot this. as soon as whit leaves david tells them they should tell other people what their secret is

who's vs whose

just noticed with all these conversation of clocks the sun rotates counterclockwise in the corner

ep5:

arei your voice please spare my eardrums

david and teruko: twiddling their thumbs as arei berates eden

" i can't stand nice people like her unless I can see them suffering"

david: wlw hostility scares me

"my older sisters made my life hell. i repaid them. that's hell."

"...other than for no reason other than it was fun."

"and if i had to go to the hospital once or twice, that was nothing more than an inconvenience to them"

"my sisters taught me that we live in a dog-eat-dog world. if you're sick of having to drag your face through shit and mud, then all you have to do is step on other people until you reach the top."

"Kindness is weakness"

I'm not a cruel person. I'm just trying to survive. I lied, earlier. I didn't really enjoy seeing eden cry, nor did I enjoy making her feel bad. I was only trying to help her.... only strong survive. If Eden doesn't realize that soon,... she's going to suffer for it. "

"It's not fair that she can be kind and trusting, that's not how it was for me!"

David turning up his charisma to 100

She lived most of her life in the same place.

Self-awareness huh arei

blush on david when arei's not looking

painting goes hard. dev is very talented

show me the others rose... i want to see min's execution again

"My dreams... mix into one until i can no longer tell what's real"

"When I paint I ramble a lot"

"I refuse to show weakness"

"I wanted to be a greater painter when I was a kid, but none of my original stuff sold well"

"family runs a hair salon and we were short on funds all the time"

"one particularly careless buyer ended up leading the trail back to me. caught at 15. bailed out by richard spurling, billionare founder of spurling foundation

"anything i make belongs to them now"

"to be honest, I'm not happy with my life now. Working to pay off my mistakes, and never being able to call my art my own, this isn't a life any artist, or anyone would want."

"It's been so long that I don't think I remember how to paint something original anymore. spark of vitality is missing, and I'm missing a part of myself."

"there's no value in the creations of someone who's fallen so far from artistry." "the only thing i can get out of art is catharsis." that line actually kinda hurt me a little as someone who writes fanfic specifically because it has no value and because it brings me and me alone catharsis, and my art, no matter how derivative, saved my life. but i get the intent of the line.

"I thought it would be rude to interrupt" now you care /verylighthearted

"I want to be an artist" AND HERE COMES JUDAS 4(Nico)

"constantly picking on someone weaker than you"

i like how david uses this window of opportunity to reveal their secret rather than immediately give it back to them like it rightfully is as soon as nico said "i don't want to." mai and david sitting in a tree,

"rose what do you think i should do?" about what levi put the subtext in the sentence

"I was worried you would pick up rocks and start throwing them at me"

"usually people call me special in a derogatory way"

"So then revealing your secret was a good thing right?" nico: um no david: ANYWAY

david: i don't want to force you. that would defeat the purpose

nico: man ur a bitch

*hu's westernized name is julia. interesting to me because I've always thought jing was a more common given name

"supposedly, the water was so still that it perfectly reflected the sky and the many butterflies that flew above the lake during those quiet morning hours" no wonder you have mental health issues your parents were fuckign morning people

j drags teruko into the changing rooms and teruko threatens her wit a knife

"who's there! i know you've been following me"

"about the arei thing, we made up! so everything's fine. you aren't going to pry?"

can hear sound from gym to elevator

nico runs away, but doesn't "confirm" guilt until trial

stepstool, broom, wire, blade

sticky tape disappears when eden gets knocked down. could mean eden or ace took it, or it got kicked away

Levi comes out of his room after hearing the commotion. Eden and Teruko arrived first. "I'm not going to kill you now or ever. except arei she's different."

"Why do I even bother?" Levi walks away but does not go back to his room. Teruko leaves for her room first and does not track where Eden goes.

ep 7

Hu: I'm Nico's #1 defender. if there are no nico defenders left, i am dead

gym is still closed by noon of next day. rose wanted to go to the gym

pullup reveals that grippy tape is missing. also reveals that nico used painting excuse to steal turpentine from rose. it is still missing.

crack in the furthest wall from the door of the computer lab

charles and whit ramble about machine-learning algorithms

veronika left her "weapon" for everyone to use (horror collection, in the form of dvds)

min discussion makes teruko wound up

whit: "saying you don't care about the people you lost to move on? Sounds good"

charles: wat

"childhood amnesia" charles:... teruko:.... charles: .... teruko: PLOT CONVIENCE

whit sends david off to the relaxation room, where he will have his confrontation with arei (also, does that mean david hasn't eaten in like. 20 hours? Since they normally don't eat breakfast before the morning announcement?)

veronika sneaks up on teruko while she's eating and watching a movie, and gets punched on reflex

veronika determines teruko has prosopagnosia

"im someone who gets bored very easily. that's why when i find something that gets me excited, i get addicted. i can't help it. but at the end of the day, fiction is only fiction. the idea that i could screw up my life beyond repair... that's exciting to me"

Eden's plan to bore the audience probably won't work cuz the hidden quote implies as much.

"I said I'd like to live here. But it's not like I want the killing game to continue. It makes ppl suffer." veronika :3

"My idea is far too risky... I might a well decide to wait for a murder... they should bear the brunt of the consequences. You'll figure out when another murder occurs."

"I'm worried about the motive reveal, my receiver hasn't reached out to me, and i have too many secrets as opposed to too little." (Wants to hide herself)

"What about u veronika? know ur secret and ok w/ the others knowing?"

veronika used obfuscate!

"I do know which secrets I gave to which person. I just don't know who each secret was originally about."

"Do you really think she'd be hanging out in the playground now?"

"Teruko, wait" is interesting. comes from eden. we don't know what that would be for.

*lights flicker occasionally from the broken light.

[friev]

as much as i love her im sort of terrified to visit her again. it’ll only be for 15-ish days but what if something happens again? the closer i get to the day of my flight the more memories come back to me about how she treated me. (vent-ish rant below)

i still can never forget the time when we did live up there together for those 6 months and had that fight. she never listens to my boundaries and gets pissy with me when i react explosively to her blatantly crossing lines i can never emphasize clearer. i was a “disrespectful brat” because i bit her in self defence JUST to get away when she held me to the ground in a HEADLOCK all because i got overwhelmed while she kept following me around trying to provoke an argument?? i was repeating “i do not want to talk please leave me alone” but IM the one who acted out improperly??

throughout my childhood i could never completely find comfort in her because not only did she physically abuse me but i was just terrified of her. i remember telling her about how i was genuinely scared of her and it was always “i’ve never done anything to you! theres nothing to be scared of” but she completely disregards the physical abuse she did to me because it was “just simple discipline” and “nothing else worked on you”

it was just another day to her but every day she insulted me and berated me with arguments and snappy remarks only to come to my room after everything cools down to emotionally manipulate me with some “you still love me right? i’m your mother and i make mistakes too” but NOTHING EVER CHANGED. i remember ALL OF IT. she did it AGAIN AND AGAIN.

the morning after my failed attempt was such a stressful day. i went to her for comfort. i went to her looking for help because i was beyond unstable and needed my mother to comfort me. i told her blankly “i just tried to kill myself” and what does she say?? “i don’t believe you” YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME? YOU. DON’T. BELIEVE. ME. with her blatant actual refusal of that traumatic event it pushed me right into a panic attack, where she proceeded to call me a “overdramatic brat” while i was crying, my entire body giving out and falling to the ground. she believes me now because me going up to see her is because i was suicidal and i need to be around her, but she has never properly apologized to me about that day, even refuses to talk about it. i’m probably going to mention that to her when i get up there because it has bothered me so much for YEARS.

she completely up and left me with my dad who i was terrified of for more than half of my life and STILL don’t trust just so she can go and get a better job and live with her husband miles away making me feel like i was just a burden to her. in the proceed of getting what SHE wanted she took away my dog, my home, my main support (her) and put me in a apartment alone with a man i thought would rape me when i was 9 because of some incredibly predatory shit he said TO MY FACE. to his own DAUGHTER. my life was fucking ruined because she didn’t want to wait just two more years for me to get out of school for her to completely leave my life.

my entire childhood i was babying HER. i was the one comforting HER. after every argument she had with my step-dad i would go out and hug her. i would stay with her while she cried and i would listen to her complain and vent to me. my ENTIRE CHILDHOOD was me making sure SHE was okay before myself. i didn’t deserve that. i can’t believe there are so many times where i had to get out of bed, head downstairs and literally emotionally guilt trip my parents into stopping their yelling and arguments just so i could sleep peacefully. she disregards so much of my trauma because to her it was just another day, to me it was my life.

i just hope to god this trip goes okay because im NOT ready to get molested by a small town neighbour again! was not fun!

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

y'know i scrolled past and commented on an article from the new york times last week or something, that was about the interest rate on american student loans skyrocketing to 6.5% this year. this wasn't a surprise to me, when my HECS etc debt for uni here in australia was indexed at 7.1% last year. and at 4.5% this year, because of cost of living pressures. so ,overall, my hecs went up 3k this year over my hecs/vet fee help from business college (2.5k) and my student start up loan (ie centrelink/social services study money for textbooks each sem which i half saved and half spent each sem) went up $450 basically. and last year they went up $645 (ssl) and nearly 4k (hecs etc) in 2023. overall i owe 67k now i think.

anyway. my real gripe with the comments on this article, when it was re-posted for more engagement, was the common complaint that "why doesn't everyone just do trades??? STOP wasting your time doing useless degrees in fairytale land like english and film/media and acting and even business/marketing etc..... and do the REAL work of trades!!!" and "why does everyone forget about TRADE SCHOOL???" stop being afraid of getting your hands dirty and GET IN THERE and do trades!!! who NEEDS a sociology or entrepreneurship major anyway???" etc etc. like yes. i understand there's a shortage of trained/skilled trade workers in the US (and also in australia). and i also understand that colleges/universities globally are graduating WAY TOO MANY grads to fill grad job openings in their desired fields. but that does not mean everyone should do trades.

well. the problem is, trades aren't a be all and end all solution, OR great for everyone. i personally KNOW i am NOT suited for trades and other heavy work. for example, the trades classes that i was forced to do in years 7 and 8 in 2008/2009, bc they were fucking compulsory (and shouldn't've been imo) for 2 years, i failed ON PURPOSE. bc i saw no point in constantly being berated for my work. i saw no point in learning to build my own money box in woodwork, my own chimes (that i turned into crowbars bc i didnt have the stamina to cut the metal by hand or whatever) in metal work. or the remote control car that i burnt my leg with a hot glue gun for, bc i REFUSED to listen to OHS/WHS (ie the safety rules) bc i thought that listening to and following safety rules in the tech rooms "wasn't PUNK and HARDCORE" or whatever dumb shit i said at the time, lmao.

when it came time to do year 11/12, i did pick a tafe (aussie technical college) class in entertainment industry, for the sake of getting rid of maths on my class schedule lmao. this had a trade component of miniature set building and prop-making. which, although ultimately the tafe either threw my project out, bc i kept joking that it belonged in the trash bc i sucked at building things...... or i took it home and threw it out.... or it was just lost.... i kind of enjoyed. mostly bc it was specifically geared to the arts industry. i had learnt from my mistakes with glue guns in plastics shop and not listening to safety rules.... when me being sued by *insert one of my fave for 5eva mid2000s emo band guys here* hung in the balance bc of some faulty light rigging falling down mid show or w/e, that they actually mattered lmao. (not real btw. just an example. although i swear something like this happened to justin beiber in 2013).... aside from the prop-making etc, it was also lighting and sound.

but still. if i'd followed this trade through.... and years after when the pandemic happened 4 score years ago..... where would have my skills gone??? where would my JOB go??? do y'all NOT remember that whole industries... and MOST esp the entertainment industry, was nearly entirely decimated for a year and a bit bc of covid??? i would have HAD to retrain in something, anyway. and that something would've been an arts or creative arts degree tbh.

it also doesn't help, that right now, one of my old colleagues from my shitty cadetship workplace, that i use as a referee on my job applications, keeps trying to get me to study fashion (like. ashwin. where the FUCK are the stable jobs in fashion???) all bc i like DRESSING WELL, which has nothing to do with making my own clothes, imo. i have never had an interest, really, in sewing (mostly destroyed by my year 6 teacher at catholic school in 2007 who told me "you'll never be a real christian woman if you CAN'T SEW!" during a class cross-stitching project of a penguin).... but i can very obvs APPRECIATE all the fibre arts for what they are. i can also appreciate and admire the work that goes into costuming on game of thrones, or bridgerton, or LOTR, or even shakespearen stage productions or WICKED, for example.

but the trade of making clothes has never been my interest or passion. just because i enjoy dressing well, that does NOT mean i want to make clothes for a living. or let alone, probs work in retail for the rest of my life. i have never truly enjoyed trades and exerting physical effort to make stuff. i do not have the strength or fine motor skills for many trades, like being an electrician or refrigeration/air conditioning installer (which funnily enough shared the building with my tafe class in entertainment in 2012/2013). i don't have the fine motor skills for sewing (which is what my shitty year 6 teacher was telling me off for earlier) or other needlepoint arts.

i HATE woodworking and metalworking myself, due to the negative experiences i had in school with them. audio and sound design and tech jobs i can appreciate, but i couldn't picture myself doing really at the end of high school... bc i learnt in my 2 week work placement at a local guitar shop..... that carrying 2 electric guitars at the same time tipped me forwards. i also couldn't lift them over my head to hang them on the walls after cleaning them. so, that then meant i couldnt work for idk, BMTH or ATL or paramore as a stagehand. i hated tying knots and learning types of knots bc my fine motor skills are shitty in that regard too (i took like 4 years to learn how to tie my shoes in primary school). i also struggle to lift things over like 5kgs. and many things in an entertainment workplace are like 10kgs plus.

hell. i dont even like cooking. i probs purposely got my part of the year NOT to do cooking in years 7 and 8 bc i kept making jokes about how incredibly terrible my cooking skills were. that i'd probs burn down the entire tech block, and the one PE demountable at catholic school, by merely trying to boil noodles or by making toast lmao. it's also why i never bothered doing hospitality/hospo in my hsc at public school, bc i would've burnt down the entire like D building lmao.... and i straight TOLD THAT to the careers counselor lol. even though i probs would've gone better with hospo in my schedule rather than biology bc they were on the same line. believe it or not. but i digress.

so where i am meant to go at trade school??? oh that's right. office jobs: so a certificate III in business. or a diploma in HR. or a diploma in legal admin. idek. but these sadly are the jobs that are overrun with uni grads in HR, business or law/legal studies students. so my cert 3 in *enter office field here* is also useless, unless it's part of a traineeship at a business. maybe digital media. hell, some of these fields were/are even done in tandem at my local uni WITH tafe (event management/tourism management, digital media) or at least they were back from 2013 to 2018. i havent looked since tbh.

just. trades arent for everyone. and it doesn't help that unis are actually taking many of the trade certificate sort of courses in artsy fields off of TAFE here in aus. like a cert III in legal admin would be equivalent to the first year of a legal studies degree (probs i have no idea tbh) in a uni arts department. unis took journalism certificates and diplomas away from tafe. instead you have to spend 40k on a communications and media degree majoring in journalism and professional writing and screen media. instead of like 10k on a diploma of journalism or diploma of digital media, that i looked at back in 2013.

there's special schools in sydney that specialise in entertainment industry courses. which if i'd HAD the money for that university (bc they were semi-private and REALLY WANTED people to pay up front) i would've done classes in costume design, audio design, entertainment business management (possibly majoring in the latter). which then cost far more than the tafe diploma of live theatre, production and events that i looked at continuing onto at the end of high school. (it's now called something different i think). besides the point i don't live in sydney. so, that's why i dropped any career aspirations in the entertainment industry tbh.

but yeah. trades arent a solver for the student debt crisis. many people aren't suited to them, like myself. and no. this is NOT me being a "lazy millennial" or whatever. i just personally know that trades have never been my interest or my talent. but i CAN appreciate them. much like people need to learn to appreciate the arts making their fave tv shows and movies.

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

Brain going brrr for Shen Jiu food today sosisosl

So hear me out, modern au. Shen Jiu doesn’t remember anything of their past live(s) and is a relatively famous internet chef. Like he has a PO Box and everything for his fans to send gifts or letters for him to personally read and tell them either what to do or that he’s proud, he never shows his face though, a deathly fear of being found, but by who? His young son, Ming Fan, is all but excited to be Shen Jiu’s direct bloodline in this life. Shen Qingqiu was always his father figure in the first life, but the second he got hurt or something and started caring for that nasty LBH.

Sometimes, Shen Jiu feels unsafe when out on the street and going about his day to day life. He doesn’t know why but certain faces of public figures terrify him. A little lady on the street selling hand made jewelry and staring at him like she’s seen a ghost makes him physically sick. God, he despises the face of this rather famous actor, Luo Bing-something?? He hates this confusing feeling that seemed to come of nowhere. That doesn’t stop them from trying to approach once they see him.

Women in fancy clothes and strong perfume dote on him and he practically melts in their arms. Confused on how they know his name but more than happy to chat about life. They seem happy for him, ecstatic even! Men in suits ranging from serious CEO to flashy idols would stop their cars and holler at him for his time of day. He despises men like that and gives them no acknowledgement while he continues on his way. If he’s lucky they have a tight schedule, if not they follow him to the grocery store and corner him in the frozen section while he picks out treats for his son. Two men have tried that and were met with a smack by popsicles. Social media was set a blaz when videos of this Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge cornered the same man on different days and tried harassing him. Of course their stans refused to believe it was their fault. It MUST be the pretty man minding his business throughout the proof on the grocery camera. The companies dared to contact him afterwards and SJ happily sent back his lawyers information and video proof of their ‘important persons’ harassment and stalking.

One was bold enough to publicly announce that they were looking for him at a political event. Broadcasted nationwide. Shen Jiu felt nothing but disdain for that Yue man. Who says “I’m looking for a man I haven’t seen since I was young and dumb.” During a political conference?? Just because you know it’s being broadcasted!? His fans during a livestream asked what he thought about it and he angrily said that Yue man was a fool! An absolute clown for thinking that wishing some guy that doesn’t even know him will come looking for him just because he said his name!

He never had a bad experience with women until one scowled at him and he instinctively scowled back. He had his son with him that day and was trying to not be hounded. But this woman continued to follow him and berate his clothing, his hair. He could handle scrutiny of himself but the moment she said anything about Ming Fan, be it his appearance or his mother, he drew the line. Wiping around to face this despicable woman and spitting the iciest response he could without scaring Ming Fan. He remembered seeing her on a magazine before. Some model or washed up actress. God help her when he posts the body cam footage his partner made him wear after the second Grocery store incident. She scoffed at him and just continued to point and jeer at him. Wondering if the others were only following him for his pretty face. Others?? The men that harassed him and the girls that scurried with their tail between their legs?? Shen Jiu is starting to think it’s time to move. He desperately wants to mind his business and live his life but they seem adamant on harassing him.

So he does! He announces it on a video after the fact so that they can’t find him even if they try to. Perks of dating a rich ceo, anonymity is quite easy with money!

Shen Jiu happily married his now hubby and they have many more kids with Ming Fan adoring them all. He refuses to be nice to this one lady at his school that tries to be friendly with him and will run crying to SJ, who remembers her as the jewelry stand girl, and he immediately has his son in a different class. Life going well for the man who was claimed to be evil in past lives, meanwhile the others are crumbling day by day now that he’s missing and they can’t seem to find him, no matter what. (NYY may have stalked him to the remote village but she wouldn’t tell the others. She can’t risk making Shizun hate her more). The ones that harassed her were publicly pitted by their companies and forced to apologize to him specifically. When word got out that Shen Jiu vanished it did NOT look good for them.. LBH had the wrath of his mother and LQG had a mother and grandmother to fear. QQQ was fired and black listed from the media. She would have just apologized if she had insulted the man himself, but following and insulting the child too? The media scorned her already shitty gossip personality. Any time she tried to get on tv they would turn on his and snicker about her cancellation. YQY lived lavishly, but lonely. He had a political marriage and no children. He refused to touch his wife. No matter what she would say all he could do is smile and apologize. Work wise things were going well. Since they didn’t have a punching bag to push everything on and the other politicians seemed to work smoothly despite disagreements, he had no real need to focus on work 24/7. But he did. He was always in his office scouring the internet for Xiao Jiu.

SY and SQH weren’t mentioned because they literally wouldn’t do anything different from usual. They wouldn’t even meet their past life husbands (LBH would think SY is a fan and just give his usual charm and leave. He’s already found SJ, this man is just a fake clearly). SQH wouldn’t have the chance to get MBJ, the neet writer would see him once and fumble his words. Probably earning a scoff as MBJ walked off to go meet his peer/partner. The two millennials would probably bond online over a story and get close. Maybe a failed relationship but remained friends.

TLDR; Everyone reincarnated and their lives fall apart if they don’t change their attitude towards SJ. SJ doesn’t remember them and just wants to raise his baby MF in peace. Jobs are lost and public relations are plummeting because these fools couldn’t find healthier ways to reconnect with SJ.

[hanji-is-life]

hiiii, this might be too specific, but could i request some headcannons ab bakugou or kirishima w/ an s/o that has anxiety tics? w/ midterms right now, mine have been a lot more frequent/loud lately

Hi love!! It’s not too specific at all! I have really bad anxiety that was so debilitating just a couple of months ago, I was having constant panic attacks at just the thought of testing and school. I understand how you feel and I hope you pass every test and find a sense of calm while testing! You deserve the tranquility 💕💕💕

Cw: anxiety, possible triggers, self harm mechanisms

Bakugou

As much as you hated to admit it, Bakugou knew you like the back of his hand. Knew whenever you were feeling bad, whenever your anxiety was starting to skyrocket, whenever you were on the verge of panicking.

He was there for you every time. There was never much talking, just little small things that would help calm you. Even if it was just a little.

When you started to pick and bite your nails, chew on your lips until copper stained your tongue, Bakugou was there.

It was always simple. This was one of the only times he wouldn’t berate or yell at you or call you love filled names. He knew how fragile you were at the moment, and respected it.

He would suddenly stand and exit the room, leaving you to think he was just so tired of your presence alone. Your thoughts would be spiraling, not even realizing his return with a first aid kit.

He would gently pry your fingernails from your mouth. Suck his teeth and cut his eyes from how bloody your nails were. But he wouldn’t say anything.

He’d stop your rambling apologies, shush your quiet wavering voice, and just work. He’d clean your fingers, wipe away all of the blood, bandage the worst of it so you wouldn’t get an infection.

When he was finished, he would kiss your fingers, kiss your palms.

The only time he was rough with you was when you still refused to put your notes away, still trying to cram in as much information as possible.

“You can just start again tomorrow, princess. Fresh eyes, ‘n shit.”

He’d pull you away from your work, force you into a bath, a meal down your throat, before you find yourself snuggled into his side that night.

While he might not be a man of many words, his actions will always make up for it.

Kirishima

While you love him with every fiber in your being, he just wasn’t as in tune to your feelings and worries. He tried his best to pick up on verbal cues, but sometimes he just missed the mark.

It’s not until he hears the labored breathing and sees the quick scratching of your hands does he realize it’s an issue. He’s over beside your desk in no time, eyes wide with worry as you rock forward and back in your chair, tears endlessly spilling down your chest, scratching your skin raw.

He shakes you first, a worried call of your name as your unfocused eyes don’t move from the corner of the room. He has to pull you away from the desk and turn you for your eyes to snap back into focus. The tears and scratching don’t stop, though.

“Babe? Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You don’t want him to worry, but fuck, you’re so scared! What if you fail? What if you just blank out at the last minute? The thoughts start again, your rocking starts again, the scratching becomes deeper until there’s blood trickling down your arm in soft trails.

“Fail.” You murmur through your cottonmouth. “M’gonna fail. I can’t, Eijirou, I-I can’t fail, I have to,”

Through your stuttering, Kirishima gently pulls your hands away and wrap them around his neck. He stands, has to wrap your legs around his thick waist as he slowly walks over to the bed. He gently lays you down, gets your weighted blanket, and some ice water.

He joins you in bed. Wraps his arms around you, presses an ice cube to your cheeks, kisses away your slowing tears. When you feel yourself start to come back, Kirishima speaks lowly to you.

“I don’t know if what I say will help, but you got this. You’re so smart, even if you don’t feel like it at times. Grades don’t determine your worth, they never will. You got this, baby. I promise you do. I love you so much. Please don’t ever scare me like that again.”

His voice is so quiet and watery, you could hear his own quiet hiccups through his tears. You wrap your heavy arms around his form, snuggle under his chin, and cry with him. Even though the worry didn’t immediately go away, being wrapped up in his arms and hearing his reassuring voice soothed you into a peaceful slumber, ready to start the next day anew.

[fa-headhoncho]

Unlike The Rest: Part 2

George Weasley x Reader (eventually)

Prompt: The school year has finally begun and things already seem to be going wrong.

Word Count: 2555

Reader: Female

Warning: Let me know what I could work on and what you would like to see in this series. I expect this to be a longer one and I have a lot of ideas for the future but I’m stuck on some filler chapters. So, please let me know.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

======

The carriage ride up to the castle was very uncomfortable, to say the least. Cedric tried to get you to talk but once his friends started talking, they made you feel out of place. His friends talked about all the wild adventures they had this summer and reminisced about years past together. All stuff that didn’t include or relate to you. 

The only time Cedric’s friends seemed to have an interest in you when they spoke about Quidditch merely because you were a chaser on the team. And when you did talk, they just ignored you or rolled their eyes. You just wished you could do first year all over again and reintroduce yourself to everyone. 

Nonetheless, you did appreciate Cedric for trying to help you make new friends but you’d rather keep to yourself. Making friends is hard when all people see is your last name.

Walking into the Great Hall with the group, you gaze up at the tall ceiling. It’s bewitched to emulate the sky outside. Every year you are welcomed by it. You believe it helps with the new year jitters and the claustrophobia of hundreds of children in one room.

You start to trail behind Cedric and his friends, taking it all in. This is your home. The floating candles, the professors sitting at the front of the room, the natural warmth of the castle just screams belonging. A large smile appears on your face once again, something that only this place can bring. 

This year you are determined to focus on your studies… specifically Care of Magical Creatures. You’ve been reading all summer to get ahead in that class. Being a Malfoy, people don’t see your family as the caring or gentle type. They’ve proven that. Which, unfortunately, Care of Magical Creatures is all about. But, unlike the rest of the Malfoys, Hagrid has said you have a special talent when it comes to caring for creatures. You are gentle and caring. Hence the reason why you were put into Hufflepuff. So, you want to prove to everyone else, and your family, that a Malfoy can have a heart.

“Daydreaming yet again, Yeti?” Cedric’s chuckle interrupts your thoughts. He noticed you straying away from the group and saw you just standing there, staring up at the sky. This didn’t surprise him, you’ve always seemed to be in your own world or gathered up in thoughts. 

You shake your head fondly at the nickname. It originated one day when he was trying to cheer you up after he found you crying in the hallway. You had failed your team at the last Quidditch match, falling off your broom and knocking Cedric off along the way. Ultimately costing the winning catch that secured the team a tremendous lead in the rankings.

The team collectively decided that they didn’t need you anymore so they never told when practices were. The backlash from your house was horrid too. People who taunted you in the hallways or blamed the fact that “Malfoy needed to have all the attention”. Hufflepuff has always been known as the kinder house but oh were they brutal. 

It all led up to your break down in Charms when someone told you that maybe jinxing yourself to the broom might be helpful. Cedric, as big-hearted as he is, followed you out and comforted you. At first, you thought it was a sick joke, going off on him. In return he just called you a Yeti, comparing the fact that no one could ever get close enough to see the real way you live. Plus the fact that you were madly aggressive on the pitch. You knew that you made a friend after that. 

“I was just thinking.” You confess, falling into step beside him as you make your way to the Hufflepuff table.

“That’s never good.”

“Oh, shut it, Diggory.” You laugh, giving his arm a slight slap. “I’m just excited about this year… Hagrid told me about all the new creatures Professor Kettleburn has in store for us.”

“Well, that is good then.” He corrects himself, taking a seat next to one of the beaters on the team. “I’m glad you’re excited about something. I know you talked about how nervous you were about Draco coming this year in your letters.”

You sigh, in the few letters you and Cedric shared during the summer, you’d confide in him about what’s been going at home; The newfound hope in Draco to carry on the Malfoy name with pride and loyalty. How they'd just left you in your room all summer to survive on your own while they made sure Draco had everything he needed to do so. It made you feel like shit. At first, when summer began, you thought things were getting better at home when you were welcomed with kind arms. Unfortunately, it was cut short when the realization of Draco’s first year was in a few months.

“Hey,” Cedric, once again, cuts your thoughts off. By this point he knows when you’re spiraling in your own head. “maybe it won’t be so bad after all.”

Right on cue, the first years all file in. Either looking lost or excited, it brings back memories of your first year. Remembering being so terrified of all the older kids staring as you walked past them. Wondering how Draco would fall in, you try looking for him. He wasn’t hard to find since in the front of the crowd, a devious smirk on his face as always. He knows what house he’s going to be in and he’s probably been boasting about it all the way here. It’s been drilled into his brain that he belongs in Slytherin, the house of the most powerful and legendary wizards. Which, according to your parents, Hufflepuff doesn’t have the means to accomplish. 

Draco then takes a glance at said table. Seeing you looking out of place as ever and he rolls his eyes at it. Turning back to his friends and whispering something to them while pointing. They erupt into laughter and you frown slightly.

“Well, I don’t think your brother could be as bad as you were.” Malcolm Preece, another chaser on the team, decides to open his big mouth. He’s a fifth-year and he always has something to say. You grab the nearest thing and throw it at him, he dodges it. “Aye, I said were.” He defends himself and then casually goes back to his own conversation.

You bite your tongue and shoot daggers into the side of his head.

“Oh, I’ve missed you, (Y/N).” Cedric wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives you a small hug.

=====

“...this has to be a joke, Ced.” You whisper to him while Professor Quirrell goes on about the spell you’ll be learning this week. “How will this be useful in the eye of a duel?” You rhetorically ask him. “There’s no way this git is qualified to work here.”

“Oh, don’t be so harsh, (Y/N).” Cedric scolds as Quirrell commands the students to review their notes, “I’m sure he’s more than proven himself to Dumbledore to be here.”

“It’s a bloody tickling curse!” You stress, utterly dumbfounded on why you would be learning this. “In the midst of a battle, I don’t think my murderer would think of making me laugh to death.”

He just shakes his head at you, a small laugh escaping his lips at the image of it.

“It would be a good way to go.” Fred Weasley, the brute of all jokes himself, cuts in. Obviously, you weren’t whispering quiet enough. “Wouldn’t it be, Georgie?” He turns to his twin sitting beside him.

“I think so, Freddie.” He immediately agrees, you roll your eyes at the two. You know where this is going.

“Here we go,” You mumble.

“Imagine it,” George puts his hands in front of himself, widely gesturing with his quill. “Going toe to toe in battle, shouting wild curses at each other, wands waving, spells casting, and then, out of nowhere—” He suddenly stops, pointing his quill at you. 

“Rictusempra!” The other one continues, “And, boom! You’re on the ground within seconds, laughing like a complete mad man. Utterly painless.” Some of your classmates laugh at them, you shake your head at the show. “A bliss way to die.” They both stare dreamingly into nothing, a small smile on both of their faces.

“You both are morons.” You deadpan, George just smirks while Fred has an exasperated look on his face.

“Morons?” He gasps, “Then, how would you like to die then, Malfoy?” He probes, his eyebrow hitched up. “A slow, painful death at the hands of a Dementor?” A few laugh.

“Preferably, yes.”

=====

You try to keep up with the fast steps of the Deputy Headmistress. Almost tripping over your robe as she speeds down the corridors, her own robes whizzing behind her. The fact that McGonagall is even accompanying you in a class switch makes your mind boggle since your head of house is Sprout.

“But, Professor, I don’t want to change subjects.” You beg, “It must be a mistake, I chose to take Muggle Studies this year, what happened?”

“Your father, Miss Malfoy.” She suddenly stops, you almost bump into her. “He demands you transfer into a different subject that doesn’t ‘deteriorate the brain’.” She quotes, “And I have to deal with it because Professor Sprout refuses to read his letters after the terrible scriptures he sent her over the last two years. I’ve got enough on my plate with my own students to be worried about hers.”

Your mouth drops, of course, he would’ve. You knew your father was mad about your house placement but you never thought he would go as far as to berated your head of house. At Hogwarts, your house is supposed to be your family no matter what and your father disrespecting your head was utterly disgusting.

“You shouldn’t be surprised, Miss Malfoy.” She continues to speak, obviously furious. “You knew this would happen when you signed up for the elective last year.”

You knew this would happen when you involuntarily signed up to be a Malfoy.

You frown, knowing she’s right about the whole thing. You thought your parents were too focused on Draco to even think about you and your classes this year. Hell, they’ve been too focused on him to even acknowledge your existence during the summer so why did they care about your classes.

“I truly do apologize, Professor McGonagall.” You look down at your shoes, too nervous to look her in her eyes. “I didn’t realize my father was doing that… nor would he interfere with my schooling. I just…” You let out a long sigh. “I just thought the class would be interesting and a bit different, is all, compared to what I’ve learned about muggles at home.”

The woman’s face immediately softens. She knew that getting sorted into Hufflepuff was going to be an issue from the moment the hat shouted it. You were clearly unhappy and confused, mumbling curse words at the hat as you made your way to the Hufflepuff table. The Malfoys have been Slytherins since she was in her own school days so when she heard the hat say something otherwise, she knew something would come out of it. 

Your father had insisted it was a mistake in every letter he sent to Dumbledore talking about how the hat was a fake and it must've been a ploy against the Malfoy name. But Dumbledore was just as persistent with backing the hat and it’s house assigning criteria.

“It is out of my control, Miss Malfoy.” McGonagall puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “As an underage wizard, you do not have a say in the matter. We must listen to your guardians.”

“I understand, Professor.”

=====

The scent of musty floral perfume hits you like bricks as you walk into the room. Following McGonagall between the risers, you hold your books tighter to your chest. You look around once you get into the “stage” area of the classroom. The curtains are drawn, giving the room a somber vibe. The different levels hold a bit too many tables for the number of students actually attending the class. Taking a glance at the students, some are either sleeping or staring at you, glad for the interruption. 

“Professor Trelawney,” McGonagall interrupts the short woman gazing into a crystal ball. Her large eyes immediately snap to the two of you. “I have a transfer from Muggle Studies.”

The eccentric witch gets up and looks over to you, the whole classes’ eyes follow her. “Ahhh,” She sighs, pointing a finger. “I knew you would end up here, (Y/N) Malfoy.” She gives a knowing smile, Professor McGonagall just rolls her eyes while she continues to go on about what she saw in the ball about a visitor here to stay.

“Well, I have other things to attend to regarding my Quidditch team if you would kindly show Miss Malfoy to her seat,” McGonagall commands with a firm nod.

“Of course, of course!” She excitedly affirms, putting a hand to your back and guiding you towards the front of the strange classroom. You give the Charms Professor pleading eyes as she leaves the room but she just ignores you and continues on her way.

“Now,” She turns you both to the whole class. “Who would like to do the honor of having Miss Malfoy as a partner? I sense she will be a great help in this class,” She asks, everyone sits in silence. There are a few students without partners but they’d rather be alone than be with you. 

“Well, a little unpopular we are, I see,” Trelawney mumbles to no one in particular, you immediately look down at your feet. “How ‘bout you find your own seat, love?” 

You go straight to the back and take the first seat in the row, not daring to look at anyone on the way up.

“Oh, what type of wicked witch did I cross to get a curse like this?” The familiar disgust of one of the Weasley boys hits your ears. Your head snaps to him, trying to quickly identify which twin you would be spending the year with. 

“Hush it, George.” You sneer, not in the mood for his shit. “Or are you Fred?” You squint, the dim candlelight not helping distinguish which. “No, Fred is much more clever with his insults.”

George just rolls his eyes at you, “He might have the brains but I’ve got the looks.” He leans back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head and his feet on the table. “Don’t you agree, Malfie?” He eggs, a smirk on his face.

You let out a scoff. “You both look like gnomes stacked on each other under a robe… Especially with that carrot top of a head of yours.” You push his feet off the table, setting your books where they were. The shove sends his balance off and he falls back onto the floor.

“Well, you were right about Fred having the brains, huh?” You stare down at him. The redhead sticks his tongue out at you like a five-year-old. “This is going to be a long year.” You mumble under your breath.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Star-Crossed

“   A phrase describing a pair of lovers whose relationship is often thwarted by outside forces. The term encompasses other meanings, but originally means the pairing is being “thwarted by a malign star” or that the stars are working against the relationship.  ”

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, romance, fluff, angst, comedy, slow-burn

word count: 12.9k (once again, back in that 12k territory i didn’t mean for this)

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of Fifth Act: Diligence

A/N: WOW, SO I DIDN’T MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. THIS WAS HARD BUT I DID IT. WOW. I should’ve known it would take long T^T but here it is finally!! Thank you all so much for your support once again!! <3 I hope this chapter won’t disappoint! T^T

@cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​

Your mind goes completely blank for what felt like a good ten minutes, reacting purely out of the baser, instinctive need to survive – body thrashing wildly like an antelope fighting to get out of a lion’s hold, kicking and screaming. It’s not until you sink your teeth into the soft flesh of your attacker’s hand are you finally released along with a pained shout of surprise.

“Bloody HELL poppet that fucking HURT!”

The force in which you were flung sends you toppling over onto the pavement, unceremoniously landing on your side. Your own groans of pain join in with the male nursing his injured palm and getting over your heart attack, you’re finally able to process who it is; raven hair that falls in long waves, tall, muscular figure and decked out from head to toe in black, complete with combat boots. You sit up if only to yell indignantly, “Well maybe you shouldn’t go around jumping people out of nowhere like that you weirdo!”

Jungkook straightens himself up from being bent over, giving his hand one last massage before he shoots you with a pointed look, “Well I’m not the one who was running around in the open like a headless chicken while an entity from Hell was out trying to kill you.”

His retort makes your mind screech to a halt, “…What?”

At your wide, clueless doe-eyed look, Jungkook’s mouth snaps shut just as he was about berate you some more. Turning his head away, he takes a deep breath in before exhaling through his nose, mussing his dark locks a bit with a furrowed brow as if he’s deep in thought. Then he turns back to you, offering a hand and gestures for you to take it.

“C'mon get up, let’s go somewhere else to talk.”

Your eyes dart from his proffered hand to his obsidian eyes, face set into a neutral expression but you already understand that this is of serious matters. Not like you’re going to refuse him anyways, Jungkook appearing like this was the saving grace you wanted – the key to potentially all of your answers.

So you reach up, enough to clasp your own hand into his larger ones and as soon as he gets a good grip, you’re being tugged by more than the immense strength of a demon; your stomach unintentionally does a flip at the sensation, a familiar whirlwind of colours and images passing by too quickly to be discerned before they abruptly stop altogether and you’re on wobbly knees again from the aftermath.

“Jungkook I swear….” You seethed in disdain, even though you’re holding onto his hand like it’s your lifeline. And again, you hear his snickering that he always seems to fail at hiding. At least this time around, it doesn’t last as long.

“You can’t deny me my simple joys in life. Besides, what’s a little apparating in comparison to nearly dying at the hands of another dark creature, am I right?” He jabs, pulling you until you’re standing upright by yourself and then walking off. It’s only then that you notice you’re back on the garden rooftop again, the stretch of the city skyline before you as you’re surrounded by the shrubberies and wispy grass. This time however, the garden’s greens have significantly yellowed in most places and what little floral that was here had begun to wilt, their  blooming cycle coming to an end. You wonder briefly if the rain fall just now would be enough to help revitalize the place. The dark rain clouds from before have since dissolved and migrated further south, away from the city to shower onto some other area, yet the sun still struggles to peek through the denseness they leave behind, the skies remaining a gloomy overcast.

“About that,” You start, following after Jungkook’s long strides down the gravel path. “what do you mean by ‘another dark creature’? As far as I know, I only know two demons and I swear I haven’t done anything to offend any other spawn of satan.”

Jungkook shoots a disbelieving look over his shoulder, actually stops in his tracks so that you can get the full impact of it; arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, head cocked and lips pressed into a hard line. He screams, ’oh really?’ without having to say it.

“You know poppet, sometimes I think you’re either really ballsy, or just plain stupid. But I do suppose that’s what makes you entertaining to watch.” Scoffing, he mutters as if to himself with a shake of his head, “Maybe you two really are meant for each other.”

You don’t get a chance to ask what he meant by that, cutting you off the same time he continues walking again, forcing you to tail after him. “Anyways, it’s just what it sounds like; you went and gotten yourself a new 'friend’ when you decided it was a smart idea to try your hands at summoning a demon for the first time.”

Your steps falter, suddenly feeling lightheaded at the shock overtaking you, “W-Wait – that…I thought it didn’t work…I mean…I didn’t see anything when I was done?”

“Or so you thought. You might not have gotten the demon you wanted but it did the job getting some other lesser creature of darkness for you.”

A chill runs down your spine unintentionally at the thought, memories flitting back to those near misses, now with some twisted, shadowy monster being the cause, lurking around each corner you had turned, stalking and waiting for that perfect moment to kill you off. You had stepped so close to death’s grasp, all because you had so blindly messed with something you had absolutely no understanding of. If it weren’t for Jimin showing up…. You shake away the thought, not wanting to even think about it but….

“So then how did….Jimin and you find me? Is that why you’re here?”

He turns his head, a lopsided smile pulling at his mouth. “Yeah, when you’re a 'spawn of satan’ it’s kind of hard to miss that ominous amount of dark energy that came with the summoning. I’m surprised that you didn’t attract more than just three in a ten kilometre radius so when you think about it, you got what you wanted – congrats.”

In hindsight, Jungkook is right; though it was unconventional, you did indeed manage to somehow get Jimin to show himself finally after days of being missing. But, successful as it is, by no means had it been the way you wanted and thus, the praise came out too back-handed for it to feel anything remotely celebratory.

“And that’s the curious thing,” Abruptly, Jungkook stops walking and it nearly has you crashing into him. Luckily, you catch yourself in time, at the expense of stepping on your toes and nearly falling back on your ass again.

“Your little handy work might’ve been amateurish at most, but… evidently that’s quite some potent things you used there.” He pauses for a second, and then he’s facing you, staring down from his full height that makes you feel infinitely much smaller than you should as he almost accusingly says with narrowed eyes, “Including that thing in your pocket.”

You’re left blinking, pupils shifting left and right like you’re a criminal caught in the act for a good minute before you give yourself a pat down, instinctively going to your pants pocket, feeling nothing but then realizing your tote bag is still clinging onto your shoulder, barely holding on by one strap. You’re actually in disbelief that it made it this far. Grabbing a hold of it, you dig through until you pull out the one possession that the demon could possibly be talking about.

The little black velvet pouch remains unassuming as the day you had received it, so you had thought nothing when you opened it again, expecting to see the same stone crystal inside. To your utter shock however, the stone falls out in broken pieces, chunks split in half as if you had taken a hammer and smashed it. Along with that, the once whole stone had visibly lost its lustre, the natural glow dulled into something much more clouded and opaque. You don’t know what had caused this, racking your brain for an explanation; perhaps this was the only damage resulted from the whole accident fiasco you went through, but considering the forces at work here, you won’t necessarily rule out any other more supernatural possibilities.

“Where did you get that?”

Your confirmation is given by Jungkook’s question, his eyes trained on the remnants of the crystal and tone tinged too much on being apprehensive and wary that you can’t simply brush it off as overthinking this time.

Carefully, you reply, “….From the shop that I got all the other things from. Why?”

He goes eerily quiet, dark brows furrowing into a troubled look that mars his youthful face, and he chews his lips in deep thought. Just when you think he would say something, he schools his face once again, turning away.

“Nothing.”

Your face contorts into a bewildered expression because that sure doesn’t sound like nothing. But you’re not here for that. Huffing through your nose, you stuff the broken stone back into your bag, hand shooting out to grab Jungkook’s wrist to stop him from walking off.

“Look, I know you know something is wrong with Jimin and I wouldn’t have done what I did if he just told me what’s going on. He’s been gone for….I don’t know how many days now, wouldn’t even answer any of my texts or calls, but then still manage to show up when I’m in serious danger yet the first thing he does when he sees me is run?” You let go when you see Jungkook’s attention is back on you except the way he’s hiding any sort of emotion right now is just reigniting the same frustration and anxiety you’ve had bottled up for so long, too long.

Jaw clenching, your gaze hardens as you take in a fortifying breath if only as a last ditch effort to not explode right then and there.

“I need you to tell me everything. No more secrets.”

The words still come out with barely restrained anger.

Jungkook remains unfazed, eyes unwavering as he studies you. He sees the fiery temper waiting to be unleashed through the burning of your irises on him, the strain in which you clench your hands into fists until the whites appear in your knuckles, a tremor that rumbles through you like a volcano just before it erupts – no doubt anyone who valued their well-being would know best to avoid being on the receiving end of your wrath now that it has reached such a peak (he almost feels sorry for Jimin, almost). But amongst the flames, he sees the fan that stokes it; desperation, fear, and….

His lips twitch, bemused.

Jungkook finds you very commendable, maybe even to a fault and perhaps it’s why with one last sigh, he relents.

“All right, relax – don’t bite the hand that’s going to feed you.”

Your heart picks up in pace, anticipation pulsing through you in tandem as you brace yourself. Silently, Jungkook gestures with his chin for you to follow him over to the open space and towards the bench under the tree.

“Has Jimin ever told you how he ended up being your guardian before?” Jungkook asks mid-stride, hands shoved into his pockets casually. His sudden question pulls you away from burning a hole into the back of his head.

“Uh….Maybe once? Something about trying to worm his way out of doing dirty grunt work in the lowest levels of hell after causing trouble.”

“Did he say what he did?”

“…Only that it was quote, 'complicated’.” You respond after some thought. Your answer elicits a snort from the demon in front of you, along with some rueful muttering. Before you can ask, you both have reached the tree and the sight of it surprises you. The branches were now covered fully in bright emerald green leaves, providing the proper amount of shade to the bench that situated below it compared to the first time you’ve seen it but more than that, its even sprouted fruits. Round in shape and about the size of your palm, its colour grades from a yellow-green into rosy reds along the skin and its then you realize they were apples.

Jungkook stops just underneath the tree, side stepping in order to clear a path for you to the bench.

“Get comfortable poppet, it’s a bit of a story.”

Tentatively, you make your way over to sit down, gaze never leaving Jungkook’s and evidently the tension is still running high for you – you’re quite literally sitting on the very edge of your seat. Seeing as how that’s as comfortable as you’re going to get, Jungkook releases another deep sigh, rolling his neck as he begins a tale he loathed to repeat.

“That 'complicated’ thing that your guardian did? That was tempting an actual guardian angel to fall from grace.”

The words took a minute to process for you, not knowing what to expect but when they do, the impact hits you head on like a speeding train. For a split second, you’re trapped in a frozen world that’s numbed you of all your senses; you’re left stunned, speechless, jaw actually dropping and you wonder if you’re breathing still. After your mind was done tripping over on itself do you manage to stutter, “He – I mean how….?”

Jungkook crosses his arms, leaning back on the trunk of the tree as a far off look takes over his gaze.

“Trust me when I say if you knew Jimin like I did, you wouldn’t be half as surprised as you are that he would manage to do something like this. Heaven is only blissful to those who are complacent and live by their rules. There’s no room for doubts because to doubt is to question in your beliefs, and in turn, His beliefs which to angels is blasphemy. And angels, above all, are representatives of that. It is their duty to carry out His will, to be the shepherd to guide the lost sheeps because only you can lead them to salvation, even the most wayward ones; for His love is always gracious, accepting and forgiving. They’re really good at selling that righteous fantasy – makes you feel all high and mighty.”

He exhales deeply, the barest hints of an underlying bitterness carries out with the breath, made more obvious when he says, “But even that in itself was a test of faith. How cruel is it to tell you that your sole purpose is to protect and guide a soul that’s supposedly so precious when they prove to you time and time again to be so undeserving of that love? It makes you start to question a lot of things, like whether all your effort is worth it in the end or….” A sharp inhale. “Maybe you’re simply not good enough.”

You listen quietly, not wanting to interrupt Jungkook but immersed in your own thoughts too. Even though you’re not terribly religious, you’re still somewhat familiar with the concepts. So long as you live your life honestly, commit no sins and do no wrong unto others, you’re more  likely not to end up going to hell and be tortured for all eternity. And even if you do, you have the chance to repent and thus be forgiven.

Of course, people twist the words they read to suit their own philosophies but in the end, there’s still that clear line between evil and good. It’s all….very black and white to you. So it should be no surprise to you that beings who serve God would have that followed to a tee, only there’s no room for second-guessing or evidently, second-chances.

You see the unfairness in that; to be expected as someone who’s so devout and pious yet not be given that same mercy as humans.

You think….it’s quite sad.

“Nevertheless, those are thoughts no angel should have. Not unless you want to attract the attention of a demon.” He sneaks a glance at you and you catch the mischievous twinkle peering through the long bangs before he averts his eyes to the horizon in front of him again. “And that’s where your little guard dog comes in.”

You don’t deny the way you perk up a little more at that, pulled from your previously more sombre reveries.

“'Jimin’….He was everything you humans thought demons would be – conniving, heartless, and selfish creatures who takes pleasure in causing misery and suffering on others while indulging in all forms of obscenities as a pass time. He, like many demons, saw the world as his little sandbox and everyone in it his own personal plaything; doesn’t bat an eye to even the most heinous of crimes.”

You find the comparison jarring when you think of the demon you know now as being the very same one who did all those morally skewed things. It’s like talking about two different beings altogether. But the more you ruminate on it, the more you saw the plausibility; for one, Jimin is a demon, his entire existence is to be the devil’s advocate so how can you, a human no less, judge him for doing his job? And secondly, Jimin always did have that cockiness about him, like he knows he’s better than everyone else and he’s not afraid to let everyone know they’re beneath him – you included. It was very prominent when you first met, but now it’s tamed to a cheeky sassiness he uses to lightly tease you with (an impressive feat if you’re going to be honest; safe to say that was quite the learning curve for both of you).

However, it just proves to you that even someone like him could change for the better.

“But unlike many demons, Jimin was…remarkably ambitious, uncharacteristically so because while others are satisfied with living that otherwise lawless, cesspit lifestyle, he grew bored of the monotony – had a need to conquer new challenges, push boundaries, always a hunger for more. And it worked in his favour too.” He pauses to let out a short scoff, a humourless chortle under his breath as his voice lowers to an almost melancholic tone. “Maybe that’s what made him so dangerous; being so good at finding even your most darkest secrets and enticing you with sweet words that it makes it hard for anyone to resist.”

Again, there was something in the way Jungkook is telling you all this, the way his voice would inflect with a deep-rooted emotion without meaning to and you can’t shake off this feeling. It’s almost like….he’s recounting, reliving memories from a different time.

Dark eyes slide to yours and you find yourself locked in an endless abyss, one that you’ve seen before in Jimin’s – swimming behind centuries worth of history, you’ll catch glimpses of a long lifetime of loneliness and bitter sorrow that are much too alien to belong on such youthful faces. “So imagine how easy it was to get to a guardian angel who deep down, knew he wasn’t cut out for the job anyways.”

…. And suddenly there’s meaning to the familiarity in which he speaks of everything; of Heaven, of angels, of this guardian angel….

Cocking his head, Jungkook smiles at you but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Don’t start crying for me now poppet, you should save those tears for something more worthwhile.”

You hadn’t even realized the way you were staring, practically gaping at him with unadulterated shock. Overwhelmed is an understatement to what your mind is going through; so many thoughts racing a mile a minute yet feeling completely empty of any at the same time. You wouldn’t have imagined that this was Jungkook’s story.

At your prolonged silence, he tears his gaze away from you, not wanting to admit how he can’t stand seeing the sad look you’re giving him any longer. Pity was not necessary here.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t regret it. Jimin might’ve done it out of boredom and as his way to fulfill his self-gratification but it was the first time in so long that I felt like someone was listening to me and didn’t judge me right away for my 'impure’ thoughts.”

You can almost hear him rolling his eyes as he says that.

“Before him, I really thought that I was going to live a miserable life being stuck watching over this poor excuse of a human being who does nothing but just….rot away; self-entitled, greedy, stepping on others for their own selfish gains, never to redeem themselves in the eyes of God. Jimin understood me –  offered me an out, something I didn’t have when I was made into a guardian angel and never thought I would get even afterwards.”

“So I took it; in exchange for one insignificant soul, I got my freedom.” Jungkook tilts his head upwards, as if he means to burn a hole right through the clouds themselves, or maybe the place that lies far beyond them. Instead, he reaches out to pluck a shiny red apple from its branch, one of the few you think that are early to ripe. “But to willingly hand over a soul to a demon under your watch was an unspeakable act, one of the surest ways to get you thrown out those golden gates.”

He tosses the fruit up in the air once, catching it smoothly and shooting you a roguish grin. The way his lips curl back gives you a more full view of his canines – you swear they look a lot more sharper than what they were supposed to be on his human visage.

“And yes, it did hurt like a bitch when I fell from Heaven, in case you wanted to know.”

A throaty giggle comes out unintentionally along with the huff of air you release through your nose, one which you try to cover up by clearing your throat.

That was a good reference.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, actually looks proud of the jab he made before his grin starts to slip away, expression turning into something a little more morose as his eyes drift to the apple in his hand.

“The rest was pretty much history; as punishment, Jimin was made to take responsibilities for intervening with the duties of a guardian angel – quite lenient I might add – and once he gets his stamp of approval, he would go back and take me under his wing.”  

“So imagine my surprise….” The grip on the apple tightens a fraction, the words are enunciated slowly, deliberately, like its taking all of his self-control to not completely crush it. You would’ve been convinced he was doing a pretty good job, if it weren’t for the flickers of a deep golden glow that begins to burn behind his once onyx irises and the air around him resonates with a charged energy that had goosebumps appearing on your arms. “When half-way through, he asks me if there was a way for demons to become a guardian angel.”

Right before your eyes, the red apple starts to decompose as if it were in a time-lapse, browning and shrivelling in on itself until all that’s left is a dried husk in Jungkook’s hand. You swear you feel the colour drain from your face along with it, a cold sweat breaking out at the back of your neck. Unsparing of the way your mind is hanging by a thread, the demon turns so that you see the twisted smile stretching across thin lips and he sneers, “The irony of it all, am I right?”

You don’t answer because you physically can’t. It’s like your body is going into shock, eyes unfocused and head spinning to the point where you’re thankful that you’re actually sitting or else you think you might tip over and pass out. Your heart is pounding rapidly in your chest, each beat hammering against your ribcage. You try to take in deep breaths to calm yourself but every inhale and exhale comes out short and shaky, every swallow leaving your throat drier.

“Deny it all you want poppet, but this is the truth you wanted – your little guardian demon wants to become a guardian angel.” You wouldn’t have realized you were shaking your head to yourself if Jungkook hadn’t spoken up, voice too nonchalant after dropping a bomb like that on you. He’s dusting his hands off on his sweatpants, picking and inspecting his nails now that the remains of the rotten apple had dropped onto the ground beneath him. By that time, you finally begin to stumble through your words, more or less thinking aloud in hopes of trying to make sense of this extreme turn of events.

“T-That’s….that can’t be, I don’t –  why would he do that?”

Jungkook’s gaze whips to you with a quickness, the gold of topaz so piercing that it startles you and just when you thought you could be any less prepared at receiving bombshell news, Jungkook proves you wrong by hitting you with another one more devastating than the last.

“Do you really not know?” He asks, the question nothing more than a hushed tone filled with disbelief, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s you. You’re the reason.”

You.

The reason is you.

It’s like you’re hit by a physical blow that knocks the wind out of you and you brace your hands on your knees, letting out a sharp exhale. All of your questions are getting answered yet the answers you get are only producing more questions; questions that you don’t even know if you want answers to because you’re terrified of what you might hear. You don’t know if you can take much more of it. But you’ve made it so far. With this, you’ve come closer than ever before to finding Jimin and be able to help him. It’s a huge jump than what you had thought possible in accomplishing. So you take a deep breath in, mustering all of your courage to continue forward.

“Is it even possible?” Your voice comes out in a quiver, hoarse as you try to push past the lump that’s formed in your throat, your confidence left much to be desired. Jungkook offers you a half-shrug.

“It’s the same way I became a guardian angel myself once upon a time ago, only you’re more likely to die attempting it as a demon; as they say, it’s easier to fall than it is to redeem yourself.”

That has you jumping to your feet, so fast that the blood rushes to your head and you momentarily feel lightheaded but you’re more alarmed by what Jungkook had informed you.

“That’s just insane, he can’t – I can’t let him do this!”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, poppet.” Jungkook shakes his head firmly, arms crossing and halting any sort of protests that were about to spill from your mouth. “He’s already evoked the process, and now it’s only a matter of time before he fully succumbs to its effects.”

“Wait, what do you mean…?” You ask, full of apprehension, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s.

“Becoming a guardian angel involves being imbued with holy magic over a period of time; the process is slow, but otherwise painless….if you’re talking about an ordinary soul that is.” He pushes himself off of the tree to stroll forward a few steps, “With a demon? Even I don’t know what will happen to him. As you can imagine, to have both holy magic and demonic powers inhabiting one body is dangerous because they’re two conflicting forces; it leaves you unstable and vulnerable until one rejects the other, or your body gives out and you simply perish.”

A horrified gasp rushes past your dry lips, and you’re once again short of breath as an acute surge of panic overtakes your entire body. You’re moving before you realize what you’re doing, latching onto Jungkook’s sleeves with trembling hands like you’re afraid at any moment, he would vanish and abandon you to suffer this cruel twist of fate. Jungkook stumbles back, caught off guard by the strength of your grip, nails digging into his arms and how frantic you look – wide eyed and pupils shaking.

“Where is he?! I need to find him! Tell me where he is Jungkook!”

His larger hands grab ahold of your wrists to stop you jostling him for answers. “I don’t know that poppet. And even if I do, what does it matter? He’s doing this so he can be with you. Is this not something you wanted?”

Your eyes shut in anguish, head lowering as you can only muster a weak shake. “Not like this…” Never like this…

You hear a soft scoff from above you, and you don’t notice the way Jungkook has yet to let you go nor the way he can’t seem to bear looking at you, gaze set out on the horizon in front of him, the unnatural golden glow long since receded as he thinks bitterly to himself, 'That makes the two of us.’

He doesn’t want to admit that the sight of you like this, devastated and conflicted at what you had learned, stirs up his own complex cocktail of emotions – things he has kept buried in the recesses of his mind. When Jungkook had told Jimin of how he could possibly become a guardian angel, he felt like he had owed him some kind of debt, something to repay for allowing him to break free of his own miserable life – only to be the one who leads someone else back to the same place he was in. Maybe this is why he still hasn’t let go of how resentful he is of Jimin’s choice.

Jimin was a fool – a fool in love. Does he truly understand the consequences of what entails afterwards? He thought Jimin would see just how folly it is to pursue this pipe dream, give up  the longer he’s subjected to the gruelling effects of completing the acts but Jimin is not Jimin without that stubborn, ambitious streak.

Worse of all, Jungkook resented himself too because deep down, he dares to envy Jimin for his tenacity, for finding a purpose in a life he saw no worth in and to have someone who is willing to fight for him as much as he is for them.

Maybe through this odd sense of kinship with you….. this is the closure he needed.

It takes a few good minutes for you to gather yourself again, minutes of holding yourself back from breaking down completely because you can’t afford to, not now. Not when its suddenly a matter of life or death. The cogs are turning double time in an effort to come up with something, anything to fix this. And that’s when –

“What if there was another way?”

Jungkook pauses to look at you before letting out a short incredulous laugh at the very idea, “Don’t be ridiculous poppet, as if Heaven – “

“I’m saying what if there was another way Jimin can stay without becoming a guardian angel?” You cut him off and the brief moment of silent questioning allows you to blurt out perhaps the second craziest thing you’ve thought of in your life, “What if I give my soul to him?”

Another long silence drags on, only because Jungkook is practically gaping at you like a fish now; jaw dropped, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen before. You both spend minutes that feel like an eternity just standing there, staring at each other as if to see who would break away first. It makes your nervously racing heart seem ten times louder in your ears and you grow self-conscious. Just when you go to explain yourself, defend your case, Jungkook lets out a wheezing laugh. At first they were short and breathy sounds but as they continue, the volume grows until it’s a full blown cackle as does the almost crazed grin on the demon’s face.

You’re frozen in your spot at the sight, even when Jungkook steps back from you to turn away and pace around, hands on his hips and occasionally running through his hair. You hear him choke out jumbled words to himself, phrases that start but drown out by more incredulous bouts of laughing. When it seems he’s finally able to calm himself, Jungkook whirls back around, eyes locking onto you intensely. “You’re serious? You’re actually serious?”

You sputter at the sudden accusation, “Wh – Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s crazy?” Jungkook shoots back, “You do know that most of the time when someone wants to give up their soul to a demon it never ends well – and I’m saying this from one demon to a mortal.”

“Well I imagine if that wasn’t the case then more people would do it right?” You scowl, rolling your eyes. “And besides, it’s not like I haven’t thought about doing it before this….”

Jungkook reels a bit again at the additional confession, scoffing lightly. You can see the thoughts play out across his face as his gaze fixates on a point past the buildings and trees surrounding you and after seemingly reaching a conclusion, you see him subtly shake his head.

“At most, you might be able to remain bound to him.”

“That’s more than enough.” You say, “He shouldn’t have to risk his life for me like this, not when he’s done so much already.”

“Heavy emphasis on the might poppet.” The tall demon holds up a hand as if it means to stop you from flying off to tear the whole city apart to find Jimin in this instance (which, he’s not wrong given if you had that ability). “And even if you do, I can’t guarantee what will happen to Jimin, whether this will stop the process or not.”

“Then help me find him Jungkook.”

He groans, throwing his head back like a child who’s been asked to wash the dishes and you’re flabbergasted at the response.

“You’re really going to leave your friend to die just like that?” You ask aghast.

“It was his choice.” Jungkook replies apathetically. “I warned him that if he were to go through with it, I won’t be able to help him with what would happen afterwards and he did it anyways. Now it’s out of my hands and I’m starting to regret saying anything because of the headache this is causing me.”

“All the more reason!” The rush of urgency threatens to overwhelm you as you step towards Jungkook, “We won’t know if this will work unless I try!”

Yet still, he remains unmoving and it only serves to freak you out even more. It’s like you can already see this last chance slipping away, right in front of you the more Jungkook becomes reluctant.

“This is because of me isn’t it? So let me fix it.” You beg, grabbing ahold of him. “Please Jungkook, this is the last thing I need from you.”

The weight of your pleas hang heavily in the air around you, almost to the point where you felt suffocated yourself. You hate how everything is riding on whether Jungkook would agree to help or not, is literally what would make or break this. You watch with bated breath, hyper-focused on every small movement Jungkook makes; the way he breaks away from your gaze to look off into the distance, jawline tensing as he clenches them and a deep furrow pinching his brows.

Jungkook watches with unseeing eyes the way the first rays of the setting sun breaks through, the streaks of orange so vibrant that they cut through like a knife and set aflame the dense clouds surrounding them. More and more the sky parts to reveal this fiery blaze until the light is burning into his eyes, even long after he eventually slips them shut.

There’s no doubt that once Jimin gets wind of this, he’ll miraculously summon enough strength to slam him through all seven levels of hell and then some. He’s already overstepped by even telling you what Jimin’s really been up to but it’s not his damn fault that the elder demon really dropped the ball on this one.

… Agh fuck it, he’s already in deep now, so what’s a little more help gonna do? Especially when the blazing desperation in your eyes currently rivals that of the departing sun, still clinging onto the last few minutes it has left before the oncoming night swallows it whole. It’s in the last bit of dying light that Jungkook lets out one long, drawn out sigh through his nose and you see him turning back to face you, eyes softly aglow once more and a meaningful look. You gulp, trying hard not to make it so obvious on how nervous you’re feeling but who were you trying to fool? At this point, you’re ready to drop down on your knees and grovel.

You’re actually a split second away from doing that when Jungkook rolls his head back and with another begrudging sigh, so heavy that his shoulders slump inward, says, “Alright fine! I’ll try to track him down.”

-

Jungkook settles by telling himself the only reason why he agreed to do this tedious task is because: 1) He’d already come this far in telling you basically everything that’s been going on with your guardian demon, might as well go the full nine-yards, 2) your daring plan of action and commitment was something that undoubtedly piqued his interest once more, enticed him into new territories of what-ifs. Again, commendable, he thinks frustratingly so; it’s like a force of its own getting him to root for you. As well, what kind of demon would he be if he didn’t play the part of being the shoulder devil that eggs you on to do stupid, reckless things?

And 3) ultimately, this isn’t his mess so however way it ends is none of his business and though yes he’s helping you track down your missing demon, he doesn’t have any control on what you intend to do after confronting Jimin. He’s essentially just the messenger, and once he’s done with this ’last favour’, he can dust his hands off and continue on his merry way.

As entertaining as this all had been, you had proven to be more of handful than he had imagined. His first impressions of you was that of a strange human who wasn’t totally obsessed with the idea that a demon had decided to take on the appearance of her favourite idol. In fact, you had even seemed highly unamused by it. But you had rolled with the punches and made do with your equally strange circumstance.

And then things took a turn for the stranger; the two of you end up developing an unlikely friendship but more than that, it bloomed into something more. That was when Jungkook had dropped his metaphorical popcorn. The thought is still unfathomable because…what kind of demon falls in love with a human?! And on top of that, what kind of human falls in love with a demon?! That’s just something someone who’s had a few too many screws loose in their head would do and neither you nor Jimin had strike him as one such person.

Apparently, he’s sorely mistaken.

As it turns out, both of your knuckle-headedness knows no bounds, having expected most of it to come from Jimin (given his track record) but you’ve proven yourself to be in equal competition with him, not one to be left out.

If he had thought you were reckless with trying to do a demon summoning ritual on your own before, you’ve blown his expectations out of the water (once again) by declaring you would willingly give up your soul to a demon – in order to save him no less! What an absolute mad lass!

He lets out a snort, kicking at the remnants of your handy work, finding himself back at the scene of the crime in search for a lead. Initially, Jungkook had arrived to the spot out of curiousity on what was causing such a concentration of dark energy to appear and after poking around, had found traces of your aura still lingering about – that was how he had managed to eventually find you. The discovery however made him do a major double-take; for one, not having expecting you of all people to be the cause of this supernatural phenomena but most importantly, how you even managed to come into possession of the materials to make it happen.

That was perhaps the most troubling bit Jungkook finds about this conundrum.

Not just anyone can get their hands on some of the things required to do a summoning ritual, let alone anything remotely authentic. People just kind of fill in the blanks on what they think they need but somehow you almost end up getting it down pat.

This ’shop’ you supposedly went to apparently has the good shit.

And that’s not all.

Along with the ingredients to a demon summoning ritual, you had also walked out of there with something he had thought he would never see in his new lifetime again.

Angelus Tactus.

Or better known as Angel’s Touch – a stone made of pure starlight, said to be plucked from the Heaven’s themselves which imbued them with magical properties that offer protection from much more malicious entities and energies.

So by every means, it was not something some little shop just has lying around as a trinket for sale no matter how niche they supposedly are.

Jungkook unconsciously gnaws at his bottom lip, mulling over this tidbit of information. None of this sits well with him and he had half the mind to hunt down the identity of the shop owner  himself, if only to satisfy his curiousities.

….No, he shouldn’t. If he does then he’s only digging his own grave instead of getting out of it like he’s supposed to be doing right now.

With a shake of his head, he banishes the thought (…for now) to focus back on his surroundings. Eyes scanning, Jungkook notices that the rain had washed away what remains of the chalk pentagram that was etched into the asphalt and whatever dried herbs or salt left over has sunken into the soil where they have been pushed. They soak up the natural energy that’s provided by the earth, enough to give off a low pulse. It’s very weak but as he carefully steps around, it’s enough for him to use in order to help him sift through and amplify other aura signatures that might’ve passed the area.

Yours and the creature you summoned were prominent, and given Jimin’s state of limbo, it takes a little bit of 'feeling’ around before he begins to pick up another faint trace of someone else’s. He closes his eyes, honing in on it and lets his feet guide him until he comes upon a spot where it emanates the strongest. He lets it wash over him, familiarizing it with his senses before his eyes slip open, the topaz glow taking over his irises.

Bingo.

-

Logically speaking, tracking down a demon would take some time, you figured maybe two or three days because demons are discreet creatures by nature; doesn’t help that the wanted demon in question most likely doesn’t want to be found either. So it makes perfect sense that your only option right now is to wait and use this time to go through exactly how you’re going to give your idiot guardian demon a piece of your mind.

Well, at least try to.

You’re a bit of mess right now, to put lightly. After Jungkook spilled the secret on basically everything and you begging him to find Jimin, swearing that this will be the last he’ll ever hear from you, you find yourself strapped into this Tower of Terror of emotions – going from one extreme to another in what feels like split second intervals. You’d arrived home feeling numb and exhausted, heading straight to the safe confines of your room to sit on your bed in darkness and total silence. You felt like a zombie in which your mind and body were not connected, simply breathing and staring off into nothingness.

There was a distinct tightness in your chest, suffocating in its weight that it has you struggle to properly breathe. You don’t know how long you remain like that, but after what felt like an eternity, the strongest desire to scream had overcome you. It’s a rather delayed reaction, you think, moments after you had snatched the closest pillow to you to let out your pent up anger into. You throw your bag violently in the direction of your closet for good measures, the resounding thud pacifying you slightly.

Heaving, you push away the fallen strands of hair out of your face, eyes squeezed shut. You feel your throat closing up in a tell-tale sign of angry tears but you stubbornly keep them at bay. You won’t cry for Jimin, as much as you want to. Though hurt, you’re also livid with what he’s done, is doing…

You shake your head to yourself; you still can’t process the fact that he’s so willingly risking his life for you like this, all at the chance to stay with you as your official guardian angel. But to also not tell you anything about it – just makes you think when would he tell you then? Or was he even planning to tell you at all? The thought of him quietly erasing himself from your life if things went wrong, with you knowing no better and him just….accepting that?

And assuming you would be okay?!

The audacity reignites the flames of your fury.

You’d fallen into a restless sleep in the early hours of the morning, or rather closed your eyes for a long period of time because you don’t think you actually slept. You had tossed and turned, too riled up for any sort of fitful rest. Before you knew it, pale morning light had seeped through your blinds.

Yet you continue to lay there in bed, still as drained as you were the day before, only you’d fallen into a pit of listlessness. The amount of strength you mustered up after a while was to grab your phone, remembering the shift you had later that day and though you hate to be that person, you know there’s no way you’ll be able to work through it. At least, not that day.

But much of your time passes that way, mulling on your thoughts over and over again until you’re giving yourself a headache, the same questions repeating like a broken record in your mind; when did it all start? How could you not have noticed any of this and for so long? How did you let it get this bad?

How long do you have now? Or are you too late?

It has you scrambling to bring forth memories, searching for any kind of answers lost in the past. You dissect each and every one of them, and more and more you begin to uncover the signs; a flicker of melancholy that slipped through before quickly being masked by indifference and teasing, feather-like touches, so light they made you think you’d dreamt it, and…

That night.

The biggest kicker of them all was that night. In a spectacular combination of Jimin’s deflective skills and your tendencies to not be confrontational, you had assumed that it was just as he suggested; some unfortunate, rotten timing on his part that he’d ran into something vicious – another demon, an angel, a hunter, a witch…

Who would’ve thought it was him going through the process of becoming a guardian angel.

Fuck, it all made so much more sense.

As all the puzzle pieces fall into place, it made you realize that the signs had been there all along, just hidden away so well by Jimin.

And every time, you hesitated, faltering on taking action when given the chance.

The regret of not having done more when you could’ve begins to grow inside you and soon, it’s what ate at you the most.

Waiting becomes tortuous. You’re going through the routine of living on autopilot, scatterbrained and anxiously watching for Jungkook to show up at any day, hour, minute, second with news that he’s found a lead. You’re hoping and actually praying to whatever God up there that would listen to give you this one chance to make things right.

So on edge you were that when you came home from what you think was the biggest struggle you had to getting through work to a cryptic message smeared across your mirror, like you’d walked straight into 'The Shining’, you nearly blacked out right then and there.

The yelp you let out was embarrassingly loud, enough to alert Jaehee who came rushing to you, stumbling with shoes half-off from surprising you with an afterwork dinner date. Amidst her frantic questioning and the blood pumping loudly in your ears from your heart that’s ready to bail on you, you come to the realization that while you saw the beginnings of your own paranormal activities movie, Jaehee only saw a plain, ordinary full-length mirror.

It took a lot of nervous laughing and some very poor half-ass excuses to eventually pry your friend off, ushering her out of your room with the promise of properly resting. Once you shut the door, you take deep breaths before turning to look at the offending message that’s ruined your mirror. Now that the instinctual fear wasn’t clouding your judgement, you see clearly that – thankfully – the substance staining the surface of the glass is not blood but something akin to black ink. As for the message itself, it simply states:

’The Whiskey Serpent,

Tomorrow. Midnight.

JK.’

A beat passes and when you fill in the blanks to give context for this obscure set of instructions, your eyes close in exasperation as you heavily inhale.

You’re going to strangle him.

-

Tomorrow midnight doesn’t come nearly as fast as you wanted it to and your body and mind seems to resent that fact by compromising your sleep (again) and making you feel so jittery you can barely stand still for five seconds. You leave your afternoon shift all nerves and with still too much time on your hands for your liking, even after doing a trial run to the appointed place with the directions you found. You find it easy enough. To no surprise, it’s located in the more luxurious part of the city’s districts, surrounded by sleek sky-rises that hosts either penthouse apartments or five star hotels, streets littered with more expensive cars than you’re used to seeing, upscale boutiques and of course, private lounges and clubs.

The Whiskey Serpent was amongst them, a minimalistic looking building with sleek, black granite stone cladding that gives off the slightest hints of sparkles in the bright sunlight, accented by its polished, dark cherry wood double doors and large, stainless steel handles stretching nearly top to bottom. Atop the entrance sits a metallic amber snake, rearing up and curling around the outline of a slender arm holding a crystal glass, jaws agape and fangs bearing as if ready to strike. It’s all people would need in order to know the name of this establishment.

It’s currently closed; opening hours start once the sun begins to set. So you flounder a bit, not knowing whether you should hang around at a cafe until you have to meet Jungkook or head home. Either way, you know you’re going to fail at any attempts of trying to be prepared for whatever Jungkook is going to say. Perhaps its with that in mind that you choose to go home – if you’re going to be stewing in your anticipation and nerves, you might as well do it in the comforts of your own room.

Your stewing consisted a lot of breathing exercises, fiddling around things on your desk and shelves, standing in one place waiting for a command like a Sim, and pacing. Lots of pacing.  You tried stress eating but realize you have no appetite for anything in such a state, a mild inconvenience you know will come back to haunt you later as dinner quickly comes and goes without you so much as consuming a single bite of anything.

As soon as the clock hits half past eleven, you jump on the opportunity to head out, no longer able to wait. You fire off a hasty text to Jaehee the same time you’re speeding to get your shoes on and you’re out the door in record timing. You’re breathless by the time you arrive, breaking out into a half-sprint in your haste. Catching your breath, your eyes take in the way the exterior of the lounge has been illuminated by the little well lights that beam upwards along the walls with a golden glow, now that the skies has darkened. The snake as well has been lit up with its own spotlight, giving it a menacing look as it seems to bore down on you, daring you to enter its domain.

You swallow thickly, squaring your shoulders and with an exhale, mutter to yourself, “Okay, let’s do this.”

Pulling open the doors, you’re greeted by a dimly lit waiting area; black marble floor, an upholstered seating bench on one side and a hostess desk perpendicular to it. Behind the desk was a beautiful dark stone and granite wall fountain, the water cascading down in a steady stream, shimmering against the rough edges as its lit by spotlights lining along the bottom and top and giving off an almost rippling effect. Fixed to the surface were brass vines that crawled from either side, intertwined amongst them were two large snakes that seem to undulate from where they are stuck to, their bodies subtly lifting higher in some places, one head tilted outwards more than the other, as if to give the illusion that they were alive and at any moment, would slither off the wall they were on.

You stand awkwardly, not sure how to approach the elegant looking hostess; a tall woman dressed sharply in an all black suit with hair tied up in a high ponytail, face painted immaculately with well-blended eyeshadows, complimentary lip colour and crisp liner. But you need to if you want to get into the lounge. You’re made painfully aware of how out of place you must look, no where near looking like the type of person to be visiting places like this and the fact makes you freeze up a little.

God, why did Jungkook have to pick a place that screams in your face that you’re poor? Why can’t he just meet you at a cafe or – ?!

“Hello miss? Can I help you with something?”

Your loathing inner ranting is interrupted by the woman behind the desk, who peers at you questioningly, long lashes fluttering as she blinks.

“Uhh…” You stutter, shifting nervously and hugging your bag closer to you in an attempt to comfort yourself before meekly replying, “I’m uhh – here to meet with someone…?”

“Oh,” She sounds surprised and you’re not offended by it. The woman begins to tap on the tablet she’s holding. “Do you a have a name for the reservation?”

You feel like your going to choke on air, mouth opening and closing like a fish as you scramble for an answer until –

“Don’t worry about it, Xenia. This one’s with me.” You jump at the sudden feeling of a large hand clamping down over one of your shoulder and the sound of a timbre voice above you. Whipping your head up, your face contorts into a scowl at seeing none other than Jungkook who, upon feeling your heated gaze on him, shoots you a side-eyed, shit-eating smirk, thick wavy bangs falling over one eye and giving him a wolfish appeal.

Immediately, memories of his little stunt with your mirror resurface and you hold up an accusing finger, scowl deepening further. “You – !!”

Xenia, the pretty hostess, recovers quickly, interrupting you as she smiles and holds out a hand towards the direction of the short hallway that must lead off to the actual lounge.

“Please, go right ahead then. Would you like me to have the usual ready for you?”

“Yes, please and thank you.” Jungkook waves casually, then you feel him nudge you forward and you have no choice but to go. He leads you to round the corner and you finally get to see that the lounge is just like the rest of the building; all dark colours, dimly lit and refined with a luxurious elegance that you’re both in awe and intimidated by.

Around the perimeters of the large room, there are alcoves with black leather sofas, decorated with lavish throw pillows and low tables, each booth separated by corinthian style columns outlined in gold that matches the designs running along the ceiling moulding while much of the middle space is taken up by velvet ornate chairs gathered around tables with tall cylindrical lamps emitting a soft warm glow to serve as lights. There wasn’t much in terms of decor, other than the sleek black grand piano situated in the farthest corner of the room, currently empty with no pianist.

You don’t see many people here, only a few couples interspersed in some of the booths and chairs and the occasional individuals having a quiet drink to themselves. Despite the abundant of open tables, Jungkook doesn’t lead you to any of them, instead directs you to the only other place of sitting which was a long bar taking up most of one side. He takes a seat in one of the bar stool and the bartender wordlessly places down two cozier, crystal glasses and a bottle onto the brown marble counter in front of him, the liquid inside a deep russet colour, before leaving.

“Are you going to keep standing there or are you gonna come sit?” Jungkook gestures to the empty seat beside him. His voice snaps you from your momentary gaping and you kiss your teeth in frustration, annoyed that you keep getting distracted.

“You have some explaining to do. What the hell were you thinking when you decided to vandalize my mirror like that?!” You hiss as you take your seat carefully, acutely self-conscious of not wanting to draw any attention to your presence here – silly considering there’s hardly anyone here.

Still, this is such a new place for you that you can’t help feeling like you’re in over your head being here. Sure you’ve been to a few bars and pubs but the places you go to don’t have mini crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and their liquor selection is equivalent to what you find in your local liquor and beer store; you don’t think you recognize any of the bottles lining the vast glass shelf in front of you.

Jungkook ignores you by choosing to down his glass in one shot and lets out a loud noise of satisfaction, smacking his lips.

“That’s some good shit.” He seems to say so more to himself.

“Jungkook.” You say with warning. The patience you would have had to humour him tonight was long gone, spent on the time waiting to hear any news from him.

“Don’t be so upset, I didn’t have any way to contact you. Plus, you were out with your friend so I highly doubt you would appreciate me just waltzing up to you with her there.” He pushes the extra glass of liquor towards you. “Also would be too suspicious because I don’t think you’re someone who knows that many good-looking people.”

Glaring, you push the glass back stubbornly, crossing your arm. “If you think I’m here to drink with you, then you’re wrong in inviting me out.”

The demon lets out a long breath, flipping his hair. “So serious….” You hear him mutter flippantly before he addresses you again. “Fine, fine…” He takes the bottle and pops the cork off, filling his glass generously. “It took a while, only because his signature aura was so convoluted given the state he’s in. So I lost his trail a couple of times.”

“But you found him right?” It comes out in one rushed breath. You’re leaning expectantly towards him and the pressure of your gaze is so heavy that it makes Jungkook shift a little. He clears his throat, taking a sip from his drink again and then goes digging into his pocket. From it, he produces a folded slip of paper, holding it between two fingers to show you before sliding it across the smooth marble towards your direction.

“Lucky you, he didn’t stray very far – turns out he’s got a place not far from here; one of those fancy new penthouse apartments.” You hear him scoffing in bemusement, “He can be on his death bed and the bastard still won’t let go of his expensive taste.”

The slip reveals an address when you unfold it, messily scrawled in blue ink. You stare at it, not believing that the whereabouts of Jimin is now sitting in the palm of your hand. It makes seeing him tangible again instead of the hopeful prayer you’ve been clinging onto for the past days. For once, you feel confident that you have a fighting chance now.

“….Thank you.” You whisper to Jungkook, clutching at the piece of paper, afraid that it would vanish at any moment. “You have no idea how much this means to me, I really owe you with this one.”

The sincerity and reverence in your voice catches Jungkook off guard, so much so that he doesn’t know what to do with himself for a short second, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he avoids meeting your eyes. He settles to grab a hold of his glass.

“Yeah, well you better 'cus I had my work cut out for me.” He mumbles around the rim before taking a hearty sip. You bite down a small smile, catching a glimpse of redness tinging the tips of his ears, made more noticeable thanks to having his hair pulled up into a bun. After swallowing his drink, Jungkook speaks up, shifting the topic back to you as he asks, “So what’s your plan?”

“I’m going to confront him.” You reply assertively.

“Like, right now?”

“Well, yes. At this point, I’m done waiting.”

The demon barks out a laugh, head thrown back at your sheer determination. He nods along, agreeing with you as he gestures to your still untouched glass.

“Then drink up poppet, you’re probably gonna need the extra boost.”

You eye the glass of expensive whiskey uncertainly, having wanted to keep a clear head when you see Jimin in order to get across everything you have pent up inside you but at the same time, you’re shaking with so much anxiety that you can barely think, let alone hope to articulate your feelings properly.

Maybe just a sip or two, you decide, reaching out to take the glass which seems to satisfy Jungkook. He holds his up in cheers, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

“To love, which conquers all.”

The groan slips out loudly and you bury your face in your hands, embarrassment taking over every part of your being. “Oh my God no….”

Jungkook’s cackling doesn’t help, much too deafening in the quiet atmosphere of the lounge that you just want to leave as soon as possible. You get in three sips before you can’t take the burning anymore and promptly ask for a glass of water.

-

Though it was just three sips, you feel the liquor coursing through your body, warming your veins with the liquid courage you need as you watch the numbers climb on the elevator. After making a quick exit from the lounge, Jungkook had so graciously offered to walk you to the high-rise apartment, getting you past security with ease (must be a demon charm thing) and leaving you at the mirrored elevators.

“As much as I would love to see you drag him through the dirt, it’s never a good idea to be caught in the crossfire of a lover’s quarrel.”

He’d said before walking off, throwing you a two fingered salute over his shoulder.

And now here you are, alone and with sweaty palms as the elevator finally chimes, letting you know that you’ve reached your destination; PH58.

You step out into the hallway, peering around and taking in the deep mahogany walls that perfectly accents the white marble floors and neutral beige and brown decor, giving a very chic, modern look. There are only two doors located on either ends of the hallway, both the same deep wooden colour as the hallway – the one you’re looking for is to the farthest left; PH58A.

Your heart is racing as your eyes lock onto the gold plated number and you feel like you had to force your legs to move, steps heavy the closer you get. You can’t believe this is it, after so much chasing and wondering, the person you’ve been looking for all this time is just behind this door.You close your eyes, steeling your nerves, then raising your fist, you give three firm raps.

You wait with baited breath.

But after a minute and a half, the door remains unopened.

You try again, and wait once more.

….

Yet still, nothing.

Brows furrowed, you begin to question whether or not this was the right address but a quick glance at the slip of paper Jungkook handed to you proves that you are. Was he out at the moment? You take out your phone and dial his number, pressing your ear close to the door and listen. It’s a long shot but you’re willing to try anything at this point.

It rings once on your end, then twice…

And that’s when you hear it, the unmistakeable rumble of a phone set onto a table. The buzzing lasts for a short second, however, it’s all that’s needed to have you straighten up with a renewed zeal.

“I know you’re in there.” You say loud and clear, not caring if you might potentially disturb the only other tenant in the vicinity. “So there’s no point in hiding from me anymore because I know everything.”

Silence.

It rings louder than your words and slowly, your temper flares to life, rearing its ugly head.

“Listen, I don’t care what you were thinking, I deserve an explanation in all of this from you and if you’re just going to be a… a self-sacrificing jerk about this! Then – !” Your voice steadily grows louder, all sense of maintaining some semblance of level-headedness thrown out the window and pushed to the brink of your wit’s end, you shout mindlessly, “I’m never talking to you again!”

The door suddenly snaps open and you nearly choke on the gasp the rushes out, startled. Your eyes dart to the figure standing in between the gap and immediately they widen upon seeing who it is.

Jimin’s shock mirrors your own, obsidian eyes boring into you as if not believing you were there standing in front of him either and for a moment you get lost taking each other in.

He is still breathtaking in every sense; dark raven locks swept off his forehead, slightly damp as if he had just showered, the ends of his fringes grazing delicately over his eyes – longer than what you had remembered. He’s dressed in a simple white t-shirt that’s distractingly thin with the neckline dipping so dangerously low that you can’t help but let your eyes trace over the smooth expanse of his clavicle and sternum exposed to you as well as black jeans that never fail to hug his thighs in all the right places with cuts just above the knees, revealing more skin than you can handle right now.

But as you drag your eyes away and to his face, you notice the pallor of his skin has significantly lost its glow, the paleness turning his flawless complexion lifeless, almost cold. Dead. The ashen bruises under his eyes are more noticeable now and the more you look, the more you’re convinced that he might’ve lost weight too; his face slimmer and jawline more prominent to you. An ache blooms in your chest then, muting the resentment briefly.

He looks exhausted, more than you’ve ever seen him before.

And your heart is breaking seeing him like this.

“Cherub…” Jimin breathes in disbelief, the tiredness reflecting even in his voice. “How…”

Like a spell being broken, you break from the trance that’s taken over you and you surge forward.

“You – !”

Caught off guard, Jimin steps back into the foyer of his apartment but you follow after him with a fierceness, driven by the storm of emotion tearing through you right now.

“You fucking asshole!” You continue to lash out, hands flying at him and you land a push that forces him back again. You’re relentless in your pursuit, hate that you’re reduced to pushing and shoving because the words come out in broken pieces, barely formulated enough express the fraction of the hurt you feel because of him. He catches your wrists as you go in for another hit.

“Y/N – ”

You rip away from his grasp easily, flinging your bag to the ground in the process but that’s the least of your concerns as your eyes are trained on him.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?!” You shout, shoulders heaving. “Were you ever going to tell me truth?!”

“Y/N, what are you – ” Jimin struggles, confused at having not expected you to find him.

“Were you ever going to tell me that you’re trying to become a guardian angel?!”

He freezes, like a deer caught in the headlights but as your words finally sink in, his eyes slip shut and he brings a hand to run through his hair, sighing.

“Was it Jungkook?”

“Does it matter?” You spit back. “What matters is that you hid this from me!”

“I was going to tell you once I transitioned.”

“And what if you didn’t?!”

“Wow, I love the amount of faith you have in me….”

“That’s not what this is about!” You yell, body heating up and trembling from the intensity, “Do you not see yourself?! How can you risk your life doing this and not tell me anything?!”

“And performing a demon summoning ritual isn’t putting your life at risk?” He argues with a hard gaze. “If I hadn’t found you on time, you would’ve been killed!”

“I wouldn’t have done it if you had just told me what the fuck was going on!” You snap back just as quick.

“I was trying to protect you!” He finally confesses, voice rising to match yours in volume, his own distress peaking. “I wasn’t going to risk anything more than I need to. If I have to put my life on the line in order to guarantee your safety then I don’t care.”

“BUT I DO!”

Your words resonate loudly throughout the room, reaching to a pitch that has it ringing in your own ears. It felt like time itself had come to a stand still with the way Jimin is frozen in stunned silence. You’ve never been one to scream during a confrontation, hadn’t counted yourself as the type but you suppose this is your first time being pushed to the extremes of your limit. When neither of you speak, you take in a ragged breath.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to notice that something was wrong?” You ask, voice hoarse and breaking from the emotional and physical stress. “That I was going to sit around and do nothing?”

Jimin swallows thickly, suddenly unable to meet your eyes and you see his jaw tick. After a pause, he admits quietly. “….I can’t protect you, Y/N. Not the way an angel can because demons aren’t meant for it – I’d only end up hurting you if I try.”

“Hurting me?” You scoff at the audacity. “You thought avoiding me, ignoring my calls and texts with no explanation wasn’t going to hurt me? You didn’t think that if you – ” You choke, and you had to fight to get the next few words out. “If you died because of me, I wouldn’t be hurt?”

He says nothing in response, can’t hope to because any words die on his tongue at the sight of you. He thinks this is the second time he’s seen you like this – distraught with glassy eyes wet with unshed tears –  the first being that night when he had showed up bleeding on your bedroom floor. It makes him want to reach out, to hold you and brush away those tears before they fall but the guilt keeps him where he is, away from you.

Yet despite how close you are to breaking, there’s a quiet determination that’s ignited in you and it’s what dares you to take a step closer to him.

You’re not going to run. Not from this, not from him.

“You might look like Jimin, might sound like him and I might’ve watched hundreds of videos of him…..But I don’t know him….” You say, shaking your head. “I don’t know Jimin.” And your next words you say with a softness so tender that it’s heartbreaking to hear. “But I know you.”

The way you’re so sure of every step you’re taking makes him withdraw back. His mind is at war with itself; he knows he shouldn’t let you come this close, afraid of what he might end up doing when he feels what little self-control he has left slipping away, like sand between his fingers. It was so much easier with you hitting and screaming at him.

Jimin feels the sofa hit the back of his thighs. You keep going.

“I know you won’t hurt me without meaning to.”

“Y/N…Don’t –”

It’s a feeble attempt; he knows it’s no use, not when there was no meaning put behind those words. He can smell you now, your scent overwhelming and tempting, and it further empowers his traitorous heart. When he swallows, he swears he can taste you.

He’s losing focus, his senses being filled with nothing but you.

“If you think you can scare me by saying that, you’re wrong.”

You tentatively reach out, waiting to see if he’ll turn you away but all he does is watch you entranced, to see what you’ll do next. Gently, you place your palm against his cheek.

Jimin inhales sharply at the touch, melting at the warmth against his chilled, clammy skin. He can feel himself come alive again, the dull constant ache of his body soothed for the first time, and his eyes flutter shut. He looks so serene this way and your heart squeezes, wanting to offer more solace. To let him know that he has you. You lean in until your foreheads touch and you feel the light caress of his breath brush against your cheeks and lashes.

“So I don’t need you to be a guardian angel. All I need is for you to stay beside me just as you are, like you always have.”

Muted crimson eyes are suddenly peering at you through a half-lidded gaze, the colour dulled but they bore into you intensely. There’s a flurry of emotions flitting through them as they flicker over your face, searching for any traces of hesitation yet finding none. Your willingness astounds him, and he’s almost afraid that it’s all a delusion conjured up from his carnal desires. But you mean to prove him wrong the moment you catch his eyes lingering on your lips.

The first brush was as light as a butterfly’s wing, chaste and soft, but it’s enough to subdue him completely, bring him to his knees and have him craving you like a starved man in the middle of a dessert. The moment seems to last too shortly for him. Even when you barely part away, Jimin mourns at the lost of contact.

“Stay with me?” You whisper.

He answers by closing the gap between you again, pressing firmly this time and sealing the words against your lips. You sigh out and he swallows the sweet sound, finally getting to savour the taste of you. Like taking the first bite of the forbidden fruit, the newfound hunger takes over, consuming him.

And he gives into the lust, leaving him wanting more.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 5.5 OR Chapter 6

➜ Words: 4.2k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Life won’t give you a break.   The moment midterms are complete, you have to begin preparing for finals. While the urge to bury yourself underneath your covers and pull the blanket over your head has lessened, you still don’t want to venture out into the world. But there’s no way to resist the inevitable. You can’t let your schooling go down the drain — it’s the only thing you’ve got going for yourself after all.   5:49 pm. Jungkook: where u at bitch?   5:50 pm. Y/N: im on the toilet asshole 5:50 pm. Y/N: call me a bitch again and ill kill you   5:50 pm. Jungkook: Gross tmi 5:52 pm. Jungkook: can i ask you for a favour tho pls   You wash your hands after wiping, flushing and pulling up your pants.    5:54pm. Jungkook: dont leave me on read   5:55 pm. Y/N: clingy much 5:55 pm. Y/N: the hell do you want from me   5:55 pm. Jungkook: lovely as usual 5:56 pm. Jungkook: I need the notes for comm 209   You scoff as you re-read the message. He has some audacity asking for your notes for a class he skipped on a Friday afternoon, probably to hang out with his friends instead. But before you tell him to gladly ‘fuck off’, you’re stopped by an idea. He needs something from you and there’s something you need from him.   Now’s the perfect opportunity.   “Tempering chocolate?”   “Yeah. You want to be a Master Chocolatier, right? This is a great opportunity to teach someone how to do it. They say you know your stuff when you can teach others.”   Jungkook rolls his eyes at your shamelessness and how you’re trying to milk him to your advantage. “Somehow I think this far outweighs the favour of me getting your notes.”   “Do you want to help me or not?”   “Do I want to?” He looks unsure but gives in to your will anyways, or at least he's curious enough to hear your troubles. “What’s your issue with tempering chocolate?”   “It just doesn’t temper right. There’s no snap or shine to it.”   “Do you measure the temperature with a kitchen thermometer?”   “Well obviously, Jeon. Noooo,” you pull out the syllable, voice dripping of sarcasm. “I dip my hand in to tell. Duh! Are you an idiot? What do you think?!”    At once, Jungkook’s expression washes over, becoming impassive. He spins around on his heel to walk out the door, but you grab onto his sleeve desperately.   “I’m kidding. It’s a joke. Sorry. Help me?”   He shifts around to look at you. You’re busy batting your lashes with those eyes of yours, trying to appeal to him — it disgusts Jungkook instead. It makes him feel sick to his stomach that you’re trying to act cute when you’re obviously a brat in disguise.    Yet somehow he finds himself in the kitchen on a late Tuesday night anyhow, despite having class early in the morning the next day.   “What method do you use?” Jungkook asks with crossed arms as you pull out the right materials, silver bowls, chocolate, thermometers, and a cooking pot.   “Which is easier?”   “They’re all the same,” he deadpans.   Jungkook’s arrogance irritates you but you’re not about to insult him and have him running out of the kitchen, so you restrain yourself and start with the seeding method. You chop the solid chocolate you have into smaller pieces while he watches you in boredom. After a minute, Jungkook pulls out his phone and scrolls through his social media so he can mentally stimulate himself and not have his brain cells dying on themselves.   “Only three quarters of it goes into the bowl to be melted,” he says without looking up. If he did, it would occur to him that you’ve already got it prepared and on top of the double boiler too.   “I know.”   “Do you want me to help or not?”   “When I ask for it.”   Jungkook’s eyes flicker up. “Well didn’t you ask for my help?”   “Not now, Jeon.” You sigh. It was quite profound how quickly the bastard could get under your skin for doing so little. “God, you can be so fucking—”   He suddenly puts his hand up to silence you and he sniffs with that big fucking nose of his. “Why do I smell burning?”   Jungkook looks over to your pot on the stove and notices it steaming oddly. You follow his line of sight and take your bowl off, hissing at how hot it is. “Careful,” he scolds and looks over. Jungkook nearly facepalms himself into a coma. “Oh my god, you forgot to add water into the double boiler?!”   “It’s because you were distracting me!” you shout at him and run over to the sink to add it in. The water begins burning as it hits the hot double boiler, sizzling and smoking even more. Jungkook groans. “You’re supposed to help me, not look at your phone! Maybe I would’ve realized if you actually paid any attention!”   “Fine, fine.”   You add an inch of water to the double boiler. It’s an improvement.   But then as it begins to steam properly with the candy thermometer in the chocolate as you agitate it with a spatula, you look down and your blood runs cold. “Oh shit.”   “What?” Jungkook sighs. Frankly, it’s impressive you’ve made it this far into the program. He didn’t know you were such an idiot in the kitchen — you might as well burn the whole place down and he wouldn’t be surprised. “How’d you manage that?”    You rush to grab a paper towel, trying to dab the water that got into the bowl. But Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Don’t bother. You have to start again. If you get water into the chocolate, it makes it seize and becomes unstable.”   “How do you know that?!”   “Do you even read your textbook?” He is appalled and you pull out the cutting board to chop chocolate all over again, starting from the beginning. Jungkook sighs, spinning around his stool as you repeat the steps and put the chocolate over the heat. “You know what the temperature needs to be, right?”   “A hundred fifteen. I’m not an idiot.”   “I don’t know about that,” he chimes. “You forgot to add water to a double boiler.”   Your arm drops to the side, putting the spatula down. “Okay, fuck you. I haven’t seen you actually give me good advice or anything. I asked for your help, not for you to berate me.”   “What advice do you need?” His brow cocks upwards. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. Just follow the procedure and you’ve got yourself tempered chocolate!”   “I can’t believe I thought you could ever teach me!” you hiss at him. “You’re a condescending asshole.”   “Excuse me? Guess who’s with you on a Tuesday night?! I’m an angel for helping you!”   “No one asked you to!” you scream back at the top of your lungs.   Jungkook scoffs. Any other time where he wasn’t being attacked, he’d recognize that you were returning to your former self, but he still doesn’t appreciate your brattiness. “Are you kidding m— God! What’s burning now?!” Him and that giant nose of his inhales and a delayed moment later, it hits you too. The both of you whirl around to where the chocolate is burning. “You forgot to stir!”   “It’s not like you reminded me to! You’re a distraction!”   It’s excruciating. Jungkook has a feeling he’s going to be here all night, so he helps you speed up the process. While you clean up the mess, he chops more chocolate. And this time, you both manage to get it in the bowl, stirring, without anything burning whatsoever.   The chocolate goes to a hundred fifteen degrees before you remove it from the heat and add the rest of the chocolate you reserved on the side. The temperature is brought down to eighty six degrees and then you put it back on the boiler to melt it all at ninety degrees.    A strip test is done, a streak of chocolate made on parchment. And for a whole two minutes, you wait for it to set. But it doesn’t.   “What the hell…?”   Jungkook is genuinely perplexed and finally, he gets what you’ve been talking about. “See? It just doesn’t work!”   He shakes his head, refusing to admit defeat. “It must’ve increased in heat before we added the other chocolate in. Let’s try again.”   The pair of you chop chocolate across from each other, silent in your determination. But when you glance up, you see Jungkook’s brows furrowed, thoughts probably lost. You don’t see him serious often — well you do, but you never paid much attention to him before. Not like now.   The process is repeated. The chocolate is melted to a hundred fifteen degrees and then decreased down to eighty six as you add in the loose chocolate, and then it’s brought back up again….    But then the temperature begins climbing — faster than you and Jungkook can react. “Fuck, fuck.”   The two of you help each other take the bowl off the pot in urgency and then press your burning fingers to your ears before running it under cold water. “It went to a hundred? Do you think it’ll be okay?”   “I don’t know. We have to test it.”   The strip test is done, but the chocolate never sets. It stays wet. Dull.    “Mother fuc—”   “We’ll try again,” Jungkook reassures you with a hand on your shoulder.   It’s painful having to re-doing everything and going way later into the night than you initially intended. You feel like you’re being driven crazy, but you’re glad Jungkook’s here with you — you know you’re not going insane alone.   You look back at your textbook and your notes, making sure you’re doing it right and you hope for the best in the next batch.   “It set….but it’s so streaky.” You look up at Jungkook who’s an inch away. He hums and leans down to get a closer look.   “It’s bloom. The lipids moved through the cracks of the chocolate.”   “You think it’s because the kitchen’s too hot?”   “Yeah, we should try to put it in the fridge to cool.”   One last attempt is made. It takes twenty more minutes and then it’s put in the fridge. But after the chocolate sets, there’s no shine or snap.   Jungkook finds slumped on the floor, spooning chocolate, one of the failed attempts, into your mouth. You’re hugging the silver bowl in your lap like it’s your anchor. “I give up.”    It feels like you’ve gone through a thousand batches. The kitchen is an absolute mess — spatulas and tasting spoons littered on the counter, double bowlers and bowls, wasted chocolate everywhere. There’s a sink-full to wash and that alone makes you want to cry.   You slurp up more chocolate in an attempt to feel better. “Fuck chocolate.” But why does it have to taste so delicious?   “I don’t understand why it’s so hard,” Jungkook admits with a frown. It just doesn’t seem to work with you. “It’s not rocket science. It was fine when I did it.”   “Fuck you. You’re not supposed to boast. You’re supposed to help me.”   “Was the last two and a half hours not helping you?” he questions. “You just have to watch your temperatures and keep practicing.”   “That’s helpful.”   “Hey, I’m trying.”   Jungkook pisses you off. Everything comes so easy for him. As chocolate destroys you, he’s out here wanting to be a chocolatier. But maybe it suits him — chocolate’s an asshole and so is he.   “I’d like to see you try to caramelize sugar as well as I can, or better yet, pipe flowers.”   The boy scoffs, looking down at you and your patheticness. You don’t even realize you have chocolate all over your mouth. “That’s easy.”   “I worked at a cupcake shop for three summers.” You stand up on your feet, facing him head on. “You think you can beat me in piping flowers?”   “I think I can do better than you can temper chocolate.” Jungkook smirks arrogantly, enough to push you off the edge.   “Let’s bet on it then!”   “Fine. How much?”   You have a better idea than money. “Loser has to cover for the winner during the internship in May. Whenever the winner goes on break or makes a mistake.”   He scoffs. It’s a big wager but it sounds delightful when he knows you’re going down. “Deal.”   //   It’s a busy Thursday, but that doesn’t stop any of you. Even after a long day of classes, sitting in lecture halls listening to theory to working in the kitchens, you find yourselves a spare kitchen space afterwards to finally put this all to rest.   You won’t tell Jungkook that you practiced all of yesterday by yourself and actually got it to work once — you nearly started to cry out of happiness when the chocolate tempered.   “You want me to make this?”   Jungkook looks at the picture on your phone. “Yep. I made it last summer using buttercream. They’re peonies. Why? Think it’s too hard?”   He scoffs. “As if. Watch, I’ll make it better than you did.”   “Uh-huh. Keep talking, Jeon.”   Jungkook eagerly takes on your challenge.    While you take up half the kitchen, he manages the other half, and the two of you share the center island together. You get your double boiler ready, chopping up chocolate to melt while Jungkook mixes butter, vanilla, confectioner's sugar, and milk together. The fucker doesn’t even use a hand mixer. He simply uses a spoon to make it, blatantly showing off as his veins in his forearm pop. He smirks when he notices you staring and you roll your eyes.   Jungkook makes a variety of colours, pastel pinks and baby blues, and puts them into the piping bag as you stir the chocolate over the heat.   You focus on the numbers on your thermometer, but out of the corner of your eye, you watch him.   He cuts squares of parchment, puts one on a flower stand, adds a small cone of thick buttercream to the paper, and then picks his tip. You muse that he must’ve been doing his studying when he chooses a one twenty seven tip. It’s a straight teardrop shape, and he squeezes while turning the nail wide ends towards the center, narrow end outwards.   But he sighs after a moment, hands halting.   It’s your turn to smirk.   “Not so easy, is it?”   His eyes flicker up to glare at you. “Keep a watch on that chocolate before you burn it again, brat.”   You scoff, continuing to stir. You keep your heat low so the temperature climbs slowly.   In the meanwhile, Jungkook switches his tip out for a one twenty and tries again. You take a glance, and it’s not too bad — still sloppier than yours and he knows it too.   After a moment of frustration, he switches to a one twenty two.   “You should check the consistency of that buttercream,” you sing-song. “Can’t be too stiff or soft.”   “I’m fully aware.”   “Are you?” You smile at him, mockingly so. “Just making sure.”   Jeon Jungkook doesn’t appreciate you provoking him, but realizes it’s similar to how he treated you. It’s not his fault his forte isn’t in teaching. And yours clearly isn’t either.   “A one twenty five?” You scoff. “Are you trying to make a rose or a peony?”   Jungkook’s smile is stiff. “What do you suggest I use then?”   “Go back to the one twenty seven tip or pick a curved teardrop shape. Also, you’re squeezing too hard too fast, muscle pig.”   “I know something else I squeeze too hard too fast,” he mutters as he follows your instructions.   “Go fuck yourself, Jeon.”   “Didn’t need to spell it out, sweetheart, but that’s exactly what I do every night.” He smirks and you roll your eyes again.   “God, you’re going to make me throw up all over my chocolate.” You take it off the heat once it reaches a hundred fifteen degrees, putting the rest of your chocolate in and mixing. You have a good feeling about this batch. Even if it’s your first try of the day too.   Usually you’d rush, get too impatient, but it’s entertaining to see Jungkook struggle. Time goes by faster.   You mix in your chocolate, bringing the temperature back up again, and you do a strip test when it’s all nicely melted, putting it in the fridge. All there’s left to do is wait a few minutes now.   You come back, dusting your hands off, feeling confident. Meanwhile, Jungkook is still piping flowers with his thick brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he concentrates.   “It’s taking you a while there, Jeon.”   “Whatever.” He sighs, resting his hands on the counter as he rolls his neck. “You had a full three hours practicing with me on Tuesday. This is the first time in a while that I’m piping, alright? Give me a break.”   “Uh-huh. All I hear are your excuses. Less talk, more work.”   You grab some parchment and an icing bag he’s left abandoned in a cup. With a flower needle, you begin piping yourself to pass the time. It’s actually one of your favourite things to do — it’s therapeutic. You can listen to the sound of your own breathing and the crinkling of the piping bag while you make literal flowers from your hands.    You break out of your focus to find Jungkook watching you intently. Your arm extends, showing off your flower with pride. “Pretty, right?”   The icing flower has perfect ruffles and petals. It looks real, and by the expression he has, he’s already aware.    Jungkook grumbles incoherently and returns back to work, making you giggle.   You take another piece of parchment, but this time you steal a spatula-full of his blue icing and put it in the pink bag to make two-tone flowers. And you pipe them on, spinning the flower nail, as it comes to you with ease.   You listen to the crinkling of the icing bag, your heartbeat in your own ears, the white noise of the quiet kitchen, and Jungkook’s breathing. You’re not sure what compels you, perhaps a sudden urge, but you quietly blurt— “I never stole your millie cake recipe.”   “What?” His eyes flicker up and Jungkook finds you concentrating on piping, not paying him any mind.   “The September incident,” you murmur out of the corner of your mouth. “I never stole your mirror glazed blueberry whatever millie cake recipe like you think I did.”   Maybe you’re telling him because things are different now.   You know he won’t jump down your throat and accuse you otherwise, for lying, or trying to cover yourself. Won’t denounce you. Bark out in laughter. Your relationship with Jungkook has become strange recently — you think it’s something other people would call a friendship. But you thought he should know. Just in case he still hates you for it.   You know you don’t hate him so much anymore.   “You threatened to go up to the Dean and expel me, remember?” Your pupils flicker up for a moment.   Jungkook recalls it clearly — the confrontation in the kitchen, the fight that broke out, how you slapped him, how he was planning to do everything possible to get you expelled. How you were ostracized over the rumours for weeks until people forgot and moved on as they naturally did.   But you and Jungkook never did. You always both remembered.   “I went to Mrs. Ahn before she left on maternity leave. I was stuck — didn’t know what to add to my portfolio, so I asked her. And she gave me your recipe as a reference. Told me to give it a try. Gain inspiration from it.”   You put your hands down, connecting your eyes with his.    Jungkook is rendered speechless. “And that was when I saw you…?”   “Yep. You busted into the kitchen without letting me explain and accused me of stealing your shit when I didn’t even know it belonged to you. I didn’t know you were the one who came up with it.”   “Why…” He shakes his head, frowning deep enough that it hurts. “Why didn’t you say anything?”   “You didn’t deserve it. The truth. I knew I was right and I was so….so mad that you could accuse me of stealing, that I could even be capable of such a thing. I wanted you to bring it up to the Dean. I wanted you to do it so you could be embarrassed when you realized what actually happened.”   It’s all in the past now. Your anger doesn’t surge as much anymore, but you can still recall a time when you felt utterly enraged he could think so lowly of you — a time when Jungkook didn’t deserve your explanation, so you slapped him. In hindsight, it was probably a bad decision on your part. You escalated the situation when it didn’t need to and it spiraled out of control.    You’re at fault for being rash and impulsive as much as he is.   “It wasn’t like I was going to use it anyway,” you mutter with a sigh and pick up a new square of parchment to continue piping. “For inspiration or whatnot, much less add to my own portfolio. I swapped the blueberries for blackberries, and it turned out to be disgusting. I messed up on the glaze part too.” You muse, “Chocolate’s never been nice to me.”   Jungkook absolutely baffled. Bewildered.    All of this hatred against each other was caused by a misunderstanding. All of it which could’ve been avoided.   “I—”   “Wow, are you kids practicing your techniques?” Miss. Kang is at the door, visibly impressed as she regards you both. “And here I was on my way home. You two are so diligent! And look at you both working together like this! I always knew you put your differences aside and be friends.”   “You have great timing, Miss. Kang.” You smile at her. “Jungkook and I were just having a friendly contest. Would you like to be our judge?”   “Sure. I think I can spare a moment or two.” She steps in, looking around. “What are we doing here? Looks like someone was tempering chocolate and you’re….piping! Goodness, me. Did you make those, Y/N? They’re very lovely.”   “Thank you.” You grin, beaming from the praise of your piping skills. “But the contest was me tempering chocolate against Jungkook piping.” You move over to the fridge, taking out the metal tray with your strip test. You hand it to her, and she hums.   “Very shiny, and it slides right off the parchment!” she exclaims. For the final examination, the young female teacher bends the chocolate and it audibly snaps. You could burst out into cries of happiness. “Looks tempered to me.”   You look over at Jungkook, head quirked to the side, wearing a big smile that’s infectious enough to make him grin too. “Here’s my piping.” He places the parchment on the counter and she leans over to study it, humming.   “Not too bad, Jungkook. A little messy around the edges, but I’d say a job well done. If this was an actual exam, I’d give you full marks.”   Jungkook cocks a brow towards you, sly smirk on his face. You step forward. “So which is better?”   “Well, it’s very difficult to judge on tempering chocolate and piping since they’re two completely different things. I’d say it was equal.”   “If you had to pick one?” you ask, desperate for a winner to be proclaimed.   Miss Kang hums a long note. You and Jungkook are put in suspense, anticipating her final decision. She taps her chin, deciding to chew on your chocolate as she studies the flower.   Finally, the teacher nods. “I can’t complain about the chocolate — it’s a hundred percent tempered. But I can say the piping needs a little more work, so…”   “I win!” You give Jungkook a cheeky grin causing him to scoff lightly.   “It was a stroke of luck.”   “Keep telling yourself that, Jeon.”   “It’s a tie,” he insists, “She said only if she had to pick.”   “That’s true.” Miss. Kang backs him up before you can retort.   But you still pout. “Sore loser. I win and you know it.”   “Hmmm.” Jungkook playfully shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Let’s just call it even, Y/N.”   “Nuh-uh. That’s not how it works!”   The pair of you argue back and forth — yet there’s no real malice. It’s simply banter and it causes Miss. Kang to laugh. She bids her farewell and quips that you both better get the kitchen clean. In the end, Jungkook compromises. He still insists it’s a tie but he does the hard work of cleaning the dishes and you give into his will.   As you prepare the mop water, he scrubs the bowls.   “I’m sorry,” Jungkook pipes up after a second of quiet contemplation. He turns his head to look at you. “For the misunderstanding.”   “You don’t have to be sorry.” You divert your vision elsewhere. “Not anymore. You’ve given me more reasons to be thankful. So we’ll call this even.”   Jeon Jungkook smiles softly. “Deal.”

[kyoko0001]

So I got re-diagnosed with ADHD recently and got on proper medications for it. I say re-diagnosed because I had been diagnosed in childhood multiple times, but my parents refused any sort of therapy or treatment for me. I’ve spent my entire life self medicating in various ways and beating myself up in an attempt to just be functional. 

I gave up on normal years ago!! After so many teachers, family members, and friends just telling me to be quite. Just pay attention. Just make a list. Just try this app. Just stick to a routine. Just write it down. Just don’t be so sensitive... I seriously wonder sometimes if I just... human wrong? 

The things my parents and teachers constantly told me run on repeat in my head every time I notice the gap between me and ‘normal.’ I berate myself by saying I am just being lazy. I am not trying hard enough. That if I can only do better, read another self help book, find a new app.... That I could be normal too. Everything would click and I could get my shit together. 

Over the years I think I myself have become my biggest bully... and I learned to bully myself for the natural way my brain works because a bunch of uneducated adults and teachers told me I was purposely failing because I just didn’t care. I learned that I didn’t deserve love, empathy, or basic human respect until I ‘grew out of it’ and that was so deeply ingrained in me, and my inner critic got so big, that I thought I was just... bad. Not even broken! just offensively wrong to everyone and anyone I came across.  

When I was a kid and still in catholic school we would stay after school mass for private prayer or reflection and I would look around at all the statues and crosses and wonder what I did to make god hate me. 

Let that sink in. 

I thought my parents and teachers hated me because god had made me bad. and no matter how many prayers I said, how often I went to confession, or how much repenting and apologizing I did to those statues... nothing changed. 

I don't have a unique experience. I am sure a lot of you relate to this and I am fucking sorry. 

I only graduated in 2015 guys. I’m 23. Those same ignorant teachers and school administrators sill work with kids just like me every single day and I wonder if they understand what a negative impact they can cause. Not just on kids with ADHD... but any kid who doesn’t have a perfect home life or is struggling with mental health issues. We are called liars. We are told we are faking. We are told we just want attention. We are called dramatic. We are told we are lazy. That we lack work ethic and if we don’t want to work at McDonalds for the rest of our lives we better get it together. 

The thing that always frustrated me the most... is that I always tried.

It was never about not trying. 

I don’t think I am more overwhelmed as an adult then I was in school... but I think I am more aware that it is not normal for things to actually be this hard. I’ve been in therapy for like... 2 years now I think? I needed two years of therapy to deal with the complex trauma from my first 18 years of life to even get to a point of being able to show myself enough compassion to not instantly shut down the thought of “well maybe I have no reason to lie to myself and everyone else about how my brain works?”  

Yes. 

I have a lot of genuine fear that I am making the entire thing up for attention and all those teachers and my shit parents were right all along. That really I am just lazy and life really is this hard and it wont get any better because everyone procrastinates or gets distracted every now and then. 

I know I am not alone in this ether. Tons of people feel this way about their mental health because our society treats mental health differently than other forms of illness or trauma. You wouldn't worry about faking a broken arm or a failing kidney. 

I was shaking as I waited for my appointment to start. I was terrified that I wasn’t going to be believed even though all I had to do was tell the truth. I was afraid to say that I felt like the coping skills I had learned on my own through self help books and therapy were not enough and I wanted to try medication. I was afraid she was going to think I was just a drug seeker because I have self medicated with different things in the past to try and quite my head down enough to function. 

Instead I felt listened too, validated, and not alone. 

I had my first day at work today on my new medication and FUUUUUCK is there a night and day difference. I don’t act any different in a social setting but guys... . My head was quieter then it has been in years and instead of crying in the bathroom because I was overwhelmed... I had to take a quick cry brake because it was 4:30 and I actually got everything done I needed to without my brain pulling me in 50 directions all at once. 

Do you know how much energy you have at the end of the day when you’re not spending your entire day mentally berating yourself over the fact that you are doing everything but the thing you need to do? Do you know how much time I save when I don’t have to start from the beginning of work tasks over and over every time I get interrupted because I loose my train of thought and don't want to make a mistake? 

After I got out of work it was not straight home to smoke some weed and vegitate because I am out of spoons and transformed back into my natural gremlin state. I stopped and put gas in my car, I did my dishes, I walked the dog, and I worked on my fics some while still getting downtime! I still got to play on tiktok and obsessively check the election results. 

My energy level, concentration, and mood have been consistent the entire day. That NEVER happens. 

I get to go to bed tonight knowing I did every fucking thing I was supposed to do today and honestly... I have no clue how many years its been since I could say that. 

Today I wasn’t just functional... I got to feel normal. 

[cornholio4]

End of Adrienette

@rjalker

I have not seen Chat Blanc except for the ending on TV; let me say that I am acting on second hand information and Adrien did not deserve what happened to him. Despite that I saw posts on Tumblr who pointed out not only due to his own questionable behaviour; how bad it would be only interested in the girl who is Ladybug and not the girl herself. This fic will not be kind to him at all.

The class at Francoise Dupont were ecstatic when the day came when Marinette and Adrien walked into class hand in hand; their eyes filled with love. Pretty much the entire class except for a jealous Chloe; were beyond excited and Marinette was cornered by her circle of female friends who said that she gave Adrien a confession note and Adrien then asked her out. She insisted that was how it started but Alya could note beleive that after all the schemes all it took was just one note.

For months the class were supporting their new biggest power couple (beating out Ivan and Mylene) and of course the media was all over them; people were coming to her site and she was being pressured for interviews. Especially hoping for Adrien to be the unofficial spokesperson and model for her website.

The only thing that would be better for Alya would be if Ladybug and Chat Noir got together but during this time Chat Noir had not been flirting and they were acting just as friends. It felt weird especially with the strange looks Chat Noir was giving her...

Then came one Monday when they were all waiting for the couple and Adrien entered first looking nervous which made them a bit confused; then Marinette but she actually gave a glare to his direction and actually moved to the back to be away from her.

Marinette was asked if they were having their first couple's fight but then Marinette shocked them all with a simple response:

"I broke up with him."

Everyone was sure that they misheard Marinette or this was all a dream but it was all real; Marinette refused to say anything else on the subject and Adrien was too vague in how he worded it. He just said that he made a mistake and Marinette found out and didn't take it well. Alya and Nino jsut assured him to give her some time as they were all sure she was just overreacting as she sometimes did. This was nothing more than their first couple's fight and it would be fixed soon.

However it didn't.

Marinette kept refusing to talk to him despite his attempts and would glare in his direction when he would come near. However what clinched it to Alya, Mylene, Juleka, Rose and Alix that it was way more serious than they thought when they had their get together at her house.

Her room was void of everything that had Adrien's face on it as well as her schedule; except for one thing: a photo of him that was taped to a dart board and was vandalised with writings of hate.

Then Alya started scheming to get them back together; it started small with inviting her to togethers with Adrien secretly there. However she would suddenly go away as soon as she saw them and despite attempts to block her way outs; she would find a way out of them. For school projects Alya would insist they work together as a team but it seemed to only make things worse.

Marinette became more hostile to Adrien especially willing to freak out anyone so much as mention the breakup and it prevented any work done. Marinette got her parents involved and Ms Bustier finally had to break up the team and allowed Marinette to work with another team. Ms Bustier had gotten demands that the class stop forcing their daughter to work with Adrien when she clearly was not ready to be near him again; threats of class transfers so she had no choice but to forbidden pestering Marinette about it in school.

Marinette's parents were aware that things were bad and refused to let Adrien anywhere near the Bakery unless he was a customer. Any questions of asking to see Marinette caused demands for him to leave. When word got out that Adrien and his girlfriend had breaking up; they were determined to get details themselves but the Dupain-Chengs kept chasing reporters away from the bakery. Nadja Chamack had cashed in a few favours to get her media company to leave her friends' daughter and her private life alone.

Marinette resorted to inviting Adrien and Marinette to her house in secret; Adrien was in a room and Alya ended up pushing Marinette into it and barricading and locking the door. She went out and locked the door wanting to give it an hour or two to let them patch things up.

However Marinette had her phone and her parents number so she ended up calling Mrs Cesaire to tell her that Alya locked her in the house with her ex boyfriend. Alya got home to see her furious mother; Alya ended up with a month's grounding and her parents strongly warning her to leave Marinette alone about whatever happened with Adrien. Apparently when her mother let them out; Adrien was nursing an area on his face and jaw where he was both slapped and punched!

Alya kept screaming in her head about the attempts that failed; she wanted to shout into Adrien's ear demanding what exactly he did. What could he have done to cause her best friend who previously was over the moon in love with him to outright despite him so much. For crying out loud; she now spent more time being hostile to him than Chloe nowadays!

During this time Paris and those on the Ladyblog noted that things seemed to be just as bad for Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug became hostile to Chat Noir and was now refusing to tolerate anything that looked like he was not taking the fighting Akumas seriously; she would snap and berate him for any flirtatious comments. She would even refuse to do any 'Pound It' now; after Miraculous Ladybug she would comfort the victim and then Bug Out.

She asked Ladybug and said that bridges were burned between them and now their relationship was now strictly nothing more than professional. Alya wished she could care more about this than she did but honestly she was still too bummed out about Marinette and Adrien.

She finally gave out and stopped pestering Marinette for details; her class elected to now comfort her about it. There was even her other finds Kagami and Luka willing to help her get through it and be her old self again. Alya decided Marinette's happiness was more important than trying to fix her relationship with Adrien. She knew Adrien was still crushed about it but what more could be done?

She would give her time and help Marinette get back into the dating game when she was ready; there were other fishes in the sea they say. She thought that Luka and Kagami were good fish so to speak.

*Page Break*

Marinette was slowly getting over Adrien and was happy that her friends had finally relented and gave up on trying fixing things between her and Adrien. She was still mad at Alya for the stunt she pulled but was happy with her sincere apology and did think she would think of seeing about getting her together with Luka and Kagami. She appreciated the sentiment but she wanted to take this slow and didn't want to turn any of her friends into a rebound relationship.

They deserved more than that.

The hurt was still there and she thought the time spent dating him were the best of her entire life; then came that day:

She and Chat Noir had been done with facing off against an Akuma; afterwards she was trying to find a place to turn back but then spotted Chat Noir transforming back. She panicked as she closed her eyes but paused when she heard Plagg say those words:

"So are you worried about if she is going to find out Adrien?"

She opened her eyes and saw that Adrien was indeed Chat Noir! She was still trying to wrap her head that her boyfriend was indeed her partner all this time but was caught off guard when Adrien began saying he would prefer to make sure that Marinette doesn't know that he knows that she is Ladybug.

Since the day she spotted Ladybug leaving his room and leaving the note.

A horrible thought came over her...

"Please don't tell me that you only asked me out because you knew I was Ladybug?" Marinette asked pleadingly surprising Adrien as he turned around and spotted her there. He panicked and said he could explain; he said that he thought it would be perfect since they turned out to have been in love with their other halves all this time.

She was still unable to believe it even as she transformed back into Marinette; Tikki herself did not look pleased and Plagg was silent. Her irresponsible partner who liked to focus on cracking jokes and flirting; plus not taking it well when his asking for dates were rejected taking it out on their duties.

He had taken advantage of her crush to be with his Lady in secret. He knew all this time and didn't say anything...

"We are through Adrien!" she snapped at him and ran home with tears in her eyes. Adrien caught up to her in the Bakery. And he explained that he did love her and how when they met he knew that whoever it was under the mask he was in love with her. That he hates being the perfect boy image his father forced him to play and how being Chat Noir allows him to cut loose and finally be his true self.

That had the opposite effect than what he hoped; all it said to Marinette was the sweet kind boy that she was in love with was just an act and the real Adrien was the irresponsible idiot who got on her nerves. She snapped at him to leave before going to her room.

She go through her days trying to deal with her friends' attempts to learn more or trying to get them back together. At least she had support from friends she had outside the class and her parents. Plus Adrien's attempts to plead with her only made her angrier. He had snuck in one night to speak as Chat Noir but she was able to easily able to take him down.

She got his hand and showed she could easily get the Miraculous back; she warned him never to try it again. She threatened that she would take it away from him and then call for her parents if he tried this again. She asked how would it look for Adrien Agreste to break into his ex girlfriend's room in the middle of the night and get arrested. How his father would react from the PR disaster that would be created.

Adrien pleaded with her silently not to do this; that his father would not let him go near him or the school again. Marinette's face had no sympathy and let go repeating the warning she just gave him.

She could barely work with him as Superheroes anymore but things were getting easier; Master Fu assured her that he was coming up with a solution. What he didn't tell her was that he was looking for a replacement Chat Noir. Why punish Marinette for Adrien's foolish mistake. The rules were supposed to be that they would both have to give up their Miraculous but Marinette was one of if not the best Ladybug holder and Paris needs the best they can get for Hawk Moth.

Edit: For those commenting and review, thank you. I want to say that Marinette’s problem with Adrien here is that after finding out he found out her identity and took advantage of it; that he was more in love with the mask of Ladybug than Marinette herself. To Marinette she had a realisation her relationship was basically a lie and Adrien was actually her irresponsible and petty partner. Plus the Adrien she fell in love with was just a persona forced upon him by his father and when he is himself as Chat Noir he annoys and irritates her.

[sage-nebula]

Do NOT reblog, or I will delete the post and block you.

There are so many posts on here about “eldest daughter this” and “oldest sibling that” but there are no posts that talk about what it’s like to be the middle sibling when your oldest sibling is a complete and utter fuckup in basically every way.

I’m technically the middle child. I have a sister who’s 8.5 years older than I am, and a (technically step-)brother who’s nine months younger than I am. My brother became my brother when I was six and he was five, so the “step-” determination is really meaningless, but I added it to explain how he could be my brother when he’s only nine months younger than I am. Anyway. I have two siblings, one older and one younger, and so that makes me the middle child, right?

Well, yes . . . but also no. 

As you could surmise by the opening paragraph, my older sister fucked up in basically every conceivable way. I won’t get into her whole life story here because that’s not my story to tell (though believe me, there are doozies in there), but suffice it to say that every single choice she made is one that most parents would disapprove of. All three of my parents certainly did. And so what do you think happened when it came to me? 

I’ll tell you what happened. 

Because my older sister fucked up in every way one could possibly fuck up, there was a fear, I suppose, or a concern that I would, for whatever godforsaken reason, follow in her footsteps even though the two of us could not be more different in terms of attitude, outlook, goals, et cetera. As a result, if I did even the slightest thing wrong, the punishment hammer came down on me with all the might of Thor celebrating a delicious beverage. I failed geometry in junior year of high school due to an undiagnosed learning disability (along with undiagnosed severe depression and an undiagnosed anxiety disorder, all following years of abuse at my biological mother’s hands), and I was put under lockdown for the entire summer. I was not allowed to leave the house except to go to summer school, I was not allowed to talk to or see any of my friends, or play video games, or watch television, or be on the internet, or read, or write fiction, or do basically anything besides the aforementioned summer school and listening to music. To this day, my parents think this was a good decision on their part even though they now know about the learning disability and myriad of mental illnesses. They think it was a good call for them to punish me like they did.

And so you would say, okay, but if they punished you that severely because they didn’t want you to end up a drug-addicted high school dropout like your sister, surely they would level the same punishments against your brother, especially since you two were so close in age! Well, you would think that, but nope!

Instead, when my brother was around seventeen, he got pulled over and arrested for marijuana possession. (I think he was pulled over in the first place for speeding, but I can’t remember.) His punishment was to have his car taken away for six months. That’s it. He still had all of his other privileges, was not punished in any other way, he just could not drive for six months. He got in actual legal trouble, but he was still allowed to have hobbies.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that my brother should have been punished more harshly, per se. I’m only saying there was a stark difference in the way that we were treated that my family refuses to acknowledge or own up to even to this day, and it all comes down to the fact that I was never cut slack in either direction. If I was compared to my older sibling, then the fact that she had screwed up so royally in basically every single way meant that I would be made to stand at attention so I could be yelled at for an hour for failing a math class, and then continue to be berated and insulted for how I was clearly never going to college (I have a master’s now, by the by) because of it over the next few days, and yelled at further for having “nothing to say to myself” in the face of all the lecturing. But if I was compared to my younger sibling, why, then it should be expected that he always gets off easier, because he’s younger than I am and the baby of the extended family and, well, I’m older and more mature, so I can handle it better, anyway. And I mean, I guess, for the record, true; I took my punishment in silence because as a victim of child abuse for basically my entire life I never stood up for myself against my parents back then and always just stayed quiet to try to make punishments worse, whereas he threw fits about having his keys taken away every single day for those six months, but also we have to consider how “mature” one really is if that “maturity” stems from a decade and plus some of child abuse.

Because see, that’s the thing, and what has made me really start thinking about this the past few days. I mentioned it on twitter, but a week ago I got into a fight with my mom (stepmom, the better of the two) over politics that has effectively led to her disowning me, I think, which in turn means that my dad has disowned me as well, I think, because I’m pretty sure he’s going to take her side on this one. I won’t get into the actual subject matter here, but the long and short of it is that she accused me of “attacking” her when I wasn’t, and has since then refused to speak to me, even when I tried to offer an olive branch by texting her that fine, I wouldn’t talk to her about politics, but I still loved her. She left me on Read. So the way I see it, she’s not talking to me until I apologize, and I won’t apologize, so she’ll never talk to me and I’m just effectively disowned, I guess. It’s not exactly the first time I’ve lost a parent, and actually, it’s kind of in the same way as the last time.

Fifteen years ago, I left my abusive biological mother to live with my dad and stepmom. (I’m going to keep using stepmom to keep it clear from here on out, just as I use biological mother, even though I do call my stepmom “mom” and consider her as such.) At first my biological mother kept trying to reach out with her pity party guilt tripping about how lonely she was and how much she needed me and yadda yadda, but in the last phone conversation we had, she called me a traitor for leaving her. Keep in mind, I was 15, and she was abusive to the point where the neighbors could hear every profanity and threat she screamed at me from down the street. They told me this. They also told me they always thought about calling CPS, but they never did, but whatever. The point is, on that last phone conversation, she called me a traitor for leaving her. I told her that I wasn’t. She said that I was. I told her I didn’t have to listen to that. She said I did. I said I didn’t, and hung up the phone. I expected her to call right back to curse me out . . . but she never did.

That was fifteen years ago, and we’ve never spoken since.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to speak to her. Actually, the one time it looked like it might happen (at my sister’s wedding), my Fight or Flight response kicked in when I saw her walking toward me and I bolted. I had a panic attack so bad I felt like I was going to vomit. It’s really embarrassing to admit that, but it’s true. The only time I’ve seen her since was at my nephew’s high school graduation (which is the only graduation she got to attend for anyone directly related to her, since my sister dropped out and she didn’t attend mine), but although we made eye contact I looked away pretty quickly and, again, didn’t speak to her. Again, I don’t want to speak to her, this isn’t me complaining, I’ve not lost a single wink of sleep for the fact that she never reached out again despite how my dad likes to go on and on about how she should have “never stopped trying.” (But also, he never picks up the phone to call me for a chat either, despite always telling me how I should call him, so.)

But I just can’t help but notice the similarity. Once again, I have a mother who is refusing to speak to me because she feels I’ve wronged her in some way, and if I want a relationship, then I have to be the one to reach out (even though I already did, but was left on Read, so she wants me to reach out in a very specific way that she won’t even articulate). This isn’t the first time that she (and my dad) have done this, either. When I studied abroad in London, we got into a fight over something stupid over Skype, and I hung up the call. I was 19/20, so you know, not fully mature, but expected to be. Two weeks of silence passed before I had to call them to apologize, because even though their daughter was in a completely foreign country and, hell, could’ve been dead for all they knew, they wanted to Teach Me A Lesson, with that lesson being that unless I behaved the Right Way, they wouldn’t be there for me. And I guess here we are now, about eleven years later, having come full circle with that.

And you know what? I’m tired of it. 

Because here’s the thing about being the second child when the first child is a fuckup in every way: you are expected to not only not fall into those same pitfalls, but also to excel in every single possible way. Not only in terms of grades or whatever else, but also in terms of emotional maturity and support for the parents. This veers into the abuse I experienced, I know (at least some of it), but you know how I mentioned that my biological mother kept going on and on about how much she needed me and whatnot? This is because instead of treating me like her daughter, I was instead treated like her combo maid-servant-therapist. It was my job to wait on her hand and foot when she was home, whether that was through fetching her coffee or being in charge of the refrigerator remaining operational (this sounds specific because it is; when I was about 13 the refrigerator broke and she yelled at me for a.) not knowing it was going to break and b.) not doing anything to prevent it breaking), but also she laid out all of her problems to me day after day, month after month, year after year. Do you know how many times I had to sit and listen to the “your father ran out on me after 22 years of marriage” speech? And when I finally asked her if she could stop she yelled at me because I clearly let him badmouth her but I wouldn’t let her do the same. (He actually didn’t, and neither did my stepmom. She was the only one remaining bitter.) She “needed” me because I was the emotional pillar on top of which sat her own degrading stability. The second time I told her that I wanted to live with my dad (because I told her to her face that I wanted to switch the custody agreement twice, and got browbeaten down twice, before I finally left in secret and didn’t tell her until I was already at his place), she picked up smoking cigarettes again after having quit smoking while she was hospitalized for undiagnosed diabetes and told me that it was my fault that she was smoking again, because I had stressed her out so badly by telling her that I wanted to leave. And like, one, obviously I wanted to leave, is there any question of why I wanted to leave or why that wouldn’t make me just want to leave more? But also two, the point I’m getting at here is that it was always about her, always about her emotional needs, never about mine. My emotional wellbeing was never a priority in that house. I was always expected to be there for her, that was my entire purpose as her daughter. 

With my dad and stepmom it was obviously different, and in a lot of ways it was better because, god, I hated having to be the recipient of the constant stream of stress and misery from my biological mother. My dad and stepmom had each other, so I never had to hear about their woes for the most part. But at the same time, look at what happened when I failed geometry; instead of looking into seeing if they could get me diagnosed with a learning disability, or maybe actually listening to me when I said I felt “burnt out” and pushing a little harder for me to go to therapy, my dad instead yelled at me for an hour and several days after, insulted me, told me I was never going to succeed, and put me under lockdown for the entire summer, cutting me off from my support network of friends. I came from a background of 15 years of abuse, and one fuckup a year or so later lead not to a reexamination of how I was doing, but instead a severe punishment so that I “wouldn’t do it again.” I couldn’t pass a math class in university and in my final year I finally broke and went to my parents about how I really wasn’t going to graduate college because of it, and they agreed to pay to get me examined for a learning disability which, whoops, looks like I had! And my dad still blames me for waiting for so long to get diagnosed and not telling him sooner, when the last time he found I failed a math class that summer lockdown happened. He still hasn’t put the pieces together between that lockdown and why I didn’t tell him about the math classes I failed in university. Amazing.

My point is, with my dad and my stepmom, it wasn’t so much that they used me as an emotional sponge or pillar, but rather that they were pretty much uninvolved so long as I performed adequately, and was the model daughter they could be Oh So Proud Of, but the moment I slipped, bam! Go to jail, go directly to jail, do not pass Go, do not contact your friends. My emotional needs were still not a priority because it wasn’t about whether or not I was okay, but whether or not it looked like I was doing okay in ways that were quantifiable, such as my grades. And I mean, to be fair, I wasn’t exactly keen on opening up about my feelings at that age and I was a pro at masking how I felt and acting like everything was fine because my biological mother would berate me on the car rides to school each morning to the point of tears, and then would yell at me more about how I better clean myself up because god help me if any teachers saw me crying, which would make them think she was a bad parent and that, too, would be my fault. (Protip: Washing your face with very cold water helps clear away the puffiness around the eyes that can be a tell you’ve been crying.) But even so, again, that puts the responsibility on me to do the Right Thing so that they could be there for me emotionally as my parents, and that is just—

I’m so tired of it, man!

I have had three parents and yet have never had the unconditional love of one. Never. My stepmom once tried telling me that she and my dad would love me unconditionally when I was a teen and she was trying to get me to admit I was a lesbian (funny thing is, even I didn’t know I was gay at the time), and my dad walked through the living room and, not even knowing what we were talking about, was like, “No we won’t.” So that was great. But the thing is this whole thing proves that she was full of it, too. Because they tolerate me being gay (while still trying to set me up with men), but because I won’t apologize to my mom when I haven’t done anything wrong but she feels like I have, she’s giving me the complete and total silent treatment until I do. Because I didn’t perform in the way I’m supposed to, because I wasn’t The Mature One, I’m being cut off. Because it’s my job to be The Mature One, because I was always The Mature One, because I never had any goddamn choice in the matter and the dysfunctional environment I was in when I lived with my biological mother (+ my sister, her baby daddy-now-husband, and their two very young children whom I was often put in charge of despite being in middle school at the time because their parents were often too busy doing drugs and/or sleeping to care for them) required it. Because I had to be Kept In Line so that I wouldn’t end up like my sister, but also it was just me that had to be kept in line despite how close in age my brother and I were. And again, I’m not saying that I wish my brother had also been punished harshly, but more that I wish that, you know, maybe some mercy could have been doled out to me, except it wasn’t, because I had two siblings on either side to be compared to and as a result one toe out of the line resulted in a smiting.

But in the end, it isn’t even really about that. This post isn’t really about how I’m simultaneously the eldest daughter but also the second child. It’s more about the fact that I’ve had three parents and yet have never had the unconditional love of even one, even from the one who said I had it. It’s about how my emotional needs were never a priority for any of the parents in my life. It’s about how I basically had to raise myself and it’s a real goddamn wonder I’m not even more screwed up than I actually am because of it. And it’s also about how I really miss therapy and haven’t been able to go for a long time, and I think this rambling stream of consciousness post proves that I really, really need to find a new therapist so I can go back again, because goddamn.

Anyway, once again, do NOT reblog this or I will delete it and block you, I just needed to get this off my chest, but I need it to stay here. Thank you.

[mxstyassasxin]

Every Year I Tried, Every Year I Lied (T, 3k)

In the three years immediately following the war, Harry and Draco find themselves witholding the truth about their own feelings but as they begin to work together, they find it harder to keep lying.

on AO3

The parchment stayed blank for a long time after Potter had returned his wand. It had been there on his desk since the evening of his own birthday, a few hours after Potter had approached him in the Apothecary of all places and held his wand out; the wand that Potter had snatched from his grip in his own home – not that it had been any home to him at that moment in time. Draco had stared at it a moment, held comfortably between the calloused fingers of The Saviour, before snatching it himself. A perfunctory nod at Potter and a quick turn on his heel and he was gone, wand back in hand.

The fact that he hadn’t said anything grated on him, because he knew there was much to be said between the two of them. So he had laid a piece of parchment down on his desk, in his bedroom, waiting for him to write the words down. It had taken the arrival of Potter’s own birthday for that to finally happen.

He used his words, first and foremost, to thank Potter for returning his wand, but then the thankfulness continued to spill onto the page. Thankful that he and his mother were not in Azkaban. Thankful that his father was. Thankful for coming back for him in the Room of Hidden Things. Thankful that Potter had lived so he was able to save them all, to save everything, from the Dark Lord.

But that was a lie. Not a total lie, because he was thankful that Potter had saved them. Except, Draco knew there were other reasons that he was thankful for Potter’s individual survival, reasons that he refused to delve into. He was quite content with them bubbling away beneath the surface.

X - X - X

Was that really… Harry had to do a double take. Because strolling through the Ministry corridors towards him was Draco Sodding Malfoy who, for all Harry knew, should have been at Hogwarts revising for his NEWTs like Hermione.

As they passed each other with equal nods of acknowledgement, Harry remembered what date it was, and that on this day last year, he had returned Draco his wand. He turned to look after the retreating blonde, hair looking much softer than it had at school, and opened his mouth to shout. He faltered a moment, closing his mouth again as he thought whether it was appropriate to shout Happy Birthday in the Ministry corridors, and then opened it once more when he decided it would be best just to get his attention first.

“Malfoy!” Draco turned slowly with a tilt to his head and a quirked eyebrow as if to say, “Me?”.

Yes, you, Harry thought with a roll of his eyes as he jogged up to him.

“I just, well, I wanted to… How’s your day going?” Harry tried to smile normally at him but felt the gesture had failed by the look on Draco’s face. “And Happy Birthday, by the way. At least I hope it’s happy.” What was he saying? He wished the floor would open up beneath him.

“Thank you, Potter,” Draco said formally after clearing his throat. “It is quite a pleasant one this year. I’ve just finished interviewing with your department and they don’t see why I can’t begin training at the end of July. Depending on my exam results of course.”

“Of course,” Harry nodded numbly, still trying to take in the news that he would be working in the same department as Draco Malfoy. “I mean, congratulations! I’ll be pleased to work alongside you.”

“I hope you’re not just saying that, Potter,” Draco scowled at him.

“No! God, no. Of course not! I will be pleased. You’ve got a good way of thinking for it. You’re creative and strategic as well as logical. And I know you can be quick with your wand.”

Harry told himself it wasn’t a lie as he smiled at Draco. Not really. Because all that was true about Draco. It just wasn’t the most important reason why Harry would be pleased to work alongside him.

X - X - X

Draco stepped out of the shower, much needed after a long training session, and wrapped a towel around his waist before rolling the knots out of his shoulders that the hot water had missed. His wet hair was dripping down over his eyes as he rolled his neck, but he knew the way by now from the shower across the room to his locker.

What he didn’t count on was the voice that spoke from the direction of another locker slightly to his right. His sure steps faltered but he couldn’t stop lest the git pay any particular attention to his chest.

“Oh, Draco. Sorry, didn’t know you were in here.” At least it sounded as though one of them had a smile on their face.

He carried on quickly towards his locker and his clothes, his skin feeling flusher than it had in the heat of the shower.

“It’s alright, Potter. We’ll get used to bumping into one another, I’m sure,” he drawled, praising Merlin, Circe and Morgana when his voice sounded unaffected.

He kept his back to Potter while he buttoned up a crisp white shirt and pulled on a pair of black briefs, then turned around only to see Potter pulling on a polo shirt. His eyes grew wide and he shut them quickly, gaining a hold on himself. Since when did the man have abs!

He shook himself lightly from his sudden stupor when he realised that Potter had started speaking again and pulled his eyes up from the now-cotton-covered muscles.

“So I’m meeting a few people at the Leaky. You want to come?” Potter was saying and Draco had the feeling that he had missed something somewhere. He felt his brow furrow and saw Potter roll his eyes. “You know, birthday and all that? Drinks. Leaky. Would you like to join us?”

“Um, no. Thank you, Potter, but I probably shouldn’t, and I have a prior engagement anyway. Best wishes though.” He tried to smile but the outright lie he’d just told had settled painfully in the pit of his stomach. He was surprised it hadn’t gotten stuck in his throat because there definitely was no prior engagement, and no one usually cared either way. But here was Harry Potter looking at him like he cared and Salazar, that didn’t help with the guilt.

How could he, in good conscience, go with Potter and be around his friends without ruining their fun. Without ruining his birthday. Especially when he wouldn’t be able to get the image of some well-toned abs out of his mind.

X - X - X

Harry stared at the prone form in the hospital bed as he had been doing every day for the past week. “Asleep,” the healers kept telling him. “He’s just sleeping and he’ll wake up when he feels ready. That was a pretty intense curse he took.”

Yeah, Harry kept berating himself. A pretty intense curse that was meant for me. And it was Draco’s bloody birthday. If he wasn’t going to wake up today, when else would he.

Deep down he knew he was being petty and that Draco being alive after saving his life was much more important to focus on than the fact that he wouldn’t bloody wake up on his own birthday. But Harry needed him to wake up. His own recovery from the ambush was over and he was being sent on another case, with Ron this time, and it sounded like a long one.

He couldn’t leave without speaking to Draco, without thanking him, without saying… Well, he hadn’t quite figured out what to say, but it was Draco’s birthday for crying out loud and he couldn’t just disappear without letting Draco know.

Realising that he would have to try and put it down in writing, Harry summoned a self-inking quill and a piece of parchment, one that ended up with too many lines through it to even bother leaving for Draco to read. He summoned parchment after parchment, never quite getting the wording right. Being unable to express himself properly; frustrating himself until he gave up and lied.

He told Draco, thank you. That he wished he could have told him in person, but he had to go away on a case. That he hoped Draco would wake up soon and that he hoped to be able to see him awake when he gets back. There was more. Harry knew that there was, but it didn’t make it onto the page.

Not being very practised at writing letters that important, Harry reverted to something he remembered being taught about letter writing in primary school, signing the letter off with Yours, gratefully. Those two words felt right. More right than any other two words written on that pitiful piece of parchment, so he left it at that.

Folding it up and placing it in Draco’s hand with a whispered Happy Birthday, Harry squeezed the long, pale fingers once and walked out of the room

X - X - X

“Sir, tell me where he is,” Draco, a junior Auror of one year, demanded from Robards. He had kept his mouth shut the first week, then the second week, even the first month went by without Draco saying anything. But they had been gone far too long for everything to be going right, and Draco was worried, panicked even.

“You already know I can’t do that Auror Malfoy. I’ve told you all that I can.”

“You’ve told me shit.”

“Malfoy,” Robards warned.

“We work well together, Sir. We both know how the other works and it allows us to see the different parts of the puzzle. There could be something missing that only I can see. A link that they haven’t noticed in their observations. It will be beneficial to the department to let me join them.”

Draco told himself that it wasn’t a lie, that Potter was right about his way of thinking when they bumped into each other just over a year ago. But he knew it wasn’t the reason for demanding that Robards send him wherever they are, and he was pretty sure that Robards knew it too. But Draco just stared him down until he got what he wanted. He had yet to relinquish all his pretentiousness.

“You haven’t long been cleared for service again, Malfoy.”

“I am aware, Sir,” Draco acknowledged without removing his gaze and, a few moments later, it paid off because Robards gave a long sigh.

“You will have to read the briefing first, in here so I know you’ve done so. It has all the initial intelligence as well as the updates sent in by Aurors Potter and Weasley. Last contact was ten days ago.”

“Ten days!” Draco practically exploded but closed his eyes and took five deep, steadying breaths. “Alright. Assuming intel is ten days out of date.”

Robards nodded at him with an impressed smirk on his face before handing him a red docket.

“You’re heading to Serbia. The international Wizarding community has been keeping an eye on the situation out there following the breakup of Yugoslavia. It recently came to our attention that there are some magical influences at play interfering with the decisions of the muggle armies. Some dangerous magical influences. Considering their experiences, the European Coalition agreed that Aurors Potter and Weasley were best suited to infiltrate the situation, lay low, identify the target and extract them.”

“You sent them into another war?” Draco blinked incredulously. “Their experiences,” he hissed, “are those of child soldiers in a fight that the responsible adults ignored until it was too late.”

Robards narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything as Draco went back to reading the entirely useless docket. He was still seething when he finished and slapped it down on Robards’ desk.

“Get me a portkey. Now.”

The portkey sent him straight to the initial safe house which Draco already knew would be empty because they wouldn’t have gone quiet ten days ago if they were still there. It wasn’t anything fabulous – a three room, bare brick building on a rather barren hillside. He quickly set about searching for the warded compartment that housed maps and photographs of all the other safe houses in the area.

He could only hope that it would be this easy.

After studying the photos and locations carefully, Draco held one in his hands along with his wand and shoved the rest in a pocket on his left side before spinning away to the first safe house he’d chosen at random.

After a successful apparition, he put the information of that safe house in a pocket on his right side and cast a useful spell to reveal any recent magical signatures. Nothing.

Sighing, he took another random location out of his pocket and disapparated, casting the spell again when he landed in the correct place. Still nothing.

He tried again, and again until the fifth time, the spell caught something. The remains of some household magic; the ancient kind of family magic that you can only learn by owning a magical house. He scanned again for the trace and held it in his mind, expanding the signature not just for the type of spell, but specifically what it had been used for.

He saw it physically expanding. Someone acquainted with ancient household magic had literally expanded this safe house. Following that revelation, Draco covered every inch of the space, running his palms over the walls and floors and ceilings. Over the tops of cupboards and around doorways and window frames, seeking a particular tingle that he had felt in rooms throughout the Manor, left there from years of expansions and additions using this type of magic.

Eventually, he felt it, in the bottom of the bathtub of all places. Feeling very unlike himself, he climbed into the empty bathtub and sat cross-legged, bent forwards at the hips with his palms pressed against the cold surface; his face as close to it as he could manage.

“Potter?” He spoke quietly after a few deep breaths. “Potter, please. If you can hear me, let me in. Are you even in there? I don’t even know what house you own to be able to do this kind of magic. Some magical building must have let you in on this secret somehow. Or was it Weasley? Very possible with the way his place looks. Obviously, his parents know about it, but Weasley technically shouldn’t as the fifth, sixth, however many-eth child.

“No, I’m sure it’s not him so it has to be you, and you need to open up for me. It’s your birthday for Merlin’s sake, and I know I look utterly ridiculous right now but my Healer said that you sat waiting for me to wake up uttering complete nonsense all the time too, so I’m going to keep on talking until you come out of there because you wrote Yours. Why did you write Yours? And with a comma after it too? You must be aware of how that reads. Potter? Harry?”

After running out of air, Draco sat in silence for a moment, listening for the slightest sound. When he didn’t hear anything, he carried on speaking because he knew that this had to be it. He refused to give up hope. Especially when it came to Potter.

“I wouldn’t mind, you know. Being yours. So Happy Birthday!” Draco laughed drily. “You get me of all things, if you want.”

He lifted his cold hands from the floor of the tub to cover his face and sighed, but it soon turned into a gasp as he felt the tub give way below him and he fell, landing on his knees with warm, calloused hands frantically checking him over.

“Draco? Draco? I couldn’t figure out how to undo the damn spell to let me out. I wanted a hiding place and the damn thing gave me a bloody good place to hide but then I couldn’t un-hide.” Draco uncovered his face and stared up at the green eyes smiling down at him.

“Potter?”

“And Ron’s the sixth child, just so you know,” the git chuckled, and Draco scrambled off his knees to pull him into a hug.

“You disappeared,” Draco pointlessly pointed out.

“I know,” Potter mumbled into Draco’s chest.

“They didn’t know where you were.”

“Well I’ve been stuck beneath a bathtub for however long it’s been. Wait? You said it was my birthday? It’s been that long?”

Draco pulled back and stared shocked into Harry’s face.

“You heard what I was saying? You heard everything I said?”

“Yes, Draco. I heard everything you said,” Potter smiled warmly and looked down at their hands which had, at some point, joined together.

“And did you?” he swallowed before continuing, nervous for the answer. “Did you mean it like that?”

“Yes,” he began stroking his thumbs over Draco knuckles. “I meant it like that. I wouldn’t mind being yours either.”

And then Potter was leaning forwards, his eyes on Draco’s lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. Draco took in a sharp breath and surged forwards, meeting Potter’s lips and sighing as they parted for him. His knees felt weak and for once, nothing felt like a lie. He wouldn’t have to lie about Potter, to himself, to others, to the man himself, ever again.

Too soon, Potter was pulling away, leaving a chaste kiss behind, his thumbs still stroking over Draco’s knuckles. He smiled, and Draco couldn’t help but smile back.

“Can we go and find Ron now? We had to split up and I have no idea where he went.”

“Sure, that’s why I’m here,” Draco smirked, allowing himself just one more lie.

[badgalmorgan]

Tw: r*pe, s*x**l assault

On the 24 of September 2021 I was raped by someone I knew at a house party. I reported my rape on the 26 of September and it was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Not only was I exposed to my rapist again but it showed me how little support victims actually have, especially in this climate.

At around 11:15 we got to a house party in the old house I used to live at. I had had a dispute with my rapist the year before but I had come to make peace and let bygones be bygones (not to apologise). I had been out with my friend and we only drank what we had purchased which was wine and a little vodka. I was still sober when we got to the house and I didn’t think anything would go wrong since I had lived there before. My rapist insisted me and friend come to his room to talk about the incident and then when we were inside his room my friend went to use his in suite bathroom. I sat down on his bed and placed my drink next to me. I was done drinking for the night. My friend came out of the bathroom and asked if I was ok and I said yes, he then insisted she leave. After she left he locked the door behind her and I remember closing my eyes and laying back down.

When I opened my eyes he was on top of me, penetrating me and it hurt. I remember saying “no no” and trying to close my legs and get up and he pushed me back down. I finally managed to get up from under him and stumbled to his bathroom where he followed me with his pants and underwear hanging low, at this point I was throwing up and then he forced me to give him oral sex. He only stopped once my friend and two other guys began banging on his door. I was disoriented once the door was open and there are parts I can’t remember. My friend said my hair was messed up and she tried to fix it. She asked me if I wanted to leave and I was still shocked and so I said no. I went to sit outside with a couple of her friends and I was silent the whole time ( my friend was narrating this since I can’t remember what happened after I left his room). I asked for water and when my friend went to look for water she didn’t find any, I then asked if we could go home. When I got to the door I began to throw up I then tried to run and I slipped and fell in my own vomit. I attempted to get up again but I couldn’t and someone tried to help me up. I tried to run again. Finally my friend and someone she knew helped us get home. At home I can’t remember what happened since everything was a blur but I remember waking up at 1:00am before finally waking up at 4:00 am and crying because I realised what he did to me.

The next day I got a morning after pill, and I tried to get the PEP but they said they didn’t store it. I then booked an appointment with my doctor and at his office I tried to get a rape kit done but he abruptly told me they don’t do that and indicated that I should leave. He also asked if the rape was ‘confirmed.’ At this point I hadn’t showered because I knew that’s what you’re not supposed to do. After the appointment with the doctor I felt so demotivated and shitty about myself, I decided to go home and finally take a bath. The next day I told my friend what had happened and we decided to go to the town hospital to get the PEP. At the hospital the nurse insisted I get a rape kit done for “my peace of mind” and what if I regretted not doing it? She kept emphasising it was the the right thing to do and so I felt that I should. I didn’t want to because I could anticipate the fall out. At the police station in order for me to get a rape kit done I had make a statement and there the police officer insisted I press charges. Again she also said this was the ‘right thing’ to do and what about preventing him from doing this to other girls? I felt I should open a case even though I didn’t want to. At this point I felt as if everything was out of my hands. I opened case and was finally able to do a rape kit and just get my PEP pills.

The rape kit was such a horrible and painful ordeal. It was so dehumanising and the victim support the police sent with me did not do anything but text on his phone the entire time and discuss his own personal problems. After all that, the victim support not only watched them mishandle my clothes that were my evidence but he gave me a thumbs up and said “you’re gonna be alright girl”. After all this I finally got the PEP pills that I had wanted and set home. At home I was phoned by a woman claiming to be the investigating officer. She said she was going to meet me and my friend outside our flat to get my friend’s statement. Instead of doing the statement outside our flat she began to drive to house of the attack and said we had to be there to show her where it happened even though I already gave her the address. She then demanded we come inside to the house and wait for my rapist to return so she could tell him I was pressing charges. I later found out this was not proper procedure and instead my rights were violated. At the house she made the call to my rapist and when him and friends arrived, in front of everyone she announced I was pressing charges of rape against him. Him and friends began to harass us and she allowed him to get in my face ( I later asked why she did this and she replied “But you were protected mos?”). The investigating officer took 2 grainy photos after the entire ordeal and only then we could leave. The police officer woman who brought us to house instead stayed behind and offered them to come to her office if they wanted the next morning. In the car she refused to speak to my therapist as I began having an anxiety attack. She then turned to my friend and said she hopes we’re telling the truth because I have ruined his “career”. She drove us home and then I left the car because I couldn’t stand to be in her presence any longer. Alone in the car with my friend she insisted that my friend tell the truth of what really happened that night. Later that night I phoned a rape crisis Center and was told that the police were not meant to take me to my attacker’s house and that it had been a violation of my rights.

The following day while I was at the doctor’s office getting a prescription for anti-anxiety and depression and sleep meds, the same police officer called me and said because my J88 form came back negative nothing happened and I was not raped. She insisted that because the form was negative I was not raped even though I reported a day later and had already showered. She then demanded to know if I would drop the case despite being opened a day before. I replied that I wanted more time and she said no, I had to be at her office by 12 that afternoon to drop the case. I later went to her office where I found my attacker and his numerous friends outside her office. Inside her office she berated my friend, demanding to see what my friend was texting on her phone and when she asked me as to why I wanted to drop the case I told her because I don’t feel supported. She then patronisingly asked what support would I like? She then asked if I was on any psychiatric medication. At this point I didn’t want to deal with all of this anymore so I just asked to drop the case. On our drive back to my flat, she told me to stay away from those boys cause they are bad news and to call her if I ever felt unsafe(??).

After contacting my school’s sexual harassment Center I was told that from the word go, no proper procedure and protocol was followed in my rape case. I was re-victimised by being made to talk to my rapist and accuse I’m in front of people. The relevant people were not notified despite telling them I was a student at this University. The investigating officer began calling me to threaten my friend to stay away from this case. I was pressured by the police to drop my case. My clothes were mishandled at the hospital and victim support didn’t utter two words to me except a thumbs up and a you’ll be alright girl. To make matters worse my mother only focuses on the fact that I can’t drop out of school and can only focus finishing the school year despite being extremely traumatised. When I tried to vocalise this to her, her response was that I shouldn’t dare be rude to her. She then lied about my father seeing a video of me being drunk in order for me to tell him what happened, knowing he’s ignorant and victim blames.

All in all, this entire experience has been so traumatic for me. I literally feel suicidal and alone. The systems meant to support me have not done so and instead threatened and demonised me. My mother has decided to take toxic positivity mindset and insisted that if I focus on my schoolwork everything will make sense. I don’t know who’s this gonna reach, I just wanted to get my story out and say what happened to me and why I would not report my sexual assault.

When I do inevitably end up killing myself, I don’t want the same support system to cry and try make it seem as if I didn’t ask for help because I did and I was failed at every turn.