#and then found myself basically writing the entire rest of old college try

[jaskierx]

when john darnielle said. everything he ever said. yeah. what was up with that

[cheesecakeanon]

You totally didn’t ask for this detailed of an answer, but here I am offering you one anyway hahaha

For those of you who are in college or have graduated from college, how did you figure out what you wanted to major in?

I was fortunate enough to both be in a position to have some freedom in my major selection and to have parents who were pretty open about any/all ideas I had regarding college—the biggest expectation they had for me on that front was really just that I got a degree, and even then, I think if I had dropped out at some point, they would’ve been relatively on board with it provided I could give them a justifiable reason for doing so.

That said, I chose the programs I wanted to apply for based on things I could see myself doing for the rest of my life/for a decent portion of my life: HS History Education; Law/Political Science/Criminology; and Music Composition. The hard part came when I heard back from schools and had to choose which avenue to follow—majors in the performing arts usually require a boatload of credits, so if I wanted to double major in music + something else, there was a high likelihood it would take me more than four years to finish my degree. That wouldn’t have been a bad thing, but it was definitely a consideration that I felt I needed to keep in mind when trying to pick.

At the end of the day, I ended up choosing the second option among those three, my rationale being that it was the option that required the highest level of education to pursue, and that if I ever wanted to switch to either of the other options, it would be far easier to do so than it would be to suddenly up and decide to get a law degree. (Note: I now am working full time and going to law school in the evenings, and I may regret that decision, but we can talk about that can of worms later lol)

For those of you who are in college, or have graduated from college, and know what career they want to go into, how did you figure out what career you wanted to go into?

This answer sort of bleeds over from the last—I spent a lot of time in HS trying to figure out who I was and the legacy I wanted to leave in the communities that I’d been a part of. I’d always been overly involved in student organizations and extracurriculars, but my senior year, I really started trying to analyze the “what do you want to do?” question alongside the “what kind of legacy do you want to leave?” one, which is sort of how I ended up here.

When I was in middle school, I watched too much Criminal Minds and wanted to work for the BAU—I wanted to solve puzzles and catch the bad guys, if you will—so I did as much ‘research’ as a 12/13-year-old can claim to have done and announced to my parents that I’d be going to X school for Y programs and would then go work for that team by Z year. Somewhere in the preceding years to this ordeal, I’d been set on being a lawyer (at the time because ‘I liked arguing,’ which is a terrible reason to go to law school, kiddos, don’t do it) so the idea-based seed of practicing law had already been planted there.

When I was in high school, I found myself at this weird crossroad between learning about what lawyers can actually do to help people and change policy and in a completely different vein, wanting to create things that brought me and others joy. I’d given myself the freedom to write music and fiction (and fanfiction, let’s be honest) and discovered that I wasn’t half-bad at it, so when senior year came around, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to let go of the opportunity to keep doing so.

In my head, I’d basically told myself “it’s X career related to law or Y career related to music or Z career related to writing,” and I hadn’t let myself consider otherwise, but THEN!! Then I graduated college and was thrust into the working world—specifically, into a job that was definitely a good stepping stone to get from where I was to at least one of the potential career paths that I’d considered, but wasn’t creative at all—which was when I realized that none of those things needed to be distinct.

Obviously there’s something to be said here for time management and the fact that I’m on the younger end of adulthood—I don’t have the same responsibilities or obligations that someone with a mortgage or children would have—but in the middle of that first year of working, I came rather startlingly to the same conclusion I’d made when I was a senior in High School: I didn’t need a degree in music to make it. That sounds quick and pithy but the point was broader than that; if I wanted to eventually do something with the musical skills that I had, there were ways for me to keep honing them while I pursued the career path option(s) that absolutely, hands down, needed a professional degree. At some point in the future, when the law degree was there and I was actually qualified to do any/all of the things I mentioned earlier—that would be where the brilliant chaos of actually merging those things would kick in. In the meantime, I could write a novel, work full time during the day, go to law school at night, and release an album of original music all within a six month period of time (what can I say, July ‘20–Feb ‘21 was a wildly productive time for me) to see how that felt and if it could be sustainable.

Very long winded answers here, so…sorry about that, but the short version is the following: I thought I knew the career I wanted at 18 in a very binary, straight-laced sense, and it turns out I didn’t—or at least not entirely. I knew where I wanted to start, so I chose the majors that would qualify me for the career that was going to require the most educational/professional experience. Since graduating, I’ve been able to see that any/all of those careers can coexist, I just might have to create the career path on my own to make it happen.

I think this is exactly the kind of story I needed to hear. I think this story supports my plan really well. Thank you so much!

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track five

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

*contains smut*

It took two nights for Grayson to officially give in and admit that Indiana’s bed was more comfortable than his. Although he wasn’t exactly utilizing the space the way he wanted to at that moment, considering he was criss cross on top of the comforter in front of his very stressed out girlfriend, holding out a water bottle like it was a toy for a toddler.

“Hey. You need to drink some of this.”

“Mhmm, yeah,” she mumbled as a response, blowing him off as she had been all evening, one finger tracing over her notes. He resisted the urge to pull them out of her hands, knowing he might rip them on accident.

“Dee. Stop. Drink.”

“Yeah, just gimme a sec.”

“No, cause you said that five minutes ago. Drink.”

“I’m fine.”

“Holy shit.” He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and held it over her notes, blocking her view. “Drink it or I’m pouring it.”

That got her attention enough, and when she looked up her gaze was icier than he’d ever seen it.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” He tilted it just barely.

“You’re annoying,” she grumbled, grabbing the bottle and taking a quick swig before trying to hand it off again.

“And you’re stubborn. Three more drinks, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“You know, I’m two months away from a college degree, not a two year old.”

“Then you should know how important water is,” he countered, not budging an inch. She gave in to appease him, taking three long swallows before she passed it back to him, licking her lips slowly as she moved back down to her papers.

As if he wasn’t already worked up enough.

He was trying to behave, he really was. But there was just something about the way she was so focused. He’d always found ambition sexy, but it had been a long time since he’d seen someone academically driven, and he’d forgotten how attractive he found someone with intelligence. She was right there in front of him, hair pulled up in a loose bun on top of her head with a pencil stabbed through it somewhere - she didn’t need it, she had 17 different colored pens lined up in order on top of her planner page, which was full of blocked out times and perfect penmanship. She’d been chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous habit he’d noticed, but now it was bright pink and slightly swollen, and all he wanted to do was lean over and lay her down against the bed, kiss her rough, feel her skin under his hands, get her out of that damn cudi hoodie that he’d let her borrow a few nights ago.

“Flex.”

He only realized she was looking at him when he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Take your shirt off and flex your arm.”

“Uh… why?”

“For science.”

His ego could have burst, and he couldn’t help the smug grin that spread across his face after he slipped his sweatshirt off over his head. He reached over and tucked a finger under her chin, tilting it up until she was looking at him with those bright blues that he hadn’t seen nearly enough that day.

“You know, if you wanted me to get naked, all you had to do was ask.”

For a moment he tried to remember what movie or book or show he’d ripped off just then, but he got distracted when Indy smacked him across his arm.

“I need to look at your muscle structure, not drool over you.”

He deflated immediately, in every form of the word.

“Oh.” It sounded small, even to himself, and it was apparently all it took for him to finally have her full attention. She frowned, guilt immediately spreading across her entire face.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

It wasn’t often that Indiana did anything less than perfect (in his eyes anyways), so he jumped at the opportunity to milk it a bit.

“No it’s fine,” he muttered, toying with his fingers.

It worked.

It wasn’t two seconds later and she was intertwining her own fingers with his, tiny little pen marks of different colors on her skin as she pulled herself over towards him. Before he knew it his hands were on her waist and she was crawling into his lap, settling herself directly over him. She was a hair taller than him like that, and he tilted his head up to look at her, keeping his pout on his lips until she kissed it away.

“Sorry,” she murmured, lips moving against his as he traced his fingers over her sides, up under her hoodie to her warm skin. He felt her relax with each pass of his hands, the tension leaving her shoulders as she got lost in him.

“S’okay. Everybody gets a little grumpy when they’re stressed,” he hummed, thumbs running over the curve of her hips.

She pulled back from him immediately, offense all over her face.

“I am not grumpy.”

He waited for a moment, bold enough to raise his eyebrows at her but not to say anything.

And then her bottom lip was quivering, and he saw the tears welling up in the corners of her shiny eyes, and his stomach dropped faster than it ever had.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Baby what’s wrong?” He moved a hand up to her cheek before she crumpled forward onto his shoulder, her tears warm against his skin.

“I’m grumpy,” she moaned, followed by a sniffle.

“You’re crying… because I said you were grumpy?”

“No, because I am.”

He re-ran her words through his head a few times, only getting more confused.

“I’m not following.” He fessed up, bringing his hand up to run over her hair that was still tucked up in the messy bun that was tickling his cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m just stressed out, and I get crazy with exams, I can’t help it, I’m sorry. I just… I can’t fuck this one up, and I’m gonna fail it. But that’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t be grumpy just because I’m stressed.”

The way that the worry in her voice pulled at his gut was a new sensation, something he’d never felt with anyone but Ethan, and even then it was different. He wanted nothing more than to be able to cheer her up, to make her feel better any way that he could.

“Hey. Look at me.”

She brought her head up slowly, eyes pink and irritated as she rubbed at them with the bottom of her sleeve.

“Have you ever actually failed an exam before?”

She shook her head and sniffled. If it wasn’t so sad, he would have thought it was adorable.

“Then there’s no reason to think you’re going to fail this one.”

“But-”

“What specific part are you on right now?” He kept up the bid to distract her, happy to see that no new tears were appearing.

“All the brachial muscles.”

“Brachial?”

“Arms. Arm muscles.”

He perked up, raising up an arm and flexing.

“I have those. Lots of those.”

He let the eye roll slide because of the laugh that followed it - he couldn’t think of something he’d produced that he was prouder of in the last month.

“My professor did say if we needed to look up muscle definition for reference to google pictures of Ryan Gosling, or Channing Tatum.”

Grayson wrapped his arms around her, but not before he snagged her phone and moved it out of her reach, getting another laugh from her.

“I think I would suffice.”

“You should be top of the list,” she hummed, kissing him again. He let her settle all her weight against him, which put her snug over his crotch in a way that she hadn’t been before, and he tried to think of absolutely anything else to keep himself from popping the most obvious boner he’d ever had. He felt like a high schooler again, with wild hormones that were ready to betray him at any moment.

And Indy had no mercy for him either, chasing away her worries through rough passes of her tongue against his, lips warm and urgent as she kissed him. It took all of his self control to keep himself from rolling her over, flipping her onto her back and really getting to work.

Luckily, her hands slid down his arms, over the ridges of his muscles and she hummed.

“Which one is that?” He took the chance for the distraction, looking over at the way her nails traced over his skin.

“Well this is the short head of the biceps brachii. This is the long head, and this is the pronator teres,” her fingers ran over the inside of his elbow, crossing over.

“What’s that do?”

“Pronates your arm.” He waited. “Like this.” She turned his arm so his palm was facing down.

“And you have a supinator too, which turns it the other way. It’s right… here.” She felt around on his forearm until she found a smaller muscle up by his elbow, squeezing it. Sure, he knew the basic muscles in his arms - anything he could target at the gym, plus anything important to build up for a planche. But it was incredible to him, the way she could trace a finger over his skin and mutter something to herself, another muscle, another nerve that went into it without having to look at any notes. She was content like that for a while, but eventually she perked up.

“Can I write on you? They’re skin safe pens.”

“You think I’m worried about skin safe pens?” He asked, looking down pointedly at the tattoos on his foot and ankle, the only ones she could see outside of his sweatpants.

“Oh shut up. My mom used to get so mad when I wrote shit on my hands, said I was gonna give myself ‘ink poisoning’, it’s habit.”

“My dad took me to get my first tattoo so… I think we’re good.”

The tug on his heart was a little less painful than it usually was.

“Play some Cudi. It helps me think.”

“Your wish, my command,” he teased, pulling out his phone.

She leaned him back against the pillows with a gentle push to his shoulder, moving her notes out of view and grabbing a black pen. He pulled up his Cudi playlist, letting his left arm rest against the comforter. Indy took it in her hands, moving it around with her pen held between her teeth, tracing fingertips over his skin as her mind worked ten times faster than Grayson’s probably ever had, he was sure.

Music filled the room, bringing in a more relaxing vibe as he tried to be a good model, only twitching when something tickled him - she didn’t seem to notice, so intent on scribbling the names of muscles he’d never heard of on his skin, his arm resting over her lap as she sat criss cross. He couldn’t resist tracing his fingertips over her skin where he could get to it, a gentle reminder that he was there for her, even if he was being quiet.  

Ever since he could remember, Grayson had to be on the move. Had to be practicing, moving, working, doing something to keep his brain busy. It’s why he was in sports as a kid, why he was always starting new projects, always had 85 things going on in the background. But there, laid out on the comforter watching her wiggle around to the beat as she sang along, he couldn’t think of anything he would rather be doing. Even when she moved on to his ‘trunk’ muscles, made him hold his arm up and wrote serratus anterior across his ribs, he didn’t care. She never looked back at her notes, and he could tell she knew the information inside and out, but he humored her anyways, focusing in on the feeling of her fingers on his skin. Before he knew it, it was 11:30, and half of him was covered in Indy’s handwriting as he laid on his stomach and she wrote on his back.

“Done. I think that’s all of them.”

“Well, how do I look?” He peeked over his shoulder at her.

“Like a page of my notes,” she teased. “Come see.”

She tugged on his hand, leading him over to the mirror that hung behind her door. He stood tall next to her, a soft smile on his face as he looked over his skin.

“You really have to know all these?”

“And their origins and insertions,” she mumbled, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. “Where they start and where they end,” she explained. “I need to go to sleep.”

“Hang on.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “C’mere.”

She did as he asked, letting him pull her up against his side a bit more, angling so they looked good in the mirror before he snapped a quick picture.

“I look like death,” she mumbled, pouting a bit.

He just shook his head and kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you in bed.”

------------------------------------------

Indy woke up to her alarm in a cold bed - which a month ago wouldn’t have been a thought in her mind. But she knew that her personal space heater had definitely fallen asleep next to her last night, considering it was him running his fingers through her hair that lulled her down. So she stood up quickly, rubbing at her eyes and following the sound of movement towards her kitchen. But on her way she saw her backpack and her stomach turned - a reminder of the exam she had in just a few hours.

The only - and probably best - distraction that she could have had was what she found in the kitchen. Shirtless Grayson, moseying around in his own little world, bed head sticking up in six different directions with slightly smudged pen ink still on half of his torso. It took him a moment to notice her there, still in his sweatshirt with her hands covered by the end of the sleeves.

“Morning gorgeous,” he smiled, small knife in one hand and an avocado in the other. “Figured I could make you breakfast before you had to leave.”

She swallowed hard. The thought of eating anything with her stomach so tight made her mouth taste like metal.

“You can get ready if you want, it’ll be a minute before it’s done.”

Indy nodded and gave him the best smile she could muster before she went back into her room. She made it as quick as she could, pulling on a pair of leggings and a bra - it was tempting for her to put Grayson’s hoodie back on, but she went the hygienic route and found a cozy sweater, burnt orange fabric soft against her skin. She gathered up all her school things, triple checking that she had a pencil and two extras, her notes and her laptop so that she could study right before.

When she made it back out to the kitchen, there was a plate waiting for her, organized quite particularly with a piece of avocado toast and strawberries, with a mug of coffee steaming beside it.

She swallowed hard again.

“Look good?” He beamed, obviously proud of himself as he started working on his own.

“Yeah, it looks great.”

Indy forced herself to take a bite after she sat down, chewing it so many times that it went soggy in her mouth. She washed it down with coffee, which seemed to go much easier. So she stuck to that, taking sip after sip until the last bit was gone, bringing her mug back down to the table, hoping she’d played it off.

But the look on Grayson’s face when she finally put the mug down told her she was sorely mistaken.

“You don’t like it.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, no it’s not-”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to eat it.”

“Grayson-”

“It’s not-”

“No, Grayson, it’s not the toast. I love avocado toast.”

“You don’t love my avocado toast,” he pouted.

“It’s not that. I promise,” she sighed, her stomach only tightening even more.

“What is it then?”

“I’m anxious. And I can’t eat when I’m anxious cause it makes me nauseous. And then eating just makes me more nauseous.”

His face fell from a pout to concern in an instant.

“Baby why didn’t you say something?”

“Because! You got up and you made breakfast, cause you’re cute and you’re thoughtful and now it’s gonna go to waste because my brain is stupid.”

And then he was laughing - a light sound that filled the kitchen and broke through the awkwardness that had found its home in the air.

“You’re adorable.”

She frowned, and he moved around the counter so he could stand tall in front of her, stealing a strawberry off her plate and popping it in his mouth.

“So lunch, not breakfast, on exam days. Got it.”

“Gray, you don’t-”

“Shush. You said you wanted to study before for a little while, so you probably need to get going, right?”

He was right and she knew it, but it still made her huff. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up. Now go ace your exam so we can have the rest of the afternoon, hmm? You sure you don’t want me to walk you?”

“I got it, it’s okay. Just hold down the fort here, and I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

She got out of her chair, pulled her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her water bottle, turning back towards Grayson.

“Good luck, not that you need it. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“What’re you gonna do while I’m gone?” She mused.

“Snoop,” he teased, squeezing her hip in his hand. “Actually I might hit a quick workout.”

“In here?” She looked around. “With what?”

“All you need for calisthenics is yourself and your muscles. You know my, uh-” he looked at his arm, squinting at the slightly smudged writing from the night before. “- flexor digitorum profundus, and uh… the rest of them.”

He knew he butchered the pronunciation, but he’d do it again to get the same laugh out of her.  

“Last minute review, go,” he grinned, spinning around slowly so she could see all the work from the night before. She was still laughing when he stopped and grabbed her face with both hands, kissing her with a smile before making himself let go.

“Bye,” he mumbled. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill it.”

“Bye.” Love you. She held herself back from saying it, leaning up to give him one final kiss on the cheek before she turned and headed towards the door.

----------------------------------------------------------

When Grayson took exams in ‘high school’, it usually consisted of him and Ethan sitting next to each other on the couch with their notes spread out in front of them, picking each other’s far too similar brains for the answers.

Indiana on the other hand, was a solo everything. Solo test taker, obviously, but also solo studier, solo crammer, solo sit-before-the-exam-and-panic. Which worked out in her favor when she finished the exam - first in the class every time - because she didn’t feel the need to wait for anyone to discuss it. And she was especially thankful for it that day, because she had no reason to stay in the science building any longer than she needed to. She was out of the room, down the stairs and out onto the street immediately, with the image of Grayson laid out on the couch waiting for her at home pacing her steps even faster than usual.

But when she unlocked the door, there was no 6ft italian on her couch. In fact, there was no 6ft italian anywhere that she could see, and it took her a minute to place the sound of the shower running from her bathroom as she sat her bag down. The relief of having the exam out of the way was almost euphoric as she flopped down onto the bed and stared up at her ceiling, breathing her first easy breath in a few days. She stretched her arms up above her head and let her body fully settle down as she waited for her boyfriend to reappear.

Grayson, on the other hand, was taking his sweet time in the shower, and trying to ensure that there was no evidence that he’d definitely borrowed her razor to shave the puff of his chest hair that was a little too long for his liking. Needless to say, it was another 15 minutes before he made it out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist to head out into Indy’s room to find his bag. His hair was still dripping as he leaned over and searched for a pair of decent boxers.

“Boo.”

The towel was centimeters from falling off when he practically jumped out of his skin, but Indy wasn’t about to complain.

“Holy fuck you scared me! When did you get back?!” He gasped, trying to catch his breath as he clutched the fabric around him. It was low enough to show off the V lines that Indy had first noticed while they were cliff jumping, and it had her mind derailing in a much different direction.

“Like twenty minutes ago. I think you take longer showers than I do,” she teased, propping up on her elbows so she could actually look at him.

Jesus christ.

“Hang on, let me put pants on.”

You don’t have to, she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue and just enjoyed the view.

Pants, luckily, were just some very tight and short boxers that left little to the imagination when he re-emerged from the bathroom that he’d ducked away to change in.

“So how’d it go, how was the exam?”

“I missed two.”

He blinked at her a few times.

“Questions?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“But… how… you know what, nevermind,” he laughed, shaking his head gently before he threw his towel over his hair and started to rub it dry.

“What?” She laughed with him, and a bit at him, for the adorable way that his hair had become fluffy from the towel when he tossed it to the side.

“I’m not even gonna try to understand your brain anymore. I give up, I forfeit.” He threw his hands up in defeat, and Indy watched the way it made his abs move. She swallowed hard, her skin buzzing as she tried to keep her tone playful while her stomach floated.

“You forfeit? You?”

He seemed entirely unfazed - it struck her that he was probably very much used to girls looking at him and imagining all the things they wanted him to do to them. She tried not to dwell on it, and to remind herself for a moment that he was there in front of her, in her bedroom, in boxers. Very tight boxers, with a very, very clear outline of his dick.

“C’mere.” She took her moment of vindication and ran with it, reaching out a hand for him as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He raised his eyebrows at her but obliged, taking her hand and letting him pull her over to the bed so he was sitting on the edge. She swung herself over into his lap, happy to feel his hands settle on her hips to hold her there, sweatpants dropping to the floor.

“Well hi,” he hummed as her arms wrapped around his neck. “Whatcha doin’?” His tone was still playful, less affected than she wanted it to be, almost like he didn’t realize what type of mood she’d suddenly found herself in. It was true that most of the time, he was making the moves - but only because he was so touchy that she never needed to.

So she kissed him before she answered, harder than usual, slipping her tongue into his mouth before he could get to hers. She let her hands roam through his soft hair, nails against his scalp as she tilted his head back to change the angle of his lips, shifting herself up with her forearms on his wide shoulders. He grunted a bit, breaking free of the kiss to press a few to her neck, his scruff deliciously rough against the sensitive skin.

When he pulled back his pupils were blown wide, eyes trained up on her face, flickering down to her neck, then her boobs, which were far too hidden under her clothes.

“I said I was gonna make it up to you,” she finally answered. “So let me.”

“Fuck yes,” he mumbled, hands immediately bunching in the bottom of her sweater. His instinct was to strip it directly over her head, but he paused as he pulled it up, looking at her for reassurance. She nodded with a soft smile, lifting her arms up as he guided it off, revealing the skin he hadn’t seen yet. Sure, her crop top had been small, and even more revealing once it was wet, but-

“This hits different,” he murmured, hands moving to hold onto her, thumbs rubbing over her ribcage on either side.

“This hits different?” She said, eyes going incredulously wide before her head fell back in a laugh, which turned into a squeal when Grayson buried his face in her cleavage for a moment just to get a reaction. He reveled in the feeling of her hands back in his hair, even if it was to pull him back.

“Can I take this off?” He kissed the swell of each boob, hands ghosting over the back of her bra as he spoke.

“Yes. Please.”

He did as she asked, flicking the clasp open with ease and catching her lips with his again as he guided the straps off her arms and tossed the black garment somewhere behind her. As soon as he could he leaned her back a bit, holding her there with his hands spread against her back as he kissed down her neck, over her collarbone and down to her boob. The angle wasn’t quite right for him to get enough of what he wanted, so he sat back up instead, vowing to himself to give her tits the attention they deserved later. He kept the next kiss slow, wrapping his arms all the way around her torso so he could press her against him, feel every possible inch of her skin against his. It was bliss in its rawest form, and he would have been mostly content to stay just like that.

His dick had other ideas, hard to the point of almost painful underneath her warmth as she settled over him, his boxers too thin to show him any mercy. Every time she shifted above him it sent a jolt of heat straight through him, and it wasn’t long before he rolled them to the side, taking control of the situation before he literally came in his boxers.

Indy didn’t seem to mind, beaming up at him as she settled on her back, her flushed skin on display above the white comforter. It was a beautiful sight if Grayson had ever seen one, and he just looked at her for a moment, tried to etch it into his brain so he’d never forget. He’d had his fair share of girls on a bed in front of him - honestly, more than he was proud to admit. It always just happened so fast, where one minute they were talking and within the weekend they were tangled up in eachother.

But Indy was different - there was an innocence about the blush in her cheeks and the way she crossed her legs a bit, like she was hiding from him even though she still had her leggings on. It was driving him insane, and it took all his willpower to remind himself to go slow, to focus and cherish every minute of it that he could.

So he climbed over her, sinking down to kiss her again and letting some of his weight rest on her, happy to feel her smile against him.

“You okay?” He asked, kissing down her jawline slowly, over to her ear and then down her neck. Her hair smelled like vanilla where it tickled his nose.

“Mmmm,” was her only response, and he took it as his sign to move farther south, brushing his lips along her collarbone. “More than okay,” she breathed, back arching just barely to meet him.

“You wanna keep going?” Please. Please.

“Do you?” She asked quietly - he could hear the nerves in her tone, and it stopped him in his tracks. He propped himself up so he had a full view of her face.

“Only if you do.”

She bit her lip, looking up at him. The hesitation was enough for him to start to move off of her, mind already trying to remember where he’d thrown her sweater so she could cover herself back up. Her hand wrapped around his arm before he could get any further.

“No wait! Wait, I do. I do want to, I promise, it’s just… it’s uh… it’s been a while.”

He’d never seen her face so red, and then she was talking over herself to try and get the words out fast enough.

“And by a while I literally mean like… years. I’m talking uh, junior year of high school. And I can tell you that they obviously didn’t know what they were doing, so I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, and I just wanted you to know that before we really, like, got into it, and…”

He stopped her lips with his, waiting until her body gave way to him and relaxed underneath his hands before he pulled away.

“Baby, I couldn’t care less when the last time you slept with somebody was, or if you know what you’re doing. You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Says the experienced one,” she teased, but he could tell his words had given her at least a little bit of comfort.

“Just let me take care of you. You deserve it, you worked so damn hard all week, now you get to relax.”

“You’re in charge,” she breathed.

“I like that.” He flashed her a playful grin before he really got to work, kissing down to her chest and paying specific attention to her nipples to get her worked up again. It didn’t take long, and when her back arched up he slid his hands down to her leggings, letting his fingers hook in the waistband.

“You ready for these to come off?”

“Yeah. Yours too though.”

He pulled everything off her at once, jokingly backing up and tugging to make her laugh until the ends popped off her feet. He tossed them aside and moved to his own boxers, pushing them down and stepping out of them, using his foot to kick them away.

“Jesus,” Indy said, and then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in embarrassment. Grayson couldn’t help but to bust out laughing, the kind that went through his whole body, made him clutch at his chest.

“Was that a good Jesus or a bad Jesus?”

“A good Jesus. Is bad Jesus even a thing?” She mused, laughter and excitement overriding some of her nerves as he moved above her again. His kisses started at her boobs this time and moved down slowly, almost torturously light brushes of his lips against her skin. Grayson eased her legs open with one hand, reaching up and under her thigh with the other, searching until he found her hand and laced their fingers together. It settled her in a way that only he could, and she let out the breath she’d been holding, sucking in another one when he ran his fingers over her for the first time. Her body jolted at the feeling and he pressed a kiss to her thigh.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he said, and instead of making her blush, the words just made her wetter somehow - she already felt like she was dripping. He dipped one finger into her and she forced her muscles to relax, let herself melt into the comforter as he leaned forward and started in with his tongue, small flicks at first that already had her twitching. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing, but unbeknownst to Indy he was enjoying her inexperience - it made her more reactive, made him feel special that he was the one who got to give her this. It focused him as he tried to read her body, find the right angles and spots to make her tick as he moved up to two fingers, stretching her slightly to get her ready.

“Oh god,” she whimpered, hand squeezing his so tight it was borderline painful, but he wouldn’t move it for the world as she clung to him.

“All good?”

“Yes, yes, god that feels good.”

He could practically feel his chest puff up before he dove back in with renewed purpose, eyes trained up on her as he watched, tried to find her tells so he could commit them to memory as he explored her with his tongue. He found it when her breath hitched and her back arched for a moment, and then her legs were shaking beside either side of his head, a blissful whimper falling from her lips and filling the room as she came. It was easy to work her through it, and he backed off when her legs twitched towards closing, letting her catch her breath.

“C’mere,” she mumbled, tugging on his hand until he crawled back up her body, a bit surprised when she brought a hand up to his hair and pulled his lips down to hers.

“Fuck me.” It came out as a whisper, but all that familiar Indy confidence had returned to her tone as she hooked a leg up onto his back in an attempt to get him closer to her. He groaned into her mouth, biting at her lip as his dick rubbed against her, warm and wet.

“You sure?”

She just pushed him a bit further as her answer, letting go of his hand so she could wrap both her arms around his back, fingers running over the ridges of muscles that she was familiar with now.

He reached a hand between them, lined himself up carefully until just the head of his dick was settled inside of her. Eyes on her face, he started to move, stopping when she sucked in a deep breath through her nose.

“Don’t let me hurt you, you gotta talk to me,” he said, tone suddenly serious. The last thing he wanted was to be over eager. She nodded at him, eyes still closed as she tried to relax.

“Just go slow.”

With anyone else, it probably would have taken every ounce of willpower he had to hold himself back. But his concern for her overrode his own needs, and he aired on the side of caution, moving slowly in small thrusts, gaining a bit more each time. His head was clear enough until Indy grabbed his face and brought it back to hers, leaning up for a deep kiss that had him spinning. He could have busted right there when she moaned into his mouth, nails sharp against his cheeks as her head fell back. With her neck exposed in front of him he couldn’t resist leaving his mark, sucking a quick hickey by her collarbone.

“Fuck me Gray, please, please,” she groaned, her own way of giving him the go ahead. He picked up his pace, holding himself up with one arm and grabbing her hip with the other, keeping her steady. Indy didn’t know where to put her own hands, so she settled for exploring, tracing over Grayson wherever she could reach, appreciating every inch in front of her as best she could with the feeling of him inside of her, filling her up so much she was sure she was always going to feel empty without him.

“Fuck,” he huffed out, the first sign he’d given her that she was doing something right. She tested it out, running her nails down his side, over his ribs, watching the way it made his eyes roll back just slightly, made his abs tense up. It was a race then, trying to see who could get the other to come undone first, with angles and groans and touches and whispers in each other's ears.

Grayson won.

Her second orgasm was somehow stronger than the first, and she was so caught up in the stars that she barely registered that Grayson had pulled out. He stayed close above her as he finished himself off, cum shooting onto both of their chests as he groaned, barely able to hold himself up with just one arm.

Needless to say he collapsed next to her on the bed to catch his breath as they both stared up at the ceiling. Indy moved first, finding his hand again with hers and holding on, eventually pulling it up to her lips so she could kiss each of his knuckles.

“Woah,” was the word he finally chose when enough oxygen caught back up to him.

“Good woah or bad woah?”

He rolled over onto his side at that, raising his eyebrows.

“You have to ask?”

“Well it was amazing for me, but that doesn’t mean it was amazing for you,” she explained, only making him shake his head.

“You underestimate yourself too much. It was perfect. Best first time I’ve had with anyone, ever.”

She flushed pink at his words, looking down at herself and the mess that they’d made.

“I know you just showered but… you wanna join me?”

Instead of answering, he just stood up, glad that his legs weren’t wobbly as he scooped her up from the bed, laughing at her squeal as he carried her to the bathroom.

--------------------------------------

“Earrings, you do too much.”

“It’s nothing, just something for you to have while we can’t visit. Indy helped pick it out.”

Indy offered Bekah a smile as Grayson spoke, trying to keep her mindset positive. Which was much easier said than done, considering Bekah looked like she’d lost ten pounds since the last time they’d seen her, especially with the oxygen cannula in her nose. Still, she had the biggest smile on her face as she reached inside of the massive gift bag that Grayson had put together for her earlier that day. Indy watched as she pulled out the blanket they’d found, adorned with cute little smiling pumpkins and black cats with their backs arched.

“For spooky season, you know?” It hit Indy then that it was already mid October when they were shopping earlier, and by the look on Bekah’s face she hadn’t realized it either. It felt like September had only been a few days ago.

“We love cute spooky vibes,” Bekah smiled, trying to get it the rest of the way out of the bag. Her monitors started to beep more rapidly, her oxygen levels dropping.

“Here, let me help,” Indy offered, moving to the bag and pulling the rest of the blanket out, sitting it at the end of the bed. Bekah gave her a quiet thankful smile and took a few deep breaths through her nose before moving back into the bag. It was full of small decorations that she could sit around her room, and a few halloween themed coloring books and word searches to keep her mind busy - Indy knew she liked those. The nurses had decided to air on the side of caution and have her isolate for five days prior to her surgery, which meant she would need something to keep her mind busy.

“You all didn’t have to do this,” she said, laying back against the pillows.

“We wanted to. I’m sorry we can’t come see you,” Indy sighed, adjusting her blankets and moving around some of her tubes and lines. Grayson knew she was fidgeting because she was nervous, but he didn’t say anything.

“S’okay. Don’t really want you all to see me like that anyways. Don’t really want you all to see me like this either but here we are.”

One of the downfalls of being in the medical field was knowing more than you wanted to. Indy knew the chances of Bekah’s surgery going well. She knew the percentages, knew how bad she already had to be for them to even be considering something above chemo. Her weakness, her need for oxygen, everything else. They were all major red flags on a textbook page, signs she would highlight on a case report that could be consolidated into one word - declining.

But she couldn’t quite get herself to use that word, to rationalize it when it was Beks in front of her. She seemed smaller now than she had the first time Indy had met her, and it unsettled her in a way that made her want to scream and cry at the same time. Grayson served as the anchor in the room, the solid middle ground that she could cling to and distract herself with to keep from spiraling. She wished she could physically sit by him, lean against him and feel his warmth. But they were sticking to their rules - nothing coupley in front of Bekah.

“You guys should go do something while you can’t come see me. You spend a bunch of time here, you deserve a hospital vacation,” Bekah mused, picking at a few spare pieces of lint on the blanket. “Do something together even, keep her from worrying about me for the entire week.” She looked at Grayson when she spoke that time, and Indy frowned.

“I’m gonna worry about you no matter where in the world I am, so suck it up.”

She managed enough energy to stick her tongue out, but even that seemed to take a lot out of her.

“Grayson, can you go see if Jessica can get me some water?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He jumped at the opportunity, giving them both a quick smile before he went out in the hallway in search of Jessica.

Indiana was not so quick to assume, and turned to Bekah expectantly, heart breaking as she saw the start of tears in her eyes.

“Can we uh, can we cuddle for a minute? Like we used to?”

“Of course we can.”

It was rare that Bekah asked for anything, much less physical comfort of any kind. Indy had only done this a handful of times in the years that she’d known her, and it put a pit in her stomach to realize just how bad she must be feeling to even think about asking for it. She pushed the thoughts aside, climbing in the bed next to Bekah and pulling the blanket over the two of them, wrapping her arm around her so she could rest against her shoulder. She ignored the feeling of her tears when they started to soak through her shirt. They sat in silence for a moment before Bekah finally spoke again, voice at a whisper.

“Indy I’m scared.” The vulnerability in her voice was a dagger into Indy, and it took all her power to keep herself steady.

“I know. I am too. But if anybody can get through it, it’s you. You always have.”

“This time feels different.”

“Hey, don’t think like that, okay? Gotta go in with a positive mindset.” The words felt phony even as she spoke them, but it was a knee jerk reaction that at least got an eye roll out of Bekah, which helped her to stop her tears before Grayson came back in with a bottle of water and a cup of ice.

“I couldn’t find Jessica, so I just bought one and got a cup of ice from the lounge. Is that okay?”

“I don’t drink Dasani.”

Grayson deadpanned, looking down at the bottle and then back at Bekah, then over at Indy like she could do something to help.

“Kidding Earrings,” she teased, laughing a bit when his shoulders slumped down. “But, I will give you a 30 second pass on treating me like I have cancer and opening that bottle for me.”

He did as she asked, opening it up and pouring it for her with a sympathetic smile that she would have given him shit for any other day. Grayson didn’t say a word about the way they were curled up in the bed - he just sat at the end of it, putting two and two together and realizing she’d probably asked him to leave for a reason.

When 8pm rolled around, it was hugs goodbye and promises for facetime calls if she felt up for it. But mostly it was the unspoken fear that hung over the three of them like a cloud, and it only darkened as the walls lost their color on the way back out of the pediatric wing.

By the time they made it into the elevator Indy could barely speak around the lump in her throat. So instead, she decided to hide, wrapping her arms around Grayson as soon as the doors closed behind them and burying her face in his neck.

“Hey, shhh, shhh,” he murmured, holding her close to him and praying no one had hit the button for the first floor. He kissed her hair.

“Take me to Jersey. Please.” If he’d asked her why, she wouldn’t have had an answer.

Luckily, he didn’t.

“Okay.”

He took charge then, leading them home with his arm wrapped tight around her waist. When they got to the apartment he helped her pack an overnight bag in a bid to get it done faster, slinging it over his shoulder as they headed back out into the streets, to the garage where he paid an astronomical amount to park the truck any time he came into the city.

She didn’t even bother with the passenger seat, immediately sliding across the bench to curl up next to him as they started down the road. At one point he texted Lisa and Ethan, giving them the heads up that Indy was coming back with him, but she was already asleep by then, laying down with her head against his thigh, the stress of the last few days and hours catching up with her it seemed. He kept an arm over her the whole way home, just in case.

Indy woke up to the mixture of the bumps of gravel under the tires and the sound of Grayson singing Tame Impala slightly off key above her. A sense of peace washed over her when she sat up and saw the familiar glow of Lisa’s house amongst the trees, but Grayson’s worry was filling the cab as he put the truck in park.

“I’m okay.” She answered before he asked.

“No you aren’t.”

“I’m okay enough. I just… I feel better out here. I feel better with you, wherever you are.”

He hugged her to him, breathing her in as his arms coiled around her.

“Then I’ll always be here. I promise.”

It was as if time froze in that little cab, in each other's arms, until finally the October chill seeped in enough for them to give in and head to the house. If Lisa had noticed the time they spent in the driveway, she didn’t act like it. Instead, she lit up as if two of her kids had walked through the door and not just one.

“Hi guys! How was the drive? You hit traffic?”

“Hey Ma.” Grayson went in for a mom hug - one of those things you take for granted until you can’t have it anymore. But when he let her go Lisa moved on to Indy, and it felt so close to an actual mom hug that she almost teared up.

“Ryan and Ethan are in Cameron’s room setting up the mics, but if you need to eat first there’s vegan spaghetti in the fridge.”

It was obvious by Grayson’s face that he’d forgotten about the podcast all together in the last few hours. Indy smiled at him, tried to convey with her eyes that she was fine, because she was.

“Go work. I’ll still be here when you get back,” she reassured him. “We’ll have some girl time.”

“It’ll be an hour, tops.”

“Don’t rush. Have fun.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and then headed up the stairs.

Lisa waited until his footsteps stopped, considering they could hear them all the way to Cameron’s room, and then she turned to Indy with a smile.

“So, do you need a girls night or a distraction night?”

“A distraction night?”

“Something to get your mind off things. You seem like you’re in your head. Was it your exam? Did it go okay?”

She blushed at the thought of Grayson talking about her with his mom. “He told you that?”

“Oh honey he tells me all about you. When he gets to talking about something that he loves, he doesn’t shut up. Got that from his dad.”

“Sean talked a lot?”

“Oh all the time. If you got him started on anything sports he went on for hours, and the boys always ate it up. They were mini-him’s growing up. You know they started wrestling each other when they were two years old? Actual maneuvers he taught them when I wasn’t looking - I coulda killed him when I found out.”

And with that, Lisa led on a distraction night without Indy even realizing. Stories of Sean mostly, her voice full of love with just that hit of sorrow that you only get when someone is too far away from you. Things shifted when Lisa asked about Nicole, and Indy found herself remembering stories that she hadn’t told anyone in years. The time they went camping in Georgia and skunks took over the campground, or the time she’d scored the game winning shot in a high school basketball game and her mom tackled her, right in there with her teammates.

“You know, if there’s ever anything ‘mom’ related that you need, whether it’s a haircut or just a hug, I’m always here. And that goes for when Grayson isn’t around either - my door is always open.”

“Thank you Lisa. That means a lot. More than you know.”

They were hugging when the three boys came back down the stairs, laughter bouncing off the walls as they continued a debate that was definitely a part of the pod. They enveloped Lisa into the conversation, but Indy wasn’t listening. Her attention was on Grayson alone, watching the way his nose scrunched when he laughed just hard enough, and the way he leaned his head against his mom’s shoulder when she stood by him. His eyes flickered over to hers often, and eventually he continued the conversation from right above her head, his chin resting on her, throat vibrating when she spoke.

Eventually goodnights and goodbyes were given and everyone went on to their respective rooms, Grayson grabbing her bag and taking it with them. They made quick time of their nightly routine, finding themselves in pajamas with minty breath and fresh faces in no time, eager to climb into bed and find solace in each other again.

Indy moved first, nuzzling up to his neck as soon as he opened the blanket up for her to climb in. He tucked it around her before wrapping her up in his own arms and peppering kisses along her forehead.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Not tonight.”

“Okay. What did you and my mom talk about?”

“You mostly. And your dad. She had so many stories about him.” She traced a triangle over his chest to keep herself busy, feeling his breath filling up his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“That you lost him. And that I can’t give you him back.”

“Nobody can bring people back Dee. You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

“But I can’t even give you a little. Your mom treats me like I’m one of her kids, so when I’m here, just for a minute, it feels like I have a little bit of my mom back. And I can’t give you that. You deserve that.”

He shifted so he could see her, cup her face with his hand.

“Indiana Cross. You don’t have to give me anything but yourself. And I don’t even deserve that. You hear me? I love you. For you. Not for anything else that you could ever give me. Okay?”

“You love me?”

“Of course I do.” He leaned down to kiss her slowly, as if to make her feel his words. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

She let the weight of her head, and her heart, rest in his palm.

“I love you too.”

[thefanficmonster]

Kick Some Ghost Ass

”Until Dawn Gang x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex jokes (excuse my bad humor)

Genre: CRACK, Humor

Summary: It’s one thing when trouble finds this gang, but why don’t we take a look at what happens when they go actively looking for trouble. Needless to say, chaos ensues and no one is spared. Some are more affected than others, and some are dead-ass traumatized, but isn’t that just how life is in general?

Requested by my dearest ever - Until Dawn Anon. Hi lovely! I’ve missed writing your requests and I’m really happy to be back, creating another chaotic fic! I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post it but here it finally is - crazy as ever! I hope you enjoy it! Love you to Blackwood Pines and back baby ❤❤❤

I don’t know how I’ve found myself in this situation but I’m not complaining. If I get to do dumb crazy shenanigans with my crew, I’m ready for just about anything. Not to mention I’m no stranger to ghost hunting. I’m that kid that made DIY Ouija boards and took them to cemeteries with their terrified friends. You should’ve seen us leaving after capturing no ghostly activity - my friends relieved as fuck, and me pissed as fuck.

But today, I’m not expecting nor will I be accepting any disappointment. Especially not with Jess swearing on her Chanel purse that she wasn’t making things up when she said she had a haunted house she wanted us to visit. I must say, I appreciate this group’s enthusiasm when it comes to the paranormal. Never have I had someone who catches my vibe on the subject so well, let alone an entire gang all sharing the same opinion as me - that ghosts, demons and poltergeists are so fucking cool. Sure, Emily took a bit of convincing and Jess is not one to give a shit about the other world creatures invisible to the human eye, but something allegedly happened that changed her mind.

Her a-hundred-and-something-year-old great-grandmother passed away recently and though the death itself didn’t shake Jess up as much as it probably should’ve, the events that followed led to this moment right now - the eleven of us pooling out of two minivans that have pulled up to a terrifying looking house in a wooded are of the suburbs. Jess literally gathered us all on an ‘emergency meeting’ in the courtyard of our college just so she could explain the situation in detail - she doesn’t do well with explaining things in general, let alone when she’s hysterical - so we only understood what she was trying to say when she mentioned the word ‘ghost’. That’s when we all started listening more closely, with the exception of Emily, Beth and Sam but the latter two were intrigued despite trying yo hide it. You can only imagine how excited Josh, Chris and I were, Mike and Matt following a close second behind. Ash was a tiny bit more hesitant but Chris convinced her to give in. And just like that, a week later, here we are.

“I gotta ask, did your great-gran own a VHS player? Or a chest in the attic? Bonus points if there’s a creepy, child-sized doll in there.“ Josh asks as he yanks all the equipment he insisted we bring out of the trunk of the minivan.

“Quit fucking around, Josh! This is serious!“ Jess complains from the spot she’s standing in, shivering in the cold autumn breeze.

“Yeah, Josh! VHS players, creepy dolls, that’s all child’s play.“ I scold him as I pull on my jacket, wrapping it around me more tightly, “Shit gets serious when there’s a secret basement.“

“Y/N!“ Jess shrieks in exasperation. Honesty, how am I supposed to NOT bother her when doing the opposite is so much easier and brings more amusement? “You’re not helping!“

“Wasn’t trying to.“ I wink at her, driving her into a new level of fury that almost leads her to chuck her phone at me. If it weren’t such a prized possession of hers, I’m pretty sure she would’ve chucked it with the intention of knocking me dead. I’m lucky she has the aim of a drunk toddler that spun around fifteen times.

“Hey, quit pissing my girlfriend off, will ya?!“ Mike, who is basically halfway inside the trunk of the other van calls out to us.

I roll my eyes but choose to let it slide. However, someone else doesn’t. Emily does a dramatic turn on her heel, turning to face Mike, or at least the only part of him which is visible. You can imagine how hard it is arguing with an ass like THAT. I don’t know how Emily does it but oh well, I guess I do it too, in a way.

“So it’s girlfriend now, huh? No space between the words?“ Oh that smile she’s flashing him, it could make the Devil himself shiver. I find it kinda hot though - it means shit’s about to go down or hit the fan, either way, the rest of us will be entertained.

Mikey boy straightens up, gracing the rest of us by-standers with his dazzling features. Nah, I’m capping. I honestly think Mike is as attractive as I am patient - very little, almost not at all. It’s surprising how him and Jess are now apparently together since I always pegged her to be the superficial type.

“Got a problem with that, Em?“ He asks, eyebrow raising, head tilting to the side. Oh yeah, it’s on now. But, as someone who’s been quite excited to do some ghost hunting, and also as a representative of the peanut gallery formed of the rest of us who find it amusing and annoying, I feel the need to cut it short before it goes where it shouldn’t. I came to see some exorcist shit, not Keeping Up With The Bitter Exs.

“Jess, I sure hope your grandma is a blood-thirsty ghost cause I can think of at least two people I’d serve to her on a silver platter.“ I snatch the keys the blond has been jingling nervously between her fingers and jog up the stairs to the front door.

Ok I maybe overexaggerated the eeriness of the house. It sure wouldn’t sit right with you if you saw it around sunset or at night, especially not if it’s foggy, but a horror movie house it is most certainly isn’t. It’s pristine and well kept, not a single crack in the walls, the only reason it’s unsettling is because: 1) We’ve all seen a few too many horror movies; 2) There’s been reports of ‘ghostly activity’ - as far as Jess is to be trusted.

While I’m surfing through all the keys, checking each and every single one of them on the door because the real key is unmarked, I can’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind me on the porch.

“Can you believe we got all this in a single day and for a discount on top of all?! Whoever says Craigslist sucks isn’t doing it right.“ Chris’ enthusiasm over the deal him and Josh got on the ghost hunting equipment has been what’s keeping a wide grin on his face this whole time. Though I’m proud of my boys for not getting murdered by the Craigslist seller, I must say I hate that I lost the bet we had - I had to pay them each ten bucks if they didn’t get scammed/kidnapped/murdered and I’m now twenty bucks poorer. I’m not saying I value those twenty bucks more than my friends, though my broke ass needs all the bucks it has and all the dollar bills it could get, but Lord knows I hate losing.

“Yeah, and the guy was only mildly sketchy.“ Josh adds just as excitedly and proudly, “To be honest, Cochise and I were probably the scary looking ones in that parking lot.“

A look over my shoulder shows the twins, Sam, Matt and Ash giving the duo skeptical and somewhat disappointing looks and shakes of their heads. I’ll admit, the equipment is in very good condition and it’s the complete set for ghost-hunting, according to BuzzFeed at least. I’m impressed with the purchase - probably had something to do with how scary Chris and Josh actually look. The all-nighters we’ve all been pulling lately have taken a toll on them worst with the dark circles and bags under their hollow eyes, pale faces and brains turned to mush. I know I’d give them a discount to avoid them pulling out meat cleavers on me.

“That’s all fine and dandy guys, but do you know how to work any of this?“ Sam asks, hesitantly lifting the EMF reader and turning it in her hand, analyzing it with a curious gaze. 

Josh and Chris exchange a look before the former replies, “Just the cameras and voice recorder, the rest falls on them.” He points a finger at me and laughs, “Though they aren’t able to work something as simple as keys, they are more than qualified to be a ghostbuster.”

“You know, Josh, jokes on you, I can work keys! Jess, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be able to work well with organizing things, hence my problem with these keys.“ I hurl the bunch of keys connected my a scarlet keychain at Josh, “Lemme demonstrate my true skills.“ I hop down the flight of stone stairs and approach the pile of equipment the guys have created smack-dab in the middle of the house’s driveway. 

“Oh, I gotta see this!” Mr. Ex-Class-President all but runs over, frowning when we all turn to look at him just as I pick up the spirit box to show off how it works, “Oh that’s what you meant. So you aren’t taking your clothes off?“

Jess and I are alike in one thing - the need we feel to chuck objects at people who piss us off. “You’re girlfriend is, like, right behind you, Munroe. Have some decency!”

“I was gonna enjoy a show as well, but I’m guessing we won’t be getting one.“ The girlfriend in question replies, looking at me quizzically as though that’s gonna convince me into discarding my outfit.

“No, unless you’re a ghost.“ I point the device I’m holding at Mike, “But if your boyfriend here keeps acting up I might turn him into one.“

“That sounds kinda kinky.“ Beth’s comment surprises me. The wink she sends me even more so. “And I kinda like it.“

Ok, ok, ok, hold on. 

Flirting with Munroe is one thing, but Beth is a completely different story. I can be threatening Mike with a knife one moment and cracking sex jokes with him over cold beer the next. While Beth actually has the ability to get me flustered and blushing, and my close relationship with her brother doesn’t help. Mother fucker can just whack me upside the head every time he catches me fussing over my silly crush on his sister.

“Ew, you too! Keep it in your pants or at least get a room.“ Emily doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to being herself. She’s truly a garbage bin full of treasure.

“We’d do the latter if SOMEONE could get the door open.” I glare daggers at Josh who is making hopeless attempts at what I was doing earlier - unlocking that damn door.

“I’d be more than happy to come through for you ladies.“ Mike says, getting in a stance of a runner before a race, his body directly opposite the door.

Oh I can’t wait to see where this is going. I SHOULD RECORD IT.

“Mike, it’s still breaking and entering and it’s still against the law even if the person’s dead.“ Sam points out, entering her mother-like mode, ruining the fun and causing me to pout at her. She gives me a look of disappointment - one worse than I’ve ever seen on my parents - so I just shut my trap before she can also express said disappointment through words and have me feeling guilty for the rest of the day.

A loud crash suddenly echoes causing us to turn our heads to look for the source of the terrifyingly startling sound. One glance is all it takes to put our minds at ease and a second one is enough to provoke different reactions in all of us - the broken window telling the story of where Josh has disappeared.

“What did I just say about breaking and entering?!“ Sam shouts after him while the vast majority of us are cracking up like hyaenas. Jess is just gaping at the broken window next to the front door in disbelief. She obviously can’t decide whether to join in on the fun or serve as back-up to Sam. Josh did technically damage private property that’s partially hers, but if you ask me it serves her right for not marking her keys.

“Sorry, I was too busy breaking the window to hear that part of the conversation!“ Josh’s apologetic smile appears on the other side of glassless frame. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely sorry or holding back laughter but either way, he looks innocent enough for Sam to let him off the hook as long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble - in which case: tough luck. Chris, Josh and I are nothing if not troublemakers, especially when we’re together. Chris tones it down when Ash’s around, and the same goes for Josh with Sam while I’m simply problematic regardless of who’s watching. My chaos is untamable, it’s a blessing and a curse and I love it, even though it’s landed me in hot water more than once. It’s nice to be around people on the same wavelength - chaos resides within this group and not a single one of us can hide it.

“At least we have a way in now.“ Ash offers Josh a helping hand in this argument after she recovers from the overwhelming fit of laughter. “I hope the broken window doesn’t anger your gran, Jess.“

The blond snaps out of her trance briefly, “No, she was a very sweet lady, but damn is Josh creative!” She hurries to correct herself, “Destructively creative.”

I hurry to correct her once again, “Chaotically creative.”

“Guys, do you mind coming in? It’s very creepy standing here alone!“ Josh calls out to us, looking over his shoulder at the interior of the house, “I’m expecting to be snatched and dragged to that secret basement we mentioned.“

“Mention it one more time and I swear to God-!“ Jess screams, fists tightened.

Before her angry wrath could crash atop us, we all make our way into the house through the broken window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass strewn about. One step inside and we’re met with the upmost of horror clichés - a drop in temperature. We’re all wearing thick hoodies because the weather outside is chilly in and of itself, but said hoodies aren’t as efficient at holding the house’s cold at bay and away from out skin.

Chris and Matt make their way in last, carrying the equipment consisting of three cameras, flashlights for everyone, an EMF reader, a spirit voice box, a voice recorder and a motion detector. I help them hand a light to each group member as well as a ghost-hunting device before we venture onward.

“If I were your grandma’s ghost, I’d be ten times more pissed about that window. It looks to me like that lady payed a lot of attention to keeping things in order.“ Matt comments while he examines the expensive looking painting hanging in the hallway.

I hear Emily scoff, “Unlike some.” but the remark is said so quickly and quietly I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who heard it.

Jess laughs, “She did like things in order, but she was never as strict as you might think. As I said, she was very sweet.“

“So do you just not take after her at all or were you adopted?“ Emily’s remarks are no longer a mumbled jumble of words, “No, nevermind, of course you’re not adopted. Your parents are smart people, they wouldn’t have chosen you if they had the chance.“

Jess laughs again, much more menacingly this time, causing me to exchange a look with Hannah who’s walking beside me. “Twenty bucks says one of them isn’t making it out of here.” It’s just a matter of time, to be honest. If not the lodge, or any party we’ve ever attended as a group, this haunted house is the perfect opportunity for a murder. We could even argue it was a ghost.

Luckily, the two cats clawing at each other’s throats don’t overhear, “No, my parents aren’t stupid, but your boyfriend clearly is. He chooses to date you! Or are you holding him captive or something.“

Ok that’s enough. I can tolerate a lot of things, but people calling one of my best friends stupid is not something I’m about to put up with, “How dare you call one of my hoes stupid?” I sneer at Jess, eyes narrowing.

“I thought I was your hoe too!“ She fights back, looking almost offended.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t have called him that! I don’t tolerate my hoes not respecting each other.“ 

I don’t get to see where this argument goes because Ashley’s shriek echoes throughout the hallway, stealing mine as well as the attention of everyone else. 

“There’s a ghost in here!“ Making it to the doorway of the room she’s in first, I peak my head inside and see the EMF reader she’s holding going nuts as if it’s detected something.

“Don’t worry, Ash, there’s a dead cactus here. That’s not the ghost we’re looking for, is it?“ Chris, my amazingly bright friend says, quirking an eyebrow suggesting that remark was nothing short of dead-ass serious.

“Chris, darling, that’s not how it works. Cactuses are plants.“ I point out as sweetly as I can as to mask my laughter.

“Don’t the same ghostly rules apply?“ The genuine look of confusion he gives me almost makes me lose it.

“Ok children, leave the room, we need to set up a motion detector to be sure.“ Beth says with a tone that suggests she’s more than over our insanity. Jeez, count on her and Sam to start parenting us through our chaos. They are of high authority, must admit - one genuinely feels bad if they don’t comply to whatever these two girls demand.

We all pile out in the hallway while the twins set up this interesting motion detector with green dots. I don’t know what Jess’ granny looked like, but I bet that even the most unattractive of people would look hella good with this lighting. Thankfully the room is dark enough with the shutters closed and the curtains drawn, allowing the dots to be perfectly visible.

We stare at the minimalistic room littered with fluorescent green dots on every surface for maybe a minute or two but not much happens to the disappointment to some and relief to others. However, as if not wanting to let us down, the ghost makes a shy appearance if the shift of the green dots is anything to go by.

“Oh shit, is that a ghost?“ Chris whispers, sounding as amazed as I feel in this moment.

“It better be.“ I mutter in response, refusing to blink and risk missing anything important.

The sudden presence of the obnoxious noise of the spirit voice box makes us all jump. As I turn my head to glare at whoever’s using it, Josh speaks up. “Are you an attractive ghost?”

“Josh, that’s my great-grandmother, you ass!“ Jess barks with disgust in her voice.

In the meantime, I catch glimpse of Mike rolling up his sleeves. Oh shit, this ain’t good.

“I’ve been waiting for this!“ He shouts victoriously, cracking his knuckles.

Knowing this won’t end well, the first thing I do is snatch the camera from Chris’ hands and turn it on.

“Um, Mike, what do you mean?“ Sam’s back to being concerned, turning to the rest of us when Mike doesn’t give her a response, “What’s he gonna do?“

“Fight it.“ I answer as though it’s the most normal thing to ever have been done, “Or, ash he calls it - kick some ghost ass.“

“A freaking ghost?! He’s gonna try to tussle with something he can’t see?“ I can’t tell if Matt’s tone is disbelief, amusement or disappointment, but I believe he isn’t about to try and stop or dear ex-president in his pursuit and that’s all that matters. I ain’t about to let someone stop whatever’s about to go down from going down.

“That’s still my great-grandmother, you dumbass!“ Jess shrieks with something alike terror.

“Don’t worry Jess, I’m sure she’ll go easy on him.“ I say in an attempt to reassure her but I can’t even be bothered really, I’m too laser-focused on the circus that’s about to take place in front of me.

Mike, as if encouraged by my words, charges into the room. Much to his dismay, before he could even reach the ghost, he’s met with a much more vigorous enemy - the carpet. The rascal trips him up and Mr. Munroe falls flat on his face.

The group stays silent, looking at the glorious aftermath of the glorious fall. Told ya these lights could make everything fabulous. Must say, it’s truly an honor for me to have been able to catch all that on tape.

“10/10, would ghost-hunt with Mikey Munroe again.“

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

your tags on my post slapped me across the face. yes fucking yes. the fall from academic grace hits a whole lot harder when you've been excessively built up and built up for years and then come crashing down. i constantly feel like im letting everyone and younger self down. the whole thing about IDENTITY is so true too! x adhd-vibes

Well, your post came into my house and punched me in the gut, so...

But no, I really genuinely appreciate posts talking about the gifted child + neurodivergence duality because it’s... a lot. And I feel like I’m only just starting to understand-- well, my entire life, basically. 

My entire life past the age of ~13 has been a constant up and down of thriving and burnout, a lot of self loathing and doubt over my perceived failure, and a lot of depression and anxiety. And I just found out last year that a fair portion of it can likely be chalked up to the fact that I’ve had ADHD my entire life, my parents found out when I was four years old, and no one told me. 

I started kindergarten at four. I was already reading chapter books. I’d finish reading the assignments before the teacher even finished handing them out, and be up and causing distractions because I was bored. They talked about bumping me to second grade, but I was already the youngest in my class and they didn’t want to create more of an age gap. 

I did first grade half in English, half in Japanese to keep me “challenged”. The Japanese teacher hated that I was so young, and after a while refused to teach me. 

My second grade teacher made a rule that I could sit any way I liked, or move around however I wanted, so long as I could touch my desk. 

My third grade teacher set up a play area for students who finished their work early, and I spent most of my time there. 

My fourth grade teacher recommended fantasy novels and read to us during downtime. 

My fifth grade teacher helped me and my friends start a writing club, and she’d read our short stories and give us notes so we could work on our drafts when we were done with our schoolwork. 

And then sixth grade and algebra happened and I could not for the life of me do the assignments well. I worked with friends in a study group. I had three different math teachers try to help me, in case one clicked differently. They’d watch me do the work, step by step, and one of two things would happen: 

1. Either I’d do the work perfectly, but the answer was entirely wrong and they couldn’t figure out why 

or

2. I’d do the work all wrong, but get the right answer every time. 

But since you had to show your work for full credit, I went from a straight A student to mostly A’s and a C in math, no matter what I did. 

My self esteem tanked. Most of my memories from middle school are of sitting alone at the dining room table sobbing because I felt stupid, and like a failure, and I just wanted to die, and sitting at a table focusing on only one thing with no background noise or stimulation was torture in and of itself. I finally got my mom to let me listen to the radio while I worked, and it helped a little, but night after night I’d sit there, sob through my math homework, and wish to disappear. 

All of the self-loathing and stress manifested into extreme anxiety. I started washing my hands constantly, because that I could control. My hands cracked and bled. I kept washing. 

I started self harming, and my mom found out and took me to see a therapist (who is still my therapist to this day), and I was diagnosed with OCD and Major Depressive Disorder, as well as Seasonal Affective Disorder.

By the time high school started, the handwashing had mostly stopped but still flared up again occasionally, and I was on track to graduate with highest honors following the “College Prep Honors” curriculum track. I made the National Honor Society, and did student government as well as zero hour choir and drama. I took Honors English and excelled. 

But to complete the degree, I’d have to take Algebra I freshman year, Algebra II Honors sophomore year, Algebra III/Trig junior year, and Calculus senior year. 

I got a C in Algebra I. I lost my National Honor Society status because of the GPA drop. I quit student government because I was ashamed. 

I was told to drop Algebra II Honors two weeks in, because I was going to fail the class. This meant I would not get the diploma I wanted, but the secondary “College Prep” diploma. 

I fell into a deep depression, decided I was stupid, and stopped trying. My report cards after that for the rest of high school were an assortment of A’s, B’s, C’s, even a D or two. I hated myself for not living up to my potential, for being a disappointment to my parents, for being so stupid. 

I went back to therapy. I graduated high school. I went to college. I burnt out. 

I took a gap year because I was suicidal and didn’t know what to do. I went back to therapy. 

I transferred to a university. I burnt out. I dropped out, because I was suicidal and didn’t know what to do. I went back to therapy. 

And when I was 27 years old, I found a box of old school stuff from elementary school, and as my mom and I laughed about it she told me that an administrator who specialized in identifying attention deficit disorders had observed me in kindergarten at the request of my teacher because I was causing distractions, told them that he was entirely certain I had what was at the time called ADD... and not to have me officially diagnosed in order to keep it out of my school record and avoid any “challenges to my desired educational path”.  

Teachers were told, and chosen specifically to work with me and not against me, which I appreciate greatly. 

I was never told. 

On the one hand, I can see how my parents just didn’t want me to go through life believing I had something “wrong” with me, didn’t want me to be held back from pursuing any classes I wanted to take because of my “diagnosis”, and didn’t want me to be “unnecessarily medicated”. I appreciate the time and care that went into trying to guide me along and give me safe environments to be my authentic self without being told it was a hindrance or a “problem”. 

But the more I learn the more I can’t help but wish someone had told me. 

Because I spent the last 16 years of my life thinking that somewhere along the way I had “lost” something, or “failed”, and really it was a pretty predictable and manageable sequence of events. 

I’ve since learned that a lot of the things I’ve always done that I’ve felt uncomfortable or “odd” about... are stims. Minor ones, but stims, nonetheless. 

I’ve since learned that I was bullied pretty severely for being “weird” in elementary school, but I have no memory of it. 

I’ve since learned that dyscalculia is thing, and very well could have contributed to my ongoing struggle with math. 

And for the rest of my life I will wonder if knowing would have changed anything. If my depression is a side effect of this thing I didn’t know about myself, or a separate piece of me. Who I might have been if my entire identity wasn’t tied to my perceived sudden loss of intelligence and potential. 

Anyway. I’ve rambled quite enough. If anyone wants to talk about any of this, or vent, or ask questions, feel free. This is the post we are referring to, by the by. 

[mightyhemsworthy]

SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS (John Wick X Reader)

("TEACHER" X STUDENT COLLEGE AU)

Pairing: John Wick x Reader (AU - ish?)

Summary: John Wick lives a different life before his "retirement". He becomes a sort of vigilante, who is taking out the bad guys. His next goal is to catch a drug dealer who mainly distributes in Y/N's college. However, after meeting Y/N, not only Y/N's life turn upside down but also John's.

Word count: 8281

Warnings: ugh, so many. But it's John Wick, so... blood, swearing, college, anxiety, panic attacks, loneliness, shyness, angst, slow-burn, age gap, smut, DIRTY SMUT, fluff. 

ALSO, IM NOT A NATIVE SPEAKER OF ENGLISH SO PLEASE FORGIVE MY MISTAKES!

Author’s note: GUYS!! I've found this fanfic deep down in my-never-posted-writings and I was re-reading it when I thought, this is just utter shit, let me post that (lol), I hate myself. 😂 I was cringing at some part, but I managed to write them over, so it is a little bit bearable. I don't know if you'll like it, but I hope you do. I wanted to post something to cheer you up in this hard time. I wish the best for all of you. ♥️ The inspiration came from some many places, but mostly from "calling teachers by their first name" videos. You'll see why I got the idea from it... After that, I've given some thought about "fake" teacher John and gosh... let me tell you, it got me hot and bothered. Also inspired by 21/22 Jump Street. Please, please, leave some feedback.

P.S.: Sadly, I don't know any Italian, so thank you for Google Translation for "sponsoring" this fic lmao.

*

This was your very last year of college. More specifically, your last semester. Thank God. You could not be happier as you thought about it. Even though you enjoyed studying, you were overwhelmed with your lectures as you were a maximalist and wanted to give 100% in everything. You enjoyed learning and finding new topics but the assignments, the presentations, and the exams stressed you out incredibly. You did not apply for any further study at least at the moment as you wanted to rest a little bit and work somewhere till you find out what you really wanted to achieve in life. 

The first week went by quite easily, as the teachers mostly talked about the syllabus and what you can expect from the rest of the semester. Thankfully, everyone seemed kind of nice except your Italian teacher and his lesson, which you took up as an optional course in the first place since you wanted to earn some extra credits. Now, it seemed like a bad decision. The teacher was old, who did not enjoy his teaching at all. It was difficult to follow and boring, not to mention that he continually talked in Italian even though it was a beginner's course. When the others tried to tell him, he became mad and gave out even more assignments for next week.

So now, that you were sitting in class and waited for him the nervousness which you felt was understandable. You were chatting with one of your classmates who sat behind you. You could not say that you had any friends. You were mostly alone in your whole life, which sometimes was a curse, while other times it was a blessing. You opened up for so many people who disappointed you and let you down that this was the safest way of living your life now. Just talk to someone if necessary, otherwise living your life as you wish. Sometimes it was really depressing as there was basically no one to talk to, you could not share any interest with someone, not your desires, your goals, nothing. Even when you did, you became the focus of mockery.

Suddenly everyone became silent as most certainly, the teacher approached into the room. However, when you turned around your last week's grumpy teacher was nowhere to be found, instead of him, you meet with a totally different man. You looked straight him into the eye as you took up his presence. He was tall, he had a skinny physique but you could certainly see that he was muscular, even though the black shirt and jeans he wore covered his entire body. He had dark, semi-long hair which was slicked back, while he also had dark stubble, which was framing his face aesthetically. Now, his dark brown eyes laid on you and it was like it burned a hole into your soul. He had some characteristic which you could not explain, but you were sure that he was attractive. Very much. And exactly your type. Not to mention that he was older than you, around his mid-30s - early 40s, which you thought was the perfect age as you were always fond of older men.

"Uhm... hey everyone" he started as he finally looked away from you to gaze at the others as well. His voice sent shivers down your spine. It was deep and husky. "I'm John Wick and I'll substitute your last teacher, who became ill. He will turn up as soon as he feels like it, but we don't know when that will happen," he stated. Maybe, the previous teacher would have been better. Now, it will be really hard to focus and now you wanted to study even more just to impress him, which is sounded insane. You immediately started to curse yourself in your head because what you did was completely silly.

"I'm not by any means an Italian teacher, but I'm fluent in Italian, as I've lived in Italy and since this is a beginner's and optional course I thought I will be just as good for this short time as Y/LT/N would have been." as he finished he clapped his palms together, facing towards the desk which now became his. "Firstly, let's start with an introduction and what your goals are, and from that on we can move with the rest of the lecture," he said and turned and pointed towards you. This gesture was unexpected for you and you immediately felt that your cheeks burned up as you tried to collect yourself. You were a great student but you were dealing with anxiety when you had to speak in front of others. Your mind and desires were totally different that you could actually manage out from yourself, and this was true in every situation.

"Uhm..." you started as you cleared your throat. "I'm Y/N and I'm a final year student here. To be honest, I don't really have many goals at the moment, because..." the way he was looking at you completely took your breath away. It was like he sees all of your secrets. "...I want to take a little bit of break from studying after I've finished. I want to work somewhere, see the word. Just those cliché things that usually everyone says." he started to chuckle and honestly, it was the best thing ever.

"Thank you, Y/N" the way your name rolled out of his tongue was beautiful. "I hope everything turns out great for you and one day you even get to Italy as well." he smiled and turned to the next person, so the magic moment you felt completely disappeared within a second. He was just nice. With everyone. He listened to everyone's word with actual interest and wished something friendly before turning to the next person. How could you think that he sees something different in you?

The course actually ended sooner than you would expect, the time flew with him. He gave you a short assignment for next week, collecting all those things you would like to talk about in Italian. On your way out you glazed at him once more, however, his eyes were glued to the paper in front of him. You left out a soft sigh as you left the room.

*

This was the first time in your college years that you really waited for a lecture but at the same time, you also dreaded from it. You could not wait to meet John again or you could say Mr. Wick, but this just fueled your fantasy about him even more. You were sitting in the front row with your classmates, whom you talked about your new teacher. They were eagerly fond of him, but not as you did. Even though they find him attractive, he was just a teacher for them. However, for you, he started to become something else. You could feel something different from him and you thought that he should not be a teacher because it was just not his field. Not that he was a bad teacher or anything, but he was not that teacher type that you could imagine. You felt something which you could not explain. You were always a curious person, and this case was like a puzzle that needed to be solved.

"Buona sera a tutti! (Good evening, everyone!)" he greeted, his eyes lingering on you. You did not want to look away, so the two of your's gaze intertwined with each other for a few seconds. You managed to smile a little bit, but at that same time, he turned away. He was just as good looking as the last time, wearing a light grey t-shirt, regular jeans, and a leather jacket. How could he be this handsome?

"Okay, let's go through those things which you like to learn about, and then we can build the lecture from there." everyone nodded as he said it, preparing their notes on what they would be interested in learning in this course. Your eyes were glued on your paper, your head tilted down trying to avoid eye contact with him when you heard your name.

"Y/N" he stated. "Let's start with you just like last time." you were quite shocked. Nobody managed to remember their students' names in the first weeks. Hell, sometimes not even at the end of the semester either. You looked up at him, seeing his face focusing on you, slightly furrowing his eyebrows in concentration.

"Ordering food..." you breathed out and you started to blame yourself immediately.

"Ordering food in Italian in a restaurant?" he helped you out, stating as it was a declarative sentence, but he shifted the tone in the end. You were grateful for his help. You nodded and he returned a smile to ease your frustration. "Nice, good idea," he said. "Let's move on."

*

The first months of the semester went by rapidly. The first two weeks was just a warm-up, but after that assignments came after assignments as so did exams and such. You could not fantasize about Mr. Wick anymore in your free time as you were loaded with anxiety to finish every task just in time. However, you always waited for the class, even though your mind wandered somewhere else. Thankfully, about two weeks spring break will come.

"You can handle your assignments on your way out. That's the end of the class. Thank you everyone." he said and at that point, you realized that you completely forgot about your essay which you should have written for today. You thought that is due next week. Well, fuck. Basically, everyone handled in their assignment, as you approached John you became very nervous. You did not really know what to say.

"Jonathan" the words fell out of your lips without thinking. You realized that what you said was rude and you just tried to make the situation better, even though your teacher's expression did not change. "John... I mean Mr. Wick." you cursed yourself, trying to get out of the situation somehow.

"Yes, Y/N?" he asked, as he was looking down at you. He was so much taller than you, the way he looked consumed your whole being.

"I'm so sorry but I forgot to write my essay for this week. I thought it was due to next week. I'm sorry." you jabbered, looking at your feet to ease your nervousness.

"It's okay, Y/N," he said calmly. "You can handle it next week as well." when you looked up at him he was slightly smiling. That damn smirk made butterflies in your stomach, causing your heart rate to quicken.

"Really?" you asked back. "No punishments?" without thinking, the question just rolled out of your tongue.

He turned his head a little bit, trying to hide his ever-growing smile.

"Would you like to?" you started to blush at his deep voice, thinking about something inappropriate when he clearly was just talking about the assignment.

"No..." you answered. "Not for an essay, no." you just started to make everything worse. You wished that the ground would swallow you on the spot.

"Periodt then," he said to ease the tension a little bit. "Or whatever slang you use these days." You genuinely started to laugh, and it was really good after a long time. Nobody made you laugh these days and it was really nice to talk to someone besides listening to lectures all the time.

"Wow, I'm impressed" it was just absurd to hear this word from his mouth. But you really felt this way.

"My goal is accomplished than" was all he answered. Was he flirting with you? You just wished that. But the whole situation was just weird. Just the way you felt like before. He is not in the right place, something is off with him. You learned these few signals over the years just to protect yourself, still, something keeps attracted you to him.

"I'll try to write it as soon as I can and bring you in your office hours." you smiled shyly.

"It's okay, Y/N, don't worry about it" he smiled back and that smile made you go crazy. You turned your back to him to leave the room. You were standing in the door when you suddenly turned back towards him once again. He was still watching you.

"Thank you, Mr. Wick," you said, waiting for no answer when he said:

"You can call me Jonathan or John. Whichever you like." you were just standing there, completely in shock. This never happened to you before. None of your previous teachers of yours allowed to call them on their first name. To be honest, you did not even try but with John, it just slipped out. You did not know what to say so you just nodded, leaving him standing there watching after you.

*

The rest of the week was awful. You could not wait for the weekend when you could rest a little bit. You were extremely overwhelmed with work and it seemed that nothing wants to work out for you. It was Friday morning, thankfully you did not have any classes left so you finally could work on your assignment for Mr. Wick. You meant, Jonathan. Thinking about him and the way he said that you can call him on his first name made your heart beat faster. Since that day you could not stop thinking about him, which is why everything became harder than it should have been.

It was around 11 in the morning, but you already did a lot of work. You went to the store, then you cooked something for you for the weekend, you cleaned the house as well as doing the laundry. Your roommate was not home, as usual. Since she got that boyfriend of hers, they always spent the time together. At least, you were alone and nobody could bother you. You always did the house chores anyway, as she not usually cleaned up. After everything fallen from your hands and you basically had to clean up twice, the last task was taking out the trash. You somehow managed to take all of her and your trash into three bags. You were already on your way out when you realized that something from one of the bags was leaking. You started to become really angry and mad. At the edge of crying and breaking something, to say the least. You tried to hold back yourself together, taking a deep breath and hoping that the bag will hold on till you reached the bin in front of the street. As it was mentioned before, this was not your day.

Half of the stuff fallen on the ground just when you dumped the rest of it into the trash.

"FUCK" you cried out, hitting the top of the trash and also kicking into it to release those pressure which started to build up in you.

"Y/N" you heard a deep voice behind you. When you turned around you realized that John was there. Who probably watched the previous scene when you freaked out. What was he doing here? "You need any help?"

"Mr. Wick" you started but he interrupted you.

"John."

"Yes, John." you started. "This isn't my day. Could you please wait here as I get another bag?" you asked. You could just said that everything was fine and he could go on his day. But no. Because you did not want him to leave, even though you had no idea what was he doing here.

"Don't worry, I got some," he said while reaching for a plastic bag from his pockets. You lifted your eyebrow while he handed one to you as well as ripping one for himself. "I have a dog, so..." he said, while the two of you collected the rest of the trash. Well, this was not romantic at all. Your cheeks started to burn as you felt the situation kind of humiliating.

"What kind of dog you have?" you asked, trying to pick up the stuff as fast as you could.

"A blue English Staffordshire Bull Terrier" he breathed out when the two of you finally dumped away the rest of the trash.

"Oh, those are really nice dogs even though everyone seems to be afraid of them" you started the conversation and you could swear that his eyes lit up at your compliment.

"Oh, totally. They are super nice when they are raised well," he said smiling. "There are no bad dogs just bad owners." you just nodded, did not know what to say. A few seconds passed by just looking at each other, none of you said anything or moved.

"I should get..." he started, but at the same time, you started as well.

"Would you like a coffee or something in return?" you asked.

"Yeah, sure" he breathed but turned away from you to his car. Which you only realized just now. "Can I park here?" he asked as he gesticulated towards his Mustang. Your jaw just dropped.

"Wow. She's beautiful," you said coming closer to his car. You did not realize what you did until you actually did it. You reached out to touch the roof and at the same time approach John incredibly close. You just recognized that you did not answer his previous question. "And yes, I think you can park here but I'm not sure though."

He said nothing, just looking at you and monitoring every movement you made. He appreciated how your eyes were shining with excitement. Your fingertips which caressed his car so gently. Your hair, which slightly fallen into your face, framing it beautifully. You took his breath away.

"Would you like to try it out?" you did not really comprehend his question, as you were still focusing on his car. When the question finally hit you, you turned towards him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Is this allowed?" you asked. At this moment you wanted nothing more than him taking you out for a ride.

"Why wouldn't be allowed?" he asked back, kind of confused.

"Because you're my teacher." you simply answered back. At that moment you could swear that the smile frozen to his lips, like the reality hit him or something. Something was off. Just like you suspected before. "If you're a teacher at all," you added carefully.

"Who else would I be?" the confidence which was radiating from him started to slowly fade away. He was nervous, you could see that.

"I don't know, you just not seem to be a teacher type of guy." you started. "You don't look like it... and, surely, teachers cannot afford cars like this." you pointed towards his engine. In that second, he moved closer to you, which is why the air stuck in your throat. You looked up at him, his eyes were dark with some emotion which you could not read. You have not seen this side of him yet.

"Maybe, I got it as a gift" his voice comes through your fast heartbeat which was throbbing in your ear.

"I doubt it" you had no idea where this bravery was coming from, even you were surprised. Before he could manage to say something his phone started to ring. He pulled away from you to answer it.

"I'll be there," he said shortly, hanging up the phone. "Sorry, Y/N. I have to go." he was fast. Before you could realize he already got into his car. "Maybe next time," he added, and before you could realize he was already on his way leaving you on the sidewalk alone.

*

The next time you meet him was after his Italian class. You did not attend class, but you managed to arrive at the end of the session to give your essay to him. He was looking good as always, wearing dark clothes highlighting every muscle on his bare skin which was not covered.

"I'm sorry John that I couldn't come for today's class, but I had some family issues" you breathed out which was kind of true. You had family issues, anxiety issues, university issues, and just issues of issues. On top of that, you got a lot of anxiety attacks lately, which did not help you at all. Your hands were shaking as you handed your essay to him. "I know I said that I can manage to finish earlier but I couldn't," you added and he did not say a word. He did not even look at you as he took away the essay. You were heartbroken.

As he did not say anything else you just left the room completely taken aback, trying to suppress the tears which you could feel that going to burst out. When you arrived in the hallway, it was harder and harder to suppress it. You quickly went to the bathroom and when you closed the door behind you everything just came out. All of those tensions were building inside up you. Those feelings which constantly taken up your mind. That you're never good enough, that you have no one to rely on, not even a friend, not family. Nobody. You had nothing and no one. Besides that, you were constantly under stress because of the university. You wanted to perform as the best version of yourself, but you just could not hold back anymore.

After the tears came out and your breathing became a little bit better you went to the basin to wash your face with cold water and to make yourself a little bit more presentable as you still had class. You took a deep breath and got out to the next lesson. Everyone was waiting at the door as the room was not open yet. At this moment, one of your classmates who was kind of nice to you touched your arm.

"Hey, Y/N" she started. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Even though you appreciated her question, you did not know what to say.

"Yeah, sure. Why?" you lied, but it was enough for her to completely change the topic.

"Will you come to the party next week?"

"I don't know" you started. "I haven't really thought about it." as soon as you finished one of the other classmates of yours spoken up.

"She doesn't know because he is waiting for John. I mean, Mr. Wick," he said, bursting out into laughter. You did not know how he found out but your cheeks started to burn up.

"What did you just say?" you asked back, almost shouting at him when you heard the others whispering.

"Oh shit, here he comes," said one of them. When you turned back John was standing next to you. You were sure that he heard the whole conversation. When he looked at you his eyes stuck at your red ones. You were sure that he knew that you were crying. Even though the cold water helped, you still looked like a mess.

"Is there a problem?" he asked using his deep, "discipline" teacher voice. His voice was dangerously low, which sent a shiver down your spine and a feeling to your core which you tried not to think about.

"Not at all" smiled back the douchebag who started everything in the first place. John lightly grabbed your arm, turning his whole body towards you.

"Y/N, can we talk?" he whispered, but the others still managed to figure out the situation. As you answered, they started to chuckle, but at that point, you could not care less as John guided towards his office.

When there were just the two of you, he looked at you with concern on his face.

"Is everything all right, Y/N?" he asked but you just could not look at him. Your eyes were fixated on your shoes. Why would he care? He did not even look at you half an hour ago. You did not answer. You did not know what to say. He was your teacher. You could not tell him your problems even though you wanted to. "Y/N?" he asked again.

This time you looked up at him. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, waiting for your answer.

"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Wick" you stressed his last name. A sudden expression went through his face which you could not read. "Why would you care, you're just a teacher anyway," you said without thinking of the consequences as you stormed out of his office.  

*

The last week before spring break went quite quickly even though you felt like a zombie. You did not attend your class with John, even though you desperately wanted to. You just skipped that class, while you were attending the others. You were hiding in the hallway, trying to avoid anyone. Just arriving at the beginning of the course and coming out as soon as you could. In this way, you could survive university. Now, thankfully you had a free week when you could charge up your battery and just rest a little. Your mind wandered at the party which your classmate mentioned to you, wondering if John would be there. A few teachers had to be there, because it was a university party and they were still responsible for you somehow.

You really wanted to go. To dance, to drink and to forget all of your problems.

That is why you were standing in front of your mirror trying to soothe imaginary creases on your black dress. You kept finding mistakes on yourself, about your makeup, about your hair. But at the same time, you kept reminding yourself that this is just a party and the main goal is that you should enjoy the night without constantly thinking bullshit about yourself.

This is what you kept saying in your head on your way to the party. The place was already buzzing with music and people's voices, radiating a certain kind of heat as well. As you step inside, you were already washed away by the crowd, seeing people who you never saw before.

As you looked around you saw a giant plaque that said that it was a retro vs. modern age night. All night, songs from the 80/90s were played, after that came a piece of current music and the whole mass went insane. Everybody moved as a whole in perfect sync swaying to the rhythm of the music. Sadly, you could see that a lot of people were high and drunk, which you could never do, but you still wanted to dance. You just started to move your body alone, when your all-time a favorite song started to play from the speakers.

Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

I travel the world

And the seven seas,

Everybody's looking for something

At that point, your eyes stuck at a dark figure which you could recognize even in your dreams. John Wick was standing there, looking at you. He was wearing a full black suit with his hair slicked back. You were constantly gazing at him. Even though you wanted him to be here the whole situation was absurd and unbelievable. However, he still managed to surprise you all the time.

Some of them want to use you

Some of them want to get used by you

Some of them want to abuse you

Some of them want to be abused.

Looking at him and listening to these lines hit you. Hit you really hard. As you looked at him, all of your desires and hidden fantasies started to take over your body. Your nasty hidden feelings. All of those things which you could never share with anyone. You wanted to be used, you wanted to be abused. But you wanted these in a good way. You wanted this as a thing, where the two of you want this not just you. You wanted to be safe, you wanted to feel appreciated, you wanted to feel special, you wanted to be WANTED. You wanted a man, who makes you feel things you never felt before. Who does things to you and touches you like you never experienced before. Maybe, just the daddy issues were speaking from you but looking at John you could feel that he could fulfill all of your wishes and desires. Not to mention that he would be there for you as a friend, as a lover, even as a soulmate. And as someone, who just genuinely cares about you. At least, you hoped so. But it could never happen because he was just a teacher and you were just a silly student.

However, the way he was looking at you consumed your whole being. You did not know what happened to you but you started to sensually move your hips, turning your back to him to kind of show him what he can get.

After a few seconds, you felt a muscular, hard chest pushing against your body.

"Mind if I join?" a deep voice asked and you could recognize this tone everywhere. You did not even answer as you did not have to. You just turned back towards him, getting as close as possible. He was even more handsome up close, taking your breath away.

"Is this allowed?" you shouted, but it sounded like a whisper in the crowd.

He pulled you closer to him, resting his hands on your waist and tilting his head down to bury his face into your hair.

"I don't even care anymore" he answered, his breath caressing your ear as well as the side of your neck. This sent a shiver down your spine, causing your thighs to rub together to ease the sensation which was building in your core deep down. He could feel that your body tense up between his palms, but he kept you steady with his strong and firm hands.

"What does that mean?" he looked up at you, with some expression on your face which you could not read. He wanted to tell you something, you could see that but something changed as he looked at your side.

"Stay here," he said and suddenly his touch disappeared causing you to shiver as he was not there anymore.

You could barely react, but you still managed to see where he went to. Without thinking, you started to follow him.

 You looked at him everywhere when you find him outside the field of the campus. To be honest, you could barely see him but you could hear him grunting and... fighting? He was the last man standing with someone else, besides them, there were laying bodies. You could never dream of being a situation like this. You did not know what to do. You were completely frozen and could not move. Your panic started to take over your mind and you could barely manage your breathing.

"John" suddenly you cried out. He immediately looked at you, which the opponent took as a chance and hit him right in the gut. He sunk into his knees, while the other man started to approach you.

"Y/N run," he said but you could not even lift your finger. You could see as the other man was getting closer and closer to you when John grabbed him from behind and started to choke him. The other man started to run out of the air and suddenly collapsed into John's arms. John did not even think twice, he dropped the enemy onto the ground. Before you could realize, John grabbed your arm, dragging you across the field into the parking lot where you saw his car.

"Get in the car!" he ushered you, but you could barely move. You were completely frozen which was insane thinking that your body was on fire just a few minutes ago.

"Why?" you managed to push this word out of you when he started to yell.

"Get in the fucking car!" he said and that predatory look on his face with some bruises and blood made him look like a totally different person. You got in the car, slowly breathing out that air that you did not know you were holding. He started the engine and drive at a very high speed toward somewhere which you could not recognize.

"Where are you taking me?" your throat was dry. It was hard to speak, but this was the only sentence which you dared to ask after minutes.

"Home. To me," he answered shortly.

"Why?" you whispered but he could hear it. After minutes, you finally looked at him. He was holding the wheel so damn strong that his knuckles went white. He was angry, you could see that. His whole expression changed as he was not looking at you, just fixating his eyes on the road.

"Because you fucking messed up your goddamn life" to hear him swearing made you sense that you are truly in deep trouble.

"What did I do?" you asked softly and suddenly all of his muscles started to loosen up at your tone.

"I was taking out a gang when you just showed up, risking your whole life just to look after me." he started.

"So you..." you started softly as you could feel that the ice between the two of you started to melt. "You're not a teacher." was all you managed to say.

"God no," he answered, and before you could realize you started to laugh. It came from the bottom of your heart. He looked at you the first time, furrowing his brows. "It's not funny, Y/N.," he said and before you could stop yourself the following words just slip out of your mouth:

"Thank God, 'cause ever since I saw you I've kept telling myself that I can't fall for a teacher" as soon as you said it your cheek started to burn. He looked at you with piercing eyes.

"I'm not a teacher, but I'm way worse," he said in a dangerously low voice. And thinking back to those guys around him finally hit you.

"Who are you?" you whispered. He looked back at the road as he could not bear to see your expression when he told you the truth.

"I'm a ..." he started, but he did not want to say assassin. Because that was just too much the handle. "I'm the one who takes out the bad guys." you nodded, did not know what to do with this information. You have always known that there is something wrong with him, but you could not explain why. Now, this was the reason and you wished that you did not know. Still, you fell for him even more.

"Did you kill them?" you asked.

"No." he answered back. "I didn't have my gun." suddenly you felt that breathing becomes heavier.

"Have you killed someone?" you barely dared to ask this question but the heavy silence which felt on you told more than words.

 You did not say a word until he finally stopped at his garage. His house was beautiful, so big that it was unbelievable that it only belonged to him.

"Wow..." you whispered and he smiled.

"Y/N" he started and you turned towards him. "I'm sorry that I disappointed you. I just wanted to protect you. You'll stay here until I finish this business and make sure that no one harms you. After that, you're free to go." you did not know what to say. You wanted to say something, but you could not. Your mind wandered somewhere else, constantly thinking about what the two of you talked about in the car. You told him about your feelings and he did not even say anything. "I have a room for you here," he said and ushered you to a room, leaving you alone.

*

You could barely get some sleep. Your mind was constantly thinking about John and his life. How dangerously he lived and how he managed to keep his camouflage at the university. Honestly, you even cried that night as well. You did not know what to do and how to react, even though you wanted him. Your mind could not be silenced after you saw him in action and what he did you still thought about his arms, his hands, and his body as he pulled you closer to him at the party. Not to mention that you felt his goddamn intoxicating perfume in his whole house as well as in the sheets.

After being up all evening, you woke up late in the afternoon. It was already 5 when you looked at the clock on the nightstand on your left. You left out a sigh, focusing on sounds. But you could not hear any. You slowly got up and opened to the door.

“John?” you cried out but no answers came. Instead of that, you heard something which was running towards you. Then you saw John’s dog. “Oh my God, you’re so cute” you kneeled to the ground to pet the dog which was in its early months. It was still small, but you could see the strong, robust figure which started to form underneath its skin. “Where were you last night?” you asked as if the dog could answer you. However, after petting and talking to it all of your stress and doubts left the mind.

You went to the kitchen, where on the counter you found a note. It was written by John and he had beautiful handwriting.

“Make yourself at home.” was all it said. Straightforward. Just like John.

 After taking a shower and finding a long t-shirt in John’s wardrobe you finally sat down onto the sofa when the front door opened. John came in, the dog immediately cheered him licking and panting all over him. You watched the scene with a smile on your face. After John returned the same excitement as the dog, he finally looked at you. You were wearing one of his t-shirts. And that was it.

“What are you wearing?” he demanded. You stood up immediately, trying to explain yourself.

“You said that make yourself at home, so I’ve showered and searched for something to wear because the dress was really uncomfortable,” you said quickly. John left out a soft “oh” as he could have thought about this in the first place. Even though he did not want to admit, but he really liked the way it looked on you.

“Everything is clear now,” he stated simply. “I’m taking you home. Are you ready?” he asked and you were just standing there as if your legs got stuck into the ground.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” you started carefully, hinting to your previous unfinished conversation last night as well how he “cleared everything up”.

“No.” was all he said which felt like ripping and turning up your insides. You just nodded, turning away to suppress all of your emotions. That’s it. All of your fantasies about this man ended. He did not want to do anything with you. This was just business after all. And he finished it.

“I’m grabbing my stuff” you whispered, your throat was dry you could barely speak.

 After collecting your dress and purse you were standing in front of him again. “Take me home,” you said firmly when his form started to loosen up.

“Y/N” he followed you as you were heading into the garage. His beautiful car was there, standing next to another one.

“Just take me home.” was all you said before he grabbed your wrist, pulling back to him and pushing his lips against yours. The kiss was not a soft one. It was passionate and hard. It took a few milliseconds to react, but gosh… it was desperate. From the two of you. Teeth clicked, tongues rolled against each other as the two of you started to express which words could not. He was cupping one of your cheeks, pushing you closer to him as much as he could. Your hands started to explore his body, caressing the soft material of his suit. You could feel as he started to harden beneath your touch, basically… everywhere. Just like in a second, which made you even more insane. He wanted you so much, he could barely hold himself back. He was rucking up your shirt with his other hand, grabbing your waist strongly which sent goosebumps all over your body. His touch was just like you imagined. No… it was even better. It took a side of you which you did not even know you had.

You could feel that you started to wet your panties even though he did not even touch you there yet. He was now kissing you a little bit softer but still passionately, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You started to moan as it did whole new sensations to your body which you never experienced before. He lifted you up from the ground before you could realize, to make you sit on the hood of his car. At that exact moment, you hooked your legs around his legs, pulling him closer to you. It was insane how the two of you moved in sync. It was like a perfect dance and choreography, even though you have not done this before to the other. But still, it was like you found a long lost piece from yourself. And he felt the same. The two of you did not stop kissing until his hands reached up to your neck, softly squeezing it to make out a moan from you which you could not even stop. John immediately stopped looking at you with concern on his face.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly looking at your neck if he caused any injuries. He did not even know what he has done until you moaned.

“Gosh no,” you started to laugh and blush. “It just… felt really good.” his eyes lit up with lust. It became even darker than it already was. He was looking at you, constantly holding his gaze when he reached again to your neck. He squeezed it a little bit harder this time, but it was even better. Your eyes rolled back as your core started to throb with desire.

“Fuck, Y/N” he breathed at the sight. “You’re making me insane.” was all he said before sinking to his knees. He pulled you closer to him, making you lay on the edge of his car. He looked so good kneeling between your thighs. And he looked even better when he started to stroke your clit through your underwear. He sharply sucked the air just by the sight of it.

You were laying on his car in your black lace panties. This was even better than he could ever dream for. He was holding himself back, but he was about to burst out.

“You look so good,” he said as he pushed your panties to the side to insert one finger slowly into you. You laid back all the way on his car as he started to finger your inside with one hand and your clit with his other one. You bite your lip to hold your moans back, but it was a really difficult thing to do. As he was so freaking good with his hand. You could barely hold yourself back when suddenly he pulled his finger out of you. Before you could realize, your panties were on the floor, and John grabbed your thighs to draw you closer to him. Now, he used his tongue instead of his fingers to play with your wetness, causing you to arch your back pushing your backside closer to his face. He grabbed your ass firmly with his hands, he wanted to control and drive you insane. He could not let you chase for your own pleasure. He wanted to make your pleasure. He wanted to make you lose your mind. He wanted you to scream his name.

He was flicking his tongue, constantly changing position between your clit and inside thing, delving his tongue deeper and deeper. You were moaning, making sounds, saying his name with some curse words as well. You were right. He truly made you feel things that you never felt before.

Suddenly, your most intense orgasm ever washed over you out of nothing, clenching all over John’s hands and tongue as he was still fucking you mercilessly with it to help over your after wave. Your hands were still grabbing his hair, rocking your hips against his face.

“Jonathan,” you said after a few seconds when he stood up, looking at you laying on his car finally satisfied. You sit up to push a soft kiss against his lips, which on you could feel your juices. Which caused you to be even hornier. As it was possible.

“I love when you say my name” he chuckled which made your stomach flop from happiness. “That is why I can’t wait to hear you screaming it,” he added with a dangerously low voice.

“Can I ask you something, Jonathan?” you said carefully, pulling him closer to you.

“Anything, doll” he answered.

“Then, fuck me” you whispered shyly. You did not know where this bravery was from, but John truly made you feel things that you never felt before.

“You don’t even have to ask,” he said as you started to undress him. His expensive suit and tie dropped onto the floor and the same time he removed the t-shirt and bra which you were still wearing as well.

He took your whole body in and admired every sight of it.

“You’re beautiful,” he said before pressing another urgent kiss to your lips. He grabbed your hair, making you moan into his mouth at how good all of this felt. At that exact moment, he thrust into you and your whole world rocked. He stretched you all the way up, cause you to cry out his name louder than you anticipated.

“Tell me if it hurts” he added and you couldn’t form a single word because the pleasure mixed with all the pain, caused to build your second orgasm and he was restlessly fucking you. You were a moaning mess, so is he. He was grunting and cursing as the two of you started to reach climax.

“Ah, fuck-“you cried out as your walls started to clench. “Let me cum, Mr. Wick” you added and you could actually feel that Jonathan is twitching inside of you. He suddenly stopped and grabbed your neck, ushering you to look at him.

“Say that again,” he demanded.

“Which part?” you asked shyly, thinking that it was a mistake and you’ve ruined everything.

“All of it.”

“Let me cum, Mr. Wick,” you looked straight into his eyes when you said it. The fact that you’re biting your bottom lip didn’t help him at all.

“Gosh…” he huffed and continued to mercilessly pound into you, deeper and deeper each time. You were overwhelmed with the new sensations and your whole-body shake, when the second, but most intense orgasm of the night hit you. John was approaching his own climax as well, every thrust of his became a little bit sloppier and out of pace. He kissed you so softly, when he reached his own pleasure, moaning into your mouth which sent a vibration down to your body. You tensed your legs around his waist, taking him in more while lying down on the top of his car.

“I’m sorry we made a mess,” you whispered and he started to chuckle.

“Don’t worry about that, especially that we’re only getting started,” he said in a dangerously low voice. And oh boy, he was right…

*

This is it. It was the end of suffering. End of your university years. As for now. You couldn’t be happier as you’ve left the building and saw a beautiful mustang parked on the driveway. It was from John Wick. You were quite surprised as he said that he has to leave the town for some… business. You didn’t expect him to be back this soon. Now, you’re smile grew even bigger.

“Here is my graduated girl,” he smiled at you and pressed a soft, loving kiss to your lips when you got next to him. You gave him a half-hug in this position, laughing into his shoulders.

“I did it.”

“Yes, you did,” he said, looking straight into your eyes now. He took out an envelope from his jacket. “I brought you this,” he said softly, and you were surprised.

“John, you shouldn’t…” but he cut you off.

“Just open it!” and you did. You carefully ripped off the edges taking out two flight tickets to Italy. Tears started to gather in your eyes.

“John…” you started but you didn’t even know how to begin. He also became emotional, as he looked at you.

“At our first Italian class, you’ve said that you want to see the world. I hope this will be a good start.” you didn’t know how you got a man like John, but it was more than you deserved.

“I love you, John,” you breathed out and this was the first time you’ve actually said this. He looked at you and his whole expression changed, suddenly his body tensed up. You suddenly became afraid that you said something wrong. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe…

“I love you too, Y/N,” he said finally and he pressed a kiss into your lips which told more than words. This was just the beginning. The very beginning of your life and also the adventure, which you continued with John Wick till the very end.

[rattlerinthewheel]

Goin’ Soft

Another thing from my sharingan!Daryl writings. Includes Greenes and some byakugan.

- - -

The Greenes were something. Daryl didn’t quite know what to make of them, mostly because he’d never met folk with byakugan before, had only gotten second-hand tall tales. Bedtime stories from Mom, less story and more recounting from days gone when there was a lot more of everything (undeveloped land to hunt on, game to hunt, food to go around, eyes that could do more than just look and play mind games). Slurs from the old man, a racist at heart; slurs and ramblings both from Merle, running into all manner of folk in the marines.

Daryl knew better than to trust his folk about certain things. Mom had liked to think about days long past, enough that she hadn’t seen the fire right in front of her when it killed her. The old man was a nasty waste long gone now, didn’t know nothing where it counted.

And Merle was Merle—and that was enough for Daryl not to take his word as gospel.

Still, it unnerved him that the Greenes were so opposite from what he’d expected. They were kind, for one thing, and the farmhouse—gone, up in flames now—hadn’t been lavish. Clean, but not spotless. The food had been humbling, dirt cheap because it came from the dirt outside their door or the simple grocery store or farmer’s market. Fanciest food they’d ever eaten was probably dessert or pickled, maybe something Hershel’s eldest brought back from college.

Maybe that they weren’t pure had something to do with it. Hershel’s first wife hadn’t had anything special about her eyes; it was obvious in their first girl, blue-eyed and brown-haired and without a lick of anything more obvious at first glance (she had brains she put to use, eyes that weren’t the near-perfect field of the byakugan but still a damn sight better than normal when the blue washed temporary white). Hershel’s second wife had clearly had the eyes to match the vet, because the younger girl had only eyes white as the moon.

They were taking to the new world better, now that the farm was gone. Not that the whole thing burning down was good—not that they’d have gotten far living there that much longer—but it didn’t give them any baggage either, mental or real. Were leaving behind ash and crisps, not the home they’d grown up in.

They rolled up their sleeves and scavenged for supplies and got fires going. They pitched tents, threading the barest line of chakra through the poles so they could see through the nylon; a neat trick, especially useful if they were unfortunate enough to set up camp later in the day. Hershel and Maggie, his eldest, picked up watches, more useful than anyone else with the power to see well past the fire’s reach. Most of the time they sat, hands in their laps or idle; grabbing a gun or knife was more telling than a warning.

The youngest wasn’t allowed, a kid and not, older than Carl but not grown. Beth offered, but the rest of the group declined. Too young, too fragile, Daryl guessed they thought her. He picked up on her fussing, her huffs when she was turned down, her wilting shoulders, and knew she’d do something stupid to prove herself eventually.

Didn’t matter your blood, your tricks—everyone with something to prove usually tried.

- - -

Daryl knew she would follow him soon as he left camp. He ignored her chakra—unruly and immature, shaking when she tripped, flaring in panic whenever he stopped to check tracks thinking she’d been caught (she was, just didn’t know it yet)—in favor of trying to catch their dinner for the night. Something to go with the canned goods they lucked out on from that overturned semi.

He was maybe a mile out when Daryl decided he’d had enough of playing pretend. They were far out enough that she couldn’t act like she wasn’t following him, but not too far that he if made her go back he’d worry about her getting lost on the way.

Girl was sheltered, obviously, but had to know her way around her own eyes, could see far enough in every direction to figure it out.

Well, he could find that out now, couldn’t he?

A trick of his own he’d kept to himself till now, because girls liked to chat and Beth would probably tell someone, he shouldered his crossbow and pulled the strap snug, worked chakra into his hands and feet, and clambered up the bark of a nice fat tree. He huddled with his knees drawn to his chest on a branch too sturdy to waver. He’d see how hopeless the girl really was—no way she wouldn’t be able to see him here. He wouldn’t even bother with a mediocre genjutsu to hide himself.

A few moments of stillness crumpled into stumbling and huffing that sounded like the dead, and would have had a bolt or kunai primed to sink into their eye had Daryl not known what was coming through the trees.

Stupid kid, Daryl realized when he caught sight of her, and had to blink back the ebb of chakra that wanted to spring his sharingan to life in an angry, downright livid pulse. Her byakugan wasn’t even out.

Beth did wake it once she realized she wasn’t tripping after him anymore. From his perch Daryl watched the veins snake around her face, her concentration taking over the rest of her as she went completely still. It occurred to Daryl that if she needed to concentrate this much on her eyes, that she couldn’t move at all, she likely hadn’t been using them when she’d been following. Christ, she was going to get herself killed.

She was right under his branch, nearly, and that forced Daryl to keep at bay another angry surge to his eyes. She couldn’t even sense him. She hadn’t seen him right over her. He could probably drop down right behind her, not even in her crevice of a blind spot, and she still wouldn’t.

Fuckin’ unbelievable.

Daryl rose on his branch, just enough to move. He fed chakra into his feet and fell forward, extra to reach through his boots, sticking to the bark by his soles to hang upside down right behind her. Beth didn’t even startle, just went right on glaring ahead. Daryl thought briefly about letting his sharingan loose, just to scare her good, then figured she’d scare bad enough once she turned around and found him. Not like he was known for being welcoming and warm on his own.

It didn’t take long. Beth wilted, and he caught the veins on the side of her head relax. Daryl didn’t doubt it was less out of defeat and more she just plain lacked the endurance. She turned, probably thinking to make her way back to camp, and promptly tripped back on her ass when she damn near walked into him.

Daryl drowned out her wail with a barely contained, “The hell you doin’ out here, girl?”

He let her get to her feet on her own (could do something for herself for once) while he unstuck himself from the tree, twisted in the air, and landed on his feet. He grimaced at the shock that rolled up his spine—too old for that shit now—and easily dropped it into a glare as Beth whacked dirt off her jeans and scowled up at him.

“I thought you needed an extra set of eyes.”

Good Lord, she was serious.

“Ya couldn’t even see me,” he seethed. “Couldn’t even sense me. Hell you got those eyes for if you can’t use ‘em?”

“I can use ‘em just fine! Daddy taught me the basics.”

Of course, when they didn’t have to worry about the dead up and walking. Daryl doubted the old man had let her step foot off the property since martial law dissolved into chaos. Hell, out of the house.

“Your daddy teach you not to go following strangers in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse?”

“You ain’t a stranger, Daryl,” she scoffed, and if it wasn’t for the tilt of her head to go with Daryl probably would’ve missed entirely the roll of her eyes. Not like her irises and pupils were easy to see.

He needed a minute to breathe, so he turned on his heels and put some distance between them. Good Lord, teenagers.

“I can take care a’ myself.”

Daryl growled then, swore and spit, and whirled. He stalked right up to her, letting his sharingan come out at last. Chakra fumed with his anger. Beth flinched back, had probably never seen one up close but sure as shit knew what it meant. Good.

The veins in her face twitched but didn’t have the energy to stick around. Not that it was useful against him. Unless she knew how to fuck with his chakra points, which he doubted—and that made him even madder. Girl couldn’t see, didn’t even know how to defend herself.

She couldn’t handle being looked at like that, clearly. “I just... wanted to help...”

“Whip ‘em out then,” Daryl ordered. He didn’t dare tip chakra into his words. He doubted she knew how to break out of a genjutsu, had even experienced one. That was more bullshit he didn’t want to deal with.

“Well... I—”

“Said ta show ‘em, girl,” he rumbled, drawing himself up so he could look down at her even more than he already was.

Beth tried, at least. She stilled, like she had when he’d been watching from the tree. But no veins rose up around her eyes, she didn’t look like she was seeing the world any different, any better. Finally she quit trying, doubling over like she’d run a mile, panting. Daryl watched the excess chakra slink away from her eyes, and blinked his own blue again—hard to do, his anger wanting them to stay.

“Yer an idiot,” Daryl snorted. “And we’re going back. Can tell everybody why we don’t got dinner.”

Girl went quiet at that, thank fuck, and Daryl led the way back. They had dinner, just nothing freshly killed; Daryl happily let her take the blame for why they were only eating lukewarm beans.

- - -

Contrary to Beth’s complaints, she could be grounded, even during the end of the world. Good. Daryl didn’t need to worry about her following him again when he went out. He did have a limit to what he could do, he might have good eyes but he wasn’t all-seeing. All it took was one run-in with the dead and the girl was gone.

Carol took his plate from him after dinner. She was keen when it came to folks (he didn’t like to think it came from survival before the world ended) and noticed the youngest Greene had looked jittery when she passed him his fixed plate. Worried he’d chew her out for not enough beets, maybe, or just for being in his presence.

Maybe he’d been too loud with her.

“She just wants to help, you know,” Carol told him when he wrestled the plate back, took half the stack she’d collected from the rest.

“Wants to get bit,” he grunted as they walked over to the wash basin in the back of one of the trunks.

“Did it ever cross your mind," Carol suggested, tone just shy of wry but enough to let Daryl know he’d be doing what she asked anyway, "that helping her might keep her safe?”

His excuse came quick: “Don’t got the same eyes.”

It wasn’t even an excuse; just because they happened to have a hell of an upgrade if they fed chakra to their skulls, didn’t mean it worked the same. Training, especially, which was what the girl needed most. Even if the training was the same, no fucking way he’d do it. The three tomoe Daryl had earned over the years, none of them gotten lightly, came at a price. He didn’t know how to coax progress that wasn’t hollering or worse.

“You don’t just use your eyes, do you?” Carol asked, and he was stuck there—the pointed look she threw at his kunai wasn’t needed.

Two weeks later, when he was sure Beth’s grounding was long behind her, he made sure to take watch with Hershel. With both of them keeping an eye out (on chakra for what was living, shambling husks for what wasn’t) on top of the hill they’d set up camp beneath, the group couldn’t be safer.

“I’d hoped my Bethie wouldn’t need to know certain things,” he started before Daryl could. “But I’d be a fool to hold on to that hope. Especially when it’s obvious she’s taken to... exploring.”

“She couldn’t walk and see at the same time,” Daryl pointed out, careful not to sound accusing. Families with doujutsu had customs, manners, and they varied between ability and family. He didn’t want to be stepping on toes if this was something the girl ought to be able to do but couldn’t. Shame was a hell of a thing. So was wanting to cull weak links, though he had the feeling Hershel wasn’t like that.

“Her mother had good eyes. Strong eyes. But,” Hershel said, “she came from a family that valued, over all else, strength. What her mother had was trained for, not a birthright, and she made me promise we wouldn’t put that on Beth.”

Hershel swung his head west, then. Daryl couldn’t see it, not yet, but pulled his kunai anyway. There was something to using it, a feeling that felt right more than using any gun. Daryl felt it when he used his bow, but more when he used this. Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe he was just old-fashioned. Maybe because, like his arrows, they were easy to make (wooden ones, at least) and being able to make more of something that could help put food on the table was invaluable.

Or maybe because the set he had now was a gift, one of the very few he’d gotten in his miserable life.

Daryl never quite got over how wrong the walkers felt. Empty, no streams of chakra flowing, coursing, or even stuttering. Anything would’ve made them easier to be around—not that he planned on sticking around the dead for long.

Long enough to put them down, like now.

The walker, torn dress pulled down by the mud, shoeless, hair a nest, went down like her strings had been cut. Daryl picked his way down the hill, pulled the kunai from her eye, and wiped it clean on his thigh. Hershel was looking past him, veins bulging, when Daryl hiked back up, but he didn’t gesture for Daryl to ready another throw.

They were quiet for a while. Daryl liked that about taking watch with Hershel. Then, out of the blue:

“She looked like her.”

Daryl didn’t need to ask what he’d meant; he’d been thinking it too, had hoped Hershel wasn’t. But the man was smart, had a brain to match those eyes.

“Don’t gotta end up that way,” Daryl shrugged, quiet. Promises were dangerous, but so was the rest of the world.

Goin’ soft, that Merle-like voice that liked to come around, every now and then, taunted.

Yeah, well, fuck ‘em.

[degeneratekitten]

When there’s no Hope

I ended up pushing myself too far for some of the stories, the result was a massive burnout that I’m still not completely recovered from, I think this was actually the last story I made that pushed me over the edge. I only just got around to editing it. Anyways enjoy.

!!!WARNING!!! READ TAGS BEFORE READING. BITTY TORTURE. DONT LIKE DON’T READ

Some cases are simply too dire to help, this was one of them.

You seldom got cases as bad as this, cases where training simply was not an option and the owner was simply too blind to see it. The woman in front of you was describing such a case, tears in her eyes as she described what had to be the most dangerous bitty you’d ever heard of.

The bitty in question had grown to the size of a bear, just feeding him alone was breaking her bank, he still had the childish, dumb demeanor of a pure bite. Furthermore his breed specific problems made you flinch a little, you were well aware of how dangerous they could be, whether from being unmuzzled to only having regard for their own needs you knew full well that a bear sized toddler with knives for teeth was not good. Furthermore, despite leaving out what must have happened to her, you could tell exactly what had happened to the woman coming to you for help.

Her descriptions of this pure bite only cemented in your mind that she had become so blind to what was really happening that she forgot about everything but her tormentors' feelings. You ended up having to stop her halfway through her pleading to firmly lay down a hard truth for her to hear.

“I can’t help you, and frankly I’m afraid I can’t let you go home to this bitty either.” You stated, watching as the woman in front of you stood shocked and teary eyed at you.

“Nonononono! You misunderstood me! He’s really a sweet boy he just gets muddle headed during heats!” She replied, staring at you desperately as you shook your head.

“Ma’am no. There is only one thing that can be done about this bitty.” You stated, fixing her with a look. “Firstly, he was never meant to be a pet, and due to his size he’s long past the point where he’s allowed out for the exercise he needs. Frankly he has two options, a zoo, or death.” You stated, watching as the woman stared at you in shock. “But based entirely on the stories you’ve told me of his treatment of you and the bitties around him, I know for fact that no zoo would take him.” You stated, before sighing one last time.

“I also cannot in good conscience let you go home and wait to be murdered by this bitty either.” You stated, and watched as the woman’s face twisted in anger.

“You can’t do this! I came for help and you’re talking about MURDERING my baby! He would never hurt-” You stopped her before she could finish her sentence.

“But he already has.” You replied, pointing to the bruises littering her form. Her arm was even in a cast, and she got silent. You could tell that the bitty in question had done something unspeakable to this woman. He likely couldn't take no for an answer given his intellect and she couldnt force him away due to his size.

“Now, in consideration for your feelings for your bitty, I’m only offering you this so he won’t suffer.” You stated, as you stood up, and walked over to her, you had been in a fortunate enough position growing up to be one of the lucky few with a more developed magical sense. It had always been an option for you to become a dedicated mage due to it, even now you were still getting offers of magical colleges to further develop it. You never had any interest though, you always preferred the sciences over magic. You supposed though, that now was as good a time as any to use a little of your magic to get your point across. Summoning a green light you walked over and brushed the woman’s cheek with your hand. The bags under her eyes disappeared and she stared at you with wonder, looking at your hand as she felt the magic wash over her.

“I could call the humane society, they would most likely come and subdue him without the use of magic, which would be a violent and huge affair. Or…” You held up your glowing hand.

“I could come in and make the situation as painless as possible.” You stated.

She looked at you with so much uncertainty in her eyes that you sat back down.

“The choice is yours, I know it’s hard, and you probably already resent me. But someone is going to die. Whether it’s you or the pure bite is entirely up to you.”

----

The woman was so distraught by your ultimatum, screaming profanities at you about being heartless, inhumane, a murderer, but you simply pulled out your phone and looked up the number for the humane society, making sure she could see you do so. She ended up collapsing onto your sofa, crying something intelligible, before agreeing. She looked guilty, so guilty, about being raped by a bitty, about supposedly breaking some sort of promise to the bitty, about her assumption that this bitty wasn't dangerous despite the fact that she’d already been hurt so deeply by him.

You ended up talking more, with you urging her to seek help from a mental health professional to help with her grief, she still tried to beg you to reconsider, but you wouldn't budge, making sure she understood very clearly that she would die if she continued to defend the bitty.

Surprisingly it was easier than you thought it would be to convince her to put down the bitty, you weren't entirely too thrilled about it having to be you who she wanted to put the creature down, but nonetheless it was more likely to end painlessly.

Despite your offer to subdue the pure bite, it was still something that was incredibly difficult for you. You had to pull out some of the old magic books that your grandfather gave you and your siblings when you were younger. Your siblings had all gone down the path of dedicated mages, while you decided you loved horses more than magic. You had long forgotten some of the spells you learned when younger, and had to look up a spell to subdue a large violent creature. Eventually you found it, but still had to write it down on your hand even as you left for the woman’s house.

---

Seeing the bitty was an entirely other matter though, and you had to suck in a deep breath as you stared at the bear sized bitty in front of you. You struggled to comprehend just how it could have grown to this size. You’d heard of certain breeds of bitties who grew as they aged, but you had no idea how old one of those bitties would have to be in order to get as large as this pure bite.

The owner wasn't glaring at you anymore, she seemed to be cowering as she stared at the bitty. You could tell just by looking that he was in the middle of a heat, he was pumping at his large cock as he stared at his owner.

“Mom.” It grumbled out, and it seemed to lumber towards its owner, he reached out a hand and really you werent in the mood to see a giant bear bitty rape anyone, so you didnt waste any time.

You took one look at your hand before shouting out a spell, drawing a shape in the air with your finger as you said it.

You were out of practice, and a small puff of purple escaped your hand.

Growling to yourself, you stared at the giant bitty as his owner pulled away from him. He bared his giant sharp teeth and let out a frustrated noise.

“Mommy! Make me feel better!” He growled out, reaching for her again, this time his large boney hand caught hold of her, and she shrieked a little.

“BABY NO!” She yelled, staring at you with a pleading look. You grimaced again, and collecting yourself you tried again.

You ended up succeeding in your second try, and a large purple symbol slammed into the large bitty. He ended up stumbling a bit, but shockingly enough he ended up shaking it off.

Your eyes ended up widening at this development, and you backed away in fear at the sight of the bitty. He looked angry, angry and still pumping his giant cock furiously as he glared at you.

“Go way! I want mommy not you!” He shouted and let go of his owner to lumber towards you.

Panicking you casted the spell again, and another purple symbol crashed into the bitty, this time causing him to howl in utter rage. He practically started sprinting towards you. You only barely managed to run past his lumbering form as he smashed into the door of his owners house.

“Nooooo! Baby please be good! She’s here to help!” The woman cried, bitter fearful tears running down her cheeks as she shook in place. You ended up casting the spell again frantically. Watching it slam into the bitty only to slow him down.

You realized exactly what was happening after that, and in response, before the bitty could turn you casted again. You could see the giant pure bite was wobbling, and could no longer run, so you casted again, and again, and again. Until finally, the giant lumbering threat fell, face first onto the ground, practically drooling.

“Cnt mvvv.” He tried to say, and you ended up sighing in relief. Your heart was pounding, and there was a hole in the door you came through.

The woman was still shaking, seemingly petrified by the giant bitty on the ground. She didn't even approach, just stared at him helplessly. You gave her a once over before you decided that it was better to get this all over with quickly.

The fact that casting the spell once had not been sufficient was a glaring reminder of just how out of practice you were with this. You weren't a dedicated mage, and while you were sure your siblings could have done this in one try you were different. Still this next part was something that you had done countless times at a young age. It was one of the basic elements of becoming a mage.

Making your way over, you planted your feet firmly on each side of his body. You hadn't done something like this in a long time, but really it was relatively painless despite how it sounded.

Lifting the shirt of the pure bite you reached into the very center of his magic, placing your hands firmly around the massive pulsating AI that rested in his chest. Then, careful so as not to completely damage the flow of your own magic, you started to absorb the magic resting within him.

The pure bite grunted at first, before he started to yawn. He stopped being able to move as the magic drained from him, and got progressively more tired as the process went on. You struggled a little to circulate the magic in a way that allowed your body to make the magic your own, and frequently had to stop for long moments to give yourself time. Really all the practice with places of power when you were younger made this process incredibly familiar, and eventually you fell back into the groove of how it was supposed to be done.

The pure bite eventually fell into a deep sleep, and shortly after parts of him began to dissolve gently into dust, floating away as you worked. You felt your own center of magic expanding, a little uncomfortably at first, the years that you hadn't done this coming to catch up with you, but eventually you had flexed your magical muscle enough that the expansion started to feel natural, pleasant even, like breaking through into a new level of power.

It wasn't long before you got comfortable enough with the flow of magic to where you could finally end the process. You practically glowed as you completely sucked up the remaining magic in the pure bites reserves, and closed your eyes to go into a deep meditation, as the body of the pure bite basically dissolved into dust. There was no screaming, no pleading, just a deep sleep that ended painlessly. You sat for a long time circulating the flow of magic, before you could finally open your eyes to see the woman in front of you staring almost confused at the dust on the ground.

“He just fell asleep... “ She stated, and she looked dazed as she said this, not distressed, not sad, just in disbelief. Honestly it looked like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Nodding at her, you smiled gently. “He just fell asleep..” You stated, which seemed to cause a dam to break in the façade of the woman. She didn't answer you, just placed her head into her hands as she cried. Whether it was from relief or grief you had no idea.

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office - New Experiences

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Four: Get to Know You

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Since you guys seemed to like the text messages between Y/n and George, I decided to include a chunk of them, since there weren’t any in the last part.

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some making out, thigh riding and dry humping. Yes, y’all read that correctly. 

George hadn’t spoken to me since the incident in his office. I figured it was because he’d been occupied with his friend, but when Saturday rolled around, he’d make up for all of the missed time between us.

Bree had informed me that she was going out with a group of our friends from college, which she’d invited me to, but I assured her that I was feeling ill and didn’t feel like leaving the house. I felt bad for lying, but I needed to see George. I missed him awfully; I missed the way his bare skin felt flush against mine, I missed seeing his smile and hearing his laughter, like music to my ears. I missed the feeling of his locks in my fingers, feeling his breath tickle my neck.

I couldn’t take it anymore; I messaged him immediately.

9:13 pm, Me: Apartment to myself... You busy?

Buzz.

9:14 pm, George: Nope. On my way.

I smirked to myself, hugging my phone to my chest before ripping my clothes off of me and replacing my casual undergarments with my best lace panties and matching black balconette bra. The thin lace and underwear revealed my nipples sexily enough through the unpadded, thin fabric of the bra. I grinned proudly at the lingerie before slipping into jeans that made my bum look extra good and a sexy tank top with lace trimming. Was it too much? Maybe. Did I care at this point? Nope.

I didn’t care to put shoes on, plopping on my stomach onto my bed, waiting for him to message me that he’d arrived. I was shocked when I heard a knock on my door, causing me to get up and open it with furrowed eyebrows. It swung open, revealing my favorite man standing with his hands in his pockets. I tilted my head.

“You remembered where my apartment was?” I asked him, putting my hands on his hips.

He nodded, leaning down to peck my forehead before entering. I blushed at his simple act of affection, shutting the door behind us and following him inside. I clapped my hands together, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” I suggested.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

I led him to the sofa, sitting myself down as he took a seat next to me. I grabbed the remote controller, opening Netflix and scrolling through the movies. I laughed out loud as a movie I’d watched the previous night with Bree popped up.

“What?” he asked, his lips curling in a smile at my sudden laughter.

“Bree and I watched this movie last night, and it’s really funny,” I explained to him, trying to fight back the giggles that threatened to escape as my brain replayed the funny scenes in my head.

“Well, put it on,” he ordered, gesturing his hand to the television. “Let’s see if it’s as funny as you claim.” He winked.

I pressed on the movie, slouching back into the sofa as it started. I wondered if I should’ve cuddled up next to him, or if that’d be too much. I kept my posture, keeping to myself as the opening credits rolled onto the screen. 

As the movie began, I found my mind wandering immediately. My fingers began drumming onto the fabric of the couch, as I found myself staring at the screen, but my mind remained occupied with other thoughts. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I began to ponder George and I’s relationship again. I had just found out his birthday, and it made me uncomfortable that he’d explored so much of my body, yet I felt like I barely knew him. 

“You alright?”

I turned my head to him. He looked concerned, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fixated on me.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I pulled my legs up, crossing them as I slouched, trying to make myself more comfortable.

I returned my eyes back to the television, trying to concentrate on the film until my eyes scanned the room in thought, as my lip was pulled in between my teeth again.

I wondered what his favorite movie was, what kind of movies he’d liked. I didn’t like that I didn’t have the answers to these basic personality questions. I pondered what his childhood was like, if he’d met Dean in the United Kingdom before prior to moving to America. 

“You’re doing it again.”

I whipped my head toward him and cocked an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You chew on your lip and stare off with your eyebrows furrowed,” he observed, moving closer to me. His blue eyes bore into mine as I guiltily stared back at him. He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear, his eyes not leaving mine. “What’s wrong, love?”

I sighed, removing my eyes from our eye contact as my head lowered in thought. His fingers went to my chin, gently lifting it to meet his eyes again.

“I want you to be able to be honest with me, Y/n,” he admitted, his thumb running over my chin. 

“I want to know more about you,” I confessed, my eyes worriedly staring back at his. “I feel like I barely know you.”

He smiled softly, bringing his hand up to my cheek, caressing my face. His hand trailed down my arm, down to my hand before bringing it up to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand softly before holding it in his own, lacing our fingers together. 

“I was born in London,” he began, his eyes never leaving mine. “March thirteenth, nineteen ninety-two. As I’ve mentioned before, my father’s Australian and my mum’s British, but they chose to raise me in the UK, obviously. I have a sister named Daisy, who lives in London with my parents. I try to visit them during the holidays, but it’s not as easy with work. Sometimes, Dean and I will fly down together to visit both of our families.

“I moved to the states after graduating from Uni when I was about twenty-four years old; my parents weren’t super keen on me leaving to a whole new country by myself, but they wanted me to be happy. Dean and I didn’t meet until my first job after moving to New York. We hit it off so well, that we ended up moving in together, and not long after that, we met Andrew at the same job and invited him to move into our flat. About a year or so after, Dean and I decided to apply to Essence, because we felt that we needed a career change. 

“Andrew ended up being promoted at our old job, so he wanted to stay there, plus, he’s happy working there whereas we weren't, really. Once we started working there, I decided to get my own flat; the pay at Essence was much better, I was almost entirely done paying off my student loans, and I felt that I was in need of a different atmosphere. Hearing your roommates play video games constantly, and being the only one who could cook in the house was not something I particularly looked forward to,” he laughed as he recollected the memories from the past. 

“But, long story short, one day I’d been looking for Dean and I saw that there was a new girl, sitting across from his desk in a chair that I’d never seen occupied before. The way you talked to me, you were so nervous and innocent; After seeing you on multiple accounts, in the cafeteria, at your desk whenever I’d come to talk to Dean, I started thinking about you a lot more,” he admitted, his thumb tracing along my knuckles. 

I noticed his cheeks tint scarlet and he wet his lips with his tongue, still maintaining eye contact with me. 

“Like, I would go to the cafeteria and hope that I'd see you? I hope that doesn’t sound creepy,” he laughed a little. “And, when you told me how you felt at the bar, I was baffled.”

My eyes widened, as I tried to recollect the nonexistent memories of being at the bar that night. My eyebrows furrowed and I could feel my cheeks heat, wondering what the absolute fuck I said to him.

“What did I say to you at the bar?” I queried, chewing on the insides of my cheek anxiously. 

He bit his lip, staring back at me for a moment, as if he was pondering how to tell me. He finally parted his lips, as he recalled our conversation at the bar that night.

Dean got up from his seat, leaving George and I to ourselves. I grabbed my glass and downed the rest of the vodka soda in the glass, slamming the empty glass down on the bar and turning my body to face him.

“Hi George,” I smiled, resting my chin on the palm of my hand, my elbow resting on the table.

He turned to me, his lips curling into a smile.

“Hi, Y/n.”

I giggled, smiling blissfully at the beautiful man next to me.

“George,” I began, batting my eyelashes as I looked up at him. “You’re so great.”

His eyebrows knitted together, an entertained smile evident on his lips as he looked down at me.

“And why is that?” He took a swig from his beer bottle as I began my slurring.

“Becaaauuuse, you’re a fucking art director, which is, like, crazy,” my bloodshot eyes bore into his bright, piercing blue ones. “And you’re, like, crazy handsome.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, smirking as my eyelids hung heavy, my eyes barely visible as I smiled. My face was red, as my cheeks had always heated up when I was drunk.

“You think so, love?”

I nodded, attempting to take a swig out of my glass as the empty cup poured nothingness into my mouth, reminding me that I’d finished off the drink minutes ago.

“You’re obliterated,” he observed.

“Want to know a secret?” I asked him in a sing-song voice. “I smoked weed before I got here, because my roommate told me it’d make me less anxious,” I whispered, giggling between words.

He raised his eyebrows, his jaw dropping before he started laughing.

“Jesus, Y/n, I didn’t know you were so reckless,” he gasped.

“Well, I didn’t waaannnnt to do it, but if I hadn’t done it, I’d probably be standing in the corner, too nervous to talk to you,” I admitted.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why would you be nervous to talk to me?”

I gave out a big sigh.

“You’re sooooo hot,” I moaned. “I kind of want to fuck you, but I don’t want to lose my job,” I admitted, licking my vodka-tasting lips before continuing. “And also, I got, like, cheated on big time in my last relationship and it left me with some crazy trust issues and self esteem issues. And, I haven’t had sex since then! It’s been two years, George, can you believe that?!”

My eyes blinked a few times as I stared at him, completely and utterly dumbfounded. My eyebrows were raised and my jaw struggled to keep closed. 

“W-was this before or after I threw up?” I asked, trying to compose myself as I felt my face heating up.

“Literally right before you threw up,” he answered with a small laugh. 

I withdrew my hand from his, using my index finger and thumb to pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. 

“I can’t believe I said that shit,” I groaned, leaning back into the couch. “I can’t believe you didn’t just laugh in my face, God, that’s so embarrassing!”

He watched me with amusement, an entertained smirk making its way onto his lips. I rolled my eyes at him, shaking my head in disappointment. 

“Well,” he began, playful eyes staring at me. “If you think about it this way, love, if you’d never said anything, then we’d both probably still be too nervous to talk to each other.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

“Do you think we’d still end up, you know...” I trailed off, referring to whatever label we shared.

He paused for a moment, he eyes drifting in thought before nodding. 

“I think that you were made for me, love,” he admitted, his voice softer than before. He moved his hand onto my thigh, rubbing it gently. “I’ve never been so easily infatuated and comfortable with someone before you, Y/n.”

I wanted to cry, his words painted my heart with the love and desire I had failed to receive in my previous relationship. I blushed, blushing at not only his words, but his touch. The feeling of his hand on my thigh was anything but a soothing rub to me at that point, and my brain had addressed his touch far more quickly than it should have. My eyes dropped down to his hand, watching as it caressed me, just far enough from my heat. The contact sent me into overdrive, as my eyes moved back up to his face, scanning his plump lips.

I moved myself over to him, slowly leaning in until our lips brushed softly. My hands went to his shoulders, gently massaging them as I kissed him softly. His hand moved from my thigh and to my back, his other hand joining as he pulled me closer to him, our lips beginning to move at a steady rhythm. I moved on top of him, knees on each side of his legs as I settled into his lap, our lips still connected. He brought his hands down to my ass, squeezing my bum. I moaned, and he used my parted lips as access for his tongue. Our tongues danced together as his hands snaked back up to my back. 

As I straddled him, I slowly rolled my hips against his lap, needing the friction against my heat. I could feel the tent in his pants against my core, making me moan against his lips. His hands moved back down to my hips, guiding my movements as I rolled my hips against him again. He groaned, lifting his hips for more friction. My lips parted from his as I moaned again, tugging my shirt off of my body, revealing my bra to him. His eyes widened at my exposed nipples through the thin lace fabric, his hands subconsciously raising to cup my breasts. The pads of his thumbs ran over the raised buds, making me let out a blissful sigh at the intimate contact. His fingers ran around my torso, to unclip the bra. He gave me a look, wanting permission first. I nodded, looking down at his dark, blue eyes before his fingers effortlessly worked their way with the clasp, removing the bra from my body. 

He immediately attached his lips to one of my nipples, lapping at the bud and gently nibbling on it, as I tilted my head back in euphoria. 

“Can we, fuck, take this to my bedroom?” I breathed, looking down at him.

His mouth released from my nipple with a pop, as he picked me up and walked me to my bedroom. He settled me down onto my bed, not bothering to close the door as he settled himself in between my legs. The tent in his jeans rubbed against my core as he ground his hips into mine, his lips returning to my own. 

We were lost in each other, voicing soft moans into each other’s mouths while our hips moved together, too lost that we didn’t hear the front door open. 

“Y/n! I have some soup for y–HOLY SHIT!”

George peeled off of me, my hands immediately coming to cover my exposed breasts. 

I heard the sounds of her shoes against the floor as she scurried away, shutting my bedroom door. 

“I’m sorry!” she called from the living room, as George looked at me with an amused smirk.

I threw one of my throw pillows at him with a roll of my eyes.

“Shut the fuck up,” I groaned, biting back a smile of my own.

He tossed the pillow onto the floor, moving himself back on top of me.

“Make me,” he whispered, attaching his lips onto mine. 

I let our lips move together in a steady rhythm, before I pulled away, concluding our kiss with a peck on his lips.

“My bra and top are just sitting on the floor where my roommate’s probably trying to eat right now,” I groaned, embarrassed. 

As if on cue, the door opened as we heard the sound of something dropping at the entrance of my room, before the door closed again. I sat up, noticing that she had returned my missing pieces of clothing to me as they sat neatly in front of the door. I got up, arm slung over my breasts before pulling the shirt onto my torso, not bothering wearing the bra. I tossed the bra into my underwear drawer, before returning back to the bed. I watched as the man on my bed hungrily looked at my chest, not caring whether I noticed or not.

“You’re teasing me,” he moaned, his voice husky with lust. He sat with his legs criss-cross, watching me as I mimicked his seated position.

I could feel my hardened nipples against the fabric, teasing him with my now-covered breasts. 

I got on my knees and hands, prowling towards him. Smirking, I nudged my nose against his own, watching as his eyes watched me in awe.

“What are you going to do about it?” I chided with a whisper.

Without a warning, he captured my lips with his own, hands going to the back of my head to pull me closer to him. Our tongues danced together as we feverishly kissed, wanting needing the contact with each other. His lips moved to kiss the corner of my mouth, before moving down my jaw. 

“What do you want to do, love?” he asked between kisses as his lips began sucking on a spot on my neck. 

My eyes rolled back at the sensation, as I tried to control myself to answer his question. 

“I-I don’t want to, fuck, George, d-don’t want to have sex yet,” I admitted between moans as his teeth nipped at the spot, igniting more and more pleasure. 

His mouth left my neck for a moment before finding another spot on my neck, sucking sweetly at the skin just like before. 

“You want to ride my thigh, angel? Want to get yourself off on me while I watch?” he growled against my neck.

My cheeks flushed at his dirty words, but I could feel the pool of wetness growing in my panties. 

“Yes, George,” I pleaded. He pulled his lips away from me as I peeled my shirt off and went to unbutton my pants. 

He replaced his fingers with my own, fumbling with the button and zipper much more slowly, thickening the tension and teasing me. I helped him peel the fabric off of my skin, standing up from the bed and tossing them without thinking. I was left in my lacy black panties, stalking over to him nervously whilst he sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for me. I met my lips with his in attempt to calm my nerves, my fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. He pulled away to quickly peel his shirt off of him, making his locks look more disheveled in the sexiest way possible. 

He propped my legs up so that my knees were on either side of his left thigh, our chests flush against each other. His hands went to my hips as I lowered myself onto his thigh carefully, before slowly rolling myself against him. I sighed at the contact of my clothed clit against him, feeling him flex underneath my core. One of his hands went to my knee, pushing it closer to the tent in his pants. As I rolled myself against him again, I made sure to rub friction from my knee against his boner. His lips captured mine in a sloppy kiss, as I started to gradually pick up my pace. His hands went back to my hips, guiding my movements as I humped his leg. 

I felt the pleasure building inside of me, as I quickened my pace, desperate for my release. Our lips pulled away from each other, as I leant my forehead against his own, not able to concentrate on kissing anymore. My breath quickened and I moved my fingers to his hair, chasing my release. 

“Cum for me, angel,” he ordered, his voice soft, but raspy with lust.

I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my mouth, due to his dirty words and the way this new nickname, angel, rolled off of his tongue. I hit my climax, as I continued to rub my pussy against his leg, riding out my high. As my breathing slowed, I attached my lips back to his, pushing him back onto the bed. He scooted himself up, allowing us to lay whilst our lips danced together. He rolled himself on top of me, as my legs immediately found their way around his waist. My fingers wandered down to his jeans, unbuttoning them and fumbling with the zipper while my feet helped me peel the fabric off of his legs.

I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I could feel another ache between my legs and I was desperate for another relief. He kicked off his shoes, leaving him in his boxers as the tent between his legs became much more present. He attached his lips back to mine before surprising me, grounding his hips into mine as I felt his clothed cock against my clothed core. My jaw went slack as another moan left my lips, my sensitive heat dripping from the sensation. He rolled his hips against mine again, pressing as much into me as he could. My legs pulled him into me, needing as much friction as possible.

He began picking up the pace, his face digging into the crook of my neck as his clothed dick humped my pussy. I felt his hot breath against my neck, motivating me to move my hips against him.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he moaned into my hair. “You gonna make me cum in my briefs, angel?”

With that, I released for my second time, my body stilling underneath him as the pleasure waved over me. I could feel him twitch against my heat, feeling small spurts make wet spots through his underwear. I rode my high against him, as my breathing slowly returned to its normal pace. He rolled onto his back, lying beside me as his chest rose up and down. I turned my head to face him, as I watched him do the same. He leant his head up, looking down at the wet spot displayed through his underwear. He chuckled softly.

“You made my cum in my bloody underwear, Y/n.”

[ilguna]

i also have a list of shit my history teacher (this year) has said and done so I will share it with you:

warning: its really fucking long bc he would say/do shit MULTIPLE times a day

goes onto the next slide, “it’s a meme, get it?” proceeds to explain the meme (its the hey arnold meme with the first)

also goes onto another slide, with the twitter opinion meme. at the end of the paragraph it says “this class smacks, I’m lit”

“I’m going to beat up your brother. i am going to pummel him.”

On the 6th day of class he finally realized that there was a total of 6 guys and the rest were girls

student: “You should not put it in (as an assingment)”. teacher; “laugh out loud, im dead”

he was teaching us how to write a DBQ, the computer had a pop up saying that the battery was low, and then a spider shows up out of fucking nowhere, hanging from the ceiling. he CLAPS it, jokes about eating it, and then sets it on his desk (not in the trash can 2 feet away) so he can “deal with it later”

his endless military stories, specifically ORANGE DESERT

he wrote “if you would have had your thinking skull on” on my first DBQ

him saying “I hate this” after typing a word wrong multiple times while teaching us DBQ’s lmfao

“For the lols”

Threw a box of tissues across the room into the trash can

threw a box of tissues at a student

he had this obsession with throwing expo markers at his whiteboard, trying to make it land on the metal part so expect that a lot.

“Do you want me to drown him in a bathtub?” (which was about a student’s dog that had separation anxiety lmaoo)

Sang the rain drop, drop top song

The collars on his shirt turned up

“He’ll be beaten for that distraction” (after his son called him during his lesson and he willingly answered)

“Stay woke” 

“It was a hot boy summer for him”

expo marker landed on the metal thing for once thanks to a towel that was there

kyle (it must have been a story or something i dont remember)

He woah’d at some point

HAHA so there was a kid in my class that had got caught with a bong on the second week of school and he was suspended. when he came back to class, we were going over what the south grew in the U.S. very early on into colonization. and he used the bong kid as an example of a tobacco farmer

tried to eat a balled up paper

“important revolutionary war stuff”

“My bae, George Washington”

“They could’ve killed g-dubz, but they didn’t”

called george washington “g-dubz” frequiently

“Facts”

“Swagtastic”

he got excited over a military general (baron friedrich von steuben) for being a gay military general--”That was very well respected!”

“He had a ton of swagger”--referring to ben franklin

“His nickname was the swamp fox. You guys can call me that”

The snowball fight story--his brother was friends with a kid he hated next door. my teacher challenged the kid--Eric--to a snowball fight. In preparation, my teacher had froze snowballs, and so when he did have the fight, he LITERALLY knocked Eric out and left him on the front lawn unconscious (he was an elementary school kid)

one time he gave us the punishment quiz by accident, tried to make up for it by giving everyone the answer to #6. however, it turned out to be wrong so he just gave us all 100′s instead

another military story of the goat he bought from an old man with his buddies. unfortunately they had to kill the goat to eat, but the FACT that my teacher said this “a cute little goat--you know, baaa?” as if we didn’t know what a goat was 

He was the golf/hockey coach!! so not only would he talk about beating up the kids in the golf club

he would also do random golf swings all the goddamn time! with no gold club or ball, it was just air.

“You are about to get clowned, young lady”

pronounced pamphlet as pamplet fora good part of his teaching career (another story he told us)

“It’s definitely not the declaration of independence you mouth breather!”

George washington = bae on a powerpoint

“you tied me up real good”

“France also popped off”

Compares the Connecticut compromise to ppap (with the song and everything!)

Told someone to shut up after they suggested that Iowa was the least populated state (he’s from Iowa)

hick iowa, to be exact

Wrote 23 as 32, realized his mistake and said “oop im dyslexic”

“If it’s a purge, I’m killing everybody”

“Federalism, not onion!’

“Who’s the dumbass guy? Ducey!” (our state governor)

he got arrested once. his mugshot is on google images and everything

he got arrested bc some guy was destroying his house w a baseball bat at a party his friendw as throwing (but it was at my teachers house). my teacher respectfully punched him and brought him to the front lawn. called the cops when the guy wouldnt leave and ended up being arrested too. teacher thought his career was over and threatened the guy the entire way to the police station

“laugh out loud!”

“We beat the begeezus out of a bunch of british people”

pronounced wolf as woof

“Who was his daddy? Who’s his daddy?”

Called a swim cap a bonnet

“Kick!”--then proceeds to kick a tennis ball. before that he had just thrown it to get out of his way

“Jesus, you’re a big boy”

for like 2 weeks straight he used that same tennis ball to try and erase a whiteboard. and im not talking rubbing it on the board, he fucking threw it at the wall, getting it off little by little. he eventually gave up, though

“I’ll snot rocket into the trash can”

“Cause I realize most of you are morons”

was obsessed with the cowboy boogie

“Every time I cough, my tail bone hurts”

“Do i look normal?”

“I look like an old man”

“Shut up your faces”

“I see you back there, queen”

“Some of you girls need to learn from this article”--the article was old & about girls being submissive

“that would hurt some people’s feelings, but I’m not gonna show it hurt mine”

“He’s just--’meow’”--about his cat

he had a sweater that had his face on it, photoshopped over a boxer that a student gave him. he wore it during winter

flicked a tennis ball across the room with a hockey stick. hit the coffee thermo on his desk, stared for a couple of seconds, and THEN realized that it was open

First off, all you kids making memes about dodging the draft--we don’t want your dumbasses anyway” --continued to rant for a few minutes after that

he HATED the national anthem with a burning passion

“I’m old as shit”

also, his cat’s name IS meow cat

more expo marker throwing

“Hey there handsome”-- to the teacher next door

“Henry clay is going to haunt you until april” (unfortunately we didnt make it that far into the school year bc of covid. disappointed that i didnt get to be haunted)

Singing electric avenue

“but here’s the tea”

“Flagstaff is like--” *reaches as high as he can to put expo marker on the wall

“I’m adopting all of you, and we’re moving to saudi arabia”

teacher: “I’m gonna break bowers kneecaps in front of you. you still want to be on strike?” not bowers but a different kid: “no...?”

Cleaned the shades in the middle of him explaining something

“You know your pinky toe? this little roast beef?”

THE TURTLE SOUP STORY. when my teacher was still a kid, he found a turtle in the wild, and brought it to his grandparents house (they owned a farm). he took care of the turtle for a while, even after his grandfather found out. until one day he came home and saw blood everywhere, went to find the turtle to see it was gone. then found his grandfather chopping up the fucking turtle so they could have it for soup for dinner. his grandfather literally made him fatten up the turtle so they could eat it

“Did mr.*****--?” (referring to himself in 3rd person, also blocked out to protect privacy)

“i’m going to staple your nostrils closed. staple, staple. ‘I can’t breathe mr.*****!’ should’ve done your DBQ!!”

his pedo stache 

stood with a paper and smiled, thinking that a student was taking a picture of him when it was really the paper

doesn’t know who gaston is???

him: “I’m going to staple your noses together. One staple” Student: “*****’s piercing parlor!”

*singing* “beauty and the beast”

“I’m going to tackle you”

more random golf swinging

“What’s up (my name)?” me: hi *he then hits the bun on the top of my head on his way in the door*

And he did it again the next day

he literally made kids compete with pastries

which reminds me, he brought donuts in 2 days in a row like a week after that and make us (his first hour) take bites bc he realized he didn’t want to eat it. one of the girls was glad to take it from him, everyone else told him no

“Good morning (my name) how are you?” me: “I’m sick again... do you need help? (with the door)” him; “Actually, yes” (normally he can open the door even when his hands are full but there was a stack of pop tart boxes that were as tall as him so) i opened the door, he goes in and says, “thank you (my name), for not being rude”

the following quotes are for the Hot Seat

Student: “what do you do--?” him: “you’re in the hot seat!”

“Some people cry”

“La *****, luxurious”

“You sit here, and you stare (into the projector light)”

basically everyone in the class had to answer a question as a review. there was a stool in front of the smartboard, perfectly placed so that the projector light would LITERALLy be in your eyes. i actually got the question right on some miracle.

“2 points of weed?”

“Can I get some of that hot leaf?”

“They will make more drugs! You can’t do that much drug!”

“You guys bullied me and stole it”

“Whole rest of the nation sucked an egg”

“Whelp, let’s just kill myself”

“Do you guys know david chapel?” *sigh when everyone says no*

*some girls singing the national anthem* Him: “no! none of this, none of this!”

“Calibri’s for idiots” (the font)

“The only thing that was in--shit”

“and uncle sam--gettin lit”

“Their daddy--UH--”

“They’re going to blame the jews--my people” (he got a dna test done, he’s not actually jewish)

“Whatever you say, boomer”

“Use my words to plagiarize in college”

“I’m jewish, that’s offensive”

“Tell him he gave me instant cancer”

Me: “can i go to the bathroom?” him: “I’ll allow it”

him: “He’s antisemetic and it hurts my feelings” student: “what does that mean again?” him: “Hates jews :(”

“You guys can call me kingfish if you’d like”

~ after we said no to the nicknames, we tried to make one for him ~

student: “cornhusker!” him: “no, that’s offensive... and it’s also nebraska”

student: “corn picker!” him: “no--that sounds like a racist term or something”

“Unless corona really does take over--” (thank u, mr. for ruining the school year”

Student: “how old was she (his mom) when she had you?” him: “thirteen”

“My mom just turned 40 the other day...” (a joke)

him: “My brother got t-boned by a semi truck last night” Student: “Why are you laughing?” him: “Because he lived.”

“Yeah bc I would hide out in a public school with 300 new kids a year” (about him not living in iowa so he’s hiding out in az to get away from his “criminal record” (refer to the 1 time hes been arrested))

“Baby death?”

“Their family has more money than jesus”

*Standing outside the door yelling “CORONA” to students walking in”

“Hey I’m *****, f-word, blah, blah”

“We should fight our cats.”

“OH that’s a big chonk cat.”

“Mortal Kombat is pretty cool. I haven’t played in 25 years”

he told us in class once that we shouldnt open the front door if cops show up at a party. just to shut the blinds and be a little quieter bc the cops cant legally open the door

also one time he had a gun pointed to his face but he never finished that story bc he never liked it

during quarantine he set a DBQ as 1000 points (and i still didnt do it)

and “Here’s the tea, kiddos!”

honorable mentions: all the time he’s sent out emails bc theyre fucking hilarious

[liliah39]

Bliss: (Freddie Mercury X Male! Reader Oneshot)

Word Count: 3.2 K

Warnings: None! Just loads of fluff!

Plot: You and Brian are best friends, he knows about your sexuality, but doesn’t know about yours and Freddie’s feelings for each other. It comes a time when you and Freddie are ready to be open with your relationship. How will Brian take it?

A/N: This is a HalloQueen Event Gift for @rushingheadlong​ !! Surprise! I’m your Secret Santa! Thank you for hosting it @dtfrogertaylor​ ! I hope you enjoy it darling! I did my best! It was so nice talking to you and getting to know you! Please keep in touch darling! I think I feel more comfortable writing male reader after this, so I might be able to do a Brian one if you want one! Just leave me a request for a oneshot in my asks! (Also plz excuse typos) -C

October 1976:

With the autumn leaves changing color, a new chill was in the air, confirming that fall was upon you. You hurriedly zipped up your coat as you ran inside the recording studio with coffees for Brian and his band mates, eager to see Freddie. 

You and Brian were best friends, and always had been since you were little. You grew up as neighbors, and basically were never apart. He got you fascinated with the stars due to his own obsession, making stargazing in one of your backyards in the summer your favorite pastimes, and sometimes you’d stargaze  in your snowsuits in the winter if you were feeling risky. Of course the two of you did other things too, running, hide and seek, pretending you were pirates sailing the seven seas; a typical thing for young boys to do, but as you grew together your interests changed. It went from pirates to The Beatles as the sixties rolled in, each of you getting the extremely unfortunate bowl cut and doing your best to form a band. You were never as musically talented as Brian was, but you could manage on bass, and were able to have a garage band with him and a couple of other boys from school for a couple years before Brian’s talent had surpassed all of you. Although, no matter how your interests changed, the two of you always found time to look at the stars. 

Now you were both just out of your first four years of college, still living in an apartment together and trying to figure out the next step in your lives. Brian opted to put his schooling on hold for a while to pursue his band Queen, which seemed to be going surprisingly well, however you decided to get your PhD in Astrophysics, the field both you and Brian decided to go to school for together. Even still, the two of you told each other everything concerning your lives; it’s like you were each the brother that the other never had. 

Brian was the first to know about your sexuality, and took it extremely well. Said it never bothered him, that he’d love you and your were still his best mate either way. He said in some way he always knew, but was just happy that you were in tune with yourself enough to be able to find someone you truly loved. He always told you about his new girlfriends he’d meet, but they’d never last long. However, there was one thing you didn’t think you could tell Brian. You didn’t know how. 

You were in love with his other best friend.

His best friend that hadn’t come out yet. 

His best friend that was Freddie Fucking Mercury. 

You took a deep breath as you walked in the door to the studio, remembering how your feelings for Freddie had budded all those years ago. 

~~~~~Flashback to 1974~~~~~

Brian introduced the two of you when he had started talking to Brian at Smile gigs. Freddie was so insistent about being in a band with Brian and Roger that he went to all of Smile’s performances. You were usually at them too unless you had a test the next day, always wanting to be supportive of your best friend. You and Freddie hung out together throughout the Smile gigs constantly, always singing, dancing, or getting drinks at the bar. His beauty seemed ethereal; an extremely attractive, dark haired man with an attitude that could kill. It was then that you not only realized you liked men. 

You loved him. 

After Tim left and Queen formed, you were at all the performances, hungry to watch Freddie parading across the stage in your solitary confinement of your love for him. You kept your feelings to yourself for years, unable to admit them and lose your friendship with Freddie. Besides, he was dating Mary. There was no use in making a fool of yourself.  Although, one day after Queen played at The Rainbow in 1974, about a week after Freddie had broken up with Mary for what he said were “personal complications, he stopped you and asked if you wanted to go get a drink, like the old days when they were playing local bars every night.

“I’d love to Fred, really, but you know, Brian’s not 100% yet. I know he’s back and playing, but he’s only been out of the hospital for a month. I should go home and make sure he’s okay. Sorry, mate.” you solemnly admitted. 

Freddie nodded his head understandably, although you couldn’t help but notice a look of sadness and disappointment in his eyes. “Of course, I understand, Y/N. Next time, Darling.” He winked, stuttering through his words as if nervous to talk to you. 

That’s odd, you thought, as Freddie opened the door to his dressing room and quietly shut it behind him. You walked next door to Brian’s dressing room, knocking to announce your entrance before walking in to see him putting his guitar in its case. 

“Hey Bri,” you said, trying to be cheerful, “how’re you feeling?” 

“Alright, Y/N. Really, I’m okay. Quite tired, but I’m alright. Just need to go home and rest.” He smiled. 

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he laughed, “you’re always so worried about me.” 

“Well that’s ‘cuz I wouldn’t know what to do without you, Brian. We’ve been inseparable for how long now? It’d be like taking away my other half if something happened to you.” You laughed. 

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense, I’d be the same way if I was in your shoes.” He laughed. “You’ve been so helpful in the last couple of months while I’ve been going through all this, Y/N, and I’m completely capable of taking care of myself now. I just played two nights of concerts. I’m okay, Y/N. Go out. Have some fun. I’m worried about you. You haven’t done anything except for take care of me for ages. As your best friend, I’m telling you you need to go out and have some fun.”

He could see the hesitant look on your face. You were worried about him. 

“As your best friend I command that you get your life back.” Brian joked, making both of you laugh. 

“Alright, alright.” You resigned. “You’ve been very active for a couple days, so I won’t do anything for tonight, but I’ll go out soon, I promise.” 

“Were you asked to do something tonight?” Brian pried. 

“Well…” You hesitantly started. “I was. But I turned it down. More worried about you.” You admitted. 

“Y/N,” Brian said, hands on his hips. “Go do something. Go out. Who asked you?”

“Freddie.” You admitted. “He wanted to go get drinks.”

“Go with him,” he urged. “Find yourself a guy. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you back at home later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Thanks mate.” You smiled, turning around and exiting his dressing room, knocking on Freddie’s which was next door. “Fred?” You called. 

After a couple of minutes, the door blew open, “Hello, Darling.” He smiled. “Come in,” he said, turning around and closing the door behind the two of you. “Couldn’t resist my offer?” He teased. 

“I guess not.” You laughed. “Brian said he’ll be fine, and I haven’t gotten out in a while, so I figured I’d get a couple drinks. I miss talking to you.” You said earnestly, putting a hand on Freddie’s shoulder as you spoke. 

“Wonderful!” He exclaimed. “Then just give me a moment to get dressed and we’ll be on your way.” 

~~~~ 

He brought you to a bar called Blessing’s Tavern that was just down the road, the two of you laughing the entire way. Over a couple of shots and far too many beers, the two of you caught up on life from the last couple of months, hearing about the recording process of the new Sheer Heart Attack album which you missed out on because of Brian’s hospitalization. After his story was over, there was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you. Something you each wanted to bring up, but resisted. 

You couldn’t help it anymore. 

“So, how are you doing, Fred? The whole thing with Mary?” 

“Oh I’m just fine, Darling.” He assured you. “We’re still close friends. I’m the one who pulled the trigger; it was my choice. Thanks for asking though.”

“I know, but any break up is difficult no matter what way it happens or what side of it you’re on. I’m here if you need me.” You assured with a smile, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Thank you.” He smiled. “I’m really fine. I guess you could say I just came to terms with myself. Who I am, you know?” 

You nodded. You definitely knew. That’s exactly what you said when you came out. It made you confused. Did Freddie realize he had feelings for guys, and that’s why he broke up with Mary? 

You stayed silent for a while, a million thoughts rushing through your head as you contemplated what his previous sentence possibly could have meant. 

You couldn’t speak. 

You couldn’t do anything. 

Is it possible he likes me to?

Just then, he was the one to break the silence. “I see you looking at me.” 

“W-what? Well I’m sitting right next to you, Fred. Course I’m looking at you.” 

“No, Darling. I mean when I’m on stage.” 

“Well yeah, that too?” 

“Jesus, Y/N. You haven’t figured it out yet?” 

“Figured what out?” 

“Oh don’t act so oblivious. I see that you feel the same way. I broke up with Mary because I wasn’t happy with the lie I was living, I’m not straight. And if I’m right, you aren’t either.” he retorted. 

Silence. 

You’d never told anyone else other than Brian, let alone your other best friend AND your crush. 

“Am I right?” He asked. 

You nodded. “But don’t tell the others. Brian’s the only one who knows.” 

“Oh I’d never,” he admitted. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone either. You’re the first person I’ve told.” 

“Why me, Freddie? Why tell me first?”

“Because I figured you were going through the same thing, and because well, I like you. Figured I’d just be straight forward about it, you know?” 

You nodded. “Wait, you like me?” 

“Yeah, Love. Quite a bit, actually. Didn’t make me break up with my girlfriend for nothing.” He laughed. 

“Wow.” You said, truly astonished. 

“What? I’m sorry, Y/N. Do you not feel the same way? God this is why I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” 

You laughed at the irony. “Actually, quite the opposite. You were spot on. Spot on to the point I’ve been into you for the last four years and never said anything because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. What are the odds?” You laughed. 

“Oh thank god.” He said, clearly relieved, and pulling you in for an embrace. “You have no idea how hard that was.” 

“Oh believe me, I do.” You laughed. 

“Well then, we must celebrate! I’d like champagne!” He screamed to the bartender who was at the other end of the bar, making you laugh at his brutal honesty. 

~~~~End Flashback~~~~

You stepped into the boys’ room to be greeted with smiles, hellos, and many thanks for bringing much needed coffee. Freddie stopped playing piano to come over and pull you into a tight embrace, kissing your cheek after making sure no one would notice. 

The two of you had been seeing each other privately ever since your feelings were confessed all those years ago, yet had done an excellent job of hiding it. The other three members didn’t even know, not even Brian. 

“I like your shirt, Fred.” You smiled, making him blush. 

“Why thank you, Darling!” he winked, knowing it was one of your favorites whenever you spent the night at his place. The other three noticed the odd encounter yet said nothing of it, assuming it was just a typical conversation between two friends. 

On a break, you hopped onto the piano bench next to Freddie, trying your best to make what you were saying look like a casual conversation. 

“Love,” You started, “can we go to the park after? I’ve got to talk to you about something.” 

“ ‘Course. Say no more.” He smiled. “You’ll drive me, won’t you?” 

“I always do.” You smiled in a sing song voice. 

~~~~ 

The two of you sang along to the radio in the short, fifteen minute car ride to a solitary end of the park, walking hand in hand to a bench in the middle of a path, the bench you and Freddie had specifically named yours, in a comfortable silence. You observed the way the sunlight hit his perfectly chilled face, jet black hair waving in the autumn wind. 

“You’re so beautiful, Freddie.” You softly admitted as he pressed a kiss to your lips. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He said as the two of you sat on your bench together, his arm around your shoulder. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yup.” You laughed. “God, why are you always so to the point?” You teased at him.

“Because things can be so drawn out sometimes, Dear! When some conversations are heavier or more uncomfortable, I just want to get it over with. No need to dwell on them.” He huffed, the temperament of a princess, making his shirt extremely fitting. 

“Alright, alright.” You laughed. “I think it’s time, Freddie.” 

“Time for what?” his face grew worried. “Please don’t say you’re leaving me.”

“Oh god no,” you smiled. “I’ll never leave you, Baby.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips in relief. “Then time for what, Y/N.” 

“Time we tell them. Our friends. Our family. Brian especially. We’ve gotta come out. Say we’re together. Not to the public, because you know they won’t understand, but our friends have to know. They deserve to know.” 

He nodded, taking in all you just said. 

“And especially Brian, Freddie. Brian’s got to know. He’s my bloody roommate and best friend for crying out loud. I hate lying to him, sneaking out at night to come see you. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep hurting him blindly.” 

“I understand.” Freddie smiled. “I’m just nervous. They know about you, I just haven’t manned up enough to tell them yet. What if they kick me out?” 

“They won’t kick you out, Love.” You laughed. “I think they already have their suspicions, to be honest. Brian asked me the other day if you were gay. Said I didn’t know of course. He said it’d just make sense to him if you were from your stage costumes and such.” 

“Oh. That’s a good thing, right?” He asked. 

“Yes, Love. A good thing.”  You assured him. 

“What is they don’t think that me coming out is a good move for the band? What if they kick me out?” He worried. 

“Freddie. They’re your  best friends. They’re not going to kick you out. And like I said, just to our friends, not the whole world yet. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He smiled. “Please don’t think my insecurities have anything to do with you, Darling. I was actually thinking today about how nice it would have been to just be us at rehearsal instead of this facade, you know?” He smiled. 

“It’ll all be okay soon, my Love.” You assured him. “I promise.” 

~~~~~

The two of you decided to tell Brian first. It only seemed right to you; you knew that if he was in your position he’d do the same thing. You picked Freddie up at his house, pressing your lips to his as he got in the car. 

“I love your jacket, Fred!” You smiled. “Trying to dress for the occasion, are you?” 

“ ‘Course.” He smiled. “I always do!” 

“Must be new, right?”

“Yes, good job at noticing, Darling. I’ve got the best boyfriend in the world.” he smiled. 

“So do I.” 

~~~~

When arriving at your apartment, everything was extremely normal, the three of you just sitting in the living room laughing as you listened to a Beatles record. After a short while, you could tell it was time to just admit the true reason you were there. Freddie said he left telling Brian up to you seeing as the  two of you were incredibly close. 

“Brian.” 

He heard the tone in your voice change, his head snapping up. 

“Can we talk to you?”

“Course, everything alright?” 

“Yeah yeah, it’s just-  Well remember a couple 

years ago when I told you about me, and how I felt? My sexuality and all?”

“Yeah?” He said curiously. 

“Well, um I’ve found someone.” You smiled. 

“Really?! That’s great, Y/N. Who is it? When can I meet him?” 

“Well you already have.” You smiled, taking Freddie’s hand in yours. 

“You see, Freddie has expressed that he feels the same way I do, and we got to talking and doing more together over the last year or so, really acting like we’ve been together in the last six months or so, and we just decided it was time to say how we’ve been feeling, wanted to tell you first.” 

“Really?” Brian smiled. 

“Really.” Freddie confirmed. 

“Guys!” Brian said, leaping up and engulfing the two of you in his huge arms, “Really?! This couldn’t be any better!”

You and Freddie looked at each other smiling with a quick peck on the lips. 

You knew this was the start of something wonderful.

~~~~~

Roger and John took the news just as well, acting as if nothing had changed. It gave you and Freddie each such a weight off of your backs to know the two of you had the support of your wonderful friends behind you. 

You moved in with Freddie a couple months later, not expecting to have cried as much when you left your apartment with Brian, but the two of you were crying like little girls. Freddie said it was almost like watching twins be separated after being together for 24 years, however, the separation was healthy for the two of you and improved your relationship drastically. It also allowed you to mature as a person as well. 

You made it to everyone of Queen’s concerts, taking breaks from school and work to go on tour with them, and you honestly had never been happier in your life. You got to spend each night watching your boyfriend and best friends who had turned into your family perform. You got to see your best friend flourish as a guitarist little by little each and every day, and you got to watch the love of your life, Freddie, parade around stage each night looking ethereal in his flowy white shirts and tight, sexy leather ensembles as he serenaded you, telling you each night that he sang each song for you and only you. It was bliss. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ah!!! That’s it! I really hope you like it, I put so much work into it! Happy Halloween to you all!! Also, sorry it took so long, I had to carve pumpkins!

[mcjickson]

THE CONSTANT

I think about Edith Fuller a lot. Edith Fuller, if you don’t remember—and there’s absolutely no reason you should, all things considered—was a wunderkind kindergartener who qualified to represent Tulsa in the Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee. You know, the one for eighth graders. At 6, Edith was the youngest contestant in the history of the Bee, and as such was the darling of the media covering the event. And with good reason—as she had no idea of the relative enormity of her achievement, she carried herself with the infectious humility of a genuine 6-year-old, not a media darling. She was basically the Bad News Bears of the Spelling Bee: a scrappy little towheaded upstart that you couldn’t help but root for. She made the final round of competition but caught some brutal words early in the day, and spent the rest of the event doing insanely adorable color commentary and interviews. And then the tournament was over, and Edith went home with her family and back to being a 6-year-old. I could not wait to see her come back as a first-grader. I was so very excited to see how far she could get with another year of study under her belt, so when the next year’s finalists were announced, I immediately searched the list to find her speller number. And she wasn’t there. She hadn’t qualified. There was no joy in Mudville; first-grade Edith had struck out. I felt a slight measure of relief for whichever 8th-grader from the greater Tulsa region had pulled off the upset. Turns out it wasn’t an eighth-grader, though. It was a dapper little 3rd grader in a bow tie. Young Sal Lakmissetti had done the impossible and knocked out America’s sweetheart. I was happy for him—until I read about how it happened. One of the reasons that watching the Bee is so emotionally involving is that the tension between the spellers and their occasionally overbearing parents can be so heart-wrenchingly intense. Edith had been a respite from that—her parents seemed to have been surprised that she had developed those skills. Sal’s dad on the other hand, had gotten indignant when Sal lost to Edith in Tulsa the year before. So he hired the previous year’s tournament champion to give Sal private lessons for a year. You know, the way you do when you want your 3rd grader to trounce a 1st grader in a contest for 13-year-olds. Not for nothing, but that is basically the plot of the movie Bad Words. Sal’s dad had turned him into Chitanya Chopra. I wonder if Sal’s dad knows how to spell “autofellatio.” I wonder if Edith had been heartbroken when she lost the Tulsa bee. Turns out, the next year she wasn’t interested in participating at all. And her dad didn’t push her, because it wasn’t about him. Edith Fuller’s dad got it right, and he just let her be a second-grader and pursue whatever her enormous second-grader heart wanted. I was ecstatic she didn’t return, that she was out there getting to be a kid. The funny thing is, I’m not really obsessed with spelling per se. What I am obsessed with, however, is the raw human drama of watching painfully awkward home-schooled kids on ESPN. There’s no denying the hilarity of some of their more awkward moments. But the real reason to watch is to marvel at their bravery. I’ve heard it alleged that the #1 most commonly held phobia in American adults is a fear of public speaking. And yet year after year, some of the most sheltered kids in America gather in a hotel in DC called The Gaylord (because these kids aren’t bullied enough, I guess), and walk up to a microphone before millions and risk entire-hometown-disappointing embarrassment. Wanting to more fully understand what these kids go through, I let my family talk me into entering an adult spelling bee sponsored by the local library. After my initial disappointment that “adult spelling bee” didn’t mean it was a four-letter-words contest, I got fully enthused at the prospect of competing, and even had our friend Scott design a t-shirt for me to compete in, emblazoned with a bee illustration and the mantra that governed my participation: “Edith Fuller is my constant.” By “constant”, I was referencing what was maybe the best-ever episode of Lost, a self-contained narrative about a man searching for the love of his life across shifting time periods. The usual complications of time travel narratives were overcome by the idea that in order for him to find his true path, he had to serve as a “constant” to remind other people what their true purpose was. My true purpose in entering the bee was to try to have the kind of come-what-may attitude that made Edith shine. And that’s largely the way it went down. I breezed through the first few rounds with ease, the words got hard in a hurry, but I acquitted myself nicely. After a solid initial hour that whittled a field of about forty people down to six, I was relieved when I got thrown a softball for an umbrella-drink-loving goober like me: daiquiri. Which I promptly misspelled. I’ll never forgive myself for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, but I’m always happy to throw that t-shirt on these days. Of course, now, a couple years removed my own bee experience, it’s more evident than ever to me that when I throw that t-shirt on, Edith Fuller is a codename. A transparent alias, at that. I’m sure you have a person in your life that serves as your constant: not necessarily your partner or best friend (though it could be), but the person you go to when you need to be reminded of who you really are. What you’re really about. Who believes in you with no agenda. I’ve been lucky to be that for a few people—I was my brother Patrick’s constant, for instance. And while Declan’s always been my wartime consigliere—there’s no one more clutch in a crisis—Delaney has always been my constant. They say having kids is like living with your heart outside your body, and that has always hit me at a cellular level. I don’t talk about it often—or ever really—as it’s not something that happened to me, or that I went through, it’s Delaney's story. But for context I need you to know that when she had a debilitating mystery affliction a couple years ago, she was put through a series of tests for terminal illnesses. Those tests came back negative, but for a little while I had to confront the possibility of losing my baby girl and it nearly fucking broke me. Thank jeebus, the folks at the Mayo Clinic were able to diagnose her malady, and it’s something she had to learn to live with, and cope with, and thrive with. And she’s done all of that, admirably, but it required her to delay college for a frustrating year. Given the ways we’ve all been sidelined lately, it’s done me good to remember the ways Delaney got through her involuntary gap year with grace. Multiple creative projects. Tending to the care of small things. Finding ways to breathe through the worst of it. And leaning on the people who love her most. And I’ve treasured her as my constant like never before, and spending time with her got me through being 2x4’ed by my avowed best friend. (There’s been some good-natured conjecture by well-meaning friends as to whether the most recent playlist was indeed a break-up mix. First of all, I don’t want to knock whatever any of you have do to get over somebody, but listening to a bunch of songs that rub your nose in the loss just isn’t my thing. There’s no denying that when I sequenced the songs, I was struck by the lyrical subtext that emerged, but they weren’t selected for that purpose. In fact, most of those songs were in the playlist before I found out what had happened. But it merits a thoughtful inquest, in any case. You poor bastards.) And I guess that’s the thing. There’s something legitimately sad about when your best-laid plans and most fervent desires don’t work out the way you envisioned, especially when it was completely out of your control. (And dear readers, as you well know, most things are out of our control.) But maybe, just maybe, if you can somehow keep your eyes open for the joy you find on the detour, and have a sense of where—or more specifically who—your true north is, you might wind up writing a better story than the one you had planned. And maybe this new story was the point of you all along. I love the thought that right now, in all likelihood, Edith is doing something that's simultaneously challenging and entirely age-appropriate. Which, in a very real way, will be her trophy for not participating. I don't think Edith's done with the Bee, but I'm also not sure I would be heartbroken if she was. And I absolutely believe that, much like Delaney, Edith has more in store for us than we could ever imagine. Even in the middle of missing my people—and especially my North Dakota hussy constant—I have to say that being reminded of who I really can be has me feeling like one of the Bad News Bears myself these days, with all the swagger of Ahmad stepping up to the plate in the Astrodome: “Back up, suckers. I feel good.”

[aquabreezeproductions]

Twoleg of Thunderclan II: Chapter 6: Author's Note

It has been over ten years (eleven, to be exact) since I updated this story. I can't believe it's been that long. I started writing The Twoleg of ThunderClan in 2006 after my friend Julia (who goes by Bramblebelly on fanfiction.net) introduced me to the concept of fanfiction. We were both huge fans of the Warriors Series at the time, so after talking with her, I typed up the first chapter (version 1 of at least 4) in an afternoon on an old Dell laptop. 

I was surprised and flattered by the response it got, and continue to be to this day. I mean... you guys know I wrote the bulk of the story when I was in middle school, right?! My writing has improved SO MUCH since then. And I look back on some of the decisions I made and I cringe. A pregnancy twist? Not to mention Smudge being unneutered?! What was I on?! (If I remember correctly, I was taking Ritalin at the time, so... that’s probably it.) But regardless, you loved it and still do. And so I think you deserve an explanation of where I’ve been and what the delay with updates is about.

If it wasn’t entirely obvious, a lot of the decisions I made were spur of the moment, especially before the sequel got going. I wrote Chapter 2 on my friend’s computer in one afternoon with her looking on and helping me out. That friend, Becky, goes by Yellowfur on fanfiction.net and ended up writing more fanfics than I’ve ever even imagined. She’s since written at least one play that was actually performed in real life. Isn’t that awesome? (Sure, I’m a bit jealous, but still.) Another chapter I wrote while visiting my friend Raye in Vermont, in between visiting the Ben & Jerry’s factory, of course. These writing sessions were fun at the time and have a lot of great memories attached to them, not to mention they were great ways to spend an afternoon/evening and channel my creativity, but in hindsight, they didn’t always produce the best work I’ve ever done.

But, things started to change. I got way into Avatar: The Last Airbender, and the Warriors series got left behind. I still updated The Twoleg of Thunderclan when I could because it had a following, but I wasn’t as passionate about it, and so it was updated less and less frequently. I’ve also become a bit of a perfectionist. It’s SO important to me for something I write to be as perfect as it possibly could be, so it’s probably part of the lack of updates, too.

As time went on. my attention drifted to Avatar fanfics, then to other Avatar-related things, and then farther and farther away from The Twoleg of Thunderclan. Fandoms like Law & Order: SVU, and recently Ace Attorney, the X-Files and Yuri on Ice. I started playing video games to a point where I became addicted. (I still struggle with spending too much time playing games. but it’s not where it once was.) I graduated high school, got depressed, took a gap year, traveled, then went to college and got a dog. Then I left college, went back, basically failed out and got a campaign internship, got fired from said internship, then took years to work on myself before getting a food service job that went from the start of last year until coronavirus put me on indefinite furlough in March. Miranda’s story would return to my mind from time to time, but I could never sit down and do anything more than rewrite the first chapter for the upteenth time.

In June 2006, when the first chapter hit fanfiction.net, I was only 12. I’m now 26. A few years ago, the story had its tenth anniversary- its fifteenth anniversary is next year, as a matter of fact. But now that I’m older, I think I appreciate more fully the love that The Twoleg of Thunderclan continues to get. (Do I have a fanbase or something? idk probably not.) Even the (somewhat well-deserved) hate that it gets is motivating. And I think it’s time that this fanfic gets a finished story.

I know I’m not the only writer that’s left a story to rot, and I’m not shaming anyone who has. I understand perfectly why writers do that. But over the years, I’ve felt immense guilt for not continuing the story. Sure, I’ve known what the rest of Miranda’s journey would be like, since it’s in my head. But the rest of you have only been able to guess, and that’s not fair to you guys. You deserve better.

The writing bug has finally come back to me recently- the coronavirus has left me time to think, of course, but I’ve found myself with a group of friends playing Final Fantasy XIV almost daily. One of our group is an audio YouTuber, and I’ve started to think about writing scripts for him, so keep an eye out for that (if you’re 18 or over.)

Now, I’ll do my best to update timely, and try to give you the best estimates I can. But I can’t promise I won’t fall victim to perfectionism, or depression, or real life and the stresses it entails. I’m only human, you know. But I promised myself I would finish and post Chapter 6 as soon as I could, and here I am. Here it is, after eleven years.

A quick note about the future: I’m going to be re-writing the chapters that have already been posted. The first Twoleg of Thunderclan will probably end up with more chapters, and certain plot points will be edited out or changed. (I may get rid of Mistpaw and the kits altogether.) I’m going to try to be more descriptive with the earlier chapters, and make sure everyone’s in character. I’ve also been working hard on developing Miranda’s character, and I’ll continue to do that. I never saw her as a self-insert, and I’ve been making as sure as I possibly can that she stays as far away from Mary Sue status as possible.

The definitive version of the first story will be posted on my Archive of Our Own account, so if you’d like to read only the rewritten/finished chapters, in order, that’s where they’ll be posted. I figure that’s a better way of telling you guys that there’s a rewritten chapter than just posting it over the old version on ff.net and hoping you guys notice.

And yes, the second story will be finished. And there might be plans for a third story, but that’s little more than some brief ideas right now. I’m also leaning towards ending TTOT after the second story- but a nice, complete, proper ending that it deserves, and that you all deserve. I’ll be able to give you guys more information on that when we get closer to the end of this story.

Now, the moment you've all been waiting for! Go read Chapter 6 on ff.net here, and on AO3 (when it makes it over there along with the rewrites)! If you guys have any questions/comments that don’t fit into reviews on FF.Net/AO3, feel free to shoot me an ask on this blog or my personal blog, aquabreeze, or contact me on Twitter at @zmcadler I hope you all like the new chapter, and thank you so much for continuing to support my writing.

[forestwater87]

201X in Review: A journey of cringe and regrets

Realizing 2020 is really close and wanted to look back at the second (full) decade I’ve actually been alive for. I feel like either a huge amount of stuff has happened, or basically nothing’s happened, but there’s no middle ground.

2010: 

Cringy 2010 photo: High school prom (in middle, dark green dress and...a face)

Junior in high school. 

Had my first-ever Real Boyfriend(TM). (Pictured in above cringy photo.)

Had just ended an extremely toxic 12-year relationship and was still figuring out how to have friends. 

Chemistry fucking SUUUUUCKED and I don’t miss it.

Had a super intense love for Megamind. I saw it minimum of 4 times in theaters and had a major crush on that blue lil nerd. (Began a personal grudge against both Tangled and Despicable Me for taking away its deserved spotlight, a resentment I have not yet gotten past 10 years later.)

Most regrettable 2010 memory: Getting way too intense about a new boyfriend and lowkey abandoning my friends. Not cool.

Most awesome 2010 memory: I have friends from back then I still love and keep in touch with (despite my abandoning them for a bit there). That’s pretty dang awesome.

2011: 

Cringy 2011 photo: High school graduation with one of the most beautiful women in existence. (We’re still friends, and she’s still gorgeous.)

Graduated high school! (Gym fucking SUUUUUCKED and I don’t miss it.) 

Fell in love with the college that was supposed to be a “safety school” and didn’t apply anywhere else, which means I can brag about having been accepted into 100% of the colleges I applied to. 

Started at Ithaca College -- don’t say “it’s gorges,” it gets so old so fast -- and had a miserable first semester and an incredible second. 

Started getting . . . uncomfortably involved in religious groups. (I mean, I’d been doing that since I was a kid, but it got kicked up to 11 in college.)

Most regrettable 2011 memory: Dressed as a “g***y” for Halloween. Fucking yikes.

Most awesome 2011 memory: Figuring out what I want to be when I grow up.

2012: 

Cringy 2012 photo: Modeling first successfully completed knitting project. With bamboo needles because Ithaca is a hippie paradise.

Learned how to knit, entirely out of boredom in long lectures.

Technically started my tumblr experience, though it was only for a few months while I worked through some Shit by being in love with Loki from the Avengers (and THiddleston in general). Stayed on here just long enough to discover Achievement Hunter and Rooster Teeth, and never went back.

Broke up with first-ever Real Boyfriend(TM) and handled it so well I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety disorder.

Got very deep in a religious group at IC, which was . . . not very healthy and could perhaps not inaccurately be described as “cultlike.” (I owe a major apology to everyone who knew me back then; I was very much a major bitch.)

Despite the previous two bullet points, this was the best year of my life up until that point. I lived next door to my two best friends in college, loved my major, and pretty much was confident that I had everything figured out.

Most regrettable 2012 memory: Writing a fan letter to Tom Hiddleston, which included a photo of me and my phone number. I was convinced my charm and wit would totally make him fall in love with me.

Most awesome 2012 memory: Pretty sure this is the year my love affair with RiffTrax began, too. I had a posse and we’d go see live shows together.

2013-2014:

Cringy 2013 photo: A blanket that I made and sent to Jennamarlbes for her dogs, because it was too small for people. Pretty sure it showed up in a video at one point.

Cringy 2014 photo: My awesome college roommates and I dressed up to give out candy to people’s dorms on Halloween. Reverse trick-or-treating: very fun, always recommended.

HA. So much for having anything figured out.

I don’t actually remember much of this period in my life, because I was navel-deep in a major religious crisis that would continue until . . . a couple months ago, basically? There was a lot of freaking out and trying to reconcile culty fundamentalism with the freewheeling pinko that lived deep inside and was trying to break free.

Lots of therapy, though. And med adjustments. Eventually figured out something that worked. Free campus counseling was the bomb though.

I do remember living in an apartment and cooking for myself for the first time, and also playing a lot of tabletop games with my roommates. (Also drinking. Lots of drinking.)

Oh shit, was this when I started that Drunk Librarian blog? I was trying really hard to be The Nostalgia Critic for books (ew), but I remember having a lot of fun with that. That was when my lifelong vendetta against John Green began.

Most regrettable 2013-2014 memory: Did I mention that the blanket I sent to Jenna included a letter? Did I mention that letter included some bible verses I thought she would appreciate????

Most awesome 2013-14 memory: Started a knitting club. It was just like 4 people hanging out and not knitting.

2015:

Cringy 2015 photo: Me being emaciated, makeup-smeared, and proudly showing off a collarbone piercing. That piercing has since rejected, but was in fact cute af.

Graduated college! Summa cum laude, bitches. (And an unfinished minor because I didn’t feel like taking the one (1) class I needed to graduate.)

Started library school and moved back home with parents. That was . . . an adjustment.

Changed library school “majors” halfway through my first year, after a lot of soul searching and panic attacks.

Had a short but catastrophic relationship with a man 9 years older than me (who was my pastor. Awkward). Religious crisis continued.

Got really skinny and hot because I was too miserable to eat. Dyed my hair red for the first time and looked basically like Ariel.

Discovered Party Hard and got really good at killing people.

Remembered how much I fucking love my parents’ dog:

Most regrettable 2015 memory: Being that person who “thought I could change him.”

Most awesome 2015 memory: Did you see how cute that dog is? His name is Oscar, after Oscar the Grouch.

2016:

Cringy 2016 photo: I had this huge thing for 1950s dresses for a while, complete with petticoats.

Grad school continued.

Religious crisis continued.

Therapy happens to deal with Things, is quickly dropped due to money and lack of shrink-chemistry.

Discovered a dumb little web cartoon with a teensy fanbase and no love for my favorite ship. Began work on a fanfic to correct this.

Finished a long-form fanfic for the first time in my entire life.

Virtually abandoned every other fandom to hyperfixate on this for the rest of my life.

Got super political, then super depressed. Quit Facebook because I realized I hate everyone I’m FB friends with.

Discovered Stardew Valley and never got anything done ever again.

Found Tumblr again (needed it to keep in touch with my first-ever beta reader, @raenbowsofficial) and turned into fandom and politics trash.

Most regrettable 2016 memory: Man, was I cocky about that Hillary Clinton winning the election. Oops.

Most awesome 2016 memory: I mean, CAMP CAMP. Obviously.

2017: 

Cringy 2017 photo: My first day of work as a very bisexual-in-denial librarian.

Finished grad school and became a certified librarian (in NYS anyway)!

Got a job at a local college, including my own office!

Shaved half my head!

Moved into my own apartment and adopted a cat, fulfilling a goal over 7 years in the making!

Became friends with two of the most important people I’ve ever met. Visited one of them on a semi-impromptu 9-hour drive to Virginia and met IRL for the first time. First ever all-night solo trip, one of the best days of my life.

This might’ve been the year I got the VFD eye tattooed on my ankle, though I can’t swear to that.

Was part of my first long-form tabletop RPG with friends from college (and friends-of-friends). Was very emotional and also quite gay.

Rediscovered Megamind thanks to excellent fanfiction. That shit is still great.

Currently the best year I’ve ever had. 

Most regrettable 2017 memory: I should’ve attended my graduation from library school instead of deciding it didn’t matter. It mattered a lot.

Most awesome 2017 memory: Seeing the-artist-formerly-known-as-ciphernetics in person.

2018:

Cringy 2018 photo: Um, apparently we don’t get one, because there’s an image limit to these posts. Lame.

Was laid off and took 6 months to find another full-time job. Spent most of that time depression-napping.

Said full-time job lasted 4 months before I ran like my shoes were on fire, because it was morally . . . suspicious and left me borderline suicidal.

Got very fat because I was too miserable to stop eating.

Had to cut my hair so I would look “professional.” Looked like my ex-boyfriend. My mom said I “looked like a Trump supporter.” To-date the meanest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

Moved back in with my parents due to not-having-job-ness (got to bring the cat, though).

Lost parents’ health insurance and had to pay for my own. Discovered health insurance is ridiculously expensive.

Became super left-leaning thanks to the power of Tumblr and Youtube (and possibly that super expensive health insurance thing). 

Writing came to a virtual standstill, though I managed to organize and actually finish participating in all of Gwenvid Week (for the first time).

Two weeks after quitting the job from hell and three weeks after moving back in with the parents, I was offered my old position back. Accepted. Was once again a college librarian.

Most regrettable 2018 memory: Knowing I didn’t want the nightmare job and accepting it anyway. Might’ve been the only choice, but it caused a lot of unhappiness.

Most awesome 2018 memory: The day I was laid off, I hopped on a plane and went to fucking Disney World. Because why not?

2019:

Started work again. Finally (mostly) stopped having panic attacks about being fired/laid off out of the middle of nowhere around 8 months into new job.

Fewer paper cuts than expected.

Accidentally became associated with dinosaurs at work, despite not having any sort of special affinity for dinosaurs.

Did develop a deep and abiding affinity for octopus. Also elephants.

Took cat to doctor. Cat didn’t enjoy doctor. Cat is now 8 lbs. and 14 oz. She is big girl.

Rediscovered the joy of reading again. Newly discovered that mysteries actually can be pretty awesome, and read barely anything else all year. (Personal recommendations: The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton and Waisted by Randy Susan Meyers.)

So. Many. Youtube. Video. Essays.

Discovered Stardew Valley mods and eventually broke 3k hours of playtime. 

Napped frequently. Panicked less frequently. It’s a step in the right direction.

Most regrettable 2019 memory: This post sure is long and over-share-y, isn’t it? Didn’t even include a cut so you could more easily scroll past my face. Inconsiderate, is what that is.

Most awesome 2019 memory: This one is pretty good. Right now.

2020: 

??? 

Profit.

[terramythos]

TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 3 of 26

Title: Shriek: An Afterword (Ambergris #2) (2006)

Author: Jeff VanderMeer

Genre/Tags: Weird, Memoir, Historical (like... in a fictional world lol), Horror, Fantasy, War, Mushroompunk (yeah), Postmodern, Female Protagonist, Disabled Protagonist, First Person, Unreliable Narrator.

Rating: 7/10

Date Began: 1/19/2020

Date Finished: 1/29/2020

Shriek: An Afterword is a pseudo-memoir by a woman named Janice Shriek about the troubled lives and relationships of her and her brother Duncan Shriek in the strange, fungus-riddled city of Ambergris. While Janice believes Duncan is dead, he's apparently found her manuscript and makes extensive edits and commentary throughout the story. (This is indicated in parenthetical sentences, like this one.) 

The closer I get to the end, the closer I get to the beginning. Memories waft up out of the ether, out of nothing. They attach themselves to me like the green light, like the fungi that continue to colonize my typewriter. I had to stop for a while -- my fingers ached and, even after all that I have seen, the fungi unnerved me. I spent the time flexing and unflexing my fingers, pacing back and forth. I also spent it going through a box of my father’s old papers -- nothing I haven’t read through a hundred times before... On top, Duncan had placed the dried-up starfish, its skeleton brittle with age. (I kept it there as a reminder to myself. After your letter to me -- which, while reading this account, I sometimes think was written by an entirely different side of your personality -- I wanted to remember that no matter how isolated I might feel, separated from others by secret knowledge, I was still connected. It didn’t help much, though -- it reminded me of how different I had become.) 

To qualify my rating, I have to be honest. This book is officially separated into two parts, and I found Part I -- which makes up about 60% of the novel -- pretty boring. On the other hand, Part II is brilliant, and everything coalesces beautifully in this second act. Is it worth it? I thought it was, but I understand anyone who tries and gives up. 

Even though Shriek is technically a standalone, I would strongly recommend you read City of Saints and Madmen (#1) first. Both Duncan and Janice are key characters in two of those stories (The Hoegbotton Guide to the Early History of Ambergris and The Transformation of Martin Lake, respectively), and there are references and connections all over the place. I’m not sure if Shriek does a great job introducing Ambergris to new readers, so people starting here will be pretty lost without reading the first book.

Just to clear the air, I really liked this book... overall. As I said, the first half-or-so of the book was pretty rough, but the second half redeems it in a lot of ways, even justifying certain writing/plot decisions that didn’t gel with me at first. However “it gets good eventually” is not really an excuse for the rough first half. Hence the mediocre rating. I was close to giving this book a 6/10, but I found that I appreciated the first half much more by the time I got to the ending, so that bumped it up a little. Maybe I’ll enjoy this book more on a reread when I can see the patterns and know where they’re leading ahead of time. 

Before I dive into my issues with it, I’d like to discuss the strong points of this novel. 

At a base level, VanderMeer is a great writer. He has a mastery of the English language that always delights me when I read his stuff. So even when I struggled to like this story in the first half, his wordplay and prose were entertaining and thought-provoking. 

I loved the format. The story basically has two protagonists, since you see things from Janice’s point of view and then Duncan’s interpretations-- but it’s in a very postmodern way, not just a perspective switch like most novels do. Duncan’s commentary often brings much needed humor or heartbreak, depending on the situation. 

In particular, any scene in which Janice and Duncan interact directly is brilliant. Janice recalls a scene, but her memory is faulty (like anyone’s), so sometimes she forgets what they talked about, or interpreted an interaction in a certain way. Then Duncan dives in with his own commentary, supplying information Janice didn’t include or forgot, or correcting something she said, or offering an alternate interpretation... these scenes were fascinating to read and some of my favorite parts of the novel. 

There’s a lot of fun revelations and Easter eggs for people who read City of Saints and Madmen. In particular: 

My favorite story in the first book was The Cage, which is a work of fiction  within the universe of Ambergris by a man named Sirin. In particular there is a very creepy and distinct monster that plays a pivotal role in the story. However, since it’s technically fiction within fiction, that monster and the events didn’t really happen in canon... right? Imagine my surprise in this book when Janice encounters and describes a very similar monster. This struck me as odd, until I got to epilogue/afterword at the end... written by Sirin, and everything clicked. He got the idea for his “fictional” monster from Janice’s account in this story. He doesn’t state this outright, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense. I loved that. It was like putting a puzzle together and it would have been so easy to miss. And there’s the extra horror that something like that really exists in this world. There was other stuff like this but this one stood out to me, and I’m sure there’s other things I missed. 

This mostly concerns the second half, but the war sequences and memories are horrific and brilliant. It's very World War II-esque with a unique twist to it (the awful fungal bio weapons one of the sides uses). In particular, the war is introduced with a chapter about a ceasefire opera staged in the broken city... without spoiling it, it’s an excellent and intriguing self-contained story. 

And the horror chapter about the Festival, which is conspicuously absent in the rest of the story? Just so goddamn good. VanderMeer strikes just the right chord with me when it comes to horror. It’s always fresh and intensely creepy. 

If you told me this during the first half, I wouldn’t believe you -- but I ended up loving the characters and finding most of their relationships fascinating. This is a heartbreaking story and it really hit home by the end. 

With that lofty praise, what’s my issue with Part I? The simplest way I can put it is that the struggles Duncan and Janice face are so mundane. They would maybe be interesting in a generic work of fiction, but here they felt out of place. For example, Janice’s arc concerns her rise to fame, which leads to success, which leads to lavish parties and orgies, which leads to excesses and a drug addiction, which leads to a suicide attempt, which leads to rehab, which leads to a diminished life of poverty. Yes, these can be interesting and harrowing problems in the right context, but the strongest point of these books is the setting, and there was nothing that tied these events to Ambergris. You could easily go through and change the character/place names and it wouldn’t seem off. 

Duncan is a little more interesting in this regard, because his is a story of obsession. In particular, he’s obsessed with the gray caps (strange humanoid mushroom creatures that haunt the pages of these books), and it takes over his life until he becomes totally discredited as a historian. But even he falls into this trap when he becomes a college professor and has an affair with one of his much younger students (Yikes! Though it is treated as creepy within the story, at least). That takes over most of his character’s emotional core from that point. 

Said student -- Mary Sabon -- is a core antagonist in the story. Janice in particular obsesses over her and her personal vendetta against her, and honestly even with the second part I was never really sold on this or cared about it all that much, so I was disappointed it took up so much of the story. 

All of this would be one thing, but there’s all sorts of tantalizing hints about more interesting things. The gray caps probably have some ulterior motive that no one knows! There’s this crazy eldritch Machine hidden underground! Duncan is sort of turning into a mushroom! But these are only teased before the story pivots back to something comparatively uninteresting. Rather than encouraging me with the cool foreshadowing, it just got grating because it meant there were more interesting events and stories going on that I didn’t get to see for some arbitrary reason. Janice also rambles and goes back and forth quite a bit. This is clearly intentional (after all, you learn in the end this is a mostly unedited draft -- at least in the fiction of the story), but even so, it can be hard to follow at times. 

Part II justifies a lot of this because these hints do pay off. You DO get to see a lot of the interesting stuff in detail at this later point of the story, and it’s not always what you expect. There’s overt and subtle dramatic irony and contrast between what characters go through in the first half versus the stranger, more profound traumas of the second half. You learn Janice is suffering from some severe PTSD and it explains a lot of the manic style in the first half. But again, is it worth 245-ish mediocre (to me) pages? I think that probably depends on the reader. I had a problem with it-- but clearly a lot of people don’t, based on reviews I’ve skimmed. Many put the book down and don’t finish it, but that’s true for any book. Hell, lots of people preferred the first half, so who knows. 

Ultimately, I’m glad I read this book. For me it really does come together in an amazing way toward the end, and I found myself really caring about Janice and Duncan. If you read City of Saints and Madmen and want more of the characters and the world, then definitely give this a try. But it is a pretty niche book as these things go, so I can’t recommend it to everyone. 

Anyway, I’ve come this far -- so I’m going to read Finch, the final (for now?) installment in this universe. 

[edwardjamescoplin]

Plot Wishlist

This is an old list of plots I wanted to do but never got around to. I’ve described them in m/f, f/f pairings but am open to nonbinary characters as well! 

Disclaimer: I personally have never written a nonbinary character and don’t want to disrespect anyone without properly researching when doing so, but will be more than happy if you’d prefer to play one! 

If you’re up for playing one of them out, simply send me a message or like this and I’ll come to you! I’m more than excited to write with you!

Discord: edwardcoplin#7261

A plot with a woodworker -  maybe a lady was sent to look over this guy because he was running the business himself and he has a business deal with a company where he isn’t meeting deadlines. They send her in to push him to complete the agreed upon orders and she discovers he’s not doing too well mentally/emotionally. She has to straighten him out and in order to keep the deal going he has to obey her. This of course leads to silly arguments and they don’t get on well. He feels that she ruins all the fun because she walks in when he’s goofing off with friends and picks fights with him, so he blames her for his inability to finish the job. This could turn romantic or just be a petty partnership of showing each other up. 

Subject A started having seizures a month ago. Doctors have not given A any type of diagnosis and A is having to adjust to life rapidly changing. A can no longer attend school due to being a distraction as well as not being able to make it throughout a class without being in pain, feeling left out because he/she is not at the same place as the rest of his/her peers with classwork, and of course the seizures are ‘distracting’. Over the span of a month the entire school has blocked A out, slowly halting with newsletters to events and games, rallies, etc. Subject B has had seizures for over two years and has been out of school for a year. He/she was never given a diagnosis and still continues to go to doctors in hopes of finding out something new. A and B meet in the waiting room at one of their therapist appointments, not knowing the other shares a similar experience. They are just two normal people. They talk and bond over common interests but neither tells the other of the crippling effects of their seizures. A and B split and go to their sessions and then leave noting to swap numbers. Over the next six months they trade texts, emails, late night half asleep phone calls, and weekly meet ups at their therapy appointments. The can share their favorite books and movies, old games, etc.. They tell their parents about each other and their parents stay in contact with the belief this connection is healthy for the two of them. A and B have to plan ahead for anything they want to do outside of their appointments. They go to the mall, spend time at each others place, and of course they both find out about the others condition. They don’t use that to bond though. They focus on who they were before the seizure started and who they are now. They try to make the best of things through health scares. Both A and B spend endless amounts of time molding their friendship and doing the things they feel comfortable doing. They don’t push each other, but they kind of protect each other and offer an understanding.                                                     This is just a rough draft idea. I definitely want to develop this more and figure out the exact details of doing it. This is somewhat of a personal experience and I like the idea of normalizing different health conditions. 

Two girls that are best friends and they don’t necessarily click in the way that they wanna fuck and shove each other into doors trying to get the other out of their clothes, it’s more of a co-dependency relationship/friendship. They aren’t dating, but they both get jealous when the other is in a relationship with somebody else. They’re both popular in school/their own crowds (college based), and maybe one of them is head cheerleader for the college/university and the other is a huge science nerd. But they grew up together and they’d never let the differences between cliques come between their friendship. At least they try not to. I want there to be late nights where one is running over to the others house/dorm, even though they should be sleeping, because she needs somebody to hold her while she sleeps. And I want there to be fights and melodramatic little quips. Maybe the nerdy one has a bigger mouth than the cheerleader. I want there to be screwed up make out sessions and then they just pretend like it never happened. It’s nothing more than a friendship. They do everything together. One of them is focused on moral rights and the other is focused on just having a good time, but they have long talks and lose sleep trying to put the pieces together in life and they make dumb plans and just everything is focused on them and growing and learning and finding out who they are and what their friendship really is. I want the craziness of it all. {this plot would most likely include smut, so please 18+ only}

A girl is a serial killer and her parents put her into a mental institute, and the workers at said place are really violent/cruel. They torture her physically and use electric shock/other methods to try and fix her and stuff. Pretty much they do it so much that she’s mentally trapped in a coma state. So, while in this coma, she dreams and makes up this whole other world. She meets a boy/girl and they get on well and basically it can either go in the direction of him/her being a serial killer and they’re killing people or she creates this whole world where they’re just normal people and she imagines him/her up. Another turn it could take, twist here, the boy/girl is actually a serial killer and the people at the institute tortured him/her and killed him/her several years back and now he’s/she’s in her dreams and it’s just really fucked up ok.

Two kids who grew up together and were very close/or maybe not even friends but they’ve met up ten years later and one is like rich and famous and the other runs a library and somehow in business deals they get paired together and have to travel to a place neither is familiar with. They work together to navigate through the entire thing and kind of get to know each other. They could like each other or hate each other, doesn’t matter.

two people, both from different religious views. They’re pushed together for some reason. one of them is really big into Christianity but the other is atheist and the religious one falls for the other and the entire time that person is pushing them away because they don’t believe in love or anything and this related to the song angel with a shot gun, give up religion for em all that jazz.

“I was once told I like people because I enjoy trying to fix them. I’ve learned, now, that there is no way to fix people, and you should not try to fill yourself in between the cracks of their uprooted scars. Upon being told this, I began to see things differently. I watched myself from the outside, captivated by the way I would fall in love with the trivial flaws and misconceptions in a person’s everyday life. I watched as they would walk across the street, dressed for work and bound for disaster at the swallowing of a coffee all too hot, and I would fall into a transitional relation with them. I found home between the curves of their words. They were like silk in my mind. I would find companionship in the alternate spirals of their every step. Their thoughts were like ink to me. I could write down every single one of them. Their tears were like drops of rain filled with the temptations of curiosity in the form of stories. Every single detail became an art piece for me.”                                                                        I wrote this a while back and I really want to create something off of it. Maybe like a m/f goes to the same cafe every day with his/her journal and they write stories about the people they see and like fall in love with people all the time just by watching them.

"Fingertips leave the soft tinted stain of your body against mine. They wrap in rafting waves over the hills of my spine."                                          I would also love to make a plot off of this little bit I wrote a while back.

two angels are paired together by god to walk the earth and do jobs, but then they get in trouble and lose the powers/advantages they had. They get trapped on this universal plane and have to work among mundanes to figure out how to get back to safety. (honestly this is similar to the show Lucifer now that I look back on it)

a cynical lawyer works for a psychotic model

a hunting trip turns into a fight for life with no connection to anyone outside of the woods

"you’re not supposed to look back, you’re supposed to keep going." Maybe something that isn’t necessarily dealing with running away but overcoming some sort of obstacle. I don’t know.

{f} is a dancer, always has been. She’s been in love with it since she was little. She’s never taken a class, just taught herself the choreography to dances. She choreographs her own moves and teaches a hip hop class down in town. {m} has been to dance school, worked all of his life to do whatever his mother wished upon him. He’s dealt with riches and galore, promised to marry a girl from his class, but recently decided to go in other directions. He dreads dancing, however, he’s been sent to teach one class recently. Since joining said class he’s met {f}, who has undeniably brought out the joy in his dance. She pushes him to go after the things he actually wants in life, so long he promises to remain as head in the one class at the studio they both work at. He doesn’t know what to do apart from follow what she says. Something about her makes him see the beauty in the things he hates.

“I would anger angels for you.” — SIX WORDS (2/3/14)                               a plot based off of this, or to use it as a quote for a character