#and/or just general success in somehow not failing my exams????? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Attached: Hurtful Words Pt.1

Type: (mini)-series, Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 5600

Summary: Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

You knew for a fact that it was a load of BS. The truth is that words can break your heart. And that realization hits you full force the day you have your last exam to earn your bachelor degree.

If you pass, it will be a cause for great celebration. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

A/N: Attached: Hurtful Words is an addition that loosely followes the series. Will be in two (or three) parts. You don’t necessarily need to read the mini-series as a whole, but you will understand much better.

Warnings: I did something in here which I’m usually trying to avoid at any cost; in this story, I used Y/N Y/L/N. Does that count as a warning?

Warnings II: name calling, humiliation, panic attack!, bad poetry, mentions of vomiting and alcohol, the briefest mention of self-harm, angst, swearing, threats of violence

Story masterlist

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You released the breath you had been holding, all your willpower put into not sinking into the chair in relief as Professor Phillips announced your grade – one that meant that you hadn’t failed.

In fact, you had just passed your last exam of your bachelor program so you were entirely in the right. In your head, an overexcited monkey started playing cymbals and you didn’t mind the noise despite how sleep-deprived you were from the past few days. A barely contained mad smile fought its way to your lips instead.

Mind you, as you thanked Professor Phillips and rose to your feet – your knees almost giving out, because HOLY SHIT YOU JUST GOT YOUR BACHELOR’S – you would swear you saw a brief smile on the professor’s face too as if he was amused at your antics.

But who cared if he was having fun at your expense?! You PASSED! You had been losing sleep, terrified of this exam, because everyone knew Phillips was a hard-ass – a fair one, but still a hard-ass – and you just passed his examination!

Time to pop the fucking champagne! The one Penny had been saving at the dorm from yesterday when she had finished her own degree; she insisted that she would wait for you, because you were in this together.

You couldn’t leave her waiting any longer and you didn’t have any intention to do so.

Leaving the room and walking into the empty hallway – because of course you came the last as if to prolong your torture – you breathed in and out and deliberately let the grin finally spread on your face fully.

You were free, you were ready to take on the world despite not being ready at all and you had Steve, who you suspected would be proud as hell and would celebrate with you tomorrow, graciously letting you and your roomie do it first-- and gosh, life was beautiful.

Making your way down the corridor, with a grin ever-present, a leaflet that hadn’t been there before caught your attention. It appeared a handwritten note, styled in a regular column – a poem perhaps.

Still smiling, the curiosity took the best of you and you walked to it, peripherally noticing that along the walls, there was even more.

You froze in your step when your gaze fell on the first line; your very own name was staring back at you and it confused you at first, a brief surge of excitement lighting up your body, a naïve belief that perhaps Steve somehow decided to surprise you.

But Steve’s last name came next, which you found strange.

And then came the word ‘whore’ and your heart stopped, your gaze automatically flickering all over the page.

Your stomach made a painful somersault, your mind turning blank.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of that nightmare materializing in front of you, reading and re-reading the poem that almost resembled a twisted nursery rhyme over and over.

Y/N Y/L/N Rogers’ whore Bet she’ll get The highest score For sucking dick Having fucked her ass Let’s hope she’ll soon Be eating grass

Darkness battled to cut off your vision, the world swaying off of its place. Involuntarily, your trembling hand reached out and touched the paper, smooth under your fingertips, your frantically beating heart and the vertigo threating to overpower your sense of balance tying you to the reality, screaming at you that this wasn’t just a really fucked-up dream.

You tore the paper down, lump growing in your throat as you looked around for watchful eyes in sudden paranoia of being followed, only to find the hallway deserted aside from you.

Just you and many papers hanging on the walls.

As if you were just a puppet to a spiteful master, your feet carried you to the next leaflet, tears filling your eyes as you found the very same words written on it; a precise copy.

Your breathing picked up a furious pace, your chest crushed under a weight of an invisible elephant stomping on it. The corridor swam in the dampness of your eyes, your mind too quiet and yet screaming with millions of question marks and exclamation points, panic squeezing your lungs, nausea attacking your stomach.

What the hell was happening? Who would do that? Why? What was the goal? Was it just to ruin your triumph?

Because if that was the goal, it was a roaring success; the thousands of questions swirling in your head and the unexpected sting in your heart turned the fact that you had passed an exam into a faint memory.

All you saw was the words.

Rogers’s whore

Was that what you were? Was that how people who knew about the relationship saw you? Was that how Steve saw you?

The highest score for sucking dick

Was that what you were doing? Using Steve’s position to your advantage? Was that how you got through every exam including the one today, even if unwittingly? Was that what Phillips’ little smile had been about?

Hope she’ll soon be eating grass.

Was that a threat? Was someone wishing that happened to you or were they actually about to hurt you? Why?!

Hearing your own wheezing and feeling your fingertips prickling, your foggy mind did the only reasonable thing it could come up with; it led your steps into the nearest bathroom at lightning speed with no regard for how shaky were your feet.

You stumbled into the open stall, smashing the door shut and leaning onto them with your suddenly damp forehead, feeling the cold beads of sweat gather in your hairline, your cheeks drenching in tears.

When did you start crying so hard?

When did the trembling in your limbs begin?

What the fuck was happening?

What-how--why-but-

Your palms rested on the door as you desperately tried and failed to ground yourself and take control of your breathing. Your temples were pounding irritatingly, your gut painfully clenching--- and exactly in that moment that could have lasted a second or an hour, your fingers brushed over a piece of paper stuck on the door.

Darkness curled around your brain like a treacherous friend, another wave of nausea twisting your stomach.

It took you one blurry glance at the paper and you knew precisely what it was, choking on your sob, ripping the offensive poem off and tearing it to pieces which you blindly threw to the toilet, the flushing sound deafening to your ears.

Your shaky legs finally gave out, knees buckling, your body sliding down the stall wall, fingers pulling at your hair as you felt the dizziness engulfing your head, a bitter taste in your mouth.

You gripped tighter, hoping that the pain on the surface would overpower the pain and gaping hole inside, as another violent sob erupted from your throat.

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An eternity later, you felt your whole being float.

Your breathing was still frantic and interrupted with sobs, but a sensation resembling serenity spread in your very core—or perhaps it was just numbness?

You couldn’t seem to be able to tell the difference anymore.

The creak of a door made you cover your mouth to muffle the noises still escaping your lips for the fear of being caught – either being found in this state in general or found as in found by the person who wrote---that – being stronger than the subdued power of your previous breakdown.

It was probably too late for the newcomer to miss your presence, but over the slowly fading ringing in your ears, you could hear a few steps that came to a halt and then they sounded a bit quicker as the woman left.

Thank FUCK. You couldn’t do human interaction of any kind right now.

You removed your hand and breathed out shakily, blinking away the tears.

Shaking your head wildly, you gritted your teeth in a feeble attempt at bolster yourself. You had to get up off your ass and leave before there would be no longer way of avoiding a confrontation – god forbid a confrontation with Steve, who was probably still in a class, testing his own students.

You climbed to your feet, wiping the remains of your tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand and went to fix your ruined make-up, hopefully enough to look little less suspicious when walking through the campus.

It was probably a vain effort, because you were a walking epitome of a mess.

Rogers’s whore, sounded in your ears and you shook your head again, inhaling sharply through your mouth.

It was time to run and then break down again at the dorms. With Penny preferably--or did she think you were a whore too? You were fucking a professor after all-

Stop that!

Penny wasn’t like that. She understood. She’d be willing to listen all about this outrageous act of terror and would sympathize. Right?

Yeah, you’d talk about it with Penny, your amazing friend, who needed a celebration and a very generous amount of alcohol, which happened to be exactly what you needed too.

Yep, that sounded pretty good.

With one last determined glance on your horrible reflection in the mirror, you headed out.

The door nearly hit you in the face on its way back as you threw it open and froze in the doorway.

You did not expect to see someone so soon after leaving your improvised safe space… let alone him.

“Prof-professor Wilson,” you choked out, clearing your scratchy throat as he stood there, unmistakably waiting for you.

Because that was what you needed at the moment. The university counsellor and professor of psychology in one person.

Fuck.

He said you name in a mild tone, almost as if trying to tame a wild animal, but not quite – all his voice made you feel was shame at getting caught. And a bit of anger at the whole fucking world, because why couldn’t you have a tiny piece of peace after seeing that? Just a little shred of luck, huh?!

Oh, right, you were a whore who were only using Professor Rogers, paying for it in sexual favours.

“Mind if we talk in my office for a bit?”

“Not like I really have a choice…” you mumbled automatically, the realization of how rude it sounded dawning to you oh too slowly, your brain too tangled up in a web of self-pity and self-loathing. “Sorry. Of course. Lead the way.”

“Good. Thank you,” he replied, appearing unoffended. “And for the record, you do have a choice.”

Hadn’t you been a wreck with burning tear-stained cheeks, your face might have felt hotter at the kind remark.

At the slowest pace possible, you followed Professor Wilson to his office, dread and exhaustion filling every fibre of your being.

You noticed however that the walls that had been lined with odes about you, put up for everyone to see, had disappeared; possibly Wilson’s own work.

Somehow, it didn’t make you feel much better, the image of the previous addition to the corridors’ decor stuck in your brain. But hey, it was supposed to be the thought that counted, right?

And Professor Wilson was a nice guy. He offered you a drink – sadly a non-alcoholic one – attempted a joke saying that no, it was no trouble getting you one, which was the reason he offered.

Generally, he treated you as if he wanted to provide you with a safe space.

And then he kindly told you that he knew about the poem, because his cousin who’s in her first year here at the uni, texted him what the heck was the e-mail she received on her uni account about.

In other word, he gently broke to you that whoever had done this possibly sent it to every student in the database too.

You nearly threw up hearing that; the pit you had climbed up from and of which edge you were balancing, deepened. But you didn’t fall back there.

Yet.

It was probably because you were still too shocked at the information.

“I hate asking that question, but do you have any idea who did this?” Wilson asked quietly and you had nothing but a helpless shake of a head for a reply. You felt your vision blurring, dizziness fogging your brain again. “Can you think of anyone who holds a grudge against you for some reason?”

A scoff escaped your lips, cynical as you found the answer obvious from the verses.

“Besides dating Steve, you mean?” you noted sarcastically. Wilson waited for more, his eyebrows twitching in surprise and expectation before he got it under control. “Sorry, I meant Professor Rog-“

“Hey, you can call him Steve,” he assured you, so damn sweet and diligent. “I met him, you know, I’d go as far as calling him a friend. And right here, right now, he is not your professor, but your boyfriend. I’m talking to you as a counsellor so feel free to call me Sam if you’re comfortable. And to answer your question, I assume that it is as good motive as any, but the fact that the two of you are dating is practically a public knowledge at this point, so it doesn’t really narrow our field of suspects.”

Despite his openness and kind approach, you once again could only shrug, growing desperate by the minute. The urge to leave – because suddenly it made even more sense, him taking you here, he was friends with Steve, he was stalling – became unbearable.

You didn’t have the strength to see Steve now. You couldn’t. You would question every gesture, analyse everything and perhaps came to the conclusion that he agreed with the author of the poem and you desperately didn’t want that. You needed to forget about this, preferably with an unhealthy amount of alcohol, you needed to cry some more, you needed ice-cream and a hug and to bitch about everything and you needed a fucking nap that would last at least a week.

“I don’t know who hates me that much, I swear. Can I please go now?”

Sam cocked his head to side, a minute frown creasing his brows. “Is that what you want?”

Do you really want to leave before Steve gets a chance to get here?

You should probably feel guilty. You wanted to feel guilty, because that was you being a coward and it was downright mean to Steve, who would no doubt learn about this very soon and from someone else, but you didn’t have the capacity to think about anything at all besides feeling like you were going to explode any second.

“Yes. Thanks for being nice and all, but I—I’d rather go.”

“You have a roommate? A friend you live with and who’s in?” he fussed, voice gravely, amiable chocolate eyes observing you with worry. Did he think you were about to hurt yourself? Did you look like the type? Were you? You mentally shook your head. Jesus.

“Yeah,” you creaked, already rising to your feet, endlessly grateful that he was letting you go. “Penny. We— uhm, we were supposed to go celebrating.”

You nearly choked on the last word, feeling like everything but going out tonight. The idea of going out and facing all the stares cause by the widely-spread e-mail made your stomach clench.

You kinda lost the appetite to celebrate anything to begin with; all the relief and joy, which had filled every last bit of your being post-learning your grade, vanished and was replaced by a dark sticky substance filling your lungs, your gut, your veins, muffling the outside world.

Perhaps Penny would agree to a loud night in?

“You can still do that, that’s up to you. But please, get some sleep and don’t be alone. Here,” he stood up as well, handing you a card. “My number, even if you just need to talk to a sort-of outsider and word-vomit all over someone, okay?”

You couldn’t argue with his offer – you had a feeling you’d vomit soon, either verbally or literally. Still, you charmed a shaky smile that probably turned out a grimace.

“K. Thanks… Sam.”

“Any time.”

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Of course, Wilson’s unspoken question about moving quick to avoid an encounter with certain professor was painfully on point.

You bailed on Steve whom you were supposed to wait for even if just for a hug and congratulations, practically running to the dorm, your unsteady feet and tears still clouding your vision be damned.

You ignored the ringing of your phone, assuming it was Steve himself; bile rose to your throat at the idea of hearing his voice at that moment. He tried twice before you smashed the power button and threw the phone back to your purse, breathing out in relief and wanting to puke at the same time.

You truly couldn’t find the capacity to deal with him momentarily – you needed to be alone and safe from any prying eyes, preferably in the comfort of your shared dorm with Penny. You cried harder when you finally reached it, your feet hurting from attempting to run in heels.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Penny somehow already knew, probably from the e-mail – it was written all over her face. And hadn’t her expression been enough, instead of a celebratory champagne she handed you a shot of a transparent liquid the moment you opened the door.

You turned it bottoms up without questioning it and asked for another. Penny grabbed the bottle of vodka waiting on the shoe rack and poured one for you and one for herself. You didn’t bother clinking the glasses.

Though the burn in your throat felt pleasant, it did nothing to sooth the burn in your eyes and heart. Penny’s embrace made it a bit better.

So did the third shot of vodka.

You didn’t switch on your phone that day again – and when it was nearing midnight, after a four-hour nap, you convinced Penny to go celebrate to the Freddy’s as you had originally planned to do. You pretended that no one stared at you and instead you danced and drank until your mind was swimming enough for the sorrow and anger to drown.

You were one lucky bitch to have Penny walk you home.

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Steve was sitting at his desk at the faculty office he shared with Bucky and was working hard at what he excelled at for these past days despite his genuine efforts at not doing so; getting absolutely nothing done at all.

His hands had grown somewhat unsteady, a reflection of how he was feeling, how torn and absurdly broken he had become. He was spilling drinks on a regular basis, items kept falling from his flimsy hold. His brain felt foggy these days as well, most likely a consequence of the shitty sleep he was getting.

His bed felt too big despite his rather large frame and too cold despite his body temperature usually running almost too high; the sheets smelled strange and foreign despite being his own and the bed screamed with emptiness on a volume that kept interrupting his already deficient sleep.

Four days.

Four days since one stupid poem knocked his world out of its orbit and everything that mattered crashed down. Well, perhaps not everything, Steve happened to like his job too and he still had it, but such detail seemed insignificant; it certainly did in comparison to the fact that he had been attempting and had failed to reach you.

Calls.

Texts.

Few e-mails when he felt particularly helpless and frustrated.

His messed up sleeping and eating schedule and the irregularity that came with the exam period would make a perfect case of him losing any notion of time – yet Steve knew about every second without you, practically counting them.

He could still see Sam Wilson standing outside the classroom he had been testing students’ knowledge in as if it happened yesterday. He could recall with painfully stark clarity the unreadable expression on his face and the ominous “Steve, man… we need to talk.”

Steve still remembered Tony Stark waltzing in the next day with a baby in some sort of a front backpack, agitated that someone had gotten into the database, let alone to send all the hate-emails, and how he announced he found the culprit and their accomplices in an hour, which apparently happened to be too long to his liking.

Steve would smile at the memory of the technical genius’ antics, but the gaping hole in his chest caused by the deafening silence from you prevented it. Hell, not even the vivid picture of Carol Danvers from the faculty of law, moonlighting like a member of the legal department of the university, made the corners of his lips rise.

And hadn’t it been quite a show, a downright uplifting experience.

Steve was watching the screen with a frown, a stone-solid clench to his jaw and a firm clench to his fists.

It was almost amusing really; Bucky kept going about Fury being a creep and not a spy, but despite the lack of a one-way glass, the space Carol and the girl was in – just like two other rooms, each with one man – resembled an interrogation room. Steve never had been more grateful for audio and video feed in his life, but he sure as hell wasn’t laughing in delight at being proved right.

In fact, it had been taking all of his willpower not to burst into those rooms and give a piece of his mind to every single person guilty of being involved in hurting you. In causing his life to collapse on itself.

Steve couldn’t quite recall the brunet Carol was roasting, but he suspected he had seen her in one of the classes he was teaching. She didn’t stand out from the crowd of students and he didn’t see anything special about her worth remembering; then again, he tended to forget to take notice of other pretty faces ever since he had laid his eyes on yours.

And right now, all he saw was a face of a vicious bitch who forced you into pushing him away and a single look at her had his blood boiling.

Steve truly wanted to punch the living daylights of her and that said something, because he prided himself in having moral objection to hitting women, especially from sheer anger.

However, the desire was growing with each piece of information he learned. Because Yvonne Whatever-Is-Her-Name was a piece of work for fucking certain.

She talked a guy number one, whom she was attending Introduction to Social Studies 101 and who had a very apparent teenage-like crush on her, into reaching out to his friend, guy number two, whom he often played some online video game with, into hacking the database, sending the e-mails and finding out when and where exactly your exam was, just so Yvonne herself could redecorate the corridors and bathroom and make sure you wouldn’t miss her work of art.

Carol was alternating between visiting each of the ‘suspects’ and man, did they sing like birds.

Steve wanted to strangle them all, but fuck, the hatred for Yvonne Burton specifically was already consuming him and gnawing at his very soul; yes, he found out her last name just so he knew his mortal enemy. He was going to burn her to the ground, one way or the other… not that Carol hadn’t been doing a fine job so far.

That damn brunet had tears running down her face, sobbing occasionally, but still rarely sassing back. Somehow, seeing her like that wasn’t half as satisfying as Steve hoped, because his mind kept wandering to you and wondering if you looked about the same and every time such picture formed in his head, he hated Ms.Burton a fraction more.

She had used a guy who liked her, which Carol blatantly pointed out. The lawyer didn’t seem to hold back her own snark if the question about how the culprits met – via some forum for bruised ego, was it? – was anything to go by.

“I might be a lawyer, but I’m begging for every art professor and author I know – stay away from poetry. What you wrote is a child’s rhyme really, but like every writing, it says a lot about who you are. And it gives me a plenty of ammunition. We have two names, one full, one last name pointing out a specific person from the context. If I play my cards right, we have defamation on our hands, libel to be precise. Congratulation,” Carol remarked in a surprisingly calm voice. The other woman visibly paled. Good. “And what about the last line? Is that… is that a threat of violence? I can make it harassment, but if I try hard enough, perhaps we can consider it something more serious…?”

“You don’t get to threaten me! You’re lying! I’ve done nothing wrong and so serious!” the girl – and really, in Steve’s eyes, she was nothing but a stupid girl who somehow managed to kick his life in its balls – exploded, jumping to her feet.

Carol levelled her with a glare and an irritated hiss. “Sit down.” Burton did, clammy hands curled up in trembling fists. “And you’ve done more than enough.”

“You don’t understand!”

“Oh don’t I? Be my guest then. Explain it. Your motivation, the legal side, anything. I’m all ears.”

“I love him!” the girl exclaimed and Steve grinded his teeth as a surge of rage shooting through his veins.

Like fucking hell she did. He didn’t remember even talking to her if he ever had to start with and she loved him?!

Was that really what this was about? This girl somewhat liked him and got obsessed? Decided to wreck his girlfriend? To what end? To drive the two of you apart? To make you hate him so he would run to her? To simply ruin your future? What the fuck was wrong with her?! She was a damn kid with hurt pride and zero efforts put in so far, because he couldn’t even remember her-

“Oh you really don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have done this,” Carol responded with a cold edge to her voice, apparently agreeing with Steve’s thoughts and being equally unimpressed with Ms.Burton dramatic confession.

“I’m fighting for him! Ain’t nothing wrong-”

Oh Steve would argue with that so hard. He could feel Sam watching him from the corner of his eye, but neither of them said anything as Steve gripped the edge of the table the monitors were on.

He was sure he was going to be sick, the edge of his vision doing something he only read about; as if truly turning red, crimson with hunger for blood. He never ever craved tearing someone in half, not a single one of the guys who bullied him in school, not the girls that laughed at him when he said he liked them; and make no mistake, he had always felt mad enough.

But right now, he tasted undiluted rage and it tasted like acid with a bitter aftertaste of iron and copper, searing hot on his tongue and spreading through his body, turning it heavy and nauseatingly light at the same time.

“No, you’re ruining his life,” Carol emphasized, leaning onto the table and glaring murder at the girl. “If this is your idea of fighting for someone, it’s pretty twisted. You could have done literally anything to make him notice you, hell, pick you, but leave if he still said no, because that’s a sensible thing to do. But instead, you hurt someone he cared about. And that means you hurt him too – not to mention that his name is in there, possibly putting a scrap on his reputation. If you did love him, you’d want him to be happy.”

Steve gulped and looked away, unable to bear the weight of Carol’s words, feeling the jab on his own person. Because he was familiar with being accused of ruining someone’s life and future despite seemingly loving them. God knew that on a rainy day, he wondered about his own ‘love’ and its purity too – and now, it was fucking pouring and Steve had been forced to question everything he knew.

Was this little brunet Satan a godsend in fact? Was she supposed to tell him to stop lying to himself about not being your doom? Just what kind of a mess this stunt would have made had you been working a steady job and this got to your employer?

A gentle hand reached for his shoulder, a silent support, and Steve found himself torn between irritated, grateful and deeply ashamed.

No matter how much he hated it, he should be on the list to get punched for hurting you too.

“So, sorry to break it to you, but you don’t love him,” Carol continued and with Sam’s palm on his shoulder, Steve forced himself to watch the scene, the grand finale. “You’re just a little girl with attitude issues, a crush that got out of hand, and a ton of luck for knowing a guy willing to help you. Guess what – you just ran out of that luck.”

Heavy silence fell on the interrogation room and Steve’s eyes slid shut, hearing Carol and Yvonne’s parting words.

“And just so you know, she didn’t get the highest score. She got a B.”

Steve didn’t even know that and despite all the shit they were in, he felt a surge of pride for his g- hopefully still his girl.

At the same time, the fact that he learned it from Carol and not from you as he still couldn’t reach you, felt like a punch to his solar plexus.

Carol entered the monitoring room with a discontent expression on her face, wordlessly telling Steve and Sam that the conversation, no matter how harsh, wasn’t satisfying enough.

Still, Steve glanced at her and nodded with severity.

“Thank you, Carol,” he rasped, surprised by how hoarse his own voice sounded; for the burn of rage in his stomach and the tension in his muscles, he almost forgot about the lump gradually growing in his throat with each hour of silence from you.

“My damn pleasure,” Carol huffed with slight irritation, one clearly not aimed at Steve. She subtly raised her eyebrows. “I kinda want to punch her, but I guess I’m not the only one, huh?”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes, his hands almost shaking with the said need. Still, it was surprisingly relieving to be called out on that and to learn that he wasn’t the only one. And when he opened his eyes again, the look on Carol’s face told him that she wasn’t blaming him one bit.

“You have no fucking idea, I- Jesus, I never wanted to—to-- so much in my life.“

The rise of one corner of her lips was sympathetic. “We’ll handle this, Steve. I know it’s hard to hear, but you can’t really help us here. Go home. Rest.”

The lump in Steve’s throat grew nearly suffocating at the idea of going to the empty apartment, where his uselessness became even more evident. Steve eyed Sam, searching with hope for any sign of a better advice, but the counsellor only nodded to second Carol’s thought.

“Go home and try to call your girl. She’ll pick up eventually.”

At that time Steve had done exactly that – however, the result had remained identical to those with his previous attempts. You hadn’t picked up and he had left a voicemail and a pathetic text that somehow seemed to be reflecting all of his insecurities and doubts about your relationship and it hadn’t turned out at all as he had planned – and then it had been too late to take it back.

He had sent another and another, almost hour after hour and he was gradually realizing that he was forgoing all hope and his faith in what you two had and what it could become in the future; and god, did he want the future so badly.

But he couldn’t always get what he wanted, could he? He thought that a miracle had happened when he had first met you and later heard your yes to the date. But here you were.

Four days from that terrible incident.

Did Steve even believe that you two were supposed to be together? He didn’t even know anymore. Perhaps it was an intervention from some higher power and you two breaking apart was meant to be, saving you a heartbreak and disillusions which were about to come later.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought and the sensation that felt like a punch to his gut, his insides cramping.

That was not true. You two loved each other. You had found something truly amazing in each other and you were about to reach out to him any minute so you could continue to your brighter future together.

…right?

Except a minute passed by and nothing happened, the phone Steve was toying with remaining silent.

No received text or e-mail.

No incoming call.

Another minute and then another ten, the phone still spinning in his hand in almost a reflex at that point and still not lighting up.

The knot in Steve’s gut turned tighter and tighter, the tension in his shoulders and jaw growing, his mantra of you surely contacting him gradually falling silent.

Finally, he came to the decision that only fools kept doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.

He was supposed to do that a long long time ago, the moment he had convinced himself that coming knocking on your dorm could be considered harassment… and would break his heart in case you’d shut the door to his face telling him you were done with him.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Steve swept through his contacts and dialled your best friend and roommate in one person.

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Part 2

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Thank you for reading!

Let me know what you thought! I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ doing something with randomly timed shots to a series, so… you know. I’m a bit nervous. And I guess that this is very different from what this series was so far too, so I hope it’s okay. Thank you :-*

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jiminniethemarshmallow · 4 years

Text

Ball of Stress (M)

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: smut, college AU

Word Count: 5,690

Warnings: Jimin watching porn, edging, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating

(A/N): Writing the warnings makes me feel dirtier than writing the actual smut lol. Finally got one of my several drafts complete, so you guys actually have new stuff to read (from me at least)!

Being a college student is stressful, despite it being the “best time” of many people’s lives. Keeping up with the school work, doing well in sports, attending clubs, and having a healthy social and party life are all things that students have to juggle, and Jimin knows the struggle all too well. You both are in your final year and it never really gets any easier, the pressure to graduate and transition into the world of adults almost crushing at this stage in your lives. But you have each other, keeping the both of you afloat, because surely you would sink and drown on your own.

The last few weeks have been hard on Jimin. His sports team is in peak season and practice has been running longer everyday it seems. The work load his professors dump on him doesn’t help and he feels like he’s falling farther and farther behind with every class. Not to mention the strain that’s put on his friendships and social life. He’s had to decline invitation after invitation to parties and group gatherings because of school work. His friends understand and they support him, but one thing that has been becoming unbearable for him is the lack of time he gets to spend with you. Your class and practice schedules don’t line up with his too well so you mostly only get to see each other at night, and even then you don’t talk that much because you’re both consumed with homework and projects. There’s no time for romance anymore, he barely gets the chance to touch you, and when things do start to heat up, you’re both too tired to do anything.

It’s been about 2 and a half weeks since you actually had the time and energy to hang out with Jimin and you vividly remember that last time the two of you got intimate. You had finally gotten the chance to attend your friend Hoseok’s party and you decided to get all dressed up for it, wearing the sexiest and most revealing outfit you could find, hoping to spark something within your boyfriend when he laid eyes on you. You expected him to get jealous from all the looks you were getting that night, but he didn’t— or at least you hadn’t noticed if he did— and instead he was all over you, whispering in your ear how sexy you look, how badly he wants you and exactly what he wants to do to you. When neither of you could take it anymore, you stumbled back to your home and barely made it through the door before your clothes were off, already mingled in a heated embrace. The bedroom seemed too far away in the moment so you both settled for the couch, making love on the love seat until your bodies gave out.

It feels like so long ago but you could never forget that night— in fact, it’s been all you can think about since. You remember the depth of every kiss, the tenderness of every touch as he took his time caressing your body, committing it to memory as if it would be his last time seeing it. You remember the hunger in his eyes once he was finished worshipping you, the softness switching to a predatory gaze that made it look like he wanted to devour you. And he did. There is no middle ground when it comes to you and Jimin in bed. You’re either making love or fucking. One or the other. Nothing in between. That night, although it might have started off soft, turned into one of the best fucks of your life, and Jimin agrees.

That night has been replaying in his head all day today, and no matter how hard he tries to focus, he can’t get the thought of you off of his mind. Today was rough, he practiced hard, stayed up all night studying for the exam he took today, and was just tired in general, but he finally made it home, stepping through the threshold of your shared off-campus house. Even though he knows you’re not home, he’s still a bit disappointed when he finds the house deserted. Your shoes weren’t in front of the door, your purse and bag weren’t laying in a heap on the kitchen counter, and the space around him was filled with unsettling silence. With a huff, Jimin kicks off his shoes and ventures deeper into your home, holding onto the small shred of hope that you somehow had come home before him and were currently in your bedroom waiting to welcome him.

But much to his dismay, your bedroom was empty. And loneliness crept into his heart.

You had once teased Jimin about his need for attention, laughed at how much he beamed at every compliment, constantly looking for approval, but you never once hesitate to feed into his desires for praise. That was your job as a loving girlfriend. But everyone else, however, is not his girlfriend and he knows that they won’t entertain his neediness unless he does something significant that shows he truly deserves it. Well, right now Jimin feels like he deserves some attention. As he walks through the room to your bed, he winces at his sore muscles and creaking joints, tired from the hours of practice he’s just gone through. This season he’s been working double time and playing harder than ever to be successful and lead his teammates like the great captain he is. It’s no wonder he’s so sore, his back must hurt from carrying his team the entire year. But it’s not like he’s frustrated by that fact, he takes pride in being the best player on his team, he just craves to be acknowledged, at the very least.

His coaches and teammates never congratulate him, never comment on how much harder he works than everyone else, and quite frankly, it’s starting to piss him off. You are the only person who ever feeds into his praise kink. You always know just what to say, reminding him that he’s amazing at what he does and that his team is lucky to have him. You are the only one who gets it. And as he falls face first onto your side of the bed, just the scent of you is enough to calm him down a little.

A small smile graces his lips when he remembers the time he plopped onto your side of the bed one day, only to encounter a hard mass instead of the plush surface of the mattress he was expecting.

“Ow! Jimin, you’re crushing me.” You had mumbled from beneath the sheets. He didn’t see you hidden under the cover of the dark room, taking a nap peacefully while waiting for him to return home. He remembers fondly how he showered you with kisses in apology, eventually finding your lips and ending your night in a sweaty mess between the sheets.

Fuck, he really needs you right now. Jimin feels a vein in his forehead throb from the headache that’s plagued him all week. Usually you would run your hands through his hair gently whenever he was in this condition, telling him random anecdotes about your day to take his mind off of the stress. He can’t help but wish you would just come home already.

Burying his face into your pillow, Jimin inhales deeply and his body automatically relaxes, but the relief is short lived because he reaches out for you only to find the cold, empty bedding surrounding him. By this point, your absence is becoming irritating and he can feel his patience running low and sense his frustration bulging against the crotch of his pants. Damn it. Sitting up from his spot, he tries to calm himself. Is he really getting hard right now? It’s shocking to him that just the thought and smell of you can make him this horny. But he can’t afford for that to happen, not when you’re not home. He stands slowly, making his way to his desk chair to sit in front of his laptop. Gaming should take his mind off of you for a while, right? It’s never failed him before.

Opening his laptop, Jimin browses through his games, but nothing captures his attention or interest at the moment, even when he sees that his friends Jungkook and Seokjin are online. After almost a half an hour of scrolling through social media, texting you, and trying to find anything to distract himself, Jimin gives up, and with his surrender emerges that tireless voice from the back of his mind that appears every time he is alone and bored. There’s only a moment’s hesitation on his part before he clicks the browser on his laptop and types, finding himself on the homepage of his favorite porn site. Thumbnails of erotic videos present themselves to him immediately, along with a section of recommended videos based on his search history, even though he hasn’t been here in a while. Through the selection of thousands of videos, nothing really appeals to him, a few catching his eye because of the actress’ resemblance to you, but the women were always with another man and he refused to even imagine you with anyone but him.

He’s even more frustrated now, dick half hard and waiting, but Jimin is far too picky to be satisfied with just any old video. Oh, here’s one! A blowjob with the faces cropped out, just a view of all the juicy action, and it’s enough to get him to grow a bit, so he accepts it, pants unzipped and circling his ankles by the time he clicks play, hand already tugging at his length and his dignity thrown into an empty drawer.

Today was a rough day. Back to back exams and strict professors were enough to put you in a mood, but your favorite food place on campus closing right before you reached its doors was what sent you over the edge. Plus the whiny texts you’d received from your boyfriend. Your needy boyfriend, who you’d promised cuddles and kisses as soon as you returned home. You told him that you were on your way back less than 10 minutes ago, but he hasn’t responded yet, something you don’t dwell on long as you rush to your home with the prickling need to shower, slip into your pajamas, and watch the next episode of the newest hit drama over your plate of leftovers.

What you don’t expect when you enter your home is to find it so quiet. You thought for sure that Jimin would be watching tv or making something for himself in the kitchen like usual. Whatever, maybe he’s taking a nap in your room. You take your sweet time in the kitchen, pulling out a container of the food you made a couple days ago, thinking a few minutes before throwing all of its contents onto a pan and stuffing it in the oven because you have a feeling Jimin hasn’t eaten yet, pulling out plates and utensils until you finally make your way toward the bedroom. Initially, the plan was to strip out of your clothes and throw on some sweats— your shower could wait until after you’ve eaten— but those plans come to a halt as soon as you open the door.

Your wide eyes adjust to the dimly lit room fairly quickly, the laptop sitting open on the desk illuminating your slightly sweaty boyfriend and his hand that pumps steadily at his cock. He’s bare from the waist down, his shirt tucked under his chin as he reclines to see the screen. You see the way he flexes his abs every time he twists around his head, bucking up a little, and God, you haven’t seen anything that hot in a long while.

He doesn’t notice you at first, focused intently on the woman deep-throating the man on screen until she drools down her chin, and you have the opportunity to creep forward, knowing he can’t hear you with his noise-cancelling gamer headphones coving his ears. You’re almost at his side when he shuts his eyes and lets out a groan, slowing his pace and biting his lip with an expression you would interpret as pained, squeezing himself with a huff before speeding up.

“(Y/n), please,” He almost whispers, and you start to understand the situation a little better. He can’t quite get himself over the edge, too tense and too eager to let go. Without thinking, you reach for him, your hand wrapping around his own delicately.

“Need help, baby?” Jimin almost leaps out of the chair, snapping his eyes to your face in a look of terror that makes you laugh. He relaxes when he realizes its you, though he is a bit embarrassed that you caught him.

“Babe, I-“

You hush him as you position yourself between his legs, taking over the movement of his hand until he lets go and sinks back into his seat. He moves his headphones to rest around his neck and reaches to stop the video, but you grab his arm before he can do so. “Leave it on.” You watch his throat bob, an excited look glazing his eyes as your tongue slithers out to lick the bead of liquid at his tip. Flicking over the slit a few times, you trace your tongue along the sides of him, loving how hot he feels.

You go straight to work once you sink down on him, starting halfway down his length and bobbing at the same pace his hand was moving earlier. Jimin moans immediately, eyes locked on you as you swallow more of his cock, one hand on what you can’t fit and the other lightly massaging his balls. His hands move to shift your hair away from your face, pulling it to the back of your head in a messy ponytail, and you pull off of him quickly to assist, using the hair tie around your wrist for his convenience. He can barely see you as you sit under the shadows of his desk, but you yank off your shirt anyway and toss it aside. What he can see is the suave grin plastered to your lips and the seductive look in your eyes when you grab him again.

“What’s the girl in the video doing? Guide me.” You can tell he’s almost forgotten about the video because of the way he snaps his head back up to the screen. His legs tense when you push him into your throat, his hands returning to your head to guide you up and down. You let him push you down a little farther, loving how his girth sets in your jaw uncomfortably and makes you drool down your lips and chin.

Jimin moans as his eyes flicker back and forth between the bright screen and your shadowed face, doing his best to help match your movements with the video. When he pulls you up for air, you suck on his tip with your wet lips, gliding over it repeatedly and making his thighs tremble on either side of your head until he hisses.

“Mm, you’re so good at this. Can I..?” His fingers weave firmly in your roots and you know exactly what this means, humming a response and waiting for him with an open mouth. Distantly, you can hear the woman’s erotic gagging coming from Jimin’s forgotten headphones. He pulls you down cautiously before lifting his hips from his seat, sliding easily until his head hits the back of your throat. You don’t gag, though your stomach quivers a little, and his next thrusts are less wary, keeping the pace just quick enough to have him panting. Locking your hands behind your back, you give him full control as he pulls you deeper, his jerking hips struggling to keep rhythm as tears spring to your eyes. But you take him gratefully. Your panties stick to you more when his moans get breathier, and he holds your head in place so he can buck into you deeper, his length slipping down your throat and making you choke hard. The sound you make is obscene, but it’s worth it when he looks so damn good, mouth ajar and eyes screwed shut as he nears the edge.

At the first twitch of his member, he yanks you away, whimpering at the loss and squeezing himself at the base with shaky fingers. You’re confused when you look up at his sweaty form and ask, “What are you doing?”

He sighs through his nose, untangling his other hand from your hair to run through his own. “I can’t cum yet.” A small gasp leaves him at the feel of your tongue on his scrotum, sucking one of the soft sacks into your mouth while giving him the most innocent look you can muster when his length flexes just an inch from your face. “I- I want you to feel good, too. Come here.” Jimin’s fingers delicately hold your chin to lead you up and onto his lap, your pants and underwear discarded on the ascent. Next to go is your bra, and Jimin takes this time to remove his own shirt and the headphones around his neck, your bodies naked and hot and dripping with lust.

“You don’t have to worry about me, clearly you need this more than I do.” You mumble, lips already closing in on his. Your mouth tastes like him as he slips his tongue past your lips and wraps his arms around you, holding you firm against him. One of his hands slips between your bodies to cup your core, the jump of your hips blowing your cover, and you can feel his smile against you.

“Really? You seem pretty needy too, baby.” He grazes your clit with the pads of his fingers just to watch you chew your lip, eyes falling closed in the dimness.

“N-no, I’m fine.” You begin to fidget when his fingers remain soft, and only then does he press into you in earnest, circling the bud just the way you like, burning arousal leaking onto the digits.

He chuckles. “Oh yeah? So you’d be okay if I didn’t fuck you?”

“Yes.” You lie. “But I’ll let you do it anyway since you’re so... mmm... hard right now.” Your mouth moves on its own as you speak, trying to tease him, but it looks like it’s working against you.

“And you wouldn’t need to take care of yourself later because you’re not horny at all, is that right?” He’s breathless, too, at the way you rock against his hand, your arms resting around his shoulders to hold yourself steady.

“Yup.” You strain your answer as his lips and teeth begin to nip at your neck and collarbones, kissing down until one of your nipples is in his mouth and you finally groan. “Minnie~”

“Hmm?” His eyes dance with friskiness. Even if he was on the verge of cumming, he still had the power to make you desperate. Your head rolls back to arch your chest further into him, and you can feel your heart hammering against it when 2 of his plump fingers slip into you. Working you up has always been Jimin’s specialty, but today your patience has run thin with the aching desire to have him deep inside you and you’d really rather skip the second half of foreplay.

Taking matters into your own hands quite literally, you start to stroke him as you lean in to nibble on his earlobe. “Baby, put your cock in me.” You whine, carding your hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers but stays resistant.

“Well, since you don’t need me to fuck you, I was just thinking about how nice it would be to finish in that pretty mouth of yours.” His free hand comes up to thumb your lips, pushing it into your open mouth for you to suck, which you do simply out of habit.

“It woul’ peel nicer if you phinished in my puthy.” The words lisp with his digit pressed to your tongue and you stare at each other for a split second before bursting into giggles.

“What was that?” He laughs, some of the tension breaking with your silliness. You love how you can laugh with your boyfriend during sex. Instead of ruining the mood, it feels like you get closer to him, both of you so comfortable with each other that there’s never any awkwardness in moments like these.

“I said, it would feel nicer if you finished in my pussy.” You clarify when he pulls his thumb from your mouth.

“For you or for me?”

“For you.”

The tsk of his tongue is harsh on your ears like broken glass. One of his shapely eyebrows curves upwards in faux irritation, the hand between your legs skidding to a halt with his palm smashed against your clit. “Still so stubborn, babygirl?” He looks you over with dark eyes, the light of the screen behind you casting dangerous angles on his face. By now your hand on him has also come to a stop, but you can feel just how swollen and hot his is, stiff enough to curb his usual generosity, but also enough to take away the assertive edge you expect his voice to be laced with. “On your knees.”

“Nonono, wait, I was kidding!” You gasp in an outburst, resisting his insistent hands that attempt to push you off of his lap. “I want you, Jimin, let me take care of you. We both need this.” You hold onto him by his handle, tightening your grip and effectively derailing his train of thought. He says nothing further and you reposition yourself above him, looking down into his chocolate eyes as they soften.

You glide his tip gently along your slick folds, enjoying how it brushes your clit and makes you impossibly more wet. It certainly has been a while, you don’t remember the last time you responded to him this well.

“Please don’t tease me,” He breathes, voice barely above a whisper, and you glance up to catch him looking at you with a pleading stare, plump lip caught between his abusive teeth.

You cave in instantly, guiding his tip to finally nudge against your entrance. Leaning forward, you steal a kiss, letting him lick into your mouth, his tongue caressing your own as you slowly slide down his wide length. You suck in a long inhale throughout your lengthy descent, addicted to the feeling of him filling you up. Filling up the hole inside of you made just for him. God, you missed this; and you tell him these words in the small space between your lips.

Jimin’s hands skim up your back, then trail down the lines of your sides, waist, and hips indecisively before settling on your ass, pulling you closer to help you take that last extra inch. When he’s buried to the hilt, you both sigh deeply, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He releases your lips to lean his forehead against your shoulder, fingers squeezing your bottom tightly as he fights to control the emotions bubbling inside him. It feels like it’s been forever since he was last this close to you, connected to you like this, and it’s almost overwhelming, especially when he’s this sensitive. His cock feels like a comfortable heaviness in the pit of your stomach, your shared warmth heating your passion like a furnace, and you have to anchor yourself around his neck so it doesn’t burn you alive.

Your grip around his hair and around his member are like a vice, keeping him grounded and sane, all of his stress and frustration being sucked out of him and replaced by raging lust for you. You rock your hips experimentally, sparks of pleasure shooting through your bodies.

“Fuck, babe, please move. I can’t take it anymore.” Jimin whines, digging his fingers into your flesh. You swivel your hips as you adjust yourself, smirking down at your boyfriend who is in shambles beneath you.

“Fast or slow?” The seduction dripping from your voice makes him throb and he can barely groan out an answer.

“Ride me fast, (Y/n). Make me cum.” He commands, a hint of dominance tracing his demeanor, and you gladly oblige his request.

With feet hooked around the tops of his thighs to support your bent legs, you use your thigh strength to lift yourself up until just his tip is sheathed within you. Then you drop yourself down completely, impaling yourself on his hard cock and knocking the air from both of your lungs. You brace your hands on his shoulders for stability as you set a quick pace— as fast as your legs can take you— and it’s almost as if you have ignited a hunger inside you that singes your nerves.

“Oh shit,” Jimin whispers, throwing his head back at the return of that special tightness in his belly. You have always been good at riding him, but he never gets used to it. Your own mouth hangs at the catch of his burning red tip prodding all the best places within you, his moans restoring your strength and stamina as they increase in volume.

The chair beneath you squeaks desperately, groaning from your combined weight and movement, but you pay no attention as you focus your energy on making Jimin see stars, clenching purposefully just to hear him gasp and watch his eyes roll back. His fingertips dimple the flesh of your ass, pulling you down on him harshly until his cock is rammed as deep as it can go, only to lift you with ease and reveal the pearly cocktail gathering between you on the base of his shaft. He peeks his eyes open to look at you, transfixed by your bouncing breasts and the shiny quality of your neck, an urge to lick a stripe up the skin overcoming him and gifting you with the sensation of his tongue tracing a ragged line from chest to chin, tiny mountains prickling the skin in pursuit.

“Fuck, I’m close,” He grunts as he brings you forward until you’re leaning over him. Your head hangs over his shoulder and your legs drop back down to the floor, having unraveled with your new shift in weight, and Jimin just keeps sinking lower and lower in his seat with every bounce of your hips. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, whimpering praises and forcing you to go faster with his hands. But your muscles are already starting to fatigue and your legs begin to tingle with pleasure. “Where do you want me, baby?” It’s through the grit of his teeth that he strains this, veins pressing through his skin and sweat gluing your chests together, and you can only think of one answer.

“Inside me, Minnie-“ Before you can even finish the last syllable, his hips snap up into you, the strong muscles in his arms working to hold you above him so he can fuck you relentlessly from underneath. You feel his teeth sink into your shoulder, his breath held tight in his chest as he focuses on reaching that long awaited orgasm, and it’s all you can do to moan and encourage him with your fingers twisted in his scalp. There’ll be bruises on your ass for sure from how he lifts you and from the rapid fire smacks it receives from every thrust. Feet planted, arms tense, you know your boyfriend is ready to crumble.

“Tell me you want it.” He muffles into your skin, voice shaking with effort.

“I want it, baby. Want you!” He huffs at this, stuttering out of rhythm as he brings your body down to meet his, hitting you in a spot that makes you go blind with pleasure for a second. You’ve always known him to be a slut for praise and validation, and this time is no different, your words being the drop that breaks the dam, frenzied moans pouring from him with his last few thrusts, your hips slamming down to cement him inside you while his whole body twitches and rolls. This is the hardest you’ve seen him cum in a long time and you want to pull back and watch the beautiful expression painted all over his face, but he’s busy sculpting indentations of his teeth in the crook of your neck. His hands slide up your back as he begins to calm down, though you can still feel him throbbing inside you. Your walls clench at the feeling, close to their own peak, and it’s then that Jimin removes his mouth from you, collapsing back on the unsteady chair and looking up at you with the most content and satiated look you could imagine. As if he had been suffering a great pain and it had finally been relieved.

You watch him with joy at the sight of his relief, but he can still see the lust and need swimming in your eyes. Not wasting a second, he stands and turns you so that you are now the one in the seat, it’s leather sticking to your skin from his damp adhesive. Jimin lowers himself between your legs, the long forgotten laptop behind him illuminating you as his eyes feast on the sight of your glistening core. His cum hasn’t started leaking yet, but your own wetness stains your lips regardless.

It’s almost a surprise when you’re met with his tongue, half expecting that he’d just use his fingers to avoid tasting his own mess, but Jimin dives in eagerly with his long tongue, sucking your swollen clit between his lips skillfully. You clench at the feeling, returning your hands to his hair, and the rhythmic pulse of your walls pushes out his seed to seep slowly down your lips. He licks it up easily, groaning against you at the combined taste, and honestly, seeing him close his eyes in bliss as he tastes his own cum in you is probably your new favorite thing. Unable to stop yourself, you begin to rock your hips against him, whining and cursing as you near your edge. The feeling of him dipping his long pink muscle into your leaking cavern is what sends you into your orgasm, and he gratefully cleans up everything you have to offer, swirling his tongue a few more times just to watch you jump from sensitivity before pressing kisses along your inner thighs, all the way up until he reaches you lips.

You kiss like that for an unspecified amount of time, you were so lost in his talented mouth that you have no idea how much time has passed. It could have been seconds, it might have been minutes. You couldn’t care less. When Jimin finally pulls away for air, you loop your arms around his neck, your body lifting with his as he stands to his full height. He closes the porn site that is still displaying the white replay button to the video that now seems repulsive to him. Post-nut clarity at its finest. Once he walks you both to the bed (your legs just drag lazily as he pulls you along), you plop down and simultaneously sigh.

“I needed that, thank you.” He whispers, though you doubt it’s from sleepiness.

“I needed it, too, little vampire. I’m glad I came home to that.” You giggle, the stress of the day effectively replaced by the pleasant buzz of your lingering high.

“Little vampire?” This time you’re giggling from the lift of Jimin’s eyebrow, completely unaware that he has marked you with his teeth. You turn your head to give him a view of it, and he gasps, apologizing profusely with kisses to the darkening bruise.

“Minnie?” You say when it’s quiet again. He hums. “If this whole school thing doesn’t work out, let’s become a cam couple, okay?”

“What?” Not expecting you to ever say anything like that, he is rightfully appalled.

“I’m pretty sure I failed both my exams today, so I’m preparing my plan B for when I get kicked out of school. Plus, I know for a fact that I can give better blowjobs than the girl on that video you were watching, so we’d probably do really well. I hear pornstars make a lot of money.” One look at you and he knows you’re completely serious, which makes the situation that much funnier. You stare at him with a goofy smile as he laughs, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

“You’re not going to fail out of school, silly.” He says between chuckles. You shrug. “Don’t talk like that, you have a brilliant mind and you’re one of the most determined people I know. You’ll succeed for sure.”

“I know, I’m just a bit overwhelmed at the moment. This did help, though.” You look down at your naked bodies for emphasis, cuddling comfortably into him.

“I feel exactly the same way. How about we spend the rest of the night de-stressing. We can eat dinner, take a long bath, have a movie-“

“Dinner!” You gasp, only just realizing that you left your leftovers in the oven before Jimin... distracted you. You hop up and run to the kitchen still buck ass naked, and he follows, rounding the corner to see you pulling out an undistinguishable lump of charcoal from the oven. You look absolutely defeated.

“Well, I guess we’re ordering in tonight.” He stifles a laugh when you pout, dressed in nothing but your mint oven mitts and a frown.

So he orders something greasy and unhealthy, and you spend the night wrapped in each other’s arms binge watching addictive shows and cuddling, erasing the world until it’s just you two in your own bubble inside your shared apartment. And it’s better stress relief than anything you could imagine.

#Jimin smut #jimin scenario #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #bts smut

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sephirothisaslut · 4 years

Text

I’m not fond of goodbyes... See you later?

The first time Cloud met the General was on an errand for Zack.

It was Sunday, and Zack had gotten drunk the day before. How he got drunk in the first place is a mystery, but Cloud suspects it’s just an excuse to sleep in. Zack sent him a rather long message via PHS apologizing to Cloud for the inconvenience, telling him to go to his mentor (Angeal) and explain Zack’s absence.

Rather annoyed with his friend, Cloud resorted with scolding him over the phone.

“Why can’t you text him? Do I really have to say it in-person? “

“Sorry Spiky but we were supposed to train today, and Angeal doesn’t allow phones in the training room.” Zack sounded sheepish. “look I’ll make it up to you. How about some Ice-cream? My treat!”

“Ugh, Zack you’re lucky I’m awake anyway. You know this is the only day Cadets can sleep in.”

“Yeah yeah, Thanks a lot Spike!”

“I hate you” Cloud said, hanging-up.

He gathered his bearings, woke himself properly and got dressed for the day.

Cloud made his way through the building and entered the elevator, pressing the SOLDIER floor. The building was rather quiet, save for the occasional pencil pusher. Seems like everyone slept in today, of course except Cloud. Grumbling at his predicament, Cloud exited the elevator and headed to the First-Class Training Room. He knocked and entered as the door slid open.

As he stepped inside, he froze. There in the middle of the room was the Silver General himself, arms crossed and clad in his usual attire. He lifted one eye-brow and spoke.

“What are you doing here Cadet?”, Sephiroth said with a snap.

“Se-Sir! Zack asked me to tell the Commander about his absence Sir!” Cloud replied in a salute.

“At ease Cadet. It seems that both of us are hear for the same reason.” Sephiroth explained with a smirk. “Angeal sent me to inform Zackary of his absence.”

“Sir?”

“Tell Zack that training is postponed today, Angeal was sent on a mission along with Genesis last night.”

“Ye-yes Sir!” Cloud said, still stiff and dazed.

“Cadet I told you ‘at-ease’, and today is Saturday is it not? You’re not on duty.”

“yes si- I mean yeah.” Cloud uttered while rubbing his neck, “Sooo, I should leave then…”

Sephiroth merely raised an eyebrow again and smirked, looking very amused.

“Yeah ok, um, see you later” Cloud said as he left, then tensed as he realized what he just said to ‘the fucking General.’

“Hmm, see you later Cadet” Sephiroth replied as he went through the door, leaving Cloud in an empty training room.

“Ughh Zack why do I have to go” Cloud grumbled, “I’m a Cadet, I’m not supposed to be hanging-out with SOLDIERS, much less the Gods-damned Top Three of Shinra!”

“Oh come one Spike, you’ll be fine. And besides you already met Angeal and Sephiroth that one time, and Genesis will probs be ok with you, so long as you don’t insult Loveless.” Zack said while dragging Cloud toward the SOLDIER Housing section.

“You could’ve at least told me earlier so I could’ve made some more Mashed Potatoes.” Cloud gestured to the container he was holding.

“Shush, stop being a worry wart and relax. Come on!” Zack sprinted as Cloud chuckled and jogged behind him.

It was a fairly warm evening, Angeal welcomed the two boys, and Thanked Cloud for his Mashed Potatoes ( to which Cloud responded with a stuttered “yo-Your welcome…”). Genesis was lounging on the couch reading Loveless, while across him was Sephiroth scanning Angeal’s CD collection for a suitable movie.

Noticing Cloud’s gaze, Sephiroth looked up and met his eyes.

“Ah it’s the Cadet, I assume you’re here with Zackary?”

“Yes Si-“

“I believe it’s Saturday, ease-up Cadet” Sephiroth said, referencing their first meeting.

“I-…Yes”

“Sephiroth don’t be a hypocrite, how can the boy relax if you keep calling him cadet?” Genesis chided, lowering his book to tease his friend.

“Hmmm, True. So Cadet, what’s your name?” Sephiroth asked, turning to Cloud.

“uh-Cloud Si-, I mean Cloud…Cloud Strife” Cloud stuttered with a slight blush.

“Cloud? Very unusual name.”

“Look who’s talking” Cloud whispered under his breath, turning to head to the kitchen to offer help to Angeal.

“Touché”

Cloud winced, he forgot about enhanced hearing. He looked over his shoulder to see if he’s offended the General somehow, and relaxed when he saw Sephiroth had returned his focus to the CD Collection.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he left to make sure Zack hadn’t burned whatever dish Angeal has tasked him to supervise.

After preparations and several dishes, the group settled in front of the TV and started their little movie marathon. Genesis sat beside Angeal, slightly leaning on the gentle giant. Zack was seated between Angeal and Cloud, while Sephiroth settled at Cloud’s other side.

A movie in and Cloud tried not the squirm, and he seems successful. He tried focusing on the movie and not the fact that he’s sitting next to Sephiroth. He peeked at the General and blushed as he met Sephiroth’s eyes.

“So, Strife. I take it training is hard?” Sephiroth asked with a small smirk.

“Yes si-…yeah, yeah it is.”

“Hmm, who is your drill sergeant?” Sephiroth asked with curiosity.

“Sir Ghi, he’s tough on us.”

“Why is that? I heard from the Thirds that he was a relatively moderate instructor”

“Ah, it might have something to do with Bunker 4” Cloud explained with a chuckle.

“Oh? What did they do?” Sephiroth leaned closer, now obviously invested in the story.

Cloud, now noticing that their shoulders are touching, was flustered.

“Th-they didn’t do anything” Cloud squeaked, “They started a rumor that apparently Sir Ghi had once tripped during a fight with a Zolom.”

Sephiroth merely continued looking at Cloud, his smirk now a smile.

“They said he face planted in the mud and had to call for reinforcements to help him.” Cloud continued, now a little relaxed.

“It’s true” Sephiroth laughed.

“No shit!?” Cloud blurted, surprised. “I-I mean, really?”

“Yes, I was the ‘reinforcement’ that was called. It was quite messy, he never accepted missions on Swamplands after that.”

“Oh Gods, I gotta share this with the rest of the guys.”

“It’s better if you don’t, I imagine once the story spreads, Sir Ghi will make your training regime much more painful.” Sephiroth said, turning back to the movie.

“Hmm, true.” Cloud hummed as he returned to the movie.

“Oh and Cloud?” Sephiroth said without looking

“yes sir?”

“Call me Sephiroth”

Cloud looked at him, shocked. He gaped, then slowly closed his mouth and turned back to face the TV.

“Sure…Sephiroth” Cloud said, leaning slightly on the General.

Cloud didn’t see but a satisfied and happy smile graced Sephiroth’s lip.

After 3 more movies and several snacks and meals, everyone agreed to call it a night. Genesis left for his apartment, Angeal and Cloud stood and left to wash the plates, Zack headed to the bathroom, and Sephiroth volunteered to fix the living room. Cloud emerged from the kitchen and Zack from the bathroom. Everyone said their goodnights, and farewells.

“Hey Angeal, we’re heading out now!” Zack yelled toward the kitchen

“Goodnight Zack” Angeal voice emerged with the sound of running water.

“Night Seph!” Zack addressed the General. To which Sephiroth responded with a nod.

“See you later Cloud” Sephiroth smiled as he passed the two.

“See you later, Sephiroth” Cloud responded with his own smile.

It had been months since Genesis defected, and weeks since Angeal had too. Zack and Sephiroth were saddled with the duties two Commanders with their normal workload. Adding to the stress, the President has tasked Sephiroth with bringing Genesis, and Angeal back.

Before he was to be deployed, Sephiroth called Cloud.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be out, but it will most likely take a few days. Three at least” Sephiroth explained.

“Hey it’s ok, I’ll be fine. Just stay safe yeah? Come back soon, and drag Genesis and Angeal back with you.” Cloud responded soothingly.

“I intend to, but I suppose I can’t blame them”

“…” “Sephiroth?”

“Yes?”

“Do you sometimes think about it?”

“About what?”

“Defecting” Cloud whispered, but then hurriedly supplied, “I-I mean I know Shinra doesn’t exactly have a safe environment, and I know their ethics are-“

“Cloud” Sephiroth’s voice cut through Cloud’s rambling.

“So-sorry I was just-“

“Cloud, I would never leave you.” Sephiroth said as both a reprimand and a promise. “You’re too important to me for that”

“o-oh”

“Cloud I love you”

“I love you too…I’m sorry I guess I’m just depressed from failing the SOLDIER exam and…”

“SOLDIER or not I still love you”

“…thank you, Seph.”

“Anyway, the transport is here…See you later?”

“hmm, yeah. See you later Seph”

Sephiroth snapped his PHS close, and turned sharply toward the chopper. He was determined to bring his friends back. And he was determined to return them even if he had to drag them by the ear, he had made a promise after all.

Cloud fought. And he intends to survive. He survived two Sephiroth clones, and Geostigma. He can survive this.

Several years since he had found himself atop the cliffs. Since he impersonated Zack. Since he lost his memories, and still missing a bulk mostly from his time in Shinra. He fought, and struggled. He held his ground as Sephiroth, the Calamity’s child, threw half the city at him. Cloud glided, jumped and dodged. He parried and slashed, hoping that this would be the last time he had to face this monster.

Cloud didn’t understand Sephiroth’s obsession with him. Perhaps it the Jenova cells, but there were times when Sephiroth’s gaze bore through him and saw something more than a puppet. Nevertheless, he still fought. Their blades met and sparked. Cloud cornered Sephiroth, finally using his Limit Break. First Tsurugi glowed and each individual sword floated and surrounded the World’s Enemy. Every strike hit his adversary where he intended.

Cloud landed, his blades followed, surrounding him. Sephiroth rose, his wing outstretched. And then…He fell.

Cloud rushed toward him, intending to finish the job. He stood beside the One-Winged Angel, and saw-for the very first time- his face devoid of insanity and madness.

Cloud was shocked. He looked closely at the monster he had been chasing and fighting, and saw only a man. Sephiroth looked at him, smiling with broken eyes. He didn’t sneer, he just smiled sadly. He spoke in a rough, scratchy voice.

“I’m sorry Cloud…I…I’m sorry” The man said, staring into Cloud’s eyes.

“Shut up Sephiroth! You have no right to ask for forgiveness” Cloud replied with a fierceness that made Sephiroth wince.

“I know…But even so, I still would like to try” Sephiroth pleaded, his eyes now looking at the grey, empty sky.

“After everything you did to the planet? To the world? Sorry isn’t going to cut it.” Cloud glared. How dare Sephiroth of all people.

“I’m not asking the planet’s forgiveness…I’m asking for yours”

“what?”

“I’m sorry I left Cloud. I’m sorry I believed Hojo over you and Zack. I’m sorry I broke my promise.”

“what are you- “

Cloud winced; his hand shot to his head. He’s seeing visions… memories? He doesn’t know. It feels different from Jenova. There was no pain, only surprise and confusion. What are these? Are these his or Zacks? No, it’s definitely Cloud’s. Then why…no…

“No…No..nonono” Cloud crashed to his knees, clasping Sephiroth’s hand.

“Cloud?”

“no no Seph please This can’t- .. You can’t” He gasped, still dazed from his recent memory rush. He pleaded and begged as Sephiroth slowly disappeared in flecks of black feathers and miasma.

“Cloud…”

“don’t..just not-“

“Cloud…I’m not fond of goodbyes…”

‘See you later?’

Cloud returned Sephiroth’s broken gaze. He squeezed his hand tighter, afraid to let go.

“You can’t-” He whispered as the hand he held turned into a single black feather. He bowed down, unmoving for minutes.

And at the very last second, Sephiroth finally broke Cloud.

Cloud woke up. His vision swam as his eyes focused on the Cadet barracks’ ceiling. His PHS was ringing. It was Zack.

“Why can’t you text him? Do I really have to say it in-person? “

“Sorry Spiky but we were supposed to train today, and Angeal doesn’t allow phones in the training room.” Zack replied sheepishly. “look I’ll make it up to you. How about some Ice-cream? My treat!”

“Ugh, Zack you’re lucky I’m awake anyway. You know this is the only day Cadets can sleep in.”

“Yeah yeah, Thanks a lot Spike!”

“I hate you” Cloud said, hanging-up.

Cloud stood and rose from his bed. It has been months since he was sent back, and this was the moment he had prepared for. After several minutes he was dressed. He applied his contact lenses (being sent back with his enhancements, meant that he had eyes that glowed like headlights). He headed to the elevator and pressed the button for the SOLDIER Floor. And just like last time, the building was quiet. He slowly walked toward the First-Class Training room, his knuckles hovering over the door. He breathed in, and out…Then, he knocked.

The door opened to reveal the Silver General. His back was turned, arms crossed. Cloud allowed himself to drink-in the sight. He was just as he remembered.

Sephiroth turned, his eyebrow rose.

“What are you doing here Cadet?”, Sephiroth said with a snap.

“Sir! Zack asked me to tell the Commander about his absence Sir!” Cloud replied in a salute.

“At ease Cadet. It seems that both of us are hear for the same reason.” Sephiroth explained with a smirk. “Angeal sent me to inform Zackary of his absence.”

“…” Cloud said nothing. He refused to.

“Tell Zack that training is postponed today, Angeal was sent on a mission along with Genesis last night.”

“Yes Sir!” Cloud replied

“Cadet I told you ‘at-ease’, and today is Saturday is it not? You’re not on duty.”

“Sir, even so, you are still my superior” Cloud strained to keep his voice from cracking.

Sephiroth merely raised an eyebrow again.

“I shall take my leave then Sir.” Cloud saluted and turned, “Goodbye…Sephiroth” he whispered, knowing this time, Sephiroth can hear him.

Perhaps he had been selfish. Waiting months before enacting his plan. Just to say goodbye.

He never looked back. He didn’t dare to. After rounding a corner…he fled. He ran from the tower. He ran from his old life. He ran and never looked back.

A year later, Sephiroth was sent to return Genesis and Angeal…He never came back.

A few months after Shinra’s General went AWOL, Avalanche had managed to kill the President. A gaping hole was left on the President’s chest, a single strike from Masamune. Meanwhile, Hollander remained slumped on his chair, a pool of blood under him. A blond man standing over him.

Several more months following President Shinra’s death, it rained in Midgar. Genesis’ and Angeal’s degradation cured, and Jenova was thrown into a pool of Great Gospel’s water. Sephiroth kills Hojo, and burns his corpse to ashes.

#sefikura #time travel #sephiroth #cloud #tragedy #fanfic #final fantasy #ff7 #ff7cloud #ff7 remake #im sad yall #no regrets #sephiroth x cloud

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korra-the-red-lion · 3 years

Text

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 23: And So It Went

Hey everyone, this is the last chapter of the first series! I do have plans for a sequel in the works, however! Thank you for anyone who has read it this far!

(Ally)

Surprisingly, I didn’t fail all my exams.

Actually, I did pretty well on most of them. I somehow passed Drama with a good mark. The sub who took over was pretty chill during the exam and let us bring all of our notes. My other exams weren’t too bad either. All and all, a pretty successful end to term.

I was just about finished with my packing when I got a text from Lyn. Sarah had already gone home, since her last exam had been two days ago. I took one last look around the room before heading out. I could finish packing later.

The weather outside actually wasn’t terrible today. It was a pleasant sunny day with barely any wind chill. I tucked my chin into the top of my coat as I walked across the campus to meet up with my girlfriend. A happy tingle went through my body as thought about that. It was a little silly to still get excited about the thought, but hey, why not be happy?

Lyn stood in the archway that connected Harper and the library together. She was leaning against the wall when I got there, scrolling through her phone. The bandage was off her face now, only faint lines to show where she had been cut. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and she gave me a quick kiss.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you,” I said back.

“Ready to go?”

I nodded. She held her arm out and I looped mine through it. Together we walked over to the big tree in the middle of campus, where Michael was waiting for us. His plane left tonight but he wanted to be here for it. He waved when he saw us, and he laughed when Lyn held her other arm out with a smirk. He wasted no time on grabbing a hold of it, Lyn laughing along with him as he did.

I knew Dahlia was intrigued by what we were doing as we walked together down the path to where the Swan Pond was. I waved to her with my free hand, and she ended up trailing after us, curiosity bright in her eyes.

When we got there, we all untangled from one another and got to work. Dahlia sat on the bridge nearby and watched as we cleaned away snow and ice from a spot under one of the trees that hung over the pond. After all the snow was gone, Lyn put down a bundle of flowers. Michael tucked a stone with a beautiful design cut into it in front of the roots, making sure it was secured. I hung one of our old amulets over the stone and gently nailed a wooden plaque onto the tree. We stepped away and admired our work.

Here Lies The Forgotten Students

We remember who you are, and what you did for us. We know that society failed you when they stopped asking questions. No one should have given up on any of you. To David, we know your story. To Amelia, we know your truth. To Jamieson, we know your tale. To Fiona, we know your reality. To Fredrik, we know your narrative. We’re sorry that it took this long before someone finally learned what happened to you all, but at least you can rest easy now, knowing that the person who did this to you has met his justice. All we can hope for you now is that your next chance at life is better than this one was.

With all our love,

Spook Searchers.

“We really need a better name,” muttered Lyn.

“Hey, we’ve been through too much for us to change it now,” said Michael with a waggle of his fingers. “That would be like, sacrilegious.”

“Besides, it’s a fun name. It hides away all the horrible truths and traumas that were inflicted on us,” I pointed out.

Lyn shrugged indifferently. “I just hope we never have to do something like this ever again. I need it scrubbed from my mind.” We both nodded in agreement.

Dahlia drifted over and knelt in front of our makeshift grave. I could see her mouthing the words as she read along. Her fingers ran over the names of the departed, her eyes sad. She dropped her hands and sat there quietly for several minutes without saying a word. When she looked back at me, she was smiling through her tears.

“This is quite lovely. I’m glad you all did something nice for them, they deserved it.”

I nodded at her. “Of course. And we intend to figure out who caused your death as well. We haven’t forgotten about you either.”

Dahlia’s eyes went wide before she looked away. I saw her brush away the tears from her face and nod slowly. “Thank you. It truly means a lot to me.”

We left her alone after that. I spared a look back as we left and saw her kneeling in front of the grave, her head down and hands clasped in prayer. We walked back to the library together and decided to get one last warm drink together. Lyn paid for all of us, even though we both argued against it. The lady behind the counter laughed as we both tried our best to push Lyn out of the way, which ended in absolutely failure.

“You can’t beat these gains,” Lyn said with a wink.

We sat down at the table in the back and looked out the window. I thought about what a crazy 3 months this has been. I couldn’t believe how so much had happened in such a short time. Not only solving all those murders but dealing with all the school crap on top of it all. I felt like I was the same person I was at the start, but more mature now. Someone who liked who she was, someone who liked that she wasn’t ordinary.

“You’re gonna have some crazy jetlag, you know,” Lyn said to Michael as she sipped her hot chocolate.

Michael sighed. “Yeah, probably for a day or so. It’s not like, a terrible flight but it’s bad enough. What are you doing for the holidays?”

I saw the twitch of Lyn’s eyes before she looked down at her drink. “I’m gonna stay with Olivia for the first bit of the break, but after Christmas I’m heading to Florida for training camp. I’ll be back like, 2 days before the new term. So, not the most relaxing break but it’ll be fun.”

Michael nodded as he looked at me. “What about you, Al?”

“Going home,” I said with a smile. “I’m going to sleep for the entire break. Maybe watch some movies and TV. But me and this brain deserve a big break.” I poked at my temple.

“Yes, it does!” Michael slapped his hand against the tabletop.

We chatted for a little while longer before Michael had to head back to grab his things. His buddy offered to drive him to the airport, but it was a bit before his flight. Still, better to wait in the airport than spend money on a taxi. Lyn gave him a hug and slap on the back. I gave him a big hug and kissed him on the cheek.

“Have a good flight, I’m going to miss you,” I said.

“It’s only for a few weeks,” he said with a smile. “Plus, you can always call me. You know where I am.”

I nodded as we embraced one last time. Michael waved to us as he walked backwards. I gasped when he tripped over his own feet and nearly landed on the casted arm. Luckily, he caught himself and shouted, “I’M OKAY!” before racing back to his room.

I chuckled to myself with a shake of my head. Michael was so chaotic at times. But that was something that I loved about him. He was authentic. I wasn’t lying when I said I would miss him. There was something calming about his presence. He was a good friend, and I was glad to have met him.

Lyn and I walked back to Lukas hand in hand. I noticed she was getting a bit of a far away look in her eyes again, so I squeezed her hand to bring her back. She blinked and looked down at me with a smile.

“Sorry,” she said with a shrug. “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

Lyn worked her jaw as she chewed on her thoughts before answering. “Lots of stuff, I guess. Training camp, Christmas with Liv, shit in general. It’s gonna be nice to have a break from it all. Then we’ve got the big championship meet to worry about when I get back. Just tryna make sure I’m organized because there’s a lot to remember.”

“It’s going to be fine,” I said soothingly.

“I know, I just like to be on top of things, you know?”

I laughed. “Nope! I’m pretty sure I only passed some of my classes by sheer luck. I handed in something for Anthro a week late, but I think my prof forgot I was even in the class, so she didn’t take points off.”

“Jesus,” Lyn shook her head with a playful smirk. “I can’t imagine being that disorganized. How’d you get through this term, let alone solve a crazy case? You’re something else, honestly. Like Wonder Woman or Supergirl.”

I blushed deeply. Lyn was always saying these really nice things about me and well…I wasn’t really used to them. I pressed up against her and buried my face in her arm, causing my glasses to go askew. Oh well, it’s not like I could see all that well anyway. Cold weather plus warm breath equals foggy glasses. Also, being compared to one of my favourite superheroes? I’m slightly dying of happiness on the inside.

When we got back to Lukas, Lyn helped me pack the rest of my things. It probably took the same amount of time that it normally would have because we kept stopping to kiss, cuddle, and I even got Lyn to watch an episode of Stargirl with me. It was really peaceful. A much better date than nearly getting killed by an out-of-control spirit. Hours passed by like seconds, and the next thing I knew, we were in bed sleeping.

The room was nearly pitch black as I stared up at the ceiling. Lyn was sleeping beside me, her arm tossed over my waist, snoring softly. I had been sleeping, but it came in fits right now. After everything we’ve been through, especially with that horrible horror realm or whatever the hell that had been, I’ve been having more difficulty sleeping through the night. I mean, I was sort of used to it, but not to this extent. My therapist and I were going to have a field day when I saw her next.

I turned my head slightly to look into the face of my girlfriend. I just wondered how it was all going to turn out. By some strange twist of fate, we got together because of my moral compass and curiosity. Lyn stuck around because she wanted to figure out what happened to her friend. I sometimes wondered what would have happened if she didn’t believe me that day in the café. Would I have gone through with it anyway? Would Michael and I have done it alone? I lightly traced my fingers across the scars of her arm, the ones she got because she protected me. It probably would be a different story then, huh?

All I know is this is how it turned out, and I don’t think I would have done anything differently. We got hurt, we got physical and mental scars. But I really think it was worth it to help those people. They were crying out for so long, waiting for someone, anyone, to hear them. I feel lucky in a way that I was the one who answered.

Finally, I felt my drifting off again. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me away, hopefully to a dreamless land.

XXX

Lyn helped me shove my last bag into the trunk of my dad’s car. I told her she didn’t need to stick around and help, but she told me it was no big deal. My dad nodded his thanks at her, and she nodded back. I stood by the car, fidgeting with the bottom of my coat. Lyn glanced at my dad one last time before she gave me a massive bear hug.

“Have a great break, Ally. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

I squeezed back as tightly as I could. “You too. I hope everything goes well with your sister.”

Lyn nodded, her cheek brushing against the side of my face. “Me too.” And even though my dad was still there, she cupped my face between her hands and kissed me. I blushed from the intensity of the kiss, feeling all the unsaid words. When she pulled away, I could see the emotion shining brightly in her eyes, her cheeks and ears bright red.

I kissed her cheek one last time before we untangled ourselves. I got into the passenger seat and waved to Lyn as we pulled away. She waved widely back the whole time, never stopping until I was out of view.

My dad instantly started to tease me the minute we were on the highway. I moaned and made a big show of telling him off, but I was really happy. It felt good, talking to my dad like this. As long as the topic of ghosts wasn’t brought up, we were good.

I didn’t know what next term had in store for us, but I was looking forward to it. We had to solve Dahlia’s murder, but at least we could take our time with it. There was no time limit, and hopefully no creepy murderer. There was a lot about this university, heck, even this town that was hidden beneath the surface. I wanted to learn so much more about it all. Sure, it was bad this time, but usually the ghosts are just lonely people who want to share their stories. I had this special gift, and it was about time I used it, instead of being ashamed of it.

After this winter break, I wanted to see what the future had planned for us.

#unnatural affairs #ua #ally holland #lyn hart #michael yamamoto #dahlia cressman #paranormal #murder mysteries #romance #wlw romance #ghosts #sapphic lead #original story #orginal writing #writing #final chapter

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deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 3 years

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU

Chapter 10 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.

Wanting is Enough

“You goin’ home for Christmas?” Dean asked.

They were walking back to the dorm after dinner. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, a holiday for which neither Cas nor Dean had bothered to travel home.

“No,” Cas said. “I don’t believe I’m welcome at my father’s house anymore.”

Dean glanced sideways at him as they entered the stairwell. “Why? ‘Cause you’re gay?’ He asked.

Cas shrugged. “If he knows now, from Bartholomew or Hannah, then that certainly doesn’t help my case.” He sighed. “No, when he found out I was attending college and not entering ministry, he told me I shouldn’t come home again.”

Dean held the exit door open as Cas walked onto their floor. “When did that happen?” He asked.

“I kept the entirety of my college application process a secret. Only Anna knew,” Cas said. “She’s the only other sane person in my family. I made the mistake of informing the rest of them about it at dinner sometime in July.” He gave Dean a wry smile as they entered their room. “None of them were particularly thrilled.”

“You told them about the full ride and everything?”

“Yes.”

“And your old man still kicked you out?”

“The same night.”

Dean snorted. “Dumbass.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “You could say that.”

“Where’d you go after that?” Dean asked.

“Well, Anna was already living alone, down in Norman. She was at the University of Oklahoma,” he added by way of explanation. “I just stayed with her until August.”

Dean nodded. “She sounds cool. What’s she doing now?”

Cas broke into a grin. “She lives in North Carolina, now. She’s a therapist.”

Dean smirked at him. “So your ass is constantly getting psychoanalyzed?”

“I suppose.”

Dean slumped into the beanbag with a sigh. Cas remained at the door, leaning his weight against it.

“What about you?” He asked after a beat. “Are you returning home for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling. “Well, it’s kinda complicated. I am going home, like, my actual home. Lawrence. We spend Christmas with some family friends.” Dean paused, looking thoughtful. “They’re really more family than friends. Bobby and Ellen and Ellen’s kid Jo. Bobby and Ellen were both friends with my dad.”

“Will your father and brother be there?”

Dean’s look darkened, if only slightly. “Dad’s not coming. The whole thing started ‘cause he got tired of trying to pretend to like the holidays after Mom died. Decided to pawn us off on his old friends. But yeah, Sammy’ll be there.”

Cas gave him a nod and pushed off from the door. While he was disappointed that Dean would be gone for winter break, he was relieved, too. That was three weeks sans-Dean, more than enough time for Cas to work through his little crush. The solitude would be good, he told himself. Cas figured he could fast-track the five stages of grief, and by the time Dean returned, Cas would be the best friend he deserved. Cas sighed to himself as he rifled through his closet for a towel and a change of clothes. He was grabbing bottles of shampoo and body wash when Dean cleared his throat.

“You know,” he said slowly, like the words were difficult to force out, “You could… I mean, I’m sure everyone wouldn’t mind if you came to Christmas.”

Cas whirled around to face Dean, who was picking at a loose thread on the beanbag.

“What?” He asked, a little too loudly.

“Since you’re not goin’ home,” Dean said. “You know, it sucks to spend Christmas alone. ‘Specially in this dump,” he added, gesturing generally to the small room.

“Are you inviting me to spend Christmas in Lawrence? With you?”

Dean gave a short laugh. “I guess it is kinda dumb. Yeah, nevermind.”

“No, I’d like that,” Cas rushed out. He blinked at his own words. He was supposed to be avoiding Dean as often as possible, not spending three uninterrupted weeks in his hometown. “It sounds nice,” Cas added weakly, despite the fact that it definitely did not.

Dean looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Dean broke into the biggest grin Cas had ever seen. “Dude, it’s going to be awesome. I can’t wait for everyone to meet you.” Dean stood up with and pulled Cas in for a hug, clapping him on the back twice. Cas winced, letting out a feeble chuckle as he returned the hug reluctantly. He was trying not to notice the warmth of Dean pressed against him, or the absence of it when they parted.

“Are you pissed at me?”

It was the Wednesday before finals started. They were quietly eating dinner when Dean threw the question at Cas, who coughed into his water.

“What?” He sputtered.

Dean rubbed the back of his head. “I dunno, man, I just feel like I never see you anymore.”

Guilt crashed into Cas like a freight train. He had been absent, more absent even than before Thanksgiving. Part of it was out of necessity — finals were fast approaching, and he was intent upon an all-A’s first semester. But the hours at the library were stacked on top of the hours he spent in class and the hours he spent simply staying away from his room.

“I apologize,” Cas said, and he couldn’t keep the earnestness from his voice. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I have two final papers, three exams, and two final projects coming up before the break.”

“No, man, I get it,” Dean said with a shrug. “You’re busy. Sorry, that was kinda uncalled for. All in my head, you know.”

Cas wanted to tell him that it was completely called for, that what Dean was feeling was valid, that he was being selfish and rude and a whole number of terrible things for avoiding Dean. But he couldn’t, because that would mean promptly declaring soul-destroying love for his best friend, right there in the middle of the dining hall. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he mumbled.

Cas had thought that it was getting easier, being around Dean. He’d basked in the feeling of being not just someone’s best friend, but Dean’s best friend, after Halloween, and that was enough. And while he was still avoiding spending long hours in their room, he felt like he was well on his way to making peace with the unrequited.

But then, they’d gotten drunk on the night of Thanksgiving. Cas didn’t remember much besides waking up in a tangled heap with Dean on the floor of their room. He’d been successful in extricating himself from the strange embrace before Dean regained consciousness, and thank god for that. But the situation lived rent-free in Cas’s mind. It made things considerably more difficult.

And then there was the prospect of travelling to Lawrence to spend Christmas with Dean and his family. Cas really hadn’t wanted to spend the holiday alone, and was, on the one hand, thankful for the invitation. On the other, his anxiety was mounting. That trip meant there was absolutely no avoiding Dean for at least three weeks; not to mention the fact that he was meeting the group of people most important to Dean.

So if Cas was making extra efforts to put space between himself and his roommate, it was not unwarranted.

They finished eating and made their way back to the dorms. Dean was complaining about his own finals, and while Cas tried his hardest to remain engaged, his heart wasn’t in it. He was angry at himself. Even when he felt like he was succeeding, he was failing.

“Cas,” Dean said. Cas had just let them into the room, but Dean was standing resolutely in the hallway.

“Yes?” Cas responded.

“Are you… I know I already asked, but man, something’s off,” Dean rushed out. “Is — Is this about Christmas? ‘Cause —”

Cas interrupted him. “No, Dean. I’m excited to spend Christmas with you and your family.”

Dean smiled weakly, but it was brief. “I just — you’re never around, man,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I feel like I fucked something up somehow.”

Cas knew Dean well enough by now to know there were things he was trying to say without saying them. His heart broke to know that I miss you was likely one of them.

“I promise, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Cas said. “I’m just concerned about my finals.” Lie.

Dean looked at him with skepticism. “Okay,” he said finally.

Another twinge of guilt soared through him, but he didn’t say anything more, just gathered his things for a shower. Dean still hadn’t come into the room when Cas pushed past him and made his way to the bathroom.

When he returned, Dean was gone, but Cas saw a notification on his phone.

DW (7:32 pm)

went out back later

Cas narrowed his eyes at the short message, but typed out a reply anyway.

CN (7:34 p.m.)

Okay. Be safe. Don’t forget, there’s class tomorrow.

He sat down at his desk and opened his computer. He tried studying for his accounting final, but the words and equations might have been hieroglyphics for all that he was absorbing them. Cas sighed and pulled up the final project description for his creative writing class instead.

It was his favorite class by far. In high school, Cas focused on writing short stories, mostly adapted from real life. His notebooks were his confidants, the product of never having a close friend. But now, he was challenged to write other things; poetry, scripts, memoirs. Cas lived for the challenge, finally able to stretch new creative muscles. And while his attempt at drama had received mixed reviews from his professor and peers alike, his other works were well-received. He’d never shared his writing with anyone, and to hear others enjoyed it was something Cas cherished.

But this final project, it was difficult. The professor had tasked them with writing a 1000-word story in prose and adapting it into both a drama and a poem. The goal was to tell the same story in each genre. Cas couldn’t even think of a scene he might want to write, let alone how he was going to move fluidly between genres.

He sighed, and began to list out possible ideas. When it became clear that he wasn’t getting anywhere, he closed his notebook and moved onto something less intense. He reviewed his econ notes for an hour, got started on his final paper for literature.

After hitting a solid halfway point on his first draft, he checked his phone again. It was already midnight. Cas frowned. Dean was known to stay out late on the weekends, but it was Wednesday. Cas knew Dean had a nine-a.m. history class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He also knew that Dean wouldn’t make it to said class if he was out much later. He sent him a text.

CN (12:03 a.m.)

Are you all right?

Cas hit the bathrooms to brush his teeth and get ready for bed before checking his phone. His worry only increased when he saw that Dean hadn’t replied. He sent another text, hoping he didn’t seem too overbearing.

CN (12:11 a.m.)

Just making sure you’re alive.

He decided that if Dean didn’t respond in the next ten minutes, he’d call, regardless of how ridiculous he might sound.

Cas paced around the room, picking up what little stray trash they had left lying out. He was about to take out his phone again to check the time when it started vibrating on his desk. He picked it up eagerly, but frowned at the unknown number. Cas considered letting it ring out, but he hit the “accept” button at the last second. He didn’t say anything as he held the phone up to his ear, expecting a wrong number.

His eyes went wide when Dean rasped, “Cas?”

“Dean?” Cas replied, trying to keep panic out of his voice. “What — Why are you calling me from this number?”

“Phone’s dead,” he said, sounding exhausted. “I hate to do this to you, man, but… Just — goddammit — can you come get me?”

“What?”

“I’m just — I’m at the corner of seventeenth and Gentry.”

“Don’t you have a DD?” Cas asked. Dean had never called him to pick him up from a party. He always made sure someone was sober, or he called an Uber.

“No,” Dean sighed.

“Seventeenth and Gentry?” He repeated, and he heard Dean murmur something in affirmation. Cas made a turn for his car and said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up.

Cas tried to drive at a normal speed, but it was difficult. Dean had left abruptly, and while Cas hadn’t thought to question it, it now seemed glaringly out-of-character. Dean had never partied in the middle of the week, and he certainly had never gone drinking by himself. Every red light kicked his anxiety up a notch.

After the interminable drive, Cas finally arrived at the corner Dean had directed him to, a small bar with WSU flags plastered everywhere. Cas drove past the front of the building slowly, but couldn’t find Dean there. Finally, he saw a phone booth just past the bar’s street parking, and he coaxed the car forward. Dean was leaning against its side, a cigarette in his mouth. He hadn’t brought a jacket, and it was barely thirty degrees out. Cas turned up the heat in the car as he unlocked the passenger door.

Dean put out the cigarette and slid in without a word. Cas hit the gas and started the drive back to the dorms.

Neither said a word in the ten minutes it took Cas to reach campus. The only sounds were the roar of hot air from the vents and the low groan of the engine. Cas kept his eyes in front of him, never once daring to glance at Dean.

When they reached the lot, Cas threw the gear shift into park and folded his hands in his lap. He stared at his own interlaced fingers, willing Dean to speak first, not wanting to ask the question.

Dean didn’t speak, though, just opened the car door and stepped out. Cas saw a light flicker through the passenger window, and suppressed a groan as he realized Dean had lit another cigarette. Typical, Cas thought, and he was suddenly annoyed. It occurred to him that if their places were switched, Dean would be hounding him, demanding that Cas tell him everything, because he always did. Anytime Cas seemed the slightest bit off, Dean was there, asking questions, being the good friend that he was. But now? Now, he expected Cas to leave it alone, to let him suffer with whatever was bothering him. Cas took a few steadying breaths, then turned the engine off and got out.

“Dean,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, “What the hell?”

Dean didn’t answer, just took a long drag, his gaze aimed resolutely ahead. Cas huffed and crossed his arms.

“You… You can’t just ask me to come pick you up from a bar and not offer an explanation,” Cas said.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

Cas let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, well, that’s perfectly adequate,” he scoffed.

“What else am I supposed to say?” Dean demanded.

Cas stared at him, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, his jaw set. “I’m going to bed.

“What?” Dean asked, finally looking at Cas.

Cas shrugged. “I’m obviously wasting my time.”

Another drag. An exhale.

“My dad called while you were in the shower.”

The irritation shifted, almost immediately, to concern. “Your father called you?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

Dean tapped his cigarette against his leg. “Mostly to remind me what a piece of shit I am.”

Cas remained silent, allowing Dean the space to form whatever his next thought might be.

“I guess…” Dean rubbed his free hand over his forehead. “I guess Sam let it slip that I was bringing you to Bobby’s for Christmas.”

Cas cocked his head. “And that’s… Problematic?”

Dean exhaled another plume of smoke. “Yeah,” he said. He let out a mirthless laugh. “He said he didn’t get it, that if I was bringing anyone home, it should be a girlfriend, not…” Dean trailed off.

Cas felt the blood leave his face. “He thinks —”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, I don’t have to come,” Cas said. It would be better for both of us. “I’ll be perfectly fine here. I appreciate the offer, I do, but I don’t want to make life more difficult for you than necessary.”

Dean looked at him, finally, and he was all shadow and exhaustion. “No, he’s not gonna be there. You’re coming,” he said resolutely, and Cas tried not to let the disappointment show. “Plus, that wasn’t all of it. He’s pissed that I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving. Said something about how I was dishonoring my mom’s memory or something.”

Cas was silent for a moment. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“What do you mean?”

“At the bar,” Cas clarified. He couldn’t tell how drunk Dean really was, but based on that recent revelation, he could guess.

Dean furrowed his brow. “What?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I had like three beers. I was planning on going full blackout, but then you reminded me about class.”

Cas almost smiled at that, because it was almost funny. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Decide to get blackout drunk just because your father incorrectly assumed you were bringing me — bringing a male partner to a Christmas he wouldn’t even attend?”

Dean frowned. “I don’t — I don’t know,” he said, and he sounded almost surprised at his own answer.

Cas was treading on thin ice, he knew that. But he kept up anyway. “I don’t want to overstep,” he said slowly, “But, Dean, your father… It doesn’t seem like he’s taken the time to get to know you. The real you, not the version he wants you to be, or the version he projects onto you.”

When Dean didn’t stop him, he continued. “And you don’t owe him anything, not anymore. You’re here, aren’t you? All on your own. He has no power over you. And, I’m only assuming, but I believe that might terrify him. Because not only do you no longer need him, but you may choose not to want him.”

Cas let out a small laugh. “Believe me, I know how difficult it is to stop putting stock in what your father thinks. It took me years to accept that I had done nothing wrong, that my father was, and always would be, a bigot. I… I’m still working on it, even now,” he admitted. Cas sighed. “But my life has been better, easier, since I stopped trying to please someone who hardly even knew me.”

Dean’s expression changed, and he blinked. He was still looking in Cas’s direction, but not at him. Past him, at some unknown subject. Cas took a step toward him.

“Dean?”

“I don’t need him,” Dean whispered.

“Are you all right?” Cas asked, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean let out a huff, overflowing with something like realization. “I never thought about that before. It’s not like he’s ever tried to talk to me.” Dean threw his cigarette on the asphalt and stomped it out. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips, and he wrapped his hands around his midsection. “You know, I used to try so hard to be like him.” Dean tilted his head toward the sky. “I listened to his music, I dressed like him. Hell, I even started talkin’ like him.

“It was never enough, you know? I always fucked up. Sam didn’t get to school on time, or I forgot milk at the grocery store. I just, I dunno. I know he loves me. But I always wanted him to like me, too, you know?”

“I do.”

“Oh man, you should’ve seen him when he found out I’d been hiding money away to go to college,” Dean said, laughing darkly. “I thought I was gonna go to school with a black eye for a week.”

“He hit you?” Cas asked, horrified.

“What? No, no,” Dean said quickly. “I just thought he might.”

Cas let out a breath. There was one crime John Winchester hadn’t committed. “What do you mean, hiding money?”

“Dad never really had a steady job, not after our mom died,” Dean explained. “That’s why we moved around a lot. When I was fourteen, I started working. Chickenshit stuff, mostly. Mowing lawns and detailing cars until I was old enough to start flippin’ burgers.” Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “The money was supposed to go to rent and food, but I started putting most of it aside, just in case, you know? I had enough for a year of college by the time I was a senior. I figured I could get loans and stuff for the rest.”

“And when you told him, he got angry?”

Dean only nodded, now staring intently at the ground. Cas didn’t say anything more, knowing Dean had probably just unloaded more trauma than he’d even known he had. Finally, though, Dean’s gaze met his.

“But I don’t need him,” he repeated.

“You don’t.”

“He’s nothing, unless I want him to be something,” Dean said slowly, and his eyes were growing triumphant. “Cas, you’re a genius.”

“If you say so.”

“You learn all that stuff from your sister? The one with a degree in ‘dealing with crazy fuckers’?”

Cas smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “And therapy isn’t just for ‘crazy fuckers.’”

Dean smirked at him. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, okay.”

As they walked, Cas felt latent anger curl in his stomach. Dean hadn’t told Castiel much about his home life, not until that night. He understood, now, why Dean could so easily take care of others, but needed three beers and a cigarette to show his own vulnerabilities. In his eighteen years, had Dean ever been told that he was enough? The possibility that he hadn’t awakened something in Cas, some righteous fury.

He chided himself internally. How much of his selfish avoidance scheme had contributed to those feelings of inadequacy? He’d rather burn with the pain of unrequited love forever than let Dean think he wasn’t enough.

When they reached the entrance to their dorm, Cas put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Are you okay, Dean?” He asked.

Dean let out a long breath. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I’m okay. I really am.” He said it like it might have been the first time he’d ever meant it.

Cas woke up at two in the morning from a particularly vivid dream. His breathing was heavy with the shock of waking up so suddenly. Dean was breathing slow and even across the room, still entirely asleep.

Cas shook his head a little. The dream had felt so real that it had left a residual burning feeling in his hand. He stared at it, but it remained entirely human.

Abruptly, he remembered his creative writing project. A short story, something he could turn into a poem and a stage scene. A lightbulb went off in his brain.

Cas lowered himself from his bed and hurriedly opened his computer. He had to get this down as soon as possible. Cas replayed the dream in his mind as his computer booted up. He supposed it might be a little strange, to turn this story in as his final project, considering it was somewhat of a self-insert. But it had everything he needed.

Finally, he opened a blank document and began to write the first draft. Cas wrote down everything he could remember from the dream, sights and sounds and feelings. With each word, his excitement grew. He’d never felt this way about a writing project, like the story demanded to be told.

Cas hit word count and kept going, because the story was building itself larger and larger. He didn’t even notice how long he’d been working until Dean’s six-a.m. alarm went off.

Dean groaned and rolled over in his bunk. He said something, but Cas didn’t hear, too intent upon getting the words in his head onto the page.

“Hey,” Dean said, raising his voice. “Stephen King, what the hell?”

Cas didn’t turn from the computer screen. “Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

Dean groaned. “Like the dead,” he said sarcastically. “How long you been up?”

Cas checked the time. “Somewhere around four hours,” he said.

“Four — you’ve been up since two?”

“Yes.”

Dean blanched and swung himself down from his bed. “Dude, that means you got, max, an hour and a half of sleep.” He made his way to Cas’s desk and leaned over his shoulder. Upon seeing the word count on his screen, his eyes widened.

“You wrote all that last night? Or this morning?” He asked.

Cas shrugged, a little sheepishly. “I got inspired.”

Dean blinked at him. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee,” he said.

Cas wrote a few hundred more words before finding a good stopping point. He scrolled to the top of his document and highlighted the scenes he wanted to use for his project. Dean brought him a cup of coffee, which Cas accepted eagerly, beginning to feel the first twinges of exhaustion through his inspiration-fueled mania.

“What’re you writing over there?” Dean asked after taking a sip from his mug.

“It’s one of my final projects,” Cas replied. He drank from his own mug.

Dean looked at him in horror. “A five-thousand word essay?”

Cas laughed. “No. A thousand-word short story,” he said.

“What, so you’re an over-achiever?”

“No,” Cas said. “I’m only using the first thousand words for my project. But I just couldn’t stop. There was more to tell.” His cheeks flamed. Talking about his creative projects always embarrassed him.

“What’s it about?” Dean asked.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “You’ll find out when you read it.”

Dean scowled. “At least tell me what you’re calling it.”

Cas looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t know for sure yet,” he said. “That reminds me…” He turned back to his computer to save the document. When faced with the title option, he faltered. He typed in “The Righteous Man.” That would do for now.

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

taglist! @nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #destiel fic

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dailysuna · 3 years

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Baki headcannons time! I'm writing a fic (it's gotten too long btw) and Baki is a key player. I characterized him as aloof to his charges with a hidden soft spot for them, but that's only because I don't think of him very much. If it's alright with you I'd like to dig into your headcannons more since I don't honestly think of Baki often... But!! I need him now! For my fic! Please send me your headcannons! Also no need to shorten your answers, I love reading them.

Yes, of course! We love Baki in this household. To be honest, I cannot quite remember how our headcanons about him started, attraction to him, adoration for Suna, blatant inability to remember exactly what happened in the first arc of Shippuden. What I do know is I researched him a ton on his Narutopedia page (that website is the Bible) and frankly they had basically nothing on him. There is also very little on Suna itself, so, all of the shaping of what we have made Suna to be came from what we did know about the characters that lived there as well as what we came to believe about those characters.

Baki is described as someone extremely loyal to his village, but knows how to set priorities and is willing to go against what the council has said if that means benefiting the village. This is seen after Gaara is kidnapped and he goes to Chiyo and Ebizo (we stan these two in this household) for their help in saving Gaara. I read into this, a lot, because it was pretty much the only personality trait given to us. Baki recognizes the importance of Gaara, and the rest of the council basically agreed it might have been a blessing in disguise for the village because they still did not like Gaara. Why would Baki, someone just as dedicated to the village as the other council members, not believe the same they did? Its basically a known fact Suna shinobi are willing to sacrifice their friends, family, and lovers if it is required for a mission to be successful. They are willing to make sacrifices, so even if Baki cared about Gaara he would be willing to sacrifice him if that meant saving the village. Honestly, he may not even know Gaara that well in a case such as that. Thinking of that, I knew Baki had to be different from the rest of the council, but how?

I had absolutely all the freedom in the world to develop Baki how I wished, which is actually more terrifying than having no freedom, but when I looked at him, all I could think was that he looked perfect. His skin? Flawless. His makeup? On point. His body? Oh man that dude is so muscular and we all know it. Baki is just walking perfection looks wise so I said why not make him an actual angel? Why not make his personality just as good? Of course, this needed to be justified and I found a way to make that true (I will post the backstory I developed for him some other time).

Because he is the epitome of perfect, he would have thought letting their kazekage die for the village was awful, right? Actually no. Baki's flaw in his perfect persona comes from the fact that he would have grown up in Old Suna, so he would possess the same mindset as the old geezers in the council. He wouldn't think sacrifice was bad because he grew up thinking it was necessary. Then there had to be some other reason he thought saving Gaara was the answer, some way he knew the boy was necessary. That decision would have to come from knowing Gaara and what he was capable of, aka being close to him. Baki would need to know Gaara's motivation, Gaara's skills, just Gaara in general to think that he needed to be saved. How else could Baki have known this unless he got close to Gaara? As I have stated previously, I believed Baki would not pursue getting to know him had he not had a specific type of personality and Gaara would never reach out to make them become familiar with one another as we know.

This led me to develop Baki as I have. A village oriented angel man, who cares deeply for those he once lead. Baki had to be the type of person to be kind and open minded for the 3 siblings to even accept him in the first place. Yes, in the chunin exams arc we see him only ever act seriously and only ever look like he could kill someone with a single glance, but that is because they were on a mission. He went serious murder Baki mode because that's just what Suna shinobi do. What we don't see, is much of any interaction between the siblings and Baki. The way I read this was yes, there was no heartwarming interaction or something to make us believe Baki was an angel, but there was also no disrespect or disregard towards Baki. To me this meant they sre on a mission so they all need to be serious, and because it was still Old Suna they would have been more serious anyways, but that Baki and the siblings had a mutual respect for one another anyways so as not to say anything bad towards him (we do see Gaara was kind of awful to his siblings at the same time so he totally would have said something to Baki if he wanted because little emo baby Gaara doesn't respect authority).

To me, this meant Baki and Gaara, and Temari and Kankuro, had to have built up that respect somehow. This is something I will go into more depth later, but for now I shall simply state the following sentences. Gaara was feared by everyone because of Shukaku so it was clear his siblings, the ones less afraid to stand next to him, were the only option for his team. For their sensei, I'm sure many ninja were given the task but quit it not long after because ALL three siblings were being brats (none of them respected authority). After going through numerous other shinobi, Rasa would have turned to Baki, someone he knew was more dedicated to Suna than most and would have given him the task, stressing that this would highly benefit the village. Baki is someone who serves the village, thinks only of the village's benefits, and only goal in life is to be of use for the village. This would have been a task he recognized was highly important and him quitting as others had would only mean he hadn't lived up to his only goal in life, he would have failed Rasa and Sunagakure. In desperate attempts to not let that happen, Baki would make the best of the situation. After dreading his new job for the longest time but still trying his best to connect with the three so it was more bearable, I believe the siblings would have started recognizing he wasn't planning to leave and despite suffering from their punches and kicks was still trying his best to be educational and supportive. I think that, even if they weren't super close or caring towards Baki at that time, each would, at their own pace, begin to recognize that and respect him, meaning they would slowly stop being as bratty as they originally were. This would make Baki relieved and happy because his job wouldn't be as much of a hellhole as before and he would try even harder to be there for the three even if they did nothing in return or acted as though they didn't like it. The siblings lost their mother at a young age and Rasa was too busy or pressed to spend much time with them so they had likely never had the support Baki offered, and if they did it never lasted long, so they likely would have at least been decent towards Baki until all grew and realized that he had become a wonderful role model and shoulder to rest on for them.

Baki's character has so little development and his actions can be read so many ways, but this was what I chose and both D and E grabbed it up like little goblins. Personally, I believe that unless they were a caring and kind person someone would not be willing to get to know Gaara, who was feared by literally everyone, and thus would not believe he was necessary for the success of the village. So basically, we all see Baki as a relatively open and caring guy who eventually learns to love the siblings unconditionally and becomes their parental figure because they have no one else to turn to, for he is the only willing one and their actual parents are dead.

#dailysuna #naruto #naruto shippuden #sunagakure #asks #headcanons #mod k

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morning-star-57 · 4 years

Text

Miraculous Quirk AU

Idk if someone has already done this but here we go!

So, I recently got into Boku no Hero Academia and I got to thinking, what if the Miraculous universe was set in the same one as Bnha?

So, those of us who watch Bnha know the drill, 80% of the population has superpowers, called “quirks.” The other 20% are “quirkless.” So here’s how it would play out in my brain.

Super duper long, oops, so under the cut!

Miraculous:

works pretty much the same way as canon

only doesn’t give you a suit the holder picks that themselves

they work similar to One For All does in Bnha

the power of the previous owner fuels the power of the miraculous and the previous user can still use the power, but a weakened version of it

Ladybug miraculous gives the holder the power to create things and heal

Black Cat miraculous gives the power to destroy things with a touch (at will)

And so on, pretty much like canon but with some modifications

Marinette

was born quirkless

when she was younger, kids (cough Chloe cough) would make fun of her for it

was insecure about it for a long time and then saw all of the ways that quirks could backfire and decided it wasn’t worth it and it no longer bothers her (much)

(seeing Chloe blind herself was funny tho, even if it was temporary)

still wants to be a fashion designer

wary of superheros because of all of that property damage and also some of them are lowkey sus.

parents still own a bakery

Sabine’s quirk is levitation. She can make items and people float with her mind but they have to be things she can physically lift (it’s okay tho cause she’s smol but strong). The drawback is that she gets really bad headaches and if she uses it too much or for too long, she can get a migraine.

Tom has a smaller, tamer version of pyrokinesis. He can’t make his entire body burst into flame but he can make certain parts, like his hands. He has a naturally high resistance to extreme weathers as his body heat is unusally high (hugs from him during the summer are bittersweet b/c he’s a great hugger but it’s too damn HOT DAD GET OFF-). The drawback is that he can’t control the temperature of the flame so if he’s not careful or if he uses his quirk for too long, it’ll burn him. His arms have many burn scars, rip.

back to Marinette

Decided the Hero Life wasn’t for her but still supports her friends who want to do it

Until she met the Lucky Hero, Tikki, her favorite

After plot happens, Tikki gives her the source of her “quirk”, the miraculous, and entrusts Marinette to carry on her legacy

Lots of angsty turmoil before she accepts the miraculous and decided to become a hero.

Chooses to be named the Ladybug, same as canon

Her hero costume would be the same as canon AT FIRST since her decision to go to a hero school was last minute af but then the suit will go through modifications to better suit her power needs and fashion needs

Got through the entrance exam after training with Tikki and because she’s badass shh

Doesn’t get a crush on Adrien until later once they’re already friends (or at all really idk yet)

Adrien

was the result of a quirk marriage

was the *failed result of a quirk marriage

Instead of inheriting both quirks of his parents, like intended, they combined and created a new one

His quirk is Charm. His body releases an invisible pheromone that makes him seem more attractive or trustworthy, sometimes both, depending on the person who smells it. This makes the “victim” more susceptible to his suggestions, but it’s not a total brainwash, unlike his father, so they can still easily fight it off if they wanted to. The drawbacks are that he can’t really stop it so he has to be constantly covered so that he doesn’t accidentally charm everyone. Also, after a while, people can build up tolerance to him and it won’t work as strongly on them.

Gabriel has Brainwash, which is often seen as a villain’s quirk. Everyone is thankful the he decided on fashion as a career and not villainy (oh those poor naive souls). If he looks into your eyes, you are put in his control and won’t be able to fight it unless he lets you go or if you receive a blunt impact to the head. The drawbacks are that he can’t control it so anyone who he makes eye contact with gets brainwashed unless there’s an obstacle in the way i.e.: glasses

Emilie’s quirk is sleep gas. Her skin cells naturally produce a gas that can put people in a coma-like state. The drawbacks are, again, can’t turn it off and the person has to be within range. She also has to be constantly covered.

Adrien wanted to be a hero at first to spite his father

Gabriel always hated heroes and saw them as a nuisance.

So Adrien basically said “fuck you, I’m going to be the best hero because I can”

And somehow convinced his dad to enroll him in College Francois Dupont, a local hero school

(he acutally just charmed him cause his dad isn’t around him enough to build up immunity to his quirk but shh)

He gets in through recommendations and is put in the hero course

This version of Adrien was still childhood friends with Chloe (who is immune to him) and a lot more distrustful of people, especially if they’re nice since he has no way of know if they’re genuinely a nice person or if they just fell prey to his quirk

rip the sunshine boy he has no friends except Chloe for the first few weeks of class

Becomes friends with Nino after they got paired up in a fight simulation

The slowly gets more comfortable around people and becomes more open to friendships

Doesn’t get the Black Cat Miraculous until much, much later when the Squad gets caught up in a fight with villains and the Unlucky Hero, Plagg (Tikki’s partner and husband) decides to entrust him with it

Impulsive chaotic gremlin that gets threatened to be put on a leash made by Marinette

Chloe

also the result of a quirk marriage, this one being successful

Her quirk is called Diamond. Her skin has an extra layer that acts very similarly to an actual diamond so she can reflect, refract, and disperse light. This layer can also harden at her will so that she can become a semi-indestructible prism. Her body’s reaction to light intensifies while in this state. The drawbacks are that while her body is hardened, she cannot move easily and her speed will be greatly reduced. Also, her skin is just very sparkly almost all of the time which makes it hard to hide from villains and to see when it’s sunny out. Usually wear large sunhats and sunglasses to try and reduce the shine

Her and Adrien bond by being products of a quirk marriage

also got in through recommendation and everyone thinks she bought her way in but actually tried very hard to earn her spot

is VERY protective over Adrien and will blind someone if they say anything she deems offensive

She and Marinette practically hate each other on a good day before they were forced to hang out since Adrien kept bringing Chloe along with him whenever the Squad would get into shenanigans

They developed a mutual agreement to be civil at one point and that slowly turned into friendship

Y’know the type of friends that insult each other and fight over every small thing but the second someone else tries to come for the other they won’t h e s i t a t e BITCH

yeah that’s them

anyways, I digress

Is surprisingly the sensible one of the group

“no you cannot run headfirst into the fight Adrien, these are actual villains and you can’t even pass a simulation without dumb luck.”

“I don’t care if your quirk can heal you Marinette, stop jumping off of rooftops and go down the stairs like a normal person!”

“Put it down, Nino.”

“Luka. No.”

you get the idea

she is Mom

Says she wants to be a hero because hero’s are cool and she’s cool so it just makes sense for her to be a hero

(actually though because she wanted to make her mother proud of her but you didn’t hear it from me)

Is lowkey really powerful and if she tried to use the full extent of her powers, she’d be a beast

but don’t tell her that, she’s already got a big head

Luka

is working towards becoming an underground hero

His quirk is sound amplification. He amplifies preexisting sound waves to what ever frequency is needed. Depending on the frequency, he can break through almost any object. The drawback is that sound waves can damage his hearing and can become temporarily deaf if he uses it too long or if he creates a frequency that’s too high for his body to handle. Has a chance of becoming permanently deaf if he overuses his quirk too many times

His suit comes with modifications to help with that so he should be fine he hopes

His guitar doubles as a weapon since he usually amplifies whatever chord he plays

Already has his provisional hero licence

is still really chill

is one of the first to figure out Marinette’s secret but is a good boi so he doesn’t tell

you’d think that being the oldest of the group he’d be the sensible one but nope

is accidentally the one that encourages shenanigans

Luka, innocently: Hey, did you know that the teachers don’t lock up the sim rooms?

Chloe: *Death glare*

Luka: *nervous confusion*

the one who encouraged Juleka to go for the hero course

Nino

Adrien’s best friend, just like canon

started out as general studies since he wasn’t sure if he was good enough to be a hero but a teacher saw his potential and was transferred into the hero course

His quirk is time reduction. He can slow time or even stop it completely if he concentrates very hard, allowing him to get one place to the next in literally no time at all. He used to think it was super speed because this but found out what it really was when he tried to save a cat from being run over and stopped time. He can also stop only certain objects in time but that takes up more energy. The drawback is that if he overuses his quirk he starts to speed up his own time in order to compensate for the time he’s losing so he becomes very tired and after “3 hours” of his own time passed he will pass out from exhaustion. Also, he can only manipulate the time within his quirk’s range which can go up to about the size of an american football field (160 feet/49) meters.

is super insecure of his quirk because he thinks it’s not as cool as everyone else’s

they make sure to let him know that that’s bs and he’s very cool

feeds off of Adiren’s chaotic energy during simulations

has been put in timeout by Chloe when this happens

will stop time to bask in the moment

gets emotional during this

there have been many times where the Squad is chilling and suddenly everyone just sees Nino sobbing

group hugs ensue

Adrien, probably: “Chloe get your shiny ass in the cuddle pile or so help me-!”

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I’ll make a part two since this is already so long, but that’s it for now! What do y’all think?

Part 2 is now up!

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupen chang #chloe bourgeois #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #luka couffaine #ml x bnha #ml au idea #ml au #quirk au #miraculous quirk au

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solest · 3 years

Text

This will be yet another mental health post, but I won't put it under a cut this time because a) I'm on mobile and don't know how to do it here and b) yes, friends might read this. I will eben tag this and try not to feel guilty for being an attention whore by doing so. This will be longer I guess, so sorry if you have to scroll through because of a).

I thought I would have stagnated. I went to a psychosomatic clinic this summer and felt like it had not helped at all. I tried to put myself out there again and had a good moment and an immediate throwback in more than one ways. But now I'm lying here, crying over videos I see or stories I read about certain mental health things and for the first time I can accept that what I read is applying to me. I knew before, but now I accept.

I have a trauma from school and bullying. It still feels weird to say it, because I always thought that Trauma had to be something big, something life threatening and not a shitty teacher and a bunch of kids you knew since you were 3, who turned on you all of a sudden. I studied social work, took child care and protection classes, but the Traumas that were discussed there were always cases of severe violence, abuse, neglect and so on. No one ever told me that things that don't seem so threatening can stick to you and change how you react for such a long time.

I've been told by three or four therapists by now that what vi experienced was trauma, but only recently therapists were using actual methods for this on me. I've been a lively and adventurous kid until second grade. I had a math teacher who was hysterical, got emotional outbursts, screamed at us and got physical. This was known, my brothers who's six years older had her as well.

I remember her screaming at us, especially me. I've never been a math genius but this woman managed that I developed a solid fear of maths. I clearly remember her pulling my hair in front of the class, because I did not know what 7x7 was. To this day, I forgot simple formulas, my mind goes blank if too much math is involved and I'm slow calculating in my head. I started to emotionally shut down and burst into tears when doing maths homework. I was 7.

When I got into third grade, we had a maths test at the very beginning of the year and I failed it miserably. I remember I was devesrated and I link the beginning of my bullying with it and just remembered why. I got an emotional outburst. I screamed, I cried I felt helpless and lost and it was too extreme a reaction to a failed test for all around me. I now know that it was a stress response to what I had experienced before and what I linked to it. I feared to get my hair pulled again, to be screamed at. But this odd behavior only made the other kids frown on me and trying to make me this upset again., which resulted in me not having friends and not understanding why people I knew since kindergarten and who were perfectly fine with me some months ago could be so cruel.

And just some weeks ago, I saw a video on how trauma comes to be. It isn't the severity, but the surprise that shake our core beliefs. I might have a genetic disposition to anxiety disorders, which might have made it "easier" to be shaken by what happened, but that's not the sole reason it affscted me like it did. Another video stated that trauma is the way we react to what happens. This firstly made me think "Oh, so you're an over dramatic bitch that was so startled by such a thing that you developed a trauma. How pathetic". How dare I think this about myself.

The way I experienced it is valid. It did what it did to me and I can't change that. Maybe I'm too sensitive, but I can't go back and tell this my sobbing 7 yo self. I lost all my adventurous attitude. I cried a lot and developed a general anxiety disorder that was only diagnosed when I was 21. I was shamed and frowned upon my overly sensitive and emotional reactions, and as the manifestations of my GAD, mostly extreme nausea. All of this only made me hate myself more and more. People said I'm weird, not normal, mentally disabled and I believed them. I tried to please them all, to just not be alone and laughed at anymore. I'm well aware that there are people with far more severe and terrible stories, but this is mine and I can't change either.

My parents tried best their could, but looking back a proper therapy as a child might have helped me. Instead I wasn't doing good in school, because stress let me break down completely. I had anxiety when doing tests and exams, a high perfectionism I'm still not able to act upon though. My parents had not been the cause for all this and tried to help as best they could, but the damage was done.

And still, parts of this personality I had before the trauma was still there, though I felt like I had to hide it, otherwise people would reject me for who I am. I missed out on much, simply because I did not grève the mental strength to try, fearing my peers would not accept me.

My self esteem is pretty low most of the times still, but somehow I'm now at a point where I can look back on this stuff and say:

"This was messed up. There's nothing you could have done better or to prevent it. The teacher should not have acted like this. Adults should have protected you and take your desperation seriously. The other kids, no matter their own awful experiences were not entitled to treat you like shit. You're réactions are not over the top, they were cries for help. You did not deserve this, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And if I could turn back in time, I would come to your aid and kick their arses."

I wasted so much time hating myself. I might not be perfect, no one is, but I'm okay. I'm enough. I don't have to be outstanding at something to be worth it, I already am, by merely existing. I'm worthy of love. I'm worthy of respect. I might have had a lot of help and I might took longer than most around ne, but I accomplished things. Things people like the math Teacher or stupid parents of stupid classmates told me I never will.

I got my high-school diploma. I studied. It took me 6 instead of 3 years for a Bachelor's degree, but I was experiencing flashback anxiety because it reminded me if school and I had to stay at home for one whole year, because I was so deep into anxiety and depression. And I made it.

I'm the first one with an academic degree in my whole family. Despite feeling like shit and thinking I can do nothing, I decided to pull through. The scores I had on papers do not define how professional I am, because I had to write them with severe panic attacks and procrastination problems.

I had long and stable relationships. I learned to drive. I figured I'm Bi, came out and nothing terrible happened. I went to Japan, with my girlfriend at the time for two months, just the two of us. I moved out and lived with another person. I quit a toxic job, because I knew it was toxic. I made friends.

Writing this down does not come easy, but I'm doing it right now. Being able to admit my successes is a huge step. I'm currently experiencing something like a second adolescents, and I think that's because I finally understand that I have to learn what I really am, what I want. I might overcompensate but that's okay. After 13 years of therapy and meds, and a noch most time without much help in this regard I'm allowed to do so.

I will not be loved by everyone and that's okay, because it means I don't have to love everyone in return. People do like me for what I am, even if it's hard to grasp. I'm not too old for things with 33 and I'm allowed to like "childish" stuff and it does not make me less of an adult. I deserve happiness and to cut toxic people out of my life. I will find a new job and it's okay if I feel like I don't know anything, I'm not dumb and I can learn quick.

I'm more than my mental illness, it does not define me completely.

#depression #anxiety #anxiety disorder #mental health

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choicesfanatic86 · 4 years

Text

Through the Storm: Part 1

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story. Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS: Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY: Riley Lawson returned to New York a broken version of herself after a failed whirlwind romance. Years later, she has put the past behind her and rebuilt herself into a successful event planner who is happily enjoying her fast-paced New York lifestyle. However, just because she’s put the past behind her, doesn’t mean it won’t come back to haunt her. When an unexpected letter turns up on her doorstep, she’s forced to face the people and feelings she ran away from all those years ago.

Please check out my MASTERLIST.

PERMANENT TAG LIST: @umccall71 @drakelover78 @jamielea81 @bobasheebaby @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @theroyalweisme @gardeningourmet @jlouise88 @hamulau @traeumerinwitzhelden @blackcatkita @mrs-simmy @kaitycole @alwaysthebestchoice @mfackenthal @trr-duchessofvaltoria @pbchoicesobsessed @liamxs-world @flyawayboo @devineinterventions2 @ranishajay @jayjay879 @alepowell @greyeyedsmile14 @mspaigemoore @princesaakl @annekebbphotography @angelicfangirl @katurrade @cordoniaqueensworld @ao719 @kingliam2019 @custaroonie @lovemychoices @texaskitten30 @harlequinash @smalltalk88 @pixieferry @thatspicegirlssong

Tag List for TTS Only: @herladyshipxx @captainkingliam @cocomaxley @queencatherynerhys @spetstoof @grapefrults @pessimystic-fangirl @dralenamax @hhiggs @penguininapinktuxedo @topsyturvy-dream @diamond-dreamland @pnhanga @ladynonsense @mrsdrakewalkerblog @crookedslimecreatorpasta @liamxs-world @flowerpowell @bruteforcebears @withice @jared2612 @darley1101 @sleeplessescapades @leelee10898 @craftytacotrashdream @eileendannie @bella-ca @x0valkyrie @sunandlemons

11/26/29 - Here we go again. I bet you’re wondering why I’m rewriting/revamping TTS? Five months ago I got a critique about TTS saying that the reader felt it wasn’t realistic enough. For them, things felt rushed and kind of disjointed (examples they gave were the beginning/agreeing to go to the wedding; glossing over Drake/Olivia’s relationship; Riley’s relationship with Paul; Maxwell and Andy’s engagement. I’ll admit, my heart hurt a little because I had put so much time and energy into it and had been getting so much positive feedback that I kind of got blindsided by that critique. With everything that was going on in my life, I kind of just ignored it and moved on thinking that I’d address it when I had more time. Of course, I didn’t really get back into writing again until recently. So, I took the opportunity to reread TTS and I found that the reader who shall remain anonymous (lol!) was correct. It was rushed . . . I did do a disservice to such awesome characters like Paul and Andy and Maxwell and even Olivia! So I’m gonna do right by this critique and rework it so that it is a bit more realistic.

So? What does that mean? The plot is going to change. Eek! I know. Scary. But the general premise will remain the same. Plot twist - I already have the ending written and that won’t change. But Riley’s time in Cordonia will be a bit different. :)

I really hope you guys decide to continue to follow along!

If you want to be removed from the tag or be tagged, please message me! :)

PART 1 - LIFE GOES ON

“Oh my goodness,” I whispered. “Roxy, you’re a magician,” I sighed as I inhaled the delightful cinnamon aroma permeating from my warm cup of cappuccino.

Roxy winked at me. “I know what my best customer likes,” she chuckled. “It’s been ages since you’ve swung by for a visit. I had to make it just perfect for you.”

I smiled brightly at the owner of the coffee shop. Roxy’s Coffee Shop had become a second home to me over the last two years. I had stumbled across it back in college when I first came home to New York. I was in between mid-term exams and needed somewhere to decompress before heading back to campus and happened upon this little hole in the wall café. It was love at first sight. Sure, there were a bunch of mainstream coffee shops scattered across the city, but there was just something that drew you in at Roxy’s. For one, they had the coziest little set up going on. The lighting is dimmed just right and the chairs are extra cozy – which is perfect when you want to get lost in a good book or in my case a really tough crossword puzzle. Another thing? Roxy makes THE best cup of cappuccino this side of the Hudson River. I couldn’t count how many times I found myself huddled in a corner sipping a cup of Roxy’s perfectly brewed coffee after a long day of classes.

And that’s just where I am today – snuggled in a plush, brown chair at the far corner of the shop, steaming cappuccino in one hand and the New York Times in the other. This was the life. I brought the cup of cappuccino to my lips, savoring the delicious taste as I sipped it slowly. “I’ve missed this,” I sighed happily. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much,” I offered. “Business has been crazy, and . . . well . . .you know how it goes when you’re your own boss,” I explained.

“Do I ever . . .” Roxy agreed. “Stay as long as you like. I’ll be sure to have Gus bring you a refill when you’re done,” she smiled.

“Best Barista Ever,” I exclaimed.

“Just you today or is that handsome hunk of man joining you?” Roxy asked waggling her eyebrows.

“Just me,” I laughed. “Paul’s in Boston.”

“Too bad,” Roxy winked at me. “I’ll leave you to it,” she motioned toward the crossword puzzle page in front of me. “Mmhmm, she chuckled. Only girl I know that does the New York Times Crossword in pen,” she shook her head as she went off to tend to another customer.

Sighing, I leaned back into the chair getting myself comfortable. Roxy had been right. I hadn’t stopped by in at least a month. After all, it had been just as long since I had an actual day off. I was about due for some nice rest and relaxation. When Alicia offered to do my consults for the day, I jumped at the opportunity to breakaway for a little while. I was going a bit stir crazy in the four walls of my office. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job and I loved being my own boss even more, but I seemed to constantly be moving at the speed of light. I started Savvy Events right out of college and despite the rocky start I had trying to get it off the ground, things have been booming every since.

I loved the hustle and bustle of my fast-paced life. My weekends were spent planning and coordinating some of the trendiest events in New York City. So I wasn’t planning parties for the Kardashians just yet, but I did plan a party for one of the girls from Sex and the City once and it got featured in Glossy magazine. That was pretty epic. Mostly though, I found myself catering to high-end business professionals who were just too busy to plan parties themselves – corporate galas, year-end celebrations, weddings. You name it; I pretty much could plan it. My weekdays were just as busy – filled with client meetings, scouting visits, and designing sessions. It wasn’t easy, but it kept me busy, the money was great, and I was really, really good at my job – if I do say so myself.

Admittedly, there were times when I missed how much downtime I used to have. I sometimes longed for the days when I could randomly decide to wander aimlessly around the city and discover all of the little idiosyncrasies that New York had to offer. But the Riley back then didn’t have as much responsibilities as I do now. Man, just thinking about how much has changed over the years makes me nostalgic for life pre-business. I’ve come quite a long way from the days when I was waiting tables at that dingy little bar out in Brooklyn. I couldn’t help but smile when I thought about all the late night shifts I spent working at Upscale. I snorted at the memory. Upscale . . . what a totally misleading name. There was absolutely nothing upscale about that crummy, little bar. The patrons were a bit too touchy, and my manager Craig was a giant ass. It wasn’t all bad though. My coworkers were fun and the tips were a dream, especially when I was trying to save up enough money to get back into college. And if it wasn’t for that oh so glamorous waitressing gig . . . my life would have turned out pretty differently. Hell, I never would have met him. Had I not picked up that last party the night he walked into the bar, I never would have met the man that turned my life upside down. I never would have had the opportunity to cross off so many items on my bucket list. I never would have gotten to see the world outside of my tiny little studio in Brooklyn. I never would have fallen in love.

Ouch. Let’s not go there. It had been months since I had even thought about him. I closed my eyes at the thought, clinging onto my cup just a tad bit tighter. My heart had a slight twinge . . . of pain? Regret maybe? I shook my head, mentally chiding myself for letting myself go there again. I was doing so well. What had it been three months since I last thought about him? Or them? That had to be some sort of record. They say time heals all wounds, and I was slowly starting to believe it. It had been two years since everything had happened, and I refused to allow myself to ever be that weak again. I’ll never let myself revert to the girl I was back then. I came back to New York a ghost of my former self. I remember feeling like the aching heartbreak would stay with me forever. I thought that I would be doomed to a life of wallowing in my never-ending grief.

It still amazes me that I was somehow able to pick up the pieces of my broken life and glue them back together again. It was a long and hard road that took many months, but here I am . . . almost as good as new. Were the fractures still there? Oh yes, of course. Once something was broken, you couldn’t just pretend that it hadn’t shattered into a million pieces. The cracks of my former life . . . as much as it killed me to still admit it . . . were still dancing along the surface of my rebuilt life . . . although faded they were still very much a reminder of everything that happened all those years ago.

God, how tragically sappy. The buzzing of my cell phone thankfully interrupted my thoughts. Looking down, I saw my boyfriend’s name flash onto the screen. I couldn’t help but smile. Here I was dwelling on the past when my future was calling. Paul had been away for the last three weeks facilitating a corporate merger between two well known companies. Headquarters for both companies were based in Boston, and although his law firm was centered in New York City, they wanted him to go out and meet the clients directly in their neck of the woods. He’d been flying in and out of Boston for the last few months. I missed him something fierce when he was away, but we’d been getting by through countless text messages and many FaceTime sessions.

“Hi, Handsome,” I answered. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until later today,” I murmured.

“Hey, Gorgeous, I know . . . but I just couldn’t let a whole morning go by without hearing your voice,” he responded.

“Well, lucky me then,” I smiled.

“Luck you indeed because I also happen to have a surprise for you,” he said.

“Ooh,” I hummed. “What kind of surprise?” I could feel my smile grow wider. Paul was something special . . . he was funny . . . sweet . . . caring and oh so thoughtful. He spoiled me. A lot. And I didn’t know exactly what I did to deserve snagging a guy like him, but I was certainly thankful for whatever powers that be that found us winding up together.

“Guess who was able to book an earlier flight and is flying in to see you in exactly three hours?” He said in a sing-song voice.

I was grinning so big my cheeks were starting to hurt. “Shut up!” I exclaimed. “Paul, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day. And you know what? You’re just in time for movie night,” I almost squealed. “They just haven’ been the same without you these last few weeks,” I laughed thinking about what it’s been like him without the last few weeks. I had used my best friend Andy as my stand-in date and she was less than thrilled at my movie selections. “I’ve had to resort to spending movie nights with Andy and you know how that goes,” I chuckled.

“Oh, I have a funny inkling about how that went down.” He chuckled. “Let me guess, she demanded it be a sci-fi flick?”

I groaned. “YES!” I exclaimed. “She tried to get me to watch Deep Impact three times,” I sighed. “I told her that I had no desire to watch a movie about a giant asteroid pummeling down to Earth, but she scoffed when I suggested Legally Blonde,” I said with a slight chuckle in my voice.

Andy had been the first friend I made when I moved back to New York. We found ourselves in the same creative writing class at Hudson University and instantly bonded over our love for all things French. Before you knew it, we were inseparable. I loved her to bits and pieces, but she drove me absolutely crazy. For every similarity we had, there were at least two differences. For one, I was an absolute neat freak . . . whereas Andy seemed to leave a trail of clutter wherever she went. Even our taste in movies differed astronomically. Andy was all about action-packed sci-fi thrillers, whereas I leaned more toward the cheesy romantic comedies. Despite our differences, and me wanting to throttle her a time or two, she and I became tremendous friends, and I absolutely, positively couldn’t imagine what life would be without her.

“Let’s just say that last movie night resulted in a full blown popcorn fight,” I laughed. “That I ended up cleaning all by myself,” I sighed. “There were many a moment I wanted to shove a handful of popcorn in her mouth just to keep her mouth busy,” I chuckled. I paused for a moment, before clearing my throat. “It’s been a long few weeks, Paul. I’ve missed you,” she murmured.

“I’ve missed you so much, too, baby. Remind me not to leave you this long again. Next time, I’m packing you up with me,” he laughed

I grabbed the newspaper and threw it in my tote bag. “Careful … I just might hold you to it.”

I glanced down at my watch and was a bit surprised with how much time had flown by. “Ah damn, if you’re coming home in a few hours I should head back to my apartment. Get things cleaned up a bit. Maybe we can do dinner at Russo’s tonight if you aren’t too jetlagged? Then maybe catch up on all our movie nights we missed while you were gone?” I asked hopefully.

“Anything you want, babe. I honestly don’t care what we do as long as I get to see your gorgeous face.”

I could feel my cheeks grow hot at his compliment. This guy. My God, was he a sweet talker or what? I got that our relationship was still in the honeymoon stage so to speak – we had only been exclusively dating for eight months after all, but man, did he know how to sweep a girl off her feet or what? Butterflies? Nope, I had full blown moths fluttering around in there, and somehow, he also managed to make me go weak in the knees each time I saw him.

Admittedly, I wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of going out with him at first, but I’m very glad that he was able to wear me down eventually. Yeah, the frequent trips to Boston were hard, but we were making it work. And surprisingly, we hadn’t even had a single disagreement since we first started dating. Our relationship was easy. Comfortable even. And well . . . normal. God, how I craved normalcy. Those were things that I never had with him. Then again, I don’t think there was anything really normal about my relationship with him. Ugh. I’m doing it again. Just stop.

Paul’s voice broke through my internal struggle. “There’s ah … something I wanted to talk to you about, too. Been thinking a lot about it while on the trip, and was hoping to run it by you today.”

“Oh? Okay, that sounds good,” I replied, as I waved a quick goodbye to Roxy. “I’ll see you in a few, babe,” I smiled as I tapped the end on my phone and left Roxy’s Coffee Shop.

The trek back home wouldn’t take me long as I only lived a few blocks away. There was so much I needed to do before he got in, but I was pretty excited to see Paul. FaceTime was great, but nothing could replace seeing him in person or hearing his laugh right across from me. We had met about a year after I returned to New York. I had finally picked myself back up and moved on from my time in Cordonia. I had reenrolled in college, finished my last semester and earned my Bachelor’s Degree in Business. Shortly after I graduated, I went to my local credit union and asked for a loan to start up my own business. It was a gigantic risk at the time – after all, I had no backup plan if I failed miserably. They started me off with a modest loan which I used to get the foundation of Savvy Events created. Even with the loan, money was tight. To cut down costs, I was working out of my apartment with only a single laptop and my design book.

Paul’s law firm was one of my very first clients. I’d been hired to coordinate an event honoring the firm’s newest partner – Paul. When I went in to meet with him for the initial consultation, I found myself surprisingly attracted to him. I hadn’t dated anyone since . . . well since Cordonia, and it wasn’t like I was looking to date again. My heart was pretty shut off from jumping into ANY relationship, and when I met Paul and felt a little spark, I tried my best to snuff it out. I didn’t NEED a relationship and I certainly didn’t WANT one. Especially after the shitshow that had happened back in Cordonia, but there was something about Paul that kept drawing me in . . . even though I wanted none of it. Paul was tall, slender with touches of gray in his dark hair. He was just under ten years older than me, and he had an air of sophistication that was very fitting of a corporate attorney. I tried my best to ignore the growing attraction between us. It was my first major gig and I could not screw it up by being attracted to the guest of honor. That would be a big no-no. I wanted to keep things professional. I also didn’t want my newly pieced back together heart, broken again. I tried so hard to pretend that there wasn’t anything between us . . . but each meeting had me falling a lot more in like with him than I wanted. He was sweet, charismatic and genuinely interested in knowing more about me. That’s why, I wasn’t all too surprised that when the party was over he had asked me out to dinner and wouldn’t accept no for an answer.

I agreed to a single dinner and made it clear that I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I didn’t go into a lot of detail, but just gave him the rundown that my heart had been smashed to smithereens and there was no way in hell I was going to fall down that black hole again. He was oh so patient and understood completely. That single dinner turned into a standing weekly date which then turned into frequent movie nights throughout the week. Eight months later, I’m still in major like with him. LIKE. Not love . . . I mean, yes, there have been moments when he does something so amazingly, sweet that I go all heart-eyes on him . . . but love . . . yeah, no. Thanks to him, I don’t really think I can ever “love” someone so freely again. If there was anything that I learned from my time in Cordonia it’s that love is a four letter word that makes you weak . . . and I’d be damned if I would allow myself to get swept up in that whirlwind again.

After wrestling with my thoughts, I found myself standing on the front stoop of my apartment building. It was the typical New York City brick-built walk up. It was in a pretty good area near a lot of shops and markets. It was also ridiculously close to the subway making it so easy to find yourself in any one of the other boroughs of the city. Because of that it was obscenely expensive. I mean, two bedroom apartments in New York are already obscenely expensive, but one in close proximity to the subway typically broke the bank. Thank God for Andy. Without her splitting of the rent, we never would have been able to afford something in this area.

I climbed up the three flights of stairs to my apartment unit, all the while, butterflies floated around happily in my stomach. My mind raced to what I was going to wear to our early dinner tonight. It also drifted to what Paul wanted to talk to me about. He seemed a bit vague about it.

“Hey,” I said happily as I walked through the front door. I threw my keys onto the island in the kitchen. Andy was sitting on the floor furiously typing away on her laptop. Papers were strewn all around her in different piles.

“How’s the thesis going?” I asked, eyeing a few of the crumpled, wadded up paper next to her.

Andy stretched her arms over her head, yawning. “I’ve been at this since seven this morning and got all of one page done. You tell me.” She snorted.

Andy was an English major who had earned her Bachelor’s Degree two semesters ago. Her educational goals were much loftier than my own. She wanted her PhD. I just wanted to get the hell out of school. It had already taken me a bit longer than expected to get my degree, and I didn’t have the funds or drive to continue any further beyond my BA.

Andy was in her second semester of Hudson’s Literary Studies MA program, and I didn’t envy her in the slightest. While my life had become consumed with all things Savvy Events, her life was consumed by her thesis. I didn’t understand why someone would willingly spend so many hours of their life working on a paper that could either make or break your educational endeavors, especially when there was going to be more schooling and papers waiting for her on the other side of her MA. She’d still have at least four more years in her doctoral program. I internally cringed at even the thought of it. Andy had mentioned a few times that she’d probably have to move out of state to pursue the PhD program that she wanted. I didn’t even want to think about what that meant for our friendship.

Andy had been my saving grace when I first moved back to New York. And if I were being honest, she was the only friend I had for quite a while upon returning. When I had come home to New York, a lot of my college friends had graduated and moved out of state. Even my old coworkers at Upscale had found new jobs and moved on with their lives. A lot changes in six months. I was left in a state of limbo, not really having anywhere to go or anyone to turn to. Meeting Andy was a blessing that I so desperately needed at a time when I wasn’t really sure what to do with my life.

I never really told Andy what happened to land me back in New York, and being the godsend that she is, she never pushed or pried. I vaguely mentioned that I had been traveling out of the country for a while, and she assumed that I had been a part of some foreign exchange program. She never prodded and I never corrected her because . . . well . . . talking about Cordonia . . . and him . . . would just reopen the wounds that had taken so very long to heal. I wanted a clean break from all things Cordonian. I left no contact number or forwarding address. I wanted them to forget I ever existed, and to be honest, I wanted to forget they had ever existed, too.

“Hey, one page is better than nothing right?” I popped open the refrigerator grabbing a soda can out of it. “Want one?” I said as I held up a can to offer Andy.

“I’m good. I’m wired on three cups of coffee right now. I don’t think my body can handle any more caffeine right now. So how was your day off?”

“It was fantastic.” I sighed happily. “Paul’s flying in today . . . in a few hours in fact.”

Andy cocked her eyebrow. “Really? I thought he was going to be gone for nearly a month?”

“Me too, but I guess his negotiations must have wrapped up quicker than expected, so he’s flying back. We’re doing dinner tonight at Russo’s, so you’re on your own tonight okay? Looks like my movie partner is back in action,” I chuckled as I made my way toward my bedroom.

“Thank God!” Andy exclaimed. “Your taste in movies is horrendous, geeze,” she sighed. “Wait . . . does that mean you guys are planning on coming back here and having some post business trip loving, because I was planning on working until at least eleven tonight.”

“Andy!” I yelled, turning away from my doorway. “Seriously?” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“I’m just saying! Every time that man goes away on business, you can’t keep your hands off of each other when he gets back. I mean, I get it, you’re still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship … but can you may be spread the lovey dovey googly eyes crap at his place tonight? I do not like being the third wheel,” she said pointedly.

“Stop it,” I scolded. “And we aren’t that bad,” I chided. “I mean . . . yes when he comes back from his business trips we are quite happy to actually be together in person again . . . but we hardly push any hard limits . . . we always keep it to a nice and comfortable PG-13 level, thank you very much.”

Andy waggled her eyebrows. “Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

I rolled my eyes and threw my balled up jacket at her head. “I’m going to go get ready for tonight. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

As I turned into my bedroom and started to rummage through my closet for something to wear, I heard Andy enter my room behind me. "Hey, before you go off to get all glamorous for your date … you got mail today. Seems pretty fancy . . . and it looks like it has some sort of foreign postmark. Cor-something? I can’t make out the rest,” she said as she squint her eyes to make out the lettering.

My hand clenched on my closet’s door, an unsettling feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. “Foreign?” I asked, turning to stare at Andy, my jaw clenching. “What do you mean foreign? What’s it say?” I asked, abandoning the clothes in my closet.

Andy had the envelope in her hand and looked at it again. It was a cream-colored envelope. She scrunched up her face again. “Well, the postmark looked weird, and I had to sign some sort of funky slip of paper to acknowledge that I received it,” she shrugged. “I can’t really read the full postmark. Look,” she motioned to the envelope. “It even has a fancy red seal on it.”

My heart beat faster in my chest and my legs felt like they were turning into noodles. A wave of emotions washed over me. Foreign postmark . . . red seal . . . it couldn’t be. Could it? Not after all this time. I mean . . . it’s about two years too late to be reaching out. The thoughts hummed through my head as I eyed the envelope in Andy’s hand.

I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice. “Does it say who it’s from?”

Andy shrugged nonchalantly, as if the letter she was holding wasn’t the ticking time bomb that it was. “Nope, just some sort of insignia.” Andy handed me the envelope. “Does it look familiar?”

I swallowed hard, my eyes dropping to the seal. My fingers traced the wax seal on the envelope. Did it look familiar? Of course it did. I’d seen the crest hundreds of times during my time in Cordonia. Bertrand and Maxwell had made sure that I was familiar with all of the court’s seals and crests. I wanted to speak, but my voice cracked a little in the process. How could this happen? Fifteen minutes ago I was so excited that Paul was flying home . . . . now all I felt was absolute dread. The butterflies from earlier were gone, replaced by a gnawing feeling of anxiety.

“Ri?” Andy questioned.

I lifted my head. “Hm?” I asked as I felt my eyes glazing over.

“Does it look familiar?” She asked again. I could sense the impatience growing in her voice.

“Y-yes,” I replied softly.

I could feel Andy’s eyes boring into me. “Well? What is it?” She asked. “Who’s it from?”

I licked my lips nervously, and cleared my throat. “It’s the family crest of House Beaumont from Cordonia.” I replied softly. My chest felt tight, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I braced myself on the arm of the couch, trying to sit down. I tried my best to remain composed, but I could already feel hot tears pricking my eyes.

Andy scrunched her face up in confusion. “From where?”

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dontcallmecarrie · 5 years

Note

Whatever happens with school or your writing, please don’t prioritize it over your health. I had a bad habit(I’m still working on it) where I’d draw all day. I love drawing, so it was fun! But it was all I did. I didn’t eat or bathe or deal with any of my responsibilities/homework and I let my apartment fall apart. Sometimes I didn’t even sleep. Even though I improved my art a lot, I also did a lot of damage to myself. So I just wanted you to know that you’re just as important as your stories.

Friend, I appreciate your concern and can 100% relate to where you’re coming from, and am proud to say that at this point in time I’m fine and congratulate you on your success.

This is my fandom-focused sideblog and I try to keep personal stuff out of it, but to sum up: it’s been hectic, but so far I’ve managed to weather the storm okay. [Apologies because this gets pretty TMI, warning for mentions of mental health issues and my life being a never-ending tire fire.]

The reason for my erratic updates? I don’t generally drink or smoke; I have a family history of addiction, and I really don’t want to risk it. Which, combined with the stuff going on in my life, means I’ve got a lot of stress and not very many ways to vent that I’m comfortable with turning to.

So I write.

I wrote after exams specifically because I sometimes struggled with anxiety and found that fanfic was a lot more fun than wondering if I failed or not [wasn’t kidding when I said ‘post-test jitters’, here.] I wrote when I found the time, after turning in my essays, and after nerve-wracking phone calls with people I have the dubious honor of sharing DNA with. I wrote when I was failing some of my classes and my GPA took a hit because of it, and when I realized my intended major wasn’t going to work out and was making me miserable on top of it.

I know some of the writing could’ve been better, but I just do this for fun anyway, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

…anyway. It’s been a few years since I started [2. iirc, it’s been over 2 now], and it’s been a bumpy road since, but I did it. [Somehow, I’m not even sure how I managed to pull some of it off in retrospect.]

Also: I try to avoid getting too TMI on this blog, but as far as my attitude towards producing content goes? I try and put myself first, specifically because I have relatives who are the embodiment of ‘you gave me an inch so that’s obviously an invitation to take three miles every time I see you’ and it took me a while to learn how to put myself first and get them to back tf off. [it was an…embarrassingly long while, tbh. tfw you’re apparently seen as one of the family’s fixers because you’re the first idiot in your generation to show a speck of responsibility when you had a hard time saying no sometimes]

This shows up in my writing by how I…don’t write, sometimes.

I didn’t write when things picked up the pace and I switched majors, or when I discovered I liked kayaking on the lake near my now-alma mater. Didn’t write when I took classes far outside my original comfort zone.

I didn’t write when I graduated […also partly because things also hit the fan at the time, but shh].

…um. Apologies for the TMI, but long story short: I greatly appreciate your concern, but I’m doing pretty good atm.

I’m a bit nervous about the future which is why I’m trying to finish what I have [in case I might need to go on hiatus or something— don’t want to leave anyone hanging], but that’s another thing entirely.

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bhintatta · 4 years

Text

Entitled To Success

Entitled, the word which has completely changed it’s definitation due to sub-reddits like r/entitledparents making it instant reminder of someone on the extreme end of cringe-meter. That’s how I’m acting now, after failing consecutively for three years in all kind of challanges ranging from rote-n-vomit college exams to tougher ones like JEE and JAM, I still feel like somehow it’s not the end. Everything is in front of me, my flaws and weaknesses which is a pretty good recipe for a perfect failure. Instead of accepting that maybe I’m not that good to acheive my dReAms and will probably stay in this mediocrity all my life, I’m planning to go even higher.

I know it sounds like some Ted-Talk about someone who never gave up and kept moving forward but to be honest I can’t go on my whole life with this delusional mindset, everything is getting worse after every failure. Althogh I’m improving as an individual and getting mature but nobody gives a fuck about it, all what matters is end result and that’s the thing I haven’t acheived yet. I’m heading towards being that guy who gives unsolicited advice and acts like a highly intellectual person but when it comes to his accomplishments, he’s an utter failure, always telling how he missed by just a narrow margin and would make it this time.

NIT, I was aiming for it last year and now I have a chance to go there but this fucking ego isn’t allowing me to do so. JAM score was not even close to my expectations still I’m getting some low level NITs but nope, homie going back into same shithole of grinding one more year of preperation for JAM which will be filled with humiliation and explaining why I’m not a loser.

As I said the level is rising every year, oh boy, this time it escalated to another hightes. Taya is again in his furious mode which seems periodic after every two years, fucking with everyone which comes into his way and as always thinking everyone is noting but a dumb-fuck. Fella already got a shop on rent and about to get a loan of 1 Lakh on my name to open a cybercafe cum online form filling center named KARTIKEY SOLUTIONS. Bruh, I suggested to name it Digital Worls or some shit like that but that’s not the point, there are already three compititors doing the exact same thing and I’m supposed to generate revenue to pay EMI+rent in a small town where people bargin on cost of black-n-white photostat. I’m not saying it’s not possible but again I’ll get crushed under these boomer’s expectations,

This is the point where I should re-evaluate my goals and start with a realistic prespective, stop thinking that I’m destined to be on the top becuase this world doesn’t owe me shit. I should this and that yada yada.... that’s the whole point.

I’ve become a little bitch who’s ego has been hurt and now doen’t care whether failure is in again my fate or how things will work out. Here’s the thing, the bar has been already set, I’ve come too far to back off now, It’s all or nothing. I can’t let myself down, it’ll be extremely hard and nothing like I’ve faced before but I don’t care.

I know only one thing I CAN, I WILL, I MUST.

20-March-2020 (Corona-virus)

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physioblr · 5 years

Text

Hello followers!

Sorry for not making original studyblr content in forever. I should update you on what has happened since Autumn quarter.

Autumn Quarter:

I had a terrible quarter. I managed to have an awful biology professor, the kind of professor that is proud of the fact that his exam distributions look like barf. He also revealed himself to be racist and taught the ecology unit with most settler colonial savior complex imaginable. Oh, and he admitted to 600 students that he failed his grad exams and only got his job as a lecturer because of his father-in-law — he used this story as a sort of failed attempt at ‘you fail and fail and then you become successful someday’ weird inspirational narrative.

I didn’t fail his class by any stretch of the imagination, but it did bring down my cumulative 4.0 GPA.

I also had a disability access coordinator that I didn’t really click with. She has dyscalculia, but had internalized a lot of ableism. She didn’t seem to get why I was doing a STEM degree and thought I was trying to pull a fast one with an accommodation. It was really gross, considering accommodations are my legal right and it was her job to help me make sure professors are following federal law.

I got rather depressed, had panic attacks on the regular, and my ADHD got really bad. I had to realize I had very few tools for dealing with the emotional dysregulation part of ADHD. I was not my best self.

Winter Quarter:

I had a wonderful quarter. Though, I had to study like a professional athlete to get a 4.0. I discovered I loved organic chemistry winter quarter and was really good at helping others understand it. It almost made me want to change my major. My orgo professor was amazing! He was really respectful and chill about my accommodations. Everyone loved him, and our whole class got fairly good grades.

I got assigned a different access coordinator. She seemed nice enough. I didn’t have much contact with her at all because I didn’t need much help getting accommodations implemented.

I also worked on my emotional regulation tools a lot over winter. It took a lot of mindfulness practice and I improved a lot.

Spring Quarter:

I had a terrible and exhausting quarter. My biochem professor was a piece of work. She was really insecure. She pulled a Jeb Bush and asked for praise during lectures, it was so cringe. She was also really ableist. I emailed her to start the ‘interactive process’ regarding my disabilities (as per university policy) before the quarter started. She didn’t reply until my access coordinator and the department made her — her excuse was that her email somehow was broken for over a month. She fought me on accommodations basically every week, wouldn’t listen to directions from my access coordinator, and was just overall insufferable.

It wasn’t just me that had issue with her. The whole class was close to rioting because of how unprofessional and unprepared she was to be head lecturer. I got some tea from the TAs and apparently the head TA went to bat for us about her exams being insane. One TA also told me that the course content was impossible, he had a year to learn it and we only had a quarter.

Despite all her shenanigans, I got a 4.0. I studied 4-6 hours a day. The class distribution was a nightmare. The standard deviation got larger for every exam, and the class average got lower too. It was horrendous. I’m not sure how I got an A.

I have a feeling my access coordinator is going to reassign me in September. I had her help me a lot. So much that although it’s her job, I felt guilty. I would get panic attacks when my biochem professor would challenge an exam accommodation because of her feels . I would also get panic attacks when the professor didn’t email me worksheets in accessible text (and as an extra time for assigned work accommodation) — this made it really difficult for me to participate in group work. So, I had to ask my access coordinator to deal with her. It felt like I was just re-experiencing all ableist teacher trauma if I tried to deal with her.

What I’m up to this summer:

I’m recovering from burnout. By the time Spring finals came around, I was feeling incredibly burned out. All I wanted to do was sleep and laze about. So, I took a few weeks off after finals.

I’m getting swol. My workout routine got sacrificed too often in favor of studying. I got to the point where I felt guilty about it if I wasn’t using quizlet while at the gym. It was unhealthy. Going to the gym is super important and helps lessen my hyperactive symptoms (without cranking up my medication dose). So, this summer I started lifting and doing cardio regularly.

I’m learning R. I’m already kind of familiar with it, but I have forgotten a lot that I learned and I want to go about it more deliberately this time.

I’m volunteering for Extinction Rebellion (rebellion.earth) by making educational and promotional materials. I will share them on here this summer! In case you all don’t already know — we have 10 years until we reach a point of no return on walking back the effects of climate change. Please join an activist group like extinction rebellion in your area! We seriously need more people getting involved if we are going to stop the extinction of our species.

I’m making ADHD & dyscalculia friendly study-guides (I think that is what I have landed on calling them, but if you all have better suggestions let me know!) which is basically material condensed down to something a lot more manageable but a bit less personal than notes. The subjects I’m covering are organic chemistry, general chemistry, biochemistry, biology, and probably statistics. I’m going to be selling them online, and I will definitely link them here if you all are interested!

Due the above, I will be reviving #studycation posts! (:

[Pictured: My university campus, photos taken over several quarters]

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orderofthepygmypuff · 5 years

Text

Claudia is amazeballs

@maraudersftw is taking all these tests and kicking all the a$$ right now so here is a one-shot in her honor <3

Read it on A03.

Lily vs. the N.E.W.Ts

Lily Evans might fail her Transfiguration N.E.W.T, she has an annoying cold, and James Potter is here to ruin her life. Probably. That’s always what he wants to do, right?

Every time Lily thought about the N.E.W.T.s, she felt the knot in her belly grow a little tighter. She’d written up a complicated study schedule in September, felt immensely proud and prepared, and then forgotten about it until after the Christmas holidays. Now the panic seemed to be settling into her bones, and to make it even worse, it seemed to be physically manifesting as a cold. Lily couldn’t stop sniffling and dripping all over her parchment.

She wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure though—it was somewhat comforting to see all her classmates spending their breaks and meal times hunched over sheafs of notes and stolen library books. Even Dorcas Meadowes, who was clearly the toughest witch in their year, ended up vomiting during one of McGonagall’s particularly difficult lessons.

(But Dorcas being Dorcas, had vomited right on the classroom floor in front of everybody instead of running to the bathroom. And then when everyone including Professor McGonagall had stopped to stare in horror, Dorcas had vanished the mess and taken a bow to general applause. Only Lily, sitting next to her, had seen her friend’s hands shake.)

Exam stress was real, and it was getting to everyone. Everyone except for—

The portrait hole burst open, and Lily’s mood went from tense to furious in a second when she saw James Potter standing there in his Quidditch robes, his stupid hair looking all windswept, and a broad, relaxed grin on his spectacularly annoying face.

“Alright, Evans?”

And of course he would single her out two seconds after entering the room. It was like he existed to aggravate her.

“Sod off, Potter.” She attempted her best icy snarl, but it came out less vicious due to her plugged up nose and raspy throat.

And in fact, Potter didn’t look put out or chastised—he had the audacity to approach her, with a little wrinkle in his brow, his grin transformed into a slight frown, and sit down in the empty seat next to her (which had remained vacant all evening due to the combined forces of Lily’s terrible mood and her obvious illness).

“Are you sick?”

Lily groaned and covered her head with her arms, resting on top of Advanced Potion Making, Grade Seven.

“You caught that cold going around, did you? Can’t be pleasant trying to study for the N.E.W.T.s with that,” said James lightly.

Lily felt the telltale burning in her eyes. Why, why, why did she have to deal with James sodding Potter on top of being completely unable to breathe and nearly 100% positive that she was going to fail her Transfiguration exam? The latter things she had accepted as unfortunate yet unavoidable facts of life, but why did Potter have to be a part of this mess?

And the worst of it—the absolute worst—was that somehow in the past few months, she had come to realize that she just didn’t hate James Potter the way she had in the past. With their joint Head duties forcing them together far more often than in previous years, things between them had just—changed.

And now there was a new (and far worse) kind of feeling: the way the sight of him made her heart leap to her throat. The way she felt frozen and shaky when he smiled at her.

The way tears were now leaking from her eyes in emotional overwhelmation because he said something perfectly normal and friendly to her.

“Please leave me alone,” she said in a watery whimper. “I really need to study.”

“Aw, no, Lily. It’s going to be alright.” He brushed back her unkempt hair from where it had stuck to her face, still hidden in her arms.

To Lily’s horror (though, if she was being honest, what she felt was something less like horror and more like relief), she leaned right into him and cried.

James put his arms awkwardly around her, rubbed circles on her back, and rested his chin on her head. It was warm and lovely; he smelled like open air and sweat; and Lily barely resisted the urge to pull up her freezing feet and tuck them close to him too.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“I can’t. I’ll fail Transfiguration.” It was Friday evening, and Lily’s plan had been to study all night to help her catch up on the revision she’d neglected to do for months.

“You won’t.” He held her (wet, blotchy, red-nosed) face between his palms. “You, Lily Evans, are a brilliant goddamn witch, and you are not going to let some stupid cold get in the way of your success. You’re going to get well, and work hard like you always do, and then breeze through these exams. And you’re going to do so well that you’ll be the youngest Minister of Magic that Britain has ever known.”

“I’m not brilliant,” said Lily miserably. “I’m behind on everything, and it’s my own fault. You’re the one who’s going to breeze through this, not me.”

“Are you kidding? Evans, do you know what time it is?”

“About two in the morning?”

“Exactly. And I just came in from the pitch because that Charms N.E.W.T. is absolutely going to decimate me, and I wanted to do one last thing I enjoyed before surrendering to a life as an abject failure and disappointment.”

Lily gave a watery laugh, but the sight of him looking so resigned made it die in her throat.

“What are you even talking about, Potter? Everything is easy for you.”

James shook his head. “It’s not. That’s just—I just act like that because—”

“Because what?”

“Because.”

He was quite as red as she was now, Lily noticed. She drew back, pulling her head from his hands, and he cleared his throat.

“I’m good at Transfiguration.”

“Well bully for you then,” said Lily, turning back to her notes. She had to get a good eight hours of studying in before—

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that you’re good at Charms, and I’m good at Transfiguration. So we can help each other.”

She looked up, trying to keep her face neutral and hide the fact that her stomach was suddenly doing cartwheels. Spending time with James Potter did strange and ridiculous things to her, but he was undeniably good at Transfiguration. If he could help her—

“I could use a tutor,” she said slowly.

“So could I.”

She couldn’t help the smile that crept up her face. “I guess we’ll do that then.”

“Under one condition,” said James, looking suddenly solemn.

“What?”

“You go to bed right now, and we’ll studying start right after breakfast.”

She frowned. “I told you, I need to—”

“Sleep,” he finished for her. “Come on, Evans.”

She looked at his face, fully intending to argue her point, but the sight of it made her mouth go dry these days, because looked at her like that: soft smile creasing his tawny skin, those hazel eyes, that mole by his neck that she wanted to kiss—

What?!

She found herself obeying the pressure of his hands as he helped her up, wrapped her Gryffindor scarf more tightly round her neck, and led her to the bottom of the staircase to the girls’ dormitories. She paused there, turning to say something that vanished on her tongue because he was standing so close, and she couldn’t breathe (and not just because of this stupid cold), and then he was leaning in and kissing her softly on her (probably still damp) forehead.

“Goodnight, Evans.”

—

Lily woke the next morning just in time for breakfast, and found a bottle of Pepper-up Potion and two notes on her bedside table:

Evans,

Remus nicked a few of these from Madam Pomfrey last week so he wouldn’t have to “waste time being fussed over during N.E.W.T. season,” and since the two of you are weirdly similar, I thought you might appreciate a bottle for the same reason. I’ll be in the library after breakfast—see you soon?

Yours

Your friend,

—J. Potter

—James

Lily—

What the hell did you do to Potter last night? He accosted me at dawn to bring you a damn note and a potion??? Are you two finally together? YOU’D BETTER TELL ME EVERYTHING THE SECOND YOU WAKE UP.

“Your friend” (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

Dorcas

Lily downed the potion in one, even though it made the steam rush through her ears at top speed. She had breakfast to eat, an exam to ace, and a boy to—er. Tutor. Right. Obviously.

#jily fic #jily #fluff

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fightostudy · 5 years

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Hi! I need help with failure. I’m so bad at it. I knowingly beat myself up for things other people consider success, but I am just so hard on myself and I take it so black and white. Please help me learn how to not determine my value through academia! Sending lots of love ❤️

Hello!! Please have a look at this post: https://fightostudy.tumblr.com/post/154198770448/strive-for-da-best-fuckstudy-see-full which has some good tips and also this one which is just very very true https://fightostudy.tumblr.com/post/148536847511/educatier-51216

I completely understand where you’re coming from. As much as I try to spread a good culture around failure and try to embrace it, to be honest, i REALLY REALLY suck at it. For example, I sometimes cry during card games with my boyfriend. That being said, I have definitely had some good success stories regarding my attitude to failure. What I mean by ‘success stories’ is that there have been times where after failure I successfully picked myself back up and trudged along. I think linking ‘success’ to how you respond to things is really important. I’m going to suggest a more ‘solid’ way to approach it though, one that I, a person who struggles with failure, recommends:

1. In general, foster a process-driven attitude. Change your mind about what failure is, what external failure (ie. failing your test or failing someone’s expectation) means, and how to respond to failure.

RE: what failure is - instead of defining failure externally (ie. failure of a test), redefine it to mean something else. For example, failure is not giving it your best, failure is giving up when it got difficult.

RE: what external failure means - this one really helped me. Rather than saying ‘external failure = I am a failure’, I said ‘external failure = something in my process went wrong, so I am going to find out what went wrong and think about how I can improve it and try again using my new method’. I didn’t believe it at first, I thought it was stupid and I thought my attitude towards failure was too engrained in my personality for me to ever adopt this new ‘attitude’. Still, I kept saying it to myself over and over again. Now I like half believe it and IT HAS ACTUALLY HELPED. The first time I tried this was during a law mid-sem exam where I got 58 - a pass mark, the worst mark I personally had gotten before. This felt like an external failure to me. I felt especially disappointed because I had actually studied during the entire summer break before the course even started! I cried, got back up and said ‘I’ll try this whole process-driven thing’. So, I followed my friend who got great marks. I carefully observed his study methods and tried to adopt them. Viola, somehow I brought that 58 to a 79 (almost a HD)! I think the best thing is once you try it and it works, it gives you motivation to try again.

You’ll realise that a process-driven attitude also means a challenge-driven attitude - you need to get excited at the prospect of challenge, going through that challenge and coming out at the other end as a more complex person.

2. In general, learn from your friends. Like I mentioned above, learn how other people do things and try adopt them, especially if your current method isn’t working.

GAME PLAN - you’ve failed, now what?

1. Give yourself 24 hours to mope. It’s normal to have a sad reaction to an external failure. But remember, your reaction does not have to be your response. This also goes for success - I give myself 24 hours to celebrate. In the end, it’s a nice thing if you get a good mark, and it’s not a nice thing when you get a bad mark.

2. Repeat - ‘I am enough. This is not defining of who I am, it just means that something is wrong with the process and I can fix that!’ BONUS: hi five a friend and say ‘yay I failed! this is just an opportunity for me to challenge myself!’ Also read quotes and stuff about failure and listen to those big CEOs talk about how they failed (i get a bit cynical doing this but it still helps me engrave that mindset).

3. Analyse what went wrong - the hardest part. Face your fears and read that exam paper. Have the courage to not be offended, don’t take it personally (easier said than done).

4. Ask for help. so important. Ask your teacher, ask your friends. ‘Where did I go wrong? How can I make sure I don’t do that next time? What do you recommend doing now?’

5. Make a game plan on how you’re going to approach the next task, based on the above. The task doesn’t necessarily have to be related, like an assignment in the same course. It could just be the next course.

I recommend reading the book ‘Mindset’ by Carolyn Dweck. 100%, there were things in there I knew, and things I didn’t, but either way worth the read. Really helps cement these ideas into your mind. If you watch Harvard Youtuber John Fish, he also recommends this book.

This all might sound a bit wanky but it’s worked for me so hopefully it helps yo!

Ultimately, it’s about trying to foster a good attitude towards failure and challenge throughout your life, and PRACTICE PRACTICE PRACTICE. You’ll become a failure-pro in no time!

#failure

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vayankb-blog · 4 years

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“Is it enough”

IS IT ENOUGH” -Vayank Bhatia. We humans since our existence struggle to make things happen our own way , work our asses off to fulfil our desires but somehow it just doesn’t seem enough. Be it a multi-millionaire or a normal 9-5 job person, its just not enough . With all the luxuries in hand, sufficient money that can last from generations to generations, its just not “enough”. So when is it enough? Ever given it a thought? Will it be enough when u get that dream job? Will it be enough when u have abundant money? But what about everything in between ? Fighting all Odds to get that job , working hard all day , making all the sacrifices. But when we think about it, it scares us. We feel good about thinking of the destination whereas we forget how the journey is going to be. In todays world, where everything can be delivered to our doorstep, where science and technology is growing day by day, we still lack in the ability of feeling happy and satisfied. You must have read this everywhere “ be satisfied with whatever u have, thank almighty for what all he has given to u”. But do u really feel that way?. According to a research, there are more people now suffering from anxiety and depression than they did 30 years ago. Seriously? U must be thinking. A world where u can open ur phone and get to know what your friends are up to, talk to ppl miles away , all the stuff u require no matter from which part of the world , can be in your hands in a matter of days. Shouldn’t life be easier with all this?, but isn’t. Me, I am a teenager from India and by gods grace I have a very loving family who has provided me with the best of both worlds. The best of education, and now being able to pursue a career I always wanted to, without any questions asked. But somehow, I sometimes feel that I am not happy. Is it basic teenage life struggles? Maybe. But is it necessary to feel like that? Maybe not. Problems will never have an end. either small or big. They don’t end. And we always look at problems as if something really bad has happened to us or we question our fate that of all the people in the world why me? But never think of looking it from a positive perspective. We fail to learn from it, instead we cry over it. Sometimes being at the rock bottom can teach us what the mountain peak can’t. You must be thinking ‘Yes we all know that, but how to inculcate all these thoughts and be happy forever’. Sorry, you can’t. Ask yourself, when were you last satisfied, happy and felt you were happy with your life? Got you thinking right?. Thinking of all the pain you have been suffering no matter what is the cause or who was to be blamed to make u feel that way.But think, who is actually responsible now for making things right and living a healthy lifestyle?. It’s you. For how long will u hold onto something that will only bring out the worst of you? it may not be your fault, but it’s you, who is responsible for making things right and lead a happy life. What we ignore is a very important step.Acceptance. Accepting your pain plays a major role, if u want to move on. Sounds difficult?. Well, it is.But it hurts less.Accepting your current situation, will help u in making things clear that what you really want. Wishing for things to be different is not going to help, because that’s what it is. It has happened. What now?. you and only you know what’s bothering you. Knowing your inner self, your thoughts can help you recognise the extent of your wound and help you heal it, as you accept your authentic self. There is a concept which I would like to share,that is the 5/5 rule. Something’s bothering you? Think of it and see if it’ll matter to you 5 years from now, it doesn’t? Then don’t spend more than 5 seconds thinking about it. We all have problems in our present that seem too big and feels so difficult to just move past it, but as it’s said that ‘time is the biggest healer’ over time, when we look back it just doesn’t seem so huge. And it makes us think , then why did we make such a fuss about it then? Why did we waste our time?. What seems huge and painful today, might turn out to be one of the lessons life has taught you.Whatever painful situation you are in, stay strong, know you have what it takes to get through all of it. Just keep going. :) Struggle: often a misinterpreted term, what I think struggle in itself is beautiful. It makes u realise what you want and what you don’t. It tells you your strengths and weaknesses. But Something which is that beneficial be perceived so wrongly? Today struggling and failing are often treated similar. Struggling to make a career out of your passion ? People will already consider you as a failure because you aren’t doing what they want you to be doing for the rest of your life. What the actual fuck?. Ever seen a baby starting to walk at his first attempt?. No he falls and falls but one day succeeds. Improvement comes from failing multiple times before finally succeeding. if Someone’s better than you chances are that he/she has failed more than you until he got the task right. our education system is such that it judges the ability of a student on the basis of their success and failure. Whereas, one who has tasted failure has acquired more knowledge and discovered his/hers true potential. And in our society people are like what the critics are towards a film. They will screw you over what wrong you did and overlook the facts that you did try and gave your best.But u failed , and there’s absolutely nothing wrong about that, it does hurt and pain. But that pain is the part of the process, which eventually acts like fuel to fire and makes you thirsty for what you haven been searching for your whole life, SUCCESS. Me, I am writing for the very first time in my life. I would definitely get some critical judgements , but that shouldn’t stop me from writing if I really want to write . If I do, I would just prove them right and be stagnant at my position and not improve. The idea is to not please anyone but to satisfy one’s own self. Always try and bring out the positive from negative, because being positive all the time is being negative in itself. Quoting Mao Zedong “ once all struggle is grasped, Miracles are indeed possible”. So put your heads up, look at the world as your playground and do whatever you want. There will be downfalls, criticism, and a lot of pain. But savour it, and learn from it. Keep moving and achieve greater heights, because it is never enough. Life: A matter of choices. Whatever happens with you in your life is basically a consequence of a choice u make. Exam around the corner ? But u chose to go for parties instead of sitting at home and Studying your ass off. Consequence? Failure. And then crying that why did it happen to me?!? Everyone is struggling, somehow or the other. Some people accept their mistakes and move forward and those who deny, keep complaining. Failure is the only way to move forward in life. Well, it tells you where u lack , what is it that u need to improve. It’s well said that “ someone who thinks he knows everything, actually knows nothing”. We mortal beings are not scared of working hard, what scares us the most is that what if we work hard and still fail? And due to that fearful thought we don’t even give it a shot. Failure, success Is all part of the journey you and I are on. It’s based on a “consequence” of the choices you have made .What is in our hands is working towards it, keeping our goals clear. Success is just the bi-product of our work. With each and every step we should learn. The driving force should be so intense inside you that no matter how many times you fall, u should have the energy and strength to get up and get back at it, and if you fail, still. Ask yourself, that what you’re doing, is it enough?

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