#ap psych final

[kays-artstuff]

HI PLEASE ENJOY MY AP PSYCHOLOGY FINAL,

I was tasked to make a movie poster based on a psychological concept we could pick (I went with psychological perspectives and make a superhero world where the protagonist has humanistic based abilities)

THESE TWO ARE LESBIANS BY THE WAY, IN CASE IT WASN'T OBVIOUS

I'M GOING TO BED NOW GN

[michaellangdonswhore]

warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.

word count: 5.5k

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You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.

You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.

While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.

And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.

You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.

However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.

You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.

Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.

You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.

Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.

"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"No-" You begin.

You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.

He pauses for a moment and stares you down.

You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.

"As I was saying..."

Thank god.

He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).

Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.

Everything you do irks him.

Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.

Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.

As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.

You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.

Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.

Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.

You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.

It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.

But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.

Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.

To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.

You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.

"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."

People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.

You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.

"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."

He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.

Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.

Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.

"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."

You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.

You look at them, confused.

"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.

"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.

"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"

"All of this?" Your eyes widen.

"When's your next class?" He asks.

"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.

"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."

"But-"

"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."

"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"

"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?

You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.

"Do you have a pencil?"

He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.

The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.

You hate that he hated you.

His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.

"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.

After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.

With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.

You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.

Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.

Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.

He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.

"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.

He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.

"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."

He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.

You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.

So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.

The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.

Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.

"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."

He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.

"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.

There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.

See me after class.

There is literally nothing but a see me after class.

Oh my god.

What did I do?

Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?

Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?

You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.

See me after class.

At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.

Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.

"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.

You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.

You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.

With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.

"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.

"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"

"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.

"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."

You shrug.

"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"

"I'm not trying to fail."

"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."

"What?"

"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"

"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."

"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.

Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.

"You're wearing tights."

"What?"

"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.

You grow red, and angry.

He keeps humiliating you.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"

"I want to know who you're trying to impress."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.

You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.

"No, no. We're not done."

You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.

"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."

"I want to leave."

"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."

"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."

"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"

You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.

"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.

You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.

"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.

You're flushed.

What the fuck was going on?

You thought he hated you.

And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.

"Let me see."

"Professor?"

He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.

He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.

"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.

You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.

"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"

To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.

"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"

"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"

You stay silent, for a brief moment.

"Not in this way..."

But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.

"Yeah?"

The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.

But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.

"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.

It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.

"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.

"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.

"I don't see you asking me to stop."

You're silent, again.

He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.

He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.

He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.

You comply; he's already seen a lot.

"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.

He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.

He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.

"Professor-"

"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"

You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.

"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."

He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.

You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.

He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.

"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.

He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.

"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.

"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."

"What?"

He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.

"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."

You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."

You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.

He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.

He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.

"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.

Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.

"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"

He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.

"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."

He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.

"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.

You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.

"Fucking answer me."

"Yes," you cry out.

"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.

His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.

He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.

"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.

"Professor, I don't know-"

"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."

"Professor..."

"I'll stop when you give me three more."

You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.

"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"

You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."

He slows his pace some more.

"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"

"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."

You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.

"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"

"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"

You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.

"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"

You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.

"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"

You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.

"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"

His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.

"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"

He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.

He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.

That's six.

You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.

"You said six-"

"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."

He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.

"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."

You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.

"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."

He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.

You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.

"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."

As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."

He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.

"Clean it."

You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.

"You'll get me hard again." He says.

He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.

"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.

"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."

"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."

"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"

"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."

You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?

But then he looks back up at you.

"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"

[timefall-if]

Oh my goodness? Two of my favorite interactive fiction authors being together?? I’ve witnessed a miracle 😭❤️

Anywho I’m finally done my ap exams! (This is a lie, lang and psych are this week) but I’ve finally started arcane (like right when I started this ask)! I’m excited but also terrified

But it’s not one of my asks without a question, so,

What’s one routine good deed each RO does without anyone watching? (Whether people know about it or not, not everyone is evil incarnate, even if they’re perceived that way. cough cough, C)

Anyway long time no see, I’m so excited for your stuff, MWAH 🙂‍↕️❤️

omg hi, i'm so happy to see you in my inbox again ^^

haha, axel and i were laughing a bit earlier about how everyone was being so sweet, we're so thankful for the support we've both been receiving <3 also yessss, i'm so hyped you finally started arcane, dm me about it if you're comfortable with that :D and good luck on the rest of your exams!!!!

as for your question:

M - depending on MC's occupation, they always notice when MC runs out of things or needs them replaced and immediately tells Marek. for example, if MC is a street artist, M peeks at their paint cans when they're not looking and writes down the colors MC is running out of, and tells Marek in the most casual way about it (it was, in fact, not casual). also cleans Marek's bedroom sometimes.

R - routinely steals candy from the upper city and leaves it at night next to the sleeping children of Draeken living on the streets. they sometimes wake up to one or two sweets that they immediately gobble up. makes them believe a little in magic.

S - cleans stray animals! whenever they come across one that's maybe dirty or sticky, S uses their own bottled water to clean them up. though, they sometimes do hope someone is watching them do something good.

C - sometimes sends their workers to the houses of elderly people (in Delphora, of course) to buy and bring them fresh groceries, even cook for them if C is feeling extra generous! the elders don't know the workers are sent by C, as C instructs them to say they're a chef's apprentice instead :D

[luxthestrange]

KNY Incorrect quotes#115 Ehhh~NO

Sekido*With a phone in hand*-Hello, Y/n, This is Sekdio- I know up to this point our relationship has been strictly professional, and you're leaving for college and all, but...

Sekido*struggles to get it out and takes a breath*-Okay, here is the question- Would you like...-to go out on a date?

Zohakuten*Standing across from his oldest brother, pretending to be on a cell phone on the other end of the line. And wearing a wig similar to your hairstyle and an outfit like yours, he shrugs*Eh, no

Sekido*Glares at him*-Okay, that's not helping!

Sekido: All right. Here we go. For real this time!

He stares at your phone number in his phone Then turns to the phone. It's a stand-off...He does stretches and calisthenics to psych himself up...Zohakuten deadpanned seeing him

Sekido: I can do this!?

He stares down the phone again. It sits there, taunting him. We cut back and forth between Sekido and the phone, until finally-

Sekido:Agh! I hate you!

He takes out a lighter and hairspray and burns up the phone angrily...Zohakuten dives out of the way

Sekido*satisfied as the home phone is melted* Ah~

Zohakuten:...This is the 4th phone this week-

Part 5:

[kidasthings]

Echoes of Eden by Kida

Noa x Mae - #theystillgotthoseskeletons

Chapter 1: Echoes of Eden by Kida – @kidasthings on Tumblr

Next Chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/kidasthings/751031002718240768/echoes-of-eden-by-kida?source=share

Chapter 2

Mae found Noa outside the makeshift sky tower, the hawks still cartwheeling across the heavens like avenging angels.

“Stop!” Mae demanded, flanked by an assortment of curious apes who had crowded at the entrance to the building behind her while they held their conversation. Her face was slack with dismay. “What do you plan to do to them?”

Noa didn’t spare her a glance back. His attention was fully focused on the five captives before him, and his expression was stormy.

To their credit, the human hostages held his gaze, if a bit wavering. Finally, a dark-haired man schooled his face into some semblance of bravado and demanded, “Let us go and you’ll never see us again.”

“I know what … you are capable … of,” Noa replied in his steady, halting manner. The crease between his brow ridges deepened, and now he stole a dark look at the anxious human woman at his back in rebuke.

“Listen to him, to us,” Mae interjected, sprinting over, and swinging out in front of Noa, hands spread wide as if she could protect her own people from the worst of his. “This was a misunderstanding. He never meant to find this place.”

Lips half-parted, the hero of the Eagle Clan glowered at the young woman with the blue eyes and the side-plait in her hair. He had hoped, many times, to see her again. It had been against his best judgement of course, but there lived some small, treacherous part of his psyche that yearned for the sight of a certain duplicitous human female.

But to what end?

With a heavy heart, Noa requested that the five captives be blindfolded. They were tightly bound when they began to struggle in earnest, their eyes covered with strips of animal hide that blocked out the dimming world around them. The humans shuffled uneasily once the apes were done; their fear was palpable in the cool evening air.

An elder stepped forward, one of the few council that survived the original invasion by Sylva's raiders.

"If you will not be forthcoming ... with your purpose ... then banishment is … necessary.” The elder, an older chimpanzee wearing many colored stones, nodded to Noa. "Cast them out."

Mae flicked panicked looks between the scowling Noa and the writhing humans as they were at last secured. In desperation, she bounded forward and clung to Noa’s arm. It was like a live wire, feeling her fingers sink into his short fur. “You can’t..”

Noa felt it instantly, his entire body stiffening in response for half a heartbeat.

Short-lived, the young ape just shook her off as if she were an annoying gnat and stepped away. He did not even deign to look her in the eye. “Let’s go.”

Noa led the procession, his strides purposeful yet laden with an unspoken sorrow. The path they took was intentionally convoluted, winding through the dense undergrowth and over streams that glittered faintly under the first stars. The sounds of the forest, usually comforting, now carried a tense silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the soft thuds of footsteps.

Mae followed close behind, her heart torn. The pendant around her neck - a symbol of peace and a painful reminder of the bond she shared with Noa - felt heavier with each step. She watched Noa’s broad back, the set of his shoulders speaking of a burden she could only guess at.

She could not ascertain how long they walked. An hour? Four?

Soona and Anaya, Noa’s close friends and trusted members of the clan, traveled alongside the group. Their expressions were unreadable, their usual warmth hidden behind a mask of duty. The small group of apes from the village flanked the humans, their presence a silent warning against any thought of escape.

After what felt like forever, Noa finally halted. The group had ventured deep into the forest, far from any familiar trail. He signaled to the others, who carefully removed the blindfolds from the human captives. Blinking against the sudden influx of dim light, the humans looked around, disoriented and unable to recognize any part of the forest while the small contingent of Eagle Clan villagers began to remove the bonds from the captives. Sighing and rubbing her raw wrists in relief, the woman with the bob stepped back behind the four men with which she traveled. Each was attired in worn camouflage uniforms streaked with dirt, no doubt earned on their long, treacherous journey.

Turning to Mae, Noa’s voice was soft, conflicted. "Take them with you," he instructed, his eyes not meeting hers. "Without … their weapons. This is where we part … ways again."

Mae opened her mouth to reply, her emotions swirling, when sudden movement caught her eye. One of the human men, his expression desperate, revealed a hidden knife he had somehow kept out of sight. In a swift motion, he grabbed the closest ape within reaching distance. Unfortunately, this turned out to be the naïve Anaya. The man, the dark-haired one who had spoken up earlier, began pressing the blade against the ape’s throat.

The forest erupted into chaos. The apes growled, their bodies tensed for a fight, but Noa raised a hand, signaling them to hold. “I thought they were searched!”

Mae’s hand instinctively moved to the small pistol hidden in her belt - a secret she had kept even from Noa. "Let him go," she said firmly to Anaya’s aggressor, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Mae became hyper-aware her allegiance was being assessed right there in front of both species.

The human’s eyes were wild, his fear palpable. "We need a guarantee we’ll get out of here safely," he demanded, his voice shaking.

“Was he … not checked for weapons?” someone could hear Soona say incredulously.

Noa’s gaze finally met Mae’s, filled with a mix of betrayal and pleading. The complexity of their relationship, marked by trust and tension, hung heavily between them.

Mae took a slow, deep breath, her decision clear. "No one needs to get hurt," she addressed the other human, her tone even. She spoke to him like one would a spooked horse. "Let him go, and I’ll ensure your safety. You know I know where you’re heading."

The tall man hesitated, his grip on the knife faltering as he searched Mae's face for sincerity. After a tense moment, he simply shook his head and gritted his teeth. “His life,” the man stated chillingly, “for our guns and supplies.”

Anaya began to struggle anew when the knife was temporarily lifted. Grunting, the man returned the blade to his victim’s furry throat and the young ape stilled in fear. Had the man grabbed any other villager, he would have been quickly overpowered and brought to his knees with a fully cracked cranium. It was well known that the strength of apes was five times greater, after all. Lucky for him, Anaya was a gentle, fearful soul that did not go looking for trouble; he stood compliantly like a deer in headlights waiting for the crash.

Noa lifts his hands, palms up and out, and breathed in deeply. His nose flared, as if scenting the air. Around them, the palpable tension of the other apes increased as they hissed and growled.

The man with the knife began backing up, and the four others with him began to back up as well. The others in his group stole nervous glances amongst each other, not entirely on board with the fifth man’s spur-of-the-moment choices – sadly, they were far too late to alter them.

“Last chance. Release him,” Noa’s voice dripped darkly.

“No can do, buddy. Not until we have our stuff.” The man’s eyes flicked to Mae. “Look, I don’t know what you are doing with these animals, but maybe you can convince them it’s better to just give us our packs?”

Mae was so frustrated she could curse.

Both she and Noa’s eyes met for only a second, and one sentiment was wordlessly exchanged in that moment.

Shit.

“We don’t need the guns, really,” the only other human woman piped up, stepping carefully forward. All heads swung her way. “We just need our bags. You have something of ours we really need back.”

From just above knifepoint, Anaya’s wild eyes pleaded with Noa and Mae to do something, anything.

Noa began to chant.

Mae stiffened in surprise, her guarded expression shifting curiously.

Above, far above, the circling eagles gathered.

The mantra came to a crescendo, and the others – Soona, the other apes, even Anaya, began to join in.

A dark, darting shape dropped like a missile from the sky and daggered its way towards the face of the man holding the blade. He screamed, dropped the weapon, and a quicksilver wink of light fell to the grass.

Another bird plummeted from the sky, followed by yet another. They each found a suitable target in each human, ominously sparing Mae.

“Noa!” Mae cried in alarm, unable to watch birds of prey ravage the humans in front of her. She scrambled forward, knees hitting the ground, and reached back for the pistol from the seaside bunker on her belt. It was still conveniently concealed beneath a blue jacket, thankfully remaining out of sight from Noa’s people. The sting of tears pricked her eyes as she became wracked with indecision.

Humans, immune like her, being disfigured by birds. How was this even possible?

Despite her inner turmoil, self-preservation stayed her hand.

Noa nodded at Mae, a silent acknowledgment mingled with sadness. Perhaps it was to mollify her, perhaps not, but a marked change began. His tribal songs ceased, fading away with the night wind.

"Why is it so hard?" he murmured, more to himself than to her.

The five humans fell to the ground, clutching their faces. Red rivulets streamed down the back of their hands through the spaces in their fingers.

Anaya broke away once released, huffing heavily as he shot over to the group of apes beyond Mae.

Thank you, he signed to Noa, who grabbed him by the forearms and checked him for injuries just as Soona met them halfway. A suspicious stare was leveled Mae’s way by the female ape, almost accusatory, but she did not have much time before she began to fuss over Anaya. “Are you … okay?” she asked worriedly.

“Fine,” he puffed, exhaling deeply.

Noa released Anaya just as the Fort Wayne group scuttled backwards, their faces unrecognizable after being ravaged by talons. “Traitor!” one shot out at Mae, voice laced with pain.

Mae flinched, struck back by the accusation.

“Bitch,” another cursed. They stood up, scuttled backwards. The dark-haired man that had held Anaya hostage groped the grass before him, searching for something before abandoning the effort.

��Go, while you still can,” Noa intoned chillingly.

A bunch of hoots and howls from the assembled apes backed him up on that threat, and the injured humans wasted no time in scrambling and falling backwards, half running, half limping away.

Soon they were nothing but crackling twigs, grunts, and whispering foliage in the distance.

Mae watched them go, unable to react to what she just witnessed. Far above her, a hawk shrieked in rage.

Noa reached out, his hand brushing against hers for a brief, electric moment.

Breaking her stasis, she glanced down for a march of moments between them. Noa closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and flared his nostrils before turning away from her burning stare.

A pregnant pause followed.

With a final, lingering look, Mae took a step in the direction of the other humans but couldn’t find the strength to go. As the night grew deeper, the sounds of the forest resumed their nocturnal chorus.

Mae clenched her fists tightly at her side, molars grating against each other. An enraged expression stole across her features for a moment, the continual strain of restraint etched there.

The young woman then recalled something interesting mentioned by the sole woman in the group during the confrontation.

“We just need our bags. You have something of ours we really need back.”

No, she couldn’t mean –

Mae whirled on the spot. With her back straight but her spirit burdened, she shifted back towards Noa decisively.

It came all too late to Mae that she was suddenly following a group of apes back to their village like an odd wraith. The taste was bitter on the back of her tongue, but the thought of leaving behind something critically important would taste far worse.

I need to reach their supplies.

For the sake of all that was good and holy, she needed to do this – after all, the very future of humanity depended on it.

[mygnolia]

CALCU-CRUSH! ♡ powerpuff gals /// mathletes turned baddies

୨୧ SMAU! SYNOPSIS -��  Yeah, Park Sunghoon might be just a little annoying- but hey! at least he can help you get an A in AP CALC, and he will never a crush on you to make things super weird and complicated, right?

y/n: loves chem!! 4.32 GPA but currently 4.1 because math rip

karina: loves psych!! 4.22 GPA because she never took apush (ap us history) and fears it!! and was brave because everyone she knew got a 4 on the exam

wonyoung: an ap lit baddie :3 literally ap lit and lang had nothing on her she finished her frqs so fast the proctors were scared. wants to be a lit professor!! 4.4 GPA

sunghoon: crazy good at math, took precalc his freshman year but the school realized he wasn’t supposed to be there so they didn’t let him take calc ab until now. 4.4 GPA if he says anything else he’s lying

jake: physics nerd.. basically a precursor to laws of motion!jake LOL 4.1 GPA because he read a prompt wrong on a lit final and got a B

jay: loves history and got a 5 on the apush exam EASY!! 4.23 GPA but hates studying so how does he even do it

ml ♡ next

୨୧ REN SAYS... i unfortunately find myself extremely funny and therefore y/n’s bio might just be how i become a comedian. and also jay's. because guys i swear we all went to school w a 10 y/o who LOVEDDD history???? also yes i made them all have separate subjects sorry not sorry.

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN! send an ask or dm to be added! @hanrinz @enhaslay @arep4con-qu3sp @realrintaro @jayhoonvroom @simpjay @i03jae

୨୧ PERM. TAGLIST! send ask to be added @dimplewonie @heeheesang

[lanaslovelyletters]

Anakin is roommates with reader and has an addiction to smoking. Reader tries to help him with it and Anakin decided it’s not enough and wants something stronger. He thinks sex will help.

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐠

Roommate!Anakin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content (general smut), swearing, mentions of substance abuse (nicotine)

Summary: You’ve never had a great relationship with your roommate… one night you get home late and see him smoking. You remind him that smoking kills and although you hate him, you want to help him… it goes to rather drastic measures.

Word count: 3.2K+

Author’s note: Where did you get this idea??? I love it. Also, there are psychological terms being used here— I’m a Polisci and not a psych student and will be using terms I learned when I took AP Psychology sorry lol. Also, read the prompt as if it should be on the shorter side? So I made it as short as I could, hope it's good enough<3 (Btw this is def not beta read. We die like Padme on the table)

You never really got along with your roommate. He blasted loud music and often came home at odd hours of the night. God, you hated the careless way he lived his life. Hell, you didn’t even know what he did for work. He always paid his part of the rent on time, so you kept him around. Besides, there weren’t many other offers and he was willing to pay half.

On a particular night, you came back from an evening shift at the local mental health clinic. The bag that was lazily slung over your shoulder was dropped to the ground as you walked into the living room. There he was. His lips held a cigarette between them, as he strummed his bass. It was loud and obnoxious.

“Okay, Slipknot, could you turn that down a little?” You let out a heavy sigh and crossed your arms over your chest. He rolled his eyes at you, and took a drag of his cigarette, blowing rings in your face. It caused you to cough and waft it away immediately before you took it out of his mouth and put it out in his ashtray.

“What the hell! That was my last one!” He threw his arms up in the air as the smoke subtly settled in the glass.

“This stuff is a slow death, y’know?” You said with a tone that screamed ‘as a matter of fact’. He was clearly pissed at your actions.

“—and? Does it look like I care?”

“Look, I get that we don’t see eye-to-eye on things, and we’d both rather not be living together… but the only reason I’m willing to live alone without you is if you move out. Not if you die on this fucking carpet.” You clicked your tongue and pointed at the scruffy rug beneath your feet.

“Why do you even care?” He raised an eyebrow and scoffed at you. Yeah… why did you care anyway? The question stumped you for a brief moment before you finally thought of the perfect response.

“Who else is going to pay half the rent? Besides… I don’t want to clean up a cancerous body in my house.” You were still standing there in front of him with arms covering your chest.

“Whatever… I’ll try.” Wait. It was that easy?

“Wait, are you serious?” You were a bit surprised to see him nodding along and agreeing.

“Yeah, I guess. My mother would hate to bury her own son… or whatever…” He trailed off as he stared at the worn cigarette bud in the ashtray.

“I knew you had some sense in there.” You joked as you poked his forehead before leaving for the kitchen to make yourself a late dinner. Anakin followed you like a lost puppy, as you pulled out some fruits and readied a blender. He watched as you cut up the fruits neatly before you added them to the blender.

“Hey so—” he didn’t get to finish, because the blender started going.

“Oh sorry about that. What were you saying?” You stopped the blender for a second.

“What could—” The noise dialed back up again,

“Oh, sorry,” you chuckled and poured the mixture into a bowl with some yoghurt.

“Very funny,” he said with a roll of his eyes as he leaned forward in the barstool he sat in,

“No, but really— how am I supposed to beat the cig cravings?”

“Via Pavlovian psychology, of course.” You gave him a curt smile.

“I’m not a dog.”

“Didn’t say you were. Look, the hypothalamus controls cravings… sex and food mainly. This means— you can try replacing it with chocolate. Maybe carrots?” You mentioned and took a bite of your yoghurt mix.

“Yawn. Don’t like the sound of that.” He rested his face against his palm.

“There’s a thing we do down at the clinic… for alcoholics mainly. We slip something disgusting or nauseating into their drink and they’ll associate drinking with this icky feeling… works like… most of the time… sorta…”  You shrugged and took another bite.

“Right… well there’s just the problem of— I’m not an alcoholic and you also said that only works some of the time,” he said. His elbow dug into the table as it supported his heavy head.

“Why do you smoke anyway?”

“Stress. Smoking calms me down after a long day.” His sigh was heavy and rough.

“Well then, something to destress whilst also eliminating your addiction… I really think something like chocolate would work.” By now, you’d finished your bowl and you put it aside to wash later.

“Yeah… whatever. I guess it’s better than nothing.” He got up from his stool and went straight into his room. Something told you he wouldn’t survive the first week without a cigarette…

A week had gone by fairly quickly and he hadn’t smoked since the night you lectured him. However, he ate chocolate in unreal masses. Even then, as he was sitting on the couch this afternoon, he had bought a pack of cigarettes. Referred to them as ‘emergency cigs’. Just in case. He stared at the packaging, letting his thumb trace over the ‘M’ in ‘Marlboro’. Oh, he was so tempted. Just one drag and he’d feel the relaxation settling in his shoulders and the sounds of birds chirping and children laughing in the streets. Just one won’t hurt. He peeled the plastic film off and opened the lid. He could already feel it against his lips. Just one—

“What the fuck, Anakin.” You came up from behind him and took the pack out of his hands. He groaned as you did so, desperately grasping for it.

“You were doing so great with the chocolate, why the hell did you buy these?!” You spat and hid them in your back pocket.

“The chocolates didn’t work well enough. I need more. I need something better.” He complained and sighed, leaning back on the couch.

“Fine. I’ll go out and buy you some nicotine patches. Just promise me you’ll kick this habit, okay?” You rolled your eyes and went outside to the garbage bins. You threw the brand new pack of cigarettes in there and wheeled it out front.

When you got back inside, Anakin had already left for his room. The two of you had an established set of rules, one of which was to not enter each other's rooms unwarranted. If any of the patients at the clinic taught you anything, it was that addiction was hard to beat. No matter what kind it was. As much as you despised having to live with him, he didn’t deserve to die an early death because of something he couldn’t control.

“Anakin?” You knocked on the door gently, but there was no response.

“Come on, man.” The knocking became a little more frantic, but there was still no answer. 

“Whatever.” You walked away and found your purse before heading back outside to uphold what you said you’d do earlier.

After you got back, you heard him watching something on the TV. It was a car commercial for a new Ford model.

“Catch.” You got in front of the screen and threw him the packs of nicotine patches you’d bought. He peered up at you with lazy eyes and slowly unpacked one. You hadn’t really taken note of it before, but he was fucking hot. His hair was messy and his body was chiselled. He was shirtless and only in a pair of very unforgiving sweatpants.

“Thanks…” he mumbled and stuck a patch on his chest.

“Feel better?”

“Don’t know yet.” You took a seat beside him and cast Netflix to the screen,

“Anything you wanna watch?”

“Nah… I’m good.” He seemed as if he was giving up. He was all sluggish from not having had a cigarette.

“Okay…” you turned off the TV to sit and soak in the uncomfortable silence. Nobody said a word for at least a few minutes before Anakin finally spoke up,

“It feels okay… just… doesn’t beat the real thing.” Your head turned to look at him as he said that. 

“I’ve tried everything, okay? I have tried to help you. For some reason, you always need more. What more could you possibly want?” You sighed and brought your knees to your chest.

“You said… the hyper something? was responsible for sex and food cravings, right?”

“The hypothalamus, yeah. That’s why we tried chocolate.” 

“That’s food… what about… sex?” He took a gander at you with those intoxicating tired and beat eyes.

“Like… jerking off? I mean, maybe?” You shrugged.

“No, sex,” he said, staring right at you.

“Oh… well… knock yourself out, I guess? You have a girlfriend?”

“What about you?” He moved closer, still staring deeply into your eyes. His velvety blue ones captured your very soul with just their existence.

“I’m… um… I don’t have a boyfriend…” you swallowed harshly as he leaned into your neck. His breath hit your ear,

“I’d say that’s pretty convenient, no?” He grinned, letting you feel the electricity surging through your spine. You shuddered before swallowing hard,

“What are you insinuating, Anakin?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I need something better than chocolate. Something better than nicotine patches. I can’t just sleep with random girls every day and hope I won’t get an STD. You are single, and I’m guessing you don’t have any weird illness.” His smirk was evident, even if he was practically buried in your neck.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Anakin.” You sighed but didn’t resist his antics.

“Mmm ‘don’t think so. I have a pretty great plan mapped out in my head.” He began to nibble away at your skin, several sighs escaped your lips as he did so,

“Anakin…”

“Yeah, that’s right. Say my name just like that.” He ravaged your neck now, littering it with bruises and marks. He pulled away briefly and got up from the couch, taking your hand in his as he helped you up. Almost immediately, his lips crashed onto yours. He pushed you up against the cold wall, clawing at your waist,

“Jump.” You did and he grabbed your legs, wrapping them around his waist. He then carried you to his room, where he roughly threw you on the bed. Your breaths were heavy and he swallowed up every single one with his mouth. His tongue massaged yours as his hands massaged your clothed tits.

“Anakin—“

“Ani. Just Ani.” He captured your lips again. He loved those pretty little whimpers and gasps you’d make. It drove him wild. The way your hands were pulling at his hair as your lips desperately reached out for his… It was like a drug.

He pulled off his shirt and helped you get yours off too. You unclasped your bra, and he revelled in the sight. They were fucking perfect in his eyes. The embarrassment on your face as he stared only made him more hungry. He unbuckled his pants, pulled them down and discarded them somewhere in a corner. Shortly after, he got yours off too. Your panties were damp and when his two fingers went to investigate, he just had to point it out to you— essentially mocking you.

“Look who’s getting so worked up when I’ve barely even done anything?” He scoffed. The mocking only worked to turn you on even more, and the face you made gave it away almost immediately. Dumb mistake or was it served on a silver platter?

“Don’t tell me you get off on that,” he snickered and massaged your hips, one hand worked its way further down and ripped your panties off. 

“Hey, those were expensive…” you mumbled, but he didn’t care. The whole house could catch on fire and he wouldn’t give a fuck, because he was here with you. 

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He placed his thumb on your clit, slowly rubbing circles. You clenched the sheets with whatever little power you had left. Even with gestures as small as stroking your sopping cunt, you were at his disposal. Through and through.

As it got more intense, he added a finger, then two then went ahead and added a third— finger fucking you until you went cross-eyed, flicking as hard as he could. Your cries and moans were like music to him. Better than whatever garbage he played anyway.

“All for me? You spoil me, darling.” Fuck, that sent you toppling over the edge, clamping down eagerly on his fingers. With a final moan of his name, he felt your essence coat his fingers. After pulling them out, he licked and sucked them clean,

“You taste fucking heavenly. Better than the chocolate, that’s for sure.” He pulled you by the hips and kneaded them nicely, listening to how you panted like the needy little thing you were. One hand slowly travelled up to take a squeeze at your nipple before travelling back down. His hand grabbed the base of his cock as it rubbed against your sensitive folds. Fuck, he was good, but you were growing impatient. Surely bucking your hips would work?

“Fuck, you’re desperate, aren’t you?” He mocked you and snickered. It was embarrassing. Downright humiliating. Yet you relished in it. Oh, you needed him so bad your ovaries were going to explode.

“Come on… Anakin,” you mewled and arched your back.

“It’s Ani, darling.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead gently, still teasing your needy folds,

“Now, let me hear you again.”

“You’re embarrassing me…” you diverted your gaze and turned her head to the side. It was clear as day to see that your face was completely flushed.

“That’s the point,” he scoffed and grabbed your chin roughly,

“Come on, you can do it, can’t you? Be a good girl, tell me what you want.” Good girl. You folded almost immediately.

“Please… just do it.”

“Come on now, you can do better than that,” he snickered. His relentless teasing just egged you on even more.

“Please, Ani. Please fuck… fuck me,” you sighed with exceptional need, as you arched your back.

“Don’t think I heard that… a little louder?”

“Fuck me, Ani! Fucking take me!” Your desperation was clear in your tone and the way your brows were furrowed. You were pathetic to look at, and oh how he loved it.

“That’s my girl.” He leaned down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, as you felt him finally intrude your walls. He swallowed every moan you made and even drowned them with his tongue. His size was unthinkably big. There was one protruding vein in particular. The way your walls clamped around it, allowed you to feel it from its start to its end. He wasn’t completely uncivilized though. He allowed you to adjust to his size before moving even a millimetre. In the meantime, he sucked at your skin, twisted your nipples, and moulded your breasts. By now, there wasn’t one spot on your neck that wasn’t bruised. As these appeared one after the other, the pain from his cock invading your insides slowly mingled with pleasure.

“You can move…” He did exactly that. As if it were a command typed into a computer. He almost pulled all the way out, before slamming himself against your hips roughly and sighing out your name.

“You’re so fucking tight, princess,” he groaned as he wasted no time bringing your knees up against your chest, as he began to pound into you. His pace wasn’t too fast, but rough enough to earn those ethereal moans of yours.

“Fuck, scream for me. Scream my name. Let the whole block hear you,” he sighed, speeding up his pace, rutting against you like a heathen. It was fucking filthy. He watched as every inch of himself disappeared inside you, massacring your insides with no mercy. Every pant and every moan contributed to his head falling back in pleasure, as he drove his hips vigorously against yours.

“Ani!” His name left your lips repeatedly like a broken record. He was fucking you completely stupid. What day was it? What time was it? What was your own name? Your cock-drunk self had only one thing in mind: Anakin Skywalker.

“Fuck, I’m close!” You panted as he thrust with even greater speed and strength. He was relentless and unforgiving.

“That’s right. Cum for me. Cum on this cock, baby,” he groaned as you started clenching down on him. He was struggling to move with the tightness but didn’t give up that easily. His tip hit your cervix repeatedly and you felt like your guts were being rearranged.

Finally, you couldn’t handle it anymore and you tipped over the edge,

“Ani!” You fell limp, but Anakin was far from done. He pulled out, only to get next to you and pull you into his lap. His face was flushed. His eyes were hooded and his lips parted. His hands were kneading your hips,

“Ride me.” What? You had no means. You were limp and tired from the pounding you just got. Now he’s trying to go for another round? But oh, how you wanted it. You wanted so badly to feel him again. To feel a new angle of him. Quite literally speaking.

With whatever strength you could muster, you slowly sank down on him, taking him by each delicious inch. It was far too much for you though, your arms immediately gave out and you fell on top of him. That was no issue though; he helped you. He grabbed your hips tightly and thrust upwards. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with pleasure. You’d never been fucked that food before. Anakin let his face get buried in the soft mounds in front of him, as he arched your back for you. He was determined to make you finish for the third time in the evening, before finishing himself.

“Doing so good for me, baby, you’re doing such a good job.” He continued to drag your hips down upon his, but with one hand, he slowly let go and pressed it against your abdomen,

“You feel that? That’s my cock ruining you.” This man… your words were illegible by now. He removed his hand from your stomach and stretched the corner of your mouth with two of his fingers,

“You’re so pathetic like this. Where’s the smartass now?” He was right. He was fucking you into oblivion. You couldn’t even fully comprehend what he was saying anymore. You just whined and moaned at him. Just like the good girl, you were being for him. The overstimulation didn’t help. In fact, you were already getting close again. Your pussy was suffocating him and his drags were getting sloppier and sloppier— until he finally got you to release on top of him. He pulled you for a few more thrusts before pulling you off, having you fall backwards on the bed so that he could paint your stomach white.

The two of you both panted heavily as he fell back. It felt like you were going to pass out from the exhaustion.

“Beats the nicotine and cigarettes,” he sighed with a snicker. His eyes were fixated on the white ceiling above,

“So does tomorrow work too?”

©lanaslovelyletters - All rights reserved.

Find the Anakin masterlist here

Find the Star Wars taglist here

Find the rules for requesting here and the fandoms I write for here

[betterlivingindustriesss]

[Image Description: a fuzzy photo of white daisies and other red flowers in a glass cup END ID]

Got my physics final back today, I scored 83% despite it being one of the worst tests i have ever taken in my life!

Stayed up till twelve last night finishing up (!) the syllabus review stuff so now i'm fully ready to go, i’ll take a mock this afternoon

After i get home: wash hands, watch an episode of the bear, make a fun drink, start on the mock

After i finish the mock: go downstairs and have a snack (noodles!!!) and then grade the test

After grading the test: clean room, finish upcoming homework, final review of any concepts that weren’t crystal clear and highlight them in my notes

This is my last day of skipping dance class, i need to start getting back on track with my extracurriculars making plans for the summer

Summer goals

10k on tiktok

Post regularly on tumblr as a journal

Start photography business

go mushroom foraging

geocache with four different people

go to at least three estate sales

Write a book

make a short film

start teaching art classes and coding classes

Win a hackathon

win an art competitions

finish summer courses with full understanding of materials

fix my weird hack job of a haircut

run a 5k or a marathon

read 100 books

stay on routine and find a well-paying job

start cooking regularly

start an Acapella group

Next year's goals

Concurrently enroll for multivar

Self study ap psych and apes

Apply for a summer program for next year before everything closes again TvT

qualify for TOC in Lincoln Douglas debate and start doing some speech events on the side

attend at least four dance competitions

5.0 GPA with all a's

make at least five new friends

create and maintain an official resume

alsooo does anyone have any recommendations on matcha kits I could buy for my matcha-obsessed friend's birthday? she loves it but she only has the powder right now and i'm not sure how she prepares it

[conniesanchor]

Hi, I can request a fic (conrad x fem reader) where she is dealing with too much academic stress and he is there reminding her that she is enough, english is not my first language so sorry if I made any mistakes.

Thank you!

here you go, love! thank you for requesting <3

you had just gotten your AP exam scores back, and you were far too nervous to open them. you had been stressing out about them ever since you registered to take them. so when you had finally gotten them back, you gave the computer to your lovely boyfriend, conrad. "i can't open them, connie. what if i failed?" you asked, chewing your lips.

conrad had always been there for you ever since you two started hanging out, and when you started dating, the two of you became inseparable. you rarely spent the night away from each other, and when you did, it was because you hadn't spent time with your families one on one, in months.

since the beginning of the exams, conrad was there for all of it. he helped you make flashcards, helped you stay on task, and even took you away from it all when it was too much. so, when you handed him the laptop to check your scores, he happily obliged, confident that you had passed all of them.

he smiled at you before telling you your scores, "alright, baby. for AP lit, you got a four, on AP US, you got a six, and on AP psych, you got-" he cut himself off.

you knew what the pause meant, your eyes filling with tears that you didn't want to fall. "no, connie. i worked so hard." you mumbled, tears finally falling.

he looked at your saddened face, his face falling too. "it's okay, angel. it's just one test." he comforted. conrad took the laptop and placed it on the nightstand next to you, and then pulled you into his chest.

you sniffed, "yeah, but now i won't get the college credit."

the boy placed a kiss on the top of your head, "it's okay. you can just take a class in college. you love psych, anyway." he spoke. you knew he was right, but you hated failing. "it doesn't matter if you passed or not. you worked really hard. i know you did. that's all that matters."

he pushed you away and used his thumbs to gently wipe away the tears on your face. "let's go get some ice cream, yeah?"

"okay."

[judyjudybaboodee]

part 3 of Rockstar Robin x Normal Person Reader:

taglist !! - @spaghettisquashpasta @starlockheart @bimboliciousdulce

Robin was up before her alarm, staring at the ceiling like she was preparing to enter battle. She’d tried on four outfits before defaulting to jeans, a black tee, and a red flannel because “hot gay lumberjack” was her safe zone. Her hair was doing that rebellious fluff thing again, so she shoved on the beanie. Again.

She made it to the café at 7:52 AM.

Then came Y/N.

Tote bag on one shoulder. Wearing a white baby tee with the slogan “I ❤️ Being Delusional” She looked like chaos in motion and Robin’s stomach did a ridiculous little swoop. But what caught her off guard wasn’t the giggle that came out of Y/N’s mouth when she spotted Robin - it was the very alive, very grumpy-looking hedgehog peeking out of her oversized bag.

“Is that a-”

“This is Shuffles,” Y/N beamed, lifting the hedgehog out like she was presenting Simba. “He is my emotional support hedgehog. Don’t question him.”

Robin blinked. “I- I won’t. I just- Okay.”

Y/N grinned wider. “Come on. We have an activity.”

Robin blinked. “Wait, what happened to coffee?”

“I hate coffee. It tastes like disappointment.”

“WHAT?????”

---

Y/N had called a car. Robin, still half-asleep, barely noticed where they were going until the driver pulled up to… a weird-looking warehouse on the edge of downtown.

“Okay,” Robin said, warily. “Either we’re axe throwing or I’m about to get murdered.”

Y/N grinned. “Both. It’s an escape room.”

Robin stared. “That’s our date?”

“Yes,” Y/N said proudly. “I took AP Psychology in high school. This date is 25% fun and 75% a psych evaluation. I want to see how you react to chaos.”

“You could’ve just come to band rehearsal,” Robin muttered, walking in anyway.

Inside, the theme was something ridiculous - “Alien Invasion: Quarantine Protocol.” There were blinking lights, lab coats, fake biohazard signs, and a guy with a clipboard who looked far too into it.

“You have one hour,” he intoned dramatically, “before the aliens breach containment.”

Robin deadpanned: “Cool. Can’t wait to die with a stranger.”

Y/N was already rifling through drawers.

---

Ten minutes in:

Robin was crawling under a metal bench looking for a blacklight. Y/N was solving a logic puzzle at lightning speed.

“You’re terrifying,” Robin said from the floor.

“You’re weirdly calm for someone who almost triggered the fake lockdown alarm,” Y/N replied.

Robin grinned. “I perform in front of 80,000 people, babe. This is nothing.”

Y/N paused at the “babe,” just briefly, then tossed her a key. “Let’s see if that ego holds when we hit the second room.”

---

Thirty-five minutes in:

The lights flickered. A loud, mechanical alien roar echoed through the room.

Robin screamed. Y/N did not.

Y/N: “You’re jumpy.”

Robin: “That was not in the brochure.”

Y/N: “It literally was. ‘Immersive sound design.’ Page one.”

Robin: “Whatever. Still counts as a jump scare.”

---

Fifty-nine minutes and forty-three seconds in:

They burst through the final chamber door, alarms blaring, just as a robotic voice started counting down from fifteen.

Robin whooped in victory.

Y/N? She was laughing. Actually laughing. It was the first moment Robin saw her let her guard down.

Robin beamed at her. “So? How’d I do, Doc?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’re not completely useless. You panic under pressure, try to joke your way out of stress, and have zero spatial awareness—but you’re surprisingly collaborative. Also, you let me take the lead without getting weird about it.”

Robin blinked. “Wait… was that a compliment?”

“Don’t get cocky. You screamed at a hologram.”

“IT WAS VERY LOUD.”

---

As they were walking back, talking about whether Shuffles could have a LinkedIn profile (Robin: “He’s more qualified than half the people I’ve met in the industry”), Y/N casually slipped her hand into Robin’s.

Robin froze like her brain had blue-screened.

Y/N looked over, blinking innocently. “What?”

“You’re just - holding my hand?”

“Is that not allowed?”

“No! I mean yes! I mean—it’s just—this is going well?”

Y/N stopped walking and turned to face her. “Yeah. It is. I like you. You’re weird and kind of twitchy, and I think you overthink compliments, and I also think you’re really great. So yes, I’m holding your hand. Is that okay?”

Robin nodded slowly, squeezing back.

“That’s very okay.”

They went back into the café after. Robin’s adrenaline buzz had faded into something calmer. Y/N handed her a coffee without asking, like she just knew what Robin liked.

“How’d I do?” Robin asked, quieter this time. “As a date?”

Y/N looked at her for a long moment. “You were fun. Weird. Honest. I like that.”

Robin grinned, triumphant. “So… second date?”

Y/N took a slow sip of her smoothie. “I’ll think about it.”

Robin’s jaw dropped. “Still playing hard to get?”

“I’m not playing,” Y/N leaned in. “You’re jumpy. Red flag.”

“You’ve got a hedgehog in a purse and me being jumpy is a red flag?”

“Are you gonna kiss me or should I get Shuffles to do it for you?”

Robin kissed her. Light. Warm. Perfect.

[lotus-pear]

As a current double major in bio and psych in uni I have to say I get a very cathartic feeling watching you rant abt the AP bio exam. I remember that torture. I’m taking advanced genetics and my final is on the 13th I fear it’s over 😭 so I feel your pain. Also was water potential on your exam bc it sure wasn’t on mine? Also tell me why I completely forgot water potential was even a thing until I saw your post.

water potential had exactly TWO questions i’m pretty sure so nah there was basically none, also OMGG that’s actually so interesting i was considering specializing in genetics after getting my bs in bio :00

best of luck for ur final 🙏🏼

[justiceforplutoo]

6 January 2025

EDIT : I just realized I said it was 2024 instead of 2025 when I first posted this. don't panic, but .. I might be stupid .. ?

New Years Goal: actually post.. I say this all the time and then I never do.. we’re gonna try again this year though!! ㅠㅅㅠ

I’m so late for this, but for Christmas I had a blast! My (boy)friend (/hj) got me Taylor Swift's folklore CD (deluxe!!!) so I'm planning the wedding :) My other friend painted me and her as Snoopy and Woodstock, which is really the dream. I haven't gotten anyone Christmas gifts yet, mainly because I'm a broke teenager, but also because I'm a broke teenager, which is totally different, you know. (I'm working on it. Kind of.) (Just focus on the yet part.) And then, my parents took me book shopping… which was awesome!! I'm addicted to classic literature, so of course the haul was insanely huge, but very (very) worth it!!

First read out of the bunch was Mary Barnard's translation of Sappho. Sappho was obviously amazing! I do wish that she'd have included things like the fragment numbers or maybe a notes section, as Sappho makes a lot of references to things I would have liked to know more context surrounding. I plan on reading more Sappho in the future, however, so I'm sure it'll make sense... eventually?

I'm currently reading three books, but out of all of them, my main read is probably Penguin's Fall of the House of Usher and Other Writings, which is of course a bunch of Edgar Allan Poe. I'm about a 1/3 the way through, I think? It's hard to calculate, since I'm not reading them in order, but I'm really, really enjoying it so far. "Cask of Amontillado" is an addiction and Montresor is my hear me out list, no questions asked.

My next "big" read is probably going to be Beowulf. I finally got my grubby little hands on it, and I can't wait to take a little bite... lol... if I like it, I'm hoping to probably look for J.R.R. Tolkien's translation! I think I'll really enjoy a comparison.

For school stuff, I've been...very...stressed out recently...which is fine, it's just kind of a lot to be dealing with at once. I have a lot of procrastinated assignments that I didn't want to deal with over Winter Break and I just can't help but be so guilty about it! I've been trying to remind myself that grades is not equivalent to worth, but it's...hard... 😅

I'm signing up for our high school's chapter of the National Honor Society. I'm equal parts nervous that I won't get in, but on the other hand, our school sucks. So, I'll probably get in. I'll keep you guys posted? Ack! I'm nervous. I'm also signing up for HOSA Nationals, which is pretty important since I plan on going into Health later. Everyone please bully me until I do my stuff. This is important.

assignments I should probably do that are probably important:

turn in my math homework..

ap world essay

turn in ap world homework..

take ap psych test that I am procrastinating

finish ap pysch study guide that I am also procrastinating

sign up for meditation so I don't strangle somebody to procrastinate ap psych some more

turn in ap bio homework.. (I'm sensing a trend)

turn in ela homework.. (hmm...)

🌟🎧🌟 : 'H.S.K.T. (feat. Wonstein)' by LeeHi

🌟📚🌟 : The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Writings

[angeliicheartt]

elle’s final project for ap psych ! psychoanalyzing the cruel prince !

before you read ! i literally did this so i could pass my class and likely some of my observations are not completely accurate. one of the requirements for this assignment was to assign a character a mental disorder. i assigned cardan antisocial personality disorder but i do not believe he has it ! it is literally just for the grade. also i was explaining this to my gen x (maybe boomer actually) teacher so the summary and my descriptions are not very detailed (but are also kind of overdetailed?) so, here’s ur warning.

thank you, enjoy!

Summary & Importance

“The Cruel Prince” by Holly Black follows Jude Duarte, a mortal, human girl who, along with her twin sister, Taryn, and her older sister Vivi, is taken to the land of Faerie at the age of 7 after witnessing the murder of her parents by a faerie general named Madoc, who is also Vivi’s father. Raised among the faeries, Jude struggles to find her place in a world where she is considered inferior for being mortal.

At the school that Jude goes to, her and her sister are targeted by the youngest prince of Faerie, Cardan Greenbriar, and his group of friends consistently, for being mortal. Tension builds between Jude and Cardan throughout the book, as they are pushed together by circumstances.

After being denied by Madoc to become a knight, Jude gets an offer from her enemy’s second eldest brother, the crown prince, Dain Greenbriar, to become a spy in his court of shadows. The story follows Jude as she finds out all kinds of secrets about the royal family of Faerie.

Jude tries to balance her normal life during the night, as faeries are primarily nocturnal, and her life as a spy in the early hours of the morning. She’s tasked with investigating Balekin, the eldest prince of Faerie, whose growing tension with Dain only intensifies as Dain’s coronation grows closer.

As Jude investigates, she finds out secrets about Cardan, who, after getting kicked out of the Palace of Elfhame, now stays with the only brother who would take him in.

Dain’s coronation comes around and Balekin, after attempting to force the High King to name him the next High King, kills all of his siblings and father, besides Cardan, because the crown, named the blood crown, was enchanted so that only members of the royal bloodline may pass the crown down to another member of the royal bloodline. As everyone breaks into chaos, Jude and Cardan find each other and escape. Jude leads him to the court of shadows, as a “hostage,” and works with him to make a plan to defeat Balekin.

Balekin sends out parties to find Cardan, as he is the only known person who can crown him High King. He throws a ball to lift the spirits of the gentry, who had doubted his ruling due to his display at Dain’s coronation. Jude arrives with Cardan to the ball, and together, with the help of the court of shadows, defeat Balekin and crown Cardan High King.

When I first read this series, I was completely engrossed in the alternate world of Faerie and the drama and romance that occurs. Along with that drama comes a lot of killing and death. The different plot twists and heart-wrenching scenes came to mind when I first heard about the final project and thought it would be perfect to analyze.

Perspectives

Madoc is the Grand General, as well as Jude’s adoptive father. From an evolutionary perspective, Madoc can be analyzed through the lens of survival of the fittest. As a high-ranking member of the faerie court, Madoc exudes dominance through his need for power and control. His actions, such as fostering Jude can be seen as kin selection, as he ensures the survival and success of his own bloodline. Additionally, Madoc’s ruthless and aggressive nature aligns with the evolutionary perspective, specifically with mating strategies, as he may seek to eliminate his rivals to maximize his reproductive success and secure resources for his offspring. Finally, his willingness to manipulate and exploit others reflects adaptive behaviors for social dominance in the Faerie world.

Cardan Greenbriar is the main rival in “The Cruel Prince,” turned ally in the last parts of the book. Through the sociocultural lens of psychology, we can see how Cardan’s cruel and manipulative nature can be understood because of his distressing upbringing in the cruel faerie court, where power dynamics and deception are normalized. His behavior may also reflect the impact of societal norms and expectations within the faerie realm, where strength, dominance, and beauty are valued above all else. Furthermore, Cardan’s complex relationship with his family and peers shapes his self-image and behaviors, as he navigates loyalty, betrayal, and social hierarchy. Moreover, his interactions with Jude and other characters highlight the role of socialization and personal relationships in shaping individual personality traits and behaviors within the context of the Faerie world.

Jude Duarte is the main character in “The Cruel Prince,” and the adopted daughter of the Grand General. Jude can be analyzed through the behavioral lens by looking at her actions, motivations, and responses to different situations. Her resilience and determination to survive and thrive in the deceptive Faerie court demonstrate adaptive behaviors shaped by her environment. She tries her best to act and live like the Fae. Jude’s strategic decision-making, cunning, and willingness to manipulate others reflect her ability to learn and adapt to complex social dynamics around her. In addition, her defiance against societal norms and expectations within the faerie world showcases her independence, despite being a human in a world dominated by faeries. On top of that, her internal conflicts and moral dilemmas provide insight into the psychological toll of navigating power struggles and ethical uncertainties in a hostile environment. Overall, Jude’s behavior reflects a blend of innate traits and learned responses, shaped by her experiences and interactions within the Faerie realm.

Biological Bases of Behavior

The amygdala is located near the hippocampus and controls emotion and survival responses, specifically aggression, fear, and fear memories. Jude’s amygdala is likely very active as she must always be on alert and almost always in “fight or flight” mode, due to being mortal in the Faerie world.

The cerebellum is at the base of the skull and controls balance and muscle coordination. Jude’s cerebellum is also very active, for swordplay, you must have amazing balance and muscle coordination.

The motor cortex is at the back of the frontal lobe and controls voluntary muscle movements. Jude’s motor cortex would be the part of the brain that’s active while she’s fighting, as to swing her sword or dodge.

The somatosensory cortex is at the front of the parietal lobe and processes sensory information. This part of the brain is active while Jude fights and when she gets hit to notify the rest of the brain that the body has been harmed.

The prefrontal cortex is at the front of the frontal lobe and manages planning, decision making, and distinguishing right and wrong. Jude’s prefrontal cortex is very active near the end of the book as she plans and leads the charge to make sure Balekin does not get crowned High King, as she must plan the attack, make quick decisions when something goes awry and distinguish if crowning Cardan is really the right thing to do.

Jude was raised in the mortal world until she was 7 years old, however she spent most of her life in Elfhame, raised among the Fae and the Gentry. She is trained personally by Madoc, the grand general, in the art of the sword and warfare. Before Jude became a spy, she stuck by what she knew and stayed with her family, as humans are predestined to do. However, afterwards, her nurtured side took over, and she seemed all the daughter that Madoc raised, weaned on swordplay and battles.

Sensation and Perception

The difference threshold is the smallest difference between two stimuli that can be detected 50% of the time. Cardan, apart from Jude and Taryn’s family, is the only character in “The Cruel Prince” that can tell Jude and Taryn apart, by the smallest difference.

Feature detectors are specialized neurons that respond to specific stimuli li and process faces, smiles, and parts of the body. Jude’s feature detectors work constantly throughout the book as she analyzes and reads her opponents and foes.

Learning

Classical conditioning is learning to make an involuntary response to a stimulus other than the original, natural stimulus that normally produces the response. In “The Cruel Prince,” Cardan stiffens under Balekin’s touch, who has previously abused Cardan. So, the very act of Balekin touching Cardan causes him to stiffen in preparation for impact, which is the involuntary response in this situation.

Negative reinforcement is the removal of an unpleasant stimulus to increase a behavior. As Taryn conforms to the norms of the Fae, and stays to herself, Cardan and his group of friends stop bothering her, and focus on Jude, who does all she can to stand out. So, in this situation, the unpleasant stimulus is Cardan and his group of friends tormenting Taryn, and once she stops trying to be equal with the Fae, that stimulus is removed.

Positive punishment is when an unpleasant or aversive stimulus is added to reduce a behavior. In “The Cruel Prince,” from pages 117 to 119, Balekin, Cardan’s eldest brother, has a human servant whip his back, for being weak and not properly sword fighting, and then again for not killing the human servant.

Observational learning is the learning of new behavior through watching a model. When Jude is first enlisted as a spy, she’s loud and exposed. But, by watching the other members of the Court of Shadows, she learns how to conceal herself and properly be a spy.

Cognitive Psychology

Flashbulb memories are unexpected events that have strong emotional associations. In “The Cruel Prince,” Valerian, who was one of Cardan’s friends who tormented Jude, tries to kill Jude, however he fails, and Jude ends up killing him instead. Valerian uses his last words to curse Jude, he says “I curse you... I curse you. Three times, I curse you. As you’ve murdered me, may your hands always be stained with blood. May death be your only companion. May you—”and then he dies, (211). Then, continuously throughout the book, and going into the other books, Valerian’s words constantly replay in Jude’s head.

Implicit memories are memories for skills, habits, and learned/conditioned responses. Since Jude was 7 and first came to the Faerie world, she had been trained with the sword and learned the ways of war by her “adoptive” father, Madoc, otherwise known as the Grand General. Throughout the book, Jude shows off these skills of swordplay, scheming, and how to see through your opponents.

Developmental Psychology

Oak is the youngest and only brother of Jude’s; he is 7 years old in the first book of the series. In Piaget’s terms, he is in the concrete operational stage. Oak is in the age range for concrete operational stage, but also, he has trouble understanding the complexities of what is going on around him at the end of the book with the issue of who will be king. In Erikson’s terms, Oak is in the industry vs. Inferiority stage. Again, Oak is in the age range for Industry vs. Inferiority, but also throughout each of the books he tries to apply himself to be like Jude and protect his family, specifically his adoptive mother, Oriana. And finally, in Kohlberg’s terms, Oak is in the preconventional morality stage. Again, he is in the correct age range, but also, Jude mentions that once, Oak repeatedly made Jude hit herself with glamour, which is faerie magic that can make humans do whatever they tell them to, and he only stopped and felt bad once he got in trouble and scolded for it.

Madoc is the grand general and Jude’s adoptive father, his age is never mentioned but it's implied that he’s in his 40s-50s. In Erikson’s terms, Madoc is in the Generativity vs. Stagnation stage. He not only fits in the age range, but he strives to make an impact and enforce his ideals. In Kohlberg’s terms, Madoc is in the postconventional morality stage. Madoc runs by his own ideals and doesn’t adhere to the laws of the Faerie world; he does as he pleases and avoids the consequences as best he can.

Motivation, Emotion, Stress, and Personality

Openness refers to how open-minded, creative, imaginative, and insightful someone can be. Heather, who is Vivi’s human girlfriend, is very high on openness. She constantly sees through Jude’s barriers and checks in on her when she can.

Conscientiousness refers to how competent, self-disciplined, and goal-driven someone can be. Jude was first determined to become a knight, and when that was officially shut down, she became a spy, and throughout the book she dedicates herself to being the best spy she can be, leading her to practice mithridatism, otherwise known as ingesting poisons to gain an immunity. And even when she was working together with Cardan and the court of shadows, she dedicated herself to keeping Oak, her youngest brother, who was secretly the son of Dain, safe, and to getting Cardan on the throne.

Extraversion refers to how sociable someone is and how well they can express emotions. Locke, who is one of Cardan’s friends, who ends up marrying Taryn, Jude’s twin, has a talent for persuasion and charm. He uses this to his advantage to stir up drama in Elfhame.

Agreeableness refers to how cooperative someone is, as well as a person’s ability to put others’ needs before their own. Vivi, Jude’s older sister, has low agreeableness. She usually only thinks about herself, and never witnesses or realizes how her mortal sisters suffer in the Faerie world, since she is accepted as half-fae.

Neuroticism refers to a person’s tendency to having unstable emotions. Cardan has low neuroticism, he is always seen relatively calm and relaxed, as if nothing could hurt him. However, it is seen as somewhat of an act to Jude and he really isn’t as calm as he portrays.

The incentive theory is the theory that we are pulled by incentives, or external stimuli that motivate us, to behave in a certain manner. Jude is constantly motivated by external stimuli, whether it is the possibility of danger for her family, her pact as a spy to Dain, or wanting to be accepted by the Fae.

Clinical Psychology

Cardan shows behaviors that could be used as diagnostic criteria for antisocial personality disorder. These behaviors include “failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors,” and a “lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to... having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another,” (American Psychiatric Association). Cardan is constantly mentioned to be harassing different, lower-class fae, one of them being a faerie boy of whom cardan and his friends ripped the wings off with no remorse. Cardan also “frequently [lacks] empathy and [tends] to be.... contemptuous of the feelings, rights, and sufferings of others.” He also has “an inflated and arrogant self-appraisal,” which is seen multiple times throughout the book by him demanding respect and praise from the rest of the Fae. Talk therapy is most commonly used for treating antisocial personality disorder as there is no specific medication to treat antisocial personality disorder. However, some health care providers prescribe medications to help with other conditions that may occur with antisocial personality disorder, such as anxiety, depression, or symptoms of aggression (Mayo Clinic).

Social Psychology

Jude and Cardan’s relationship builds tension throughout the book until they are forced to work together to make sure Balekin doesn’t become High King. The rules of attraction are proximity, familiarity, and physical attractiveness. The rule of proximity is that the closer together people are physically, the more likely they are to form a relationship, the rule of familiarity is that we tend to like things as they become familiar, as they produce more positive feelings and seem safer, and the rule of physical attractiveness is that people tend to like those whom they find physically attractive. Once Cardan and Jude are thrown together after Dain’s failed coronation, they spend tons of time together, forcing their proximity to each other as well familiarity. The more Jude spends time with Cardan she realizes that his cruel demeanor is mostly just an act, and she begins to enjoy his company for the first time. For the rule of physical attractiveness, each of them mentions how attractive the other is, but in ways that hide their true feelings, such as Cardan saying, “Have I told you how hideous you look tonight?” and when Jude says, “No.. Tell me.” he responds with, “I cannot,” because fairies cannot lie (357).

Obedience is changing one’s behavior at the direct command of an authority figure or person with social power. Up until Dain’s coronation where he is killed, Jude follows Dain’s orders for her as a spy to the best of her ability. Occasionally, she questions his judgement, but overall, she usually listens to him.

Conformity is when a person adjusts their attitude, beliefs, and behaviors to adhere to group norms. Taryn, Jude’s sister, begs Jude to conform and not stand out among the Fae, but even without her twin, Taryn conforms the best she can as a mortal. She tries her best to act and live like the Fae.

Group Polarization is when group members’ decisions and opinions become more extreme together rather than alone. You can see this in “The Cruel Prince,” in Cardan’s friend group. In the beginning, at a ball, Cardan and his friends are seen tormenting lower class fae, even going as far as ripping off one faerie boy’s wings. However, separately, besides from Valerian, they are slightly less cruel apart than together.

Fundamental attribution error is our tendency to underestimate the impact of situational factors and overestimate the impact of dispositional factors when assessing why other people act the way they do. Jude makes the fundamental attribution error, when she learns that Nicasia cheated on Cardan with Locke and assumes she did it because she’s a mean person. However, Nicasia, was under the influence of faerie fruit (basically a drug in this world) and was not thinking clearly.

Superordinate goals are shared goals that override differences among people and require their cooperation. In “The Cruel Prince,” Jude and Cardan, who are enemies throughout the book, must work together to make sure Balekin does not rule and become High King. They successfully do so, and in the next books of the series continue to work together and fall in love.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Hunting Trip

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 18, Jazz tries to give Danny some space, and somehow ends up going ghost hunting with her parents.

...

Jazz, for her part, does not know what to do when she’s not helping her brother.

Clearly Danny doesn’t want anything to do with her right now.  And Jazz thinks she might need some time to calm the ache in her chest.

But taking some time apart from Danny leaves her feeling kind of aimless.  Apart from him, she doesn’t have anyone who wants to spend time with her— unless you count boys drooling over her, which she most certainly doesn’t.  Before Danny and his secret, she spent most of her time doing schoolwork, studying psychology, and preparing for college.

And sure, she spends a lot of her time nowadays studying ghost psychology, but she only has so much to go off of.  Wading through all of her parents’ bad science first takes a little bit of time, but in the end it still leaves her with more free time than she’s used to.  Time she doesn’t know what to do with.  She finds herself rereading her old human psychology textbooks a lot, and searching for new papers of interest in the field.  And while they’re definitely intriguing, it feels pointless when there’s a far more interesting, far more crucial form of study she could be doing with her time.

And when she’s no longer doing anything involved with helping Danny.

Her parents, however, seem to have missed the memo.

“Jasmine, sweetie, where are you going?”

Jazz turns to look at her mother, raising an eyebrow.  “School?”

“You’re not going to drive Danny?”

Jazz winces, but letting their parents know they’re fighting is probably a bad idea, because then they’re more likely to ask what they’re fighting about.  So instead, Jazz waits until Danny wanders down the stairs a full fifteen minutes later, and looks surprised that she’s still there.

The drive to school is silent and awkward.  Danny spends the whole time looking out the window, and Jazz hyperfocuses on the road.  As soon as they arrive at school, Danny climbs quickly out of the car and all but runs off.

Jazz parks the car and sighs, leaning back against the seat.  She doesn’t love knowing she has another trip just like that to look forward to this afternoon.

For now, however, she’s off to AP Psych, which is sure to bring a boost to her mood that she’s definitely going to need to make it through the day.

She makes it to class early and slides into her usual seat, front row, middle aisle.  She has all of her supplies set out and ready by the time the warning bell rings, and she looks with interest up at the front as their teacher begins talking.

…And assigns a group project.

Jazz gives a long internal sigh.  She can’t think of many things she dislikes more than a group project.  She works better when she can work at her own pace and expect the workload.  In group projects, she almost inevitably has to do all of the work, which is fine except for all of the ways it’s not.

Sure enough, all of the slackers start turning to her immediately, trying to get her attention.  Jazz ignores every last one of them and waits until all of the other pairs have narrowed themselves down.  Finally, the last set gets paired off, leaving Jazz with a girl whose name she doesn’t know.  They set up a decent plan throughout the rest of the class period, and the girl stands up as the bell rings.

“Do you want to meet in the library later to get started?” Jazz asks.  “We don’t have to do everything today, but we don’t have too long to do it, we should probably do something.”

“Huh?  Oh sure, I’ll meet you there during lunch.”

Jazz nods and picks up her own things, then heads to her next class.

The girl does not show up during lunch.  Jazz sighs when she arrives, and heads to her usual table, the one closest to the window.  She hadn’t really been expecting her to, so she pulls out her psychology notebook and starts writing down a couple ideas for their presentation.  They can compare notes in class tomorrow.

She puts her notebook back in her bag as she finishes and turns to her lunch, trying not to feel disappointed that the girl didn’t show up.  Jazz doesn’t even know her name, but it’s a little harder than usual to shake off the sting of eating here alone when this time she had even a little bit of a reason to expect someone else to show up.

Thankfully, lunch ends not long after she finishes eating, so she can head out with a wave and smile to the school librarian towards her next class.

Part of the way down the hallway, Jazz spots Danny walking with Sam and Tucker.  His head is ducked down with his gaze on the floor, and he’s clearly trying to block out Sam’s loud voice.  Jazz can pretty easily assume what she’s talking about.  Tucker, walking in between her and Danny, isn’t looking at Sam either, and isn’t saying anything, though every now and then he casts a glance at Danny.  Jazz thinks, not for the first time, about smacking the two of their heads together.

And then the three of them walk past her and she grips her books tighter, trying to put it out of her mind.

She manages to keep her focus on her schoolwork for most of the next class period, at least until the ghost alarm goes off.  Everyone stands and starts for the football field, and Jazz immediately goes for her bag, which she keeps her thermos in.  Just because things are tense between her and Danny right now doesn’t mean she’s not going to watch his back when she can.

Sure enough, she spots him as soon as she gets outside, chasing something pretty quickly away from the school.  She probably won’t catch up before the fight’s over at the speed he’s going, but that doesn’t stop her stomach from curling up.  It doesn’t help when, a second later, she sees the Red Huntress— Valerie, and her two new sidekicks chasing after Danny.

Jazz squeezes her eyes shut and follows the crowd of students to the football field.  Danny can handle himself.  He can.  He’s fully capable of dealing with whoever’s shown up.

She’s proven right when she sees Danny again in the hallway on the way to her last class of the day.  This time he’s with Valerie, and Jazz can tell he’s tense.  She thinks, not for the first time, about smacking his head until he gets some sense back into it.

Danny’s waiting quietly by her car when Jazz walks out of the school.  And because it feels weird to not say anything when she knows Danny was in a battle earlier, she says, “Who showed up during 5th period?”

“Just Cujo,” Danny mutters as he climbs into the car.  “I lost him when Huntress and her sidekicks showed up.”

“You mean Valerie.”

“Jazz.”

Jazz backs out of the parking spot.  She can tell Danny’s had a worse day than her, so she doesn’t push.

That, unfortunately, means they ride back in silence again.  Jazz tries to come up with something to say the whole time.  If Mom and Dad are going to keep making them drive to school together, she should probably find some way to fill the space.  Finally, when they get home she parks the car outside the house and turns to face Danny.

“You know I’m just worried about you, right?” she asks.

“I don’t need this right now, Jazz,” Danny says, and moves to open the door.

“Danny, seriously,” Jazz says.  She reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder, only for Danny to wince badly and pull away.

Jazz’s eyes widen.  “Danny, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Danny snaps, turning back around and opening the door.  “Huntress got a lucky shot.”

Jazz looks up in exasperation, and shoves her instinctual comment down.  It would not go over well.  Instead, she says, “Do you need help with it?”

“No,” Danny says with a glare, before turning and storming up the steps.

Before he can make it up to his room, however, the door to the lab opens and Mom pokes her head out.

“Oh good, you’re home,” she says with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room.  “Could you two do the dishes?  Your father and I are falling behind on work and haven’t had a chance to get to them today.”

Danny clearly wants to do anything else, but comes back down the stairs anyway, keeping his bag on as he heads into the kitchen and setting it on the table.  Jazz follows and does the same, though she keeps her distance from Danny and starts instead with putting away the dishes in the dishwasher.

“Thank you!” Mom calls, turning to head back down into the lab.

Jazz sighs.  She spares half a glance at Danny and finds him with his gaze turned firmly down towards the sink.

Awkwardly doing dishes together in silence it is, then.

The kitchen is big enough that they can both avoid each other with only a little difficulty, Jazz focusing on putting clean dishes away and Danny putting new ones in the washing machine.  All in all, it doesn’t take them terribly long, and before long Danny’s starting the dishwasher and Jazz is turning to go start on homework.

Before she can, however, footsteps appear on the stairs and Mom once again walks into the kitchen.

“Hey kids, when you finish— oh good, you’re done.  Could you come down into the lab and take the trash out?”

Jazz gives a long internal sigh, and Danny looks up for a moment at the ceiling, but both of them start towards the steps.  Danny steps in front of Jazz and leads the way down the steps.  He tends to tell Jazz he’ll handle this chore, as the one less likely to be affected if there’s anything still radioactive in the trash.

Jazz makes it down the steps just after Danny does, and he starts over for the trash.  Jazz looks up at their parents to find them both hard at work on something on one of the tables.

“Thanks sweetie,” Mom calls with a smile at Danny.  Danny gives a vague nod of acknowledgment and grabs the bag out of the trash can.  Jazz steps aside at the base of the steps to let him up, but before he can get very far Mom stops and turns to face them both.

“Oh, and when you’re done with that—”

“Oh my god, are you blind?” Danny snaps, whirling to face her.  “We don’t want to be around each other!”

“Danny!” Mom says, putting her hands on her hips.  “Excuse me, young man?  Do you want to try phrasing that differently?”

Danny groans and doesn’t reply, just turns and stomps up the stairs, which is probably not the best idea if he wants Mom to leave them alone.

“Danny, come back here and speak to your mother,” Dad says, turning around when Danny doesn’t come back down.  But Danny just slams the door to the lab.

“Danny!” Mom starts, moving towards the steps.

Jazz shoves herself in front of them before she can get there.

“Please just let him go,” she says, holding her hands up.  “He’s had a really bad day.”

“What did he mean by you two don’t want to be around each other?” Mom asks, crossing her arms and giving Jazz a curious look.  “Did you two have a fight?”

“Wow, thanks for noticing,” Jazz mutters despite herself, then she catches her breath.

“It’s fine,” she amends, turning back to Mom and Dad, who are now looking at her with much more apt attention.  “We’ll work it out.  Danny’s just… had a really bad time lately.  Could you just cut him a break, please?  I’ll do whatever needs to get done.”

Mom and Dad exchange a glance.

“Jazz, sweetie,” Mom says, turning back to face her.  “Do you want us to help you talk things out?”

“No,” Jazz says immediately.  “We’re fine, we’ve got it.  Danny just needs some time.”

“We could talk to him,” Mom says, looking up the stairs after him.

“I don’t think that would help, Mom,” Jazz says, before wincing at the hurt look on her face.

“He’s a teenage boy,” she rushes to explain.  “The last thing he wants is to talk to his parents about his feelings.  I really think he just needs some space.”

“I think Jazz might be right, Mads,” Dad says, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “We don’t want to make things worse by going after him when he doesn’t want to talk.”

Mom sighs, clearly dissatisfied.  “Oh, alright,” she says, and Jazz gives a quiet sigh of relief.  But then a second later Mom turns back to her and says, “Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?”

Jazz blinks at her.  “Me?”

But both of her parents are now looking at her expectantly, and Jazz doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Uh,” Jazz says.  “No?”

Both of her parents exchange another glance, one Jazz can’t read.

“Jazz, sweetheart,” Mom says.  “You just spent ten minutes explaining all about how you’ve had a fight because Danny’s had a hard time lately.”

“Yeah?” Jazz says, still not sure what they’re getting at.

“Princess, that doesn’t say anything about how you’re doing,” Dad says.

Jazz startles.  “Me?  Oh, I—” she laughs.  “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.  I’m not— I’m just saying Danny’s had a lot going on lately.”

Mom and Dad exchange another look.

“Really,” Jazz insists.  “I’m fine.”

They both look back at her for a second, and finally Mom nods.

“Okay sweetie,” she says.  She leans forward and kisses Jazz’s forehead.  “Just know we’re here if you want to talk.”

“Uh, sure,” Jazz says, backing up and heading back up the stairs.  “Anyway, I have homework.”

She shakes off the strange interaction as she heads up to her room.  At least she got Mom and Dad to leave Danny alone.

…

Jazz is woken the next morning by loud banging on her door.  She rubs her eyes and sits up, blinking over at the door, and yawns.  Normally her alarm wakes her up just fine, she can’t remember the last time someone had to wake her up.

“Hello?” she calls.

The door bangs open just a second later and Dad walks in with a bright grin on his face.

“Good morning, Princess!  You want to come ghost hunting with me and your mom today?”

Jazz blinks.  “What?  No.  I have school.  What?”

“Well lucky for you, your mom already called in for you!  I’m taking Danny to school in a bit, and then you get to spend the day with just us!”

Jazz blinks again.  “What?”

“We’ll see you downstairs in half an hour!” Dad calls, and turns and runs back out of the room.

Jazz looks after him for a couple seconds, and then her alarm goes off next to her on her nightstand.

When she considers it, it’s not the worst idea.  It’s not like her grades are going to plummet if she misses a day of school.  And if they’re ghost hunting while she’s trying to change their minds, it definitely gives her a fair bit of leverage.  There for sure will be plenty of examples to point to.

So, after a minute, she climbs out of bed and pulls her clothes on.  She grabs the spare thermos she keeps in her desk, and a regular notebook, not the one with her notes on ghost psychology.  She can remember anything she actually needs to write down later.

She makes it downstairs after Danny leaves by design, and finds Mom setting a plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon down in front of her.

“Eat up,” she says with a smile.  “You’ll need energy to be fighting ghosts all day.”

Well, she’s far more used to fighting ghosts than Mom realizes, but that doesn’t mean a bigger breakfast than usual is a bad idea.  She finishes about the time Dad gets back, who eats another helping of pancakes himself before he and Mom both start towards the lab.

“Come on sweetie, you’ll need some weapons!” Mom calls up to her.  “We can’t rely entirely on the GAV.”

Jazz heads down the steps, already writing off the weapons in her head that do unnecessary damage.  She doesn’t want to hurt any of the ghosts too badly, especially if Danny shows up.

She ends up going with a small blaster in case a more dangerous ghost shows up, and the Fenton Foamer in the case of a less dangerous, but still unruly ghost.

Her parents, of course, go right for the dangerous weapons.  Jazz is going to have her work cut out for her.

Thankfully, no ghosts show up for at least a little bit as they start driving, which Mom is handling, so Dad isn’t turning to talk to her when he should be focusing on the road.

“So, Princess, I know this is all pretty new to you,” he says.  “But you don’t need to worry.  There isn’t a specter out there we can’t handle!”

“Sure Dad,” Jazz says.  “But uh, we don’t have to jump straight to fighting, do we?”

Dad laughs, loud and boisterous.  “Don’t be silly sweetheart, of course we do!”

“Your father’s right, hun,” Mom says, keeping her gaze on the road.  “We have to make sure no one gets hurt.”

“Well, what if there’s no one around?” Jazz asks.  “Wouldn’t we learn more from the ghost by talking to it for a bit?”

“We’d need to capture it first, sweetheart,” Mom says.  “They won’t stay still long enough otherwise.”

“I wonder why,” Jazz mutters, glancing at the weapons sitting next to her in the back seat.  She doesn’t say anything else, though.  She’s going to have to figure out the right way to talk to her parents about this while they’re clearly not in the mind space to listen.

If there’s a way to interact with the ghosts without them seeing her parents, maybe?  But she can’t think of a way to do that without her parents also not seeing her, which would defeat the purpose.  Maybe if she—

“Jazz?  Honey?”

Jazz glances up at Mom, who’s looking at her through the rear view mirror.  “Yeah?”

“We need to tell you something,” Mom says.  “We didn’t just bring you today so we could fight ghosts together.”

Jazz blinks.  “Huh?”

“Princess, when we talked last night you said you and Danny were having a fight,” Dad says.  “But you only talked about how Danny was doing.”

“So?” Jazz asks, not sure what they’re getting at.

Before they can answer, there’s a crash up ahead, and a ghost flies out of a building.  Jazz has just enough time to recognize the familiar blue of the Box Ghost before Mom swerves the car to the side of the road.

Dad reaches back and grabs a couple of weapons that are seriously overkill for the Box Ghost, and the two of them leap out of the car, with a call from Mom to stay back and stay safe.

Jazz rolls her eyes and grabs the thermos, then turns and looks behind her towards the back of the car.  It takes her a minute but she locates what she’s looking for— Dad’s recent shipment of supplies, still in box.  She dumps the supplies onto the ground, then climbs out of the side door with the box and the thermos.

The Box Ghost is monologuing threateningly at her parents, who are shooting blasts at him.

“Hey!” Jazz calls, and all three of them look over.  Jazz holds up the box.  “Catch!”

She throws it well over the Box Ghost’s head, and when he dives after it, fires up the thermos and sucks him in with little effort.

Both Mom and Dad stare at her for a second, but Jazz just turns and takes the thermos back to the car, Box Ghost now inside.

It takes a second for them both to come back, and when they do, they’re grinning.

“Princess, that was spectacular!” Dad says brightly.  “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“He’s called the Box Ghost,” Jazz says.  “I took an educated guess.”

“Well it was a good guess, sweetie,” Mom says, climbing back in the front seat.  “You get first catch of the day.”

“Like we’re fishing?” Jazz asks.

“Well, it means you get to pick the spot for lunch!” Dad says with a grin at her.  “But we don’t have to worry about that yet.”

“Anyway, we were talking,” Mom says as she starts the car up again, and the mood instantly sombers in a way that catches Jazz off guard.

“Jazz,” she says, stopping as she pulls up to a light.  She turns and glances back at her for just a second.  “Isn’t Danny fighting with you affecting you too?”

“Oh, that’s what you meant,” Jazz realizes.  She shakes her head.  “Danny’s got enough going on right now without me getting on his case about stuff like that.  He really just needs some space.”

“What other stuff does he have going on?” Dad asks, sounding confused, like he really hadn’t noticed anything.

“Nothing,” Jazz says, certain Danny wouldn’t want her to say anything about Sam and Tucker, or Valerie.  “I’m just not going to pile on.”

“Sweetie,” Mom says, even as she turns back around and the light turns green.  “That’s fine, and that’s very mature of you, but you wouldn’t be piling on if you were talking about it with someone else.”

“Like who?” Jazz says, turning to look out the window.

“Jazz, we’re trying to let you know that you can talk to us about things like this,” Mom says.  “We might even be able to help you resolve things.  It’s not like we’ve never dealt with you and your brother having a fight before.”

Jazz doesn’t say anything.  They’d dealt with her and her brother having fights about things when they were much younger.  And even then, it was things like who gets the last cookie, or who has to pick up the toys they both left out in the living room.  She doubts they’d know how to help with “I don’t want to tell Mom and Dad that I’m the ghost they want to rip apart” and “Danny you need to spend time with people who don’t absolutely hate you and everything about you.”

“It’s nothing you guys will be able to help with,” Jazz says, scooting more towards the window and keeping her gaze away from her parents.

“Well how do you know if you haven’t tried?” Dad asks.

“I just know,” Jazz says, scooting even further forward in an effort to show she wants them to drop it.

“Sweetie, I really think you should—”

“You’re still not listening to me!” Jazz exclaims, turning to face them both.  She holds back a glare as best she can.  “You don’t listen about this, you don’t ever listen about ghosts, and maybe the reason I don’t want to talk to you is because it won’t actually help anything!  Because you won’t actually listen to me when I do it!”

Her Dad stares at her, and she can feel her Mom wanting to too, and Jazz turns to look back out the window.

“Jazz,” Mom says after a second.  “We’re trying to listen right now.  Are you okay?”

Jazz sighs.  “I’m fine.”  She turns to face them again.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have snapped like that.  It’s just… it’s really difficult to talk to you guys sometimes.  It seems like you always have something else on your mind.”

She watches them both exchange a look, and after a second, Mom pulls over on the side of the road, next to the park.  Then they both turn to face her again.

“I’m really sorry we made you feel that way, Jazz,” Mom says, concern written on her face.

“I know we can get pretty busy, Princess,” Dad says, unbuckling so he can turn more comfortably.  “But if you need to talk to us, we’ll make the time for it.  What do you want to talk about?”

Jazz stares at them both for a moment, searching their faces.  They both seem sincere.  So she has managed to get through to them a little bit.  How best to use this chance?

“You guys…” she says slowly.  “I think you guys jump right into shooting at ghosts when it’s not always… necessary.”  She holds up the thermos.  “Like with the Box Ghost.  He’s actually shown up a couple times around school.  I don’t think anyone even really gets scared of him anymore.  And you automatically think all ghosts are malicious.”

“Well, Princess, they’re—” Dad starts.

“Are you listening or not?” Jazz says firmly, and Dad, after a moment, reluctantly stops.

“I don’t think they are,” she says.  “Plenty of ghosts just want to go about their business.”

“Like who?” Mom asks, still looking suspicious.

Jazz opens her mouth, when the perfect answer shows up right outside their door.  Dash is running through the park screaming, holding a chihuahua, and being chased by a giant Cujo.  Both of their parents reach for their weapons, but Jazz holds up a hand.

“Wait,” she says, opening the door.  “Just give me a second.”

She’s not surprised when Mom and Dad both grab for their weapons anyway, but she is surprised when, after getting out of the car, they let her run off after Cujo, and just follow close behind.

Jazz puts them out of her mind and calls out Cujo’s name.

He turns after a second, and recognizes her, but then turns again and barks after Dash and the chihuahua.

Dash runs behind a tree and peeks out, seeming to calm down a little bit when he notices three of the Fentons running towards him.

Jazz heads quickly over to the tree Dash is hiding behind, and spots the problem as soon as she gets there.  In the chihuahua’s mouth is Cujo’s chew toy.  Danny described it to her, as well as its importance.

“I need that,” Jazz says, pointing at the chew toy.

Dash, after a little struggle, takes it from the chihuahua.  “Here,” he says, his hand shaking a little as he hands it to Jazz.

Jazz heads back out from behind the tree and finds her parents off to the side, guns still pointed at Cujo, who does not seem happy about it.

“Cujo!” Jazz calls, and holds up the chew toy in Cujo’s line of sight.  “Hey, boy!”

Cujo, as soon as he spots the toy, starts panting happily, and by the time he runs over to Jazz he’s back to his normal size.

“Hey good boy,” Jazz coos, setting the chew toy down in front of him.  “Did that mean old chihuahua take your toy from you?  Did he?”

“Hey!” Dash calls off in the distance.

Cujo barks happily and picks up the toy, then shakes it back and forth in his mouth a couple times.  He drops it, licks Jazz’s hand in thanks, and then picks it up and runs off.

Jazz turns to face the tree Dash is behind again.  “Hey Dash,” she calls, and he pokes his head out.  “Maybe don’t steal the ghost dog’s chew toys.”

Dash gives a weak smile and a nod.

Then Jazz turns back to her parents, who are both gaping at her, guns dropped to their sides.

“So uh,” she says as she walks back over to them.  “I hope that kind of proves my point?”

Mom nods, still looking a little stunned.  “Okay Jazz,” she says.  “Maybe.”  She looks off in the direction Cujo ran in.  “But that ghost dog could have still seriously hurt someone.  And he’s still more dangerous than a normal dog.”

“Maybe,” Jazz agrees in turn.  “But shooting at him would have only made it worse.  And he was wronged first.  Dash’s dog stole his toy.”

Her parents exchange a look with each other.

“Jazz,” Mom says, turning back to face her.  “How much have you interacted with ghosts?”

Jazz winces.  “More than you guys realize,” she admits.  “Enough to have proof that they’re not inherently evil.”

“And you’re certain of that?” Dad asks.

Jazz nods.  “Positive.  Are there ghosts that cause trouble, or ghosts that are dangerous?  Sure.  But there are humans who are like that too.  And there are ghosts who aren’t.”

“We don’t see very many like that,” Mom points out.

“Yeah, because they all hang out back in the ghost zone and mind their own business.”

Neither of her parents seem to know what to say to that.

Before Jazz can say anything else, a figure streaks by overhead, and Jazz glances up in time to spot the familiar jumpsuit of her little brother.

Chasing after him are Valerie and her two new sidekicks.

“Back to the GAV!” Mom calls, and all three of them run for it, though Jazz has a different level of panic than she’s sure her parents both do.  Danny could always handle the three of them, sure, but that was before he realized the Red Huntress is Valerie.  And given the way Valerie got a lucky shot yesterday…

Sure enough, when her parents start chasing after the four of them and paying little attention to the road, she sees Danny just keep flying, and not throw a single hit back towards Valerie.  At one point, he takes a hit to the back that makes Jazz wince.

Unfortunately, she can’t help up there.  The best she can do is not make it worse.

So Jazz turns her attention to her parents, who are aiming directly at Danny and completely ignoring the fact that he’s not making any moves and is solely running for his life.

Jazz sees Dad go for the GAV weapons system, and tenses up.  But thankfully, since it’s Dad she can trust him to miss.

Which he does.

By accidentally aiming a shot right at Valerie.

A shot which Danny, idiot that he is, dives right in front of anyway.

He goes flying back into Valerie, and both of them then go flying into a building.

“Uh hey, maybe you guys should wait while there’s other people you could hit?” Jazz asks nervously.

“Maybe I should take over honey,” Mom says to Dad, and then she puts one hand on the wheel and one hand on the weapons.

Well, that doesn’t so much solve the problem as it does create a different one.  Mom has much better aim.

Jazz watches her mother for a second, then follows her aim towards Danny, who flies away from Valerie as well as her two sidekicks.

Thankfully, that makes things easier for Jazz, and she quietly unbuckles her seatbelt.  When Mom takes aim at Danny, Jazz jerks forward until she slams into her arm, pointing the gun straight up into the sky, and away from anyone who might get hit by it.

“Sorry,” she says, sitting back in her seat.  “Pothole!”

Thankfully, by the time Mom and Dad both get their bearings again, Danny is long gone, and so are Valerie and her sidekicks.  And though Jazz isn’t sure she can trust him enough to deal with the three of them without getting himself hurt again, there isn’t much she can do about that.

He probably won’t let her patch him up later either.

“Darn that Phantom!” Dad says, slamming his hand down on the dashboard.

“We’ll get him one of these days, hon,” Mom says, patting him on the shoulder as she pulls the GAV over to park on the side of the road.

Jazz considers it for a second, then shakes off the idea of saying anything on that particular subject.  She’s pushed her parents a lot today, and Danny is a subject that needs to be approached with a lot more care.

Instead, she lets her parents shake off the fight for a second, and then they turn back to her.

“Sorry for that interruption, sweetheart,” Mom says.  “It doesn’t mean we weren’t paying attention.  Phantom is just a ghost that requires immediate action.”

Jazz nods.  “Sure.”

“Princess, what we’ve really been trying to say through all of this is that we’re worried about you,” Dad says, turning once again to face her.

“I’m not the one you need to worry about,” Jazz says.  But neither of her parents look like they believe her.

“Jazz,” Mom says.  “Do you remember when Danny ran away?”

Jazz looks away.  How could she forget?  That time was a nightmare.  Mom and Dad had both been near frantic in trying to find Danny, sure he’d been captured by some ghost.  Sam and Tucker, as much as her feelings on them were mixed lately, had been constantly checking in for updates, and it was clear how scared for Danny they’d been.  And Jazz had been scouring the news for any mention of Phantom, and feeling something in her break every time she saw a news story of her brother doing things that were so unlike him.  While at the same time being unable to say anything to anyone, because she was the only one who had any idea what was really going on.

She never wants to go through anything like it ever again.

“What about it?” she says quietly to Mom.

“You didn’t talk to anyone all throughout that,” Mom says.  “And it seems like you’re doing the same thing with this fight with Danny.  We just don’t think it’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

Jazz closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.  “I’m not going to tell you things Danny doesn’t want you to know,” she says plainly.  “And I don’t…” she opens her eyes again and sighs.

“I don’t have anyone else I can talk to,” she admits.  “It’s hard to make friends when everyone sees you as the Weird Fenton Girl, or the Weird Psychology Girl.  Just… let me handle the fight with Danny.  I can do it.  Okay?”

There’s a couple seconds of silence from the front seat.  Then, she sees Mom move out of the corner of her eye, and a second later she gives Jazz a kiss on the top of her head.

“I don’t like that you and Danny feel like you can’t talk to us,” she whispers.

Jazz pulls back slightly to look at both her parents.  “Permission to say something that could get me grounded?”

Mom raises an eyebrow, but Dad nods.  “Granted.”

“It’s not entirely unwarranted,” Jazz says quietly.

Mom narrows her eyes.  “What do you mean?”

Jazz shakes her head.  “Can’t tell you that.”

Mom sighs in frustration.  “Sweetie, you know that’s not exactly helpful, right?”

“Sorry,” Jazz says, but she doesn’t take it back.

“Okay,” Dad says, in a very somber tone for him.  “What can we do to help you feel like you can talk to us?”

“Listen better?” Jazz asks hesitantly.  “And… pay attention?”

Mom and Dad both exchange another look.  But finally, they turn back to her.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Mom says.  “We will.”

Jazz doesn’t quite know what to say in response to that.  So instead, she just quietly says “Thanks,” and rebuckles her seatbelt.

And after a long pause, Mom starts the car again and drives away.

…

Jazz isn’t expecting anything bigger than that to come out of the day.  That was pretty big all on its own, and she honestly might need a couple days to recover.

Unfortunately, her parents haven’t changed that much, and that night they show up at her room after dinner with a knock on her door, and Dad calling her name.

Jazz isn’t quite sure what they’re there for, but if she’s going to ask them to listen better, she should at least give them opportunities to.  So, she sets her homework aside and climbs up, then walks over and opens the door.

“Hi,” she says.  “What’s going on?”

“Well Jazz, your mother and I have talked it over, and we noticed the ways you knew how to handle those ghosts today,” Dad says with a bright grin.  “It was really something!”

“So, we were wondering if you might want to share any research you’ve done with us?” Mom asks.  “From a scientific interest, of course.  And you don’t have to.”

Despite that, Jazz can see how interested they both are.

Well, it’s a place to start, she supposes.

“It’s ghost psychology,” she warns.  “You know, buying into the ‘lunacy’ that they’re sentient and all that.”

Mom chuckles a little.  “Sounds about as crazy as the idea that ghosts exist in the first place, sweetie,” she says.  “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jazz starts to smile, and stands back to let her parents into her room.

[dapper-nahrwhale]

Every time I think about the mash finale I remember that it was the first episode of mash I ever watched, incidentally. At the end of the year, my ap psych teacher let us watch a bunch of movies and shows dealing with psych stuff, criminal minds, leverage, and yes the finale of mash, because the AP test was scheduled weeks before school was out, so we finished everything early to prepare for the test. Then spent weeks watching shows it was great.

Its just. Wild to see the finale first then years later the rest of the show. What an unreplicatible experience.

[psychics4unet]

Hi can i have a free reading on what a new girl i met thinks of me? recently got drunk with her and trauma dumped 😀😭 Her initials are SD and mine are AP.

thank you

✨ free psychic reading by egyptian sand! (7$ paid readings are also opened!) ✨

i see the shape of a book, which represents knowledge, curiosity, and understanding 📖. this suggests that sd sees you as someone with depth, someone who has a lot to share. she may be processing everything you told her and trying to understand you better. she doesn’t seem to judge - rather, she might be intrigued by what she learned about you.

next, there is a wave-like pattern, symbolizing emotions and unpredictability 🌊. this shows that your interaction left a strong impression on her, but she might feel a mix of emotions. she could be unsure of how to respond or process what happened. she doesn’t dislike you, but she might need some time to fully understand how she feels about what you shared.

finally, i see a key, which represents opportunity, trust, and unlocking something new 🔑. this suggests that your conversation may have opened a door between you. she could see you as someone who trusts easily or someone she now feels responsible for in some way. depending on her personality, she may either want to deepen the connection or keep a slight emotional distance if she’s unsure how to handle deep conversations.

summary: sd likely sees you as an interesting and open person with a lot of depth. she might feel a mix of curiosity and uncertainty about the conversation, but it has left a mark on her. depending on how she processes emotions, this could bring you closer or make her take a step back to reflect. if you want to reconnect, giving her space to reach out might be the best approach 🗝️✨

got questions or need some insight into your life? i'm here to help with personal psychic readings! for just $7, you can get answers to up to 7 questions! more info at:

in case anyone else here on tumblr would like a free psychic reading, click the link and follow the instructions (i answer only to those who follow the instructions, thank you): https://www.tumblr.com/psychics4unet/773593300218314752/free-psychic-reading-with-egyptian-sand