#but the teachers gave me good enough grades for some things that I never completely failed gym class at least

[soobnny]

classmate au | sim jake

❝ i’m sorry we only got 26/30 on this worksheet ❞

heeseung | jay | JAKE | sunghoon | sunoo | jungwon | ni-ki

jake…

oh jake.

student athlete and math genius jake

you’re in the same class but he feels so far because he hangs out with his rly pretty friends

u can only look from afar

he’s always a tiny bit late to class

always drawing attention to his pretty boy face 😞

at 7:30, the bell rings and classes start

at 7:31, jake walks into class late

but the teachers always give him a pass bc how could they not when he smiles at them like that and apologizes like that

even ur teachers are down bad

he probably becomes your class representative for that one strict teacher’s class bc they always have a soft spot for jake

u want the deadline of the homework extended? ask jake to message them

he sits in the middle seats

not too prim and punctual to be at the front

but still likes school enough not to completely goof around at the back

sometimes your math teacher lets you do quizzes and worksheets by pair

(it’s the only way some of you can get a passing grade)

by statistics and some type of sampling, you end up getting partnered up with jake

“hi, good morning,” he’d greet with his infamous smile

now you get why all the teachers swoon for him

he’s so cute. this is going to be a problem

this is going to be a BIG problem

you were already bad at math, and now there’s a big pretty distraction sitting next to you

though, tbh, you were also relieved when you heard your name with his bc he’s ltrly known as a math genius

he’s one of the students that teachers excuse for their math contests

and wait 😭 did he just say something to u? did he ask about a formula bc u honestly have no clue

“(name)?” he’d shake your shoulder gently and it’s enough to bring you back on earth

“sorry, did you ask something?”

“oh, i’m done … if u wanted to compare answers? or if u trust me enough?”

you trust him enough

he’s ltrly THE carry

jake will speedrun differential calculus like he’s writing the alphabet

uh oh.

why does he look so HOT with his pencil and the way he writes numbers

you’re going insane

you should never be paired with jake ever again

but by some twist of fate, you always end up as jake’s partner in numerous activities

lab work and experiments and communication reports?

“jake and (name),” the teacher would announce

ofc… typical of friends, they HAVE to push you around as you walk to your seat beside jake’s

while you’re of great help with anything else, you’re starting to feel bad about his literal carry in math tho

“are you sure it’s ok? i’m just rly horrible i’m sorry,” you’d apologize

he would just laugh and dismiss your concerns

“nooo, it’s okay. i’m fine! i can tell you didn’t get enough sleep last night”

(you spent the night binging a new show that came out)

your stomach doesn’t feel so good after that one.

who gave him the right to NOTICE things now???

when your teacher returns your paired worksheets, he has the GALL to apologize

a big fat 29/30 will be written on top and he’d say “oh i’m sorry we had one mistake 😕” like BOY SHUT UP !!!!

after your partner shenanigans, you’d start talking more in the classroom

he’d give u a fist bump if u bumped into each other in the hallways while walking with ur respective friend groups

sometimes even shout your name to get your attention only to wave at you

“why are you smiling like that?,” sunghoon would ask accusingly

and you know what? jake has no shame

“(name). she’s pretty cute, no?”

BYE absolutely no shame

so now, when he speedruns an activity, you’ll find him hovering around you until he starts to make conversation

if the teacher leaves early ?? suddenly he’s transported to the seat next to yours and flirting

being friends with jake is chaotic…. bc that would automatically mean being friends with HIS loud ass friends

pretty friends have upgraded to pretty LOUD friends

they’re so annoying too

“jake and (name), can you buy us water?”, heeseung would ask

WHY R U BUYING WATER FOR HEESEUNG

but jake’s already taking your hand and dragging you away bc he will take every opportunity to hang out with you alone

BTW computer science god idk i just got the vibes

during valentines that year, he codes you a little website please end me

mind you, you aren’t even together yet

he just codes for you as a friend 😂😂😂 as if anyone’s believing that

oh and he also avails those anonymous services so you’ll just be receiving flowers from the student council throughout the day

“oooooh, who are those from,” he would be smiling like it’d be so painfully obvious it’s from him

“do you like them?” NOOOOOOO he just wants to know ok!!! tell him you love them please

OK back to normal no more valentines

when class dismisses, you’d find him lounging around the basketball court with heeseung

sweaty….. wet hair…. oh dear

jake is a sight to see when he’s playing basketball

u usually sit at the bleachers anyway bc ur friends enjoyed watching

he is SOOOOO annoying esp now that you’ve grown closer over the months

he’d make stupid plays and draw attention to you 100%

“if i get this shot in, will you go on a date with me?”

cue the screams and the teasing and the fake vomiting as you’re pushed around

OFC he makes the shot

he’s sim jake, math genius AND student athlete

“so, tomorrow after class?”

“huh?? i thought you were joking??”

“what? no! have i not been obvious? i ltrly flirt with you evry chance i get??”

“well… idk! maybe you do that with everyone!”

“only you”

OK WISH I WERE YOU THEN 😒😒😒😒😒

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[faefictions]

Snow in Indiana

Eddie Munson x Reader

5.7k words

Eddie has spent the past decade thinking about the pen pal he lost touch with, but fate has a funny way of bringing people back together when they need it most

Warnings: family death (unedited bc it is 3am and I have been working on this for hours)

“Dear Eddie, 

Does it Snow in Indiana?” 

He had read the beginning of the note hundreds of times by now. He had memorized how each individual letter had been written and slightly smudged. He knew the entire contents of the letter by heart, but that never stopped him from coming back to it from time to time. 

“My grandma hasn’t told me much about Hawkins, just that it’s just like home. Except it’s on the other side of the country. Grandma likes the snow, so I hope you say yes.” 

Something about the innocent nature of your writing calmed him down when things got rough. He had received the note in the middle of August at the beginning of 6th grade. Your grandmother had just moved across the country, and she just so happened to be the Librarian at Eddie’s new middle school. She had told both of you that the other could use a friend, even if you were thousands of miles apart. She also insisted that being pen pals would improve both of your lackluster reading and writing skills. She meant well. 

“Can I tell you the truth? I didn’t want to write you a letter when grandma called and told me I should. My teachers say I’m not good at writing anyway. But Grandma also said maybe you and I could be friends. And I think I would like that.” 

Some of your words had been crossed out with pen, either from misspellings or second thoughts on phrasing. Eddie had stared at the paper for so long that he even knew what was underneath those scribbles. 

When the snow started coming down each winter, it was hard for him to not want to keep the letter on him at all times. The opening line of your first letter to him always floated into his head with the first snowflakes. 

He had written you back to assure you that it does snow in Indiana, that he too had troubles with pleasing his teachers with his school work, and of course, that he too would like to be friends. 

That was over 10 years ago now. He had never met you, never heard your voice, never learned what you looked like (besides the poorly drawn picture you had included for him one time) but you had been a part of him for his middle school years. 

The letters started slowing down in the 8th grade. You had told him you were nervous for high school, that you’d heard that kids were meaner there. The last letter he had sent you was in the summer before both of your freshman years. He hated that he couldn’t remember what he had said, what his last words to you were. All he knew was that he wished you luck for your first day. 

Then the letters stopped completely. After months of checking mailboxes impatiently, he got the hint and gave up. 

At the age of 24, he wishes he sent another letter. He wishes he got some closure on why you stopped writing. He had always wondered if it had been something he had said, or maybe you had just found new friends in high school and decided you didn’t need him anymore. 

He was embarrassed to admit that it was his first heartbreak. So he refused to admit it even happened to anyone he knew now. 

He tucked the old letter in his pocket as another patron entered the diner. He had picked up a second job as the night cook in hopes of saving up enough to to move out of the trailer with Wayne. It had been months of helping Wayne with bills now, and he was just barely starting to see the hard work pay off in his savings account. 

He peeked out the pass through window to get a glimpse of the first customer they’d had in the last hour and a half. The snow had been coming down hard, and it was preventing the already few people who would be coming in to the diner at this hour from showing up. He wasn’t surprised to see the young woman, somewhere around his age, follow the waitress quickly to the booth in the corner and sit down. He was, however, surprised to see no new car in the small lot outside. He hadn’t seen headlights arrive or depart to drop her off. The snow that has accumulated on her hair, even thought it has been covered with a hood, was making him think she had walked a distance to get here. If the counter hadn’t been blocking his view, he would have seen the bottom of her pants completely soaked through from the snow piled outside to confirm his suspicion. 

“Can you start on a stack of pancakes, Ed?”

He nodded at the waitress, Judy, who wasn’t usually one to whisper like she was now. She rushed off to the phone in the back office, which did nothing but pique the interest in Eddie’s under stimulated brain. 

Curiosity got the best of him, so he made his way out of the kitchen quickly, grabbed a mug from the counter and the full coffee pot, and made his way over the girl in the corner. 

You had been staring out the window, and Eddie recognized the look as he approached. You were doing your best to hold yourself together. He was used to this kind of customer at this time of night. People who really needed the company, who had nowhere else to go, often found their way here after midnight. But there was something different about you, and it wasn’t just that he had never seen you around town. No matter how hurt he could tell you were inside, you did your best to keep up a facade when you saw him approaching. 

“Coffee?” he offered, less poised than he had intended.

“Please,” you smiled up at him as he set down the mug and poured. He allowed himself to take you in, and that’s when he saw the snow still caked on to your sneakers, and the damp cloth stretching from the hem above your ankle nearly up to your knees. There was snow yet to melt from head to toe, and you were trying your best not to shake from the cold. 

“You walk here?” He tried to make light conversation as he chuckled, but you weren’t as chipper. 

“My car broke down about a mile up the road. Walking was my only option,” You tried to keep the smile on your face, but Eddie saw the look, almost like a shunned child. As if you were embarrassed by what you had done, preparing for the lecture or consequence coming your way. 

Before he could say anything, Judy returned from the back office. 

“Tow truck won’t be running ’til morning, darlin’. But I left a message telling them you’d call first thing,” Judy gave you a halfhearted smile, before turning to Eddie, “Where’s that stack I told you to start on?” 

“Right, sorry,” he quickly excused himself back to the kitchen, but did his best to listen for the conversation you were having on the other side of the room. 

“Where are you staying tonight? I can try to get you a ride there.” 

“My grandma’s house, well it used to be I guess. I think it’s just a few more miles into town, I’m not a hundred percent sure though, I’ve never been out here.” 

“Used to be your grandma’s house?”

“Yeah, she, uhm… passed away not long ago. Hard to own something six feet under,” you tried to joke, but failed to make either of you laugh, “Funeral service is next week, I came early to pack up her things. Guess I chose the wrong day to drive in though.” 

“I’d say. Well let me see what I can do, do you have the address?” 

“Yeah, it’s right…” you trailed off as you checked your pocket, slowly coming to realize that you had left the torn piece of paper with the address written on it on your passenger seat, right on top of the map you were struggling to follow in the heavy snow. “Guess I left it in the car.” 

Just as the realization was threatening to break you, Eddie came and set a fresh stack of 3 pancakes in front of you. 

“You eat up, it’s on the house. And let me know if you remember any of that address,” Judy smiled at you and walked into the back before you could refuse the free pancakes.

Eddie watched you for the next hour through the pass through window. No other customers came in, so he didn’t exactly have anything better to do. It was nearing 4 am, the end of Eddie’s shift. He had cleaned his station in the kitchen faster than he ever had and made his way out to your table to check on your before he left. 

“Any luck with that address?”

“Don’t think I’d remember it with a gun to my head. I might as well walk back and grab it.” 

“Not a chance. My shift is over in a few minutes. Why don’t I drive you back to your car, you can grab it, and I can get you there.”

“I couldn’t possibly-“

“No need to be polite. You’ve had a rough enough night, let’s just get you home.”

You didn’t correct his phrasing. This was the furthest you had ever been from home, and you were sure as hell feeling that in this strange diner with barely a concept of where you were. The snow falling outside only exacerbated your feeling of being out of place. 

Eddie rushed to the back to grab his belongings and wish Judy a good night, letting her know he was going to get you out of there, before he made his way back out to you. You had brought the hood of your sweatshirt back up, and were staring out at the snow silently. He approached cautiously and gently spoke, “Let’s get out of here,” before guiding you through the door. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way. Sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier.” 

You paused at his name, but he was too busy trying to find his van through the wall of snow to notice. 

“I’m y/n, thanks again for helping. You and Judy are both angels.” 

He smiled at your name for a moment, but kicked the idea from his mind. 

Both of you thought of the letters you had sent all those years ago, unaware that the person climbing into the same car as you was in fact the person you were reminiscing on. 

Eddie shook the snow out of his hair like a wet dog before starting the van. 

“Left out of the lot?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled. 

“You know, I’ve helped fix up a few cars in my day. I could take a look under the hood for you when we get there if you’d like.”

“You’re already helping enough, thank you though.”

“I really don’t mind. Can’t hurt just to take a look.” 

The glance and smile he shot you made your stomach do flips. In the low light of the passing, sparse streetlights, he looked incredibly handsome. Your mind wandered back to what you thought your Eddie looked like back in middle school. You had sent him a drawing of yourself, mostly as a joke since your drawing skills as a 12 year old weren’t amazing, but you were also trying to send him the message that you desperately wanted to know him better. Of course, when your grandmother had insisted you become pen pals with a strange boy, you weren’t too happy about the idea, but as time went on, the sound of a friend sounded too nice. You hadn’t had many of them in elementary school, and it concerned your family. But as your friendship with Eddie grew with each letter, you found yourself hoping for something, anything, more. Now, as an adult, you blame your adolescent brain for the silly crush. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him from time to time, still wondering what he might be doing in that moment, or if he is happy. But most of all, you wondered if he missed you as much as you missed him. 

“You doing alright over there?” he asked you over the quiet metal playing over the speakers. He was playing it at about 1% of the volume he usually listened at, in an attempt to not scare you off just yet. 

“Yeah, just a long night,” you smiled back at him. He nearly assured you that you could be real with him, that he could tell that something more was bothering you, but he worried that would be coming on too strong. And before he could find a way to say it without sounding creepy, you pointed out your car on the side of the road with a sigh. 

It had only been a couple hours since you had left it, but it was nearly buried in the snow. 

“That’s a little more difficult to check out,” He chuckled as he pulled to the side of the road, lighting up your car with his headlights. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just go grab the address and we can get going,” you tried not to sigh as you opened the passenger door. 

“Wait a second,” Eddie reached for your hand before you could make it out of the car, “I’m fine with taking a look, and I can grab the address too. No need for you to get cold again.” 

“I already walked a mile in the snow earlier, I don't think a minute out there will kill me.”

“All the more reason for you to stay in here if you ask me.”

“Fine, but skip looking under the hood. I can call the tow truck when I wake up, it should be fine until then. Even if you could fix it with nothing, I don’t think I should be driving any more today.”

“Long trip?”

“Since 8 am. I really just want to get to sleep.”

“Deal,” he smiled again before stretching his hand out to you, “Keys?”

You reluctantly let him have the keys to go grab the paper, but not before trying to assure him you were capable of grabbing it yourself. You watched him as he rushed as fast as he could through the near foot of snow, grabbed the address, and rushed back to the van. 

“You didn’t lock it,” you stated, nervous to not to sound nagging. 

“I know, do you have a bag or something I can grab for you?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, where is it?”

“It’s in the back seat on the passenger side. It’s a small black suitcase.”

“You got it, here, take this,” he handed you the torn paper with your grandmother’s previous address written on it in a handwriting that would have been familiar to him, had he glanced down at it. 

He ran back to grab your suitcase, and made sure to double check that the doors had locked after he shut them before he rushed back to the van. He threw your suitcase in the backseat before jumping back into the drivers seat. 

“I don’t know how you lasted a mile in that, I’m already freezing,” he complained, but his smile still refused to leave his face. 

“I’m sorry,” you tried yet again to apologize. 

“Don’t be,” he paused to look you in the eye to assure you that he wasn’t upset in the slightest, “Now let’s see that address. Hopefully I actually know where it is.”

You handed him the paper, and even in the low light, you couldn’t miss the way his face fell, even for a millisecond. He hadn’t seemed to stop smiling all night, but the second he saw the paper, it faltered for just a moment. 

“Everything ok?” 

He looked up at you, and you could tell he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. 

“Yeah, uhm, this is on the other side of town though. It’s a bit of a drive, is that ok?”

“I’d rather drive a little further than stay in my car tonight. So yeah, it’s fine,” you giggled, relieved that he didn’t seem angry or annoyed with you like you thought. 

But he had seen the handwriting. He would know it anywhere, yet he still wouldn’t let himself get caught up in the coincidences. You were just a girl with similar handwriting, and the same name. You weren’t his y/n. He could never be so lucky. 

“So, what brings you to town?” he asked after a moment of driving. 

“It isn’t the happiest story, and I don’t want to be a bummer.” 

“I’m nosey, and that does nothing to curb my interest,” he joked. He just needed to prod, he needed to know if he was being crazy. 

“My grandma passed… about a week ago now. Her funeral is next week, but someone needed to clean up her house for the service, and no one else wanted to make the drive out.” 

“Do you have any other family in the area to help out?”

“No, she only had 2 sons. My dad and my uncle, and they’re both back west. She moved here, like, 12 years ago now I think. Maybe 13.” 

Just another coincidence. He’s not this lucky. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes. You hadn’t heard that yet. Just stressed adults complaining about how traveling in the winter was too much of a hassle. Hearing those words, from a near stranger no less, was enough to make you tear up. And Eddie could hear that in your voice when you thanked him, but he chose not to comment on it. 

“So,” you began after a moment of awkward silence, “How long have you lived in Hawkins?”

“My whole life.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Uh… It has its moments,” he tried his best to hide his discontent with the town. If it weren’t for his uncle, his band, and his small group of friends, he would have ran for the hills by now. He was too attached to them to run… and also lacking the funds to do so. 

“That good huh?” you laughed. 

“Hate to sound like an ass, but there are definitely plenty of cons that outweigh the pros for me half the time. But that’s not everyone’s experience.”

“Grandma seemed to like it, but she also liked it back home, and it’s no cake walk back there.” 

You almost spat the end of your sentence, and although it wasn’t spoken explicitly, Eddie understood. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep bringing the conversation down. It’s just been a really long week.”

“I believe it,” He paused, “So how long are you going to be staying in town then?”

“I have no idea. Rumor is Grandma left me the house. And even if she did…. I’m sorry, I’ve been awake for almost 24 hours now, and driving for over 15 of them. I know you really don’t need to hear any of this.” 

You started to make your body as small as possible, hyper aware of how loudly you had been speaking, and how riled up you were getting. Your father would have hated to see it. But not Eddie. 

“No, keep going. Like I said, I’m nosey, and it sounds like you could use someone to talk to about this.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agreed nonchalantly, unaware how much it meant to you. 

“My grandma and I were really close before she moved. She didn’t get along with either of her sons, but she was the world to me as a kid. And my dad put up no effort to even reach out to her in the past decade, but he expects all of her stuff to be left to him, and my uncle wants the same. But my mom told me that one of them had reason to believe that she left it all to me. I don’t even know where they heard it, and don’t get me wrong, I’m not ungrateful, I promise. I just don’t know what to do about the two grown men that she apparently left out of the will if that’s true, and how mad they’re going to be at me.” 

“They wouldn’t be mad at you.” 

“You don’t know my dad,” you scoffed. You knew damn well that the man wasn’t afraid of throwing a tantrum, especially if it came to money. And he wouldn’t care if you were the one getting hurt in the process. 

“What would they have to be mad at you for though? For your Grandma loving you enough to leave you something to start your life on? How is that your fault?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault, they just care that they get their share. If it’s left to me, I might as well just divvy it up before they say anything.”

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“I just don’t want to have any issue with them.” 

“I’m sorry, that’s not fair to you.” 

“You really need to stop being so nice, you’re going to make me cry,” you chuckled, genuinely fighting back the tears as you spoke. 

“Sorry,” he chuckled back. He took a subject before continuing. “Have you seen the house? Like have you ever visited?”

“No, actually. Who knows, maybe it’s a real fixer upper and I’d be better off passing it on to my uncle,” you giggled, and that put the smile back on Eddie’s face. 

“If I didn’t mess up the address, it should just be in this next neighborhood.”

You kept saying that all you wanted was to get some rest after your long day, but now that you were talking to Eddie, you didn’t want the drive to end. The disappointment hit you like a rock as he pulled into the driveway of your grandmothers old house, but the feeling quickly turned to something else as you looked out the window to see the beautiful 2 story house with large trees on either side. 

“So much for the fixer upper theory,” Eddie said with a whistle, but you were speechless. This was much more than you had been anticipating, much nicer than you had spent your younger years picturing every time you missed your grandma. 

“You ok?” he asked after a moment of silence. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just taking it in,” you chuckled nervously, still staring at the house. 

“Why don’t we get you inside?” He said, reaching in the back for your suitcase. You put a hand gently on his arm to stop him, and he looked up to see your nearly empty stare, still on the building in front of you. 

“Can you give me just a minute? I’m sorry, I know it’s late.” 

“No, it’s fine… Are you ok?”

“Yeah…Yeah, It just,” you trailed off for a moment, “I hadn’t seen her in years. Had no idea what her house looked like, or what she looked like anymore. I got letters, I got calls, but… Part of all this didn’t feel as real. Going in there, that’s real.” 

“Want me to come in with you?”

“No, that’s fine. I just need a second.” 

“Have you ever lost anyone before?”

You didn’t answer, just shook your head as you moved your eyes from the house to him. 

“Let me walk you in. You shouldn’t be alone for that.” 

You looked back at the house for a moment, took a deep breath, and nodded your head. 

Eddie carried your suitcase through the front door, and you both kicked off your shoes before stepping on the carpet. You took a deep breath before reaching for the light switch. Eddie sensed your hesitation as your fingers hovered. He took the opportunity to grab the fingers of your other hand. It gave you enough courage to turn on the light in the entry way. 

The furniture was mostly unfamiliar. You could see a few pieces in the living room that you had remembered from your childhood, and the sense of nostalgia calmed you. Eddie let you walk ahead of him, letting go of your hand as you ventured further into the room. Slowly but surely, you made your way to a wall on the other side of the room. It was covered in pictures, new and old, of your grandma with family and friends. You recognized yourself in plenty of them, but the newer ones were the ones that you couldn’t stop looking at. She looked so much older that you had remembered, but still had the youthful glow to her that you had attributed to her mischievousness. No matter how old she got, how wrinkled her face grew, or how gray her had and gotten, you still recognized her. Part of your heart began to ache for not knowing her as she was before she passed. It had been so long. 

You felt Eddie approach you from behind, and you expect him to say something nice, or encouraging. But he didn’t. He was surprisingly quiet. You turned to make sure he was alright, but he didn’t seem fine. He was staring at one of the photos on the wall, and he looked like he was about to be sick.

“Are you ok, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, still white as a sheet as he tore his eyes from the photo to look at you. He barely shot you a half smile before looking back up at the pictures. You took a step back to stand next to him. 

“I just remembered that she worked at the middle school when she moved here. Did you know her?”

“Yeah.”

“…Did you like her?” you tried asking after waiting for him to say anything more. 

“Yeah, she introduced me to my best friend.”

“Me too,” you smiled at the memory of your old pen pal. 

“Someone back home?”

“No, actually. I probably shouldn’t refer to him as that still. We haven’t spoken in… years actually.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, finally peeling his eyes away from the photos on the wall. 

He should have said more, but he didn’t know what else to say. This was her. He was in shock. The girl he had spent the last decade wondering about had wandered into his diner. His thoughts were moving a mile a minute, he felt like he could physically hear them, and it was hard to focus on anything you had possibly said. But luckily, you weren’t saying much. 

He followed you like a ghost as you explored the first floor of the house. You were happy you had arrived before anyone else. You had the chance to see the house how she had left it, how she had lived in it. It gave you a sense of closure you weren’t going to get otherwise, it felt as if you were getting a sense of knowing her once again. You were caught up in it until you saw a clock on the wall, reading nearly 5 am. Realization hit you that you were keeping Eddie, and a sense of guilt washed over you. You turned to find him, with a bit of color returned to his face. 

“It’s really late, I’m sorry I’ve kept you. You can go home if you’d like. I’m sure you want to get some rest too after your shift.” 

He took a second, before asking, “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” And you hesitated before nodding. 

“Honestly, the roads are pretty bad out there. I could stay on the couch, help you figure out your car in the morning. How does that sound?”

He way have been a complete stranger just hours ago, but you really did feel like you could trust him. So you smiled and nodded. 

“I’ll go find some blankets for you,” you smiled before disappearing up the stairs. Eddie didn’t expect you to come back for a while. You were bound to find your grandmothers bedroom and need to look around for a while. He made his way back to the living room while he waited. He stared at the wall again, but not in shock this time. Now that he knew was 24 year old you looked like, he desperately want to see what 12 year old you looked like. He found a picture near the middle of the wall, of a young girl smiling at the camera. It was the only photo on the wall without your grandmother in it. She had your eyes, had your smile, but most importantly, she actually looked like the drawing he had received all those years ago. You weren’t as bad of an artist as you’d thought. Eddie tried not to grow emotional staring at the photo. He only tore his eyes away from the picture of younger you when he heard you making your way back down the stairs.

Before you could reach Eddie, you paused by the window next to the back door, blankets in hand. The snow coated the back yard, reflecting the light from the back porch into the sky. You began to tear up, just as Eddie approached to take the blankets from you. He saw one of the first tears fall down your cheek, and quickly, but gently put an arm around you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… Is this what it looks like every winter?” you asked, looking up at him with misty eyes. 

“For parts of it, yeah. Why?”

“Grandma loved the snow,” was all you could reply before looking back out at the yard. 

He contemplated it for a second, fought himself on whether or not this was the right moment to say it, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“I told you she’d like it here” 

A moment passed as you processed what he had said. You gasped quietly, quickly turning your head to face him. He looked nervous, as if he had just handed his heart to you on a platter, waiting to see if you would reject it. 

“Eddie?” you asked cautiously, and you both knew what the question really was. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, still nervous and unable to read what you were thinking. 

“You stopped writing,” was all you could get out before another tear dropped. 

“What?”

“Y-you stopped writing,” you repeated, beginning to choke on your breathes as you spoke. 

He nearly panicked as he tried to reply. 

“Y/n, w-what do you mean? I only stopped writing when you stopped replying.”

“Oh my god, it’s really you,” you couldn’t stop looking at him, another tear dropping down your cheek. Your exhaustion was exaggerating your emotions, but you may have felt the same regardless. You had waited 12 years for this moment. 

“Yeah. Why don’t we go sit down,” he smiled at you, before herding you towards the couch. 

“Y/n,” he spoke softly as he crouch in front of you, one hand resting on each of your knees as you sat on the couch, “What do you mean I stopped writing?”

“I sent you a letter, you never replied.”

“That’s impossible, I waiting for months to hear back from you. There’s no way I missed a letter from you.”

“No, I sent one, and I waited, but you never replied. You broke my heart Eds,” you quietly began to sob, filled with too many mixed emotions. 

Eddie quickly sat next to you on the couch and pulled you to his chest to comfort you the best he could, but he was still confused. He had checked his own mailbox, his neighbors mailboxes, other houses in town with the same street number as his trailer. This didn’t add up. He quietly shushed you as he thought. 

“What did the last letter say?” he asked as you began to calm down just slightly. He had half the collection of your letters memorized, but especially the first and last. He would know if he had read it if you described it. 

“It was before Freshman year, I told you how scared I was that all the kids were going to be mean. I was so afraid that I was going to get singled out for still having no friends, and I waited for months to hear back from you. But you never wrote back. You were my only friend, and you stopped writing.”

“No, sweetheart, I would never,” he sighed as his heart dropped. He got that letter, he replied to it. Which meant that she never got his last letter. Neither of them had stopped writing on purpose, they had both assumed the other had given up. But he had sent out one last letter that was unaccounted for.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me,” he gently guided you to look up at him, “I promise you, I wrote back. I don’t know what happened to it, but I never would have stopped writing like that. I thought you had just ignored my last letter.”

“You wrote,” you said quietly, and Eddie couldn’t tell if it was a question, or if you were trying to reassure yourself. 

“I did, I promise,” he whispered as he swept a tear off your cheek with his thumb. 

And though you still needed to know what happened to his letter, and you had had one of the longest days of your life, nothing mattered more to you in that moment than leaning in, slowly. You took a second, pausing right before reaching his lips so he could pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t. It was a quick kiss, but it was gentle and sweet. Eddie didn’t try to pull you in for another, but he didn’t want to part as you pulled away. 

It took him a second to open his eyes again, but when he did, he was smiling just as big as you. 

“You ok?” he asked for what must have been the hundredth time that night. But unlike every other time you had answered, this time you told him the truth. 

“I am now.”

(may or may not be already trying to figure out a part 2 for this, depending on if people like it <3 )

@embrace-themagic @fanficparker  @heartbeats-wildly @saturn-aka-six @calum-hoodwinked-me @peterplanet @mischiefmanaged49 @nicotine-sunshine820 @itsjusttor @emistrash @thenoddingbunny-blog @sovereignparker @raajali3 @eddielives1986 @eddieswifu @chickpeadumpsterfire @fluffybunnyu @panagiasikelia @canthavetoomuchchaos @whenshelanded @starlitlakes @witchwolflea @ali-r3n @g0thdraculaura @celestcies

[jm-2406]

Hi,

I was wondering if I could make a request for a matt murdock x reader idea. You could make it into a headcannon or a dribble I dont mind ✨.

Basically I’ve always found interesting the idea of matt either loosing his powers or his hearing senses (like in season 3)

So id think about something like that happening to him and the reader helping him found himself in his new routine without his vigilante identity.

(insecure and « in need of love » matt is my weakness jsjs)

Lots of angst but a happy ending if possible

(Also its preferable if reader is just a civilian too)

Thanks 🦋

Love me tender.

Summary - an unfortunate accident almost cost your boyfriend's life but you are there to help him recover, even if he gets emotional and says stupid things.

Pairing - Matt Murdock x teacher!reader.

Word count - 855.

Note - I'm sorry for being so late in delivering this, I got my exam results and it was not good. I was upset, so I couldn't get anything done.

Warnings - rushed ending, mentions of accident/injury, Matt and reader having a heart to heart.

Requests - open || find my work - here.

It came as a shock to you when a phone call disturbed your sleep at 3 a.m. informing you about your boyfriend's accident. You were the only person on his emergency contact and the hospital staff were quick to inform you. When you reached the hospital gates, a fear gripped your heart. You were not sure what happened with Matt exactly but you could make out that it was something very serious from the nurse’s words.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], I am here to visit Matt Murdock.” You informed the receptionist. She typed something on her computer and directed you towards the ward. That night, you had the biggest shock of your life as you waited for the doctors and nurses treating Matt.

“It was quite a fatal accident, Miss [Y/L/N]. We're lucky that he survived but he might take some time to recover and from what we have gathered, he might have some problems with his external auditory canal.”

“But… he'll be okay, right? He will recover, right?” You asked him. The doctor nodded his head and left because of another case. It was all up to you now, to let him know. You knew how upset he felt if treated with sympathy, you felt like that too. You just wanted him to recover completely before taking any risks with his life.

A few days later, when you were sitting quietly in the living room and grading the test papers, you heard a cracking sound. Rushing to the kitchen, you saw your boyfriend standing and in front of him, a broken glass. “Are you okay? And what are you doing here?” You carefully reached him and brought him back to your room.

Before you could scold him for being so careless and not resting enough, you saw him sitting quietly, too quietly like a statue. He was holding his mask in his hand. It was high time now, you needed to talk. You placed your hand on his shoulder and got his attention. Matt was still quiet.

“You can't carry on like this, Matt.” You said after a moment of silence.

“I don't know what to do. I'm lost, okay. This feeling… the feeling of being helpless and staying at home all day… it kills me. I feel like I failed.”

“No matt. Please don't say things like that.” Your voice was thick with emotions. “We can go through anything if we are together. Please don't shut me out.”

Matt gave you a sad little smile and you knew that you had a long road ahead of you.

A few days passed with you and Matt adjusting to the new life without his vigilante identity. It was a struggle in the beginning but slowly, he recovered… at least physically.

One evening, you were sitting on the couch, watching one of your favourite films when you noticed Matt standing in the corner, lost in his thoughts. “What happened, babe? You alright?” You rushed to him and to your surprise he jerked your hands off him. That had never happened before.

“I think we should take a break.”

“What?” To say you were shocked would be an understatement. You didn't know what came over him suddenly.

“Yes, [Y/N]… we should.” He sounded serious.

“But, at this point? I don't understand Matt. What happened?”

“Because I can't give you a normal life, [Y/N]. Why is it so difficult for you to understand that? You were sitting there, all peacefully, watching a move. We couldn't do that together, or anything normal couples do. How many times we had to cancel our plans because of me being daredevil and trying to save the city. You don't need to go through all of this. You deserve better, [Y/N].” He breathed hard after his confession, sightless eyes following where your figure should be.

“Leave it to me to decide what and who I deserve. I love you, Matt. I know that I never said it before, I didn't want to push you away. I don't want ‘normal’, I just want you.” By the end of it, you had wrapped your arms around his neck and forced him to sit down. It was one of the few raw moments you shared.

“I'm sorry.” He said after a few minutes of silence. “Promise me, you won't do anything stupid like this again.” You asked, gently massaging his scalp. Matt just nodded his head. You knew that you had a long road ahead of you but you were satisfied with the journey. In the end it's just you two, together.

THE END.

[pettyrevenge-base]

Have me do your homework but not talk to me? Got it.

This happened years ago during my freshman year of high school. I went to a newer STEM based charter school and so one of the classes we had was programming. I already had a good understanding of the basics of Python before even taking the class so it was my “easy A” class. Well, being that I was at a new school and have never been the ‘popular girl’ I didn’t want to lean too heavy into the nerd that I ultimately am and instead tried to be cool. In doing so, I started to establish a friendship with the ‘It girl’ of our school. We were talking about programming class and she mentioned how the homework was impossible for her and to kind of try to solidify our friendship, I offered to do it for her. Genuinely, I didn’t mind for a while. It helped me practice things that otherwise I would have forgotten and gave me more excuses to code. Well, after a while, we would only talk to ensure I had done her homework (I guess she didn’t think to just login to check herself?) and that was it. So eventually I started to do her homework less and less until fully stopping. Suddenly, her grade went down and she realized it was because her homework was not being done and when she confronted me about it I was very honest. Now, here’s where the unintentional revenge happened.

So, the homework program they used for our coding class had a major programming flaw ironically enough. If you opened up an assignment, didn’t type anything, and hit continue… it counted it as 100%. Not just ‘Started’ or ‘Viewed’ it registered as a full 100% completed and correct. This meant that when the teacher looked, she would assume the program meant to grade your code graded it correctly and just copied the grade over. So, in order to balance my homework and hers, towards the end before I entirely stopped doing her homework I just skipped all of her assignments. One day when me and her were talking I had told her about this trick but said I didn’t do it too often, just on the extremely difficult assignments. Well, she wanted to try and get back at me for not doing her homework so she went to the teacher and told them how “some people aren’t doing the assignments and instead are just hitting continue.” So, the teacher painstakingly went through all of the kids homework assignments and adjusted the grades accordingly. Everyone went down at least one letter grade, including her. She went down from I believe a C or D to full on failing. However, my grade didn’t move. I’m assuming since the teacher knew I loved coding and had a background in it before even going to that highschool that there was no need to go through my assignments. ‘It girl’ ended up screwing herself over so bad she had to retake the class and I got my ‘easy A’.

Next time you want someone to do that big of a favor, at least try to talk to them.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[mrhaitch]

hi mr.haitch!

as someone who's interested in academia, do you think you can speak a bit about your experiences and journey? it's something i've had my eye on for a bit but honestly don't even know where to begin and idk if i'm just having a mini life crisis because i'm feeling unfulfilled in my current field.

I think I've spoken about this before, but I'll do it again. Please note that I am currently not in academia at present, although I do have plans to return. Currently I'm teaching functional skills in English and maths to kids in their late teens (many of them with severe emotional, behavioural, or learning disorders) so this will be more of a retrospective.

(Be warned, it's long)

Let's get one thing very clear: I was a bad student and my road into academia is and remains crooked. I had bad grades in highschool, an appalling attendance record, and spent a great deal of highschool in detention. It is a miracle that I finished highschool, and a further miracle that I was accepted by a college, and fluked through my A-levels.

I never paid attention in class unless it was something I cared about. Homework was a mythical concept, I never participated, rarely engaged, and generally treated school with disdain.

And I didn't get better until I was in my twenties.

Some of it was anxiety, a lot of it was arrogance.

So fast forward through my undergrad years where I oscillated wildly between workaholic frenzy (political philosophy, existentialism, philosophy of religion) to staunch absenteeism (philosophy of language, socratic philosophy). In my final year things kind of clicked, I knuckled down, got into a few fights with my lecturers, forced my grades up, and came out with a good enough grade to get onto a masters course.

This was largely in thanks to my writing, which I'd become increasingly dedicated to, completing and submitting my first (and thankfully unpublished novel) in the process. During my master's I revelled in the greater degree of independence, how I could direct and engage with the material in my own way, and how it connected with my passions (creative writing). I still had an arrogant moment, failed to prepare for an assignment and failed it. The failure capped my overall grade at a pass which sank any hope for a scholarship.

Dejected and pissed off, I then took the first job that came my way and gave up on academia. I languished in the service industry for four years and thought I'd amount to nothing more. Some political nonsense happened towards the end, I pushed back against the wrong people who promptly tried to fire me under false (and illegal) pretenses.

Haitch pushed me to look into doing my PHD again. I applied, teaching out to one of my old MA teachers to be my supervisor and he accepted with far more enthusiasm than I could've hoped for. I got a loan from the government and vowed to throw myself at my PHD as hard as I could, and I did.

From 2019 until early 2023, I worked five days a week (plus some time in the weekends) on my thesis and my writing. 8-5 every day with my nose in a book, or plugging away at a manuscript, or drafting papers. I lived and breathed it every second. I kept a journal where I pushed myself to work harder and harder to achieve what I felt was my dream. During that time I was determined to come out with my experience and qualifications than I could possibly need for an entry position. I shadowed my colleagues when they taught classes, exchanged emails with academics I admired, published more short fiction.

Brick by brick I built a portfolio and a modest reputation. Then I was invited to speak at a prestigious convention in the UK. I met legendary literary agents, famous authors, hung out with people I admired, and had a chance to read some of my work to an audience and discuss its themes.

I taught for two years, while at the same time working two other contracts for various outreach bodies teaching and supporting kids from deprived or disadvantaged backgrounds.

And I still can't get a permanent position.

I've been shortlisted once or twice, and knocked back at the first hurdle a whole bunch.

Academic positions are like gold dust scattered down the back of a unicorn as it leaps over a double rainbow. It is hard to get a job teaching and researching at a university, especially in the humanities. It is endless rejection with minimal feedback, banging your head against a brick wall over and over wondering if you felt it move or if you've just softened your skull.

It's hard, very hard, and takes a lot of commitment and a lot of sacrifice, with zero guarantee you'll get anyway.

But you do it because you can't imagine yourself doing anything else.

The eagle eyed amongst you will recognise this as the same conclusion I reached about writing, and they're right. It's the same. Often thankless, frequently difficult. A feeling of toiling alone in the dark, waiting for someone, anyone to peer into the well you fell down.

But as hard as it is, if that's the path you've chosen, a part of you doesn't care. You do it anyway. You do it in spite of what it costs you, and the little it gives back.

At least, that's how I see it. Thank you for attending my rambling, somewhat doom-laden, TED talk.

[oncamelliastreet]

ignore, i just have nowhere to put this rant and no one to tell it to and need to get it into space while i have a quick mental breakdown

i’m just so fucking stressed about precalc and i’m fucking fed up and i don’t know what to do. like i actually don’t think i can pass this class. precalc is like a combination of algebra and geometry, so it would be fine if it weren’t for the fact that my school had shit algebra and geometry classes that barely taught anyone anything. we don’t know the basics going into the class, and we were all hoping to get the old precalc teacher who is actually a really good teacher and could’ve helped us, but he stopped teaching it for some reason this year and hired a new guy who doesn’t understand that we really don’t know anything. like most of my grade failed this test, and he gave us a lecture on it and said that we cleary didn’t study enough and it’s unacceptable that we don’t know it because it’s prettt much review, but WE DIDN’T LEARN IT BEFORE HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW NOW. and i did all of the homework, i asked my sister for help every night and had her explain it to me, i studied for two hours the day before the test, and i still got a 50% (BAD). and my stupid fucking sister keeps texting me and asking me about when i’ll need help and what i don’t get and I DON’T EVEN KNOW. BECAUSE MY TEACHER DIDN’T EVEN GIVE THE TESTS BACK OR PUT THEM IN THE GRADEBOOK HE JUST SHOWER PEOPLE THEIR SCORES. and i don’t even think he’s gonna give them back, so i don’t know if i actually didn’t know anything or if the questions i didn’t get to because im a slow ass test taker came back to bite me in the ass and it lost a lot of points because he grades by partial credit and he can’t give partial credit to questions i didn’t even get to in time. the whole thing is just fucking fucked and i don’t know how to pass the class and there’s really no alternatives because i have to have four years of math and you can’t really go into stats without precalc and you can’t go into college algebra because college algebra is just algebra 2 and i took algebra 2 freshman year and i can’t take the same class twice. i’m just completely fucking fucked and my grades about to dip so bad and i’m not gonna be able to get it back up and i’m not even comfortable talking to my teacher about it because he’s such a fucking weirdo and he explains everything so fast which doesn’t work for me because i’m an extremely visual learner when it comes to math and i have to have things explained to me slowly and written down first or it takes me forever to get it and i never get his answers when other people ask questions in class because he gets super condescending and explains it to you like you’re a stupid person who should already know it except i am a stupid person who should probably know it but i never had it taught to me in the first place so i don’t know how the fuck i’m gonna start knowing it now and i’m just stressed as FUCK and i’m gonna tell my therapist about this tomorrow and she’s just gonna say “well have you tried asking for help” yes i fucking have it didn’t WORK i just don’t get it ill ask my sister for help and she looks at me like im a lost cause every time i dont know something and says that i should already know it and tells me to watch a video about it and it doesn’t FUCKING HELP and everyone is so FUCKING CONDESCENDINF BEVAUSE I KUSY DONT UNDERSTAND MATH AND IM CRTINF SO FUCKING HARD RIGHT NOW

[smimon]

The other promised personal post, this one about my self-discovery that I completed last year and in the result gained a weirdly powerful feel, like when Eragon found his true name if you know what I mean

Three main paths: art, brain training, isolation.

1. Art

Art was something I always loved, of course all kids do art but I never stopped. I kept making up characters and settings and stories and theme songs and game designs. I did my first zine at like 6 years old lol.

Living in capitalism meant that the most attractive stories were beyond my reach for financial reasons, so out of disappointment I decided to start telling my own stories, as if that was hard. This was all very early in my life and I believe I was always meant to be an artist and storyteller, and the skills I gained only helped me later.

Like when things started to get more difficult around middle school. When family started demanding and gave nothing back anymore. When the only protector I had left me alone to pursue a career, repeating that if they can handle it, I can too - but I was still a child.

When it was forbidden to talk, feel and hurt, I kept creating. Losing myself in fiction, which years later turned out to be much less fictional than it seemed. Most of my writing was about myself this whole time. I was scared someone might find out so I concealed the message so deep that I alone couldn't see it anymore.

And new stories kept coming, I kept drawing, the XP I gained brought improvement. Never completing anything but always creating something new, finding endless joy in rotating the blorbos in my head. And this continues until today.

Many many times I had doubts if it's all worth anything, a devil telling me I should drop art. And always some inner force pushing me back to the drawing desk. So many times I had to ask myself the question: why do I keep making art? And finally, very recently, I have found the answer.

I am an artist. Artists make art. It's that simple.

2. Brain training

Similar to other body parts, brain can be trained. Solving puzzles, finding patterns, learning, math, there are many ways.

For me it was trying to understand my family.

Recognizing patterns level hard. Predicting what will happen. Inventing ways to protect myself. Teaching myself to do things no one would explain to me but everyone demanded me to know.

School was easy compared to this. Studying gave results in a short term, sometimes it was even fun. Teachers noticed and behaved as if it was their success. Other kids' parents noticed and started bullying their children to get the same results, because if I can do it, why can't they? They were not abusive enough to trigger a similar mechanism, but abusive enough to make their children hate me.

But I haven't noticed. I had a few friends and did not even notice everyone else was against me. This was my elementary and middle school, and then at high school the level was much more even so I could be more invisible.

All the time I tried to figure out my family, and they kept surprising me. All the time I could get good grades, and felt like this is the only thing I am good at.

But as Master's degree approached, I had to accept this can't continue forever, that I am not smart enough to get a PhD. That after graduating I will have to start a job, live a normal life, do things I never learned. I was sure I will die within months, but hey, it's been years already and it only gets easier!

My true victory came just a few years after. I have finally realized there is no way to understand my family because they are simply irrational.

That's it! I am free now! High-fiving all the mathematicians who proved a problem to be unsolvable because hey, that's an accomplishment too!!!

3. Isolation

Introverted by nature, I don't like to spend too much time with people, especially the same people over and over again. Especially my family. Three days is my limit.

And I was tied to them all my life. So when I finally moved out, the sudden experience of freedom overwhelmed me. I did not want to give it away until I get saturated with how good it feels to be alone. Also, gaining distance feom my abusers allowed healing to start. But before that, long hours of remembering and understanding and grieving. Gaining courage to finally meet myself, discover who I am. Forget who I was supposed to be. A journey of self-discovery that brought peace and hope and skill and confidence.

But I am still human. Humans are social animals. I need some contact every now or then or I go insane.

For a few years, I used pokemon go. Going to raid hour every week. But everyone was busy playing so the contact was very shallow.

I started going to fandom conventions trying to relive the same kind of wonder I felt as a teenager. It is different this time, of course. I got used to the fun parts. Nothing seems as impressive as earlier. But even then, I felt like this is my place, and my kind if people. I only needed a way to connect.

Then Käärijä happened, of course. Suddenly I had a thought: the biggest fandom convention in the country doesn't have much to offer for me, but maybe I can do something crazy, maybe I can make this event a bit more me-friendly. I returned to fb after years of break to ask on groups if there are any Käärijä fans willing to meet up.

And they were. It only gets crazier from there.

I started talking to some of them. One suggested a Frank fanclub because we all had some Frank gadgets. I designed a sticker. I designed another one. I organized three meetups, day after day. People came. I made friends. A group chat was founded. Was it me who did it?

Then another crazy idea. Make more stickers. Repeat this at other conventions. And so my convention tour started. With many many stickers.

And then I start a daily Käärijä sketchbook. And then I find friends through the stickers. And then I find friends throught the art. And then the friends warm my heart and break it open and put a foot inside so it doesn't close back too soon.

And I realize I am not alone.

Okay?

So I am an artist, I stubbornly forced my way through my early years and ended up with a pretty cool job, and now I get just enough money and independence to decide how to spend time with people who are in general pretty amazing after all ✌️ still no idea what I want next but I am really happy I made it to here

[dont-read-this-im-dead]

When I was in 10th grade, I was in the literary magazine club. The club had faded from my school for several years, but I helped some friends rebuild it with my English teacher.

I was never brave enough to submit anything for the publication, but soon before the magazine was published, we hosted a program called Shout Out.

Anyone who wanted to read something they wrote (even if it was not in the magazine), could get up.

I was expecting maybe 3 people, plus the editing team.

But the auditorium was FULL. Students, parents, some teachers.

And I stood up to read.

But before I read, I told my audience, "I just want to let you know that none of the names or events in this story depict real people or events. Everything is completely fictional."

And then I spoke for 30 minutes, reading a short(?) story I wrote about this girl who was systematically and repeatedly raped by her father, her brother, and her best friend's brother, each one unaware of the other two, until one day, a medical condition puts her in the hospital, where she finds out she's pregnant.

I wove this tale about a 16 year old girl who asked her doctors to banish her family from her room, unable to speak the forbidden words that would simultaneously grant her freedom and render her homeless.

I practically whispered the bittersweet ending of a 19 year old with a two year old son that looked just like her husband, because she didn't know how to live alone, so she chose an uneven path, gradually learning how to fall in love with her best friend's brother.

I ended the story with her going to a high school with her son and talking to a health class during their sex ed week, telling her story.

Then I thanked my audience for their time and sat back down, my knees trembling something fierce and the silence so PROMINENT, even I could have heard the pin drop.

While everyone else decided to clap to fill the silence (still not sure why they gave me a standing ovation--it wasn't a GOOD story), my dad, sitting in the seat next to me, leaned over and whispered, "I'm really glad you warned everyone at the beginning that it was fictional, because they would probably be trying to arrest me by now if you hadn't."

When everyone was done reading, a friend of mine found me and said, "first off, how dare you have her end up with her rapist, that's evil, and I hate you for that. Second, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, and omg, that was SO GOOD. Third, it was good that you said that thing at the beginning, but seriously, anyone who has ever met your dad knows he's basically a teddy bear. But also. WHY DID YOU HAVE HER END UP WITH HIM????"

And I just shrugged, because I didn't really want to answer, but Ive never told anybody this before, so here goes.

The reason I had her choose her non-blood relative rapist to marry, was because I had started getting really bad episodes where I basically wanted to kill myself. But I didn't want to make my family find my body, because ouch, do I hate THEM, or do I hate ME?

But every breath weighed me down until I was drowning, so I wrote this character that I could give my worst to. Someone who had it worse than me, who would need to find a sliver of hope to survive past the current hour. And I gave her my worst. I gave her a life that should have killed her, but she lived.

I gave her everything I hated, and more.

And then, I imagined my dull future of having to simply...*live,* and I gave it to her in the worst way possible that I could think of: by marrying her rapist.

And still, she lived.

And still, she loved.

Because I wanted to see someone be worse off and continue on living. Because that gave me the strength to do it myself.

[mysteroads]

Hangovers, Detainment, and a Three Teacher Pile-up

Summary: Starting the day hungover and with upset kids is no fun, but both Shigaraki and Aizawa have things they need to get done. Tomura wants to get his hands on the third years' exam outline, Aizawa plans to get the students of all grades to do some critical thinking, and Aisho wants Tomura to stay safe today. All these would be best accomplished with Tomura *at* the school proper, but there's no way the villain would go willingly...

Excerpt:

Japanese alone wasn’t enough to convey the strength of his emotion, so Tomura switched to English (a truly excellent language for swearing), mixing in French and Mandarin when it felt appropriate. By that point, they’d reached the main area, and all the little hero students had congregated by the door to wait on their teacher. They had obviously been curious to see what all the fuss was, and their jaws dropped when they saw what was going on. Spotting them, Tomura snapped (in Japanese again), “You little fuckers! You’re supposed to be heroes, right?! Then get your hands off your dicks and help me!”

The useless brats looked at each other, then Hakegure ventured, tentatively, “Does this count as kidnapping? Even though he’s a villain?”

“It’s called detainment when the person in question is a suspected criminal or villain,” Aizawa corrected, grunting a little as Tomura managed to wiggle enough to land an elbow jab against his ribs. “In this case, Mr. Shigaraki here is going to fulfill part of his rehabilitation requirements, whether he wants to or not.”

“It’s true you’re the only one of us who hasn’t audited an academic class!” Sako said, voice bright. “Even Spinner overcame his shyness long enough to follow Midnight for a day.”

“That time did feel a little bit like kidnapping too, though,” Magne said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. 

“But I ended up having fun and I survived the nosebleed, so suck it up, Leader,” Spinner said, far too cheerfully. “Time for school!”

“I’m going to destroy you, Spinner,” Tomura swore, thinking about Spinner’s carefully tended Animal Crossing home and all the terrible things he would do to it. The destruction would be legendary.  

“Will he be able to come to class, though?” Midoriya asked, eyes on Tomura’s bandages. “He can’t walk around barefoot, even in the halls. His bandages will get dirty, and I don’t think normal shoes would be good for them either.”

“See? Smart kid,” Tomura praised, and tried to pinch Eraserhead, but his fingers couldn’t grip properly and he just hurt himself. 

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Toga said, waving her hand and jumping up and down. “I have an idea! I know! Nobody move!” Before anyone could ask, she dashed upstairs and was back down in record time. “I was going to save these for a present, Tomu-chan, but I think you can use them now!” She held up a pair of fuzzy blue socks, complete with rubber grippers on the bottom in the shape of cat pawprints. 

Even from the side, he could see Aizawa’s smile turn all gooey before he hid it behind his capture scarf. Of course. The fucker loved cats. Of course he’d be into stupid socks with paws. “That’s perfect,” Aizawa said, and Toga beamed.

Tomura wanted to die. 

He’d thought the hangover was bad, but this… this was true suffering.

As a villain, Tomura had sworn to never stop fighting. To never give up, to struggle until his very last breath. He’d fought against the odds time and time again, learning with every failure and coming back stronger… He'd grown in strength and resolve to the point all of Japan had been terrified to see his next move, but right here, right now, Tomura Shigaraki gave up the fight. He went limp, and hid his burning face against Aizawa’s shoulder.

“Did you finally give up, villain?” Aizawa murmured.

“Go die, hero.”  

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He sounded so smug, the bastard. “Come on, students, villains. Class starts soon.”

[lvrjeonghyeonnn]

back then - park gunwook

your pov

today is the day im moving to a new school, a new fresh start for a junior.

as i walked into the new school, i went to the counter and asked for my schedule before going to my first class of the day "chemistry". perfect. walking to the class to is already a long way, before even getting there my legs were tired asf.

when i entered the class, i was greeted by the teacher: "welcome in ms.y/l/n", he said before asking me to go up to the front of the class. "students, this is our new student, y/n." "would you like to introduce yourself?" he asked. i nodded and took his spot, "hi, im y/n. hope to have a good time here." i said before looking back at the teacher. "okay, ermm.. you can sit there, beside park gunwook," park gunwook? that name sound familiar..

"gunwook, raise your hand please", the teacher asked as one boy raised his hand. park gunwook, the guy i liked in middle school., that make sense. i went to my seat as gunwook looked at me. "y/n?" "you still wear that bracelet i gave you.." he smiled. "wow i never thought we would see each other again" i replied.

as the class went on, me and gunwook catched up a lot on our lives. "i guess some things just never change" he said and i laughed. "a lot of things haven't changed gunwook"

after class i went out tothe vending machine in our schooll to get a drink before noticing i forgot to put my wallet in my bag before leaving. oh shit. suddenly, gunwook popped out of nowhere. "hey, you need help?" he said. "oh no, its ok. i just forgot to bring my wallet." i answered and he reached for something in his pocket, he took his wallet and tried to put the money in before i stopped him "noo, its okay" "hey remember when you bouhht me food before, i want to return the favor," he said smiling before he placed a note in, enough to get anything in the machine. i clicked on the drink i wanted and thanked him again. my feelings are coming back?

after that incident, me and gunwook stayed as friends, good friends except gunwook does have a lot of fangirls all over the school. meaning he cant really get a minute without someone confessing to him. however, gunwook has always rejected all of them. even if theyre the queen of school and the prettiest girls ever seen. sure, i was jealous because if they got rejected, what about me.

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

2nd person pov

gunwook's friends have been telling him that there completely sure youre attracted to him but gunwook just cant accept it. he liked you too, younwere the reason he rejected all those girls just because he was waiting for you.

on the other hand, you were getting extremely annoyed at all the firls gawking at him. he might not be yours but seeing all of them all over him makes you feel like he's starting to like one of them and you were envious.

gunwook soonly realizes the difference in your act, you were more quiet, even starting to distance away from the poor guy. and he decided it was time to tell his feelings towards you.

when it was only left you and gunwook in the class alone, after everyone chose to leave. he went up to you as you were about to exit the class. he blocked your way, standing infront of you. "hey um, do you have time to talk?" he asked and you slowly nodded. before putting your bag down. "what about?" you questioned and he looked at you deeply. "why are you distancing yourself from me, i mean weve always been together and ever since theres those fangirls chasing me you stopped talking to me." he said almost looking sad?. "gunwook, ive just been busy with my work and stuff okay?" you lied and gunwook can see right through it. "y/n ive known you long enough to know your lying." he answered with a poker face. "fine, i was just jealous" you said looking down. "jealous? of what?" he said stepping closer to you.

"gunwook, i have liked you since 7th grade and it was hard for me to lose you when you moved. and seeing you again now with all those fangirls made me jealous. they were just..better than me?" you confessed and he furrows his eyebrows.

"y/n ive liked you since the day i met you okay, please, everyone knew but you!" he said smiling. "and i rejected all my 'fangirls' for you. i mean..i was just waiting for you because youre the one i actually want to be with so theres no need to be jealous of them." he says and cups your face. "i like you too stupid.", he said smiling and kissing your nose before running away before you start abusing him. "hey youre the stupid one here!" you shouted before running after him around the school halls.

everyone turned their head to you and gunwook running after each other.

aaa sweet young love...

[powertaco]

Writing is weird...

I remember always enjoying writing even as a kid. I’d write the dumbest stories complete with stick figures and just be so proud of them. The oldest one I could find was a bunch of townsfolk fighting off pirates from when I was a wee lad in 3rd grade or something.

I was just as bad at describing clothes then as now so it’s nice to know some things never change.

I recall stopping in fifth grade because my teacher rather told me bluntly it was garbage and well I kind of gave up.

Fast forward to now and here I am writing every day and loving it and only wishing I’d never stopped.

The downside is that writing just makes me want to write more and more. My characters, the themes, the ships, (I am shipper trash), and all that.

It’s neat seeing my shall we say habits or phrases I keep defaulting back to or reusing. Still, being a big one I noticed.

It’s also amusing to see my same weaknesses remain such as a need to rush things and not take my time resulting in errors. I kinda wish I could stop that but I feel this push to keep going and just writing as long as it’s good enough you know?

Cause I can’t be writing some story without the idea for a half  dozen more hitting me that I get invested in but I started this story first and there are people that like to actually read it so I owe it to them, myself, and the characters to finish.

Of course that just makes me sad in that I’ll never get to tell all the stories I want. I’ll just get upset at work because well I could be writing but instead I’m doing some job I don’t care about so I can barely make ends meet and not do something I actually want to do.

That all being said the idea for this week is to get Sound finished cause @amelia-yap​ has been waiting far too long for that. Also @scham-wcan​.

Then I’d like to get Pages done for @xx-whiterose​ cause they’ve been doing me an awesome favor I’m trying to repay that you might see at some point.

BtS for @it-me-butts​ and the other fans like redspotted toad and @trialbystory​ who is working on their own awesome FS project atm.

I feel like I need to hyper work to clear some WIP’s before I get moving on to other things.

Still I can’t imagine doing anything else other than writing and if you’ve still made it this far here’s some cute DWR. Because I love them and have issues.

I have no idea why I made this post.

[sammydem0n64]

YEA MAN, tell me uhhhhhh, feel free to ramble about any pokemon things you got going on in your au that you don't mind spoiling/talking about!! very interested to hear about some of the other charas!! :]c

OK WE WILL B DISCUSSING THE LOYAL THREE FROM THE DLC Ik you already know abt them bc you keep reblogging posts abt them + Ogerpon + DLC in general but I also know you havent played the game and won't for a hot minute so . This is spoilers for you bc it may be incomprehsible AND lore filled!

But I have some thinkies about the Loyal Three (mainly Munkidori)

Ok so basic run down of their canon lore since im adding it to the au: They're outsiders of Kitakami who came from another land, they're a gang of thieves who wind up killing a man (Ogerpon's trainer, though in the AU he's her father!) because they try to steal Ogerpon's masks from him and wind up going too far, and likewise they get killed as revenge by Ogerpon and are regarded as heroes by Kitakami. But they come back lol

There's also the fact that the toxic chains they have gave them their abilities (Munkidori's psychic abilities + intelligence, Fezandipiti's looks, Okidogi's strength and muscles), they were just Some Guys before gaining these chains

AU Has some stuff going on there too! Mainly for Munkidori bc I'm still working out background kinks for the other two given that. I gave this man some #lore and it'd b sad to give him all the cool backstory and the other two are just there, and there's also stuff abt them that will come out in the part 2 of the dlc sooo I gotta wait, but anyways

Munkidori is Zarude's adoptive son. Yknow, Zarude, the mythical SWSH shit out! I am completely neutral on Zarude but in the AU they're primary the God of Family! But since 1) a few other gods relate to that like Xerneas being the god of fertility and whatnot and 2) these family units fucking suck, they live away from the Gods and enjoy a life of solitude.

Munkidori was a mere mortal child when Zarude found him and decided to raise him, and his childhood was good for the most part! However, he was never the brightest child, so he was bullied in school by both teachers and students for his low grades/low intelligence. He always wanted to be something greater, but he couldnt do anything substancial without an education. Zarude tried being there for him, but ultimately it was never enough. He started to resent the people around him and yearned to become smarter, stronger even

This resentment soon was applied to Zarude. He began to believe he lived in his parent's shadow, since they were a deity and he wasn't. Sure, Zarude is hardly respected amongst the gods and is a very minor deity in the grand scheme of things, but they were still powerful. They were still an ultimate lifeform. And he was given none of that. Zarude didn't give him immortality, Zarude didn't give him cool God powers, he was just a simple mortal who couldn't do anything right. He wanted to be powerful, but he was denied it.

So when he hit adulthood he ran away from home, soon meeting Okidogi and Fezandipiti (fellow troubled young adults like him who wanted to be something more) and they formed a gang. Thieves who claimed their power back by harming the innocent. Munkidori was their defacto leader, which satified his need for power.

Along the way they were found by [ ] who granted their wishes through the toxic chains (this is. DLC part 2 thing. I know bc of leaks!) so Munkidori actually GOT intelligence (and psychic powers), seemingly without price (there IS a price. The Loyal Three's worst tendancies are now heightened due to the toxins in their body but dont worry abt it)! This only aided in the trio's crimes until they had to flee to Kitakami to escape the ramifications of their actions

Where the canon differs is that I imagine the Loyal Three actually did serve as proctors of Kitakami for a bit, though of course it was for selfish reasons. Free room, food and board for helping protect the innocent and all! But ultimately they all still committed murder against an innocent man and died as a result.

I don't know how they came back to life as of now (Tho I probably will when the rest of the DLC drops), but they all come back the exact same but everyone (... Zarude. Just Zarude) thinks they came back wrong. And they want to whoop Ogerpon's ass for killing them (its been 200 years. She was cursed with immortality FEEL FREE TO ASK ABT IT TOO)

And yeah! Thats the backstory lore I got, so I'll just list some other minor stuff I have cooked for the loyal three! Lil headcanons if you will

-They're all trans men, Fezandipiti is just extremely GNC

-...I think Okidogi has a little crush on Wo-Chien, which is sillay and not gonna work out bc Wo-Chien is one of Ogerpon's found family members and they are NOT gonna give the guy who killed their new baby's dad A KISS!

-They were all in their mid 30s when they died and are still like that now that they've come back, lol. They might have immortality now after being revived but we'll see

-Zarude constantly lives with guilt that they weren't a better parent to Munkidori, though they have no clue that he. Like. straight up became a criminal and died. They just know he's dead bc they raised him 200 years ago and he was a mortal sooooo yeah. Haunted by the horrors ESPECIALLY when he comes back and he's unrecognizable to them !

-I might make it so Fezandipiti and Okidogi also had a connection to some gods, just not on the level Munkidori has lol

-Their relationship with one another is. [Shrugs]. Like yeah they're a team but they constantly argue. but also stare at each other's tits (dw about it.). and they're kinda like a found family I guess? But also not really bc a lot of this was out of convience? they don't know what they are but they sure did die together!

-They technically have "a master" (aka the one who gave them the chains) and they might have been the force who revived them... and thats p funny bc imagine being Munkidori and you're entire thing is that you want power SOOO bad and youre finally the leader of a group so BOOM dreams achieved, and then you turn around and remember that 10 year old god (you also fucking hate the gods (take a guess why) so this is extra salt in the wound) who did weird shit to your brain is actually running the place. But forgot about you for 2 centuries. until now. Bro I'd die again.

[hanshikha-life]

My Prankster Brother

It was a sunny evening in the month of June. The bright light shone at my books and my pen was constantly being bitten while I brainstormed the answers of my homework questions. My mind went back and forth on the same question again and again. That’s strange. I’m generally really fast on working out my after school work, I thought. Maybe it was because I was working three times hard to be on par with ninth grade. “It was a sudden change this year”, I said to myself, “It’s the first time I went to school continuously without a summer break and maybe because of which I got a little stressed out”. As such thoughts fluttered through my head came out of nowhere my little sister. I tried my best to pay attention to her while my drowsy, dark-brown eyes couldn’t help closing. I was snoozing hard. Why had I gotten soo tired suddenly? After a good enough attempt to listen I heard two words, “upload google-classroom”. I gently took the jet black phone from her tender baby hands and uploaded her online quiz to the google classroom to be corrected. I had just glanced at the big, fat student copy as the phone rang loudly. “Buzz…buzz”. Hugh? I jerked. Now that sure woke me up from my great slumber. I took the phone from my sister again. To be exact I remember snatching it from her. Yes, I know I should have asked, but anyways. I swiped up the lock-screen and entered the password. The home page popped up in a few seconds as I scrolled down to see who was calling. Ahhh…It was my little, naughty cousin brother. I’d known him since he was two days old and we’d grown as thick as a rainforest ever since. We bonded over the physical time spent initially as kids and later bonded over the internet.

He’s been calling me since and two things happen everytime we e-meet. One, our time extends for hours together and two, we have so much fun that it becomes difficult to sleep the entire night. I always love spending time with him! However, this particular day I was skeptical about it. You see, he had been trying to reach for quite some time and everytime he did something kept coming up and I had to refuse his calls. It was studies, or games or sports or sometimes even meal times. I was making lame excuses for silly reasons because of which I was scared to pick the call up. Of Course, I didn’t mean it but I was just not able to make much time for him. This did bother me a little but I put it in the last cell of my brain. I had a lot of thoughts going on in my head when GASP I was back to reality again. There were two missed calls and I had to call back. I texted him to hold on and returned the phone to my sister. Allowing her to complete the work she was to do. I took the time and set things within myself right. Once my sister was done I stood up to myself and rang my brother. I had my mind all set to apologize incase I had to. I gripped the phone tightly and pushed it against my ears briskly. I took a deep breath and then said a small, sweet, “hello…How are you?”

A crazy voice came pounding out, “Ha..loo…Howwaa…re…yo…u”. I was astounded. When did this guy start having internet issues? It went on for ages together. At this point I gave up. How could someone living in such a big city ever be able to get so many WiFi issues. This was literally impossible. Like hearing a crackle person. “Ba..t…ha…w?”. Why was he doing this? It had been five minutes and it was still going on. Oh! Now I got it. Brothers are never hundred present in what they say. Maybe he was just acting all along. After soo much effort and million requests of teaching me how to do ‘breaking voice’ he started to become normal. Oh and by the way I wanted to know how to do that for real. It would be soo cool to do that in online school and trick all my classmates and teachers. I’ve been asking him to teach me ever since. Once he became a normal person he randomly started shouting to the core of his voice that he couldn’t hear me. He was screaming at the top of his voice. Probably the loudest time I ever heard him. To counter his screams I started texting him for another four minutes continually. I texted him in normal formal English, then shifted to informal, then texting language. I even texted in Telugu but heard no reply.

The call was still on and the milk white text on the top center showed that nine minutes had passed. I was very sure he was just acting off that he couldn’t hear me. He must be partying vividly just by the thought of me assuming that he couldn’t hear me and I was trying to reach out to him badly. Out of frustration I just cut the call and called him time and again. After he was sure he irritated me to his heart’s content because I did not pick his call up. After taking full revenge he spoke to me only at the exact time when I had to sit down for music class. So, now I had to cut the call and make a proper deal with him to e-meet up properly again.

What an amazing prank call it was! It was so much fun that day! I loved talking to him. It’s one of my favorite things to do!

In fact this blog is fully dedicated to him!!

[youraverageauthor]

Repeat

Going to school ain't the best of the things that I can aim for yet it's mandatory on my list. I always despised it and no matter how hard I tried I always failed, I never understood why. Was I not trying enough? Whatever the reason might be, the option of giving up didn't exist. My parents would kill me if I ever stopped trying and I couldn't die yet I had a long list to fulfill but first came studies. I almost lost my life the other day; thank god I noticed the truck in time. I had to be more careful from now on.

Waiting for the bus once again, just the same old day, I wish it'd come. I've been waiting twenty minutes. I barely managed to leave the bed this morning, I had the worst program for today too.. Just as I started dozing off, the bus came by, thankfully I managed to get it. I put on my headphones, ignoring my surroundings and started blasting music. The day was hard to pass, it felt as if the time had frozen and on top of that the teacher made us do a quiz. I had studied the things that were on the quiz!

Before we could leave the professor announced the results. I was eagerly waiting for mine, I knew it'd finally be a good grade! I got 5/20, how? That's such a devastating result. . The professor couldn't even let me see my mistakes. The bell finally rang and I fast-paced to the bus station, I couldn't afford something worse happening today. The bus arrived and as I was walking in someone tapped my shoulder, I turned around to look who it was but no one was there, strange. .

After arriving home I immediately started studying. After completing my homework I went to eat yesterday's leftovers 'Annoying'. Hm, who said that? I was home alone. I decided to shrug it off, nothing good could happen by stressing out about some little things. I questioned once again why I always failed even though I was such a hardworking student, I guess I'm not trying enough. . It's just unfair, why do I always fail? I could feel the tears spilling on my notes. I wiped them away, it didn't matter, crying wouldn't solve this.

As I finished doing extra exercises I cracked my knuckles. I'm glad that I'm finally done, I even gave kudos to myself for finishing faster than yesterday. Am I hungry? Positive. I ignored the fact that I had an exam soon, food was the first priority. I went to the kitchen and cooked an omelet. I sat down in the living room and watched the news to have something distract me while I ate. The television suddenly started to glitch and a reporter was talking about how it was the end of the world. I rubbed my eyes and it turned back to normal. Were my eyes fooling me? As I was trying to understand if what I just saw was real or not I remembered about the exam. There's no way it was real, my brain was playing tricks on me. 

I decided to write down the event either way because it could appear useful in the future. I then started to revise for the exam, a couple of hours had passed before I was finally done. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy so I brushed my teeth before heading to bed.

Going to school was exhausting, the day barely started and I wanted to go back home already. As I headed inside I ignored the people which was relatively easy and I sat on a bench. I felt as if something was wrong though. . Was it the exam? I was ready for it. 

While I was minding my own business, a classmate of mine, Evelyn greeted me "Hi Mary, how're you doing?" Someone started a small talk with me? That's so sweet. "Honestly I could be better but I guess I'm good. How's your day?" I asked her. "Ya know, the usual stuff." she responded, I in fact didn't know the usual stuff. Before I could ask her something else I noticed something strange, she started to melt. Oh god her skin was oozing to the floor, her flesh was visible! Was I the only one who could see that?! "Please help. ." She muttered while grasping my arm.

I didn't know what to do, is this a nightmare?! "How, how am I supposed to help you?" I asked, by then her face had fallen off. I began to panic, I looked around to see if anyone could help Evelyn but everyone had the same issue. It made my stomach drop. I looked at Evelyn's hand, it was now just bones and it hurt. "Please help me. ." she said before grabbing my hand, I flinched, I could feel my flesh being torn. I couldn't even push her away, it was about time and all that remained from her were just her bones. I couldn't hold my tears back. A loud sound was heard throughout the place. A warning, an alarm for this situation? 

I woke up, that was one heavy sleep. What did I dream of? It seemed like a long dream, I hate forgetting them. After eating something for breakfast I went to school. There, a student from the same school started a small conversation with me. I didn't remember his name nor did I wanna seem rude for not knowing so I referred to him as Blondie. This was a good day starter! As we were discussing the lessons we hate he asked me about a wound on my arm. I looked at my arm and there was a visible injury. The strange thing is that I didn't get hit by something to cause such a wound. "I'm not sure, it's not the first time something like this happens, it frequently happens when I'm sleeping." I stated.

 We continued talking until the bell rang and we parted ways. It was the exam day today and I knew everything. I was more than ready and when I received the copy of the test I started writing. I knew everything, I continued to write down the answers to the questions until I was done. The professor looked kinda surprised. Once I finished, everything that I had studied was deleted from my memory. That was very weird. . At Least I was done! I gave the professor my sheet of paper before leaving school.

I ran to the bus station and the bus was about to pass by, I was lucky! Just as the bus stopped it disappeared.  Do I want to go home so badly that I am hallucinating? Some passers-by threw strange looks at me, they must think that I'm crazy. I went to sit down on a bench and then the blond boy came. "Hello again, how'd the exam go?" he asked me. I don't remember telling him that I had an exam, maybe a friend of his is in the same class with me. "It was surprisingly good, it was pretty easy. How was your day?" I asked to continue the conversation. "It was fine." He responded. "Which class are you at?" I questioned, before he could reply the bus came . I went inside and that's when the conversation ended. Could I consider him a friend? It'd be good.

After I arrived home, I ate dinner, it was quite nice. I put the dishes in the dishwasher and focused on my homework. It was simpler than usual, maybe I finally became smarter! I finished earlier than usual so I decided to reward myself. I grabbed a bag of popcorn from the cabinet and put on a good series to watch. I really loved this show. Suddenly the phone started ringing, the moment I went to pick it up the power fell out, yet the phone kept ringing. This situation felt off, it gave off creepy vibes too. I answered the phone "Hello, who is it?" I asked, no one had my phone number. . "Wake up" a robotic-like voice said that in repeat until I closed the call. This just felt like a plot for a horror movie. . I hated pranks like these, I knew it was a prank because no one had my number. Once I closed the call the power returned.

I decided to go to bed, I didn't understand how fast the time passed by. . After a while I fell asleep. I woke up, I felt as if I just blinked and the night went by… I went to brush my teeth, after that I went to put on my uniform. As I stepped inside my room I noticed myself, I was still asleep? What the hell; was I dead?! I tried to wake myself up but it wasn't working.  An eerie sound could be heard so I decided to investigate. I looked outside the window and what I saw was horrifying. The world looked as if a war happened, a bizarre creature was standing out there, collecting dead bodies. . I couldn't describe how it looked but I'm certain that I've seen it before.

It was changing the world to its original state, one of the bodies that were collected was Blondie's. He died..? This felt very familiar but I just couldn't remember. Wait.. it has happened before. . the dreams that I kept forgetting.. it has truly happened, they weren't just dreams. I remember them now, that's why I had that wound on my arm, it was because of Evelyn. Why was I alive though? I'm pretty sure I died in some of them. That must be the reason why my life is so difficult! As if it sensed me the creature looked over my window, I realized how dark the sky was when I saw it staring at me. Next thing I remember is waking up, that was terrifying.

I dressed up, I had to go to school, I was possibly being watched. I had to act normal, how was I supposed to act as if I witnessed none of that stuff? One of the only people that I talked with was now dead. I arrived at school, it was a bit early so I started writing down my theories in my diary. "Good Morning Mary" Blondie said before I could open my diary. Wait, Blondie? Silence filled the air while I was trying to realize how he was alive. I was about to question him, since I saw him dead but what if people come back? What if that monster brings them back and removes their memories? "Are you okay Mary?" he questioned. "Yeah I'm fine.. my day just didn't start off well."

I didn't know if I should tell him about everything that happened. I needed someone to help me, didn't I? That's what people usually do.. If something were to happen to me someone else would know which could help spread the message. I took out a notebook of mine because it'd be better to write it down rather than tell him. I began to write everything that I knew and my theories and then I asked if he wanted to see some drawings of mine. He agreed and sat next to me. He started reading it and kept quiet. "Wow, how did you find out?" he asked "Well you could say that life inspired me to find this." I stated. When I told him that I'd spread the message to the world he smiled, the smile was almost angelic . .

The bell rang, Blond boy went inside the school and I was stuck in a dilemma. I wasn't sure if I should leave school but staring at it made me feel like staying was the wrong option so I began to run to the bus station. I heard a horn, I looked to my left and I noticed a truck, god I could have died if I didn't run faster. I was alive and I needed to warn the people. The only way that I could think of was social media. I managed to get on the bus and after I got out I immediately ran to my home. I opened my laptop and I began to write a warning about what lurks within this world. Once I hit send the message got deleted, I tried more websites, other social media but nothing worked. Of course it wouldn't, if it were that easy then someone else would have done it! I took my diary out of my bag and then I heard the doorbell ring. I locked the door, I couldn't afford anyone to come inside.

 I opened my diary and there I found warnings addressed to me. Written in the diary was a note about how I shouldn't trust the blondie, he was the one behind all of this, he was the mastermind. I now realized why he kept talking to me, he didn't want me to see these notes. Blondie barged in the house, I was dumbfounded. "You finally read it, you made me wonder how long it'd take you" he said. I tried to shut the door but he held it open. "I, I can stop you!" I stated, I was filled with fear, I had no idea what to do. He didn't respond, he was just smiling, that uncanny smile was so petrifying. "You aren't a chosen one, you're not meant to save the world. You are just a student, how can you save the world? The fun is over, you stepped right into the trap like a foolish little mouse." he said with a grin. I tried to attack him with my diary but he just caught it and he burnt it to crisp, nothing was left, just ash. . "Think of this world as your personalized hell. You cannot escape this place nor save it." I was awestruck, he looked like the devil with that smile. He wasn't the angel he looked like nor a student from my school. He was a demon and behind that angelic face of his hid the devil himself. .

I woke up once again, I felt very tired though. . It was dark outside, what time is it? I grabbed my phone, it was 3am, I could get more sleep! I laid back on my comfy bed and slept once again before starting the day. The day went on pretty well yet I felt that I was missing something.

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

first grade

my youngest is in first grade

which means I'm able to access my inner first grader

my inner seven year old very well

my teacher was named Mrs. Hart

and she was so grumpy to everyone

especially to me because I was likely bizarre

but during all my detentions for losing things

or having a messy desk or talking or not paying attention

we'd have the best talks and I slowly grew on her

I also started piano that year

my teacher for that was also named Mrs. Hart

I was not good at the piano and never became so

when it was time for pictures I had a grey front tooth

and my mother was always one who valued

my aesthetics over literally anything else

she had been very good at softball as a teenager

and I'd never been coordinated enough for anything

but video games and art

so when she invited me to play with her

I agreed because a child always wants to play

with a willing and present parent

and since her very inconsistent and hard won approval

was impossible to obtain being myself

or anything I was actually talented or good at

maybe this was a chance to finally make her happy

she threw that ball hard enough at my face

it knocked out my front tooth

but it wasn't hard enough to give me a fat lip

almost impressive how calculated that must have been

she was never good for thinking unless it was

to fuck someone else over to get what she wanted

without just trying to obtain it for herself

no wonder I looked for it in all my partners

it's the bitterness that hurts

that festering anger I forced down after

years of being treated like that turned into acid

and my heart tries to freeze up

so I don't have to feel it

enmeshment with someone who always

saw me as completion so she set me up

time and time again for failure

I hate thinking about her

because like living that life

there's nothing to be done or said

only a deity outside of me could redeem her

that's the rage I've been facing all summer

what's triggered when my ex husband

began treating me exactly like she did

undermining my ideas and talents

telling me not to sing because it was unpleasant

lying to people about me and my intentions

gaslighting me about my history of behavior

projecting onto me all the poison of her soul

she kept to protect someone else she loved

fuck those people and how they made me feel

I have managed and regulated the emotions inspired

the best way I knew how and I was not perfect

but my integrity has a far higher score

than those who have tried to one up me

in morality when I responded to their mistreatment

Andromeda chained naked and cold

to the rock of her own soul

with a sea monster to keep her company

because of the twisted vanity of Cassiopeia

she gave me her middle name of Christine

but it should have been Cassandra

no matter my honesty it was never believed

until even I couldn't believe it

which after thirty some years it's kind of nice

because now I don't give a shit who believes me

in third grade I came up with a story

two little girls who ended up seperated

when one moved to China with her family

her name was Sally but I can't remember the other

she bought a yellow balloon and tied to it

a letter and named it 'Speedy'

and he ended up delivering it

through storms and a journey and trials

when I told my mother about it she offered

to type it up for me on the computer

but when I read it it was no longer my story

she made all these changes and nothing

made sense anymore and the things I wanted

to somehow express as a kid weren't there

the things I cared about and the reasons that mattered

it was all her words and her tale

titled 'Speedy The Friendship Balloon'

I won an award for it and got to go to a conference

but the honors and congratulations weren't mine

they were hers but living through my body

the shame and the confusion and the knowing

of what it was supposed to be and how she somehow

rewrote my entire writing narrative with a story

with my title and characters but none of my words

I suppose as someone writing since I was a child

drawing pictures in stapled paper books

until dictionaries and thesauruses and my obsessive

study of them gave me all the perfect words for everything

to have that kind of betrayal was so deep to me

and I will not brush off her intentions

because her character behaviors shows her patterns

I don't give a shit if she had good intentions

it crushed part of me that I didn't know until now

likely made fresh gravel for a deep fortress of imposter syndrome

and even now I feel myself trying to somehow

take back all these words so I can hug them back to me

hide the shame I feel from this story

but instead I'll take a nap and cry and have compassion

for the bit of self that felt ripped out of me

from a place where I cared the most

the one safe place I felt I had in that life

embrace my vulnerabilities and remind that part of me

things are different now and if I write something

I'm actually going to deserve every and any accolade I get

physically though this is extremely uncomfortable

nervous system completely is completely dysregulated

and needs extra care to be soothed

[slowing-down-in-style]

"I don't understand why you're anxious about a game."

Chris and I started doing crossword puzzles together today. He's done them as long as I've known him and I've recently started doing them as a way to pass the time because of his enthusiasm for them. And yes of course, I'm starting to really enjoy them too but I'm not great at things like this. At least, I keep telling myself I'm not. I need to stop that, I know. I think it's something you can get better at with practice. I just never had anyone who did them who could show me how fun they are. I always saw them as puzzles for intellectuals, which I have never considered myself being. So I feel like a beginner. Which isn't bad but... I've got some anxiety with this that I need to tackle. So, lets break it down.

These crossword puzzles are timed and it gave me flash backs to 3rd grade math where we would be learning our times tables. The teacher would have a stop watch and we had to answer as many problems as we could within a certain amount of time. We were graded on how many we could complete that were also right.

God I wish I could explain how much anxiety that shit gave me. What an awful way to teach kids to do math. Just memorize it! And quickly! Don't understand it, just memorize it!

A little more background for you here. I suck at math. I always have. I moved schools a lot and that really didn't help things because all the schools were at different levels on what they were teaching and when. Teachers weren't great at making sure that the new kids to the district, let alone to the school year, were all caught up with the rest of the class and my mom never bothered to fuck with a tutor. Math was the hardest one to catch back up on every time I moved.

Want to know what made it even worse? There was a kid in my 3rd grade class who, instead of tutoring the students around him who also sucked at math, would just say the answers under his breath just loud enough for us to hear him. "1. twelve. 2. four. 3. forty. 4. twenty" and so on. Resisting the temptation to just ignore him was impossible. I'd find myself writing down a few of his given answers, they were always right of course- he was a wiz at math, and for the other ones I didn't know or didn't try on (because after all we are under a timer here! chop chop!) I would just guess. There were always a few here and there that I knew... basically anything under 5x5 and I was good. And I could do the finger trick when multiplying by nine but like... that only works up to 9x9 and that's not efficient when you're on a timer!

So, I'd flounder. Cheat just enough to make it look like I sorta knew what was going on but then the rest of the time I'd sit in class not understanding on top not feeling like I had a safe avenue to speak up. No one else in the class was having a problem. No one else didn't understand and asked the teacher to explain. I didn't want to slow the rest of the class down. I didn't want to be the kid everyone rolled their eyes at and would get frustrated at. "We have to keep doing this because Kaitlin doesn't understand."

I got bullied enough for my name and my glasses. I didn't need bullied for being dumb on top of it. So, I kept my head down. The teacher I had didn't help either. Mrs. Eiper. This teacher had it out for me, it's a story for another day but I had had her as a teacher at another school before. She had made me cry on more than one occasion and my mom even pulled me from the school district because of this teacher after several months of fighting with the board and Principal about her. I somehow ended up having her AGAIN as a teacher in a different district, this time around as a Math teacher. (Because of course it would be math) She would make fun of us if we didn't catch on. She would make examples out of us. We would get put in "the box" if we failed or didn't understand or pay attention. Yes, an actual box she would shut us away in, in the corner of the classroom. This bitch was a few steps shy of being my own personal Trunchbull from Matilda.

Anyways, lets get back on track. Anxiety about crossword puzzles with Chris. Let me add here- I LOVE the idea of doing crossword puzzles with him and this is something I want to tackle and get the fuck over. But it's a combination of the clock, the fact that I know he's way better at these and he's watching me for how I solve them that is giving me the anxiety. He's watching, but in a good way, not a judgmental one like my teacher would have. I have to remind myself of that. He'd never treat me the way she did. Not ever.

i dont want to mess you up...

"there aren't any wrong answers. this isn't life or death"

i didn't want to mess you up and slow you down and i know you're really good at these

"i don't really care about the time. you have nothing to be anxious about. I like watching your brain work"

"I like watching you try not to think so linearly."

While I know this comes from a place of love, him wanting to understand my brain and encourage me to grow in an area I want to grow in... I've got some work to do on working through the feels associated with it.