#i did however embarrass myself bc. turning in my exam

[plushievash]

im FREE !!!!!

[breathing-inthemoon]

random rant no one asked for

so, basically, yesterday i got this massive urge to do a literature degree. for context, i'm currently majoring in astronomy, i have been for a while, ngl, i'm embarrassed that it's taking me this long, even though i shouldn't be (according to my awesome friends). being an astronomer is my dream. i want to work as one, and i think that's what puts the most pressure on me and why i struggle so much with perfectionism and craving good grades, plus the stem enviroment doesn't help (my upbringing doesn't either). i want to enjoy my life as a student, but i find myself physically unable to do so. for more context, because of the questionable way in which my courses work, i'm only taking finals at the moment. i'm done with all my classes, but i'm not done with the subjects bc of compulsory finals (most uni courses in my country have ways of avoiding taking the final by meeting certain requirements that involve grades and presence in lessons). my point here is that i'm not really going to uni, i only go when i have an exam, which sucks all the joy from seeing my beloved campus. so, the thing is that i actually really enjoy learning. i'm such a nerd and proud of it. and it really pisses me off that i have to be so stressed about it bc of how the system works. this leads to me fantasizing about studying without all that drama. sometimes, i end up reading the material for finals that are not my priority atm, the idea of studying to get a good grade paralyses me. and sometimes that turns into me thinking of doing another degree, completely stress free, just for the sake of it, not giving a fuck about grades, or how long it takes me to finish it.

for the longest time, i wanted to try a math degree after getting my astronomy one, but the thing is, that it is too close to the type of academia i am used to. math also has compulsory finals, plus its still stem and that will not let my brain rest when it comes to expectations, even if i'm doing it for fun, i'd be scared of making a fool of myself during exams.

so yesterday, it hit me: literature. i love reading. i love languages. as i said before, i'm a massive nerd. i think majoring in lit will give me the student life i dream of. i don't plan on doing anything with that degree if i get it. it's just for me. it's the academia equivalent of moving to another city where nobody knows you and start a new life. i would still be doing astronomy, hopefully, that'll be my job. but i'd take courses on the side, maybe one at the time, idk, it'd be chill.

but, there's always a but. right now, i really like the idea.. but i've been here before, with other stuff. other projects i wanted to start and never did or i started and never finished. abandoned hobbies, etc. i like a lot of stuff (see pinned post for reference) but i'm not the most consistent human being. it's not that i lose interest in the things.. it's just, life gets in the way.. especially if it's not a priority. astronomy will always be my priority. and i love it, but it's not the only thing i love.. i just wish i could multitask, but i find again and again that i cannot. i mean, i can barely do one task tbh, but that's a conversation for another day. so basically, rn, i really want to do it, however, i don't have much faith that i will follow through, and that makes me really sad.

[oogaboogasphincter]

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break. 

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting​ and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic​. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian​

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?” 

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being. 

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.” 

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.” 

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies. 

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.” 

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you. 

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study. 

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced. 

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left. 

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts. 

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt. 

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out. 

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.” 

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester. 

💘taglist: @pascalpanic​, @mellowswriting​

[jawnjendes]

it came back for more | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf

AN: let me know if i should give the goth gf a name bc like,,,,,,,,,,, idk just let me know,, also does anyone actually like this series lmao

masterlist | series playlist

"You're leaving me?" Shawn asked in mock disbelief.

I knew he was joking, but the fact that he said it as we were walking through campus, in the view of many passing students was a little embarrassing. There was just no getting used to that, like he couldn’t get used to my emotional distance sometimes. I just kept my eyes on the ground and continued walking next to him. No hand holding today. Doesn’t mean I don’t adore him any less.

"I made plans with Stella weeks ago," I told him. "We already bought tickets."

Shawn smiled, letting go of his pretend hurt. "It's cool. I understand, and I hope you have fun."

"Shit, me too. I feel like this movie is going to destroy me."

Yes, this is about the most anticipated movie of the year. Yes, I was more hyped than I have been in months. No, there will not be any spoilers.

"You're welcome to tag along," I added. "I mean, if there's still seats available at the theatre."

He shrugged off the invite, which I knew he would do. Shawn wasn't into this particular franchise, claiming he was tired of this type of movie. Can't say I blame him, plenty of people felt the same way. It was just hard to ramble at him about it because he didn't know jack shit. That was why I was going to the movie with Stella.

"I'll just stay home and watch Grey's without you." He smirked.

"First of all, that's mean and I would never do that to you. Secondly, Grey's comes back next week!"

"Oh yeah."

“Besides,” I added, “I’m gonna spend the night at your place anyway. Just like every Thursday.”

“Yeah, but instead of twenty four uninterrupted hours, we’ll get…” Shawn counted on his fingers. “...Less than that?”

We made it back to my dorm to find Stella lying facedown on the couch. Shawn and I shared a look as we entered the vicinity. Not that this wasn’t unusual, it was just hard to pinpoint her reasoning for this. I mean, I shouldn’t talk. Sometimes I lie on the floor without explanation wherever I please. Stella was used to that, but Shawn would ask if I “wanted to talk” or something.

"Did you get spoiled?" I asked her.

"No," she replied, her voice muffled by the cushions. "I'm trying to kill time. There's five hours left before the movie!"

I sighed and went to sit on her legs. "I know. I made Shawn take my phone because I don't wanna go online and see something I don't wanna see."

Stella picked her head up. "That's a good idea." She reached for her phone on the table, extending her arm towards my boyfriend. "Can you take mine too?"

Shawn chuckled, back and forth between the two of us. But he took Stella's phone. "You're both crazy."

"And what about it?" I said back. Then I reached for his hand. "Anyway, I need you to keep me busy for at least three hours." I smiled and batted my lashes in an exaggerated manner.

"Only three hours?" he replied with a cheeky grin as he took my hand and got me to my feet again.

"Ugh!" Stella interjected as she rolled off the couch. "I'm going to the library! And I'm leaving my phone so I don't go online! If I'm not back before we have to leave, just assume I killed myself because I got spoiled!"

"That's valid," I told her, "but I like you better alive."

~

Two of the three hours went by before Shawn practically tired himself out. He tapped out and rolled onto his back, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I couldn’t blame him for pulling out (in every aspect) because it was close to finals season. Tensions were rising, he was finally feeling the consequences of missing assignments and poor exam grades. I knew that because I was going through the same thing. The semester was going to be over in a month, then I would be going back to California.

And Shawn was coming with me… for a week.

It got awfully cramped on my single size bed by the time Shawn was out like a light, so I got up and decided to get ready. I got dressed in the appropriate attire for this movie, a black t-shirt with the franchise logo and black leggings. Then I grabbed my makeup bag and sat down on the floor in front of my mirror. Halfway through my routine, Shawn awoke with a start.

"I'm up! Let's go again!" he said, sitting up.

I looked at him through the mirror, still blending concealer under my eyes with a sponge. "You're like, twenty minutes too late, my dear. I'm already getting ready."

He rubbed his eyes and yawned, nodding in response. "Okay…"

As he lied down again, I couldn't help but smile. Shawn was really fucking cute, and he had no right to be. I don't want to sound like that girl, because I’m rarely that girl, but how was I expected to spend three whole hours away from him tonight? Thursdays were usually our night, since neither of us worked or had class after four o'clock. I mean, nothing was going to stop me from going to this movie, let alone a cute guy with curly hair and a charming smile. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t miss him.

"You're still welcome to join us," I told him from where I was sitting.

"You really want me to go, eh?" he replied, shifting to his side so he was looking at me.

"I'm just saying, it's probably the only time you'll see me cry."

Shawn picked his head up, eyes wide. "Seriously?"

Between the two of us, he was the crier. Are we surprised at this point? I had my exceptions, like watching a new movie I was very passionate about, or when my chronic GI issues would flare up and give me a panic attack. However, I haven't gotten sick in a while, so technically only one thing was going to make me weep.

"Well," Shawn spoke after a while, "guess I'm going."

~

I knew I was expecting tear jerkers, but I still sported my inner and outer wings to the movie. Half of it smudged onto my eyelids and half was under my eyes. On top of that, I got a dehydration headache, because I refused to drink water during a three hour long movie. I did eat popcorn, even though it was well after the time I cut off food for the day. That sounds concerning, but it's a thing I go through. If I eat after 8PM I will spend the night barfing.

Shawn, Stella, and I left the theatre practically buzzing. The mood of the film and the other moviegoers kept our spirits high, despite the fact that Stella and I had visible mascara tracks on our faces. I cried at things you wouldn’t normally cry at in a movie, like when your favorite character breathes, or makes a dramatic entrance.

"Okay," Shawn said, "that was actually a really good movie."

"Good enough to convert into a stan?" I asked, holding his hand.

"Mm, probably not."

I quickly let go of his hand. "Fine."

Walking towards the parking lot was when I started to feel something. My abdomen felt a little sore, and it made me slow down my steps a little bit. I placed my hand on my stomach; It wasn’t excruciating, but it was noticeable.

"You okay, honey?" Shawn asked, looking at me.

I nodded quickly and got back into step with him. However, the soreness was persisting by the time we got back to my car. I unlocked the doors to let Stella and Shawn in, but I stood where I was and focused on this pain. Maybe I cried too hard at the movie. Maybe the popcorn I had was giving me a warning.

Either way, there go my late night plans.

"So, I don't think I should stay at your place tonight," I told Shawn when I got in the car.

"Aw, why?" he asked.

"My stomach is, uh, acting up a little. Not feeling too good."

"You're gonna let your stomach stop you?" Stella piped up from the backseat. She wasn't one to normally say things like that. She knew how serious I got when I got sick.

I looked at her through the rear view mirror. "You got plans tonight?"

She picked at her nails and stayed quiet for a minute. "I have a friend visiting."

"Just stay at mine anyway," Shawn said to me. "I have the tea you like, and medicine, and a shit ton of blankets to keep you cozy. I'll be there to take care of you."

"I don't know, I wouldn’t wanna put that on you."

"I really don't mind."

We’ve been together five and a half months. In those months, I have gotten flare ups a handful of times, and all of those times had to do with trying new foods that ended up disagreeing with me. Each time I was with Shawn, and I had to tell him to leave me to deal with my illness. He did so, reluctantly. He really wanted to nurse me back to health, though.

Sickness is just so ugly. I didn't want to burden him with my physically unstable ass sleeping on the bathroom floor. I didn't want him to hear me puking in his bathroom. We just got to a place where things were Love sick, not Sick sick. Everything was so soft and sweet between us. For once nothing was grey, it was soft blend of black and pink. I didn’t want to taint it with my stupid gastrointestinal crap.

On the other hand, Stella is my roommate. She offers to look after me when I get sick, to which I always say no. I know how to handle it. Still, she goes to the extent of cancelling plans and breaking dates just in case I needed help. She was my safe person when went out. She was the extrovert who wanted and deserved to have a good time.

I had to stop by campus to drop Stella off, anyway. She got out of the car, reminding me once again that she'll have somebody over very soon.

Shawn turned to me once we were alone. "Please stay with me tonight."

"I don't need you to deal with my sickness," I said firmly. "It's nothing personal-"

"Okay, stop for a second," he told me. Then he placed his hand on the shoulder of my seat. "I know you know how to handle yourself when you get sick. It's like, a plan you've had to make and adjust over time, and you know it like the back of your hand. I get that, you know how to take care of yourself. I just don't want you to do this plan alone."

"I won't be alone, I have Stella." By that I mean, she's on standby only if things go really wrong... which is never. I’m not that sick.

This time, though… I’ve only felt actual pain one time before this.

Shawn gave me a look. "She's gonna be busy tonight. She wants to be busy tonight."

We stared at each other for a while. My stomach was flipping for reasons unrelated to illness. My boyfriend had stupidly kind, gentle intentions, and stupidly pretty eyes. He also had a very comfy bed.

I sighed. "Fine."

~

After some tea and rest, I felt a little better. I felt good enough to hop into bed with my boyfriend for about twenty minutes. It was fine until he was on top of me...

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Shawn frantically said, moving off of me. "Oh god, I'm so sorry."

My face was scrunched with pain, and I tried to control my breathing. The soreness from earlier turned into a sharp pain in my abdomen that made me push Shawn away from me. It was kind of a mood killer to say the least, since it made him panic.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice trembling. "How bad is it? What do you need?"

"Shh!" It wasn't intended to sound mean, but I was trying to focus on what my body was doing.

I struggled to sit up, so Shawn held my lower back to support me. He kept asking questions, but I was rapidly tuning him out. The pain didn't get any better or worse, but I was feeling something in my guts. I got up and dashed into the bathroom.

We're going to get just a little TMI. I wanted use the bathroom, but my bowels weren't having it. Then, I wanted to puke but my stomach wasn't having it. I didn't know what to do, so I just stayed on the floor in front of the toilet and let my body try to figure things out for itself.

I shouldn't have had popcorn at the movies. Sure, popcorn is light on the stomach, but Stella wanted extra butter, and I hadn’t eaten for hours. I knew what I was getting myself into, and now I was paying for it. Add popcorn to the list of foods that were now forever tainted with a bad memory.

Shawn came knocking on the door, his voice full of concern. "Honey, are you okay? Can I come in?"

I didn’t say anything but he let himself in anyway. He sat next to me on the floor, next to where I was leaning over the toilet. Delicately, he moved my hair from my face and held it back.

"I don't think I'm gonna puke," I told him, resting my forehead on the seat. My mouth was watering inexplicably, and I felt a tingle in my feet.

"Okay, then let's get you back to bed," he said gently, placing his hands on my waist to help me up.

Then, I actually puked. Yup, no more popcorn for me.

~

It goes without saying that I was up for most of the night. I only threw up that one time, but I felt nauseous until the sun peeked through the window. Not only that, I always got a bout of anxiety whenever things with my stomach got bad, and it intensified knowing that I wasn’t home at my dorm. I wasn’t in the comfort of my squeaky single size bed. I didn’t have my phone charging next to me here because the only other outlet was on the other side of the room. I felt so out of place and I wanted to run, but I knew I couldn’t because traveling would only upset my stomach more.

Shawn fell asleep when I reassured him that I wouldn’t spend anymore time in the bathroom. He was on his side facing me practically the whole night. When I felt okay enough to lay down, I put one of the extra pillows between us and faced away from him. He started stirring by the time I was finally sleepy.

When I woke up in the late afternoon, I was just grateful I didn’t have class on Fridays. I couldn’t get up even if I wanted to.

I rolled onto my back, only to find that I was alone. I rubbed my eyes, then quickly remembered that I fell asleep with smudged eyeliner, and I just made it worse. I sighed and looked out the window from where I lied. It had gotten cloudy throughout the day. Thank god, today was not a sunshine kinda day for me.

If only I had the energy to get off my ass and go back home where I wanted to be.

My eyes blankly stared at the ceiling. Whatever spirit I had left in me was slowly floating away. My incorporeal being was rising out of my physical being, until voices outside the bedroom caused me to come back to earth.

“Oh, let me just see her! Maybe I can help!”

A woman. I slowly moved onto my side, curling up under the blanket and trying to focus on the window. Then, I heard Shawn’s voice.

“No! Ah - I mean…” He was suddenly outside the door. “Let me see if she’s awake.”

Shit.

The door opened, but I didn’t move from my position. Shawn came up in my peripherals, and then he sat down on the empty side of the bed. His eyes met mine, and he smiled.

“Hey, you. How ya feeling?”

I blinked. “Tired… Not sick. Just tired.”

“As long as you’re not sick.” He brought a hand up to my head and stroked my hair. “Listen, my mom is here.”

“Why?” Seemingly innocent question, but it did make me feel some kinda way, and it certainly sounded like it.

“She comes every so often,” Shawn explained. “She’ll clean and do my laundry.”

Must be nice.

“I told her you were here,” he continued. “I told her you were sick, and she just wants to check on you.”

We had talked about me meeting his family. I joked about wearing a high ponytail with a pink scrunchie the way Meredith did in Grey’s Anatomy. Shawn replied by saying I’d be wearing a black scrunchie, duh. Clearly, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, the day after a particularly nasty flare up. I was severely unprepared and it was a couple of months too early. But how the hell am I supposed to turn his mother away when she was already here?

“I’ll go out there,” I told him. “Let me just wash my face first.”

Shawn looked pleasantly surprised. “Okay, great. We’ll be in the living room.” He kissed my forehead and got to his feet.

As I pushed myself out of bed, I noticed the persisting pain in my abdomen yet again. Not as bad as last night, but it was still there. I already knew how to handle this.

[techfanged]

gettcgged replied to your post: aLSO I HAD A SUPER WEIRD DREAM WHO WANTS TO HEAR...

[meeeee]

Putting under the cut because i’m convinced people would think I’m taking acid or something after hearing this dream I had.

so basically it started off weird but normal; a new CIV game was released and this one was in both 3d AND virtual reality, so for example, you can spawn on a huge floating island above a chunk of land and you can have a civ there and someone else can have a civ right below you. I thought i won the game early on but because of the fact someone could be below me, I didn’t and I got really mad, so  I tried to find a way down and discovered this weird temple but I thought nothing of it. Then I proceeded to kick more ass in the game but still didn’t win because like an idiot I said that there should be 8 civs and not 4 like I had thought I did and one was still reamining, so I set out to try and find them and stumbled upon the temple again. 

However, this time, it was populated by the diamonds from SU! Turns out tiw as their temple! Seeing a human go them really really mad and they started screaming at me and white Diamond’s face also melted for some reason??? Suddenly the main SU cast was there (i forget who all is the main cast now I haven’t watched the show in five decades) and for some reason Lapis was fused with a lobster? White Diamond’s face kept melting and she stormed off into the head of the statue because no one in the group was tall enough to join her in her chambers, so blue diamond came and collected us all... except for Lapis because Lapis was half fused with a lobster and she didn’t want to see her, so I got really pissed at the diamonds and told them off and said that I was better than them because I wanted Lapis around bc let’s be real a half water manipulator half lobster fusion sounds pretty slick. So I laughed and left with the group and the diamonds were so furious that later that night, they all turned super saiyan and soared high into the sky after killing all the birds for some reason???? And then they unleashed Binding Of Isaac Bullet Hell Poison bombs and killed everyone from the Civ game while I was hiding under a giant mushroom and then White DIamond’s face melted again before she threw a giant bomb and killed me

TURNS OUT, though, that that was the bad ending of the game and that I got a chance to rework it by not accepting Lapis. Blue Diamond turned everyone into these really weird creatures idk how to describe them but we were attached to red strings and lifted up and down like puppets until I suddenly found myself turned back into a human at my old high school.

I walked through the doors but the layout was super different and ran into a few of my old teachers who thought I was still a student and were mad at me for not being in class, so I told them I was on the middle school side helping out another teacher bc that was my go-to-excuse when I wasn’t in class and they got even more mad like ‘Well you should have told us all >:I’ which like fair but at the same time I was salutatorian (that is true and not something dream me concocted btw I actually was salutatorian) and they needed to chill so I just. went to class. However I think I was drunk in the dream because I nearly fell down two flights of stair seven after grabbing a rail? I somehow managed to get to my college’s book store of all things and began to look for a math text book because I was starting up the semester again and I was forced into a trigonometry class because I had nothing else to take, and I ended up stealing this girl’s chair and told her I’d let her star in my movie (still don’t know why dream me said that; filmography is your field rok not mine) if she’d accept my apology and he was like ‘ok C:’ and left. 

I couldn’t find my book so I walked out and ended up in a weird version of my uni’s humanities department and ran into a really cute guy that was for some reason drawing Sonic the Hedgehog with a metal pen (even in the ink it made was metal ngl it was kinda neat) and it was such a neat drawing, so I tried to join him but I can’t draw Sanic worth a damn so I failed horrible and he felt bad that he let me have the pen. I walked into the hallway and ran into a guy telling me hte story about a room that I interpreted as he meant it was haunted when he actually meant ‘hey if you do this weird movement against the wall it makes a weird sound’  and I felt so embarrassed that I ran away and suddenly found myself falling into trigonometry class!

My professor didn’t realize I missed half the class and he started lecturing when the most shocking of things happened; White Diamond was back and she was fucking pissed! She was mad at me for escaping her in game so she was planning on punishing everyone in the class if I couldn’t find 10 surveillance cameras she hid in the room! I found 9 of them without anyone’s help but the 10th one was attached to this weird circuit thing that she made that no one could get to without electrocuting oneself/ The girl from the bookstore was there and she tried to use a chisel but she got electrocuted and fell backwards into someone’s arms. Then my professor tried to do it with jumper cables and although he got really electrocuted, he managed to short circuit the thing somehow and snagged the last camera for me. White Diamond screamed “Nooooooo” and exploded and everyone in the class clapped and cheered. My professor started twerking for. some reason. and excitedly told us we had an exam the next class period. We took our seats as he began to lecture us and the girl from the bookstore let me see her notes. For some reason though she also took my hand and started rubbing it and when I said ‘um I’m gay’ she said ‘I Know’ which apparently made me feel so weird and confused that I woke up.

TL;DR I had a super weird dream and id be surprised if no one thought I was taking acid last night to have such a weird dream.