#i failed a block both semesters so far

[duckyfann9871]

I didn’t realize how stressed/ emotional I was rn until I was standing in the kitchen eating a piece of ciabatta bread and that made me think about how my dad and I both love ciabatta bread and that remind me how I haven’t seen him in a really long time because I never get a long enough break to travel all the way to see my parents and now I miss him and I’m on the verge of tears from BREAD

[artmsdoll]

just ask next time ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

a yuma fic based off of this anon req !

content : nsfw writing about yuma (18+, if ur uncomfy pls don't read), yuma x fem reader, both are 18 in this!!, quickie in the bathroom, hickey receiving, ass grabbing, fingering + yuma munch

wc : 1500

a/n : GUYS IM ACC SO SORRY FOR GOING MIA FOR LIKE TWO WEEKS (?) AFTER DROPPING THAT FIRST MAKI FIC💔 THE WRITING BLOCK WAS INSANE BUT IM BACK!! also also tysm for all the support on my first fic!! also this is kinda ass... IM SORRY.. i tried

no one really knew what you and yuma were.

your friends gave up on trying to figure it out months ago. whenever they even bothered asking, you’d just shrug and say something like, “he’s so annoying and immature, i can’t stand him.” and, without fail, you'd always end up mentioning that one time he rejected you in front of everyone… in your first year of middle school. but so what if you’re petty.

and yuma? he’d just roll his eyes and say, “she’s so full of herself, thinking she can get away with things because her face is half-decent.” he remembered that same day in middle school, convinced you only asked him out to embarrass him in front of the whole school. so he rejected you. coldly.

you both swore you hated each other, but your friends saw the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching. and how your tone always changed a bit whenever you talked about him, even if it was negative. somehow, almost every conversation circled back to the other.

“did you see his new hairstyle? blonde? seriously? is he trying to look like an idol or something?” or pointing out when he would purposely roll up his sleeves, loosen his tie, or unbutton his collar and fixing it for him, looking at him dead in the eyes with a smirk while he looked like a deer in headlights.

yuma’s friends had heard enough things like “is she really putting on lip gloss again? who even cares? we’re at school.” a pause. “not like i was looking at her or anything,” to know that if love and hate were a spectrum, you two were so far on the hate side it practically wrapped back around to love. at this point, you loved to hate each other… or hated that you liked each other?

whenever he walked in or out of somewhere at the same time as you, he’d hold the door just long enough to seem polite, then let it slam in your face. or you'd walk past him in class and his books would “accidentally” fall over.

all of this with the shared goal of being a harmless inconvenience to the other… or maybe to stay in the others head…

but this one day, you decided to take it up a notch.

by that, you meant pulling out the skirt you hadn’t worn all semester (and rolling it up), and the button-up shirt that hugged your chest a little too well in all the right ways.

you didn’t even look at him when you walked into school that morning, you didn’t have to. as you passed him in the hallway, you felt his eyes on you and heard him say, “what the hell are you wearing?”

you giggled to yourself and answered with your back and lowk ur ass still to him , “the uniform…. don’t tell me you’ve never seen a skirt before.”

a pause.

 then you heard him mutter, just loud enough for you to hear it, “keep acting like that, and you won’t make it to class.”

you didn’t know if he meant you’d get dress-coded or… something else. either way, you were almost satisfied with your daily yuma teasing.

without thinking, you turned around, smirked, and met his eyes. “oh? is that a promise?”

his eyes darkened. you heard his footsteps. his hand caught your wrist, and before you could say another word, he was dragging you down the hallway to the nearest gender-neutral stall. the door slammed shut. and seconds later, your back hit the cold tiles.

“what’s this all for?” you asked, looking up at him (even though you already knew damn well).

“i could ask you the same thing. trying to get my attention, huh?” his hands rested loosely on your waist.

you giggled. “i can tell it’s working.”

you couldn’t even finish your words when he pulled you in closer and pressed his lips on yours, slightly opening them. he quickly backed off, his hands still on you and slowly making their way up to right under your chest that was tightly pushed up in your blouse.

“tell me to stop.” he whispered, his voice rough.

“no way.” you pulled him back in holding his shirts collar tightly and slightly shifted so you had his thigh in between both of yours. your almost bare cunt that wasn’t covered by safety shorts today, only your panties that were supposed to be the wild card here, but i guess he didn’t last until then rested on his leg.

you don’t know what came over him, or you, to finally crack like this but you weren’t mad.

as your kiss turned sloppier, you desperately pulled on his tie to signal you wanted more. 

he slid his warm hands up, palms grazing your chest as he fumbled with your buttons, rushed, messy, like he couldn’t get you uncovered fast enough. his mouth slowly made its way to your tits, placing short kisses all the way down. then he latched on, sucking right below your collarbone until the pressure made you let out a breathy whimper. biting down just enough to make you shiver… just enough to mark you. he pulled back, lips red, his gaze dropping to the blooming mark on your chest. his thumb brushed over it.

his other hand slid down, sneaking under your skirt. to his surprise, there was nothing between his touch and your skin.

“no shorts either?” he smirked.

“now you get it…” you giggled.

that was all the confirmation he needed.

he lifted one of your legs up and tucked your panties to the side.

“let me know if your leg gets tired okay?” his tone softened.

“mhm”

his fingers rubbed over your slick folds, passing his thumb over your clit a few times as your back arched on the cold tiles and you let out a few more whines. with no time to waste, he entered two fingers in your dripping cunt. trying not to make any more noise than you were already making, you pressed your lips on his once more. he fingered you within an inch of your orgasm. 

you don’t know where this sweet side of him was all along, but he couldn't switch up that fast. 

when he could tell you were just about to cum, he pulled out his fingers, gently lowered your leg, shoved his digits in your mouth as he watched you suck on them. 

“please don’t do this to me, this is a form of teasing i will not accept” you almost pleaded, but with that sweet tone. 

“oh i’m not done” he answered, teasing you, as he kneels and picks up your leg once more. you feel him grab the side of your panties as he slowly lowers them. he didn't waste a second to bury his face in your pussy while both of his hands squeezed your ass. moving his tongue in circles, hitting every spot and sucking on your clit lightly. you were almost at your limit, grabbing his hair and throwing your head back. when that knot in your stomach came undone, you felt his warm mouth cleaning up every last drop of your sweet juices. 

you both took a second to catch your breath. 

“how are your knees? i can’t have you do all this for me and not return the favour” you chuckled. 

“don’t worry about me!”

“no i’m serious! we cou-” but the bell cut you off. “oh i guess first periods’ over…” 

“yeah… you could say that we’re even now.” he helps you fix your skirt and your buttons, and then fixes his tie that was now loosely hanging around his neck. “so much for my tie being on wrong… oh and by the way, next time you want something from me, just ask, okay? the principal was talking about giving you those gross gym shorts to change into..” he teased. 

“oh my god..” you felt a little embarrassed now. 

then he quickly kissed your lips again while giving your ass one more squeeze before opening the door and leaving by himself, as if you guys weren’t five minutes away from hitting it raw in the school bathroom. 

you were glad that that was settled… you think.. but now you just wanted more. 

[sadnightforus]

YOU MIGHT BE SLEEPING  (LJY)

biker boyfriend!juyeon x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: In an attempt to surprise you for the 500 days anniversary, he took you on a ride to his favorite places that are far away from the city, after various complaints from you that you found nothing to do in Seoul. 

WORD COUNT: 3.9K

WARNINGS: none… we reached this point guys (besides the mentioning of Eric being a super rich guy that’s all). too much fluff *insert the crying waterfall emoji because normal emoji does not cut it* 

A/N: don’t know if y’all know this but I was inspired by that one particular fanmade video. the og concept was supposed to have a bad boy vibe but he looks too good in that middle pic so I have to comply with this one instead. so cute, I’m kicking my feet fr. also omg full on fluffy soft fic from me??? I Will Die. 😭😭😭

ALSO THIS IS THE FANMADE VID. 

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

You’re bored of Seoul. 

 Don’t get it wrong, you don’t hate the city at all. But Seoul always has something going on. The streets look amazing during the day and night and there’s modern technology everywhere. Everything seems so fancy and lavish. You’re proud of how far the world has come. 

 Even though it’s incredibly hard to earn a quiet time for yourself since it’s a really busy city and if you want complete silence, you have to block out their own voices. It’s hard to ignore the presence of others when there are loud noises and so many people at once. 

 However, for you, it’s also the city of love.

 You met Juyeon when you both first enrolled into the same college and happened to closely share a semester together due to the duo group work your professor was making you do (and the deadline was well over 2 weeks). Those 2 weeks were blissful, you used to think he was a bit cold and even more so, a bit too full of himself, since he is immediately dubbed as ‘the dancing prince’ and he hangs out with the popular crowd. But your first impressions didn’t matter because he was incredibly nice and polite, and was so helpful when helping you with the project too, be it ideas or just offering to take places in completing the work. And you both ended up getting an A due to the outstanding efforts you put into your work, which you have to thank your amazing partner for. 

 And after the project ended, he still keeps in contact with you, insisting that you’re quite an interesting individual to know and hope to develop a further friendship. A total lie from him because he later admitted that when you both got into a relationship with the saying that by then, he already liked you and he just wanted to see if he has a chance with you. 

 Now back to the present. 

 It’s Saturday and you both are on a semester break. You live with your roommate/coworker and she’s off to work already, leaving you alone in this apartment as it’s your day off today. You were cleaning up your room and wiping off the dust off the furniture when suddenly you received a phone call. You look at your caller ID and you can’t help but smile when you see who it is. 

 So you pick up, pausing your cleaning process so you can talk to him just a little bit. 

“Hi, my pretty baby.” 

 That name never fails to flatter you and make your heart jump out of your chest. 

“Hey there, pretty boy.” 

 You think you do a pretty job concealing your flustered face and tone (rightfully, sue him for reducing you into a mushy lover). Otherwise, you would’ve been so embarrassed if he knew he had done irreversible damage to you. 

“You don’t have any plans for anything today, right?” 

“Why? You wanna take me to one of Eric’s father’s fancy restaurants?” 

“Great idea, actually.” He laughs, humoring you along. It’s no secret that Juyeon loves spoiling you. He had a hard exterior, according to all of your friends and you yourself. But when you guys began dating, they were subjected to the PDA between you two and their opinions on him quickly changed because just who is this guy? And plus, he also likes to take you on a new adventure. 

 Somehow, it makes you feel like a naïve teenage girl who’s dating a bad boy and you always wanted to ask him if he is truly one (even if you know he works part-time as a barista for his parents’ café shop). It’s hard to believe that someone as perfect as him can possibly exist. It’s unbelievable. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to join me for today's exploring.” He shyly explains and you can feel his shy smile tugs through his tone. What have you done in your past life to get a guy like him wrapped around your finger? Whatever you were doing, you’ve done it right. 

“If it’s Seoul, I’ve practically walked through every shady alleyway. It’s no fun.” You whine, your wet cloth cleaning off the dust is long forgotten amidst the phone call between you and your lover. 

“It’s not Seoul. I wanna take you somewhere else.” He keeps it vague and you suspect that he has a surprise for you. 

“Okay, let me clean myself up a bit.” You exclaim, putting down the wet cloth and hanging it up to dry from your bedroom (in your defense, it’s not dirty at all. You have a habit of wiping off your dust often and you definitely don’t have enough time in your hand to clean it right now). 

“Can you pick me up in an hour and a half?” You ask him, strutting around in your room to go to your bathroom to freshen yourself up. 

“You can still show up in sweats and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” He says, means every single word of it because he thinks you’re pretty. So goddamn pretty he loses his mind over you and he doesn’t believe that he’s the one who gets to have you all the time. 

“Lee Juyeon, shut up. I think I stink. Do you honestly like it when I’m sweating like a dog?” You make a gagging face while you’re putting on your cleansing foam. 

“The sweats can’t wipe away your beauty.” His reply makes you want to bang your head into the wall so bad. 

 God, he’s such a romantic. 

“I’m showering. You can save that sappiness when you pick me up later.” You furiously blush, trying to get him to end the call so you can get ready to go wherever he leads you to. 

“I’ll see you later then, baby.” 

 And the line is disconnected. 

 You sulk a bit before putting your device back as you snap back to reality. But you’re also beyond excited where he will take you to today. 

 So you divert your attention back onto getting ready and hoping that the new things you’ve been wanting to try out will work. 

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” Is the first thing Juyeon says after he comes to pick you up. 

 You decide to wear a black big cozy jacket, combined with black jeans and white shirt, which goes with his similar casual wear that he chooses. 

 There’s a spark in his eyes as he scams your whole body. A boyish smile yet so much of a shyness ticks behind that expression. He hands you a helmet, to which you still remember that the particular item is a gift from his dad who bought motorcycle tools equipment as a present for his 19th birthday and that includes the helmet you’re holding in your hand. You check to see if it has been unlocked yet. Once you see that it does, you quickly put it on your head, adjusting it properly before locking it and you gently hop onto the vehicle, excited for the ride.

“Are you ready?” He asks, wanting to make sure that you’re seating yourself comfortably before the motorcycle takes off.

“I’m all done.”

 And you hear the engine takes off, as the vehicle takes both of you far away from your place.

 The air feels fresher than usual, the atmosphere and the feelings remind you of the old Hong Kong movies you used to watch with your friends as a teenager. You always dream of doing something wild and adventurous to feel the essence of the ‘neon & loneliness’— something that has been used to precisely describe those types of movies. And now it’s like you’re living your dreams out. 

 If it’s a dream then you don’t want to wake up from it. 

 His soft woody cologne that radiates from his body all makes you feel like everything is in a daze and you’re the main protagonist of those films that you always loved. How did you get so lucky? 

 The motor is being driven further away from the city and you’ve crossed numerous luxurious stores and fancy places as you hold on tight to your lover. You’ve seen different kinds of people today; the sad, the happy, the singles, the couples, the divorced, the kids, teenagers, adults and you think you might’ve driven past celebrities by accident too. 

 Your eyes are trained to watch the road and take your worries off the daily life you’re experiencing today. You think though, instead, it’s making you realize something very precious about life. 

 People can be in a state of anything, regardless of their age. And they’re diverse, they have something to tell. Behind every person, there’s a story that is waiting for a person to uncover those. Uncover the deepest, best and worst parts of themselves. 

 You think you’re lucky that your boyfriend is the most gentle and caring person who always brings out the best part of yourself. Never once had you ever felt as if you were held back or restricted from good opportunities. He always encourages you to chase after your dream, while he steadily works towards his goal. 

 The short breeze through the city now has long escaped. You both are going somewhere unfamiliar, although you’re not sure how exactly familiar he is with where he plans to take you. However, you know better than to doubt him when he is quite literally the very same person with a really great taste in everything.

 Your thoughts do eventually come to a stop as he drives to a gas station and by that time, it’s around 3 and a half in the afternoon. The vehicle’s engine is no longer running after he shuts the power off and you know it’s time you get off the bike.

“I’d like to fill in the tank please.” Is what he says. His honey voice, ever so softly, makes you wonder how people aren’t falling for him already. The staff comes to him immediately and helps fill in the gas as per request. 

“Do you want to buy something?” He turns to ask you. “Or do you need to use the bathroom?”

“Not really.” You respond as you shake your head.

 You both stand while waiting for them to pump the gas and calculate the bill. And when you both are done, he gears up the vehicle to signal that the adventure is nowhere done. You hop on it, excited to see what will be waiting for you.

 You both leave the place, 

 Your boyfriend’s scent soon lures you to sleep, with you being barely able to open your eyes. It hasn’t been that long that you fall asleep together with him, but you both are somehow always away with the college assignments and personal workloads that are being dumped on you. Having him really close for the first time in 3 weeks does nothing but really makes you want to rest up.

 And you think to yourself, hmm, screw that. He’ll wake me up when we arrive at the place.

 Then you lay your head and close eyes as you feel yourself drifting further away to the dreamland that has been long awaited for you.

 You woke up once you felt like you were being carried.

 You didn’t register it until you felt the abnormality of the said body pillow that you’ve been resting on start moving up and going even gradually higher. It’s only then that you open your eyes, consciousness not fully hitting you yet as your exhaustion keeps luring you to the dreamland. However, since you don’t have such a habit of sleeping when you are being moved around, you try your very best to open your eyes and pray that the sunlight will hit your eyes, although it’s unlikely as the sky beams with the color of soft orange and yellow, like a beautiful fire in flames.

“Ju-”

“Shh, baby. Just sleep.” He shushes you, continuing to give you a piggyback ride. You immediately protest and almost go feral and also, almost cause a disturbance to him too.

“I’m wide awake, you can put me down and I can walk.” 

“Nice try, but no.” He chuckles and you can already imagine the most annoying yet such a beautifully crafted boyish grin plastered all over his face. He’s lovely– that’s just who he is.

“But where are you taking me?” You ask, eyes now can’t close on their own as your sleepiness already wears off from talking earlier.

“You’ll see.”

 And several minutes later, you both reach a part of a town that you’re sure has never been here before. He seems to be lost, with the way he hesitates to take a step further as he walks. 

“But Ju…” You whine. “Can’t you tell where you’re going?” You plead for him to give an answer, you so badly wanted to know what place he will show you this time. 

“Nuh uh.” He shakes his head a bit, still insisting on being mysterious and vague with the direction you’re heading. 

“But will you put me down? It’s uncomfortable being carried when I’m like, awake.” You complain and he finally gives in, sighing as he puts you down and you almost stumble forward and fall as the gravity feels new to you and if your boyfriend wasn’t there to catch you at all, you’d certainly slip by now. 

“Thank you.” You mumble out. 

“You good to go?” He asks, offering you his hand to hold as you busk in a new, unfamiliar place together. His eyes sparkle up, light of hope and love, so much adoration stores up in a gaze of his that belongs to a person that you’re proud to call him yours. 

 You’re losing track of yourself with the way you keep looking at him without a word, like a dumbfounded teenager that has no idea what they should do when they harbor romantic feelings towards their crush. But he lets you, until you gulp down to wet your throat and proceed with the next thing you’re going to say. 

“Yes.” You have a dopey smile on your face. “I can’t wait.”

 And you both take one step, two steps and more steps forward. Until you get inside the mysterious building. 

 Your boyfriend is not a man of many words, but his actions are always sincere. When he speaks, he always expresses his love for you. 

 You can even say that in almost two years of your relationship, you never have to doubt his feelings for you. That’s just how transparent he is. You don’t think you can find a greater love than him.

 With more steps further, you make it past the door and you see many abstract arts and paintings being hung, scattered all across the wall. Each frame and piece, colorfully coming together to make a piece of stories that is waiting to be told. The lines that piece it together, asymmetrically perfect in a way that it never seems to be out of place, although if you separate it, it wouldn’t make much sense to the naked eyes that only saw the remaining pieces and never get the chance to witness the beauty of the completion and harmony that lies in the form of crafts that you see with your own eyes. 

 Similarly, that’s how you feel about your boyfriend. 

 Not many people know him and you always had the impression that he was rather cold and closed off. That’s how he appears to the outsiders. The description of him from fellow classmates and his friends are drastically different because they never get to fully see what he is like as a person. 

 A person who is full of love to give to others, the one who dotes on others and is full of adventures. 

 Life with him is never boring, he brings a new kind of joy in your life. The kind of excitement that is dangerous, but you’ll let him lead you to go anywhere, even if it’s a thousand miles away. You trust him to keep you safe because never once had you been harmed or run into dangers.

 He instructs you to stand in front of him, you do so without a question. He pulls out a silky fabric and you already know what he wants to do– blindfolds you for the surprise. You let him as he carefully wraps the material around your eyes in a gentle manner to ensure that it doesn’t hurt you.

“Hold my hand and follow me.” He speaks to you softly and you nod your head. “I want to show you something.”

In a sight of darkness that is hard to break from, you let him guide you. He’s your light amongst all of this and you know he’ll never let you slip or stray away. With careful steps forwarding on the stairs and going up, further and further and then the floor feels smoother without the anxiety of reckoning,  it only takes a bit to finally realize you’re past the staircase.

 You feel like time freezes and you’re not sure how much time has passed by, although you think it’s not that much. It’s by far, the most anticipated thing for you. 

 Then you hold his hand tighter as he takes you in this unfamiliar place.

 You’re not the only one with so much adoration for your significant other. Your boyfriend is no different from you. 

 For Juyeon, being with you makes him feel like he’s in heaven. There’s no greater feeling than your presence around. 

 You heal a broken part of him that he didn’t know existed until you become the most cherished and frequent presence in his life, which is no doubt, loneliness.

 You’re calming, intelligent and intriguing. You’re an open book, but also, a mystery that he wants to keep uncover. He can lose himself in just studying about you and he wouldn’t care. You’re that someone to him who he trusts, with all of his life.

 When he inherited a motorcycle as a present from his parents in 11th grade, he usually rode it everywhere alone, even when he had friends. He discovered many fascinating locations, hearing every kind of life story from strangers whom he met on the road when he did his little exploring and witnessed people going through many stages of life. He used to watch people flirting and he wished that he had someone else to share his perspective and sightseeing with.

 You came along unexpectedly and stole his heart away. He can barely imagine a life without you now. The things you do to his heart is unhealthy. You’re the sole reason that his burning passion for life doesn’t become something he deeply despises. 

 The once cold seat of the motorcycle is now replaced by the warmth of you. And he wouldn’t want to have it in any other way. 

 He has seen many beautiful things that calm and heal his soul, but none of it were you.

 He thought beauty lies in the empty roads of complete darkness, or constellations and stars in the sky. But it’s clearly you, who is a Venus personified. 

 He’s in love and he’s not hiding it. 

 Which is why he wants to show you this view.

 By stopping in his track as he has reach the final destination, he reaches to slowly the blindfold off your eyes, all while tells you to still your eyes closed and only open under his command. 

 Both of you walk further and further away, with the help of Juyeon who guides you in the desired direction. Cold breeze hits you and you realize now that you’re most likely on the balcony and not in the secured walls of this building. 

“Open your eyes, baby.” 

 You let the light penetrate your vision as the skin that covers your seeing splits apart. 

 The view is breathtaking. 

 The sky turns into a light beat of deep orange, pale blue, deep pink and purple. You see the simplicity, the complexity and something so lively. 

 You see how the sky slowly turns itself into a pitch black, as the colors start to beautifully blend themselves, creating an unforgettable view that spreads through all across the universe from your own eyes. The wind blows slowly, as if to celebrate the magic of your shared happiness with him, which makes the moment even more unreal. 

 The lights that hang from there only intensifies its beauty. 

 You see polaroids of you both together being decorated, some you weren’t aware that the pictures were being taken. There are books and a table for dining that are put together like high end restaurants and you have no doubt that it wasn’t just a one day of work at all. 

“Happy 500 days anniversary.” He tells you, hand gently caressing you. “This house originally belonged to my grandpa. He has since passed it down to me.” He states so ever so softly and you’re shell shocked. 

“He told me that if I find someone special, I should bring them here. Because this house witnesses how my grandma and grandpa love each other and everyday is always special to them. For a long time, I didn’t understand what he meant because the idea of a lover that exists in a lonely person’s story doesn’t make sense. But I met you, my special person. I want this house to witness our love, too.” 

 You have tears brimming in your eyes as you listen to him speak further, all while his gaze lovingly settles on you and his thumbs wipe your tears. 

“I didn’t know what love was until I met you. When you’re away, I miss you. When you’re sleeping, I wish you’re awake so I can tell you some jokes that make you laugh.” 

“Me too.” You lose yourself into the warm brown eyes of his. “When I think about you, all my sadness disappears. It’s cliché, I know. But.. I think I’m so lucky to have you.” You choke on your own silent sob as he presses light kisses onto your lips.

“I’m so lucky to have you too.” He says truthfully. “I never believe in destiny, but I think we’re destined to love each other.” 

 And under the now moonlight that slowly shines onto you both, he cups your face and kisses you with all his might, as fireworks go off in the sky, as if to be a witness of this beautiful love story. 

 You don’t care for any of that as he whispers ‘I love you’ and you whisper one back too.

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2023

[mi6015tomberry]

Texturing

Since I've been using TF2 as a style guide in many ways I rooted around online trying to find any of the texture maps created for any of the characters. I was really hoping to find something like this so that I could understand how I can achieve a happy medium between realism and stylisation and the texturing plays a big role in that.

Painting has never been my strong suit so I tried and failed at painting on afternoon shadows and a reddening nose and ears but when I saw a preview of the mesh in the render view it looked awful. I always tended to get stuck into modelling to bring out the shape of the face since I can bring out shape and texture more effectively through modelling than my shoddy painting skills.

Eventually I settled on adding subtle noise and texturing throughout each surface to pull it away just enough from block colours without adding so much detail that my painting ability or lack thereof takes away any possibility of aesthetic merit. I'm really happy with how the jeans turned out because I did all of the painting myself and I know its a bit of a mess but to the eye they read as jeans when seen through the render view.

Simple Eyes

View port of all the finished models, I decided to abandon the bulletproof vest from Heavy since its overkill tonally and makes the prison seem far too dangerous for the premise. On top of that, I had a nightmare with clothing last semester because it wouldn't stop clipping through the body and vice versa so this time I'm opting out of unnecessary frustration.

I'm happy with how they all turned out, I feel like you can get a sense of the character from their design alone, more so for the two guards as they were my primary focus. I left the convict a little more ambiguous as I still haven't quite figured out whether he's a magician in prison or just a regular inmate. At the very least I wanted him to tower above the guards so that he comes across as threatening on some level. I tried rendering a still at both 1080p and 720p to see whether there was a discernible difference on a monitor and I'd say that it still looks good. If its pushed any further I might start seeing a major difference but I want to give myself more time to work rather than burn as much time as possible with an inactive computer for the sake of a slight bump in visual clarity.

[dayntee]

Chapter 1: A Rough Start

Summary:

In which Solas discovers this year is going to be more difficult than others.

The vestiges of summer always lingered on just long enough to bleed into the new year at Arlathan University. There was humidity in the air that hadn’t quite cleared and although students were arriving to settle in for their fall semester, classes had not yet begun. It was the perfect week for getting settled in. Nothing made a school year more tolerable than well-laid plans, a robust syllabus, and ensuring all the blithe, boring paperwork was tidied up and filed away before the usually feral freshmen descended upon the campus.

It was, therefore, much to Solas’ chagrin that this was not going to be one of those tidy, calculated years.

He’d been doing this for years. Arguably centuries, in one way or another. There was quite literally no one as well educated on Ancient Elvehn History than he—a fact he safeguarded privately with a lot of creative book keeping and more than a little pride. For him, preparing something as mundane as a simple school year's plan should be a practiced routine, so ingrained it may as well have been instinct.

It seemed that the world was conspiring against him. Every little thing that could go wrong was making it a point to do so. Printing out his syllabi? Every last one just unreadable enough to cost him an extra hour at the copy center he would never get back. Staff card failing to swipe into his office building? Demagnetized and needing replacement, which of course required waiting in the long line of new adjuncts and entirely too chatty students getting their own ID cards. His usual parking spot, under that lovely willow he’d often sit beneath to take his lunch, just far enough from the office building that no one usually parked in it? Blocked off for repaving for the next two weeks.

The final straw for today: the stack of paperwork, student rosters, freshly re-printed syllabi, and university mail in his arms scattering an impossible length of the faculty hall as he ran headlong into another quickly moving body.

“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see-“

“Fenedhis, if it isn’t one thing-“ he patted the ground for his thin-rimmed glasses

“Please, let me help, it was entirely my fault,” a woman’s voice interrupted his search as she held out the spectacles to him. “These are yours, Professor…?”

He gave a curt nod and quickly donned them, the intricate vallaslin and warm eyes of an obviously Dalish woman coming into focus, her face twisted in embarrassed apology. His stomach lurched uncomfortably as he recognized Mythal's pattern, but he stuffed his observation down unceremoniously as to not delay his response.

“Solas,” he offered as he began to scoop up the scattered stacks of paperwork, taking the pages the woman offered as she assisted.

"OH! Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you, Professor!" she paused her gathering of documents to offer her hand, but he failed to notice just long enough that she awkwardly transitioned back into the task at hand. "I'd hoped not to get on the wrong foot with my new office mate on day one, but I guess the Dread Wolf caught my scent today,"

Solas froze mid-movement, staring perhaps too judgmentally over the top rims of his glasses at the superstitious (and certainly unintended) personal jab. More importantly, she'd unveiled yet another obstacle in his path today.

"Office mate?" he asked, as neutrally as he could muster.

"Ah, well… I guess you hadn't been informed yet," she inhaled awkwardly through her teeth, standing with the last of his papers and lamely offering them with both hands, as if in apology. "I've been told it's just a temporary arrangement, the new offices are supposed to finish construction before the semester ends-"

"I see," his answer was curt, the slightest pang of regret as he saw her wince in response, buried beneath the mountain of frustrations he’d dealt with throughout the day.

"I'll… try not to be a bother. Right, I suppose I should introduce myself. Ellana Lavellan, I'll be teaching Dalish Studies and Modern Art,"

As the words left her mouth, he found the smidgen of regret crushed beneath another wave of annoyance. She offered her hand once more, but Solas had already begun his stride past towards their, now apparently shared, office. He heard a huff behind him as she followed him in, though he paid her little mind as he evaluated the corner of his office that had been overtaken with a clearly temporary desk setup half the size of his own and a few small cardboard boxes he assumed must be her belongings.

"Okay, clearly we did get a bad start. I'm not here to make enemies, and I really will try to stay out of your way. But if you don't mind my saying, you could stand to be just a smidge nicer to new staff," Ellana was standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a frown from what he could tell out of the corner of his eye. As he moved to sit at his desk, he did his best to refrain from further eye contact.

"I'm sure you'll find every rumor you've heard of me true, Ms. Lavellan-"

"Professor-"

Solas didn't correct himself and continued. "I've been informed I’m a brusque individual, and I won't hesitate to tell you I've little regard for more frivolous areas of study,"

She bristled in the doorway, her frown advancing to something clearly offended and just short of rage.

"Excuse me, frivolous?!"

He finally glanced back up at her, pausing the sorting of his catastrophically disorganized work, and calmly continued.

"I concern myself with only the truths of the world, many of which have been lost or wildly distorted by your ancestors. I may as well be plain with you. You should know what to expect of me,"

By now, it was clear she was fuming, though to the woman's credit she was doing an admirable job of not letting it boil… yet.

"I… see," she managed, and he could see one of her fists flexing at her side, a slight shake in her arm. "Well, I was on my way out, I'll leave you to your truths and tend to my own frivolities," she whirled back out the door, slamming it just hard enough to make him wince.

He lifted his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, urging the growing migraine behind his eyes to calm. It was, indeed, going to be a long, long year.

Notes:

I’ve got an outline of about ~8 chapters planned out so far, which won’t quite take us to the end of semester. There’s a rough sub plot in mind, and I have a tendency to write slow burn, so it may take us a bit to get to the spicy bits… but I also plan on these to be generally short crunchy bits I can plow through between larger projects. Please enjoy this wild, weird ride!

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan & Solas (Dragon Age) Characters: Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Solas is Fen'Harel (Dragon Age), Eventual Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), POV Multiple, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Dragon Age: The Veilguard Spoilers Summary:

Professor Solas has been teaching history for longer than anyone can, or should, remember. While he prefers his quiet, repetitive, and predictable life, a new professor (who’s clearly wrong about everything) throws a wrench into his plans.

An AU University setting where most of the Inquisition are teachers and most of the Veilguard are students. Expect crack, comedy, Solavellan angst and/or smut, and generally anything else the Fen'Harem deems necessary in this silly little universe.

[mothdruid]

The Physics of Love - Prologue

series masterlist | part one

pairing.

robert 'bob' floyd x afab!reader

warnings.

insecurities, previously experienced misogyny in STEM, self-doubt. this content is meant for those who are 18 and older.

authors note.

professor coleman (hondo) is a real one who loves his students. but let me know what you think so far! i will be doing a tag list for this series, so if you would like to join that, let me know.

The red ink stared back at you menacingly. Every minus one, minus two, minus three points marks taunting you. Sixty-eight out of one hundred. It wasn’t the worst you had scored in the class, but it was too far into the semester for you to drop. If only you had actually considered it a few weeks ago. That foolish woman in STEM mentality got the better of you though.

“If there are any issues with scores, let me know after class.” Professor Coleman announced.

It was as if the whole classroom failed, many students hanging back to talk with Professor Coleman. And you were no exception, slowly packing your bag while leaving your test on the table. You flipped through it a little bit as you waited after packing. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed, you just weren’t sure what to do from here on out.

“Issue with your score?” Professor Coleman asked.

You shook your head, letting out a soft chuckle.

“No, I just,” your hand tightened on the marked up papers, “don’t know what to do.”

Professor Coleman gave you a questioning look. You watched as he adjusted his glasses, staring at you with an odd kindness. The tension in your shoulders started to dissipate, your body finally relaxing enough to let your frustration sift into worry.

“If I don’t pass this class, boom, bam, degree gone,” you set the packet on the table. It was annoying to think that this class would potentially make it or break it for you. Stripping you of that geology degree you had yearned for since junior high. Math? A struggle but doable. Chem? Not too bad. Physics? The bane of your existence.

“It’s not like the final is next week. You have passed both exams so far.”

“Barely,” your hands were starting to clench up. It was a nervous habit, one you couldn’t seem to shake.

“Still passed though,” Professor Coleman offered you a smile.

"My degree requires a C plus, something that looks impossible right now," you sighed, tightly running your forefinger and thumb across your forehead to block your vision. It was beyond frustrating.

"Have you thought about looking for a tutor?"

A tutor? Was he being serious? How could anyone help you learn this cursed subject? Let alone get you to retain the information. Plus, you had tried it last semester. It ended in a bit of a failure, on your part and the tutors.

"Yeah, last semester. Tutor got frustrated because I couldn't pick it up, and I got frustrated about not picking it up quickly and it was just," you removed your hand only to be greeted with a soft frown, "it didn't work."

"Would you be willing to give it another try?" Professor Coleman asked, pushing his hands in his pockets.

"I uh… I don't know. I'm not a huge fan of the tutor program here, especially after last semester." You looked over at him with a frown and shrugged. "Maybe this is the universe's way of telling me to give up on geology."

"Hey, some of the best things in life are hard to get, and this might be one of them." Coleman smiled softly at you.

Doubt with a hint of shame swirled around your mind. A storm cloud that didn't want to dissipate. As much as you wanted to believe his words, it was hard. It was hard enough to make it in this field anyways. Hell, any STEM major was hell to get into. It was exceptionally worse though being a female in the field though. You had had classmates and professors act as if you didn't belong among them. And now, it felt like it was all true.

"What if I found you a tutor? Hand picked by me," Coleman shrugged, his words catching your attention.

"Oh, you don't have to do that, I can just fail and go about taking it next semes-"

"I don't want to see you fail."

The two of you stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Coleman had been the first professor that had seemed to actually care about how you did, which was rare for a STEM professor. Most of them had a sink or swim mentality with their subjects, but not him. Not good ole Hondo.

You had heard about Professor Coleman through a few of your other classmates in your program. He used to be an astrophysicist for NASA but then decided to pursue the field of teaching. Or at least that is what you heard through the grapevine. He taught a collection of undergrad students and grad students. You heard Professor Mitchell call him crazy one time for teaching so many students, but you didn't think that Professor Mitchell had much room to talk.

"I don't know if anyone you pick will put up with my incompetence for physics," you hate to admit it, but it was true. You were incompetent at the subject, basically hopeless.

"You're not incompetent, we all have areas we struggle with. I have the perfect person in mind anyways," Professor Coleman said with a smile while leaning back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah? Who?" You gave him a curious look.

"It will be a surprise," Coleman said as he pushed up off his desk. He took a few steps over to you. "He will be helpful and patient, because it sounds like you haven't had much of that so far."

"But what if–"

Professor Coleman held his hand up to stop your words.

"No buts, and please just trust me."

"Fine, but if this doesn't work out," you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, "you're paying for my second semester of Physics ll."

Professor Coleman grinned, holding his hand out for you to take. The two of you shook hands, sealing the deal. As much as you didn't want to, there was an overwhelming feeling about you failing flowing through you. It felt like the only outcome, all your insecurities about your place in the world bubbling to the surface. But somewhere, deep down inside of you was a bubble or two, telling you that this tutor would help you survive the rest of the semester.

[mpregbts]

I think I might make a few posts venting about my carpal & cubital tunnel syndrome on this blog. I will tag it "carpal tunnel" and "cubital tunnel" if you'd like to block it! It's more for me organizing my thoughts than anything else. Anyway, I'll start under the cut.

I have carpal tunnel, but it's pretty minor. My primary issue is cubital tunnel, which is very similar but is in the elbow instead of the wrist.

It started around freshman year of high school, ~5+ years from today, with very minor pain when holding my phone. It felt like my phone was bruising the middle of my forefinger when I typed for too long, and my thumb joints would feel uncomfortable.

About a year later is when I noticed the next escalation. I was having pain when I played my oboe. I talked with my teacher about it after months of ignoring it and she recommended some ways I could shift my hand position. They felt better in the short-term, but because it engaged muscles that were weak, it would hurt more after what I considered extended practice. For me, because I was a sort of unmotivated student, "extended practice" meant anything approaching an hour.

My hands were hurting when I wrote for too long, but that's true of everybody. It's just, the "too long" was getting shorter and shorter, but I wasn't noticing the change.

By junior year, I sort of figured I had carpal tunnel. What clued me in was just how painful it was to play video games or use my phone. And it only got worse from there.

I began regularly complaining to my teacher about how painful it was to play oboe. It got to the point where I could only play for ten minutes at a time. If I was lucky, I could squeeze 30 before my hands would begin shaking under the pain. I stopped being able to take my reeds in and out of my oboe by myself, so I started using my teeth, which my teacher hated. Both of us thought I just wasn't doing it right; I can't possibly be that weak. In retrospect, I can see that my grip strength was failing.

Freshman year of college, I tried to minor in music. That didn't work out, mostly because I found that I wasn't actually that passionate about the oboe. It was also because my professor sort of refused to believe me when I said I had carpal tunnel that was interfering with my play. She explained that many musicians play their entire lives, way more than I do, and they never develop it until they're far older. She said that, as a musician, claiming to have carpal tunnel was extremely serious and career ruining.

I still found oboe fun, though, and wanted to continue it as a hobby. I have never touched it since the performance final for that class. Even though I did like it and had fun with it, I associate it with pain. Where I am now, I can't imagine picking it up and playing a scale. I legitimately don't think I would be able to play it for more than a few minutes, if at all.

My other hobbies include drawing and bullet journaling. I may get into it in another post, but bullet journalling especially was VERY important to my lifestyle. During my first semesters of college, I stopped because my classes were too overwhelming to do either. Yet I found that, when things cooled down, and I tried to pick them back up, I couldn't.

The pain is the obvious issue. Holding the apple pencil is painful, let alone trying to control it on a slippery glass surface. At the same time, with bullet journalling, the friction and resistance of the paper against pen or pencil required too much force for my hands to produce easily.

The less obvious issue is accuracy. I couldn't draw or write with any accuracy without gripping the pen extremely tightly and going very slowly. Nowadays, my hands just sort of... move? God, this is THE thing that frustrates me the most regularly. Trying to fucking type on my phone. First of all, my phone is rather heavy and it HURTS to hold. Not just for a long time, I mean it hurts to hold AT ALL. But more frustratingly, my typing accuracy is horrendous now. I have to type, legitimately, every three words over again, at least once. Imagine that. Imagine every text you send out, having to retype 1/3 of it. AT LEAST. At the end of a bad pain day, it can be as much as every other word or EVERY WORD. I'm serious. It makes me want to cry.

I rely on autocorrect to get me through this issue. Without it, I really don't know what I would have done. I'd probably use voice-to-text exclusively. Autocorrect really doesn't cover that much, though? And it's rather inaccurate and can actually make things worse. I used to pride myself on typing well and using good syntax (I never really cared whether other people did, it was just a personal standard), but. When your phone corrects every single "its" to "it's", regardless of context, even if you had to already retype it 3 times because your thumb kept spasming and hitting the j key, and now you have to retype it AGAIN, and you're just staring at the screen wondering why you even bother. Grammar stops mattering as much.

Yknow, I don't respond to people sometimes. Sometimes my girlfriend texts me and I have a lengthy response I wanna give and I just don't because what's the point. Why would I type out how my day went in detail, bring us closer as partners and share that aspect of myself, when it hurts so goddamn bad. And it takes forever. Because I can't type with any speed or accuracy anymore.

And, okay. I loved to take physical notes. Things stick better in my brain if I physically write them. But that's too painful now. So I do everything on OneNote. Except I'm a fucking engineering major!!! I know all the shortcuts in Office's equation editor, I can type equations FAST, but it's just not feasible to keep up with the professor when lowercase rho is one flick of the wrist for him and 4 keystrokes for me. So now I just focus on getting things typed so I can't even LISTEN to the explanations because I'm 3 slides behind and surely it's online somewhere.

Calculus 1-3 had written exams. We had about an hour fifteen. I always get done with exams rather early & go back and check them thoroughly. I tend to make really stupid mistakes with math and it usually saves me a good 5 points if I check my work, cuz I can be really sloppy. But I found that I was having to take WAY more time every problem simply writing it legibly. I have to go soooo slowly so that my hand doesn't collapse under its own weight. In my head, I was so bored, because I knew the next 4 steps, and I could have been DONE already if I could just write up to a normal speed! I almost never had time to check my work. I worked up to the last five minutes nearly every exam.

In case you're curious, I have been to a hand specialist. My city has an internationally renowned hand clinic that I've seen and they were fantastic, to be sure. For a variety of reasons though, I haven't been able to properly keep up with treatment. To keep it brief, and maybe I'll explain more later, here's the main treatments:

Surgery. This is what I want desperately. However, for cubital tunnel, recovery can be anywhere from two weeks to several months. My major doesn't give me summers off. I do 3 semesters a year with two to four week breaks in between. Sure, I might be able to squeeze in a surgery if I HAPPEN to be able to get a date EXACTLY at the beginning of a break (at a clinic that people TRAVEL HERE to get in with), but what if I need more recovery time. What if I need to pursue physical therapy to get back the ability to write. If I fall behind I'm going to lose my scholarship. So? Okay? Guess I'll just wait until after I've graduated. In slightly less than three years, not counting my masters program.

Steroid shots. I have trauma surrounding needles and now have a phobia that I've gotten under control via therapy. I can get vaccines now without sobbing and all that. According to my dad, who got them for the same condition I did, they were extremely painful and did not help very much. I KNOW that statistically MOST people find them very helpful and it eases symptoms but. I am really scared about triggering my phobia and having to redo therapy for it. If I have a bad experience with needles I don't think I'll be able to do it again without therapy. It'd suck to lose this progress.

Physical therapy. I actually did do this and it worked very well. Between my stretches, exercises, and heat therapy, my symptoms had become...not manageable, but WAY less bad. It really did work. But people who have gone through physical therapy will understand... once my therapist said I was good to stop seeing her because she had taught me everything she could... I just. Didn't keep up with the exercises. They take like 15 minutes and you need to do them 2-3 times a day. It's really not that bad and definitely worth the effort but like... I dunno. It's weird. I just. Can't get myself to stay on top of them at the end of an exhausting day.

Okay, that's all for now. I need to go to bed, and my joints are swollen from typing this lol. If you read this far, thanks for hearing me out!

[thevirgodoll]

hi! i was wondering if you have any tips to stay organized and stay on task? i’ve been doing a short online course this year and have really struggled to ACTUALLY bring myself to do the work, as assignments and lessons are not under any time constraints i just don’t do it. i also have adhd so get bored or distracted easily. do you have any tips for me?

This is really close to me because I also have ADHD. I have both inattentive and hyperactive type. *As a result, this academic tip guide will be a guide for people with ADHD and not neurotypical people, without disability. There is a difference.*

I am doing online as well this semester.

1. I create a schedule. If I do not create a schedule, I will be unproductive the entire day. So, what will help you is to do things in orderly fashion.

For example, at 12p - I will do this assignment/watch this lecture. You have to dictate what time you’re doing everything. Then, you also have to block out technology distractions while you are working. 

-> Even if you’ve gotten halfway through the day with no schedule, write down or block off times on your digital calendar for what you are going to do at each time. ADHD is easier to tackle if you break things down into smaller tasks.

*Pro tip that I almost forgot: before you do anything, wear your day clothes. Don’t wear pajamas. Actually getting dressed or even doing hair/makeup changes things.

2. Download the Forest app after you have created your schedule. I consistently recommend this because it works in increasing productivity. It allows you to set it for however long you’re doing this task, say 30 minutes.

-> Why?: It will block all apps on your phone for (insert time here) to plant a tree, and if you leave the app your “tree” will die. Eventually, the more sessions you do, the more points you will gain to plant different plants, and eventually plant real trees around the world.

3. Have a list (& a planner) as well. Not only is the schedule creating structure, but the list creates even more structure so you know what you need to get done for the day. It also helps you not fall victim to the classic symptom of forgetting. Each day, you should write down what you WANT to get done and create your own times to look at lecture and assignments. Have goals for the day.

For example: complete assignment 2.

If you do not have expectations with yourself before the day begins, your ADHD will kind of take over and do something else. I have structure to my day. I set a timer to wake up at the same time. I take my ADHD medicine 90 minutes before my final wake up time, and I do my morning routine once it kicks in. Having the same routine helps.

-> Focus on your goals. Don’t be super harsh about the times.

-> Don’t overwhelm with how many things on to do list. Again, break it up into small tasks. For example, one part being: Wash dishes or fold laundry. It makes it less overwhelming to your brain and gives you a choice of which task. Typical non ADHD people just tell you to prioritize tasks but that doesn’t work for us. Do it in a random order and it gets the job done.

4. TAKE BREAKS! The other side to this is making sure that you give yourself adequate breaks.

*For hyperfocus, wait til your hyperfocus has started to wear off. Use it to your advantage for peak productivity. It is no joke.*

-> The misconception is that some people with ADHD are lazy and as a result, some ADHDers won’t take breaks. You can take a break. Healthy, long breaks do more for you long term.

-> Have a timer set. For example, after a 45 minute session or an hour session, I will take a break to do another task that has nothing to do with studying, like laundry, eating a snack, or stretching. Then after that task is done, I will go back to studying.

5. Have a workspace. Only do work at this space. I do schoolwork at my living room table and it is perfect. I do not study in my room because that is my sanctuary for relaxation and rest, not productivity. Make an effort to make the workspace clean, with your supplies - laptop, notebooks, pens, etc - readily available.

-> Once I get to my workspace, everything for the morning is already done. I’ve done my morning routine, so all there is left to do is hydrate while I study.

6. Recognize if you have adequate energy to do the task. Sometimes, with ADHD you may neglect your needs. If you are not getting enough rest, here are some tips:

•Bed should be for rest only.

•Blackout curtains

•Lavender essential oil, I have a diffuser but you can also put it on your pillow

•Background noise: pick what you want, lo fi music, rain sounds, binaural beats, singing bowls

•If all else fails, ADHD is often comorbid with other illnesses, meaning you could have a form of depression causing insomnia for example. This should be considered if you are having long term issues and symptoms.

7. Don’t overdo it. We are not neurotypical. Executive dysfunction is real - meaning our brains actually shut down when it perceives a task to be mundane.

-> You do not have to fit everything into one schedule for the sake of being “productive”. Each day should be what you know you can do, and there are different days to tackle different goals.

-> When you feel like you cannot continue, which is literally a symptom of ADHD, sit still for a few minutes.

8. Have a “What I Did Today” List. Because of how ADHD actually makes us feel, we don’t realize how much work we have put in. ADHD actually can be explained easily, we have about 2 dopamine workers showing up to work while most people are at maximum capacity. We are working overtime to do our best, even on medicine. So, acknowledging what we did today is good and encouraging, or at least reflecting in a journal.

9. Play music. It’s recommended to play study music without words because with ADHD we will submerge ourselves into the playlist of nostalgic 90s R&B. I recommend lo fi hip hop on YouTube, video game instrumentals, classical music, or jazz instrumentals. Whatever gets you going just do it!

General ADHD tips:

•Rewrite lecture notes and type the lecture notes.

•Color code with bright colors and pretty drawings or calligraphy

•Instead of telling yourself “I need to take notes” which usually leads to procrastination say “Rewrite lecture notes and emphasize main points” ... this is useful in your to do list but in everyday goals

•Generally try to get your assignments done ahead of time if there is structure to certain courses, if not, again, stick to the schedule. If you slip one day off your schedule then don’t beat yourself up. Breathe!!!

•Side effect of most ADHD meds is that you’re not hungry so buy easy things to eat like muscle milk or yogurt and granola or smoothies so you can sustain yourself

•Get a dry erase board to show what you need to do for the day and put it on the fridge with command strips

•To avoid forgetting things, put them at a table near the door where you leave your apartment/dorm/house.

•Don’t overthink the time it takes to get ready, often that’s why ADHDers are late. Better to be super early than late though - have a routine set so you know how long each task takes - for example “I know a shower takes me 15 mins, washing my face takes 60 seconds and a few more including sunscreen/moisturizer, etc...”

•In that same grain, set timers for going to the bathroom, showering, etc just in case you one day hyperfocus and push yourself too far

•Open the blinds!!!!

•Clean your room and tidy up your space. A cluttered space impacts your mental health in a really negative way. Your space reflects your mental state at times as well, so check in with yourself. Have a specific day where you know you’re going to clean, but ADHD sometimes gives us bursts of cleaning so take advantage of that as well.

•Anytime your water bottle empties refill it. Have your water bottle or mason jar next to your workspace, and drink 5-10 gulps. Seriously. ADHD depends a lot on hydration, especially if you are on medicine which naturally dehydrates you. If you do not stay hydrated, you’ll get that massive headache mid day and crash sooner. A lot of times, lack of productivity can be due to not drinking enough water.

•If you don’t take medication, then sometimes you may notice you love coffee, and that’s because it’s a stimulant. Too much of anything is not good, but balance it with water. If you’re going to use coffee to kinda “medicate” then do it close to when you’re going to be productive.

•Setting yourself up to do a task rather than envisioning the overwhelming act of doing the entire action. “Okay, lets just get up and get the first step down, such as opening the laptop or wetting the toothbrush.” Baby steps.

•Take advantage of accommodations! Your college more than likely has an Office of Disability Services. Also, email your professors...they’re actually just as stressed as you about classes being online.

•Remember that you’re already trying as hard as you can, so don’t listen to the narrative of “try harder”, “you’re *r word*”, “you’re cheating by using medication”, “just do it,” “it’s easy,” “what’s so hard about it?” or “you’re lazy”. Anyone telling you that, even yourself, is wrong. And DO NOT allow anyone to be ableist, even yourself.

•Validate yourself. Don’t let anyone to do the “I experience that too”/“I know what you mean”/“we ALL have trouble with this!” and they don’t have ADHD. No. It’s our experience, it’s valid, and unlike anything on the planet. If you’re reading this and you don’t have ADHD - no, you do not experience any of the things in my next bullet point.

•Don’t be hard on yourself if you stumble along the way getting this right. ADHD completely changes your executive functioning.

We see the task, but our brain blocks it.

We have something marked down as “important” but our brain tosses it out in the “trash”.

We watch an entire episode of a show, but our brain ignored the entire thing. Our brain picks and chooses what is stimulating, our brain changes our interests.

We have sensory overload, we have no dopamine, we have bursts of curiosity that cannot be contained (often inconvenient) and if interrupted, our brains cannot take it.

People often discount how many things ADHD actually changes because it’s widely misunderstood. I want to take the time to acknowledge that ADHD, formerly known as simply ADD, has different types: primarily inattentive, primarily hyperactive-impulsive, or combined which is what I have. So it’s not “hyper” and “relatable”. It is also not a buzzword to use to describe things. I must put stereotypes and misrepresentations of ADHD to rest.

It impacts us emotionally as well, which most people don’t know... such as rejection dysphoria — extreme sensitivity to being criticized to where our brains self destruct. Our brains don’t regulate emotions well.

ADHDers - do not fall victim to how everyone else operates and call yourself a failure. We have to work twice as hard and the results actually come out brilliant especially with our determination and imaginative ideas that are also seen in autistic individuals, honorable mention!

There’s good days and bad days. There’s literal changes in thinking that other people do not experience. We all collectively know wouldn’t be who we are without ADHD, but we all recognize the challenges. However, it makes me happy to see messages like this so that I can make a difference and hopefully help one person with ADHD, especially of color, at a time stop being so hard on themselves. 💗

[nightravens-therapycircle]

Paint the Roses: Chapter 6 Preview

Explanations and Possible Solutions

It took not even a day or so after the unbirthday party for things at Heartslabyul to get worse than they already were. Much, much worse. Trey stood by Cater, watching as Riddle collared yet another student with his magic in the lounge. He had lost count of how many this made so far this year, and it was barely a week into the new semester.

“The Queen of Hearts’ Rule #249: ‘Flamingo caretakers are to don pink attire’,” Riddle recited for the latest member of Heartslabyul to slip up and make a mistake. “It was supposed to be your turn to feed the flamingos today. Why aren’t you wearing pink?”

“I’m sorry, Housewarden. My pink clothes were in the laundry…” said the student, already down on hands and knees. “Please… Please don’t take my head off!”

“This is your second rule violation. I cannot forgive a repeated offense. OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” Trey fought back a flinch at the loud clang of the collar snapping around the student’s neck. “Write a 5,000 word apology and weed the garden for a week. I’ll gladly remove it then.”

The student choked on a sob. “That’s…”

“Do you think I enjoy having to do this?!” The student didn’t speak, though he did flinch at Riddle’s loud tone. “You’re the one who broke the rules! As much as I would like to, I cannot ignore these infractions. It’s for your own sake, understand?” Once again, the student said not a word. Riddle sighed, rubbing at his temple with his free hand. “Trey? Cater? Take him outside.”

“...yes, Housewarden,” said both of Riddle’s loyal companions with a deep bow each. When Trey looked up, he saw more ink dripping from Riddle’s fingers and splattering on the floor as he walked away. It wasn’t just droplets now. There were thick globs of it. And seeing that…

Trey couldn’t spend another moment in the dorm. He headed to the library instead in an effort to try and clear his head. He thought that if he wasn’t in the dorm, then he wouldn’t have to think about it. He wouldn’t have to think about what Riddle was doing, what he had seen… Out of sight, and out of mind.

Of course, Trey was clearly wrong. As he stewed in his guilt, glaring at the floor as he slid the book back on the shelf since the librarian was nowhere to be seen, he failed to hear footsteps approaching him from behind.

“Clover.” Trey looked up. Deuce, Ace, and Emery were walking towards him with Grim held in Emery’s arms.

“Oh, it’s you four,” Trey sighed. How did he not hear them sneak up on him like that…? He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

“We figured that if we waited here long enough, you’d come by to return the cookbook that we used to use to make the mont blanc,” Emery explained as if it were simple math, “so we asked the librarian to let us hide out here until you did.” Trey hummed. Pretty clever for a couple of kids who couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble…

“We still got a problem with the way Riddle is running things,” said Ace.

Trey bit back another sigh. “Yeah, I bet.” To be frank, they weren’t the only ones. They were the only ones who actually said it. Trey tried to turn to leave, but the freshmen were blocking his path. He wasn’t getting away any time soon.

“Come clean about this. What do you really think about Riddle? Is it true that you’ve been his lap dog since you were kids?” Since they were…?

“Who told you that?”

“We ran into someone as we were leaving Heartslabyul yesterday,” Emery explained. “He said his name was Chenya.”

“Chenya…” Trey sighed. “That explains it.” The nosy cat. What was he even doing in Heartslabyul anyway? And why did he feel the need to wedge himself into an issue that he wasn’t involved in at all?

“Aren’t you older than Riddle?” Grim asked. Not by much; what was he trying to get at? “Why haven’t you told him off already? What’s wrong with getting angry at him?”

“I do it when I absolutely have to.” There were moments early in Riddle’s term as housewarden where he had to correct him on some things, but… “I just… I don't think the situation calls for it.”

“Is that the truth,” Emery asked, her arms crossed, “or can you just not bring yourself to do it?” It was an honest question, and one that she had no idea how much it implied. Trey exhaled through his nose, not sure about the answer.

The full chapter will be up on Ao3 on October 16th!

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: A Little Jealousy

Reid Garwin x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,886

Summary: Reid accompanies you to a grad student social and gets a little jealous. Inspired by @saviorsong​s headcannon! 

The night air was crisp and the moon shone brightly overhead. It was well into spring so you were able to go out in a thin coat and a dress without feeling the icy prick of freezing temperatures on your skin.

The two of you were on the way to a dinner social your department put together for its grad students. A chance to get to get to know one another outside of the stresses of school life. With midterms over with, you were more than ready to have some fun.

Almost immediately after getting the email, you sent in your RSVP and put Reid down for your plus one. He grumped a little when you told him but you didn’t take him too seriously. He’d be contrary even if it was something he was actually interested in, just to get a rise out of you.

Reid and you lived only a few blocks away from the restaurant district, and opted to walk instead of circling around forever trying to nab a parking spot. Streetlights lined other side of the road. There was ample lighting. Still, you somehow managed to lose your footing.

Another couple was coming the opposite direction on the sidewalk and you scooted over to make more room for them. But when you moved to the side, your foot got caught in a crack at just the right angle. Next thing you knew, your leg gave out and you were stumbling forward, arms swinging wildly in a failed attempt to regain your balance.

You thought that you were going to hit the cement, and hit it hard, but strong arms were suddenly wrapped around your waist. It was a little jarring to come to a complete stop and all the air in your lungs was pushed out.

“Whoa!” Reid exclaimed in your ear. “That was a close one.”

You craned your neck to neck at him with large eyes. He slowly lowered you back to your feet but didn’t remove his arms from you.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, adrenaline still coursing through you. There was ringing in your ears and your muscles were like jello. “Sorry, I—I’m still a little shaken.”

He rested his chin on the top of your head. “You’re alright, babe,” he assured you, his presence a big comfort. “Now, let’s get moving. If they eat all the appetizers before we get there, I’m gonna be pissed.”

The adrenaline drained out of you instantly and there was no stopping the snort that came out of your mouth. “Gee. Thanks for the motivation.”

“I know, I know: I should really do motivational speaking for a living.”

He let you go but kept your hand in his. You started walking again and it took him by surprise that you were going faster than him. So much faster that he had to stretch his arm straight out if he wanted to keep holding your hand.

Reid squeezed your hand to get your attention. You saw his brow raised in question and you returned the squeeze to his hand. “What? I’m going to be mad, too, if we don’t get any appetizers.”

You arrived at the restaurant in no time, half speed-walking, half running the rest of the way there.

Inside the restaurant, the hostess led you upstairs to the room reserved for the department. There were a lot of familiar faces, classmates and professors alike. There were even some kids running around which added more energy to the affair.

Guided by his nose, Reid quickly found the appetizer spread on a table that lined the far wall. The choices were top notch. Egg rolls, hors d’oeuvres, and meat filled phyllo cups all made his mouth water.

And even better than the finger foods were the drinks.

“Am I dreaming? Or are they really serving alcohol here?” He pointed to some people who walked by with bottles of craft beer in hand.

“I guess,” you answered less enthused. You’d been to several conferences by that point and alcohol had been served at all of them. But you didn’t want to bring him down. “You should go see if they have your favorite.”

“I think I will… What do you want me to get you?”

You thought for a second. “I’m feeling like white wine tonight. See if they have any good selections?”

He brought your hand up to his lips to place a gentle peck to your knuckles and promised he’d be back. You shooed him away equal parts thrilled and flustered. Despite most people’s first impression of him, Reid was quite the romantic, and normally you loved him for it, but you could already feel the stares from his display.

Holding your head high, you smiled politely at the onlookers and quickly made your way to a table in the corner with familiar faces. You said hi to your friends and in turn they introduced you to their plus ones. The conversation flowed effortlessly and your table was almost obnoxiously loud in your laughter.

“So where’s the boyfriend? Or did you come by yourself?”

You turned to the body besides you. Ben and you had a friendship that went back to your first semester in the program. The two of you had been in the same orientation session and found that your personalities meshed together well.

You knew that he was genuinely interested in meeting the boy you constantly talked about. Reid, however, walked in at precisely the wrong moment and took the question as a challenge.

“The boyfriend is definitely here.”

Setting down a plate of food and your serving of wine, Reid draped his arm across your shoulders and planted a kiss on you. The use of tongue would’ve been obvious to anyone who watched, including poor Ben.

Breathless, you pulled back and Reid allowed it. He kept his arm where it was and turned to Ben with a hard grin. “Who’s this?”

You cleared your throat as if to wipe the slate clean, like swipe of an eraser on a chalk board. “Reid, this my friend and classmate Benedict. He goes by Ben for short. Ben, this is Reid, my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, we’re basically married,” Reid joked.

You elbowed him under the table and gave him a look. This was nothing for him to be jealous over.

Ben stuck his hand out but rather than shake it, Reid picked up something off of the plate and pushed a small piece into your mouth. His fingers linger on your lips as you chewed the unexpected bite. Your friend slowly lowered his hand, realizing that a hand shake would not be happening.

Unbothered, Reid chatted away. “Do you like it? I knew you would. When I saw they had some, I made sure to get a lot.”

You were put in an awkward position.

On one hand, if you paid too much attention to Ben, Reid was likely to get more territorial. On the other, if you gave into Reid’s posturing, he may feed into it and put on an even bigger air. Not to mention that Ben wasn’t stupid. He probably already figured out that Reid wasn’t a fan.

Yes. You would have to play this very delicately.

“It is really good. Thanks, baby.” He practically preened and continued to feed you. “Hey, Ben? Have you started thinking about your final project for Bird’s class yet?”

The two of you shared your respective plans for a class you were both in, Reid observing with sharp eyes.

“I feel stupid now that I know what you’re doing,” Ben confessed. “You’re so smart. Probably the smartest in our year.”

“Yeah. She is,” Reid answered before you had a chance to speak up. His jaw clenched and he pulled you slightly closer into his chest. The boys stared each other down until Ben abruptly glanced down at his stomach.  

A loud, angry gurgle rang out. Ben looked horrified as he excused himself in a panic, presumably to rush to the nearest bathroom.

“Nice to meet you, Benedict.”

You figured out what was going on when you saw Reid trying to hold his laughter in. You glared at the blonde and he couldn’t control himself any longer. He wiped a tear from his eye he was giggling so hard.

“Are you crazy?” you hissed, trying to keep the volume down despite your anger. “That was totally uncalled for!”

He tried waving it off. “He’ll be fine. The spell wasn’t even a strong one.”

“First, he’s a good friend and only a friend. He didn’t deserve to crap his pants because you got jealous. Second, you promised to stop using so much.”

Still, he insisted, “It’s not a big deal,” as he reached to pick at the food plate.

Not backing down, you took a grape from him and flung it at his face. He rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“Seriously? He’ll be fine in ten, fifteen minutes max. Until then, he can think about how douchey it is to flirt with other people’s girlfriends.”

Flirting? At what point was any of that considered flirting? “Just because someone gives me a compliment, doesn’t mean they’re interested in that way.”

At last he deflated a little. Scratched the back of his neck where skin met blonde locks. “Okay, maaaybe I overreacted…but can you blame me? You’re amazing and I’m just a guy that manages to screw up all the time.”

Reid was a great guy, no question about it, but his self-doubt got the best of him sometimes. Being the “black sheep” of the family and the Sons left him with insecurities that he still worked through. Getting him to admit he was wrong was always half of the battle. Once he did, it was a simple matter of reassuring him.

“Hey,” you said as you stroked the back of his hand. “How many times have we had this talk? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not even for Benedict?” he pouted.

“Not even for Ben,” you answered, pulling him into a hug. “And why are you so hung up on calling him by his full name?”

Reid scoffed. “It’s so pretentious. He definitely comes from old money.”

“Umm, baby, you come from old money. Is that the pot calling the kettle black?”

He muttered so you couldn’t make out what he said.

“Okay, how about we make a deal,” you offered. He lifted his head, seemingly interested. “You apologize for your behavior when Ben comes back—and you’d better call him Ben. You do that and I’ll give you a reward when we get home.”

To show him the kind of reward you meant, you kissed the corner of his mouth, your finger trailing up his thigh. His eyes widened, the black of his pupil dilated in normal, non-magical way. Oh, he was undeniably down to agree to the deal.

You gave hi one last peck. “Now remember: Ben. Not Benedict.”

“I don’t know. Benedict has more of a ring to it—” He stopped mid-sentence when you glared. “Fine. I’ll be nice to Ben.”

He may be a dramatic goof, but he was your dramatic goof. And if he needed a reminder every now and then, along with some tough love, then you were happy to do it.

“Good boy,” you said with a big smile.

_______________

Hopefully I did jealous Reid justice! I haven’t written him in a while so I hope he’s not too off the mark. Older Reid still has childish impulses when he gets jealous but he is mature enough to admit when he’s in the wrong now. And even though Pogue is the head foodie, I think all the boys are big eaters with the magic use and working out. 

Thanks for reading :) 

[sunwoahs]

sweater. | na jaemin

genre: fluff

warnings: swearing

word count: 652

You were out of breath as you sat in your seat at the huge lecture hall, shrugging off your backpack and putting it on the floor. Damn, history. Why do we have to learn about the names of people that don’t even exist anymore. You didn’t even want to be in this class but it’s a requirement for your course so you had no choice.

“Are you okay?” your seatmate Lia asked, handing you her water bottle.

“Yeah, just ran like a four blocks across campus from my boyfriend’s dorm to mine to grab my backpack and ran back all the way here,” you said. “So yeah, peachy.”

Lia chuckled as you hand her back the bottle. “Of course you did. I just wish you’d tell me--”

She got cut of when the doors of the lecture hall opened loudly and four gorgeous men walked through. Everyone stared at them with no ounce of shame. Of course who would not want to look at them, they’re almost ethereal. Almost.

Lee Jeno, captain of the fencing team, with his usual ripped jeans and leather jacket.

Huang Renjun, student council president, with his strip of bleached hair.

Lee Donghuck, lead to every university musical, wearing a black turtleneck with a smug smile as usual.

And Na Jaemin, swim captain, with his bright smile that lit up the room. It would be disgustingly cute if any other person has his smile but with him he carries it with such confidence that if feels intimidating.

Everybody sees them as these untouchable walking gods. The fact that they look so put together for a 7AM class must be a proof of that.

Lia gasped as they passed through your seats, the smell of their expensive perfumes lingering. “Dang, two semesters and I still refuse to believe they’re real,” she said. “Too bad they ain’t dating anyone.”

“Too bad or too good?” Someone in front of you said with a little wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Duh, Mia, we’re obviously far beneath them. Like they’d go for sleep deprived college students.”

The girls around you nodded their head and laughed, like such thing is impossible. You just scoffed.

“Come on YN, just admit they’re pretty,” said Eunbin, looking down at you and your outfit. “Not like you know what’s considered pretty anyway considering your taste.”

You felt Lia tense beside you. You were friends with Eunbin but she just comes off too downgrading sometimes. You laughed it off, such comments are so stupid anyway.

As you were playfully arguing with your little circle of people you heard someone.

“Hey YN,” you turned your head as you heard Jaemin’s voice from across the room. ”You look really good in that sweater.” The other three boys beside him snickered.

“Fuck off, Na.” you yelled back.

Then you realized what you did.

Oh shit. You just yelled at Na Jaemin in public.

There were audible gasps around the room. You can feel the burning stares of some girls around you. This is not how you imagine your morning to go. The laugher of the three boys got louder as Jaemin stood up and walked in your direction. You’d think he was pissed off based on his smirk if it wasn’t for the mischievous glint in his eyes.

He stopped directly in front of you, crossing his arms. You can clearly see pieces of his brown hair sticking up, but it still looks purposefully done. Placing his hands on you desk, he leaned forward, face coming too close to yours.

“I was looking for that sweater earlier baby," he said, voice loud and clear in the silence of the large hall. You remember picking it out his closet earlier, not even bothering to say bye to him as he was in the shower, both of you waking up late when your alarm failed to ring.

“But anything of mine is yours anyway.”

[thatslikely]

Fred Weasley’s Day Off (Part 1) - F.W.

Fred Weasley’s Day Off- Fred Weasley x Gender Neutral!Reader [Ferris Bueller’s Day Off AU]

Warnings: only occasional mild language

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this is Part 1 of my new 5 part series, Fred Weasley’s Day Off! You can find the series masterlist here. This part is going pretty similar to the movie, but as the story unfolds, I promise it isn’t a carbon copy of John Hughe’s masterpiece. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name, Y/L/N is Your Last Name, and thoughts are in italics.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @probably-peeves @horrorxweasley @weasleywh0r3s​

if you want to be added to be added to my general (or this series!)’s taglist, send me a dm or ask!

If you haven’t seen Ferris Bueller’s Day off or just need a refresher, HERE all all the scenes included in this part in chronilogical order! I HIGHLY reccomend giving these a watch, for they make the situations a lot easier to understand (and they’re hilarious).

----

It’s a beautiful day today, temperatures in the upper 70’s. You can expect plenty of sun and not a cloud in sight. Right now, it’s 75 at lakefront, 74 at Midway, 73 at the O’hare.

“Arthur!” Molly Weasley screeched, beckoning her husband to Fred and George’s messy bedroom. The walls were plastered with large posters of their favorite bands and sports teams (mainly Fred’s), and an expensive computer sat on the desk in the corner. The door to the room was ajar, a frantic mother feeling a haggard Fred Weasley’s forehead.

“What's the matter?” Arthur asked, briefcase in hand.

“It’s Fred, for Merlin’s sake look at him!”

Fred laid slumped under the hand-knitted quilt like a corpse, his hair tousled and his chin unshaved. She continued, “he doesn’t have a fever, but his stomach hurts and he’s seeing spots!” Fred peeled his pained, umber eyes open, his weak gaze pointed to his suit-clad father.

A sympathetic Arthur reached for Fred’s cold and clammy hands, feeling them with a shudder. He’s got a bad cold, he thought, poor boy needs to stay home and rest.

“I’m fine, I’ll get up. I have a test today.” Fred leaned up slightly, his stuffy nose attempting to breathe. His baggy eyes drifted around the room, glazing the empty bed parallel to his’. “No!” Molly and Arthur Weasley stated firmly in unison, pressing his aching chest into the soft bed.

“I have to take it. I-I wanna go to a good college, so I can have a fruitful life.” Fred kept attempting to get out of bed, only for Molly’s gentle hands to guide him back down.

“Oh fine, what’s this? What’s his problem?” Ron leaned against the untidy bedroom’s door frame, his arms crossed, his face donning an unamused expression tinged with jealousy. He was looking daggers into Fred, who reciprocated nothing but a wink.

“He doesn’t feel well,” Molly stated, not pleased in the slightest with Ron’s distasteful demeanor.

“Yeah, right,” Ron rebutted with a scowl. The tips of Ron’s ears seared with resentment for his brother and anger at his naive and biased parents.

“Ronnie? Is that you?” Fred asked, his blurry vision making the outline of his brother near indistinguishable from the rest of his room. “Ronnie? I can’t see that far.” Fred leaned up in an attempt to see his brother, before falling backward with a dramatic moan.

“Dry that one out, you could fertilize the garden,” the younger ginger spat, tapping his toe furiously.

“Ronald, you get to school!” Molly demanded, vehemently gesturing for him to leave.

“You’re letting him stay home? If I was bleeding out my eyes you’d still make me go to school! This is so unfair.” Jealousy oozed from Ron’s clenched jaw like venom.

“Ron, please don’t be upset with me. You have your health, be thankful,” Fred said coolly. His eyes remained glinted with mischief, causing a furious Ron to storm off in a huff.

The concerned mother and father turned back to a wheezing Fred. Molly tucked him in tighter, cooing, “Now listen, I’ll be showing that new family some houses today, so I’ll be in the area. The office will know just where to find me if you need anything, okay?” A wave of gratefulness swept over Fred’s face.

“It’s nice to know I have such loving, caring parents. You’re both very special people.” Molly caressed Fred’s ashen cheek before planting a compassionate kiss on his warm forehead.

“G’bye champ,” Arthur said to his son before carefully shutting his door and walking to the garage.

They bought it.

Incredible. One of the worst performances of my career, and they never doubted it for a second. Fred peeled back the curtains blocking the beautiful view from his large windows with a smirk. He looked out the panes, admiring the gorgeous weather. How could I be expected to go to school on a day like this?

This is my ninth sick day this semester; it’s getting pretty tough coming up with new illnesses. If I go for ten, I’ll have to barf up a lung, so I’d better make this one count. Fred carefully adjusted his extortionate stereo, his fail-proof plan slowly piecing together.

Fred then stepped over to his desk, reaching for an old, hefty soccer trophy of his and some rope. The key to faking out the parents is the clammy hands. He started knotting the rope around the shiny golden award methodically. A lot of people’ll tell you to go for the old ‘phony fever’, but if you’ve got a nervous mother, you could wind up in the doctor's office. That’s worse than school.

“It’s a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school.”

He scrupulously placed the trophy contraption behind his door with a satisfied nod, proceeding to the bathroom dressed in his grey and maroon striped bathrobe. Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Fred undressed and stepped into the steamy shower, quickly shampoo-ing his ginger mop into a spiky mohawk. He gave some thought about his plans for the leisurely day before removing the showerhead, gripping it like a microphone, serenading an imaginary audience, “I recall Central Park in fall. How you tore your dress, what a mess, I must confess…”

----

“Spinnet?” A greasy Mr. Snape drawled, spectacled eyes darting around the dingy classroom, illuminated with corporate fluorescent lights. “Spinnet?”

“Here!”

“Smith?” Silence. “Smith?”

“Present.”

“Weasley?” Snape asked, scanning the room for any signs of the irresponsible redhead.

“Weasley?” he repeated, uninterested and monotone. “Weasley?”

“Um, he’s sick,” a perky Cho Chang cut through the tense silence with a smile, “my best friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend heard from this guy, who knows this kid who saw Fred pass out at Florean’s last night! I guess it’s pretty serious.”

“Thank you, Cho,” Snape said impassively.

“No problem, whatsoever!”

----

A robotic ring emitted from the phone next to Lee Jordan’s bed, disturbing the perturbed ambiance of the inert bedroom. The hypochondriac occupying the sheets clicked the silver ‘answer’ button with a shallow sigh.

“Hello?” George Weasley asked, his voice deep and groggy.

“Georgie, babe, what’s happening?” Fred’s exuberant voice questioned from the other end of the line, starkly contrasting his twin’s nonbelligerent energy.

“Very little,” he responded in a trance-like state, eyes spacing out at the blank ceiling, his mind nearly detached from his aching body.

“How do you feel?”

“Shredded.” Half-empty pill bottles and antihypertensive drugs lined the bleak nightstand to his left.

“Get dressed and come on back home. I’m taking the day off,” Fred imposed. He sat in a lounge chair, next to the turquoise pool, soaking in the bright morning sun, which starkly contrasted George’s dark atmosphere. He held a Brick to his ear, sipping an iced Hawaiian drink from a swirly straw. The only thing covering his body was a pair of floral swim trunks; plastic sunglasses rested in the ginger nest atop his head.

“I can’t stupid, I’m sick. I think I got food poisoning from Lee’s awful cooking.”

“It’s all in your head, George, come back home,” Fred said more firmly, taking another sip of the fruity drink in the souvenir cup.  

“I feel like complete shit, Fred. I can’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Now come on over here so I can have a fun day off!” Fred demanded, hanging up the phone promptly. “Sheesh.”

George remained stiffly on the sheets, still as a statue, muttering, “I’m dying.” The phone chimed again with another call. Click.

“You’re not dying, you just can’t think of anything good to do!” Fred’s voice echoed through the dimly-lit room before the tone of an ended call took its place.

“Pardon my French,” said Fred to no one in particular, “but George is so tight, that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks, you’d have a diamond.”

Fred quickly abandoned the pool deck, instead continuing random antics around the vacant house, whether it was (horribly) playing his centuries-old clarinet, or prank calling gullible freshmen claiming he had an impending kidney transplant. This was the life.

“I’m so disappointed in George. Twenty bucks says he’s sitting in his car debating whether or not he should go out.”

Fred had hit the nail on the head. George sat in his four-wheeled hunk of junk for minutes, muttering to himself, “He’ll keep calling me. He’ll keep calling me until I go home. He’ll make me feel guilty. This is ridiculous! Okay, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go.” He turned the key of the run-down car, only for the engine to cough and heave. “Goddamn it!”

----

“Molly Weasley,” Molly introduced herself to the caller from her desk at the local real estate office. She held the landline phone in one hand, the other scratching numerals and figures onto some spreadsheets.

“This is Dolores J. Umbridge, Dean of Students. Are you aware that Fred is not at school today, Miss Weasley?” she asked punctually, her voice laced with irritation.

“Yes, I am. Poor Fred is home sick.”

“Are you also aware that Fred does not have what we consider an exemplary attendance record? He has missed an unacceptable number of school days.” Umbridge looked icy and collected on the outside, but deep down she was fuming with anger. “I have no reservation whatsoever about holding him back another year.”

“This is all news to me,” Molly replied, taken aback by Umbridge’s blunt threats.

“It usually is.” Dolores turned her attention to the hunky computer opposite her, ready with Fred’s academic profile, scanning the pixels signifying his number of absent days. When she finally opened her jaw to announce the number to Mrs. Weasley with a devious grin, she was horrified to see the number of days slowly ticking down to two.

“I asked for a car, I got a computer,” Fred said with an unamused but smug smirk as he typed lines of code into his computer back at the Weasley household, “how’s that for being born under a bad sign?”

“I can appreciate how this time of year, children are prone to taking the day off. However, in Fred’s case, I can assure you, he’s a very sick boy.” And with that, Dolores hung up on a sympathetic Molly, her tight brunette curls gradually frizzing from aggravation.

“I don’t trust this… Fred Weasley,” Umbridge confided to her secretary, Augustus Filch. “What’s so dangerous about a character like Fred is that he gives good students bad ideas. The last thing I need is fifteen-hundred Fred Weasley disciples running around these halls. He jeopardizes my ability to effectively govern this student body.”

“Well, he makes you look like a bitch is what he does, Dolores,” Filch said with a smirk.

“You’re wrong,” Dolores asserted, fiery gaze piercing through Filch’s soul.

“Well, he is very popular. The sportos and motorheads, geeks, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads, they all adore him. They think he’s some righteous dude,” Filch said astutely.

“That is why I’ve got to catch him this time. Show these kids that you can’t just skip school nine times a semester like he has and get away with it!”

----

Mr. Binns, a prehistoric-looking man with novel-thick glasses, stood at the head of the classroom, giving his usual dull lecture. While he etched utter nonsense onto the chalkboard, you couldn’t help but release a bone-cracking yawn.

After years of sitting in your uncomfortable plastic chair, drowning out Mr. Binn’s boring babble, your saving grace arrived in the form of a grave Nurse Pomfrey.

You quickly slipped on your pale, leather jacket and stuffed your blank notebook into your backpack at the sight of the frail woman donning white scrubs like a dove, eager to escape class. Nurse Pomfrey had on a solemn face as she quickly whispered something into Mr. Binns’ ear before announcing to the uninterested class, “Y/N, Y/L/N, may I have a word with you?” You painted a look of surprise on your face before stepping into the hallway with the disturbed grey-haired woman.

“My dear, I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad tidings,” she said sorrowfully once out of the earshot of the small lecture hall, “your father called. Your grandmother has just passed.”

Your eyes welled with artificial tears, face drenched with heartbreak.

----

The landline echoed through Umbridge’s dreary, pale pink office.

“Dolores Umbridge,” she said pseudo-cheerfully into the handset held by her thulian claws.

“This is Phil Y/L/N,” a middle-aged man said, his voice slathered with a thick Chicago accent.

“How are you today, sir?” Dolores asked suspiciously.

“Well, today we’ve had a bit of bad luck. It’s been a tough morning,” he croaked, “now if you wouldn’t mind excusing Y/N, we have a lot of family business to attend to.”

“I’d be happy to, just produce a corpse and I’ll release Y/N. I want to see this ‘dead grandmother’ firsthand.” She peeled the phone away from her face, smiling valiantly at a mortified Filch, saying slyly, “It’s okay, it’s Fred Weasley. I’m setting a trap for him.”

“Dolores, I’m sorry, did you say you wanted to see a body?” an ill-tempered Mr. Y/L/N questioned in disbelief through the speaker.

“Yes. Just roll her old bones up here and I’ll gladly retrieve Y/N for you. That’s school policy.” Dolores looked so pleased with herself, a devilish smirk resting on her lips. The telephone in Filch’s office chimed, and he quickly dashed to answer it.

“Hello, Dolores Umbridge, Dean of Students’ office,” his gravelly voice answered.

“Hi. This is Fred Weasley. Can I speak to Miss Umbridge, please?” Filch’s mouth went desert-dry in horror, his aged, grey eyes bulging out of his skull. He dashed to a taunting Umbridge, jumping and waving for her to shut up.

“I’ll tell you what, if you don’t like my policies, you can come down here and kiss my-”

“Fred Weasley’s on line two, Dolores!” Umbridge’s eyes went as wide as saucers; her whole face, even her bright fuchsia lipstick, turned as white as a sheet.

She was quick to switch to line two, listening to Fred Weasley’s voice which filled the otherwise silent room.

“Miss Umbridge, I’m not feeling too well today,” Fred started, a smug and valiant grin on his face. He adjusted his clean and gelled hair, which perfectly complemented the perfectly-tailored suit he donned. “Would it be possible for Ron to bring home any assignments from my classes? Have a nice day.”

The only sound left in the office was the droning disconnect tone.

The ‘line one’ buttoned flashed bright red like a siren. With a shaky, wrinkled pointer finger painted with a coat of magenta nail polish, she hesitantly pressed the button, sucking in a breath.

“Mr. Y/L/N, I-I think I owe you an apology,” she said, mortified.

“I should say you do!” the deep voice on the other line boomed. Umbridge peeled open her lips for an apology, only to be cut off with, “Well I think you should be sorry for Merlin’s sake! A family member dies, and you insult me! What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“W-well I really don’t know. I didn’t think I was talking to you, I thought you were someone else,” Umbridge barely managed to spit out. “You know I would never deliberately insult you like that!”

“Find out where she is!” Umbridge hissed to an idle but nervous Filch, her palm covering the phone’s mouthpiece. He promptly scrambled around the surrounding metal filing cabinets, reaching for various binders and manilla folders.

“This isn’t over yet, do you read me?” The infuriated voice’s threat yelled into the frantic principal’s ear.

“Loud and clear, Mr. Y/L/N!” she responded while scouring the various sets of drawers for Y/N’s schedule.

“Call me sir, goddammit!”

“Yes sir!”

----

“That’s better. Mind your P’s and Q’s buster, and remember who you’re dealing with!” an exasperated George Weasley shouted into the kitchen’s phone, his voice at least an octave lower than usual. His look of fury was soon replaced with a smile from ear to ear, quite proud of the convincing-ness of his impression.  

A dashing, suit-clad Fred Weasley soon strutted into the lemon-yellow kitchen, charismatically introducing himself, “Weasley, Fred Weasley.”

George held his palm over the mouthpiece of the phone, asking, “I’m scared. What if she recognizes my voice?”

“Impossible. You’re doing great.”  

The self-conscious redhead brought the phone back to his ear, shouting “Umbridge!” furiously. Groaning echoed from the other end of the line. “Umbridge, calm down!”  

“I don’t have all day to bark at you, so I’ll make this short, and sweet. I want my child outside of the school in ten minutes by themself!”

Fred gave George a harsh tap on his shoulder, hissing, “That’s too suspicious! She’ll think something’s up!”

“You do it then!” the other twin whispered back.

“Talk.”

“You!”

“Talk.”

“Fine!” he fizzled. “Umbridge! Pay Attention!” The magenta-suited principal was scuttering around her office, frantically searching for your schedule and something to repair the escalating situation.

“Umbridge! Changed my mind. I want you out there with them, I’d like to have a few words with you!” Fred swiftly slapped the phone from George’s clutches, causing it to fall on the tile carelessly. The identical gingers both scrambled for the phone, ending up in George’s grasp once again.

He yelled to the mouthpiece rapidly, “On second thought, we don’t have time to talk right now! We’ll get together soon and have lunch!”

Fred kicked George’s rear hard, causing a small yelp to escape George’s lips. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he spat at Fred, who quickly slammed the phone back to the base.

“Where’s your brain?” he harshly asked his irritated brother.

“Why’d you kick me?” George retorted, hurt.

“Where’s your brain?”

“Why’d you kick me?”

“Where’s your brain?”

“I asked you first!”

“How are we gonna pick up Y/N if Umbitch is out there with them?” Fred rhetorically asked, seething.

“I- I said for them to be alone and you freaked,” George stated, reverting back to his timid tendencies.

“Now, I didn’t… I didn’t hit you. I lightly slapped you.”

“You hit me.” Tension sliceable with a butterknife filled the kitchen.

“Look, don’t ask me to participate in your stupid antics if you don’t like the way I do it. You make me get out of bed. You make me come over here. You made me make a phony phone call to Dolores Umbridge? That woman could expel me, expel us, and then, you deliberately hurt my feelings!”

“No… I didn’t deliberately hurt your feelings,” Fred said, his words tinged with guilt. “What’re you doing?” George grabbed his red hockey jersey and keys that previously laid on the island.

“I’m going back to Lee’s, Fred. I need some rest. Have a nice life.”

“No, no, c’mon. Don’t do that, George,” Fred pleaded ruefully, “George, come back. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I’m sorry.”

“You serious?”

Fred gave a slow and sincere nod. George swiveled back around, setting his belongings back on the counter, his face lightened slightly.

“Now, to fix the situation, we’re gonna have to do something you’re not going to like.”

----

Fred and George peeled the sliding glass doors of the luxurious garage apart, revealing the interior, which was mainly lined with thousands of dollars worth of vintage car memorabilia, save for the treasured vehicle in the center.

“The 1961 Ford Anglia 105E Deluxe,” George said, his eyes pointed down at the prized pompadour blue car resting idly in front of the duo. Fred's eyes were also fixed on the vehicle, though his’ were illuminated with awe and mischief.

“Dad spent 3 years restoring this car,” he continued, hands behind his back, not daring to leave fingerprints on its shiny surface, “it is his love, it is his passion…”

“It is his fault he didn’t lock the garage,” Fred smirked, sauntering around the exterior of the automobile, slobbering all over the surface like a dog with fresh meat.

“Fred, what are you talking about?” George asked nervously, already knowing what Fred was plotting, “Dad loves this car even more than he loves you!”

“Fred, no.” Fred swiped his fingers over the perfect coat of paint, occasionally posing with the car as if he was a model on the front cover of a magazine.

“Que Bella!” he said with a chef’s kiss, still drooling over the car’s magnificence.

“Remember how insane he went when I snapped my retainer? And that was a tiny piece of plastic!” Fred paid an anxious George no mind, instead continuing his admiration for Arthur’s most valuable possession.

“George, I’m sorry, but we can’t pick up Y/N in that piece of scrap. He’d never believe Mr. Y/L/N would drive something like that!”

“It’s not a piece of scrap.”

Fred opened the driver’s side door, slowly sitting down in the comfortable cushioned seat, his umber eyes never breaking contact with George’s identical ones.

“He knows the mileage, Fred.”

“Look, this is real simple. Whatever miles we put on, we’ll take off.” Fred said, barely giving George the time of day.

“How?”

“We’ll drive home backwards.”

“No,” George said firmly, almost like a mother. Fred turned the key of the Anglia, its restored engine roaring ten times better than George’s hunk of junk’s.

“How about we rent a nice Cadillac, my treat!” He yelled as Fred slowly drove away, the revving of the vintage engine drowning out his voice. George stood frozen in disbelief, before Fred slowly backed up, beckoning George to join him.

With a heavy heart, George warily climbed into the back seat of the vehicle. And with that, Fred floored the gas, speeding off towards the Shermer High.

----

“I had a grandmother once,” Umbridge awkwardly stated, in an attempt to soothe your heart overcome with (fake) grief. “Two, actually.”

The suburbs outside of the Windy City lived up to their name today; Umbridge’s frizzy brown curls swayed in the strong breeze. The temperature today was the best it had been since last Autumn; it was a given that Fred would skip.

You patiently waited on the concrete steps outside the school, Umbridge continuing her “comforting” words, attempting to stitch the wounds caused by your grandmother’s staged death. You weren’t focused on the thulian tyrant, however, instead, your eyes waited on the road for the sight of a ruby-red-haired boy.

“Between grief and nothing, I’d take grief,” Umbridge said flatly.

“Great,” you replied softly, eager to shut the toadish old lady up. She opened her magenta-tinted lips to add something else, but she decided against it, promptly shutting her mouth without a sound escaping.

The stentorian roaring of the engine residing in cerulean Ford Anglia filled the silent air and idle parking lot, lightening your spirits instantly. While you didn’t doubt that Fred would’ve shown up eventually, his timing was impeccable. It didn’t hurt that he showed up in a killer ride, either.

A tall, lanky man drenched in a long beige trench coat, horn-rimmed sunglasses, and a businessman-looking fedora, which masked his fiery orange hair, emerged from the car, leaning against its body.

“Oh Y/N honey, hurry along now,” the stranger in disguise bellowed, his voice slightly higher pitched than ‘Mr. Y/L/N’s’ from the phone, a thickly-slathered Chicago accent present nonetheless.

“I guess that’s my dad.”

You grabbed the annoying principal’s wrinkly, cold hand, reciting, “Miss Umbridge, Dolores. You’re a beautiful woman, I wanna thank you for your warmth and compassion.”

A furious Ron watched from the scene play out from the large front windows of the school, immediately recognizing Fred and his infuriating antics with a scowl. Why should he get to skip while the rest of us have to stay? I’ve gotta catch him.

Umbridge looked near disturbed at your counterfeit words on thankfulness, before you eagerly stepped down to the car, giving ‘Mister Y/L/N’ a quick hug.

“Do you have a kiss for Daddy?” Fred jokingly asked with a smirk.

“Are you kidding?” you replied, leaning into his soft lips for a passionate kiss, which maybe would have escalated a little further if he didn’t drag you in the passenger seat of the Anglia.

“So that's how it is in their family,” Umbridge uttered as she watched the nearly-French kiss perched from her spot at the top of the stairway. She swiftly pivoted around walking to the front entrance to the school, when Fred floored the Ford again, its loud engine roaring off into the distance.

“Hi Georgie, you comfortable?” you asked, eyes towards the crampted back seat.

Once the three of you were out of Umbridge’s eyeline, a compact George sprung up from the lonely backseat, saying, “Hi, Y/N. No.”

“So, what're we gonna do?” you asked the dashingly handsome driver next to you with a smile.

“The question isn’t: What are we going to do? The question is: What aren’t we going to do?”

“Don’t say we’re not going to take the car home. Please don’t say that we’re not going to take the car home,” George mumbled, hopeful that Fred would comply, though he already knew that Fred would be doing the exact opposite.

If you had access to a car like this, Fred mentally narrated, gesturing to the amenities-rich Anglia, would you take it back right away? Me neither.

And with that, Fred recklessly rounded the bendy road, speeding off towards downtown Chicago.

[i-am-infinite]

Guilt (Part 2): The Market

(Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!F!Reader)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Description: Moff Gideon has found someone else to run his experiments on and word gets back to Din. Will he take his son far away and try and find somewhere safe? Or will the guilt of an innocent being put in his son’s place eat away at him? (No Y/N or ___ used)

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: violence, mention of blood, needles, crude talk, symtoms of anxiety attack, fluff, angst, implied death and death, let me know if I'm missing any

A/N: This took a while to write because I was really distraught after Chpt 14. Also planning on turning this into a little series. I'm going to try and finish it before my next semester starts in Feb. I also don’t know how to write fight sequences so sorry in advance. 

You see a stormtrooper take aim at your rescuer. Right when he pulls the trigger, you reach your hand out screaming, “NO!”

It was supposed to miss him. It missed him before. Instead of bending out of the way, it hits him and the Mandalorian goes down fast. Before you know it, more troopers come, grabbing Dr. Pershing and dragging him away. They start coming towards you when you hear yourself say, “No, please no!” You could run towards the speeders, but there’s too many of them now, they can catch up easier. Looking back at the shiny man, tears leave your eyes. You were supposes to save him. That’s how it was supposed to happen. You start screaming the only name you know for him as a stormtrooper grabs your arms and has them twisted behind your back. Dragging you back to where you escaped from, the stormtrooper is calling your name. 

He keeps calling it as he shakes your arms then follows it with, “Wake up.” Why does that mechanical voice sound different from the rest? The words echo in your head. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. 

The stormtrooper helmets transforms into the one of the Mandalorian as you open your eyes. His hands leave your upper arms as he crouches in front of you. Still disoriented, your own hand comes up to your cheeks to shield your face when you realize it feels damp to the touch. Closing your eyes again and taking deep breathes you have to tell yourself over and over again: He’s here. I’m here. It was just a dream. Finally calmed down, you open your eyes to Mando still squatting in front of you. 

“You okay?” His modulated voice says to you. Nodding your head while wiping way the last of the tears, you can’t help but feel heat rise to your cheeks, wishing you could just disappear as you sink further into the copilot chair. “You want to talk about it?” he tentatively asks next. If it were anyone else, you would’ve probably said no, but seeing his tenderness as he cared for Grogu over the past few hours in hyperspace makes you give in. 

“We- we were back there, about to get on the speeders,” your heart rate picks up again thinking of it. You have no idea why the dream is affecting you this much. Continuing on with a shaky voice, “The stormtrooper, h- he shot you before I- I could- and” tears were forming in your eyes again, “and they st- started dragging me off and-” your voice suddenly barely above a whisper as you continue, “you weren’t moving.” 

You shouldn’t have shared it. Oh gosh, you wish you could take it back now. He hasn’t said anything. He probably thinks you’re weak now, unable to handle yourself, let alone a nightmare. It was a stupid dream, you are about to tell him when you hear him sigh, “Give me your hand.” Confused, you hesitate, causing him to tilt his helmet to the side and hold out his hand. Giving in, you hold out your own, placing it in his still hesitant. Moving his hand down to your wrist, gripping it lightly as he moves it his chest plate, he speaks again, “Feel this? This is beskar, strong enough to withstand blaster shots. While what you did was impressive, all you stopped from happening is me having to clean my back plate later.” Your face falls at this, noticing it, he brings his other hand over yours. You feel all the heat you have left in your body run up to your face. He declares, “That dream wouldn’t have come true. You’re safe. They won’t get to you again, I promise.” 

Still with your hand against the cool metal, all you can say is, “Oh. Thank you.” You wait for him to let go of your hand and wrist before you pull away, but he still hasn’t. Grogu stirs on the chair to your right, waking up after seeming to have slept through your nightmare. As if the noise startled Mando, he finally lets go and picks up his son. Clanking could be heard coming up from the ladder. 

Mando sits back in the pilot chair with the little green child who keeps trying to reach for the different buttons on his lap, as Dr. Pershing also seems to have finally woken up. Coming into the cockpit carrying a discarded IV bag. Oops. Should have put that back in at some point. 

Pershing comes as squats to the side of your chair, blocked off by the arm rest. “Looks like you’ve got some of your color back, which is good. Just to be safe, you should probably leave this in for longer.” Just nodding your head in response, scared your voice will falter, but now not knowing if it was from the dream or the prolonged touch of the beskar man. Or the fact that Pershing just pointed out how you’re blushing right in front of the person who caused in the first place. 

Trying not to look up at Mando, due to sheer embarrassment, you fail at your task when he turns to watch Pershing with the child still on his lap. He tries to be causal of his hand on his thigh, a little too close to his blaster as the doctor gets closer to you, while Grogu plays with his fingers. Father and protector, you smile to yourself. Realizing your line of gaze, he moves his other hand to hold to his child and abruptly turns his chair towards the stars as you feel a cold pinch in your arm. 

. 

The next hour or so is spent in silence, preparing to land on who-knows-what-planet. As long as you can get off this chilly ship and descend out of the numbness of space, it doesn’t matter where. You might be being a little over-dramatic, but wearing a now torn, thin, short sleeved shirt, some sort of pants with blaster powder now littering it, and no shoes, you think you deserve the right to be just a tad dramatic. The IV bag is finally finished, so there’s one less ice-cold thing touching your skin. Still you shiver in your seat, not wanting to impose too much and ask for a blanket or a change of clothes. Hopefully wherever you get off is warm, or at least warmer. 

Finally descending, you see tall, colorful structures, bright blue skies, and so much green. It’s beautiful. You can’t take your gaze off the gorgeous landscape getting larger before your eyes. Pulling your legs away from your chest, you brave the cold floor yet again to try and get a closer look. Audibly making a noise as you shiver, both men turn towards you, finally taking in your tattered appearance. With a static-y sigh, your starting to think that’s how he starts everything he says, the Mandalorian notes, “We should probably get you some better clothes.” His helmet points down to your feet, then tilts as he says, “And shoes.” 

. 

Bare feet hit the luscious green grass, toes curling and uncurling into it as you deeply inhale the fresh air. The sun hitting your skin makes you feel alive again, warming you from outside to inside. It’s as if you can feel the golden rays pouring out of you. You have never seen nature as brilliant and as vibrant as it is here, you never want to leave its warmth. Too caught up in your own little world, you don’t notice the two men start walking towards the city. Grogu babbling in Mando’s bag snaps you out of it and you slightly jog to try and catch up to them. 

It takes a while to walk into the city, considering where Mando landed his ship. By the time you actually get there, your feet feel like one of the thousand rocks you’ve stepped on during this journey. The armored man barely seems to notice at first of you trailing behind, only stopping when the city is finally in view. So now to top of being cold and unequipped for this amount of walking, you are now tired. Grrrwwww. And hungry. Hopefully no one heard the atrocious noise your stomach just made. When was the last time you ate? 

Mando must of heard it growl because before you can react, he tosses you a few credits and tells you to go get something to eat while he takes Pershing somewhere to set up his new life. You didn’t catch the last part because you’re already following your nose to the nearest source of food. While walking away you hear more static come out of his helmet, like he was sighing again, but it wasn’t the same as last time. It almost sounded like a laugh. Was... was he laughing at you? You whip your head around, but they’ve already disappeared. Shaking your head, you turn back and let your stomach take the lead again. 

. 

Mando and Grogu finally come back when you are all about done with this meat on a stick. They find you sitting in front of this little shop, eyes closed in bliss about finally eating. There’s barely anyone around, so it was not very hard to spot you. Finally looking up, ripping one of the last pieces off the kebob, you beam up at him. You don’t know it but seeing you happy after the events of this morning, brings a smile to the bounty hunter’s face. Offering his hand to help you stand, he asks, “Better?” You nod your head in response while he helps pull you up. Shoving he little piece of meat into your mouth, you hear his voice yet again, “What even is that?” 

“I don’t know,” you counter. “All I know if that it smelled really good. Honestly if I knew what it was, I probably wouldn’t be able to eat it,” you finish with a giggle. He just nods, still without you seeing the smile planted on his face. You two walk side by side going into the city, with Grogu in a bag on his father’s hip of course. 

You can hear the main part of the city before you actually see it. People are bustling, vendors litter the streets, it’s astonishing. And overwhelming, very overwhelming. Your breath hitches as you recall that a vendor was the way they found you before. But no, no you’re safe with the Mandalorian, he said they wouldn’t get to you. No, that he wouldn’t let them get to you. Without noticing, you start walking closer to Mando, more into his personal space than he usually likes. You’re close enough to graze his hand while walking, and right now you desperately want to reach out and grab it. Okay, it’s okay, just focus on your breathing, in and out, in and out. 

Too busy trying to calm yourself, you don’t notice Mando look over at you after he felt you invade his space. He whispers to you, “Are you okay?” but the volume is too much to get his question to your ears. Instead he lightly puts his hand at the small of your back, causing you to slightly jump. Looking around, your line of vision finally falls on the bounty hunter’s arm, now removed from your back, moving back towards his side. A blush creeps up to your cheeks as your realize that he noticed you. Pull it together. You manage to walk only a few more feet until someone bumps into you and instinct takes over as you grab onto something to steady yourself. The thing that happens to be is Mando’s arm. 

Luckily, he extends it behind your back to steady you, but not before sending the poor soul that accidentally bumped you what can only assumed is a death glare. That poor man turns as pale as a ghost. You almost forgot how menacing he could be. You’ve only been on the receiving end of Mando’s protection and don’t want to know what the opposite would be like. You two continue to walk with his arm guiding you, until you see it. Shoes. You nearly forgot about the pain in your feet until you saw them. Hand no longer on your back, you hurry forward, leaving the now frenzied and confused Mandalorian behind. 

Reaching the stand, you turn to find Mando with his hand on his blaster and his bucket of a helmet frantically looking around the area for a sign of danger. The T of his visor finally looks back at you and you just mouth to him, shoes! and then point at your bare feet. He tilts his head to the side and you just know that he sighed. Shaking your head, you let out a huff of air that resembles a laugh at his signature way of expressing himself. 

. 

Before you know it, you have new shoes, already on your feet, a few shirts and two pairs of pants. Mando insisted you have layers because who knows where they might end up. This begs the question, what kind of trouble has he gotten into before, better yet what trouble are you getting yourself into? Babbles from a hidden baby remind you that maybe the trouble is worth it. 

The shiny man and you continue walking around the marketplace of the city. He said he wanted to see if they had any spare parts that he could use for the Razor Crest and you were just happy to be wearing boots and having the extra time to break them in. “You can go look around if you want, I’m going to be over here,” Mando states as he inspects some round, gear-looking thing. Figuring you’d get bored of the mechanical items, you go to wander. “Hey,” the modulated voice cuts through again, “stay close.” Nodding, you only go two booths down to look at the books laid out. 

Eyes scan to find anything remotely related to this thing, this power, you and Grogu possess. In the back of your mind also knowing you’re searching for something to tell you more about Mandalorian culture, as you have become intrigued by your new companion. While looking, something shiny, much like Mando, catches your eye. Turning to the next booth, the item seems to be a hair pin. You freeze. 

A flower hair pin. Pearl in the center, with gray and white iridescent petals. No, no, no, no this can’t be happening. It feels like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Your legs feel like lead, but you need to get out of there, you have to. The table has more unfinished glass pieces there too, just like before. They can find you. They can get you. They can get the baby. No that can’t happen, you force your tense legs to move as your hands shake. Backing up away from the stand, you bump into the book stand, letting a stack of books fall into the dirt. “Sorry, sorry,” you say with an unsteady voice. You need to find Mando, you need to find the baby, you need to -

Hands grab the back of your shoulders, as you think it’s over. You try to shake them off when you’re turned around to a familiar T visor. You stop fighting against him and grab his forearms. Your breathing still hasn’t slowed as he asks with a sternness you haven’t heard from him, “What happened?”

You can’t think of how to explain with your mind and heart racing and can only answer with, “We need to get out of here.” He pesters why to better understand the situation but all you can answer with is, “please,” as tears threaten to spill. “We need to get out of here please Mando.” He looks around confused, trying to find any source of danger, but turns his attention back to you when your grip tightens and you try to pull the three of you out of there. 

He lets you lead him to the edge of the city, back towards the green scenery you landed in. Finally stopping you with his hands on your shoulders again, he calls your name, “You need to tell me what is going on.” Taking a few breaths trying to compose yourself, you explain how the day before you were taken, you were at a shop similar to the one you were at. How you saw this hair pin then cut your hand while the person working tried to help you clean up. Explaining how you thought nothing of it, until you realized they wanted your blood for experiments. You barely make it through telling him that you saw the same set up with the hair pin at that booth. 

“That’s how they must have found me. We need to get out of here before they recognize us, please,” you plead. His helmet hangs down low as he slides one hand down to take your hand and begins walking back towards the ship. 

Arriving back at the ship, Mando hands you the bag filled with new clothes, “Go change, I’ll take care of this.” Just thinking he meant to fly the three of you off the planet, you go into the ‘fresher and get ready to take off far away from here. Finally dressed and hearing the latch close, you climb up to the cockpit. Grogu gurgles and makes grabby hands for you to pick him up from the co-pilot seat. While doing so, you realize the pilot seat is empty. 

“Where’s your dad, huh little one?” you coo at him. You called out to Mando to get no response. Attempting to climb down the ladder with the child wasn’t easy, especially still worried from before. You call out to Mando again, this time more frantic as he’s nowhere to be found. Your hear rate increase as you search the ship. Pressing the button you think would open the latch of the ship does nothing. What? did he lock you in here? You open some cabinets to be met with his armory. Picking up a blaster, you start rambling to the kid, “Your dad won’t mind right? Yeah, he’d want you protected. I won’t need to use it, but just in case. Yeah, just in case. Why don’t we also hang out in the cockpit away from the doors? Sound good?” You’re only met with muffled babbles back as Grogu sticks his stubby hand in his mouth. “Yeah, we’re going to be okay. Nothing is going to happen.” You hope.

. 

Back in the city, Din is looking for a stand that has this... hair pin? Does he even know what one of those looks like? He’ll figure it out, you knocked some books over, so he decides he’ll start there. Unfortunately for Din, most of the vendors are closing down their booths. Dank farrik. He’s got to move quickly before they’re all closed. 

Speed walking, he comes across the same man working the booth Din was at before you panicked. He asks the man if he knows if there is a booth that sells this item, and thankfully he points Din in the right direction. Four booths down. The people who wanted his child, and now you, could’ve been four booths down from him and he had no idea. Now’s not the time to beat himself up over this, he needs answers. Stalking up to the table, he’s met with a young man cleaning up the stand. Without looking up the man says, “What can I help you with?” Din’s hand ghosts over the pin you described to him and sees the many broken pieces scattered on the table. 

“Seems a little... unsafe having all of these around,” Din observes while now moving around the table. The man finally looking up, goes white in the face and begins to run. Why do they always think they can outrun me? Chasing the man down an alley, Din uses his grappling hook around his feet and the man goes tumbling to the ground. Grabbing him by the collar to face him. Anger laced through his modulated voice, “Did you follow us?”

“Nope, just the lucky bastard that happened to be on the same planet as you,” He spits out. Din notices that he moves his jaw to the side, but the man continues, “Don’t worry they’ll find you and the child soon. Oh, and I’m sure the troopers will have a good time with that pretty little girl you have once  they get their hands on her.” Before Din can land a hand on this guy, he bites down on something and there’s electricity everywhere, just like he saw with Bo Katan. Din barely jumps off the man in time. Now full of adrenaline and anger he stands there for a few seconds thinking of his next move. Kriff. He needs to get back to you and his son. 

. 

You are sitting on the cold floor of the cockpit, with Grogu on your lap, hand hovering the blaster that is next to you on the ground. Banging coming from the Crest makes you jump. It sounds like the hatch opens, so you clutch Grogu closer and pick up the blaster as you stand up. The pram is still in the cockpit, so you put the baby that is pulling your hair in and close it. Going to the opening between the levels, with shaky hands, you raise the blaster and wait. Clanging can be heard when you finally hear Mando call your name and the kid’s.

Hopping down the ladder, blaster still in hand, you smile at him as he stands still. “What the hell are you doing with that,” he barks at you. You stand there dumbfounded, he’s the one that left you in the ship with his child. He should be glad your first thought was to protect him. He continues with his hands on his hips, “Do you even know how to use that?”

Still startled, you stammer, “You just- point and shoot?” With that his hands go up in astonishment and back down again, almost as if he’s saying, are you kriffing kidding me? Why is he so angry right now? 

“You’re - you’re the one that left me, that left us here,” you point back up to the cockpit, “I didn’t know if someone else could get in or not. Why are you so angry at me for trying to protect your son?” 

“You could have shot him or yourself, you don’t even know how to use it,” his voice raises and he takes it out of your hand. 

“I’m not the one that left us here defenseless!” you scream. Both of you stand there for second huffing at each other. Finally thinking a little bit more rationally, you ask, “Where did you even go?” 

Pushing past you, he put something in your hand, “I took care of it.” He climbs the ladder as you look. The hair pin. He took care of it? He took care of it. Your face falls thinking of what that means. Following him back up, you take Grogu from the pram and place him on your hip. 

“You took care of it?” you say astonished, “Care to elaborate?” Mando sits in the pilot chair already plotting a new location. 

“No.” Your eyes go wide as he spins the chair to face you. “I’m flying us out of here and I-,” his hands go up in defeat, “I need to eat. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come up.” He sounds less angry but still very annoyed. At this point you’re fuming. You spin on your heels with Grogu playfully slapping his little 3-fingered hand across your face for attention. 

You leave the cockpit and grab two food packets on the crate before the ladder opening. Stuffing them in your pocket, you try to maneuver yet again down the ladder with a baby clinging to you. Hopping off the last wrung, you go to sit on the crates you woke up on. Opening the packets, you help feed Grogu his. 

Why was he so mad? If anything, he should be thankful that you were being resourceful. And after the past couple of days you think you deserve the right to be a little worked up about things like this. The anger is fueling you right now. It keeps spiraling, you can feel the darkness surround you. This used to happen when you were younger. Your emotions would almost devour you whole. Luckily your mother would always tell you, it’s okay to have these emotions but don’t let them consume you. She would lead you through some breathing exercises to help you calm down. Oh, you wish she were here with you right now to help. Could she have known about this ability you have? That’s not important right now, you need to breath and calm down. While doing so, you feel two little hands come and rest on your chest, as to help you relax more. Playing with his ears, the weight of the day starts to set in. You feel your eyes start to droop and before you know it, you’re asleep yet again. 

. 

Din holds his head in his hands. He shouldn’t have snapped. He knows this. It’s just knowing that Moff Gideon and his Imps could be anywhere in the galaxy trying to find others like the two Jedi he seemed to have collected. Are you even a Jedi? He still has no idea how this even works. Din shakes his head trying to clear it of what that man said. The anger boils up in him thinking of what he said about you, about their hands on you. He wishes he could’ve gotten a few punches in on him. He got out easy. 

He’d do anything to protect Grogu, he knows it and they know it. But now with you in the equation? He’s terrified. He doesn’t know what he got himself into with now both of you under his protection. You don’t know this but he saw you peeking through the opening, with your hands shaking holding the blaster and with such fear in your eyes. A pain springs up in his chest just thinking of it. Looking up towards the door, he thinks it might be time for him to stop hiding and time to go apologize for his behavior. He did just leave without explaining. You also have just been kidnapped and rescued in a matter of days. He sighs, remembering what you have gone through, and now with the reminder in the city. He should have been a little calmer and not taken out his frustrations out on you. 

Putting his helmet back on, he opens the cockpit doors and climbs down the ladder again, only to hear soft snores. There you are with your back against the wall, with Grogu in your lap. Grogu’s eyes open and he starts to make, very slow, sleep filled, grabby hands at his dad. Carefully taking the baby out of your arms, he opens up his own bunk and places the child in his little hammock. Quiet babbling is directed at him and Din responds, “I know, I know, I’m getting her a pillow and blanket.” 

Moving back over towards you with those items in hand, he places the pillow in its spot and carefully shifts you into a lying position, bringing your legs up onto the crates. After placing the blanket over you, Din moves the fallen pieces of hair out of your face. You look so peacefully, he can’t help but stare. Finally, he sighs, “I guess I better teach you how to shoot then.” 

Taglist: @rogueheretic555​ @heythere-mel​ @dancingwiththeplanets​ @ohpedromypedro​ 

[fukurodaze]

five stars: prologue - a clear sky

when he meets you in his first year, you fit his definition of annoying - a model student, the façade of perfection. yet, he finds you occupying his mind too often, too soon.

wc: 1.2k warnings: swearing

m.list | next

he’s going to skip. 

suna rintarou glances at the clock across the room, foot tapping on the wooden floor of the third year classrooms repeatedly as if in a hurry. except he is in a hurry.

although scouted from the aichi prefecture for his volleyball skills, suna is by no means exempt from his failures in the wondrous subject of physics. but how could anyone blame him - he’s had to get used to the mildly different kansai-ben and make the starting lineup at the volleyball interhighs, not to mention live alone at fifteen.

sometimes he’s thankful for this school, as he’s gotten to play for the summer and spring interhighs even as a first year, but there are also times when the over-glorified “student support program”, also known to suna as the additional hour of bullshit every wednesday from a random third year with a superiority complex, gets up in his schedule.

he is not thankful for this. but he is definitely thankful that whichever senpai he’s been assigned to this semester spares him an extra five minutes to contemplate his purpose in this room.

suna has his arm half-looped around the strap of his backpack, blazer folding at the crease where it stays. slowly, he brings it higher, and eventually slides it onto his shoulder. 

“ah, fuck it.”

the boy stands up and brisk walks out the door like it’s life-or-death, his back lowering even more than it usually slouched. his eyes are trained on the door left slightly ajar, and his ears make sure that the only sound comes from the light step of his school shoes against the hardwood floor.

the clock reads 3:15 pm. suna slides the door open.

“hi,” there’s a pause, “class 1-2, suna rintarou?”

shit. 

it’s almost like you’ve appeared out of nowhere. you have a calm smile plastered on your face, and by the slow ring of your voice, he can already feel his eyes rolling.

“yes,” suna backs up into the classroom, letting you in. he takes a seat on the frontmost desk in the classroom, watching as you grab a chair to sit across him.

you sit down and rest your elbows on the desk. you have a stack of papers with you, but you set them aside on another table, and he’s convinced this semester to be the one that finally breaks his grade from a 40 to a 37. out of one hundred.

“sorry i’m late,” you shuffle through your bag, “apparently life doesn’t get easier in high school.”

it takes every muscle in suna’s body to not shoot you an eye roll.

you mutter a delighted gasp as you find your phone hidden somewhere inside your bag, and turn back to your assigned ‘student’ to exchange phone numbers in case he ever needed any additional help.

“okay, based on your past papers,” you lean into the desk, a reliable smile on your face, “i guess we can start with the basics? gravity, velocity, all that.”

suna hates how you’re making this session seem like a daycare. “sure.”

“then, suna-san, tell me about volleyball.”

“what?”

three weeks in, and physics might be a lot easier than he’d thought. he’s gotten accustomed to all the vocabulary and formulas, and he thinks he might actually be able to survive this last semester of his first year and keep his chances of going to the may volleyball camp in osaka.

“suna! left!”

the unmistakeable voice of his coach rings loud as a wake up call, reminding him that it’s five pm on a thursday and he’s in the back row of a six-versus-six round with the team.

the ball falls to the floor, and he shouts a short sorry as the opposite side rotates with miya atsumu on the serve. suna’s known him for some time now, and even before he moved to hyogo. he’s heard a lot of him - best setter at the intermiddle nationals, unstoppable with his twin, and a pain in the ass attitude. 

to be honest, suna doesn’t think he’s half bad as everyone tells him, although he’d love to throw in a snicker or a funny jab from time to time, for both his and atsumu’s benefit.

atsumu takes a few steps back. the whistle blows, and he throws the ball high up into the air, reaching up and snapping his wrist as he hits the ball. it’s a top spin, and it goes far, up to the back row. suna spots it coming his way, and with a quick step, he sounds, “got it!”. his knees are bent and his arms come together. the ball lands harshly on his wrists, and the words ‘chance ball’ are heard from the other players.

suna’s wrists sting only slightly after having practiced his receives with atsumu’s crazy serves for almost a year now. still, even after familiarising himself with his classmate’s spikes, he thinks that there’s always some bit of luck that goes into receiving them - and strength, because he’s only getting better. it doesn’t help that his jump floaters are three quarters their way to being as nasty as his top spins, either.

he remembers your words; “right! with a top spin serve, the air velocity is faster on the top of the ball rather than on the bottom of the ball, which pushes the ball into a downward motion. we can calculate velocity using the equation v=d/t. so, v for velocity, which equals distance divided by time. for example...”

suna shakes his head as he rotates back into the front row. he almost scoffs out loud, as if scolding himself, in what kind of earth is he living in that has him thinking of physics during volleyball, and why do tutoring sessions with you always seem to go so fast, and how come your voice always sounds so bright, and-

the ball hits the palm of his hand in a clean one-man shutout. the players on his side of the court give him high fives. he tells himself he’ll think about you later.

that night, as suna closes his notebook after another inevitably short-lived round of reviewing for finals, he finds himself zoning out as numbers on worksheets are replaced with other thoughts. suna thinks about volleyball, which now makes him think of physics, which makes him think of you. and seeing as he thinks about volleyball about seventy percent of the time, he ends up thinking about you seventy percent of the time, too. 

maybe only fifty percent of the time. but that’s still half of his time having you in the back of his mind while he answers equations, coordinates blocks, and eats with his friends.

he doesn’t know much about you, but he’s found out that you’re one year his senpai, a member of the cheerleading team, a class representative for the student council, and, after a few stares at old bulletin boards, he knows that you’re ranked within the top ten of your grade.

(not that you had told him yourself, since all you talk about with him is physics, but it’s natural to get curious of one’s tutor, right? definitely. of course. always.)

suna wonders if it’s better to fail physics and keep having to spend an hour with you every week or to improve significantly and hear your direct praise. 

“this is so stupid,” suna tells himself as he slides under his covers just before midnight. 

someone in the house has a little bit of a crush.

(suna lives alone.)

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[mask131]

Live report from French student: 1, Historical intro

So a few words from a Sorbonne student about what is going on at the Sorbonne university right now and about the Paris students movement situation, because I just need to talk about it somewhere else I’ll go a bit mad.

As you might know, the Sorbonne is one of the most prestigious and oldest universities of Paris. When you get into the Sorbonne, you actually don’t go into the “actual” Sorbonne building, for the start of your superior studies, for quite a few years, you are sent and wander on the “periphery sites”, extensions of the university built at the four corners of Paris and much more recent then the actual Sorbonne. Malesherbes for example is where those that start in Literature are sent ; if you start history and english studies, you’ll go to Clignancourt, etc... It is only after success in those first years (I insist on the plural, before you could access to the Sorbonne after one year in those periphery sites, now you need at minimum two if not more) that you are allowed to actually go to the “original” Sorbonne building, the old university built in stone and wood, the “mother Sorbonne” as we call it, the place where the whole university started in the 13th century (though the actual building actually is the result of successive reconstructions, one by Richelieu in the 17th century, another ny Nénot in the 19th century). You know, the building that actually pops up when you search “Sorbonne”, the iconic building of the Quartier Latin etc...

Now, since last week, the “mother Sorbonne” was actually blocked by a student manifestation. 

This kind of occurences is unfortunately VERY frequent. I know because when I first started my studies at the Sorbonne, I actually failed my whole year (despite having excellent grades) because due to an end-of-the-year student manifestation I couldn’t get to the final exams and it prevented me from completing it, making a whole year worth of waste. Those manifestations occur every year (even during the Covid), always consist in blocking sites of the Sorbonne when exams of the end-of-the-semester are supposed to be held, and always are organized by left-oriented student activists. And so far the manifestations - well I should stop calling it that because they are actually blockings, not manifestations - always had the same justifications and demands (more equality for students, the university should stop being elitist, students are not given enough money, and stuff like that). At least, it is IF the students have actually revendications. I know one cold winter morning I was stuck in a freezing boulevard with hundreds and hundreds of other students in front of the Malesherbes site because students had blocked it from the inside - but we didn’t knew who they were or what they wanted so us, both teachers and students waiting to pass the final exams, stood for HOURS in a dark and cold street, not knowing what was going on, and I got quite sick as a result because I was not dressed for that... But anyway I’m losing focus here.

Another usual thing with those student blockings is that they literally are blind to the negative side-effects of them, or rather they don’t realize their actions are entirely counter-productive. For example, at one point they tried to block the Malesherbes site during the Covid lockdown year, because all the semester the exams were held through Zoom, Internet and the like ; but the exams were maintained in flesh, in presence, in actual exam halls. They didn’t like that - they claimed it was unjust, unfair, that a lot of students were back home sometimes in other regions of France, that they shouldn’t be asked to come all the way here or pay a train ticket just for a few exams... They wanted the exams to be online, so when the day of the exams came, they blocked Malesherbes were they had to be held.

... Trouble is, they hadn’t planned that almost all of the “far-away students living in other regions of France” had actually came all the way to Paris for the exams. Those that had to come by train did, and everyone actually made an effort to come here. I can tell you they were PISSED upon finding that those that “defended their rights” actually literally prevented them from passing their exams and made their whole trip worthless (because of course they were not warned about it ; that’s the thing with those blockings, they stay secret until they happen). Hopefully this story ended up well because the blockers were actually quite a small number, while the students wanting to pass the exams were MASSIVE and so they literally were swept away, pushed outside by a human flood of annoyed students who just wanted to be done with it, and everyone had their exams. 

[Oh yes because just for the mention, the end-of-semester/end-of-year exams are VERY important. No matter if you had excellent grades during your year or semester, if you actually can’t pass the final exams - unless a good reason like a medical urgency - well, then you’re screwed because your year/semester isn’t worth shit and you have to start it all over. The reverse is not the same though, as you can have a shitty year of grades, but if you’ve got a good final exam you can save it all and proceed to the next stage. That’s why students tend to be very annoyed when the final exams can’t happen.]

[d0llpie]

Tendou x Reader

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5

Warnings: angst, mentions of insecurity, self harm (not explicit), sexual assault, ooc ushijima and smut, please let me know if i missed anything

Word count: 2.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Asahi picked you up and drove the both of you back to the dorms after finding the janitor and begging him to let him into the building to find your key. The janitor let him in after assuming he was the father of a student. 

 "So how was the date?" Asahi asked looking back at Tendou in the back seat 

"It was amazing" Tendou smirked at you in the mirror and you blushed

"So are you two...dating now?" Asahi was a big softie but he'd still act overprotective of you despite him never actually doing anything physically 

"Yes" you both said in unison not looking at Asahi

You noticed his grip tighten on the steering wheel as he kept driving in silence. 

 Once you'd arrived at the dorms you told Tendou to go ahead while you talked to Asahi 

"so.." you started 

"are you sure about him?" asahi said worried 

"yes, and it's fine you don't have to worry about me" you replied 

"of course i have to worry about you, it's fine if you're happy but you know i'll always be here too" he patted your head and smiled 

"I know Asahi, thank you for picking us up" you smiled and he nodded 

"Make sure you keep your key on you okay?" he warned as you got out of the car 

"Yes yes i know, goodbye" you smiled at him and waved as he drove off 

 The next couple of months were nothing short of a dream. Tendou carried you on his back, back to the dorms after practice each day and the teams had learned to just ignore Tendou's bragging about you. It never failed to make you nervous but he truly did look happy talking about you. At least a few days a week he would come into your dorm and lie his head in your lap reading shounen jump while you braided small plaits into his hair. After you had grabbed lunch at the cafe together you were doing exactly that, he was reading calmly while you twirled his red locks in between your fingers. You watched as his eyes lit up and he sat up and turned to you

 "y/n, are you coming to watch us play Karasuno next week?" he looked into your eyes with that familiar intensity that you fell for 

"Of course i am, i'm excited to see if you can block one of Asahi's spikes" you teased 

"You'll see, i will" he smirked and kissed your cheek lightly before lying back down leaving you flustered and shocked. You loved watched Tendou play, he truly did turn into monster on the court and it excited you to see him so comfortable and agile. You felt a bit jealous though, your team hadn't made it as far as the boys team and you were done playing real matches for the semester, you didn't want to tell Tendou because you knew this could be his last game with the team. He noticed your mood change though, he always did and he sat up in front of you

 "y/n what's wrong?" he looked into your eyes for any sign but he figured you were thinking about volleyball

"Is it because you miss playing volleyball?" he pulled you close to him and you wrapped your legs and arms around him as you sighed into his shoulder. You mumbled yes against him and he chuckled rubbing your back softly. 

"It'll be okay, you still have practice and you'll continue playing matches after break" he kept rubbing your back while his other hand played with your hair. You brought your head off his shoulder and sighed 

"I just feel like i’m gonna be boring without volleyball, you’re always so fun no matter what and i can never keep up...ugh and i should be comforting you it could be your last game" you pouted and connected your forehead to his 

"Just being around you is comfort enough" he smiled and you slapped his arm lightly, laughing at how cheesy he was whenever you were down. He knew it always made you feel better so he continued saying cheesy things until you'd forgotten about your worries. 

 It was the day of the Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa match, you saw Tendou in the morning and wished him good luck before going to meet Asahi. You arrived at the gym with the Karasuno team and wished them all good luck as well before smiling at Asahi and meeting Yachi and Miki in the stands. 

"Hey guys" you smiled at them 

"Hey y/n, so who do you want to win?" Yachi raised her eyebrow at you 

"I honestly don't know, volleyball means so much to Tendou and Asahi has really found himself since joining back, im so nervous for both of them..either way i'll be buying someone chocolate ice cream after this" you chuckled lightly but you really were nervous, you knew that one team had to lose and you were scared for how devastated either one would be. 

 After the first four sets you swore you were sweating more  than any of the players, you were so nervous and tired from cheering you didnt even notice your nails digging into the chair beneath you. Tendou was more intense than ever, he was breaking karasuno and you felt sorry for the pinch server on Karasuno who was crying while Tendou sung from the sidelines. He looked up at you and smiled, you waved back dramatically before looking over to Asahi and doing the same, he smiled back nervously. Tendou watched you and he felt calmer despite you being a ball of energy and nerves. He wanted to win, for you and for his team. He went back onto the court and began playing even harder than before, his guesses becoming more and more accurate every time he went to block. You watched him in awe but you noticed Asahi becoming more and more determined the more that they were blocked. 

 The whistle blew and you stared down the court, many of the shiratorizawa players were on the floor and the Karasuno 3rd years were crying in each other’s arms while the rest screamed. Tendou had lost, you watched him curiously as he just stared up at the roof and muttered to himself. You wanted to run up to him a hug him but you knew you had to wait. Ushijima gravbed Tendou and brought him back to the coach, he was emotionless but you could sense his disappointment even from up in the stands. After both teams had lined up you ran down the stairs and saw Karasuno first, you congratulated the team and gave Asahi a big hug, he saw how you were in a rush and he understood you wanted to comfort Tendou. He smiled understandingly and you ran past him without saying anything. When you saw Ushijima and Tendou walking next to each other you weren’t surprised to see that they both seemed normal, anyone else would think they were relaxed but you could tell they were both upset. You looked at Tendou and wrapped your arms around him and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

“You were amazing out there, you know that?” you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear, you felt him smile against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You pulled back and looked at Ushijima 

“You played so well, everyone did” you smiled at him and he nodded appreciatively. 

 After you had said goodbye to the Karasuno team and Asahi you went back on the Shiratorizawa bus with boys and girls team. Tendou fell asleep on your shoulder 5 minutes into the ride back and you smiled, running your hands through his hair. He looked so peaceful sleeping which contrasted deeply to the guess monster you’d just seen on the court. 

 Back at the dorms you walked into Tendou and Ushijimas dorm room in Tendous hoodie holding one of his shounen jump copies and a tub of chocolate ice cream with some spoons. He looked up at you and melted when he saw you, he came and wrapped you in a hug kissing your forehead lightly and whispering in your ear 

“Thank you princess” you blushed and sat on his bed opening the ice cream while Tendou made himself comfortable in your lap. 

 You smiled down at him and ran your hands through his hair, he began reading his magazine while you put the ice cream as aids to focus on braiding his hair. 

He loved lying on your thighs and often fell asleep in your lap reading or talking to you about shounen jump while you played with his hair. 

“I love you” you cooed as you closed your eyes, quickly opening them when you felt him tense up below you and realised you had said that out loud. 

Your face turned red and you tried to get up but Tendou grabbed your hip, holding you in place while he stared at you. You avoided eye contact but you could feel his eyes on your face. 

“y/n look at me” you brought your gaze into your lap and he lifted your chin with his hand 

“I love you too” you looked into his eyes and he sat up before he cupped your face in his large hands and pressed his lips against yours. 

 You felt your heart basically jump out of your chest as you melted beneath his touch. His other hand that was on your hip started to move up your waist under your shirt and you shivered feeling his fingers trace your side. Your breath hitched when he cupped your breast, he squeezed softly earning a small moan from you and he smirked while kissing down your jawline. 

You smiled back wrapping your leg around his waist pulling him down onto you, he looked into your eyes for any indication that he should stop but he saw nothing but love and lust. He smiled and said ‘i love you princess’ before sitting up and taking off his shirt before coming back down and leaving marks on your neck. 

You arched your back as he trailed his finger up your thigh and he took the opportunity to unclip your bra. He lifted his hoodie off of you and you averted your eyes as he gazed down at you

 “You’re so beautiful” he whispered before kissing in between your breasts and down to your naval. 

He loomed over you with half lidded eyes as he admired the affect he had on you, your uneven breathing and bare chest was driving him mad. 

His hand made its way from your breast to your throat as he kissed you roughly while choking you. You stared up at him with lust while he slipped his hand past the waistband of your shorts. 

He groaned as he felt how wet you were, for him and only him. He slipped a finger inside of you and moaned into your mouth as you arched your back. 

 He grabbed both your wrists with his free hand and held them above your head while roughly kissing you to silence your moans. Adding a second finger, he started curling his fingers inside of you and you moaned at how his skilled hands worked wonders inside of you. 

 “Princess i need you to quiet down” he said before releasing your wrists and shoving his fingers in your mouth, you felt a knot in your stomach and you were about to come undone before he removed his fingers from inside you. You groaned and looked up at him to see him smirking. 

You felt his bulge on the inside of your thigh and brushed against him causing him to moan into your mouth. You took the opportunity to flip him over and straddle him. He looked up at you surprised as you started kissing down his toned chest and abdomen. He grabbed your jaw and brought you up to his face kissing you roughly, you grinder against him and he moaned loudly in your ear, you blushed at his reaction and started kissing back down his chest. 

 As you released his member from his boxers you looked up to see him with a smug look on his face, you swirled your tongue around his tip and watched his eyes roll back into his head. Satisfied, you started bobbing your head, taking most of him in your mouth while his hand found its way to your hair, gripping it softly as he guided your head faster. 

 He grabbed your jaw again and pulled you up off of him and pulled off your shorts and panties. He dove between your thighs with no warning and started squeezing your thighs while swirling his tongue on your clit, you were panting and moaning so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole dorm building could hear. 

“tendou...i’m gonna-“ you moaned out as he took his tongue out of you and kissed your lips while still gripping your thighs, you were sure there would be hand marks the next day. 

“Not yet princess, be patient” he said before lying down and pulling you onto his face. He started attacking your clit again and you gripped his hair as he inserted his tongue inside you causing him to moan loudly against you, you kept pulling his hair to get the same reaction but he still didn’t let you cum. 

Your legs were shaking now as he put you on your hands and knees in front of him. 

“Look at me” he grabbed your jaw and saw the tears fall down your face, he groaned and kissed your shoulder before lightly nipping at your collarbone 

“you’re so fucking pretty when you cry” he kissed you once more before pushing you back down and grabbing your hips. He put his tip in your entrance before asking “are you okay?” you moaned in response and he rammed the rest of his length inside of you earning a loud scream from you. 

He leant over and shoved his fingers in your mouth before slamming into you again while groaning in your ear. 

 The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping and muffled moans as he continued slamming into quickly. 

“Satori” you moaned out feeling the familiar knot in your stomach. He snaked his arm around you and started circling your clit while biting your shoulder. 

You threw your head back and as you were about to come he pulled out and flipped you over

“I wanna see that pretty face when you come for me” he mumbled into the crook of your neck as he left hickeys below your jaw. You were shaking already and your mascara was running down your cheeks, the sight of you so wound up underneath him drove him mad, much like how he felt on the court against after breaking the other players.

He pushed into you again and wrapped his arm under your waist as he left sloppy kisses all over your chest. Your hands gripped his hair as you both moaned. 

“Tendou, please” you whimpered out and he bit your bottom lip as he sped up his pace

“It’s okay baby, you can cum now, scream for me” he could feel himself come undone as you screamed out his name and tightened around him

“fuck” he groaned and shot his seed into you as you both panted. 

He kissed your forehead and smiled down lovingly at you 

 “You did so good princess, don’t move i’ll clean you up” he kissed you sweetly before cleaning up and grabbing his hoodie for you to wear. Your legs were still shaking as he put the hoodie on your and pulled the covers over you before slipping into the bed too. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close before kissing the top of your head and whispering in your ear 

“i love you, my paradise” you hummed in response and fell asleep in his embrace. 

 A few hours later you were both woken up by Ushijima stumbling into the room. You were struggling to wake up and Tendou and Ushijima were talking quietly before Tendou whispered to you 

“Go back to sleep, i’m going to the bathroom” he kissed your cheek and you stirred awake feeling Ushijima staring at you. 

“Hey ushijima, are you okay?” you asked rubbing your eyes, when you opened them fully you saw his face inches from yours and his hand was holding your thigh. You barely had any time to react before he started kissing you and shoving his tongue into your mouth. You could taste the alcohol in his mouth and you pushed against his arms but he was so much bigger than you that you couldn’t move. Tears began to prick your eyes as you struggled against his hold. You felt frozen despite your attempts to push him off of you, you didn’t even feel like you were there, you were just watching as he slid his hand up your shorts. He groaned when he felt you and you took the opportunity to push him off and run out of the room.