#to the end of the semester. like tell me why i have a workshop to co-facilitate a fancy divisional lunch to attend that i will not eat

[pepprs]

waking up early for work is killing me

[songmingisthighs]

Lonely Breeze

group : ateez

pairing : poly!yungi × reader

genre : angst, hurt/comfort

wc : 3.1 k

tw : angst, poly relationship, heavy stuff maybe; relationship issues, psychological issues, mentions of blood (injury), mentions of anxiety, ngl I'm just rambling at this point so if this is not your thing, pls skip lol.

a/n : this is why i don't listen to anything produced by mingi. I'm textbook kubler-ross every single time and idk how to feel about it. and yea i wrote this in 2 hours

buy me coffee ?

It had been three days since you ran away.

Can it be counted as running away? You're a full-grown adult with intact mental faculties and 'running away' sounds rather juvenile.

Life had gotten too hard and you were overwhelmed. Despite having wonderful boyfriends like Yunho and Mingi, this time you truly didn't know what to do but you knew that you had to get out of there before you completely exploded.

To be honest, Yunho and Mingi were one of the reasons you had to run away.

It was nothing against them per se but you felt bad for having to always rely on them all the time.

The three of you met on the cusp of adulthood, at a dance academy workshop. The three of you didn't mean to join that joint workshop because each of you was from different area branches of the academy but you all just clicked. From then, you and they planned your lives together even down to which university you three will attend. But it wasn't until nearing the senior year that you three decided to pursue a romantic relationship. You still remembered it like it was yesterday. How you, Mingi, and Yunho join your other friends on a countryside trip to celebrate the end of the 6th semester only to find out that the cabin was at maxed capacity so you three had to rent a small, dusty place on your own. Little did you know, you, Yunho and Mingi had each planned separately to come clean about your feelings. You were the first to confess after having a particularly tiring clean-up session (just so you won't inhale the dust that had accumulated in the cabin), accidentally telling them how you could see the three of you in your 30s cleaning the apartment you will share together. You remembered the dread that washed down on you when Mingi asked what you meant. Like the reliable pillar he is, Yunho was the one who helped you calm yourself down and told you that he could see the same thing, how he felt the same way about you and Mingi. Then Mingi confessed his own feelings and from then on, you three were even more inseparable than you had ever been before.

While it surprised people that the three of you decided to commit to a relationship that was far from orthodox, no one was really fazed. Everyone who knew the three of you had at least assumed you three were sleeping together which was why no one approached either one of you romantically all through university.

Some called it fate, some called it dedication.

You believed in the former more than the latter.

But recently?

You feared that you had trapped them.

Maybe it was a quarter-life crisis but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought of your life. It wasn't like things were falling apart. On the contrary, the pieces of your life were finally falling into place; you were starting to really shine at work, and you were finally able to start saving whilst resolving some of your financial issues. Your relationship with your boyfriends was even at its peak, there was more love than the three of you ever needed and you three were beyond happy.

Then one day, one day a week ago, things crashed down on you.

You didn't know what it was, you didn't know what caused it, but you suddenly couldn't breathe. You remembered holding onto the bathroom sink while your body trembled, tears streaming down your face like a busted faucet and you couldn't move. The cool bathroom suddenly felt suffocating and the sound of your boyfriends laughing just on the other side of the door felt deafening. It took you a long while to break free from that state and you only managed to do so because Mingi had knocked on the bathroom door asking for you to let him in because he needed to use the bathroom. That night, you found yourself unable to sleep and even finding their presence too much for you to handle even after switching position with Mingi so you could be at the edge. You had slipped away and cried yourself to sleep on the couch, sobbing silently until fatigue took over.

That whole week you were distant until three days ago when you came home from work to see a note on the table from Yunho who let you know that they were out for a bit to get something special for you.

One second you were pouring yourself a glass of water to calm your trembling hands and the next, you were in a train with a duffle bag heading to the countryside, cradling your hand that had a gash and fresh dried blood.

When you arrived at the dark and lonely cabin, you finally broke down, wailing into the emptiness as you hugged yourself in the middle of the room.

Neither of them was aware of what happened.

Or so you thought.

The first person who noticed how distant you became was Yunho. He had sensed that something was wrong since that day in the bathroom. He could never forget the look on your face as you stepped out. Your usually lively eyes were empty and you didn't even react when Mingi pressed a kiss on your forehead. At first, he thought that you might have had a bad day and that you were just not in the mood but as the days passed, you seemed more silent and distant. Yunho wanted to ask what was wrong but he didn't want to make it seem like he was prying so he tried to let you know that he was there for you in different ways; soft touches, words of affirmation, little presents in the form of your favourite drink or plans of going on a trip. He wanted you to have all the space you needed.

Mingi on the other hand immediately jumped into worrying about you. Suddenly he kept texting about your whereabouts and your feelings. He had even asked if he should pick you up early from work and even showed that he was already in front of your building. Mingi knew what it felt like to be all alone stuck in a headspace and it had taken him so long and finally relent, letting you and Yunho pull him out and believing you two that you were there for him. So he wanted to repay all that especially since you were the one who gently washed his tear-stained face and slowly fed him until he regained his own strength. He remembered the pit and he didn't like the idea of you being there.

So when they were met with an empty apartment the day you left, they went into panic mode. The sight of a couple droplets of blood near the broken glass and your work bag thrown carelessly on the couch was enough to send them into a frenzy and sadly, they even turned on each other.

Yunho wanted to calm himself and Mingi down first because neither of them even knew what happened and where you had gone to while Mingi, pointing that out, stated that they both needed to catch you before you could even go far. Then they fought over the fact that they were fighting when they should be looking for you and it ended with Mingi leaving the apartment when Yunho ran into your shared room, trying to charge his phone to see if you had contacted either of them.

Essentially, the three of you were alone at that moment in time. Nothing made sense and none of you had any ways of getting an answer.

You were alone in the cabin, crying your eyes out about... Nothing. You felt stupid for feeling bad over your life that was going rather well and you felt bad for leaving your boyfriends without an explanation. It was simple, you could've simply grabbed the phone and texted either one of them to let them know... Something. You could tell them that you needed time alone. But do you really? You could tell them that you were sorry. But were you really? You could tell them that you were overwhelmed and that they were not making your situation any better by being so supportive. But were they really? You felt like you were not worthy to even send them a text because who the fuck were you to be acting like that and then asking for understanding?

Mingi was running around aimlessly with worry sitting deep in the pit of his stomach. He had gone to several of your friends' places, friends you trusted who wouldn't blab about your disappearance. He hated being in a state of not knowing because he felt helpless. He hated being helpless. Mingi was not a helpless person so he didn't want to be associated with the feeling. First things first, he had to find you. But where could you be? Why had he never taken the time to ask you places you wanted to go to, thinking that you had gone alone because he was too busy with himself. Seeds of doubt planted by the negativity of the situation started sprouting its ugliness. Was your leaving his fault? Was he too self-involved to not have taken the time to dedicate his attention to you once in a while? Was he taking too much of Yunho and your attention? His head hurts.

Yunho, in defeat, slumped against the bed you three shared. Your pillar, your rock finally broke down and with each sob, his mind found it even harder to make sense of things. All the decision in his life was made on a strong foundation, Yunho was a sure man, and he didn't regret the choices he made and the path he took. But was he too sure of himself this time? Out of the three of you, Yunho was always the tie-breaker because he makes his decisions carefully and with logic. He never found any reason to resent that part of him until you left. Did he miss something? Were there signs that you had needed a different kind of treatment? Had he gotten too overconfident this time? Had his so-called level-headedness cost him something important?

Whatever it was you hoped could happen or appear by running away alone never came. Each hour you spent trying to make sense of things or finding a way to calm yourself only made it clear that you were all alone.

Dark thoughts started plaguing your brain, skewing your happy memories into something that was far from reality. The memories you had of banding together into a trio with Yunho and Mingi turned into fear that maybe you had inserted yourself into their friendship. After all, they found themselves together first before you bumped into Yunho and told him how you were alone, effectively guilt-tripping him. The thought of how they have always had your back turned into anxiety that maybe you had leaned on them too much. You relied on them more than you should and now you were a burden to them. The things you told them, should you have told them? Especially the dark ones, the ones that stemmed from your bad mental state. Were you manipulating them without realizing it? Were your promises of the future even really promises? How could you be sure that it wasn't you pressuring your expectations to them?

It had been three days. Were you still alone because they thought you were better off alone? That they too, needed time away from you? Maybe you never needed your own space, maybe it was your subconscious telling you that you needed to give them space from you.

Loud bangs broke the train of thought and the more you came back to reality, the more you recognized the voices.

"Mingi?" you inhaled sharply, seeing the face of one of your lovers on the window as he banged the wall.

Thinking that you were hallucinating, you turned your head away and stood up. There was no way he could be there.

More bangs were heard and when you turned around again, you saw both Mingi who was now with Yunho staring at you from the window.

"(y/n), open up!" Yunho called out.

Normally, you would register his voice as is but your brain, in its unstable state, thought that he was demanding you to let him in. Mingi too, though he was only standing there looking at you, sending knocks on the window as he wanted to hold you once again, your brain took that as him glaring at you and being in fury.

Anxiety shot up and your head shook violently. "N-no..." you whimpered, bottom lip trembling as you took a step back only to trip on a carpet and fall.

The sight of you on the floor caused Mingi and Yunho to abandon all reasons and logic and all they wanted to do was to help you. They started banging and trying to pry the door open, needing to get inside to be there for you but all it did was send you into a deeper spiral without them realizing. Your body curled into a ball while they were yelling for you to open the door. The more you heard them, the worse you felt and before you knew it, you were yelling for them to leave you be, leave you alone, you didn't deserve them.

It wasn't until you started yelling at how you should have never burdened yourself on them that they stopped banging on the door. Their eyes welled with tears hearing the things, untrue things, you hurled at yourself. It hurt them to hear you think so low of yourself like that. You were everything to them, you were something so precious and special and to think that you believe they would be better without you, it was like a serrated knife had been plunged into their hearts multiple times.

"That's not true (y/n), please..." Mingi rested his forehead on the door as his eyes closed slowly, letting tears wet his cheeks, "Please let me in, I... We... (y/n), please," he whimpered.

Looking around, Yunho remembered that the owner of the cabin had told him about a spare key a long time ago. Thinking that it was worth a shot, Yunho was glad to see that there was still a key hidden under the cushion of the porch lounger.

You were too busy bawling to realize that Yunho had opened the door successfully which was a good thing because had you realized, you would have done something stupid like run out into the field in the cold January breeze.

Mingi tried to rush inside only for Yunho to stop him, holding onto his arm as he watched you cry with a broken heart.

"Yunho, wha-"

Wordlessly, Yunho pulled Mingi down to sit in the doorway while maintaining his gaze on you.

Though confused, Mingi followed along, sitting down and looking between Yunho and you.

"We should go in there. She needs us," Mingi said, voice cracking as he shook Yunho slightly, trying to convince him to go inside. He knew he could definitely go inside himself, but for some reason, he felt like he shouldn't.

For once, Yunho didn't give any explanation and just shook his head one more time. Soon, however, his hand took one of Mingi's and they sat there with you with hands linked, waiting for you to... Well, they weren't sure what they were waiting for but they were sure they would understand soon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You must have passed out from crying because you remembered feeling cold and alone but the moment you came to again, you realized that this time, you were... Warm.

Sitting up, you noticed that the skies outside were dark and when you turned your body around, you saw Yunho and Mingi attending to the fireplace. The cabin was dark save for the illumination provided by the warm fire.

It took a bit of time for your eyes to adjust but when your eyes really focused, you noticed that Mingi was holding onto your favourite blanket that you forgot to bring. How did they even got inside?

For a moment, you only watched them do their thing, comfortably sitting in silence as if enjoying conversation done by the soft crackles of the fireplace.

Mingi felt something on the back of his neck and when he turned his body slightly, he saw that you were staring at him with puffy eyes. His instinct told him to run to you and envelop you in a hug and tell you how worried he was and how much he regretted things that he thought he did. But his better judgement stopped him from making a move forward. Instead, he cracked a gentle smile and ducked his head down, carefully opening your folded blanket as a silent invitation.

Your body moved automatically towards him and before you knew it, you were suddenly sat in between Mingi and Yunho.

While Mingi draped you with your blanket, Yunho made final adjustments on the firewood before he sat down close to you and even moved so that you and he were shoulder-to-shoulder.

You were sure that they were going to ask what happened, what was wrong with you, why you ran away. But minutes passed and all there was was... Silence. You were sure that when you saw them again you'd be anxious because you had to explain yourself but all you felt was a sense of calm. It was rather ridiculous but you could feel the anxiety melting off of your body.

"I'm tired," finally you opened up even though your voice cracked due to how hoarse your throat felt. "I'm so tired," you exhaled as you closed your eyes, your bottom lip trembling once again.

This time, Yunho moved to sidle even closer to you so he could guide your head gently to rest on his chest. "You... Can you find it in your heart... To rest in mine?" Yunho spoke up finally, voice cracking as well. Mingi then moved closer until he was able to wrap his hands around your waist whilst leaning his head on Yunho's strong shoulder, effectively caging you securely between them. "You can rest in our hearts, love," he added, ducking to press a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

Nothing else needed to be said because nothing else should. The three of you had been through so much together in your youth that it felt like you were all alone. But, with the stars as your witness and the fire as your companion, you realized something that was always true. Even lonely, you were always together and your inadequacies made you whole. While pain exists and will always find its way back to remind you of your faults, it allows you to remember who and what you are, but most importantly, what you now have from that.

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[legendary-guest]

High school sucks, from puberty to petty relationship drama to navigating the cliques - not to mention the teachers! Some so crabby, so lippy, so unfair, so mean that you could swear they were...evil?

Meet Dr. Drew Lipsky and Ms. Shea Go! Other outfits linked here. Lots of text under the cut.

"Mr. Lipsky is my father. You will address me as Dr. Lipsky."

It is difficult to escape Dr. Lipsky on the learning side of the high school ecosystem, he practically runs every class that involves math or science.

Arrogant, grouchy and with a tendency to ramble, Doc runs his classroom with an iron fist and a strict no lip policy. He is seldom seen without his ruler, which he uses to write along the chalkboard with his terrible handwriting, draw diagrams, gesture wildly with and slam on sleeping students' desks to rudely wake them. Despite this unpleasant behaviour, he has obvious favourite students - some of them have gone a long way just by sucking up to him - like not being yelled at and being one of the privileged few that haven't been damned to detention for a minor transgression. He's not just mean, he's also weird.

He likes to show-off the fact that he can draw a perfect circle, free-handed. This impresses a lot of the kids, until it becomes dull - he is workshopping drawing a perfect dodecahedron free-handed (it's not going well). School festivities and similar events, not centred around sport, tend to have him actively organising and participating in them. Always decorates the classroom around Christmas time, becomes unbearably cheery. His love for Snowman Hank is infamous.

Students have figured out an effective method to avoid learning - by getting Dr. Lipsky to talk about himself, or anything that vaguely interests him, he isn't difficult to distract. If he realises what's happening, everyone gets extra homework. If he doesn't and class ends, he seethes about it.

Of course, this means that he's always marking, always busy, a vicious feedback loop. He secretly doesn't mind this, as it keeps him occupied, away from depressing thoughts and crushing loneliness. His job is his social life, but even this is difficult as the only real rapport he has with anyone are the students he rambles to. Well, them and now Ms. Go, whom he carpools with - picking him up and dropping him off 5 days a week, just the two of them. His own car was totalled by Ed, and unable to afford another on a teacher's salary, he'd been catching the bus to and from work. His garage has turned into a workshop, where he tinkers with fixing old computers, building robots, lasers, programming microchips, etc. He really doesn't spend time in his own home.

Drew is dyslexic but doesn't know it - he's found ways to manage this. One of these ways is calling on kids who he knows are in Ms. Go's classes - he always knows them - to help him spell something. “How do you spell it?” “What?” “What do you mean ‘what?’ I know you’re in Miss Go’s AP Literature class, so tell me how to spell it!” “Uh…” [spelling ensues] “That wasn’t so difficult now was it?” “Thanks would be nice” “Detention.” “What?” “I heard you talk back. Detention. I’m old, not deaf.” Unlike Drakken, the subject of his blue skin and scar aren't things he's keen to talk about. He addresses it once at the beginning of every semester to the students to quell rumours and that's it. “Before you all start asking, I’ll tell you. This nasty scar? Lab accident. Blue skin? Lab accident. Is it contagious? No. We’re speaking about injuries, not cooties. So, you know I take lab safety very, very seriously. Gloves, closed shoes and glasses in the lab at all times! Last thing I need is a lawsuit from your parents.” No member of staff, including Ms. Go, know why he is blue.

He is still a college drop-out - his doctorate and teaching certifications are fake. He has never been caught. The inciting incident for dropping out (I have yet to cement whether or not it is the Bebes) has defeated him instead of motivating him. Drew Lipsky is still Drakken, but listless, without real focus or ambition, prone to indifference and depression. As Dr. Lipsky, he is a genuinely good, competent teacher, despite all his faults - the need to explain things, repeatedly, helps him in the profession.

Ms. Go is the hot new English teacher at school! Although she is new to teaching on her own, she is not as naïve as some might think. With her experience as Shego, member of Team Go from Go City, dealing with her brothers and various criminals and villains alike, Ms. Go knows her way around people - the Child Development qualification is merely a bonus.

Staff and students don't know of Ms. Go's hero identity and she goes to great lengths to deceive students that point out her strangely tinted skin - by telling them that it's merely the fluorescent lights in the school that make her appear green, and that, maybe, they should be more focused on what's on the board. Several students have started wearing glasses since her employment. Gaslighting the kids is something she enjoys immensely. Dr. Lipsky has noticed, too, but he doesn't bring it up, accepting her reasoning - for now.

Her attractiveness is no secret, with many a boy harbouring a crush on her, some of the bolder ones hitting on her in class or the hallway. Ms. Go effectively destroys the fragile, male teen ego in a single, creatively worded sentence, leaving a path of bitter, broken hearts (and sometimes tears) behind her. Creative put-downs aren't just reserved for boys that hit on her.

Ms. Go's criteria for her hitlist include: disrupting class, poor enunciation/pronunciation, mumbling, using the wrong words, incorrect/poor grammar, and abuse of teen slang in class.

Anything that isn't a school textbook or notebook that is left behind in Ms. Go's classroom goes missing. Pencils, pens, spare change, personal diaries, MP3 players, CD players, gum (which they shouldn't have anyway!) - gone. Ms. Go picks the room CLEAN as soon as all of them leave - finders keepers! She has an impressive collection, and shares the spoils with Dr. Lipsky. Forgot something in Ms. Go's class? FORGET IT! She gives props to those who can clap back in a creative (grammatically correct, well-spoken) way. For this, she is a very divisive figure, fluctuating between cool-hot-mean-bitchy at all times.

The popular, self-absorbed girls try to emulate Ms. Go, from her mannerisms to her style. She doesn't mind this, and even has some fun in seeing how far she can take it.

Ms. Go runs her classes efficiently and she never assigns extra homework - she doesn't want to mark it. She clocks in at 7am and clocks out at 3:30pm, not a minute before or after.

She has an expensive sports car (I'm thinking a Maserati), which she was able to procure from the Mayor of Go City for her service. Hego was, is, very upset over this. Although she has been out of the hero game for a while, something about the unusually hued Dr. Drew Lipsky had her extend the offer to carpool - just him. Especially after she saw him come to work, late, soaking wet from some surprise torrential rain, snarling and growling and snapping at anyone who so much as looked at him funny - only to be berated by the principal on top of it all.

Her degree in Child Development means that she holds the position of school counsellor. Problem is, no one wants to see her! Who does after hearing all the mean things she says? Her small office is rarely visited, to the point where Dr. Lipsky has moved in with all his stuff, mountains of paper that made his corner of the teacher's lounge very unseemly. Anyone who knocks is met with the Doc's intimidating stature and signature frown.

Ms. Go and Dr. Lipsky sit by themselves in the small office, never in the teacher's lounge. Drew will sometimes stay back and work, catching the bus home, whilst Shea goes home. As they get closer, Ms. Go will sometimes just go for a few hours and return to the school to take the Doc home. Although it seems like she's got it all, at the end of the day, she still goes home to her apartment - alone. Used to being surrounded by her family, as annoying as they are, used to the excitement and rush of hero work, and no longer actively using her powers, Shea is not too sure what to make of normal, civilian life. Especially after hers has been anything but. Partying, clubbing and shopping on the weekends are fun, but the prospect of socialising with others, finding interests that aren't focused on her career is daunting, if not a little frightening, if she were honest with herself. Shego, as Ms. Go, still calls him Dr. D (for 'Drew', she says the alliteration makes it fun to say) and Doc. Drew Lipsky for when she really wants to annoy him.

Drew/Drakken having dyslexia, Drew/Drakken taking the bus and the name Shea for Shego's real name are all lifted from Dwelling by @gogofordrakgo. The AU has been stewing for a very long time, almost as long as I have been reviewing. All elements lifted have been credited. I see several paths for it.

A 'Normal' AU where they exist within the KP world but never become villains, and don't teach at Middleton High School.

An Origin Story of how Drakken and Shego met teaching at some high school and then getting into villainy together.

An AU where they are teachers at Middleton High School and Kim and Ron are students there, still saving the world. They still play an antagonistic role, Drakken more than Shego, with Shego empathising with Kim without breaking her Shego-ness and becoming too nice, still distance between them. Ron would also be Shego's one-and-only student that she sees as a counsellor. Their sessions consist of having him accompany her to the mall - retail therapy. In this version of the AU, the recurring villains would be The Seniors. Senior Sr. is a big name supervillain looking to retire and is training his spoiled, sheltered son Senior Jr. to take up the mantle, but all he's interested in is becoming a teen-pop sensation, even though he learns quickly and can take on KP. Senior Sr. finds Kim Possible, not only a worthy adversary, but the ideal match for his son! He is the number one Kim x Junior shipper. (500k slow-burn, enemies to lovers epic fanfic, babies ever after - 7 for all 7 continents - 4 girls and 3 boys - evil-and-in-love - he's planned Junior's entire life for him, he can't wait to retire!). Dr. Lipsky and Ms. Go become villains at the end, becoming Dr. Drakken and Shego, the new villainous couple looking to rule the world and taking the place of Senor Senior Sr. and Senor Senior Jr.

Alternative to the last where it's all the same but they don't become villains. Maybe they try for a bit and after having their fun, they settle down to have a family. I dunno!

Now, is there more to come? YES! MAYBE! We'll see how I am feeling. Why did I do it this way and not write something properly? Because I don't like writing or plotting multi-chapter fanfic. I really wanted to make something that I could write for in this very casual way, and, if anyone else wanted to write or draw for this, that it would be possible.

Teacher AU is such a strong concept for the characters as they are, I wanted to really have it be true to them, as we see and know them in the show. I didn't want huge differences in their backstories, interests, mannerisms or relationships with other characters, because all those things inform who they are. I love that Drakken is a scatter-brained, easily-offended, easily distracted grouch and that Shego is such an annoying, snarky woman, a staunch grammarian and runner-up for professional slacker (Ron takes the number one spot). I wanted to challenge myself with this and I hope that I have been successful with it, at least initially.

[slowlyhardgoatee]

(This is for/inspired by @wrestleafterdark2)

Ah, there it is.

The sweet sound of a faggot in pain. Like music to my ears, that is. I have to confess, when I heard you were on the verge of being kicked out of college I told the dean I’d get you back on track, and when you said you’d do anything to retain your scholarship… well. 

I think you know what’s in store for you from now on, boy. Regular classes are cancelled as far as you’re concerned. You’re here to submit, serve and suffer - and let me tell you those nipple clamps you’re wearing and that cock cage I’ve got you in are just the start. Lucky for me you’ve got a pretty big cock. You know I bought a cock cage I knew would be far too small for you and made you put it on anyway, just so I’d see you writhe in pain every time you moved. And as for those nipple clamps, boy, I’ll be spending a lot of time tugging on the chain that connects them - purely because it causes you pain. In fact, I’ll be spending even more time using that chain to pull them so hard it rips them off you altogether. Then I’ll put them back on you and have you beg me to rip ‘em off you again. I’m gonna shred your nipples for you by the end of the semester, faggot. And you’ll beg me to do it. 

I told the dean I’d have you doing work for me for extra credit - and that’s certainly true. I just didn’t tell him what kind of work. So here’s how this is gonna go. That cock cage and those clamps do not come off, at all, between now and Christmas break. I mean you’re gonna be wearing them 24/7, faggot. In addition to this, I notice that some of the other guys in your frat house refer to you as a brown-noser because you’re the only one of them to get into college on a scholarship. That’s certainly gonna be true as well, boy, because your main duties while you’re working for me are gonna be to replace all my toilet paper. With your tongue. That’s right, boy, you’re gonna be my personal order-following rim slave. Starting right this second. And if you hesitate for even a second to do exactly as you’re told, I’m flushing your scholarship down the nearest toilet, before making you beg me to piss in your fucking mouth. On your back under that rim chair, faggot. Now. Head on that hard cushion underneath it. No, it’s not comfortable. I don’t give a fuck. Your comfort is my last consideration, boy. Yeah, scream while I tug on that chain, faggot. Remember what you’re fucking here for. 

Atta fucking boy. Let me just sit down… there. Get really used to that view, boy - you’ll be seeing it for just about every waking moment for the next four months. Oh you ain’t going back to that frat house. No, I need your body and mouth on tap. You’ll sleep right in this office, in the back. The first thing I’m gonna need every morning when I come in is a good, hungry rim job. 

Speaking of which, get started. Go on, pig. Time to turn you into a proper brown-noser. What’s the holdup, boy, why are you hesitating? Don’t make me remind you of what happens if you hesitate to follow an order. I know it’s not fucking clean back there, that’s what you’re for, remember? Now, French kiss my dirty, sweaty arsehole like you fucking mean it, pig. Go on. Get that faggot tongue all the fucking way up there. Go on, boy. Far as you can get it. Thaaaat’s the fucking stuff, you dirty little slut. Fuck yeah, pig boy. Yeah, fucking make out with my arsehole, you cunt. Good boy. 

Oh - I didn’t say stop. Just because I’m tugging on that chain a little doesn’t mean you stop, boy. If anything it means tongue my hole harder. Get it proper deep up in there. That’s it. Right… fucking… there. Good pig. Your new extra credit classes are gonna be Rim Jobs 101, Pain Pig Tutorial and Cock and Ball Worship Workshop. You only pass the semester and keep your scholarship if I say you get 100% in each one. If you don’t, I rip up your scholarship and stuff the paper in your fucking mouth while I rape a load up your faggot cunt. Then I’ll make you re-sit every extra credit class from the beginning. Sound good to you, pig? Yeah, course it fucking does. Keep licking my arse out, faggot. You ain’t barely even started with me yet. 

[rosethornewrites]

Over a decade ago, I graduated with an MFA in creative writing focused in fiction. I discovered that graduate school is mentally and psychologically draining and I had a mental health crisis during it.

It wasn’t just the workload, or the fact that they gave me the 7am classes to teach for 2 years (idk who I pissed off) while having grad classes that ended at 9pm. Or the fact that despite teaching I didn’t receive tuition remission.

No, the last year was especially bad because the university lost the professor I had come to work with because they disrespected them, and the other guy I was working with suddenly got a movie deal and his books translated into like 26 languages and he didn’t need to live in that shithole city anymore.

That left the narcissist, who I thought would be a good chair because he’s also part of the lgbtq+ community and I was writing queer lit.

Alas, he was not. He was an abusive jerk who once went on a rant in class because a few students were turning in drafts not ready for feedback, and so he felt the need to tell the entire class that none of us would ever get published. Who was the only fiction writer left to chair my committee, but who outright told me he didn’t “have time” to read my thesis. Who, when I emailed him a week in advance to ask for a letter of support for a grant, also sent me a response that he didn’t “have time.” Who wouldn’t sit down with me and talk about what he expected of my thesis (even length). In my mind I called him Douchebag McWhinypants.

One time he let an undergrad take our grad-level workshop. When she made an undergraduate mistake of writing outside her culture without enough research, we as her classmates were gentle in discussing why this was problematic in her short story. Unfortunately she was writing into the professor’s culture, and so when we were done he tore this poor little undergrad a new asshole. It ended with her crying in the bathroom and never coming back. One of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen, and certainly cast a pall over the rest of the semester.

At one point I found myself standing on the 4th floor of an open-air building, thinking about jumping, and I immediately went to the counseling center for help.

I figured if he wasn’t going to support me in any way, I didn’t want him on my committee. So I got the paperwork to kick him off and took it to the CW chair after filling it out. She was shocked I already had it filled out, and became my new thesis chair.

During my graduate reading, she introduced me with a lovely letter written by the person I had moved to work with, who was then gone. Meanwhile the narcissist introduced my classmate by talking solely about himself.

As a result, I haven’t picked up my partial novel/thesis, though I want to. It really made me doubt my own fiction writing abilities. Part of why I write fanfiction is an attempt to heal.

I’ve since published a couple of original short stories and a fuckton of poetry—well over 100 poems and a chapbook.

What I learned from this experience was how NOT to treat students. It was sadly not the only experience that taught me this.

Undergraduate and graduate school can be traumatizing experiences, particularly for queer, bipoc, and neurodivergent people.

It’s been over a decade and I’m honesty still dealing with it.

Douchebag McWhinypants is of course still teaching.

[looosey]

Lucy's DDR #1: I Love Dance

My parents and friends think I love to dance. They know without me saying it. In fact, a conversation I had with two NH Medlinks (i.e. my Desmond friend and his H4 friend) went like this:

H4 friend: Oh how do you know (NH4 girl 1) and (NH4 girl 2)? Do you dance? My friend: Does she dance? All she does is dance. H4 friend: Oh cool! Are you in ADT?

Which I found very fonny. No I am not. But alas, for the past two years till now, I have always been dancing, and I really really enjoy it, and I want to get better, and I think I do really love it!

But sometimes, it's hard to love it.

Today I want to talk about a big thing I see in dancers at MIT around me, which is that they have a very stressful relationship with dance. "I might quit all dance next semester," and "The MIT dance community is so toxic," and "I don't know if I want to do <xyz advanced team> next semester or just quit" are phrases I hear often from friends who always end up dancing anywhere from 3-9 hours a week.

They love it, but they hate it. The feelings are so extreme, I think, because dance is a social activity. You make friends, close friends, through dance troupe, ADT, or teams. But with dance, you're also auditioning, getting evaluated and cut, watching yourself side by side with others, being recorded, being talked about, and talking about others. It's a social activity.

And if you start thinking about how good your other peers are compared to you, the deep deep blackhole of dance-is-the-devil is slippery and treacherous. Despite them coming in with more experience, or putting in more hours than you at the expense of grades, sleep, or social life, or having been an athlete before, etc. All of my fellow friends who started dance in college, we've talked about this shared anxiety, but yet. We're all still dancing.

Dance. Dance. Four total semesters now. Why?

My favorite semester ever dance-wise was sophomore fall. Coming back from Korea, where I took a class a week at the famous 1Million and JustJerk dance studios, I was made pretty well aware that MIT was just a spec in the dance world. Thus, I was on my own journey to enjoy the art form and become professional grade good, whether or not MIT's competitive teams wanted me as a dancer did not matter. So, in September, I joined MissBehavior, did a DT dance, and took an MIT Theater dept. class in Hip Hop Dance History and Practice.

McKersin, the lecturer, taught us the history, shared the culture, opened my eyes to the Boston scene. He became the first person ever to tell me... "you need to practice" in an objective but well-meaning way. Previously, choreo workshops and Dance Troupe were fun and good to me, but in the vacuum of no-feedback-ever, I remained convinced that I was great at dancing, and thus was so confused all the time when I got rejected from competitive auditions. Now I was beginning to know.

I practiced freestyle dance and learned choreo from videos on my own, late into the night at BC dance studio. Recording myself, and gritting my teeth as I watched my own recordings. Yuck. Dumpster trash on fire, the stench coming from those videos.

But the way my dance progress became my own? So valuable to me. Thus, I improved.

I'm on a team now, and slightly deeper in the "dance as a social activity" thing both in MIT and the Boston community. Many times, I also struggle. I think I suck, look at that guy who probably only started this year he's so much cleaner than me. And that puts me in the worst bottom of the barrel mood for an entire day. Literally, makes me feel physical pain. But I never hate on dance. It's usually myself that I hate, which is not any better.

I write this on a special day: my first day ever being picked by a choreog in a workshop. You know? As the first subgroup to record? It means you're good. It was an affirmation that I'm doing okay, after a recent wave of self-hatred, actually. Even if I don't hate dance, I struggle a lot with comparing myself, and thinking I'm actually trash and not getting better, which is the root of my friends' problems too. I'm trynna overcome this and share a positive view of dance, like the energy of today's choreographer: it's fun to do and it's safe here.

This post is a reminder to future Lucy that actually, this journey has been one of great memories and progress. So, don't hate yourself, or the art. Be kind to yourself and others. Dance. Dance. Revolution.

[drsorrell]

Wed. 10.25.23

Announcements - It might be hard to hear me with this mask. I'll do my best to be loud but follow along on the screen! - I reviewed everything that had been submitted as of 7 a.m. today. :) - Schedule Switch. Wed.//Fri. flip-flop: Paper #2, Draft #2 is now due by the start of Friday's class. Peer workshop during Friday's class + extended due date, if you want (Fri. 11.3 vs. Mon. 10.30).

Summary of My Paper #2 Feedback: - Review responses, comments, videos, and lesson plans. I actually ended up doing a lot more than I would have if we had been meeting face-to-face, so you have a lot of resources for Paper #2! - Make connections between authors within BPs (see video). - Remain in charge of the conversation throughout with a strong thesis statement, topic sentences, and discussion of evidence in BPs. YOU are using quotes and IS-E to help you make YOUR point. - Thesis + BP structure: Each BP helps support the thesis in a different way. Make this clear--say what you are doing. "I'm focusing on the first part of Vance's essay because I am more interested in his background than his politics." - Close read your quotes (interpretation). Analyze word choice, tone, grammar, and ideas so that the quote works for you. Example. Mehta writes, “Might you consider that by our moving here we will make things better—not just economically but also culturally? That there is something worthwhile in the cultures we bring with us—all of us, not just the Asian model minorities—and some of it is something that you can learn from?” (Mehta 465). Mehta's quote is really interesting if you take a closer look because he uses words like "might" to convince the reader. He is asking a question, after all, not just telling the reader what to think, so his argument is more persuasive. By saying "we...us...us...you," he is making it clear he knows there is a division between immigrants and non-immigrants; he's not living in la-la land pretending there is no difference. But it's precisely this difference that he sees as a good thing. Mehta's writing style helps prove my idea that..." - Propose a serious counterargument and then point out why it doesn't work. Write more than two sentences--take "the other side's" objections seriously and address them seriously. - Address SO WHAT (the importance of the issue and conversation about the issue in 2023) and WHO CARES (the specific audience you are trying to convince). -Use a spelling and grammar checker - Questions???

*** I wasn't planning on talking about things like ChatGPT this semester, but I've had to make enough comments to students so far that I have to: AI Tools: A Brief Discussion (presentation link)

[midnightstar-90]

do you do fics that aren't slash? if so Sheldon Cooper being burn out and Georgie comforting him would be everything! set in Young Sheldon of course

Make You Proud

Taglist | Request | Wattpad

Main Masterlist | Young Sheldon Masterlist

A Young Sheldon Fanfic

Summary: In order to graduate, Sheldon must pass his P.E. class, the only subject Sheldon is not a master at. His brother offers to help. And in the end, earns his father's validation.

A/N: My first fanfic that doesn’t deal with a reader or OC! 🎉

Also, I know nothing about football, so I went off a few sites off of google.

OLDER SHELDON NARRATION

“P.E.

My greatest failure. You could give me as many english, math, and sciences classes as you desire, and he would thank you. But P.E.? That was like handing me a death certificate with my name on it. It wasn't just because I was small and scrawny. P.E. and I just never got on well.

But P.E. class brought me and my brother together. And my father had been proud of me. I felt a bond between the two men in my life, besides Dr. Sturgis, of course. That was until that semester ended, and I’d be done with P.E.”

Sheldon’s POV

I stood off to the side of the track, watching my life flash before his eyes. In the middle of the football field, inside the track, was a group of boys from my gym class. They were all huddled together, but that wasn’t the only thing I had noticed. I noticed the large dummies the football players used to train and the bag of footballs Coach Wilkins kept at his side. I instantly knew what was to happen.

Coach Wilkins lifted his head from the huddle and looked straight at me. “Cooper! Get over here,” the coach yelled.

“Um, no thanks. I don’t do well with contact sports,” I replied. All it took was one look at my setting for me to remember all the times I was hit in the head by flying projectiles, because I couldn’t, or wouldn’t catch it in time.

After that, my entire world had come to an end when Coach Wilkins said these words, “You know that if you don’t at least participate, you’ll lose participation points, which is most of your grade.” It was quite the conundrum.

My eyes went wide at the statement. I had worked exceptionally hard to maintain my 5.0 GPA, even though my school only went up to 4.0 on their grading scale. Anyways, I couldn’t lose that. So, I did the only thing I could do. I walked onto the field with my head hung low in disappointment.

When I got over to the rest of the boys huddled together, I squeezed between the boys and looked up at Coach Wilkins. “Okay, Class. This week, we're going to be playing football. Today is gonna be easy. We are going over rules, and starting tomorrow, we’ll play a game or two, each day.” Everyone gave Coach a nod, except for me, because I didn’t agree with the things he was saying.

I never understood why P.E. is a graduation requirement. What does being able to run or not have to do with academics. Why can’t it just be an elective like all the other boring and dangerous classes, like workshop? What will I, Sheldon Cooper, need gym class for in my future? Nothing, that’s what.

Anyways, I stayed in my spot, watching the boys walk out to the field. I felt a gust of wind from the girls in my class behind me, running track. I’d rather do that instead of Football. I would just imagine myself as the flash, zipping through the track with my small legs.

“Cooper!” Coach Wilkins yelled out, turning my attention from the girls to him. “I need you out on that field, Sheldon,” Coach said, giving me a stern look.

Sheepishly, I responded back with, “Isn’t there something besides sports that I can do in this class? Maybe I can do your taxes for free this year?”

“No bribes, Sheldon.”

“I’ll tell my dad,” I threaten the coach.

“He told me to treat you like a regular student,” Coach said. His smug look that he wore was saying ‘Ha! Your move!’

“Fine, but don’t expect perfect performance,” I said, angrily.

“All I ask is you participate.”

“Fine, but I won’t be happy about it,” I said with a pout.

When I got home, I made my way to the only supporter that would back me up in my graduation necessity.

My mother.

My dad stopped the truck and put it in park. I practically ripped the seatbelt off of me and slammed the door open. I hopped out and ran into the house, being met with my mother.

My mother stopped cutting the vegetables she had just gotten from the store and looked at me with concern. “Shelly? Are you okay? You’re out of breath,” she said, walking over to me. She got down to my level and placed her soft hands on my cheeks.

“I was running from dad…” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Which… I’m starting… to think… was… a bad… idea,” i said, wheezing.

“Running from dad? Why were you running from dad?” My mother asked.

“Because in order to graduate, I have to participate in P.E. And to make it worse, dad told Coach Wilkins to treat me as a regular student.”

“But you’re so small, they shouldn’t have you in a physical class,” my mom said with a mixed feeling of concern and anger.

“Exactly! And the first sport is football!” My mother gasped. Now, she’s livid. I could see the familiar vein popping out of her forehead.

It wasn’t long after after that when my father and Georgie walked through the door. My mother stared my father down with her momma bear glare.

"George Cooper Sr!" My mother yelled, startling my brother and father. "Why did you tell Wayne to treat our son like an ordinary student? Shelly is not an ordinary student. He shouldn't be involved in physical activity with those other kids. He's a child! What if something happened to him today?" My mother asked sternly.

My father looked at my mother, flabbergasted by her immediate outburst. He honestly should have known she would react like that. That's why she's my go-to when I need something done.

"I'm sorry, Mary," My father apologized.

"Seriously. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that you're right. Sheldon is not an ordinary student. He's quite the opposite. He's the highest in the class, not because of his age or size. It's because he tries and actually puts in the work. I just thought that maybe, Sheldon would do the same with P.E. No matter what he does in that class, me nor Coach Wilkins are gonna give him a free pass. He's too smart for that," My father told my mother sincerely.

I listened to my father's words, and I felt something uneasy. I thought back to my Professor Proton episodes that I watch every day after school. Professor Proton didn't get a free pass to where he is today. Now, I don't know if he was forced into P.E., or else all his achievements would be ruined, but I do know that he put in the work, and he got stuff done.

"George-"

"I'll do it!" I said out loud, cutting my mother off.

"You'll do what, Shelly?" My mother asked me, looking at me with her confused face rather than the angry face she's had on her face for the last 5 minutes.

"I'll do P.E. on dad's terms. But I have no clue how to do anything in that class," I said, slightly nervous.

"Are you sure, Shelly?" My mother asked me with a slight frown.

"Is Professor Proton named as a subatomic particle found in the nucleus of every atom?" I asked with a delighted smile. I looked between my mother, brother, and father, and they all looked at me with blank stares. My smile dropped as I said, "Yes. Yes, he is." After explaining myself, the 3 of them looked at each other with their mouths open in realization.

Georgie raises his hand and suggests to help me. My mother and father looked at Georgie like he was crazy. "I second that. Georgie is the athletic one in the family... besides Missy. But I'll save her for baseball week. Anyways, this week is football, so Georgie would be the perfect tutor," I say.

"Well, since that's sorted out, I'm gonna get ready for the game," my dad says, leaving the room.

Later that night, Georgie and I went outside so he could tutor me in P.E. It was hard to think of the day that Georgie would be the one tutoring me in something.

“Now, in playing football, you’ll probably gonna be a running back. You’re gonna try your best to run down the field, and get the ball to the end zone. But even if you’re not, you might have to pass the ball off, so that’s what we’ll start with.”

We started off by passing the ball back and forth. They weren't hard or long passes. They were short and soft passes. But that didn't stop me from the ball slipping out of my hands and end up dropping it.

After about an hour, I finally got the hang of it. Georgie smiled as he passed me the ball, once more, "There you go! You're getting it." I smiled excitedly. "I'm really doing it! I'm really doing it!" I exclaimed as I jumped up and down, before passing the ball back to Georgie.

"Okay. Now I'm gonna move around, and I want you to watch my moves before passing the ball. Got it?" Georgie explained. I nodded my head up and down, catching the ball Georgie threw at me.

Georgie ran around the backyard. Following his orders, I watched him and waited for him to get into position to catch the ball. When he turned to face me, I through the ball. Sadly, the ball landed about 5 inches from his feet.

I looked down in disappointment. "It's okay," Georgie tried reassuring me. "You threw the ball a little low, but it was still a good throw. You just need to throw the ball a little higher, next time. That's all. You're doing great," Georgie said, passing the ball back.

Hearing Georgie say those words to me really meant something. My brother had never told me he was proud of me. He always taunted me, but never did he say he was proud. I felt accomplished in the fact that maybe I can play football with high schoolers. It wasn't like it was the real thing.

After passes, Georgie began to start teaching me about tackles. When Georgie told me this, I almost crapped my pants. I thought this was one of Georgie’s sick jokes, so he could tackle me, and take out. But I was wrong. I was going to do the tackling.

“Alright. Now, when you tackle, your goal is to get your player on the ground. The best way to do that is by the legs,” Georgie informed me.

“Now, I wanna see you try.”

I took a deep breath and ran at Georgie. Right before hitting him, I tried to pounce on him. Sure I hit my target, but I guess that was the wrong way.

“Try aiming for the knees,” Georgie said.

Taking another deep breath, we got back into position. Georgie and I had a friendly stand off before I ran at him. I slightly bent my knees and pushed Georgie off his feet. Georgie let out a small cry of pain, consisting of ooh’s and ahh’s.

“Are you okay?” I asked my brother in concern. Georgie got back up on his feet, wiping himself off. “Yeah, I’m good,” he responded back, easing my concern.

Georgie stood up and began to wipe himself off. “That was great,” Georgie said, giving me a smile, which made me smile. “Now, let’s run that back a couple more times.”

The next day I was ready. Georgie taught me different ways to pass the ball, and he even showed me some of his plays. He gave me basic instructions on how to score points, tackle, and what fouls were. Georgie ended our tutoring session by saying, "Remember. This is only P.E. football, not real football. Most of the kids know the sport, but they don't know how to play it on their own. Some probably know as much as you before this. But just remember to have fun. It's not for competition."

But sadly, I wasn't ready. Sure, I now knew how to play, but I wasn't prepared for the height and strength of the boys in my P.E. class. I tried to tackle one of them, and they ran over me like roadkill. I now sat in the nurse's office with an icepack on my eye. I could feel my eye bruising, meaning I was getting a black eye.

My father ran into the nurse's office, demanding to see me. When he saw me sitting on the small bed, he stopped in his tracks, appalled at the look on my face. "How'd you get that, Sheldon?" He asked, almost immediately.

I gave my father a blank face, "Playing football."

"You don't seem too upset about that," My dad said with a raised brow. I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "I'm not. I was prepared to play. And yes, I'm sad that my brand new skill went to waste, but that skill didn’t prepare me for the pain that I felt when Ralph Terrence tackled me.”

My dad grimaced at the thought of the abnormally ripped freshman tackling me. “We’ll, I think you’r mother was right. You shouldn’t be in P.E.”

“No!” I yelled out, scaring the school nurse before turning towards us. My dad turns to her and gives her a small smile and wave. She gives me one more look and goes back to her computer. My father places his index finger against his lips as a sign to lower my volume. I take the hint and begin to whisper, “No. I want to do P.E. I mean, I go to church with mom, and yet, I don’t believe in her faith. I don’t like P.E. But why should that stop me. I’ve recently began bonding with Georgie, and I have to say, it felt good. Not the sports part, but the sense of accomplishment.”

“We’ll I’m proud of you. I’ll talk to Wilkins. No physical sports, but you can do warm ups and testing. And you can do homework or whatever while everyone plays. Okay?” My dad asked.

“Okay,” I said with a smile. The feeling of two people that hardly recognize me, being proud of me, was sensational. I was over the moon. Both my father and brother had told me that they were proud of me, in less than one day.

“I don’t have many memories of me and my father bonding over something, or even my brother and I. But, I have to say, it felt good.”

Taglist: @idontknowwhat2type @ietss @natalia12700 @siriusstwelveyears @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @countrymusiclover @bellarkeselection @alexxavicry @xivilivix

(If your user is in red, it means I can’t find you. Let me know so I can fix it.)

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 2: War of Colors

Narrated by Vermillion Snow.

Narrator: As the semester is about to end, students rush to the library, study rooms, and workshops every day.

Narrator: The freshmen who were in high spirits when they first entered the school are now somewhat looking tired.

Narrator: The curriculum stress on a CENU student is no joke.

Choose either “But you’re still full of competitive spirit” or “Is the pressure to study getting too much?”

If “spirit,” ...

You: But you’re still energetic and motivated.

Narrator: Of course, I’m an excellent student getting straight As. How can I be baffled by this course?

Narrator: But... there’ve been some other pressures lately.

If “pressure,” ...

You: You look a little tired, too. Are you stressed out?

Narrator: How could I be bothered by studying design? It’s some other things...

--

Monitor: Is Vermillion Snow here?

Narrator: Protruding from the handouts and drawings piled up on the desk, I saw sympathy and a smirk in her eyes.

Monitor: Teacher Ni asked you to the office.

Vermillion Snow: Aaaaa!! Again!!

Narrator: Pushing open the door, I saw the familiar red and white color combination on Teacher Ni’s desk - it’s my design assignment.

Narrator: I took another peek. She looked like she would explode. Well, I could imagine what she would say.

Teacher Ni: What’s with your assignment this time? Only red and white? Aren’t you tired of the same idea?

Vermillion Snow: ...They’re not the same. They have different hues and layers...

Narrator: Teacher Ni heard me whispering. She looked at me and the red and white suit on my design. She sighed and adjusted her tone.

Teacher Ni: Tell me what you think.

Vermillion Snow: ...I like the combination of red and white, and I study color theory hard to explore more of their potential.

Vermillion Snow: It’s classic but varied, and I believe in the power of red and white. As long as we give full play to it, we can do great.

Narrator: The teacher nodded and shook her head again.

Teacher Ni: You’re thoughtful. It’s good to stick to your style, but don’t overdo it.

Teacher Ni: Sticking to red and white is dull. Just like writing poems with only two words.

Teacher Ni: Your design with only two colors will be dull. Narrowness is taboo.

Narrator: The teacher was patient, but what she said made me uncomfortable.

Narrator: Dull? Narrow? I can’t believe Teacher Ni said this about red and white!

Vermillion Snow: Isn’t putting too much emphasis on colors and negating the depth of the color itself also a kind of narrowness?

Narrator: Our conversation attracted the attention of shocked teachers. It was only then that I realized that I said too much.

Narrator: Teacher Ni’s face clouded with unhappiness.

Teacher Ni: It seems like you didn’t learn anything from me. Go, and you don’t have to come to the rest of the course.

Teacher Ni: I just want to remind you that if only red and white are used in the final, I’ll fail you.

Vermillion Snow: !? How could you do that?

Teacher Ni: In my course, I expect more color conflicts and collisions, rather than stubborn self-interest.

Narrator: I left the office and almost trotted back to my room.

Narrator: And I slammed the door, startling Chi Xiaoyu who was practicing flash dancing.

Chi Xiaoyu: You scared me! What are you doing?

Narrator: I didn’t answer, but I rummaged through the cabinets for all my fabrics. The red and white piled all over my bed.

Choose either “How about a compromise?” or “Are you sure you want to flunk your favorite class?”

If “compromise,” ...

You: Take a step back, it’s just a course. Why don’t you give up?

Narrator: Red and white is my design concept! I can’t accept the teacher who teaches design colors to deny red and white.

If “flunk,” ...

You: Do you really want to fail your favorite course?

Narrator: What’s the point of designing clothes you don’t like and copying the classic colors?

--

Narrator: Chi Xiaoyu turned off the music and rubbed up to me carefully.

Chi Xiaoyu: Have you been scolded by Teacher Ni?

Narrator: I was still mad and glanced at her angrily. Chi Xiaoyu immediately put on a lovable and innocent look.

Chi Xiaoyu: I care about you. Come on, tell me what’s wrong?

Narrator: I relaxed a little bit, so I sat on a bunch of cloth and told her the whole thing.

Vermillion Snow: How could she be so against white and red when she is a CENU professor of Color Design?

Vermillion Snow: I must get an A in this course! I want to prove that red and white is more than that!

Chi Xiaoyu: It sure is! She overstepped! Challenge her, girl, I got your back!

Narrator: Chi Xiaoyu almost had a glow in her eyes, she seemed excited.

Chi Xiaoyu: Let me see...

Narrator: I needed Chi Xiaoyu’s ideas. We smiled at each other and had an idea in mind.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

[achaoticeternal]

THIS IS ME TRYING

AVENGERS X READER (tony stark x daughter!reader, platonic peter parker x reader) masterlist // taglist

Request: @big-galaxy-chaos​ “Hey so I see that you also need requests as much as I do 😚 so here is mine! So it's Peter x stark!reader angst. Where Tony is afraid of becoming like his father but in reality, he is worst than him. He favors Peter more than her. Even though she is smarter than her own father, and won tons of awards and shit. Tony doesn't realize what he lost until the reader is gone. Btw the relationship between the reader and Peter is platonic! Also, everyone is oblivious to how she is feeling. Just pure angst”

Summary: Dads and daughters are supposed to have a beautiful relationship. But you could never be the song he always wanted. Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Based on the song this is me trying by Taylor Swift. Reader and Peter are both 18+; takes place after Thanos and Tony lives. Warnings: Heavy angst, cursing, self destructive behaviors, mentions death

“Mr. Stark, I’ve been working on the chemical formula of my webbing and I’m pretty sure that I’ve completely perfected it,” Peter talked while walking with your father to the lab.

“That’s great because I’ve been working on your web-shooters. Now, they can shoot up to 200 yards in length and the error rate of them getting jammed is less than one percent.”

Tony rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder as they left the room together. Neither of them acknowledges you on the couch, reading another novel involving quantum physics. But you’re used to the cold shoulder your father has given you since he first met Peter Parker. You’re used to the way he’s turned you away all your life, justifying his choice by saying he’s protecting you. 

You knew that he feared to become his father. Pepper explained that to you when you were a child and you couldn’t leave your room until Tony’s lady of the night let. Or as you and Pepper called it at the time “taking out the trash”. 

Maybe that was when you became more interested in the mathematics and science you found in the book and the workshop over good ole bonding time with dear old dad. If he wanted to neglect the time and opportunity to raise you, you would at least make sure to put his money and name to good use for your own personal benefit. And in the back of your mind, you knew that part of you was doing this to earn the attention and love you desired from your father.

Tony just saw it as taking an early interest in your future. So he didn’t stop you when you preferred to sit with tutors over playdates, draw out designs for engines and inventions instead of scribbling in coloring books, or even reading through scientific theories over watching Disney movies. He didn’t think it was strange, because that’s what he did at your age. Hell, by the time you were 10 you had won three first-place national science fair ribbons, third place in the national spelling bee, and began developing a prototype to turn the emissions from cars back into breathable oxygen. 

Everyone noticed your brain, and how much you had achieved now at 18 years old. You held 2 Bachelor’s in Mechanical Engineering and Organic Chemistry from MIT and a Master’s in Astrophysics from Georgia Tech. And you were now planning out when you wanted to go to Law school and earn your doctorate. But you were living at the compound now, taking a gap year.

When you went away for school, you learned from others how normal life was for everyone else. You met kids who were the first in their family to go to college or were looking for opportunities outside of the small towns they came from. When you came home from your second semester at MIT, you told Tony about all this and he created the September Foundation in order to fund the projects and inventions those kids were creating. It was another punch in the gut to you, because you realized that you would never be enough for Tony.

If you were enough, he would have passed the mantle of Iron Man onto someone else after he almost lost you and Pepper to the Mandarin. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have enlisted Peter to help him in his fight against Captain America. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have gone into space for a final fight. If you were enough, Morgan wouldn’t be in the other room watching cartoons. And if Tony acknowledged you, just even a little but, maybe you wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress him and the world.

“Ms. Stark, your package has arrived. Shall I send it over to the labs?” F.R.I.D.A.Y echoed into the room.

“No, send it over to my personal workshop. In fact, send all of TS-2008 to my personal workshop.”

“Of course, miss.”

“Oh, and F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Yes, miss?”

“Please stop referring to me as ‘Ms. Stark’, (Y/N) is fine.”

“Alright, CASS, reboot the system diagnostics and run test C-24,” you yawned as you asked your personal AI system. The personal AI system you built for yourself, bu yourself - no help from Tony at all. 

“Systems are checked out, shall I launch the test?”

“Go for it,” you groaned and took to Advil for your poundingheadachee. It was now two in the morning after another long night of coding, calibrating, testing, and perfecting the project you’ve been working on the past two years. 

When you were younger, you tried to replicate the Iron Man suit, but your father quickly discovered the helmet and nearly perfected arc reactor you’d created in his lab. He trashed all of it and told you never to attempt to create the suit again. He said you were better than that, that you had more potential than pretending to be a superhero. You realized as you grew older that he didn’t care if you were trying to become a hero or not; but that you were copying his work. His precious Iron Man that he took months to perfect only took a week for his child to solve.

Dear old dad couldn’t let you have things the easy way. So instead after SHIELD fell and Tony began working to finish wiping out HYDRA, you began working on your own original model suit. Now it was almost ready to showcase to the world. 

“Test C-24:successful. Shall I continue to run diagnostics to watch the processing and reaction time of TS-2008?”

“Yes, CASS. Run virtual simulations L-29, O-400, and T-38. Let me know when the trials have finished running and whether or not they were successful or not.”

“Yes, Ms. (Y/N),”

You pushed away from your desk and left your workshop. Before you knew it, you were in the kitchen pouring yourself another cup of coffee. You had been through 3 pots already tonight and no one noticed. Guess that was the nice thing about being Tony’s kid. Everyone else acknowledge your accomplishments and paid no mind to your destructive tendencies. In fact, maybe you’d celebrate tonight and snag a bottle of champagne from the extravagant wine fridge next to the dishwasher. You’d done it plenty of nights before when you wanted to drown out and numb the pain in your heart.

“(Y/N)? Why are you awake? And why are you holding a bottle of champagne?”

Ah, Peter... of course he would be spending the weekend at the compound. It’s not likely he has a perfectly good and happy home back in Queens with a guardian who loves him very much and would give the world to him. Guess that’s something May and your Father. 

“Hello, Perfect Parker”

“You know I’ve never understood why you call me that, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t make sense from your end of the looking glass.Why are you up?” You tried so hard not scowl or be too rude. Peter had tattled to TOny before about you having a ‘bad attitude’ towards him.

“I believe I asked you that first.”

“That you did, but if you want an answer out of me, you’ll have to answer first.”

“I couldn’t sleep. thought I would get myself a glass of water. You?”

“I’m getting wasted, just like all my potential,” You faked a smile and started peeling the gold wrapping off of the cork of the bottle.

“Don’t say that, everyone knows how talented and brilliant you are,” He sighed while grabbing himself a glass and walking over to the fridge, “You’re a Stark”

“Tell that to Dad, because you’ll always be more of a Stark than I’ll ever be,” You huffed as you pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer near you.

“That doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N), are you sure you haven’t been drinking already? Because you sound delirious. Maybe you should spend some time outside of your bedroom, maybe even get out of the compound. When was the last time you left to go somewhere?”

“Thanks for the concern Parker, but I’ve been able to hold my own for at least fifteen years now. And I know I don’t leave here a lot because I don’t have the opportunity too. If there’s a private event, either Pepper attends with Tony or Spider-man makes an appearance with Iron Man. I’m just surprised that there aren’t rumors across the media wondering ‘Is Spider-Man the lost of the Iron Man, Tony Stark?” You waved your hand in the air to match the dramatic tone.

“Haha, you’re so funny,” He took a sip out of your water, “People know you exist”

“Yeah, maybe if they do a quick Google shirt. But I’m not offended, I know that I just live in your shadow. But I’m used to it,” Your poured the alcohol into a glass and began to sip from it, relief flooding through you.

“Okay , I get it. You’re just in another one of your dramatic moods, maybe you should just go to bed before you say or do something stupid,” he took a step towards you.

“Don’t I always?”

“Always what?”

“Say or do something stupid?”

He halted and shook his head, “That’s not what I meant, (Y/N), I-”

“No, that’s exactly what you meant, Parker,” You brushed past him and stormed into the living room, “You don’t understand how lucky you are.”

He came stomping after you, “Oh, so you’re feeling brave, huh? Well you just sound like an idiot. I’m not just some lucky kid! I’ve lost my parents, my Uncle was killed in front of my face, and I disappeared from existence! The only people who care for me are Aunt May and Tony.”

You turned to face him, face completely red, tears threatening to spill, “Well at least you have Tony, because I don’t! I’ve just run around all my life trying to be perfect, be easy for him to deal with, live up to his and everybody's expectations! But I’m not good enough, I’ve never been good enough, and I’ll never be good enough. I’m just Tony Stark’s bastard child who built herself from the ground up without the slightest bit of help from her father!”

“(Y/N)...”

“No, don’t you ‘(Y/N)’ me. You’ve gotten everything you wanted from my father since day one. I never had that. You didn’t have to work to really make your own suite, you didn’t have to endure a lifetime of pain because of his arrogant ass, YOU didn’t have to wonder where Tony was on your graduation day for MIT - his alma mater - because he attended your fucking high school graduation instead!”

“What the hell is going on?” Tony yelled from the opposite end of the room. Pepper stood behind him and you could hear other door creaking open to here the events down the hall, “Not only are you two fighting in the living room and woke up half the compound, but you woke up Morgan and now she’s crying in her room because you two are screaming at each other.”

“Well boo-fucking-hoo, poor Morgan woke up in the middle of the night,” you mumbled to yourself.

“I just came to get a glass of water,” Peter attempted to defend himself.

And from Tony and Pepper’s angle, he did look to be more innocent. He had a glass of water in his hand and was completely cool. While you stood opposite of him; a bottle of booze in one had, dark circles under your eyes, a tear stained face, and looking to be in a mad frenzy.

“(Y/N), explain yourself,” Tony spoke sternly.

You took a deep breath in and wiped away fresh tears with your sleeve, “No, I don’t have to.”

“Excuse me,” your father marched across the room, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight but-”

“What’s gotten into me? Do you even listen to the bullshit that comes out of your mouth? No, of course you do, because you like listening to yourself talk more than you’ll listen to me. So talking to you is as fucking useless as talking to a deaf man!”

Peter and Tony now stood stunned at you and your sudden tantrum, but you knew it had been coming, you had always known. You knew one day you were going to explode, and it just happened to be tonight.

“I get it, I’m not precious Peter, or your beautiful Morgan. I’m just your bastard child from some broad you met on Malibu Beach. Even though I’m just a kid, I’ve always been your competition, a threat to you and your name. And even after every nearly life-ending event, I thought things would change - that you’d finally love me. But that never happened not even after Extremis infected not just Pepper’s body, but my own! And now I’m dying, I’m fucking dying, dad. I’m running out of time and trying to do everything I can. I go to school and get these diplomas and certificates to impress you. I invent and build thing to get your attention. I do it all because I still desire your validation and I’m running out of time,” you fall to your knees, everything becoming to much, “this is me trying, just like I have been all my life- but it’s still not enough.”

The room went silent. Only sobs echoed around the room as champagne poured out the bottle, staining the carpet. Neither Tony or Peter knew what to say or what to do. How could they begin to comfort the crying girl on the floor, or fix everything that ha occured over a lifetime.

Tony finally knelt down, “(Y/N), you know I never meant for any of this to happen, for you to ever feel like this. I’ve always been so scared of becoming your grandfather... I thought I was doing right by never pushing you, I guess it just never clicked.”

“Oh yeah, is that why you pushed me away and found Peter? And then when you realized you had messed up and forgot about your first daughter, you had another one in order to make things up?” You raised to head and shoulder up first, then finally rose back onto your two feet, “well congratulations, you’re worse than Howard Stark. And I hope you’re proud, Dad.”

With that, you left the living room. You couldn’t deal with in anymore that night, maybe ever again. Because when Tony came to check on you the next morning, you were missing. Only a note by your bedside remained as the only proof you had even lived in the room.

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

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[djmarinizelablog]

Angst 37 for Levihan!

#37) “It’s been years, can’t you just give me a chance.”

had to hit two birds with one stone, so i used this prompt in "You are Light-Years Away (or: How Hange Zoe Became a Writer) ":

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

Hange tried to be something else at first, anything but a writer. Say, an actor, or a scientist. A teacher. Maybe a faith healer. Or a world leader. Hange had written all of those down on a piece of paper at the age of 16. A teacher had asked her what she wanted to be ten years later, and the only thing Hange couldn't write back then was “a sugar baby.”

It's a good thing the disillusionment came to her at an early age. High school doesn’t give a shit about what you end up doing, anyway. Because now in college, Hange has it worse.

She's majoring in psychology, but her course adviser, Professor Pixis, recommends that she take poetry classes. Learn how to write a haiku, he says. Or a sonnet. Then count the syllables and struggle with metaphors. It helps structure one's thoughts.

But Hange knows that's bullshit. Metaphors are for those who can't deal with their realities. That's why there's a huge demand for her profession. It's societal pressure at it's finest, and Hange pretends to go along with that. Being a psychology major pays the bills, at least. Poets can't even do that. Not even when they receive their diploma.

So she experiments with short stories, tries to dabble with world-building and character development. Goes hand in hand with psychoanalysis, she tells herself. She enrolled in a writing workshop using her free elective and never looked back. Her course adviser asks her why fiction and she says she doesn't want to say anything that doesn't make sense. Because, for someone like Hange, if it doesn’t matter, then it doesn’t count.

In her fiction classes, she writes stories about swashbuckling rogues and treasure hunting expeditions with dragon-slaying knights. There's this piece where she wrote about a dog who magically started talking halfway through, only to end up enslaving his master as a plot twist. She submits it to the professor but when she gets her manuscript back, Professor Shadis tells her, "Your imagery is very well-written, but you have a terrible understanding of plot."

Her paper is marked in red.

At home, she kicks off her shoes and mutters, "The only plots that matter are the ones that live in my head."

She ends up shifting to Creative Writing by the next semester.

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

The lines aren’t flowing yet, but the commentaries and gestures are very graphic and vivid. In Nanaba’s play, there are two lovers where one is a whore and the other is a banker. The banker attempts not to pursue the whore, and the whore pretends he’s the only one in the world. Obviously, it’s a recipe for disaster. They end up coming to terms with their relationship. There’s a lot of sex, which Hange really likes, but it only happens when the lights go dark and both characters are blindfolded, which Levi likes even more.

“‘It’s been years, can’t you just give me a chance?’” Levi reads the line of the banker. “‘We can still be together.’”

(read the entire fic on ao3)

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 7.5 OR Chapter 8

➜ Words: 2.7k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You thought about it over Winter break.   While baking and laying around your dorm room, you’ve come to a self-revelation. You spent only a week in Jungkook’s hometown before coming back for the other two, not wanting to intrude on his family too much, and during that time, you’ve re-discovered a strengthened will. You’ve decided to abandon your unproductive heartache in favour of nurturing a new ambition, a new eagerness to flourish and thrive, and make the most out of your time here.   And Jungkook is surprised to see this fresh enthusiasm.   “You’re here early.” He steps into the kitchen to see you crouched over the counter with notebooks and textbooks sprawled out, already studying at the beginning of the semester.   “I know.” You lift your head to grin at him. “Just thought I’d get a head start. Don’t slack just cause we’re in the same class, Jeon. I won’t always give you notes when you skip.”   He approaches with a small smile. “I’m guessing the rest of your Winter break was good.”   “It was alright. It’s nice to sleep in. How was yours?”   “Lia and Eunbi kept crying when you left. I swear my family likes you more than they like me.”   “Naturally,” you taunt while batting your lashes. “I’m just so likable.”   “Uh-huh.” But that still doesn’t explain why you’re humming and smiling to yourself. It’s only eight in the morning and he wonders where the usual Little Miss Cranky went. “Did something good happen?”   “What do you mean?”   “You’re giggling to yourself.”   “I’m not giggling.” You feign a glare. “I’ve just...found new motivation to work harder. I thought about it a lot and….”   “And?”   “I’m going to get back with Seokjin,” you declare. Jungkook’s eyes are wide and you smile. “I’m going to catch up and become someone worthy of him. Someone he won’t be able to let go. I’m going to work my hardest, so he can be proud of me.”   “Huh.” The boy nods. “Well, good for you.”   “Psh, what’s with the bland response. Listen, you better look out, Jeon. I’m going to make the best portfolio ever to submit at the end of the semester.”   He grins. “Okay.”   You return to your work, finishing up reading the section while humming to yourself.    Jungkook glad you found a new vigour to strive and do your best — but he can’t help feeling unsure of your reasoning. He’s pretty sure that this isn’t it.   //   The lectures and hands-on workshops at the very start of the semester are always the blandest. Introductions are done, course outlines are looked at, and the professor drones on and on about the course’s expectations and what the assignments and examinations will look like. Jungkook isn’t exactly enthused to hear what he’ll have to get done in the coming weeks.   And it’s in this very boredom that he knows he doesn’t need to say anything about your new-found determination. Eventually class will wear you down like it does for everyone, and you’ll become indifferent again. You’ll come to your senses one way or another.   But to his surprise, you’re still very much jolly after classes.   “It hasn’t been one day and classes are already fucking me in the ass,” Taehyung groans.   “Hey, guys!” You plop down with Jungkook beside you. “I missed you. How was Christmas break?”   “It was good.” Hoseok looks up, appearing utterly exhausted with dark circles lining the area beneath his eyes.    Yoongi actively glares at you. “You’re chirpy.”   Much to his dismay, you laugh. If Yoongi was a dog, he’d probably bite you.   Jimin smiles. “Did something good happen, Y/N?”   “Actually, yeah. I just realized some things over the break and I just have more motivation to work hard, you know?”   “Can you give me some of that motivation?” Taehyung groans. “What does it take?”   “A fear of flunking and getting kicked out should be more than enough motivation,” Yoongi deadpans.   “What’s your motivation, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, the corner of his mouth curling.   “I…” You glance at Jungkook, not sure if you should tell them the truth. But after a moment of hesitation, you go for it. There’s nothing to hide. “I’m going to try to get back together with Jin.”   At once, you receive mixed reaction — Jimin goes blank, Taehyung lifts his head off to the table and Hoseok’s brows are raised, lips tight. He’s the one who breaks the silence. “Wow, that’s great, Y/N.”   You grin. “I know, right?”   “How are you going to do that?” Taehyung looks at you. “If I can ask…”   “I’m going to improve myself and become someone he wants, someone worth him.”   “But is it really up for you to decide?” Yoongi asks out of the blue, piping up as he chews some chicken in his cheek. The black-haired man looks at you lazily. “It takes two.”   “Yeah, but I can try, right?” You shrug your shoulders, wearing a small smile.   But Yoongi doesn’t accept what he hears, not in the way you want him to. “He dumped you, didn’t he? What makes you think he’ll want you back?”   “I—”   Taehyung steps in before the situation can escalate. “Yoongi.”   But the tired man ignores him, his eyes piercing, even if he gazes at you languidly. “You think you can change him or change what happened?”   “I love him.” Your eyes are glossy and there’s an overwhelming urge to block out your ears.   Yet Yoongi scoffs. “Okay. So what? Who says you won’t be dumped again?”   “Yoongi, chill it, dude,” Taehyung intervenes and Hoseok is also alert, trying to change the topic to no avail. In the meanwhile, Jimin is caught in the conflict and rendered speechless, but what hurts most is that Jungkook doesn’t defend you. He doesn’t utter a single word of support.   “Is it so bad to want him back?”   “Yeah. If he doesn’t want you back.” He shrugs. “It would be more productive if you get on with your life, got better and showed him what he missed out on. Trying to get back together with him makes you look desperate.”   “I never asked for your opinion, Yoongi.”   “Fair, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hear what I have to say. Plus, I’m just asking you questions and as of yet, I haven’t heard any answers, Y/N,” Yoongi bites back. It’s not like the friendly banter that you have with Jungkook. What Yoongi says is painful to hear, heavy on your heart. It’s argumentative with intentions to prove himself right, confrontational in a way you’ve always avoided. “Why are you setting yourself up to be hurt again? Don’t you think you deserve better than that?”   The group falls into strained silence. The tension wraps itself around your throat, robbing your breath from your lungs. Nothing is spoken, no one utters a word. They stare at you as if they’re waiting for a response, for your justifications. But they don’t need to hear it — it’ll sound like a broken record.   They’ll never don’t get it — how much you love Seokjin. How much you miss him. How much you want him back in your life. Someone who used to be your best friend, who was your entire world, your person, and how he’s turned into a complete stranger.   “Alright, guys. Let’s just agree to disagree, okay?” Taehyung laughs stiffly, trying to dial it back. But you abruptly stand, grabbing your tray of food.   “Y/N.” Jungkook grabs your arm before you can walk away.   You don’t face him. “I have some stuff to do. Catch you guys later.” After dumping the tray, you walk out of the building before they can see the tears in your eyes. And they watch your backside until you’ve disappeared from the dining center.   “You’ve really done it now,” Hoseok chides Yoongi.   The male shrugs. “Was I wrong? She needed to hear it from someone and apparently I’m the only one willing to be the bad guy.”   //   You continue to march across campus with no destination in mind, merely attempting to find some peace and quiet. You tear open the door to the west wing, sniffling as your breath heaves, and at your hasty pace, you fail to notice another person walking in the opposite direction until your shoulders collide with one another.   “S-Sorry.”   The rounded, short girl regards you with bright eyes, wearing a white apron and jeans. “It’s okay—oh, Y/N, right?”    “Do I….know you?”   “I’m Yoo Aeri. We met each other on orientation day, remember?”   “Oh my god.” It was four months ago, but you can vaguely recall the first person you befriended. You were so happy that you met someone friendly that you told Seokjin right away, even if you forgot to exchange contact information. “I remember now. I’m so sorry I forgot, my mind lately is just…”   She laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I actually switched into the culinary program recently.”   “Oh, really? That’s super cool. I heard it was hard.”   “It is a little, but the Baking and Pastry Arts program is a lot more competitive. I just found it wasn’t for me.”   “I know what you mean. I can get pretty tough.”   Aeri smiles and you realize she’s holding a plastic wrapped plate when she thrusts it towards you. “I’m actually walking around right now to see if someone wants to eat this — It’s seared salmon I made in class, but I made too much. As usual. Do you want to have lunch with me?”   You’ve never had such a proposition before. “I’d love to.”   //   8:12 pm. Jungkook: is the plan still on?   Every so often when Jungkook’s sick of you complaining about the vile food at the dining hall, the both of you go out to grab a bite to eat off-campus. His wallet cries but he has to admit that it’s fun.   Tonight though, you haven’t knocked on his dorm room yet and he hasn’t been in contact with you since lunch. Jungkook wonders passingly if you’ve permanently ghosted him — if so, he doesn’t know why he’s being punished for Yoongi’s actions.   8:14 pm. Y/N: oh yeah sorry 8:14 pm. Y/N: not tonight   The moment he gets the message, his brows shoot to his hairline. Jungkook audibly groans.    You should’ve told him sooner. He can’t get a good meal in the dining center when it closes in just fifteen minutes. But Jungkook wonders if you’re underneath your covers crying, if you’re really that weak willed to be broken down so easily by a few words from Yoongi, but then—   8:16 pm. Y/N: made a new friend   Wow. So you ditched his ass for someone else — now Jungkook has zero sympathy for you.   With the annoyance of a lifetime, he grabs his coat and decides to go out anyways. He doesn’t need you. He can enjoy a perfectly good meal off-campus by himself.   It takes Jungkook fifteen minutes by bus to get to the bustling street. He enters the cozy pizza restaurant down the block that you’ve both gone to a few times and orders takeout. He waits at the front playing a game on his phone to pass the time, hoping he can get home soon and enjoy the food in the comfort of his own bed.   But Jungkook’s ears perk when it catches loud voices that draw his attention. He naturally lifts his head. It’s a mistake.   He can’t even act that he doesn’t know them, that he didn’t see them, not when his eyes connect directly with Jin’s and they look at each other.   Yet, to Jungkook’s surprise, the older man stops with a smile. “Hey!”   The best way to describe his relationship with Seokjin was that they are acquaintances — similar to how he would’ve called you, excluding the recent months. Jungkook knows Jin from high school, saw him in the halls but they seldom spoke to each other. They hear things about one another but that’s the furthest extent of their interactions.   Until now.   “Are you here alone?”   “Yeah I’m just grabbing some takeout.” Jungkook awkwardly hitches a thumb over his shoulder.   Seokjin nods, plump lips naturally pouted. “Were you in the area?”   “Not really. I came from school.”   “Oh, that’s actually pretty far. I’m surprised you didn’t just do delivery.”   Jungkook’s doe eyes double. He feels like an idiot. “Oh shit, actually?! I didn’t know they had delivery!” He could’ve saved himself half an hour.   Seokjin grins. “Yeah, but it costs an extra two dollars.”   “Guess I’m saving money then.” He feels bitter. Sincerely, you are the curse of his life. Jungkook would’ve never been in this situation if he didn’t feel a need to imaginarily prove you wrong in his mind.   “Jin!” One of his male friends calls out, signaling him over as the waitress shows the rest of his friends to a table.   “I’ll be there in a minute.”   Jungkook can kind of understand the sad state you were in after the breakup. Aside from Seokjin’s handsomeness that even renders Jungkook speechless at some angles, it’s evident that Jin has a good personality. He’s friendly and warm, despite being an acquaintance. And Jin never once treated him poorly even back when he had his feud with you.   “Want to step outside for a minute?” Jungkook asks. “It’s kind of loud in here.”   “Sure.”   The two of them exit the restaurant and become enveloped in the chilly air. It is quiet out here, almost too quiet. They can finally hear each other properly but Jungkook finds his thoughts are deafeningly loud.    “So, what did you end up ordering?”   “Three sausage and two pepperoni.” Jungkook’s fond of the way you always call him a meathead as he stuffs his face with it. “It’s my favourite.”   “Oh really? I’m more of a pineapple man, myself.”   “I’ll admit, I hated pineapple myself until Y/N changed my mind.”   Seokjin grins. “She did for me too. How is she, by the way?”   “She’s...fine. Enough to drive me crazy.” Jungkook sighs with the force of his entire being and Jin nods with the corner of his mouth quirked.    “I'll admit, I was pretty surprised when I heard through the grapevine that you guys became friends. But I’m glad she has someone with her.”   “We’re not like that.”   Jin hums. “Doesn’t change the fact that she has someone to support her.”   There’s a pause. “Can I ask you something?”   It’s the reason Jungkook went out of his way to ask him to come outside. He’s curious and maybe it’s not his place to be, but he’s always felt more involved than he should be. Jungkook wants to understand, to clear his confusion, to hear the other side of the story.   “Depends on what it is.” Seokjin smiles.   “Why did you break up with Y/N?”   You had never really told him the reasoning, and he’ll admit it was bizarre when the two of you split. Jungkook always thought you were one of those irritating high-school sweetheart couples that would eventually get married and settle down with one another. The kind of couple that would get their love story posted in the newspaper after their seventy year anniversary.    A picture-perfect happily ever after.   Seokjin sighs, a cloud of condensation emitted through his parted lips. He leans against the brick wall and looks up at the night sky. “Sometimes...there doesn’t need to be a bad reason or a red flag or some kind of deal breaker.”   “Then why?”   Seokjin shrugs. “I always felt like Y/N loved me a lot more than I loved her. Always.”   “Sometimes, it felt like she put me on a pedestal. Other times, I think I made her feel inadequate. But she was always willing to give up everything for me.” Their eyes connect, Jin’s sheepish and soft. “And for me, I constantly felt like I had to play the part of a good boyfriend, rather than be one because it came naturally. It made me feel guilty. She didn’t do anything wrong. I think I just realized sooner that we weren’t the ones for each other.”   A disconnect. Jin liked you — he adored you — but you loved him wholeheartedly with your entire soul. Even now you still earnestly love Jin.   Jungkook isn’t sure what to do with the new information. But he suddenly feels bad for you. More than he ever has.

[inked-out-trees]

3, 4, 18 for the ask game? Thanks :)

(Might send more in the morning- I’m NOT trying to start another ask fight don’t worry haha)

3. What is one scene you've always wanted to write but couldn't be arsed to write all the set-up and context it required?

HERE'S THE THING. Last time I answered this question I mentioned something about "lesbians on a boat that I'm dead set on writing for a workshop next semester"? It's workshop time and I am no closer to ever thinking of anything for that bit so here we are.

I have no idea about the context. It's a summer fling, I think. The love interest teaches the narrator about the lake creatures, all the dangers in the water below them, the worlds unknown. The love interest might also have something a little off about her. I don't know. All I know is that it ends with the narrator in the water, wondering how she'd gotten to be nearly drowning, and in this last rumination, she says to her love interest, from somewhere in the depth, I see your hands reaching for me. Like an angel. Or a siren.

Point being, the love interest could be pulling her up to the surface (angel) or dragging her to drown (siren). But regardless, I've been sitting on this idea for a literal year and it's been petulantly giving me nothing, so I present it forth to the world. (Watch me finally get a clue now that I've told someone. Wouldn't that be something!)

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you're really proud of (and explain why, if you'd like.)

Here are a few!

Horn Signals (Symphony no. 31): "She thinks of the Nile who lingered in her seat at the end of her very first rehearsal, confident in her skills yet hesitant in the busy room, wondering what in the hell was going to come next. You're going to have so much fun, she tells that version of herself; I promise you, these months will be good." (chapter 5) -- I remember having so much trouble ending this story, but the last line wallops me emotionally and I'm glad for it.

homeward, bound: "This is a war of wills. He and his uncle are playing chess with pawns carved from the upper hand, and he is not winning." (chapter 4) -- I just really like this metaphor :')

make off like a band(it): "Don't move. I'm going to eat your moustache." (chapter 12) -- it made my sister laugh :)

The Keep Going Song: "'Oh, don't start,' Chris says. But he's smiling." (part t) -- my whole thing about writing big changes in little actions? that.

18. Do any of your stories have alternate versions? (plotlines you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations) tell us about them!

BOY DO THEY! Here's a small list:

- the Max Is Not Okay storyline I abandoned in homeward, bound because it didn't fit the trajectory (in which the portal was glass and the cast simply saw a wreck where he was meant to be and panicked)

- a handful of false starts from my problem section of ex-home syndrome (may or may not be released once ex-home itself is released)

- the ENTIRE plot of Lookout 1.5, an adjacent Lookout AU in which the team hits up Bethsbridge before Paul dies and we get some Nicks Brothers Action. literally I have it all summarised neatly in my notes app (and it's so good). will I ever write it? probably not. a girl can dream though

- half an abandoned plotline for one of my chapters of the universe is pitted against us that I was halfway through before deciding it wasn't something I wanted to talk about. it will not be released but it haunts me sometimes

- the proposal for a film adaptation of homeward, bound, which included more hints to Chris and Guz's childhood and also probably an extended fever dream sequence because I really like those.

[bettsfic]

march pinned: ending the sex project

in the march edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and upcoming consultation availability, i have personal essay recommendations and a segment on the definition of a project!

for more information on my creative coaching services, check out my carrd.

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

fuck february, amiright?

i thought january was bad. but february. february was the stuff of nightmares. my cousin passed away from covid (you can read about her here; she was really an amazing person and i feel so lucky to have known her). i was finally formally diagnosed with PCOS (bittersweet, i guess). my car broke down. i took two (2) days off and it took me two and a half weeks to get caught up again. i can only hope march treats us all a little more gently.

the good news is, i finished revisions on my short story collection to send to my agent, finished workshop submissions for the semester, and now i can return to my first love, fanfiction. that i am constantly working through original fiction to return to fanfiction has been making me think a lot about the nature of a creative, capital-p Project. so, this month’s BTALA (been thinkin a lot about) is going to inspect the concept of a “project.”

new resource

last month i unveiled a folder of my favorite short stories which i’m pleased to hear several of you have perused and gotten some inspiration from. this month i’ve compiled my favorite personal essays. there are fewer essays than there are short stories because i’ve broken them into two groups: personal and craft. next month i hope to have the craft essays compiled.

i’m always looking for more things to love, so if you have recommendations for your favorite short stories and essays, i’d be happy to hear them!

writing-related posts

how to physically maneuver the revision process

the difference between M and E ratings of fic

resources for worldbuilding (check out the reblogs for more!)

a couple syntax/prose book recs

how to break a long work into chapters

march availability

unfortunately i have to cut my coaching hours down a bit, so i don’t have any openings left in march, but i have some availability in april. if you’re interested in a writing consultation, please fill out this google form!

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

what i’m into rn

for the past year, i’ve basically been trapped in a 10x10 room, and my health is definitely reflecting that, both mentally (does anyone else feel like they’re living in groundhog day? just, every day being exactly the same except fractionally worse than the day before??) and physically (i reorganized the kitchen and could barely move for two days).

reader, i have discovered something called “walking,” in which i put on real human shoes and go outside. it feels strange, bestial. neighbors wave hello to me. a harrowing experience.

while doing this, this walking, i’ve been listening to the lolita podcast which a friend recommended to me, a ten-episode series that dives into everything lolita: the novel itself, its context, adaptations, greater cultural responses, and — as a sticker on my laptop says — vladimir “russian dreamboat” nabokov. as far as i can tell it seems well-researched and presents the many perspectives of lolita in a fair way. i’m only a few eps in, but i’m entranced so far. highly recommended if you, like me, have a complicated relationship with lolita.

i’ve also found myself mildly addicted to a mobile otome game called obey me, which. look i know it’s like the definition of cringe but it’s also mind-numbingly fun and if i want to spend my minimal free time pretending 7 demon brothers are all vying for my affection then that’s between me and god. it’s a lot of what i loved about WoW: frequent events, bright colors, a daily to do list of simple but satisfying tasks, many many rewards, and it doesn’t take itself very seriously. and if i have 4k fic written of mammon/reader that’s nobody’s business but mine and my longsuffering ao3 subscribers.

i’m telling you this because i don’t know anyone else who plays it and am desperate to trade headcanons. so if you play, or start playing, hit me up!! i will give u mad tips and daily AP.

been thinkin a lot about

the project. the project. even the word “project.” PROject (noun). proJECT (verb). what is the project? “project” comes from the latin pro and jacare which means “to throw forward,” or projectum which means “something prominent.” a projector throws forward an image. to project onto something means to throw your perspective onto something else. to embark on a project is to make something prominent in your life. the concept of “the projects” comes from public housing projects, the government throwing forward affordable housing.

what is the project? in joseph harris’ essay “coming to terms” he says that “to define the project of a writer is…to push beyond his text, to hazard a view about not only what someone has said but also what he was trying to accomplish by saying it.” harris’ perspective is that of an english teacher encouraging his students to read critically, not just to summarize a text but to find its project, its greater purpose. and while i first read this essay in a seminar on composition pedagogy, it stuck with me as a writer. it made me reconsider the greater nature of the creative project.

how many of us, if asked to describe our writing project, would begin with a plot or character premise, the nuts and bolts of a specific story? maybe even the working title? but i wonder, is breaking out the plot really the project? is the discipline of sitting down and typing really the project? and when the story is finished, is the project over? what is the project?

in 2019, i wrote 86k words of a novel. i began revising that novel last fall, and i’m finding that i’ll probably keep maybe less than 10k of that initial draft. i’m not bothered by that. the novel i wrote before that started at 125k, then i rewrote the entire thing to 200k, then i whittled it back down to 160k, and next i’ll be tasked with paring it back down to 80k. i’m not bothered by that either. in the past five years or so i’ve written about 2 million words, and i’ve only published 20k of them. only 1% of what i’ve written, i’ve published. in the words of lauren cooper (catherine tate), i’m not bothered.

i used to see publication as the birth of the project, and writing it akin to a long gestation period. then i saw publication as the death of the project, and its life was lived in its drafting. now, publication seems irrelevant to the project. the confines of a story and its many revisions are also irrelevant to the project. the beginning of a story is not the start of the project and the end of the story is not the end of the project. the project is larger than the story, its revisions, its publication, and its eventual readership.

i think it took me so long to see this because for so many years i was still in my first project, the sex project, an exploration of trauma and sexual identity, which began in 2014 with destiel fanfiction, endured through many fandom shifts, my MFA, years adrift as an adjunct, all the way through 2020 with the completion of my short story collection. i used to wonder how anyone could write about anything other than sex. to me it was the only topic worth my attention. i was certain that i would spend my entire life being a sex writer and i’d never find fulfillment writing a young adult sci fi adventure or a highly literary novel about complicated family dynamics. i was baffled by people who were interested in other things, who could write entire novels without using the word “cock” even once.

then my sex project ended. i don’t know when exactly it happened or why, but suddenly i realized i never wanted to write another artful description of an orgasm or find a tactful euphemism for a vagina ever again (personally i prefer “wet cunt” because not only is it blunt, i find it phonetically pleasing). obviously i’m still writing explicit fanfic but it doesn’t feel the same as it used to. sex feels more sidelined to me, even if it’s still the center and drive of a fic. i no longer get any personal satisfaction from writing it, although i do get satisfaction in sharing the work for readers to enjoy.

it’s like i’ve somehow solved the biggest puzzle of my life. or i guess made peace with my meanest monster, that extremely complicated double-mind of desire that some non-sex-repulsed asexuals feel: you want to feel desire you can’t actually feel so you write it into fiction, to try to understand this thing you can’t have and which society tells you you’re missing, and you don’t even know if you don’t have it, because you still feel desire for affection and intimacy, and maybe even a desire to be desired. and for those of us who are asexual and have c-ptsd, sex you don’t actually want (but don’t know you don’t want, because maybe you’re ambivalent and mildly curious and touch-starved) and an unrelenting drive toward people-pleasing can be a dangerous combination. how can you ever know what consent is if you always put other people’s desires above your own?

maybe i’m alone in this. maybe i’m not. maybe for most people, wanting sex is a light switch: yes i want it, or no i don’t. but for me, i had to write a whole lot of words to figure out things like desire, consent, intimacy, forgiveness, the shape that good love takes. the lengthy theoretical flowchart of “i might be interested in having sex if this and this and this and this and this happens in this exact order and under these exact circumstances.”

it was hard to write something into reality that i have never seen except in pieces, in subtext i clung to with no lexicon to give it shape and meaning. te lawrence in lawrence of arabia. some of tarantino’s early work. the film benny and joon. and weirdly, the star wars prequels (that one’s hard to explain; i’ll spare you). i don’t think the sex project was about coming to terms with my asexuality as much as it was trying to organize my thoughts and feelings by continuously rendering my own experiences within a greater, shinier ideal — like how you sometimes have to unravel the entire skein of yarn to find the loose end, and only then can you get started.

i guess i’m in the infancy of the power project now. i’m moving toward themes of control, infamy, greatness. the exact circumstances in which atrocity occurs. how people rise into leadership and fall from grace. the consequences of success. i don’t know why this project has come to me, or what, if anything, it has to do with me. i’m not famous and have no intention of becoming famous; i don’t have social power or influence, at least not beyond my little corner of fandom, and i’m not interested in having it. and yet, here we are, already hundreds of thousands of words in.

my fics digging for orchids (tgcf) and a standing engagement (the hunger games) deal with the detriments of fame. and even float (breaking bad) to a degree is about the aftermath of being so close to power. my novel cherry pop, loosely based on macbeth, is about an ongoing power exchange between two teenage girls. my other novel, vandal, is about a girl who believes she has magic powers and casts a spell on her neighbor to fall in love with her. and i’m in the very early stages of a novel called groundswell, a cult story i’ve been wanting to write for years. i had no idea why i couldn’t write it until i realized it wasn’t yet my project. i’m not even to the stage of developing characters, let alone a premise or plot. i’m still just building my aesthetic pile (i discuss the aesthetic pile here, as well as vandal in more detail), watching documentaries on cults, reading books, finding inspiration, marking down ideas as they come. it may be years before i’m ready to sit down and write it.

now that i know what the project is, i have more patience with myself. it doesn’t bother me to rewrite a novel from the beginning, or to scrap novels altogether, because the story isn’t the project. the project cannot be diminished by cutting words, sentences, paragraphs, entire chapters. the project does not have a product. the project cannot be published. the project is in the practice, in dragging the impossibly large into clear, acute existence, so you can see it. so you can see the very center of what you thought was an unknowable thing.

[justcourttee]

And They Were Roommates- Pt 21

A/N so so so sorry for how late this was posting. promise the next chapter will be up super soon

Marinette took a deep breath before the elevator doors slid open to the workshop. Before she could even step out, a round of applause erupted from the room, causing a blush to rise up the girl’s cheeks.

“And there she is! The woman of the hour! Everyone, give a big congratulations to Marinette for signing her first sponsorship over winter break!”

The applause slowly died out as Marinette dished out small thank you’s to everyone. She took her seat in the meeting hall, pulling out her sketchpad in case anything important was said.

“As you all know, this week was your first week of classes for the spring semester and over half of you will be graduating soon!”

Another round of applause sounded through the room as a few seniors cheered.

“Unfortunately that does mean that many of you will be leaving my workshop and entering the workforce hopefully with your head level after spending much of your college years here.” Several scattered laughter could be heard, but there was a light sadness to them. “With that being said, on all of your workstations, I have placed several application folders that I have deemed worthy of your spots. It is up to you to finalize the decision though.”

Marinette felt her heart stop. She knew that this time would come, but she didn’t want to be the one to turn somebody down for this opportunity. She knew what it meant to get into this workshop and to be the one to turn down somebody for it-

“That will be all for this week’s meeting. Please get to work on your various projects and as always, this workshop is a priority, but don’t let me find out that some of your grades are slipping due to it!”

She clapped her hands twice and everyone scattered. Sure enough, there were three applications sitting at Marinette’s workstation, all vying for her attention. Carefully, she slid them to the side to make room for her sketchbook. Tim already had gotten her two commissions from small businessmen looking for new suits and a reasonable price.

Two hours in and she was finally satisfied with the outcome of her sketch. Her eyes kept flickering to the folders sitting on the edge of her station, begging her to open them. She bit her lip hard as her hand hovered over the closest one.

“Having trouble deciding?”

A girl leaned against her workstation wall, snapping her attention from the folders.

“I know what this internship did for me and the thought of denying someone this opportunity, well-” Marinette trailed off, her eyes falling back to the applications.

“I know what you mean. This internship practically has a job set up for me the minute I finish crossing that stage, how do you decide who’s worthy for that?”

Marinette nodded as the girl shook her head before stepping away, leaving Marinette with a renewed pain. In a quick motion, she snatched up the first folder, laying it across her desk.

Jayden Robinson. Aspiring designer. Business major. Commissioned by most people from her hometown for everything from prom dresses to wedding dresses.

A small smile crept on Marinette’s face. It was so similar to Marinette that it almost felt nostalgic looking through her application. For sure she would be a front runner. At least that’s what she thought.

Opening the second folder, Marinette felt her smile drop.

Julia Hester. Aspiring Journalist. Journalism major. Made her way to chief editor of University Newspaper by the end of her freshman year.

Marinette knew how much this internship would mean to Julia. It’s all she had talked about ever since Marinette told her she worked here. Hell, it would probably guarantee her a spot at the Daily Planet upon her graduation.

After this, Marinette didn’t even want to look at the third application, but her curiosity was eating her up.

Ashmad Batish. Aspiring counselor. Psychology Major. Managed to correctly diagnose 170/170 on a Doctoral entrance exam his Sophomore year.

Slamming all three folders shut, Marinette buried her head in her hands. The only thing she was sure of was that she was not getting any work done today. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

“Hey Marinette! Tell Chloe to give me back my hoodie! I don’t care about her aesthetics, I’m just cold and it’s my favorite one!”

She had barely made it one foot in the door and she was already debating if the folders inside her bag would be less trouble than her roommates.

“Noo, Dupen-Chang, tell adrien to stop being a whiny little kid and wear another sweatshirt. This one flows with my outfit!”

They continued bickering as she slipped past them and into the hallway. Turning the knob as softly as she could, she slipped into Damian’s room where the bickering finally ceased.

“They are as insufferable as Timothy and Jason, I do not see how you have lived with them for nearly four years.”

Marinette smiled softly as she plopped on Damian’s bed, dropping her bag to the floor.

“They’re like part time siblings, I don’t have to deal with it 24/7.”

Damina hummed thoughtfully as he sat down his book, pulling her into his side.

“How was your first day back to the workshop, Drake mentioned you already had two commissions from business partners.”

She let out a groan as she buried her face into his side.

“I barely got anything done besides the base sketch. Apparently as a graduating senior, Professor Brookes narrows down the choices for our replacements, but we have final say in who gets our spot. I spent all day looking over my choices and I’ve only narrowed it down to two.”

Wordlessly, Damian reached over, his hand searching for her bag. Pulling up the bag in a swift motion, he grabbed the three folders that sat inside. He took a moment to scan the options before handing her one folder in particular.

“It seems pretty obvious, Julia Hester should be your choice. Not only is she an adequate journalist, but she is in a way your friend, correct?”

“She is, but i want my decision to be fair! Not based on friendship. How do I know that subconsciously I’m only choosing her because I know her?”

Damian sat up a little further, causing her to look up at him.

“Why not both? This internship would not benefit the psychology major, nor the business major. If the girl is entering this internship to go straight to work under somebody, she will never be able to stand on her own away from the brand she goes under. That is something you explained to me. Even if you were not making the decision based off of friendship, all signs still point to Julia.”

Marinette paused, her finger half risen as if she was ready to refute his statement-except, she couldn’t find a flaw in his logic. She let out a defeated sigh as she buried her head into his sigh.

“I really hate it when you use logic on me.”

She felt his laughter rumble through his chest as he pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

“How dare I?”

It wasn’t much longer until he heard her snoring, slightly muffled by his shirt. Re-opening his book, Damian began again, relishing in the warmth of his soulmate snuggled into his side.  

Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ladybug-182 @fusser90 @thestressmademedoit @dast218 @thezestywalru @jardimazul-blog @olynix @dorkus-minimus @xahriia @kris-pines04 @urbanpineapplefarmer @moonlightstar64 @itsmeevie01 @little-lady-bird @alexandriamw @lozzybowe @emmdaenovice @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @jessigurl-design @aegyobutpsycho2 @stark-morgoona @tis-i-beanbandit @rebecarojas07 @abrx2002 @ash-amg @loveswifi @heaven428 @dreamykitty25 @marinettepotterandplagg @smolplantmum @clumsy-owl-4178 @books-and-left-behind-journals @joejoejodee @iloontjeboontje @maybemanymuffins @zalladane @mysupporthyperfixations @tomandjerrydatingsim @naimena @redeemingmygloryintopurgatory @thornalchemist23 @goddessofthewestwind @thehufflepuffranger-blog  @aestheticnpoetic @more-or-less-human-i-guess @parish-vita @kitsunebell @catthhay @kking13 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @sapphirewilliams5095  @bigpicklebananatree @lozzybowe @jabalem @k-poplunardreams @lordsmeldingtonthethird @purplesundaze @synnesstra @nik-nak-3

[annaofthenorthernlights]

It´s your life

Chapter 7 (last one)

our life...

Word counting: 2861

Previous chapters (AO3)

Summary: Anna had just handed in her change of address at the college´s administration office and was now heading towards home. Nervousness started to stir within her, when she was overthinking the Professor´s introduction about examination starting within a few weeks.

Note: I´m not acquainted with studying law. Therefore, I took some information from the internet about preparing yourself for the law-finals (https://www.barbri.com/law-school-final-exams-tips/#expect). It surely is not very profound, but then the study topic is not meant to be plot centred. Still it is a part of Anna´s path at the moment.

Anna had just handed in her change of address at the college´s administration office and was now heading towards home. Nervousness started to stir within her, when she was overthinking the Professor´s instruction about examination starting within four weeks.

Professor Olsen had been clear. They would have to get their thoughts straight at his question (the case issue). Organization is critical to writing a strong essay answer. After all, if he couldn´t follow their analysis, how could he grade it fairly and appropriately?

All in all, Anna knew she was basically well prepared. Kristoff had made sure that she would not brood over finding a job at this time of semester but focus on her books. She would get all the time she needed after writing her essays and then finally receiving her certificate. He had encouraged her not to worry, because he was convinced, she would find some nice occupation in no-time. So, the race towards the end of this semester made her realise of how far she had already come. At the same time, it was a start into a new world, she had yet to discover. And she would. Anna couldn´t wait to launch in.

Anna smiled to herself. After these few days in her new home, she had felt more at ease and comforted than ever before in her life. She still wondered secretly about that little purple box. But then, Anna was super proud not having peeped in yet…

She had just turned into the road that led to the carpentry when her mobile rang. It was Susan, Sven´s sister.

“Hey Susan! What´s up?”

“Hi Anna! Say, are you still looking for a job?”

“Well, yes. Why, would you ask?”

“You know the elementary school where I´m teaching?” Susan exclaimed all excited. “Well, guess what?!”

“What is it?” Anna got curious and listened eagerly.

“Our principal´s secretary has just announced today that she´ll be leaving us by the end of the month. Now, Mr. Oaken is at the end of his nerves already because he´s terrified not having anyone at his side by the time Lucy, the secretary, will be gone. When I got notified about the disaster, I told him to relax! Becaaause, I have THE woman at hand!”

Anna had come to a halt by now and blinked a few times. Had she heard correctly? Susan was suggesting her to take over a complete school´s administration office?

“Susan, that´s so kind of you. But are you sure? I mean, I have never….”

“Oh, come on, Anna, you must be kidding. Hey sweety, you are about to become a certified lawyer. Correspondence of all sorts with parents and community plus supervising some kids will be no deal to you. Besides, a secretary with knowledge of legal business is just the icing on the cake of it all. Why don´t you come over tomorrow afternoon and have a look. You will like Mr. Oaken and he is eager to meet you!”

******

“Living Rock” was an elementary school, situated at the other side of town. Kids of all sorts and various families attended the neat little place.

Anna´s visit had been a pleasant occasion, with a great deal of questions about her hobbies and personal interests. According to Mr. Oaken it was important to get to know someone on his or her personal interests, because that´s what this person would be about. Mr. Oaken had been a sight to himself. Anna had been fascinated first sight about the giant and broad fellow with his Nordic cardigan (albeit the already warm weather) and bunch of curly red hair.

He had been kind and Lucy was showing her around and explaining this and that about her duties. All in all, it sounded like Anna could handle. Susan had showed up and winked mischievously, welcoming her already to the team of “Living Rock”.

So, when Anna left the schoolyard, she carried the signed contract copy within her handbag, starting at the beginning of next month. That would be two days after her exams. Mr. Oaken had not cared if she would be possessing a passed certificate or not. He intended to listen to his intuition and that signed him very well to engage the vivid and genuine redhaired girl.

She couldn´t wait to tell Kristoff. He had been so encouraging the day before. He had been certain that she would know “within her” if this employment would be right for her. If only she would not rush into it because she felt like having to. No, she had not. Anna was sure, she could do a good job there. For one, the job description was various and contained not only paperwork, but personal contact to parents and kids in the first place. That´s what she was intrigued about. Then, her studies would indeed be of help when it came to handle complaints or even accusations.

So, when Anna practically stormed the workshop´s office, Kristoff grinned at her, already knowing. Susan had messaged Sven, and he had told his friend of course. Anna was disappointed and felt like the surprise being spoiled. But then, Kristoff had got up from his chair and taken her into his arms, telling her how proud he was of her and that they should celebrate this good news.

It was just another sweet moment where Anna felt confirmed in her new life and that made her sinking into those strong arms just a little bit more….

*****

The day of Anna´s exams came rapidly by now. Kristoff drove her to the campus, promising to wait outside in the late afternoon. It made her smile, knowing that the reason for her new chosen life was him and only him alone. Anna leaned in and pressed a soft kiss onto his lips, murmuring a genuine “thank you”, just to leave the car without thinking to much about what was to come.

She surveyed and analysed the given case and started her essay with the best plan she could make up in the given time. She got asked to set a defending plan for the accused, just as well as for the accuser. And then, according to the law, how would she describe the judge responding to the presented plaidoyers?

Luckily, she could go on with the spoken exam in the same afternoon, not needing to come in on another day. Professor Olsen had always been a patient but clear teacher. He disliked talking around the bush, so Anna headed into her spoken plaidoyers for both sides the moment he had asked her for it. She didn´t have much time, so she had to summon up best she could, despite having so much on her mind that seemed important to add. But a plaidoyer was meant to be cut short to the minimum facts and pleading for reason.

“Well, Miss Rendelle,” Prof. Olsen began, after she was done, “I will not keep in mind of which family you come from. This is my professional opinion about your performed debate. Surely you like people, one can tell. You´re passionate about your clients getting treated the best way possible. That´s a positive source, that unfortunately can get you into trouble. In our profession, you better leave your heart enclosed beyond the cases and keep a neutral line towards your client, no matter if accused or accuser.”

Anna tried to blink her tears away. Hadn´t she assumed it already? She must have screwed it all up… “Thank you, Professor Olsen. Yes, I do like people. And I think that´s why I can´t do this. You see, because I like people, I´d rather work at the school´s administration and then encourage parents and teachers to raise the kids to the most positive of life, so they would never get into the situation where they need a lawyer.” She pressed her hot tears away, overwhelmed by her exhaustion and only tired of this dreadful moment. “If you could please tell me if I have clearly failed, so that I can leave now and head back into my real life again?!” She wiped her tears away, smiling faintly at the older opposite.

Professor Olsen weighed her words and understood. “Whatever you will be up to, Miss Rendelle, I truly wish you all the best and a good lot of success. According to your spoken exam, I expect your written essay to turn out just as fine. So, for now, I hope you can live with a B-?”

As soon as Anna entered the parking area, she´d spot the beloved Pickup and Kristoff leaning against it. She made her way over and when he sighted her coming, he went to meet her on the way. Anna had told herself to control her emotions, but upon coming closer the dam would break and tears started to spill. Kristoff halted for a moment, scared of what might had happened. But Anna just launched forward and practically flew at him, clinging to his waist and burrying her face into his chest.

They stood a while and Kristoff would not say anything but hold her tight and caressing her back with one hand. After a felt eternity Anna would relax and breath evenly and loosen her grip, looking up to her boyfriend with a faint smile. She had made it and should be fine. That was all that mattered for now.

And on their drive home, she would tell Kristoff about the case and her attempt to do her best. She would tell him about her answer to the Professor and that she couldn´t wait to get to her new job which beheld a sensible purpose.

Kristoff had listened to her for a while and could not help but pull over at some point to park the car. He turned in his seat to pay all his attention to her retelling of the day. His breast swelled with pride of what his sweetheart had achieved in those hours. He would tell her, but first, she had to let it all out!

“I´m so happy this is over for now and to face the path I´ve chosen. Do you think that´s all unrealistic or will I make it?”

Kristoff smiled and reached to cup her cheek with his hand and lean closer to her. “Anna, I´m so proud of you and I know you´ll be great. I´ve told you before and I believe in you! Go ahead and do what you think is right. And in case, it turns out not to be, you´ll figure it out. And if you let me be part of it, it will make me even happier!”

Anna gasped and put her hand over his and pressing a kiss to his palm. “Yes, of course!”

*****

Anna felt light-hearted and checked in the mirror a last time. Her sunflower summer dress looked pretty and flowy and her hair fell nicely around her shoulders. She grabbed her pumps and headed to the living room, answering her ringing mobile.

“Hey Anna! Congrats, well done!” Elsa called to give her sister credit to her achievement.

“Hi Elsa!” Anna chirped, fully in good mood. “Congrats on what?”

“Your passed spoken exam today, silly!”

Now, Anna was bewildered for a moment, but it dawned on her, that the Professor must have called at Rendelle Estate soon after her spoken test. “Thanks, Elsa. I´m glad it´s over. I think I did okay. Though, surely not with merit. Surpriiiise!”

“Come on, Anna!” Elsa sounded disappointed, but still encouraging in her way. “I´m proud of you. I know it was a hard time for you. So, enjoy the results and I hope you get a nice treat for all the effort?”

“Well yes, thank you. Kristoff is about to take me out for dinner. So, we´re practically off… Hey Elsa, please greet Grandpa for me, will you?”

“Yes, I will. He´s proud you did it, you know? And Anna, don´t forget, you can always come back, remember?”

“Yes, Elsa, I know that. But you know the conditions, and that won´t work. So… please take care and we´ll meet soon, yes? Because you don´t have to worry about any acusations. I got a job and can provide for myself. But I´d love to see you sometimes!”

“Yes, Anna. We´ll do that. Off you go now and enjoy your evening! Greetings to Kristoff.”

Anna laid her mobile on the desk and sat down on the chair to put on her shoes, all in thought. She hadn´t talked to her sister in a long time and was glad that she could now face Elsa without needing to rely on her help or advice. She was heading on her own life. It felt strange, but a good strange.

Kristoff was still occupied in the bathroom and Anna´s eyes stared at the drawer. She would need only a second… But she shouldn´t… And when Anna pulled at the handle her eyes widened for a second with a slight shock that sent a bolt into her chest.

The little box was gone…

*****

Anna felt guilty first when Kristoff had appeared ready to go. But then, she scolded herself for being nosy and decided to enjoy the following treat.

They had eaten at their favourite Italian restaurant and enjoyed the familiar atmosphere. Nothing fancy, but cosy and friendly. It was such a welcoming change, to chat about this and that, without the deadline pressure lurking over her. Anna felt the urge to thank Kristoff just one more time for his support and love. She would not know how to have succeeded otherwise. He had faintly shaken his head and confirmed that had been nothing. Of course, he was so considerate and respectful, had always been.

So, they raised their glass of red wine to lavish in each other’s friendship!

Before sunset, they had driven up the hills and parked the Pickup overlooking the valley. Kristoff heaved Anna on the loading area (which he had cleaned and washed thoroughly during the afternoon). He remained standing and Anna was wondering why he would not join to be sitting next to her. He still held her hands, looked like he was thinking about something. He took a deep breath, just to tell her to hang on a second. Then, he disappeared around the car to the front, opening and closing the glove box and came back to her.

With one hand he took hers while the other was behind his back. For some reason, Anna got all nervous and within her abdomen it felt like a swarm of bees swirling around. She tried hard not to bubble some unintelligible nonsense and sat all still, waiting.

Kristoff cleared his throat and took another deep breath, all the while rubbing his thumb along her fingers.

“Anna, there is something I wanted to ask you already such a long time ago. But then, it never felt right for some reason. There was so much for you to decide, and I was so proud how you took your steps towards your freedom. I didn´t want to interfere with your newfound life. But now… I hope you understand… I have this for you…”

He then showed what he got for her… a little purple gift box!

There it was – he hadn´t forgotten – he had waited for the right moment!Anna was overwhelmed and gasped excitedly. She took the little box (finally) in her hands and, with a reassuring glance to Kristoff, she opened it carefully. There was a cute golden ring with a tiny orange stone on top, surrounded by little leaves, looking like an autumn star. Now, all got kind of blurred, and Anna had to concentrate on the words that came dreamingly to her hears, from somewhere far…

“Anna. You´re the most wonderful person I have known all my life. I love you from the bottom of my heart. All I can think of is to be with you for the rest of my life, if you want that, too. Anna, will you marry me?”

By now, she had to blink away the mingling tears, and she would not know what there was to say, so all Anna could do was to exclaim a loud “Yes!” and throw herself into Kristoff´s arms! They would cling to each other and laugh and cry all at the same time. And when he lowered her down, they kissed and embraced this intimate moment.

And when they sat on the loading area again, and Anna would admire this wonderful jewellery on her finger, all seemed so peaceful and like time had come to a short halt – just for them – just for this special moment.

“You remember how you urged me to think of my life as my own, on our way to Disneyland?” Anna mused.

“Yes, of course. And it still is.” Kristoff confirmed.

“I know,” Anna remarked, looking up to him, “but I´d rather like to call it "our life" now. Would that suit you?”

Kristoff smiled. Yes, it would! And to seal this wonderful idea, they kissed again.

And because it was such a mild evening, they lowered themselves and went on to live out their love!

*****

Note:This was it for now… I hope you liked it 😊. I´m thinking about going on with a short sequel, having Anna getting acquainted with her new job and “their life”…