#I got good classes at least but I need to get rid of a study hall

[sawsher]

School starts in 6 days I am not ready at all oh mein gott......

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Ghost King uses Uno Reverse Card

Ghosts are not a race of evil creatures that most people think they are. And Danny was really happy when the Infinite Realms were able to make peace treaties with most countries of the human world. Ghosts, however, are a very vindictive race. At least that’s how young Phantom explained himself to Batman afterwards.

It just so happens that a couple of hours before the event aimed at expanding intergalactic unions most of the JLeague members due to an emergency call went on a mission. Which means people who had any authority in Phantom’s eyes became unavailable for a while.

So Shazam and Phantom as the most known outside the Earth were assigned to greet the guests and most importantly to entertain the visitors until the founders of JL return.

According to Phantom, Batman, being such a good detective with a bunch of backup plans, should have known that Danny’s favorite cereal ran out this morning, that he was late for first class, and that after school he had a fight with his parents. No, seriously, aren’t so-called scientists supposed to be able to admit mistakes in their own judgment? Danny got tired of being constantly ashamed of their behavior near other ghosts. It's bad enough that his authority as a ruler is sustained only by the support of those Ancients with whom he maintains friendly relations. Average citizens still doubt that he is a is sufficient to claim the throne. He’s had enough of being accused of not being a full-fledged ghost.  He’s not ready to hear rumors that he supports his parents' racist judgments too. In short, his day sucked. And all his ghostly nature now wanted to do something nasty to his neighbors to get rid of the tension.

Alien leader stretched out a hand to Phantom and Shazam. “Your Majesty Phantom, Champion of Magic. It’s an honor to meet you. I hope I learned the proper greeting gesture of the local intelligent race.”

And with that Danny’s reserve of conscience ran out. It’s a perfect moment to feed his need to be a little shit.

“The local intelligent race?’ Danny had this extreme bewilderment on his face. “Which one do you think..? Earth was the home of the Gods and of various inhabitants of the galaxy but it was a long time ago.”

Woman is clearly confused. Great. “E-Earthers. I think they’re called that.”

“Earthlings, intelligent race? You must be mistaken.” Danny faked a giggle. “Who told you that crap?”

“Phantom, what are you doing?” Batman hissed at him from an earpiece. Danny turned the sound off with a clear conscience. “I mean, seriously, there’s not a single serious study in the science library in this galaxy or any other galaxy that says humans are intelligent. Shazam, do you think they’re..?”

For some reason, Billy immediately remembered watching a man spend his entire salary on lottery tickets last week. And of course he was careless enough to shake his head and snort. That was all Phantom needed.

“Exactly. Earthlings don’t have to be intelligent to mimic the behavior of more evolved species. Surely you are well aware that Martians and Kryptonians, and many others have visited Earth at different stages of human development. My supervisor Clockwork and I have long been observing this strange species. In many ways, their behavior resembles a mixture of instinctive reactions of specimens from the 126 sectors of the nearest SBc Galaxy and several other creatures from planets of the galaxy KV59. However, even I, as an anthropologist with extensive experience of observing human species in their natural habitat, still have to explore and discover many of their secrets.”

“I do not understand. According to the documents among the delegation that greets us there are Earthlings. I mean I don’t question the scientific evidence of a respected Chronos or you, but why then..”

“Of course you don’t! It’s really quite simple. For the purity of the clinical experiment, which we are conducting now, it is necessary that Earthlings feel themselves ostensibly full participants of the «society» consisting of members with developed intelligence.”

“So, any luck, colleague?” Shazam, who realized that Batman would now skin them anyway, decided to at least participate in this theater so that the punishment would be at least deserved.

“Well, we’ve certainly come up with some interesting preliminary insights about the adaptive capacity of the human brain in limited contact with Martians. Of course, humans do not have real emotions to be full participants in communication, but their attempts and zeal are very inspiring.”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fentons watching a live broadcast of what was supposed to be an interplanetary friendship encounter are beginning to realize that if trying to punish a rebellious human teenager has always been difficult for them, the attempt to control the behavior of the 14 y/o half-ghost may become a nightmare not only for them.

Jack: Honey, I think Danny’s still a little upset about our old theories about the ability of ghosts to feel or think.

Jazz, sitting between them with the face of a man resigned to the chaos around her, could not restrain the sarcasm: Really? Why would you think that?

[01zfan]

talk to me | l. sh

boyfriend!sohee x reader | 3.7k words

repost because i kinda messed up on the original post if you’ve seen this before no you haven’t

contains: fingering (fem. receiving)

you and sohee lay on his couch while a tv show plays on his laptop. whatever is happening flies over your heads, focused on more important tasks at hand. you lean against the side of the couch, desperately pulling at sohee’s clothes so he comes closer to you. one hand is on the armrest of the couch, caging your body against sohee. his other hand feels every part of your body, rushed like you might disappear at any moment. 

your lips are locked in a messy makeout session. teeth clash and spit is swapped between the two of you. you an barely breathe and are on the verge of passing out before sohee pulls away from you. you can make out your reflection in his blown out eyes. you see a string of spit connecting your lips to his. sohee sees it too, swiping his tongue to break the string.

you match his appearance, lips glossy from spit and swollen from sucking. your hair is mused to say the least. you run your hands through sohee’s hair just for fun. you get a kick out of seeing the strands stick up twice as crazy as yours.

“do you think we have time?” you ask. 

it was hard to have alone time with sohee. exams and studying had you both on separate schedules. some days you felt like a gerbil on a wheel, running around in circles to do assignments for classes you hated. sohee had his fair share of stress too, workload just as overwhelming as yours. moments like these with sohee helped you get rid of the stress, but being under a time constraint sometimes did more harm than good. sohee grabbed his phone to check his messages.

“we have awhile. my parents told me they’re running errands all day today.” sohee says smiling. 

he smiles all the way to your neck, kissing the skin. you raise your hands to rest on his shoulders, lightly massaging out a hard knot on his back.

“they know im here?” you ask. 

his parents didn’t hate you, but like most parents they were strict. when you came over you had to be in an open space atleast an arm length away. his parents were sweet but there’s no way they would allow for just you two to be alone together.

“got anton to tell them we’re all studying together.” sohee said in between kisses.

after hearing the cover story you can let yourself fully relax into the armrest of the couch. sohee attacks your neck with kisses and bites. you occasionally have to tap his head to remind him that he can’t leave a mark.

“sohee calm down.” you say giggling. 

you lightly push on his shoulders to get him to pull away. his chest is still heaving, he didn’t even let himself fully catch his breath before going back in.

“sorry.” he says kissing your chest. 

you think about what you want next. sohee is only separated from your body by only a few layers of clothing. you put your hands on his arms to get him to stop kissing your collarbone. he stops mid kiss, staring at your skin.

“you say we have time right?” you ask. sohee looks up at you immediately.

“yes we have time. we have all the time in the world, actually.” sohee says a little to quickly. 

you adjust yourself on the couch, sitting up a little bit more. sohee moves backwards a little bit to give you the space you need.

“do you think we have enough time to…” you can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence. 

you don’t have any doubts when it comes to having sex with your boyfriend, you guys have done it a few times before. but something about the word sex just feels so vulgar and a little cringe to you. lucky for you sohee understands what you mean. you think he might’ve gotten whiplash by how fast he nods his head.

“we do. we definitely do.” sohee says quickly.

“okay cool.” you say while looking at sohee. 

you two maintain eye contact for a tad too long, trying to figure out what to do next.

as you reach for your blouse sohee does the same, getting off the couch to quickly take off his vest to unbutton his shirt underneath. you watch attentively as you take of your shirt. 

you rid yourself of your shirt and school skirt quickly. you lay down on the couch in just your intimates. you liked leaving those last garments for your boyfriend to take off. no matter how frantic he was taking off his clothes he always removed yours slowly and with such care. it also made you always super giddy seeing sohee so excited to see your body. you couldn’t help but be excited to when he nearly jumped back on the couch in just his plaid boxers. 

sohee always started with taking off your socks. he brings your legs to his lap to carefully, running a hand up and down your calf. sohee pulls off your socks one by one. it made you feel like a doll how gently he handled you, taking your legs out of his lap tenderly.

sohee comes up from the end of the couch to bring you in for another kiss, his hands massaging your breasts over your simple bra. he almost drools at the sight of your chest and the way your nipple slightly spills out from your bra. sohee finds himself drawn to it, sucking on your half hidden areola. he takes in some of the bra, but he doesn’t care because you arch your back into his mouth and run your hands through his hair.

“help me take my bra off sohee.” you whine. 

your desperation makes sohee move quickly. he reaches his hands behind your back and unclasps your bra on the second try. he carefully bring the back of the bra to the front, helping you out of the straps. when your bra is discarded somewhere in the room, sohee takes in the sight of your chest. he loves looking at them first before taking them in his hands. he’s captivated by your supple skin, kneading your breasts in his hands. you tilt your head to the side and hum gratefully at how sohee is taking such good care of you. 

sohee feels nervous looking up from your boobs to your face. the way you look at him has his cheeks dusted in a rosy red and his ears feeling hot. every time sohee has you like this he gets nervous. he has never been able to explain why he gets so antsy at the thought of you during sex. he is someone who has always driven by pleasure. he worries that sometimes in the heat of the moment he may forget about your pleasure too. the thought of having someone so beautiful in his hands sometimes made the butterflies in his stomach painful to endure. 

but sohee has different things on his mind. why he gets the right to see your bare body or be the one that gets to give you pleasure is a question for a later time. right now, sohee is focusing on the tiny pink bow that is attached to the waistband of your panties.

“this is cute” sohee says, pinching the tiny bow in his fingers.

“i think they’d be better off, yeah?” you say. 

you lean against the back of the couch to give sohee more leverage to take the garment off of you. sohee takes your panties off and throws them in the same pile his clothes are in. if he’s lucky he will be able to put your panties in his pocket as a little souvenir for later.

he has to bite his tongue to not say “wow” at your naked body. the way you are laying for him on the couch has sohee almost seeing stars. even in the dimly lit living room your body is glowing. sohee’s eyes scan over your body methodically, like he is trying to remember every curve, every hair, every square inch of flesh. he can barely focus on anything else.

“can i take those off of you?” you ask pointing at his boxers.

sohee nods and moves to lay against the couch. he maneuvers his body the same way you did yours so you can take off his boxers easily. sohee sees you look over his body, and he wonders if you are trying to memorize him too.

“there’s a condom in the back pocket of my pants.” sohee says, reaching for his clothes pile.

“uhm sohee,” you say quietly. he stops reaching for the clothes to look at you. “”i don��t think you’re hard enough.”

sohee has never had this happen to him before. he was young and always ready to go at a moments notice, especially when it came to you. just the thought of you wanting you had him ready to go instantly. so when you said he wasn’t hard enough, he sat up almost immediately to see for himself. sure enough, he was flaccid. saying he had a semi would be generous. he was mortified as he looked to you.

“oh wow.” is all he could say.

“if you aren’t in the mood, it’s okay. we can just kiss.” you say kindly.

sohee wanted you more than anything, so he was very confused as to why his dick wasn’t with the program.

“i want to. i want to so bad. i don’t know what’s wrong.” sohee said. 

even after giving his dick a few experimental strokes, nothing happened. confused wasn’t the word to describe how he was feeling anymore, especially when he looked at your pretty face covered in worry. he was perplexed by his inability to perform. he ran through his memory bank of things that he had to lock away to not get a boner in public. images of you bending over, calling out his name, and wearing revealing outfits flashed across his mind. still nothing.

sohee still wanted to touch you. any other time he would’ve called it quits, maybe take a nap or something. he blames it on the heated make out session and the fact that you two were alone. he was still tittilated, thinking about your tongue and the bow that was on your panties. he looked at you perched on the couch next to him. you now had your intimate areas covered, but sohee wanted to see all of you more than anything. he completely abandoned his own pleasure letting his dick fall on against stomach. he sits up on the couch, letting his legs fall over the side. sohee reaches to you, and you grab his hand.

“can i touch you?” sohee says. 

you think for a second. although the circumstance of sohee not getting hard is a little peculiar, it doesn’t change the fact that you are worked up and aching to be touched. you nod and move yourself over to him. sohee turns you around and pulls you towards him, letting your back rest on his legs and your head rest on the side of the couch next to him. you adjust a little, letting yourself get comfortable. sohee moves your legs so they bend at the knee. your legs closest to the edge of the couch rests on the coffee table.

“i’m gonna try something okay?” sohee says looking down at you. “tell me if you don’t like it.” you nod and let out a breath, fully relaxing into your boyfriend.

sohee uses his hand to slowly move down your body. like he perfectly split you in half, he uses a finger to slowly trace down between the valley of your breasts all the way to your bellybutton. he slowly traces tiny shapes around your abdomen and places a quick kiss to your forehead. you close your eyes, focusing on his voice and the feeling of his soft hands on you.

“your body is so hot.” sohee says quietly. “you’re so hot it makes me nervous. maybe that’s why i couldn’t get hard.”

sohee laughs dryly as he continues his hand down. you grab onto the bicep of his other arm, desperate to hold onto something. he uses his thumb and middle finger to spread your vagina and uses his index finger to press hard on your clit. your eyebrows raise and you look at sohee, who is locked in on your facial expressions.

“does it feel good?” sohee asks.

you scrunch your eyebrows and nod yes, afraid that you might let out a sound if you open your mouth.

“can i finger you baby? i need to feel all of you.” sohee says. 

he lightly flicks your clitoris, each time making you jolt slightly. 

“yes please.” you moan. 

you are already digging your fingers into his bicep. you try to pace yourself, to gain some composure.

sohee releases his middle finger and thumb from spreading you. he instead uses his thumb to go lower, spreading the slick from your entrance to your folds and clit. you moan quietly, spreading your legs wider for him.

“so wet already baby, how is that possible?” sohee sounds in awe as he plays with your folds. 

it’s never ending, just when you think you’re done producing the slick a new wave comes out. sohees’ mouth is open when he brings his hand from your vagina to hold it in front of you. he taps his middle finger to his thumb, showing you the thin string of your lubricant that connects the two digits together. you wish you could be shy about it but the way sohee is captivated by you only turns you on more.

“it’s because of you.” you say shyly. 

sohee looks at you when he puts his thumb in his mouth, licking you off of him.

“you taste like candy.” sohee says and you open your mouth. 

sohee puts his middle finger in your mouth and you vigorously suck, trying to show him other things you can do with your mouth. sohee gets what you’re trying to show him completely, evident in the way his jaw slightly drops as you continue to suck.

when you’re done, sohee returns his hand to your entrance. you start thinking about how hot your boyfriend is, how he has you laying down on the couch so he can make you feel good. the rush of him touching you in such an intimate way has you bursting at the seams with anticipation. when you start thinking about how goody two shoes sohee lied to his parents to sneak his girlfriend over you start losing it.

“are you doing that on purpose?” sohee asks looking at you. 

you were so lost in your mind you don’t even know what he’s referring to.

“doing what?” you ask.

“your pussy is clenching around nothing. can you feel it?” sohee asks.

his finger isn’t even inside of you but he can feel the pulsing around it. he looks down at your center and spreads your folds to see your clit moving as an effect. 

“holy shit.” he says.

“i need you to touch me.” you say desperately.

sohee doesn’t listen, continuing his ministrations on your entrance. he starts teasing you, barely entering you and pulling out just so he can hear the sound of your wetness against his fingers.

“i love the sounds you make.” sohee says. he looks at your face as you look down and watch him play with you. “i love watching you too.”

before you can beg him to put his finger in, he looks into your eyes. you think that he wants you to ask again, so you open your mouth. when he his middle finger in a moan escapes through your lips. sohee lets out a sigh when he’s in you all the way. while you’re basking in the feeling of his long and pretty finger inside of you, he’s basking in something else.

“you’re so soft everywhere, even inside baby.” sohee says. 

you can’t even bring yourself to respond to him in words anymore, only whimpers, pants, and head nods.

sohee guides your hand down to your center and you look at him on what to do. you know how to finger yourself, but something about how vocal sohee is being with you makes you only want to do what he verbally tells you to do.

“put your finger in with mine.” sohee instructs. 

you put your finger inside. sohee looks at you with a surprised expression on his face. your walls periodically clamps around you and sohee’s fingers. the pace is irregular and only picks up in speed when he looks at you.

“can you feel the way your clenching?” sohee asks.

“yeah i can feel it.” you say moaning. 

sohee gently pulls your finger out and you moan at the loss of contact. sohee puts his index finger inside of you, slowly pumping his two digits in and out.

“don’t worry babe i got you.” sohee says playfully. 

your hold on his bicep turns into a grip as he increases his speed.

you wish you could describe the feeling of sohee’s fingers inside of you. when you two had sex for the first time it was very innocent. slightly rushed, but the underlying feeling was showing how in love with one another you two were. this was different. when you two had sex, barely any words were said. you both were getting used to the feeling of being inside, being so close and connected. you had never heard sohee talk to you in such an intimate moment like this one. the tone he was talking to you in had an effect on you too. he was never the one to tease you so harshly, to talk to you while actively denying you pleasure. it made you dizzy and made you feel like you were on top of the world.

“you like when i fuck you with my fingers?” sohee asked. 

his voice had gotten deeper, dripping with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint.

“yes sohee. i love it.” you say while nodding your head. 

you’re sure this is a new sight for him too, you becoming a mess underneath him. 

sohee starts getting excited, picking up the speed of his two fingers. you can hear the squelching and your chest starts moving from the force and you squirming underneath him.

“grab your boobs for me sweetheart.” sohee says. you reach to your chest immediately. “push them together for me. yeah just like that.” 

sohee’s fingers are pistoning in and out of you now. you push your breasts together, rolling your nipple in between your fingers. you do what sohee always does, trying to get him to keep going. as he continues, you can feel the winding and churning in your stomach. 

“you close baby?” sohee says, kissing your forehead again. you whine in response and nod your head. you continue to play with your boobs, returning one hand back to hold onto your boyfriend. “gonna cum on my fingers?” he asks.

“can i?” you ask. 

another moan rips through your throat when sohee moves his other hand to your clit. he does revolutions on the bundle of nerves. his fingers inside of you bend and your moans become higher in pitch and you abandon playing with your chest, too focused on trying to finish.

“go ahead. i got you.” sohee coos to you.

the winding in your body snaps and excitement tingles underneath your skin all over your body. your final high pitched and pitiful moan becomes prolonged as you clench repeatedly over sohee’s fingers. you forget your name, you forget everything except for the man looking down at you and talking you through your orgasm. he doesn’t stop the revolution on your clit as you bump and grind your hips into his hand, trying to make the feeling last for as long as possible. you see the color white as sohee continues bending and pumping his fingers inside of you. he spits on his finger and returns it to your clit. the extra lubricant and the overstimulation has you gasping for arm and digging your nails into his arm. 

“sohee. sohee. sohee.” is all you can say. 

“i know baby. i know. you can do it.” sohee says, voice coming down to a whisper.

you can barely comphrehend anything else he says as another wave crashes over you. it knocks you off your feet, takes the words out of your mouth and you are left with a facial expression that shows pure euphoria. sohee revels in the look on your face, the look he helped put there. he tells you every encouraging phrase in the book as your body shakes and your previously arched back slowly comes down. he slows the motions of both his hands down and you are grateful but sad at the same time. you wish you could live in that suspended state for the rest of eternity, just feeling constant pleasure.

when sohee pulls his fingers out of you, you barely have any energy left. he is the one that has to pull you into his arms to give you a loving kiss. you bring a shaking hand to his face and deepen the kiss. you can still taste a little bit of yourself on his lips. you are the one that has to pull away to catch your breath, and try to recover from what your mind, body, and soul just went through.

“was it good?” sohee asks. 

he kisses your cheek as you nod yes, still trying to find enough sanity to speak.

“it was really good.” you say. 

sohee continues to hold you and you pepper his face in kisses, trying to show him gratitude for what he just did for you. he smiles a little bit more with each kiss. as you kiss him and try to find stability on his legs to kiss him more, your hand comes in contact with his dick. it’s no longer flaccid, it’s rock against your hand. precum has his tip sticky, and you move it around to fully cover the area. sohee sighs and leans his head back against the couch. he settles more into the couch as you reach for his pants on the ground. sohee looks up from he spot on the couch to look at you with a condom in your hand.

“i think you’re ready now.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my parents to pay my tuition for the semester, lying about how I lost my scholarship, and then planning on lying to my dad regarding his requirements in exchange for him paying the tuition?

My (20X) college has a scholarship for offspring of faculty members, and I was lucky enough to have my application accepted by the college that my dad (53M) works at. This means that I get a full ride scholarship; if I graduate within 4 years, I won't have to pay a single penny to my college (books and supplies not included, of course).

Unfortunately, the scholarship does have two requirements; I need to have taken at least a certain amount of credits semester before (not a ridiculous number), and for that semester, I need to have gotten over a 2.0/4.3 GPA. Easy enough, right? Who can't get a GPA over 2.0?

Well. I suffered a mental health downfall the past semester and I ended up failing half my classes. I was unable to sit my finals. I know this wasn't smart of me, and I think I should've done something about my academic situation other than just wait for the semester to be over, but I had quit a semester due to my mental health decline previously and I didn't want a repeat of that. In any case, I got a GPA of about 1.6. I'm not on probation but I did receive a warning.

Fortunately, this doesn't mean I lost my scholarship for good. I just need to fulfill those requirements in the upcoming semester and I get it back.

I realized I did need to pay my tuition this semester two days before tuition fee acceptance closes and I debated telling only one of my parents. My mom wants me to finish college no matter what, and my dad has told me that he does not care anymore as long as I don't stress him out. He's also told me he no longer has any expectations for me whatsoever. I did also consider talking about it with my brother and borrowing money from him to put together the tuition fee.

I figured I'd bite the bullet and just told my dad, who I know has been stressed about my future and how badly I'm doing in college. I just casually dropped it as I was making breakfast for myself and then we had a lengthy conversation that my mother (51F) joined when she got back home.

I don't remember much of the conversation (I may have memory problems) but the AITA mentioned part is that I lied to my parents and told them I did sit all my finals and try my best. I didn't. I tried that for mid term exams but I had nothing to write, so for finals I didn't sit them at all. This happened with three of the classes I was taking. I just didn't take my finals. My dad was suspicious of my claim; he said that as a professor himself he wouldn't fail students who at least submitted homework and sat their exams to write anything at all, but I maintained that I tried.

The conclusion was that my dad would be willing to pay my tuition if I got my shit together and also deleted my social media, which he thinks is a drain on my time and energy. He's not wrong. I deleted my Twitter accounts immediately afterwards (which my parents don't know about) because I've been thinking about it, but I can't really bring myself to get rid of Discord, where so many of my friends are. People I've met while studying internationally, long-term friends who moved to other countries; Discord is the only way to contact these people.

This is the AITA part; if my dad follows up on that particular requirement to check if I deleted Discord, which he particularly dislikes (he has previously confiscated the electronics I bought with my own money that I earned, after he saw me on muted call at night with some friends), I plan on deleting the app/program on my devices but using it anyway as a website. This would be a betrayal of my dad's trust in me, but there's no love lost between us anyway. He's already told me he doesn't love me unconditionally. (Yes, I'm his biological child and he did raise me.)

I also feel like an asshole because I could've settled this with the help of my brother; I'd pick up a job during the winter break to pay him back, but it would have been done eventually. Or I could've just gone to my mom. She works her own job, and we could've figured it out together without telling my dad. I told my dad anyway, wanting him to pay the tuition, even though I knew that talking about having to spend money on his kids stresses him out deeply.

My mom also told my dad to go to therapy (in detail, so I know it wasn't just something she said as a throwaway thing) during the conversation. It did get heated. I don't disagree, but I don't know if that'd be okay; mental health is stigmatized where I am, and my dad as a grown adult man and a respected professor if seen going to therapy could have his reputation kind of effected. It wouldn't have happened if I just brought up this whole situation quietly up to my mom, or just my brother.

So I lost my scholarship, I lied to my parents about the technicalities of how that happened, and I'm asking for some amount of money from my parents but also planning on lying to them in regards to the terms they set out. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[tieronecrush]

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter five: hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 6.8k

a/n: SURPRISE! got my life together and got the chapter done for y'all <333 also thank you for always validating me and loving these two as much as me <3 you are stuck beta-reading for me forever hehe @northernbluess

“Christ, Bebita, that one is as good as the last one and the one before that and the one before that. I can’t pick, you look too damn good in all of ‘em.” Javier traces his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, reaching a hand up to swipe his thumb at the corner of his open mouth and sniffling on an inhale. Expansive, strong torso and broad, steady shoulders trail down to his legs that stretch out from the small square stool in the corner of the dressing room you’ve been occupying for at least twenty minutes.

His gentle toffee eyes study your form in the earthy olive-toned cocktail dress; the silky material hugs your curves while you twist in view of the mirror, the hemline hitting mid-calf and a halter top covering your chest modestly while leaving your shoulders and back bare. There’s delicate glass beading embroidered into floral and leafy patterns along the bodice, reflecting the lights. You can imagine the way it will look in the low light, swanky library party with enough champagne passed around for all of the academics to let loose. It’s a bit of a stretch for appropriate for the department event, but with the burning of Javier’s eyes into your skin, you know that this one is doing something a bit more than the last five dresses. Sighing with resignation, you drop your hands from where they are mapping over the intricate beading. Your bottom lip releases from between your teeth and you take a step closer to Javi, chuckling softly when his hands involuntarily reach for your hips to pull you between his open legs.

“That isn’t helpful feedback, Javier. I need some concrete decisions to be made. You’re in charge of my dress unless you can’t handle it cause then I’ll—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. This one, I choose this one,” he muffles his voice when he leans forward to press kisses against the skin of your forearms, toying with your fingers and intertwining them with his when his large hands find your smaller ones. “You’re beautiful in everythin’, Bebita, any of these dresses, or even a paper bag, and you’re fucking stunning. But I can tell you liked this one most.”

Javier lifts his head to meet your eyes, one side of his mouth ticking up in a smile — satisfied, content, proud that he knows you so well to be able to read you like that.

It’s simultaneously making your heart beat faster, your stomach drops to the floor, and your palms grow sweaty. He’s so much more to you, but you’re too cowardly to admit it to him. Javier is…everything you’ve hoped for, but has come at the worst time.

It’s a job. That’s all. He has to be, or else you’re screwed if you say ‘fuck it’ and drop all of your other clients and give Javier your heart. There’s no way that you could continue living in your apartment and attending school; you would probably have to go back to working full-time until you could break your lease and find somewhere cheaper or move home and transfer your credits.

“Y’alright there, angel? Lookin’ a little flushed.” Javier’s brows knit with concern until you brush them away, thumb lightly rubbing the fold in his skin to relax it.

“M’alright, Javi. Think it’s time to quit the try-on portion of the day.” Hands reach back to find the zipper, Javier jumps up quickly and walks you back a few inches to have the room to slip behind you and take over the task.

“Guess it’s the take-off portion? Lemme do it for you, gonna need the practice of gettin’ this off when I take you home Friday night.” Through the reflection, he catches your eye and smirks boyishly, dragging the zipper down your lower back and folding forward to press ghosting kisses to your smooth skin. “Mm, so soft, angel. Smell so sweet.”

His voice drops lower, rasp biting out on the upticks of his speaking, “D’you know what watchin’ you in all these pretty dresses has done to me?”

A sigh escapes your lips, shaking your head languidly, rolling it on your shoulders, “No…Wh-what did it do?”

Without a word, Javier unclasps the halter of your dress, dropping the material to fall to your ankles. In the midst of you stepping out of the circle of fabric, he grips your hips tightly and tugs you back to his chest. Then you feel it, when your back arches and your lower half presses backward, the bulge of his hard cock prodding into the swell of your ass.

“Javi—”

“Nuh uh, Bebita. No Javi.” His lips are at the pressure point under your ear, your eyes fluttering closed while one hand snakes back to tangle into his hair. Grinding back against him, you lick your lips and whimper when a hand of his reaches around your front and slips between your legs to brush your clit.

“Papí…Fuck, papí…Need you.”

“Manners, Bebita. Or else you’re just gonna get on your knees and take care of me. Ask nicely and I’ll help both of us.”

“Please, papí, may I please have it?”

“Have what, angel?”

“Your c—cock,” you whimper out, the tail of the word trembling out when Javier’s fingers hook under the center of your panties and tease at your dripping entrance.

“There’s my good girl. How could I say no to you bein’ so sweet for me? Think I need to get you ready before I give you my cock, though, Bebita.”

With a sigh, your mouth opens and you reach one hand to grip Javi’s forearm wrapped around you, your other arm stretching out to press your palm against the full length mirror. A dark chuckle slips out of Javi, two thick fingers pushing into your tight walls. In an immediate reaction, a whimper squeezes out of your throat in a yelp. Knuckle deep in your cunt, Javi hooks his fingers to nudge at the spongy spot, extra sensitive. The sensation buckles your knees, Javi catching you with his thigh between yours and his arm flexing tighter around you, tugging you back up while his hand moves faster. Your teeth catch your bottom lip, biting down to silence the noises threatening to expose your activity.

His lips line up against the shell of your ear, brushing lightly against your skin and sending goosebumps across your neck and shoulders, “Bet you’re dying to give me those little noises of yours, angel. How ‘bout just one ‘papí’, Bebita? Jus’ one for me, and I’ll let you come.”

The heel of Javier’s hand rubs the cotton fabric of your panties against your clit, the friction feeling delicious and sending tingles across your nerves to curl your toes. Your head shakes back and forth subtly, enough to be perceptable to the man behind you. The speed of his fingers slows to a stop, pulling out to sit shallowly inside of you without leaving completely. Metallic taste hits your tongue, part of your lip broken from how hard you’ve been biting it to keep everything inside.

“Is that a no, angel? Gonna say no to my lil request?” He questions you, a rough squeeze grips one of your ass cheeks, opening your eyes to meet Javi’s in the reflection, “Answer me.”

An audible swallow slides down your throat before you open your mouth again, bottom lip swollen with it’s split, “I don’t wanna get caught, Javi—”

The last syllable raises in pitch when he sinks his fingers into you fully, a third added effortlessly. They still inside of you, stretching you divinely, but there’s a craving, a fullness that feels like a burning need in the pit of your stomach. You see the game he’s playing, the upper hand he loves to have with you that you give away willingly. With a bend of his fingers, that same spot is getting its desired attention and sending your logic spiraling.

Fuck it. Javier can get an old sheriff buddy to bail you both out if you get arrested.

Reaching one arm behind you, your left still pressed against the mirror for support, your fingers tangle into his hair and tug his head over your shoulder more. Javier rolls a low groan from his throat, the sound ringing in your ear. You turn your head to face him, nose nudging against his while fingers continue to work you up, teetering you on the edge. Open mouths pass warm breaths back and forth, Javier chasing your lips and skin with his, desperate to feel his mouth on yours.

The tightness around his fingers drives his circulation below the waist, straining against the fabric of his slacks. Grinding against your ass as he fucks you with his hand, all he has on his mind is feeling you convulse under his touch, driven so far over that you can’t stand up.

His teeth scrape against the skin at your jaw, a smirk growing subtly on your face — it’s his telltale sign of the height of his desperation.

Leaning your head back further, your lips are much closer to his ear; when the speed of his fingers increases, your own grip his hair tighter and moan, the sound soft and airy but coated in lust.

It’s a spark in his mind, sliding his left hand resting on your right hip across your lower stomach and down your thigh, grabbing it from around the inside and lifting it up. The position change allows his fingers to reach deeper, your head pressing hard back into his chest.

“Oh, fuck yes—“ The noises you want to make die in your throat, mouth hanging open as Javi chuckles darkly against your cheek.

“Say it, baby, tell me what you’re thinking and I’ll let you come. I’ll give you what you really want. Gonna fuck you full of me, Bebita. Isn’t that what you’re aching for?” His words hold you at the edge, toes curled against the wooden floor of the fitting room while your head rolls to the side against him.

Recovering from your dry mouth, you conjure up the first thoughts that pop into your head, the image of him fucking you and the closeness of your release projecting the words from your chest, “Papí, papí — oh my god! Always know how to make me feel so, so good, Papí…God, even your fingers make me f-feel so full. M’gonna—fuck, gonna come, please.”

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. Mi zorrita buena, acaba para mí. Come for me, Bebita.”

Your wall tightens around his three thick fingers, the sound of you moaning catching in your throat as you attempt to hold back. It comes out in a higher pitch, struggling but heard by Javier whose head is still on your shoulder. He’s mumbling to you, kissing the corner of your jaw while his hand comes to a slow stop to guide you through your orgasm. When he pulls his fingers out, he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean while you look behind at him.

A satisfied smirk takes the place of his hand when he pulls them out with a pop, reaching out for you and pulling you back against his chest with a stumble. A delicate kiss is pressed to your bare skin at your back, a shiver running down your spine while one of Javi’s hands finds the swell of your ass and squeezes.

“You want my cock now, Bebita? Bet you do. Want everyone in this fucking store to know you’re mine, right? Want them to hear those sounds that you just can’t hold back, want them to hear you calling me papí, don’t you?” Your eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open as any sort of response flees your mind. Javier stands up straight behind you, quietly fumbling with his belt, the sounds of metal piquing your attention. His button and the drag of his zipper follow shortly, the soft noises of him barely undressing stirring up your stomach.

Between your legs, you feel a rush of arousal when his sigh hits your ears, the same one he always makes when you take his cock out of his pants. Saliva coats your mouth in eager awaiting, shallow breaths attempting to fill your lungs.

Javier surveys you, licking his lips as his hand passes down your spine, gently pressing your forward until both arms catch your weight against the mirror. He traces the new arch in your back before his hand finds your panties, not bothering to take them off again, but pausing for a split second to admire the wet spot you made. His mouth hangs open slightly, bated breath heightening the temperature of the small room. The sight of your cunt dripping for him dries his mouth out, eager to have another taste, but ultimately prioritizing his needs and the higher risk of being caught the more time passes.

Lining his head up with your entrance, he thrusts in slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him filling you. He sighs deeply while reaching for one of your shoulders for leverage, gripping it with his fingers as he starts a shallow thrust.

Meeting your eyes through the reflection, he chokes out a hushed warning, “Fuck, Bebita, m’not gonna last long. Feel too fucking good.”

You moan softly in response, the mirror fogging up with the puff of hot air that leaves your mouth. Javier turns his attention to where you’re connected, mesmerized by the sight of you taking him easily. When his eyes flick back to your face, your own are closed as you make muffled, sweet sounds of pleasure.

“Open up, angel, want you to look at yourself gettin’ fucked. Look in the mirror, Bebita, and see how pretty you look taking my cock, how much you love fucking in public for everyone to hear.” Javier words have you reaching for a grip against the flat surface of the mirror, nodding with a whine as he gives you slightly deeper thrusts. “Tell me how much you love it, Bebita.”

“Fucking lov-love when you give me your cock, Papí. Love it even more knowin’ someone can hear us, that they’re gonna know m’all yours,” you watch Javi’s face contort with attempted restraint, nodding as one hand drifts to grab at your tits, his strong hold pulling you to stand with your back flush to his chest.

The next few thrusts are audible with how hard he fucks into you, mumbles of Spanish and English spoken into your ear, “Una chica tan sucia. Eres perfecto para mí…(Such a dirty girl. You’re perfect for me…) Wanna jus’ take care of you, Bebita — my babygirl. You’re a good girl, angel. So fucking good. Te sientes bien, como un nuevo comienzo. Mi nuevo comienzo. (You feel good, like a fresh start. My fresh start.) S’like you’re my angel, Bebita. Mine.”

At the last word uttered, Javier moans into your ear, the sound clipping into a hiss as his warm spend fills you up. Your chest is heaving from the exertion of it all, skin burning with those ramblings from Javier.

He’s made it clear how he feels, short of three words.

At the thought, a sharp pain in your chest seizes your lungs, choking out a cough while Javi pulls out of you and fixes your panties. A hand pets your hair, his lips pressing into the crown of your head from behind.

“You alright, Bebita? M’sorry I didn’t last long there. All this shopping got me worked up, I guess. You feel good though? Satisfied, mi Bebita?” He accepts the answer of your nod and softened smile through the mirror, planting one more kiss on your cheek before he unravels from you and gets fully dressed again. “I’ll take the dress up front to pay while you get dressed, okay angel? Then we can go wherever else you wanna go.”

Taking in his affectionate expression, softened brown eyes and one side of his mouth quirked up in a Javi smile, you feel the same pain in your chest, the words of a confession tingling the tip of your tongue. Instead you swallow it back and match his smile, taking the two steps over to him and pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

“So shoes next then?” Javi’s nose nudges against yours before his head tilts back with a slightly defeated laugh.

“Anything you want, Bebita. Told you m’gonna take care of you.”

This time you physically bite your tongue to hold back, wrapping him up in a fleeting, squeezing hug.

“Thank you, Javi.” 

Hearing yourself back, you can’t tell if it was meant as permission to let yourself fall, those three words serving as placeholders, or if it was a last ditch effort to sever your feelings for him.

Either way, you still knew you were in trouble.

The flute in your hand is cool to the touch when you pick it up from the entry table in the old university church that was converted into an events space. The gothic details of its once lived purpose catch your attention as you look around, dark, carved wooden fixtures and slate gray stone walls. The carpet is dated, an aged beige that spans most of the room that is filled with people from across the Psychology and Sociology department; large leaded windows line the interior, framed by heavy curtains in burnt orange.

There’s a bar at either end of the room, a handful of high top cocktail tables littered around. Your eyes continue to scan, this time focusing on all of the attendees. Peers, former and current professors, administration, and donors all mingle with each other — there’s a few familiar faces that you send a smile to, continuing your exploration for the one face you’re actually looking for.

Your nerves are tingling like the bubbles popping in your glass, bringing the fragile rim up to your lips for a long sip. Relaxing your shoulders, the first drink of alcohol sitting warm in your stomach. Before you put on a brave face and step forward to go mill about, a low rasp from close behind catches your attention.

“I’ve got some pretty taste in dresses, huh Bebita?”

Javier’s voice sends goosebumps down your spine and across your shoulders; you fight a smile, the corners of your lips turning up slightly as he steps up beside you. After eyeing the glass of whiskey in his hand, your stare grazes along his body.

He’s wearing a gray suit, crisp white button down underneath his open blazer. Your smile grows when you see his olive tie, patterned with stitch-thin white pinstripes. Immediately, your eyes flick up to his face, a knowing smirk and a wink shot your way.

“Nice to see you, Professor Peña,” you say courteously, bringing your glass up to your lips for another sip.

“Having a nice night so far?” he counters, turning his body to face you, closing you off to the rest of the room and filling your view with only his frame. “Lookin’ beautiful tonight, angel. All this for chatting shit with professors.”

“I wear a lot less to chat shit with one of my professors.” You send him back a wink, smirk growing as you hold it back while he laughs and sip at your drink.

“Got me there. But we both know m’not just one of your professors, Bebita.” His fingers grip at his glass of whiskey tighter, lifting it to his mouth before he rasps out, only loud enough for you to hear. “Can’t wait to get you home, gonna rip that fucking dress off of you.”

The words send a rush of warmth down your body, clenching your thighs together where you stand. Javi’s hand grazes your side as he lifts his drink to yours, clicking them together. 

“Cheers, Bebita. Gonna be a long night not bein’ able to have my hands on you, but jus’ want you to know I won’t be thinking about anything other than you.” The heat spreads to the back of your neck, your own hand reaching out to brush your fingers against his in a fleeting touch.

“You better go mingle, angel. Go let everyone know that you’re the smartest person in the room,” he whispers to you with a lopsided grin, moving to stand at your side once again.

You shake your head and roll your eyes playfully, swatting a hand at his affection, the smile you’ve been fighting finally lighting up your eyes.

“See you later, Javi. Meet at your truck later?”

“I’ll be there for you, Bebita.”

The room’s temperature has to have risen a few degrees from all the hot air that these academic stuck-ups have been blowing all night. It’s all bullshit, what he finds himself listening to — no one has any experience in the field like he has, most of them lawyers who barely see the inside of a courtroom these days.

As he takes a sip of his second whiskey of the night, his eyes find you across the room. Standing at a table with a small group around it, your back is to him with your face cheated to the side so he can make out your profile. Drinking you in, he notices the body language you’re displaying. Leaning onto the table toward the man next to you, curling yourself in to make yourself smaller, meeker. Your eyelashes are batting, slow blinks that he pictures you doing when he’s between your legs, the image in his mind and the thought of you doing that for someone else kindling a flame of jealousy inside of him.

He studies you two having a conversation, clenching his jaw tighter with every laugh and beaming smile you give to the man.

The guy next to you is dressed similarly to Javier, a navy suit with crisp white shirt, but no tie around his neck — he’s one of those. Must be one of the rich donors based on the crispness of his suit, the starched button-up giving Javier the clue that he regularly gets them serviced at the dry cleaners. He’s clearly older than Javier, gray hair speckled with whites and a few more lines across his face than what Javier has, despite the extreme stress of the last near decade of his life.

You must be keeping him young.

His eyes stay glued to the two of you, the kindling ashes catching into hotter flames when your hand rests on the man’s bicep. This scumbag’s own hand slips around your back, trailing down to the hem that sits in the middle of your back. The twitch of his fingers moving further south propels Javier into action, excusing himself from the small circle he’s standing in to make his way over to you.

He controls his speed, wanting to rush over and clock the man in the face for touching you, for taking advantage of you being a student at the mercy of his generosity.

Instead, he clenches his fist and downs the last of his alcohol, slamming the glass onto a table that he passes by in his path to you.

Saddling up behind the two of you, he smacks on his best charming smile as he clears his throat to interrupt. The man’s hand drops from you, and yours from him, both stepping backward from each other and facing his interruption.

“Evening,” he begins, using your name as he greets you. In your eyes, he can see the widening of them, as if you’re surprised — no, as if you’ve been caught?

Caught for what?

He presses on, desperate to get you away from this creep and into some place where he can hold you. Somewhere private, alone, secluded for the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ve met before, my name’s Javier Peña. Professor in the Sociology department.” Javier reaches out his right hand to the man, his left flicking his open jacket back and resting on his hip as he pops his leg out.

The man shakes his hand as his eyebrows raise, nodding, “Mark Shepherd. It’s great to meet you, Professor Peña. Or is it still Agent?” Mark attempts a light jest, laughing until he sees Javier isn’t.

“Professor’s just fine. Turned in my badge when I retired.” A look over at you and he can see guilt all over your face.

Guilt.

Flirty body language.

Laughing at jokes that couldn’t have been funny — this man is as dry as the desert.

You’re fucking him.

“How’re liking the university so far? Enjoying the new building? Hopefully my donation was large enough to get you your own office — I was talking to Dean Banks just a few minutes ago and he brought up how you’re the Big Man on Campus…”

Javier tunes out the rest of what Mark is saying, a full blossoming of his temper boiling him from the inside. He keeps his eyes on you, your own avoiding him while you look around the room.

Why did you lie to him? This whole time he was telling you that it’s only you for him; how could you sit there and hear that and feel all the devotion he has for you — all of the care he’s given you, and not tell him the truth?

He thought it was only him. That you were his, that there was something more growing out of this. He was in so deep, he was starting to forget the circumstances that brought you two together, starting to ignore the balance changes in his account monthly.

Fuck, he was wrong about you.

Interrupting Mark, Javier turns back to him with the same friendly smile, telling him you’re his student in one of his courses, “I’m so sorry, buddy, but do you think I could steal her away for a few minutes? There’s someone I wanted her to meet that I mentioned in a lecture last week.”

Your face contorts with confusion as Mark gestures for the two of you to head off, Javier leading you from behind to weave in and out of the groups in the room all the way to an exit into the corridor. When the doors shut behind him, he takes one look at you before he storms off in the direction of the doors to the small patio attached to the building.

“Fuck me. This is not how I wanted this night to go...” you mumble to yourself, feeling your emotion catch in your throat — a similar feeling to being caught in your mess of lies and omitted information only moments ago.

You were caught out by the last person you wanted to find out that way — the one person who’s feelings you would work to protect everyday, which is why you lied in the first place.

Craving his touch, his arms wrapping you in his strong, solid embrace, you follow after him, hope beating in your chest as you formulate the best possible explanation of it all.

Outside, the winter is biting into the weather, a chill breeze blowing the tendrils of Javier’s hair up while he fishes a cigarette from the box in his inside jacket pocket. The same wind is blowing out the flame of his lighter as he attempts to light the small vice in his mouth that will allow him a moment of peace, a moment to think.

“Goddammit,” Javier curses under his breath as he struggles to click his lighter on, the cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He sighs defeatedly, kicking his shoes against the brick when he hears the creak of the heavy door. Turning over his shoulder, he’s met with the view of you, purse hanging over one shoulder and heels clicking slowly as you approach him.

Without a word, you reach into your purse at your side, fishing out an aged silver Zippo lighter. Your arm outstretched, lifting it to pass it over to him. He takes it from you, your fingers brushing with the lick of a flame. Between his fingers, he can make out faded engravings in the shape of angel wings. His thumb runs over the design, chest constricting with pain before he flicks the lighter open and holds the flame to the end of his cigarette. A long drag relaxes that pain, attempting and failing at calming his still racing heartbeat.

“Javier, I can explain—” you start, but he lifts his hand with the ashing smoke in it, shaking his head as he blows the fumes away from you.

“You don’t have to. I fully understand that while I’ve been completely focused, devoted, loyal to you, you’ve been off with another man. And couldn’t even have the balls to tell me. Every time I asked you out, and you said you were busy, was it him?” He paces for a few strides before leaning against the brick barrier of the stone patio, eyes boring into yours.

“No. No it wasn’t. Sometimes I really was just busy, with my friends or with school. But yeah, I can’t lie now and say that there weren’t times I made up an excuse or avoided telling you a reason I couldn’t see you…” Your weight shifts on your feet, the points of your stiletto heels scraping against the slate. “There—there’s a couple others besides him.”

Javier’s eyes widen, a crackling inhale of his cigarette pulling smoke into his lungs before he speaks again, “A couple? How many other people are you seeing?”

His voice has a sharp edge to it, patience wearing thin while jealousy and embarrassment root in his stomach. Your face cringes at the harshness of him speaking, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing hard.

“I have three clients besides you. Most of them have been for a few months longer than when I started seeing you…” Your throat clears and your shoulders roll forward, shrinking your usual confidence around him. “I thought you would have…I don’t know I thought you would have known what this was like for me. It’s my job, Javi. With those other guys, it’s still just my job and when I see them, it genuinely feels like work. But—”

He cuts you off again, kicking off the wall and starting his pacing again. “But what, angel? You just told me everything I needed to know. I’m a job to you, just work. That’s fine, we can draw that line here and now. I won’t do anything more for you unless you ask, treat me like everyone else. But forgive me for thinking there was something else there with us.”

Venom in his words hits you with a punch to your gut, this side of Javier one you haven’t been privy to. He’s cold where he normally holds his warmth toward you — his eyes, his dimple, the flex of his arms when he holds you, withdrawn from his normal attachment to you, always a hand kept on you when you’re together and a tab kept on you when you’re apart, stiff where he’s normally malleable, forming to your opposite, complimenting you completely.  

This feels like the Javier you would have met a year ago in Colombia, guard up and emotions naught.

Anger blooms in his chest, feeling his insides turn a dark, dampened forest green with envy. Flicking the burnt out cigarette to the ground, he stomps it before walking away from you, cold shoulder freezing you out while he heads back inside.

You were supposed to be his. His Bebita, his angel. He doesn’t own you, no, but he wanted to feel chosen by you. And all of this, the fact that this whole time there have been other people that you see the same as him, he knows he was never the only choice.

“Javier, stop—” you plead with him while your arm grabs his bicep, his step faltering for a moment before he recovers and removes his arm from your grip. In the low light from the warm, yellow lamps at all corners of the patio, he can see the glistening veil over your eyes. The corners of your mouth are downturned, the bottom lip jutting out in that normally irresistible pout.

“Don’t. Don’t pull that shit, you knew what you were doing. I—I think you should get a different ride home tonight.”

Without another breath in your direction, his heavy footsteps carry him inside, leaving you with a chill across your skin that is no match for the iciness of his behavior. A piece of your heart breaking like a crack in a glass, delicately, finely, but one more more and it shatters completely.

He said he was going to be there for you. Yet here he is, leaving you when you want him—need him the most.

Javier strides up to the bar, ordering a double whiskey neat. Once the crystal glass is set in front of him, it’s a blink of an eye before it’s set back down completely empty. His eyes comb the room, a glimpse of you getting caught by a professor, skin burning as jealousy boils inside of him.

Is he one of your clients? Or are you only friendly with him? Was the babysitting story with Professor Quinn bullshit? Were you with him at one point too?

Was anything real with you? Maybe he was naive to assume you were feeling all the same things he was, that this was anything more than a job. The line was blurred for him from the start, infatuation snowballing into something more — he’s in love with you.

And now he knows he’s just a job to you.

Doubt worms its way into his thoughts, anger blossoming at the thought that he was vulnerable, careful, open with you. For the first time in years, he’s let his guard down, fully falling into the comfort of your affections and completely forgetting the way you two were brought together, and now he’s getting burned. All he can remember is the few times before, long before Colombia, when he had the same feeling; tightness in his chest, shallow breathing, sweating at the nape of his neck.

Pressing his palm into his chest to find any type of relief, he feels the rapid beating of his heart. His eyes glue to you, watching your interactions and feeling suddenly desperate for fresh air. Clicks of his dress shoes echo when he finds himself in the marble-tiled lobby, stretching his lungs with every breath with a furrowed brow and thoughts racing in circles.

Muscle memory leads him to his car, folding over and supporting himself with arms outstretched against the hood. Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breath, slowing himself down to deepen them. As he tries to clear his mind of all his doubtful thoughts, the image he conjures is of you, bare under the sheets the morning after that time in your apartment.

Breezy, dawn light coated the side of your face while the two of you talked in whispers, as if any louder would ruin the peace. At one thing he said, he can’t even remember now, you rolled onto your back, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears as he saw the beaming smile of yours.

That was when it solidified in his mind, his care and affection and desire rolling into the one word that encapsulates it all — love.

The pressure of a hand on his shoulder makes him jump, smudging the image to nothing as he turns to face whoever is interrupting him.

Your eyes meet his, his brow returning to its furrowed state while his eyes round with softness. The sight of him, the emotion painted on his face, tears into your heart, but you tell yourself you have to stand your ground, to tell him all that you couldn’t when he rushed back inside.

“Javi—” your voice trails off when he interrupts you.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Javi clips at you, index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose when you scoff.

“Who died and made you king? You’re not the sole-decider, Javier, and after all the shit you just said to me, I think I deserve a second to speak to you,” your voice is steady despite the emotion crawling up your throat, tears burning in your waterline as you look at him in front of you, “It’s not fair for you to get angry at me. When I’m with those other men, I’m doing my job. It feels like work, and it is for me. I need the money, Javier, or else I’d have to drop out of school and still be responsible for my student loans. I’m doing what I was hired to do, the same thing you signed up for, so I don’t need the shit from you.”

Standing up straight from leaning against his car, he chuckles mockingly and shakes his head before countering, “You know, I thought when I was signing up, I would have someone just for me. Didn’t expect to get someone for everyone.”

The tears burning at your waterline fill your view, blurring him standing in front of you until they start to fall in quick succession. Inside of your throat feels raw, swallowing hard and wiping the streams across your face. Mascara is definitely running down your cheeks, and your nose is sniffling while you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your sobs at bay.

He doesn’t deserve to see you so hurt. He doesn’t get to know how you really feel about him, not anymore. You made a mistake trusting him, crossing the line, and getting too attached.

Another swallow pops in your ears, mustering as much volume as you can without completely breaking, “I really thought you were different, but I guess not. Now I know what you really think about me.”

You shift your weight in your heels, looking at Javi once more, stoicism on high and the emotion you saw before completely void. Anger is strong across his face, with the brief reprieve of gentle care when a small sob slips out. Turning around to walk back inside and collect yourself, the sound of Javi’s rasp stopping you in your tracks.

Javier hears what he said played back in his head, the sight of your tears constricting his throat. With a dry mouth, he stutters out an attempt to back track, “Wait, wait—I didn’t—Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, Bebita.”

You flinch, the name that normally sends warmth spreading across your chest now feeling like a dagger in your heart.

Facing him again, you cross your arms over your chest as your temper engulfs your emotion for a moment, spitting your response to Javier’s acrimony. “Don’t call me that,” you snap, eyes stinging as you look at him and watch his face fall from your words. “How did you mean it, Javi? Did you mean for it to have me begging for forgiveness, begging you to accept me even though I’m such used merchandise? Well, newsflash, Javier, but this was my job before you came around and screwed with my head. How can you say that shit when you tell me how much you care?”

He takes one step forward, and you take two back, shaking your head at his advance. His eyes round with softness again, tense brow shifting into a sorrowful one. Mumbling under his breath, he runs a hand through his hair before he looks at you. The need to win, to be right, to be justified in the end has him speaking before thinking yet again, “I didn’t know this is what I was getting into exactly. I thought you were with one person at a time, that all of your experiences were from the past, like, year not the past few weeks. I told you that I was only with you — you had plenty of opportunities to let me know about all the other jobs you’ve been doing. Were you telling them all the same shit? How many have you had over? Or stayed over at their place? Was I really just some fucking job, a shift you scheduled every week?”

“Fuck you, Javier. Fuck you. Forget about this, about me, I’ll tell the company to cancel your payments and refund you. Don’t fucking call me, don’t pull me after class. We’re done.”

Finally turning around again, Javier is silent as he watches you walk away, shoulders slumped forward with your arms crossed. Part of him is begging to go after you, to make it alright, to fix it for you. The other part is keeping his feet planted where he’s at, staunch in his anger toward you, toward the situation.

At the sound of the heavy building door shutting behind you, he runs his palm over his face before sighing deeply and getting into his car. He feels something in his pocket, fishing it out and confronted with the lighter you handed to him. His thumb runs over the engraving again, tracing the worn lines of the angel wings in the metal body of the Zippo.

He’s on his way down, falling from the heaven — the haven — you created for him into the familiar abyss of hell.

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[mychlapci]

… I like to think Sentinel would manage to condition himself completely by accident. Most of it could have been avoided by just not trying to optimize his studying time by taking his supplements at the same time. He probably started off like you said, trying to hold still as his /medical device/ expanded in his valve to connect with his gestation tank. Maybe even felt a little uncomfortable with how wet he got, feeling it pump the nutrients into him until his belly was swollen with more than just his bitlet. And of course he wouldn’t just overload himself afterwards to get rid of the charge, it’s not like he’s INTO this! That would be ridiculous. Him, a Prime and an Elite Guard, getting charged up over carrying of all things… Sentinel growing increasingly horny until just prepping the applicator has his sensitive pussy drooling, day by day subconsciously anticipating his lessons more and more as the mental link between being horny and being a good mommy strengthens. But then throw housekeeping into the mix—Sentinel Prime would never stoop so low as to be dirty, but he IS a bachelor, after all.

Maybe he sits up one day and feels a little broody, a little like nesting. Well, he’s already taking his supplements while he does his parenting classes. He might as well look up some tips on keeping things clean. Getting up from his desk afterwards, tingling with charge that he keeps denying exists as he sets about tidying up the kitchen. He needs to sanitize it after cleaning the applicator after all. Subconsciously setting his hand on his belly as he straightens up from scrubbing the floor and deciding he’s earned a reward with all this hard work. Rushes back to his berth to wring out a weak, dry overload from his limp spike, just enough to sate the urge but not to clear the charge—belly swollen with a bitlet, his valve and node are his frame’s higher priority. And maybe he adds his little rewards to the schedule, right after completing his lessons and preparing his hab for a bitlet! A hardworking Prime like Sentinel deserves a little tlc after all.

But after a few weeks, he finds himself rocking on the applicator. Grinding in his chair as his calipers cycle down and clutch at what is basically a false spike anyway… a little moan sneaking free as his last video ends with a “you’re doing a great job, carrier!” or perhaps a “you’ll be such a good mommy!” Well, it’s just more efficient to get his overload NOW rather than wait, right? A good Prime shouldn’t waste time when he could be working on other things. So he moves his daily overload to lesson time, feeling guilty and a little embarrassed… at least until his next vid brings up how an increase in libido and sensitivity are perfectly normal for carriers. Of course there’s nothing wrong with Sentinel, nothing odd here. He’s just a perfect, textbook case of a carrying mech. In fact, the neediness might even be a sign that he needs MORE supplements a day than he’s been getting. Might be time to talk to a medic.

And of course, months down the line when he’s so swollen that he can’t even SEE his array let alone play with it, he might even realize what he’s done. Well, the apron made sense when he scratched his handsome paint one too many times while cleaning the hab, but did it need to be so pretty? Did his valve need to clench when his vids praised him? Did his panels need to heat up when he cooked or cleaned or set the pump up for his poor, leaky titties? But it’s too late to turn back, too hard to untrain his reactions (especially when he can’t bring himself to want to, too used to multiple overloads daily). Too much effort when no one needs to know.

And then the bitlet finally arrives, and all Sentinel can think is that his last vid kept saying how beneficial it is for a youngling to grow up with a sibling or two… and what a perfect little mommy he is, for only doing what’s best for his little one. Well, the office hasn’t burned to the ground without him yet, now has it? Maybe he could do some paperwork from home. At least until the bitlets wean. That’s awfully young, though… maybe when they start at school.

of course it’s Sentinel’s own fault. He’s so stupid. If he hadn’t tried to optimize his study hours and transfluid implants, then he wouldn’t have ended up discovering getting this damned pregnancy fetish.

i love to imagine Sentinel realizing, despite himself, that he’s conditioned himself into associating his pregnancy with overloading and having to face the fact that he doesn’t have it in him to change it… if he even tries to clean, or watch a video or read a book about carrying he gets so unbearably horny and it’s too hard to resist. He can always reason that his frame is simply… demanding the nutrients for the bitlets, nothing more, just a basic reaction. He’s doing fine. Getting incredibly wet just while cleaning is… a side-effect he’s willing to push through. No one needs to know.

oOoh Sentinel getting himself knocked up again… that’s just exquisite. I mean, back then, it was just an accident, but this time… no, of course it was an accident. He just accidentally wrapped his legs around the designated mech and made him overload inside, he wouldn’t have done that if he’d known he was gonna end up knocked up again, surely. But it’s alright, a youngling should have a sibling. 

i am so glad that my fantasy, regarding any mech at all times, is now applicable to Sentinel. I need him visibly pregnant, swollen with his second baby, with his first one latched onto his chest as he feeds it<33

[museofreverie]

Chapter 04 ⋆ Just a Very Long Dream

WAYS OF FREEDOM┊Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Modern Fem!Reader ┊2nd POV

In which a chronically online Gen Z that went through the pandemic goes to the Attack on Titan Universe and tries her very best to change the ending with an "I can fix him" mentality.

⋆ CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 2.4k words

⋆ WARNINGS: manga spoilers

⬅ prev chapter ┊ next chapter ➡

𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏.

"OUCH, MY BACK."

          The words rolled out from your tongue after rolling your neck sideways and stretching your back. All of a sudden, your mother's words about your posture echoed in your head.

          You look like a shrimp. Sit straight, will you?

          Your eyes rolled at the truthfulness of this thought. "Damn, I really do need to stretch again and fix my posture."

          As you stretched your arms above your head and got up from your chair, you took a deep breath. Your muscles became tense, so you flexed and rotated each limb, hearing the sound of breaking joints. With a sigh, you raised your hands to your chest and flexed and extended them until you heard a pleasant crack reverberate through your fingertips.

          You looked over to your table and the thought of doing your academic responsibilities immediately made you whine.

          "I don't want to study."

          Your mind was dead tired, and all you wanted to do was to go back to bed. You stifled a yawn and rubbed your eyes with your fingertips, evident that exhaustion was catching up with you.

          No classes tomorrow, you thought to yourself. I'm just gonna take a quick nap before I read fanfics later.

          Your head bobbed. A quick nap. Yeah, that seemed like a good plan.

          You walked towards your bed, finally succumbing to the thought of lying down, and relaxed against the soft pillow. You shifted to a more comfortable position, adjusting the position of your pillow and the soft fabric of your blanket that brushed lightly against your skin.

          Ah, finally I can rest!

          Soon after, your dog followed you and climbed into your bed to rest beside you. "Don't pee here, okay?" you warned your dog who just finished digging on the sheets. They looked at you with ears deflated, as if they understood what you said. Because of this, a chuckle escaped your lips and you gave your dog an affectionate kiss on the forehead.

          A second passed. Another second. And then a minute.

          Right now, you were just waiting for this day to pass by. The atmosphere in your room was solely existential anguish. Almost every second felt like you were stuck in the walls of a prison that you could never escape as you stared endlessly into the empty abyss that was your ceiling.

          Great. Another existential crisis.

          This was basically your daily routine ever since quarantine started. You knew that deep inside of you, the blazing flame to keep on going that you ignited was slowly dimming. Was it even worth it to keep on going? To continue studying when your future is uncertain?

          You're still young and still have a long way to go, yet why does it feel like you're running out of time already? You didn't want to think about deadlines anymore. You just wanted to take a pause. To exist quietly.

          Absent-mindedly, you frowned at the thought and your mood immediately turned into moroseness. You just wanted to get rid of this heaviness inside your chest.

          You groaned. "Why am I always like this? Life is not even daijoubu anymore."

          And so because of that, your fingers found their way gliding across your phone's screen, searching for the perfect softly haunting tune to play as your background noise.

          Well, you know what they say. Don't suffer in silence; at least try to play some background music.

          As the music began to play from the streaming app, you felt like you had been transported into a movie, with the soundtrack of your soul playing out in the background. You closed your eyes and let yourself melt in the music, feeling a wave of nostalgia and sadness hit you all at once. The tune entered your mind like a siren's call, drawing you ever-increasingly deeper into the pit of unconsciousness. Your eyelids grew heavier and heavier with each passing second, and at last, your body gave in and succumbed to blissful slumber.

          From the depths of your sleep, it was all pitch black. Just pure darkness that enveloped you like a thick blanket, heavy and still.

          And then slowly, the dreams came.

          At first, a blinding light illuminated the dark abyss of your mind. Line after line of light slowly morphed into a luminous worm-like creature that glowed—and the version of you in this dream could feel yourself slipping into the endless depths of water towards it. But before you collided with the creature, it then changed to the image of a thick and sprawling tree of luminescence with the intensity of a thousand suns, stretching up toward an infinite sky and reaching without limits.

          You thought there was something almost mystical about the tree. It seemed alive. As if it was the source of all life itself.

          Around you, there was sand. Everywhere. A place that was full of limitless sand, the glowing tree standing tall in the middle.

          As your actions inside this dream gazed upon this magnificent sight, suddenly an eerie silhouette of a woman emerged in front of the tree. You couldn't make out her features yet, but you could feel her presence watching you. Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side as if trying to decipher your very essence. They did not dare to speak but only observed you.

          The version of you in this dream could feel your body going towards her-but then another image began to form. There was an enormous bomb that exploded and shook the ground, illuminating a monstrous head on the body of what resembled a skeleton fish.

          It was a terrifying sight.

          The dream twisted back to the glowing tree, yet the glow from the tree immediately faded, a pool of blood replacing the light.

          And then, there it was.

          Eyes that glowed with a vivid green hue. Burning with rage.

          You wanted to escape this dream—but, all of it seemed familiar. So familiar as if you've known it your entire life—yet various images kept coming up in your head and continuously blurring together. Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Eyes. Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Eyes—The familiarity was uncanny.

          Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Eyes. Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Ey—You thought you'd seen this before—Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Eyes. Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood—The images blurred—₲ⱤɆɆ₦ ɆɎɆ₴. ฿ⱠØØĐ. ฿Ø₥฿. ₴łⱠⱧØɄɆ₮₮Ɇ. ₮ⱤɆɆ. ₩ØⱤ₥. Ⱡł₲Ⱨ₮—and it changed again.

           But this time, it was different.

          It was a blurry image of a m̸̝̜͓̙̹͆̍̚̚a̴̺̦̺͋̊̒̔͝n̴̙͍̈́͋̈̎͝͝͠͝ ̵̡̦͓̞͈̟̈́̂̿͐̾͋͜s̷̫̳̑̌ï̵̤̪̥̖̱͊ͅt̸̛͎̋͂͂͆̓̐͋̐t̷̢͇͙͉͍͌̀͗̈́͝į̴̛̹̦̙̭̺̎̈́̿̀̌n̴̜̍͝g̸̨̗̣̯͇͖̦͐̿̏̈́̿ ̶͕̙̦̤͎͖̐̊̀́͛͝u̷̧̖͓̟͉̼̯̇̾n̷̨̧̘͙̥̻̈́̀d̷̨̛̺̺̻͙̞̺̥̤͆̈́̐͛̚͝͠͝ę̷̱͈̺̦̪̠̮͌̍͊̅̌ͅr̵̬̰̭̮͔͔̓ ̶̡̖̲̠̝̩̜̀̀̀̇̔̓̊͜ͅå̶̛̗̃̋̇͠ ̸͔́̃̇̎͌͘t̶̆͘ͅȑ̴̡̳̺̠̘͘e̶̢̨̢̢̫̭̿̈́̄ē̵̟̭͎̖ ̴̪̰̗̯̼͖̳͊̈́͌͋̐̈͑͂̽w̷̱̏̽h̸͚͖̯͙̹͚̹͋̅̒͂̉̊͐͋͝ͅọ̵̢̧͇͔̜͂͑͑̓̇̿ ̶̨̭̟̽́̋̿́̎̆͘͠͝s̵̯̝̤̺̖̘̃̿͂̍͐̀̽͐̅͝e̵͎̤͎̓͑̇͌̑̌̚ȩ̷̧̼̹̗͚͎͈̳̃͛́̍͌̌͗̎͜m̸͈̱̟͉̘̭̰̩̗͋̌̀̂͗̉͝͝ě̵̢̙͚d̷̢̡̗̥̠͓̦͍̆̎̒̎ ̵͔̰̣͉̉̕t̸̨̨̡̗͈̲̮̗̫͍̅̓͘ọ̴̡̹̮̬̲̼̦̺͗̉̄͆͆͆̍̀��͝ ̵͔͌̉̈̾̅̐̑͒̚͝h̸̦́̇̈̋͌͂̕̚ͅá̵̛̲̘̲̬̪͍͕̲͕̈́̅͗́̊ṿ̵̮͊́̉̅͋̈́͠ḛ̶̔̎̎̂ ̶̘̲͎͍̜͓͚͕͂͋̌ͅf̷̡̧̩͖̣̦͈̟̐̆̃͜ơ̸̼̱͍͙̘͕̝̣̗̌͗̆̾́̉̓͐̋͜û̸̹̮͓̯̖̍̆ñ̸̡̢͔̣̙̙̺́̓̿̈́̊͒͋́͠d̵̢͍̠̀͊̏̒͋̽̾ ̶̳̗̤̝̲͓̅̒̔ȩ̸̖͌͑̾͐v̵̧̙̲̠̬̋̃̽̋̈̈͂̕ë̴̟͈̮̜̪͉́͒̏̉͘r̴̗͕̲̮͚͇̫͙̍͛̒̔́͂̌̌̕̕l̴̠̥̮͎͇͈̟̣̒̈ͅȁ̴͍͓̼̏̃̾͗̈́͝s̴̡̬̞͚̖͎̳̓̽͒͑ţ̸͍̦͖͈͊̉̂̄͘͠ḯ̵̢̢̱͕̲̞͖̂̐̇̕͜n̸̙͙͊̎̍̾͗͑̿͒̈̕ģ̷̨̱̲̥̖͈͔͕͙̉͐͂͝ ̷̨̘̜̝͔̻͕͗͗͘p̴̰̠͍͓̙͉̊̈͑̌̈́̊̎͘͝͝e̵̺̜͔̬͘ȧ̴̠̠͉̹̩̫̆͊͌c̴̺̗̲͍̞͔̳͉̱̳̋̔ę̸͕̜̳͈̓̐̉͊̎̅̿̾͠ͅͅ ̴͎̠̖̏̃̂̒͐į̷̨͉̦̝͚̠̖͍͛̄͛̂͊̄̆̐͝͝n̴̹̩̙̳͚̐ ̷̢̨̡̭͕̖̺̦̋̒͊̒́͑ḧ̶̨̡̼͈̥̆̄̏̈́̂̾̇͜i̶͎̭̤̓̓̈͜ș̶̢̼͈͑̄̓̑̕͠ ̴̭͚͇̤̰̬́͛̎̽s̷̢̩̗̮̀̐̏ļ̵̢̥̲̬̙̺̥̱̣̈ę̸̠̣͉̣͈͔͐e̶͖͍̲͈͇̬̞͈̺̾̌̑p̵̑̐̽͌͋͠ͅ.̸͉͎̠͈̺̳͔̹̯̙͑͐̊

         

Huh?

          You wanted to know more about this vision. Everything seemed so familiar—but then you woke up.

          You blinked your heavy eyes open and struggled to focus in the dim light. Still, a bit disoriented from the deep sleep you had entered, your hand clutched your head.

          Huh? My head hurts.

          But even with the sudden migraine, you tried to ignore it with a yawn. Your body tossed and turned in bed, and as soon as your hand touched your eyes, you began to rub them to wake you up.

          You stared at your ceiling for a while without blinking, trying to decipher what had just transpired in your dream.

          Wow. That was a very long dream.

          "What time is it?" You stretched again, groaning at the notion. You stopped and faced your dog who was also asleep beside you. You smiled fondly.

          "Hi, baby," you said in a soft voice, waking them up. When your dog saw you were finally awake now, their tail wagged nonstop and tried licking your face. A chuckle left your lips, shielding yourself from their licks. "Okay, okay, I'm awake."

          You looked for your phone that was under one of your pillows and opened the notes app to make an entry about your dream today.

          Yes, you take down notes about some of your dreams in your notes app. What? You'll never know if some of them are prophetic or might come in handy one day.

          This dream was nothing special. You think. You've had tons of random entries already, of course. One of them was when you were inside a dream singing with Shrek and One Direction, and later on, appeared to be half-naked while watching the scene unfold from a different point of view than yours.

          Yeah, it was a weird and random one.

          But this time, something clicked in your mind as your fingers continued to type in your phone about your dream—Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Eyes.

          You were now positive it was about Attack on Titan.

          Weird. It was the same dream you had earlier this morning. Your eyes blinked.

          You just hoped you won't ever dream about it again.

         

The dreams did not stop.

          It has been exactly a week since your eerie dreams about Attack on Titan began, leaving you drained and unable to sleep properly. Every night, they returned. Unsettling, surreal, and with a nagging familiarity that you couldn't quite place. While you wanted to keep delving deeper into your dreams analysis, you also sought to avoid being overly consumed by the matter at hand. The dreams didn't make much sense to you, to be honest, but it did linger in the back of your mind.

          Your shoulders slumped as you once again lay in bed. "This is what happens when you've watched too many edits of AOT, Y/N."

          An idea then popped into your head, and you smirked. "Well, there's nothing wrong with watching more edits."

          After scrolling through YouTube for a while, you switched over to TikTok and searched for random videos about Attack on Titan again. As you clicked through some of the videos on your Fyp, you couldn't help but laugh at some of them. Some were funny; unhinged and out of pocket with the bird memes—like when a video about a bird attacking a guy with the caption: 'Eren as a bird attacking every guy that tries to flirt with Mikasa', but then there are others that were serious interpretations or analyses of his character.

          Even at the worst of times, the only way the fandom could cope was by making memes of Eren's ending. However, no matter what type of video it was, it seemed like everyone was talking about Eren and his impact on the anime world.

          You were so deep in laughter that for a moment you didn't notice the sudden intrusion in your room.

          "What in the hell is this mess."

           You immediately looked up, wiping away the tears of laughter from your eyes, and were met by the sight of your mother looking around your room, taking in all the changes since she last visited. Her gaze returned to you and then shook her head. "So that's why some of the mugs have disappeared, huh."

          Unsure of what to do in the face of her unexpected presence, you froze for a bit before abruptly standing up from your bed. Your heart thudded against your chest, and you stammered out a greeting.

          "H-hi, ma," you began, your voice barely more than a whisper.

          "You've been stuck here all day for months and—didn't I always tell you to clean your room? Is that how a lady should act? You're getting too lazy. You know this isn't how I raised you."

          Her disapproval was evident with every word of insult towards you that came out of her mouth.

          "What do you even do here all day, huh? Wha—"

          You tried cutting her off before it got worse. "Ma, aren't you busy, or something? Why are you even here?"

          Big mistake.

          She gave you a pointed look. You thought you were already done having a talk with her from last week, but that speech was coming.

          "Oh, you know how to talk back now, huh? Don't you dare give me that attitude, Y/N. I'm still your mom. How dare you ask me that? You rarely go outside and do some of the chores. Just look at you. This is what happens when you're always on your phone."

          Her head shook slowly, and then slowly looked up at you. "But anyway, this isn't what I came for. I have some news."

          Curious about this, your head tilted.

          She understood that your interest was piqued and so she continued. "Your aunt called. She said we'll have a memorial for... Mama. It's through Zoom with our other relatives. Also, she told me that we'll be the ones who can use Mama's house since we're the only one near it. The others are stuck in quarantine."

          Your mother waited for a minute to pass. She sighed.

          "I'm sorry, Y/N, but it's already been a year since she passed away."

          Your face crumpled at her words and she was instantly filled with guilt. She moved forward slowly, hesitating before perching on the edge of your bed in an attempt to show comfort. You could feel her eyes on you, full of sympathy and understanding even as you averted your gaze.

          "Oh."

          Your fingers trembled as they slowly grasped the necklace that hung around your neck. It was your grandmother's, a gift she'd given to you so many years ago—a reminder that she would always be with you. But now, at the thought of her passing, it felt like it had been ripped away from you, leaving you feeling an emptiness unlike any other.

          Your mother was right. It had already been a year.

          "Your siblings won't also be there with us, but they'll try to attend online." She was still met with silence but continued. "I know. . . this has been hard for you — for all of us — believe me, it really is. But we need to move forward with this loss. You can't just stay here inside your room and isolate yourself. . . Life doesn't simply work that way. So," she continued while her face became stoic, "pack up your things. We'll leave the next day."

          For what felt like an eternity, there was a deafening silence between you and her. Without saying a word, she turned away and stood up, gathering the mugs you had, and left the room.

          You opened your mouth to say something, but the words never came out of it.

          Your eyes glistened. Some things just can never be the same again no matter how hard you tried to hold them dearly—it cannot be undone. Especially with the pain they caused you.

          The weight of dread in your chest felt heavier than ever. You wished you were asleep, dreaming of the strange visions that kept coming back to you during the night. Those weren't real.

          Unlike this.

          After all, those dreams—were all just a very long dream.

To be continued . . .

⬅ prev chapter ┊ next chapter ➡

[meekmedea]

might be a complicated question but do you think coryo genuinely thought of clemmie as a good friend or was genuinely apologetic abt what happened to her in the book? or do u think he always saw her as more of a study/class partner and someone important to get close to for networking reasons?

That's a super interesting question. I want to say he did see her as a good friend. At least, pre-snake bite. Post snake bite feels complicated.

The nickname always gets me. How he's essentially the only one to call her 'Clemmie' while everyone else defaults to 'Clem'.

Festus uses 'Clemmie' once, but then defaults back to 'Clem', so I like to imagine it's a case similar to Lysistrata - where 'Clemmie' is a childhood nickname, but as they got older, everyone else started using 'Clem' instead. Meanwhile Coriolanus just continued with 'Clemmie', and she let him.

Because while he does use nicknames for his other classmates (Pollo / Didi / Pup), I feel like it's implied that those are nicknames that the other mentors also use.

You could make the argument for Lysistrata, about how he uses 'Lyssie'. But it seems like it's just a one off and more so to help Lucy Gray in that moment. And I think (?) Lysistrata and him have other conversations beforehand and he never uses that nickname.

Clemmie calls him 'Coryo' and he mentions that the nickname is only for friends/loved ones. (Then again, yeah...Arachne calls him this too. So it's hard to say haha.)

He does seem genuinely worried about her when she's bitten and brought to the hospital - like the day of the bite. (in the days following that day though, it feels like a whole different can of worms.)

There's also this line post-snake bite where he calls her his friend. I feel like it could be interpreted many ways, but the fact that he refers to her as among the best feels like there's a little more to their relationship than just 'she's beneficial to have around'.

He did not want to be her enemy. If the Snow fortress was about to fall, he would need friends. Until the snake incident, he’d counted Clemensia among his best. And she’d always gotten on well with Tigris, too. But how to make amends?

Post snake bite specific - When he returns from D12 - Clemmie doesn't get a mention again. Or an invite to Sejanus' posthumous birthday dinner. I always wonder what happened there. Did she refuse the invite? Did he decide not to invite her?

Pre-snake bite specific - there were probably other beneficial reasons to maintain/strengthen that friendship. Maybe like:

Her being a Dovecote + probably her family connections

Likely a good study partner? This is purely just based off vibes and imagining that besides connections (reputation/wealth), the mentors were also the smartest of their year.

More narcissistic reasons - just having a pretty girl around. I still find it funny that he's sort of like, "Persephone is pretty, I guess. But she's a cannibal. Also, Clemmie (pre-snake bite) is prettier."

In the case that he had to betray her/get rid of her/or where a scenario like Sejanus' happens and he had to cut ties - I could also see him attempting to reason to himself that they weren't really that close. But I think deep down, he'd know that it was a lie too.

[sirianasims]

By the time I got back to the house, it was dark and the last of our roommates had arrived.

Shen and Tai were twins, exchange students from Mt. Komorebi.

Shen was a little… extravagant. He spoke loudly and wore even louder outfits, and spent an inordinate amount of time in front of mirrors or commenting on hot guys and their butts.

His sister Tai seemed pretty much the opposite, at least on first impression. But after sharing a house with her for a few weeks, I discovered that her mild exterior was hiding a personality just as intense as her brother’s.

The twins didn’t play sports, but they somehow managed to turn everything into a fierce competition – from video games to foosball to constantly trying to date the same guys with cute butts, apparently.

There was never a dull moment in the house around the Lei twins. I had no idea how they kept their grades up with the amount of dating and competing they engaged in.

The fifth inhabitant of the house was Griffin, who surprised me by also being a medical student. At first I was taken aback by his somewhat gruff demeanour, but I actually really liked him once I got to know him.

His commanding voice could call even the twins to order, and the fact that he was a few years older than the rest of us quickly made him the resident “dad”.

He was also a former chef who now wanted to become a surgeon. I had asked him why, once, but he had just winked and said that he already knew how to handle a knife, so it couldn’t be too difficult. He completely took over the kitchen, and would offer to whip up a quick salad when I came home late from practice and was starving.

Things were going pretty well as we settled into our new routines. I didn’t have Samuel to myself much, but we still got to spend a lot of time together, even if it was mostly while eating or studying. And since the house wasn’t that big, Griffin, Shen and Tai were constantly around. But it was something.

I needed other friends than Samuel anyway. I did my best to socialise, even though it had never been my strong suit. But I got along pretty well with my football team, which, in addition to Trisha and Jessica, included a girl called Daria.

Football definitely took up a lot of my time, and it annoyed me to admit that the university had probably been right in preventing me from joining both football and basketball. It often felt like I was trying to do my coursework while running from classes to football practice.

Still, I enjoyed being busy. And it felt great when we won our first match against our arch-rivals, those posh people from University of Britechester. They always thought they owned the entire town just because they were here first.

Trisha was team captain, and she was good. After the match, she managed to hit just the right balance between praise and letting us know that this wasn’t the time to get complacent.

I really liked all the girls. But I still struggled with making proper friends – no one but Samuel ever got close. I wasn’t sure what to say or do half the time. Instead, I tried to work as hard as possible during practice and matches, hoping it would somehow make up for my lack of social skills.

Jessica had befriended Trisha on the very first day, and she was quick to befriend Daria as well. I wished I had her confidence. She never seemed worried that people might reject her friendship. And they never did.

As I walked home that night, I wondered if Samuel was only my friend because we happened to grow up together and now he couldn’t get rid of me. Would he still have chosen me as his friend if he’d had a choice?

And what would happen if I ever gave him that choice?

beginning / previous / next

[xoxo-susu]

Coquettifying this semester ⋆。·˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧。⋆

Hello loves ♡

My first class of the semester starts this week, so I thought I'd make a lil post on my favorite school tips and tricks for Spring 2024 :)

Studying and homework ⋆。·˚ʚ 🩰 ɞ˚‧。⋆

🩰 White noise. If you struggle with zoning off while you work, white noise is exactly what you need. I personally prefer pink or brown noise because it's a little deeper and softer and white noise just makes me think of falling sand.

🩰 Stay on top of your assignments. In the beginning for me especially, it's so easy to let things slip. Do not do it. It will impact your grade for the rest of the semester. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience. Try and do your homework right when you get home. That way, you maximize relaxed time without worrying about assignments.

🩰 Keep your study space clean and cute. You're not going to feel motivated sitting at some grungy old cardboard box that smells like leftover pizza! Try and make your study place somewhere you enjoy to be. And keep it clean!

🩰 Pomodoros. I love love love pomodoros. They help me stay so much more focused because it's like a challenge to study through the whole time. If you don't know what a pomodoro is, this link explains it pretty well ♡

🩰 Find what works for you. I find I focus best in the morning. Some people feel like they're at their sharpest at 2:15 PM. Experiment a little with a low-pressure assignment and figure out when you work best. Once you do, schedule your assignments accordingly. The hardest go during that time, but the easiest go when you're least motivated. Also try and go to a coffee shop or the library! It's sooo motivational.

🩰 All nighters. These are great for romanticization purposes and nothing else. Get. Your. Eight. Hours. Of. Sleep! Unless you only found out about an assignment the night before its due and there's no other option, do not do it! You need rest for your brain to function properly. There was a study I remember hearing about where one group of students crammed for a test the night before and the others slept well, and the well-rested ones got higher scores.

🩰 Study groups. If you work well with other people, do this! But if you get too distracted, don't do it.

🩰 NOTION!!!! Notion is SUCH a great and aesthetic website to get organized.

At school ⋆。·˚ʚ 🎀 ɞ˚‧。⋆

🎀 Ribbons. Ribbons are such a coquette staple. Put them on everything! Especially your hair.

🎀 Take cute notes. Make them something you'd like to look back on! Buy yourself a new pack of pink highlighters, write in juicy black pen, doodle bows, use washi tape, whatever you think looks best. Even try and make your homework look pretty. My spanish midterm project was a coquette work of art.

🎀 Look your prettiest. Again with the ribbons--put them in your hair! Wear cute mary janes. Brush your hair. Take a shower before, if you can. Wear a vanilla or rose scented body mist. Put on some cute rings. If you have a uniform, wear a cozy scarf and as much jewelry as you can.

🎀 Books. Bring a book with you everywhere. It will make you look so educated and elegant. Some of my favorites are Little Women, Heaven to Betsy and Betsy in Spite of Herself, Jane Eyre, Sense and Sensibility, Sad Cypress, Death on the Nile, Anne of Green Gables, and Betsy was a Junior and Betsy and Joe. The Betsy books are perfect because each one is about a year in highschool, and they're so coquette and vintage and she's such a study icon and ugh.

🎀 Make good friends. Having a good group of people to motivate and uplift you is sosososo important. Get rid of the ones who hate to see you succeed. And it will make school feel like someplace you're genuinely excited to go to.

🎀 Don't skip classes. Just don't. It's not the vibe.

🎀 Be nice to your teachers. If they really suck then they really suck. But your school year will be so much easier if your teachers like you and know of you as a good student.

🎀 Try and find 'your place'. Not like that. Literally. Try and find a little nook you and your group can claim as your favorite.

🎀 Make your supplies as cute as possible! Get a cute bag or backpack if you can. Pretty stationary will help you romanticize so much. Get rid of the ugly neon yellow pencils.

Coquettifying ⋆。·˚ʚ 💌 ɞ˚‧。⋆

This is the best part!

💌 Watch GRWMS and coquette school vlogs.

💌 tie a bow on everything.

💌 Lipgloss, lipgloss, lipgloss! Pale pink and shimmery.

💌 Make a coquette academia pinterest board, like mine.

💌 In the words of our icon @coqxettee, "Study and work hard. Being intelligent is attractive, gorgeous and most of all, one of the keys to success." Read her posts too, all of them are just lovely for romanticizing.

💌 Take care of yourself. Face masks while studying, matchas on the way to school, gua sha before going to sleep. AND STAY HYDRATED!!!!

💌 Get a cute lotion for school. The glossier one is great but a bit on the pricier side. Bath and Body Works has a lot of great alternatives (but some of their stuff has been said to cause cancer so mb look into that)

💌 Cute little claw clips in your hair or on your bag. Emijay has an ADORABLE one, but there's also a really cute temu dupe.

💌 Find your signature scent, or make it seasonal like I do!

💌 Keep a diary. Fill it with sweet memories, funny pictures of you and your friends, deep quotes, and lipstick kisses.

💌 Mary Janes. Period.

💌 Get cute frilly socks and dainty jewelry.

💌 Shower every day.

💌 Go thrifting.

💌 Try and take a walk every day, even if it's just up and down your street.

💌 Keep a bouquet of fresh flowers in your room.

Okkkkk that's the end! I hope this helped out with any coquette issues. ily all smmmm byee! ⋆。·˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧。⋆

[happilydistinguishedbanana]

Fallen Pt. 2: Introductions

Authors note: I’m trying to get this story moving, and I promise that the reader will be able to chat with other characters normally!! But I’m thinking the longer she’s there, the more she’ll begin to under. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!! I still also need to decide who is going to be the love interest!! I might put up a poll for you guys to decide.

Warnings: Mentions of nausea

Summary: Every bit of me is scared being in a strange place that I used to love watching behind a screen, but a little part of me is hopeful. Hopeful that I’ll be assigned to the Bad Batch.

Word count: 2239

Relationship: Undecided Batcher(s) x Female Reader

For the next week I was watched. Of course, I never actually caught anyone watching me, but it was that strange, tickling feeling at the back of my neck that let me know someone’s eyes were on me. Sleep didn’t come easily.

My mind was constantly thinking about Corey. I had gotten on her a lot for not having many friends, or at least any good ones. But she was the only friend I had at the college. We met freshman year and we’ve been stuck at the hip since. I started to wonder if she had gotten home safely that night and headed over to my dorm. And even though none of this was my fault, I still felt terrible that I couldn’t have met her halfway.

I had a lot to lose in this situation. I had a family back home, a life, a college education that was almost complete. I met a boy in class, a very sweet boy. We would study together and get coffee or lunch just outside the college campus. He answered my calls instead of ignoring them. He took me out for dates and then walked me back to my dorm to make sure I was safe. He had kissed me just days before I fell into this alternate universe. He kissed me, and I never got the chance to kiss him back.

It was things like this that kept me locked up in my pompous room with its pompous decor and pompous view. It was sickly to be in there, but maybe I wanted to feel sick. At some point, I started to think that karma is real and that stealing that box of cigarettes when I was fourteen was actually a lot worse than I thought.

Eventually I had to leave the nauseating comfort of my room. Not by choice of course. Obi Wan walked with me all the way to a landing station built for military personnel. He made me pack a bag too, so I could only assume that my stay is over.

Ships flew in and out in mesmerizing patterns that slowly started to make my head light after looking up for so long. It was loud. Engines roared and hyperdrives sputtered after the long trek to Coruscant. Obi Wan walked through the bay casually like none of the loud noises and thundering ships bothered him. I guess it wouldn’t if he’s off on missions as often as the show portrayed.

They should be here soon. His words filtered onto the datapad I still carried close to me. The port isn’t nearly large enough for a large ship filled with overtired and overworked clones. I’m assuming I was being put with an elite force, a force small in size but large in assets. But could it really be the Bad Batch?

We stood for a while in silence. It was awkward to make conversation with the language barrier. I wondered if I’ll ever get a translator, one that wasn’t a square device that I could fit in my hand.

Obi Wan perks up then, his eyes watching the mouth of the hanger eagerly. A ship flys in suddenly, with two down turned wings and a metal horn that sticks out of the top. The Marauder. The Bad Batches' Omicron-class shuttle just flew into the hangar.

The Jedi approached their ship with determination. I was starting to get the idea he was excited to get rid of me. But I stood still, partly out of shock, partly out of fear. The Bad Batch was an elite squadron of clones that had favorable mutations. They went on elite missions, tackled elite tasks, and fought a hundred droids with just the four of them. And sure, they’re probably one of my safer options, but I can’t even stand the thought of blood and gore. I bet trying to shoot someone would be even worse.

I watched them file out of the ship one by one. My hands rubbed at my eyes several times. Seeing Obi Wan and Windu was something, but this was entirely unreal. When they took off their helmets, they were a lot different looking than I expected. Maybe it's because they’re more real.

They talked for a while, just them and Obi Wan. There was this weird aura of respect between them. Wrecker was laughing, Tech put away his datapad, Hunter was Hunter, and even Crosshair seemed to be in a good mood. It was refreshing to see. But it also hurts to know what happens to them.

I didn’t realize I was smiling until Obi Wan gestured in my direction, alerting the men of my presence. My lips dropped, and suddenly I felt that same vulnerability I felt wearing that hospital gown.

I met them halfway but said nothing. It was one thing talking to one person at a time, it's a completely different thing to talk to four.

These are the clones that you are assigned to. Obi Wan told me, looking back at the group of clones. The batch eyed us and our interaction carefully. I felt my palms start to sweat.

“I can see that.” Obi Wan watches the datapad in my hand and chuckles.

They will watch over you, but you will have to follow them on missions. It could be dangerous. The others glance at each other with a knowing tilt of their heads. Hunter chuckled and I felt a shiver crawl down my spine.

“I don’t have much of a choice.” I shrugged though I could feel my heart beating faster. “Even if I stated my opinion, I doubt it would matter.”

Obi Wan frowned and turned to the rest of the group. They talked quietly, quiet enough that the translator couldn’t pick up what they were discussing. I grinded my foot into the ground impatiently.

A weird feeling in me was telling me to look up and I did. I regretted it. Crosshair was scowling at me, his gaze penetrating right through me. He was one of my favorites in the show, well, they’re all my favorite, so it was a bit of a reality check that he probably wouldn’t like me right off the bat. I am getting all up in his brother's business after all.

I stare at him blankly. One thing about staring contests is that you can get away with a lot of stuff. His eyes were a lovely golden brown color, his skin a lot tanner than the show portrayed, his lips quirking up slightly as if his permanent frown wasn’t all that permanent. He was beautiful, yet terrifying at the same time because behind all that beauty is a soldier, a sniper, and a killer. And if I were to give him any reason not to trust me, I don’t think he would hesitate to end me.

The datapad vibrated in my hand and I looked away. Obi Wan started to speak again. My neck warmed, not from embarrassment but from the sudden prospect of me being alone with four men. It made me nervous.

I must take my leave, it read. He waited for me to nod before giving me a quick smile and headed off. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye.

I rubbed my arms up and down. This was no good. No good at all.

Hunter started speaking to me, his voice gruff and serious. Unwavering. Of course I didn’t understand a thing until the device in my hand translated it to me. We need to head out in a few. Take your bags into the ship. Wrecker will show you around.

“All business.” I shook my head while the others looked at me curiously. “Can’t even introduce yourselves.” I mumbled quietly enough that Tech wouldn’t pick up what I was saying. Those damn goggles of his would be a problem. I was no fool to know that they translate any language that you could think of, and once again I felt like every part of me was being bled out through the words that came out of my mouth. I was exposed, and I had no power to fix it.

I hauled my bag up without the help of the largest clone of the batch. He was quite muscular, but he was still lean in some places. His scar on his face was a lot more graphic than I anticipated, and I tried my best to not regurgitate my lunch. I suddenly felt bad for being so sensitive.

The ship smelled of sweat and man, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Inside was self explanatory. Wrecker wouldn’t need to give me a tour.

I dumped my luggage into an empty corner. Wrecker was speaking rather nervously, saying more than he should, stumbling over his words. Not that I could understand any of it. It was cute that I made him fidgety. Big scary guy with a warm personality.

“Calm down.” I waved a hand in his direction. “All is well.”

He looked confused so I pulled up my datapad. He read it, widened his eyes, and then bloomed into the toothiest smile I had ever seen. I was taken aback.

He started to speak more rapidly than before, his nervousness dissipated into resolute joy. The translator could not pick up his words fast enough, each sentence a jumbled mess of what he was saying. And then suddenly I didn’t need to read the screen.

“-an’t wait for you to see us fightin’ those clankers!”

I whipped my head around, the task of unpacking my luggage long forgotten. My mouth parted and I shouted out a rude ‘stop!’

He froze and shut his mouth. The ship was silent except for the soft putt putt putt of what I think was the hyperdrive. Wrecker looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and I had no doubt I looked the same.

“What did you say?” I gaped at him. “Say it again.”

He looked at the datapad I had placed between us. He hesitantly spoke again, but it was the same, unfamiliar language that I was surrounded by. I couldn’t stop the moan of disappointment from leaving my lips.

“Dammit.” I cursed, turning back to my measly attempt at unpacking. There was hardly anything in the large duffle bag. A pair of flats and a pair of boots. A warm cloak, two pairs of pants, a pair of shorts, a few long sleeved shirts, a few short sleeves, several pairs of underwear and a white cloth to wrap my breasts because apparently bras don’t exist here unless you like the thin structure of a bralette. Oh, and a fashionably extravagant dress that I was certain would look terrible on me.

Wrecker didn’t speak any more, and I wasn’t surprised when I turned around and he wasn’t lingering behind me like he’d been doing. It was strange to be alone on the ship, but I felt a wave of relief. For the first time since I came here I felt alone. Actually alone. There were no shivers, no judgmental gazes watching me, no tenseness in my shoulders. It was a delightful feeling.

But it didn’t last for long. When you’re constantly watched all week, its not hard to tell when someone’s gaze lands on you.

“It's rude to stare.” I say. I zip up my bag and turn, expecting to see the cold sniper. But instead it's the intelligent mechanic.

Tech goes about the ship casually, as if he didn’t just get caught staring at me. He speaks a few words, and I laugh when the datapad translates his words. It would be unavoidable. We will be in close proximity with each other.

He glanced up at me, his fingers stilling over the button to the cockpit. He cocked his head like a chicken. It was cute.

“I suppose, though I’m sure I’ll have more problems with it than any of you.” I stand up from the floor and brush off my pants. His eyes watched me brilliantly.

He nodded shortly after, and I weirdly felt like I was actually having a normal conversation for once. And after my strange interaction with Wrecker, I was hoping that maybe I can get rid of my translating device all together. Eventually.

We chatted for a while until the others came back. Hunter showed me an empty closet where I could stay, and Crosshair eyed me with a look that was filled with interest. But I didn’t look too much into it. I was tired, emotionally drained, and felt the burning feeling of anxiety in my chest. It didn’t help when the batch took off, my feet tripping over themselves, landing me square into the wall. My face heated when I heard the crude snipers chuckle.

And then there was silence. I peeked in the cockpit to witness the colorful array of hyperspace. It was pretty to watch, but with the nauseous feeling that dug itself in my stomach after take off, I turned away before I puked all over the back of Hunter's head.

The only thing that was on my mind was getting rest, and while I laid on my hard mattress, a blanket barely big enough to cover the entirety of my body, I thought of all the possible thrilling things that could happen on my adventures with the Bad Batch. But I also thought of all the terrifying things too.

[codeandcanvas]

Figuring things out: study beyond study, Pomodoro, school, and goals

I have sent out a signal on my other social accounts that I will return to their tide pools in around 3,000 hours from now, so I will use this place for the time being to keep myself and you posted on what this is all about: progressing towards becoming what I would call a real graphic designer, post graduation.

As I have written about before, I am figuring out a system I can work with which gives me some sort of feedback about time invested and how much time still needs to be invested using the ECTS, or “credits” for short, which now, last friday, has led me to look at how classes are made up in my country: how many hours per day can a student study and progress towards a goal at the end of a school year?

This is where having worked on this idea before, during study, pays off: 2021, I have already invested in this software employing the Pomodoro method of work and study: it is essentially the same thing as having classes throughout the day; you set up a class length, break length in between, and after how many classes you want to have a long break. The software is called Focus To‑Do, and you can run it natively on pretty much every OS and device format, which is always something I look for when investing in software.

Coming back to my classes for this huge project, I have set up units of 90 minutes as the so‑called Pomodoro unit, 20 minutes for breaks, with a long break of 55 minutes every three units.

So one block of study sessions would look like this:

90 minutes of study, allowing for zoning out and breaks in between.

20 minute break

90 minutes of study

20 minute break

90 minutes of study

55 minute break

So, one block creates a nice chunk of 4,5 hours of study. This should be familiar to pretty much all of us who have studied or went to school in some form or format. This is also useful, because, using the credit system mentioned above, I can now track my progress in two ways: hours invested and hours to invest, and credits accumulated in that way.

This serves another purpose: getting rid of the impostor syndrome, which in my case simply stems from knowing that I know too little compared to what I think I should and can know, at least in my own field.

Using the calculations I did earlier, applying this to acquiring the basics of figure drawing in 975 hours, keeping to studying only every other day, but studying 4,5 hours per study day, with 13,5 hours per week spent on studying, cuts down those 375 weeks to around 72.

At this point, saying goodbye to other social media obviously serves a greater purpose: it creates time I can use to spend on progressing towards my goals: becoming a good enough graphic designer, because now, I can invest time as I see fit.

There are, of course, retarding effects, like wasting too many days in between study blocks, which is bad for information retention, but I believe that I have got a solid grip on those.

I have plotted what I want. Now I know how to achieve that.

This is my update for the week. And I did start last friday already, giving much needed value to the time* I invest. Now I can see how each hour moves me closer to where I want to be. KInd of like looking at a book’s page number to know how far you have come ;)

I think it is worth saying again: I am 42 years old. I do not see people my age talk about learning or education much, unless it is their job as teacher or parent. Hi, my name is Rio, and I hope you, whoever you are, find these breadcrumbs useful. If not for pathfinding, then at least as nourishment.

*I have 508 and a half hours to go for this project. And I can do it pretty much anywhere, because my study and reading material kind of follows me around wherever I go.

[thecoolerliauditore]

I know I don't deserve another response from you, so just ignore this if you want. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sent that message. I appreciate the kindness you gave me that I don't really deserve.

Honestly... I just can't believe that artists don't have a knack to start with. Because I've always had a knack for anything I'm good at, like math. I never really had to put effort into learning math. And even the things that I'm good at that did take effort I still had a knack at the beginning. I'm not trying to downplay artists' effort, I know it does take effort, but I don't think you can just start from 0. Or at least, I can't. So I'm not making that conclusion just on other people's art but also in other things I'm good at.

By the way, I'm not the person who sent the "life is unfair" ask, but I was already feeling negative and saw Struda's response and I reacted even worse.

My life's going pretty well all things considered, and I'm going to a good college to study some STEM related stuff. In the background I've struggled with this desire to be creative, though, and I'm trying to stifle that desire but it's not working, and no one really seems to have tutorials on how to get rid of that desire. I have a therapist and parents I could talk to, but doing so didn't help, either, because they don't understand what I'm trying to say.

I'm sorry also that it came off as guilt trippy. I'm really bad with managing my tone, especially when I'm feeling like this. I don't mean that as an excuse but as an explanation.

nah this is way more like it, i think we all need a bit of practice online with talking to each other like actual human beings and not text boxes to write ur entire internal monologue into 👍

happy to hear your life is going okay! If anything I'm just glad you're an adult who can reflect on yourself enough to recognize what you were doing was not great. I was trying to keep things vague as possible because, again, idk you and you could've been a 13 year old with no allowance for all i know lol.

i've noticed alot of beginner artists tend to have this.. all or nothing mindset? i don't really understand the desire to stifle your need to create. like. are you not allowed to have a hobby lol. amateur means to love yada yada. especially if you're not trying to make a living out of it where's the rush 😭😭

Going to link this marco bucci video again because even tho it's long it's probably one of the most eye-opening things I've ever watched in terms of his view on talent, gifted kid syndrome, etc.

I used to say I had a 'knack' for art tbh. then i realised i.. really didn't? i just drew more than the other kids in my class because i didn't like sports or maths and got the reputation for being "the art kid". funnily enough i was also into creative writing and history but no one looks at reciting historical facts like they do with drawing 🤷‍♂️

it wasn't til i was in a course with other artists everywhere when I realised just how not-talented i really was. and thats fine cus none of us really were. some of us were just better at learning than others (which is a trained skill in of itself) and that's about it. 👍

if it helps at all, I have gotten into sports recently despite being useless at it all my life and have realised that it was more that I just needed an environment to flourish in instead of any problem with my athleticism itself (which is STILL BAD don't get me wrong but im not hopeless like my gym teachers thought i was 😭😭). so maybe what u need is just the right people? try finding an online artist community that you fit in, make some friends, and just chill with them while making art together?

again i dunno you so idk what would work lmao

so uh yeah 👍

[apocalypticchaos-art]

What happend on Friday the 13th, year [redacted]

TLDR.: Willow explains what happend to Styx

Willow stared at the typewriter in front of him as if it was on fire, the flames crackling out from beneath the letters, about to burn his fingers until nothing but ash and bone was left.

But of course there was no fire. It was just his nervousness running wild. So wild that he was always out of breath, the tight feeling never leaving his chest.

Oh if only his friend was here.

But they weren't here. They couldn't be. They were dead, because Willow didn't stop th-

Stop. Stop. Deep breaths.

Willow managed to get a few, relatively deep breaths out, while closing his eyes to try and center himself. Okay... Okay.

He opened his eyes again. Okay. Focus. He needed to write. Yes.

After what happend to his friend, he had been constantly on edge, nervous, for what might happen to him. They had scratched his friends name from all the documents, notes, everything, after -

No. Focus. Thinking about that would only send him into another Panic.

They needed a name, he realised. Willow was too scared to use their real name, afraid that the others might have put a spell on it in case anyone talked about the situation... Did they got rid of the familiars name? No. Did they?

"Styx" he quietly uttered into the dark room, voice hoarse. "Styx?" Nothing happend.

That was a good thing, he thought to himself. He could use the cats name to refer to his friend!

At least that's a start.

He looked back at the typewriter. Willow always hated these things. He hated writing in general, but those things always made him nervous, so his friend had to-

No. Focus.

Willow timidly walked across the dark dusty room that had once been a classroom, to sit down at the old and possibly even dustier typewriter.

He had to do this. For them. For his friend, their cat, for all that they talked about and planned... For them both.

And so, he started typing.

If you're reading this, you are holding what is possibly the only record of what happend on Friday the 13th year [redacted] at the witchcraft and magic school of [unreadable].

My name is Willow Wisp and I am recording the Events in the name of my good friend [unreadable] Oak and their cat familiar Styx. For the purpose of making this easier to understand, I will refer to the duo as one singular person, "Styx Oak". You will soon see why.

Styx Oak was the youngest child of the Oak family, a family of noble blood, distantly related to the old Kings. The family had long since fallen out of grace, due to alcohol abuse of their eldest children and infidelity of their father.

As a young child, Styx showed promise in magic, meeting their familiar at only 5 years old. However their familiar, a black cat with 4 eyes, a missing front leg and a split tail, was seen as a bad omen. A priest told them to enroll the young child into a magic school so that bad luck may be avoided.

That is how Styx became the youngest magic student in the history of our school.

Now, anyone will say that Styx was truly talented, mastering every spell and every equation our masters put in front of them without too much issue. They could have truly gone on to do great things. I digress.

I met Styx Oak in my second year. We took alchemy together, a class I truly hated. Honestly I might have failed it if it hadn't been for them.

Styx was brilliant. Smart, sarcastic, truly only focused on their studies. They managed to explain the subject to me like it was a simple 1+1 question and we got the highest grade in the whole class.

After that, I kept staying with them, like a lost puppy. I don't think they ever saw me as anything more then an annoying colleague, but to me they were my first friend.

They were really antisocial and never cared about anyone or anything other then what subject they were currently interested in, never even bothering to meet other people. But I kept talking to them.

Styx was the only one who entertained my talks about the afterlife and the undead, as some of their own studies were pretty macabre as well, but I felt like we could truly talk.

Dead, undead, souls, lost spirits, as soon as anything dark magic related was on the table, they'd pounce on it like a cat on an unsuspecting mouse. They always were eerily similar to their familiar, with the way they looked at you if you managed to catch their interest...

I should have seen the warning signs, honestly.

Styx was born female into a noble family and as such, they were expected to marry another person to help their family back to fame and money. They hated it. I have never heard Styx say anything good about the man their family chose for them. Never.

When it turned out that they were going to be married off to him soon, something in them snapped.

They came to me that day, more angry then I've ever seen them, ranting about marriage and expectations, spitting venom about their family and men and what have you. They said that they wished that people could see how strong and talented they were, how strong and talented we were and with our ideas the door to worlds knowledge should be wide open... They were going on and on about it and I just... I should have stopped it. I know. But I just told them that they're smart, they'd figure out a way to practice and study even if the world would stand in their way, never mind a single guy.

And they looked at me with that stare, that stare as if a cat had just driven a mouse into a corner, knowing full well that despite its pleas it would kill it in one swipe... I didn't see Styx again at all that day. Or the day after. They even missed all our classes, which was unusual for them. I should have told someone. Anyone.

On the night before the 13th, Styx visited my room at night. Dress ripped, covered in dirt and suspicious fluids and ash, with a look in their eyes that would have easily scared away the fiercest bear, they told me that they had found a solution. A solution that would make them, make us, stronger. So strong that they could no longer deny us our place. They had prepared everything. They just needed me to come and do the spell with them.

I said no. I tried to tell them that this was going too far, that they needed help but... Of course it was useless. Nothing could keep Styx from whatever they set their mind on.

I will never forget how they looked at me, stone cold and left. I could have stopped them.

When I didn’t see them again on the 13th and someone told me that no one had seen them, I went to look for them.

That's why I was the first to find them. Their body. Or rather, what was left.

See, the thing with black magic is that it isn't naturally "bad" like some people assume. Of course, the requirements for it aren't... that nice to look at, Bones, blood, insides and the like, and it tends to focus more on curses and everything dead, but it isn't evil. It tends to turn evil only when emotions are involved. Styx knew that. It was the only mistake they ever made.

The spell could have worked, I believe that wholeheartedly, but with all of Styx's emotions, their rage, their disappointment and all of the negative things that they were feeling that day, turned the spell against them.

I don't know what I found. Their dress was there, paw prints, sludge. So much black sludge, it looked like a big bottle of ink just exploded in the middle of the forest and just- took everything with it.

There was something in the middle of the giant puddle, something moving, breathing, i don't know what it was. I don't know.

Something told me to get closer. I touched it. I held the black thing in my arms and watched as one eye, no- a million eyes in one stared at me and it spoke, it spoke in Styx's voice, but it was so distorted- and the sludge- and-

The next thing I know was that I was at the principals office, crying, screaming that something happend to Styx that they need help, please.

I remember running to the forest with the principle, the police and god knows who else to the area, running like I've never ran before, covered in sludge and-

it was gone. The area was still there, the trees, the sludge, the dress, the paw prints-

The thing I was talking to was gone.

There were traces of something dragging across the forest floor but they stopped at some point.

The aftermath is both simple and complex at the same time.

The area is now forbidden, under constant surveillance and locked up. Magic, if not used properly, can be left over after a powerful spell was used and especially with black magic, it can corrupt and distort it´s surroundings. It sticks to whatever it can and morphs them to what it needs, you see, that's how most magical accidents happen. Not the spells, but what happens with- it doesn't matter.

Fact is, Styx managed to write and use the most powerful black magic spell ever recorded, it backfired and now people aren't sure if they're dead or gone.

They got rid of all their stuff. Notes, clothes, hell- even their room, their home just got burned down. The family got rid of everything, even Styx's name. As far as they and anyone else is concerned, Styx Oak wasn't an Oak family member or a student at this school, but a random insane person that managed to do what no one could before and properly will ever do again.

The schools closing. The staffs failure to recognise the threat is a giant danger according to whatever government people showed up here and they don't want what happend to happen again.

Everyone needs to go.

Because I was the only one, or rather the only other person besides Styx to come in contact with leftover spell material, I'm under almost constant surveillance. They are afraid that some of the leftover magic might be stuck to me now, so they want to reduce the risk of me mutating I guess. That's also the reason why they won't "get rid of me" so to speak. Someone dead and infected by magic is much harder to control than someone alive and infected by magic.

They want me to stop speaking of Styx. They want to hide and destroy everything they ever did. I can't let them do that.

Styx may have never seen me as anything more than an annoying colleague, but they were my first and only friend I ever had. I may be useless and a bad, a god awful friend and never have a purpose in life, but I will protect Styx's legacy.

Maybe that's my purpose.

I can feel the fire burn clearly now.

[The rest of the paper is burned and unreadable]

The piece of paper was found in the charred remains of an undocumented magic school. It is unknown what happend to the school itself, although the paper sheds some light on what may have happend before the fire.

Location of the school and the area mentioned is kept secret.

Author´s note:

In case it's not obvious, Willow died after leaving the room, turning into a ghost and burning the school to the ground, but because its a magic ghost fiyah it didn't harm any of Styx related stuff, which is why years later everyone still knows what happend, but not who or how.

Styx is undead and pretty much still around, but them and Willow don't end up meeting until years later.

As a ghost Willow ends up internalising some of the stuff he was told when alive and because of that and trauma isn't as innocent and happy-go-lucky as he used to be.

Also when they meet again Willow is surprised and excited and Styx doesn't give a damn. They kinda just tell Willow that the only good thing he ever did was protect their legacy, but that Styx should have never bothered with him in the first place. That makes him hate Styx and turns him into more of a sad ghost.

He just kinda wanders all over the place and does... ghost stuff

Styx is a Dick 2022 (I wrote all of this last year)

First puplished on my toyhouse

[arrestedforhomestuckcrimes]

Thoughts based off of last reblog since I didn't wanna derail just talking about my experiences with no real PointTM

I had the best homeschooling options I think you can really get.

My mom wanted to grow up and be a stay at home mom, but grandma made sure she had a degree and could work if she needed to. My mom went to college FOR teaching and then had me right away so that degree was put away until dad got laid off sixteen years later

I went to preschool and kindergarten and even before my mom knew homeschooling was a real option she was helping with my education.

Thanks to this book I was WAY ahead of my peers in kindergarten.... With Reading Only. TERRIBLE social skills, I preferred grabbing from our tiny in class library during free choice time over ever playing with anyone.

From first grade to college, I was homeschooled.

And like, I knew every type of family that post described. We had C**** who was never going to go to college, she took over running her family's coffee shop. We had J****, who I think married his girlfriend when they were 16 and 17 if I remember correctly. Or both 17 but I know they weren't 18

(She had cancer and probably wasn't going to make it to the end of the year, for the record. It was very much circumstantial, but I knew more than one other couple who DID get married at 18)

I can look back at the people who went to the co-op and point out the anger management kid, the extreme autism kids, the Weird food allergy kids, the Severely Christian kids, etc.

I knew a family with nine kids where the girls were Not Allowed to wear pants. All dressed, all the time. High collars, sleeves to the elbows, skirts to the ankles.

My mother was told she was training me and my siblings to be sluts for letting us wear two pieces. The kind of two piece that covers the entire stomach and looks functionally like a one piece.

Half the kids I knew weren't allowed to read Harry Potter.

There is a third type the post doesn't mention though. The families who hate the government and are SUPER neglectful. That was my best friend's family growing up.

It's interesting like. Being Homeschooled definitely made me the person I am today. If I could go back I would have stayed in public school and hopefully would have learned to 1 Realize Deadlines Are Real. 2 Study. 3 Socialize with people I don't already know.

If I popped out a kid today (horrifying) I would NOT let them into the public school system.

I grew up SO PREJUDICED against public schoolers lmao. "Those poor idiots, getting pushed into overcrowded, underfunded buildings that are designed to make you a Good Factory Worker not to teach you to learn"

Which isn't the full truth but isn't inaccurate either you know? Like there's a layer of that I don't think I'm ever going to be able to get rid of but I'm also not letting any future kids I'm never going to have go to public school b/c of school shootings.

And if I had gone to public school I wouldn't have gotten to do half the things I did! Civil air patrol, violin lessons, drama club, dance lessons, karate, I did EVERYTHING and if I went to public school there just wouldn't have been time in the day!

I didn't know gay people existed until our Friday Forum (big homeschool co-op that met once a month) people said our state had just failed two intelligence tests. They were talking about how the state was legalizing gay marriage and weed.

I just. Idk. It was the best thing that happened to me. It was Absolutely a cult but one I was on the fringe of. You need a parent who's willing to do a LOT of work to make it work. I never got a high school diploma. I have two college degrees.

I hope my old friends are okay. I haven't talked to any of them in at least three years, closer to 6 for most of them.

[redrosesshadowwolf]

It all started with a small envelope.

Greetings #&*@$*%!,

You may be wondering why a stranger is sending you a letter. Well, it's really quite simple, I'm your son. Yeah, I know, weird, right? And if it's weird for you, think about how I didn't know I wasn't biologically related to the people I'm living with till a week ago! Thanks for that.

Anyways I thought you might want to know a little about me. So here we go.

I'm 16, which you should probably know, but I mean, who's to say you don't have more than one kid who'd send you a letter cause they found out they were related to you?

I'm also a vigilante cause my scientist parents opened a hole between dimensions in their lab, and the restless keep crawling out to cause trouble. Not to worry though, since no heroes responded to our pleas, we've got it sorted on our own. It took a few years for everything to be somewhat manageable, but now it's sorta working out. I keep almost failing in school, though, because I don't have valid reasons not to be in class when I need to step out and do my unpaid job. But overall, it's going well, I haven't been thrown in another dimensions prison again, at least not for long. I went from being the youngest child to having a little sister/clone/cousin/daughter? She's the best, even if she tried to kill me at first. My older sister is the best as well. She's the reason anyone in the family remembers to eat and take care of ourselves. My best friends are the coolest people ever, even if they don't always get along because of opposite preferences for stuff.

And me? Well, I really like the stars, I can point out all the constellations and lots of the myths surrounding them from different cultures. I wanted to be an astronaut, but after my accident, my heart rate just wouldn't qualify anymore. Kinda needs to actually be on all the time for that. I've actually taken up more political studies, learned a few languages, and etiquette since my grades no longer have to be all A's to get into a good school to set me up for being an astronaut.

That's enough about that, though. I should ask a bit about you. Like, what's your favorite season? Do you drink coffee, tea, or energy drinks to caffinate?

And, did you know I existed in the first place? I know sometimes children are misplaced and maybe I'm the 1 in a million where at a hospital a bay does and they said to was yours but it was actually the couple down the hall's and they didn't want a kid so they got rid of me. But I'm not stupid enough to be that hopeful. So I really would like to ask why. Were you in a bad place? Did you just not want kids? I won't be mad about the answer. If you want to ignore me for the rest of the time, that's okay, but please just answer that one question.

-Phantom

The letter was odd, to say the least. It jumped around and didn't have a consistent tone. But it being written by a kid who just found out they were adopted made that pretty explainable.

Honestly, they haven't expected the first letter much less for them to continue,

Danny finds out hes a clone/ adopted, and instead of processing that like a normal person he decides, "Well its not like they can find me so imma mess with my bio parent(s) while venting my frustrations. Two birds with one stone."

Hence (hero or villian of your choice) begins receiving letters via untraceable magic of him telling them he's thier clone/son and just telling them about his day/past adventures.

Unfortunately most of his adventures are horrifying and the person is desperately scrambling to find thier dumb (possibly undead) child and rescue them.

It probably doesn't help that Danny only signs his name as Phantom and is careful not to give clues to his location.