#Required in order to continue at the school but had nothing to do with anything

[pumpkinland]

Just finished my first semester of college and it only took 5 years 🥰 (2019-2024)

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump Collab Day 4 (& 22) — Obedience, “you weren’t meant to be there”

This one I wrote with two prompts in mind, and as I was going along I realized it also fits with the day 17 one as well (hostage situation) so three at once! I feel bad for Time, I’m always giving him a hard time in this au...

Warning for some injuries, some violence, and a gun that gets waved around in a threatening manner

Today’s lovely art

Ao3 link

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Time drove down the street with the windows down in his car, enjoying the cool air that blew inside and ruffled his hair. It was a lovely afternoon, and he was glad to not be wasting it in an office.

Some kind of maintenance for the building he worked in had forced Time out of his office, and with nothing better to do, he’d been allowed to take the rest of the day off. He was looking forward to being home alone with Malon for a bit before his sons returned from school, and was already relishing the quiet they’d get to enjoy.

...Assuming, of course, that there wasn’t anything else that required his attention in the meantime.

Time sighed. Ever since supers had been (somewhat reluctantly) legalized again, it seemed like the crime rate had doubled to try and make up for it. Every other day he was stopping a bank robbery, or mugging, or any number of random misdeeds. He was endlessly relieved they were all no longer classified as illegal, and they’d fought hard for it, but... it was starting to get exhausting.

As if on cue, the music from the radio was cut off, and a news anchor began spouting off a report of an in-progress museum robbery.

Disappointment washed over him, and Time sighed and changed lanes, turning away from home and towards the direction of the museum. Malon would have been listening to the radio as well, and she would know he would go to help.

So much for our quiet afternoon.

Putting aside his disappointment, Time turned up the radio to hear the details better, mentally forming a plan for when he got the Hyrule Museum of History. The robbers had gone to the wing where the gems and older artifacts were housed, and had apparently blockaded themselves inside. He couldn’t believe they were brash enough to attempt a theft in broad daylight, at the largest museum in town at that...

But then again, perhaps they want some publicity, Time thought with a snort. There were always criminals around trying to make themselves out as bigger then they were.

The woman on the radio continued with the details, and Time suddenly jerked his head down to stare at it as she repeated the name of the building.

A robbery at the Hyrule Museum of History.

The same museum where several of his children had a field trip scheduled for today.

Time breathed in sharply and stepped on the gas, navigating towards the museum with an increased urgency. Not all of the grades were scheduled to be there at the same time, but there was at least one group that was supposed to still be at the museum now, and three of his sons had been there today.

No, calm down, he berated himself, getting honked at as he narrowly made it through a light, you know they can all handle a crisis, they’ve proved that. And they might not even be there anymore.

It was completely possible that all of their classes had finished and had already gone back to the school, or that the school groups were on the opposite side of the building from where the robbers were. Or maybe his sons had been evacuated with everyone else and would be waiting outside when Time got there, wanting to help out.

Maybe.

Time reached the museum in record time, though the trip seemed to take forever. He ducked into an alley and changed into his gear at lightning speed, then ran for the building, sirens in his ears.

There was a whole crowd of people outside, confused kids and frightened adults, police and security guards trying to maintain order through the clamor. Time left the police to their business of corralling civilians— though he made sure to scan the crowd for three familiar heads, heart sinking when he didn’t find a single one— and went through a side door, out of way of the crowd.

The officer guarding the inside jumped at the sight of him, but quickly realized who he was, directing him to where the robbers had gone with a relieved look.

“We got a report that there’s some kids missing from a school group, Mr. Deity,” he warned before Time went on his way. “It’s possible they’re in the wing the robbers sealed off, but we haven’t been able to get inside to check yet.“

Time’s stomach clenched, but he nodded, and headed for the section that housed ancient jewelry.

The halls were eerily quiet apart from Time’s rapid bootsteps, normally crowded halls foreboding and empty. He didn’t go to the main doorway of the wing, knowing that’s what the robbers would expect, and also where the police would be focusing their efforts, and instead went for one of the smaller doors.

Sure enough there were no police there, only an entrance blocked off by a huge fallen statue of some kind. Time had no trouble moving it aside enough that he could get through, and began running again, his heart in his throat.

Please, please let them be outside, please—

It was even quieter in this section, and Time didn’t pass a soul as he ran past paintings and bones, ancient armor and swords displayed proudly on the walls. Yet the thieves must have hidden a lookout somewhere, for when Time turned the corner into the room housing the most rare pieces, they were waiting for him.

There were at least six of them visible, wearing dark clothing and masks that covered most of their faces. All were armed with guns, most pointed in Time’s direction, but one was pointing towards the group of kids huddled in the center of the room.

Legend right in the line of fire.

Panic and anger roared to life in Time’s chest, but he shoved them away, forcing himself to remain collected in front of the group of criminals. Showing weakness would do nothing but give them an advantage, and despite the fact that he wanted to do nothing but charge forward and get Legend out of there, he remained where he was.

Legend locked eyes with Time, and the relief in his gaze made Time’s hands threaten to shake.

“Hm, Fierce Deity,” the man pointing the gun at the kids said, levelly meeting his gaze. His mask seemed more sinister than the rest. “The report indicated that you were not the most likely hero to show up here today.”

“Let them go,” Time demanded, the other kids watching him in frightened hope. He recognized them as ones from Legend’s class, thankfully no more of his sons among them. “These kids were just here for a field trip, don’t mix them up in this.”

The man crept closer to Legend. “They will be fine if you allow us to leave with what we came for.”

“They’re just kids,” Time said, voice darkened with anger. The man looked at him in an almost bored way, then back down at Legend. “What is it you even came here to steal?”

“That’s our business,” the leader said with a smile in his voice. “Now drop your weapon, and they will be fine.”

Time breathed out, scanning the room again before returning his gaze to Legend. His son was too far for him to reach before anything happened, the other kids as well, and even if there was a remote chance he could get Legend out of the way, it was unlikely he could protect all of the hostages.

You should have been more stealthy coming in—

“D— Fierce Deity,” Legend said in a soft, urgent voice, and Time looked at his son with increasing desperation. “Don’t listen to him, just get everyone else out of here, I’ll be—”

The gun was pressed to Legend’s head, the click of it being cocked near deafening to Time’s ears.

“Put your weapon down, or he gets a bullet through the head,” the man said softly. One of the other kids whimpered. “Swiftly followed by the rest of them.”

Time looked between the man and Legend, seconds ticking by loudly in his head. It was a nightmare knowing he had the power to stop every thief in the room, but being unable to do a thing. He had to stop them, but he couldn’t do anything, not without risking Legend, or any of the other kids, not unless he—

Legend’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and Time exhaled as he bowed his head.

Then he dropped his weapon.

Legend gave him an agonized look as Time raised his hands in surrender, and though Time couldn’t see the man who was still holding the gun to his head’s face, he was sure he was smirking at them both.

Rage abruptly slammed into Time, more powerful then any of the emotions he’d been dealing with so far, and he gave the robber a look of pure hatred. How dare he mix these kids up in a stupid scheme that was doubtless just to make some money?

No lives were worth a couple of pretty rocks, no matter how rare.

“Get on your knees,” the man demanded next, a hint of glee in his voice, and Time grit his teeth and did as he said.

The other robbers jeered as he kneeled down, and closed their circle around him, one kicking at his legs to make him go down faster. A fist suddenly connected with his face, and Time flinched backwards, laughter ringing in his ears. Another blow hit him on the knee, pain bursting up his leg, and he forced himself not to react.

“You’re not going to fight back?” one of them mocked, making him gasp as he jabbed him in the stomach. “It’d be so easy, just one little punch!”

“Let them go and I’ll give you a fight,” Time growled, but the man with the gun shook his head.

“No, I’m enjoying myself too much. Leaving can wait, the Fierce Deity at our mercy is too good of an opportunity to pass up on,” he chuckled. “Rough him up boys, this could be our break into the big time if word gets out.”

Time barely had time to brace himself before the blows began to rain down, all of the robbers eager to swing a punch or two his way.

Now part of Time’s powers was increased durability, his body able to handle much more strain and abuse than any normal person. But he wasn’t invincible in any sense of the word, and the robbers all had extremely hard boots and gloves, and a few had weapons that slammed into and jabbed at sensitive points all over him.

And he didn’t dare fight back.

By the time they were finished knocking him around, Time had a split lip and bruised ribs, and he wasn’t confident his knee would hold his weight. But despite the pounding in his head and the sharp ache radiating up from his middle, Legend was still unharmed, and so were the other kids.

That was all that mattered.

Time breathed in and met Legend’s eyes for a second, his son’s blue gaze wide and equally angry and fearful as they looked at each other.

“You’ve had your fun,” Time said in a voice more hoarse then before. “Now do what you said, and let them go.”

The leader idly twirled his gun, the barrel no longer pressed to Legend’s head, but still much too close to it. “I don’t think so. I don’t want any funny business from you. They’ll come with us until we’re well on our way, and then they’ll be freed.”

The fire in Time’s stomach roared. “You said you’d let them go if I dropped my weapon.”

“Your own fault for trusting the word of a thief,” the leader shrugged, and Time nearly leapt at him then and there. “We’ll be on our way now. And if you decide to follow us before we’re gone, this little group here might just—”

Someone dropped from the ceiling and landed on top of the man.

He let out a shocked cry as he was thrown to the ground, and Time realized Wild had been the one to drop from above, fully in his costume, and Hyrule and Malon soon dropped down along with him.

Relief swept over Time at the sight of his wife and other two missing sons, both safe and sound. Despite the pain when he moved, he swung out at the nearest robber, who took his punch full on the chin and fell to the ground, immediately unconscious.

A gun went off somewhere, but the familiar sound of the bullet being stopped by Hyrule’s shield rang in Time’s ears. A shriek accompanied it, and Time saw his wife hustling the kids back and away from the fight.

“We got what we came for, let’s go!” the leader of the thieves shouted, having somehow wrestled himself away from Wild, and they all sprinted out into a hallway.

Wild’s face screwed up in anger and he bolted after them, Hyrule following close behind. Malon didn’t immediately follow though, pausing at Time’s side and putting a concerned hand on his face.

“Are you okay?” she breathed worriedly, running her thumb by his split lip. “I heard on the radio, I came as soon as I realized, but I had to find the boys first—”

“You need to get those kids out of here,” Time interrupted softly, clasping her hand for just a moment. Malon scanned over him, then nodded, her eyes worried behind her mask.

“You’re right. We can regroup in a bit,” she murmured, and Time pressed the briefest of kisses to her hand.

Malon quickly stood and went back to the group of kids, giving Legend only a short squeeze on the shoulder since she was in costume and wasn’t supposed to know him. She began ushering them out in a different direction than the bandits had gone, and Time watched them leave, relieved they were all fine.

Stumbling slowly to his feet as they trailed out of the room, Time winced as he put weight on his one leg. He’d certainly had worse, but unless Hyrule was willing to help him along, he’d probably need a doctor. Relaxing afternoon indeed.

Legend suddenly materialized at his side as he managed to stand, his face still pale from what had just happened, eyes wide as they looked him over.

Time didn’t hesitate to bundle him into a tight hug.

His ribs ached with the action but Time didn’t care, and he ignored the way his hand shook as he ran it through Legend’s hair. Legend hugged him back equally tight, and Time rested his head on top of his, relief threatening to send him to the ground again.

“Dad, I’m okay,” Legend said, his voice shaking a little.

“I know. I know you are,” Time breathed. He didn’t let go though, and neither did Legend, and Time ran another hand through his hair, still unable to get the image of Legend with a gun pressed to his temple out of his head.

If even one thing had gone differently...

Time silenced the thought before it could form, and gave Legend a squeeze.

“You shouldn’t have let them do that to you,” Legend said, his voice unusually quiet, and Time sighed, pulling back just a little.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you,” he replied, cupping a gentle hand around Legend’s chin. Legend swallowed and averted his gaze. “And I can handle a few punches. That’s nothing in comparison to what he would have done to you and the others.”

And I would endure it thousands of times if it ensured your safety.

“You still shouldn’t have,” Legend mumbled.

“But I did. And I’m okay,” Time reassured, ignoring every ache that protested the fact. “This wasn’t your fault, Legend.”

Legend only closed his eyes, and Time drew him near again, Legend’s hair brushing his chin.

“I’m okay,” Time reassured again, this time in a whisper. “We’re both okay.”

Legend gripped a little tighter at Time’s suit, Time’s hand running over his hair, and they stood there in silence for what felt like a long time before pulling back, and joining the fight with the others.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi, I’m a 23 year old INFP. Due to childhood trauma and growing up in an abusive household, but ultimately I suppose due to my own personal struggle to take control of my life, I feel very behind and unaccomplished at my age. I have yet to finish my degree. I managed to get through high school with flying colours, but it turned out I was completely incapable of managing my depression and focusing on school at the same time. As a result, I’ve dropped out for the time being (I’m about halfway done) and have decided to focus on managing myself, personal development, and getting my finances in order before continuing school.

I feel a lot of shame and guilt for not completing school on time, as I’ve always seen myself as “smart” and “scholarly” I suppose, and was raised to hold education in high regard. To put things into perspective a bit more, I’ve always struggled with procrastination, getting things done on time and allowing my emotions to completely captivate me to the point where I easily neglect my duties. Despite this, I managed to get through high school as an outstanding student, but like I said earlier, this did not carry on into college unfortunately.

I feel like I’m less than half of the person that I could be. I also feel held back by my typology. I recall that you don’t hold much regard for enneagram, but I will just say being an INFP 4, it feels like I was born as the type most susceptible to failure. Now, I know INFP does not equal failure, as my best friend is also one and is a relatively successful business woman. However, she has things in life that I severely lack; adequate parental guidance, self esteem, and what I’d describe as much more developed Si. This isn’t to say things were handed to her, she worked for a lot of what she has now, but I do think that she was blessed with much more assets than I was.

I guess what I feel is that INFP is the least useful brain to have in a situation like mine. I have not a logical mind, nor a desire for any sort of order like Js do, and on top of that I was not taught any life skills, and all of my emotional intelligence was developed on my own, through observation. So, I’m great at giving advice, and horrible at applying it to my own life. I’ve been said to be wise, insightful, and particularly good at dissecting interpersonal relationships, yet nothing about my situation in life would reflect this, except maybe my relationships I have with my friends, to a degree.

I know I lack emotional intelligence despite being told otherwise, and this is something I’ve only recently come to terms with. I now believe if I truly had emotional intelligence, I would be in a better position than I am now. I have a tendency to avoid things that make me feel bad. I enjoy staying up late and staying in bed all day. I feel very unequipped to deal with society. I hate strangers, I hate being yelled at, I hate being invalidated, I hate being misunderstood, and all of these hatreds and my incompatibility with society were solidified during the years I worked (fast food, sales, and call centers). I am now very hesitant to get a job, I feel like I’ll be unable to succeed at anything I’m actually qualified for, as it often requires dealing with strangers. I don’t know how I did it before, but I do remember feeling dread during every work hour. I am scared to be in that position again.

I have a tendency to do more for others than myself. I’ll spend all day or longer writing an essay for a friend, or helping them with their homework, and yet I cannot bring myself to focus on my own studies. I can give a friend mountains of advice, perhaps even a detailed life plan, but I can’t begin to truly dissect my own problems and figure something out. It is so much easier engaging with someone else’s problems instead of my own. These days, I often feel like some sort of side character, someone meant to uplift others, but cannot experience any development for themselves. The narrative isn’t focused on me, although I so desperately want it to be.

I want to be accomplished. I want to be strong. I want to face strangers with ease. I want to be able to push aside my feelings in order to work hard. I want to be comfortable with myself, to be a beacon of hope for others, not just by my words and ability to connect with others, but by who I am as a person on my own.

But I am so inconsistent in my pursuits of self improvement, and so easily defeated. I’ve tried and failed a million times. I’ve improved myself over time, but the improvement has been minuscule and inconsistent. It isn’t entirely my fault, as there are circumstances I won’t get into that quite literally force me away from my goals, but I know that I need to find a work around and learn to cope with them so that I may one day succeed and leave these circumstances.

I just don’t know what to do. How can such a sensitive, reclusive, and traumatized person such as myself break their chains? Is it even possible to live up to the greatness I desire that lives only in my head? As an INFP born into such unlucky circumstances, am I destined to always fall short of the person I need to become?

My friends tell me that I’m a great person. They would say I’m capable and that they’ve seen proof. I am cursed with the knowledge that they speak with bias, and their perceptions of me are not based off reality, but by subjective feelings of tenderness. I feel like if anything, it’s been proven that I am incapable.

The only thing I’m really “good” for is giving emotional support to others, but that means nothing to society and absolutely nothing to myself. When I say this, I don’t mean to say that I don’t value kindness or the ability to connect, but that these “strengths” of mine do not realistically benefit my life. Being empathetic is nice for others who know me, but it hasn’t made me a more accomplished or skilled individual, and it hasn’t added any pride to my image. It doesn’t mean much to me if in the end I still can’t take care of myself and I still don’t have much value as a member of society. Especially when I look around and see how much more accomplished my peers who are much more insensitive than me are.

How do I change? How can I live up to my own expectations and standards? How do I fight back?

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You've brought up a lot of different points, so I'll attempt to break them down for you:

(1) Type Clarification: How did you come to INFP and are you certain this is the correct type? I am obliged to clarify this point because function development isn't going to work for you unless you have the correct type. Generally speaking, based on my experience with type assessment, there are certain warning signs that indicate a mistype, and you display a few of them, so it's important to double check before proceeding.

(2) A Problem of Perspective: What you've written is basically a narrative of your life that explains how you got to this point. What you don't seem to understand yet is that a "narrative" isn't reality. A narrative is merely a story that is told from a very narrow and specific point-of-view.

I always like to bring up the children's story The Ugly Duckling as an example of how a personal narrative can heavily influence one's perspective and lead one into forming faulty beliefs about oneself and the world. The main character of the story wasn't able to truly understand himself until he realized that his personal narrative was all wrong. You are in a similar boat.

Whether they realize it or not, everyone has a personal narrative, a story that they tell themselves about who they are. How do we know whether the narrative is a good one? Think about what a narrator does in a novel:

- A story always makes more sense and is more easily understood when the narrator isn't the main character but rather an omniscient or godly being that tells the story from an objective vantage point (third person perspective). As such, we can trust that the narrator is providing a full and factual account.

- When the narrator is the main character (first person perspective), you will find that the story is more difficult to understand for two reasons: 1) there is a lack of information due to lack of access to other perspectives in the story, and 2) readers must suffer the same distortions in belief and flaws in memory that the character suffers.

Knowing this, I will point out two problems with your narrative...

(3) Lack of Objectivity: The first problem with your narrative is that it is stuck in the first person perspective. You very much lack a bigger picture view of things, which is not an uncommon problem for introverts who struggle with tertiary loop. This is a sign of insufficient extraverted development, i.e., trapped in subjectivity and lacking objectivity. You're unable to see yourself and your situation from any other perspective but your own, to the point where you actively dismiss every other valid perspective.

Lack of bigger picture thinking is often correlated to depression. Your mind basically operates as though having fallen into a pit, with no view of anything but yourself. Spend enough time being stuck with yourself and every little thing that flits through your mind gets amplified manyfold, such that every ache and pain feels much larger than it really is.

If you are INFP, this situation should be remedied through auxiliary Ne development that would grant you a more open-minded, optimistic, resourceful, ambitious, and forward-thinking attitude. It's not about "shoving your feelings aside" but about learning to see things in a more positive light. The cure to being too negative is to learn how to balance it by being more open to the positive.

Healthy NPs never shy away from problems because they trust in Ne, i.e., they exercise their creative problem solving skills as necessary to get over hurdles and obstacles, even transforming them into something positive. So, why aren't you exercising Ne? What have you done to develop Ne? It is troubling (and perhaps a sign of being mistyped) when the auxiliary function is completely absent from your cognition.

(4) Poor Critical Thinking: The second problem with your narrative is that it was spun out of faulty beliefs. You've basically been telling yourself a bogus story, over and over again, and now you believe that every word is true. When a narrative is fundamentally flawed like this, the remedy is to change the story and make it more objective as mentioned above in point #3, as well as more factual.

While there are facts peppered throughout your story, your interpretation of the facts is often incorrect. You want to believe you have a good grasp of the facts, but you don't.

For example, the fact is that the education system, being as big as it is and not having all the resources in the world, cannot be much more than a crude one-size-fits-all approach to learning. As such, it's not going to work equally well for everyone. There are always going to be students with special needs or unique circumstances that won't flow smoothly through the system as planned. If the system isn't working for you, is it something to take as a personal failure and feel deeply ashamed about?

I used to teach critical thinking courses and there was one problem I encountered again and again. Many people think they understand facts, but the truth is that they don't even have basic knowledge of what a fact is.

For example: Yes, it is a fact that you were deprived a healthy childhood. Yes, it is a fact that you had to drop out of your studies. These things happened and they are provable. However, how did you jump from these simple facts to make claims such as "I'm a failure"? Calling yourself a failure isn't a fact but rather a value judgment, and in this case, it is an unjustified value judgment.

An easy way to tell whether someone has poor critical thinking skills is to see whether they can tell the difference between a fact and a value. You aren't able to, and many people aren't able to. Believing that you have a good grasp of the facts when you actually don't is how you end up with faulty beliefs. When you go through life with faulty beliefs, you're much more likely to take the wrong approach, make errors, and suffer from unconscious biases and prejudices.

People aren't born with good critical thinking; it must be learned and practiced. There are lots of resources for improving, and you ought to improve because it's vital for challenging faulty beliefs. However, deeply entrenched beliefs are difficult to change on your own because your ego is invested in them, so it might be a good idea to work with a cognitive-behavioral therapist. They can be your objective party and help point out exactly where your thinking is going wrong. But this is assuming that you're willing to open your mind to other perspectives.

(5) Emotional Reasoning: Yes, you are quite right that you need to improve your emotional intelligence. Throughout your story, I see many thinking errors that lead you to draw incorrect judgments/conclusions. But what lies at the heart of those errors is that your thought process frequently gets hijacked by unresolved negative emotions. Improving your emotional intelligence would not only help improve your mood, it would also help stop emotional reasoning.

In your story, you're trying to link cause and effect, in order to provide an explanation of the factors that led you to this point in life. This seems like a reasonable and logical thing to do. However, people who are prone to emotional reasoning often get cause and effect backwards or misattribute causes. When they're feeling bad, they concoct a story to explain and justify their negative feelings. In effect, they start with a conclusion and then selectively gather evidence to support it, which is backwards from proper logical reasoning that should start with the evidence and then draw the most logical conclusion from it.

For example, you claim that the only thing you're good for is providing emotional support, which implies that you're good at it. How can we prove this statement? One way would be to examine the results of the support you've given. Did people appreciate the support? Did it help them? Did it change them? If so, you can be said to be good at it.

But apparently what they say doesn't count as evidence. Somehow only you have access to the real evidence. Don't you find it odd that so many of your thought processes come back to you having some magical ability to access a deeper truth that others can't see? You call yourself a failure who is unable to do anything right on one hand, but then insist that you couldn't possibly be wrong when it comes to assessing yourself, on the other hand. This is the kind of contradictory thinking that emotional reasoning gets you mired in.

If being able to empathize isn't a skill, valuable both to oneself and others, then all the great friends, parents, caregivers, educators, coaches, doctors, nurses, vets, counselors, therapists, social workers, artists, musicians, writers, librarians, gardeners, and zookeepers should just delete themselves for their utter uselessness to society. Heck, I should just delete my whole blog right now because I don't get anything from writing this for you, yes?

There are absolutely personal benefits to be had from being empathetic. Through supporting and helping others, you can experience:

the dignity of choosing to be an honorable/humane person

the intimacy of deep and meaningful relationships

the satisfaction of reaping the fruits of your emotional labor

the joy of making a positive difference in the world

the awe of witnessing the realization of greater potential

It seems you can't recognize these benefits because they contradict the failure narrative and the negative emotions you're struggling with. Any evidence that makes you feel good about yourself must be rejected, right? Isn't it odd that you've closed off every path to feeling good about yourself except an impossible one, i.e., living up to some imaginary standard of what you believe all people your age should be? It's almost as though you are intent on believing the worst about yourself, so you set yourself up for failure with unreasonable expectations. But this is emblematic of how emotional reasoning messes up the mind.

People aren't born with great emotional intelligence. It's yet another thing you must learn and practice throughout life, that is, if you don't want your emotions to be out of your control. It doesn't matter when you start learning; it only matters that you start.

(6) Changing the Narrative: There are distinct patterns in our personal narratives, which Jung conceptualized as archetypes. Understanding these patterns from a more objective vantage point can help us craft a narrative that serves us better. At the end of the day, you are the one narrating the story, and you could choose to tell a different story at any time.

To give you an example, if I were to analyze your narrative, I'd say that your perspective is that of an "orphan". Orphans see themselves as rejected children, so their approach to the world is one of neediness for love but also deep resentment/anger about being abandoned. Orphans are prone to feeling: unmoored, confused, ashamed, helpless, hopeless, apathetic, fatalistic.

Of course, it's appropriate to feel: unmoored when you don't have a safe and stable home base to operate from; confused when you don't have enough social support; ashamed when you struggle more than others; helpless when you don't know what to do; hopeless when every attempt fails; apathetic when you get disappointed too many times; fatalistic when the odds seem stacked against you.

Nobody is saying that your feelings are invalid. What matters most is how you interpret the feelings and what you do about them. The problem is that, through emotional reasoning, you take your negative feelings and turn them into cynical judgments and then make decisions that leave you perpetually feeling like an orphan.

A narrative becomes sinister when one starts to derive some kind of egotistical benefit from it, which then breeds resistance against changing it. Are you willing to change your narrative at this point?

For example, many orphans keep telling the orphan story because it allows them to benefit from victimhood. Being a victim has its "perks". Victims have the right to self-pity. They have the right to rage against whatever they feel victimized by. They can also expect special treatment or extra care. As such, you will find that orphans often reject love and stay orphans in the end because they don't want to give up the "perks" of victimhood.

I'm not saying this example applies to you, but have you reflected on why you have a pattern of rejecting people's attempts to console you and provide you with evidence that you are actually a good and worthy person? Have you reflected on why you insist on telling the orphan story when other narratives are readily available to you?

For example, you could choose the "misfit" narrative. There are plenty of people, often INFPs, who march to the beat of their own drum and carve out their own unique path to success in life. Or, you could choose the "creator" narrative. INFPs generally love to use their imagination to come up with new and novel ways to live life outside the box. Why is it that you believe there's only one path available to you, that life is only about living up to society's unimaginative standards?

Or, you could embrace the "caregiver" narrative. It could be quite a heroic story, and it might lead you into a very meaningful and fulfilling career. Caregivers change people's lives for the better, which drives tangible and positive societal change. Yet, you reject this story and call caregiving worthless because you believe it is a "weakness" easily exploited. People mistreating you isn't something for you to be ashamed of. It is the perpetrators of abuse that ought to be ashamed and punished for their immoral behavior. How long are you going to keep punishing yourself for someone else's problem?

With regard to dealing with people, it sounds like you haven't learned about healthy boundaries. Boundary setting is a practical problem that can be addressed with practical solutions. Yet you turn it into some kind of grand existential crisis and make sweeping statements about the world. Do you really want to spend your whole life locked away, living in fear? It might feel good right now because it's safe, but in the long run you will actually be wasting away for not challenging yourself to reach your greater potential.

.

I'm not saying that any of these problems are easy to resolve. But these problems shouldn't be viewed in the traditional sense of needing a "fix" or that something is "wrong" (with you). These kinds of problems I've outlined are actually spiritual calls to change and improve. How do you change? It is through confronting what we lack and what we are afraid of that allows us to grow as human beings.

How can you live up to your own expectations and standards? Maybe a better question to ask is whether you've set the right expectations and standards? If you don't want to always feel bad about yourself, then you have to get up and start doing the things that will lead you to feel better about yourself. And we each have our own path to take to developing self-esteem and self-worth. Once you understand and respect your own individuality, then maybe you can exercise more self-compassion and allow yourself to live and learn at your own pace.

How do you fight back? I don't think it's necessary to "fight". Would you yell and scream and dump a flower in the trash just because it didn't grow as fast as the other seeds you planted? No, hopefully you would give it extra care to ensure that it has everything it needs to grow well. That's how you should be treating yourself. If you didn't grow up in an environment that taught you good life skills, then it is incumbent upon you to learn them as an adult, for the sake of your own well-being.

Life has enough challenges; you don't need to be fighting yourself. Instead of wasting time dwelling in fatalistic narratives, see yourself as a human being who is capable of learning and adapting. Learn to treat yourself well and cut out the noise to focus primarily on picking up the knowledge you need to progress in life, not just academics.

[doetic]

Memento Mori - Jschlatt x F!Reader (Zombie AU!)

1/? -> Next Part (Coming soon)

Plot: New York City is not the most pleasant place to be stuck in during a zombie apocalypse, especially as a tourist from another country. After just barely escaping a dangerous situation, Y/n finds herself saved by a standoffish man named Schlatt who seems to think she's more trouble than she's worth. Unfortunately, the perilous world the couple has found themselves in requires them to stick together in order to survive, even if they can't stand each other. Warnings: Zombie apocalypse typical violence, Descriptions of blood, wounds, and fainting. guns. Word Count: 2160

A/N: It's been a while! I'm sorry I keep promising fics that never appear, I've had a hectic school and exam semester. I ended up submitting my wips to my prof for grades so I couldn't post them unfortunately. Luckily they're back now so I'll be revising and trying to get into a good schedule. I hope you enjoy this one especially, I've been sitting on it forever!

 “Just tell me, once this is over, would you stay with me? Would you want me like this?” The tall brunette’s voice was filled with a sense of nervous urgency, his brown eyes that were usually filled with a closed off sense of overconfidence pleading to you with unfallen tears of affection. 

You were quiet, your mouth unable to function as you looked at him with sad, wet eyes. It was a shock, seeing the man so desperate before you. He was usually cocky or angry, nothing like this… It made you wonder how things turned out this way. How you both ended up in such a fucked up situation. How you couldn’t give him a true, honest answer. - Memento mori

Remember you must die

Your whole body felt weak and faint while your shoes slammed against the ground as you ran down the street, the heavy black backpack you had slung over your shoulder was causing your body to tilt to the right underneath its weight, your hands constantly adjusting its position on your shoulder out of discomfort. The sunrise was slowly dipping below the horizon, casting a heavenly golden light between the buildings, although it did little to save you from the summer heat that the excess of pavement in the city amplified, coating your body in an uncomfortable sheen of sweat. Although you were dressed light in your too small shorts and thin tank top that was about half holes half fabric, your flesh felt as if it was physically melting off of you from the heat. You were lucky people forgot about sun safety during the apocalypse, it meant you were easily able to scavenge for good sunscreen, although you probably had sweat so much off by now that it wouldn’t do anything. The yelling from the men behind you made the situation all the more frantic, especially with the addition of the heavy and steady stream of warmth on the lower right side of your stomach that refused to go unnoticed. Your amateur attempt at stitches had ripped a while ago when the chase began, and the reopened wound was clearly the cause of your woozy feeling. Somehow, Despite the dire situation, you felt a desperate jolt of regret in your body for not letting your grandmother teach you more about sewing past the basics when you were a child.

You sharply turned the corner, running into an alleyway. The quick turn disoriented your lightheaded body. Time felt thick and slow as two options presented themselves to you; climb the nearby fire escape and find a way out through the apartment complex (but risk being cornered inside), or continue down the alleyway to the street it connected to and risk being ambushed on the other side. The sound of your heartbeat played as a steady yet fast paced drum in your ears as you heard the sound of the men’s running feet slamming on the pavement coming closer and closer. Your mind envisioned the bullets that would swiftly pierce your skin once they found you. The feeling of your body collapsing onto the pavement in a painful heap that was warm and sticky with your blood seeming more like a prophecy than a possibility. With sweaty hands you scrambled on top of the nearby dumpster and grabbed a hold of the fire escape ladder. The rusty appendage creaked dangerously under your weight. You could feel even more stitches tearing as you pulled yourself up. Your battered and weak body yelled at you to stay still and rest as you made it onto the platform, collapsing onto your stomach. Acting on adrenaline alone, you pulled yourself shakily onto your hands and knees and sent the hardest kicks you could to the ladder, causing it to slam into the ground below and render your pursuers unable to follow you up. Just as they rounded the corner to the alley, you crawled through the broken window of the apartment, only just barely avoiding detection. The tan carpet was moldy, presumably from rain entering through the broken window you had used to get in. Still, you collapsed into a heap on the carpet, panting heavily from the run. You were especially unlucky to have been in New York City as a tourist when the apocalypse broke out four months ago. Even though quite a bit of time had passed since the apocalypse broke out, you were still a novice at navigating the concrete jungle, which made avoiding scavenging in places already claimed by hostile groups of survivors a difficult task. You were honestly surprised you even managed to escape the current situation alive and find a safe spot, although the whole interaction was not worth the lone can of beans that had started the whole conflict. You hardly had time to catch your breath before your weak and disoriented body was quickly pulled up into a kneeling position by the now unbearably heavy backpack you wore, your tired body feeling much like a ragdoll. The cocking of a gun and cold metal pressed against your head soon followed.

You didn’t even have the energy to be scared anymore. Your mind was woozy, the world spinning from the blood that flowed and flowed uncontrollably from your weakened body, and the only thing you had the strength to do was wonder what death would be like. It sounded nice to no longer exist, to not think or experience anything anymore, to have your consciousness absorbed by an unending black void. To not be. But as death placed a cold, metal kiss to the back of your forehead, you couldn’t help but picture a set of sheer white curtains. You would feel content, watching them tinged orange from the sun that set over your childhood hometown through the window. The breeze softly leaving small kisses all over your face as you stood a few meters away from the open window, the curtains dancing in the gentle wind transfixing you to the sight. It would smell like the irreplaceable evenings spent with your friends as you waited for someone to start a bonfire. You would feel like you did once you finished swimming in the quarry on a perfectly warm summer day, but without the soggy feeling of being wet. It would be the manifestation of being hugged by a loved one you hadn’t seen in a while, your bodies pressed together into a gentle yet tight embrace, a soft feeling coating your body. You never wanted to let go. As the world seemed more and more distant, you squeezed your eyes shut, savouring the image you could practically taste upon your tongue. Death would be easy. It would be safe. It would be peaceful. It would all be okay. It would all be okay. It would all be okay. By the time your body slumped face first onto the floor, you were no longer around to experience the sensation of falling.

-

You woke up in a bed that someone you would never know once called their own, dust and the powder of broken plaster covering nearly all possible surfaces in the dilapidated yet fairly well kept bedroom. A steady breeze was blowing in through the large broken window, the sheer white curtains that flowed with it were tinged yellow with both age and the light from the setting sun that lowered solemnly into the horizon. The wind from the half opened window grazed against your skin as you inhaled the crisp, thick breeze into your lungs and felt your body be painted in a heavenly gold by the ethereal golden hue. The pain that seeped into every bit of your being breathily whispered into your ear that this was not heaven. A faint rustling grew closer and closer to the door of the room. You wanted to sob loudly as you propped yourself up in the bed feeling a tightness in your side where your wound had been. It wasn’t moving like the rest of your body. You peeled off the covers gently, bandages covering the biggest problem area and more staring back at you. You had been patched up. You carefully put the covers back on as if any exposure to air would ruin it. Your still adjusting eyes wandered around the room, cautiously searching for something to use as a weapon against whatever could be making the noise that came from just outside the door. The only reason you could imagine having been cared for by a stranger was if they belonged to one of those radical fringe cults that began popping up after the apocalypse hit. Unfortunately, you had no interest in joining them and they never took too kindly to rejection. You inhaled sharply as the room’s door opened and perhaps the tallest man you had seen in person entered the room, a can of beans with a spoon stuck out of it looking small as he held it in his hand. His hair was brown and long enough to peek out of the weathered New York Yankees cap placed on his head, a stray bit falling in front of his face. The man’s facial hair was odd, styled into a mustache and mutton chops although it was roughly trimmed, likely a result of having to use scissors.

The sight of him was inarguably intimidating. He was dressed in bits of gear he must have looted from dead riot police that had come to defend the city at the beginning of the outbreak. His large form was adorned with the bullet proof vest, forearm covers, and knee pads they often wore. Strapped to his waist in a holster was a handgun. You suddenly felt silly wielding the 70’s alarm clock you had instinctively picked up. “I’ll give you a few moments to think about if you really want to attack me,” he said, his dark brown eyes watching you quickly drop the alarm clock to the floor. “Smart.” “Who are you?” You asked, trying anything you could to seem in control over the situation in which you could not possibly be less in control. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who broke into my safehouse and bled all over the place. Do you know how hard it is to clean up blood well enough that it won't attract zombies? Especially without cleaning supplies,” He countered bitterly. Although his movements were casual in nature while he placed the can of beans beside a glass of water you hadn’t noticed on the end table, everything about him exuded an intimidating level of power and dominance, not to mention annoyance towards your presence. He picked up the discarded alarm clock from the ground, his gaze hard as he examined it in his hand before also placing it on the bedside table. “Well yeah, but…”

“But what? You’re not in any place to be making demands,” His eyes flickered back to yours, his gaze daring you to go on. “So either we’re at an impasse, or you cough up your name. I really don’t care either way.”

“Y/n,” You let a few beats pass before responding, looking down at the weathered duvet that covered your body rather than at him. “Schlatt,” He replied in turn. Wordlessly he lifted the duvet that covered your injured side and peeled up your shirt. With precise hands, he shifted around your bandages to inspect your patched up wound. You knew better than to make a comment about his odd name and cold hands.

“Well thank you …Schlatt… for helping me out,” Your words were shy as you tried to ease the tension between you two.

“Don’t,” came Schlatt’s curt reply. “I didn’t do it for your sake or anything, I’d just rather not have to deal with body disposal on top of everything.”

You stayed silent, watching as he continued to inspect your wound before re-covering it and pulling away, looking down at you. Every second spent in the same room as him had you feeling like more and more of a burden. Although you were grateful to Schlatt for saving your life, you couldn’t help but dislike being around him.

“You should eat,” He broke the silence, motioning to the can of beans he put beside your bed. “Don’t let them go to waste, it’s hard getting shit around here. And sleep too. You’ve been out for a few days but you still don’t look in good shape, if anything were to happen you’d be a burden.”

Not wanting to cause any issues, you stayed silent. In lieu of a response you quickly picked up the can of beans and began to eat, not noticing how ravenously hungry you were until you had food in your grasp. Schlatt’s cold eyes watched you for a few moments before he walked out, leaving you alone in the dimming room as the sun set.

[cinemastyles-blog]

Isn’t Your Mom Home?

Summary: an anonymous request - “can u do one where they are bf and gf and it takes place during highschool, and she's been like teasing him throughout the day and as soon as school is over he takes her to his house and teases the HELL out of her and then absolutely fucks her up”

Warnings: SMUT18+, highschool!harry, highschool!y/n, dominant!harry, strong language, heavy teasing, sexting, unprotected sex, suggestive pregnancy talk, slight breeding kink? oral (f), fingering, biting, hair pulling, scratching, filth

Master List

FRAT BOY HARRY

“Harry.” Mr. Lowes says tilting his head, “How many times a day do you need to be reminded to button. Up. That shirt!”

You look over at Harry and watch him smirk as his fingers push the small buttons through the holes.

Your eyes move back up to his face and your bite your lip as you watch him laugh with his friend. He smiles, which causes his dimple to show hard and he shakes his head.

“I think it’s better unbuttoned.” You whisper leaning in.

Harry instantly leans back, “Thank you, baby.” He squeezes your thigh and kisses your cheek, “At least I know you always appreciate my style.” He laughs and you look up at him.

His eyes meet yours and he tilts his head, “Yes?” He asks lowly, already knowing that you feel like you need to fuck him.

You bite your lip and lean in to him, “I just wish we could sneak away and not get caught.” You whisper just so he can hear, “I get so wet thinking about fucking you in the school.”

You lean back and squeeze your thighs together. You and Harry sometimes play a little game during school.

A game that requires teasing each other without getting caught or until someone can’t take it anymore.

“Ms Y/N, something you’d like to share with the class?”

“No. God no.” You mumble and clear your throat, “No. Sorry. Continue.” You bite your lip to hide your laugh as Harry sneaks his hand onto your thigh, your skirt riding up slowly as you move around in your seat.

“Harry.” You mumble lowly, “Don’t.” He squeezes, pinching just the right area that has you about moaning.

You clench your jaw and take a slow deep breathe and in that moment, you decided that in order to win, you can’t be in Harry’s reach.

——

You head to the bathroom before your second class, “Be right back.” You smile up at Harry and he smiles down at you, “I’ll be here.”

He may be the most popular in class, but he is the most loyal.

You walk to the mirror and freshen up your makeup. You apply lipstick and perk up your boobs in your bra, getting a little bit more cleavage to show.

You nod and smirk to yourself in the mirror before walking out, “Ready?” You interlock your hand with Harry’s and he looks down at you.

His eyes immediately fixate onto your newly exposed cleavage and he pushes you aside, “Don’t you Um..” he clears his throat, “What are you doin’, babe? Hmm?”

“Nothing, Harry.” You lean in, “I just thought lipstick went great with this outfit.”

You squeezed Harry’s hand as you walked down the hallway. You knew you were getting looked at and you also knew it was driving Harry crazy.

You get to your classroom and Harry walks you to your seat, “Still can’t believe she assigned us seats. She must hate love.” Harry chuckles and kisses your head before walking over to his seat two rows down.

You had the perfect view of his phone so you rest yours in your lap, typing as soon as the teacher turns away.

You: You know that it’s okay for everyone to look because you’re the only one who gets to actually do anything with it.

You hit send and flip your phone down. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand and look forward.

You glance over and notice Harry looking at his phone. He quickly puts it back in his pocket and his head snaps over towards you.

You bite your lip and look at him. A smirk grows on his lips and he shakes his head. He faces forward and gets his phone out, typing as quick as he can.

Your phone vibrates in your lap and your stomach drops with excitement.

The teacher turns back around starts to write stuff on the board. You take the opportunity and grab your phone.

Harry: Makes me want to grab you and pin you up against the lockers. Show everyone that you’re mine.

You flip your phone back down and you bounce your leg with excitement. You chew on your lip, thinking about what you’re going to say next.

“Get out your books and turn to page 107.”

You get out your book and flip to the page. You glance up, grabbing your phone as you look back down.

You: I could fuck you in the locker room, like right now.

You hit send and lay your phone down. You look over at Harry as you grab your pen and lean forward to take notes.

He looks and locks it quickly. He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows. You shrug and smile at him, “Sorry.” You mouth and look down before you laugh.

You feel your phone buzz and you bite your lip to hide your smile. You finish writing a few words and look down.

Harry: I could watch you suck my dick, like right now.

You can feel the heat rise up in your cheeks and you tap your pencil against your lips. You watch the teacher and look down as she turns around.

You: I don’t want to use a condom next time we fuck.

You hit send and you know that’s the text that will make him fold.

You put your phone in your bag and watch him as he reads your text. He snaps his head towards you and you nod with a smirk.

He smiles and turns back around, tapping the screen a few times before shoving it back into his pocket.

You wait a little bit before you check to see what Harry had sent.

Harry: Do I have to pull out still?

You tap the screen quickly,

You: No, baby. I want you to cum inside of me and watch it drip out.

You swallow as you hit send, getting kinda shy now that you sent that. You don’t even look over at Harry but you can feel that he read it.

You glance over at him and you can see him smiling as he’s writing.

You check your phone to see that he didn’t answer so you double message,

You: I want you to cum so deep inside of my pussy

You smirk and without thinking type out a quick ‘please daddy’ and hit send.

You freeze for a moment before putting your phone away in your bag and covering your face so you don’t have to look at Harry.

You’ve never called him that before you you’re not sure how he’ll react, especially in the middle of English class.

Eventually the bell rings and you gather your things and you feel Harry walk up to you.

You stand up and turn to meet him. Your chest brushes against his and you smile shyly as you look up at him, “Hey.”

“I liked that.” He whispers as he leans in, “But keep talking like this and we’ll make that statement true.”

He leans back and winks at you, “Come on. Lunch time.”

——

The rest of the day went by fairly quick.

You continued to sexy Harry throughout the day. You pretty much told him how you couldn’t wait to feel his cock in your pussy and you loved watching him react to you calling him daddy.

You: You can put on any song you want daddy and I’ll bounce on your cock to it.

You lay your phone down and continue to doodle on your notepad. Glancing up at Harry every now and then.

It’s amazing how you know what he’s feeling and thinking but no one else around him does.

You pick up your phone and fight back a smirk as your eyes glide over the words,

Harry: The more you say that, the more the thought of you being pregnant with my baby becomes sexier and sexier.

Your mouth drops slightly and you slide out of the screen to collect yourself.

Your eyes meet his and all you see is lust. You can’t wait for that final bell to ring because you know once it does you’ll be clocking out for the night.

——

Harry grabs your hand and you head towards the back parking lot. It’s Friday. No school tomorrow.

And you’re going to get laid.

Can’t get any better than this.

Harry opens his car door for you and you get in. He shuts it and walks around to get in. He starts it and races to be one of the first people out of the parking lot which is rare.

His hand finds your thigh and you hand finds its place resting on his.

The drive to Harry’s was quiet and tense. You both knew what you wanted.

Harry whips it into the drive way and you both get out. You both try to calm down before walking through the door.

“Hey mom.” Harry says waiting for me to walk in.

She holds her hand up, on the phone with someone.

Harry grabs your hand and you guys make your way up the step. You’re quick to enters Harry’s room and he shuts the door, locking it even quicker.

“Fuck.” He groans as he finally gets his hands on you. His hands slide up and down your body, lifting the fabric to your skirt up.

You gasp slightly as he grabs your ass, “Oh the bed, baby.”

You bite your lip and nod. You walk over to the bed and sit down, working to unbutton your blouse as you do.

Harry watches as you slowly take off your shirt, dropping to the floor. You’re quick to take off your bra, exposing your tits to him.!

He lets out a low groan as you slide your hands over your bare chest and rest them in your lap.

He walks over, letting his shirt fall to the ground behind him. He lays his body on yours and leans down to kiss you.

“Wait.” You lean your head back, “Isn’t your mom home?” You you ask in a whisper as Harry kisses down your neck.

He looks up at you and smirks, “Just means you gotta be extra quiet.” He gives you a wink before taking a nipple into his mouth and you fight to stay quiet.

Harry pins your hands down as he kisses down your stomach. He lets go and pushes your skirt up.

You reach down and pull it up.

Harry leans down and kisses and nips at your inner thighs as he gently brushes the fabric over your clit, “You’re so wet, baby.”

You nod and hold you breathe as you look down at him.

He starts to pull your panties down your legs.

Slowly.

You let out a whine and look at him, frustrated that he isn’t going faster.

Harry wants to tease and you are in no mood for that.

You want him now.

He leans in and licks up between your folds and brings his tongue back down. He does this a few times and you reach up to lay a hand on his head.

He grabs your hand and lays it back down. He moves up to suck on your clit.

You let out a moan and fight to stay quiet, “Fuck.” You whimper lowly and dig your fingers into the bed sheets.

You pull up on them as he lightly bites down, “Harry.” You whimper out in a squeak.

He moves back down and you feel his tongue slide in and out of you. He moans against you and you arch your back, “Shit.” You gasp out almost silent.

He grips your thighs and pulls at your skin, groaning as he pushes his face closer to you.

You want to grab him but you know he’ll just reject you, so you grab your boobs instead. Your fingers pinch and pull at your nipples and your lips part.

You moan lowly and as your eyes roll back.

You feel yourself getting closer and close,

Harry stops.

He leans back and look at him, “No.” you whine out tilting your head, “Please, baby.”

Harry chuckles and crawls up your body, “Shh, baby. Don’t want mom to hear, do we?” He leans down and kisses you.

He spreads your legs apart more and positions his hips so his cock is rubbing against your pussy.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. He keeps his hips away, letting his cock tease you.

“Please.” You whimper against his lips.

His hands travel down your body and stop once he reaches your clit. He presses his fingers down gently and slowly starts to rub, “Should I let you cum?”

You bite your lip and close your eyes, “n-no daddy..”

He bites his lip at your words and tilts his head as he starts to move his fingers faster, “Why baby?”

You open your eyes and tilt your head back a little, “Because..” you look up at him as you pant, “I want to.. cum around your cock..”

You moan as he slides his fingers down and skips two of them into you, “Good answer, babe.” He slowly starts to thrusts his fingers, “I want to cum in that pussy.”

He looks up at you and raises his eyebrows. You nod quickly, “yes, yes.” You scrunch your eye brows up and moan quietly, “Fuckfuck, yes!”

Your eyes flutter shut and Harry squeezes your thigh, “You close, y/n?”

You nod, “yes.”

Harry tests his luck and keep thrusting his fingers. He bites his lip at he watches your face and stops he stops right when you’re about to cum.

“Fuck.” You groan, “H-Harry..”

You rest your arms on the bed and look up at him. He smirks and brings the fingers that we’re inside of you up to your lips.

Your eyes glance down at his fingers before you open your lips. Your eyes move back up to his and his lips part as he tilts his head, watching.

You suck your wetness off of his fingers and tilt your head back, “can I have your cock now, daddy?”

You bite your lip shyly and smirk as you look down.

He moves his body back over yours and leans up. He pushes your legs apart and spits down onto you.

He uses the head of his cock to spread it around. You bite your lip and close your eyes at the feeling.

You take a deep breathe as you feel him push the head of his cock in. He grips your hips and closes his eyes as he feels you for the very first time without a condom.

“You feel so fucking incredible, babe.” He groans lowly.

You whimper and wrap your legs around his waist as he leans down. He rests on one elbow and looks down at you.

He starts to slowly moves his hips and he slides a hand up and lays it on your neck. You tilt you head back and he grips it harder.

His grip slowly growing harder, “Fuck, I’ll let you have my baby.”

You whimper out, “Yes, yes.” You lay a hand on his and close your eyes. He rests his head on yours as he takes in the feeling of your soaked cunt around him.

There’s a knock on the door and you both freeze, “Yeah?” Harry yells out and let’s go of your neck.

“Harry, darling. Dinner will be ready soon.” Anne says from on the other side of the door.

“Alright. Thank you!” Harry smiles down at you and looks back up at the door.

It’s sexy how quick his switch can flip.

He leans down and kisses you roughly as he pushes his cock all the way inside of you and holds it there.

You whimper against his lips, pressing a hand to his cheek, “Fuck.”

“Gonna cum yet?” Harry asks lowly as he kisses back to your ear. He kisses down your neck and bites it as he slowly thrusts his hips.

“Cl-close!” You moan out, “so close, baby.”

He moans against you and sucks a hicky into your skin.

You clench around his cock and press your lips hard against his to muffle your moan. You dig your nails into his back and drag them up.

Harry pushes his cock into your hard and slow. He moans lowly into your ear, “Cum with me, baby.”

He kisses back to your lips and pulls you closer to him, “Fuck, turn over. On your knees.”

He leans up and pulls out. He watches as you flip around and lay down as you bring you ass into the air.

“Yeah, that’s it baby.” He places a hand on your hip and holds his cock with the other one. He lines up and thrusts back into you. His hands grip your hips hard and he slowly pushes in.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He leans back and lets you bounce your hips, “There you go baby.” He moans quietly and watches as you fuck yourself on his cock.

You grip his pillow and close your eyes as you clench around his cock, “Fuck.” You moan loudly, which is thankfully muffled.

Harry groans loudly and clears his throat after. You laugh slightly but that’s quickly replaced with a moan as you feel that knot in your belly snap.

Your eyes roll back and your walls pulsate around him. He moans and bites his lip as he pushes your hips forward.

He pushes his cock deep inside of you and he gasps as he cums.

You moan as you feel his cock twitch inside of you a few times.

“Fuck.” You breathe out with a smile.

Harry nods and gently smacks your ass, “Yes.”

He slowly pulls out and bites his lip as he sees his cock drip out of your pussy.

“Fuck. That’s- Mm.” He shakes his head and takes a deep breathe, “We’re doing this again later because this is all I’m going to be able to think about.”

You laugh and reach down to grab the towel on the floor. You wipe off and stand up. You get redressed and Harry watches you the whole time.

“Can I help you?” You ask with a smirk.

He shrugs and runs his hands through his hair, “That depends, what are you offering to help?” He raises his eyebrows and you laugh, “I might be able to help you there.”

He smiles and holds his hand out, “Later. We gotta go eat with mom.” He nods towards the door.

You take his hand and smile, “It’s a date.”

He smirks and walks with you down stairs, “Hello, Anne.”

“Oh, y/n. Hello, sweetie. When did you get here?” Anne walks over and gives you a hug.

You smile as you hug her and Harry laughs, “She’s been here the whole time, mom.”

She laughs and shakes her head, “I must have been busy with something important, but anyway. Come, join us for dinner.”

She walks away and turns around when Harry walks in front of her, “You guys are being careful right?”

You squint at her confused, “Wh-“

She points to your neck and brushes hers and your eyes go wide, slightly embarrassed, “Oh. Um. Yes, yes of course we are.”

You lie, you’re standing there full of her sons cum.

She smirks and shakes her head, “Oh you kids, you better be, but I trust you.” He winks and walks into the kitchen and you can’t wait to tell Harry about this interaction.

——

Hi thank you for requesting! I hope you like it!

likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated <3

[mxigo]

all of me | part 2

SERIES SYNOPSIS: A muggle born witch soldiering for the Light finds herself captured by death eater Lucius Malfoy. Spellbinding her from her own magic, he is given the task to go through her memories to see if she knows anything about the last of the Order of the Phoenix. While sifting through her mind, Lucius discovers secrets pertaining to the past she and his son Draco share that could jeopardize his safety. As they are forced to spend more time together, the witch starts to see through the cracks of Lucius' facade as a dark wizard, and Lucius finds himself enraptured by the beauty of her gentle, bleeding heart.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing, non-con, sa, age gap, essentially mature themes. inspired by manacled, please read with discretion.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

It took some time to finally calm down, but once you did, you felt as if you had been steam rolled, which, considering how Voldemort broke through your Occlumency shield rather violently, it would be safe to say that you had been steam rolled.

It's freezing in the cellar, which would make sense for the purpose of storing things such as wine, but for yourself, you were unbearably cold. You tucked your arms in between your chest and knees, trying to abate the cold as much as you could, but you continued to shiver vehemently. Your body physically ached below from how rough Lucius was. Just the mere thought of what he did to you was enough to bring you to tears.

He raped you. The faster you came to terms with what happened the faster that you could move past it.

But there wouldn’t be any moving past it, would there? Lucius said that the spell required charging via the caster’s orgasm on the cursed, which meant that he would continue to brutalize you until there was nothing left.

It could have been worse. He could have done whatever he wanted, completely ruined you inside and out, and yet, he sought only to simply chase his own release before sending you away. There was nothing extra about it. It was almost . . . clinical.

You shook your head. It didn’t matter; rape was rape, no matter what the rest of the actions were. He could command you to do whatever he desired through the curse, and you were powerless to stop it.

Then there was Draco. The thought of what that poor boy had been through made your heart ache. You couldn’t help but remember the once bright eyed and rather happy student he was at Hogwarts. Although he never told you outright, you knew he enjoyed your class. He always looked forward to studying the stars. You had the pleasure of actually getting to know your student during his fifth year and your first year teaching. He was a smart child, and eager to learn, even though he put up a front around his friends to make it seem like learning from a Muggle-born was beneath him

And then there was the attack at the Ministry. Lucius was captured and locked away into Azkaban, and when Draco came back to school for sixth year, your heart ached at how much he had changed over the summer. You could only guess what happened in retribution for his father’s failure. That year, the boy that you once knew was wiped away and replaced with someone you didn’t recognize.

The sudden crack of someone Apparating just feet in front of you had you nearly jumping out of your skin, sending your heart rate skyrocketing again. You held your breath as you stared into the dark where the person was. It had to be Lucius finally ready to start sorting through your mind. You had no clue how long it had been since your encounter in the study, but it didn’t matter as your body began shaking with fear instead of the cold.

A soft glow grew from a lantern in his hold, becoming stronger until it illuminated the area around the both of you, revealing the man that had you at his mercy. Lucius stared down at your form on the ground, his mask of indifference still in place. You stared at him, looking for even a hint of emotion on his face, but there’s absolutely nothing. Without the presence of his master, you expected him to be more open with his hate of your blood status, and the ability to now do what he liked to you, but you assumed that most of the day had passed, and he was just now coming to the cellar.

He changed out of his Death Eater robes into a typical style of his: A three-piece suit with a long coat, and cane at his other side. His hair was now tied back with a thin dark cord, most likely leather. A thought flashed through your mind that under different circumstances, he could be described as handsome, but the thought vanished as soon as it manifested.

He set the lantern down next to his shoes, the metal creaking as it met the concrete. With his free hand, he removed his wand from his cane, setting the longer piece against a column. Your hands began to sweat. He’s a strong wizard, and one that was easily able to disarm and detain you in Germany. You could only expect his Legilimency to be the same.

As he took a step forward, you snapped your eyes shut. If he was going to rifle through your memories, you weren’t going to make it easy for him.

“I don’t know anything,” you whispered, pleading.

“That is for me to decide, witch,” he answered, taking a breath. “Legilimens.”

A feeling not unlike being struck by lightning had you screaming as Lucius’ magic slammed against your shielded mind. Your hands flew to your head in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain, your body curling in on itself to protect it. He may not have mastered wandless Legilimency, but the pain he caused is akin to the Dark Lord’s.

The immobilizing torture ceased for a moment, and you gasped in relief. You felt boneless as your body collapsed to the ground, resting your heated and sweat-slickened face on the cold and damp cellar ground. Heaving breaths left and entered your body in quick succession to try and resupply it with the oxygen that it was deprived of for the eternity that Lucius attempted to break your mind.

“I know my lord said that your Occlumency was strong, but I didn’t comprehend it would be at this level,” he whispered next to your ear. You didn’t recall when he got closer. “You’ll be fun to break. Legilimens!” he cast again, and you cried out once more, tears leaking through your clenched eyes.

Your muscles locked up with the amount of stress your body was in, and you thought at this rate, you might just go into cardiac arrest. You couldn’t continue to strong arm him away from you mind; you would go insane. Maybe . . . maybe you could give him something that was just enough to make it stop.

Conjuring whatever strength you had left, you forced your eyes open to meet steel grey, letting him in.

—

One of your favorite parts about living in the wizarding world was that fashion for normal, everyday wear felt like dressing up after living in the Muggle world. You could wear whatever you wanted, and you still looked the same from the rest. It was especially fun now as a professor. You were able to transform from the young and wild days of your youth to a woman that was respected and mature.

For classes that day, you donned a black turtleneck sweater, and a long and high waisted plaid skirt that went to your mid calves. To preserve some modesty, you hid the showing skin at the bottom with a pair of opaque black tights and decided to soften the seam between the skirt and sweater by wearing an embroidered green Edwardian dip waist belt. To complete the outfit, you chose your pair of black heeled lace up dragon hide boots. Your hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of your neck to maintain an air of professionalism, along with a set of pearl earrings.

What was even more exciting, was that you were teaching your favorite class. You excelled in this class as it was the only other class to be relevant in the Muggle world as well, and you could talk about it with others. You loved the stars and the constellations and didn’t think they would ever fail to fascinate you. So, when Professor Dumbledore sent an owl asking you to take over Astronomy, not only was it a perfect way to bring you into the fold to assist Harry, you were able to also teach something you loved.

Students started to filter into the tower, taking their seats around the massive telescope. This class was mainly comprised of fifth year Slytherins with a few Ravenclaws that kept to the front left of the class, and of those Slytherins, Draco Malfoy sat towards the middle right, surrounded by his friends and admirers. While the boy usually had an air of smugness about him most days, it seemed that began to fade as the class became harder. His grade was slipping, and it had translated to his mood, turning it sour.

Once most of the students were in their seats, you began class.

“Good evening, students. As you all know, today is your midterm for the semester,” you paused, taking a quick glance around the classroom as you began to pace, your heels thudding against the stone roof of the Astronomy Tower. “Please take out your quills and clear your surroundings of anything else.”

Most of your students took the exam with ease, finishing with plenty of time to spare. The Ravenclaws were the first to leave, then steadily, the Slytherins turned in their exams, leaving to spend the rest of their night doing whatever they wished. The room emptied slowly until Draco was the last, staring at the parchment with a hatred so strong you half expected it to burst into flames. He sporadically filled in answers, flipping pages with no rhyme or reason.

After some time, you took a glance at your watch, shoulders drooping when it read past the end of the examination period. Slowly, you approached where Draco was seated before sitting in an empty desk and crossing your legs, resting your arms on the edge of his own. You waited a few seconds, hoping he would take the hint, but he was determined to either ignore you, or finish the test; both were possible.

“Draco, darling, your time is up. I need you to put your quill down,” you almost whispered, watching him with somber eyes.

You knew that the young man prided himself in his schoolwork, so much so that he went head-to-head with Hermione in terms of grades. So, for him to not finish an exam must be devastating for him, a feeling you were all too familiar with.

He pointedly ignored you, focusing on his exam until you rested a hand on his wrist, making him freeze. He stared at your hand in utter shock before he dropped his quill and shoved his exam to you, throwing his satchel closed before standing up. You grasped his paper and followed his movements, standing up with him.

“Draco,” you started as he began to walk to the staircase, freezing him in his place. You sighed, racking your mind for the right words to navigate this rather delicate situation. “Can you face me, please?”

Reluctantly, he turned around, his silver eyes down cast, refusing to meet your own. You waited to see if he would finally break, but he didn’t.

“I understand that you do not see me as someone worthy of teaching here at Hogwarts, but nevertheless, you are still my student. I want nothing more than to see you succeed, regardless of your feelings about me. I am here for you to use and ask questions to.”

Silver eyes slowly came up to meet your own, your face soft. You truly did want to see him do well. Seeing your students succeed in your class was important to you. You weren’t here to be another Umbridge or Snape; you wanted your students to enjoy their time in your class, while at the same time learning something, just as you did in Sinistra’s.

“My door is always open for questions or conversations, Draco. It’s just up to you to utilize it.” With a soft smile, you took a glance at his exam. “If you come by sometime this week, maybe we can clear up some confusion about what you learned, yeah?”

“We’ll see, Professor,” he answered, but it was good enough for you.

“Have a lovely night, Mr. Malfoy. I look forward to our time together.”

An odd look suddenly flashed across Draco’s face before he became closed off once more, whipping around and booking it down the staircase. A deep sigh left you, releasing the tension the built up during the conversation before nodding, pleased with how you handled it. Maybe, just maybe, things would take a turn for the better with the Malfoy heir.

—

Lucius was surprisingly gentle as he left your exhausted mind, pulling only a soft groan from you as he did so. The ghost of a smile twitched at the corner of your lips as you remembered your first real conversation with Draco. You didn’t know then how much you would enjoy his company throughout the rest of the year, and if you could go back, knowing what she knew, you’d do it again in a heartbeat.

You were still on your side in the cellar, your body growing cold as your sweat cooled on your skin. You didn’t know how long he had been in your mind, but you didn’t care. The memory evidently appeased him as he stopped at the end of it, saving you from the torment of blocking his magic.

Your eyes slipped closed, completely exhausted, but you fought it, terrified of what would happen in your unconsciousness. They peel open, locking in on Lucius, refusing to shut them. His head tilted slightly as he studied the witch, his eyebrows pinched in confusion. Wand still in hand, he approached you. You pushed herself up, hair falling in front of your eyes as you stared wide-eyed at him, refusing to even blink. You looked wild, you knew it, but the sight in front of the dark wizard didn’t faze him as he drew nearer. With a final step, he stopped just two feet in front of you before dropping into a crouch, resting his forearms on his knees, wrists dangling between them.

He whispered, “why did you care?”

“Care about what?” you asked, exasperated.

“Don’t play coy with me, witch,” he warned, bringing his wand to drag the end of it down the side of your face.

Anger festered within your chest, turning your face red and making your face curl.

“Why do you care? Is it really so astonishing that a Muggle-born is capable of caring for a pure-blood who hates her for something she has no control over? It’s called being kind, Lucius. It might do you some good to practice that quality.”

For a moment, Lucius was shocked at your outburst, the words grappling at a deep part of him before he brushed it away, instead allowing a mocking smile to warp his face, chuckling.

“And that, my dear, is exactly why you ended up here. Helping those Mudbloods in Belfast gave you away. Being kind,” he sneered, “is a weakness, and weakness makes you a target.”

“Is that why Narcissa is dead? Because she was kind?”

In an instant, white-hot pain radiated through your now bruised cheek, snapping your head to the side, and forcing a yelp from you. There’s blood in your mouth, and you were sure that you bit her tongue. Eyes wide in shock, you slowly raised a shaking hand to your cheek, fingertips ghosting over heated skin. Tears quickly welled up.

“Mimsy!” he yelled, shooting up, his face twisted in barely concealed anger.

A house elf exceedingly similar to Dobby stood in between Lucius and yourself, looking up to her master as she awaited his orders.

“Yes, Master?”

“Take her to the last suite in the Guest Wing. Clean her up and dress her before delivering her dinner.”

“And what would Master have her wear?”

Interestingly, Lucius paused at the question, frowning slightly before recollecting himself, his eyes clear once again.

“Something . . . accessible,” he answered, his eyes wandering over you.

Your face hardened, and in another bout of anger, you spat at his feet before meeting his gaze. He took one look at you before walking up the stone stairs, leaving you with the house elf. Timidly, the elf turned to look at you on the ground.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, miss,” is all she said before taking your loose hand and Apparating you out of the cellar.

[meesherbeans]

Formally introducing: Yukino O'Brien!

(The above chibi was commissioned from a Discord friend of mine, but I don't think her comms are public.)

Where to begin? At the beginning, I suppose! Her full name is Yukino Carina O'Brien.

So, in my Our Life universe, all of the LIs end up with their soulmate (my MC for them). Yukino, however, is my main Our Life character. She is Liz's sister, grew up in Sunset Bird with the Moms, and is Cove's platonic soulmate/sister.

She doesn't know anything about her birth parents; in fact, the moms only know her birth mother was Japanese because that information was on the paperwork when they adopted her. Since she doesn't know what the "other half" is, she considers herself half-Japanese and that's good enough for her!

From an early age, she was always very athletic: if there was the opportunity to swim, run, jump, or play an active game, she was first in line. Everyone assumed she would pick up a sport once she hit middle school, but Yukino didn't feel like the commitment a team required was worth it. She'd rather be hanging out with her friends, especially at the beach!

The one thing she kept up for several years, from nine to 12 years old, was her dancing lessons. It was always a hobby for her, but one she enjoyed immensely. She took a little of everything but spent the final year focused on the different ballroom styles... mostly because she was tall and that was a boon in that particular field.

Going to the soiree when she was 13 changed her life, but not because she got to dance with her mysterious stranger boy (aka Bax-teen). It's because it was the first time she was able to dress up maturely, mingle with adults, and put her dancing skills to real use outside of lessons. She felt like she was truly growing up, and it inspired her to want to travel after graduating. This quickly evolved into a desire to go to university in another country. The soiree is what led to her buckling down hard in order to learn Japanese and get amazing grades, so that she could go to Tokyo University.

Although she continued to be uninterested in joining a sports team, Yukino did want to work in that field. She also always loved working out! After some chatting with her moms, she decided that a physical therapy career was the right direction for her, especially with an emphasis on sports injury recovery. As an adult, she attains that dream!

(Above are OL1-style commissions of Step 4 Yukino from @xxcathartistxx. 💖)

While in university, she also picked up a taste for assisting with the research side of things: helping to analyze and interpret data on studies done in the physical therapy field, to help further what we know about how best to heal people.

This is something she continues in her spare time, lecturing at conventions and co-authoring papers with the researchers doing the studies. She works for a well-respected rehab/PT company for her day job, though! It's in a city two hours away from Prima Vista (I made one up, it's called Azure Valley).

As for her romantic endeavors, Cove would call it "frustrating" but Yukino would just say that she had to take that journey in order to end up where she was meant to be.

She had a few flirtations, crushes, and short-term partners in middle and high school, but Yukino really buckled down with her studies around then, so nothing ever truly stuck. Her priorities were elsewhere, and she definitely (accidentally) ruined a relationship or two by not being around enough.

Dancing with Baxter at the soiree at 13 was a very magical and fun night, and she always considered that her first real crush. Many an evening was spent idly imagining them meeting up again one day so that she could actually learn his name, and maybe even thank him for the compliments. There was an exciting connection there but she brushed it off as a cute memory that'd remain such.

When the Danger Oreo, as I call him, arrived in Sunset Bird, Yukino was instantly drawn to him for a second time. The two of them (much to Cove's chagrin) were practically inseparable after the second time they started chatting via text. Needless to say, Baxter's departure at the end of the summer was devastating. Yukino did not cope with it well for a few days, but then she buried it because she didn't want to worry her family or friends. But Cove knew the whole time.

While at university, she had several relationships, all of which she would swear to you that she was fully invested in... however, none of them lasted longer than six months. She began to get a reputation as a really amazing friend but painfully aloof girlfriend. After her longest relationship, with an Australian rugby player named Elijah, ended in a confusing breakup, she decided to just... not date any longer. It wasn't worth it! (And what was Elijah talking about, saying she wasn't over a guy named Baxter she hadn't seen in years at that point?)

She spent her last year at university, and the year after graduating, focused solely on her studies. The intensity only got worse once she moved back to California, found a place and job of her own, and began to work both days and nights: days at the PT, and nights helping edit and analyze papers. It was during this time that she began to pretty much just subsist off of grocery store salad bags and protein bars/shakes.

Then... the wedding happened. Her friends called her to help, she gladly took time off to do it, and she got Baxter'd yet again. But this time, he stuck around when it was all done. 😊

Below are some of the fan art pieces that I've commissioned over the past year! Yes, all of them are her with Baxter. What can I say, they're my true OTP!

Fan artists, in order: @sunflowerpin, @kaikonn, @adricarra-art, and then sunflower again!

If anyone actually read all of this, bless you and your house and your MCs/OCs. My inbox is totally open if you have any questions (or fic requests, I could totally do little prompts) about Yukino!!

[thisismysecondrodeo]

School Daze pt. 3

AN: Okay so there will definitely be a part 4 lol. This is a LONG chapter because there's smut (who me? writing smut?!) but it's skippable! Smut starts and ends with 🌶 so feel free to read or not read as you so choose.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Michelle Lasso, Henry Lasso, Second Chance Romance, Alternate Universe - College/University, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Time Skips, Ted and Beard have the purest friendship, Ted Lasso Deserves Love, Getting Together, nipple play, explicit sexual intercourse, dry humping,

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Fic Masterlist

-

22 Years Ago

Beard didn’t know how he got there but he shivered in front of Ted’s dorm room and tried to force himself to ask for help. It was winter and he was soaking wet in a white t-shirt and black jeans, no coat, and no shoes. 

Ted knew about the drugs. Not all of them, he kept the worst of it from Ted, but it had gotten bad and he needed help and Ted wouldn’t judge. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t judge you,” Ted responded and all of a sudden Beard realized he was not only talking out loud but was wearing Ted’s clothes, crammed in Ted’s tiny bed. The man himself was sitting near his feet, his back pressed against the cement wall and a textbook opened in his lap. Beard didn’t remember anything between knocking on the door and then being here. He tried to push himself up into a sitting position, immediately embarrassed at being this fucked up and needy, but Ted pressed him back gently and Beard realized he was still shaking like a leaf. 

“I’m sorr—” Beard started to apologize, but Ted cut him off. 

“Don’t apologize for needing a friend. Do you want to stop?”

Beard nodded immediately and emphatically, “But I’m worried the minute I leave here I’ll be right back there and I can’t…I don’t…I’m not a strong person, Ted.” 

“Sure you are,” Ted said, his voice as cheery as always, but before Beard could get frustrated with Ted’s assumed naivety, he continued, “but I can be your crutch until you get your strength back. What do you say?” 

“I’d say you don’t know what you’re gettin’ into,” Beard mumbled, tucking Ted’s navy blue comforter under his chin. Deflecting, as usual. 

“Mmm,” Ted hummed, closing his textbook, “I could say the same for you because this is gonna require 100% honesty from you and lil ol’ me as your constant companion.” Beard shrugged under the covers and Ted climbed off the bed, slipping the textbook into his ratty Jansport, before pulling the covers away. “Let’s get a move on now, I’ve got theater.” 

PRESENT

Ted handed you the bouquet of flowers and your hands brushed, sending a spark tingling up to your wrist.  You grinned, leaning in to press a grateful kiss to his cheek. You’d wanted to meet his lips, you’d been thinking about it all day, but after your conversation with Beard, you were being a little more cautious. Beard didn’t scare you off, but he certainly made you remember this was potentially more than just a bit of fun with an old friend. Which meant you needed to have some serious conversations before you pulled him back into bed.

Ted just seemed happy to see you, rocking back on his heels, his eyes never leaving yours. “You look gorgeous,” Ted complimented with boundless enthusiasm and you winked, whispering conspiratorially, “I bought it just for you.” You tucked the flowers in the curve of one elbow, taking his hand and leading him toward the hotel restaurant. After settling and ordering wine, you cleared your throat, signaling that you were moving beyond the pleasantries. 

“I had a nice talk with Beard today,” you started and Ted arched an eyebrow. Clearly, Beard hadn’t said anything to him. “That’s not sarcasm, it really was nice. He’s a good friend.”

“The best,” Ted agreed sagely.

“So, here are some things I should tell you. Nothing crazy, I swear, but just… I should let you know before things go further. Not that I assume we’re going further, but after, you know… I’m rambling.” You sighed, taking a sip of your wine and Ted smirked. 

“I would love to take things further, so hit me.” The waiter came back and you both ordered entrees, and then you folded your hands on the table in front of you. 

“The reason you couldn’t find me after theater ended is because I dropped out. My mom got really sick and there was no one else to take care of her. I had no idea you were looking for me, I promise,” Ted looked like he wanted to interrupt and tell you it was no big deal, tell you he was sorry, but you pushed on, “No one’s fault. We both moved on and life happened and now here we are. But the other thing I should tell you is that I’m here on vacation because I got laid off. I still swear it's a coincidence, I really didn’t know you were here and I’m not after your money. I just thought, after my talk with Beard, I should lay all my cards on the table. Because…I have real feelings for you Ted.” 

Ted’s smile crept up slowly, his dimple deepening as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. “I appreciate that, darlin’. And I’m so sorry about all the tough times you’ve had, back then and now. Gosh, I’m sorry I didn’t try harder when you could have used a friend.”

Something about that sentiment, the idea of Ted being disappointed that he couldn’t have just been a friend when you were in need brought tears to your eyes, and you blinked them away swiftly. “I appreciate that Ted. I really do.” 

“I don’t know what the future has in store for you or us, but I’d really like to see where this could go,” Ted said sincerely, just as your plates arrived. Before he could pick up his fork, you leaned across the table and kissed him, sweet and bold and public as hell. As always, Ted kissed back. 

The two of you behaved yourselves for maybe half of your meal before it was boxed up and you were pulling Ted to your hotel room, too hungry for each other to even think about eating. The elevator was empty and Ted had you pressed against the mirrored wall, his lips hot on your neck and his hands heavy on your hips. Your hand curled around the back of his neck, his skin hot to the touch, and you sighed heavily at his affection. The elevator dinged and you quickly separated, still looking suspicious to the older couple taking your place but not enough to ruin the mood when you slid your key card into the door and ushered Ted in. 

🌶

You’d left a lamp on and your hotel room was small but cozy, the lighting bringing out the honey tones of Ted’s eyes, the shadows adding a layer of intrigue to his gaze. He watched you set your keycard aside, his hands in his pockets only drawing attention to his arousal. You smiled over your shoulder at him, pleased that he was letting you take the lead. You turned and slipped your hands into the shoulders of his blazer, sliding it back slowly as he removed his hands from his pocket so it could fall away entirely. His chest hair peeked out of the top of his dress shirt and you leaned forward and kissed him there, right at the base of his throat. He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he pulled his arms free of his jacket and took it from you to toss gently on the back of an armchair. 

“I’m glad you didn’t wear a tie,” you said softly, pressing more kisses to his neck and moving on to the buttons of his shirt, revealing more and more skin to focus your attention on. 

“Yeah,” Ted asked, his voice low and breathy, “not too casual?”

“I like casual,” you shrugged, his shirt now hanging open. You nipped at the front of his shoulder and he hissed slightly. “No undershirt either. I like that you made it easy.” 

Ted laughed at that, the implication that he was easy—that any of this was— considering the whole relationship had been over 20 years in the making. You started working on his belt but Ted had let you have your fill and he needed more of you. He slipped his hands under your shirt, the barely there caress tickling and distracting you enough for him to lift it over your head. Your own pants followed easily, and you kicked them off your feet as he backed you toward the bed, his tongue sliding easily into your mouth. Ted wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you just enough to get you centered on the bed, his knee finding a place between your legs that had you involuntarily jerking against his thigh. 

“Woah there,” he teased, using his large hands to press you down against the overstuffed duvet. “Someone’s ready to go, huh?” 

You gave a pointed look to his tented pants, “Yeah, someone sure is.” 

You sat up on your elbows and he met you for another deep kiss, his hands crawling from your hips to your back, easily undoing the clasp of your bra. You whimpered at the loss when he pulled back from the kiss, but his lips found your jaw and neck and sternum, and then he was sucking a nipple into the heat of his mouth and you moaned. He flicked his tongue against you, the sensation going straight to your clit. When you realized his leg was still between yours, you didn’t hesitate to find relief grinding down on his thigh. 

“Jesus fuck Ted, you’re so good with your tongue,” you whined, and you could feel him smile against you. He released your nipple, his eyes finding yours as he pressed his leg into you firmer and you sucked in a breath. 

“That’s a good girl, take what you need.” He didn’t wait for a response before he attached himself to your other nipple and you nearly shrieked with pleasure. One of your hands found the back of his neck, the other digging into this bicep, and you knew you were going to come. You, a grown woman, were about to come from nipple play and dry humping. It would have been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so magical. Ted’s tongue started moving in faster, tighter circles, and your hips shifted just so, and then you were falling apart. Curses and praise fell from your lips in equal measure as you jerked erratically. Ted sat back, his hands running warm gentle paths along your side as you came back down, your eyes immediately finding the small wet spot on his leg. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 

“Don’t you ever apologize for that. Ever. That’s like apologizing for a miracle. Imagine Jesus sayin’, ‘sorry I turned water into wine.’” 

“Jesus Christ,” you laughed, knowing Ted was being ridiculous on purpose. 

“Yeah, that’s him!” 

You sat up to finally open Ted’s pants with a roll of your eyes and he chuckled at his own joke as he slipped off the bed to let them fall to the floor. He went to crawl back onto the bed, but you placed an open hand against the softness of his belly. 

“Ah ah,” you smirked, letting your hand trail down to cup his hard length over his boxer briefs and he growled. “Lose ‘em.” 

Ted peeled his striped briefs off and his cock bobbed, drawing your eye and your interest. Before you could get your hands on him he playfully launched himself back onto the bed, covering your body with his and you giggled. Sex with Ted was fun, everything about Ted was fun. Ted clearly felt the same, sucking ticklish kisses everywhere he could reach just to keep you laughing. He moved down your body, catching the edge of your underwear with his teeth and dragging them as far as he could without his hands. 

“You make me feel fucking 20 again, I swear,” you smiled, pulling him back against you, both of you now naked and joyful and wanting. 

“Good,” Ted whispered, his breath hitting the shell of your ear and making you shiver, “‘cause we’re not getting any younger, darlin’.” 

You reached a hand between your bodies to wrap your fingers around him and he dropped his forehead to your collarbone with a lustful exhale. “Well then you should probably fuck me sooner rather than later, hm?” You felt Ted grin against your skin before he sunk his teeth into your shoulder and you groaned, your hand tightening around him. 

Using a firm grip on Ted’s hair you encouraged him onto his side and then his back, quickly straddling him. You both took a moment to just look at each: cheeks rosy, eyes glassy with passion, bodies warm and soft. You reached a hand out to cup the side of Ted’s face, your thumb tracing his bottom lip and his mouth fell open easily. It was enough to know how willing he was, how pliable; it sent a burning heat through you that made you unable to wait even one more second for him to fill you.

The first time this had happened—was that just last night?!—Ted had ducked into the bathroom for a condom, but you didn’t want him to have to go scrounging through his pants if it wasn’t needed. 

“I was tested a few weeks ago. And I'm on birth control.” 

“Was tested last month, nobody in between,” Ted said quickly, “but if you’d be more comfortable—” 

“Nope,” you responded, raising up slightly to sink down on him slowly, letting yourself adjust to him and the feeling of no barrier between you. The firm weight of him stretched you perfectly. He cursed beneath you when you seated yourself fully, his eyes closed and his fingers digging gently into your thighs. You hoped you’d still be able to see where he touched you in the morning. He looked at you when you started to rock against him, slowly but already starting to build, already starting to chase what felt good. 

“You feel so good, Y/N. So good.” You appreciated Ted’s praise, but you liked when he lost control, when he cursed and writhed, so you pulled yourself almost all the way off of him and then quickly back down. Your thighs strained with the effort but it was worth it to hear Ted say, “fuckin' shit,” and feel his grip tighten on you. Supporting yourself on his chest, your thumbs brushed his nipples and his head fell back against the pillow again. You rode him earnestly, and though you could certainly come this way, your walls starting to flutter, your legs wouldn’t last that long—before you had to ask, Ted was flipping you. He barely gave you a chance to catch your breath before he was driving back into you, hard and fast. 

Ted was hitting the perfect spot inside you, his weight resting on one elbow, his other hand supporting your thigh. It wouldn’t take you long to reach your peak, especially if you could get a finger on your clit. You started to snake your hand between your bodies but Ted noticed and beat you to it. 

“Can I make you come again, sweetheart?” You knew Ted wasn’t asking if it was possible, but if he could be the one to make it happen and you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more. 

“Please, please, please, please.” 

Ted used his thumb, his hand moving slower than his cock so there was constant pleasure. You knew you were still saying something but you weren’t listening to yourself, too busy riding a roller coaster that only seemed to be going up. If Ted’s pace was anything to go by he was right there next to you. Ted’s hips snapped into yours and he panted your name, and you were so close, so close…

“Faster, fuck, your thumb faster, please” you whimpered, and Ted obeyed immediately. You cried out, obnoxiously loud for a hotel room, but there was no keeping this sensation to yourself. Your vision whited as Ted’s hips stuttered and he followed you over the edge, groaning your name as his cock twitched and emptied. It took a few minutes for your breathing to slow and your eyes to open, to stop being overwhelmed by the warm sense of fullness and return to the present. When you did, Ted was cleaning you up gently, smiling when he felt your eyes on him. 

🌶

“Not to be presumptuous, but I thought I might stay the night?” 

“Don’t ever leave,” you smiled, and Ted chuckled, lifting up the corner of the duvet and helping you under it. He followed you under, tucking you close to him. It would have been easy to slip into a safe sleep, but Ted’s phone clattered against the nightstand. 

“Sorry,” Ted grumbled, reaching over you to retrieve it, “might be Henry.” 

Ted picked up and just listened, his only real words were, “Where are you?” When he hung up you felt him sit up, preparing to go somewhere. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, his other hand stroking lightly over your shoulders. 

“Was it Henry?”

“Beard. He’s somewhere downtown and…you have no idea how much I don’t want to go darlin’. But, long story short, when Beard says he needs me he means it.” 

“Tell him to come here.” Ted raised his eyebrows, his eyes darting between your naked bodies. “Okay, not like here here, but the hotel. I’ll stay out of the way, I promise, but neither one of you should be wandering around at this hour. Go sit with him in the lobby.”

Ted thought about it for a moment and then fired off a few quick texts before climbing out of bed and collecting his abandoned clothing. “You’re right, sweetheart. He’s gonna come here.” 

“Do you know what’s wrong,” you asked, watching from your cocoon in bed as he buttoned his shirt, his long fingers moving quickly. 

“Not exactly. But if I had to guess it's something about Jane. I’ll be back, gorgeous,” Ted leaned over the bed and kissed you sweetly. He made his way toward the door, flicking out the lamp and closing the curtains tightly for you. 

“Take my key card,” you called out quickly, his hand on the doorknob, “you’re a good friend, Ted.” 

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

[inseparableduo]

Character info ; Aveline Tasse

Name: Aveline Tasse Alias: None Age: 30 Species: Human Hair: Blonde Eyes: Hazel

Backstory:

Since the beginning, her family was the first to follow the cult, the second in command. It was clear that if anything happened to the head family, theirs would take over. So, when the head family couldn’t heir a daughter, it only made sense that her family would arrange a marriage with their one and only son, Oliver Morris. Only girls were allowed to lead, as they were naturally born with the gifts that it took to lead. As a child, she never thought much about the marriage. He was her best friend but, she struggled to see him as anything more.

Her childhood was more focused on religious studies and being prepped to one day lead the cult. Before most kids were allowed, she took part in the rituals and magic. From a young age, she understood why everyone in the compound was blessed, it was because they understood the meaning of sacrifice. You couldn’t get what you wanted unless you were willing to give up something in return. She was quickly desensitized to the brutality and cruelty at the heart of the church. All of it was just a means to an end to make sure everyone in the church continued to be blessed and safe.

She never had much desire to leave the compound and was homeschooled like the vast majority of children. She hated outsiders and despised them. She had no desire to interact with the outside world. Plus, it was important to her that she tried to get to know everyone that she would one day be in charge of. The weight of expectations never worried her. In fact, she was proud and excited. Especially with the way everyone her age and younger seemed to look up to her and how the adults praised her.

As she grew older, she started to fall in love with Oliver. It felt natural, and the way she acted around him virtually didn’t change. She didn’t realize how distant he had become, too busy planning their future. She didn’t realize until a little after his mom died, but figured it was due to grief. She tried her best to be there for him and figured talking about their wedding and future and how proud his mom would’ve been would help. She had no clue what her fiancée was struggling with.

The church couldn’t be without a leader for long, so despite not being married yet, she went ahead and took control. It was decided they would get married not long after Oliver was done with school, which would only be about a year and a half. A month before they were to be wed, he asked her for help with a forbidden spell. One only found in his family’s tome. She didn’t hesitate to agree. She would do anything for the man she loved, after all, and she was the most magically gifted. Not only that, but she had been in control for long enough, she could finally hear God speak to her. While others before them might have failed, she was confident in her ability to pull this off. There was no way they could fail.

Her only reservations were that they were going to use this spell on an outsider. Even so, with her leading the cult, it only made sense to get everyone’s help with the ritual. Especially as it required a human sacrifice. No one would dare to oppose her, and they didn’t have to bother to come up with a lie for her father-in-law's passing. It took 2 weeks to get everything in order but, it was easier than she thought it would be. 

Everything had gone perfectly. More than perfect even, as near the end of the spell the God everyone had spent their entire lives worshiping appeared to them. It had been a miracle. And then she spoke. Their god detested them. Despised them. Hated them even. Everything she had been taught her whole life had been a lie. Worship didn’t require sacrifice. Their god just wanted to see them suffer just for daring to exist. Their God was nothing like they had been told, except for one thing: She could do anything.

Even if things didn’t go as planned, the spell did work even with all the caveats in place. While her fiancé and many had left the church after the incident, she decided to stay.

No longer would they worship God. No, instead they would search for a way to control God.

After all, she proved to them all that she could do anything they asked of her, she just didn’t want to. All of the sacrifice were all just deterrents for dating to ask for more in life, which meant it wasn’t needed to get what they want. If they could control God, they could have everything they ever wanted and more, and the best thing was they wouldn’t need to give up anything in turn. It was from that day forward they stopped worshiping God and instead went looking for ways to control God.

It was then Aveline would finally leave the compound she had spent her whole life. She would hunt down supernatural creatures and find abounded humans and experiment on them. Find out how to extract their souls and contain it. The only question was would this work on a God’s soul?

It would take a few years to perfect this but, eventually, she was confident in her ability to capture a God. It had gone off without a hitch. They had split their God in two and put it into a vessel strong enough to contain it. All they had to do now was find two people who could control said vessels. 

She had been so close too when suddenly God possessed a pair of twins in a ritual. That had not been a part of the plan. What’s worse is they escaped with the said vessels in hand. Since that day, she has been focusing her efforts on tracking those two down.

No matter what, she will find them again. No one is going to get in her way of controlling God.

[nyxicnymph]

Febru-rarepair-y Day two: Layno: Coffee Shop

"General Mahamatra!" A strong voice, yet frayed by exhaustion, rang out through the halls of the Akademiya.

Cyno paused in his movements and turned. A young woman with starry blue hair and tired golden eyes caught up to him, still shoving papers into her bag.

"Layla," Cyno says as a greeting. "Do you need something? Has one of your papers been stolen again? If the culprit hasn't fled the city, the other Matra are more than capable of apprehending-"

"No!" Layla interrupted, her hands flying up to gesture wildly. "No, no no, nothing like that!"

"Then what do you require from me?" Cyno asked, a raised eyebrow. "I don't exactly have a lot of free time. "

Layla sighed. "I wanted to thank you for your help, so. Please join me at the cafe later. My treat."

Cyno raised an eyebrow. "What are you thanking me for? I did my job."

"Your job saved my academic career! Please just let me repay my debt!"

Cyno sighed. "Fine, I accept. I'll be there in two hours."

Layla nodded, and hurried off. Cyno shook his head when she tripped, but then he followed her and scooped up the books she'd dropped, handing them over with a curt "be careful", before continuing on his work.

--

Layla sat nervously at a table in the cafe, the table empty before her. She didn't want to place an order without Cyno, as she wasn't sure what he would order, and she didn't want to overextend her budget.

She'd lowered her hood, and brushed out her hair a bit, not wanting to look frazzled even though she could physically feel the time she could be spending on school slipping away from her. Her nervousness was slowly spreading through her limbs, and her foot started bouncing on the floor.

If only he weren't so good looking, she reasoned. Then I wouldn't be so freaking nervous.

She shook her head. No, it wasn't his looks that made her anxious. It was the fact that he's the General Mahamatra. A terrifying title with an equally scary job description.

Just then, he walked through the door of the cafe, and Layla sat up, ramrod-straight. He'd left his Matra gear behind, and was wearing some less formal clothing. It was a far cry from the way she usually saw him at the Akademiya, and she had to look away.

"Hello," she began. "I waited for you before ordering."

Cyno nodded. "I must apologize for my lateness, I had to give a longer than usual briefing to the Acting Grand Sage."

"Oh, it's alright. After all, you're an incredibly important man. I'm just a student who can't even keep track of her own papers," Layla laughed nervously before standing up. "ANYWAY. How about I go order our drinks? What do you usually order?"

Cyno looked thoughtfully around the room. "If I'm honest, I've not ordered anything from here before. I'll let you pick for me."

Panic and anxiety swirled together in Layla's mind, overpowering her usual exhaustion. He wanted her to pick? Oh, Archons.

She nodded, and approached the counter, ordering two similar drinks. A medium blend with sugar added in, and a small snack on the side.

She really wanted to make up for her horrible first impression on Cyno. She wasn't always a panicked, frazzled student!

When she returned with the drinks, she handed one to Cyno as she sat down. Cyno tried it, and nodded in approval. But then he looked up, and red eyes met yellow as he spoke.

"Don't expect this to become a regular occurence."

--

A year later, Layla repeated those words to Cyno, and was rewarded with the sight of a flustered general.

"I didn't think you came here every week back then," he defended. "Nor that you would give me a sugar addiction!"

"Caffiene. And you still only come here once a week, I don't think that's an addiction," Layla corrected with a giggle. "More of a habit."

Cyno hid his face behind his hand as Layla continued to giggle.

-fin-

[wanderingstethoscope]

2017, the Year I Nearly Gave Up but Didn’t

I have always wanted to start a blog about my life, but never really got round into doing it. I blame my “all-or-nothing” attitude. No doubt, this mindset has gotten me places in life, but at other times I find myself fighting an internal battle with my own thoughts. So, here I am, a newly graduated veterinarian, at the age of 25, using Tumblr for the very first time. Obviously, life as a vet student got too busy for me to even process my own thoughts and feelings, let alone starting a blog.  Although, perhaps I was “semi-avoiding” those thoughts, as I know, for a fact, that if I do indeed allow myself to dwel into the unknown, I might deterioriate. Besides the overwhelming amount of content that gets taught to us every single day, there was also a seemingly continuous pilling of random assignments, mini exams throughout the semester, dealing with friendships, minimal sleep, etc, and not to mention the pressure to actually perform well. I, unfortunately, gathered the habit of setting unrealistic expectations on myself. Obviously, my mental health was sacrificed, ignored even, that, unfortunately, affected my performace, relationships between family and peers, and also my own self-confidence. Don’t get me wrong, though; vet school is an extremely rewarding degree. On the good days, you get to see the smile on your clients’ faces, the wag of a puppy’s tail with paws too big for their size, purring kitties, the re-visiting old cat with hyperthyroidism that has been improving and still as sweet as ever, and not to mention the lovely teaching staff members and life-long friends that you make along the way. 

Thought I’d share my journey on how I got accepted into the degree; because veterinary science is something many would love to do, but, if you were anything like me, had this belief that this dream of mine was close to impossible.....since I was never naturally smart, and was FAR from being an A+ student. But I am here to tell you today that any dream is possible, you just need to be willing to put in the hard work and grind.  

I completed high school in Christchurch, New Zealand in the year of 2015. As a student, I always had an interest in science and animals; and so veterinary science had always been at the back of my mind ever since. The only problem was, that I never believed in myself. Regardless, I applied for the pre-veterinary programme at Massey University New Zealand, and basically “half-arsed” my way through the first semester. To no surprise, I was not accepted into the degree. I remember contacting the undergraduate staff to seek advice for re-application; and was told, that I was required to get at least ALL A’s for ALL papers for 4 more semesters. That was my wake-up call; that there was really nothing else I’d rather do with my life, so if I really wanted this, I had to put in the work. I remember my father sitting out by the deck at my old house in Christchurch, and me opening the window from my room, saying... 

“Hey dad, um, just so you know, there is a very likely chance that you will not see me for the next 2 whole years, as I will be too busy burying my face in books.”

That was when the grind started; I enrolled myself in other science-related papers such as Biochemistry, Genetics and Conservation. I was studying non-stop, round-the-clock; only making an appearance at meal times. Exam periods were extremely stressful; there was a time when I only had a day to revise a semester’s worth of a Genetics paper...and I was sitting on the floor of the dining room at 2am, bawling and feeling absolutely hopeless (embarrassing, I know, but to my surprise I did well for that paper, lol). I remember setting up unrealistic rules for myself, and my typical day went like this:

4:00 am : Wake up 

4:30 am: Begin study

and pretty much having my head in my books all the way until 10pm. 

Little things would trigger me; such as when I went 2 minutes overtime on a topic, or if my lunch order was late since I had to rush back to study. Not fun. 

2017; the year I finally got my grades up with a GPA competitive enough for vet school. I re-applied for vet in 2017 with a GPA of 8 out of a 9 point scale, with my latest semester grades of straight 4 A+’s. I remember the day that they released the selection outcomes; and the agonising wait that came with it. I was playing a movie on my laptop while spamming the “re-fresh” button on Yahoo! Mail. Results came 2 hours later than the expected time; and without opening the email, I peeked at the first sentence that popped up in the preview; 

“Kia ora Weiyin,” 

What? Why didn’t it start with a “Congratulations!”? 

I clicked open the email and to my utmost dissapointment, I was rejected. The heartache and dismay that came after was nothing like I’ve ever experienced. I gave absolutely everything, continously for 2 whole years, and was still rejected. I cried my heart out. 

As I am writing this, I just asked my beloved grandmother how many tears I cried when I got rejected, and she just answered me with “enough to make my heart break.” 

Why was I rejected? Because the school had implemented a new selection system; instead of the GPA comprising 80% of the overall ranking, it was lowered to just 50%, and the other 50% comprised of non-academic skills i.e. multiple-mini interviews (MMIs), situational judgement tests (SJTs), etc. This implied that not only I had to continue keeping my GPA up, but also to ace the non-academic part of the selection process. 

I felt hopeless at the time, and thought that, maybe, it was just not meant to be. 

Or maybe, just maybe, if I just gave one last try. 

And so I enrolled myself into “Toastmasters”, a public speaking club. There I learned to be comfortable speaking in front of an audience, practice active listening, and form creative ways to craft out a speech. It was such an experience, and it was amazing how easily you can turn nervousness into excitement when giving a speech. Every day, I would practice all kinds of scenarios that were likely to be tested in the MMI. I continued to do these until impromptu speeches felt almost natural to me. 

Year 2018 finally came. I remember it being about 4:00 am in the morning, on the 7th of July 2018, when I checked my email. That was the moment I received my acceptance letter. Of course, my family were all waiting anxiously for my results...

“Hey ma, pa, looks like I’ll be graduating soon...” At the time, I was almost done with completing my Biochemistry degree. They responded with a very saddened “Ohh...”. 

Then I continued, “in 5 years time” ;)

[alive-pancake]

Something that still bothers me about my school life even though it's summer break and this was last year in 7th grade is that I was in high ability class for reading. If you don't know what that is It might also be called Honors or Gifted class but basically you do the work for the next year above you. So if you're a ninth grader you do 10th grade stuff. But anyway.

In order for me to get into HA when I hadn't been in it in 6th grade I had to take a test which makes sense. But a few things went wrong when I took it. The program wasn't uploaded to the testing computers so they had to rush to put it on there. I don't know how they upload it but I swear something had to have gone wrong. The math part of the test was math as you would expect but the reading part had nothing to do with reading at all. It didn't go over paragraph comprehension, reading level, grammar, anything related to reading at all. Instead the test was folding paper.

An example- On the Computer (we didn't have physical paper) it would show a standard piece of paper. Then it would show the paper being folded in different ways to create lines in it. You would have to imagine where the lines were on the paper. That was the reading portion of the exam.

So while I didn't go into 7th grade expecting to be folding paper I took it to mean that I already knew all of the concepts and had all the skills that I would need for 7th grade. I did not.

I had to teach them to myself. And all the rest of the students already knew the concepts that were needed since they had learned them in HA 6th grade. The rest of the students had been in HA for many years prior again 7th grade was my first time.

So we were learning new concepts in 7th grade that required knowledge that I didn't have. Because in normal classes they don't teach them. So I had to teach myself both the old concepts and the new ones that we were actually learning in class. This probably sounds really confusing so here are some examples.

7th grade Ha reading teacher- Today we will be learning the abc concept (new material). Now all of you should know the xyz concept (old material which I never learned) you will need the xyz concept to learn the abc concept.

Rest of the class in 7th grade- Okay (They knew the xyz concept from HA 6th grade so they were prepared for the abc concept)

Me in 7th grade-Okay? (I did not learn the xyz concept since I was not In HA in 6th grade meaning I had to learn xyz and learn the abc concept as well)

Because I had to teach myself xyz I fell behind in learning abc and since we needed abc for the next unit I fell behind in that one as well and that same cycle just continued throughout the whole school year.

Also the reason I believe that the paper text was wrong was because I asked my older sister who has taken the test many times what it was like for her. She had normal math, normal reading, and she also had the paper test but, the paper test was not considered a reading test simply a basic IQ test. So I think in the rush to get the program onto our computers it got messed up and the actual reading questions did not upload and the paper test got labeled as the reading test.

Ha = High Ability (again that is the same thing as Honor or Gifted classes)

[utahbastards]

❛ 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒔. 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕. ❜

► basics;

Full Name: Maya (means; mother) Cardoso (means; full of thistle).

Pronounced: My-ah Car-dos-oh

Nicknames: My

Age: 23

Birthday:  March 30th

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Relationship Status:  It's Complicated

Religion: Athiest

Occupation: Student

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: Brazillian/White

► background;

Place of Birth: Logan, Utah

Hometown: Provo, Utah

Education: High School Graduate, Associates @ Salt Lake Community College

► physical;

Faceclaim: Alanis Guillen

Eye Color: Green Hazel

Hair Type/Color: 3A Curly Chestnut Brown

Height: 158cm/5′3ft

Weight: 68kg/150lbs

Tattoos, Birthmarks, Scars, etc: 

Maya has somewhat significant scarring along the backs of her upper thighs, on her butt, and lower back caused by the belt. They were fading well before the outbreak with consistent use of scar gel and vitamin E cream. She has a small round scar on the apple of her cheek from her incident with her stepfather before leaving home.

► relatives;

Mother’s Full Name: Lorraine Sampson nee Cardoso nee Williams

Mother’s Status: Unknown - 41

Father’s Full Name: Edward Cardoso

Father’s Status: Unknown - Age 43

Siblings: Elijah Sampson - Age 12, Clara Sampson - Age 10, Ivy Sampson - Age 9, Thomas - Age 5, Abel - Age 3, Mary - Age 3

Sibling Status: Unknown

► relationships;

Baby Daddy:

Liam:

Ruben:

► personality;

Positive Traits:  strong-willed, loyal, courageous, resilient,

Negative Traits:  vicious, dogmatic, ill-tempered, dishonest, naive,

introvert / extrovert / AMBIVERT RISK- TAKER / cautious organized / DISORGANISED CLOSE-MINDED / open-minded calm / ANXIOUS / restless DISAGREEABLE / agreeable / in-between patient / IMPATIENT OUTSPOKEN / reserved leader / follower / FLEXIBLE EMPATHETIC / un-empathetic optimistic / PESSIMISTIC / realistic traditional / MODERN / in-between HARD-WORKING / lazy

Moral alignment (chaotic good, lawful neutral, etc): Chaotic Neutral

Mental Health & Mood Disorders : BPD, Avoidant Attachment

Triggers:  Gets reactive to sudden moves, particularly in the vicinity of her face. Reactive to yelling and confrontation.

► misc;

First Book They Read: Goldilocks & The Three Bears

Favorite Book: The Hunger Games

Playlist:  xx

Favorite Film:  Scooby Doo, but her step-dad said it was sinful.

Dietary Requirements: Maya is a vegetarian. She hasn't eaten meat, aside from the occasional fish relapse on and off, predominantly triggered by drunk Mcdonalds orders of fillet o fish at 3am. Maya became vegetarian after finally leaving home, though she ate a largely reduced meat diet from the age of 15 after the incident with the calves.

► back story;

𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄:

Maya's parents had fought most of her life, or at least it definitely felt that way. She had once been four years old with her ear to the door and a wobbling bottom lip as she heard the awful things that they screamed at one another. Her father, muffles and shuffles, another woman ... Something about her mom's brother and all the money he'd lost. Gambled? It was hard to hear but she listened like she'd finally decipher the clue they would miss, that she could give them, to make the screaming stop. Her dad left twice that year, the second time it had taken him over a month to come home. When she was seven, it was her mom that left. She'd eaten nothing but pizza for that week until that had run out too and by the time her mom returned, she'd been eating tinned tomato and old croutons.

By eight, she had grown so used to it she didn't budge when the screaming started, no longer listening, or reaching for headphones, just continuing to order her sims around with an unurgent indifference. It was never anything revelatory. He was a bastard, she was a controlling bitch, he sucked all the joy she had ever had, he loves her so much, he hates her so much. Maya's tension had dissolved to indifference, never startled by their antics, not unless she heard furniture moving at least. She paid no mind to his screaming of divorcing, the packing of bags or the slamming of doors. It was nothing she hadn't seen before. But this time, the papers came. If Maya thought they argued a lot before, it was nothing compared to the dog fight their lawyers charged on, throwing them back in the ring at one another for every dollar. But never for Maya.

Had someone asked her, she didn't know which parent she would have chosen. Her mother was pedantic, unyielding, smothering, and vicious. But she made sure the house was clean and her daughter was fed. Edward knew how to play hide and seek and go to the park, but he'd never done his daughter's laundry or taken her to a doctor's appointment. She was a fun little roommate he bumped into or a pet. He could hardly take care of himself and he made sure to make that abundantly clear to the court when custody was finally brought forth. That he was suitable for weekends- actually make that every other weekend. When he made it clear that he wasn't engaging in tug of war with her, Lorraine dropped the rope too, almost irritated by her near full custody without conflict. Now she had a little Edward with her, no matter how far she moved from him.

Moves that he didn't protest as over the next few years, weekends turned to months, turned to holidays, turned to phone calls. By the time her mom married Amos, he was too far to help her, too removed to care. She'd been nine, moving into his house and forced to call him "Father" before she'd hit ten. The first few years hadn't been horrendous, incredibly awkward, but not unbearable. Amos was Mormon, truthfully she hadn't really known what that meant beyond her secondhand exposure to classmates. He believed strange things and did strange things. Every Sunday they sat in church for hours and hours, only three if she was lucky. Her mom dressed differently and told her all the time how happy it made her. He talked about God(s) a lot, and Maya tried to politely smile through it. Church felt like a game of pretend, like they were all doing a bit that just never ended. She couldn't comprehend that level of belief, which sparked conflict with her curious badgering. Especially when she asked why they always had to give so much money, unmoved by the explanation it would ascend her soul. If people thought her relatively pretty mother had married Amos for his money, they were wrong. He owned a little homestead, a couple acres with a shitty house bang smack in the middle, with a few flocks here and there that he'd been gifted by his brother. Most people saw it as a dump, but truthfully his house was the only thing Maya ever liked about the man. Each morning she wandered off, feeding the sheep and the goats before rifling for eggs from the chickens. Even now, she wishes she could go back and lay in the yard again, listening to the sheep and watching up through the branches. But she would never go home.

When she was eleven, her mom had a boy. Something that made Amos incredibly happy. In fact, Maya was certain she hadn't even really seen him smile until then. Elijah was a little thing, that squawked and giggled when she smiled down at him. She liked to play with his tiny fingers and toes. She didn't mind when her mom asked her to feed him, or change his diaper. Sometimes she liked to pretend he was her little baby to care for, cradling in her small arms as she rocked him. She never got the chance to know if she'd feel the same for the others, when her step father shattered any desire she had to know them.

[TW ABUSE, BELTING]

She thought Amos had been kidding when he told her to bend over the couch. She'd been spanked all her life, but only ever by her mother. When they'd gotten home, his knuckles were still white on the wheel, furious that "his daughter" had been caught saying shut up, in church no less. She'd laughed and shaken her head, brows furrowed with worried doubt however as he advanced, throwing her down, belt in hand as he brought it down on the backs of her thighs, three sharp blows that made her bawl so hard she thought she'd be sick. The dynamic shift was immediate. Amos went from a odd, uncomfortable housemate to the Boogey Man. She winced anytime he came near, lit up with angry eyes whenever he spoke to her. Her mother slunk around their animosity and pretended she didn't feel it. Amos was not her family, Lorraine the coward was not her family, so when they welcomed Clara and not even a year later, Ivy, what business of it was hers that two people she hated had a baby just because they shared a roof. There was no smiles, no cuddles, no favours unless forced.

𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒:

Amos had traded one 5-minute burst of fearful correction, for ever knowing peace again. There was only so many times you could hit someone before being hit just wasn't that frightening anymore. Once Maya realised, there was only so far he could go, there was no power left. So he'd hit her? How was that any different if she got caught drinking green tea versus a cigarette? A few extra lashings, a few more hours she had to pray? There was nothing left to move her. She was no longer content playing with his imaginary friends and became contemptuous every time they had to go to church, making them late and earning welts with their church logo from his belt buckle more than once. When she started laughing between the tears because he was sweating and out of breath, so red-faced and ugly, she really thought he was going to cry.

Maya started stealing at thirteen, but she'd gotten real good by fourteen. If Amos was going to keep pissing their money away into church, while popping another mouth to feed hospital bills to into her mother every couple of years, why should she go without? She stole without hesitation, from people at church-hell from the church, stores, friends, it really didn't matter. It didn't even matter if she wanted it, but she liked the sensation of getting away with it, that was for sure. She loved stealing from her mom, always smiling to herself when the woman drove herself insane looking for something she'd stashed away. That was until she learned how fun it was to slip an item with a sensor into her mom's purse before walking out of target, and just how funny it would be to hear all the whispers through church about the whole "kerfuffle". That month she'd gone without protest, smiling with amusement through every rumour.

[TW ABUSE/ KILLING AN ANIMAL]

At sixteen, money was so tight that the sheep and goats on the farm were now needed for dinner, rather than wool or milk. It had been a talking point for months but no one had pulled the metaphorical or literal trigger. Not until Maya had been outed for being felt up and making out with a boy from church. Amos had yanked her up from the couch, her legs trembling so hard from the belting he had to pull her to her feet over and over. Even her mother had the decency to look down, covering Elijah's ears while he screamed and cried. He'd ordered her outside and before Maya had taken a step she knew why, causing her to break down into pleading sobs. For months, Maya had pleaded the case for the sheep. Amos grabbed his pistol from his truck and began dragging outside again, Maya bawled the whole way. He yelled at her to watch whenever she attempted to look away. He shot the sheep accidentally through the spine rather than the heart, expecting a moment of silent impact but instead, the animal screamed. And kept screaming as Amos began to panic himself sick at the sound, dropping the gun to cover his ears, hoping that it would die any moment. Momentarily, so did Maya, shutting her eyes as her hands did little to muffle the noise. She couldn't take it, grabbing the gun from the ground and shooting again, clearing right through the skull as the animal dropped.

Amos had his new punishment until Maya had robbed him of the satisfaction of that too. By the time he'd needed one of the goats on the table, she did was she was told with unlit eyes and a steady hand and returned inside to her room, quiet and unmoved. She knew that he hated it. Every part. That she could do what he had failed, that he no longer had an escalation to hold over her, that she ate the dinner without tears no matter how many times he baaaaah-ed at her. That any step further he took, Maya would meet him with more resistance. No matter the misery of the act, there was always satisfaction to be found in his frustration.

After the disappointment of the boy from church, Maya used her hidden phone to distract herself. She made fake profile after fake profile, catfishing boys until she worked up the nerve to make a very private but real one for herself. It was there that she met Jack. Jack was twenty and back then, that didn't seem so strange to her. Especially not when he had a car. Truthfully, he had little else going for him. But to Maya? A pizza boy's salary and a car he owned seemed like a fever dream. He drove her around when she snuck out, took her to parties sometimes and best of all; he never mentioned god. She loved him and told herself that often. Loving him was loving everything he did for her, loving him was being as batshit devoted as the world told her to be. Going through his phone, screaming at other girls he talked to, and listening to him tell her how embarrassing and immature it was just for her to scream that if she was so immature maybe he should fuck someone older. They fought often, and they made up often. But she loved him because he'd never raised his hand. She learned to tolerate life for a little while. Even tried not to aggravate her stepfather at every opportunity. In turn, they moved their eyes from her slightly, allowing more time with Jack. And more time with Jack, meant more time in the real world where people had fun.

He broke the peace treaty, was all she could think. She'd thought nothing Amos could do could earn a real response from her anymore, until he'd taken the belt to a six-year-old Elijah. It had only been one strike, dashed out for sneaking candy after he'd been told no three times, but it had been enough to light a fire under her. The moment she heard it crack on the skin, she lunged like a feral animal, trying to pull the belt from his hands so she could wrap it around his neck, as her mother pulled her by her hair, sobbing as she went, in an attempt to get her off. Amos was hitting her but she didn't notice, nor did she notice Elijah running for the kitchen. In that moment she was nails and teeth and everything she'd ever wanted to see happen to her exploded out in an instant, a feral cat mauling him as she wrenched harder and harder for the belt. He brought it down on her face, until she fell to the floor. Her mother fell with her, arms suddenly around Maya, almost like an embrace, almost like a restraint. She didn't remember everything, only that once she'd gone to her room, you could hear a pin drop. All night she'd paced, thinking about how she could walk in when he fell asleep and finish the job until Elijah had tiptoed into her room, asking to sleep in her bed. When morning came, she hadn't been allowed to attend school with her face all bloodied and bruised. She knew what she should've known years ago. How this would end and what choices she had. She should kill him. But Elijah had whispered that he was sorry for his dad, and told her all the nice things he did sometimes in a childish attempt to prove to her that he could be good sometimes. He loved his dad, for better or worse.

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃:

She had packed her bags that morning after Amos had gone to work. She'd already called Jack to come get her, for once allowed to just pull up outside her house rather than a block and a half away. Her mother had been throwing up in the powder room, racked with the worst morning sickness she'd had from any of her priors. Maya went to leave without a word before hesitating outside of the door. "Don't send him looking for me. I'm taking his shotgun. If he shows up somewhere he shouldn't, I'll use it." She'd warned her quietly, the door had almost come off the hinges with how hard the woman thew it open, it was like her voice split; allowing her to scream about three things at once. She grabbed at Maya's clothes until the girl reached for the shot gun placed by the door frame, sending her reeling back wide eyed. She threatened to call the police and Maya smiled and nodded, saying that she'd call them herself.

Reality was, the few attempts to retrieve her over the months that followed, were pitiful at best. Now seventeen and a half, living with Jack in his parents garage as she finished her final year of high school, she realised just how much freedom people actually possessed. She'd almost spilled the glass, with how much her hands trembled the first time she got water in his kitchen without first being offered. She could study with little interruption, she watched real tv on a real tv instead of what she could download and cram onto her burner phone to watch after lights out, she drank coffee in the mornings and liquor whenever she liked. And she liked often. She stopped eating meat, feeling a thousand pounts lighter when she ate her meals now without hearing lamb screeching and guilt pangs in her gut.

She finished school with some difficulty, finally confronting for the first time what she may want to do with her life. Truthfully, she didn't like the idea of working. She felt like a woman fresh out of prison, the thought of being locked in 9-5 for the next fifty years wasn't the exciting one everyone thought it should be when the gushed over her future. But when the guidance councellor asked her if she'd ever considered working in national parks, something clicked ever so slightly into place. She did enjoy the outdoors, hating the sensation of being couped up for too long, she was good at remembering the trails, good at her animal tracks- it was plausible. It was a start.

She and Jack moved to Saltlake City when she started her associates. He was twenty-two now, and unmotivated himself, but as he reminded her with a smile he could deliver pizzas anywhere in the world. She supposed it was endearing and he did do his best to provide. It was his uncles basement that they crashed in both those years after all. Maya thought that she had began to mellow with age, that the thought of him texting other girls used to send her into a manic rage now barely stirred her because she was maturing but truthfully, Jack's entire presence began to chafe. He was all over her, all the time. Never doing anything except bothering her, honestly the thought of him texting someone else sounded kind of nice. If he was honest, his appeal had been freedom, freedom that she now possessed in her own right. So why did she need him? Even still, she never thought about breaking up with him, not even when she made the baffling decision to insist he stay behind when she transferred for her bachelor, insisting that an hour or so drive wasn't even really long distance. Her scholarship covered accomodation- it was a no brainer right? Practically making money. She loved him, of course. But the thought of being on campus without his arm slung around her and his lips glued to her neck... Absence makes the heart grow fonder, it could only be good for them to have a little space.

He texted her three times an hour, at minimum.

going into meeting baby daddy bc she's finally partying without jack and it sparks joy.

maya steals from frat guys and male teachers bc she hates men high key and thinks it's funny. jack is the exception but he should not be bc jacks a loser.

not hooking up for while bc I have a boyfriend soz :(- oops they hooked up. what a time to choose to not use a condom for the first time rip.

lies to her boyfriend about it. he says he's gonna come visit soon and she's like great!! excellent actually

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊:

struggling bc she's a pregnant vegetarian and meat makes her feel sick. she's not morally opposed bc u gotta do what you gotta do but physically she is struggle city.

tries a couple home abortion methods with rubens help to make sure she doesn't mcfucking kill herself in the process, thinks it works but surprise it did not u just made urself bleed that's about it

gotta tell her baby daddy what's been going on

struggles to connect with people due to inherent distrust she has for most people, like she can get along and be like a human, but like once you disagree??? bets are off. likes women more than men, but also kind of hates women bc her mom. only the NB's are safe. but ur on thin ice.

overall, touch starved, angry, wants to drink and smoke but stupid baby inside so she can't. wasn't really interesting in surviving the apocalypse but now has to.

[gatheringbones]

["Learning Powerlessness on the Path to Adulthood

Experiences of confusion and frustration were not limited to the miltary setting: on the contrary, young adults striving for a better future— one in which they earned a college degree, wore "a suit every day," and "even owned things"— encountered obstacles in a wide range of institutions that determined their futures. Whether unable to pay bills on time, fill out paperwork, or argue effectively within bureaucracies, informants could not figure out the logic of institutions, and were left feeling overwhelmed, vulnerable, and inadequate. While the children of the middle class inherit the skills, resources, social networks, and knowledge required to succeed in the today's competitive, individualistic economy (Laurea 2003), working-class young adults like Jalen, Rebecca, Alexandra, or Mindy feel a sense of powerlessness and mystification toward the institutions that order their lives. Over and over again, they learn that choice is simply an illusion.

The most common site where this phenomenon occured was education— the very place where they thought they could acquire the tools to change the direction of their futures. In our conversations, these men and women explained that they felt uncomfortable and unprepared in school, from elementary school and even into college. Daniel, a twenty-four-year old white man who works at a video store outside of Richmond (at least until it is put out of business by online movie companies), was home-schooled by his mother after a fellow high-school student held a pair of pruning shears to his throat. Distracted by the excitement of his part-time job at the movie theater, Daniel recalls floating through his schoolwork:

We had this thing where you get this little book, there are twelve books per grade and you fill out the workbook. And I was sitting there and I was supposed to be working and I just held the pencil and looked like I was doing something, and every ten minutes I would turn the page. Then my mom caught on and yelled at me and I would bring out my books. I was just doodling and scribbling, and she would look at it and get upset and I would have to erase everything and do it all over again.

Daniel's parents believed in education as the key to success and tried to prepare him for college, but without college degrees themselves, they struggled to provide the necessary structure and skills for success. When Daniel enrolled at a private Christian college in the South, his "grades were horrible because [he] didn't do any work in high school." After paying for two semesters fully with loans, he failed out. To make matters worse, Daniel was blamed for property damage to his dormitory and continues to be hunted by debt collectors:

It was damage to the dorm room and the main hall. Which I don't know how they blamed me for that, I think just because I was there and they said I did it. So I got it back to $20 and sent it to them, and now they are giving me a new bill for the whole amount again. And I don't know what happened but it really.... I try to call them, and they say, call your Hire One account. So I call that office, and they say, You have an outstanding balance online, so I go online and they say to call the office. Back and forth. Then they say my account has been deleted. So I can't do anything. I don't know what to do with them. All I can do is look to the future and hope for the best.

The knowledge and skills required for successfully navigating bureaucratic systems continue to elude Daniel, leaving him feeling resigned to his powerlessness in the face of institutions, to say nothing of destroying his credit. He reflected, "I can't even get a bank account or a credit card. I can't even get one to store money in and put away and save. I bought a safe so I could keep my money in it, but it's easy to pick that lock and I put money in and the next day I go in it, it's gone, probably because someone [in his family] took it for gas or for a house payment." Daniel has not, however, abandoned his dreams of higher education; like Rebecca, he wants to be a teacher so that he can help children like himself. Indeed, I met Daniel in the courtyard of a community college, and our interview ended abruptly when he realized he was late for class.

Despite their belief in education as the path to upward mobility, pupils from working-class backgrounds who lack familiarity with the rules of the system enter with a structured disadvantage. Tracked into special education classes and suspended frequently for fights, some who could not wait to leave the field of education, labeling themselves "idiots" who "sucked in school," and judging themselves unworthy of higher education. Others, however, could simply not afford to go (Leonhardt 2005). Alyssa, a twenty-four-year-old parking lot attendant, was admitted to a state college but left before completing her first semester because her family could not afford to pay her tuition. She did not know how to apply for financial aid (or that the Free Application for Federal Student Aid, or FAFSA, existed). She recalled: "It was my mistake; I didn't really look for it as much as I should have. It was hard finding the time for everyone to sit down. I don't know much of our financial situation and I never had the time to sit down with my parents and sort it out. All that stuff."

In line with recent studies, which have found that the majority of eighteen to twenty-five-year olds believe in the value of higher education, these young people buy into "an educational ideology that emphasizes "college for all" (Reynolds and Baird 2010: 168), about half of the young people I spoke with have pursued some kind of higher education. Yet the promise of college enrollment to lead to professional jobs and higher salaries most often were unfulfilled: sixteen dropped out or were expelled from community colleges or universities, while ten linger in a sort of educational limbo, mainly in community colleges, for much longer than the normative four years.

Aside from financial concerns, the other most common reason for leaving college before attaining a degree was fear that the cost of college would exceed the benefits; in these cases, the risk of debt, shouldered solely by respondents, felt too overwhelming. Like many others, Ian, a twenty-eight-year-old white man who works in customer service at a grocery store, dropped out of community college because he could not decide on a major:

I started with art, but I couldn't do the assignments the way I wanted to do them in ways I wanted to express because the ways I wanted to express them apparently were wrong. So I just gave it up. I switched my major to computers. I liked where it was going, but I didn't like the whole programming aspect. Unfortunately, the community college didn't offer a.... they only offered, like, a computer programmer kind of SYS admin sort of thing. They didn't offer anything in the way of PC repair. So I was stuck taking that kind of course, and I really didn't see where it was going.

Working-class young people overwhelmingly believe that picking the "right" major is vital to future success. Rather than understand that college degree as a credential, they see their choice of major as determinating their future trajectories. Describing her sister, who is now a nurse, Mindy explained, "I don't want to go to college for something I don't want to do, you know. My sister did that, she had to go again, so.... Yeah she find out she wanted to do something else and had to go again. I don't want to go to school twice." In these instances, the logic of higher education— that is, the knowledge that what you learn in college is often not explicitly connected to the requirements of middle-class, professional jobs— eludes them, leading to high financial and emotional costs."]

jennifer m. silva, from coming up short: working-class adulthood in an age of uncertainty, 2013

[starlite-png]

(Yet another random normal au idea)

Sam Winchester quits law school after the tragic death of his fiance. Chasing nothing and not knowing what to do, he moves around until he meets Ruby in some city. He finds solace in her, even as she drags him into addiction and involves him in her business with the local gang, but he's too out of mind with grief to care. His addiction spirals and debt to his dealer piles up. He doesn't have the money and just doesn't care enough to worry about being killed for not paying up, so he continues to fall and accepts his fate. The last thing he expected to see when they finally did drag him away was to see his estranged older brother, but what's worse is watching helplessly as Dean makes a deal trading his own freedom for Sam's life.

Eileen Leahy is a private detective determined to find justice for her parents' death at the hands of a gang run by Azazel. Due to her own deafness, she befriends a mute man who lives in her apartment complex. Over time, Dean becomes like a brother to her, and her one refuge from the path of vengeance she's on.

When Dean is seemingly kidnapped by the same gang that killed her parents, Eileen searches tirelessly for her friend. In her search for answers, she finds out that not only does Dean's younger brother live in the city, but he also has connections to Azazel's gang. She tracks him down, finding him holed up in a run-down motel in the midsts of withdrawal. She soon realizes through his manic ramblings and frenzied explanations that Dean had been found by Azazel and threatened him to pay for his brother's debt if he didn't want Sam to die.

Dean Winchester gave up on his dreams in order to stay and take care of his dying father. Its rough work, the man had been abusive since Deans mother had died, and money was always tight with all the medical bills. Isolated for years and increasingly dissillustioned with life, he finds himself unable to speak more than the few words he is required. After John dies, he runs away to the city, unable to stay in the house where he had been hurt so much and trying to give life one last chance. Using the money he got from selling his old house, he pursues his dream and moves into an apartment complex in tbe city. There, he meets a deaf private detective who becomes like a sister to him. He's going through a rough patch, struggling with his trauma and his nearly non-existent career, when a knock comes to his door in the middle of the night. A man named Azazel is at his door. The gang leader and his goons force their way inside and inform Dean that his little brother Sam is in debt with their gang. Seeking compensation, Azazel demands the money from Dean, but bring unable to pay, Azazel offers an alternative. Dean could save his brother's life by paying with his freedom: by working at a local 'club' run by a sleezy gang member named Alistair. Dean doesn't have to think about it; Sam may have abandoned him, but Dean would still do anything to look after his little brother.

Cue Sam and Eileen taking down Azazels gang, falling in love, growing as people, and meeting friends and foes along the way (including Castiel: one of the only detectives in the police force who's not corrupt and Rowena: a member of the gang whos seeking to take them down from the inside and many more).

[ketso]

Episode 53

Today, I'm having lunch with my sister wives. They invited me to lunch because we apparently need to talk. Thabang has seriously axed them. I thought that he would've calmed down by now, but he's even shocking me at how unforgiving he is about this situation. I was more shocked when the sister wives phoned me, telling me that they'd like us to meet up and chat. Imagine. I just don't want trouble. I really don't. So I hope this isn't some shit.

I've dropped my kids off at school. I've been working since 4am this morning, so I'm in a good position to take lunch today.

I arrive at Reahile just after 1pm.

They haven't arrived yet. I order myself a glass of wine then phone my husband to check in.

"My love", he answers his phone.

"Hey you. Ujwang?"

"Ke shup, my baby. How are you?"

"I'm fine. I just wanted to check in. I miss you a bit. It’s as if I didn't wake up next to you this morning."

He laughs a bit.

I giggle.

"I’m serious." I say.

He's still laughing. Then he says, "do you want to come by my office?"

"You not busy?" I ask.

"I am. But I'll always make time for you."

"You sure? I mean, I deliberately stay away from places you don't invite me to because I don't want to find myself bumping into women you are busy with."

"Morafe, I'm not cheating on you."

"Would you admit it if you were?"

"I'd tell you. Yes."

"Do you intend to cheat on me?"

"No. You are enough for me. I mean that."

I'm quiet.

My wine arrives. I thank the waiter. I return to my call.

"Love", me.

"Where are you, baby?"

I didn't tell him about this meeting.

"I'm having lunch at Reahile." I say.

"With?"

"Mmakabelo and Mahali."

"Why, Morafe? Why?"

"They asked to see me. With everything going on, I thought I'd just hear them out."

"Morafe"

"My baby, I'll come by your office when I'm done. I'll even bring you some... you know... di-sweets."

He laughs.

I chuckle too.

I see Mmakabelo and Mahali walk into the restaurant.

"Babe, they've arrived. I have to go." I say.

"Phone me as soon as you are done there."

"I will."

They get to the table.

"I love you, Morafe." He says.

"I love you too, baby." I say.

They seem hurt. They look at each other. They sit down. I hang up.

"We apologise for being late. We had to take taxis", Mahali says.

A lot of people take taxis. They won't die. So, I'm not moved by that statement.

They order water.

Are they broke too?

But I just look at them, I don't show any emotion towards what's happening.

The waiter leaves.

"Morafe, we cannot continue to live with Thabang’s mother. It's just a lot and we are not coping. Mama is... a lot. And we don't have anything. The Mothipas are not looking after us at all. Our kids are in village schools. Tumelo cannot do anything. He's in prison. Kgomotso, who is currently in control of his estate because Thabang handed over everything to her in him wanting nothing to do with all of us, she has shut us out completely. She only helps her house and Tumelo’s second wife. She doesn't even look at us or our kids." Mmakabelo explains.

This is a lot.

But I'm still confused about what is required of me here.

"We tried to go see Tumelo in prison. But Kgomotso cut us off his visitor's list and banned us from seeing him." Mahali.

I like Kgomotso. She's crazy and no one can do anything about it.

I'm still looking at them.

"Re kopa thuso, Morafe." Mmakabelo.

"What kind of help, exactly?" I ask.

"We know that you can get us a visit with Tumelo. Please help us get a visit with him. We need to talk to him to talk to a lawyer so that Kgomotso doesn't have this kind of power over his money because our kids are suffering and it's not fair. They are his kids too." Mmakabelo. These two really know how to look out for themselves.

"Why don't you just go to a lawyer and get that lawyer to help divide his estate?" I ask.

"With what money, Morafe?" Mahali.

"Nna, I don't want to get involved. I actually have a decent relationship with Kgomotso and I'm not trying to ruin that because the two of you are down and out after betraying her."

"Betraying her?!" They collectively say.

"Or whatever you call it. I'm not getting involved."

"Morafe, do you think we'd be here begging you for help if we had options? You are our only hope! Our last hope! Please Morafe. Thabang has completely cut us off. He even served us with divorce papers." Mahali.

"So you want a meeting with Tumelo that you want me to arrange?" I ask, ensuring that I'm clear.

They nod their heads. Then Mmakabelo says, "and a better divorce settlement from Thabang."

I actually laugh.

"Morafe, he wants to leave us with nothing." Mahali.

"Well, what did you come into this marriage with? What did you accumulate in this marriage?" I ask.

"Who do you think you are?!" Mahali.

"You called me here. I'm okay without the regular update of what's happening in your lives. You don't need to update me and keep bothering me for whatever help you need. Are you that arrogant to assume that I'll just help just nje? Because you said so?" I say.

"Thabang can afford to look after us. We know he can."

"It doesn't mean he has to", I say.

"What happened was not out of malicious intent." Mmakabelo.

"To be honest with you, I'm getting tired of listening to this. I've heard the story and I'm tired of hearing it on repeat as if there's a point that I've missed somewhere. You can either get a lawyer and fight this legally, or just let it be!" I say.

They are taken aback.

"Are we done here?" I ask.

They are silent... but hurt.

"Guys, I'm sorry. I don't know what to tell you and I don't know how to help you. Thabang is my husband and he's deeply hurt by this. And he feels unseen in all of it. Everyone is telling him what to do, but no one is acknowledging how he feels. He feels unprotected. You guys have the family protecting you. I'm all he has. Right now, I cannot be anything that contradicts his emotional and psychological security. Askies. I really cannot help you." I say.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you? The wife that Thabang has and can lean on... the last wife standing... the one who didn't betray him. This is all good for you." Mahali.

"First of all, I didn't ask you guys to sleep with your husband's brother instead of talking to him about what the problem was. I'm not going to apologise for being someone that he can trust. And secondly, my husband is hurting. I lie next to him everyday. I wake up next to him everyday. I'm the one witnessing him processing all of this and coming to terms with the fact that his life is not what he thought it was. I love him. This has never been a competition for me. You know, I'd feel better if he were just being unreasonable and being an absolute asshole. Then, I'd even help you without him knowing it. At least he wouldn't be hurting. But you are all so committed to being right that no one can acknowledge what your actions have done to him. My house right now is not one big party, celebrating this mess. My kids try everyday to make this a little bit better for him even though they have no idea what's going on. I'm hugging him even when I'm not sure what he needs so that all of this can be okay. Thabang is hurt!

If you feel anything at all for him... anything... you'll at least acknowledge his wound. You'll at least acknowledge what it has done to him and you'll acknowledge that to him, it hurts... whether you believe you were wrong or not. Maybe that's the breakthrough that you need to get through to him and tell him what you need."

They actually look at each other.

"I really have to go. But seriously guys... good luck. I truly mean that." I say, leaving R4500 on the table. My wine glass was only R750. They can decide what they do with the rest of the money.

...

I arrive at Thabang’s office just after 3pm. I went to a lingerie store and bought something cute to wear underneath my button dress. I’ll just distract him a little bit, but not go all the way. His office is all the way transparent - glass walls and a glass door. So he has a view of everything happening on his floor, and his staff has full view of what’s happening in his office. Thankfully, its sound proof though. So real privacy is actually in his insuite restroom. I'll probably just work from here for the rest of the day. His office is big enough. Plus, I need to do my debrief with Mofomahadi today. She's still in South Africa, but she comes around to the kingdom on a much more regular basis now that the school is almost up and running. I'll be assisting with shortlisting staff and school children. The applications we've received and continue to receive are insane. There are even campaigns for a similar school to be open here in the kingdom. Ja neh...

As I make my way up the elevator taking me to my husband's office, I get a call from Mosetsana.

"Hey baby girl", I answer my phone.

"Mama, I'm just telling you that we are all home now. That's why I have my phone. So if you see me online anywhere, just know that I'm home and I didn't take my phone to school."

I want to laugh neh.

"Thank you, my baby. Thank you for being such an obedient child. I love you so much."

"I love you too, mommy. When will you and papa be home?"

"Before 7pm. We will all have dinner together." I say.

"Okay. Perfect."

"How's your brother? And how's Meme?"

"We are all fine. Mamane Meme is making us lunch then it's homework time", she says.

"Okay baby. I'll check homework and all books when I get home. I love you guys. Give your brother a big kiss for me."

"I will. Bye. I need to save my airtime." Ngwana oe!

"Bye nana", I say.

She's already hung up.

I just find myself laughing to myself.

I walk into the office open plan floor. Some people are chatting, and some are focused on their laptop screens. I briefly greet everyone, then I head straight to my man's office. His PA doesn't like me. And it's fine. She doesn't have to like me. I don't need her to like me. I just simply don't acknowledge her and she hates that the most about me. She can actually fuck off. Mahali once told me that she used to fuck Thabang. Of course I'm not going to recognise her as a person. And if she even rubs my skin up the wrong way, I'll have her fired. And I think she knows it. Everyone in this office knows it.

"Sphalaphala", Thabang says as I walk into his office. He gets up from his seat and makes his way to embrace me. I catch the PA getting mad from the corner of my eye. I also catch the entire open plan watch her die inside. Let me make this good.

"Hello, my handsome husband. Ujwang?" Me, all over my man, even feeling his dick get hard as he presses himself against me. I unbutton five buttons from my dress and he cannot even hide that he wants me... right here! Right now! His kisses start becoming sexual. Then I'm after I'm satisfied that the PA bitch has got the message, I stop my man saying, "love... your office is watching."

"Let the watch. My guy is excited. What am I supposed to tell him? Come on, baby. Okay, I'll only put in the head."

I laugh and say, "Thabang, no. Come, sit with me."

"Okay let's go to the toilet", he says.

Now I'm in stitches.

Let me turn this down a notch.

"Where you used to fuck that PA who disrespects me so much? No thanks. We are not the same calibre of woman. Please don't treat us as such."

Now he feels... I don't know.

He's still so hard that he limps back to his chair, but at least he's left me alone. Good!

I decide to sit on top of him on this chair. It's my way of saying, I'm not angry but don't ever touch that bitch again. He lets me. He even sits back and puts his hands behind his head.

"So, ujwang?" I ask him.

"Ai, I'm just..."

"Keng? Talk to me, love."

"I think my father told the board about what's going on and they've definitely lost faith in me as their CEO. It's just not pleasant working here anymore. I just want to get the fuck out of here, Mo."

"So, baby, why don't you leave? What are you still sitting around here for?" I ask him.

"My love, we have responsibilities. I can't just stop working."

"Thabang, le wena you like expensive responsibilities. You are more than able to stop working here, and actually do something that will bring you genuine joy."

"What do you mean?"

"T, do you know where I lived before I moved back home?"

He looks at me.

"I lived in a backroom... in a shady township that had thugs roaming around like it was paradise. The rooms next to me was occupied with people who were formally employed but were earning next to nothing, people who lived on piece jobs, and criminals. There was no vetting of tenants there. If you could afford to pay your R800 rent at the end of the month as well as your R1500 non-refundable deposit, you could stay there. In that one backroom that I stayed in, I had curtains to divide a one room into a bedroom, a dining room and kitchen. I had to buy my own two-plate stove to create that kitchen-nyana. And that backroom, T, was smaller than this very office. I lived in there with two kids and an abusive man that I wanted to run away from every moment that I was breathing."

He looks at me as if amazed how anyone could live under those conditions.

"My point is, Thabang, I didn't even think that I was suffering because there were people who still had it worse than me. So if you are too afraid to follow your heart and your dreams because you don't want us to suffer, you married someone who has a PhD in suffering and I can tell you right now that we will not suffer. We will definitely downsize because truly speaking, we don't need all of this. We can sell that house that we live in and get something nice, smaller, and fitting for our kids and us. We can have one domestic worker who comes in ho seng then knocks off at the end of the day. We don't need three stay in domestic workers. I have a great stipend for a house at the royal house. We can get something decent. We can sell our cars. We don't need this many cars. I have one car that's fully paid for by the royal house. We can afford another car so we have two vehicles. We will do our own school runs. We don't need drivers. The royal house pays for school fees. With all that money from selling the house and cars, plus the money we will make from savings by not having so much staff around us all the time, plus the money you'll get when you resign from here, you can start your dream... whatever it is. I have a salary... a very good one. There are hosueholds with a joint income that doesn't even amount to what I make. I'll carry us until your dream is standing. Plus, I also have savings because you told me to not overspend with my salary. I could also chip in. My point is... I'm not a responsibility or a liability in your life, T. I'm your wife. Ke molikane wahao.... your partner. Your equal. I don't love your money. I love you. And I want you to be happy. Everything we build for our kids and for ourselves is built by both of us. I don't expect all of this to fall on your shoulders alone. Ke teng, motho waka. And I'm not just here for the sex. I'm here for real."

He looks at me. He's even crying.

...

"How did I get so lucky?" I ask her.

She smiles at me.

"Why didn't you come into my life a lot earlier, Morafe? Why?"

"I don't know, baby. But I'm here now. Let's do this." She says.

"I don't know where to start." I honestly become vulnerable with her.

"Okay... let's say that I came into your life when we were still teenagers... when you were still this fat and chubby little guy with a big bum that had a school bag as wide as an old man's shoulders that always sat on the top part of your ass."

I'm in stitches!

Morafe o ntlwayelo masepa if I'm being honest.

She's also laughing.

"Let's say I agreed to be your girlfriend then. How would you imagine that our lives would have turned out?" She says.

After laughing, I actually think about this. I allow myself to go there, then I tell her...

"I would've married you the minute you turned eighteen and matriculated. Then I would've taken you away from the madness and captivity that comes with being born into a royal family. Because the shit never ends. And I loved you so much - I still love you so much that I do not want you to think that's acceptable. Just look at what we've been through."

"Don't digress. Let's stay on our journey as young Mr and Mrs Mothipa." She says.

I smile.

"Where would you have taken me?" She asks me.

"Taung. Definitely. I love this city. But I'd move us to the more quiet side of it, you know. Where the royal house is. I'd buy us land, and I'd build you the kind of house you would've wanted regardless of where we ended up living. Then I'd open a game reserve lodge."

"A game reserve lodge?" She's so shocked.

"Yeah. The accommodation rooms would be a rondavel, you know the ones we have ko mahayeng?"

"Ja..." She's really interested. No one has ever been this interested in my dream.

"Yeah... but inside, it's a five-star hotel room... all white... with a shower located outside so that they shower privately, but in the bush."

"And what happens in winter? Because Tholoana Kingdom plus it's rain... this place gets shit cold in the winter." She says.

"We will have an option to close just the shower area to trap heat in while the people take a shower."

She gives me an impressed look.

"We will have entertainment, definitely. But the main attraction will be our kingdom itself. How the black man and black woman is designed to win in this kingdom. We have a template that the world is dying to copy. What better way to show them while accommodating them, hosting their conferences and stays in our very land? Our game drives will not only include seeing animals and learning about the kingdom, but we will have higher packages that include meeting business owners of Tholoana Kingdom and their journeys in this kingdom of ours. Our highest package would be a meeting with the king and queen themselves. And they'll give us a tour of why our country is Morafe."

"Morafe?"

"Yeah. That's what I also want to call my lodge. Not only because I love you so much, but because your name is so powerful, Morafe. When we talk about Morafe, we talk about people who are of ancestors of land and will one day become ancestors to the next people. It's not only royalty based. It's everyone. My lodge is for everyone and they'll be treated as we should treat ancestors because when they leave this earth, they bless the generations that remain. That's how our kingdom prospers. The royal family will talk about Morafe wabona. Because Morafe wabona has led us through centuries, and small and poor as we may be as a kingdom, we are rich in things that many other countries are still trying to win at. I want my reserve and the experience there to depict that."

She looks blown away.

She holds my hands then says, "today, you will hand in your resignation. While you serve your six months notice, we will look for a new home in Taung royal lands then start preparing to move there. I'll chat to Mofomahadi as well and ask her for a meeting with herself and the king. Then you will go in there and pitch this miracle that you've just pitched for me. I'll help you. And I have it on good authority that the king will be putting some land up for sale soon. Let's meet him before it goes out."

"You serious?" I ask her.

"It's our dream now, Mr Mothipa. It's our legacy now. We can do this. And if you want a quick win, get involved in this school business that Mofomahadi is so invested in. You'll win them over instantly, especially Mofomahadi. And if she says yes, she will do the rest of the work for us le morena."

I just kiss her.

I wish we could have sex.

I love her so much. I feel like I've finally found the substance that we are taught we will find in marriage. I've found it three wives later. Now I just need to make sure that those other two sign the damn divorce papers so that I can rebuild - without them!

Morafe decided that she would work from my office for the rest of the day. I'm honestly inspired by how happy she is in her job and how well she connects with Mofomahadi. I've been listening to her calls and she's really amazing as the queen's assistant. I can see how the queen only wants her. I heard that the queen even fired the king's assistant and now Morafe works for the both of them. It came with a handsome bump in her salary. But she's good. They are not blowing steam up her ass, she's amazing at this.

I've also typed up my resignation letter and I have sent it about five minutes ago. I'm making the right decision. I have the perfect support by my side. I'm going to be okay.

Morafe finishes her meeting with Mofomahadi and Morena at 6pm. I heard her commit to working on something tonight, so I know she's having a late night. I decide that I'm going to work on my proposal for my game reserve lodge. I won't get a chance this weekend because I heard that we are having a kids' day what-what with Morafe's friends and their men and kids at Tholoana World - our very own African Disney World. It will be an all day affair from what I understand. It will be Wandi, Senzi and their new baby. There will be Basetsana, Keith and their son - Risuna. There will be Tamia, Ntuthuko and all all four of their kids. Then it will be Morafe, myself and our three kids - Meme, Mosetsana and Tshenolo. I'm just happy that I'm cool with these guys. These women love each other too much. They've forced a friendship amongst the kids. So us guys have just got with the program.

Morafe and I drive home, following each other because we came here with different cars. I'm being driven and she's driving herself.

I get a call from my mother. Ey! I wonder.

"Hi mah."

"So you and Morafe first threaten us to make sure that you don't lose the businesses that you've been looking after, only for you to just throw it back in our faces by resigning? What game are you planning exactly?" She's already spitting anger.

"Mah, I'm just returning what's rightfully yours. You and papa were right. I shouldn't have a right to things you've worked hard for if I'm not prepared to play ball with what you require of me. And I'll never play ball with what's required of me at the moment... to raise kids that are a significant reminder of how my entire family betrayed me and how my own brother ang'jetsi direte."

"Thabang -

"So mama, I'm giving it all back to you because I don't want there to ever be a day where you ever hold anything over my head and tell me to be grateful because you made me. I'll have my own things- things that all of you in that kraal will have no claim over. I'll be okay. My family and I will be fine."

"Do you think Morafe will stay with you when you are broke?"

"Fortunately for me, Morafe is nothing like the women that you all chose for me and decided to call my wives. Whatever happens, we will be okay."

"Then maybe she must treat her family better as she climbs off that high horse of hers."

"Excuse me?" Me.

"Ja. Her mother, sister and sister's children are in hospital. The community burned their house down because of this thing they call a job. No one appreciates their husband sleeping in that house with those over-used and abused vaginas. So the community taught them a lesson. In fact, I hear that one of the sister's children is in a very critical and unstable condition. Anything could happen to that child at any time."

"And you just let that happen?"

"What did you want me to do? Am I the one who told them to go and be village bicycles? To go tare down people's families?"

"No, you are not. But you are a leader... an upholder of the law in that community. If I remember correctly, you took an oath to be for the people regardless of how you feel about them. Now I'm sitting here thinking that you probably incited that violence to try and get back at Morafe."

"Would you blame me? She took my child away from me. My family is falling apart because of her, after I trusted her with you. Now that I think about it, she's exactly like her mother and her sister. Coming between families is their specialty and they are so skilled at doing it. The other two just use their vaginas with different men. Morafe solely focuses her vagina on you."

"Where would you prefer her to focus her vagina? On my brother? Like you told my other wives to focus their vaginas?"

Now she's quiet.

"If I find out that you had anything to do with the burning down of the Letuka family home, I will personally report you to the police and you'll share a home with Tumelo behind bars. That's a promise."

She giggles then says, "please! I'm your mother! You would never do that to someone who gave birth to you."

"Would you like to put some money on that? If you are behind this, you've gone too far! And you will pay for it."

I hang up.

I make some calls and organise for Morafe's family to be moved to a private hospital here in Taung. I'm given confirmation that they'll be here by midnight.

I don't know how I'm going to tell Morafe about this.

Yoh!

I do however, phone a PI that I trust... that not even my family knows and I ask him to investigate what happened at that house and who is responsible for that fire.

...

Midnight

Morafe and I are in the waiting area. One of Mmaletuka's kids managed to run away on time. The seven year old. I don't know how she processed all of this so quickly. She's the youngest of the four kids. The two middle ones are really bad. We don't know where the eldest one is. Apparently, she wasn't even in the house. The youngest one was found by the police. So she's just getting checked to make sure that she's fine fine. It’s the kind of checks that don't happen in government hospitals. In government hospitals, if you don't have visible burns, you can go. People need your bed. Here, they even check your emotions. But she should be coming home with us tonight. Meme is here with us, so Mosetsana and Tshenolo are asleep at home with the nanny. Meme and Morafe are shaking. I've given them coffee. I'm not sure what else to give them.

The mom looks like she's going to make it. The doctors even say that she's out of danger. The sister... eish... she was apparently beaten up really badly before she was set alight, thrown into the house then burnt up with the house. She was even found with her ass in the air in some woman's house with that woman's husband as well as three other men who are husbands to women in that community. She hosted a whole orgy in another woman's main bedroom. Imagine! If that girl was operating in another place, she'd be rich... living in some mansion and flaunting the Instagram dream life. If she's that brave with her vagina, a lot of men would be more than happy to sponsor the good life for her. But she didn't have access to the right places and the right connections. Shame man. I'm sure those she did that shit for will never experience such again at the rate that Mmaletuka was charging. The doctor told us that her still being alive right now is a miracle. But it's not looking good.

"Yoh bathung, mamane. What happened?" The eldest one comes running into the hospital. She looks like she just left a party. She's in heels, a very short skirt, an uncomfortably tight top that exposes her entire stomach... her makeup is very weird. Her hair is... actually, she looks like she just had sex. And she's with some guy. I know this boy. He's a son to one of my business clients.

"O tswa kai wena?!" Morafe is already being a parent.

"I went out with my boyfriend. Mama had given me permission", the girl replies. She seems scared of Morafe, but she also seems like she will give us shit.

Morafe stares at her. I can tell that Morafe is judging her sister's parenting this very moment.

"Mamane, what happened hle?" The girl asks.

"The community set the house alight. Thato was able to run away. So she's fine. She's being checked out. Mama - well, koko wahao - she's looking okay. Apparently, she's out of danger. Mmaletuka... she might not make it. Yena as well as your other two sisters... it's bad." Meme tells her.

She looks like she's about to pass out. Her boyfriend is comforting her though.

"Where are we going to live? What about all of our stuff that's in that house? So we have nothing? And why did they do this? Why?!" She keeps saying.

"Sit down, Palesa. There's nothing anyone can do. We just have to wait." Meme.

"Mamane doesn't want us. Mama told us. If Mama dies, nna leThato re tloya kai?" Palesa says.

"Just sit down and keep quiet. It's that mouth that will have you homeless." Meme tells her.

Ja neh, we are going to have our hands full mo.

"Yoh maweh! Yoh yoh yoh! Modimo waka." She keeps saying. She's even crying now. She's gone from shock to realising that this is really happening.

From what I've gathered, Palesa - Mmaletuka's eldest - is twelve. So I understand why Morafe is judging Mmaletuka for letting her twelve year old go out with a boyfriend on a school night... a boyfriend that's licensed to drive and is in matric. Hai. Then the middle two are aged ten and eleven. Ja, Mmaletuka doesn't play. Thato then came last and she's seven. All four girls are not too far off in age.

The doctor comes by with Thato. Thato is wide awake and even bouncing around.

"Yoh nana", Palesa is so happy to see her sister. They hug each other. I catch Morafe smiling at them.

"U shup?" Palesa asks Thato.

Thato just cuddles her sister. She's traumatised this one.

The doctor explains to us that she's fine. But she will probably need counselling. She gives us some meds in case she struggles to sleep.

"What about my mom? And my other two sisters?" Palesa immediately asks the doctor.

The doctor looks at Morafe and I as if enquiring if Palesa should be asking questions.

"She's my niece. It's okay. She can be here for all updates", Morafe says.

The doctor nods her head then says, "I'm sorry, Mrs Mothipa. We tried our best. But Mmaletuka Letuka has passed away."

I see a tear slip out of Morafe's eyes. I hold her. Palesa is screaming and has thrown herself on the floor. Thato is comforting her.

The doctor now focuses on me. I'm the only one that's not falling apart.

"Reabetsoe Letuka passed away in the ambulance on their way here", the doctor.

Now Morafe is shaking. I'm assuming Reabetsoe is one of the other daughters.

"And Precious Letuka... we lost her on the operating table. I'm really really sorry." She says.

Now Morafe folds into my arms and let's me be her pillar. I hold her tightly and give her her right to mourn. It feels as if Palesa had taken that away. I'm giving it back to her. Regardless of their relationship, Mmaletuka was her sister. And no matter what anyone says, we basically have two more kids in our hands - one of which has just sworn on her mother's life to give us hell and show us teenage flames. My wife needs to mourn right now. Because after this moment, everything... and I mean everything, will be in her hands. From these kids, to her mother, to what happens next for them.

We get home just after 2am. We had to call an undertaker to come collect the three bodies after Morafe viewed them. The hospital does not have a mortuary because it's a private hospital and I don't know what else. Morafe and I had to tell her mother and she was so hysterical that she was sedated back to sleep.

Morafe is the one that takes Palesa and Thato to their rooms - the vacant guest bedrooms. She also gives them some pyjamas. She tells them to shower then sleep.

I'm downstairs drinking some hard liquor.

My PI phones me.

"Sho", I answer.

"Mr Mothipa... it was a good idea to have everyone involved in this arrested. They sang like birds and even provided evidence of the fact that your mother, Mmakabelo and Mahali are all behind this. They've been planning this... talking to people for the past two weeks. Then they started the protest. Mmakabelo is the one who set the house on fire."

I take a deep breath. How am I going to tell this to Morafe?! My family is the reason why hers is in this state?! Yerrrr!

"What do you want me to do, Mr Mothipa?" He asks me.

"Arrest them. I'll deal with them tomorrow. I need to be here for my wife tonight."

"Are you sure? I mean... it's your mother and your wives."

"Arrest them. They've committed a crime. And make sure that they are separated. But each one must be in a populated cell of people awaiting trial."

"Yoh, Mr Mothipa."

"Ja. We don't need them putting stories together or devising how to get out. They must be treated like prisoners. No mercy."

"Sho."

"Bye."

I hang up.

"Who is getting arrested, Thabang?" Morafe.

I didn't see her standing behind me.

I actually get a fright.

She's looking me straight in the eye.

I take a deep breath.

"Thabang?"

"Mmakabelo. Mahali. Mama."

She wipes tears off her face. She looks away. Then she looks at me.

"Did they do this?" She asks me.

I nod my head.

I can't even describe the look on her face.

"Why?" She's so broken.

I just hug her.

I don't know what else to do.