#fun fact that person was a psychology major so they were actually using a textbook | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lebrookestore · 4 years ago

Text

four years, one night

Pairing: Ten Lee x female reader

Themes: SLOWBURN, best friends to lovers, player! ten, fuckboy! ten, fluff, humour, angst, sexual tension, college au, some talk about music

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex (?kinda), ten is kind of an asshole, reader calls herself a dumb bitch, bittersweet ending, three kisses, kissing, gets a little spicy in one scene but that’s about it, PG15

WC: 10.8k

Playlist: Dream Launch by Wayv, Never let you go by AleXa, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, Young again by Morgan Evans, Without You by NCT U, The Tempest by Beethoven (this looks so out of place eye-)

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @1-800-seo @sweetlyjaem @badwithten @blueprint-han @chicksung

Summary: Ten was a fickle person, he jumped from one person to another, breaking hearts, and getting his own heart broken. The one person who had to pick it up every time? You, of course, and it was exhausting, especially when you had to watch.

day break [ extra piece based in this universe ]

A/n: hello! this fic is very much self indulgent, but i love it so much. I spent most of the last week working on it and half of it is me simping, and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to @chicksung for beta reading and helping me throughout writing this. As always, feedback would be very much appreciated!

‘I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong’- Lemony Snicket

A loud slam of the door made you flinch, shutting your eyes in exasperation as you knew what was to come. The same thing over and over again, you were used to it. Honestly, it was nothing new, but his stupidity, the obvious was in front of him, but did he listen? Of course, he didn’t.

A figure walked into the room, a mop of messy black hair with brown highlights adorning his head. It was pretty long at this point, his bangs reaching his eyes. Those damning eyes, melting pools of chocolate brown that seemed to bore into your soul. Those eyes looked remorsefully at you now, as he plopped down next to you, wrapping his arms around your midriff and burying his face in your back.

You sighed. “Again?”, you asked, running your fingers through his hair as he hummed a response. “Again”, he repeated, confirming your suspicions. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

You hated his eyes.

He managed to make you do anything for him with just a look. They were undoubtedly your weakness, when they looked sad, or when they upturned into a smile, that instantly brightened your day.

“I can’t seem to get it right can I?”, he asked, searching your eyes as if you had all the answers to his turbulent love life. You scoffed, “You couldn’t have been serious about that chick, Ten, you met her three weeks ago, and she was simply a rebound for you” “Thanks for the support”

“I’m being real, not supportive”

He rolled his eyes, pouting. “But I liked her”, he whined. You gave him a pointed look, “Please, You just wanted someone to be with, if not to fu-” “Oh my god, shut up”

You smirked, turning your attention back to your laptop, where the essay you had been trying to write glared back at you.

“I just want someone who understands me”, Ten continued, still looking at you. You looked at him.

I understand you, you thought, I’m here

Ten had always been like this, he jumped from girl to girl, getting his heart broken several times because he was too forgiving with it. He wanted to love, he had always romanticized the idea. Honestly, you thought he needed love too, but he was going down all the wrong paths.

And you had to be there every single time to pick up the pieces.

“I know”, you said half-heartedly, biting your lower lip. He propped his chin upon his fist, observing you and your concentrated look. You typed away, desperately wanting to be done with this paper, one you had been working on for about three days.

“Do you think I’ll ever do something right?”, he asked. You froze, pushing down what you wanted to say. It was hard, having to deal with Ten's endeavors of the heart’ as he called them. The right term would be- doing random shit and breaking girls' hearts', but of course, he refused that catchy title. Sighing, you shut your laptop, knowing you wouldn’t get anything done now that he was in a mood.

“You haven’t done anything wrong” “Haven’t done anything right either”

You took his face in your hands, “You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re amazing, now stop moping, I’m ordering pizza”

He pulled away from you, sitting up properly. “Can I stay over?”, he asked hopefully. You clicked your tongue, looking at him with an annoyed expression. “Don’t you have your dorm?” “My roommate said he has a girl over, and I kinda want to sleep, thanks” You rolled your eyes, but nodded, picking up your phone and walking into the other room to order.

You heard laughter and looked back to see the boy laughing at something on his phone. Probably a cat meme, or something of the sort. You admired his side profile for a minute, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes shone. He was okay, you supposed, annoying, but okay. No matter how much he tried to justify it, he didn’t care for the girl who broke up with him. He was just fine right now, and had moved on from the topic pretty quickly, and was already smiling.

You also hated his smile. Infuriatingly adorable, one smile would make you want to smile back. You hated it with every ounce of your being, the effect he had on you.

You hated Ten Lee.

Scratch that, you didn’t hate the poor boy, you just, despised him?

Nope, you were close friends.

Ironic isn’t it? You had met Ten at a party, where the Dance major was having a lot of fun. You hadn’t seen him before but had heard of him. The boy who jumped from girl to girl as easy as one, two, three. You had no intention of even talking to him, you were content in a dark corner, with a drink.

Nothing ever goes your way.

The meeting was by chance, he was dared to ask you to dance, you declined, he persisted giving you those puppy eyes. After glaring at him, he sighed, explaining it was a dare, and that he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and before you knew what was happening, you were awkwardly swaying along to the music with him.

He, regrettably, stuck with you for the rest of the evening, and you ending up liking his company, to the extent where you invited him over the next day for pizza.

The pizza situation turned out to be a thing between the two of you, a tradition of sorts. He would come over with candy, in an oversized sweatshirt looking illegally adorable, you would supply the blankets, and movie nights would begin.

He had a sweet smile and sparkly eyes, which made you question if this was the guy who broke hearts, who was a player. He was like a puppy, it confused you to no end.

“Miss L/n?”, your professor asked, raising an eyebrow at your spaced out figure. Startling, you blinked rapidly, cringing at the situation you had put yourself in. “Sorry”, you apologized, focusing back on the textbook in front of you. You were majoring in Psychology, and while you love the subject, the teacher didn’t like you very much, probably because you had been so distracted the past few weeks, and you hadn’t done particularly well in the midterms.

Needless to say, you were stressed.

The class got over quickly, and you walked out of the lecture hall, deciding to get some coffee before your next class. The cafe was a well-loved one visited by almost every student, and was famous for its chai-lattes, so much so that others also visited it, and not just the students.

Turning towards the on-campus cafe, you spotted Ten already there. His glasses sat at the edge of his nose, giving him an oddly studious look, which was almost laughable. He stood there, holding two cups of coffee, eyes lighting up as he spotted you.

Ten Lee was going to be the death of you.

You walked up to him, taking the coffee which he handed to you, “What do you want?”, you asked suspiciously, taking a sip of the bittersweet drink. You noted the fact he had gotten your favorite, which only worsened the feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He looked mock offended, and grinned at you, “Nothing!”, he said, “Just wanted to see you”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to thwart your initial reaction, beginning to walk back to the main campus, for your psych class. Ten walked beside you, holding his sketchbook in his right hand, and coffee in the left.

“Okay, um actually-”

“You want something don’t you?” “I need a reference model”, he said, “So, Y/n, could you please-”

“Oh my god no”, you said, without even letting the poor boy finish, “Last time this happened it ended up with a pain fight and my sweater destroyed.”

“I said I was sorry!”, he semi shrieked, “And this time I need it for a project worth half my grade.”

Sighing, you but your lower lip, nodded tentatively, to which he let out an almost inhuman sound of appreciation, “When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Nah, I have a date”

You blinked in surprise, and he smiled sheepishly. “Eun-hae asked me out and I said yes so”

“Of course you did”, you muttered bitterly, “You broke up with that other one yesterday”

He seemingly chose to ignore you, “Sunday?”

You nodded and took another sip of the drink you held. He smiled, his eyes forming those endearing crescents that you loved, or hated, depending on what you were going for.

“Thank you, Love you”, he called out, jogging away to his class. You watched him run-walk away, almost dropping his sketchbook. Shaking your head in amusement, you smiled somewhat sadly.

“No”, you whispered, “You don't”

You didn’t know exactly when you fell for Ten, only that it happened suddenly and you couldn’t deny it. He was idiotic, on many levels, but he was sweet and was there for you when you needed it.

He was a dance major, and an art minor, talented in both these aspects. You had seen him dance, it seemed like his body moved with the music, it told a story every time. He would illustrate emotion with his dancing. He did that with his art too, each stroke equivalent to a sentence from a story.

Anyone could tell he loved both of them.

You let out a frustrated sound, bending down to pick up the pen you had dropped. You were in your apartment, trying to finish an essay that was due the next day. You longingly glanced at your keyboard, the one instrument that you loved.

Well actually, you loved the piano, but you couldn’t haul your piano from back home to your apartment that you had rented out for your college years, and so you settled for a keyboard. You had loved music ever since you were little, instruments making its way in and out of your house. Your jazz phase consisted of saxophones, and you played the guitar for a bit too. You even picked up the drums for a while, insisting that it made you cooler (because every thirteen year old needed that validation), but you settled back to piano eventually.

You took part in competitions and such, sometimes singing along with your playing as well.

But you couldn’t afford to even think about playing, until you finished your assignments, which were all marked. They were extensive projects that made you want to scream at times. You didn’t care what Shakespeare meant, nor did you want to conduct a survey about emotions.

Turning the page of your textbook, you switched tabs to your next resource, ready to jot down more notes for the essay, when you saw a notification at the bottom right of your laptop, which was an email. You clicked on it and let it open.

Your eyes widened, gaping slightly at the screen as you read the email.

To: y/[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning/evening,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Royal School Of Music on a scholarship. We have received your application and are impressed by your talent and dedication. Please send us a follow-up email within a month's time to confirm your attendance at our institution.

TRSOM

You grabbed your phone, texting your mother about the scholarship, shaking in happiness. It had been your dream to get into the Royal school, but you had initially applied to it on a whim, not really expecting to get in.

You swiped through your contacts, ready to call Ten, who was regrettably your best friend, to inform him of the good news, until you realized-

The school was in another country altogether.

While you knew Ten would be ecstatic about the fact you got it, you had known each other for four years, the entirety of your college career, and leaving for the school would be a bit of a shock. It was definitely not the fact that telling the boy you loved you were potentially never going to see him again that was deterring you from telling him.

You placed your phone back down, telling yourself you would deal with that later, reminding yourself you had an essay to finish.

Ten tapped his finger impatiently on the table, trying to figure out a way to get out of this date. Initially, the girl he was out with, Eun Hae by name, seemed nice, but as time went on, it was clear she had no personality.

Now, Ten wasn’t one to judge immediately. He tried to give her a chance, smiling and indulging in the bland conversation, he smiled and complimented her, and was sweet. It was going fine for a first date until of course, she suggested they share a fruit salad.

There were about fifteen other salads on the godforsaken menu, but no, she had to choose a fruit salad, above everything else.

Ten was not having it.

He excused himself, muttering something about an assignment, and went to the restroom of the restaurant, pulling out his phone and searching for your contact, clicking on it.

[8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm]10: my precious friend

[8:39 pm] n/n : what now

[8:40 pm]10: I need help

[8:40 pm] n/n: I refuse

[8:40 pm] 10: I am ofFENDED

[8:40 pm]10: please my date is making me eat fruit

[8:40 pm] n/n: sounds like a you problem

[8:40 pm] 10: I am quivering in fear and this is how you react

[8:40 pm] n/n: I have three assignments to finish

[8:41 pm] 10: I’ll take you for ice cream

[8:41 pm] n/n: deal

[8:41 pm] 10: why has our friendship been reduced to bribery

[8:41 pm] n/n stfu or I won't come and save you

[8:41 pm] 10: I LOVE YOU

He quickly sent you his location and put his phone back, getting back to the table and smiling as realistically as he could at the girl opposite him, who was still going on about one of her friends and their doings, while he tried to look as interested as possible.

“So, should we order-”

Right at that moment, you walked in, hair tousled because of the wind and a disgruntled expression on your face. He made an attempt not to smile at your appearance, ignoring the warm feeling he got on seeing you.

You looked around spotting him and storming over, “Ten Lee, what the fuck are you doing here”, you asked, ignoring the girl that sat right opposite him, mock angrily. He caught on, staring at you in bewilderment, noting the hint of amusement in your eyes, “How dare you to do this to me!”

“I-”

“Um, who are you?”, the girl asked, seemingly offended that you had interrupted their date.

You scoffed, displaying all your acting abilities in their full potential, “Who am I? Who are you?”

She blinked in confusion, and Ten used every bit of willpower he had to prevent him from bursting out into laughter. “I’m his date?”

“Un-fucking-believable”, you said, “Ten Lee how could you?”

At this point, Ten was invested in whatever lie you had somehow come up with to get him out of this date. It seemed like you had an entire explanation for it, either that or you were taking the opportunity to scream at him. Both seemed valid.

“How dare you lead this poor girl on!”, you continued, taking a turn, making the girl look scared, “You didn’t tell her did you?” “Tell me what?”, she asked anxiously, leaning forward. You fought to keep your straight face on seeing Ten lean forward too, apparently interested in whatever abomination he committed.

“He’s gay”, you said with as straight a face as possible, which was hard considering the girl looked so embarrassed, you could see her face go red. Your best friend looked at you incredulously, almost as embarrassed as his ‘date’ was, and mildly amused.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be taking him”, you stated, grabbing Ten’s hand and taking him along with you, out of the restaurant and onto the streets.

“You really-” “Ice cream”, you demanded, smirking at his obvious embarrassment. He gaped at your indignance, but nodded, “At least you got me out of there”

“I’m an actress”

“Fuck off”

“Finals are in two weeks, I still come help and this is how to repay me? Ungrateful”

The two of you took Ten’s car to the Ice cream shop, leaning on the hood as you ate your ice cream, with Ten occasionally stealing bites. You smacked his hand away, glaring at his as he tried to take another.

“I’m literally the one paying for it”, he argued.

“This is payment for saving your ass”, you retorted. He slung an arm around you, ignoring you and taking his phone out, scrolling through Instagram. You leaned into him, the scent of your shampoo making its way to him. There was that warm feeling again, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Deep down, he knew what it was, but he was too much of a coward to ever try, or even take a chance with it, because he wasn’t one for commitment, and even though he had thought about it, he was, as much as he hated to admit it, scared.

“So can I get another scoop?”

“You have assignments to finish”

THREE WEEKS TO GRADUATION

The lilting tune played through your apartment, your fingers running across the ivory keys in fervor. They clicked and clacked ever so often, which was the one thing you hated about keyboards. The keys weren’t as firm as an upright piano, giving the music an annoying clickity noise.

Most of the time, you could ignore it, but today you were tired, and this piece was particularly difficult. For some reason, you were having trouble playing the accessories, and keeping the piece in time. You played that part over and over again, but it wouldn’t work.

You switched off the metronome in annoyance, you stared at the music sheet in front of you, trying to figure out how the fuck you should play the piece. Your door clicked, and you did your best to curb your annoyance at the fact someone was interrupting your practise time, no matter how hard the piece was.

Like all keyboards, yours was smaller than an actual piano, and looked very out of place in your apartment, which was warmly decorated with all sorts of trinkets and such. One of Ten’s sweatshirts was thrown on the sofa, and for some unknown reason there were three candles sitting on your table.

It was confusion incarnate, to say the least.

You heard the door click, and a girl walked in, smiling at you. It was the only other person other than Ten who had the key to your apartment, Angie. She was shorter than you, but only by a little bit, had a fringe and brown eyes. She was pretty, and easy to talk to, which was probably what drew you to her in the first place.

“Hey”, she greeted, seeing you on your keyboard, “Whatcha playin?”

“An andante”, you groaned, “Why are you here?”

“I have nowhere else to be”, he said bluntly, “Renjun’s at Doyoung’s place or something”, she pulled out her phone, “I’m just here to chill dude, continue playing, I finished two projects and my brain in dead”

Renjun was her boyfriend, who was on the Dance Team with Ten. The two were ridiculously cute, but due to the fact she now had a boyfriend, the two of you spent less time together. You were okay with it though, you understood.

“Isn’t Doyoung with his girlfriend?”, you asked, and she shook her head, “No, she’s at her Chinese class”

You nodded, going back to your piece, placing your fingers on the correct notes when-

SLAM

Your door opened and closed again, and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever God existed that one day, you would get to practise without interruptions. Ten trudged through throwing himself on the couch, next to Angie, who paid him no attention. “Hi”, he greeted you, and you glared, causing him to give you a look of confusion.

“What did I do now?”

“Not your fault, sorry, I’m not getting this piece”

He perked up, walking over to where you were, “Can I help?”, he asked, gesturing for you to move to the side of the piano stool so he could sit next to you. He studied the notes, as you looked at him, admiring his side profile, wondering how someone could be so pretty. He placed his hand on the keys, playing it. He made a mistake but in the place you had gotten. He got the part you were struggling right.

“Here, do this”, he explained, “The notes are after the third but before the fourth count, so you have to play it quickly”

You nodded, trying to play it, not quite getting it but it was getting there. He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he grinned at you.

You hated his smile.

It was infuriating, the fact that he always helped you, he was always there. You kept finding yourself falling for him more and more, and you didn’t want to, because you knew how Ten was, and it was making the whole ‘telling him about the acceptance into the music school’ a lot harder.

You thanked him, pushing him off the stool playfully so you could finish your practice session before going back to studying. He made a mock offended look, retreating to the couch next to Angie, who was engrossed in texting someone, presumably her boyfriend.

His hair was messed up, sticking up in different directions making him look ridiculously adorable. You shut down the keyboard, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to practice anymore with the both of them around. You went to sit next to Angie, but Ten’s entire presence seemed to be in your way.

“Move”

“No, I’m comfortable” “Chittaphon Leechaiya-”

“Yeah I’d like some chai”, Angie said mindlessly, causing the two of you to look at her in mild astonishment. She seemingly didn’t notice your gaping looks, still scrolling through whatever she was looking at.

“Did you just reduce me to tea?”, Ten asked.

Angie looked at him, mystified. “It seems so”, you mused. A slow smirk stretched across his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows, his too-long hair falling over his eyes

“I’m flattered”

“What?”

“Tea is hot. I’m hot”, he drawled, waiting for the two of your reactions to his statement.

You smacked him.

It was your designated pizza day, which meant Ten was at your place. He was currently in the kitchen getting something to drink and ordering the pizza while you sat alone in your living room.

You looked up at your laptop screen, going over the draft of the email you were to send back the The Royal School of Music. Your parents had been extremely proud of you for getting in, and had called you the other night to congratulate you. You heard footsteps, quickly shutting your laptop down, looking up at Ten who walked into your living room from the kitchen.

“Pizza will arrive in a bit”, he said, handing you your drink and plopping down next to you, “Movie?”

“Uh Bridge to Terabithia”, you spouted, taking a sip. You were supposed to be looking for a movie while he was gone, but instead had begun writing the email, so you spouted the name of one of your childhood favorites, that never failed to make you cry. He nodded and you opened Netflix, quickly searching the movie and pressing play.

Ten wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence. The movie played, and even though you had already watched it before, you still found yourself invested in it. Except you weren’t completely focusing. Ten was so close, his fingers brushing against your hips, his breath near your neck. It felt right, like you were supposed to be like this.

That was the thing, it never felt wrong when you were with Ten, it was like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Except of course for the fact he wasn’t yours. You knew how Ten was, he was the heartbreaker, and you were the one who was always there to pick up the pieces. Still it was nice to pretend that he was yours, because that was all you could do.

Pretend.

He kept talking about how he wanted someone who understood him, who he could be with, not just some stupid fling. He kept repeating the same thing again and again, and it frustrated you to no end, because you understood him and you were right there, but he never saw you. He would flirt with you, he would do everything and yet, he would never even think of you.

You leaned into him subconsciously, biting your lower lip as you stared at the screen in anticipation. He started playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers, his hot breath on your neck making hard for you to fully concentrate on the movie.

You hated the effect he had on you, he had barely even done anything, but had still managed to make you nervous. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you even watching?”, you asked, semi breathlessly, “Yes”, he responded, “But I want to cuddle.” You couldn’t argue with that logic, so you relaxed into his embrace, as much as you could. “You’re warm”, he murmured against your skin, looking back up at the screen and humming a random tune. “I’m hungry”

“I think I have some M&M’s on the counter”, you mused, “I’ll go get them”, you jumped at the chance to get up and get away from Ten, who was positively driving you crazy at this point. However, your grand plan was cut short when he refused, “I can go get it”, he made a move to get up.

“Sit down idiot-”, you said, pushing him off you, but accidentally tripped over yourself, falling back into his embrace. He laughed, hands falling to your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “Graceful”, he snickered, and you glared at him. “I hate you”, you grumbled, “You love me”, he teased, making you almost fall again.

Except this time, his face was dangerously close to yours, and you just stared at him, your mind going blank. His arms were still around you, preventing you from falling. His eyes fluttered down to your lips for a second before he looked back up. He opened his mouth to say something but-

RING

The doorbell rang, startling the two of you out of your trance. You pulled away from Ten, shakily walking over to the door and opening it.

“Pizza?”, the guys asked, handing you the pizza box, “Yeah thanks”, you paid him and walked straight into your kitchen, not giving Ten another look, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, and trying to collect yourself, before grabbing the M&M’s and walking back into the living room, where Ten was sitting, eyes trained on the screen.

“You missed an entire scene”

“YOU DIDN’T PAUSE IT FOR ME-?”

The music echoed through the studio, its melody harsh and striking. It was dark, no lights were on, but the mirrors reflected the only person in the room-Ten.

His figure moved with the music, choosing to do whatever it pleased, trying to portray the beautiful piece to its fullest. The higher notes gave it a sort of hopeful effect, a guide. It lead you to believe that it was alright, it was fine.

The lower notes added depth to the melody, giving it a richer feel. The two played together made it a beautiful piece, with a sort of melancholic feel. He danced to it, telling a story with his body. Ten would do this sometimes, instead of choosing an upbeat song to dance to, he’d take a classical piece, something that he could feel.

There was something in this piece, the Tempest, that resounded within him. It reminded him of you, specifically your friendship with him if you could even call it that. He got that warm feeling again that day when you had almost fallen. He would’ve kissed you if not for the doorbell.

Ten wasn’t one for commitment, he wasn’t one for standing up first and telling people about his feelings. He played people, he played them like he painted a picture, or danced.

Speaking of which, the piece had suddenly taken a turn for the turbulent, faster-paced, anxious even. It resembled his feelings perfectly, the random urges to tell you, the anxiety for the outcome. He somehow managed to gracefully enact these feelings, making it look like art instead of the confusion he felt.

Maybe he chose this piece not only for himself but for you too.

It was one of your favorite ones to play, you could and would talk about it for days, especially when you had just mastered playing it. It wasn’t an easy piece, with all the nuances and timing changes, but you pulled it off. He could almost pretend it was you playing.

And then suddenly it mellowed down, the piece sounding hopeful as if there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and you could finally see it. A solution, a happy ending to the harsh waves of the storm, a merry end. His moves became lighter and almost joyful, as he twirled and jumped.

It was all an illusion.

A lie to make you believe the storm was over, there was no hope for this story. The harsh melody returned with vengeance, striking down the sliver of longing, any dream of making it out. Ten did his best to keep up with it, but the sudden change of emotions was startling even to him. It had changed so quickly, he didn’t even have time to comprehend it.

It ended on a triumphant note, like a proud win over an enemy, a victory that shone above everything. Ten ended the dance with a pirouette, panting as he tried calming himself down from the intense session. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as well, the adrenaline of the piece getting to him, yet, he was skeptical.

Because he had a feeling it was the Tempest that had triumphed, and not him.

You’ll admit: you were not having fun with Psych. You had been studying all day, trying to absorb some of the stuff you had been taught throughout the year. Even though studying human behaviour had always intrigued and interested you, the reason you chose Psych, you couldn’t care less about oxytocin and how attraction worked, nor did you care about how human behaviour was affected by it.

But you had been at it for the past 6 hours, and was tired, so when Angie came along and expressed her disgust and sympathy about your studying endeavors, she hauled you up from the place you had been sitting at for most of the day and instructed you to change and get ready to go or a party.

So you found yourself at a frat party, Angie's arm hooked in yours and music blaring all around you. It was hot and dark, and you could barely see anything with the terrible lighting. You couldn’t tell what song was being played at such high volume, but awkwardly swayed to it anyways, wondering if staying at home at falling down the hole of ice cream and Netflix would have been a better alternative to this.

There were couples making out, and random beer cans everywhere. Everyone was half drunk, and you took this as an excuse to go get a drink. You turned to Angie who was looking the other way.

“Angie”, you whisper-screamed her name into her ear, causing her to jump, “I’m going to get a drink okay?”, you explained, to which she nodded. “I’m going to Renjun”, she said, walking away and leaving you alone.

Friendship.

You pushed through the crowd of sweaty adults, to get to the makeshift bar that was at the other end of the frat. You stopped occasionally to greet friends, or smile at a random cute boy, but finally made it to the kitchen. Johnny, one of your other friends stood there, inclining his head in a greeting. “Hey, what do you want?” “Are you in charge of the drinks or something?”, you asked, leaning on the island of the kitchen. He grinned at you, shaking his head, “No, but I’m so much I might as well be!”

You laughed, requesting for your drink of choice, which he went to fix for you. You licked your lips, scanning the area to find another friend to latch onto, since Angie had so kindly abandoned you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here”, a very familiar voice said form behind you, and you turned to see none other than your best friend.

But he looked nothing like what you were used to.

Ten’s hair was slicked back instead of splayed out on his forehead like usual, his eyes seemed darker, probably due to the alcohol. He was wearing skinny jeans, and a blazer with most of the buttons undone, his chest in full view.

Ten looked hot.

“Uh-”, you started like the well read person you were, “Angie dragged me”

He smirked, “Of course she did”, he took a seat on one of the stools, legs spreading as he leaned back. You looked away, trying your hardest not to stare at the boy in front of you, who was making that mission increasingly harder with every little thing he did.

Johnny came back out, offering you a smile and your drink, which you took from him, returning his smile. He handed a glass of something you couldn’t make out to Ten, who took a sip, keeping it on the island. “You don’t seem to be having fun”, he observed, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

This was a normal thing, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t the same innocent gesture. “I just arrived idiot”, you scoffed. He smirked, “You can look at me you know”, he teased, and you could feel the heat rush to your face. You turned your gaze to him. Currently you were in between his legs, and your mind was a mess.

The first thing you noticed was his tattoo on his right arm which you had seen before. The next was one you hadn't seen before, and rightly so, since it was on his chest.

“Done staring at me?”, he said with a smirk, and your eyes snapped up to his, holding his gaze. If you hated the effect his eyes had on you before, you positively despised them now. He was staring at you through a half lidded gaze, licking his lips. Even without any alcohol in your system you felt dizzy, but not a sick way. Ten was driving you crazy, with his hands on your waist, eyes on you and just everything about him in the moment.

“You’re pretty”, he murmured, looking up at you, eyes falling to your lips, “Did you know that?”, his voice was deeper than usual, sending shivers down your spine. “I-”

“Hmm?”, he sounded absent minded, like he wasn’t even listening to you, which was great considering you didn’t even know what to say. He pushed you a little, standing up himself, now looking down.

“If you didn’t know, I think you are”, he said, face closer than any friend’s face should have been. You breath hitched in anticipation. “Ten?”, your voice was small, quivering almost under his gaze.

He was so close, painfully close. If anyone asked you how you got into this position in the first place, you wouldn’t be able to explain, not quite knowing yourself.

“Y/n, I need you for a second”, Angie appeared from nowhere, freezing when she saw the two of you in that position, “Um- I can leave-”

“Hey Ang”, Ten greeted, moving away from you. You missed the proximity, as much as you hated to admit it. You blinked hazily at your friend who had so conveniently interrupted whatever you had going on with Ten. You silently cursed yourself for getting so out of it. “Here, I think Arya is calling me anyways so”, he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets. He glanced at you, before walking away and out of the kitchen.

Would he have kissed you?

You looked over at your friend, who was still staring at you like she had seen a ghost. “Did I interrupt something?”, she asked, eyes wide. You felt embarrassed, taking a step back as if you were trying to walk out of the whole situation. “I’m not sure”, you said, “What do you need me for?”

“I need you to hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom, Renjun is drunk as fuck and I trust you”, she explained, handing you her glass. You nodded, “And maybe can you watch my dumbass of a boyfriend please?”

You snorted, agreeing and walking to the main area of the party that was unfortunately the most crowded. You spotted Renjun on top of Donghyuck, practically choking the latter boy who was laughing for some reason. You could see why Angie went to you for her drink. Walking over, you tried to help Mark, another one of your friends, in separating Renjun and Donghyuck from initiating the 77th hunger games on a friday night.

After somewhat succeeding in pulling the two away from each other, Angie had arrived, choosing to ignore her wasted boyfriends antics and taking her glass back from you.

You remembered you had left your own drink back in the kitchen, and so you backtracked your steps to said place, when you saw it.

Ten was standing with a girl, her hands around his neck. He was saying something that made her giggle, throwing her head back in laughter as he grinned happily. You froze watching the scene unbeknownst to Ten. You didn’t know what you were feeling for an entire minute until it hit you.

You were hurt.

It was a pricking sort of feeling, like a rod prodding at your heart. It was like a warning, telling you to look away before it pierced your heart, but you couldn’t look away for some reason. It was like your mind was mocking you, telling you keep watching, to realize you never had the slightest chance with Ten.

You weren’t special, whatever flirting he did with you he did to everyone, anything that had remotely happened wasn’t even mentionable, because you were like every other girl in the crowd, and it fucking hurt. It hurt to see the boy you loved not give you a moment's thought, not even give you a chance.

That night you went back to your apartment alone, leaving Angie to deal with her boyfriend. You had never felt this horrible before, it had never escalated to this level of hurt. This type of hurt was different, a dull ache reminding you of what an idiot you were to have ever hoped for more.

You hated Ten for several things, his eyes, his smile, the way he could make you giddy by doing the simplest things. But in the moment, you hated yourself more.

You hated yourself for loving Ten Lee.

‘Don’t call me kid, Don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me. You showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else’

You sat on a colourful rug, holding a book up, and surrounded by several other books. You were in a sort of greenhouse, the walls and roof were made completely off glass, and the light streamed through, giving the scene a sort of whimsical aura.

This was the place ten has chosen to paint you, standing behind his easel and and focusing on the canvas, occasionally looking up at you. There were flecks of white and pale blue paint on his face, and he looked whimsical in a way as well.

You sat there, ignoring the warnings in your mind that told you to stay away from Ten for yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You showed up to the venue right on time, and did your best to not seem any different. You spaced out, eyes focusing on a random word on a page. Ten had promised he was almost done with it, since the two of you had been at it for quite a while now.

His lower lip was caught between his teeth in concentration, hair messed up from the amount of times he had run his hand through it. He stepped back for a second, inspecting his work, a dorky smile stretching out on his lips.

“It’s done!”, he said, “Some fixing, but I can do that later, get your ass here!”

You get to your feet, placing the book on one of the piles of them around you and walking towards him, biting down your own smile at this enthusiasm. You walked behind the easel, your eyes falling on the painting.

It was gorgeous, the colours complimenting each other. The depiction of the light rays was so soft, yet it was there shining down on the main part of the picture- you. He had painted you so prettily, almost fairy like in the midst of the scene. You stared at the painting in awe, unable to think of words to describe it.

“So?”, he asked hopefully, his eyes searching yours for some sort of reaction. You looked at him, then at the painting, then back at him, wondering how he could’ve made it look so fanciful, something out of a disney movie.

“It’s beautiful”, you whispered, your voice not daring to go any louder. He smiled placing his palette down and standing next to you. “It’s not hard when the subject is beautiful”, he said nonchalantly. You froze, silently telling yourself to calm down, to not react to it, that it wasn’t anything to be noted. Yet something in you clicked, shifted into place.

You were angry.

You were furious at Ten, with his pretty smiles and wishful eyes. You hated it when he flirted with you, because he kept leading you on, you hated it when he looked at you like you were the world, because it was a lie, it was all a fucking lie.

“Don’t”, you said, voice shaky. He stared at you in confusion, which only irked you more.

“Don’t”, your voice betrayed you, breaking. He looked alarmed, reaching his hand out, “Hey, Are you okay-”

“No, I’m not okay”, you hissed, slapping his hand away, stepping back. Your mind was clouded with a feeling of helplessness, helplessness at not being able to tell him how you felt, how you hated what he did, how all you wanted was something you definitely couldn’t have. He looked bewildered at your seemingly sudden outburst.

“Stop fucking playing with me”, you said, “I’m not this”, you searched for the words, coming back with nothing, “Stop complimenting me, calling me sweet nothings, making me believe-”, you sucked in a breath, feeling the tears build up in your eyes, years of pent up frustration finally making their way out of you.

You looked up at him, he still seemed to not be following, “Y/n, I don’t-”

“I’m in love with you”, you choked out finally, the words seeming to tie you down, rather than set you free like you had once hoped. “I’m in love with you”, you repeated, Ten could hear the rage in your voice, washing down on him like the waves of the Tempest, harsh and real. “And I hate myself for it”

Your voice was softer, much more mellow now, like it was tired. A single tear trickled down your face, and you looked up to see a stunned Ten, eyes wide at your state. He said nothing, instead just looked at you, as if you were a different person all of a sudden. It wasn’t a pretty sight, you crying and him standing there like a statue, not a word escaping his lips.

The air seemed to be colder all of a sudden, biting into the exposed areas of your skin. There was that aching feeling again, that pricking of your heart, the silent ‘i told you so’, that your mind seemed to be playing on repeat. You brushed the tears away from your face furiously, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

“I’m going to go”, you muttered, grabbing your things and walking out, not caring if you looked idiotic, and not staying to listen to any pathetic response he gave you.

Ten watched you leave, cursing himself for being such an idiot to you. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he was in love with you himself, but he would never admit it. He hated himself for it, because he knew what he had done. He had flirted with you, had played you, but it was only because he thought the two of you never had a chance.

He hated himself because it was him, after all this time, who had destroyed that chance.

You sat in front of your computer, back at your apartment, trying not to cry again as you stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the send button. It hurt much worse than you expected it to, his silence had made everything all the worse. But you were tired of him going back and forth. You were tired of having to pick up the pieces every time when he broke another girls heart, or someone else broke his.

You had nothing to lose this time. So alone, in your room you pressed send, signing of your future, sending the email to The Royal School of Music.

Alone.

Finals week passed in a blur of stress crying, all nighters and excessive reading of things that you had read a million times before, and if they hadn’t already gotten into your head, they would never. Which prompted the stress crying.

It was a vicious cycle.

You barely stepped out of your apartment, other than to actually take the exam. All your time was taken up in studying, occasionally eating, and studying again. You also didn’t see Ten that much, other than a glimpse, but immediately swerved away, not in any mood to deal with that confrontation as of yet.

Somehow, you managed to make it to the end of the week, without completely going mad. You made it out of finals, and was technically done with your college career altogether, which was crazy to even think of. You had spent the last four years of your life in this hellhole to get to where you were, and you had made it.

So seeing yourself in front of the mirror a week later, donning your cape and cap over your clothes, you smiled for the first time in two weeks. It was the day you finally graduated and went out into the world as a person with a degree.

Granted, you were slightly pissed at the fact you had spent four years, and paid an enormous amount of money for a sheet of paper, but at the moment, you couldn’t get the fact that you were finally done with it out of your head. You were happy.

The ceremony started off slowly, the principal calling the names of the students in alphabetical order. You saw Ten walk up and take his degree, a broad smile on his lips. You saw Angie take hers, almost tripping over her cape, earning a laugh from the principal, and fond looks all about. You saw Renjun and Donghyuck hugging instead of at each other's throats for once, and Mark randomly beat boxing for no reason.

You went up on the stage, taking the degree and smiling, realizing that your vision was hazy. Tears of happiness had made their way to your eyes, and you blinked them back, thanking the principal and smiling at the crowd. You walked off, going to stand with your little group of friends.

Later on, Angie went off with her boyfriend for a celebratory date, Renjun and Donghyuck decided to crash at Marks place, and you? You decided to walk through the campus one last time, before you never returned. You were done with college and this place wasn’t yours anymore. It held a sort of nostalgic feel all of a sudden, walking under the arches and admiring the architecture one last time.

You were holding your cap in your hand, after finding it on the ground somewhere after the throwing of them. Your cape was folded and hung from your arm as you walked through, deciding to go get some coffee after you were done.

Lost in your own thoughts, you bumped into someone, dropping the cap., “Sorry-”, you begun you apologize for your absent mindedness, crouching to pick up your cap when you saw the person you had run into.

Ten.

You silently scowled, cursing whatever above that had thrown the two of you together at the very moment, and cleared your throat uncomfortably, looking away. “Hey”, he said breathlessly, looking you up and down. He looked great, he always did, you couldn’t deny the fact no matter how much you were trying to hate him.

“Hi”, you said curtly, “I have to go”

“Wait”, he reached out, grabbing your hand, “Can we talk?”, his voice was tilting towards the hopeful side. It reminded you of your own foolish hope, and you didn’t like it one bit. “No”, you said, “I have to go”, you repeated for words, crushing any hope.

“No- Wait, please, Y/n let me explain”, he pleaded his case, his eyes striking through yours, stirring up some sort of sympathy. Your mind was telling you to go, to get out as fast as possible, but your heart softened, as it always did with him.

“Explain what?”, you chuckled bitterly, “You’ve made it pretty clear how you feel Ten. I was stupid”, your words were hurting yourself, but hurting him too, because he knew it wasn’t your fault.

“No Y/n, you-”

“I what?”, you hissed in question. He spluttered, discouraged by your disinterest in whatever he was trying to tell you. You wanted nothing more to get away from him in that moment, but he seemed to want to stretch out your time together as much as possible. It annoyed you, and made you sad at the same time.

The more time you were with him, the more you could feel your heart break.

“I love you”, he said quietly, “I know I’m a terrible person for leading you on and not realizing earlier, but I love you.” You froze, standing there and staring at him. He looked back, not daring to break your gaze. Instead of joy, which was what you had expected to feel if he ever uttered those words, you felt angrier.

“Please Y/n”, he said, “Just give me a chance?”

You stayed silent, contemplating your choices. “How long have we been friends?”

“What-”

“How long have we known each other Ten?”

“Four years, but I don’t see-”

“We have been friends for four fucking years. I was there for every heartbreak, every date, every girl. I stood on the sidelines, I listened to you, I have you advice when you needed it, I comforted you when you cried. But you? You never gave me a chance!”, you exclaimed, “Not a second glance, not a single chance.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, taking in your words and trying to think of something to justify them, but he couldn’t, he knew you were right.

“So yes”, you voice quivered, “You are an idiot. You’re an idiot for never realizing my feelings when i made it PAINFULLY obvious”, you took steps back, trying to calm yourself.

“I can't believe I”, you scoffed at yourself, your own idiocy, “I can’t believe that three out of four years I was in love with you, but I guess that’s what makes me the dumb bitch.” You looked away, the words you had wanted to say since forever finally out of your system. He stood there, just a few steps away from you. But then, why did it seem like he was miles away?

“I’m sorry”, he said weakly, “I hate myself for what I did, but Y/n I”, he paused, shutting his eyes in frustration, “I’m in love with you dammit, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve put you through but, can we-”

“No”, you said, “We can’t”

“Y/n give us a chance, please”

“You don’t understand!”, you said almost feverishly, blinking back tears, “I can’t Ten”

“Why not?”, he asked, walking closer to you. You took a step back from him, looking at the boy you loved with remorseful eyes. “I’m leaving Ten. I’m leaving for a music school in another country.”

He blanched, any hope withering away, like a dead flower, dried with the summer heat, like a lone boat in the midst of a storm. You let out a pathetic sob, realizing that you couldn’t ever have Ten, no matter what.

“I’ll be gone before we could ever be”

The world was never fair. It came at you with things you wished never happened, you wished you could change, or would have handled better. Like a storm on an unsuspecting sailor, it’s waves crashed down on you, and you were unable to breathe.

Life was the tempest, with it’s harsh tremors, it’s sudden soft waves that lead you to believe things were going to be okay. It’s highs and it’s lows, the good times and the bad. You found it ironic, the fact you were playing your favorite piece of all time, and it reminded you of reality.

You had always viewed music as an escape from reality, but now you were starting to connect the two, using music to let both the worlds connect. Your fingers flew across the keys, the climactic melody thundering through your apartment.

Finishing the piece, you let out a sigh, taking the music sheets and placing them back in your folder. Shutting the keyboard down, you cleared up a bit, settling down on your couch. Cracking your knuckles, you pulled out your phone to mindlessly scroll through Instagram as one did to pass time.

You seemed to do that often, now that you were officially done with college and had a bit of time before you left for The Royal School of Music, approximately three weeks, you honestly had nothing else to do with your time.

And so, you indulged in the world of reels and other videos that didn’t necessarily add anything of worth to your being. Time seemed to trickle by slowly, much slower than you would have liked.

Your flight to the country in which the school was in had already been booked, your registration had been completed, and you had even found an apartment to rent over there. Some of your belongings had already been sent for shipping, leaving you with the bare minimum. You had even sold some stuff, because cross country shipping was expensive, and you had gathered quite a few things over your four years staying in your college area that you definitely didn’t need.

It seemed as if everything was set, you were ready to leave everything behind.

Your doorbell rang, it's obnoxious ringing sound making you wince out of annoyance. You got up from your spot on the couch reluctantly, and walked over to the door to open it.

You were met with a slightly disheveled looking Ten on the other side, hair slightly messy. It had been yet another week since you had seen him, not have been in contact since graduation day, and suddenly here he was at your doorstep. Before you could even say anything, he pushed his hand out, thrusting a pizza box in your face.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I don’t blame you but”, he took a deep breath, “You’re going, and it sucks, but I’m happy for you, so i brought pizza, for old times sake?”

You blinked in surprise, your hands on their own accord and taking the box. As if he could sense you were skeptical, he rambled on, “Just a movie and pizza, then I’ll leave I promise.” Everything inside you screamed at you to say no, but the words left you before you could even comprehend your mind's thoughts.

“Okay”

You opened the door more, walking back into your apartment, opening the box and taking your laptop to search for a movie. He closed the door after himself, taking a seat beside you on the couch, but not touching you. It was like there was a wall in between the two of you, and you couldn’t break it down.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“There’s a new season of His Dark Materials”, you thought aloud, “We could binge that.”

It was so easy, being with Ten. Like falling back into a routine you had missed, a habit that had been cultivated. It was natural, him by your side, eating pizza and searching for a movie or series to binge. It was a tradition for the two of you after all, and even though you had stayed away from Ten for your own heart, it felt so good to do this again. You had missed it.

“Sure”, he agreed, taking a slice of the pizza, the stringy cheese not breaking, “We may need plates.”

You shook your head at his comical state, placing your laptop down and walking into your kitchen, opening the topmost cupboard to get the plates down, when you realized you couldn’t reach it. Now usually, you would just get a stool or something to climb on top off, but that would mean going back out there and admitting to Ten that you were short.

That was not acceptable.

Of course any grand plans of somehow getting the plates down without Ten knowing had been thrown out the window when he himself walked into the kitchen, “Are you making the plates or something? What’s taking so long?”

He spotted you, hands stretching up, leaning over the counter. Ten smirked, walking over and taking the plates down himself, “Someone’s short”, he snickered, to which you glared, “You’re short too dumbass.”

“You’re shorter”, he teased, taking the second plate down. He was standing in front of you, directly facing you as he placed the second plate of the counter top. You stared indignantly at him, and he caught your gaze, holding it. It was the same Ten you had known since you entered your campus, the same Ten you met at that party.

The same Ten you were in love with.

His eyes shifted from yours to your lips, realizing how close the two of you were. His hand raised up to your face cupping it. You subconsciously leaned into his touch, eyes wide, waiting for him to do something, anything.

His eyes searched yours for an answer, some sort of indication that he could go ahead. You knew that nothing good would come from this, but you couldn't help but nod your head a little too fast, and fisting the end of his shirt in anticipation.

He kissed you.

His lips moved against yours softly, hesitantly, like they were scared you would disappear if he went any faster. It was nothing like you had ever imagined (believe me, you had imagined), but it was better. It was like a culmination of wanting had been poured into the kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop.

You could’ve sworn time had stopped when he kissed you, the world around you seeming to fade away. You could feel your knees going weak with the overwhelming feeling, the flutter in your stomach growing. If you hadn’t been holding onto the end of his shirt so hard, you would have collapsed into him.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered against your lips, pulling away, cupping your face, “I know I’m an idiot”, he confessed, and you resist the urge to agree, “I know I’m an idiot but,”, he stopped again, resting his forehead against yours. “One night”, he whispered, voice shaky now, “Will you be mine for just one night?”

There was something fragile in his voice, like he was afraid of your answer. You looked up, looking at those eyes you hated, but loved at the same time. You silently agreed, pressing your lips to his again, kissing him once more. His hands dropped down to your waist, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stole another long awaited kiss from him.

The plates were long forgotten about, instead the two of you stumbled back into the living room, hands not leaving each other. The back of his knees hit the couch, and he sat down, taking you with him. You sat on top of him, breathing heavily.

He pressed his lips to your forehead affectionately as you leaned into Ten, not ever wanting the moment to end. “I’m tired”, you whispered, all the years of pining and wishing he was yours suddenly weighing you down.

“I know”

“This isn’t going to end well is it?”

“I don’t know”, he mused, rubbing your back comfortingly. You looked at him once again, like you had done many times before, except this time he was yours, for how long? You didn’t know. You didn’t want the night to end, the prospect of losing him again already making your stomach pit.

“I love you”, he said, and you didn’t say it back. You didn’t have too, you had said it many times already, you had told him. Instead you kissed him again, getting drunk on him.

The rest of the night was spent this way,lazily kissing, cuddling, and eating pizza straight out of the box since neither of you wanted to get up again. Ten held you like you were the world, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The two of you forgot about the serial you were supposed to binge as well, too caught up with each other to even care.

He told you about how he got scouted for dancing by an entertainment company, you filled him in about The Royal School of Music, about how you were so glad College was over even though you would miss it. He made you laugh with his stupid jokes, and it felt like it had always been. Somewhere along the line, the two of you fell asleep in the dead of the night, or almost morning, tangled up in each others arms, happy.

You woke up on your couch alone, your apartment lonely and silent. You looked around sleepily, your eyes catching a glimpse of the clock on your wall, which told you it was already noon. You pulled your knees to your chest, feeling out of place. Something was missing.

Ten.

Ten was gone, nowhere to be seen. You tried thinking back, wondering why he was gone, until you realized - one night was over. Like he had promised, he was gone, not yours anymore, and you weren’t his. You shivered, realizing that there wasn’t any blankets or anything on the couch, yet you couldn't seem to get up.

It hurt. You wanted to cry and scream, the realization that he was gone, before you could even fully have him sinking it. It felt so unfair, the fact that you could never really ever have Ten, someone you had loved for four fucking years, for more than a night.

You took in a shaky breath, looking to the end of the sofa, which is when you saw it. It was Ten’s painting, the one of you in the greenhouse, supposedly reading the books. On the top a sticky note read ‘The Tempest’. You brushed your finger over the painting, taking it in. He had left it here for you, and it was the one thing you had of him. At the bottom, it was signed in his handwriting.

‘10’.

“널 다시 만나면 네 손을 잡고 말해줄 텐데 I will never let you go”

fin.

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katsrnerstories · 4 years ago

Text

BillDip SlowBurn FanFic Chap. 1

Bill had destroyed Dipper's mind.

It has been a few years since weirdmageddon. Since Dipper and Mabel defeated demons from hellish planes of existence and saved the world and their friends from soul and mind crushing madness.

Dippers a freshman in college now. It was a moment that he had wished for for years. Highschool had been…

Well it wasn't the worst it could have been. Dipper hit a major glow up around the beginning of junior year (with Mabel's help of course) and life was a little easier. He was asked out on dates, went to a few parties here and there that people dragged him to, had some typical highschool fun in the city...

Until around that same time he started getting replies from colleges his senior year, he started to see Bill again. Every once in a while his mind would wander back to that summer, but it was always the good things or nightmares of the horrors they saw.

It started with just a little glimpse here and there. An eye in the back corner of his periphery, some yellow glimpse in a dark room.

A ghostly hand on his shoulder.

But these things were nothing to the first time Dipper realized something was wrong.

Dipper saw Bill in his dreams. And those dreams were beyond nightmares.

He had had nightmares before. Nightmares of weirdmageddon were common for both dipper and Mabel. But these… these were real; as much as a dream could be.

Because of Gravity Falls, Dipper really wasn't afraid of a lot of things that would have scared him. The unknown was comforting to him. Maybe because it wasn't too unknown to him and Mabel.

But bill. During those nightmares, brought everything he feared to the frontlines.

It had been a while since Mabel and him shared a room, so Mabel really didn't know about the fear Dipper experienced those nights.

She was more focused on getting to LA.

She wants to be a criminal psychoanalyst. To look at the minds of people and figure how they tick. Criminals especially.

Dipper could swear that Bill had done something to her to make her go down such a dark career path, but he couldn't say anything; he neither had a psychology degree nor was untouched by Bill himself.

Who really knows, it could have been anything else that happened to her in those hellish four years of highschool.

She had moved away quickly after highschool ended to learn in LA. Of course they facetime and text all the time, but the separation was still felt by both of them.

Everyone missed her presence. Her positivity, her unique personality.

That had transformed into something much darker come junior and senior year. She found out after a few failed boyfriends that she was not only Asexual, but that guys and even girls, can’t seem to give that part of a relationship up. Some even found it offensive that she felt that way.

Dipper went back to oregon. Of course he was in the city, but on weekends he would visit the Mystery Shack and Gravity Falls.

Soos was happy to give him one of the rooms in the basement. Sometimes even Grunkle Stan or Grunkle Ford would visit.

They decided shortly after Dipper and Mabel left that they would travel. Of course Ford's labs still sit under the mystery shack, but when Mabel and Dipper visited Soos the summer of their junior year Ford gave them full control of the labs (as long as Dipper kept everyone safe. Which he did too much annoyance of Mabel)

Soos and his wife at that time had just had a little baby boy, and now have a comfortable four kids, two boys and two girls (three of them were triplets) and run the shack not to much better than Stan did, with the same soul in the campy attractions and overpriced merchandise.

Wendy is in her senior year at a community college in Oregon city, right around the same place Dipper decided to go to school. They hang out pretty regularly, just around weekly.

Robby left gravity falls as soon as he got his GED. Went for New York, looking for a punk career. He sends Wendy emails every once in a while about his music and where he's at.

Shockingly, Pacifica stayed in Oregon, going to the same college Dipper goes to. They see each other, and after leaving her family, she found a lot out about herself and became a much better person.

She found she loved a good smoke and art. Apparently, something she hid from the world was that she loved art. She was probably one of the best artists Dipper had seen. After she left the hell hole of her family, she became really chill. Calm. even nice.

Her and Dipper have coffee pretty much every day. She was one of the only people who also knew what he had gone through.

And she was the only person who noticed as Dipper got worse and worse for wear.

Bill had been particularly evil the past few weeks, taking much more joy in Dippers struggle. Long ago Dipper had just sort of given up on screaming for Bill to stop. But he always refused to make a deal with him to stop the fear. Not again.

“Another nightmare again?” Pacifica asks, as Dipper requests 5 shots of caffeine in his already bitter caffeinated black coffee.

“Yeah. it's getting harder and harder to say no every night. And honestly the empty dorm isn't helping.”

“Why don't you just move in with me? I've got an extra room that's got your name written on the door if you want it.”

Dipper almost accepted, but decided against it. It was kind of weird, no matter how good of friends they were, to live with the ex that made you realized you were gay.

It wasn't her fault, it was just…

He liked a different kind of ass, as Mabel had said when he came out.

No, the daily overpriced coffee meetup was enough.

“Have you talked about it to Ford? Hes got to know something about it if he went through the same thing?”

“I don't want to bother them with it. They thought they got rid of Bill that summer, we all did. Bills my problem now.”

Pacifica gives him a knowing look. She knew that he was breaking, but couldn't figure out how to help him.

“Hows journalism?” Pacifica takes her coffee as she changes the subject.

“As boring as it ever is. Graphic design?”

“As confusing as ever.” Dipper takes a big sip from his steaming coffee. It's a briskly cold morning, enough he brought out his knit set Mabel had made for him on their 18th birthday. He had no shame in wearing it, and it in fact felt comforting today, to know that she was still with him in heart at least.

She never grew out of her sweater thing. She still makes sweaters, using it to get her to the next rent payment sometimes. Everyone can count on a big box with sweaters from her every Christmas here in Oregon.

With their coffees in hand, Dipper and Mabel head off to campus. And once they made it there they said their goodbyes with a hug and went their separate ways to start the day.

Dipper wanders into the lecture hall for his advanced maths class. People filter in as he types away on his computer.

The students around him wanted to be scientists, economists, etc. everyone found it weird that a creative writing major was not only taking advanced maths, this early in the morning, but was killing it. His grades spoke for themselves.

The class starts and Dipper still types away on his computer. He had been bored the night before as he was staving off sleeping and had read a chapter ahead in their textbook. He taught himself the three hour lesson that day in an hour.

It was no doubt that Dipper took after his great uncle Stanford. Grunkle Ford told him at one point that Dipper reminded him of a young Dr. Fiddleford. Dipper didn't really like being compared to the scientist that started a whole cult under Gravity Falls before going batshit crazy himself for a very long time.

He only hoped that he wouldn't end up like him. He didn't want to be some crazy man who roams the town.

Dipper had a story that he needed to finish for his next class. He had started to wear away the stories of Gravity Falls with his creative writing classes that he now had to actually think about what story to write. Mabel helped him out with the premise of the story last night. So he spent that class writing a simple flash fiction of one roaming the backrooms. (an urban legend Mabel had read about in an article somewhere.)

He found comfort in knowing that one thing did not exist to him. That one thing did not sit in the pits of Gravity Falls waiting for Dipper or one of them to unearth it.

The story reminded Dipper of falling through the endless pit just outside the Mystery Shack. A hole where they reminisced on days of the summer as they spent the day, or who knows how long, falling. they were all lucky that it was not, truly, endless.

And quickly the story was finished and the class closed early.

Dipper went for an early lunch. He scrolls through his phone, seeing Mabels three new instagram posts and all the other people she introduced him to.

After Mabel found out Dipper was gay, she went on a mission to hook him up with some LA guy. Oregons not terrible with their acceptance, but it's not something to be very open about. Plus Dipper wasn't the kind to walk pride without someone like Mabel hyping the both of them up. Because god knows that she needs just as much hyping up with who she is as Dipper.

When he walks into his empty apartment, anxiety wells up in Dippers chest. Quickly he turns on the TV, letting it run as white noise as he makes his lunch. The apartment had been empty since his recent relationship ended. Dipper is glad it ended, as the abuse just got too much; yet it was bad for Dipper to be left alone with his thoughts. Especially in an apartment that seemed to hold so much sadness and bad memories.

Mabel, after helping Dippers style, had made him a whole cookbook for him. It had all different kinds of foods, but the main dishes all were healthy. She had gone on a fitness rampage her sophomore year and had never truly grown out of it. It was from a bad place, but she turned it to a positive. As she always does.

She had told him that it was the first thing other than sleep to keep alive longer. She had made him promise that he would try to stay alive.

At this point it was the only thing keeping Dipper alive.

Bill had taxed his mind so much it was rare to find him not paranoid. Bill made Dippers anxiety beyond chronic, and the lack of sleep did not help his depression.

That had developed after Pacifica. It wasn't because of the break up, more at the fact that she had helped him so much.

She had accepted him being gay. She had helped him gain friends during their relationship, and she even helped him when money wasn't the best.

All this caused his anxiety to get to his head.

What if they think I’m evil for breaking it off with her? What if she'll never want to see me again? What if, what if, what if…

His depression had just gotten worse after the breakup and dealing with being alone again. It was the reason Dipper stayed with someone like that for so long.

All of the depression and anxiety ended up crashing down at the same time Bill Cypher ended up crashing into the picture.

At that point Bill only came to terrorise Dipper a few nights a month. It was easier to deal with. Now it's every night.

Dipper finishes making his food, sitting down in front of the TV to watch a show on Netflix.

He had been getting through the true crime shows. He swore that eventually he'd eventually either run a show like it with Mabel or be one of the cold cases lost to the world.

Yet within only a few minutes Dipper not only found himself asleep, but stuck in the mindscape.

“Been trying to avoid me, Pine Tree?”

Dipper no longer was shocked by Bill's voice. In fact the more and more he heard his voice, the more and more it began to sound almost human.

#billdip #gravity falls #whump writing #slow burn #fanfiction #writers #fandom #fanfic #bill x dipper #dipper pines #bill cipher #mabel pines #gravity falls pacifica #adult dipper pines #powerless bill cipher

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feygentbard · 4 years ago

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Question from a highschool student aspiring to major in Forensics: What were your hardest/easiest/favourite/least favourite subjects, and what tips can you share in terms of study habits in highschool and going into University/college? You obviously don't have to answer but I'm very curious

oh god I wish I had asked someone this when I was in high school so this might be long, I’m sorry OK SO

My favorite subjects were by far forensic anthropology, literature, criminal justice, and criminological theory. I also had non-required classes that I ADORED like forensic psychology, cold case studies, blood spatter analysis, and ballistics. My least favorites were definitely intro to forensics, chemistry, biophysics, and forensic chemistry. However, 99% of this was due to the fact that the curriculum and workload sucked, and I hated the forensics department chair with a passion and a vengeance. That man managed to suck the joy right out of everything-a bad professor can ruin a subject or course for you, so never be afraid to switch professors or courses if you’re having a hard time with them! I didn’t do this and as a result, a lot of these classes plain SUCKED for me. While I often understood the material really well, my performance wasn’t great and I never connected with the professors. The easiest classes were the ones I enjoyed, but the hardest ones were by far chemistry and anatomy due to the sheer volume of information you’re expected to take in and memorize. I have ADHD and thus a shitty memory, so this was not a good combination.

Study Tips:

So I never really learned to study in high school and didn’t figure out what worked for me until like year three of college, so this is what helped me the most:

My notes in class were disorganized and scrawled at the speed of light trying to keep up with the teacher, so at some point after class (usually a day later) I would have a separate notebook where I would carefully copy my class notes. I would go slow, make sure it looked neat and legible, and to make it fun I would color code them or use glitter pens. I would also go back and include examples or practice problems that weren’t in my original notes-this and the act of copying itself made me more likely to remember things.

Flash cards are good for simple stuff (periodic table, word definitions) but for more complex concepts (parts of the brain, bones in the foot, etc.) I would draw out diagrams or print them out online and label them. And I would do it again. And again. And again. First from textbook, then eventually, from memory. I’m a very tactile person so the more often I did something with my hands, the more likely I was to remember it later-this was super useful in anatomy class.

Get a tutor! I had SUCH a hard time getting over my anxiety to even contact one cause I was so worried about looking dumb, but once I did I started doing so much better in my classes. I went from a D- to a B+ in chemistry II over the course of a semester because I finally gave in and saw a tutor. No one’s gonna think you’re stupid, and oftentimes tutors are great for just having someone to hold you accountable and make sure you get in at least an hour of study time a week.

For tests: as soon as you receive your test, write down every formula, fact, equation, or tidbit you can remember. Now you have a reference sheet for all of that stuff and you don’t have to spend the test stressing trying to remember what formula to use.

This is weird but don’t study on your bed. Or do homework on your bed. I did this all the time and it confuses the hell out of your brain-you can’t sleep well in bed cause now it’s The Work Place, but you have a hard time working anywhere else cause it’s The Work Place. (I didn’t actually stop doing this until very recently, and I can confirm the change was drastic.) Anyways sorry this was so long, I hope it was helpful! If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to ask-I wish I could go back and tell my younger self all this stuff. Best of luck, future forensics major! We need more of you!

#asks #answered asks #forensics #chemistry #anatomy #college help

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sparkmender · 4 years ago

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE: MUN & MUSE

Fill out & Repost ♥ This meme definitely favors Canons more, but I hope OC's still can make it somehow work with their own lore and Lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multimuses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

Tagged by: @ifthearmorfits -- thank you opo!!

MY MUSE IS. canon / oc / au (...in-canon au, because transformers) / canon-divergent / fandomless

(I will be getting into spoiler territory with this, but given that you all are following this blog, you’ve probably stuck around long enough to already see what’s up haha.)

is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO.

is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? WELL… / NO / IDK. (evidently a lot of people have it bad for the nerd but I don’t do NSFW on tumblr, so lol)

is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

are they underrated? YES / NO.

were they relevant to the main story? YES / NO.

were they relevant to the main character? YES / NO.

are they widely known in their world? YES / NO.

how’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. (Given Rung’s quantum forgotten status WHO KNOWS)

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON?

Putting it bluntly: Functionist alt. dimension Rung has a whole lot of plot holes. Swiss cheese boy. I’ve made liberal changes here and there so that he can play with a majority of muses in the MTMTE/LL community, but I’ve also taken a lot of free reign giving Rung’s general lack of backstory in-between spoiler/plot beats :P

SELL YOUR MUSE! (aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutual.)

Rung is a very rare type of character, being an ostensibly ‘masculine’ character (in regards of a human binary lens) who prides himself on empathy, understanding, and caring for others’ physical and mental wellbeing in ways that often linger in more ‘feminine’ realms (again, in approx. to the human binary); it interests me to be able to explore such concepts in a territory where, considering lore and implied history, there’s no societal concept of (human ideal culturally-imposed) gender. He’s a creator ‘deity’, he literally produces souls, but nothing about his design is meant to emphasize a human sense of reproduction/fertility/etc. Most people would never look at him and conclude who and what he is. There’s also the fact that he’s been methodically documented, experimented on, taken apart, and then tortured for approx. 2 million years and yet he refused to let that break him. Rung is unflinchingly kind, willing to reach a hand out to anyone who needs a shoulder to lean on even when he has nothing of his own to offer. Hell, he studied medicine and philosophy so he could build the foundations for the Cybertronian method of behavioral psychology because even without memories of being Primus, Rung wants to take care of his creations. ...And then you add in how absolutely adorable it is to watch this old man dodder about with his puzzles and models and big googly glasses and I love him so much okay--

NOW THE OPPOSITE! (list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?)

To be honest, Rung can be kind of a Mary Sue/over powered character in some people’s eyes. Like, what, this random character who’s new to the franchise and made specifically by the author is actually Transformers God who suffered amnesia? And is friendly and polite to everyone but also has a streak of keeping a grudge and survives literal untold horrors because his body can just heal itself?? And he spits out crystals that make up sparks??? OH AND HE’S MILLIONS OF YEARS OLD AND DID I MENTION HE’S GOD SOMEHOW AND THEN HE STRAIGHT UP JUST DIES TWICE IN CANON, WOW

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?

H,,,, Him round,,,,,,,, No really I just loved his design that much. Him round. Also both my mom and my granddad are shrinks so I have, like, a basic grasp on psych stuff after reading through their textbooks and watching my granddad’s old research films and study tapes, so it was familiar territory I settled on writing Functionist!Rung in specific because I sympathize with having weird + painful medical shit inflicted on you all the time and because the idea of someone so genuine and careful being the core of a revolutionary movement is really,,, makes my heart squeeze.

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING?

hell if I know I’m just kinda here forever lmao

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO. needs more weird eldritch tech woogies but I’m terrified of alienating people

do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO. (mostly as they get yoinked by the fandom at large and then my notifications break my phone)

do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO.

do you think a lot about your muse during the day? YES (to an extent because I write a lot of different muses and I’m constantly making/doing/playing something to keep my hands busy, so it’s inevitable) / NO.

are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO.

are you confident in your writing? YES / NO.

are you a sensitive person? YES / NO.

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?

Criticism is the best way to grow as a creator, tbh, but I will say I think the biggest complaint is just how goddamn slow + forgetful I am hahaha,,

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?

Sure! I have a tags specifically for weird Cybertronian biology quirks and for Rung just rambling about things, and it’s fun to get to reveal bits and pieces of the backstory I’ve created for him.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?

........I mean lmao you can tell me why you disagree but at the end of the day this is my personal portrayal of a specific version of a character who only shows up for like three issues of a 70+ issue long comic series.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT?

There are several other fantastic Rung writers out there each with their own interpretations and understandings of the character, so like. Godspeed. Go, find the god your heart desires, and whatnot.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?

Do you hate my portrayal of Rung, or just Rung in general?? I know a few people who just straight up dislike any version of Rung at all, so there’s that.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?

English hard, hebrew and yiddish and spanish and romanian and german only. More seriously I was raised in an extremely weird house where English was the primary language but I was being taught by older people who never remembered which language they were using at the time. My first word was Mickey Mouse. I don’t know what’s happening. I went to art college. Please be gentle with me, sir.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?

Oh most likely. There’s only like... one or two things I will go out of my way to discourage or avoid + I’m generally just kinda here to make other people happy haha

#ooc|moon above

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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945

A Survey For College/Uni Grads Survey by emptyspaces

What year did you graduate? 2020. It’s only been a little over a month, too.

What degree do you have? Journalism, but I might as well have had a minor in history because of the amount of history electives I took as well haha.

What classes did you take your first year? The first semester of my first year was purely for general courses, so I took basic courses on English, biology, math, philosophy, and Philippine history. By the second semester I took more basic courses on public speaking, physics, and social science, but by then I was already allowed to take two journalism majors.

Second year? My general courses included a basic course on art history, chemistry, English, Filipino, Asian history; my majors were on communication and media, news reporting, media law, media theory, journalism ethics, and an introductory course on broadcast communication.

Third year? The only general courses I had by this point were an intro to political science and a class on Philippine government and politics. I mostly took majors this year though, which wiped me the crap out: my majors were on media and society, feature writing, public relations, international relations, fact-checking, broadcast management, Southeast Asian history, and introductory courses on macroeconomics, film, psychology, and communication research.

Fourth year? I took up journalism design and layout, contemporary Philippine history, Philippine social history, pornography in media just because lol, an introductory course on anthropology, and I also got started on my thesis as well. My second and final semester got cancelled entirely because of the pandemic, but I would have finished units on business reporting, online journalism, community press, and the history of women in the Philippines.

Did it take you longer than four years to graduate? No. That would have disappointed my parents big time and considering how much effort they’ve put to send me to good schools, the least I could do was to graduate on time. Even if I wanted to shift out of my course, it would’ve led to a delay and I didn’t want that for them and I personally didn’t want that for myself either.

Did you start at 18, or did you have a gap year(s) after high school? Again, I didn’t want to take gap years for my parents’ sake. I immediately went to college right after graduating high school, like what the majority of students here do.

Was it a small or large college/university? Very large. The competition is even bigger – 100,000++ high school seniors take the entrance exam every year but they only take in around 10,000 passers. Still, 10,000 new students every school year is so many, and it’s always a bitch to get class slots because of our population.

Public or private? Public.

Is there anything the school is well-known for? All sorts of things. It’s one of the top schools in the country, so we hog the spotlight in the national news pretty much everyday. I think the biggest things we’re known for though is our reputation for research and our activism history. It also makes us a popular target of pro-government trolls.

What were some of your favorite classes? I loved taking up art studies and all of my political science and history electives, and as for my journalism electives I really only enjoyed public relations and that one class where we ran an online magazine for a whole semester.

What were some classes you hated? Fucking economics. And fact-checking. And the fact that I took both in the same period...got my lowest average for that semester because of those classes, too. I feel like I would have done better if my economics class didn’t have a population of 200 and if I had a more experienced professor fact-checking but shit happens, I guess. I also felt like my porn class was a waste because the readings were so pretentious. And of course, philosophy.

Did you have any super-long classes? Like 3 hours or longer? All majors in my college are 3 hours long. So classes like PR, journalism ethics, feature writing, business reporting, media law, communication theory, etc. all definitely took a big chunk of my weekdays.

Did you ever change your major? No. I had multiple conversations with myself to decide if I should, but aside from not wanting to get delayed I also accepted the fact that as much as I had grown to not like journalism as a practice, the technical skills taught in it were still going to be super useful in the industry I want to get into, which is communications and PR.

Did you do any internships? If so, where? I did. I interned at a PR agency last year but it was part of my requirements to complete my course, so it felt forced to an extent. I’m currently interning at another PR agency, but this time I’m out of school and it’s a personal choice of mine.

Did you ever take any online classes? If so, which ones? I only had one or two online class sessions at the beginning of the lockdown, but my school ultimately cancelled the semester altogether in consideration of disadvantaged students who may not have laptops of their own or wi-fi at home. In the end they just gave a grade of ‘P’ to everyone, which meant Pass.

Were textbooks expensive? I didn’t need to buy entire textbooks because my professors usually just took excerpts or chapters from certain relevant books and let us photocopy the pages, which costs a lot cheaper than having to buy books.

What other supplies besides books did you have to buy for your classes? Other than course readings I didn’t need to spend much. Journalism isn’t a material-heavy course like how film or broadcast communication is.

Were you in any clubs or student organizations? Yes. I was in a journalism org, our graduation committee, and was part of a student publication at one point. I also tried to join AIESEC but my schedule was so hectic at the time that I had to drop it.

Did you ever volunteer anywhere? I was a lecturer and facilitator for the journalism workshops that my org regularly held (and will probably continue to volunteer even as a grad, since I know they appreciate alumni lecturers lol), and one time I also volunteered to be an usher for Batch 2019′s graduation.

Were you on any sports teams? Nope. I liked playing table tennis, but I was never trained properly enough to make it to varsity.

Where was your favorite place to eat on campus? It depended on how much of a hurry I was in and how much I was willing to spend. The cheapest option was the network of kiosks scattered around campus which sold the same instant noodles and street food. If I wanted to reward myself but was on a tight budget, I went to Area 2 which is a residential street in campus that was also dotted with small food booths ran by the homeowners; if I had some money to spend and the time to stay in a sit-in restaurant I used to go to Chocolate Kiss.

Did you work while you were in college? I did not. I was lucky to be in a privileged position where my parents were able to provide for me and where I never had to worry about finances.

If so, where? How many hours per week?

How many times did you move throughout college? I didn’t. We lived in the same house the whole time I was in college.

Did you live on campus, in an apartment, or somewhere else? I lived at home and I just drove to and from school everyday, since the campus was near-ish enough for me not to avail of a dorm or condo.

Did you live with roommates? Alone? With a significant other? I lived with my family, but tbh it was mostly my mom and brother at home since my sister stays at a dorm and my dad works abroad.

If off-campus, how much was your rent? Never had to pay any.

How often did you go back to visit your parents? I went home to my mom every night lol, unless I had a sleepover at someone else’s place.

Did your parents help you out with living costs? Sure did. Nothing changed with my living arrangements and I still lived under their roof.

Did your parents (or someone else) pay for your tuition? They paid for the first two semesters; then by my sophomore year the government passed an act implementing free tuition for all state universities so since then they never had to pay a cent for my education.

Was it an expensive school? Not at all, which is why the competition to get in is so fierce. To illustrate, four years in my school is just equivalent to one semester in my sister’s college. Last time I checked one unit is ₱1500 or roughly $30.

If you paid for it, do you still have student loans you're paying off? I don’t have student loans. Idk if that’s a thing here, actually. I don’t think it is.

How many people did you date throughout college? One.

What was your longest relationship while in college? The whole four years. I was in the same relationship when I started and ended.

Were you in a sorority/fraternity? Fuck no.

Were you into partying? Just occasionally. I wasn’t a wild partier but I did go to a few college parties every now and then, and I certainly went to nearby bars nearly every Friday.

Where did you and your friends usually hang out? Along Katip, since there were enough places there to hang out in. Occasionally we’d go to Maginhawa, but I prefer it a lot less because the parking there sucks balls.

What did you and your friends do for fun? Drink, eat, play games.

Do you still keep in touch with any college friends? Very much. I support those who remain in the org, and I occasionally catch up with those who had already graduated.

Did any of them graduate with the same degree as you? Most of them did. It’s how I met them.

What did you do after you graduated? I rested for a bit but an existential crisis quickly came over and now I’m in a bit of a mental slump, but at least I’ve scored this internship to keep me occupied.

How was the pay at your first job out of college? The company I’m currently interning for objectively pays well, but they acquired me as an intern because they aren’t offering full-time positions for now. That said, I get an allowance rather than a salary so it isn’t much at all, but I’m still happy to be in the company because it’s supposed to be one of the top agencies in the country.

What classes prepared you the most for your career? PR, feature writing, public speaking, news reporting, online journalism...and tbh org work.

- Five favorite memories from your college days -

1: UP vs DLSU basketball game from September last year HAAAAAA

2: Attending my organization’s orientation and encountering them for the first time, not knowing I was going to bloom so much there and gain my closest friends

3: High Def 2018 and 2019

4: Drinking at VSpot with Angela, Hans, Gabie, and whoever else from their Ateneo gang that also got invited

5: TK with orgmates

#survey #surveys

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iheartseo · 6 years ago

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MASSIVE DISCLAIMER: THIS IS ALL BASED ON MY OWN PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AND WHAT I FOUND HELPFUL !!! KTHNXS ✨

hello honey! I just finished my first year at my new uni doing my new degree and I am honestly so happy about the results I am currently getting compared to what I was getting last year. so I decided to write this little post in order to help those who are going into their first year of university/college or those who just wanna change their mindset.

just a very quick story time: last year was my first REAL year at a university and being fresh outta high school, I was extremely excited about studying the subjects I wanted to study and ready to make new friends etc. etc. However, I realised right after semester 1, that I was in way over my head and it most definitely did NOT help that my dumbass was in a horrible mindset and was not mentally mature for university and the social life of university. Due to this, as well as my quick declining interest and motivation to study, I pretty much bombed out and failed my entire first year of university. And when I said I failed my first year, I’m talking I completely failed and I knew I had failed by semester 2 and so I decided not to do my semester 2 final exams cause what’s the point?

that mindset honestly, was one of the worst I have ever been and my anxiety honestly has never been so high and I would not relive those moments ever again. so here are 10 tips and some advice on how to survive your first year of university/college and hopefully you guys will have a better 1st year experience than I did. ♡

TIP #1: GROW OUT OF YOUR HIGH SCHOOL MENTALITY (it will be an ongoing journey even past your first year of uni tbh)

not gonna lie, the second you tell someone that you are 18 years old and that you are in university, everyone suddenly expects you to be an adult and have your shit together and to have suddenly matured out of your high school mentality and that your break between your high school graduation and your first few months at university, you are expected to have mentally matured by like 20 years or some shit. yes, it is strongly advised that you get out of your high school mentality and yes it is strongly advised that you have to grow the fuck up once you get into university.

however, you should not force yourself to grow up. university will most definitely throw things your way that will completely change and shape the person you will just eventually grow to be.

TIP #2: ACTUALLY GO AND ATTEND YOUR UNIS/COLLEGES OPEN DAYS OR INFORMATION DAYS. JUST VISIT YOUR DAMN SCHOOLS.

my ACTUAL first year of uni, I was accepted into one of Australia’s top universities on a scholarship for a double degree course. So you can imagine the amount of pressure and hard work that was needed to be put in for me to even stay at this school. When I got accepted, it wasn’t like I didn’t know that it was going to be hard. But I personally never expected for it to be as hard as it was on me both academically and socially.

At first, I liked my course, but I am personally one of those people who thrive off of whatever environment that I am put into so if I am placed into a uni where the environment is highly toxic and almost everyone is a harsh competing rival, I won’t put in the effort. But if I am in an environment that is much more relaxed and opened, but is still willing to push me to work harder, I will actually try. But some people are able to work in incredibly harsh and competitive environments and are able to handle snobby people, I personally couldn’t at my first university which is why I transferred to the uni I am currently attending.

ABSOLUTELY NO HATE OR SHADE TO MY FIRST UNIVERSITY. IT IS TRULY A GREAT UNI. My sister went to my first uni and she absolutely loved it, but everyone has a different uni experience and sadly, I didn’t enjoy it. So I most definitely recommend researching about the schools you are thinking about attending and it would really benefit you if you personally went to visit the school yourself. If you can see yourself being happy there, if you can see yourself enjoying the environment, if you can genuinely say you like the school, go to that school. Because there is honestly no point on attending a university just for the name and the title and you don’t even like going the damn library that is on campus.

TIP #3: TRY AND STUDY SOMETHING YOU ACTUALLY LIKE

this tip is very hard and I honestly shouldn’t be saying it? But like hear me out. My belief is that if you are studying something you genuinely enjoy, you will actually study for it. Or at least that mentality definitely applies to me. I was studying a Bachelor of Science and a Bachelor of Arts together last year. My majors were Psychology and Economics. AS MUCH AS I LOVED PSYCH, STUDYING ECONOMICS WAS A BITCH.

I personally fucken hated studying Economics and with that, I also had to study Maths as a subject under my science degree, which I also personally hated. No matter how much I tried and listened in my lectures, I could honestly never get the material and it was so disheartening to me that I couldn’t understand. Granted, I was dumb and didn’t check my classes (which I will discuss in my next tip), and I knew that university classes were going to be 100 times harder than the shit I got in high school, but that didn’t escape the fact that it was so disheartening that I wasn’t able to understand the material.

That lead me to slowly and simply not caring about what it was that I was studying and learning. I didn’t care anymore about my degree. I was so unhappy with what I was studying that I would spend more time going out and partying than actually trying to get even a Pass. Nothing wrong with having fun, but I prioritized partying over studying, which is not good.

Now I am doing an Education degree and I am so much happier! I genuinely like studying what I am studying. I even actively listen to my lectures online and take notes as if I was physically attending the lecture myself (and most students don’t even bother listening to online lectures). I even stay back after all of my classes are done to catch up with anything I have missed or get ahead of my classes. I seriously like what I am studying. Sure, I lose motivation from time to time, but I am studying way more now than I did a year ago.

BUT REMEMBER. IT IS OKAY NOT TO KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO STUDY. THERE ARE KIDS IN THEIR 4TH YEAR WHO STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY WANT TO STUDY. Finding something that genuinely makes you happy and makes you want to work hard for it is hard to find, but it is so worth it once you do. So be smart with what you pick and choose.

TIP #4: CHECK UP AND RESEARCH ABOUT YOUR CLASSES

If you are lucky enough to pick and choose your individual classes, please for the love of god, research about them! look up your classes! read your damn unit guide! do not pick a class cause it sounds cool and fuck yourself over by not reading the prerequisites or not reading the amount of assignments related to that class.

I was dumb and did not read up on my classes nor did I research about them fully my first year. I honestly just read their mini blurb and went off my merry way which fucked me over so bad because I did not personally understand the actual contents of each one of my classes.

literally find your class unit guide or class information online, look into what assignments have been done in the past, what kind of weightings they each have and read the stuff that you are suppose to learn even if you just get a simple Pass in the class. the more you look into a class, the better understanding you will get of what that class actually provides.

also, majority of the time, you can see what textbooks are needed so you can grab them off before the semester even properly starts.

just as a little side tip

TIP #4.5: If you can literally pick and choose what your time table looks like, DO NOT FUCKEN GIVE YOURSELF 3-4 HOUR BREAKS BETWEEN YOUR CLASSES. You are lying to yourself when you say that you are going to be studying in those long ass breaks, like shut up. no. don’t do that to yourself.

TIP #5: DO NOT BUY YOUR TEXTBOOKS (if possible)

for the love of god, DO. NOT. BUY. YOUR. “MANDATORY”. TEXTBOOKS. it is a waste of money. you are blowing $200 minimum for a damn paper weight. I am not even kidding. I never have purchased a textbook and I never will unless that textbook is nowhere else to be found.

Be smart about your textbooks. If you are able to find a copy of your textbook in the library, BORROW THAT SHIT IMMEDIATELY. my university lets us borrow copies of books for like 16 weeks at a time and my semesters last for at least 13, so it is enough to class me throughout all of class. your universities should have multiple copies of whatever textbook that you need for class. even if the library copy is a few editions older, it does not matter, the content is still the same. It is not worth forking out $200-$500 for a couple of extra pages.

If you can’t borrow a copy from the library, try and find it online. There are some generous people out there who have uploaded a free full copy of the book somewhere. If you can’t find it online, borrow a friends copy and photocopy that shit like crazy. You might end up paying like $50 worth of paper but 50 is better than 200.

AND IF YOU SERIOUSLY CANT DO THAT, go onto slugbooks.com to get your textbooks. I personally haven’t used that website myself, but I hear it’s pretty fucken good to get textbooks.

TIP #6: JOIN A CLUB/SOCIETY/FRAT/SORORITY ETC.

for your first year of uni/college, just join something. there is deadset something for everyone. you do not need to join greek life if you personally do not want to. i didn’t join greek life cause australia doesn’t really have that kind of shit.

if you like debating, there is a debating club. if you like drama, 10000% there is a drama club. if you are a strong LGBTQ+ ally or are apart of that group and you wanna meet queer people, 1000000000000% there is a club for that. i’m not even kidding you, at my first university there was a damn memes society and a quidditch society. you will most definitely find something that will interest you.

if you aren’t a big fan of clubs, that is fine. i just would personally recommend joining one so you can make friends more easily and it’s sort of like a little bit away from your studies. it’s something fun for you to enjoy and you get to meet some incredible people along the way. I am apart of VSA (Vietnamese Student Association) and I have done SOOO many things all the way to modelling, charity events, partying and planning out major events etc. all whilst meeting some new people and creating friendships.

TIP #7: LEARN WHAT TO PRIORITISE

I feel like this should be a no brainer but it is important. It is okay to have fun whilst you are at uni but it is not good nor is it smart to throw away a perfectly good education that you are paying hundreds and thousands of dollars for.

if you have a party on Saturday and an essay due on Sunday, do not go to the party. I know that there is some people who pull all nighters to finish off an assignment or to study for an exam, I am extremely guilty of that. However, that does not mean I will sacrifice one extra day of studying for a party.

this is where you have to be an adult and understand how you, yourself study the best and how you retain information the best and if you need an extra couple of days, skip out on some parties and reschedule those lunch dates and dinner dates. your friends will understand and will not judge you for wanting to studying. if your friends do judge you for wanting an education, then you should drop them.

TIP #8: LEARN TO REFERENCE

I cannot stress how important referencing is in university. That shit is an absolute fucken bitch and it does not help that there are like 5 different styles or some shit. But it is important that you learn how to reference correctly because you will lose marks for not doing it correctly and some professors/tutors are just straight assholes and will deduct like 10 marks cause you aren’t using the correct referencing style for the class.

in my experience, for first year anyway, they will teach you how to reference in your tutorials so you get the general gist of what to do and how to do it. I learnt how to reference in APA format in high school, so I am fine, but I know not alot of people learn it that early and first hear about referencing once they get to uni. so learning to reference is a big thing. a lot of my tutors recommended me installing EndNote which does the referencing for you. I personally just let Word do it for me. If you go into your Word and find ‘Document Elements’ (for Mac), click on ‘Manage’ in the References section and a citations list will pop up. Click on the plus sign in the bottom left hand corner and just literally fill out the form and you are done.

OR IF YOU ARE A WINDOWS USER, just go to the ‘References’ tab and click ‘Insert Citation’ and then click ‘Add New Source’ then fill out the form. Then you are literally done. You basically have corrected did in-text citations within your essay along to whatever format is needed. *The only shitty thing about this method is that it will only automatically do in-text citations, not footnoting. Footnoting you will have to insert manually yourself*

After you finished with all of your citations, just click on ‘Bibliography’ and put in in as ‘Works Cited’ and literally your ENTIRE reference list will be organised into alphabetical order for you.

TIP #9: GET A CALENDAR OR DIARY

whether that shit is digital or physical, start using one. it is honestly so helpful to know when you have got assignments and exams coming up and you can kinda start planning out when is a good time to start researching or studying etc. etc.

it seems like such a small thing, but it works so well. I personally just use the iPhone calendars app and make sure it reminds me at least like a week or 2 ahead of the actual due date so I know that it’s coming up.

i also highly recommend that once you read your unit guide/class information sheet, that you write down ALL of your assignments, when they are due and how much do they weigh into your calendar/diary. because then you have no excuse to say that you never knew about it and yet you wrote it down. it also just helps you to be productive and work around/add in other dates like outings with friends into your schedule.

TIP #10: IT IS OKAY TO FAIL

I feel like there is such an extremely high expectation to pass every single one of your class with amazing grades and graduate with like a 4.0 GPA, like for some reason that is the standard that is expected out of every uni/college student, even those attending a really shitty uni is somehow expected to be blitzing through every single one your your classes, but the truth is, you will probably fail a class and that’s okay.

trust me when i say, it is okay to fail a class. i’m not saying that you SHOULD fail a class, but if you do, it’s not the end of the world. even though I failed so many classes last year, my first university was still willing to keep me enrolled and even offered some help. staying in university/college is sort of like baseball, very simple; 3 strikes and you’re out, but even then, they will still offer you services to help you study better or if you are struggling at home or you have your own mental issues that affect your studies, there are services at university/college that will help you and it’s for free.

i cannot stress how important it is to let your university/college know that if you suffer from any sort of mental illness, have a rough background, do not have the resources to study etc. etc., that you should let them know because they can help you.

that is all of the tips and advice that i can think off at the moment. i hope this helped at least one person. if i can think of anything else/more, i’ll be sure to update this post and add it on. or if i am brave enough, maybe just do a full blown youtube video? we will see on that. BUT UNTIL THEN. I HOPE THIS HELPS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR FIRST YEAR AT UNI OR THE REST OF YOUR YEAR AT UNI IN GENERAL !!

#cindy talks too much #studyspo #study motivation #advice #university advice #college advice #hopefully this helps somebody out there #AGAIN THIS IS ALL JUST MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE #studyblr

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cigarettesnsex · 6 years ago

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cigar no. 1

"cigarettes are food for broken souls. "

there's something about the sound of turning page and the smell of hot chocolate that has jimin taking his time as he studies. the library is quite empty seeing as he's only surrounded by books at the moment.

various thoughts cascade through his mind while reading a chapter from his text book. though despite the calming atmosphere he had yet to start on his paper.

had he known psychology would require so much writing he would be just chose and English major instead.

now, don't get jimin wrong he loved what he was studying he just didn't appreciate his professor's need to torture him with gruesome papers.

sighing loudly he shut the textbook, small hands coming up to rub at his face. he's have to find someplace else to focus. not that the library wasn't cozy he just wasn't feeling very...inspired.

after all, it was kind of hard trying to write a paper on one's philosophy when he didn't even have someone to write about. and his professor specifically stated that the person they used could not be a dead philosopher.

packing his things jimin left the library his thoughts no longer cascading but wondering aimlessly.

the sun was already begining to set when jimin stepped foot outside the library. the sky was painted in pretty hues of light pinks and blues with a touch of orange here and there. the campus was quite desert considering it was a sunday since most people spent their time inside or our to have fun.

it was a lot more peaceful out on the weekend's more so than during the week.

however, none of this seemed to affect jimin since he loved in an apartment not too far from the university. the great thing about it all was that jimin didn't have to share his place with anyone. and what was greater than that?

jimin was wrong.

although, he didn't actually share his apartment with anyone that didn't stop his neighbor and childhood friend from popping in whenever he felt like it.

"hyung."

jimin eyed the auburn haired male as he sat on the couch a small smile playing on his lips.

"jiminie, what took you so long? we've been waiting for you."

We?

jimin looks behind his friend to see if anyone's there but he sees no one. thinking yoongi is just messing with him he shrugs.

"i'm going to take a shower. I would say make yourself at home but seems you've already done that."

and with that jimin was off to his bedroom already stripping his clothes off before the door was even closed.

school had been quite dull today and he even skipped out on lunch so he hoped yoongi would do the honors of feeding him tonight. as the water ran down his back releasing the tension in his muscles he closed his eyes relishing in the sensation.

it was nice the feeling. water running down your back in relaxing tendrils doing it's best to calm you down without even knowing why.

or the way it'd send a soothing spreading throughout his body like an ever growing warmth.

yeah, jimin was pretty obsessed with taking showers well more like obsessed with the feeling of warm water. when he stepped out of the shower he could faintly here yoongi in the kitchen whistling.

Yes, he's cooking tonight.

with a slight pep in his step jimin grabbed a pair of black briefs and grey sweatpants slipping them on before joining yoongi.

though what he came in contact with instead was something he wasn't prepared for.

he was ethereal to say the least. skin kissed by the sun himself with curly silver hair that looked soft to the touch. not to mention his baby pink lips although positioned in a thin line.

and when jimin caught the color of his eyes he thought for sure he'd just traveled to the moon and back. grey eyes unlike any he'd ever seen though the look the held was an unsettling one.

"hyung?"

both males turned to face the red faced jimin who was thankful for the shirt he'd decided to put on at the last-minute. not to mention the fact his long bangs were doing well to hide his eyes.

"jiminie, come on we've been waiting ages for you. i want you to meet taehyung."

Taehyung

the said male now had his full attention on jimin his telling nothing just like his expressionless features.

jimin, who was quite uncomfortable around strangers especially pretty ones in his home was currently shitting himself as he took a seat at the kitchen island.

"taehyung, meet jimin. jimin this is taehyung. i tried to introduce you both earlier but jimin was set on showering while taehyung was in the bathroom."

"um, it's nice to meet you taehyung."

"likewise jimin."

His voice is sinful.

"so, what brings you two here?", jimin asked looking at yoongi who had his back facing them both. he was currently cooking what looked to be kimchi-jjigae but jimin wasn't too sure.

"well, i have a favor to ask of you. i was hoping you'd let taehyung room with you..."

What?

"what?"

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creightonbeatrice1994 · 4 years ago

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fountainpenguin · 7 years ago

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My sister's psychology textbook lists four kinds of parents: authoritative (demanding but responsive), authoritarian (demanding and not responsive), permissive (responsive and not demanding) and neglectful (neither responsive not demanding). What type of parent is H.P.? Cosmo and Wanda? The Turners? The Carmichaels? Vicky's parents? The Fentons? The Mansons? The Foleys? What sort of parents would the child characters become? Timmy? Chloe? Vicky? Tootie? Danny? Sam? Tucker? Jazz? Valerie? etc.

Rather than sort everyone out, I’ll give you definitions and examples and you can decide for yourself. Because I’m afraid, “It depends”.

Authoritative: Considered the best kind of parent psychologically. These are the parents who give rules and explain why the rules are in place. These parents may be willing to change the rules if they and the child are in agreement that improvements can be made that will satisfy everyone.

The majority of parents up there will fall into this category- especially Jazz (though she’ll likely be a pretty nosy parent). All the Fentons show authoritative behaviors, actually. Jack and Maddie have clear house rules and hold their children accountable for breaking them.

Authoritarian: These are the “Do it because I said so” parents. Tend to want things done a certain way, don’t like to budge or change rules much. Prone to clashing with their children when tempers flare. Might ground children or physically hit them when even small conflict arises. Generally very prideful.

Surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly, Chloe’s parents lean this way (though they also border on neglectful). They set strict rules with her and express disapproval when she doesn’t act perfectly, causing her to go into those paralyzed mental breakdowns we saw in episodes like “Booby Trap”.

You could make an argument that the ends justify the means and that this style of parenting created a very good child. But I would counter that with, “But is that healthy for her?” She has panic attacks and breakdowns. So, um… No.

Plus, I mean, during Season 10, Chloe started as a “perfect” child who would be horrified to do anything bad, but by the end of the series, in “Fancy Schmancy”, she has absolutely no problems about sneaking into Crocker’s house in the middle of the night to pull pranks. Not exactly the poster good child there.

Chloe also became an authoritarian “parent” when she became the obsessive hall monitor in “Chloe Rules”.

Permissive: Parents who usually want their kids to like them so much that they bend to their child’s will, backing off from conflict and letting them get away with doing whatever they want, like staying up late or eating in their room instead of at the dinner table with the family, and recoiling when children argue. These are the parents who let their kids walk all over them and don’t enforce rules.

Vicky’s parents would be the best example for this category. See also, “Timmy’s 2D House of Horror”, when her parents tried to leave the Turner household because they were convinced the Turners were cannibals, but Vicky scared them back and they ended up rushing to the Turners for safety - and placing not just themselves but their other daughter in the Turners’ care too - instead. That’s one of my absolute favorite scenes in the entire series.

Chloe in “Dimmsdale Daze” would be another excellent example of a permissive parent. Chloe was so obsessed with being the “fun mom” that she let her parents (kids) do absolutely whatever they wanted at the fair, even though it wasn’t healthy for them. And the fact that her parenting resulted in them getting godparents… Jeepers, Chloe, you messed up.

Unfortunately, many godparents are like this. After all, they want children to be happy. They often attempt to leave the “parenting” to parents (who normally aren’t very good anyway, hence why the kid got godparents) and just play with kids to make them happy, and give them anything they want

I previously described Juandissimo’s and Remy’s relationship. Juandissimo is mostly a permissive godparent who lets Remy do anything he wants, like stay up all night and eat candy, even if it’s not good for him. He sees himself more as Remy’s friend than someone who ought to prepare him for life in the real world as a mature, disciplined adult. I just wanted to point this out because permissive parenting doesn’t have to involve parents cowering in fear of their child like Vicky’s parents. Juandissimo totally loves hanging out with Remy and making him happy. That’s still permissive parenting, even if they both enjoy it.

I also see Anti-Cosmo as often falling into this category. In “Anti-Poof”, he appears to be all bark and no bite. He tried to instate rules over Foop, but when Foop lashed out, Anti-Cosmo backed down, and made no known effort to retrieve or stop him in any way until Timmy took command and suggested everyone sing a lullaby to lull him to sleep. However, “Revenge of the L.O.S.E.R.S.” told us that Anti-Cosmo did put Foop in time-out for putting spiders in his spaghetti, so he’s made some progress.

Timmy’s parents, I would place somewhere between authoritative and permissive. They do set some rules, but they’re very basic, cookie-cutter rules not tailored specifically to him and his abilities / needs, and they often let him get away with doing crazy stuff.

Neglectful: These are the parents who just don’t care. If the child comes wandering in at four in the morning smelling like drugs and alcohol, the parent probably won’t acknowledge their presence much more than telling them to close the front door behind them.

Think Timmy’s parents in “Ruled Out”. Seriously, it’s literally an entire episode about neglectful parenting. Jack and Maddie may get distracted and spend lots of time enthusing over ghosts, but they’re hardly neglectful by the psychological definition. After all, they feed, clothe, interact with, and discipline their kids on a regular basis. They’re authoritative. Timmy’s parents in “Ruled Out” are the only example I would cite for the neglectful parenting style.

Otherwise, I think Foop is the closest to being raised neglectfully, as between “Anti-Poof” and “Play Date of Doom”, he not only was raised in solitary confinement, but his mind was put under so much stress that he developed a second personality. He falls somewhere between being raised in a neglectful environment and an abusive one as a small child.

H.P., who has 503 kids, is an outlier. I actually have to scratch my head about where I’d put him. He reacts differently depending on the kid, and of course, being a parent for over 250,000 years. He changes. He’s experienced every style. And that’s the thing about these. They’re styles. You can attribute these words to the relationship a parent and child have, but they’re not personalities.

H.P.’s dad Ambrosine is usually a very authoritative parent, and I hope you can recognize examples of that in Origin of the Pixies. He sets certain rules, but is always very patient and willing to explain why rules are the way they are. However, I… don’t think… he has ever changed his mind on a rule when H.P. disagreed with him. Ambrosine is incredibly stubborn and does not change rules if an outside force doesn’t make him, and he’s known for pushing H.P. into doing things he didn’t want regardless of H.P.’s protests, generally explaining why he thought those things would be good for him (authoritative) but refusing to budge even when H.P. was severely uncomfortable and unhappy (authoritarian). Not the best role model, but it makes him a great antagonist for our story even though he’s a nice guy and not per se a villain.

H.P. is the flip of Ambrosine. He sets rules for the entire “household” so to speak, but if you approach him gently (and probably with flattery), he might be willing to bend a few of them for a few kids. That would be authoritative. Longwood, being the gentle type, can usually get him to adjust rules. But kids like Sanderson who storm in all prickly demanding he change his mind when they think rules are unfair will trigger his stubborn authoritarian mindset by making him angry, and he’ll pull the Head Pixie and “You do that and you’re fired” cards to put them in their place. He’s trying to run a business, after all.

However, remember that H.P. cannot handle extinction bursts. He doesn’t like to change systems that seem to work “good enough” because he can’t handle kids throwing tantrums, and will give them something they want if it calms them down. That’s more of a permissive thing. And a very short-term solution. I have this image of A.C. grabbing the phone one day when Foop acts up and frantically asking H.P., “Well, what do you do when your pixies have extinction bursts?” to which H.P., handing them stacks of cash on the other side of the line to quiet them down, grunts back, “What the heck is an extinction burst?”

He doesn’t like to let it get that far and will usually cave in pretty quickly unless he has strong feelings that urge him to resist (as is the case with retinue duties).

It’s like this: Shouting and arguing hurts his pride and triggers his authoritarian reaction. Whining and screaming makes him panic, triggering permissiveness.

However, he did go through a phase in his life where he was just an absolutely neglectful parent completely. You’ll get to see him that way in Origin soon enough. Not a good time in his life.

Mmhm. Like I said, it really just depends on the situation. These are labels for parenting styles, but shouldn’t be attributed to a parent’s whole personality.

#Anon #asks #FAIRIES!#Going Ghost!#We're Pixies!#I'm wasp dad trash #Origin of the Pixies #The bat with the hat #Bat cube and associates #130 Prompts #What schedule what hiatus?

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deborahdeshoftim5779 · 7 years ago

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Responses- The Marvel of Trelsi (Part VIII)

By BoltonEvans post here.

Believe me, I’m in the same boat as far as my OTP goes. While there is a bit more of a variety of fanfiction to explore, the majority of it is grossly out of character (self-loathing homophobic asshole Troy, and Ryan with Sharpay’s personality who refers to Troy as “Bolton” are everywhere), and resort to using extreme traumatic scenarios, such as rape, for cheap drama.

I used to be in another fandom where the homosexual ships involved exploitation of rape as a plot device, which is quite frankly disgraceful. As for Troy being “homophobic”... Is that why he decided to make friends with the most flamboyantly gay... Oh, never mind. I truly believe so many fans were watching a different film altogether.

Even worse, I’m the only person still actively writing for my ship, these days, with the very rare exception cropping up and taking me by surprise every couple of months, or so. It’s a very sad state of affairs.

Sad, indeed. They have far more in common: 1)- A love of the Performing Arts and corresponding commitment, 2)- Strong work ethic, 3)- Kindness, generosity and thoughtfulness, 4)- Humour. The honest viewer doesn’t need to ship them to see this. Gabriella by comparison only meets ONE of the above criteria-- being a hard worker, and that only relates to her academic pursuits. When it comes to Troy or Ryan’s hard work, she’s happy to flush that down the toilet when it doesn’t suit her. (She’s also happy to play the two against each other to get emotional revenge, which is obnoxious).

A few more notes/additions, because I’m both obnoxious, and incorrigible:

- My Tryan bias results in my perspective of Troy seeking Sharpay out and agreeing to perform with her and save her “sinking ship” of a talent show only if she also allows the Wildcats to perform, revolving around Ryan persuading him to do so. Troy was hellbent on dropping out of the show and resuming kitchen duty as a show of solidarity with his friends. It was only because of Ryan that he ultimately changed his mind. So, even though Troy absolutely does uphold his commitments (he is a textbook people pleaser, after all), I view that instance as the one exception where Troy had to be talked into keeping a promise. Thankfully, it was by someone who was actually looking out for him, for once.

That’s a good point. Thanks for pointing this out.

- One minor correction: Gabriella transfers to East High after the new year begins. In the American school system, this would be the start of the second semester, or halfway through the school year, and it’s questionable just when, exactly, she and Troy began officially dating after the events of the first film. In all likeliness, she and Troy dated for about half of their junior year, broke up several weeks into summer vacation, got back together (after Troy was willing to throw an opportunity for a scholarship out the window because of Gabriella’s reaction to him prioritizing his future over giving her a summer worthy of remembering), managed to stay together for most of senior year, then broke up, again, when Gabriella unceremoniously and callously dumped Troy over the phone a week before the year was out.

Correction noted, thanks.

“When Troy tries to show her a golf course in HSM II, she tells him “I don’t play golf”, which is harmless enough. But given that she should have known by then that her boyfriend was on the school’s Golf Team, it would have reflected better on their relationship had Gabriella taken an interest in his golfing, whether she liked it or not. Particularly since Gabriella was later bitter that Troy didn’t ask HER opinion on the much-derided “Italian golf shoes”. If she doesn’t play golf, why does she care?"

This is a brilliant point, even though I believe that Gabriella telling Troy that she doesn’t play golf when he was obviously setting up a date (since he’s the sole half of the relationship tasked with planning every single date they go on), was rude. I’m assuming that Gabriella, contrary to what sense and logic would dictate, doesn’t take any real interest in Troy’s golfing because it was nothing more than a plot point for the sake of the narrative in the second movie, and never comes up, again, afterward. Her general apathy toward him is also a factor, though, of course.

I also want to add that, as far as their lack of a “common thread” goes;

-Gabriella seems unable to commiserate with Troy’s financial woes, and, indeed, never expresses a single concern about how she’s going to afford her own college tuition- another disparity.

Oh, this is a VERY good point. Thanks for noting this one. Contrary to what popular romances like to claim, financial disparities can often harm a relationship, with the lesser fortunate partner feeling inadequate (particularly if they are a man) and yet steadfastly refusing any financial assistance. In Troy’s case, he never envies Gabriella’s financial position or asks for anything from her (although she bums freebies off him ALL the time), and expects to resolve all his financial issues himself through hard work and personal responsibility. This is one of the things I really like about him. However, his flaw of worrying so much also comes to light, which is where, as you say, Gabriella comforting him at the very least would have helped somewhat. Of course, what she ACTUALLY says is that they should “focus on right now”-- in other words, herself.

Whenever Gabriella pulls attention away from his relatable issues and back to her own First World Problems, I tend to think this would have the psychological effect of making Troy feel as though he were complaining too much, if that makes sense? Because he always invests SO much in alleviating Gabriella’s worries whilst sidelining his own. So he would be internalizing a LOT of anxiety, which is extremely unhealthy. In conjunction with the fact that Gabriella makes him feel and look like a toddler in their relationship, his financial woes would make him feel even more inadequate for her as a partner. When his truck breaks down whilst he takes her home, he looks embarrassed, even though the reason is perfectly normal: he needs a new fuel pump. But it’s almost as though he anticipates her mockery, which makes me think that she regularly mocks him when things go wrong-- even if those things went wrong due to circumstances beyond his control. And let’s not forget the fact that he feels so obliged to impress Gabriella by spending his own limited resources on her, even though she can clearly afford to not only provide for herself, but also do nice things for him. What was stopping Gabriella from buying herself a pizza and inviting Troy round for once? Why couldn’t she pay for dinner and a movie sometimes? Why couldn’t she use her mother’s car or help buy her own, since she clearly has the money? Why, as you have already said, could she not help Troy out with his truck woes? (As I’ve said, I’m almost POSITIVE that she would have gotten irritated with him on the ride back from California, because his truck is unreliable. She has no concern for anything that troubles him. I bet she didn’t help pay for petrol, either). He eventually spends/borrows money to attend Berkeley for reasons beyond my humble comprehension.

It’s very unhealthy and Gabriella’s lack of sympathy makes it even worse.

-Gabriella’s bedroom decor, behavior, and wardrobe choices suggest a childlike innocence to her personality, and she talks about wanting things to be "like Kindergarten”, but, as you mentioned, she pokes fun at Troy for holding onto boyhood playthings. Watch her face when Troy takes Robo-Rob from her, worrying that she’ll break the toy robot.

That doesn’t strike me as the face of a girl who finds her boyfriend’s dorkiness and sentimentality for an aspect of his childhood endearing. That’s the face you pull when a person says or does something crazy and you’re trying to wrap your head around it.

You seem to have all the right gifs! Christ. There’s rarely ever any genuine affection in her eyes when she’s around Troy, as I will discuss later. Maybe in HSM I with the rooftop scene, we saw some genuine affection as she was opening up to Troy. That vanished not long later after the webcam stunt, in which her expression was NOT hurt/disappointed, but cold and almost hostile. (Maybe she didn’t want to appear weak or hurt by his words, given that she DID shed tears earlier). And yes, the hypocrisy is staggering in the way she treats Troy’s childhood interests.

-Troy knows his future is coming at him full steam ahead, and even though he has no idea what he wants to do, after high school, and is “being pulled in a hundred different directions”, he acknowledges, “We’re going to graduate. That’s going to happen. Nothing is going to slow down”… while Gabriella laments, right in front of him, life not grinding to a standstill, just for her, so she never has to leave East High. This suggests not just a disparity in priorities, but in maturity levels, as well; something that would have caused an eventual rift between a real life couple that nothing could have patched up.

Absolutely.

Imagine, years down the road- if they managed to stay together- Troy fretting over steadily accumulating bills and taxes while Gabriella rolls her eyes and tells him to just push for a promotion at work. Then, imagine Gabriella finding out that the electric bill hasn’t been paid and their electricity is about to be shut off. Do you think she’d take a stressed out Troy aside and promise to find a way to get them out of this rut, or angrily confront him and demand to know why the bill hasn’t been paid and if he wants them out on the street?

Shaking with laughter! :D Please God, let it not get this far!

Imagine how Gabriella would respond if Troy sustained an injury, in college, that ruined his shot at a career in professional basketball, or if he got laid off from his job. Do you really think she’d stay by his side and try to work things out? Or, do you think Troy would come home to find the engagement ring he put his entire salary toward, sitting on the kitchen table beside a note from Gabriella explaining that she “can’t do this, anymore”?

That dialogue... :D That is JUST what Gabriella would say. I’m laughing because of the sheer irony. We are told that this couple represent “Relationship Goals”... I just can’t! *wipes eyes*

Based on everything I’ve seen in canon, I heavily lean toward the latter.

The Wail Fest in HSM II epitomises Gabriella’s philosophy in a nutshell: “I gotta do what’s best for ME.” She really knows how to play the scorned lover in every one of her Wail Fests. What’s even more insulting in this song is when she sings, “You’ll be okay!” This is AFTER she: 1)- quit the job he secured on her behalf, 2)- mocked and derided him for his promotions, 3)- flirted with Ryan to manipulate his emotions, 4)- dumped him, 5)- and eventually rejected his necklace. She has some audacity! Every time she is about to drop kick him, she constantly makes the presumption that he will understand her behaviour: (HSM I)- “You’ve got your team, and I’ve got mine. It’s WHERE WE BELONG.”, (HSM II)- “I just don’t belong here, I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND”, (HSM III)- “I can’t be a little adult right now, Troy. I’m hoping you’ll understand that.” It makes me sputter with rage. Meanwhile, when it comes to HER turn to show some understanding in the following situations: (HSM I)- When Troy is clearly being pressured to avoid the Musicals, (HSM II)- When Troy is under pressure from Sharpay’s harassment and his fast rise to fame, (HSM III)- When Troy is worried about his future--- hey, what do you know? Her “understanding” vanishes. It’s like she never heard of the word.

*angry sigh*

I’ll discuss more of this in later posts. If you don’t mind, I’ll add some things you’ve said here. (Giving credit, obviously).

Thanks for the responses!

#Trelsi #BoltonEvans #Responses #TheseAreGreat #Playmakers #LiterallyTroyAndKelsiForever

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[RF] Liberal Arts

Francis walks like he knows exactly where he’s going, even though he’s in foreign territory. He strolls into the room, and pauses. He’s not alone, there’s another girl already waiting. She looks up from her phone, holding his gaze. It’s more than just a casual glance. A few seconds pass, and they size each other up. He looks away, and walks over to a tiny table where a stack of dilapidated magazines sits. Nothing interests him, and he looks back at the girl, she’s still staring, and she looks down at her shoes when their eyes meet again. She looks worried, but she wears a faint smile now. It’s enough for him, he sits down near her, and decides that he’s going to say something. This is the worst possible situation, and nothing comes to him. No funny observation. No witty remark. He goes for the first thing that comes to mind.

“What are you doing here?” Francis asks.

“Getting help,” She replies.

They’re sitting outside the therapist’s office at Carlow University. It’s perched in an office building overlooking Pittsburgh’s Fifth Avenue and the cars below inch at a crawl, working their way homewards - wherever that may be. Cheesy posters extolling “Teamwork,” “Dialogue!”, “Go Celtics!”, cling to the wall, there’s a bookcase stuffed with self-help and psychology textbooks. It stinks like Glade and Clorox baby wipes.

“You look like the last person that needs help.” Francis says.

“Really?” She breaks into a smile, choking back the tears that have been threatening for the past half hour, the worry haunting her expression disappears - it’s like the sun after a storm, and Francis senses that she’s someone special.

“Really. I’m fine too. But I need a cigarette. I don’t even smoke. I only smoke when I’m drunk.”

“I smoke.” She smiles.

“No way.”

She reaches for a pack in her purse. Marlboro Reds.

“No shit. Cowboy killers?” Francis smirks. “You smoke cowboy killers?”

“I usually smoke Gitanes. You say, cowboy killer?” The words form awkwardly - hesitantly, it dawns on Francis that English isn’t her first language. He swears she’s Italian.

“Are you Italian?” He asks.

She tosses her head back in laughter, the black hair tucked behind her ear comes loose and falls across her cheek. It’s almost too much and a stray tear trickles from her eye.

“Are you alright?” Francis is stupefied, raising a brow and leaning forward.

“No.” She shakes her head. “Or else I’d be somewhere else right now. Maybe a beach. Maybe in bed. My life is finished.”

“Same. I’m breaking up with my girlfriend and she said she was going to kill herself. It’s insane. My Pap told me to go talk to someone about it.” He blurts the statement thoughtlessly, and he looks away for a moment when he realizes it – he’s stressed and the cracks are showing.

“Do you want to kill yourself too?”

“No, not at all. She’s the one who needs to see someone. I’m basically going to the therapist for her, just to get advice. We’ve known each other since we were thirteen and my Pap is best friends with her parents. She’s basically his adopted granddaughter. He says he’ll quit paying for both my car and health insurance if I don’t stay with her. So here we are.”

Francis feels compelled to explain himself after sharing his initial revelation. He’s never seen a therapist, and he’s faltering – he doesn’t think it’s going to solve anything. Francis decides to open up to this girl, a total stranger. His words are honest, without the fear of judgement that comes with full disclosure to someone he knows well. He’s seen her around campus before, she was in one of his classes, but they never had a chance to talk. It’s strange, he still remembers the fun fact she shared on the first day. “My favorite band is the Rolling Stones.” It stuck with him, that’s his favorite band too.

“That’s sad about your girlfriend, but it’s funny that your Pap is uh, bullying you.” She smiles.

“Maybe.” Francis laughs. “What brings you here again?”

“I don’t know,” she says, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

“So, you’re just here for fun?”

“No! I actually broke up with my girlfriend too.” She laughs nervously, and freezes for a moment in anxiety – a crooked smile on her face.

“No shit.” Francis stares. She possesses a rare, imperfect beauty, and makes no attempt to mask her flaws. Dating another girl at this school is enough to make her a pariah. Carlow is a private, Catholic University located a block away from the University of Pittsburgh. The school is an afterthought, obscure to some even in Pittsburgh. There’s a convent on campus, and the social life is dead - if you go to a party, chances are it’s up the road at Pitt.

“It’s not as you think. I like men, but women too. The whole thing was a mistake. That’s why I’m here.”

“How do you accidentally date another girl?”

“It was just to, as you say, try it out, for fun, but she was too serious. I’m here abroad, I’m only here for one semester. She twisted me, as you say, um, I can’t think of the word. I just want to go home, if I even have one.”

“She screwed you?” Francis says. Picturing her going all the way with another girl floors him - it takes her to the edge, and that’s something he likes in a girl, that ability to break the mold and step outside the boundaries, to see something and pursue it. He lives life the same way.

“Yeah, um, she’s going to tell my father that we had the fling, she may have already. She’s a friend of the family, and she’s living here in Pittsburgh with a host and I stayed for one semester.” An ambulance speeds past on the street below, they glance out the window behind them. Two hospitals are located a block away from Carlow, and the sound of a meat-wagon howling past is usually enough to scare Francis awake during his lectures. Muffled conversation drifts from behind the closed door nearby. “That’s why I’m so upset. Because I will be uh, de-owned by my father.”

“You’re French, aren’t you?” Francis finally places the accent.

“Yes! But Italy is only a few miles away from where I live. That’s why I sound Italian. I live near Nice and Monaco.”

They gaze at each other. He feels it, there’s a connection.

“You’re something.” Francis sits for a moment and comes to a sudden decision. He needs a change, he’s desperate for it – he’s spent the last seven years in a relationship with the same girl, and he isn’t satisfied. This girl’s looks are captivating, with a unique, Mediterranean quality, stunning, and carefully refined. He risks it. “Listen, I’m a psych major. I bet you the guy behind that door is an asshole. Let’s go outside, and we could smoke a couple of those cowboy killers and talk this all out. I bet we’ll both get a lot more out of it. Besides, I’ve never met anyone from Monaco. I’m Francis by the way.” He offers his hand.

She takes it. “I’m Fae.” She pauses, considering the idea. “Let’s go.”

She stands and picks up her purse, she doesn’t think twice. Sometimes you meet someone, and once it happens you can’t un-see it.

“Allo!”

Fae plops into the passenger seat of the Hyundai. Through the gloom Francis can see she’s wearing one of those black, quilted jackets that reach down to the knee, black skin-tight jeans that are frayed on the thighs exposing the right amount of skin, and black Vans with the laces tied neatly. Her black hair reaches just below her shoulders, and she parts it down the middle, tucking half behind her left ear and the rest falling across her face - it’s like she’s hiding, her right eye covered, but she smiles, and her hazel eyes light up as they meet Francis’s gaze. For once he can’t find the words.

“You look great.” Francis says as she pulls the door shut behind her. The anxiety she had yesterday has disappeared. There’s something distinct in her movement, she makes the simple act of getting in the car seem smooth, effortless - sexy even. Francis is excited for tonight, but his mouth is dry and his heart is thumping, he just got off the phone with Allie - his girlfriend. He grilled her about her ‘suicidal ideations,’ and she admitted her bluff – this isn’t the first time Francis has threatened to end the relationship, and this isn’t the first time she’s responded with hysterics. “You couldn’t survive without me!” She screamed, her words still ringing in his ear. Just watch me, he told her. Just watch.

Rain patters on the windshield, and the tiny four-liter engine hums patiently as the car idles. Francis’s battered, six-year-old iPod is plugged into the sound system, and music from The Walkmen’s album ‘Lisbon’ plays low in the background.

“Merci, et tu, and you I mean.” She laughs, “Sometimes I say things in French and don’t even realize, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’ll get used to it.” Francis says as they pull away from the posh mansion in Pittsburgh’s Shadyside neighborhood where Fae has been staying. “How’s Katrine?”

“She won’t speak to me. Must we? Let’s talk about music, I’m so glad we have a common passion.”

“I’m glad too. I don’t know many girls who play the guitar.”

“Or are so good at photography.” She smiles – it’s white, perfect, framed by two shallow dimples. The car is sterile, he cleaned it earlier, emptying a half a bottle of Febreeze in the process, he is embarrassed by the huge coffee stain on the passenger side floor where Fae’s feet are now resting. Allie never cared, but Fae is immaculate and he prays she doesn’t notice.

“Photography?” Francis says, considering her statement as they make their way through the traffic on Penn Avenue, they’re hitting the back end of rush hour, and Francis tries to hone his focus as he splits his attention between Fae and the maze on the road. It’s dark, December – the rain picks up, tapping insistently on the Hyundai’s roof. The semester is almost over, and it’s reading week at Carlow. What Francis doesn’t know is that Fae has failed almost every one of her classes, she’s studying sociology, but the American classes don’t translate well to what she learned in the French system. Surprisingly, she finds the courses more rigorous in America. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do next. Francis is on track to make the dean’s list again, despite all the nights in the South Side.

“The picture I sent?” Fae says.

“Oh, yeah.” That photography. He smiles. They texted for hours after they parted ways the previous afternoon. They discussed their love of music mostly, but it didn’t take long until the conversation turned to romance. Francis eventually asked Fae what she looks for in a potential lover. She answered honestly – she wants confidence and sincerity, and she responded with the same question. Francis told her he wants loyalty and honesty. They made plans to meet up for what was essentially a date. It reached a point where Francis thought the conversation was over, until Fae sent a text that caught him off guard entirely. “Do you know how to French kiss, or am I going to have to teach you?” Francis wondered how far things would go. The next morning, he woke up to it – Fae striking a seductive pose in a mirror, in nothing but her black underwear. “That was nice.”

“I knew you’d like it.”

“I did.”

“I was expecting something in return.” There’s a playful glint in her eye.

“Sorry, I’ve only known you for twenty-four hours. I’m a prude.”

“No fun.” She says and faux frowns.

“I didn’t think you were that type.”

She throws her head back, and laughs. “I’m French!”

He laughs too now. It’s ridiculous, she’s the first French girl he’s ever met, and she has him hooked.

Francis parks near the door. The mall looms in the distance across the parking lot, illuminated by the soft yellow sodium bulbs of the street lights. The new movie theater juts out like a sore thumb, tacked on a couple years earlier. It looks like a sinking ship, and the rain is starting the gradual transition to snow. Francis catches a glimpse of himself in the car window, and meditates upon his reflection. His hair is black, cut short and styled with Garnier Fructis hair gel that sticks to the fingers and smells like a rotten fruit smoothie - it’s unpleasant, but it gets the job done. His clothes are understated yet suave, and Francis looks like someone you’d see within the pages of Vanity Fair magazine – cool, debonair, but grittier and more driven. His eyes are a grey-blue, placid, thoughtful, girls always remarking upon them, “You have such nice eyes Francis,” and he just brushes it off like always because of Allie. Francis is good-natured, and he knows it. He’s never had trouble getting along with other people, and he senses that in Fae – they’re extroverted, maybe even a little cocky.

The snow is sticking to their hair in white specks and making the ground slick. Francis’s leather jacket is too thin and he shivers. The red sign tacked to the side of the strip mall reads “Guitar Center” except some of the bulbs are out so it’s “Gut Center.”

“This place is the Walmart of guitar shops,” Francis says clicking the key fob and locking his Sonata.

“How so?” Fae asks.

“You’ll see what I mean.” Francis hasn’t mentioned that he comes here with Allie sometimes out of boredom, and they’d spend an hour or two playing every guitar and the drums, and sometimes the keyboards too. They’d leave after purchasing a pack of picks or some strings because they felt bad for disturbing the peace in the otherwise empty store. Francis had noticed at some point that they never seemed to sell the guitars, you’d come back a month or two later and there’d still be that Fender Duo-Sonic hanging from the wall, biding its time until the right player comes along.

“The weather was so nice yesterday. What happened?” Fae says as they cross the parking lot and head toward the door.

Yesterday, Fae and Francis went outside into the brisk December air on the tiny commons at Carlow University, and smoked a few Marlboros and chatted for about an hour. Fae was full of stories about her relationship with Katrine, who was the daughter of Fae’s father’s best friend. It was physical, and nothing else as she claimed, but Katrine had genuine feelings for Fae which weren’t reciprocated. Fae told Francis repeatedly that her only intention with Katrine was to experiment sexually. After a while, she asked Francis about his girlfriend. Francis realized he didn’t want to talk about Allie, but he was honest. He said he wanted to end things. “I don’t love her anymore.” He said, and he was lying. He still does, but she is smothering him - scaring the shit out of him at the same time.

“Just think, if we get married, we’ll be buried together.” She had said. Allie haunts him. Over the summer, one of her cousins exchanged vows with a man she’d only known for three years. Afterwards, she fixated on the idea of marriage. “I’m ready whenever you are.” She brought it up constantly, and he played it off as best he could. Things finally came to a head, and one night she laid bare the terms of her love, and exposed just how deep it went – she’s obsessed with him. It terrified Francis, and he pushed her away, he went a week without speaking to her. That’s when things blew up. Francis loves Allie, but their relationship is like a burning building ready to collapse. On the other hand, the prospect of throwing away seven years of commitment to her gnaws on Francis – it undercuts his willingness to rush into things with Fae. The mere thought of Allie with another man is enough to incite feelings of heated jealousy. Tonight however, he pushes aside his misgivings, and focuses on Fae – she’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Do you know those guys?” Francis gestures towards the windows. Giant posters of Cobain, Lennon, and Clapton look on from behind the huge black panes, tonight Francis wishes they could speak. He trusts them – Kurt and Courtney, John and Yoko, Eric and Pattie. What would they say about Fae? And then he reconsiders, some of those relationships didn’t exactly goes as planned.

“Of course, I know those guys!” Fae gives Francis a playful shove. They hit it off yesterday, and this was agreed as just a short stop before dinner today, Friday. It was Francis’s idea after Fae mentioned she had played for years.

Francis holds the door for Fae.

“Merci!” She says as she steps through. They’re on the same wave length tonight, and there’s a palpable sense of attraction even when they aren’t talking - the way Francis keeps catching her gazing at him when she thinks he isn’t looking. Francis already knows from the short time they’ve spent together that Fae and Allie are the same type - outgoing, yet mysterious in some ways. When you look past her flaws, Allie is a girl of matchless beauty, but Fae is already proving herself.

Fae all but gasps when she sees the carousel of amplifiers, and the rows of mint-condition guitars waiting to make music. They make their way to the wall of instruments, the warmth of the indoors leading them to unzip their jackets. Fae is wearing a blue sweater over a white blouse, and something about the way the neatly buttoned collar of her shirt peeks above the neck line of her sweater looks distinctly French.

“Didn’t you say earlier you have a Fender Jaguar at home?” Francis asks.

“Oui, il est douane… uh custom. It has an uh, hum-bucker in the uh,” She makes a gesture.

“The bridge? That’s cool, and you like the Stones, right?”

“Oui! I love the Rolling Stones! I like Serge Gainsbourg too especially! Any rock!”

They edge closer to the wall, scanning for the right guitar.

“Oh, here is a Jaguar!” Fae spots a red Squier model and plucks it from its wall hanger. “It’s a poor man Jaguar but still the same.” She’s beaming.

“Have you ever played a Tele?” Francis reaches and pulls down a sunburst Fender Telecaster. Fae steps forward to examine the guitar, and is standing only inches away from Francis now, and she keeps brushing against him, he gets the sense it isn’t accidental.

“Yes! But I do not own one sadly. Just my Jaguar and my Stratocaster, and my acoustic.”

They plug into a couple of Marshall amps and noodle a bit. Francis knows instantly that Fae is lightyears ahead in her playing. She runs down an impressive jazz scale and plays a melodic chord progression he’s never heard. Francis is good, but not this good.

“You’ve been playing how long exactly?”

“Since I had four years! Guitar and football are my true passions!”

“Soccer?” “Yes! Football! I played at my university in France until, I, uh,” her bright mood dims, “until I tore my knee. Now I can’t ever again.” She rocks on the stool, her hair falling in her face.

“I’m sorry. It sounds weird, but at least you can play guitar for your whole life. That’s something I like to tell myself,”

“I never thought that!” She says. She smiles.

Francis plays a riff on his telecaster. “Do you know this?”

“Of course!” She responds with the serpentine rhythm part, they play for a few seconds and Fae starts to sing, quietly at first, and then more confidently.

“I can’t get no, sat-is-fac-tion, I can’t get no sat-is-fac-tion!” Her accent disappears as she sings, her voice ringing true, confident - resonant. Francis is thrilled, they play the whole song, she knows every word. They lock into each other’s groove, forgetting everything else, their problems fading into the music. They finish, and Fae finishes by flashing through a blues scale, concluding in a flourish.

Francis nods his head, playing it cool, trying to mask how ecstatic he is. “That was neat.”

“Neat?” Fae tosses her head back into that infectious laughter, and Francis watches with concern as Fae laughs, and laughs - she can’t stop. Fae has an absolute fit of laughter, and when she finally does stop, Francis notices that she’s drooling. His expression shows an edge of concern. She slowly wipes her face after finally coming to her senses. Francis job-shadowed at Western Psychiatric last summer, and he saw patients that acted just like this. It dawns on him that he met her at the therapist’s office. If it was anyone else Francis would run, and fast, but he’s in too deep now. He’s blinded, not only by the fact she’s gorgeous, but by the depth of their rapport – they give off the same vibe, they have the same personality. Not only is she ‘trop sexy’ as they would say in Nice, but she’s better than Francis at something, he’s used to being the best at most things, and he appreciates the occasions when he isn’t.

They pause, and lock eyes, neither looks away, and they’re both smiling. Fae is composed now. Francis leans forward and puts a hand on her knee.

“That wasn’t neat, that was amazing.”

“Thank you! I had a sudden idea, we are so good together, that we should start a band!” Fae remarks suddenly.

“We just met!”

“I know, but it would work! And I like you, a little too much I think!”

“I like you too.” Francis says. Then the quip about the band hits him – Allie is a superb drummer, he’s more than proficient on the bass, and Fae is clearly a gifted guitarist. Something clicks in his head. Maybe I don’t have to get rid of Allie after all, maybe we can learn to simply be friends. Maybe we can all coexist. He knows that if he got Fae and Allie together, they would click.

“What’s dating like in France?” Francis asks after they’ve been seated at Mad Mex. It’s a yuppie Cali-Mex restaurant exclusive to Pittsburgh where you can order a big azz margarita or seasonal burritos. Chili lights are strung from the ceiling and indie rock blares from the stereo, cubist graffiti art reminiscent of Picasso adorns the walls. Hipsters seriously dig the place, and Francis knows that’s exactly what he and Fae are. Not the casual sort who buy a vinyl Beatles LP from a thrift shop and let it gather dust in the corner of their dorm room – they’re the militant type who can quote Neutral Milk Hotel and tell you every type of guitar Lou Reed owned while he was with the Velvet Underground.

She collects her thoughts before answering the question. “Nothing like in America, much different. In France, it is much easier for guys and girls to be friends. Here it is uh, like if you’re not dating, or uh, if you’re not doing sex, then what’s the point? And when you do become exclusive in France, there is not so much possession. It is common to see a married woman go out with her married friend who is a man, and they are that, just friends, and nothing more. Contrary to popular ideas, I feel that French women are more conservative than those in America, because once she is exclusive she is loyal to a point of her honor.”

“That picture you sent me wasn’t very conservative.” Francis smirks. The lights are dimmed low, and Fae has a radiant, soulful look. There’s a spark in her eyes, she’s full of life and excitement. They have each other’s undivided attention.

“That was just me saying, ‘I’m interested.’” Fae explains. As the night has worn on Francis notices she is very touchy, very flirty. He likes it. He tries to ignore the thought, but she’s a more sophisticated, more attractive version of Allie. Even though Fae has an accent, it almost feels like he’s talking to Allie sometimes, they’re both very cool and easygoing. And then that remark hits him. I’m interested.

“That’s one of way of getting that across.” They laugh, and Fae leans forward with intent, rests her elbows on the table and cradles her chin in the palms of her hands. Francis can’t take his eyes off her, and he takes a moment to appreciate her. She doesn’t look like an American girl, and there’s an intangible sense that she’s European, even if he didn’t know already he could guess.

“You’re really tan for December.”

“My mother was Algerian,” Fae says.

“That’s interesting, do you think she’ll care when she finds out about you and Katrine?”

“Well, my mother is dead, Francis.” Fae looks down at the table, for a second he thinks he’s killed the vibe.

The waitress appears - she’s young, college age, and her arm is emblazoned with a full sleeve of colorful, floral tattoos. She takes their drink orders. Francis orders a Corona, and Fae asks for an expensive glass of wine. They both have fake IDs, and the server scrutinizes Fae’s heavily before letting it slide. She walks off.

“I’m sorry about your mother. That’s one more thing we have in common.” Francis says.

“What do you mean?”

“My parents died in a car accident when I was thirteen. That’s why I live with my Pap.”

The words hang heavy between them, and it’s terrible, but Francis feels a deeper sense of connection to her. He carries the weight every day, and usually waits a long time to tell people - until he can be sure that they won’t try to patronize him with half-hearted pity. Fae looks away. A group of yuppies sitting at the bar burst into raucous laughter.

“So, you know how it is?” Fae says, she stares off into the distance with a wounded expression.

“All too well.”

Neither has the words.

“Where’d you get your fake?” Francis says, changing the subject, they need to get off this. He wants things to go back to how they were just a minute ago, when it felt like everything was coming together.

“A website. I’d go insane if I couldn’t drink here.”

“I thought the waitress was going to take it.”

“As did I. The picture looks nothing like me.”

“Neither does mine. But it scans so I can go down Carson Street.”

“Lucky.” The drinks come and Francis squeezes the lime into the Corona bottle and Fae sips on her wine. They enjoy each other’s company for a few moments in silence.

“I just thought of something, Francis,” Fae remarks.

“Yeah?” “You’re more French than you realize.” Francis laughs. “How?” “Your way of acting. You are uh, laid back, yet confident, too many American men are inconsiderate.”

“I like the comparison, but you haven’t seen me around my friends,” he considers her statement, and adds, “you’re definitely not like other girls I know.” Francis says.

“How?” She laughs.

Francis pauses and chooses his words, he smiles. “You have a spark. You have this energy that’s fun to be around. Most girls I know these days don’t have that.”

“Really?” She laughs, her smile is unequaled, and the way she holds her expression is subtly seductive – it’s airy and inviting. “Anyways, what is your uh, situation, with your girlfriend, I feel you haven’t fully explained to me yet.”

“With Allie?” He doesn’t want to talk about her, he’s skirted around the subject so far. “We’re still dating technically.” He says. He feels stupid. The breakup isn’t official yet, and he doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he’s in the act of cheating right now. The fact troubles him, and the thought of letting Allie go for good ties his stomach in a knot. The unforgettable impression Fae has made so far complicates his feelings. Somehow, he wishes it was possible to have them both.

“Oh.” She says. Fae looks frustrated, and she purses her lips.

“I’m trying to end it, but the weird thing is, I think if you and Allie met, you’d really like each other.”

“That’s a funny thought.” Fae is playing with her hands, her hair falling from behind her ear. “The truth is, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel something, I can’t describe it, but when we met yesterday, I wanted to get to know you. I know I sound crazy, but sometimes you just look at someone, and you feel something, you can’t describe why or how, you just know it’s happening. When we played music tonight Francis, I felt like we were in unison, the same. I wish we could have that feeling all the time.” She says.

Francis contemplates her words. She can feel it too then. He thinks she’s incredible. “How long are you in America?” He asks.

“Just until the new year,” She responds absently.

“Fae,” He hesitates. “We might be rushing things. We just met yesterday, and now we’re having dinner together. I don’t know about you, but I don’t care. It’s like this was all supposed to happen.” Francis takes a long sip from his Corona.

“Like fate?” She leans forward, her hazel eyes alive, warm.

“Yeah. Like fate. And if you’re leaving soon, we’ll have to make the most of it.”

Steph returns and asks if they’re ready to order. They’ve been caught up in each other and have forgotten entirely to look at the menu. Francis asks her to come back, and they quickly decide upon their orders while she’s gone. It hits him how hungry he is – the scent of Mexican cooking wafting around the restaurant – the tantalizing prospect of a spicy burrito.

“Not to bring up a shitty subject, but will your father really care that much when he finds out about Katrine? It’s almost 2013, if you want to try dating another girl I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“He will because he is very conservative, and, um, because I am nobility, and it is unacceptable for me to have relations with a girl.”

“What do you mean by nobility?”

“Whenever my father is gone I will be the Countess de Menton.”

Francis blinks. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he’s intrigued. “You’re a countess?”

“The French government recognizes the fact that you are a marquis or what have you, but it’s meaningless mostly. Usually it just says that you come from an old family with a lot of money.” Fae explains.

“Is that true about you?”

She’s hesitant, Fae looks down and takes a breath. “I won’t tell you how much money I have. I feel that if you think I’m wealthy it will change things between us.” She pauses again, and Francis guesses that she doesn’t want to say too much. “But I will tell you that through my father, you can trace my bloodline back to the time of the crusades.”

Francis can’t wrap his head around the notion, but he puts two and two together. Her outfit probably cost a few hundred dollars, she just ordered a twelve-dollar glass of wine, and as subtle as it is, she comes across as somewhat arrogant, even though he can tell she’s at her most vulnerable. He doesn’t doubt her claim that she’s a countess, it makes sense. It dawns on him how high-class she is. Francis wavers, he leans back in his seat and runs a hand through his hair. He feels like he’s finally met his match, and he can’t shake the feeling that they’re developing genuine feelings for each other - it’s undeniable. He knows he’s diving headlong into things with this girl. At best, they have a brief fling, she goes home, and he never sees her again, but the way it seems now, there’s something genuine happening, and the last thing he wants is to hurt her.

Fae’s iPhone is laying on the table and buzzes to life. She reaches for it, reads the screen, and considers what she has just read. She sets the phone down, and then she bursts into laughter -it’s worse than before. She can’t stop, it’s manic, uncontrollable and she laughs until she can’t breathe, tears pouring down her face, and when she can’t laugh anymore she starts to cry. She covers her face with her hand, her whole body wracked with sobs.

“Fae!” He’s shaken. She is incredible, yet here she is having a nervous breakdown. He’s seen it before with Allie - she has her own issues. She continues. “Fae!” He repeats louder. She looks at him and gasps, her tears abate momentarily.

“Let’s go outside. You need some air. Trust me.” They stare at each other. “Trust me.”

“Oui.” They stand and walk through the mostly empty restaurant past the waitress.

“We’ll be right back.” Francis says as he leads Fae past the bar and outside through the porch and the iron gate that opens onto the parking lot. They’re on the sidewalk now, and Fae wraps her arms around Francis and buries her face in his chest and sobs, and he just hugs her as close as he can and lets her cry. There’s nothing else he can do. Snow flurries flutter through the air and his breath billows in white clouds. He closes his eyes. It’s been one day, and they’re virtual strangers. This is insane. She cries for a little while longer before going silent, and still they embrace.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Mon pere.” She can’t find the words. “My father, he texts me, he says, I had a conversation with Katrine’s father, about the sickening things you’ve done.” She collects herself. “He says, don’t come home. You are on your own.”

Francis grits his teeth and pulls her closer.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

“I didn’t want to go home anyways. I hate home… and I can’t go back to my host. Katrine is there. I have nowhere.”

Francis speaks without consideration – he goes all in. “You can stay with me. I live at home with my Pap in Regent Square. We have a guest room, and you can stay as long as it takes for you to get things figured out. I promise.”

“Merci. Merci beaucoup Francis.” She releases him, takes a step back, and smiles. It’s the first time he’s seen her without worry. “That’s why I like you.”

“Why?” He laughs.

“We just met, but we don’t play games. We’re honest. Boys in France are taught to flirt, they flirt endlessly, and go in a circle and you get nowhere. But yesterday you said, let’s go talk, and we went outside and we’ve been nothing but honest with each other. I’ve never had this before.”

Francis gazes at her, the white puffs of their breath clouding the air between them.

“Fae, I can’t describe how I feel about tonight. I don’t care if we just met. We understand each other, it’s natural, and it’s like we were meant to find each other.”

Fae looks at him and smiles. They stare at each other wordlessly for a while, there’s something quietly passionate in the way they stand admiring each other.

“Want a smoke, cowboy?” She laughs. Fae reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a pack of Marlboros. Francis laughs too. She hands him the cigarette and he places it in his mouth, he cups his hands around it and she lights it for him, the pungent smoke filling his lungs. He exhales. She lights her own cigarette. “So, what are we doing tomorrow?”

Francis takes a step forward, “We’ll think of something.” He pulls her close and they kiss.

{I had to cut the final scene because of excessive character count. If there is some interest or demand, and if the mods are gracious enough to allow, I will post it either in the comments or a separate post}

submitted by /u/tacobell_enthusiast_ [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2UU6LWK

#Blogger #Story

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regressionuncensored · 5 years ago

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Why I Left Agere...

I’m submitting this on anonymous because I do not feel comfortable giving out my new URL– especially with this controversial opinion I’m about to give. I don’t think age regression is healthy. My therapist did not think my age regression was healthy. Over the three years I’ve been in this community I have not improved mentally by any margin– and here is my story. TW: grooming mentions, swearing, pedophilia mentions, mental illness mentions, possible sexual assault mentions. Read with caution if you’re triggered by any of these things. I will jump right into this without making introductory small talk. I have OCD. I have the delusion of being dirty by even thinking of sexuality in any form. The forced sexualization of agere (even if it’s claimed to be “nonsexual”) is too much for me to handle, and it’s very clear that it overlaps with kink in many areas even if you don’t want it to, or say it doesn’t for you. Somehow, saying your regression isn’t sexual has wrapped around and become sexual again– read in between the lines of any cg / little post and you’ll see what I mean. Anyway, daddy / mommy / caregiver– rather we like it or not– are terms associated with kink and they have been for several years, even before agere. The only time it isn’t is when actual, real children use it as a nickname for a parental figure, or if a person is giving care to someone who is physically unable to help themselves for a medical reason. This is the only time the term is not sexualized because people don’t know about age regression and they more than likely never will. Secondly, the amount of minor and adult relationships in cglre are ridiculous (you all know very well who I’m talking about)– but as an added example, remember the eighteen year old being groomed by a twenty eight year old and none of you said anything about it because it was “not sexual”? Yeah. “BUT SHE WAS EIGHTEEN WAAAHHHHH” I don’t give a fuck, that’s no excuse for a twenty eight year old to be interested in someone of that age and if you disagree you need to rethink your life. Cglre is grossly predatory from my experiences and the things I have witnessed there have made me report multiple blogs to NCMEC because that’s how disgusting it is, and every single cg needs to think hard about their interactions towards minors (THAT INCLUDES EIGHTEEN YEAR OLDS). Adults (AKA people in their late twenties and early thirties in this case) in this community should be absolutely ashamed for interacting with minors– and I’ll be watching the notes of this post, too! I’ll report you if I have to! Not to mention when Tumblr blocked the tag for adult content it was for a reason. “C” “G” “L”. Caregiver/little. Aka a kink with a power exchange. You can’t slap “regression” on the end and expect it to magically become safe for work… look at your tag for fuck sakes. People are constantly cross tagging it with kink tags. It was a mistake right from the beginning and everyone refuses to acknowledge it because it’s inconvenient for them to– just like me having this opinion is also inconvenient for them. As for chire, it fell apart way back when mod wolf got called out for being a pedophile and Donut got called out for being a mega jerk. The new chire community is empty and is filled with recycled ideas from 2017. It’s dying, and I think it should stay that way, but I have to applaud them for actually trying to keep kink out of their coping mechanism by not using the word CGL– other than that, it’s the same community as cglre, but it’s more successful for being safe for minors, where cglre is not (and still is not) and has failed miserably at doing so, despite the many block lists the community has created. Let’s not even mention their allowing of truscum and transmeds and how they did absolutely nothing to keep their trans members safe– I see you, cglre mods! Averting your eyes has been the death of your community, and the reason for this entire letter. Don’t even try to tell anyone in cglre this, though. They’ll just act like literal children… but, like, accurately for once, unlike the cheap baby talk they always use. They just plug their ears and go “Nwooooooo it’s not bwecause it’s rwegression and you’re just a bwig fwat mweanie head :((((((( I’ll tell my dwaddy on you.” The cringe writes itself and I don’t even support cringe culture. That’s not even a healthy way to think, by the way. You just decided it was to go along with the majority’s opinion. Regression is so harmful, especially for people like me who already have issues becoming adults due to my BPD. I am leaving this entire community utterly upset for what it’s done to me– and to see minors regressing to a younger age WHEN THEY’RE ALREADY MINORS is absolutely ridiculous. There are better, healthier coping mechanisms than sticking a pacifier in your mouth and calling your musky-husky-two-month-old-boyfriend “daddy”. Take a walk. Learn to knit. Bake cookies. Practice mindfulness and thought correction. Do CBT and DBT. Literally any of those are better than regressing– any good, licensed therapist will tell you this. Mine did. If yours didn’t, find a better one. You are only hurting yourself by regressing. You are only hurting yourself by refusing to grow up and be an actual, functioning adult in society– and if you can do that and regress? Good for you. The fourteen year olds in your communities can't– and they especially can’t have caregivers (especially when none of you can take care of yourselves at that age already), otherwise you may need to report that to the authorities. I know no one in this community will, though, because the last person who did that was chased out of your community. I saw it with my own two eyes. There is also a reason porn bots and daddy dom blogs follow you against your will. It’s because, rather you like it or not, are participating in age play at the end of the day. Not all age play is sexual but it is most definitely a kink and I highly recommend the Wikipedia article on it, as it provides accurate information to what everyone is really participating in (look, I’ll even tell you if you’re lazy or angry at me to click: Ageplay or age play is a form of roleplaying in which an individual acts or treats another as if they were a different age… wow, sounds very familiar, eh?). It’s really all regression is– age play made out to be therapeutic, but in reality, holds people back from accepting their problems and permanently harms their state of mind. Is it really any surprise that people who act like children will also do so when shown the cold, hard facts? Amazing, really. And to be honest- this is just my opinion– there’s nothing normal or therapeutic about a thirty four year old wearing a diaper and sucking on a pacifier claiming their healing from past trauma. I won’t believe you for a single second if you told me that. It’s not healthy. I don’t see any of that stuff outside Tumblr (except a poorly written and unsourced Wikipedia article) unless it’s attached to age play or ABDL– and that’s the facts. Not to mention the original age regression article specifically fucking states that it’s a hypnosis technique used in therapy, but is incredibly controversial as it provides negative results most of the time. Do your research– I know you won’t, though, or else you’ll get five page call out and get suicide baited off your blog (way to go, cglre. Suicide bait the people who don’t need it unlike, you know, TERFs or MAPs). Anyway I’m going to wrap this lengthy ramble up here and watch all the anons come in and attack me. Worst case scenario they’ll poorly dissect my letter without textbook psychology sources and think that they won– the equivalent to the pigeon shitting all over the chessboard quote. Sorry for the oncoming shitstorm in your inbox… remember to block if you have to. I know I have.

Love, A very hurt and tired former member of the agere community.

_______________________________________________________ I agree with some of what you said but I think there are some main things I need to point out.

1. I think your mental illness is changing how you perceive things. I have ocd and I am scared of animals cus I think they are contaminated but I decide to examine why I am having these fears and challenge myself because I could not live well if I didn’t.

2. I regressed when I was younger like an actual kid. From guess what? Trauma!!! Yeah I was stuck at a younger age and guess what I am now! I have been in therapy since I was four but regression does actually help me. I don’t think regression on it’s own fixes anything but along with therapy (I currently do DBT) I think it’s fine! 3. Just cus you think it’s weird does not make it bad. Maybe a grown adult never had any trauma resolved (or just thinks it’s fun) and it relaxes them. Then WHO CARES if they don’t think it’s kink and they are not being sexual in anyway then WHO CARES. I am sorry but by saying regression is ageplay (even nonsexual) is sexualizeing people who regress.

4. Kink is not bad and even if it is it’s not your job to tell them. I mean people are drug addicts and that’s bad but I don’t make it my job to tell them that it is. I mean there are people who use drugs (like drugs and alcohol) and are fine! Even if you think drugs are gross if people are not addicted then it does not matter. Like with anything weather pain or smoking weed if you are doing it for the wrong reasons. (not mentally stable, a minor etc) then yeah it’s bad but the average person who has a few drinks a week or even one drink a day is not actually in harm's way and does not need your input. (for anyone who didn’t follow drugs are kink I know bad analogy cus kink is even less harmful but whatever.)

Yes I think we need to protect minors and maybe even age gate it a bit (like I see 11 year olds here and like I was not mature enough to be here at 14 soo) but I think what everyone here is tired of is being told we are gross. That we are sick, crazy, stupid, sexual etc by everyone. Look I don’t like agere either i’m going to kink as soon as I can cus that’s what fits me better but making people feel gross fixes nothing it just sorta makes you annoying. CGLRE (you have a clear bias for chire even though I know you have issues with them too) has worked hard to be a safe place. I know kinksters and miseducated regressors might use the wrong tags but the issue is them not cglre and people can be non comm if cglre is not for them. Why not educate I mean I write stuff on this blog hopefully to show and honest side of agere and I want to educate not shame. Also it’s kinda hard to have a nonsexual kink that you do alone (most of the time) with no power exchange......well i’ve rambled enough but I think you get my point. There is nuance to this issue and people need to know both sides. My side has points and so does yours but people need to hear both and I really don’t suggest shame as your vehicle to get your point across-Lyra

#submission

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keremulusoy · 6 years ago

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Two years after our interview on motivation and entrepreneurship, we got together with Ahmet Eryilmaz once again to have a fun and satisfactory interview on “Cultural Codes and Turkish style management”…

We had a chat with Ahmet Eryilmaz about the influences of cultural codes on management and the influences of management style on business and public life, who said “Today, there are cultural gaps in business life: Some companies dwell in the past, while some in the future. And Turkish style management is passing through a compatibility test. It will either become introverted or catch up” Eryilmaz, who calls himself “a street cat” has over 35 years of experience in training and human resources.

Based on your professional experiences on Human Resources Management for over 35 years, what would your answer be to the question: “What is Turkish style management?” Turkish style, eh? I do not like being didactic, however forgive me for having to explain this much. If we are to talk about a management style, our topic is; cultural environment, ambient determinants, group norms, compatibility behavior. Do not fear as this is not my usual style in explaining. I have given these as key words. In case someone is curious and wants to research on the Internet, this is the basic information of the things I am going to say. Oh and, this is not exactly the field of management science, it is closer to social psychology. Let me define culture, so the readers and I are on the same page. Culture is concerted actions. Stabilized thoughts with continuity shared by many people … When I say many people, you might think how many that may be, in which case it is as many as the source person’s coverage zone. That is why the media is considered as a kind of ‘management power’. The media have invented flashy scientific terms. For example they call the spreading of attitudes: ‘social contagion’. Another example is that, they called the tendency of people not question their attitudes close mindedly as ‘social truth’. Some actions with the broadest scopes were called ‘high culture’; of course in this case the lesser scopes were called ‘subculture’ (subculture does not mean unworthy, it just means that they have narrower scope). Enough with the substructure information… What did you ask again, Turkish style management right? Well that is the culture in each company. Some call it ‘corporate climate’. Nice phrase. Let’s continue with some examples, it will be much more fun. In our ancient culture, there is ‘the wish of the man of power’, or ‘getting angry’. To rephrase it in lecturer style, these are all cultural codes. Just like the command phrases of software. That is what is expected from fathers at home. That is what the patriarch does. The commander’s action. Actually, the ‘headquarter’ does that. It is not a joke, take it metaphorically and use it in any way you want. In an old Turkish movie they said, this is the order from Ankara, as an equivalent to that term. And that is what the manager does. They can get angry, yell at the employees, dislike what is done, discriminate and fire you, right? This is what you call Turkish style. You cannot conduct a performance assessment on that manager, neither give feedback nor get them to do proper delegation. These are not taught at business schools, faculty of management, and are denied by managerial sciences. The HR staff pretends as if such a thing does not exist. So, it is known yet unspoken.

How do the personalization of management styles shape productivity? Once again, we need to agree on the concept. There is a notion called management style in textbooks in which widely accepted styles are explained in a general manner. A kind of categorization. As far as I understand, this is not what you are asking; you are talking about totally personalizing. That is to say personal character traits reflect on the manager, right? Yes, that happens. As a matter of fact, years ago one of the famous management scholars came up with the concept ‘managing the manager’. That meant the employees know their manager’s suits and conduct innocent phrasing arrangements. What time does he think clearer? When to talk and when to stay silent, which would be the better choice? How will I get his attention better? In an unexpected situation, how much authority can one use? What is his sore spot? Knowing the answers to these actually means making life easier. In other words, it contributes to productivity. It is licit.

We can encounter different management styles even in different branch offices of the same bank. Can we come to the conclusion of how cultural cells work and how those cultural cells are very important management tools through this example? The other day I tweeted something like this, I still remember, “In banking, there is something called the uniqueness of branch cultures, in their system literally every road leads to that”. It is as if you thought the same thing. Sometimes there is the main bank culture and then there are liberated areas, as a result of the branch manager’s operating system. This is normal. There is nothing to be surprised about.

Ahmet Eryılmaz was born in 1954. He graduated from Saint-Benoit in 1973 and Istanbul University, Department of Law in 1978. In 1980 he completed his master’s degree in law in the same faculty. / 1954 doğumlu olan Ahmet Eryılmaz, 1973’te Saint-Benoit’dan, 1978 yılında ise İ.Ü. Hukuk Fakültesi’nden mezun oldu. 1980 yılında hukuk yüksek lisansını aynı fakültede tamamladı.

He worked in Garanti and İktisat banks during 1980-1987 as a lawyer, and then as a manager in education and human resources areas respectively. He became a human resources manager in Oyak Renault during 1987-1991. He was the assistant general manager in charge of human resources in Bank Ekspres during 1991-1994. / 1980-1987 arasında Garanti ve İktisat bankalarında; önce avukat, sonra eğitim ve insan kaynakları bölümlerinde yönetici olarak çalıştı. 1991-1994 arasında Bank Ekspres’te İnsan Kaynaklarından sorumlu Genel Müdür Yardımcılığı yaptı.

He has been a lecturer in Yeditepe University, Department of Law since 2009. He has also been a board member of Infina Software Company since 2011. He is a blogger, conference speaker, and a management consultant. / 2009’dan beri Yeditepe Hukuk Fakültesi’nde öğretim görevlisi. 2011’den beri İnfina Yazılım Yönetim Kurulu Üyesi. Blogger, konferans konuşmacısı, yönetim danışmanlığı yapmakta.

In one of your articles, you said “Everybody makes deliberate choices between the alternatives of benefits-loss in their own way. For instance, you explain motivation techniques and the difficulties to a group of managers, and they decide to use the best that fits their employees”. How does this perception and management style work in our society? It does not work. I talked about the ideal case. I do not regret it; that is the right way. Managers are not given instructions as to how they should manage. Management is not a predetermined course like a game. It is life in itself. If you want to make preliminary preparations, at best you can use real life examples. If something similar comes along, how nice. If not, they get inspired from that incident. If a totally different situation occurs they have to create their own solutions at that moment. We talked about motivation before. It is a terribly applied example. Everybody applies the standard techniques they are thought. Then they are surprised why it does not work. If they do not create their own style, they might as well wait forever for somebody to come and teach them a better technique.

THERE IS NO RIGHT PERSON; EACH CANDIDATE IS A MEANS TO REEVALUATION OF THE JOB!

You say “there is no right person; the job needs to be re-evaluated with each candidate. There is room for flexibility in how the work is done”. That is to say, styles differentiate how work is done, in that case are different people worth giving a try? I have defended this throughout my career. In fact I came to a point where I do not believe in job definitions anymore. Definitions just give an idea about the job that is all. Finding the people to match the definition is a dream. You review the job, take a look at the person who is willing to do it, list the pros and cons of each candidate, choose one and say “do it however you will”. Providing that they carry out the essentials of the job, each person does it differently. In other words, there are different people and different results. Fortunately that is the case, because sometimes we encounter amazing surprises. They can do better than what you expected.

People are not born with attitude, they learn through life. Recently a major part of the society has deepened the cultural codes in the anonymous memory. Standardized attitude has come to be. How does this work with Turkish style managers? You have already made the real diagnosis. Yes, standardized attitude is stronger than ever. Once again, I must share scientific information, I cannot explain it otherwise. Experiments about social prejudices that are now considered to be the classics were conducted in the USA in the 50s. If anyone is interested, they are known as La Piere and Minard experiments. The conclusion they all came to was: Environment can be more influential than attitude when it comes to determining the behavior. Who is a manager anyway? A member of the society. Therefore, we can say that they also entered a period of change. That is to say, Turkish style management became even the more evident.

Well then, what is the limit of managers’ interference with company culture? The answer to that lies in the question ‘who’. Let me answer that frankly: A manager can penetrate company culture as far as his power zone enables. This can sometimes be just a few people. As his power grows, his zone widens. However, a real leader can interfere with the current culture altogether.

Can the private sector’s managerial search be applied to public offices? If so, what kind of difference would that create? I encountered this style twice in my career. The first one was during the Ozal era. Public offices were instilled with managers from the private sector. Do you remember the term ‘princes’? The second time lasted for a short time; after the 2001 crisis, when Kemal Dervis was put in charge of the economy, many contract employees from the private sector were hired for public banks. What was the result? The system surpassed them. It was not sustainable. The texture of public and private sectors are not compatible. The structure rejects it; sees as alien and releases red blood cells on them. Infection begins, temperature rises. The thing to be done is either constant medication feed or taking back the organ. So, it is not possible.

Do we bear a professional point of view while searching for future managers? 1980-2000 was the golden era of the management in the private sector. That was its Tulip Era. I could have said yes to what you say back then; future managers were raised from scratch. Then a different management mentality got hold –not bad, but different-. Daily investment systems started, not for the future. Managers were expected to manage the job well, not the people. I do not like the terms X and Y generation. I find it standardized, easy, over-generalizing and mostly misleading, yet still there is the reality of the new generation. They have entered the system. That caused a big change in the management mentality; new values and new life styles emerged. By the way, digitalization is also a reform. Becoming unmanned. Working styles and so is management are changing completely.

*WHO IS AHMET ERYILMAZ? Ahmet Eryılmaz was born in 1954. He graduated from Saint-Benoit in 1973 and Istanbul University, Department of Law in 1978. In 1980 he completed his master’s degree in law in the same faculty. He worked in Garanti and İktisat banks during 1980-1987 as a lawyer, and then as a manager in education and human resources areas respectively. He became a human resources manager in Oyak Renault during 1987-1991. He was the assistant general manager in charge of human resources in Bank Ekspres during 1991-1994. He has been a lecturer in Yeditepe University, Department of Law since 2009. He has also been a board member of Infina Software Company since 2011. He is a blogger, conference speaker, and a management consultant.

By: Dilara Gülşah Azaplar / Photo: Yağız Karahan

*This article was published in the November– December issue of Marmara Life.

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HOW DO CULTURAL CODES INFLUENCE MANAGEMENT STYLE? Two years after our interview on motivation and entrepreneurship, we got together with Ahmet Eryilmaz once again to have a fun and satisfactory interview on “Cultural Codes and Turkish style management”...

#Ahmet Eryılmaz #Blogger #company culture #conference speaker #Cultural Codes #educatioan #general manager #human resources #Law #lawyer #management #management consultant #Managers #Turkish style management

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