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taeescript · 3 years

Text

I Promise (I)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> Some people have the gifted ability of music; others of mathematics; some perhaps as persuasive argumentators. You have a “gift”, if one would like to call it that. It is the ability to know when somebody is telling a lie.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> hoseok x reader; ?? x reader (the whole gang joins at some point)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> mafia!au

𝔴/𝔠 >> 3.1k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mentions of drug use. nothing else much really it’s actually pretty tame right now

𝔞/𝔫: would you believe be if i said this whole thing was inspired by this singular gif? I lost my old account (rip old fics) but here I am starting new and writing again. Nervous, but please show some love

next part

The music is blasting in your room, and the bass rumbles causing your heart to beat to the rhythm of the song. However, your fingers are tapping to their own creation of a tempo while your other hand scribbles a note down on a piece of paper. It is the end of June and that means you have just received your paycheque.

“$9.74,” you repeat after your calculation, “I’ve got an extra $9.74 to spend.” You lean back in your chair and continues to bob your head. The wall behind you thumps to its own tempo; not of the song that is playing but its own rhythmic pattern. Your roommate is at it again. You close your eyes and allow yourself to drift. $9.74. You could get an extra meal. Or an extra drink at the bar. Or maybe you could just put that into your bank account. But that’d be useless, just sitting there. In the very distance, you hear the thumping of your roommate stop and its door creaks open. Another set of doors creak a couple of seconds later. You get out of your seat and open the door to your own room.

Seohyun, your roommate, brushes past you wearing only a pair of shorts and her favourite black laced bra. She walks to the door of the apartment and kisses the man on the lips before taking a drag of the cigarette she is holding in the other hand. He stands with a hand in his pocket and the buttons of his shirt undone. You watch as Seohyun bites his lip before ending the kiss.

“You’re the best,” you hear the robust mint-haired female say.

Cue the all too familiar buzzing.

“Love you, babe,” he says, kissing her one last time before leaving.

The buzzing halts.

“Love you too,” Seohyun kisses him one last time before gently pushing him out the door, closing it when he leaves.

And there returns the buzz.

Seohyun turns to walk back to her room and notices you standing there. “Hey,” she greets.

“You know, he actually does like you,” you comment, coming out of your room. You rub the back of your neck and rotate it once to get rid of the stress. Seohyun sits down on the brown couch in the small living room and takes out a tin box. She crosses her legs and rummages through its contents. A cigarette leaves its embers on the ashtray in the table in front of her. “Right. And I like him too,” Seohyun replies, taking out what she had been looking for, “Him and his drugs.” She shakes the white packet before opening it up. She sniffs the contents once and sighs. Making a motion towards you, she offers its contents to you.

You shake your head. You return into your room briefly to turn off the music and grab your phone and jacket. When you walk back out, you see that the packet is empty and Seohyun is passed out on the couch, fingers still speckled with white dust. You make a quick stop into Seohyun’s room to grab a blanket for her before locking the keys to the apartment.

Your apartment, technically. You had been the one to pay full payment and was content in living alone until Seohyun showed up one night, begging for a place to sleep. You couldn’t let her sleep outside so you agreed. That one night turned into a week and finally a year, where Seohyun still stays.

It isn’t like you didn’t enjoy Seohyun’s company. She is nice to be around, always engaging in some next level philosophical topic, particularly when she is high. It is, however, slightly annoying whenever she brings her “boyfriend”, or boyfriends at times, to the place, but you have learned to drown out their voices and actions by blasting your music. But what you like about Seohyun the most is that she doesn’t ask questions. The buzzing in your head is also always strangely quieter around the other girl as well.

You trudge up the stairs and immediately brings a hand to shield your eyes from the bright sun. It is about seven in the evening but still way too bright for your liking. You like the darkness night brought with it. Serene. Solemn. Locking the gate to the building behind you, you walk down the streets all the while rolling your neck due to its tense state.

No matter how many times it happened, you’d still feel its pain.

The lingering pain left as a reminder of your unique power; gift; thing. Whatever people wanted to call it.

You knew whenever somebody told a lie.

You would feel this strange buzzing at the base of your neck when a person said anything but the truth around you. The buzzing didn’t come every time you talked to somebody - you couldn’t catch all the lies that came out of people’s mouths - but it occurred often enough to be a nuisance to you. While the buzzing wasn’t painful in itself, it always caused your neck to be in sore pain. The pain was not indicative of how big the lie was, however. A lie that involved so many twists and turns that even its creator could not keep track would give you pain. A small white lie would give you the same pain. To you, it was just pain.

You quickly turn the corner and made your way down the stairs into the subway station. The man at the window gives you a small smile in which you did not return but hastily walk through the gate. One hour. It took 46 minutes to get to the station and another twelve minutes to walk. You had one hour. The subway could not be late.

You were not always a walking human lie detector. In fact, you had only been living like this for the past six years of the total of your twenty-six. At least consciously aware of this ability of yours for that time period.

If you really had to pinpoint when it started, you would connect it to approximately four more years prior to that: first year of high school. The prime time of adolescence.

You could hear the first subway leave, vibrations through the sole of your feet and its wheels screeching on the tracks. That left two minutes for you to make it to the opposite platform which was for the direction you wanted to go. You glance at the elevator you are currently standing in front of. It had not budged from “G” for a while now. You glance at the stairs just a couple of steps away. Sighing, you leave your spot and make your way down the stairs. One and a half minute.

The first year of high school sucked. Your parents had always screaming at each other and your brother was constantly skipping school. You did not want to be a second disappointment to your parents so you spent all her time studying in the library. It was also an excuse to be out of the house. One day, you returned home and found your mother crying on the steps of their house.

“Mom, did you and Dad fight again?”

Your mother did not meet your eyes. “Are you okay?” you had asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, trying to console your mother as best as a fourteen year old could do.

“I’m fine,” your mother answered. That was when you first heard a faint buzzing. It was strange for bees to be around their flowerless yard.

“You don’t look fine,” you had pressed on, “Will you and Dad be okay?”

Your mother shifted her position and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She looked at you with a bruised eye and said, “Your dad will be okay.” The buzzing seemed to fade.

You patted the still damp cheek of your mother and hugged the fragile women. You slowly rubbed your mother’s back in small circles. “Mom, you and Dad will work things out. So promise me you guys won’t leave each other.”

“I promise,” your mother had reassured you. That was when you cried out in pain as the buzzing attacked you. Your mother had been alarmed and you had laughed it off, saying that a bee had probably stung the back of your neck while she wasn’t aware. The duo then got off the floor and held hands as together, you walked back into the house.

Your parents split a week later.

You had never found it in herself to forgive your mother after that. You hadn’t even known that you had been lied to until you really thought about it in your years as an adult. You just hated the fact that your mother had promised something that she had been planning to break. When high school ended, you picked a college as far away from your mother’s house as you could. You poured all of your time into your academics and never bothered making friends. Throughout the four years there, you had occasionally felt the buzzing but did not really associate it with anything around her. It only became prominent when you started working at your first job.

To any fresh graduate, this was a hire that was ever only dreamt of. It was a position with a high status in the company: Assistant Director of Internal Affairs. The company had been extremely impressed with your grades and all the extracurriculars you participated in. You had flown to three different cities outside of your own country as an intern and placed first in multiple conferences. It was no mistake that you had gotten in. You had been ecstatic when they spoke to you. You could finally move out of your mother’s house, in which you had temporarily been staying in while job searching; live in a city a thousand miles away from where she currently was, and was able to be somebody whom nobody knew about. It was your dream come true.

That turned out to be a disaster. Every day you went into work, the buzzing would surround you and send you moaning in pain to the bathroom. You could barely speak to any of your coworkers without wanting to strangle them and tell them to be quiet. You could not attend any of the meetings and you had to call in multiple sick days within her first week there. Needless to say, this affected your work performance and after an agonizing four and a half months, the company fired you.

Being without a job meant that you had no steady income. So, you moved out of the luxurious apartment you had just bought with your new salary and used the remaining money to buy the dank, run down one you were currently living in. You searched everywhere and finally found a waitress for hire at a bar close to the middle of the city. It was an hour from where you lived, but at least there you could dull the buzzing with alcohol. And this was how you lived for the past two years.

You cursed. You missed it. The subway left you in its smoke as you got off the last step of the descending staircase.

...

The other man was slouched against the pillar of the building, blood running freely down the side of his head while his hand tried to keep in the rest of his blood from escaping out of the hole on his side. He panted, gasping for whatever oxygen was available.

“Tell me,” the younger man towered over him, “Where did you hide the stash?” “I didn’t hide it, man. I swear. It’s where they asked me to leave it,” the bleeding man held his remaining hand in front of him in defense. “Please don’t hurt me.” There was a swish and cold metal sliced the air. He was not taller than the man, nor any stronger. But he had youth and a quick mind. More importantly, he had a weapon.

“Trust me. I wouldn’t want to hurt you, so don’t make me do something I don’t want to do,” he crouched and put his face close to the other man’s. He pressed the knife against his throat.

The man whimpered as a thin line of fresh blood was drawn. “Please, I beg you. Don’t hurt me,” he said again, voice barely a whisper.

The two stayed in that position until the younger abruptly stood up. “Fine, I won’t hurt you,” he stepped back, “But it’ll be on you when she gets hurt.” His movement is fast and he grabs the wrist of the single other person in the station.

...

You stand with your back against the man, the knife held against your neck this time.

You dare not to move. You swallow once and glance down at the bleeding stranger. He is staring right back at you.

From movies and dramas, you know not to fight back in scenarios like this. You also know not to scream as this would agitate both parties. You return the strangers stare: “Help me”.

Your capturer’s voice rumbles through his chest and onto your back as he speaks, “Your choice. I can kill this girl and have it pinned on you, or you can just tell me where you put the stash.”

“Please,” the bloody man pleads, “I’m just a carrier. I don’t know where any of the merchandise is. I… I admit it, alright? I disobeyed the instructions this time. I didn’t leave it where they told me.”

You feel yourself being dragged closer to the subway tracks. Maybe you should kick or flail around a little. You try, but the man holds you steady. The blade is dangerously close to cutting your skin.

The bleeding man can only watch in horror as the other man stands precariously on the edge of the tracks. “I’m going to push her down,” he is warned. His mind was frantic. He had been told that his task would be simple. He did not know that it would involve another human being to be hurt in the process. His mind flashes back to his little girl, probably still waiting for her father in their small flat.

“I got another message right before I left,” he starts saying, “Please don’t hurt the girl. Please don’t hurt me. I’ve got a family.”

“Don’t we all,” the voice behind you drawls in sarcasm, “Give me another excuse of why I need to keep listening.”

You kick your assaulter. He grips you tighter. She look back at the bleeding man on the ground. He is still staring at you with wide eyes.

“The message told me that the location had changed. I wasn’t sure if I should trust it, but an hour before the pickup time, another note showed up on my doorstep and said that if I brought it to the second location, I’d get an extra $150, so I did it,” he continues.

You feel the tension in your neck slightly subside amongst the chaos. You kicked your assaulter again.

“Exact location. Now,” the voice demands.

“Corner of 16th and Main,” he stammers.

You kick a little harder this time, trying to wiggle out of the tight grip. It is really starting to hurt you. You feel yourself being pushed towards the bleeding man. Both you and your assaulter get extremely close to the man lying on the ground.

You sniff once and instantly regret it. Mixed with the blood, you can smell the acidity of urine. The man is now crying and you think you could see the pool around him widen ever so slightly.

“Please sir, I’ve told you everything that I know. I followed the instructions and left it there. I did not hide it. Somebody else must’ve used me to get it. I swear, Sir, I swear,” he holds his hands out and rubs them, a symbol of asking for mercy.

The two of you stand up, or rather you are hauled up for the man. The knife nicks your neck and you swear under your breath. You can feel the two men stare at each other for a long time.

“Scram,” the one behind her rasps. It takes a while for the bleeding man to stand, but adrenaline does wonders when the body is in danger. He limps out and up the stairs before he can be told twice. There is a rumbling in the distance to indicate that the next subway is arriving.

“There’s a train coming,” you finally talk, “A train means there’s people.” Your assaulter still does not let go.

“You’re hurting me,” you wiggled in his grasp. He loosens it and you finally get away. You turn and glare through your bangs at the man who has been holding you captive. You touch a finger to where the knife had nicked you, then examined it: there is blood.

The man standing has put his knife away. He is studying you with eyes as intense as yours while bringing the lighter to the cigarette in his mouth. He takes a long drag and blows it in your direction.

Standing only a few inches taller than you, he is of slightly above average height. He wears the iconic baggy shirt and jeans of the common gangsters that prowl the area. Even in the dim light of the subway station, you can make out the tattoo of a dragon spiraling up his arm. He does nothing to hide the fact that he is affiliated with the mafia.

You are not particularly intimidating yourself. You stand at 164cm but wear a constant scowl. With your broken nose from a fall in your childhood, the feature makes your whole facial symmetry shift ever slightly to the left, accentuating the scowl even more. In a black t-shirt, black dress pants and black shoes, you wave her hand to rid herself of the smell of smoke.

“So, was he lying?” the man finally speaks after a period of silence.

“Fuck off, Jung Hoseok,” you growl.

#bts #hoseok #jhope #bts au #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #bts x reader #hoseok x y/n #jhope x y/n #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jhope fanfic #mafia!au #mafia!jhope #mafia!bts #jung hoseok #hoseok au

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aloisofmissouri · 3 years

Text

A Journal Entry

July 20th, 2021

11:44pm

Trigger Warning:

Sexual Assault, Self Harm,Mental Health, physical health, and occasional swears.

Dear Reader,

I’m only eighteen but I have experienced a lot, and so have many other teens I know. I know at least four of my classmates have been raped at some point in their life. And who knows what others may have been through and I never knew.

But I’m not writing to share their story, unless they decide that they want their story told. As of now, I am writing to share my story.

So, let's start with my earliest memory.

My earliest memory is watching Elmo and Little Bear from my crib in the living room when I was probably a toddler. I don’t remember much, other than enjoying the cartoons. It was happy and innocent. One of the few childhood memories I can look back on and smile.

I was really young when I was first raped. First raped, you caught that part, right? Yeah, I wasn’t raped just once, but multiple times by one man. The man I had grown up calling my father. The man on my birth certificate. I’m not exactly how old I was when it started, but if I had to guess, I was probably in the first or second grade when it went past the occasional groping and lewd comments.

Near the end of third grade, my mother decided to take me and my sibling to live with our grandmother. But that didn’t last long.

We ended up moving back in with our mother and abusive father when I was in fifth grade. I didn’t want to but my father manipulated me into doing so. He threatened to place a restraining order on my grandmother when I wanted to stay with her.

Things were miserable and the abuse continued. But luckily I was able to go back to my grandmother by sixth grade. But I still had to deal with what happened.

I believe my grandmother meant well, but she use to tell me not to let people know what had happened to me. She said that no one would want to be with someone who was raped because a lot of people view them as used or damaged goods basically.

My grandmother was a bit emotionally damaging, though I know she more than likely didn’t know that she was being so. I have reason to believe that she has dementia and possibly a personality disorder.

I remember her saying that I shouldn’t wear plaid or spotted clothing because it would make me look bigger than the broad side of a barn. She also told me to stay away from bright colors because they would have the same effect. I refused to stay away from plaid though, I kept that jacket from middle school until junior year when I could no longer zip it. But it took me a long time to wear bright colors, and it is still hard. I also have a hard time feeling comfortable in my own skin, and not just because of the occasional comment about my weight from my grandmother, but also because of the abuse I had dealt with from my father. I spent the majority of school always wearing jeans, jackets, and dark clothing. I didn’t feel comfortable wearing shorts. And I’m still getting used to wearing them.

I had to go to court in middle school. Someone had apparently turned my father in for what he had done to me (I was living with my grandmother again by then) and we still do not know who reported them. I wish I could thank whoever turned him in.

Sadly, they only gave him three years despite the evidence. And he was only going to have to serve one and a half years because of the amount of time spent in a jail cell waiting for court that kept getting rescheduled. He died of stage four lung cancer though before he was half way through his time.

My freshman year I finally realised I had anxiety and that there was something definitely wrong with me mentally. By my sophomore year, I was self harming and in counselling and diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, OCD, and Anxiety. By junior year I was on a lot of medication thanks to a pill happy psychiatrist. And I was miserable. But thankfully, I found a new psychiatrist who quickly helped me get cut down to just one pill. Near the end of junior year, I quit self harming. And I also finally started to get a bit of control over my mania and my depression.

I have a Google Doc somewhere that has over 150 pages of poetry, and the majority of it is about depression, trauma, and anger. And they were all written during middle school and highschool. Writing poetry helped me then. Now, I don’t really write poetry anymore. I have only written a handful of poems within the last year. And they were mostly in Shakespearean English because I thought it would be fun.

I believe I might have religious anxiety. I don’t remember the technical term though. I grew up going to Baptist Churches and had a heavy christian influence. But sadly, Christians aren’t quite as christian as they are supposed to be.

Due to being constantly worried about sinning and about being too filthy and being damned to hell, my depression and anxiety got to me from a different angle. I kept breaking up with everyone I dated if I feared we were getting too close. I would either feel like I wasn’t good enough or I would fear that we would have sex and I would be damned. I also hated myself for my sexuality, though it took me a long time to figure that out. I supported my LGBTA+ friends but when it came to myself, I couldn’t accept myself.

When I self harmed, I would do it because I felt filthy and had this urge to scratch my skin off my body because I never felt clean. I never hurt myself too severely, just scratches and shallow cuts on my wrist and my thigh. But I still found it hard to quit. It became far too easy to always turn to the blade, regardless of if I was feeling filthy or if I was dissociating or if I was having a panic attack.

Despite what had happened to me, I’m finally starting to become me. Even though I am still discovering who I am. I quite self harming, I don’t have quite as many panic attacks or nightmares, I lost my virginity, learned I am demisexual (leaning a bit towards asexuality though) Panromantic and Nonbinary. I also discovered I have some other health issues outside of my mental health. I am apparently allergic to alphagall, peanuts, and wheat. Thankfully I just get slightly sick if I eat those things though, but it is still a bit annoying when those things are basically in everything you like to eat.

I also found out that the reason my menstrual cycle has always been so irregular is because I have cysts. Originally I thought I had PCOS but now after some ultrasounds, it is looking like Endometriosis. I have cysts on my uterus and my ovaries. The doctor told me that my insurance should cover the surgery if I were to get a total hysterectomy.

I never really wanted to give birth so that part of this doesn’t bother me, my fear is that there will be issues from the surgery. And it has also spurred some identity issues. But so far, I am sticking to they/them pronouns. Even though my family still calls me she/her. But I haven’t really come out to them. They know I’m not 100% straight, but who wants to sit down and explain to their grandmother (who dropped out of school in eight grade to care for her grandma, has a flip phone, and just a few years ago decided to accept the lgbt+ part of her family) that I’m nonbinary? I barely manage to explain to my mother (highschool dropout because of pregnancy, has a touch screen phone and understand some things of the current century) that there is more than just straight, gay, and bisexual. I explained to my mother the other day what omnigender and nonbinary is. Had to explain transgender to my mother when I was a junior and introduced her to a friend of mine who was afab but went by he/him pronouns.

I suppose that despite all the shit I’ve been through, at least my mother doesn’t give two flying fucks who I like. When I told her that I thought I was pansexual in middle school, all she did was ask me what that meant. Then she just nodded her head and went with it. Same thing when I decided I was Wiccan in middle school. She even bought me a pentacle necklace and every book (mostly fantasy) that mentioned witches. I no longer identify as Wiccan, I mostly just stick to animist. But my point being, my mother didn’t throw a fit when two of her nine kids came out as gay. Even if she does identify as a Saturday Adventist, she supports us. She even listens to me ramble about mistranslated things in the Bible and my views on theology. And my rants about Supernatural. Though she did laugh when I spent about an hour crying after the Supernatural second to last episode of season 15. She did listen to me rant about Castiel and the plot lines and everything. Though I had to keep explaining some of the characters to her.

Despite the things I’ve been through, I managed to graduate high school, survive my severe depression and anxiety, and now I am thinking about possibly applying for Law school and going to college. And I now also have the confidence to do what I want and wear what I want. Though I still feel all nervous about asking out a girl I’ve been friends with for about three or more years. I’ve now made the excuse to wait and see if she mentions not being completely straight. Oh, and she now has a boyfriend too so yeah, gonna have to wait a bit.

Until next time,

Alois 🐧

#mentalhealth #metoo #abuse #journal #lgbtq #i swear #trauma #my life #moving forward #heath #depression

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

1062

survey by chrissylee22dc

Achievements: I guess I’m being asked to list some of mine...some of the ones I’m proudest of, at least, are graduating university with honors, landing a job (liking it is a big bonus), and taking up leadership positions.

Age: I am 22, but never felt quite like it.

Are you planning something right now? Kind of. I’m eyeing a long road trip to Tanay with just myself and go to one of their coffee shops, but idk when I’ll be able to do that. My wallet and bank account are still beat from Christmas lol (and until now I’m still buying gifts for friends), so it might have to wait until sometime next month.

Arizona or Alaska: I think Arizona weather is already quite like ours here, so I might enjoy Alaska a bit (if not a lot) more. There’s generally a lot more factors I find interesting with Alaska, like their food.

Birthdate: April 21st.

Build: I’m quite thin and underweight, but I actually recently made plans to start working out - both to make an effort to be healthy with myself, and also to feel good post-breakup. I’m hoping to see some changes in my body and build in the coming months.

Babies, do you have any? None of those, not sure if that’s still the plan for me.

Blonde or Brunette: Brunette.

Childhood sweetheart: Erm, does Gab count? We technically weren’t kids anymore when we first got together. I wasn’t attracted to anyone as a kid and was more concerned with growing my Pokemon pogs collection.

Current mood: I’m hungry and can go for savory breakfast foods right now, like shakshuka or huevos rancheros. Also a little anxious because I really don’t want to think about work, but tasks continue to pile up for a certain client.

Children, are there more in your future? There aren’t even any to begin with.

Coke or Pepsi: Pepsi just because it reminds me of Punk and my chaotic wrestling fangirl years.

Dad's name: Edgardo, but no one calls him by that full name. He has two nicknames; one of which he hates and only family and friends use, and the other is the name he has permanently introduced himself as in his workplace.

Dating anyone: Not anymore.

Do you plan on having lots of money? Don’t most people?

Dogs or cats: Dogs.

Elementary School: I’m not sharing that.

Eye color: Dark brown/black.

Ever going to China? Probably not right now considering the present situation. I’d love to go to the rural cities and have a peek into their country life.

Early or Late: EARLY. Lateness is a big pet peeve, unless the excuse is super reasonable like Manila traffic or a car accident.

First Crush: The first person I felt remotely attractive to was Andi, from 6th grade. Then she moved to New Zealand and the crush quickly faded out.

Fears: For concrete things, I hate cockroaches and fair rides. For bigger concepts, I fear getting left behind, failing, and not getting approval, and the idea of never being satisfied or happy with who I am, what I’ve done, or where I’ve gone.

Future goals: Have a place of my own, be able to sustain myself, and keep myself alive.

Funny or Serious: I think everyone has to have both sides. I wouldn’t want to hang out long with people who can’t be sat down to just shoot the shit with conversations that go a little deeper. At the same time, I’d be quickly bored with someone who talks about existential or philosophical topics 24/7 and takes everything seriously.

Grandparent's names: On my dad’s side, Dolores and Federico; on my mom’s side, Agnes and Jun. My maternal grandpa is the third in multiple generations of Abelardos in the family, but his nickname is simply ‘Jun,’ because Philippines.

GPA: We don’t measure our grades with that, but we do have a GWA; I’m just not sure how that can be converted to GPA. Mine was in the 1.47 range, which was good enough for cum laude honors. I barely missed out on a magna cum laude honor (which required a 1.45 GWA), so that’s something I’ve always been pressed about and I know I could have clinched it if the pandemic didn’t cancel my final semester, which would’ve given me the chance to pull up my grades.

Going anywhere this weekend? I don’t think so. I want to spend the remaining 5 days of my break completely unproductively.

Giver or Taker: Giver. I like pleasing people.

High School: I attended one school from kindergarten to high school.

Hair color: Black.

Hate anyone for life? I don’t think so. I dislike some people, but I can’t tell if I’ll feel that way for the rest of my life.

Hairspray or Gel: When I’m going somewhere or attending something fancy, I use hair gel to hold my hair down.

In 8th grade, who was your best friend? Eighth grade is freshman year of high school, right? In that case, my best friend was Gabie.

Is ignorance bliss? Sometimes it is. I like no longer being updated about Gabie’s life. Back when I still tried to push my way in, I was miserable. I stopped doing so over the holidays and I just stopped reaching out, stopped trying to communicate, everything. I’ve been a lot happier that way.

Is there anything you wanna share? That’s kinda the goal with every survey I take.

Ice Cream or Cake: Right now, maybe ice cream. I’m very picky about cake, and I don’t like the spongy ones aka most cakes I know.

Jumped rope for fun: That’s exactly what I use jump ropes for. I don’t think I ever used it for fitness or working out except for maybe PE.

Junk around you right now? I mean, not really. I have my embroidery stuff in a pile beside me, but I don’t consider them junk.

Joining anything anytime soon? Not planning on it. I briefly considered joining a gym as a new thing to do for 2021, but in the end I figured working out at home would be enough. Angela recommended the latter as well, so that’s how I abandoned my gym plans quickly haha.

January or July: I guess July? January always feels just a teeny bit stranger than other months, considering it’s the beginning of a new year.

Killed anyone: ...This serious?

Keeping a secret? I keep different secrets from different people.

Kicking someone off your top friends today? I don’t think that’s a thing anymore. Hasn’t been for a while.

Kiwi or Apple: Apple, just because I’ve never had the chance to taste kiwi.

Lost anyone close to you: I’ve lived 22 years, of course I have. I’d be very surprised if someone has lived that long but has never experienced losing people, whether from a fallout, from death, etc. Just this year alone I lost a great-aunt on my maternal grandpa’s side, and a ton of relatives from my maternal grandma’s side.

Last kiss, when and who: Gabie, three months ago.

List 3 people that you'll love forever: I can only think of Angela. And of course, Gab.

Lover or Fighter: Fighter, I suppose. I can be relentless. Right now with my breakup has been the only time I allowed myself to take a step back and not forcibly take things under my control for once.

Middle School: We don’t follow the concept of middle school here. The levels in middle school fall under elementary school as well.

Marital Status: Single.

Mom's name: Abigail.

Music or TV: TV.

Northernmost state you've been to: Batanes, which is as northernmost as northernmost gets in the Philippines.

Nickname: A lot of family members call me Byn, but for the most part Robyn has always been my main nickname.

Name your future boy and girl: I have yet to make up my mind about this.

Naughty or Nice: Nice. I never particularly feel ~naughty, and since the breakup I especially haven’t felt the need to be sexual.

Opened a piece of mail that wasn't yours? Sometimes I’ll open the electricity or water bill addressed to my parents out of curiosity just to find out how much we consumed in the last month. But nothing more than that.

Occupation: I’m an associate at a PR agency.

Owe anyone money: Nope.

Outgoing or Shy: Shy at first but I can get outgoing once I’ve warmed up to a person/situation.

Place you most want to be? Right now? I’d love to be at a coffee shop or bar at a higher altitude, with a view of the city. I used to go to a lot of these before the pandemic hit, but now I’m thinking of doing it again.

Purposely destroyed someone’s life? No.

Planning a major trip? Not really. Most tourist spots require swab tests and I am not having anything go up my nose.

Pink or Black? Love both, but I like pink ever so slightly more.

Quit a class: I’ve never dropped a class. I’ve wanted to, but there was so much paperwork to fill out to do so and I also didn’t want to be behind on my overall schedule.

Quickly...the first word to come to mind: Whistle, because the pink/black question reminded me of Blackpink.

Quitting your job soon? No lol I’m barely two months in.

Quiet or Loud: I can be both, but these days I’ve been quieter.

Riding in an airplane: I have no idea what this is asking.

Ride, tell me about yours: ^ Same.

Running for any political office in the future? No plans to.

Rain or Snow: I guess rain, since it’s the only one I’ve experienced.

Siblings names and ages: Nina is 20, my brother is 17.

Shoe size: I fit anywhere between a size 6 to 7.

Shave daily? It used to be daily, but I haven’t had the need to since the quarantine began.

Shower or Bath: Shower.

Turning 21 was (will be): It’s been a year since then.

Texas, ever been? No but I have relatives who live there, so it’s one of my choice states to visit and stay at if I ever plan to go to the US.

Think you'll live to be 100? I doubt it. I don’t have any relatives who lived until that age.

Tame or Wild: Idk, tame I guess?? I don’t know what this is asking.

Unique quality about you: I feel like this is a question best answered by other people who see and interact with me more than I do myself.

Underwear on? Yeah.

Under your bed lies: Large containers with all the magazines I collected from childhood that I can’t bring myself to throw out.

Under or Over: Idk, you have to be more specific.

Virgin? No.

Vacation time left? I have five days left, including today :( I plan to be the most unproductive or bum-y I’ve ever been, because I have no clue when I’ll have a break this long again.

Voting in the next Presidential election? Of course.

Volleyball or Swimming: I like swimming more, but I like watching volleyball.

Went white water rafting? I don’t think so, but I would give it a shot.

Wearing right now: A hoodie that’s around two sizes bigger for me.

Write a sentence about you: About anything? I’m a little upset with myself for having been a bit lousy with survey-taking during the holiday break. I planned on taking a lot to catch up on the ones I’ve missed out on, but so far I mostly take just one a day lol.

West Coast or East Coast: East.

X-Rays in the past month: 0.

X-Mas plans: Had a get-together with my mom’s side of the family on the 24th; we hosted our own Christmas party on the 25th; and we visited my dad’s side of the family on the 26th.

X, does it mark the spot? Idk.

X-Tina or Britney? Britney.

You lost "it" when? I mean, I’ve had more than one moment where I freaked out...

Your favorite song: I’m really in love with Saw You In A Dream by The Japanese House. My favorite songs come and go, but this one has been a constant.

Your favorite place on Earth: Sagada.

Yes or No: Idk. I’m not enjoying these vague ass questions.

Zodiac Sign: Taurus.

Zodiac Sign: Idk, I’m still a Taurus.

Zippos are neat, agree? I don’t have an opinion.

Zoo or Circus: Neither.

#survey #surveys

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whattaloser · 3 years

Text

Why I’m a Leftist

I know I’m probably just some dude who reblogs cool stuff to most of my followers but I’ve got a nice long story/rant about my political beliefs here that I’ve been wanting to write for awhile

I am a leftist first and foremost because I value human life. Everyone matters. No person is inherently more important than another person. Everyone has inherent rights that should not be infringed. People who infringe on other’s rights are morally wrong to do so. In essence my leftism is based on doing what is right. Obviously everyone has their own opinion on what is right but what is vitally important is knowing why your moral code is right. This is why so many people become liberals or conservatives or otherwise rather than leftists. They simply do not know enough about how the world works. There are a lot of reasons they don’t know, not the least of which is intentional covering up history and preventing education. I don’t believe people who aren’t leftists are stupid, but I do believe leftists know more. It’s kinda fucked up but it’s the only way you can explain inconsistencies in other’s values.

My path to leftism was full of cringe. When i was 7 years old Al Gore was running against George Bush for president. I did not know enough to have a real opinion on it but I am happy to say that I wanted Al Gore to win. This thought was based on very little if any logical reason. I basically flipped a coin in my head I think. Or maybe there was some outside influence that I wasn’t aware of, like my older sister who I looked up to might have said she liked Al gore. Either way, from then on I was in favor of democrats and did not like George Bush. When 9/11 happened I remembered thinking how dumb it was that people lined up around the block to get gas. Even as a child I knew that some buildings going down wasn’t going to end the great nation of the United States. In general I thought the United States was a great country. I knew from movies and tv as well as elementary school history that the United States was the most powerful country in the world.

I recall in Sixth grade my teacher mentioned she liked George Bush because he was against gay marriage. Somehow at the time my opinion was the opposite despite being raised Catholic. I believed in god until I graduated high school and suddenly my desire to be religious slipped away and so did my belief. I do not consider this a great loss.

Sometime in middle school or early high school I had solidified my opinion that the war in Iraq and Afghanistan was pointless and George Bush was a bad president. I was heavily influenced by movies and somewhat by video games that had imparted plenty of anti-war messages. Talks with my dad about nuclear missiles, watching History channel shows about world war 2, and playing Metal Gear Solid which had explicit nuclear disarmament messages, all informed me on the horrors of war. This was not enough to make me totally anti-military. In high school I wanted to join the military because I thought it was an easy way to get life experience and eventually pay for college. I was attracted to the Marines because of how cool movies like The Rock and video games like Call of Duty made it seem to be a Marine. I thought they were the best of the best. I was simultaneously against war, against veteran worship, and very pro-military. I was indoctrinated by years of government propaganda but also disillusioned by all forms of media including the book All Quiet on the Western Front which was about a soldier becoming disillusioned by witnessing horrors of war and the negative impact it had on everyone in his country. I spoke with a recruiter during my senior year and expressed my desire to be a Marine but I told him I wanted to wait a year after high school so I could get physically fit enough. The recruiter did not care that I was underweight and out of shape. He didn’t even care that I was very enthusiastic about joining, he was still putting on his best salesman demeanor which made me incredibly uneasy. The experience is supposed to pressure people into signing up on the spot, I think they even had forms for me to sign (i can’t really remember though) but I was not ready and was aware enough how I was being manipulated although not entirely cognizant. After that I no longer wanted to be in the military.

I also have to point out that I grew up in an unstable household. My parents were both loving but they were flawed and made mistakes and had problems. My dad was a typical Gen x man’s man. A little bit too emotionally repressed, but actually really good with kids when it came to play time and still is. He worked a lot because my mother couldn’t. My mother has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder as long as I can remember. Her medical bills related to her problems combined with other financially bad decisions by my parents caused my home life to be fraught. I lived in varying degrees of poverty until my parents separated and me and my siblings moved with my mother to her parents’ house away from my father. Prior to moving though, we endured great financial difficulty. We were unable to afford school lunches but could not apply for free or reduced lunches because technically my father made a lot of money, however it was all garnished for medical bills. My father always tells about how he bought a car that had hidden frame damage and when he attempted to sue the dealership for selling a bad car he lost and was garnished for that as well. Despite making over 25 dollars an hour in 1999, my father could not afford school lunches for three kids and couldn’t afford to pay the gas bill. Without going into too much more detail, life sucked and continued to suck until I graduated, at least financially. I still found plenty of joy and it wasn’t always that bad. We still found ways to have good things like video games and we could always rewatch old movies but there’s a lot of psychic weight that comes with being that poor as a child and I’m sure it affects me and my ability to empathize with others who in bad conditions.

So i watched a lot of movies and documentaries, read a lot of books growing up, discovered internet forums at the age of 11, played video games, moved to a town that had a very large Hispanic population, and I even grew up poor. All of this life experience turned me into a very average liberal upon graduating high school. I was a very optimistic 18 year old. I thought science could save the world. If I was 18 today I would be an average redditor stereotype probably. The point here though is I still wasn’t a leftist. Only vaguely progressive and full of optimism. This is when I got sucked into the anti-feminist pipeline.

I can’t remember what exactly what I had going on in my life but I remember it was around the time of Gamergate. Everyone on the internet, celebrities, and pop culture were saying “if you believe in equality between genders you’re a feminist” an did not like that. And there was a ton of people online to tell me I was right in not liking that. They all said feminism was not necessary anymore because legally you couldn’t discriminate against women and I agreed. Gamergate made it worse for reasons too complicated to get into in this already long post but suffice it say I was “pro Gamergate.” This put me at odds with my closes friends who thought feminism was great and had no qualms with it, and were already embracing the idea of being a “social justice warrior.” Despite reading all kinds of anti-feminist think pieces and reveling in the discourse, I was still very progressive and liberal minded person. Still thought the military was bad, that black people were discriminated against etc. But so many aspects of anti-feminism were appealing to me as a white guy who tried their hardest to do what they’re told is right, had low self esteem, undiagnosed adhd and depression, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what feminism was. Two things got me out of anti-feminism though. The first and most important thing was having friends who were patient with me about it. I didn’t reveal how into anti-feminism I was because I was ashamed but they could sense it and pushed back when they could. The second thing that got me out of it was actually finding feminists online and reading what they had to say, staying away from poorly written clickbait articles that fueled misogynist tirades against feminism. After reading and learning from feminists it finally clicked. Our society is patriarchal and that affects how people interact with each other regardless of what is legal. Many of the complaints of anti-feminism talk about how men have it in society, so how can society be patriarchal. It’s because of patriarchy that men are put in bad positions. Some of the more self aware anti-feminists had retorts against these ideas but they were emotionally charged. There’s still some anti-feminists I have respect for because of how well prepared and logical they were when it came to disputing feminism. But when it came down to the fundamental tenants of feminsim all they could respond with was anger or outright denial of reality. (If you’re like I was and don’t understand how anyone can thing modern feminism is good please feel free to ask me more, I just can’t get into specifics in this long ass post) Anyways, once you understand patriarchy and how it affects an individuals actions then you can start seeing how other institutions and cultural norms can affect an individual. This is basically fundamentals of leftism. I’d say about 90% of my path to leftism was just naturally absorbing cultural and historical information through consumption of media. The most conservative people I know are people who haven’t read very many books or seen very many movies. I’m not saying watching Austin Powers at the age of 10 will make everyone a leftist but constantly recontextualizing the world by learning something new, even if you learned it from some dumb comedy movie, can give you better grounding in a shared reality. Don’t know how to end this but I want to say when I was a teenager I thought “communism is good in theory but it doesn’t work in practice” and I had almost no historical basis for it other than the vague notion that USSR = bad despite having consumed a massive amount of media. None of it taught me what communism actually was, I didn’t know who Karl Marx was, and I had no clue why communism in the USSR failed. You can know a lot without knowing the truth so if you’re struggling with a loved one who is mind poisoned by conservative keep in mind that they know a lot but they’re missing something important to give clarity.

This has been my Ted Talk

#rambling #rant #Leftism #Conservative #feminism #anti feminism #Communism #Media #I definitely did not accomplish what I wanted to with this lol #Someone please clap #uwu

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bangtan-madi · 5 years

Text

All Of Our Lifetimes — Two: Vase with Honesty

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung, reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 2.7k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories?

Part — 2 / 10

Warnings — language, brief mention of murder

Previous — Next

The Friday after your application is sent, you receive a response from Big Hit. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you would get a response this quickly, let alone with the contents therein.

"What the fuck!" you scream, nearly throwing your laptop across your bedroom.

Milo storms through the door, eyes wide with panic as she scans your bedroom for signs of an emergency. "What the fuck?"

"Exactly! Look at this!" You shove the laptop in her direction, biting your nails in anticipation.

Though trepid, Milo takes the computer from your grasp and begins to scan the screen. As her eyes reach the bottom of the email, she begins to mirror your exact expression as her jaw drops and curses fly from her lips—in multiple languages.

"Oh my—What the hell, [Y/n]!"

"I know! I know," you laugh, giddy beyond what you can control. "Read further!"

"We'd love to conduct a phone interview with you at your earliest convenience. After which, if both parties choose to go forward, we would like to do an in-person interview in Seoul. [Y/n]! This is practically a yes!"

"Not quite...but it's a start!"

Milo giddily shoves the laptop back towards you, practically bouncing in place. "Call them, call them, call them!"

Two days later, you find yourself alone and on a plane bound for Seoul. The initial interview with Big Hit went extremely well. You were able to converse with a representative in both Korean and English, and went over your resume and other various technical aspects of the position.

"I have to get this out of the way," the woman spoke with a serious tone. "You're not applying for this job because you're Army, right?"

"No," you answered immediately, your voice assured. "Not at all. It's always been my dream to live in Seoul. My roommate can tell you, we've been looking for jobs for a few weeks, ever since graduation."

"Good, because I can tell you right now that we try to screen for that kind of behavior as best as we can. It's part of the interview and background check process. It has to be. I mean, it’s fine to be a fan, but for the safety of the members, we have to make sure that no fanatics are hired and get close to them. A very small percentage of the company interacts with them at all, let alone regularly, but I had to ask."

She seemed overly concerned about that part, and you're not quite sure she believed you. Other than that, you feel that it couldn't have gone better. In fact, you were certain. Why else would they pay for you to fly to Seoul for an in-person interview, which she described as the final part of the hiring process?

You can't help the nervous tingles that travel along your neck and down your spine. The excitement fills your fingers and toes, and you struggle to keep still in your seat. Things are finally moving forward. The dream you've had since you were a child is finally coming to fruition. Everything is falling into place.

But another part of you recalls the literal dream that's occupied your mind for just as long, a subconscious memory or recollection that hasn't left for years. How much longer can you take this nightmare? Isn't it normal for people to have other dreams, not just the same one over and over and over?

The man with the dark, curly hair. The murderer with a gun. The museum halls and flowing blood and untimely demise.

This Taehyung, this member of BTS, what will happen when—or if—you meet? Will he recognize you, too? Will he tell you he has that same nightmare? Will he know why you are connected, despite having never met or heard of each other?

You shake your head, trying to focus on what lies ahead as the plane starts to descend through the air. If you do land this job at BigHit, then you can look for the answers you so desperately seek. If this is meant to be, you'll get what you're looking for. One way or another. Of that, you are sure.

That same part of you is terrified of what you might find when you do.

Or what will become of you if you don't.

You're the first to grab your overhead luggage and exit the plane. After navigating security and international check-ins, you spot a short-haired woman in a suit holding a sign over her head. Your name is written in big, bold letters.

As you approach, the woman smiles and greets you with a bow. "You must be Ms. [Y/l/n]?"

You nod eagerly, offering her the same greeting. "Lovely to meet you...?"

"I am Director Hyeon, I head Human Resources for Big Hit Entertainment. We spoke on the phone earlier this week. Please, follow me."

Doing as Director Misun Hyeon asks, you're escorted to a car parked along the sidewalk outside the airport. The Director tells the driver to take your bags and return to Big Hit HQ. Along the way, she makes small talk about your trip and the life you have in America. She's very professional and reserved, but also very sweet, instantly putting you at ease for your interview.

When the car drives up to the enormous, glass building in downtown Seoul, you're taken aback by the monstrous size of Big Hit headquarters. You knew they were a large company, staffing over five hundred people from your research, but seeing the sight in person has an entirely different effect.

"We just moved into this building this year," Director Hyeon states with a hint of pride. The car turns the corner and descends into the private underground garage. "The company has outgrown the last building, so when our contract was up, we knew we would need to expand."

"How many floors does it have?" you say, gawking at the many floors, both above and below you.

"Nineteen above, seven below," she replies, exiting the car. "Out interview will be on the top floor, so you can have a look at the view."

Director Hyeon wasn't kidding when she said there's a view. The entire penthouse level of the new Big Hit office is lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. Light streams in, ricochetting off the glassy surfaces to toss rainbows across the room. Peering down from the walkway, you see the expansive Seoul City spread out below. Everything looks so much smaller from two-hundred feet in the air. So beautiful, it's enough to take your breath away.

You have to get this job. After seeing this place, there's no other path you can see ahead of you.

The Director escorts you to her office, a room encased by another series of glass panels to give the illusion of privacy. Across from her, you can see several other offices of similar design. She asks you take a seat, getting you a cup of coffee as you make yourself comfortable.

In your mind, the interview couldn't have gone better. You were confident and assured of your abilities, and you have the grades and some experience to back it up. And the fact that you hit it off well with Director Hyeon doesn't hurt either.

As you finish up, she hands you the official memo on the position. "These are some of the tasks you'll be asked to do," she states, then continues to briefly overview what's on the page. "Your position would be Production Assistant, but that can mean doing just about anything, either in office, on tour, or on scene with one of the shows. You would do translation work, both ahead of time for press releases and social media as well as on the spot translations during events or interviews. And as I mentioned, you would handle the BTS official social medias for the English audience. They can post what they want, but they have been told to work with you on captions, tags, content, and the like."

She continues, "We're about to start work on a new album after the boys take a few weeks off from all the work they did on the last tour. When that happens, you might tag along in the studio and assist in various things there. When Bon Voyage or Run BTS begins shooting, you'll assist there. I know that word is vague, but I can promise it'll be more than just doing coffee runs or cleaning up after the boys." She laughs at that last part. "We have other people for that. What we need is someone that can really get into the trenches of the boys' work and help where needed, especially when it comes to the language barrier."

"Hence the bi-lingual requirement," you add.

Director Hyeon nods. "Exactly! So, I know this is a lot to take in, but we really are interested in you. We wouldn't have flown you all the way out here if we weren't. I do have a couple of other candidates I want to interview over the next day or so, but I have a feeling that you're our top pick. If you're willing to hang around Seoul for the next, say, forty-eight hours—all expenses paid, of course—I can give you a definite answer. Are you interested, Ms. [Y/l/n\?"

With a determined smile and eager nod, you reply, "More than you can imagine."

Finding things to do in Seoul isn't difficult at all. In fact, the rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. After the Big Hit driver takes you to your hotel and helps you carry your bags to your room, you take the rest of the evening to go out and explore the city. The food, the festivities, the feelings: if this is going to be your new home, you want to see it all.

The next day, knowing that you probably won't hear from Director Hyeon until the following day, you set back out into the city with a plan to see as many of the sights as possible. The night before, you'd laid in bed and made a plan of attack to take on Seoul. While knowing you wouldn't get to nearly all the spots you wanted, you made a list of the ones closes to your hotel, within walking distance.

The day was absolutely beautiful. Whether or not you got this job, you weren't going to waste your forty-eight hours in South Korea.

In the morning, you visit several historic sites—such as the green space and onetime royal burial ground at Hyochang Park, the architectural and sightseeing wonders of Seoullo 7017, and the restored 1300s fortress wall and the pedestrian gate of Sungnyemun. After grabbing lunch at a local restaurant, you turn towards some of the other sights.

As you pass by City Hall, the building around the corner catches your eye. It's a large, old building crafted from concrete and bricks. It stands out from some of the more modern sights in the area. Edging closer, moving through the greenery around it, you see the name of the building come into perfect view.

서울시립미술관. Seoul Museum of Art.

Without thinking too hard about it, your feet take you towards the museum. You can't put your finger on it, but like the city itself, there's something so alluring and familiar about it. This whole trip has been one big, "Haven't I been here before?" This place, however, gives you heightened feelings. Both positive and negative.

You brush it off, convincing yourself they've arisen due to jetlag and job-related nerves.

The museum is even more awe-inspiring on the inside. The expansive interior is painted white to create more of a contrast between the walls and the art. Galleries stretch out in different directions, but you're drawn to one of the open rooms a little further in.

People flutter about, quietly chatting in various languages about the temporary exhibit that takes up little space but all the focus. It's a set of several still life oil paintings by Vincent Van Gogh on lend from the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. They're displayed along temporary glass walls that circulate the wing. A tour guide leads several visitors to each painting.

Your eyes trail from one to the next, but when you catch sight of a piece covered in shades of brown and orange, you halt mid-step. The painting looks so familiar to you, more than anything you've seen so far. If there is anything calling you to this place, this painting has to be it.

The card below the piece says that the name is "Vase with Honesty." Painted in autumn of 1884, it was one of Van Gogh's first still lifes.

"The name 'honesty' may refer to the translucence of the round seed pods, which turn a silvery-white colour in the autumn," the plaque reads. "They then resemble silver coins, and in Dutch this plant is called the judaspenning, 'coin of Judas'. This is a reference to the apostle Judas, who betrayed Christ for 30 pieces of silver. He is said to have thrown the coins to the ground when he hanged himself. Where they landed, the honesty plant later grew."

Minutes later, after the tour guide and most of the patrons have moved on to other exhibits, you're left alone with "Vase with Honesty."

Almost alone.

Another person remains to your right, a few feet between you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that it's a figure dressed in black sweatpants and a grey hoodie. His face is hidden by the hood, as well as a face mask that covers everything from his jaw to just under his eyes. This man is a half-foot taller than you, you estimate, and while you can't see his face, he also feels inexplicably familiar.

Like you, the art-loving, stranger's eyes are glued to this one particular painting. And like you, his gaze is that of both confusion, realization, and familiarity.

"I feel like I've seen this somewhere else," you murmur, trying to break the silence. Normally, you would've kept quiet, but there's something about this person that leads you to speak up. "It's familiar, isn't it?"

The man nods once, not replying verbally.

"Have you ever seen it before?"

"No," he responds in a quiet whisper, then gestures to the brochure in his hand. "This painting hasn't been here since 1995. It's come back for the first time in twenty-five years."

"Wow, really?"

He nods again. "The brochure says that the Van Gogh Museum hasn't lent out most of its art since then. I overheard one of the tour guides saying something about an accident at this Musem that caused them to recall all their temporary exhibits."

You shift your eyes from the stranger to the painting. "Then how could I know this one so well? I was born in 1995 for god's sake."

"I was, too, so I don't know...maybe we saw it online or something."

"It feels stronger than that," you insist, wrapping your arms around yourself to ease the chill crawling up your spine at the thought of whatever might have happened here in 1995. "Do you know what happened twenty-five years ago?"

"One of the artists working at the Museum was murdered."

Your head jerks back around to stare at the man, wide eyes locking briefly with his dark irises. "Murdered?"

He nods and gestures to the exhibit with the brochure. "That's why they started showing them in glass casings. If you look close to the corner, you can see a tiny, bloody fingerprint."

Turning back to the Van Gogh piece, you step closer, squinting your eyes at the bottom left corner where the man gestured. Sure enough, at the very edge, a smear of crimson in the shape of a fingerprint can be seen.

"What the hell?" you gasp, eyes widening again. "Hey, do you mind if I see that broch—"

Your sentence falls off at the end as you turn. The space behind you where the stranger once stood is empty. He is nowhere in sight, and his familiar aura has gone with him.

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tooanxiousforrivers · 4 years

Text

been struggling real hard since the start of the year (2021, not academic year or whatever (although let’s be real the academic year as a whole has also been pretty bad)) and this culminated in me deciding to take a leave of absence from my research as of this week. I am already struggling to honor the things I was feeling that led me to this point, so here goes a diary post

first of all, I am increasingly convinced that I was just never really trained properly for the project I ended up working on. last year, prior to COVID shutdown, I was being trained on separatory techniques for carbon nanotubes. I was starting to independently push forward on new nanotube separations when COVID hit, and I spent all of shutdown reading papers about carbon nanotubes... But then when I came back to lab I was suddenly working on organic synthesis, which utilizes precisely zero of the skills I had been developing beforehand. There were a few reasons behind the change, and I initially gave it an ok when another grad student double-checked with me that I even wanted to do this new project, but what I didn’t realize at that time was that my in-lab mentor would not be able to help me with the majority of the work (basically she knew how to make one half of the molecule I wanted to make, but not the other half). that other half of the molecule turns out to be NOTORIOUSLY difficult to work with, and the only way to make any progress on it is to just work at such large scales that even a 5% yield is “good enough.” But no one working with me had the wherewithal (or cared enough) to tell me that, so all my newcomer enthusiasm died with months of failure trying to make that molecule.

so I’m working really long days, not really making anything other than “an earnest effort,” and then in November the most senior member of the lab who is a week away from defending his dissertation fucking loses it at me and one other second-year about how we are wasting time, etc, etc. We have since moved on from that as people, but it still sort of traumatized me and left me very very uncomfortable existing in that space. ended up feeling like I was under a microscope, any second not actively spent with my hands on something was a criminal offense, not eating/taking breaks... this was obviously not very sustainable and I ended up working even fewer hours, which made showing up at all even more agonizing, as I anticipated eventual future blowout. rinse and repeat. losing sleep and not getting anything done outside of lab with the anxiety of it all.

by January, I’m seriously losing it, and finally make a meeting with my advisor to try to explain things to him. I also disclose having ADHD and pin a lot of my struggle on “working on a treatment plan.” He is sympathetic and wants to help however he can, but I can’t think of anything he can do for me, so we leave things unfinished. A week later, he sets up a meeting with me (and two other second-years, all separately) to tell us we’re not spending enough time in lab, we are going to delay our prelim exams, and we’re now going to work one-on-one with a post-doc in the lab. While it was not very cool of him to do it the way he did, I actually did feel genuine relief at the time. Like maybe I would finally be able to fill in the gaps in my technical abilities with this change

HOWEVER, working with this post-doc was... not it. The first thing he suggested to me was to stick with one synthetic target (as opposed to the three I had in total), and just keep pushing on that front until it was done. This resulted in me making intermediate, purifying it, trying the next step in the synthesis, having it fail, and having to go back and make more intermediate OVER AND OVER AGAIN for weeks. It was about this time that I started uncontrollably weeping in the lab on a daily basis. (side note: the corner of lab I work in is pretty thinly populated, so no one ever saw me cry despite weeks of this going on! hooray isolation!) oh, and let’s not forget that the second-years are all TAing this semester, which conveniently chops of my schedule beyond the point of usefulness.

last week, I suddenly felt like this just wasn’t worth it anymore. could not even recognize what “it” was that was supposed to be worth it all along. professorship is a) extremely rare, b) very arduous to attain, with possibly a decade or more of grueling research, and c) possibly not even the dream job I thought it to be, once attained. I was thinking about how my husband is a fucking lawyer and can provide for us if needed. I was thinking about how this is the only life I get to live and I can’t justify spending over a decade of it literally tormenting myself and inhaling/pouring carcinogens on myself with no real promise of substantial payoff. spent all day Friday talking things out with senior lab members (actually the same guy who screamed at me in November, he’s an odd one), as well as the director of graduate studies. I resolved to get back on nanotube work, and just try to better manage my stress by getting support from others... by Sunday when I met with my advisor again, I had convinced myself that “I have all the resources I need to succeed, I just need to utilize them.”

Monday, I met with my psychiatrist, who literally asked me why I wanted to be in grad school at all. I floundered and said something vacuous, and she kinda nodded then prescribed me Prozac. I also spent Monday and Tuesday trying to get back into nanotube work, but by midday Tuesday I was already feeling the dread creeping in... and my threshold for adversity was just nil at that point, I guess, because I literally went and found both my the senior people I was working with and just flat out told them I quit. My friend helped me pack up my desk that day, and I was out the door by 3:30. Emailed my advisor after I got home. by the end of the day, I rationalized that the “precipitating event” was realizing that I don’t want to be on antidepressants, since I’ve been down that road before, and that this is not worth that.

so, spending the last couple of days talking to others and thinking about what to do next, I still don’t have an answer. everyone’s first piece of advice was to find some masters-level industry job, but right now I still feel too close to it to even see myself doing chemistry at all, or a 9-5 at all. like, part-time tutoring is the most I can entertain in my mind right now. but I know it’s better to keep the door open, and my advisor is still SOMEHOW my #1 fan, so this is just a leave of absence for the time being. the details of that will be hammered out once I meet with the director of my program, but right now I know I’ll continue my TA work (since I hope I’ll get to still be paid) and I’ll finish the class I’m taking since my advisor told me the whole grade is just going to be some 30 minute presentation at the end of the semester, and I am pretty sure I can pull that off rather than end with a W on my transcript.

the main things for me to figure out are: (1) do I want to pull together a non-thesis master’s defense in the next month, to secure a master’s in case I decide not to return after my leave of absence? (2) do I feel that a leave of absence will make a difference at all? Will coming back to the lab after some time away resolve the problems I’ve been having, or will it all just build up all over again? and (3) do I still want a Ph.D-dependent career? What do I even want to do?

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newcaptainofsquad9 · 5 years

Text

The Shakespeare Substitute {1} Kim Taehyung x black! fem! reader(College AU)

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: When your Shakespeare professor happens to be absent for the week due to illness, a handsome, yet familiar man steps in to teach for him. This happens to be Kim Taehyung, an old friend of yours back in high school, and an old crush of yours. He can’t help but stare at you throughout class, leaving you an anxious mess until the fifty minute class period is over.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance, College AU, Smut(in later parts)

Word Count: 1, 973

Warnings: None for this chapter anyway

Author’s Note: I know, another series! This one will be short (at least three parts) I promise! I’m open for requests for BTS and EXO hope you enjoy!

I did a double take on my phone as I blink back up at the doorway. It’s already 2:07 and Mr. Green hasn’t shown up for class yet.

“Did he send an email?” I ask, turning over to my friends James and Stacy.

James turns his nose up before running a hand through his mini fro.

“Look woman,” he scolds, “I checked it four times, refreshed and everything-it’s nothing!”

I frown at his tone. I can’t tell whether he’s being sarcastic or if there’s something upsetting him.

“You good?” I ask, “can’t really tell if you’re joking or not.”

James sighs while pushing the glasses up on his face.

“Sorry Y/N/N, I’m just a bit overwhelmed,” he says.

I nod.

“Classes already getting the best of you?” Stacy counters.

James shakes his head vigorously.

“The classes aren’t the fucking problem,” he groans, “Valentines day is coming up and I’m trying to decide on the fucking venue for Cody and I to have dinner! Got it all planned out and everything.”

I deadpan at his words. Is he seriously this worked up over a God damn date?

“Are you for real?” I ask.

James pops his neck at me.

“Of course it is,” he growls, “I don’t expect you to understand Ms. I’ve never dated a guy in my life.”

Of course he exposes me like this. A few of the girls in the front rows turn, they look disinterested, yet I’d like to keep this in my enter circle of friends. This may be a university setting, however rumors still spread like a fucking plague. And here I thought the high school tendencies would cease, I had too much faith in humanity to even fathom that.

“You want to tell the entire class,” I say, “keep your voice down.”

Stacy scoots her desk closer, a sly grin and a hand below her chin.

“Is he for real, Y/N? You never had a boyfriend?” she asks.

I open my mouth, then close it as James gives me a “yeah go ahead and lie, I’mma spill the tea anyway” look. I’d rather tell them something before Mr.Green arrives and class actually starts.

“Technically no,” I explain, “I’ve never dated anyone, well there was this guy back in high school, but he was way outta my league.”

James rolls his eyes while Stacy gasps.

“Out of your league?” she exclaims, “he’s got to be a Greek God, because you’re gorgeous.”

I shake her complement off.

“Thanks, but when I tell you he’s out of my league he is,” I say, “he was from Korea, and dressed like your typical international student: wearing Gucci and Chanel as if it were Nike for us.”

“I own a pair of Gucci slides,” Stacy says.

James chuckles.

“That doesn’t count, you got rich ass grandparents!” he hisses.

“Anyway,” I say, “all the girls wanted him, those preppy white ones especially, no offense Stacy, but yeah-he was also a grade above me so..”

Stacy sips her latte in confusion.

“That still doesn’t explain how he was technically almost your boyfriend?”she asks.

And here I thought she’d forget. Curse James and his big mouth.

“Yeah, about that, uh well, we kinda became friends over lunch and ah,” I pause, the memory hitting me extremely fast and abruptly.

Taehyung with that boxy smile of his as it fell. My heart lurched as he rubbed my shoulder.

“I-I’m going back to Korea,” he said.

“S-So is it over? Did we even have anything?”

I barely got to ask as Taehyung’s lips met mine. It lingered prior to him pulling back.

“Yeah, we did, but I don’t want you to hurt if it doesn’t work while I’m away,” he said.

“Um, Y/N,” Stacy says, breaking me from the painful memory. “she, good?”

James leans across his desk to take my hand.

“I can tell the rest,” he reassures, “if you’d let me?”

I nod and inhale.

“Ok, so!” James starts like the complete Drama King that he is. “this kigga had the nerve to admit his feelings for Y/N during prom while his date was making out with the Physics professor!”

“Physics professor?” Stacy asks.

“It’s a long story,” I say, “he was like in his twenties, she was 19, but it was still weird.”

“Oh, so, did he like you or-”

“Aparently so,” I say, “like he could have told me that he was going away, uh, I don’t know a few weeks or months before graduation!”

James pats my hand.

“It’s ok sweetie,” he says, “he’s out of your life now.”

“What’s his name?” Stacy asks.

“Kim Tae-”

My words are cut off as someone enters the room and it isn’t Mr. Green. Instead, taking Mr. Green’s usual spot behind the brown colored podium is someone more youthful, and taller. His hair is in unkempt, medium length and jet black, matching his black turtleneck, blazer and pants.

I look to his face again as the breath gets knocked from me. Taehyung. I reach over and tap James’ arm, forcing him to break from his fixed glare on the familiar man that just walked in.

“James, James, snap out of it,” I urge.

“W-What girl! Do you see this sexy man?”

I try to answer but I’m interrupted.

“Hello class!” he greets, “Mr. Green fell ill so I’m here to teach Shakespeare in his stead!”

A collection of groans fall throughout the class while I’m still in shock. How is he here? He’s a sub? How the fuck?

“Now, now, it’s nothing serious, he should be back next week, but I’ll ensure that your final lessons on Twelfth Night run smoothly-ah! How could I forget, my name’s Kim Taehyung, I’m your sub for the week, but you can call me Taehyung.”

James’ smile drops as he turns to me.

“Oh shit,” he says, “oh shit, Y/N!”

Stacy turns my way as I lean down into my seat.

“W-What?” she whispers.

James glances Taehyung’s way before at Stacy.

“That’s Y/N’s almost ex,” he whispers.

Stacy opens her mouth, then covers it. This is my life now apparently.

“Taehyung!”

A hand shoots up from the front, from here I can see the long strands of blonde hair.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Uh, h-how old are you, uh, I mean you look young enough to be a first year university student,” she teases, “I-I mean not to be rude or anything.”

James rolls his eyes.

“Of course she fucking did,” he says.

I shake my head and watch as Taehyung chuckles.

“No, you weren’t, it’s a simple observation, I’m 24 and I’m currently working on my masters, thus being a substitute is great experience for it.”

The class nods in appreciation while all of the women and some men in the classroom admire Taehyung. God, can this class period end any sooner.

“But enough about me,” Taehyung says, “let’s go through roll.” He pulls out Mr. Green’s grading book, so he must know him personally, or at least got it through the school. My heart quickens as he goes down the line: James answers with an overly enthusiastic ‘here’ and Stacy with a sliver of one. My eyes go forward as Taehyung stops for a moment prior to calling my name.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N,” he says it as if I weren’t real, like he has a hard time believing I’d take a damn Shakespeare class.

“Here,” I say and sink back down into my seat.

Taehyung steps around the podium and our eyes meet. He wets his lips as if to say something, but I look away. I can feel his eyes lingering on me before he goes back to roll.

“And, Jessica?”

The same blonde haired girl who asked Taehyung that question shot her hand up again.

“Here,” she says rather softly, a little too softly for my liking.

God, why am I caring? Taehyung and I were hardly dating, I shouldn’t care.

“A-All right, so let’s pick up with Act IV scene one,” Taehyung says as he glances around the class as every pulls out their copies of Twelfth Night.

He stares at me once more prior to moving over to the whiteboard to write out the characters names.

“Ok, who’d like to read for the part of Olivia?”

Jessica’s hand shoots up again, of course.

...

Fifty minutes manage to crawl by, leaving us finished with Twelfth Night.

“That shit was sooo convenient,” Stacy groans as she tosses her bag over her shoulder.

James nods.

“Right, like Viola was a dude the entire time and suddenly Orsino’s got feelings,” he says, “he’s got to be bi at least.”

Taehyung grins.

“Thanks for being so cool about this guys! Start reading Hamlet for Wednesday!” he announces.

Everyone floods to the door at once, of course Jessica flutters her eyes at him before leaving. James and Stacy push through next, I try to keep up, yet I drop my water bottle.

Taehyung crouches down quicker than I can react, scooping my bottle up into his arms. Our eyes meet again, this time I hold his black eyes and notice the somber nature within them. He looked the same way during graduation, as if I was fragile, like I couldn’t handle what he was going to tell me. I didn’t at the time, but now I’m over it.

“Y/N,” he says my name carefully.

I glance back down at my water bottle in his hands.

“Can we talk, please?” he asks.

“Can I have my water bottle?” I counter.

Taehyung glances back down at it, bites his lip and stares back at me.

“Y/N, just five minutes of your time,” he says.

“I-I don’t have that long, I-I got class,” I lie.

Taehyung smirks.

“If you had a class next then why were you chatting it up when the period ended,” he teases.

“For fucks sake, of course you were watching,” I groan.

Taehyung moves to shut the door, leaving me to stare at him incredulously.

“C’mon, just hear me out,” he urges.

“Ok, then,” I let out as I slump down on top of a desk, “let’s talk.”

Taehyung sits on the desk across from me, biting his lips again before running a hand through his dark locks.

“God, it’s so crazy seeing you here,” he bellows, “I-I mean, how have you been?”

I shrug.

“Living, classes are going ok, been to a few clubs on campus, nothing really life changing,” I answer simply.

Taehyung shifts up from his desk.

“Don’t be that way, can you look at me?”

I look his way and almost recoil at how close he is now, nearly hovering over me.

“T-Taehyung-”

He leans down against my ear.

“I missed you,” he admits, “I may have called it off, but I never forgot about you.”

Is he serious?

He pulls away and our faces are inches away, his smoldering eyes holding mine again.

“Here,” he says handing me the water bottle back, “and this.”

Taehyung scurries back over to the podium, tears out a piece of paper and writes on it.

“If you want to talk, here’s my number, “ he says, “if you want this to stay in the past, it’ll stay there. I’ll play the well behaved sub.”

His words bring a smile to my lips and I can’t help but make the connection.

“We only kissed once and now you want to be well behaved?”

Taehyung chuckles.

“I wouldn’t jump the gun too far, Y/N,” he says, “does that mean we can talk, again?”

I bite my lip at how eager he is. I don’t think he’s ever showed me this much attention in the past.

“Maybe, let me see how much time I got after homework,” I say.

Taehyung grins, opening the door, allowing me to step out.

My false sense of bravado disappears as I begin to panic.

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its-pronounced-quoassoint · 5 years

Text

Power Rangers AU-Chapter 3

Pairings: romantic Logicality, Prinxiety, Demus, Remile

This Chapter Features: YouTuber!Patton, Patton centric story line

This Chapter Warnings: crying, angst, mentions of dead characters, reluctantcy, sympathetic Remus

Credit for this AU goes to @when-day-met-the-knight (specifically this post).

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic please let me know in reply!

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Chapter 3-Pink

Patton kept a diary. When he was younger he would stay up late at night, using pens to write in composition notebooks. Assigning different colors to different days of the week, doodling in the margins, dating every page in the top right corner, and taking time to think of a title for each day. At the bottom of every page Patton would rate how well the day was on a scale of one to five and doodle a little face that showed how he felt.

Keeping a diary was one of the few constants in Patton's life. After so much change and heartbreak, holding on to something, as silly as diary keeping, made Patton’s time a little more enjoyable.

When he received his first phone, Patton decided that a digital diary would be more convenient. He downloaded a simple note taking app, and began writing about his day there.

The advantage to a digital diary was he could write wherever he wanted. Patton sat on the bus to school, typing fervently. It was their first day back since the last attack and he had not gotten enough homework done as he would have liked. Patton was letting out some feelings onto his phone and listening to the chatter of the kids around him.

Patton is very aware of the fact that many of them were staring at him in awe. Especially the middle schoolers. Typically his audience on YouTube was middle schoolers. He knew having a few million subscribers got him attention and Patton had accepted that attention as part of his everyday life. It meant nothing to him now. A sort of bitter exchange. He didn’t feel the nervousness he used to when people approached him for pictures. The right feelings he got when young minds randomly appeared next to him and wanted to ask about being a YouTuber. However, that also meant he didn’t get the rush of happiness when some small kid praised or thanked him. He didn’t really feel that delighted feeling of pride anymore.

Patton typed on his phone until the bus pulled up to the high school. Patton stepped off the bus after almost tripping over several small kids in the bus isle. He began rolling up to the school, warm humid air hitting him. It had rained horribly the day before and him, along with several other fluffy haired people, were feeling the affects.

Patton opened the doors for a few high schoolers behind him and walked in. Heading for his locker immediately. After gathering his things Patton began taking his bag to his first hour.

“Hey Pat.” The familiar voice of Naomi, one of his close friends, greeted him.

“Hey Mi.” Patton smiled at her, moving a little in the hall so she could walk next to him.

“How was break?”

“Ugh, did not get any homework for Leed’s class done.” Patton rolled his eyes. “But, ya know, got some editing finished.”

“Well, I don’t think the teachers honesty expect us to have gotten anything done.” Naomi tried to soothe him.

“Yeah.” Patton sighed. They stepped into their shared first hour and continued to talk. A few more friends walked in and began talking with them, but Patton dropped away from them quickly.

He never felt particularly attached to the people in his school. It was hit or miss with people you talked to. Patton was very aware of his social standing as ‘the most popular person in high school’, but he attributed that to his YouTube channel’s success. It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. He certainly had people wanting to be his friend. However, it was never the type of connection that Patton would see on tv. No best friend sleepovers, skipping class together, eating cookies late at night while watching Netflix. Patton wasn’t proud of the fact that he didn’t have a close friend like that, but he figured he should take what he gets.

Besides, he still had friends.

Lunch was an easy time for Patton. He typically sat with Naomi in the library. Sure that’s not what one would expect from a popular socialite like Patton, but the cafeteria was simply too loud. Hectic and scary were adjectives Patton often described lunch as. He didn’t eat much at lunch either. He never really ate much. There wasn’t a lot of time to eat.

Patton often spent his time listening to his friends’ problems, studying, doing something for the array of clubs he was in, or editing for YouTube. There wasn’t much time for anything else, but that was okay. Patton enjoyed doing all of those-besides studying-so it wasn’t like he missed anything. There was nothing to miss when he didn’t know of much else he could do.

Mondays were usually not the favorite day of the week for any student, never mind any person. However, they were Patton’s favorite. Why? Well, Mondays after school, Patton got to go down to the freshman biology teacher’s room and run the QSA at his school. He loved the QSA. He had been going since 8th grade, when he couldn’t technically go because he wasn’t in high school.

However, he dedicated a lot of time to the QSA and had become the president of the club in junior year. He was elated to be in it and was able to get together a team to spread the word about it and set up fun activities. It was one of the only things about school that Patton documented in his YouTube videos.

Patton didn’t like to talk about school too much for fear of it interfering with him graduating, but he was able to take videos of everything that happened with QSA. Much to the delight of his viewers.

Patton sat anxiously in 6th hour, awaiting the final bell that meant he could head down to the club room. Sadly though, sixth hour was just getting under way, so he would have to wait.

“Welcome back to sixth hour!” Patton’s calc teacher, Mrs. Ryans began. “I know school only had been a few weeks in when the attacks hit, and it essentially feels like the next semester, but we’ll be doing a small project!”

The class cheered a little. Projects for her class were typically easier than usual class work. She would often pair up students to work on it together, making it all the easier on Patton. Usually Mrs. Ryans paired Patton with Logan, who was more than happy to help Patton on the project. Patton loved partnering with Logan, he was understanding of Patton’s schedule and never got frustrated with Patton’s inability to meet in order to work on the project. Though Patton had heard he was quite the opposite with other partners in different classes.

“So, I didn’t really have the time nor the care to make a list of partners, so, your table partners will do for this.” Mrs. Ryans sighed.

Patton met Logan’s eye with a disappointed look and shrugged. Logan returned the sentiment before looking toward Remus next to him. Logan smacked the snickering idiot.

Patton turned to his table partner Dee and gave him a warm smile that was met with a side smile, reserved for Patton alone.

“Donnie can you pass out the papers?” Mrs. Ryans asked.

“Sure!” Donnie smiled and stood, grabbing the stack of papers that explained the assignment.

“Mrs. Ryans! Dee and I need to be partners.” Kayley Holt said a few rows behind Patton.

“Uh, no.” Mrs. Ryans trailed off giving Kayley a questioning look.

“But we have to be. We have co-dependency anxiety and we’re both super anxious without each other! We have to be partners.” Kayley demanded.

Patton looked over to Dee who held a blank expression rivaling Lady Gaga’s ‘poker face’. Patton could tell he was not happy with the arrangement Kayley was trying to pull.

“You know what Kayley, I know you’re lying to me about this so don’t even try and pull this stunt again, but fine, you and Dee can be partners. Just don’t whine when you two both get Cs on the assignment cause you didn’t work.” Mrs. Ryans pointed at Kayley. Then pointed at her table partner. “Roman, you’ll pair with Patton.”

Patton smiled over at Roman who dramatically smiled back.

“This will be due on Friday and I expect it typed, nothing handwritten! Heck knows you people write in hieroglyphics.” Mrs. Ryans dismissively waved her hand. “You will have Thursday in class to work on it if you need but if you don’t you can just have this as a free hour.”

Patton received the paper and began reading over the project. Dee and Roman switched places and the two dove into the work. Dividing it between themselves and scheduling times to meet to work on it.

“Are you free tonight after QSA?” Roman asked.

“Yeah, you?”

“Mhm. I don’t think Logan or Remus have anything going on either. We can all kinda work on it together at my place.” Roman turned to where Logan and Remus sat across the room. “Logan! Remus! Come here.”

Logan and Remus turned to Roman who was waving them over enthusiastically. The two look at each other before Logan shrugged and began walking their way. Logan and Remus sat down across from Patton and Roman, the four began talking about going to the twins’ home after QSA to work on the project.

“Well what am I supposed to do while you three are in your club?” Remus asked

“You can come if you want. We’re doing some stuff for the underclassmen for homecoming.” Patton told Remus.

“I though they called off Homecoming.” Roman looked at Pat.

“Well, they did,” Patton trailed off. “but the freshmen on the QSA group chat were so upset, I mean I couldn’t let them be so disappointed.”

“What did you do? Pay ‘em off?” Remus whispered.

“What?! No!” Patton whispered back. Not fully knowing why he was whispering, so he stopped. “I just argued to the superintendent that they deserved a Homecoming.”

“How? He never changes his mind.” Roman smiled.

“Well, I mean, I’m good at convincing people, I guess.” Patton shrugged. “But yeah, homecoming is back on.”

“None of us go to homecoming though.” Roman pointed out.

“Yeah, but the freshmen and sophomores like going and some juniors go and I know I don’t have time to go, but they deserve some fun. The town’s ten pm curfew doesn’t exactly give any kids the chance to hang out with their friends like normal teenagers.” Patton explained.

“Well, it’s nice for you to do something for them. Having experiences with their friends, like homecoming, will make it all the easier to deal the trauma of the attacks.” Logan finally said.

“Thank you Logan.” Patton nodded. “Now, is that all settled. We just head to your place after QSA?”

“Yep.” Roman nodded.

Patton smiled at him and began texting his foster mother the plan. Class ended a while after that and the four began their walk to the science wing of the school. Heading to Mr. Travis’s-the QSA faculty advisor-room. The room was already full of kids from every grade. Eager freshmen were talking nervously to their friends while the other two seniors looked around commenting on how they were used to it by now.

“Hey guys!” Patton said as he entered.

“Patton!” Jana, a sophomore, squeaked when he entered. “I passed the project!”

“I knew you would! You’ve gotta stop doubting yourself.” Patton congratulated her.

“I know, I know.” She giggled. “Camera?” Jana put out her hands expectantly.

“Here!” Patton walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out the camera he used for filiming. He handed it to Jana who giddily heded over to tripod and began setting up eqquipment. "Okay everyone, before I begin with what we're doing today can we set up the tables into one long table?"

The group got up from their chairs, still chatting, and began arranging the tables the way Patton had asked. Once done helping, Patton walked to the 'head' of their make-shift table and sat down. Jana started up the cameras and sound and Patton began.

"Homecoming is back on, which means another year of having to find a date, dress nice, and so on. So, what I’ve decided to do, is spend this week, next week, and however much longer making flower crowns.” Patton announced. “I know it’s a little childish, but pride flag flower crowns are so much fun to make and afterward you get really good at them”

“I love it.” Cami, one of the juniors said.

“Thanks Cami.” Patton smiled. “Make some for yourself, make some for our friends, make pride flag ones, make any color ones, doesn’t matter, just use all the flowers. I printed out a bunch of instructions on different types of crowns and other jewelry you can make with the flowers. Just have fun with it!”

Mr. Travis entered the room with loads of flowers in his hand and his daughter trailing behind, also carrying many flowers.

“Here we are.” He grunted, setting them down.

“Thanks Mr. Travis.” Patton smiled. “Let’s get started!”

The club dispersed into groups and began making crowns, chatting with their friends, and goofing around. Patton was pulled over to a group of sophomores and freshmen who wanted to talk.

He looked over to see Logan, Roman, and Remus talking quietly while making the crowns. Patton smiled, even Remus was making a pride flag flower crown.

After some time he walked over to Logan, Roman, and Remus. The three stopped talking quickly and focused a little too intensely on the flower crowns.

QSA ended far too quickly for Patton’s liking, but he and the three others left for Roman’s house soon. They talked the whole way, mainly Remus, and were very quickly entering the home.

Patton and Roman went to the living room and lazily began talking about the project. Logan and Remus went to the dining room and Logan attempted to make progress while Remus threw Cheetos in the air and tried to catch them in his mouth.

Patton looked around the house. It was huge. Large eggshell white walls and intimidating furnishings. It barely looked lived in.

“Hey Roman,” Patton started, “can you point me to the bathroom?”

“Yeah sure, the closest one is just down that hallway.” Roman pointed to a dark hallway. “I’m pretty sure it’s on the right. You’ll find it.”

“Thanks.” Patton smiled.

He got up and headed that way, not quite sure what he was doing. He didn’t need to go to the bathroom, but something about the house felt so familiar. He had to find out why. Why did being in the home feel off yet inviting. It didn’t make any sense. Patton has always been good at feelings. Knowing what they are in him and observing them in others. This though, this was different.

Patton walked down the hallway toward a door, feeling the pull even more intensely. Every step was pulling him forward. Why was it so familiar?

Patton opened the door and stepped into an extremely dark room. Patton’s eyes could barely adjust. Without realizing it he had entered the room and was running his hand along the objects in the room. The feeling grew to an overwhelming point and Patton tried to pull away and go back to the living room, but to no avail. Then something grabbed him. It wrapped around his wrist and tightened into a perfect fit. Patton was finally able to pull his hand back and looked at the thing on his wrist.

A bracelet. Glowing pink and swirling around his wrist.

Patton screamed.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Patton continued. He just stared at the bracelet in horror trying to get it off him as fast as possible.

Patton distantly heard Logan call his name. Pounding footsteps headed his way and the lights around him were flipped on.

Patton barely noticed, he just focused on tearing the bracelet off of him.

“Patton?!” Logan yelled for his attention.

“Get it off, get it off, oh please just get this thing off of me.” Patton cried out.

“What?” Roman started, but stopped when Patton turned and showed them the bracelet. “Oh.”

“Please just get it off, please, please,” Patton suddenly stopped, staring at Remus. “You-you’re-“

“Remus!“ Roman chided, noticing the mace he had in his hand.

“What? We didn’t know why Patton was screaming! It could have been a minion.”

“Jeez Remus.” Roman shook his head.

“You’re the Green Ranger?” Patton asked shakily. “Which one are you Logan?”

“I-uh blue.” Logan hurried out an answer.

“Logan! You can’t just tell every pretty boy you’re the Blue Ranger!” Roman smacked Logan on the shoulder.

“I’m not!” Logan’s face turned a bright red.

“Oh this is a disaster.” Roman sighed.

“I know.” Logan looked away.

“Look, I don’t care! I won’t tell anyone, I promise! You can trust me! Just please get this off of me! I don’t want to be a Ranger please!” Patton begged.

“Patton-“

“Can you take this off or not?” Patton asked, tears welling in his eyes.

“I-uh-no.” Logan stuttered. “We don’t know how.”

“Fine.” Patton stood and looked at Roman. His expression hard as tears began falling ever so slightly. “I need to borrow your car.”

“What?” Roman asked startled.

“I need to borrow your car, drive to Thomas, and get him to pull this horrible thing off my wrist.” Patton said, his voice steady.

“Patton we-“

“Please.” Patton broke down into a quiet sob. “Please just let me-“

“We’ll drive you. It’s unsafe to drive when you’re upset like this.” Logan said quickly. “Roman let’s go.”

“Ok-okay.” Roman turned and headed out of the room.

The four quickly ran out of the house and into a car. Roman started it up and began driving. Remus sat quietly in the passenger seat, looking at Patton nervously. Logan and Patton sat in the back, Patton silently crying into Logan’s chest. Logan wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulders, holding him soothingly.

They pulled up to Thomas’s house and frantically ran to the front door.

“Thomas! Thomas! We need you open up!” Roman knocked on the door loudly.

The door swung open and a little kid stood there worried. “What’s going on?”

“Emile! Where’s your dad?” Roman asked frantically.

“Coming coming! What is it?! Is someone hurt! What happened?” Thomas asked. He looked at the four.

Remus and Roman stood awkwardly on the small porch. And a little ways behind them, Logan held a crying Patton.

“Wha-“ Thomas stopped himself. “Patton?”

“Thomas!!” Patton pulled away from Logan and raced to Thomas. He fell into Thomas’s arms and sobbed harder.

“Oh Pat. It’s okay I-I know.” Thomas tried soothing him. “Come on lets all go inside.”

Thomas led the four inside. Patton collapsed on the couch and looked around, drying his tears.

“Thomas, get it off of me.” Patton started shakily.

“Patton, you know that’s not how it works.”

“I don’t care. It needs to come off. I’m not breaking my last promise with Talyn. I won’t do it.” Patton shook his head. Once again grabbing at the bracelet and trying to pull it off.

Emile put a hand on Patton’s bracelet to stop him from tanking at it.

“Patton, you know Talyn would be proud of you no matter what. They knew that it wasn’t a choice you got to make. You were chosen. They would be so proud to know you’re the next Pink Ranger.” Thomas smiled.

“No!” Patton’s tears started up yet again. “I promised! I said I would never! I told them I would never become a Ranger. It’s dangerous and heartbreaking and it tore Talyn away from me! It took Joan and Talyn from me! It took them both and it almost took you!”

“Patton, I know.” Thomas sighed, stepping closer to Patton who only pulled away.

Roman, Remus, and Logan stood in the kitchen eyeing the scene and trying to understand whatever was going on.

“I can’t do this. I won’t do this.” Patton stated firmly.

“Patton, don’t you remember when you were younger and all you wanted to be was a Ranger? You were so excited to be everything Talyn was and more.”

“I was young. And stupid. And I still am. I’m not ready for this. Talyn didn’t want this.”

“Talyn knew that this would happen. They knew you would be Ranger. It was simply your destiny. You know that. We all knew that.” Thomas sighed. “Talyn just didn’t want you to feel pressured. Talyn knew the risks and didn’t want you to go through the pain.”

“If it weren’t for the morphers, Talyn, and Joan, and Valerie, and Terrence, and Dominic would all still be here! You wouldn’t have been the only Ranger for the past ten years! You wouldn’t be doing this on your own.” Patton cried.

“Pat-“

“Thomas, please just get it off of me.” Patton held out his wrist to Thomas. “Please. I can’t do this, please.”

"Patton. I-I-"

"Pat, please." Emile took Patton's jaw in his hand. "I know it hurts, but think about what you're doing. You know you can't take it off. Once it's on you, you can't just take the morpher off. It's there and there's nothing you can do. So, what you need to do, is live up to that amazing loving person the morpher chose. The morpher chose you because you bring heart and care and compassion to the team. You're made for this role and I know you can do it. Though you may not feel it now, it's still there."

"Emile-“

“When we were so much younger do you remember pretending to be Rangers together. You were always the brave Pink Ranger, swooping in your save me from the Dragon Witch. You just wanted to help me. You’ve always wanted to be a Ranger and you’ve always wanted to help people. Please don’t give up on that. You know for a fact Talyn only said that to try and keep you safe. No matter what you’ve promised them, or Joan, or Megan, you want to do this.” Emile stopped him. “You don’t have to be afraid. You’ve got a team by your side.”

They sat in silence. Patton’s tears had dried on his face and he desperately tried to talk but found no sound coming out. His chest heaved and ached. Patton could only squeeze Emile’s hand in his and sniffle.

“I’m sorry.” Patton squeaked. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. Pat of course you’d feel this way. No one expects you to immediately want to be a Ranger. Especially after what happened with Talyn. No one blames you for feeling this way.” Thomas assured him.

“Thank you, I-I know. I know it’s okay. It just still doesn’t feel that way. It doesn’t feel-feel-feel-“

“I’m sure it doesn’t. But it’s okay.” Emile whispered.

Patton collapsed into Emile, just crying into the smaller boy. “It hurts so bad.”

Emile nodded and ran a soothing hand through Patton’s hair. As Patton continued trying to control his sobbing he felt more arms wrap around him. He shifted to see Roman, Remus, and Logan holding him gently, too gently. It was like they though one squeeze would break Patton in half.

“You’re going to be the best Pink Ranger to ever fight.” Roman told him.

“Thank you I-I’m okay.” Patton smiled sweetly at the boys hugging him.

They pulled away, but stayed close.

“I’m going to be okay.” Patton said a little shakily but calm.

I’m ready. Patton wrote late that night in his diary. I’m going to be okay.

Taglist:

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors@maddarc@pheonix-inside-reblogs@thisismysanderssidesblog@almost-all-my-ships-are-gay@mostpeopleannoyme@the-smol-est@i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake@nadja-chamack16@too-bi-too-function

#patton sanders #YouTuber!Patton #power rangers au #thatsthat24 #logicality #prinxiety #demus #remile

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bigfan-fanfic · 5 years

Text

Making Bad Look Good Part 2

A second part! Featuring... Two-Face, Deathstroke, Deadshot, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, Hush, Zsasz, Klarion the Witch Boy, and the Court of Owls!

I got a ton of requests for these, and you’ve all been so helpful! This one’s for you!

Making Bad Look Good part 2 - a.k.a. another 6 Degrees of Evil Bacon

Warning: Long post ahead.

Two-Face - Harvey Dent

You met Two-Face back when he was District Attorney for Gotham.

He was no “Ce-SEAL-Your-Fate” Horton from Central City, but he was doing a bang-up job putting criminals behind bars, cracking their insanity pleas.

So you went to meet him after a case where he got the Penguin sentenced to Blackgate instead of Arkham.

Sure, he’ll probably escape, but the precedent the case sets is important.

“Mr. Wayne! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just came to meet our amazing new D.A.”

You make small talk, until you decide to ask him to lunch to congratulate him on the case.

He grins. “Okay. But we’ll flip a coin for the check. Heads, you pay. Tails, my treat.”

You shrug.

He flips a strange coin that he tells you is his lucky charm.

It comes up heads, on the side that looks like it’s been corroded.

You smirk. “That’s a double-headed coin, isn’t it?”

He laughs. “Yup. Most people don’t get it so quick.”

He shakes your hand and offers to pay anyway since you were such a good sport.

After he becomes Two-Face, it’s this moment you choose to remember...

Deathstroke and Deadshot - Slade Wilson and Floyd Lawton

There have been quite a few times when you were targeted by an assassin or two.

But that particular time, you were the prize for a competition between them.

Slade and Lawton had been hired to take you out, but only the actual killer would get the other half of the payment.

So one day, Deadshot is setting up the hit, angling a crazy shot to hit you through the back of the skull and bamboozle all ballistics tests. You come into range, and he shoots -

-only to see you get shoved out of the way by the eyepatch-ed Slade Wilson.

Bruce wants to sequester you in the Batcave, but instead, you tell him to set up a meeting as Batman.

It’s fun to throw money at problems.

On a rooftop, the Bat behind you, you offer Slade and Lawton double the total for your contract to give you the name of their employer and void the hit.

It’s technically against whatever assassin code there is, but you know, money tends to grease the wheels of any machine.

Deadshot takes the money and tells you it was some crackpot billionaire trying to get at Bruce. He also chuckles and says that he’s available if you ever have more money to throw and a grudge for him to carry out.

Deathstroke also takes the money and nods at you before leaving.

And while Slade comes back to torment you and your sons time and again, Floyd is actually quite pleasant. You sometimes hire him when you need security, which he calls easy money, and from that point, your husband almost never encounters him on the job...

Harley Quinn - Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel

“Paging Dr. Quinzel. Dr. Quinzel, to the front desk.”

You and some other Gotham big shots were invited to Arkham for a publicity tour. Reporters are there, too, including Clark, so you feel pretty safe.

A surprisingly young woman comes to play tour guide, her hair in slight pigtails.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Quinzel. Currently I’m junior psychologist here at Arkham Asylum.” She has a bit of a New York accent, though you can tell she’s worked hard to soften it.

One reporter asks just how “junior” she is, and she gives an indulgent chuckle. “Yes, I graduated med school early, so I’m a bit young for a specialized doctor. But I’m also one of the only medical professionals still willing to work at Arkham, so I think that’s what counts, right?”

The tour goes well enough, until you raise your hand. “You’re the psychologist in charge of the Joker, right?”

Dr. Quinzel smiles in a strange way. “Yes, that I am.”

You frown. “And do you think, as a junior psychologist, you’re adequately prepared for him?”

“I know that I am a medical professional, Mr. Wayne, and I am certainly qualified to examine my patients.”

But Dr. Quinzel, just for a moment, looks fractured, torn. Like there’s some sort of internal war raging in her soul. But it gets absorbed in her too-wide smile.

You put it down to nerves about meeting the press, and let it go.

You always wonder if there was something you could’ve done for the woman, prevented it from all going wrong, prevented her from becoming Harley Quinn...

Poison Ivy - Dr. Pamela Isley

Pamela was going to college at about the same time you were.

You weren’t friends, exactly, although you did both share a class in Professor Crane’s Intro Psych course (an elective for both of you).

There were a lot of rumors about her. You chose not to engage in the gossip, especially as it was a lot about her sleeping with her Biology professor for a better grade.

You had to do a project with her for your final grade, and she invited you to her apartment to work on it together.

It was full of plants. She mentions it before you have a chance to even think about bringing them up.

“They’re my babies.” she jokes. “So much easier to take care of than pets.”

You smile. “All the oxygen probably helps you work better, right?”

She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

She talks about how she’s going to be a botanist when she graduates, and she’s going to work for the EPA. She’s very self-interested, but genuine, and you have fun while working on the project.

But only a few weeks after you turn in the project, she disappears. Rumors abound about how she ran off with the Bio professor. Some say they were having an affair. Others are kinder and say they’re on a botanical conservation mission in some swamp somewhere.

Either way, you never see Pamela again.

At least, until Poison Ivy shows up in town...

(Side note: Drew Barrymore as Poison Ivy? Thoughts?)

Mr. Freeze - Dr. Victor Fries

Fries shows up one day out of nowhere

Just shooting with that cold gun.

He attacks a gala event for the Wayne Foundation and holds it up for jewelry and the cash being raised for the underprivileged of Gotham..

You glare at him. “You know you’re just taking money right out of the pocket of needy kids, right?”

“It’s for a good cause.” He says darkly.

“And what cause would that be?”

He sneers at you. “Disease research, mainly.”

The phrase surprises you.

Later, Bruce is doing research at the Batcave. “He goes by Mr. Freeze. Born: Victor Fries. Wife Nora suffers from Stage Four of a rare pneumonia-like condition known as MacGregor Syndrome. He had her cryogenically frozen, and now it seems like he’s turned to crime to fund his research into a cure.”

You hesitate. “Well... is there something we can do to help him?”

“Help him? May I remind you that he held hundreds of people hostage?”

“Well...” you shrug. “I just figure that maybe he wouldn’t be so... crime-y if his wife was being taken care of. I don’t know what I’d do if I was so close to losing you.”

Bruce softens slightly. “Look, Freeze committed a crime - several crimes, and he has to go to jail. But if it makes you feel better, we can have Wayne Enterprise’s medical division look into studying her disease. Judging from what I see here, MacGregor Syndrome has similarities with many other diseases. It might be a key in finding lots more cures.”

You smile and hug him. “Lead with that. Tell Fries that we’re willing to do that.”

Of course, Fries’ future crimes are due to the cost of maintaining his portable cryogenic suit, but you hear a lot less about it than you expect, especially since Nora is being taken care of...

Mad Hatter - Jervis Tetch

You were meeting a couple of old school friends at a tea parlor one day. It’s nice to escape the stress of your life and reminisce.

Roland and Alicia are a cute couple, and they tell you they have a baby on the way.

But the day is marred by a strange incident in which a small man in a top hat and tails (tuxedo tails) comes up to your table and starts babbling at Alicia, calling her “Alice” and trying to touch her blond hair, despite her attempts to shove him away..

Roland gets angry and punches the man, but before he can go any further, you pull him back.

The strange man glances at you. “The Dormouse...” he mutters, and walks away.

“What a creep.” Alicia shudders.

You’ve already figured it out. The man is deluded, thinking he’s the Mad Hatter, and he seems to be trying to fit everything into his Wonderland-inspired delusions. You tell Bruce about this, and he immediately agrees that Alicia is in danger.

You go to their hotel room to see them, warn them, but Roland answers the door wearing a bowler hat and Alicia is nowhere to be found.

Roland attacks you, knocking you out and kidnapping you.

Thankfully Bruce has been watching as Batman and follows.

You wake up tied to a chair around a tea table. Alicia is tied to another chair in an Alice-in-Wonderland costume, looking terrified.

Jervis Tetch reveals himself and points out his minions, enslaved with his mind control headwear.

“Very spiffy, if I do say so myself.” you say cheerily. “Quite the milliner you are, my good sir.” (Alicia looks at you like you’re crazy)

Jervis loves the flattery, and it distracts him long enough for Batman to smash through the glass ceiling and knock the hat off his head, disabling the control.

Sure, no one was hurt much, but needless to say you would have to visit Alicia and Roland in the future instead of ever having them come to Gotham...

Hush - Dr. Tommy Elliot

“We’re having lunch with an old friend of mine.” Bruce announces.

You raise an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Why don’t I know who this is? We have pretty much all the same old friends. I mean, we were together, like, all the time.”

“You remember Tommy, right?”

“Tommy? No, Tommy doesn’t ring a bell, hon.”

Bruce sighs, and you laugh. This is as animated as you’ve seen him in a while. “Come on, Tommy Elliot! Back when we were little! We used to play Robin Hood together in the park, and you two always fought over who got to be the Sheriff of Nottingham?”

“Yeah, nope. No memory of that.”

He sighs, but you go with him anyway. It hits you when you see the man at the restaurant. He was that kid! His parents were friends with Bruce’s parents. They had almost died in an accident when Bruce’s dad saved them.

He’d always try to play this strategy game thing with you and Bruce. It was only two players, and while he’d always beat Bruce (your husband wasn’t always the tactician he was now), he’d get really frustrated playing against you.

Tommy liked to try and get inside your head to beat you, figure out what you were going to do and then planning for it.

But you could tell what he was doing, and kept doing random moves you wouldn’t normally play, throwing him off and winning.

You didn’t like him much, and you kinda got the feeling he didn’t like Bruce that much either.

“Oh. That Tommy.”

Bruce looks at your worried face. “What’s wrong? If you really don’t want to, we can cancel.”

“Oh, hush. We’re already here. Least we can do is have a nice lunch...”

Zsasz - Victor Zsasz

It’s never a good sign when a payphone rings. So many bad reasons...

Not the least of which is that barely anyone even uses payphones anymore.

Let alone to call another payphone. I mean, how does that even work?

So it startles you when you’re walking Gotham (during the day, of course), and a payphone rings. No one else is around to answer it.

You start to walk away, and then the next payphone rings when you reach it.

The other guy near it jumps like fifty feet in the air, but then goes to answer it.

He looks scared. “It’s... it’s for you.”

You sigh and take the phone

“Ignoring my calls? Naughty...”

“Um... wrong number. This is a payphone, not, uh, whoever you were calling.”

“This isn’t Y/N Wayne?”

“Yeah, no, it isn’t. May I ask who’s calling, though?”

“I know it’s you, Y/N. You don’t know me. Yet.”

“Look, I know Halloween’s coming up, but I’m not in the mood for Scream right now, okay?”

“This isn’t a scary movie, it’s real. My name is Zsasz.”

“Z- zsa... okay, how is that spelled?”

“Z. S. A. S. Z.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful. If you don’t mind me asking, is that Polish?”

“...What?”

“Sorry, I have to run, but it was nice talking to you!”

You run home and immediately tell Bruce you talked to Zsasz. Luckily you were running a trace with your phone - a little extra Tim developed for you. Within the hour, Batman has Zsasz in custody, saving the poor people he had kidnapped to add to his tally...

Klarion the Witch Boy

“Oh, hello! Who are you, little guy?”

The orange tabby glares at you with utter hate. It flicks its tail, but surprisingly, comes closer and curls around your legs.

It allows you to pick it up, and it purrs.

“Teekl! My word!” a boy comes running up to you, wearing a tailored suit and a newsboy cap.

The boy snatches the tabby from you and pets it, despite how it looks like it wants to go back to you. “What were you doing with Teekl?”

“That’s its name? He’s a cute little guy. Uh, he just wandered in front of me and basically asked me to pet him.”

The boy glares at the cat. “You TALKED to him?”

The cat looks at him and rolls its eyes.

“Um, who are you, kid?”

He looks at you incredulously. “Seriously, mortal? You haven’t heard of me? I am Klarion! Klarion the Witch Boy! And this is my familiar, Teekl.”

You nod seriously. “Good for you, kid.”

He seems about to throw a tantrum, so you wave and leave the boy dumbfounded...

The Court of Owls

“Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,

Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.

They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed,

Speak not a whispered word of them

Or they’ll send the Talon for your head...”

“That’s a stupid poem. It doesn’t even keep time.”

“It’s free verse.”

“Yeah, free ‘cause no one would pay for it.”

You and Bruce were only kids when you heard the old rhyme. Bruce was trying to scare you as a Halloween season joke, but it wasn’t working.

“Come on, Y/N! At least pretend to play along!”

Thomas Wayne enters the living room, and pretends to scold Bruce. “Now, Bruce, be hospitable to your guest. What’s the argument about?”

You smirk. “Bruce says that there’s a Court of Owls who eat limes and put talons on people’s heads.”

Thomas hunches down, making a spooky face. “Well, Y/N, it’s an old Gotham story. It’s a very bad thing that Bruce told you. You’ll have to be very careful now.”

He looks dead serious, and now you’re scared. “Really? What should I do, Mr. Wayne?”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll have to be a very good kid all your life, Y/N. Never go out after dark without your parents’ permission. Don’t ever cheat on a test. Don’t lie. And if you ever see someone in an Owl mask, look the other way and forget you saw it.”

He grins, dropping the facade. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just couldn’t help it. Hope I didn’t scare you too badly.”

Being a stubborn child, you insist he didn’t. After all, you’re old enough not to be scared by that stuff anymore.

But on the way home, after your parents pick you up, you notice something.

A tall figure in an alley, wearing a stylized white Owl mask.

You quickly look away, trying to put it out of your head, mumbling the rhyme to yourself.

“Beware the Court of Owls...”

You forget about this until far later in life, after you, as Y/N Wayne, have become an enemy of the dreaded Court...

#batdad reader #male reader #batman x male reader #batman headcanons #dc headcanons #headcanon

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mamawolfblood · 4 years

Text

Though he didn't know it yet Chris Mclean was in for a shocking revelation. One of the campers is not exactly just some rando kid. This camper is his kid and she is out to expose it.

Name : Iris Escalona

Age 16

Eye color green

Caramel skin

Black hair that she keeps in a high ponytail. A Cherokee rose on the left side of the hair tie.

Iris is 5ft 8",135lb

Out fit-White tanktop with the alchemists symbol blue acid washed jean shorts black converses

Iris has a dark sense of humor. She loves horror,pranks,is resourceful. Iris is not above smashing some skulls together. She is not quick to anger but Heather pushes a lot of her buttons.

All her life she just wanted Chris to know she was alive. Her mother never gave the reason why she left. She is the oldest of seven children.

________chapter4_______

Chris: Last time on Total Drama Island, the Screaming Gophers kicked butt in the Awake-a-thon when Duncan took a snooze on the can and the Killer Bass took their second loss in a row. Harsh. Heather orchestrated the first Total Drama Island alliance by convincing Lindsay and Beth to join forces with her. Then pocketed Eva's MP3 player and sat back to watch the fireworks. Nicely played, Heather. Nicely played. Even though Eva could've pretty much kicked anyone's butt here, in the end, it was her temper that got her kicked off. She became the second camper to rock the Boat of Losers. Who will break the rules of their new alliance? Will Gwen and Iris be able to stay awake until the end of the episode? And who will take the next humiliating walk down the Dock of Shame? Stay tuned for the most dramatic campfire ceremony yet on Total. Drama. Island!

Iris helped Chef make breakfast that morning. "You are a real help sweetpea thank you." He said stering the oatmeal. "Your welcome anytime. I'm going to make some wheat toast. Is that ok?" She asked he nod. "Sweetpea you helped me clean and cook. You can make whatever you want." He said cleaning some pots. She sat in the mess with some toast and coffee when everyone walked in.

Iris pov

"Good morning " she said cheery they groaned. Duncan pulled me in his lap resting his head on my chest. "Want some coffee Duncan?" I asked "no I just want to close my eyes." I rub the back of his back as I drink my coffee.

Chis walked in "Morning everyone Duncan You look like Death, dude." He said before Duncan mumbled "Stuff it" cuddling into me.

Courtney explained Harold was snoring keeping everyone up. Poor guys not Courtney but everyone else.

Chris *laughs*"Wow. Four nights with no sleep? How much are you hurting, dude?" He said making Duncan growl "Want me to show you. " Chris held up his hands "no no its cool go back to your pillow." Duncan rest his head against me. Chris shook his head before looking out the door. "Hey everyone its Gwen!" The Gophers cheered. I would but don't want to get ripped apart by Duncan. "I'm so tired I can't feel my face." She said before laming her face on the table. A few moments later Courtney flings Oatmeal at Heather only to get it in Gwen's face. Heather in a singsong voice said missed me. Honestly if someone doesn't get rid of her I will. "Ok campers your next challenge begins in ten minutes. Oh and be prepared to bring it." He laughed I was terrified when he laughed. After breakfast we met Chris and Chef on what appeared to be a old school gym. "Your next challenge is doge ball. The rules are simple. " Chris was about to explain until Noah made a sarcastic remark. "As I was saying you get hit by a ball your out. You catch a ball the thrower is out and you bring a teammate in. Okay now Geoff, try to hit me. If you're holding a ball, you can use it to deflect a ball, but if it knocks the ball out of your hands, you're out." It was easy enough to follow but then again not sure everyone graduated fith grade. Lindsay asked what she was supposed to do when a ball comes at her. Honestly how are you even alive. Chris threw the ball "Oooh! you were supposed to dodge! " I almost felt bad for her...Almost. "You have one minute until game time. Gophers, you'll have to sit one person out each game." When Chris said that Noah volunteered to sit out immediately. I grab him by the collar and throw him on the court. "Whats your damage halfbreed" He asked getting up. "My damage is you are lazy and its not happening. Gewn you should sit this one out. " she nods and sits down. "Alright guys and gals get in position. Oh and if you have to open up Noah to some pain. It will be good for him." I said tossing a ball in the air and catching it. Let the games begin. Heather taunts them but Tyler had to be so lame. "Both teams ready? Best of five games wins! Now! Let's dodge some balls!

[whistle blows]"

So far it was easy taking the Killer bass. I mean the line up was pathetic. It was third round down to Courtney and I. "Oh this is a surprise. " I chuckled as my eyes narrow at her. She threw her ball I catch it. She started jumping up and down thinking she won. That was until I held up mine and her ball. I threw hers knocking her over. "Hey thats not fair. I hit you your supposed to be out." She glares at Chris. "Technically she caught it the screaming gopher's takes the point." They then made the mistake of waking up Duncan. The next round dominated us. Soon tied for victory it eas the last game. Harold and Owen were left. "You got this Owen!" I yelled "Hey babe hate to break it to you but the game is ours. I know you won't get voted off." Duncan said winking at me. Heather smirks "I wouldn't say that lover boy." Gwen threw her boot at Heather. "I give you a boot to the Head." Making me laugh. (Please tell me someone got that reference)

Owen threw the ball and Harold looked like Neo from the matrix. He is the Alpha geek for a reason. Owen threw the last when it made contact Harold flew back. He caught it winning the game for the Killer Bass. "We lost because of lack of effort." He said making everyone glare at him.

(Confessionals)

Iris

"Well it's not hard picking someone to vote off. Noah

perezoso saco de mierda. Perdimos el desafío por tu culpa. Verle caer no será nada doloroso. buena suerte en la ciudad de los perdedores.

*static*

Noah

I am voting for Iris she is fake. Just because your step dad is from spain and helped you pass spanish. Dose not mean you have to speak it on the show. Watching you walk will be a blessing. I will throw flowers as steam boat Willy takes you."

*static*

(End of Confessionals)

At the bonfire we all sat waiting for our marshmallow of 'safety'

"Campers, you've already placed your votes and made your decision. One of you will be going home. And you can't come back. Ever. When you hear me call out your name, come pick up a marshmallow. Owen. Gwen. Iris. Cody. Trent. Heather. Beth. Justin. Leshawna. Izzy. The final marshmallow goes to... Lindsay." Chris said handing out the marshmallows. "What, are you kidding me?!

All right, see if I care! Good luck because you just voted out the only one with any brains on this team! Ow!"

"You need to learn a little thing called respect, turkey!" Leshawna said making us everyone laugh.

"You know what if you want to keep the fake spanish loser be my guest. The only reason you probably passed the class is step dad helped you." He said making me snap. I grabbed him by the collar getting in his face. "I have been speaking spanish since I came out the womb. My DAD is one of the greatest people I know. My DAD didn't run away from his responsibilities even though I am not his. He will always be my DAD because he raised me. *throws Noah to the ground.* I don't call Diego by his name or call my step dad because .HE. IS.MY.DAD." I glare down at him the shadows from the first adding emphasis to my angry face.

Noah: Whatever, I'm outta here.

Chris "Iris tone down the scary its bad for raidings. You are all safe for now. Who will rock the boat of Losers next find out next time on Total.Drama.Island."

#romance #total drama #total drama leshawna #total drama island #td gwen #td heather #duncan #chris mclean #dodge ball #oc

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diopetgal · 4 years

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City High: Life is Here

“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.” -Mahatma Gandhi

Kidapawan City National High School, also known as City High is located in the City of Fruits and Highland Springs, Kidapawan City. Founded in 1970, KCNHS is celebrating its 50 years in delivering quality education for all. The School offers Science, Technology and Engineering Curriculum (STE), Enhanced Basic Education Program (EBEP), Special Program in Arts (SPA), Special Program in Sports (SPS), and Special Program in Journalism (SPJ), a variety of programs you can choose when you enter Junior High School. In Senior High School, you can choose from Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics Strand (STEM), Accountancy, Business and Management Strand (ABM), Humanities and Social Sciences Strand (HUMSS), and Technical-Vocational-Livelihood Track (TVL).

I can say that my roller coaster life in High School started when a representative from Kidapawan City National High School visited my school when I was about to graduate Elementary School, batch 2014. I do not remember her name anymore but she came there to tell as why we should choose City High as our next home. She talked about the school and what I remember the most is that the entrance examination for Grade 7 is fast approaching and she encouraged us to take participation in the said entrance examination.

The first thing you will see upon entering City High before

The day of the examination came and I asked my mom if she could accompany me to the city but she is very busy that time so my brother, who is in college that time, came with me. The moment I enter the school campus of Kidapawan City National High School I was in awe, experiencing City High first hand. I was captivated of its beauty. Unfortunately, the entrance examination is already done but I did not stop there, because I was not able to take the entrance examination I have to rely on my grades to study in City High.

During enrollment, I was really undecided which program to choose. At first, I wanted Special Program in Arts because I love arts and I have been joining on the spot painting or poster making contest while I was in Elementary School. At the back of my mind, I wanted to choose Special Program in Sports because I am a keen Badminton player and I grew up in a family who play and love sport. I can’t enter Science, Technology and Engineering Curriculum simply because I was not able to take the entrance examination which is intended for that program. Finally, I decided to choose Enhanced Basic Education Program because my grades are good and I really wanted to focus on my studies in preparation for Senior High School.

Our very first class picture, the first people to welcome me

I came from a nearby Municipality so everything was new to me and I can’t handle the stressors around me just like how my classmates handle them smoothly because they were used to it. It is like I needed to start all over again. It is very different from how I was taught. Everyday there is a role playing, creative reporting, on the spot oral recitation, a lot of assignments, and other activities. Whenever I make mistakes, they laugh at me but I know that it is a friendly laugh only to motivate me to do better the next time. I still remember that I nearly gave up, while I was crying I told my mom that I can’t take it anymore but she told me, “You will get used to it and probably even more.”

My role as Chi-Fu in the Musical Play - Mulan

Before, I don’t really like acting because I am shy, I don’t know how to act, and it is not my forte. I did get used to it through the years and be confident enough to show other people the character I am portraying to the fullest of my ability.

I also got the role of Kapitan Heneral in a play in the novel Noli Me Tangere written by Jose Rizal. And I directed a play entitled Biag ni Lam-ang, an epic poem of the Ilocano people from the Ilocos Region of the Philippines. Both of these plays happened when I was in Junior High School. The role I got in Mulan took place when I was in Senior High School.

Buwan ng Wika Celebration with our coach in Diwang Sagisag

This would probably be my most memorable celebration of Buwan ng Wika because I went to school wearing Barong Tagalog hoping to enjoy the day. I forgot that I have to have my review together with my coach ma’am Christel May Paguican and teammates for the upcoming 5th Regional Diwang Sagisag Competition to be held in General Santos City. So I ended up reviewing wearing Barong Tagalog while it’s very loud and vibrant outside.

Ma’am Christel Paguican is not only a teacher, she is a friend, and she is a sister to me. She was my very first classroom adviser in Kidapawan City National High School. I still remember when she scolded me during our oral recitation in her subject. She reads the question first before picking a name to answer it. And me being so talkative, I did not listen to the question because I was talking to my seatmate when suddenly my name was called. I asked ask her what was the question but she said she only reads it once so I had no choice but to tell her I did not know the answer. She then told me that she expected a lot from me and I am very sorry for that. I did not took it against her, instead I made it a lesson that I had to learn and inspiration to do my best. She is one of my mentors that I dearly love and respect.

Dinner after a long day of review

At first I was hesitant to accept the invitation to join the competition because I have a lot of responsibilities as a student in school but ma’am Christel May Paguican is very good at convincing people and I also like history, tradition and culture so I accepted it.

The moment we stepped out of the room after a review, I do not see myself in a competition. I see myself with a family having a good time together sharing a meal.

Division Eco-Scilympics 2017 - Create, Show and Tell

This competition started as a classroom project. Then we competed with other sections in our program. Next to that we competed representing our program. After that is the school level competition. Until we reached the Division level competition.

We started with 4 members. We went through a lot of challenges before coming into this competition. It was decided that the group will be cut into two so the work was doubled. In two hours we needed to create a diorama based on the topic given to us. After that we showed and presented it to the judges and answer all their questions.

Speech Choir - The Congo

The competition was between different programs or curriculum. The three sections in Enhance Basic Education Program was known to be rivals of each other. I was the leader assigned coming from our section. It was at this time that we started socializing with each other and became friends. From then on we have established good relationship with the other sections.

Folk Dance - Class Presentation

If you try to look closely, you can’t see me in the picture. I was not around during this presentation for a very important reason. In order for me to have my grades, I was tasked by our subject teacher to compile all the videos and create a music video about it. This only shows that my High School life is not perfect and this is just one of those times.

Power Dance Competition - My classmates for 2 years in Senior High School

This was my last competition as a student of Kidapawan City National in Senior High School under Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics. It was hard considering that the school was affected by the destructive earthquake that hit Mindanao. We had limited time to practice and we needed to secure a good place to practice which can be accessed by everyone. Amidst the hardship we still managed to give our best during the competition proper and was hailed as the champion.

Kidapawan City Sports Complex - Badminton Court

All throughout my Junior High School years, I have spent my intramurals in this court and I considered it as my playground. Although I was not enrolled in Special Program in Sports I made a way so that I could still play Badminton. Even though I am not very good at it, it is an honor playing with the Palarong Pambansa players coming from the different programs of the school.

Team Makilala- Old Terminal, Kidapawan to Makilala

My friends for almost 9 years. We are all classmates way back Elementary School. We went to Kidapawan City National High Scholl but chose our own programs. For 4 years, they are the people who accompany me every day going home. When we graduated Junior High School, they transferred to other schools and I was left in City High. I miss those moments when we argue about who gets out of their room last because everyone is waiting outside and is eager to go home especially when we have night classes. Sometimes I feel lonely because I was used to riding the jeep with them by my side but since we started to take different paths those seats are occupied by strangers. That is the reason why I sleep in the jeep to my way home aside from I am so tired.

The Panget Squad - smiling despite adversity

I became friends with these people throughout my Junior High School days. They are one of the people who know and understand me. We share a lot of commonalities in education, arts, music, and personality. We took different strands in Senior High School but we make time for each other as much as possible. The group is not complete in the absence of one member.

WHTP Squad - after Hataw Presentation

When I enter Senior High School, I opened myself for the possibility to meet new friends. That’s where I got to meet them. Some are coming from other programs in Junior High School and others are transferees. We did not instantly had connection with each other but time made it possible.

My classmates for 4 years in Junior High School

I consider all my friends my family. We don’t just celebrate happy moments. We are also there to accompany each other at our lows. When I am with them, my problems become small. They will always have a special place in my life.

Moving-Up Ceremony

I spent 6 years of my life in Kidapawan City National High School. It gave me a sense of protection and an assurance of preparation from the outside world and what lies ahead. I am very happy I chose City High as my second home. It was the best decision I made and I did not regret anything about it. I was able to discover the best of my abilities and be able to share it to other people. Truly, Kidapawan City National High School is home to committed and passionate stakeholders which molds a well-educated and well-rounded individuals.

When I was about to give up, my mom was there to cheer me up. She was right when she told me I will get used to the things that is giving me stress in my first year of being part of the City High family and I had fun dealing with it. I was able to balance all my subjects together with my extra-curricular activities. I graduated Junior and Senior High School with High Honors. These achievements are not mine alone, thanks to my friends who made the journey worthwhile, my classmates for sharing their ideas with me, my teachers who taught me life lessons, my family who supported me big time, and most especially to the Father Almighty for giving me strength to endure everything.

Now, I am off to the next chapter of my life. I’m not going to ask for an easy journey but a strong will to finish what I have started.

#KCNHS #CityHigh #LifeIsHere #LearningIsFun #CityHighLangMalakas

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callme-barnes · 5 years

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Beauty & Brawn (Part 5)

Summary- You are the top scientist in all of New York, the one that no one knows. Going through the science field as a woman is hardly easy, let alone rewarding. You’re bombarded with misogynistic men who only see you as a pretty face, not knowing that you have the mind of a thousand scientists combined. That is until you meet Tony Stark, the genius billionaire who could quite possibly be the answer to your prayers, and your heart.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

It’s been a while. Catch up here!:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

It was about 6 in the evening and you had officially been staring at the outfit lying on your bed for 40 minutes. This also included the not so healthy talking to yourself that you were having.

Why did you even think you could do this? Do you know how long its been since you’ve gone out? How long since you’ve last worn heels? You’re going to fall flat on your face and he’s going to laugh at you and your evening is going to go exactly like that.

You quickly inhaled and shut your eyes, forcing the negative thoughts to float into the back of your mind before you grabbed the dress and slipped it on over the nice black lingerie you had saved for a special occasion. Not that Tony was going to see your lingerie that evening, but it always felt nice to have something sexy on under your clothes just to give you that extra ounce of encouragement and self esteem.

The dress was long and curve hugging, cinching in at your waist and falling down loose past your hips. The slit going up your right leg was just high enough to show some skin but low enough to leave something to the imagination. It had a nice low U-shape neckline that flaunted your breasts but was also modest. You took in a deep breath and turned around to look in the mirror. It had been such a long time since you’ve seen yourself in anything even remotely fancy that it kind of made you nervous and giddy all the same time. Looking at the clock you saw you still had about an hour and a half to get ready so you walked over to your vanity and began to put on some makeup, turning on your favorite playlist and singing along to help release your nerves.

It was now 7:45 and you were ready to go. Your heels complemented your dress, and your hair fell nicely down your back in large loose waves. You heard the buzzer for your apartment buzz and you quickly took one final breath before quickly walking over and answering it.

“Hello?”

“Hello Ms. Y/L/N. I am here to escort you to dinner”

You smiled and rolled your eyes slightly at his tone and shook your head in amusement

“I’ll be right down”

You quickly walked over to your floor length mirror and checked everything again. You fluffed up your hair, did a couple of quick turn, reapplied some of your lipstick although it was already perfect, and then you grabbed your phone and your small bag and walked out into the elevator.

The ride down was full of anxiety and if anyone else was in the elevator with you you’re sure they would have felt all that energy rolling off of you like heat waves from the sun. The elevator ding sounded and you looked up seeing you were already on the ground floor. You took in one more deep breath in and then walked out when the doors opened. The first thing you saw was Tony’s figure. He was looking down at his watch and twiddling his fingers as though he was just an average man, nervous to to meet a woman for the first time. He never looked up and if anything he probably looked like he was gathering his own thoughts.

You walked over and put on a smile, tapping Tony on the shoulder and he immediately turned his head to take you in. His eyes roamed, from your head right down to the very tip of your feet. The gaze he was giving you made you nervous and you shifted under it before he cleared his throat

“Well if I’ve ever seen a more beautiful woman in my life I couldn’t remember”

You took the time to let out a nervous chuckle and looked down before looking back up at him

“Thank you. I wasn’t sure how fancy or how not fancy to dress so I’d say this is in between”

Tony shook his head and sent you a smile

“You look amazing. Even if we were going out to watch a movie or eat at a fast food restaurant I still wouldn’t even think about telling you since you might change”

His tone was one of playfulness and you smiled brightly at him

“Shall we?”

Tony quickly gathered his wits

“Sorry. Yes, yes we shall”

He stuck out his arm for you to take and you did so without a second thought. Talking to him was so effortless you couldn’t even remember why had you had been so nervous in the first place. You both walked out towards the front of your apartment complex and you saw his very nice black car. He opened the door for you, you sent him a polite thank you and he got into the driver’s side and you were off.

Dinner flew by and now you were both back at the tower going over Tony’s new idea

“I like it. I think it could help a lot of people by giving them access to clean water all the time. How much are we thinking this is going to cost for the countries that want to purchase it?”

“And that’s where you come in. See I want to do this as more of a humanitarian project. I don’t want this to cost a fortune, if those who need it can’t afford to have clean water now I wouldn’t want them to stress out about being able to purchase this mechanism. I want it to be affordable”

You pouted your lips out a bit and felt your thoughts racing before a light bulb went off

“We’d have to make it as biodegradable as possible. If you can locate the pieces we need that are either recycled or if they are pieces that are broke and going to be used for scraps, we could get them cheaper, I can fix them and then we wouldn’t have to charge an arm and a leg for it”

Tony nodded along before smiling

“And that’s why you’re working with me. I’ll start looking for suppliers tomorrow”

You smiled at Tony and fixed your dress. You were seated on top of the lab counter, your legs dangling and your mind racing with all the ideas that you has planned

“So Y/N, tell me more about you. I know the basics, I know you graduated at the top of your university on the Dean’s List. But how is it you’re so good at everything? I know I’m smart, but your brain kind of functions like a little computer and it’s the most, impressive thing I’ve seen in my life”

You looked up at Tony before smiling and wiped your hands on your thighs since they had since gotten sweaty from being alone in the same room with Tony

“Well, that’s because it practically is. When I was a kid, I used to get these horrible migraines in school and the longer I was in school the worst they got. Then in about middle school I had a moment in my chemistry class where we were dissecting an earthworm, and my vision kind of zoomed in a little and I was able to vividly see the entire system of how it worked and what was lying even beneath what the normal eyes could see. I started being able to solve Calculus problems without a piece of paper or a calculator by 7th grade. I just...I don’t know my brain kind of works where, if I’m asked something, I put everything together in my head, sometimes so fast where I don’t even register what I’m doing. I wouldn’t say I can see into the future or something, but my brain goes into overdrive and I’m able to kind of do trials in my head of every possible way something could go and I’m able to accomplish what I can because of that”

Tony was leaned back against the counter in front of you, listening to everything you were saying almost like he was trying to memorize all of it.

“What about family life? Any brothers, sisters? Mom? Dad?”

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked down

“None. Well, technically I do. But I don”t talk to them anymore”

“Why’s that?”

You took in a deep breath and looked up at him

“When I was in 7th grade, my counselor at school spoke to my parents about me. At first it was because there were complaints from my teachers, saying I must be cheating during tests or cheating during spelling bees and science competitions because I never missed anything. But my counselor was a nice older lady and I trusted her with what I was able to do. She believed in me so she told my parents I should be going to school at a math and science academy or a more top tier school. When I was younger we were poor. We were living 5 in a single room apartment, my mom, my dad, me and my two sisters. They signed me up into a great school like my counselor said. But I had to receive financial aid and scholarships because we weren’t able to afford it. Long story short instead of using the money I was receiving to keep me in school, they were keeping it to themselves and not paying my classes. We owed thousands of dollars to the school so I was kicked out and for high school I was back in public school”

Tony furrowed his eyebrows and looked down

“That’s insane. I can’t believe they’d do that”

“Neither could I. And it only continued in high school. I was getting prize money for doing inventions and projects and winning the competitions. But I never saw that money. I always figured it was the least I could do, since I lived under their roof and they were clothing me and feeding me. But one day I was unable to compete because my teacher wanted to give others a chance. My parents found out, they blew their shit, and I kind of became an outcast after that. I stopped enjoying science and just kind of did mediocre work. At 18 I left for college and I just never kept in contact”

Tony looked back up at you before exhaling, moving from his previous position to stand in front of you. You were so close you could feel his thighs brushing against your knees and you looked up at him

“Well it was a nice turn of events in a way. Now what they couldn’t appreciate I can. I...I know this might be inappropriate, and please, stop me at anytime, but you are the most gorgeous, smartest woman I’ve ever met. And I want to know more about you, and I want to help you reach any goal you want to conquer. I just, the short time you’ve been here has been so great”

You bit your lower lip

“Tony what....”

But before you were able to get your thoughts out, his lips came to yours and his hands moved to cup your cheeks to pull you closer. You were surprised and your heart was racing, but you felt your body instantly react and you kissed him back. Your hands moved to rest on his waist and he took that as an opportunity to pull himself closer to you. You could feel his heart beating against his chest and you melted deeper into the kiss. He pulled away and opened his eyes to look at you. You looked back but before he was able to say anything JARVIS spoke

“Mr. Stark, Fury is here. He’s called an emergency meeting and would like to meet in conference room 3″

You furrowed your eyebrows unable to decide if you should say something but Tony beat you to it

“He’s always had such amazing timing”

#iron man x reader #iron man drabble #iron man fluff #iron man imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark drabble #tony stark imagine #tony stark fluff #marvel drabble #marvel imagine #marvel fluff

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spiders-n · 5 years

Text

Tease Shirt

A headcannon struck when Z so graciously gifted us this image so I followed it straight to hell.

Now on AO3

-----

Peter has been studying for his last final for what feels like years when his phone buzzes against the hard surface of the university library table.

MJ: Hey dork. I need a small favor.

Peter’s brow furrows.

Peter: Shoot.

MJ: I have been sexiled yet again

MJ: and while I would normally just kill time around campus for the next couple of hours I just finished my last final and I feel like if I don’t take a shower in the next 10 minutes I might not ever smell clean again. Would you mind if I came over and used your shower?

Peter couldn’t help the frown that slips onto his face. This is the 6th time MJ's been unable to get into her dorm since January because her roommate is having sex. She normally doesn't complain because she loves her roommate and is generally a huge supporter of any woman who actively claims their sexuality but she had let it slip to him once that she was beginning to feel like she spent more time avoiding her dorm than actually living in it. He doesn’t even need to think about it when he types out his response.

Peter: Of course, Em. You don’t have to ask, I made the extra key fob for a reason. I’m still studying for my Orgo Lab final but it’s all yours for as long as you need it. 🤓

Even though he was technically not allowed to, he’d taken his key fob apart in Mr. Stark’s shop and made duplicates for Ned and MJ to get into his building when it had become clear to them that his living arrangement in a newer dorm that gave each resident a private room and bathroom was, by far, the most agreeable place for the three of them to hang out.

MJ had used her’s a hundred times over the course of the last 9 months, Peter is sure, but there is something oddly intimate about letting her be there while he isn’t. When he'd typed his message, the only thing in his mind had been his memory of MJ during last semester's final season, exhausted and worn, and even Peter had to admit, looking a little worse for the wear. Now that he's paused long enough to push past that mental image and the immediate urge to fix it anyway he can, he thinks that perhaps saying "you don't have to ask" may have been a bit too much. He panics for a long moment, trying to remember what state he’d left his room in but eventually resigns his worries to the back burner when he remembers that MJ once saw him blow his nose with a sock and then proceed to leave the snot crusted sock on his bedside table for a week and has since managed to voluntarily and enthusiastically kiss him 59 times since (yes he’s counted). Either she was just as gone for him as he was for her or she had a serious lack of regard for the hygiene of others.

He can't help the surge of excitement he always got when he and MJ crossed into any new territory in their relationship. He'd given her the key to his dorm as a friend and now she'd using it as his girlfriend and that felt very significant to him in a way he knew would make her fondly roll her eyes at him if he shared with her.

MJ: omg I’m definitely taking a nap in ur bed and you can’t stop me!

MJ: also thank you

Peter squirms as he reads the first message and tries desperately not to think about MJ freshly out of the shower and in his bed.

He’s seen her just out of the shower twice in his life, and would be lying if he said they were anything less than moments that defined his teenage sexuality. The first time was when she accidentally got snowed in at May’s apartment one weekend in their junior year of high school. She'd stopped by the bring him his homework and decathlon flash cards after he'd missed school due spider-manning a little too hard the night before, and didn't get the chance to go home until Monday evening. That was the weekend she'd found out about him and also the weekend that he'd first realized that he was probably in love with her, a realization that came about largely because of how incredible she looked after her shower. He remembers the very confusing combination of feelings he’d felt when he’d seen May’s green stripped pajamas sticking to MJ’s still wet skin as she stumbled into Peter’s room from the steam-filled bathroom and shook out her hair from it’s bun. He’s still convinced that the whole scene happened in slow motion.

The second time was during their summer abroad after graduation. They were staying in a bunk bed laden Airbnb in south France with Ned and Betty and a couple other Midtown Tech graduates. Peter had been talking himself in and out of just finally asking her out all summer. They were practically already dating in that they spent most of their time together, wholeheartedly supported each other's hopes and dreams, and very routinely accompanied each other to various events that society required people to bring dates to. His only hang up was the unyielding fear that making things romantic would ruin the best friendship he'd ever had outside of Ned. That hang up was mostly stomped out when he saw her next that night. She’d stepped into the room in blue silk shorts and a matching tank top wearing, and Peter remembers this very clearly, absolutely no bra. She had water droplets sitting on her shoulders and arms as she wrestled her hair into a towel and she finally moved her body upright he could see the faintest sliver of exposed stomach resting just above the band of her shorts. It was, in Peter’s opinion, one of the most under appreciated Michelle Jones looks of all time. And Peter had very thoroughly appreciated it at least 4 times.

He glances back down at his Organic Chemistry text book from the screen of his phone, the page half hidden by the notes he’d been going over, and groans at the reality that he’s at least an hour away from an A on his final and more realistically two if he wants to walk in feeling really confident.

Peter takes a second to gather his will and silently reminds himself that even if he was with MJ in his room at that moment the most that was likely to happen would be some making out and co-napping since they hadn’t actually done anything more than that yet. His monkey brain then counters back at him that literally nothing in the world actually sounds as good to him in that moment than making out with MJ and then taking a nap and he’s back to grumpily looking down at his textbook.

It only takes a couple minutes of begrudging reading for him to actually gets caught up in the material and loose track of time for while. It's an hour after their original conversation that his phone buzzes and snaps him back into the real world.

MJ: How much longer do you think you’ll be studying? You should come nap with me.

And then the temptation to say fuck it and just chance getting a slightly less awesome grade in Orgo was back in full force. He takes a deep breath and pries himself away from the alluring thought of a warm bed and an even warmer MJ.

Peter: The thought did cross my mind. I am probably another 45 minutes away from feeling very confident for this exam, though. Will you wait for me?

Peter hits send and forces his attention back to the material. Whatever the answer, the sooner he finishes studying the sooner he’ll be able to see her.

Five minutes later his phone buzzes and he flips it over to see that he has a Snapchat from MJ.

When he opens it his barely suppressed moan is caught in his throat. MJ is laying on his bed, hair twisted up into a towel, glasses on instead of her normal contacts, lips covered in his f a v o r i t e shimmery chapstick that tastes like mint, all of which would make Peter want to jump her bones even more than he normally does, but on top of all that she is very clearly wearing one of his shirts. One of his Stark Industries shirts.

He’s so overcome by the image that it disappears and he has to replay it again to read the text she’d left in small print over her shoulder.

“I’ll be here all night….” It read. At that Peter actually does moan at that. Out loud, and it turns a couple heads from near by tables. He doesn’t care though because this picture of a very cuddly and soft MJ in his fucking shirt literally waiting for him to get home is too suggestive for his over crowded brain to take. He closes his textbook with more force than is sticky necessary and shoves it into his backpack, scrambling to do the same to the highlighters and notebooks he’d spread around the table as well.

When he’s packed up he grabs his phone and texts MJ.

Peter: I’m coming home now

MJ’s response is almost instantaneous.

MJ: what happened to feeling really confidant for your Orgo exam?

Peter rolls his eyes and then grins. If she wants to play coy he can too.

Peter: it got really hard

He sends and then waits for her to open the message before typing again

Peter: to focus, I mean

MJ’s response lives in the gray dot dot dot at the bottom of Peter’s screen for what feels like ten years before she finally send it.

MJ: Maybe I can help you work it out…

And it’s the ellipsis at the end that forces him into action. Suddenly, before he can bully his brain into keeping up with his body, he’s out of the library and making his way steadily across campus to his dorm with the kind of speed that he normally only employs when he’s patrolling but he’s loathe to find a time that more desperately calls for such measures.

In the end, he learns two very important lessons.

The first is that there is nothing hotter than coming home to find your girlfriend spraying canned whipped cream directly into her mouth clad not only in your T-shirt but also in your boxers. And as he later finds out, absolutely nothing else.

The second is that you tend to test better when you take an exam after a post orgasm induced sleep. Who knew?

#spideychelle #spideychelle fan fiction #spiceychelle fanfic #peter parker #michelle jones #mj #pp #Spider-Man #spider man: homecoming #spider man: far from home #ned leeds #marvel #spideychelle headcanon

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boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

For science 1/7 - (NSFW)

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings/Themes: masturbation (vaginal) & voyeurism, unrequited feelings, eventual sex. is this crack yet? lol there’s a plot i swear.

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

A/N: posting this now because I’ve been working on it on and off for like a month and im tired of looking at it and jk’s bday is coming up HAPPY BIRTHDAY JK and i’ll be too busy with school plus im almost 7k into the second chapter so..

part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

Your eyes burn in protest as you scroll to the top of your terminal window once more to search for the error that is fucking your code up. It’s been hours of work and you still haven’t managed to get your program to run even though the homework assignment is easy in theory. In fact it’s just like a problem that Jungkook said the professors would probably give you in your sophomore year, and here you are in your junior year seeing such an ‘easy’ question. With him, it had truly been easy, though. Jungkook was a better computer science teacher than any professor you’d ever encountered. Thinking back to early high school days has you smiling softly to yourself.

You miss sitting closely together, heads sometimes touching, as you both bent over a problem while he explained why it looked hard, but was actually something you could do in your sleep. The wide smile he would give you when you completed competition questions in minimal time would always set your heart fluttering.

Your phone vibrating brings you back to reality. The caller ID reads ~JK~ and you swoop in to answer the call. If the time in the corner of your computer is right (and it is) he should have already opened his decision letter from the PhD department.

“Hey, what’s the verdict,” you ask as soon as you accept the call. You know there’s no other reason why he’d call you when you were supposed to meet up in a few hours for weekly game night.

“I got in,” his voice is soft, but you know him well enough to be able to hear the joy mixed in.

“Congratulations, Kook! That’s amazing, I knew you would get in, they’d be crazy not to accept you. Oh my god, we should celebrate.”

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe we could go out for drinks before heading back to mine to play tonight. You in?” Now you can practically hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I’m in. Let me just pack up and I can meet you. Where are you--the department lounge? I’ll come over.”

“Actually,” his shy tone has you sitting down slowly, returning your jacket to where you had it slung over the back of your chair. “You don’t have to leave right away. I was gonna try and call Yoori. You know, to tell her the news. And then tell Tae and Hobi, of course.”

“Oh. Yeah, no, that makes total sense. I should probably finish this code for Choi’s class anyway. It’s due on Sunday, but I’m almost done. Might as well turn it in early once I find this error.” Your hand scrapes at the sides of your jeans, looking for something to grab at.

“Well then I guess I have time,” he chuckles, “Your typos are always so tiny that they take hours to find. Let’s meet up at the bar in 2 hours then?”

You wince. Although it’s not at all a mean-spirited jab, you’re no longer in the mood for the friendly banter at the mention of Yoori, Jungkook’s long time unrequited love.

“Sure. See you then,” you hang up before he has the chance to say goodbye formally like he always insists on doing.

You put your phone down and berate yourself for getting distracted. If you were the brilliant Yoori, you wouldn’t have even made the typo in the first place. But you weren’t Yoori because you didn’t have the fortune of being born four years earlier and four times more beautiful, elegant, or intelligent. And you didn’t have the luck of being so much of a genius that you could skip years ahead of school like Jungkook either. So instead you would just have to chug along, always watching Jungkook chase Yoori.

You go back to scrolling through your code only to find the error a third of the way down. Jungkook was right, the typo was tiny--a misplaced equals sign. You sigh and run the code to make sure it’s perfect this time, and when it is you send it in to your professor to be graded. You consider heading home and using the extra time to make yourself look nice. Not that there was anything wrong with your oversized university t-shirt and jeans, but suddenly you think maybe things would be different for you with regards to your love life if you tried a little harder. You’re about to leave the library entrance that’s closest to your dorm, but you get a text from Jungkook.

6:41 - I called Yoori and she said she heard about my deal with RealiCorp and she wants to link up when she gets back on campus!

You narrow your eyes at the text. Jungkook had recently sold some software he developed to an up and coming gaming company that was supposed to make the imaging on immersion headsets better. He had made a pretty penny and was covertly offered a position at the company, but it was also a large victory for the computer science department at the university and his picture had been circulating around the department website for weeks. You suppose she finally saw it while she was taking a break from her research project off campus and decided to answer his calls for a change.

You text back what you hope sounds like a cheerful congratulation and decide to just go to the bar instead. What’s the harm in a few rounds before the rest of the crew arrives?

The harm would have been miniscule at most if you hadn’t been in your feelings, but when Jungkook, Tae, and Hobi arrive, you’re three rounds in and a little bit sloppy.

“Woah,” Hobi shouts, giving you a too strong pat on the back when he sits in the chair next to you. “Someone started a little early. What’s the occasion, are we celebrating something for you too?” Jungkook shakes his head with a sheepish smile and goes to sit beside you, away from Hoseok.

“Nope. Just getting ready for an evening with your loud ass.” He gives you a pretend pout and flags the bartender over. Tae sits next to him and gives you a little wave and smile.

“Two whiskeys, make mine a sour and make his straight. From the high shelf.”

“Hey now,” Taehyung’s eyes widen comically, “Are you forgetting that payday isn’t until next week? I’ll take the regular whiskey down there, please.”

“Don’t worry. Kookie said he was paying with his RealiCorp money,” Hoseok stage whispers into your ear, “He’ll probably cover your round too.” You swat him away and turn to Jungkook, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“You know I’ll cover yours. The rest of them, I don’t know.”

“What? Come on, you’re the youngest,” Tae whines, less than satisfied with his cheap whiskey shot.

“Shouldn’t that mean you guys pay for me?”

“N-no! Because you’re actually our senior now. You’re graduating this year, I’m the oldest technically but I’m not graduating until next year. We know these two aren’t graduating until the year after that,” he points to you and Tae, “Plus, you’re going to the PhD program next year. You should definitely be paying for us.” Hoseok has a point, you and Tae nod sagely to back him up.

“Fine,” Jungkook sighs, pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I’m in a good mood, so why not.”

“I bet you are,” Tae’s grin is big and catlike in the low light of the bar. His gaze a little lewd. “I would be too if I was one step closer to finally bagging a girl like Yoori.”

You look down into your beer bottle, the green glass suddenly much more fascinating than the conversation at hand.

“Did you hear,”Hoseok turns toward you,”Yoori is gonna come back soon and when she does he’s gonna make her Mrs. Jeon.”

“I’ll be sure to throw rice during the wedding,” you snark. The bartender brings you a new beer without another word. Taehyung howls at your comment.

“I’d kill to have a wedding night with her.”

“Hell, I’d kill to have a bathroom stall night. With anyone,” Hoseok sighs, “It’s hard out here for a comp-sci major. Right, guys?”

You hum in agreement. It had been a while since you’d last gotten laid.

“You’re right. I can’t even remember that geology minor’s face. Do you remember her? What was her name? Mara? Kara?”

“Sara,” Hoseok provides with a grin, “I think she has a thing for comp-sci majors. Kook, you ever hook up with Sara?”

Jungkook shyly traces a finger around the rim of his empty vodka class. “I haven’t hooked up with anyone.”

“Ever?” You try to keep incredulity from bleeding into your question.

“Ever,” he nods. He hiccups a little and all of the sudden you totally believe that Jungkook is a virgin.

“Dude, wait, I thought you hooked up with that one chick at the music festival last spring. Am I the only one who saw her?”

Tae nods in agreement. “Yeah, she gave you her hotel room key and everything.”

“It wasn’t like that. She told me her brother was there for a robotics tournament and I asked her if I could see the bot.”

You smile despite your sour mood. If there was one thing you loved about Jungkook it was his blind enthusiasm for STEM. Even if it made him a little oblivious to other things at times.

“Well, you better fix that whole virgin thing fast, bro. Chicks like Yoori probably want someone with experience. In more ways than one, if you catch my drift.” Hoseok nudges Tae with a wry smile.

“That’s not just a Yoori thing, most people don’t want to have to coddle someone in bed unless that’s, like, their kink or something,” you take a large swallow of beer.

“Wait,” Tae says, eyeing you like he’s had an epiphany, “You’re a girl--”

“Didn’t we establish this 2 years ago? When we met?”

“No, no, I mean you can help Kookie so he doesn’t drop the ball with Yoori.”

“Yeah, right,” you snort, “Help him how? Give him a sex-ed lecture?” You turn to laugh with Jungkook, but he’s looking at you seriously. Or as seriously as he can when he’s tipsy with unfocused eyes and blushing cheeks.

“You…don’t want to help me?” His voice sounds pathetic and small, making you feel bad instantly.

“Oh, Kook, it’s not that I don’t want to help you. But think about what that implies.”

“Is it because I’m a virgin?”

“Oh my god, Kook, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin don’t listen to us. We’re idiots.”

“Then why don’t you want to help me?”

Because I like you. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. You obviously don’t say that, though. Instead you sit back in your bar stool.

“I-I would if I could, but I don’t know how to help you,” you finally say.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I guess the thought of being with Yoori makes me a little stupid.”

Desperately you search for a solution. Instead of finding one, you call the bartender back and order a round of tequila shots. Jungkook gives you a sad look but doesn’t ruin the mood by not taking a shot. You order two more rounds because somehow, even though he’s drunk, he still looks dejected. After your third shot you can’t stand the way his shoulder slump.

“You know what,” you slur loudly, drawing three pairs of eyes to your face lazily. “It’s getting late and we might not get to play Fortnite this weekend. Let’s all get to bed so we can be up early tomorrow to play.”

Tae points a wobbly finger in your direction, eyes suspicious. “When you say early, you mean after 2pm right?”

It takes twenty minutes for everyone to get their shit together enough to leave the bar. Tae and Hoseok keep losing each other in the bathroom. Jungkook keeps forgetting that he has to pay and tries to ask the bartender what he thinks about sub-atomic particle physics. Even though you’re drunk off your ass, you somehow manage to keep yourself responsible enough to wrangle Tae and Hobi out of the bathroom and guide Jungkook through the motions of swiping his card and signing the bill. The four of you then squeeze into the back of an uber. Hoseok whines about being lonely while sitting in the passenger’s seat. Jungkook’s bumps his hand against yours until he can firmly grasp it and get your attention before you pass out.

“Hey, can I sleep on the couch,” he whispers in your ear. His breath smells like alcohol and limes. You turn your head to chase the scent away and rest your head on his shoulder. You yawn.

“Sure. No problem, buddy.”

Your apartment is the first stop on the route and you launch yourself out the car and run up through your lobby and to the elevator to escape the cold of the air conditioner and the fluorescent lights. Jungkook lingers in the car until Tae pushes him out to make room for Hoseok.

“Kook,” Tae calls out as he helps Hoseok pour himself into the back seat.

“Wassap?”

“The only way to get good at sex is losta—lotta...lot’s a practish. Okay?”

“But-but…Who am I gonna practice with?”

Tae merely whistles and points a finger upward, gesturing to your illuminated window. The car pulls away and Jungkook sways unsteadily up onto the sidewalk with nausea clawing at his throat. Thinking of the stairs he’ll have to climb—because there’s no way in hell he’s taking the elevator, even in this state—he regrets not just going to his own first floor dorm. Does he really need to get sex counseling from you? There’s always porn, he muses before remembering the rant you’d gone on blaming porn for making a guy you’d been hooking up with try to do weird things in bed involving a summer squash. Looks like he’d have to rely on the real deal to get anywhere with Yoori. Oh, Yoori.

A shimmering vision of the beautiful girl with elegant eyes and an ever-painted smile floats in front of his hazy vision and gives him the strength he needs to hobble forward towards the lobby door with dedication.

Minutes ago you couldn’t wait to go to sleep, but as soon you unlocked your door and made it to your room, you were wide awake. Even brushing your teeth and stripping out of your jeans didn’t to tire you out.

“Fuck,” you groan. You throw yourself onto your bed and hope that the way the room spins will lull you to sleep but when the spinning stops, your eyes still won’t stay closed.

The clock resting on your desk across the room reads 1:48am. It’s already clear that you’re going to be hung over, but knowing that it won’t be cushioned by a nice long sleep before you have to go to yoga at 12 makes you want to cry. You desperately wrack your brain for all the remedies there are to make you sleepy. You just canceled your cable last week to save some money, so you can’t veg out in front of the TV. You’re lactose intolerant, so warm milk isn’t an option. You’d take a warm shower but you washed your hair already and if you go to bed with wet hair your mother’s voice will haunt you all night with stories of the cold coming your way. Kicking your feet in frustration, you toss yourself over the edge of the bed to hang. Maybe all the blood will flow to your head and you’ll pass out.

You’re about to risk passing out and landing on your neck the wrong way and dying when a bright pink shoebox under your bed catches your eye. Of course, you think, how could you forget your precious vibrator. Luckily for you, a good orgasm or three always managed to knock you out like a light. You reach over and scoot the box forward with your outstretched fingertips until you get it close enough to reach inside and grab the petite tiffany blue bullet. Giddy laughter leaves your mouth as you heft yourself back onto your bed and fall back on the pillows with a contented sigh. Orgasms solve all your problems. You flick the device on to the lowest setting and ghost it against your clothed mound.

Jungkook is completely breathless as he leaves the center stairwell and finally arrives on your floor. The stairs were a bitch and a half, but your door is only two down from the floor entrance. He can practically hear the siren song of your pull-out couch. When he turns the knob to your front door, it doesn’t budge and he wonders if you must have locked it on instinct. There’s no way you forgot that he was staying over, he thinks to himself. Reaching above the doorjamb, he hunts for the spare key you left there especially for him. The door unlocks easily and he smiles to himself as he locks the door behind him and toes off his shoes. He’s about to face plant into the couch when you call his name faintly from your bedroom.

As he stumbles through the hallway slowly to your room, he thinks over what Taehyung said to him before driving off. To Jungkook’s drunk mind it makes sense, so it must be a good idea to seek sex practice from you. You’re the only girl he knows and he’s known you so long that he can already tell there would be no awkwardness. The sad look in your eyes as you listened to his predicament in the bar tells him that you want to help him, but you didn’t know what route to take. He flexes his hands by his sides and figures he’ll just tell you what Taehyung told him and get to coming up with a curriculum.

The door to your bedroom is half-open and the lights shine through the opening, so he figures you must be up and waiting for him. He can still hear you calling his name, but it still sounds oddly soft from where he is. He pushes the door open but freezes in his tracks when he sees you.

The first thing he notices is obviously the frantically moving hand you have between your legs and the loud buzzing sound that comes from it. He takes in more details the longer he looks. He realizes belatedly then that you’re not wearing pants. Thanks to the high prescription strength of his glasses, he can also see the way your hand and thighs shine and the huge dark spot in the crotch of your panties in the light of your table lamp. Your toes are curling and he can just make out the way your lower stomach clenches underneath the very same sweatshirt you’d been wearing to the bar. Technically he can’t see your other hand but he has a pretty good idea of where it is and what it might be doing with the way it disappears under your shirt. You can’t see him, though, because your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed. The only thing you’re probably at least partly aware of is the cacophony of wet sounds that come from where you work the nose of the toy over yourself. The last thing he notices is the way you call his name in a soft whining tone that has him stepping forward without thinking.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whine as the slippery heel of your hand bumps against your covered clit a little roughly on an upstroke.

“Yes?”

“What the hell,” your eyes snap open and your head whips around to see him leaning on the door frame as he watches you.

His eyes are heavy with alcohol and his cheeks are just as pink as the lip he releases from the grasp of his teeth. He reaches out and stumbles forward, causing you to scramble back to distance yourself from him. You bring your knees up to hug to your chest before you realize that you’re still very much on show.

“Jeon Jungkook, what is going on here,” you shriek, bringing your hands to cover your eyes only makes you feel a little bit better.

He sits down on your bed like it’s any other day and he’s just chilling in the room like you invited him over. And then you realize that you did kind of invite him over as fragmented memories of the recent uber ride you took together spring up.

“You said you wanted to help me, but you didn’t know how. But Tae told me I just have to practish.”

“Practish?”

“Practice,” he corrects himself.

“Practice what?”

“Practice sex. Duh!”

“Jungkook, no!”

“Please? I wouldn’t be asking such a huge favor if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary.”

“Why can’t you just go to a frat party like everyone else?”

Your heart is beating rapidly and you think maybe you’re not drunk anymore. Never in your life did you think you would turn down sex from Jungkook, but then again you never pictured it happening this way.

“Because I,” his head hangs and he starts to pick at a loose thread in your duvet, “I guess I missed out on this kind of thing when we were younger and I don’t think I could get very good results in a basement party. Plus, I know you’d…”

“I’d what?”

“You’d be good to me.” He lifts his eyes to lock with yours. His gaze is oddly sharp despite the fact that his skin is still clammy like it gets when he drinks.

Your breath hitches and for a moment it does feel like the fantasies you have almost every other time that you settle into your room, lonely and horny. Jungkook laughs bitterly to himself and you can feel your resolve crumbling as something selfish rears its head in the back of your mind. He tries one last time.

“Please?”

You crack.

“Okay.”

“Really?” His eyes light up once more as he gives you a blinding smile. “Great. Let’s start!”

It feels as though you’re having an out of body experience as you watch him clamber closer onto the bed with you. Your legs naturally open to accommodate him and he scoots into your space, his hands falling to naturally stroke with the soft skin of your ankles. Even though he lacks experience, Jungkook has a leg up in that he’s naturally on the affectionate side. Something you can’t teach with any amount of practice. Even still, the idea that Jungkook will be sitting between your naked thighs makes your stomach do flip flops.You barely start formulating something to say that will sound educational when you hear him get ready to interject once more.

“God, what is it?” You worry that if he interrupts you one more time you’ll lose your nerve.

“I need a visual aid. And, uh, I won’t be able to see because of your, uh, undergarments.”

You’re certain that you’ve never taken anything off faster than you do in that moment. The panties fly into some far corner of your room and you can only hope that they don’t land in a clump of dust bunnies.

“Alright,” you stutter, “I don’t have to give you an anatomy lesson, right? Please tell me you at least know where everything is.”

“We took anatomy together in 7th grade,” he says like that’s a decent answer.

You roll your eyes. “Right, okay. Anatomy lesson it is.”

“What’s this,” you point at yourself.

“That’s the uh…entrance to the vagina?”

“Ok and?”

“It’s where the pleasure comes from?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes?”

“Partial credit.”

“Isn’t that where the…phallus goes, though?” You decide it would be best to ignore his word choice for now.

“Yeah, I mean stuff goes in there but that’s not where all the pleasure comes from. For some people that’s not where any of it comes from.”

His eyes widen nervously. “Then where does it come from if not from penetration?”

You gesture again. “This is the clitoris.” His sweaty bangs flop over his lenses as he nods enthusiastically. Finally something he remembers.

“The clitoris,” he chirps affirmatively. You side eye him, but keep going.

“This little thing is basically there for the sole purpose of pleasure.”

“How do I activate it?” Again you blink at his terminology. Although you’d been a STEM freak with Jungkook for years, somehow he managed to baffle you with his nerdiness.

“Uh, you can stimulate it by touching it.” You draw a small circle in the air around the nub to demonstrate. “Like that, for example. You can also use your hands or your mouth.”

“Or that little blue thing you were using earlier,” he chimes in, reminding you of the embarrassing way this whole thing started.

You sigh. “Yeah. That too.”

“And that’s it?”

“No that’s definitely not it. We haven’t even touched the other places of pleasure or technique or foreplay. But this is a pretty good cheat code.”

“So what about the inside? Like the tubes?”

“There’s really not that much you need to know involving the actual reproductive organs themselves. We can just focus on the external bits for now.” You wince at how uncomfortable the discussion is.

“That makes sense,” his brows furrow seriously. He’s slow to blink, partly so he doesn’t miss anything and partly because he’s still fighting off tendrils of sleep.

“I mean,” you wring your hands anxiously, “that’s all you really need to know for now. It’s mostly learning on the go, anyway. You’ll be fine.”

“But what if I’m not fine. Don’t you think you could, you know, show me?”

“What is there to show?”

“How about you just continue…what you were doing when I came in.”

“Masturbating.”

“What?”

“I was masturbating when you came in.”

A hand flies to the collar of his shirt and he tugs on it sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

You try not to focus on how weirdly awkward the mood is now that your lust has calmed down to barely even a simmer. You reach for the discarded vibrator that jumped out of your hand and landed by the edge of the head of your bed, but he stops you with a raised hand.

“Can you, uh, maybe do it the old-fashioned way? For the first time at least?”

“Right, I guess I’ll get to it.”

Jungkook sits back on his heels patiently and watches closely as your hand trails a path down your torso to the apex of your thighs. The first touch, though you know it’s your own hand, has you twitching a bit. You bite your lip hard to focus and circle your entrance to coax out more moisture, then you move back to circle your clit. You close your eyes in hopes that not being able to see Jungkook’s gaping expression will help. It does, a bit. After a few moments, you let out a breathy sigh and sink further into the pillows. You plant one foot more firmly on the mattress to give yourself some leverage and push yourself more into your circling hand. The slight increase in pressure has you moaning and your eyes fluttering. You peek through heavy lids to see Jungkook’s expression has also changed. His eyes, clear just a second ago, look glassy again from behind his lenses, his mouth slack and shiny. The rise and fall of his chest is a bit heavier. You let yourself think it’s because of you and go back to collect more arousal to increase the slip.

Apparently, you’re more turned on than you thought. When your middle and ring fingers wander down to your hole they come back pleasantly slick. Something in you suddenly feels rebellious, so you use your free hand to spread your lips further and bring your coated fingers up to Jungkook’s face. You flex your fingers and separate them to show crystalline streaks of arousal connecting them.

“Just so you know, this is a good sign.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Somehow, even though you’re still wearing socks and a baggy sweatshirt, you’re hotter than all the completely bare, busty women he’d watched moan and writhe wildly on his computer screen. He reaches out and delicately grabs you wrist before redirecting your hand back to your dripping center.

“Keep going,” he rasps.

You whine and begin to rub your clit more earnestly, lewd wet sounds fill the room. He can practically see your lips getting wetter and wetter as you redistribute your arousal with every rough swipe of your fingers. Your wrist is moving fast, but it’s clear that you’re becoming frustrated with all that you can do with one hand. Your other hand quickly moves to take over making tight figure eights around your clit while the one already coated in your juices moves back down to your entrance once more. This time, you crook two shining fingers and shove them into your hole. Immediately your back bends and a drawn out moan leaves your mouth. Jungkook gasps quietly. You pump your fingers in and out roughly, then withdraw them to add a third finger.

He watches you like that for a while before you get fed up again. It’s been a while since you’ve been so needy and you feel like you’re on fire. Your toes curl impatiently on either side of Jungkook and he realizes you’re looking for more. On instinct he scoots further until his own legs are brushing up against the undersides of yours. His hand reaches out to pet your quivering thigh in a sympathetic effort to help with your plateau. He looks down at your hand, twitching feverishly in and out of yourself. His hands are much bigger and suddenly he moves like he’s about to replace your fingers with his own.

When Jungkook’s hands start to approach your center your breath hitches. You’re not quite in the right state of mind to reject him if he offers to finger you, but you don’t want to take advantage of the situation and make it any more emotionally complicated than it already is.

“Not yet,” you offer when his hands get too close for comfort, “Next time, maybe.”

He seems to be thinking the same thing and averts his attention to the forgotten vibrator. His grip on your thigh disappears, and you sigh quietly, but it’s hidden under the slick sounds you make each time your fingers get sucked into your heat and the low moans you make every time your pinch your clit just so.

“W-what do I do?” His voice is small and his sudden worried look has you wrapping a hand around his and bringing it to show him how you click the toy on and circle it around your entrance.

His hands are sweaty, shaky, so when your hips start to circle on their own, they move to find a resting spot on your thighs and squeeze to deal with the tension rising in his own belly. He grits his teeth, clenches his hands, does anything he can to keep from overstepping and making this about him. As obviously cliché as it sounds, seeing you sweating and moaning underneath him lets him see you in a new light. You’d always been around, but your presence as a woman in his life was backgrounded at best. Now, with Yoori momentarily not clouding his mind, he wants nothing more than to ravage you. He’s almost certain that if he tried, his lack of experience wouldn’t matter too much. He’s sure his body would be able to act on baser instinct and give you the what you wanted. If you wanted.

Your moans change in pitch and soon he’s aware that this will be the first time he’ll have been privy to someone else’s orgasm in real life. His dick is painfully hard and straining against the jeans he’s wearing. But he forgets the discomfort fast as he watches you grind yourself down against the toy in a way that is absolutely filthy. Your bottom lip, shiny and reddened, is pulled taut between your teeth in ecstasy. Your eyes flutter open and lock with his own. You focus and notice his blown-out pupils look huge within the depths of deep brown irises. There’s no denying he’s turned on once you flick your gaze down to his crotch and see the large tent in his pants.

“I—I think I’m gonna…Oh!” Your leg kicks out on its own like some electric current runs through you. Your voice breaks as the waves of your approaching high begin to take over you. One of his hands inches upwards a bit and strokes the tense muscle near your groin softly, at a loss for words. “Oh god, Jungkook, you—” keening, your eyes roll into the back of your head.

One of your hands reaches up to squeeze at his bicep as he’s leaning over you. He wonders in the back of his mind when he got so close to you. Your leg hooks around him like it has a mind of it’s own and tugs him down, forcing him to topple over you. That’s the last straw and you sob from the intense pleasure. Meanwhile your warmth and proximity and your words prove to be a deadly combination and within seconds he’s spilling over himself in his boxers, untouched. He lets out a low groan that puffs against the side of your neck.

You both sit there and breathe for a long while, catching your breath and coming back down to earth. He sits up eventually and pulls away from you, leaving you cold. Your legs flop from around him heavily. You’re a bit irritated when you realize you won’t be able to walk normally for a while. He discretely wipes his hands off on your duvet while you wipe at the sweat soaking your hairline.

“That’s it, that’s the show,” you finally say.

He shoots up and looks at you anxiously. It’s cute. “You mean until next time, right?”

His eyes are wide and imploring as he hovers over by you. He looks a bit like a turtle from this angle. A cute one, though. One that you want to play with again next week. You nod even though he might have all that he needs to do well with Yoori, being the fast learner that he is.

“I guess so. Same time, next week. Do some research for next time maybe. Make sure it’s from something not involving the medical library.”

“Got it!” He turns and waits until you’re not looking to adjust his pants.

You notice his hair is sticking to his forehead when he finally stands up. And there’s a cowlick sticking up in the back that reminds you of middle school Jungkook, before he met Yoori. The idea of the other girl, the girl he’s really in love with, dims your post-coital glow. Although, you suppose you have her to thank for this evening’s events. How else could you have ever managed a one-sided romp in the sheets with your long-time crush?

Both of you take turns using the bathroom to clean up. While he hums in time with washing up, you slip panties on and debate about whether or not to throw your sweats back on. You decide that if you’re going to play this off like it hasn’t changed your relationship, you should put pants back on.He comes out looking pink and clean and you want to pull him back into your bed and wrap yourself around him.

To protect his glasses from the dangers of the bathroom, he left them in your room. Squinting, he walks with hands out to collect them. When he puts them on he doesn’t look at you and instead pulls his phone out of his pocket and swipes around while leaving the room.

“Heading out,” you ask with a quasi-disinterested tone.

“Yeah, I remembered I have to run the Saturday tutoring session this week. So I might as well go home so I can get ready for that. You should come, you know. Your test scores dropped 2 points this week.” Typical Jungkook. He couldn’t ever fully leave TA mode.

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the reminder, but that’s still an A.”

“Maybe we can try this again next week the same time?”

“Yeah, uh, okay.”

“Cool, I’ll put it on my calendar.” He lifts his phone to his face to tell the digital assistant to pencil you in for next week. You try not to grimace at becoming a date in his calendar app.

“Get out already, you nerd.” You push him out after he puts his coat back on, but you do watch out the window to make sure his taxi comes.

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