#i got such bad grades in handwriting every year

[flamingo--ing]

now im having so many thoughts about handwriting and school and dysgraphia/lexia

[chrysalind]

last chance

pairing: kuroo tetsurou/reader wc: 860 tags: pre-relationship, fluff, high school setting (third year), bad flirting, kuroo is really trying

"What'd you get for number 8?" Kuroo asks as he leans over you.

"Umm," you tilt your head and the golden light of the late afternoon sun flickers across your cheek. "I think I put down 1868 to 1912."

"Wait, seriously?" He claps his hand on his forehead. That's five questions he's probably got wrong now, not to mention he'd barely finished writing his second essay, meaning the maximum possible grade he could get is...

"I hate history," he grumbles, trying to redirect his train of thought from its depressing destination. "I'm never taking it in university."

You sigh ruefully. "I feel the same way about chemistry. The moment I walked out of yesterday's exam, every piece of knowledge about thermodynamics just—" you wave your hand near your temple, "—vanished."

"Bet you're glad I gave you my notes though, right?"

The train doors slide open and a crowd of students from another school shuffle in. His legs brush against yours as he tries to make more room around him.

"Only because I gave you my English notes," you counter dryly, moving your bookbag onto your lap as a freckled teen slides into the seat beside you. The small plastic Keroppi charm on its side swings erratically against your thigh.

"A more than fair trade," he reasons. "Especially since I was getting the highest mark in chem, while you were just below Takaichi in English."

"Takaichi's mom is from New Zealand," you reply, with a roll of your eyes. "He's been practically fluent since he was born. Plus, your handwriting sucks, so you get points taken off for that."

Kuroo snorts, but has no choice but to concede. After all, he can barely read his own notebooks from last semester.

He watches as the Tokyo cityscape rushes past, still thrumming with life, even as the sun dips low in the sky. It's hard to imagine an afternoon where he won't be packed into the subway at this time, with his loosened Nekoma uniform tie around his collar, and your occasional company on the afternoons he's able to catch you at the school entrance.

His short spell of mourning is interrupted by the announcer as the train pulls into a familiar station. You both exit onto the platform and make a beeline towards the escalators.

"I'm not staying in Tokyo," he says, as you're halfway through the barriers.

Keroppi's face smacks against your zipper as you pause. "Oh?"

"I'm going to Osaka," he continues, weaving through the crowd. You fall into step beside him and there's a second in which Kuroo thinks he's vastly overestimated his importance in your life.

"That's..." He watches as a crease forms between your brows. "I thought you were going to Tokodai."

"Nah," he says, re-adjusting the strap of his bag. "I think it'd be good to gain some independence, you know?"

"Right," you say, tucking your Suica away. The sound of the city fills in the quiet that follows as you step out of the station.

Truthfully, Kuroo had been hoping for something—anything—more than the pensive silence that now settles between the two of you as you both walk the last few blocks of your high school era. But as you round the corner, the weight of the moment only grows heavier.

From his peripheral vision, he can tell you're sulking with your lips turned down in a pout that you probably aren't even aware of. And even though you've never admitted it to anyone, he's not oblivious to the way you can barely hold his gaze for more than two seconds, or how you linger at the intersection when you part ways.

"You know," he says, as you both stand before a crosswalk, "this is probably your last chance."

Your eyes flash up at him.

"What do you mean?"

He straightens up.

"Your last chance to admit that you're in love with me," he blurts. He had meant for it to come out a bit smoother, maybe aiming for a kind of teasing tone, but something had gone horribly wrong in the last second. Embarrassingly, he feels his own cheeks grow hot at the boldness of his declaration.

The crosswalk indicator changes, but you're both frozen in place.

You blink, looking absolutely bewildered, and he begins to fear that he's broken you.

And then an odd sound emerges from your mouth—a short snicker, followed by an open burst of laughter. Your giggle seems to carry over the noise of the traffic around you and Kuroo tries very hard not to die right then and there.

Instead, he forces himself to laugh along. How could he have miscalculated so bad?

He's sure he'll remember this moment for many sleepless nights ahead.

"Don't worry," you say later with the world's most bemused smile, as you near his building. "It's not my last chance."

Kuroo works up the courage to look you in the eye.

"After all, I still have our graduation ceremony."

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 12

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 5.3k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | mentions of death, drinking, disease (cancer)

note | surpisingly, i am still alive lol i'm kidding. i apologize for the delay! the bad headaches are now gone and the fever has cooled down. and now, the update's here! to everyone who sent their messages, tysm I appreciate it 🥺 I didn't mean to ghost y'all, I'm so sorry! anw hope u enjoy reading this one :)

main masterlist | series masterlist

Ever since you were young, you liked things to go the way you planned it. When you were younger, you carried a small notebook with you. Your father gave you your first one during the holidays when you were seven. In there, you make your own little bullet journal, listing off the things you would want to do for the upcoming days. With your messy handwriting, you even wrote your far future plans.

As a child, you used to see things with your rose-colored glasses. Everything seemed real and attainable for your small hands. You thought you just had to follow the usual path of your plans and you would be fine. But things do not always go according to plan. You learned it the hard way.

You always dreamt of being a nurse. At age eight, you were a frequent visitor to the hospital. Not because you were sick yourself, but because you and your mom had to go back there from time to time with your dad who was receiving treatment for his disease. You wanted to take care of him. So you did what a little girl could do, listen to your dad’s heartbeat through your plastic toy stethoscope and kiss his pain away. He would always call you his favorite nurse and you would give him your toothy grin. After a year, when you were nine, he lost his battle with cancer. 

Confused and in sorrow, you almost crossed out that dream from your list. You had a hard time understanding why you had to lose your dad at such an early age. Your friends had dads, how come you lost yours before you could even reach middle school? Then, you became angry. Your father was always in treatment in the hospital. Hospitals are meant to cure people, right? Your little kid brain thought. It felt unfair to you.

But then, you and your mom later left the small neighborhood you were living in and moved in with your aunt– her older sister. Aunty Belle is a nurse herself, a surprise for you as you didn’t know you have a relative who works in the same place you loathed at that time. But you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her, she was warm and welcoming when you arrived in her humble abode in Incheon. She doesn’t have a family of her own so she took good care of you and your mom. She became your third parent while your mom deals with the grief of losing her husband.

“It’s fun. You get to meet wonderful people every day and help them to feel better.” your aunt replied once when you asked her about her job.

Aunty Belle never got tired of your questions and curiosity about nursing. Slowly, you began rebuilding your plans. The dream of being a nurse is back, added with your other dreams: making your mom happy, and living independently (like your aunt). You studied hard, aiming for higher grades and going to the best college for your dreams.

But at age fifteen, Aunty Belle became your legal guardian when your mom passed. Through your aunt, you learned that your mother has been struggling heavier than you expected. Your aunt was extremely worried for your mom that’s why she begged her to come and live with her. You always thought your mom was getting better with how she cried less day by day and even took a job as a receptionist in a dental clinic. 

Since then, you have become more understanding and emotionally sensitive to everyone. The feelings you had years ago when you lost your dad were creeping around you. This time, instead of being angry at something else, you felt like this one was on you. You blamed yourself for not seeing the signs from your mother’s eyes. How she became more reserved or how her eyes were often blank whenever she tried to smile for you. Maybe you were too focused on reaching your plans that you didn’t give any attention to her. You were angry, hurt, and in guilt. It’s too overwhelming and is heavy in your heart. It reached the point where you broke down during breakfast, in front of the toast and bacon Aunty Belle prepared for you, weeks after your mom’s funeral.

“I should’ve seen it. I should have seen that she was not okay.” you sniffed as you looked down your plate. “I was supposed to make her feel better and happy.”

Crying, you pushed your plate in front of you and just covered your face with your palms. You repeated the words over and over again like you were reminding yourself how you failed as your mom’s only child.

“Oh, sweetie…” your aunt whispered before sitting beside you and enveloping you in a hug. Her hand moved up and down your arms, making you feel warm. “It’s not your fault. You are the best daughter she could ask for. She loves you more than anything else.”

After that morning, Aunty Belle made sure to get you the best help. She guided you in everything she could and supported you with your choices. She made sure that you will still pursue your plans, never stopping you from doing what you want. Years later, you graduated from high school and were about to embark on a new journey.

“You know that you can just have this place,” she mumbled when you were packing your things. “I’m selling it anyway.”

“But Aunty, this isn’t in my plan. You know how bad I want to live in Seoul.” you smiled at her.

Because of your efforts and hard work, you got accepted into one of the best universities in another city. You later moved from Incheon to Seoul to finish your studies and become a nurse there. While Aunty Belle sold her home and followed her own plans of living with her longtime best friends under one roof.

But none of what happened in the last few years was part of your plans when you were younger. You didn’t really see yourself coming back to Incheon after living in Seoul for the longest time. You never thought you would leave your job in the hospital you dreamed of and work in a slightly different environment.

Two years ago, you left home. The house you had plans in with someone else. You were the one who broke off those plans and moved away without really telling anyone. You remembered that night like it was yesterday.

Every step you took away from him felt like a piece of you fell on the ground. Your vision was all blurry and you had to cover your lips as you sobbed. You clutched onto your gown while you remind yourself that you need to do this. For the sake of your own being. But still, there is this voice telling you to stay– to turn around and come back to him.

“YN, honey,” 

Looking up, you see Julia looking at you with sympathy. She walked towards you with open arms and you immediately just broke down on her dress. Listening to your sobs, Julia eyes her date, whom you didn’t notice was there waiting too, to get in the car. 

Your whispered voice muffled in the hug, “I hate this so much,”

The whole drive home, Julia and Chanyeol respected your silence in the backseat. They put on some radio music and chatted about the wedding while your teary eyes just looked outside the window. They were like your parents that night. When you guys passed by McDonald’s, it took one nudge from Julia to make Chanyeol turn the car back around for the drive-thru. She ordered your food for you in a separate bag so you could have something to eat when you reached home. When you arrived in front of your house, they helped you with your small bag. 

“Thank you so much, guys. I’m sorry this is our first meeting, Chanyeol.” you tried to lighten the mood as you three stood on the porch.

He smiled, “It’s fine. Everyone has their bad day.”

You chuckled before Julia nudged her again with her elbow. Then, she turns to you.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Probably early morning. I already have the keys to keep my apartment so I can go there now too if I want to.” your words rambled as your head felt like a mess.

“Okay, call me. I’ll pick you up–” Before you can say anything, she lifts her finger. “And no, I won’t take no for an answer. I wanna see your new place.”

They left after Julia made sure you were fine. Walking into your house for the last time, you tried to go straight to your room to change from your gown to your pajamas. Then, you cried again. And again. And again. 

The last time you woke up in that house was the morning after that. You woke up before dawn. The sky was barely lit and the moon was still present above you. You promised yourself that you would leave like a ghost. Like what you have been doing the last few days. Cleaning up, your hand ran on your bedsheets to smoothen out the wrinkles. Fortunately, almost ninety percent of your clothes fit in two pieces of luggage. You just have to leave a few things that you’ll probably get when you get back.

From Julia

Will be there in five

Five minutes left, you find yourself sitting in front of your vanity mirror. Making one last check, you pulled the small drawers in the table. That’s when you saw that old pearl ring Taehyung bought you in the flea market. A heavy sigh from your chest makes its way out of your lips. Holding it between your thumb and index finger, you stare at it.

We tried, didn’t we?

Before any tears can fall, you simply close your eyes. Your chest heaves. You clutched that ring in your palm for some minute, like you were giving your one last goodbye. Then, you carefully place it next to your keys. You decided to leave your keys as you don’t want to come and go here in secret as you always have the tendency to do that especially if you want to avoid a person. Like you were doing now. You want to come back here better and hopefully, talk to Taehyung in the future.

Feel at home, this house is yours too. Paint the walls with the colors you like, buy new furniture, and fill the frames with new memories. Just please don’t sell it. I’ll try to reach out as soon as I can. For now, live the last years you missed.

You wrote on a piece of paper that you left on the same table. In the weeks you two lived together after the accident, you knew how he struggled to adjust to this house. Now that you’re going, you wish for him to feel comfortable in this house you two shared and called home. The pieces of furniture and shade of blue that took over every wall in the house were picked by both you and Taehyung when you bought it. The frame kept every memory you and Taehyung love to look back on in the span of your four-year relationship. But if it means for him to feel at home, you won’t mind if he wants to change things around the house. Even though it will probably break your heart harder than it is now.

“You…”

It was only your first morning, the second day in your new apartment in Incheon when someone came knocking on your door. You were still organizing your place and unpacking when you heard continuous heavy knocks. Almost instantly, your eyes widened when you saw who it was through your door’s peephole. The person spoke again as soon as you opened your door.

“You moved?!” Jisoo immediately pushed through your door and welcomed herself in. “You moved here?!”

Based on the tone of her voice, she was more angry than surprised. Her eyebrows were scrunched together while her nose flared. Her hands were on her hips like she was waiting for an explanation. Your lips opened for a second before it closed again. You softly scratched your cheek before opening your lips again,

“I-I thought you were on your honeymoon vacation.”

She tilts her head, “Well, I’m not. Am I?”

“Why are you here?” you mumbled, sounding scared at her.

The thing is, Jisoo rarely gets angry or annoyed. You had known her ever since you began working as a nurse and you learned she have the longest patience for everyone else. But when she runs out of it, you don’t know how she will react.

“Why are you here?” she returned your question with raised eyebrows. “You did not tell me you were moving here or resigning in the hospital! What happened?”

You closed the door and quietly walked back to your messy living room since you knew she would follow. She did and continued,

“I saw the shift schedule like two hours ago and you’re not there. I had to ask Gail and she said you resigned. You were not answering my calls or messages! I had to call Julia. Then, she told me you moved here– What the fuck happened? I was only busy for like two weeks and next thing I know, my best friend’s in another city and hospital.”

You sat on your grey couch while Jisoo still stood in front of you. You looked away as your replied,

“Well, actually I’ll be working in a school–”

Jisoo’s tone went higher, “What?!”

“I applied as a school nurse–”

“No, no, no.” she shushed you. “Tell me everything that happened. Everything.”

So you did. But first, you asked her to sit down next to you. You ordered food by app as you don’t really have any stock of food at the moment. While you were waiting for the food, you began telling her about what happened. From how you met Lily to how you happened to be where you are right now. Jisoo listened intently. As you went on, you noticed her shoulders and facial expression softened up. From her jaw being clenched tight, her lips were formed into a slight frown. You tried not to cry throughout the whole story-telling impromptu but your voice did shake and you just felt your best friend’s warm hands somewhere in the middle of your story. At the end, you find yourself leaning your head on her shoulder while she leans hers on top.

“I and Joon just decided to go on honeymoon next month. Plus, I have a toaster and an air fryer in my car.” Jisoo broke the comfortable silence you two shared with a random sentence.

You lifted your head, looking at her, “What? Why?”

“We received like a ton of it from the wedding. We had to give some stuff away rather than selling it and I just knew your place is probably still empty. So I just bought some. I have plates too.” she smiled.

“But what if I was the one who gave you that toaster?” you asked, squinting your eyes.

“You did not.” she chuckled but your expression didn’t change. She blinked and asked with a feeble voice, “You did not, right?”

Your lips broke into a smile, “Yeah, we didn’t.”

She pouted before you two laughed and hugged. Just like that, you and Jisoo are okay.

Unlike any of your past decisions, nothing was truly planned when you decided to move away. Aunty Belle, whom you visit every now and then, comforted you about it and said that life just happens like that sometimes. And that’s how your two years went. Unplanned. You just applied for the first good job you saw, which happened to be being a school nurse in a preschool. You moved to another apartment after just a few months since your initial place is farther on the subway you always take to get to the school every morning.

Working with kids, you always miss your patients back in Seoul. Particularly, Naeun, whom you are still in contact with. You visit her a couple of times when you go to Seoul.

And there were times when you thought you saw Taehyung. Not just in Seoul, but also in Incheon. The first one was just months after you left, you were on your way to preschool when you saw him in the subway. But you thought it was just a look-alike and impossible since he would not have any reason to come here. Plus, you were feeling a little down that week as it was supposedly your fifth anniversary. The next time is when you come to Seoul to visit Naeun. It was a busy Sunday and you stopped by a toy store in the mall to get a gift for your favorite patient. It was a bit crowded since it was on sale. So you lost him in the blink of an eye.

The most recent one is when you came to Seoul for Julia’s birthday. You had a few drinks with your friends and everything was already slightly blurry. But you swore you saw him when you were waiting for your Uber late at night. You were with Julia, who was waiting with you just to make sure you’d be safe. She was talking about something but your eyes caught a man walking on the other side of the road with his head down on his phone. The small light coming from his screen made you recognize him. It’s him, you’re sure.

Although you have visited the city a couple of times already, you never drop by the bakeshop or the house. You never even contacted Taehyung. There were times it crossed your mind. But you never did. You miss him. God knows, how much. But you don’t know what to say about the house, him, you, or the relationship you two had.

You and Jimin talked seldomly. The first one was a week after you and Taehyung officially went separate ways. He would ask how are you and you would do the same thing. You were surprised but happy at the same time when you learned he had a kid, who happens to be Jisoo’s nephew. You two had this unspoken rule to not talk about Taehyung because Jimin doesn’t bring him up and you are too shy to ask. But you know they are doing well, you heard they expanded the shop.

In the whole two years, Taehyung never really left your mind. It’s hard. Especially when you would still get random reminders of your relationship in unexpected ways. In what was supposed to be your fifth anniversary, you got a scheduled e-mail from his account. Every year, your phone calendar still updates you to buy him a gift a month before his birthday. And just like last month, you found an old picture in one of your bags. Something you probably slipped there long ago. It’s a picture taken years ago during your first snow in your house with a handwritten caption, TOO MORE SNOWY DAYS TOGETHER. It was in his handwriting.

“Goodbye, Nurse YN!”

A little kid waved his little hand to you while his mom politely smiled at you. You waved back and continued walking back from your small clinic. This is how your day ends in school: tiny voices saying goodbye and sometimes giving you warm hugs. You were never really busy since you worked with two other school nurses who you became friends with. 

“Oh, hey, YN.”

You just sat in front of your computer screen, recording some student’s health records, when your co-nurse popped into your shared office. Martha just found her recent hobby a couple of months ago after you told her that you haven’t been dating for the last couple of years.

You exaggeratedly sighed and did not even look at her, “What do you want?”

“YN sounds so tired of you already.” Aileen, your other co-nurse, laughed while organizing her files.

“I know, she is.” Martha chuckled. She turns to you, “I know a guy…”

You paused from what you were doing, “Martha–” 

It’s not like you’re not interested in dating. It took you more than a year to be open again to the idea and so far, you’ve gone into two dates from Martha’s recommendations. But both were not a match. The first one is a great guy but he seems like he cannot get over an ex since he talked about her half of the time. While the second guy is just rude. That’s all you can say about him. The date was all about him not liking how the steak was cooked and how one of the waiters was too kind to you. It was horrible.

“No, no, honey. Listen to me first.” Matha cuts you off. “I personally know this guy. He’s my cousin and… he also works in the medical field! He’s a doctor.”

An eyebrow raised. A doctor? Well, you never dated one before. But you knew doctors were better than that last guy you mentioned.

Aileen joined, “Is he the one you showed me earlier?

“Yup,” Martha replied, popping the ‘p’ sound.

“Oh, you’ve got to see him, YN. The guy is gorgeous!” she exclaimed. “If you won’t date him, I will!”

The three of you laughed. Of course, Aileen can’t. She is currently seven months pregnant with her second child and married to one of the teachers in this same preschool.

“Just don’t tell Seb,” she added, mentioning her husband.

You still haven’t said anything even though you are admittedly interested. Martha pulled her phone out.

“Wait, I’ll show you his account.”

“Oh, that dress suits you perfectly!”

Jisoo’s voice filled your room as you fixed the dress on your body. Even though you two are in different cities, she is still your go-to every time you need to dress up for something. Usually, through Facetiming. The date is fine-dining. So, you tried on different dresses for Jisoo to pick on and eventually, you two agreed on the same one.

“Don’t forget your coat! It might get cold,” she advised. “Now, turn around again!”

You giggled before doing what she said. You heard her cheer and compliments, making you smile.

“You are stunning!”

“Thank you so much for helping me, Jiji,” you said with a small smile.

“You’re welcome. Just have fun, okay? Let me know how it goes later.” she told you and you nodded. She spoke again, “Now, go! Book that Uber already.”

“Okay, okay. Bye! Call you later. Love you!” you waved.

She waved back, “Love you, take care!”

You ended the call and moved to another app to look for a ride. Your date initially asked if you wanted him to pick you up. But you just agreed to meet him at the restaurant he invited you to. He seems nice. Martha said her cousin has been single for a while now. After his last relationship, he just gave most of his time to work.

To +82 65 78** ****

Hi! I’m on my way. See you there.

You sent your date the message when you finally got in the car you booked twenty minutes ago. It did not even take a few minutes before he replied,

From +82 65 78** ****

Okay, see you there! Take care.

Pursing your lips, you look outside the window of the moving car. You hope for the best for tonight. You hope Martha’s recommendation is at least okay this time. Maybe the universe could prove to you that Taehyung is not the only guy in the world who could make the butterflies play around in your stomach. Or the only guy who would be patient enough with your tendencies. You just have to know that he is not the only guy in the world. Period.

As much as you won’t say it, dating Taehyung for four years made him your standard for everything. You already met two versions of him; one before the accident and one after the accident. They are almost the same person but the latter just brought you a lot of pain because of various circumstances. But you know and feel he shows his emotions in other ways.

“We’re here.” the female driver, whom you saw is Val, said as she stopped the car in front of the brightly lit restaurant.

You smiled before getting out of the vehicle, “Thank you.”

Starry Night lives up to its name. As you noticed before, the whole place is lit up with many lights. Carefully, you walked inside with your strappy heels. The staff smiled and greeted you, and you greeted them back.

“Good evening, madam. Welcome to Starry Night. How may I help you?”

“I have a reservation under Jung Hoseok’s name.” you politely replied.

“Oh, okay. Let me check our list. Excuse me.” the host scrolled down his iPad for a minute. “The name’s here! Please, follow me to your table. This way please.” 

You followed him while looking around the place. It’s not too crowded and it has a romantic feeling because of the lights and jazz music. You know someone who would have loved to go here. Before you sit down, the host assisted you with the chair and offered to take your coat. You agreed. Pulling out your phone from your purse, you update Hoseok that you just arrived. You put your phone down and studied the whole place again with your eyes. 

A woman caught your eye. She was talking and chatting with the chef in the side station. They looked like they were waiting for someone to enter the door. Your gaze were broke off when someone spoke from your side.

“Good evening, ma’am. My name is Soojin and I’ll be your waiter for tonight. Would you like to order something?” the young waiter smiled.

“Oh, I’m still waiting for my date…” you murmured. “But can I have some water please?”

“Certainly, ma’am. Excuse me.”

Soojin left as you said thank you. As she was gone from your sight, your eyes landed on the man who was entering the restaurant. Dressed in a nice black coat over a light blue shirt, you quickly recognize him. Your mouth runs dry while your heart beats like a horse’s footsteps in a race. You were frozen.

What is he doing he– Fuck.

Your eyes meet. You can see his eyes widening as his lips gaped slightly. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down while you practically lost your hearing. All you can hear is the drum inside your chest.

Fuck, you cursed again.

What are the chances for this to happen? Is the universe playing or simply fucking with you? You asked for a great date and it gave you this. The man you’ve been holding as your standard ever since. 

It burns.

His eyes. You can feel them as you take a sip from the ice-cold glass of water. After the host led him to one of the empty tables in your line, your eyes traveled everywhere except on his spot. You two were literally just an empty table apart.

Is he here for a date? Why here? In Incheon, really? Can’t he just date people from Seoul?

It has been nine minutes, you’ve been counting. Your hand rests on your knee, to stop your knees from jerking up and down, while the other rests on the table with your phone. You’ve been texting but erasing messages to Hoseok. You don’t think you can do this. With Taehyung being just a few feet away from you, it felt wrong to be with someone else. You should have been sitting right in front of him.

Slowly, you try to move your eyes in his direction. You paused when you saw that he was staring at you too, unmovable. Are you supposed to smile? Wave? Nod. just nod. You were about to do that when the same woman from the side station walked up to him, covering your view of him.

“Hi, good evening!” you heard her honey-like voice greet him. “I’m Ashley.”

You noticed Taehyung stood up. They shake hands and you don’t really hear the rest of their conversation. You began texting your date,

To +82 65 78** ****

Hi. Where are you?

You’ve been alone for a while now.

Taehyung noticed. The glass of water on your table is almost empty. The waiter already come back to you a couple of times now. He can see you chewing on your lower lip as you check your phone every minute that passes by.

Did your date just stand you up?

His hands clutched as he thought of that idea. He knew you didn’t deserve that.

“I think this is good! Not too sweet, not too spiced. It’s soft too. Just perfect.” Ashley snapped him from his thoughts.

Taehyung tried to concentrate on what he originally meant to do here, “Yeah… uhm… Jimin, my friend, really tries to balance the texture and taste. It’s his own carrot cake recipe that he worked on before we even had the shop.”

Ashley already had a taste of every cake he brought. Five open Tupperware are on their table, including the cheesecake you love. She began talking about the other cakes and dessert while Taehyung stole some glances at you again. This time, you are on call. You pursed your lips before replying to whoever it was. He can read the disappointment through your eyes as your lips form into a small frown. You sighed before saying, it’s fine, I understand. No problem. 

“Okay, these are really good. I think your products will be a great addition to our menu.” Ashley spoke again. 

Taehyung looked at her with surprise, “Oh, wow. That’s… great.”

Did he just get this deal?

“Yeah, I trusted my chef when he said he had the best Tiramisu in your shop and I’m glad I did. These desserts are perfect and really satisfy my sweet tooth.” She compliments.

Taehyung bowed his head, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Your desserts deserve to be everywhere. Haven’t you guys thought of opening a branch here?” she asked.

“Oh, we’re still figuring things out. We just expanded our main shop in Seoul.” he chuckled.

“Well, I might go there when I visit Seoul.”

“Please do and let us know.” he smiled.

“I will. By the way, the contract is not ready now. But we are definitely having this deal! Can you and Jimin visit here again next week or maybe me and my head chef can visit your shop in Seoul?” Ashley offers.

“I still have to discuss that with my friend.”

“Oh, sure. Sure. Here, we are okay with any decision. Just let us know. You guys have our e-mail and numbers, right?” Taehyung nods. “Okay, I guess… that’s a done deal.”

Ashley stood up and offered her hand. Taehyung stood up too and shook her hand. 

“Thank you so much.” Taehyung smiled.

While Ashley replied, he stole another glance behind her. That’s when he sees you standing up and walking back to the host at the entrance of the restaurant. The host had an apologetic look on his face as you talked to him. He helped you with your coat. It seems like you’re leaving with your date being a no-show. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. But I would have to go for now..” Taehyung carefully said.

Ashley smiled, “Oh, of course. Yes. You can go. But one more thing… can you leave these cakes?”

Taehyung chuckled with that, “Of course!”

“Thank you! See you in the contract signing!”

“See you.” 

Taehyung took his coat from his seat and left in a hurry. You were already gone, possibly out of the restaurant. He said thank you to the staff who opened the door for him and he immediately searched around. That’s when he sees you standing, looking down at your phone.

“This one’s just a few minutes away–”

He took a deep breath before saying, “YN?”

taglist rules

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [🔧🔨 ]

@iamkookiesforyou @aianloveseven @hoodalmighty @taebangtanbabe @kthsmoon @nooojaaam @hiimnothing @hiqhkey @annenakamura @taebangtanbabe @shin-ie @prlan @starlight-night0 @teddybeartaetae @http-fayeradise​ @tannies-luv @betysotelo18 @honsoolgloss @aurorathi @paulaaa97 @satisfied18 @telepathytae @talkyoongitome

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @ficluvr613 @misshale21

[bluemirrorangel]

Dps headcanons the poets and their type of academia aesthetic 

This is wayyyy longer than I intended it to be lol anyway I hope you enjoy these, leave a ship or fandom suggestions and I’ll do headcanons for them if you want :) 

Todd:darkest Academia

Loves gothic fiction and horror stories because he likes being nervous knowing that he's supposed to be.

Likes reading outside at night because it’s quiet 

Surprisingly nosey, not in a bad way he’s just really curious about stuff.

Likes dark/muted colours.

His favourite book is a picture of Dorian grey.

Weirdly into cryptids and other mysteries.

Was TERRIFIED of the Bermuda triangle as a kid.

Loves writing poetry but enjoys writing in general.

Semi popular writer on AO3 for classical literature, started because Keating told him to publicise  some of creative writing.

Runs his good reads account like the navy.

Charlie:chaotic academia

Regularly gets uniform carded for everything; shirt unbuttoned and untucked, tie loosened, he never has his blazer on and his jumper is perpetually tied around his waist. 

Has a mason jar type cup on his nightstand that is always full of a mixture of different energy drinks and fizzy drinks/soda’s, Cameron says it looks like paint water.

Banned from reading out loud in English class pre-Keating because he got a little too into the role of Jack in Lord of the Flies .

Point blank refuses to do P.E and is always ‘losing’ his kit.

Shockingly serious about music class, deeply respects the teacher and never misses a lesson.

Post stick notes EVERYWHERE

Writes his notes in highlighter and felt tips

Went through a phase of bringing a flask to school instead of a water bottle because he thought it looked cool.

Spark notes BIGGEST FAN.

A saxophone prodigy despite being unable to read sheet music.

Neil:light academia

Loves Shakespeare and the theatre in general

Good grades in every class but really shines when it comes to the arts

Eats his lunch in the English classroom with the other poets

Forges his fathers signature for school trips so much half his teachers have no idea what his dads handwriting actually looks like.

Hates biology because he’s scared of blood

Always says that Todd is his favourite author/poet.

Really good memory, able to learn lines at shocking speeds. 

Finds it difficult to multitask; has to have instrumental music playing otherwise he gets distracted.

Prefers plays over books.

Collects playbills.

Meeks:classic academia 

Loves typewriters, inherited one from his grandparents and uses it alllll the time.

has a polaroid camera and uses it to take either the best candid's or the  most diabolical mugs there's no in-between.

Owns a shocking amount of sweater vests.

Has a record collection.

Loves those retro 50’s themed diners/drive-ins, drags Pitts and the poets to those all the time.

Really into history

Owns an analogue radio.

Taught himself Latin one summer to impress Pitts, and is now fluent.

His entire wardrobe is vintage themed.

Favourite book is the Outsiders by S.E Hinton.

Knox:romantic academia

Writes love letters and poetry whenever he has a crush on someone, used to keep them under his bed but swiftly changed that hiding place after watching ‘to all the boys I've loved before.’ with his sister, they now live in a shoebox on his trophy/bookshelf.

Loves the romantics big fan of love poetry as a whole.

Has definitely tried to serenade someone before.

 Self taught guitarist.

Has only ever received on card on Valentines Day, it was from Charlie in year nine it’s one of Knox’s most prized possessions.

Loves Romeo and Juliet.

Thinks ‘say anything’ is the height of romance 

Subconsciously wants to be romanced for once instead of the other way round. 

 Has Pinterest boards dedicated to romantic quotes 

His favourite movie is the princess bride.

pitts:’nerdy’ Academia 

really into the roman empire 

Loves renaissance fairs and goes every year.

REALLY into dungeons and dragons.

Loves going to random museum exhibits.

Spent half his childhood hyper fixated on the Titanic, was super excited to watch the movie and completely heartbroken when he realised it was a fictional story and not a documentary.

Brilliant at chess.

Knows random historical facts.

Horrible at remembering faces but never forgets a name.

Loves mythology of all kinds.

Really good at architecture; his middle school used to have a architecture competition where  you had 2 minutes to make a house out of marshmallows and dry spaghetti the most stable one won, Pitts won every year.

Cameron:dark academia 

Keeps his notes/homework in colour coded folders and files

A proper perfectionist and  chronic overachiever.

Writes in pencil or fountain Pen.

the gifted kid who REFUSED to burn out.

Only gets attention at home when he’s doing well at school, so he throws himself into his studies.

Drinks more coffee than water

Can play the piano, was entered in a school concert and his whole family came. He was terrified of embarrassing or disappointing them so he overdid it and played so hard his fingers bled.

Has a copy of every graded test practice or otherwise in his room so he can go over them before his exams.

Hates English with a passion because it’s the one lesson where there are no rules.

Once spent an entire night going over his English notes before a test and was so overtired he fell asleep during the exam and failed it. None of the poets bring it up not even Charlie because that day was the first time he’d seen Cameron cry.

[alexablissmark]

detention (part 1) [hook x female reader]

you get a detention and your least favorite person decides to join you. female reader.

warnings: angst, bullying, gossip, middle school trauma, shootings, manipulation, nudes, swearing, suicide, intimidation, bad puns, revoked privilege

this is slightly based on personal experiences and my own schools stupid attendance policy ♡

For the third time this week, you left the house too late. For the second time this week, your car wouldn't start. And for the first time this week, you received a detention.

What a stupid policy.

You'd think school would be the one place where being late is forgiven. People would be kind and empathetic towards you and understand that there are millions of factors going into being in class before 8AM, most of which are out of your control. Right?

Wrong.

Well, surely you'd only have to make up the five minutes of class that'd you have missed? It's not a big deal.

Also, wrong.

Fifty minutes for every tardy after the two "freebies" as they had called it. So there you were, sitting in detention. Detention started at 3:35. If you were late, they sent you home, and you had to serve a second one. You made sure you were there by 3:33, at the latest. There were a few people already there. You sat a table by yourself. Two to a table, please. There came in a few more kids after you. It was a busy day for detention.

"Julia?" The teacher, Mr. Regal, called.

"Here," she said.

"Brittany?"

"Here,"

"Adam?"

"Here,"

"Max?"

"Here,"

"Tyler?"

"Here,"

"Y/N?"

"Here,"

That's when you stopped listening to roll-call.

The aforementioned Tyler sat next to you. Not because he wanted to, but because it was the last open seat available, and he walked in last. Tyler was basically the embodiment of everything a dad wanted his son to be. Young, handsome, athletic, seemingly well-mannered. But to you, he was everything but well-mannered. He was nothing except a cold-hearted devil.

Even though you've been going to the same school your entire life, it'd been hard to make friends. The closed off community you had been forced to surround yourself with was filled with nothing but elitists.

(a/n: see what i did there? imso funny hahaha please laugh)

Your first run-in with Tyler was in first grade. He sat at your table. He took scissors to your hair. When the teacher came over, it looked like you were the one who did it. He never said sorry and was mean to you for the rest of the year. You got your scissor privileges taken away. His friends joined in on teasing you sometime during second grade.

After fourth grade, they stopped being mean to you in your face and spread rumors instead. It earned you a visit to the principals office with police officers waiting for you. A list had been found by a "concerned student" and was brought to the schools attention. The student said he believed it to be you. Except, the handwriting looked nothing like yours. It was messy and gross. Kindergartener-like. You thanked Ms. Aubrey for bringing it up during your visit. You were let go.

Eventually, the teasing and school shooter rumors turned into notes in lockers. Notes with lines of daring you to kill yourself and condemning you to hell. You never reported them. You didn't bother. You had other things to worry about, anyway. Better things, like the spelling bee. You won the spelling bee in 6th grade. Tyler was the other finalist. It felt really, really good. You smiled at him when you won. He just squinted his eyes at you, trying to intimadate you. But nothing could intimidate a world-class champion, such as yourself.

He didn't start bothering you again until the end of 8th grade. He asked you for pictures. You told him no. He still told everybody you sent them to him anyway. You were deemed "too slutty" for anyone to want to be friends with you after that. That was the consensus all the way up until now. Junior year.

Now you were sitting across from the one person who had made your life a living hell for the past 10 years. You didn't even know why. You've never done anything to him. Did he resent you for something? Or was he just trying to entertain himself with the shy kid with a different sense of style? Maybe it was none of the above.

Thoughts like this crossed your mind as you pretended to read a book. You looked at the clock. It was only 3:45. You looked at Tyler. He was already looking at you. You gave him a weird look and went back to fake reading. He slid you a note.

"why u reading that?" it said.

You quietly opened your pencil pouch so as not to draw attention to the highly punishable note-passing. Mr. Regal enforced rules by the book, and you did not want to spend another day here wasting your time. You could hear a pen drop in that room. Any sort of noise would mean certain death.

"i found it in the library," you wrote back.

Tyler was writing some sort of response until a hand snatched the paper away. You looked up with a hint of fear in your eyes.

"Passing notes?" Mr. Regal exclaimed. "You two know better. Especially as juniors. That's another detention for you both!"

If looks could kill, Mr. Regal would be dead on the floor. You had incredibly important napping plans for tomorrow. Tyler probably had lacrosse practice or something sporty like that. You and Tyler looked at each other, but you quickly went back to pretend reading. It was only 3:50 at that point. Could time go by any slower?

You actually started to find yourself interested in the book you were reading, and you quickly got lost in its world. But that was cut short when Mr. Regal said everyone could go. It was 4:25 by then.

You were walking to your car when you heard a voice call behind you.

"Hey!" it said.

You looked behind you.

Here we go.

"What, Tyler?"

"I just wanted to say that's my favorite book you were reading," he said with a slight smirk.

You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever," you said.

You began to continue your walk to the back of the parking lot. You didn't like to park next to others.

He followed you to your car. You checked your phone and the time read 4:32.

"What?" you said, annoyed.

Your back was to your driver-side door. He put his hands on either side of you.

"I just think it's impressive someone like you could read such profound literature," he said sarcastically.

"Shut the fuck up, Tyler. It's literally your fault we have to go back to detention tomorrow," you said.

"You didn't have to answer back," he said.

"You didn't have to talk to me in the first place," you snapped back.

"I wanted to talk to you," he answered.

"I didn't," you said while crossing your arms.

"I think you're a liar," he whispered.

"I think you should eat a dick, bitch," you said aggressively.

The tension was ever-rising between the two of you. Years and years of hate between you both had finally come to its peak. All the while, he had you pinned beneath him, and you had nowhere to go. Your faces were only inches apart. His eyes locked into yours. After a few seconds, you looked away. You'd die if anyone saw you like that with Tyler of all people. Luckily, no one did. He didn't seem to really care. He sighed and walked away.

You got into your car and went home.

The time was 4:56 when you got to your room.

You took a nap, which you didn't wake up from until 6:45 the next morning.

School went by really fast that day. And when you got to the detention room, luckily it wasn't Mr. Regal. It was the principal, Mr. Khan. He was nice and understanding, but a lot of times, he let things fly under the radar. He seemed to only punish people for small things - like being late and note passing.

Unluckily, it was just you and Tyler that day. He sat across from you again.

this got too long so part 2 will b out soon ♡

[officialjada]

Thank you everyone for voting! As requested Nagi, has won so am doing Him! Wish me luck!

The days where good o' Christmas had ment everything towards you. Where you would feel excited about seeing snow when you traveled, or hosting up a Christmas tree to decorate. Which ever one it was, it brought you warmth and enjoyment.

Yet this year seems different, it seems off. Like something was missing and you didn't know what. So you just kept living life, moving to Japan to further your studies.

That's when you met him. Nagi, a interesting person. A person that seemed to be so on his world that no one mattered. You both had the same classes, so being able to see him every day wasn't a coincidence.

He was smart, tall and sleeps a lot. Even through classes yet he still passed them. It was admirable at it's finest. And you seemed keen on him, as he have tried talking to you.

He was slumped over the tiny desk, hands passed his head as he tries to sleep. But his brain told him otherwise, probably had enough of nap time. So he just looked around, folding his arms around themselves. His eyes pearing into the closest thing around him, thus being you. Focusing on the board, eyes slightly un focusing (does that make sense?). Your pen was tightly in your dominate hand writing up a storm when your eyes felt the board towards your book.

Nagi honestly couldn't understand what you were writing. Yes your English handwriting was understanding, however poor Nagi doesn't even focus that well in English. He found it captivating that you were here in Japan writing and speaking japanese, yet you sit in your classes writing English.

"You write English?" He spoke, voice coming out slow and raspy. His eyes locked on you, awaiting on an answer. However poor old you were shocked, was The Nagi of your grade talking to you?

This was-No it is exciting. "Yes, I do." You answered, hands sweating as you dropped your pen to wipe them from sweat. "Oh, that's cool." He spoke, head turned towards the board, deep in thought.

After that, everytime you both got to talk to each other you wrote about it. You wrote down word for word of what he said, keeping it as a treasure. This was lighting up your whole world, and you didn't mind it.

You both had texted over the summer and winter was here. Everyone was hanging out outside in the cold, yet you've gotten sick. A runny nose and a soft cough, it wasn't bad.

Somehow Nagi found out, he too himself was sick. So being the tall slum of tiredness he was he called you over, and you came.

You sat peacefully on Nagi's bed, waiting for him to start the game. He sighed softly, hands clenching his phone. "Are you ready Y/n?" He questioned, his head laying on your lap as you swiftly nodded.

"Let the best gingerbread win!"

☆

It wouldn't be Christmas without making a gingerbread house or even opening gifts. And lucky for Nagi, you've brought him a few gifts. They sat under his 'home made' Christmas tree, at least it still hold the magical feeling.

You stood side by side at the island of his apartment. The smell of ginger never left your nose, and you liked that. Nagi stood looking at his art work. The house was way off proportions, yet it was cute and simple (kinda)

"Aw that's cute Nagi!"

Your voice was music to his ears, even though this was indeed tired some he enjoyed it.

"Yours isn't half bad Y/n."

You laughed, giggling at the comment. "Why thank you!" You replied with a big smile. Your heart yelped in joy, this feeling brought back memories. Memories that held the enjoyment of the holiday season named Christmas.

Nagi, brought back that feeling. That feeling you held deeply inside of yourself. That familiar feeling you once yearned for, and you've gotten it with the help of Nagi.

"You're very pretty Y/n."

At that moment you hadn't seen Nagi locked eyes with you. Pearing into your soul with such unknown eyes. Yet they held one emotion that overcame all of the others in that moment. Love,

Your grin dropped, your eyes confused. Nagi, was The Nagi calling you pretty? This was-No it is amazing. A runny smile formed on your face, you loved that compliment. You loved Nagi, and it couldn't get any better.

"Thank you Nagi. You're quite handsome yourself!"

[lightphieric]

Virtue's Last Record: Truancy

Would Quark have been happier living in the past? Title from the Evergate OST CWs: None AO3

Grandpa showed Quark how to read and write. Starting when he was six, with a little bit of practice every week, it took almost four years for Quark to be any good at it. And that was mostly because Grandpa got frustrated.

“That’s a B, not a D!”

“What are you saying? Have you ever heard someone make that sound while speaking English?”

“God, why are you so –”

He would stop himself and go mutter in his chair for a long time, a balled fist pressed against his forehead. Then, he would grab a bottle of alcohol from the shelf. When Quark went over to apologize for being so stupid, Grandpa would shake his head.

“I should be the one saying sorry, buddy,” he said once. “I don’t know how to do this. I never studied how to work with kids.”

“That’s something you have to study for?” Quark said, tilting his head in confusion.

Grandpa nodded. “Back in my day, there were experts in this kind of thing. Teachers. It was their entire job to just sit with kids in a room all day and show them how to do things, because they knew how kids worked better than anybody.”

Quark’s eyes widened. “And that’s what the kids would do? Sit in a room and learn how to read and write?”

“Not just that,” said Grandpa. “They’d learn about science, history, math – you know how to add and subtract, but there’s so much more to it that I can’t even remember. We’d get time to run around in PE, and in some grades we even learned how to take care of animals.” Grandpa’s look turned wistful. Quark knew that meant he was thinking about Miss Akane. “School was where we socialized. It was where we met most of our friends.”

“And that’s why I don’t have any!”

Grandpa snapped back to attention in shock. “No, Quark, that’s not…” He stumbled over his words as he tried to reassure him, like he thought Quark was upset.

He wasn’t, though. He’d just come up with an amazing idea. Since they didn’t have these “teachers,” he was probably the only kid in the neighborhood who actually knew how to read and write at all. He could show off to the others and they’d be so impressed that they’d have to be his friend.

The next day, he scribbled out a note to Alton. The other boy received it and turned up his nose.

“I can read this, you know. My mother taught me. Your handwriting is terrible.” He laughed in Quark’s face and bounded off to play with his other cronies.

Slightly bruised but used to it, Quark came home frowning. That worried Grandpa more than it usually did, and when Quark explained what happened, he got angry. Before, Quark might have retreated and cried and started apologizing. But recently, he’d figured out that Grandpa had two kinds of anger. When he was mad at Quark, he would never clench his fists or storm off to get a drink. Those things meant that Grandpa was mad at himself.

What Quark hadn’t figured out was what he was supposed to do in these moments. Now, he just sat there at the table, smoothing out and recrumpling the note that Alton had thrown back in his face. He waited, until Grandpa marched back over to him.

“School was awful, Quark,” he said determinedly. “There were friends there, but there were just as many bullies like Alton. Maybe more. The days were long and boring, and most of what they taught us ended up being useless. And I thought it was bad in Japan. If you were born here, in America… Quark, you can’t even imagine the bullet you dodged.”

Quark frowned and knit his eyebrows. “Was it really that bad for you, Grandpa?”

“I shouldn’t have told you all that stuff in the first place,” Grandpa muttered. Quark wasn’t sure if he even wanted him to hear. “I don’t want you to feel like you missed out on life before. You might start to think that this world isn’t worth living in, and…” He collapsed into the chair next to Quark, a fist to his forehead. Quark wanted to reach out and grab his hand, but he hesitated.

“Are you going to stop teaching me, then?” he said instead. He tried to hide his disappointment, but from the concern on Grandpa’s face, it didn’t seem like he did a good job.

“You don’t really want me to…?”

“Grandpa, you know so much stuff that I don’t know,” said Quark shyly. “I know you didn’t study to teach kids, but I really liked that you were sharing that stuff with me.” He worried that maybe he was saying this selfishly. Maybe all he really wanted was to keep up with Alton and his mother so he wouldn’t feel stupid in front of them again. He reassured himself that he was telling the truth.

Grandpa laughed. It was a sad sort of laugh. “Dammit,” he said. “I can’t help it if you’re so curious.”

Quark worried again that he had done something wrong, but then Grandpa put an affectionate hand on the top of his head. It felt like a promise.

[blueberry-lemon]

[lmfao i realized after posting this that, visually, this accidentally looks like some sort of ad or blazed post on the dashboard. im so sorry hahaha] I've always wanted to keep a journal.

In high school, I was really into reading journal comics (they're still one of my favorite genres of comic by far), and started drawing one myself. I drew a comic once a day, every day, for all of 10th grade and kept it in a binder to show friends at school.

I did scattered little journal comics after that, just a strip here and there. Then, in college, I had a storyboarding professor who had us draw on an index card on each day of class to mark how we're feeling. Inspired by that, my roommate and I drew a post-it of what we did each day and stuck it on the wall for two semesters. In other words, 1-panel daily journal comics.

I like journaling because it helps put the good days and bad days into wider perspective. Even the deepest pits of anxiety or sadness are eventually faded away and joined by really happy and mundane days.

Since then, I've tried a Hobonichi Planner. I've tried poems on Cohost. I always fall off. I've tried the Daylio App and Notion. I feel too guilty and embarrassed once I've missed too many days.

Then I heard about "5-Year Journals."

Each page is a day, for example "January 5th." No days-of-the-week listed. It's split into 5 sections, for different years. You write in it each day. Then when the year comes around, you keep using the same journal, writing underneath your previous year's entry.

This really appealed to me for two reasons.

It won't be a huge deal if I miss a day, or a week, or a whole month. I won't feel guilty because it doesn't really matter. It's not putting the book to waste, there's no day-of-the-week listed to make the page feel obsolete the year after, and I'll just get those days I missed when I come back around in 2025 or 2026. So even if certain years have gaps, each page will eventually have something.

It'll be fun to read the entries from previous years as I keep going, and see how I've changed.

So far I'm having a good time! I recommend them. Brand-wise I got a Levenger although I'm sure there are cheaper versions. Or just do it in a spiral notebook, who cares? With my handwriting I can fit like 4 or 5 sentences per entry. The fact that I'm not posting them publicly, or drawing anything, will probably help me.

[sochilll]

Kleinsen 29 + 30

Kleinsen + 29. Childhood friends and 30. Summer reading

(Send a character/pairing and a number and I’ll write a drabble)

“Done!” Jared slammed his last book closed. “Ha! That’s ten.”

Evan looked up from his own book. He was still only on number six. They had to hit ten before the school year started in less than a week.

Jared was a faster reader by far. He tore through books in a few hours. Evan always found himself zoning out and having to re-read paragraphs. Besides, reading tired him out, it took so much effort to focus, so he could never get through more than an hour or so at a time.

“Whatever. We weren’t racing.”

“You always say that when you lose.” Jared said, leaving out the implied, “and you always lose.”

In elementary school, the summer reading challenge hadn’t been quite as hard. But this was sixth grade now. This time, a little zone out meant Evan was completely lost when he re-focused three paragraphs later.

He tossed his book on the coffee table. “Can you just tell me what yours were about so I can check off ten?”

Jared shook his head. “That’s not the spirit of summer reading.”

Evan knew Jared just liked beating him. Everything school related was a competition for Jared. Evan suspected he wouldn’t take it so seriously if he wasn’t better than Evan in nearly every subject.

Spelling and writing were the only two areas Evan ever got higher scores in. Coincidentally, those were the two subjects Jared said were stupid.

“Let’s go swimming.” Jared said, sprawled on his back on the floor.

Evan pointed at his half empty reading log. “I have to finish. There’s only like four days left.”

Jared sighed and sat up. He pulled Evan’s reading log toward him and started writing, ready to help Evan now that it benefited himself too.

Evan watched. Jared’s handwriting wasn’t terribly different from his own so it didn’t stand out too much that the last five books were written by him.

“There. I’ll tell you what these three are about,” he pointed to the book Evan was about halfway done with, “you know enough to answer questions on that one, and we’ll watch the movie of this one tonight.”

Evan knew that was a bad idea. They’d been explicitly warned against it. But he was so tired of reading and Jared was already hunting for the beach towels. And well, Evan really wanted to go swimming in the giant pool in Jared’s complex. He wanted to enjoy his last few days of summer.

So he put the reading log in his folder and followed Jared upstairs to change.

[green-ville]

Regrets

pt 4

TW: talk of a past suicide, with detail. also talk of a past character death with detail.

Synopsis: When Sirius Black came to her and asked her to watch over his godson, she didn’t think it would end up like this.

            A Triwizard Tournament. The strongest, bravest, most courageous. Three willing participants to take on challenges larger than life and only one would be the victor of eternal glory. People had died in this challenge. Only an idiot would put their name in it.

            When Sirina’s name is called, it was the last thing she expected.

            When Harry’s name was called, the fourth wizard in a tournament of three, she knew her Uncle Sirius was right.

            Someone was trying to kill him. And from the fact that she didn’t put her name in the Goblet of Fire, someone was clearly trying to kill her as well.

            Family meant everything to her. Sirina refused to let Harry Potter die, and she’d take every risk to keep him alive.

            Classes weren’t that bad. She knew no one in any of her classes and since she was always the first one there, she got preferential treatment. Aka, she picked her favorite seat. It was in the back corner of the room.

            The only class she foresaw issues with was Potions. Professor Snape, for a reason she could not figure out, hated her. He called on her frequently, as if trying to catch her off guard. She always paid attention in class. The boarding school she had gone to before Ilvermorny had seared that into her head. The issue was she didn’t have 84 years of experience in potions, and when asked about the history of eyes of Newt she was at a bit of a disadvantage.

            One particular lesson a few weeks in stuck out like a sore thumb.

            “Perhaps you will remember to pay attention, next time,” he drawled slowly. “Or at the very least, read the required material before showing up to class and wasting everyone’s time. Your father may have gotten by with a careless attitude, but rest assured, you will not.”

            The embarrassment that disabled her clashed into her boiling rage in a storm more violent than any hurricane, any tornado, any tsunami that had ever been, or ever will be. The glare that fixed itself onto her face could kill any grown man with a mere glance.

            Did he know her father? How could he say such horrible things about him if he knew Regulus? Or perhaps he was just another one of the crowds that said Regulus was a monster, Regulus was a Deatheater and deserved to fade from existence, forgotten by everyone.

            Siri bet that Snape had never even had a single fucking conversation with him.

            He would not ruin her image of Regulus no matter what he said. She knew her father better than anyone.

            When they finished their potions they could leave. The intense emotions made it harder to focus and Siri had trouble reading Snape’s handwriting. Even after copying it down in her notebook, written in a way that made it harder for her brain to screw up, she still took a long time.

            She was actually the last in the room.

            When she was finally done, flustered and on the verge of throwing something, she bottled it up and set it on one of the stands on Snape’s desk.

            He didn’t even look at her to remark, “Troll.”

            “Oh, now you’re calling me a Troll?” She exclaimed, about to lose it, halfway lost already. “You are one of the most unprofessional – “

            “No,” his lip curled with a snarl. “That’s your grade. Troll. It’s the lowest failing grade I can give you for not turning in what I very simply ordered. You have eyes and yet you can’t seem to read the clear instructions laid out on the board. Your father always did what he wanted too, without any care for anything. And look at where he is now.”

            Dead.

            Her father was dead.

            He had the nerve to insult a dead man right to the face of his daughter?

            Tears burned her dry eyes, and it happened. She lost it.

            She didn’t know how he found out that Regulus Black was her father when her Uncle had gone to such lengths to make sure she was only known as Sirina Argent. Headmaster Dumbledore said the secret would stay between them, but apparently he was just another liar. Her Uncle trusted him too much, it would seem.

            “You’re right,” Siri said with a sweet smile, eyes shinning with promise for a revenge so ruthless Satan would tell her to calm down. “The instructions were simple. I do have eyes. Forgive me, your majesty, for my insolence. Perhaps next week we can work on a potion to cure my Dyslexia because sometimes my brain switches letters around and your ‘simple instructions’ become an unsolvable clusterfuc-“

            “I did not ask for excuses,” he cut in cooly. “Though I should have expected them from you – “

            “Oh what,” she exclaimed, stepping back, “did my father give excuses for everything too?”

            He snarled a, “yes. And one day his past will catch up to him again and he’ll return to Azkaban just as he belongs. I’m sure there’ll be a cell waiting for you beside him as well since you’re so desperate to follow in his footsteps. Why don’t you start by 2 weeks of detention, 7 pm. Sirius would be very proud – “

            Siri did the most shocking thing yet.

            She slapped him clean across the face.

            Finally he was silent.

            Siri seethed quietly, more enraged than she had ever thought possible. “My father,” she began quietly, barely controlled. “Was Regulus Black, not Sirius. If you’re going to hate me, at least get that straight. And don’t bother trying to alert him of my behavior, he died 16 years ago. You could try my mother, but she’s dead as well. My Uncle, on the other hand, will be informed of exactly how you have treated me these past few weeks and you rest assured, Professor Snape, there will be consequences to your actions.”

             She stormed off, flicking her wand in the direction of her books, sending them straight into her hands. She snatched her backpack as it soared her way too, and then she stormed out of the room and into the crowd of the next class.

            In it, finally, a face she recognized.

            Harry blinked at her as she shoved her way through. “Siri! What’s wrong?” He called after her.

            “Everything’s absolutely alright! Snape, on the other hand, is on his period.”

            Siri seriously considered skipping Defense Against the Dark Arts. She was too emotional right now for it to be any good for her.

            But she had a perfect record. She had never missed a class period. She had to at least try. Or at least show up to get credit for the class.

            Professor Moody was unorthodox and borderline unethical. Today was a stations day and honestly, she never should have gone.

            Not with potions having happened. Not with her lack of sleep. Not with that damn Deatheater that she saw during the day now.

            It was a cumulative exam day. They were going to be faced with a number of different trails they had to overcome. All but one were easy. All but one she passed with flying colors. She had taken extra-curricular defense magic since she could do magic, of course she passed it all.

            And then the Boggart came.

            Siri wasn’t thinking, how could she? She was still flustered, fried, exhausted from potions.

            Inside the large wooden wardrobe, it rattled. Professor Moody stood off to the side, leaning against the wall.

            “Wand at the ready Argent. Wand at the ready.”

            Her quivering hand raised. That shake had persisted since the World Cup.

            “Steady now,” he warned, and opened the wardrobe.

            Black fog washed out of the wardrobe in heavy puffs. It covered the entire ten feet in front of her, and her wand shakily remained aimed forward.

            Even when the smoke dissipated, and she saw who was in front of her, even then it remained forward.

            A man she didn’t remember. A woman she couldn’t forget. His arm was around hers. He was barely taller than her, but he had eyes that were kind for a rare few.

            “You weren’t enough to keep me alive,” her father told her. The façade dropped as water gushed out of his mouth, and he held his throat, choking on water that kept gushing. Splattering on the floor in front of them.

            One of the many students behind her gasped loudly.

            “Argent,” Moody warned, gruff.

            Her father fell to his knees, choking. Face turning pink. . .red. . .blue. He collapsed to the ground as it became too much, body shaking as his body suffered from too little oxygen inside it. . .then none at all.

            Her mother barely looked at him as she stood on a chair, a rope coming down from the ceiling, noose already tied. It came into her awaiting hands. Her father stopped moving entirely, water soaking the floor. Her shoes.

            “Professor!” A student exclaimed.

            “You weren’t worth fighting for,” her mother said, fitting the noose snuggly on her head. “And one day soon you’ll give up like we did. No one to keep you going because no one will ever care about you.”

            “PROFESSOR!” The same student exclaimed.

            Her mother stepped off the chair just like she had done all those years ago. The rope pulled taught –

            “Ridiculous,” a soft whisper. The boggarts vanished in a swirl of black fog, sucking back into the wardrobe that Moody closed with a tap of his gnarled walking stick.

            The silence didn’t even register to her.

            She hadn’t seen that part of it. Her mother stepping off. She heard a chair clatter. Little Siri was curious. She went to find out.

            She found a body swinging from the ceiling, and she screamed.

            She didn’t see the first part though.

            And her father. She had never seen how he died. All she could confidently say was that he didn’t think he was going back, and the location he had told her of was near the cliffs of Moher.

            As she thought about it later on, when she was older, she assumed drowning. She had never confirmed it.

            “Argent. . .”

            Siri blinked, languid, and stared at Professor Moody.

            “Go to Madame Pomfrey.” She didn’t think it possible for him to speak in anything that resembled a gentle tone.

            Siri turned, ignoring the crowd of staring students, and left the room. This time she forgot her things entirely.

            She didn’t know who Madame Pomfrey was. Quite frankly she didn’t give a shit.

            Siri needed to write a letter and she was going to write one, so she went to the Owlery. She found some paper, pulled out a stupid freaking quill because apparently pens were archaic, and wrote her longest message ever. Her hands kept shaking, and honestly she couldn’t read her own words. They moved around and showed her words she hadn’t wrote, calling her idiot, dumb, failure in more ways than dialect had invented.

            She had to trust he’d be able to decipher it, because she was already sending the message away on a borrowed Owl.

            When she heard other people coming she slipped away quietly, unseen, and went to her hiding place. She normally only came here during the night when she couldn’t sleep. No Deatheater had ever bothered her on the roof tiles of Hogwarts. Coming during the day was different. The tiles were warm on her back.  The breeze that brushed past carried the scent of pine and fall weather, which had set in not long ago.

            It was peaceful.

            “Care if I join you?”

            If she had the energy, she’d have jolted from fear. She didn’t have the energy. Even turning her head was a chore.

            Cedric Diggory was not who she expected.

            She faced the sky again.

            “Alright, taking that as a tentative yes,” he said, carefully making his way towards her, balance perfect. He sat down slowly, and then fully committed to laying down right beside her, his left side against her right side.

            “I heard what happened.”

            She didn’t respond.

            “That’s a lot to happen all in a day.”

            What was he expecting from this conversation? A teary revelation?

            “Snape was out of line. Potter heard everything, relayed the message to me because he couldn’t find you. I had an idea on where you were though, and here you are.”

            Her brow raised. Her voice was raspy. “You knew I was here?”

            “Course. You always come here at night.”

            He knew?

            “I’m a Prefect. It’s my job to know when people are out of bed,” he admitted, and those butterflies in her stomach died. “When I first saw you I was terrified. Thought you were going to. . .but you didn’t. You just laid there. For hours. You don’t sleep a lot, do you?” He asked gently, staring at the cloudy sky with her.

            “I try.”

            “I don’t suppose it’ll help at all if I said I’m sorry for what happened?”

            “No.” She had heard enough “I’m sorry” the day of her mother’s funeral. She was sure she had heard them for her father’s funeral, but that she didn’t remember. No memories haunted her of her father, only the lack of them.

            “Then I guess I’ll just be here for you if you need to talk.”

            “And what if I never want to talk?” She asked, still raspy. “What if I want to pretend this never happened? That everything was normal again?”

            “Well, I don’t know how likely that is to happen. Word spread. . .I think the entire student body knows you’re Sirius’ Black niece by now.”

            Tears pooled again. “And Potter still tried to look for me?”

            “If I’m to be honest, he didn’t seem to care about that fact.”

            The tears slipped down, the silence settled and he didn’t leave. He stayed beside her as if he could actually content where he was. And perhaps it was her need to finally talk, perhaps it was because she hadn’t seen Mandy in forever and they hadn’t spoken since she left; perhaps it was because she was so freaking tired she couldn’t even think right now without her head throbbing so bad she wanted to vomit.

            It was likely multifactorial.

            She started to speak.

            “My father died when I was young. I don’t remember him,” she admitted with a sniffle. “He wrote me letters though. From before I was born to the day he never came back. So it feels like I knew him. He made a lot of bad choices. For a time he was a bad person. He made the right decisions in the end. . . and. . .and my mother tried to hold on. She did. It was too much. I found her after she took her life.”

            “Sirina. . .”

            “So I grew up and I had this code. I wouldn’t have any regrets. My father had regrets and to amend for them, he gave his life for the cause. And my mother died because she couldn’t live without him. So I wouldn’t have regrets. Even if I didn’t like what I was doing, I refused to regret my decision. . .Until that day.”

            “The World Cup,” he responded, knowing.

            She nodded as much as she could, tears slipping into her hair. “I saw those Deatheaters. . .I tried to stop them. . .and there was this spell. I had never heard of it before, never seen it before. . .I can’t stop thinking about it now.” She laughed humorlessly. “I remember it cutting me open. I was choking on my own blood. I thought I was going to die – I should have died. Someone saved me, they knew the reversal spell. I kinda wish they hadn’t because now I can’t sleep. And at first it was just I can’t sleep, but now the Deatheater haunts me during the day. I see him and it’s always the same thing over and over again. He uses that spell and I go down, choking, helpless. . .”

            “It won’t happen again,” Cedric stated, his own firm belief prominent in his tone.

            She laughed again. “You can’t be certain of that.”

            “If I’m always by you, yes I can. I’ll protect you.”

            “From a Deatheater?” She asked, disbelieving.

            He turned his head down to hers. As if drawn by an invisible pull, she looked up to him.

            “From anything,” he responded simply. “Anything and anyone.”

            “You can’t. . .” She couldn’t whisper anymore.

            “I will,” he answered again, just as simply. “Like now, I am going to protect you from a great long fall by asking that we go to a safer location to hide from people. Have you ever been to the Astronomy Tower? Just as high up, but with bars in the way.”

            Despite the shift in tone, he carried the same level of intimacy as before.

            “Don’t tell me you’re scared?” She asked, trying to joke.

            He shook his head. “Of course not, but I can’t chivalrously save you from falling to your death if I am also falling to my death.”

            She didn’t know how she would’ve responded to that, her stomach growled first.

            “I have food in my satchel,” he offered.

            “We’re not allowed to take food out of the Great Hall, mister Prefect” she said, brow piqued.

            “I didn’t,” he grinned, winking. “Took it out of the kitchen directly. Fifth year’s area always stressed and forget to eat. I’ve found it best to keep some snacks on hand at all times to prevent hunger deprived studying.”

            His care for others was the reason she allowed him to help her up. Why he decided to keep hold of her hand was beyond her. When they got up though, she stopped right away.

            Cedric glanced to her. “It’s that way,” he pointed.

            “I’m hallucinating a pirate ship now.”

            “What?. . .Nope. . .I see it too. . .”

            “So we’re both hallucinating a pirate ship?”

            “It must be the hunger. We should go eat something.”

            They left the roof but both kept looking in the direction of the Pirate ship that docked in the Black Lake. Neither knew that if they had kept searching the grounds on the rooftop, they’d also find a French Mansion newly added to the landscape.

            Instead they sat in the Astronomy Tower right beside the railing. They leaned against the metal bars, on opposite side of the opening from each other, feet intermittently intertwined. Cedric’s foot, her foot, Cedric’s foot, her foot.

            He knocked her foot again with another question.

            “I could help you in potions. . .if you need.”

            “I. . .Everything circulated, didn’t it?”

            “A bit. It would be covert. No one would know about it. Just you and me.”

            She took a bite of the brownie. She liked that idea.

            “I have trouble reading sometimes,” all the time, but whatever. “I uh, I have Dyslexia. The letters kinda get screwy. Normally I can figure it out, but under pressure it’s harder.”

            That alone was hard to admit.

            “I’ll do my best to help. . .” He drifted off, both of them picking up on the sounds of leather shoes on stairs.

            This belonged to nicer shoes than what they wore.

            And it belonged to a man better dressed than them too.

            Siri couldn’t help her surprise, the emotion showing on her face as clear as day.

            “You came?” She asked, not expecting that. She thought maybe a letter to Dumbledore, but this?

            Her Uncle, Mr. Argent, entered the Astronomy Tower. He found her immediately, and sighed in relief.

            “Sirina, first things first,” he was professional and orderly even now. “Are you alright?”

            “Better now,” she admitted, standing up. “I. . .I didn’t mean to pull you away, I’m sorry, I was upset – “

            “And you had every right to be,” he cut in. “I plan to talk to Dumbledore immediately. I’m supposed to be in a meeting with him now but when he said you had skipped the rest of your classes for the day, I had to find you. You never skip classes, I knew it was serious.”

            She didn’t have anymore tears inside her. What she did have? The energy to surge forward and throw her arms around him, squeezing him as tight as she could. He didn’t hesitate this time to hug her back.

            And for the first time ever, she knew what it was like to have a father.

            The meeting with Dumbledore, Professor Sprout (Head of House), Madame Pomfrey, Snape, and Moody was eventful.

            Snape was reprimanded, not only had to provide a verbal apology but agree to corrective action, and he was put on warning that if anything of the sort ever happened again, he’d be terminated on the spot. Her Uncle helped with that last bit. Being close co-workers with the Minister of Magic had its benefits.

            Professor Moody, seeing as it was his first offense, had to provide his course syllabus for intense review. He had to apologize for not intervening when the situation clearly became inappropriate for sixth year expectations.

            The conversation with Madame Pomfrey was private, just Siri and her. She told the Healer of her nightmares, of her difficulty sleeping. Madame Pomfrey was going to be providing her sleeping potions for a dreamless night, and Siri had to schedule a meeting with her twice a week for chatting.

            Apparently she needed ‘therapy’. It was either that or detention for swearing and accusing a male professor of having a period in front of younger students.

            “So,” Professor Dumbledore said, hands folded on his desk. “Do we have a deal, Mr. Argent? All your requests will be met, and in exchange you will abstain from legal action?”

            “You’ll never hear from me again, as long as I don’t get another letter like the one I received,” he assured. “If I do, then I will return and without the opportunity for you to keep your Professors in check.”

            Professor Dumbledore smiled. “I’m glad we’re in agreement. May I see you out?”

            “If you so choose.”

            They made their way out, heading down the spiral staircase controlled by a bronze Gryffin with its wings spread wide. That seemed like he was picking favorites.

            She didn’t expect to see Cedric waiting just outside it, and she stopped, brows raised.

            “Cedric?”

            “Hey! Oh. . .Headmaster,” he nodded, “Sir,” he nodded to her Uncle.

            “Cedric,” her Uncle repeated, “Amos’ boy?”

            “Yes sir. Pleasure to meet you,” he held out his hand.

            Her Uncle shook it, gaze calculating. “I trust you can show her back to her dorms?”

            “I’d be happy to sir.”

            “Good.” He nodded, then turned to Sirina, giving her a kiss on the forehead that had her blinking. “Write me if anything else comes up. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

            “See you then. . .” She stopped herself from saying ‘love you’, and instead finished with, “thanks for everything.”

            “Of course. Be good.”

            He walked off with Professor Dumbledore, chatting with him privately.

            “You didn’t have to wait – “

            “That was never in question. I had to see how you were doing.”

            Damnit, why was he so nice?

            She sagged, running a hand through her wavey black hair. “Better, actually. A lot better. Had a bit of a mental breakdown earlier. . .apparently talking through things helps?”

            Cedric laughed as he walked beside her. “I could’ve told you that. You can talk with me anytime, I’ll be happy to listen.”

            “Obviously the same to you. Anytime you need to rant or shout, I’m there, got it?”

            He smiled down at her. “Sounds like a plan Siri. How about we don’t study potions tonight and take it easy instead? I figured out why that pirate ship was in the Lake.”

            “We’re being attacked?”

            “Even worse,” he said, tsking, “the Triwizard Tournament.”

            That was the last thing she really heard from him. It acted as a trigger word, yanking her right back to the conversation she had with Sirius.

            Triwizard Tournament.

            Something happens to Harry every year.

            Protect him.

            And she had been so overwhelmed these past weeks that she had completely forgot.

            “They put an age restriction on it though,” Cedric explained. “Only 17 and up.”

            Thank God. He was 14, he was nowhere near close to being able to do it.

            “I was thinking of putting my name in it.”

            She stopped, chest tightening. “What? But – but no, that’s dangerous. C’mon.”

            He turned to face her, smiling again like her fear made him happy. “They’ve got more protection this time Siri. And there’s no way of knowing if I’ll actually get in. Loads of people are putting their names in. . .I’d regret it if I didn’t actually try.”

            That word. Damn that word.

            She understood because she was the same way, and she refused to be a hypocrite.

            Piercing her lips, she reached for his hand, holding it tightly. “If you get in, I’m ordering you to be careful, alright? No stupid heroics. You be careful.”

            “You worried about me Black?” He grinned, stormy gaze twinkling.

            “I’m always worried about you Diggory,” she huffed out. “You saw me and thought I’d make a good friend. Clearly there are a few wires loose up there.”

            “How could I not want to be your friend? You’re one of the most loyal and compassionate people I’ve ever met. Anyone would be lucky to be your friend.”

            She hugged him before she knew what she was doing. He smelled like outside and she loved the outdoors, so she hugged him tighter, eyes shutting.

            “If you get in, you’re going to be careful. Whatever happens I’ll do my best to help, okay? You need to practice spells, I will figure out the best spells. You need to practice potions, I’ll grab the ingredients if you point to them cause I can’t fucking read,” he chuckled as he hugged her back, cheek on her head. “But you have to be careful, okay?”

            “It’s a deal Siri. I help you with potions, and if my name is called, you help me with the Tournament.”

[biro-slay]

I remember I really wanted therapy and now I started going there. But it isn't helping. So I am in a situation where I go to therapy and don't get better, or I tell my parents and risk them just stopping therapy completely.

Also, I think 1. I only go once a week, and we didn't do 2-3 weeks before new years, and now it's January and I don't know what happened at all. 2. I am scared to tell the therapist about me thinking I might be trans. 3. I can't really control what we talk about. Like, the first session was almost a complete miss on what I have problems with. Maybe I could tell her what's bothering me, but I don't know when and scared to it. 4. So far the only problem she has figured is that I have high expectations for myself, which probably is true but like. 5. Nothing is being done about the problems???? Like, just don't be so harsh to yourself duh. I think those things might do something with it not helping, not sure though..

I do want to say, the therapist is nice, and it's just my particular situation, therapy helps and saves a lot of people.

But I think I should add, I think I once randomly overheard my mom call me an idiot to someone on the phone, presumably the therapist, so you know, maybe she got the wrong impression from my mom if that was her on the phone.

I think it also says something about my mom, when I casually mentioned that going to school in person sucks, as well as online(which starts at 8:10 am BTW!!) sucking, but that online is less heavy on mental AND physical health. She said that I will continue going one week in person, then switch, and so on. So that I "socialise more" even though she knows that the breaks are 5 minutes, and that I basically didn't talk to anyone this week. She then said that the fact that we online education for a while made me too comfortable and that's where my problems come from.

HM, HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THAT IT'S BECAUSE I MISSED THE FIRST TWO WEEKS IN SEVENTH GRADE AND HAD TO DO EVERYTHING RAPIDFIRE, MEANING I MISSED THE NEW HOMEWORK, AND IT CONTINUED UNTIL I GAVE UP. ESPECIALLY WHEN WE HAD NEW SUBJECTS LIKE FUCKING PHYSICS AND CHEMISTRY, I FUCKING WONDER WHY IT ALL STARTED, HMMM DEFINITELY WAS THE ONLINE EDUCATION. ALSO HOW I WAS TREATED MY WHOLE LIFE AS A "GIFTED KID" AND STILL BEING TOLD IT WASN'T ENOUGH DEFINITELY DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS.

ok sorry I just had to. I don't even know where to go next with this post, like I hate her so fucking much. I literally told her I might be trans and she just fucking ignored it and continued to call me Boris and a he him. Also like, do you think that even when I had almost perfect grades for 5-6 years straight and still thinking it wasn't enough has something to do??? I was always told that I need to exercise more, or I won't achieve anything in life. IN ADDITION to calling me too skinny at every opportunity, haha "I can even see your ribs" is really funny haha I can't stop laughing, even though you've said it a billion times(side not, now I am being called fat). IN ADDITION to being told my handwriting is trash and that I am too messy. IN ANOTHER FUCKING ADDITION to being told that "boys don't cry" "boys need to be strong", when I was like 6 or somethin I had slightly longer hair than usual because I hated going to get my hair cut, I got called a girl(derogatory) and told it's a bad thing, imagine telling that to a really emotional kid(I once cried because I got a 9.50 instead of a ten, I could get really emotional because my toy bear's eye fell off) with health problems(I don't have a specific diagnosis to my knowledge, but I can't a pushup, or a pull up, can't run fast or far, and recently it started to hurt to walk, so you know) that, that's so fucked up. That's so fucked looking back. I am surprised it took this long for me to get as fucked as I am right now.

And, I am not making this up for dramatic effect or anything, I don't even expect anyone to read this, but I cry so much that I don't remember the last I didn't cry at all. I cry during a day so much I am more surprised when I am not crying or not about to cry. And like, for me it feels like a waterfall of tears, while outside it's just my eyes being a little more closed and me being a littler redder, so no one notices. And I want to complain that some teachers already now I am sad, but all(except for one that sometimes prevents me from sleeping sometimes and makes me want to kill myself when she starts talking about how lazy we are) of them have to work as teachers in Ukraine, so I guess I can't blame them too much. And my classmates don't care or don't notice, but they are in the same position as me, sooo.

Sorry for this rant it's just everything sucks.

[amiharana]

5, 19, and 29 for the ask game !!

(ask game from here)

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

hmm i don't think i actually have any KDJFKSDF uh but i love it when i write stuff and the word count ends in a 0 or a 5 (e.g. 1490 words). it rarely happens in the fics i write but i try so hard when i write like. discussion posts for homework to make it so that it ends in a 0 or 5.

oh another thing i'm weird about when writing is using adverbs? i read somewhere a long time ago that you shouldn't use adverbs while writing and just rephrase the sentence to say what you meant directly. i think it was talking about academic writing like an essay or research, but it stuck with me so bad that now, i naturally cringe when i write an adverb in fic. these days i'm trying to not be so weird about it because i think you can still use adverbs just sparingly LMAO idek why that sort of thinking stuck with me, because sometimes, an adverb is just the best way to write what you want to convey. just use it wisely!

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

okay so when i was little, i actually really wanted to be a fashion designer. like my parents bought me a shitty little lightbox for tracing and clothing silhouette stencils, and i kept a notebook where i pasted all of my shitty little clothing designs in (i have no idea where this notebook went). that's what baby amihan thought they were going to pursue and grow up to be, so i invested a lot of time in that as a kid (insert Does He Know? Paul Dano Meme).

but one day at my elementary school, they introduced this thing to the 4th-6th graders called "junior olympics" and it was basically just a little competition with four categories/events, those being (1) math test, (2) spelling bee, (3) oral performance, and (4) writing a story. you can see where this is going, right?

they had us all apply for at least one event and even as a kid, i hated math so i was like no ❌ to the math event, and the spelling bee and the oral performance ones made me nervous because i was very shy and introverted as a kid. that left only the writing event, so i was like yeah why not?

the writing event was basically writing as much of a story as you can within a certain allotted time, and i truthfully cannot remember what the first story i wrote was BUT what i can tell you is that i won first place each year from my 4th-6th grade years like i ate that shit up! i do remember in 5th grade, my submission for the story-writing that year was a piece in which i killed all of my teachers in fantastical ways. KJDHFKJSDJKFD like all of them got murdered on the school campus by some sort of fantasy creature, and i remember ending the story dramatically by killing the principal via got eaten by a dragon because i LOVE dragons and i was in a big dragon phase at the time (i was reading so many books with dragons in them omg). but guess who won first place? 🥳 yours truly.

and winning three times in a row really did it for me. i was like wow it is so much fun to write silly little stories and then receive validation for being a good writer 🥰 and for a while, i actually ended up wanting to pursue being a writer! in elementary school, i started getting my parents to buy me composition notebooks and regular spiral notebooks simply just to write my silly little stories in, but i never finished them or i would tear out the pages and rewrite it because (1) it wasn't good enough to me or (2) i didn't like how i wrote it. some of you have seen me post my math notes and have told me i have nice handwriting; how do you think i got such nice handwriting? 😁 from tiny 9 year old me putting in The Work carefully and painstakingly rewriting every damn word so that it came out perfect like the absolute fucking cycle path she was ☝️👹

but yeah, i still have those stacks of composition notebooks and stuff that i go through and reread every couple of years to visit my inner child; she still lives in those pages and i like to pay my respects to her. i pay homage to that kid everytime i write my silly little fanfics now 🤍

as for what came after, i started writing more and more fanfic the older i got and the more media i became interested in. if you've ever seen my ao3, i only have a few things properly uploaded but my google drive is chock full of half written fics and documents with like up to 80+ pages of informal conceptual writing. part of the reason why i don't have many finished fics is because i attended a college prep school after elementary and it just. in hindsight, i wish i never let my parents talk me into doing the entrance exam for that school 😹 i'd probably be a lot happier and more sane right now if i did. but here we are! now i'm a bio major and writing about all the creative ways a dead bird and amnesiac elf can be intimate with each other for funsies! can i get an Amen hallerlujah 🙏

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

it's probably from the undiagnosed mental illnesses and the endless uncontrollable imagination i've had since i was a child that's always outrun the cruel grasp of reality. KJDFHKSDHJFKDJS no but i just get so easily inspired by everything around me idk ☝️😳

i've talked about it before in a different ask game answer, but because i have so many different interests that are extremely unrelated to each other, i have a wide array of experiences and knowledge to pick from. the analogy i used back then was arranging all of my interests on a color wheel and picking at two opposite interests like they're complementary colors, e.g. the fact that i am a huge bts fan and am a major revalinker simultaneously. at the time of writing this, i was listening to 'daechwita' by agust d and i suddenly got this imagery of link killing his past self who's grown too arrogant to keep himself humble and it's so delicious to me. or like, i don't know how to elaborate, but just. botw link spiritually killing his predecessors so that their achievements don't drive him insane. yum.

when the inspiration well runs dry, i just take a step back from writing for a bit and let what i've already written marinate a little. i did that recently with the fic i had planned for revalink week d1 (don't get your hopes up just yet, i'm not gonna work on it until after my finals next week are over), and when i reread my outlining again i was like HMFGHMFHGMF. delicious. can't wait to work on this 😋

in terms of getting ideas, they kind of just come and go? the best way i can explain is that i'm quite literally a prophet of the revalink gods. should they desire to bequeath upon me the sacred words, then i shall gladly receive it and share the word of the gospel with you all 🤍

[campbellbenowitz]

meet campbell!

Welcome to Aurora Bay, [CAMPBELL BENOWITZ]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [ANDREW GARFIELD]. You must be the [THIRTY-FIVE] year old [PEDIATRICIAN]. Word is you’re [KIND] but can also be a bit [AVOIDANT] and your favorite song is [DO YOU REALIZE?? BY THE FLAMING LIPS]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [SEABROOK QUARTER]. I’m sure you’ll love it! 

Full name: Benjamin Campbell Benowitz

Age/DOB: 35 / October 14th, 1987

Hometown: London, England

Gender/pronouns: cismale, he/him

Positive traits: kind, patient, gregarious

Negative traits: avoidant, flippant, private

Hobbies/interests: hiking, guitar, reading, poetry

Family: Maya Benowitz (mother, alive), Joseph Benowitz (father, alive)

abandonment tw

Yes, his real name is Ben Benowitz. Whether his parents just didn't realize what they were doing or simply didn't care, we'll never know. But as soon as he was old enough to realize how silly he sounded when he introduced himself, he was insistent upon using his middle name instead - little Campbell Benowitz.

From the get-go, Camp was a smart kid. He would read every book that passed in front of him, and usually talk anyone's ear off about them whenever he got the chance. His grades excelled in school, always at the very top of his class, despite his track record. He was also known as a bit of a class clown. Never fully disruptive to the point of getting in serious trouble, but enough to where he was labelled as a distraction and would be sent to sit in the hallway until he could calm down. But that was fine with him; he'd be just as entertained counting the tiles on the floor as he would've been in class.

While extremely close with his mother, Joseph Benowitz was a bit of a different story. He worked a lot, rarely being home for dinner and even more rarely being around for any of Campbell's school meetings. Camp didn't understand it as a kid, of course, but things weren't so great between Mr. and Mrs. Benowitz. They'd fight in hushed voices after he'd gone to sleep. A lot of Joseph's "work trips" were really just days of being gone without Maya knowing what was going on. It was textbook toxic until it came to a head. Without saying a word to his then-seven-year-old son, Joseph packed up and left.

Heartbroken and likely in denial, Maya never said a bad word about her newly estranged husband. She always told Campbell that he was working, that he wanted to come home but couldn't, that he'd be back as soon as he possibly could. She even went to the lengths of writing Camp "letters from Dad" to hold him over, something her son desperately held onto. Two years later though, Joseph reappeared in their lives, like nothing happened... until something happened again, and he was gone once more in less than six months.

This turned into an ugly pattern. Joseph leaving, Maya covering for him, Campbell idolizing the "hard work" he believed his father was out doing, and then Joseph returning just for the cycle to repeat. It took Campbell years, well into his teenage years, to accept what was really going on, and to realize the handwriting on his "Dad's letters" was strikingly similar to the handwriting on his birthday cards from his mother. When Joseph inevitably showed up again in his life, when he'd run out of money and needed to come back into their lives, Camp was disgusted by him. Their relationship, as superficial as it was, was over from then on out.

Despite all this, Camp's performance in school never faltered, and he went on to study medicine in university. Again, he excelled, graduating from pre-med and eventually with his MD in pediatrics. He found work at a small practice, not far from his childhood home in London, but as he'd grown older, his patience with his father wore thinner and thinner. He still showed up periodically, into Maya's waiting arms, like a knight in shining armor that was so brave just for coming back around. Campbell wanted to be there for his mother, but she wouldn't listen to him, or to common sense for that matter. It became too much, and eventually, Campbell had to leave.

He accepted a job offer at a hospital in California and made the move at the beginning of 2022. It was a huge move and an even huger adjustment, but so far, Camp's been settling into Aurora Bay gladly. He likes the heat, the scenery, the lack of dreary rain, and the change of pace it's given him. He's still the same happy-go-lucky, goofy guy he always has been.

Some wanted connections I'd like for him are

Friends plssss, he has so many friends. Not many that he's SUPER close with, he tends to keep people at arm's length because of ~trust issues~ from his dad, but he has so many people he's homies with

Patients and whatnot!! If your muse has a kid, maybe Camp can have treated them and they stayed buddies?

Neighbors!! He has a lil house in Seabrook Quarter!

He isn't... wonderful at commitment, but I do think he likes dating, so maybe someone he's matched with on Bumble/Hinge/etc in the last year?

Anything else tbh, hit me up!! <3

[krscblw]

1, 2 and 8 for the ask game if you don't mind 👁️👁️

1. 3 things that shaped you into who you are?

this is a funny question bc i feel like knowing these paints an extremely vivid picture of who i am lmao

- percy jackson (along with harry potter this was one of my first big hyperfixations. i was truly obsessed. i started a cult in elementary school where my friends and i roleplayed as greek gods every day during recess. i was the arbiter of who could be which god, and if i didn't like someone very much i would assign them a god that i thought wasn't very interesting. i thought this was like. a super sick burn. but of course most other 9 years olds didn't know enough about greek mythology to be offended lmao. (i was artemis, obviously))

- xanth (i read like,, most of these. which if you are familiar with xanth, you know is a lot of fucking books. the premise is this society of people who live in a magic pun world in a little pocket dimension laid over florida. they're super problematic, and were recommended to me by my dad when i was like 11 bc he read them when he was a kid)

- my chemical romance (one of the first bands i got into on my own. they were a huge hyperfixation from like 6th-10th grade for me)

2. a picture of your handwriting

here's my reading list for this year so far!

8. any reoccurring dreams?

oh boy. so when i was younger (probably like 10-16 or so) i used to have this extremely upsetting nightmare over and over again. im going to put it under the cut (tw for death and bombs?)

in the dream i would be standing in this endless meadow inside a cave. it was full of flowers and little kids just sort of milling around, having fun. overall was very peaceful, except that there was this huge metal sphere covered in rivets and other sci-fi looking parts, half embedded in the ground like it had crashed there. super foreboding and out of place with the rest of the scene, and somehow i knew it was a bomb. in the dream, i would reach down and pick a flower, and everything would go white, and i would know that me picking the flower made the bomb explode, and i had killed all of the children in this huge endless field (and every time i had this dream i knew what was going to happen and was trapped in my body watching myself do it) the rest of the dream would just be me in this white void knowing i had killed all of those innocent little kids.

so. upsetting! i had that dream probably once every couple months for years, and it was just as bad every time 🙃 (and yes i was put in therapy for 10 year olds)

[crashpit]

This is a post that is just about my experience with a bully throughout a large chunk of my childhood. It's kinda long and that's why I'm gonna put it as a readmore thing

Having to constantly tell myself "I am not a fake fan, there's no such thing as a fake fan"

Everytime I get into a piece of media due to like... First of all trauma of being called a fake fan of wizard101 in like 4th grade.

Same person who said that eventually went as far as to say I was a fake gamer too.

Actually I was very intensely bullied by this person and it got worse and worse every year to the point where in 6th grade I was scared to go to school bc every day she tormented me in very sadistic ways.

In retrospect it isn't really something I can hold against her bc she was a child and learning these things from her parents at home who were abusive in their own right.

Still, I am left with all of the fears and insecurities she pushed into my head. Probably bc I was so young it definitely like... Changed my way of thinking and my behavior and outlook on the world I mean. For a long time she was like.. the person I was around the most.

So there are things that I will always feel bad about that are sort of hard for me to even control due to being autistic.

She made fun of me for very simple things.

"Your handwriting is bad. Your S's look like 5's? Why do you do that????"

"You're only on page 20 of that book??? Wow, you read SLOW!!" (This one she wouldn't stop explaining to me just how SLOW I was reading compared to her, who can finish a book in one day apparently. In 5th grade)

And then "why are you crying??? You're such a baby I'm so tired of you." Kinda shit after dealing with the torment.

"your nails are sooo dirty why are your nails dirty." Pulls some random kid over "look at my friend over here who's nails are so dirty isn't that so gross???"

Then there was the destruction of my personal property. Yes. I'm. Serious.

She would go into my desk in our 5th grade class. We were in the same class. If I wasn't looking she'd sneak into my desk and destroy all of my pencils and erasers... Or whatever she could find basically that she could destroy without getting caught.

I was terrified of going to the bathroom because if I did she would find a way to destroy my stuff.

In retrospect it makes me wonder why the teacher did nothing or if I just was scared to say anything.

6th grade it was just daily torment of stealing my lunch, chewing it and spitting it out in front of me. Grossing me out while also destroying my lunch.

Finally that summer of 6th grade she moved. I was free at last.

But like...

I am still thinking to myself "wow I'm such a fake fan of star trek" 💀💀💀

I mean maybe I am slow to watching stuff and I need a lot of space to absorb the media I've consumed... I just do things at my own pace. I can't really beat myself up over like... Stupid shit. Because in all seriousness... Being a fan of anything and consuming media is supposed to be fun. You're supposed to just... Have fun with things and that's probably my meaning in life is to let go of all insecurities and just.. have fun as much as possible.

And laughter. Laughter is my favorite.

[nogoodnikolai]

3 and 28!

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of

disney's hercules. its not really a good movie, but i was already aware of that when i did actually watch it near weekly through 10-11th grade. why, i dont know. but i could do it again

airplane! i like dumb jokes, and the totally objective data that im definitely referencing as i type this says it has the highest djpm of any 70s-80s slapstick satire. much like how i consider the far side to be my personal calvin and hobbes, this was my blazing saddles.

zorro the gay blade: the movie about zorro's gay brother that no one cares about except me and my old college roommate, whose story about catching it at some weird hour in his adolescence infected me like some sort of dark memetic agent. i bought him a dvd of it and the whole house came to watch it. it passed over me like a phantom, i retained nothing of the experience beyond the fact that it changed me, and i think i could watch it forever and that would be the experience every time.

my headcanon is that this was the zorro movie bruce wayne's parents got killed after in batman forever

EDIT: it WAS the zorro movie Bruce waynes parents got killed after in joker, actually. apologies

28. do you collect anything?

despite working in the library/archive world, i'm not really a diligent collector, and yes, that does fill me with existential dread over how i will ultimately be remembered. i hold onto all my old bad manga art with an iron fist, however. one collection i was responsible for in college was the stacks upon stacks of old rabbinical texts that had been stored in my closet for decades. we spoke often of the rabbis in my closet, but jokes on them, i came out my sophomore year, and i graduated still an ardent atheist, so. that sure says something about something