#i have final exams in less than two months but instead of preparing i waste my time on silly block men

[vlaadlena]

im drawing smallidarity (/p or /r?? left ambiguous) and there is nothing you can do to stop me <3

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 11 (NSFW)

Masterlist

IT’S THE MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR BESTIES! Thanks as always to @acollectionofficsandshit I think I broke her with this chapter! She also found  the song for this chapter so special thanks for that as well ❤

Word Count: 7.6k

Recommended song: “The Man Who Can’t be Moved” by the Script

The steam of the shower cleanses your senses and washes away the sweat from your workout. Crisp September air rushes through the open window and raises goosebumps on your skin as you step out. You turn off the tap and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel in an attempt to ward off the chill. A glance at the clock tells you that you have a half hour to get ready before your date picks you up.

Peter was one of the few guys in your major that paid you any attention. Most of them tolerated you at best but it had never bothered you. You were independent enough that you could make it through class on your own and google what you didn’t understand afterward and learn it before the exam.

It had been fairly easy to fall in with Peter and a few others during the first few weeks of summer classes. What began with group study sessions and quickly developed into hanging out one on one with Peter on the weekends to go to coffee shops or play video games.

When Peter had asked you out two months ago, Pierre's voice nagged in the back of your head. He asked if you were ready to move on from him and if you could really forget him.

The simple answer was no, forgetting him was impossible. No matter how many years passed, he would always own a part of you. 

Peter was sweet and he cared about you but you were quickly realizing the bond you shared with him didn't run as deep as it had with Pierre. He started as your friend and you really didn't feel right letting it develop past that. Although you had agreed to that date and plenty more in the time since, it still didn’t feel like a relationship. You had to stop yourself from imagining someone else's arm around you when you lounged on the sofa or someone else's lips kissing you goodnight.

You slip into a form fitting red cocktail dress and sweep your hair over a shoulder, banishing the memory. The person staring back at you in the mirror is a stranger, a ghost of who you once were. You pull your lips into a smile nowhere near as bright as it was months ago.

A knock on your apartment door startles you from your trance. Peter holds a bouquet of flowers, a broad grin on his face. He was handsome in a traditional sense, with a sharp jawline and playful forest green eyes that promised a good time. He was adventurous; a night in wasn’t in the cards. Everything was an event with him and you didn’t mind the distractions one bit.

"You look amazing as always," he says, stepping inside and kissing your cheek. You sniff the flowers lightly. Daisies were some of your least favorite flowers but the gesture was too sweet to point that out.

"So do you," you respond, gaze sweeping from his scuffed wingtip shoes to his crisp blue button down shirt. Ocean blue, washed out against Peter's pale skin, but would have looked perfect on Pierre's golden complexion.

You had to stop thinking about him. You saw him everywhere. On more than one occasion, you dropped out of a conversation when you caught a glimpse of blond hair bobbing through a crowd or heard a laugh startlingly similar to his. You couldn’t escape the idea of him whether you liked it or not.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks, touching your elbow.

God, you were so far from okay. Your mind was a melted mess of memories of a blond Frenchman and all the broken promises between the pair of you. This was pointless. You were wasting your time with Peter. He was great and should have been everything you wanted but he just wasn't enough.

"I'm so sorry," you start, handing back the flowers. "I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh thank god," he says, shoulders drooping as he runs a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking the same thing, I just didn't want to be the one to say it." You both laugh, the tension ebbing from your frame.

"Don't get me wrong," he continues, "You're amazing. There's just no…"

"Spark," you finish. "Yeah, I agree. Friends?"

You stick out your hand and he shakes it firmly. "Sounds like a plan. No hard feelings. See you in class on Monday?"

"I'll be there."

You slip out of your heels with a sigh, glad you don't have to endure that form of torture any longer. For the first time in months, you allow yourself to scroll through Pierre's Instagram.

Instead of being flooded with personal pictures it had become mostly posed shoots.it was the kind of thing that seemed staged, like he was only posted because his PR team deemed it necessary.

As time went on the content became more and more clinical. He was giving fans less of an insight into his personal life and focusing on racing content. You knew he had probably thrown everything he had into the season in an attempt to move on and you couldn't blame him. 

If his Insta was to be believed, he had earned a handful of podiums in the four months since you had mostly lost interest in the sport. After Austin it had been nearly impossible to watch a full race and you had instead been getting your biased updates from Max, who conveniently left out all but the barest details of anyone’s race weekend but his own.

There was no point in trying to convince yourself you no longer felt anything for Pierre. Just scrolling through his page reignites the flame in your chest that had been burning far too dimly for far too long. 

Heart pounding, you double tap a photoset of him modeling for Alpha Tauri, the lighting accenting his eyes. Their distinct, rich blue had always been your weakness. 

Your fingers find their way to the charm at your throat. You hadn't taken it off once since the gala. It was pointless to deny the sway he still held over you all these months later. Maybe it was time you stopped pretending you were fine and finally give in to the pull. 

The past few months have given you plenty of time to reflect. The media would hound you like dogs but at least while you were in London they would leave your family alone. And really, enduring their scrutiny was a small price to pay if it meant loving Pierre.  

“I’m an idiot,” you mumble, pulling up his contact in your phone. Breaking up with him had been the dumbest decision of your life. You’d watched him from afar as he traveled from grand prix to grand prix, touring cities and sleeping everywhere except where he belonged: curled up next to you in your tiny London flat, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you both fell asleep.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Fuck what anyone would say. Nothing could be worse than knowing your soulmate was out there and you let him go.

Heart pounding, you type out a text. I miss you.

Shaking your head, you erase it. How are you? Seemed more appropriate.

"Here goes nothing," you murmur and hit send.

**********

 It started off as any other free Sunday did: Charles and Charlotte arriving at his apartment carrying snacks and beer which neither of them would tell their trainers about tomorrow and plopping in front of the television to watch the PSG match.

The trio roared at the screen at poor calls and yelled when a goal was scored, all completely lost in the sport.

Pierre absently registers his phone buzzing during the last few minutes of the match but ignores it. PSG comes out on top and he finally checks it, nearly choking on the pretzels he was eating.

How are you?

Pierre has to read it thrice before he’s convinced it’s real. 

"Holy fuck," he says softly, tipping the phone so Charles can see. 

"Told you mate." He takes Charlotte's hand and stands. Football match completely forgotten, Pierre lifts a hand in a wave as the couple leaves. His eyes are fixed on the screen as he tries to comprehend the gravity your words carry.

After months of waiting in agony and wondering if you still cared, you’d texted him.

He had no idea how he managed to keep his feet on the floor. He was completely weightless, reading your message over and over again until it sinks in.

He takes the three simple words as permission to finally delve back into your life, immediately scrolling through your instagram to catch up. He double taps every post save for the ones with you and some tall, handsome guy. His stomach twists. 

Fuck it. Even if you just wanted to catch up, he'd take it. If you told him you were with someone else and you were happy, he'd learn to live with it. He was starved of you and was prepared to beg for crumbs of your life.

I'm fine. You have time for a phone call?

It was a leap but he acknowledged and accepted the risks.

Yeah. That would be good.

You pick up on the second ring.

"Hey."

Pierre squeezes his eyes shut, pushing back the lump in his throat. Years of memories rush over him in the space of a breath. The shock in your voice when you found out he was a driver for the first time. Your smile and breathless laugh when you met him in the garage in Brazil after his first podium in Formula 1. The tentative glances he had thrown your way for months after he finally accepted that he had begun to fall for you. The way your velvet lips felt when he made a gamble and kissed you for the first time. The drunken lilt of your voice when you told him you loved him that night in London.

Before he can stop it the bad comes rushing back too. The memory of the terror on your face when he let it slip that you were together sends a chill through him. If there was one moment he could change, it wouldn’t be the time he fucked up and lost his seat at Red Bull. It would be to keep his damned mouth shut at that karting track and preserve the bliss of that day and tuck it away in a bulletproof case that he could pull out and look at whenever he wanted.

"Hey you," he manages, silently thanking whoever is listening that he keeps the tremble out of his voice. "Been awhile."

"Yeah," you say sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he says quickly. "You never need to apologize to me."

You were the last one that needed to apologize for anything. He should be the one beginning for forgiveness. It was his fault you’d panicked. He should have fought harder for you, proved that he could make it work and save you both from months of heartache. But then again, maybe you had moved on. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him forever.

He doesn’t realize he’s been silent for so long until you clear your throat. For the first time he can recall, the silence is thick and heavy with unspoken words. It had always been effortless, the stories and words flowing like a babbling brook between the two of you. Now the confessions on his tongue remain poised there, too terrified to give them the light of day. 

"How's your season been?" He’s thankful you break the quiet first but the question makes his stomach sink. 

"You haven't been watching?"

"Not really."

"Oh." It made sense that you would distance yourself from him and that was fine, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. "It's been decent. Red Bull wants me to come to Milton for contract discussions this week, actually."

"You're moving back up?"

"Potentially." Horner had only called him earlier that week to discuss the potential of him returning to Red Bull next year. The informal agreement was that if he could make seventh in the championship in a midfield car, they would bump him back for the following season. 

It wasn’t a concrete guarantee- that’s why Horner wanted to speak with him in person. He had a year left in his contract and being in a Red Bull meant he would be able to prove his worth to other teams and potentially secure a world championship worthy seat at a team that actually appreciated his talent.

He draws a breath before continuing, "I'll be in London on Monday. You know- if you wanna get together."

You stay silent for a touch too long and he panics. It was too soon. He should have kept his mouth shut because now he’d driven you away again. “Nevermind, forget I said anything-"

"No," you interrupt, "no, I'd love to see you and catch up. I don't have classes on Tuesdays. Have any free time then?"

His eyes slide shut and he exhales. The flack he would undoubtedly catch for shuffling around a few interviews would be worth it to see you. "Yeah. I can swing by your apartment around seven?"

"Okay," you say, a touch of excitement lacing your voice. "I'll make myself presentable."

"I-" he stops himself before the words can slip past his lips. "I'll see you then."

*********

Pierre blows out a breath and adjusts his backpack. He stands at the threshold of your building, keys in hand, unsure if he should let himself in. The dilemma had kept him rooted to the spot for nearly ten minutes now, weighing the pros and cons of his options. 

“Hey you, blond fucker.” Pierre whips around and is met by Daniel’s girlfriend glaring up at him from the sidewalk. She tips her head to the side to study him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that had to cancel plans to be here tonight. “You gonna grow a pair and go up there or just keep staring at the door all day?”

“I’m going,” he grumbles, “are you?”

“Oh, I was going to but clearly whatever you have planned is more important.” Her grin splits her face ear to ear. “About damn time she got ahold of you. I was getting sick of listening to her gripe about you twenty four seven.”

“Didn’t she tell you I was coming by? If you guys have plans I can come back later.”

She waves a hand and dismisses the offer. “Absolutely not. Go get your girl.”

“She’s not-” The glare she cuts him snatches the words from his mouth. She makes a shooing motion before setting off down the sidewalk, munching on whatever snacks were in her shopping bag.

Pierre shakes out his hands and tries to gather the courage to use his key. The hopeless romantic argued that you would expect him to use it because you would know he still had it. The rational side of him butts in to point out that it might catch you off guard if he showed up without warning. He settles on buzzing your unit, your answer fuzzy from the distortion.

"Pierre?"

Even with the warbly static in your voice, his name on your lips is the salvation he’s been dreaming about for months. "Yeah it's me."

"Don't you have a key?"

"I wasn't sure if I should use it."

You don't answer, instead letting the buzz of the electronic lock do the talking. He takes the stairs three at a time, barely winded by the time he reaches the third floor. He doesn't even have to knock, your door swinging open as he steps up. The sight of you knocks the breath from his lungs. 

It didn't matter that you were in a simple hoodie and jeans, feet bare and hair swept back in a low bun. You are the most beautiful person he's ever seen and after months apart he nearly falls to his knees then and there to beg for your forgiveness, to get lost in you until two souls became one and he never had to live another second apart from you.

"Are you gonna stand there or do you wanna come in?"

God, he had missed your teasing jabs. His fingers ache for contact with your soft skin and he curls them into a fist to resist the urge. “Coming in,” he says softly, purposefully brushing your arm as he skirts past you. Every inch of him sings from the barely there touch, his soul aching for more.

Just stepping foot into your quaint flat has the weight he had been carrying on his chest for months beginning to ease up. Nothing beat the elation of being back where he belonged, not even spraying champagne from the top step on a podium.

Determined not to scare you off before he could have a proper conversation with you, Pierre opts for falling into the same humor you had used earlier. The corners of his mouth twitch upward. "Is that takeout I smell?" 

You nod, your cheeks turning a pale pink. “I got you two orders of beef lo mein. I figured you might be hungry.”

As if summoned, his stomach growls. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since breakfast."

“Figures,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief as you settle into the plush carpet and pull a takeout box towards you. "I got it from that place across town, the one you liked best." Pierre perches on the edge of the sofa and snags the plastic tray with his name on it, eyes never leaving yours.

Now that you were mere feet from him he found it increasingly difficult to deny himself the relief of kissing you here and now. He wanted to trace his thumb over your lips before replacing it with his own, to slot his mouth over yours until time was nothing and he was no one other than yours.

You clear your throat and drop his gaze first, sending him crashing back to reality. “So, ninth huh? Glad to see you cracked the top ten.”

Pierre scrunches his nose and spears a piece of broccoli. He was shit with chopsticks but you always got a kick out of him fumbling with them. “Not where I’d like to be but I’ll take it. Horner took notice obviously, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I think an invitation to Milton Keynes is enough reason to hope," you say around a mouthful of sticky rice.

This interaction was reason to hope. The fact that you were once again on speaking terms, that things were finally returning to some semblance of normal, was enough for him to believe that one day everything would be back to how it was before. That maybe, just maybe, he could hold you in his arms again and fall asleep to the soundtrack of your heart beating in his ear. 

Remembering the guy from your instagram, he scans the room for any sign of a male companion. Finding none, he asks, “How’s your boyfriend?”

It probably would have been a good idea to go about this particular line of questioning with a bit more tact. Inquiring so blatantly betrayed his inner thoughts, laid all his cards on the table. He didn't have it in him to care, not when his world might be turned upside down by your answer.

“Oh, you mean Peter?” You sip your water, seemingly working up the courage to explain. Each moment that the silence dragged on it became more of a physical monster. Pierre could feel it growing until it threatened to sink his claws in him and drag him deeper into the pits of his insecurity.

“If that’s his name, yeah.” Pierre braces himself for whatever comes next, reminding himself to be happy for you no matter what you choose. It would take time but he could put aside what he still felt for you and learn to accept your choice if it meant staying in your life.

You shake your head. “He’s a friend from uni. He’s not my boyfriend. At least not anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, frowning down at his food to cover the way his heart skips. “But he was?”

He had expected you to move on, if he was being honest. No way in hell did you deserve to be as miserable as he had been since you'd left- you deserved all the happiness he couldn't seem to give you and more. And if someone else had been the one to grant you that happiness, he should thank them. 

“For a little while,” you say softly, like it would cushion the blow. “It didn’t feel right.”

He was familiar with that feeling. Nothing he did felt right after the break up. Just about the only thing that kept him sane was telling himself that you’d come to your senses sooner or later.

And now that he was here, his world was beginning to right itself.

“Earth to Pierre,” you say teasingly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I just- I’ve missed this,” he says, picking at his food.

“What, eating subpar takeout in my tiny apartment?” You laugh and stuff another bite in your mouth. God, you could be so oblivious. It was one of the many things he adored about you. 

“I do. I miss doing anything that involves you, actually.”

There it was. His heart laid bare before you for the second time, waiting to see how you would respond. You set down your chopsticks and wipe your lips. His eyes track their movement as you whisper, “I’ve missed you too.”

Four syllables and he melts. It takes all he has to keep himself from sobbing with relief. It was everything he had come here hoping to hear. He couldn’t endure this again, couldn’t lose you for a second time-

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he pleads, body thrumming with the need to wrap you in his arms. “Don’t put me through this again unless you’re here to stay.”

He wasn't strong enough to tell you to stop. He would let you wreck him and he would be completely powerless to stop it. He would welcome it if it meant you granting him a sliver of your time. It would ruin him for anyone else but he didn’t have it in him to turn you away.

You rise to your feet and pad around the low table until you’re standing knee to knee, his neck craned up to study your face. You just keep looking at him, the leash on his carefully controlled restraint slipping as he rambles, “Because I can’t take it if you leave me again, I won’t-”

You simply nod, as if that’s all the answer he should need. But it’s not enough. “Tell me,” he pleads. “Tell me you mean it.”

He didn’t care that he was begging. He didn’t care that you had reduced his normally impenetrably stoic mentality to a jumble of you. If he was being honest with himself, you were the light of his life, the reason he pushed so hard for results on track. Everything had gone black and white when you left and racing had been the only thing keeping him from falling apart at the seams. The need to make you proud still propelled him forward even if he'd had no idea if you still cared.

So no, he didn’t care at all that he was practically on his knees. He would grovel at your feet for his entire life if it meant you’d grant him one more day to be with you.

“I mean it,” you murmur and place a hand on his cheek. He draws a shaky breath, leaning into you. Home, home, home, his head screams, acutely aware of every square inch of contact between the two of you.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, and I’ve finally come to terms with it- your lifestyle. If I love you, I have to accept it being public. I have to build myself a shelter to withstand the storm, but I’ll make it big enough for two.”

It takes everything in him to keep from crushing you to his chest and never letting go. He had to ask, had to be certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was forever. “Promise me you won’t leave again if things get hard. Promise me we’ll get through whatever they throw at us together.”

“I promise. I’m not afraid anymore,” you murmur. Pierre’s head falls forward to rest on your hip bone, your fingers threading in his hair. “Daniel’s girlfriend helped me see that it doesn’t matter what anyone says. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I haven't been the same since I…”

“Neither have I.” His thumb winds under your shirt to sweep over your soft skin. “You’re safe with me, you know that right? I can protect you from whatever they say and you’re right, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is this-” he finally lets himself look up at you- “what we have. I’ve never stopped loving you, not once.”

Your smile is soft and tentative as you climb into his lap. His hands slide up your sides to pull you closer, refusing to let an inch separate you now that you’d bridged the gap. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. I learned my lesson.”

You lean down to ghost your lips over his brow, his closed eyelids, his nose. He can feel himself reconstructing under your touch, that final piece of the puzzle clicking home after being lost for so long. “I promise that I’m yours until the last star falls from the sky.”

He had lost four months of time with you. He wouldn't allow another second to slip through his fingers. 

Anticipating his movements, you meet him halfway. Fireworks explode as his lips finally return home and his world is finally, finally righted. Your nails scratch lightly at the nape of his neck, drawing him impossibly closer as your body moulds against his. He had nearly forgotten how perfectly your curves fit against him after all this time. He was determined to memorize every mountain and valley of you by the night's end.

His hands grip your thighs and he stands. Your arms automatically wind around his neck to keep from falling. He carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the edge of the island, never breaking the kiss. Nothing mattered outside of this apartment; not his career, not any baseless gossip, nothing existed beyond the space where your skin met his.

Pierre pulls back long enough to remove his shirt. Your fingers dance over his skin, relearning the planes of his chest like you had all the time in the world. And you did; he would stay here as long as you let him, reveling in the way you drank up every inch of his body like it was the first time you’d seen it.

“I love you,” you say as he kisses along your jaw.

How many times had he dreamt of you whispering that to him the past four months? How many times had it echoed in his head before a race, taunting him? He could scarcely believe his mind wasn’t playing more tricks on him now. He had to be certain it was real.

“Say it again,” he breathes. “Please. Please, tell me again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss. “I love you Pierre, my champion, my heart, my everything.”

Pierre groans against your mouth, knotting his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back to expose your throat. He nips at the soft skin, not caring that he was leaving a trail of tiny marks in his wake. His focus was entirely on the gasps he was dragging from you with each touch, your heels digging into his ass and begging for him to be closer.

"My sweet, kindhearted man," you continue breathlessly. He didn't know if the words were for your benefit or his. "My best friend. My one and only love."

In that moment, you could ask him to bring you a star from the midnight sky and he wouldn't stop until he found a way to make it happen. You could ask for his last dollar and he would hand it to you with a smile on his face, completely enthralled with the way his name sounds on your tongue, professing that you still wanted him as much as he wanted you.

You were his undoing.

“Off,” he growls, tugging at your sweatshirt. You obey instantly and fling it aside, neither of you caring when dishes clatter to the tile floor and undoubtedly break. Your jeans follow suit after he helps you slip out of them. He runs his fingers over the delicate black lace of your bra and panties and pauses to appreciate that you knew exactly where the night would lead.

His cock twitches as you reach between your bodies to run a knuckle over his clothed length. “Your turn.” You undo the button with practiced ease, taking your sweet time as his breath comes in ragged gasps. He’d had a taste of you and hadn’t forgotten how you’d felt around him. He needed you more than he needed the air he breathed, his desperation taking over as he swats your hand aside and strips off his jeans and boxers himself.

He drops to his knees and grips your thighs, pulling you forward until your center is inches from his face. The yelp that escapes you is intoxicating, your hands flying back to catch yourself. His teeth sink none too gently into the flesh of your thigh and he’s rewarded with a moan before he flicks his tongue over the hurt.

Your head falls back and Pierre places one of your legs over his shoulder. “Mon amour,” he purrs, garnering your attention. Your head lolls forward and he waits until you meet his gaze to speak again. “You know I love you, right?”

“I never doubted it,” you confirm, lips curling in a smile. “But why don’t you prove it to me again?”

He pulls your panties aside and blows lightly. You groan, thighs tensing under his fingers as your toes curl and he chuckles. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you really want to tease me?”

“What I want,” he says sharply, “is to have you moaning my name until it's the only word you know.” His tongue flicks out to dance over your thigh, dangerously close to where he knows you want him. “What I want is to make up for lost time.” He rips through the thin lace of your panties and lets the ruined scraps fall to the floor.

“Those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

He would buy you an entire lingerie store if he could rip every set of it off you. He didn’t care how much it costed, it was never too much when it came to you.

“What I want most, my love,” he murmurs, smiling when his hot breath curls over your dripping cunt and you squirm, “is to forget everything else and stay here forever.”

You cry out when his tongue finally flicks through your folds. Pierre hums approvingly at your reaction, one arm snaking up to pin your hips in place. He sucks lightly at your clit and your fingers tangle in his hair.

“P-Pierre,” you breathe. He pulls back and you whine at the loss of contact. He grins up at you, the wickedness of it dragging the moan from your lips that he was after. He was drunk on the sound, desperate to hear it again and again.

“There’s my good girl.” He runs his tongue flat over your sex, savoring the taste as you squirm under him. You let out a choked noise when he repeats the motion before fucking you with his tongue, his nose hitting your clit with each stroke.

He doesn’t miss the way your lip wobbles and Pierre knows you’re ready to cry with frustration. He decides he’s tortured you enough for now and relents, putting two fingers in his mouth to wet them before plunging them inside you.

His mouth is spelling his name on your clit a moment later, your walls already clamping down on his fingers as your orgasm nears. In the handful of times he’d taken you to bed, he had already learned that when your head rolls back like that and your breathing stops, you’re seconds away from climaxing. He doesn’t let up until you’re shaking beneath him, finally slowing to work you through your orgasm without making you hypersensitive.

“Baby,” you groan breathlessly. Pierre slowly withdraws his fingers and wipes them on his thigh before pressing a final, tender kiss to your center that makes you jump.

“Use my name,” he demands, uncoiling to his full height. He grips your wrist and hauls your boneless body up, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.

“Pierre,” you murmur and he grinds his hips against you in approval. He captures your mouth with his, taking advantage of your hazy mind to lazily explore it. 

You hum into the kiss, managing to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Suddenly the column of your neck is all he can think about and he wraps a hand around it, squeezing with enough force that you pull back with a gasp.

“Too much?” He murmurs, lessening his grip. Your brows knit together and your lower lips juts out, begging for him to take it between his teeth. He leans in and gives in to the impulse as he swipes his thumb under your jaw.

“Tell me if you want my hand on your throat, my love. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please,” you say finally. Your eyes are cloudy when they meet his. “Keep it there.”

He shows his approval in the form of a light squeeze. You angle your hips up, nudging his cock with your center. You reach a hand down to wrap around his shaft and drag the head through your folds, teasing him as he had done to you. The grip on your throat tightens to a point bordering blissfully between pain and pleasure, both a warning and an order to continue. 

If you knew how close he was to flipping you on your stomach and slamming into you, you’d call him crazy. Or maybe you’d like it, judging by the way your head falls back as he rocks his hips and inches into you.

You both moan when he decides the time for restraint has passed and he slams into you. You lift your hips to meet his with every thrust, clearly missing this just as much as he had. God, he’d lost months of fucking you, of feeling you clench around him and writhe beneath him. If he could stay like this forever he would, his hand around your neck and cock splitting you open as he laps up your moans like sweet candy.

“I’m- Pierre,” you squeak out, and he knows you’re barreling towards your second orgasm of the night. He pulls you up by your neck until you’re eye to eye and forced to look at him.

“Come for me,” he whispers, slamming into you again and again. “Come on my cock mon amour and I might just cum inside you.”

His words are your undoing, pleasure rippling from you in waves as your mouth falls open in a silent plea. He grants you no clemency as your cunt twitches around him, instead following through on his promise and following your lead.

You pants mix with his own as he struggles to keep both of you upright, his knees turned to jelly. Your head rests on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your temple, slowly pulling out of you. A pitiful whimper escapes your throat involuntarily.

“I know,” Pierre murmurs, reaching over to start the kitchen sink. He wets a clean cloth and runs it between your legs, still supporting you as he doesn’t trust that your legs won't give out if he doesn’t. When it’s clear you can barely form a coherent thought, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to your room. He nudges the bathroom door open with his hip and sets you on the vanity.

The absence of his body heat makes you shiver when he goes to turn on the shower, adjusting the knobs until he’s satisfied with the temperature. He gathers you in his arms and steps into the tub, your sigh audible as the warm water hits your skin.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs before kissing your temple. You nod against his chest and he sets you down, keeping his hands on your waist just in case. You’re thankful for it when your knees wobble, a hand flying out to steady yourself.

“I’m okay,” you say after a beat and grin up at him. “I can stand, promise.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m taking my hands off you,” he says, grinning right back. “At least not for long.” He reaches over your shoulder for the shampoo and gestures for you to turn around. You obey, tipping your head back to wet your hair. A blissful sigh escapes you when his fingers meet your scalp, the cherry blossom scent blooming in the air as he works it into a lather.

Taking care of you was just as satisfying as the sex was. He cherished the intimacy of taking this small burden from your shoulders. The seemingly simple task was one of deep seated trust and it proved to him that your love ran bone deep. There was a level of trust in you letting him wash you that he didn't want to have with anyone else. It was reserved for you and you alone.

“Close your eyes,” he warns before guiding your head back under the water for a rinse. He cups a hand to your forehead to keep the soap from your eyes. Your smile is soft but unrestrained as you lean further into him until your back is pressed to his chest.

You both stay silent as he runs the creamy conditioner through the ends of your hair. His hand cups your jaw and tips your head back for a lazy kiss before he rinses that too and cuts the tap.

Once you're wrapped in a fuzzy white towel he finally dries himself off, fighting off a chill. He doesn't realize you're watching him until he turns around and notices you standing in the doorway.

"What?"

You push off the wall and pad back to where he stands to wrap your arms around his middle. His thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, perfectly content to stand there dripping on the tile until morning. 

When it's clear you're lost in thought he speaks up. "What's on your mind?"

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Like the exact moment?" He asks, caught off guard. You nod against his chest.

"When you visited me in Milan last summer," he says a few heartbeats later. That night insisted on making guacamole at two in the morning and woke me up because you couldn't find a lime. You told me you couldn't sleep because it was all you could think about after you saw that couple at the cafe eating it."

"Why then?"

"Because I knew I didn't have a lime but I was fully prepared to knock on every door in the building to find you one. Because in that moment all that mattered was seeing your face light up when I handed it to you and knowing that it was me that made you smile like that. I knew then that I’d do anything for you."

It still amazed him how a lime of all things was the tipping point. In that moment, a lime was important to you and it so naturally became important to him. If anyone else had woken him from his deep sleep he would have grumbled and told them off. But you, seeing your face inches from his, the light from the hall casting a warm halo around your frame as you whispered his name, he hadn’t cared at all.

"But then I found the juice in the fridge," you recall and glance up at him.

"Yeah, you did. And you felt so bad for waking me up- you had no idea that I had already fallen so hard that I had to keep myself from shutting you up with a kiss.”

The easy admission seems to stir something in you and you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “I knew that time you sent food to my dorm at midnight when I was pulling an all nighter. I was studying for my calculus final, remember?”

Pierre nods. “I was in Barcelona. You weren’t answering your phone so I sent a message with the takeout guy.” He had been wholly enamored with you at that point, having quickly learned that trying to keep his feelings buried deep was an option that would never work. So he leaned into it, letting little bits of it shine through in hopes that you might pick up on it.

Your laugh rumbles through him. “It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. I hadn’t eaten all day. I was too nervous.”

“Took us long enough to figure it out didn’t it?” He untangles himself from you and leads you to bed.

“I’m just glad we did eventually.” You let him guide you to the mattress while he stays standing and goes to your closet. He hunts for the shirt he wants to see you in, praying you hadn’t gotten rid of it. He finally finds it tucked back in the corner and pulls it out, the cobalt blue fabric a little faded from how often you’d worn it over the years.

“I remember that,” you say softly as he returns with it and slips it over your head. 

It was the first shirt he had ever gotten upon entering Formula 1 and somehow you had wound up snagging it from his closet while he cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during that same trip to Milan. He had choked on his guac when you reappeared wearing it, eyes lingering on the Torro Rosso logo on the chest and his name splayed across your back like a claiming.

"I don't have sweatpants for you anymore," you point out with an apologetic wince. "I got rid of them."

Pierre just shrugs and hands you the shirt. "I have a change of clothes in my backpack. I was planning on working out to blow off some steam if…"

He trails off and you nod in silent acknowledgement. He didn’t have to voice the thought, you were already in his head and knew exactly what he meant. Unable to help himself, he kisses your head just because he can before retrieving his bag from the kitchen. "I have something for you," he says and lets the towel around his waist drop.

You let out a low whistle and grin at him as your eyes slide over every inch of his body. He takes more time than necessary to pull out his shorts, appreciating your gaze. You're still watching him as he slips them on and brings his bag to you.

"Do you wanna see what I got you or are you gonna stare at me all night?"

"I think I'll stare."

Pierre rolls his eyes and chuckles, plopping down next to you. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

You do as he asks but not before cocking a brow at him. Knowing the sound of the package will give it away, he does his best to draw out the first item as quietly as he can. The second he sets it in your hands a smile splits your face. He'd tear down the energy station with his bare hands to keep that expression on your face.

"It's candy." Your eyes open and you gasp. "Laffy taffy? But you can only get this-"

"In the states," He finishes. “I got as much as the store had.” The chewy, fruity candy was your absolute favorite and every once in a while you craved it. His backpack was currently stuffed full of it and various other packages of sweets, having been collected at every gp he had been to since Austin.

You tear into the package and dig for a pink one. You hold it out to him triumphantly and somehow, it’s that simple gesture that makes him melt. “You like the strawberry ones don’t you?”

“Yes baby, I do.” He lets you pop the sweet in his mouth - Pyry would certainly not approve- and grins at you. “If you eat too many before bed you won’t be able to sleep.”

“It’s still early,” you point out but don’t hesitate to set the sweets aside and cuddle up to him when he lays back. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I have to be at Milton by eight,” he says, wrapping an arm around your middle. “But you’re coming with me.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @ricciartodododo​ 

If you have asked to be tagged in the past and I missed you I apologize! Just comment below and I’ll get you added for future updates. Thanks for reading ❤

[someonewhowannadielol]

What is Love?

Requested by @sassysaxsolo​

Pairing: BadBoy!JK x Innocent!Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warning: Dirty talk, degrading, oral sex (m and f receiving), pussy slapping, exhibitionism (??). Oh god this has like 4 smut scenes in it, it's nothing but porn bye

Summary: Jungkook has a degrading kink. Y/N doesn’t seem to like it. Also, JK is bad at this entire love thing but totally whipped for the girl of his dreams.

WordCount: 3.6k

A/N: The first scene is inspired by Hunter and Amy from “Hot Summer Night,” because it’s such a cute couple! P.S this might not be my best work because I wrote it at 3AM, so :( sry

You wouldn’t exactly call your boyfriend mean by any chances, but it doesn’t mean he was the nicest person you’ve ever met either. Sometimes you look at other people, like Hoseok, or Jimin, they could most definitely keep you happy – and speak to you like you’re an actual human when you both fuck.

You still remember the first time Jeon Jungkook had ever well, noticed you.

“-and then they both crashed into each other!” your friend was telling this story for the nth time, and you paying your 101% undivided attention to your fries sitting in front of you, basically drowning in ketchup, while trying to ignore the eyes that bore in the back of your head.

It was the last day of your exams as a sophomore in high school, and just like everyone else in town, you’d gone to the diner you always went to, at the end of 15thStreet Avn. Everyone and their mom had decided to come, so it was really busy, you literally had to speak loud to your friends, sitting just across you.

Fifteen minutes ago, Jeon Jungkook had walked into a diner and chose the place that gave the perfect view of you from the back.

Seven minutes ago, your friends had noticed that he was – shamelessly – staring at you, strawberry milkshake in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. When you tried to look back, his eyes didn’t even flinch when they made contact with yours. On top of it, he winked at you. It was weirdly strange, yet made you feel all giddy inside.

What. The. Fuck. It was a well-known fact that girls would actually die to have one date with Jungkook, willing to get plastic surgeries, buying the most expensive clothes, and even leaving gifts in his locker at school. So why was here he here, in this lame-ass diner? And that too, wasting time while staring at you? He clearly didn’t even take a sip of his beverage.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, he’s so totally staring at you,” your best friend from across the booth said, while pretending to look at her nails.

“He’s so hot, I would totally take a bite,” your other friend says while taking a bite of her burger.

“Yuck!” you exclaim, as you can’t help but laugh at the thought of it. You had a certain laugh, especially when you were sitting around with your friends – it wasn’t that loud, but your eyes would bunch up as you would unconsciously bring your hand up to your mouth, and would throw your head back.

You dare to look back at him again, but this time you see his coming towards you, while taking a puff from his half smoked cigarette. You immediately turn your head back, so quick that you feared you’d broken your neck.

You look at your friends adjust their hair and posture when they see him coming towards your booth, and you can’t help but play with the hem of your sleeve, biting your lip. He stands across you, leaning on the booth in front of yours, swirling his straw so the whipped cream becomes one with the milkshake.

As soon as he makes eye contact with you, you just freak out and amidst that panic, you blurt out, “I have a boyfriend.”

He looks back at you and smirks, oh God, he looks so, so amazing. This year, he’s grown out his hair, so the waves were sprawled against his forehead, and he pushed it back with his hand after placing the milkshake next to you. He’s the pitch perfect image of a fuckboy; leather jacket, a motorbike, tattoos (even though he’s totally not 18 years old yet), and the lingering scent of cigarettes.

“Nah, no, you don’t,” he takes another puff of his cigarette, “but if you don’t stop being so fucking cute, you will,”

You chuckle, thinking he’s pranking you, thinking it’s just a joke him and his stupid friends had planned out to humiliate you publicly, “You don’t know the first thing about me,” you say as you dip a fry in ketchup.

“I know you like ketchup,” he says, before taking a sip from his milkshake.

That was also the day when Jeon Jungkook had officially asked you out.

-

When you’d spent the entire summer with him, you got to realize one thing about him, he loved to degrade you while having sex. Sure, it was fun the first few times – but after that, words like “slut,” and “whore,” had started making you feel like one.

It was obvious that to you that you weren’t his first priority; football and his friends were always going to be before you. You still remember he was less than enthusiastic when you told him about the art gallery you’d host after working on your still life pieces for two years.

But in reality, everyone on the team knew he was head over heels for Y/N, he had quitted smoking right after he heard you cough, he’s started wearing a helmet whenever he rode his bike, and even let you decorate it with your frilly stickers. He would always, always go out of his way to get a fresh pack of chocolate milk for you, because you once mentioned that your dad doesn’t let you drink it because it’s unhealthy.

“Here, babe,” he says tossing you your daily supply of chocolate milk.

“Hey, remember when I told you about the art gallery I was preparing for?” you said, but it seemed like he was more interesting in scrolling Instagram on his iPhone, “um, because I have to go to art school,”

“Yeah, what about it?” he said, pecking your cheek as he got up for class.

“Well, it’s on the 28thof October, that’s next week,” you say before taking a sip of the milk he got you.

He waited a minute before speaking anything, and you wished, you wished deep in your heart so sincerely that he wouldn’t come up with an excuse.

“You know Jake’s birthday is that day, right? Can’t you reschedule it?” he said, looking down, adjusting his leather jacket.

You felt as if someone was stomping on your chest, it was getting harder to swallow the milk in your mouth, and it didn’t taste like the too sugary drink it was – instead it felt like you were swallowing poison. He surely remembered your rants about how it was so hard to rent a place in that gallery right? Or how it took you three months to manage to snag it for a couple of hours? Or how it took you two years to compile your best art pieces?

“B-but I don’t think I can do that, I barely got to rent the place an-and I- “

“Babe, I don’t think I can make it. The boys and I are going out to the city,” he said, tilting his head.

He didn’t wait for your reply, already walking down the hallway, leaving you heartbroken.

On 28thOctober, you met all the professional people you had dreamed of meeting, it was an honor, especially since you were just a Junior in high school. But, you never saw the face you wanted to see. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest when the exhibition finally finished, and you had to close the gallery.

That night, around 1AM, Jungkook broke into your room through your window how he usually did, only this time he had a bouquet of roses in his right hand, and red eyes.  When he noticed your tear stricken eyes and smudged mascara, he didn’t think twice before throwing the flowers on your bed and hugging you hard. Then, when he was so close, you noticed that he reeked of alcohol and weed. But it was fine.

He spent the night trying to make you laugh by reciting jokes he was forced to listen from Seokjin, and trying to make up for not being there. He cuddled you, putting your head under his chin, your body resting on his chest. It felt like home, when you would be with him, alone.

“How did it go?” he asks, nuzzling his face in your neck, peppering kisses there.

“It went amazing, I got a lot of good critique from artists and college professors,” you say, running your hands through his hair, you still missed his long hair that he cut last week, but it was way softer now,

“I missed you,” you say as he hummed.

He loved how you were like an open book, not like the girls he had been with before. You wore dresses – which he loved, because easier access – and you had long, virgin hair. He loved how untouched you were, innocent, pure and uncorrupted. He loved the little chub on your cheeks, he loved your pillow soft breasts, he loved how you always tasted like strawberries because of your chap stick. He loved virtuous you were. His to taint.

“I’m here, baby, and to make up for it, we’ll go to that café you always wanted to go to, my treat for being the best girlfriend,” he mumbled in your ear before taking off your dress and peppering kisses all over your body.

Of course, your mood had evidently changed, “Okay, you goofball,” you laugh as he tickles you.

“Baby, even if everything is wrong, it’s always going to be alright, and you know why?” he says as he kisses you on the lips. It was a chaste kiss, a huge contrast from his usual drunk kisses, they seem to be more chaste, more genuine, “you’re the only good thing in my life,”

You forgive him, like every other time.

You also toss him out the window before 6AM, before your father catches you with a boy. And that too, Jeon Jungkook. He’d probably kill you. It reminded you of the time when Jungkook decided to eat you out, on a weekday, on your bed, with your room unlocked.

It was no surprise when you found out that he was especially skilled with his tongue, not that any boy had ever even touched you there. You fought your moans, because your dad was literally downstairs watching his daily 9pm news. You knew he’d check up on you at 9.30 PM to ensure that you were studying for the SAT.

But here you were, your face stuffed with your own panties as the taste of your cum took over your tongue, it was a little embarrassing for you to taste yourself, but you paid more attention to the brown haired man between your legs. He’d mutter the same obscene words that used to give you the pleasure you needed at first, but soon became insecure of.

“You like that, dirty slut?” you mewled as he worked his tongue on your clit, adding another finger to the previous one inside of you. His two fingers did more than what you could do with your entire hand, the long slender fingers were now knuckle deep inside of you, doing wonders to your body.

“You’re such a whore, moaning here like a bitch in heat, when everyone thinking you’re an angel, huh,” he says as his fingers thrust in and out of you, lewd noises filling your small room.

You felt your blood run cold, when you could hear your dad’s footsteps on the stairs. Fuck.

“Three. You have three seconds to cum, or forget about it,” he said looking your straight in the eye, his fingers working faster than ever.

You could feel yourself pent up, your walls clenching down on his fingers.

“Two,” he said, attacking your bud with his tongue, a circling pattern, making you shake.

Before he could say ‘one,’ you were cumming, all over his fingers, your thighs and your sheets.

Jungkook chuckled, “Fucking whore,” before jumping out of your window in time, just a second before your dad came in your room. You were under the blanket, your panties under the bed, and your pride out of the window.

As you excused your flush face as a small fever, you couldn’t help but feel a weird twist in your stomach. You didn’t exactly like the way you felt.

You had avoided Jungkook as much as you could the next week, but he didn’t exactly notice because recently the football team had been putting in more hours to prepare for the nationals. He’d still slipped loving notes in your locker, and strapped a red rose on Thursday as well, that made your heart flutter.

The next time you met him was on the bus, on your way home.  

He could’ve rode his bike to his home, but he wasn’t born yesterday, he knew something was up with you when you didn’t respond to any of his messages, and didn’t even acknowledge him in your English class.

The was bus was packed, to say the least, as he followed you as you went to the tail of the vehicle, excusing people. The next stop had more people stepping in here, and he was even more pressed towards you.

You instantly regretted wearing the tennis skirt you wore yesterday, because it was short short, and also thin. You no longer had an excuse to avoid your boyfriend as you felt him press up against your back, you could feel his bulge on your butt.

You tried to look back up at him, but whimpered when you saw the animalistic look in his eyes, and the way he towered over you wasn’t helping either. You sucked in a breath when you felt his finger hitch up, and up, and up, until it was so, so near your panties as he circled your inner thigh with his thumb. He could notice how you were hyper-aware of the surroundings, as if people could see everything that was happening, everyone could see how your boyfriend was basically fingering you on the bus.

“Do you wanna do this?” you heard Jungkook whisper in your ear, and truth be told, you had missed him, the feeling of his dick, his fingers, that you needed him, and you needed him now.

You nodded, and just as soon, you heard him chuckle, “You really are a dirty slut huh?” he said as he slapped between your thighs, making your knees buckle.

With one hand, he held the handle above so he would stay balanced, but with the other one, he steadied your hips, grinding his hips against you. You almost felt embarrassed by how aroused you were, and how quick you were wet. Seconds later, you could feel his fingers separate your folds, “Spread your legs, whore.”

As you spread them, you finally noticed how many people were actually here, and how to the untrained eye it just looked like he was hugging you, but his fingers were now scissoring inside you, stretching you.

You could feel him taking his cock out of his sweatpants, brush it in your folds. You were always so sensitive, the smallest of touches against your clit would make you cry out and moan, so it was no surprise that you let out some noises as his cock entered in you.

“Make one more noise, and I won’t be scared to fuck you senseless in front of all these people,” he whispered in your ear again, this time rocking his hips into you.

“Such a slut, huh? Tell me you’re a slut,” he said, and when he noticed that you didn’t do as he said, he completely stopped all movements. You couldn’t thin straight with his dick sitting inside of you, you needed to get off, and this neediness of yours made you want to crawl into a grave and die.

“I- I’m a slut,” you whispered, and Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to heard that, if he wasn’t basically glued to you.

“S-say it again,” he stuttered and you could feel the both of you coming closer.

“I’m a slut! I’m a whore for you, Jungkook,” you whispered, as you felt yourself cum. As for him, instead of cumming in you, like you thought he would, he took himself out, and jerked off in your panties. The feeling of his cum against your soaked panties was lecherous to say the least, you could feel your panties stick to your clit, almost as a reminder of the disgusting deed you’d just done.

“Keep those on until you get home, such a fucking bitch, fucking her boyfriend in a bus,” Jungkook whispered in your ear, and stepped off the bus after slapping your ass.

And you were left alone again, thinking if you really were the slut he made you out to be.

Your next interaction with Jungkook had been next week, when you both had decided to do the English homework together, at his house. While you spent at least two hours, researching on the topic, Jungkook had simply bullshitted the entire essay in half an hour. Sigh, this is why he was failing. As you were left on his bed, completing the essay, he sat on the other end, gaming with Taehyung and some random boy through his PlayStation party.

Finally, another two hours later, you were done with the horrid essay and were desperately craving your loving and adoring boyfriend’s attention.

“Jungkook,” you tried to get his attention, but didn’t even turn around to look at you. You continued to annoy him, “Kookieee,”

Suddenly, you saw a blast on the screen, as Jungkook slammed his controller on the floor.

He muted his mic before speaking, “You just don’t wanna be a good girl for me today, huh?” At this point, you straddled his lap. He picked you up without a glimpse of hesitation, settling you between his legs, as he took out his cock.

“Suck me, and be quiet about it, unless you want Tae to hear what a desperate bitch you are,” he says, and you’re left to suck him. Jungkook definitely wasn’t small, not even close. In fact, when hard, he was bigger than you had expected dicks to be. So, 4 rounds of battle later, your jaw had started to ache, and you couldn’t help but cry out an elicit moan, forgetting Tae could hear everything.

Jungkook turns off his gaming station as soon as he hears you, “I think I told you to shut the fuck up, but you’re just too fucking stupid to understand,” he says as he harshly picks you up by your ponytail.

“I’m gonna fuck you, gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be nothing but a dumb bitch hungry for cock,” he says as he thrashes you on the bed, stretching you out with his fingers.

Before adjusting his dick, and putting it in front of your entrance, he slaps your cunt, “that’s for fucking my game night, you bitch,” and he enters you, rough and fast.

He pushed his hair back, it’s been growing again, as he looks at you with his doe eyes again, this time they’re a shade darker. This turns you on, as you let out a whimper, “Jungkook c-close,”

“Cream yourself on my dick, go on, my dumb baby,” he chuckles, before increasing his speed, the sound of skin slapping filling the silence of the room, “Such a desperate cock slut, you can’t get off with me, huh?”

Moments later, when you both cum simultaneously, he lays down next to you and stares at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking of?” he asks, minutes after your silence. This time, he’s not harsh, but instead you’re surprised by his loving tone.

“Just thinking if you love me or not,” you mumble, closing your eyes, missing the surprised look on his face, eyes wide open, jaw ajar.

“Wha- Baby, of course I love you,” he stutters on his words, not knowing what to say. What had made you believe that he wasn’t head over heels in love with you?

“I just… I don’t know, I don’t like it when you call me names,” you explain already feeling embarrassed at being such a prude.

“Baby girl,” he sits up, and kisses your cheek, “you should’ve told me, I- I’m sorry,”

Jungkook looked like a hurt puppy, his eyes downcast, as he fiddled with his fingers. The next week, he had spent making sure you felt like the Princess you were, his Princess. Obviously, you had noticed his behavior, bringing a donut along with the chocolate milk, ditching football practice to meet you, kissing your hands every time he met you, peppering you with kisses.

“Kook, you don’t have to do this,” you exclaimed when he took you to see the beach, two hours away from the town.

“I just my Baby to know that I love her, and I want her to be happy,” he says, and for the first time, you feel like you’re free. You’re free when you’re with him and you love it.

You’re always happy with him. You loved his sloppy kisses, his shit eating grin when his fingers made you cum, his habit of bringing you chocolate milk every day, his scent which was a mixture of cologne and cigarettes, his hoarse voice after he wakes up. You knew no matter how much he accidentally hurt you, he loved you too.

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[flipomatic]

A New World Chapter 1 - The Usual Place

Summary: With all five of them at the table like this, it felt like nothing had changed. Of course, Lisa knew that wasn’t true. Just for a moment though, just for tonight, she indulged herself.

Or

After graduation, most of Roselia went on to university. The band continued on, reaching for the top. A series of stories chronicling their journey along the way.

__________________________________________________________

Author Note: This is a project I outlined last year, but didn’t start working on until now. Welcome, and I hope you enjoy the journey!

This fic will be a series of self-contained, connected stories.

____________________________________________________________

For the last few months, Lisa felt like she was watching the world pass by in slow motion. Each day felt longer than the last. Studying for entrance exams and applying to universities had absorbed her time, pulling her away from dance and Roselia. Rinko, Sayo, and Yukina had been just as busy, all working towards their own goals.

For the third-year members of the band, Roselia had to be put on hold. They cancelled practices, a solution they all disliked. It was only temporarily, as they prepared for the next phase of their lives, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant.

Lisa still practiced on her own to stay sharp, as the others would too. Roselia was still far from the top, and she would need to be the best bassist she could to get them there.

Unfortunately, there hadn’t been much time to practice. There were always more practice questions to do, more information to cram inside her brain, and more paperwork to be done.

Finally, that ended today.

A few hours earlier, when the sun was still high in the sky, Lisa had graduated from Haneoka. Along with Yukina and the rest of her classmates, she’d been granted her diploma. It had felt unreal, even as the ceremony ended. High school was over, and soon the next phase of her life would begin.

After the ceremony, Lisa left the school for the last time and celebrated with her family. It was nice, spending time with them. She’d been too busy over the last few months, missing out on time with her family in addition to the band.

Later, Lisa left the house. She had promised to be somewhere. It was close enough to walk.

As Lisa checked the time on her phone, 7:55 pm, the flow of time finally returned to normal. She scrolled back up the group text, verifying that the others all agreed to the time.

A cool breeze swept by, the brief chill reminding Lisa that it was still early spring. The family restaurant was ahead of her, the same one Roselia often met at. She peered through the windows, but didn’t spot any of her bandmates. The restaurant had only a few patrons, which was typical for this time of day.

She must’ve been first, Lisa thought as she entered the building. She greeted the staff politely before claiming a booth off to the side. It was close enough to the door that she’d be easy to spot.

With her phone face up on the table, Lisa waited for the others. She cast her eyes towards the window, but they were unfocused. She wasn’t looking out.

No, instead Lisa was lost in her own thoughts.

As of today, she was no longer a high school student. Now she was a university student, at the University of Tokyo. Her hard work studying had paid off when she was admitted to their general studies program.

This degree would open a lot of doors for her if she succeeded. It had a wide variety of topics to prepare her for the working world. The program was going to be a lot of work, but Lisa was up to the task. If she could handle keeping up with Roselia, she could handle attending university.

The university was close enough to commute by train, though it would take a while to get there each day. That was fine, as long as Lisa could stay near the band. She couldn’t imagine living far away from Yukina, not seeing her often.

“Imai-san.” Sayo appeared at the side of the table, with her usual curt greeting. She sat down across from Lisa. Now it was 7:57.

“Hey Sayo.” Lisa smiled warmly back at her. “How was graduation?” Hanasakigawa had their ceremony on the same day.

The corner of Sayo’s lip lifted. “Quite pleasant, Hina gave a wonderful speech.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Sayo had plans for after high school as well. Soon she would be starting at Tokyo College of Music, studying electric guitar composition. When Lisa had asked her why composition, Sayo said she wanted to develop her own music. “Did you take a video?”

A minute later, barely enough time for Sayo to send Lisa the recording, Yukina arrived. She sat next to Lisa with just a nod, sliding in to sit close to her.

Yukina would be attending the Tokyo University of Arts, studying vocals. Lisa had been watching her sing for years, following in the path her vocals led. She would fully support Yukina in this as well.

At 8:00, just two minutes later, Ako and Rinko loudly approached. “Congratulations!” Ako called as she practically skipped up and sat down.

Rinko trailed after her with a much quieter, “Good evening,” as she took the last spot next to Ako. Rinko planned to attend the same university as Sayo, studying piano. She had confessed hesitation to join the program, but still enrolled in it.

Ako was going to be a second year in high school, still at Haneoka. She had committed to raising her grades and staying on top of her studying even though the rest of the band had graduated.

With all five of them at the table like this, it felt like nothing had changed.

Of course, Lisa knew that wasn’t true. Just for a moment though, just for tonight, she indulged herself.

They ordered a plate of fries for the table, the same as usual.

“Next week we will resume regular band practice.” Yukina, not one for small talk, went right to the topic at hand. “Lisa, what days do we have reserved?”

“Uh, one second I’ll check.” Lisa picked her phone up, before swiping it open and tapping on the calendar. “Tuesday and Thursday from 3:00 to 6:00.” It was a pretty light schedule, but it was the first week back after graduation and Lisa hadn’t wanted to overdo it.

“Can we add one on Saturday?” Sayo asked, a slight frown set on her face.

Lisa nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” She jotted down a note to call the studio tomorrow.

“I’m so excited to get back to practicing!” Ako hit her fingers against the table as if mock drumming. “I’ve been practicing a super cool drumstick toss.”

“I-it’s very impressive.” Rinko added, she must’ve seen the move already.

Sayo was less easily impressed. “Does it enhance your playing?” She asked, bringing her hands together on the table.

Ako’s toothy grin faltered. “It’s part of my image!” She countered, undeterred by the criticism.

“I’m interested in seeing it.” Lisa cut in, which brought Ako’s smile back in full force.

“It will help us reach the top.” Yukina, who had been listening calmly, interjected. “That is Roselia’s goal.” She spoke levelly as usual, with only slight inflections portraying her emotions. Lisa was used to parsing her words, to listening for those hints.

“Exactly!” Ako harumphed at Sayo, having won the debate.

The arrival of the fries changed the topic, switching to talk about the kinds of snacks they would bring to practice next week. Lisa was going to make a whole batch of cookies, to commemorate resuming rehearsal. Sayo offered to help, so they planned to meet up in a couple days.

The group discussed what songs they needed to rehearse. Some of their newer music was still rough, and taking a break like this hadn’t made it any easier. Sayo had put together a list ahead of time, which she read aloud to the group.

Lisa jotted the songs down on the calendar, so she would know which songs would be rehearsed when. She needed to practice a lot before then, to make sure she could keep up.

The conversation drifted to university, to the studies each of them was about to embark on. Ako listened to them with stars in her eyes.

Soon, the plate of fries was empty. It was time to go home.

The five walked together at first, headed in the same direction. They then split into their usual groups. Sayo split off to go home alone, then Rinko and Ako turned together.

This left Yukina and Lisa, walking the last stretch side by side.

The sun had long set, leaving the moon rising in the distance. The night was mostly clear, with only a few whisps of clouds. The stars were hard to see from under the streetlamps; only the brightest were visible.

Yukina’s hand, dangling by her side as she walked, was only a few inches away.

Lisa wondered what would happen if she took it. If she crossed that wide, gaping space, and intertwined their fingers together. How would Yukina react? With a blush and a smile? Or with rejection?

It was only a few inches, less than half a foot, but it felt impossible. That space was filled with years of friendship, pain, hardship, triumph, and longing. There was no room for Lisa’s hand, no room for her feelings.

As much as she wanted to reach over, here at this new starting point, she didn’t want things to change.

Lisa glanced up from Yukina’s hand, only to find two golden eyes locked on her.

“What’s wrong?” Yukina asked, her voice having risen with concern.

Lisa shook her head, forcing her lips up into a smile. “Nothing, just thinking.” She spun a story, built on the same lie she’d been telling herself for years. “Maybe we should write a new song, since the band is practicing again.”

“That’s a good idea.” Yukina seemed placated, as she now looked thoughtful.

The two discussed the topic as they walked home, through the dark evening light. There was much to do to prepare for rehearsal, and no time to waste.

The hours and days passed by, at their usual pace.

Despite Lisa’s wishes, somehow both slowly and all at once the wheels of change started to turn.

Next Chapter

[inkheart01]

Escape from the Stars

Prologue (1/??)

Life was simple when they were just kids worrying about exams and homework and that cute date next week, it was easy when finals and work were the most pressing matters, when worrying about that math test you crammed for was eating at you like an illness. But now they're fighting for their lives and every moment could be there last. 

It wasn't supposed to be this way, it was just supposed to be another summer, another camp. It was supposed to be fun, a way to de-stress, a getaway from life's worries, even for a week. But life rarely likes to make things easy.

So i thought i would stick this up here seeing as i’ve put it up almost everywhere else and love talking about this. Ask me anything about EFTS and i will give you an essay. These guys have one braincell between the lot of them and its permanently on vacation. Please send them help.

Cold, harsh rain lashed against the imposing concrete building, forcing any who had dared be outside to turn back and head for shelter. Lightning split the sky, brilliant and bright enough to see the array of radar dishes spanning far into the horizon over the dusty earth.

Turning away from the windows and to the inhabitants of the building, scurrying around frantically in their pristine lab coats, clutching their clipboards and shouting orders, he clicked, the sound losing itself amid the chaos. Truly an overreaction for the fierce storm outside. They were perfectly safe in the building.

Perfectly safe…

“Jade, let’s go!” “Mum! Where's my passport?” “What!” “My passport! I can't find it!” “Did you check my bag?” “...thanks!”

The spindly form slinking through the shadows stopped, humming silently. Perhaps they weren't afraid of the storm, but what it could conceal. He had certainly used it for his gain, if the wreck outside had anything to say.

Another hum was followed by a mechanical hiss and a sharp inhale. These small creatures couldn’t help him if they were panicked out of their minds.

Slipping silently down the hall and into a dark room, the creature allowed a smile to pass his usually emotionless composure, needle teeth glinting like ivory. Here was the vent opening he was looking for, at just the right height for him to get into the air filtration system. He lowered the hologram that camouflages him with his surroundings as he reached for the metal grate.

“Of course I’m on my way...what, no. The bus will be here any second...I told you-oh. Give me a second...yeah. Ian!” “Hey Rochelle, Have you seen Adam? “Yeah, I’m on a call with him, his mums driving him to the station.” “Thanks. He wasn't answering me and I got worried.”

Nimble fingers slipped into the gaps before a scream split his composure. With a growl, he covered his ringing ear and whipped towards the scientist. 

They were backed against a wall, shaking like a leaf behind a purple clipboard as he ripped the cover off. The human trembled as they adjusted the glasses slipping down their nose, wide eyes never leaving him.

Moving slowly, he dropped the grate as he approached the petrified scientist, a thin wisp of blue leaving his maw to pool on the ground like fog.

As he leant down, ruby eyes casting a soft glow on their face, the scientist’s body-wracking trembles slowly stopped, leaving them swaying and yawning, and with eyes wide in even more terror. He briefly wondered if he had used too much, and then they went limp.

“Pocket knife?” “Check.” “Taser?” “Check.” “Walkie-talkie?” “Check. We’ve gone through this half a dozen times. I have everything.” “Calle, you know we worry.”

He swore and wrapped one of his thin sets of arms around the body that moved bonelessly. Guilt slowly seized control of him, because next time he would need to be far more careful. Arms still around them, he cleared the desk hidden in the dark and positioned the scientist on the chair, draping them over the table.

Once he deemed it an acceptable, albeit not desirable, sleeping position, he returned to the vent. Too much time had been wasted on this lone scientist. 

With a grunt, he slithered in, slim limbs pulling and pushing him through. He had a layout of the vent system, but everything was much different when inside. Taking a left, he hoped he was going the right way as a fork in the path came up. 

Not five minutes later and he was pretty certain that he was lost. Every turn looked the same and the map he had memorised was just turning into a jumble of lines. He was seconds away from cursing out every god he knew when a small breeze brushed softly against his face.

Oh. There we go.

‘Come on, Jade. The plane leaves in two hours!’ ‘I’ll be there, Jemma. I promise. Traffic’s just a pain.’ ‘I told you to take the train with me to avoid this.’ ‘Mum insisted’ “My baby’s all grown up!” ‘Oh...well...just hurry. Please?’

Breathing deeply, a wisp of soft blue left his mouth again, muddling in with the filtered air and staining the metal. It travelled quickly, spinning and dancing through the heavier air, joined by more and more strands until the vent was nothing but blue.

Slowly, ever so agonisingly slowly, the screams died down, leaving an eerie and suffocating silence that closed in like a wet blanket.

As he crawled back through the vents, he wondered if, again, it had been too much. He knew he had restrained himself this time. He knew. But Humans were fragile, their bodies so easily breakable and their self-destructive tendencies could have made them even weaker. 

Surely not, he rationalised, he had been careful, using much less and being oh so picky with the intent. He had intended to calm them down, and unlike the first time, there was no trace of drowsiness in his intent.

They were so terrifyingly fragile. And so completely at his mercy. For any of his kind, the amount would barely be enough for their emotions to calm. And yet. And yet on a human, they were oh so delicate. 

“Anna, anything we need?” “Nope. Last month's stock up is more than enough.” “Good. River, anything we should know?” “No boss. All the money is sorted.” “Don't take any this time. Sam, is the gear ready?” “Of course. I cleaned it all yesterday.” “Anika, Dan. Is everything planned?” “Naturally. We have everything sorted.” “Let’s keep them entertained, shall we. Emily, how’s the hideout?” “Andy made strawberry cake!”

Nearing an exit, he pushed his thoughts deep down, turning his focus instead on the cover he had to get through. It was easier than the last, considering the bodies slumped in the hall, yawning and engulfed in blue.

As he slipped silently from the vents, wincing at the harsh red light and silent alarm that blared through the building, he noticed quite a few of the dazed scientists would gasp weakly, struggling to get their tired bodies to respond enough to escape his presence. It was a futile endeavour, but a few did manage to flop onto the cold tile. Perhaps some could withstand his particular set of skills, he would need to look into it more. If he planned to stay. 

He hummed as he stepped carefully over the unresponsive forms, ever so sweetly moving through the halls. The room he needed was closer to the other side of the complex.

“Quick! We have to leave now!” “This is a bad idea. Arlajullian’s going to kill you.” “Well, I’ll deal with her when she catches on.” “Milkanaheilm!” “Shush, they’ll hear you!” “Like there not going to hear us leave.”

Moving through hallway after hallway with barely any noise, it wasn’t long before he reached his destination. The communications room was like another dimension, dark and vibrant with a red glow amid buttons and screens, his glowing blue mist staining the floor. It was thinner here, not so much the opaque fog, but more like thin wafts of a dying campfire.

A soft groan pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see one of the rooms only other inhabitants pulling themselves up against one of the consoles, reaching desperately for a large button.

Humming, the creature moved quickly to the human’s side, lifting their thrashing body out of the fog. 

“I’m warning you”, he spoke, language broken and voice as soft as he could get, “Prepare. Your kind’s in danger”

[jamiebluewind]

Why I'm So Good At Angst

Why The Latest Episode Of Fantasy High Effected Me So Much

I got pretty emotional after the last episode and when combined with recovering from bronchitis... it wasn't a fun night. I decided to write down a bit of my history to help and then I decided to post it because... well who knows? I just felt like it. Let me make it clear; I am okay. I am going to therapy. I moved 1300 miles away from these people. Most of this was years ago. There is NO reason to treat me differently because of this. But it's dark and PTSD is a bitch sometimes. So here are the crib notes on why I'm so good at writing angst. Trigger warnings abound.

Tw: child abuse, neglect, starvation, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, insults, controling, isolation, sexism, racism, homophobia, biphobia, gross imagery, sickness, mention of surgery without consent, dark themes, blood mention, rape mention, death mention, suicide survival mention, animal abuse mention, very minor spider mention (tell me if I missed any!)

Let's start at the beginning. I was born a "mistake". My mother wanted a kid, so she went off birth control and got pregnant. They were late 20/early 30s, VERY broke, not equipped to have a child, he didn't want more kids (he already had 3 from his first marriage), and they were about to break up. Instead they got married so I wouldn't be a "bastard". Turns out, that is a bad foundation for a marriage.

They were expecting a boy when I came out. The doctor said my heartbeat was so strong that I had to be a boy, so they didn't have a name picked out. Thus James became Jamie and my parents became disappointed.

I was mildly intersex so the doctors "fixed" me, but I didn't find out for years. What I did find out was how much money I cost and what a burden I was on my family with shocking regularity. Also, nobody told my mother that babies aren't cute little bundles that you can use to get more attention. They cry, poop, eat, and repeat and they need constant care. So, I started out with the cards stacked against me.

My mother was also... not the sharpest tool in the shed. Case in point, for about the first six months of my life, my mother gave me formula that I was allergic to. My dad (worked extra shifts and odd jobs to make ends meat) only found out when he was watching me when my mother went out of town. There was a substantial amount of blood in my diaper, he called my mother, a day or two later she finally called back to tell him it was normal, he got worried and took me to the doctor, and they told him I was allergic to whey protein.

Thankfully, my dad's parents lived next door. I stayed with them a LOT. Basically lived there. I would visit my parents, say hi, and then run back next door. Mamaw (dad's mother) kept me fed, never made me feel bad for how I saw the world, and was always willing to help. I had dyslexia and every night we would sit and drill my spelling words before she would sing me to sleep. Papaw (dad's father) was great too, but more of the playful one who taught me jokes and how to play poker.

Then Papaw got sick. First cancer and then Alzheimer's. I had to start staying at home a lot. I helped as much as I could. He lived a long life. I was there when he died. Death is not like it is in the movies.

In the meantime, I had school. It was tough, but I had Mamaw helping me and a friend. We hung out on the playground together for a year or two, but my parents found out and threw a fit that the teachers had "allowed" it to happen. Because he was black. Yes. They were also racist. So my friend and I were no longer allowed to be near each other. Mamaw found the whole thing stupid.

In 6th grade, I had a teacher that hated me. Long story short, long before I was born she and her husband owed my grandparents money and they were bitter over eventually having to pay it back. So she "lost" a lot of my homework and treated me like crap.

At the end of the year (after it was already over with), my mother took me out of school and told everyone that she was going to homeschool me. She did not.

Suddenly, I was my mother's maid. I waited on her hand and foot. I did the cleaning, she told my dad that she did it while I sat on my butt, and I would get in trouble for being lazy. She gave me an allowance and then took it back saying she needed it for bills (mind you while saying they were broke because of me). She told all my friends that the number I gave them was wrong and that I had moved away. She bought homeschool books and when I eventually got stuck on every subject, she told me just to forget it and that I could eventually get my GED. She never registered me, so on paper it just looked like I dropped out of school 2 weeks before the end of the 6th grade. Nobody ever checked on me.

I rarely left the house and my mother used me to con people out of money. I went hungry a lot. Sometimes she would give me food that I was allergic to which would make me sick. Sometimes she would make me eat rotten stuff (just imagine a cabbage stew that has been sitting in the fridge for weeks and has this waxy film on top and a sour smell ones you break through. I've eaten stuff like that because she said I wasn't allowed to waste food). I snuck food out under my clothes and kept what I could hidden in my room. We had a pantry full of food too, but she said I wasn't allowed to have any of it. Things like panties and bras weren't replaced as I grew and became so tight that I still have a dent around my waist and my chest. However, the shirts she bought for me were in her size (so she could borrow them), so they were just massive on me (she was a plus sized adult).

Still, I felt like a selfish brat for asking for even minor things, so I just... existed. I had a game system in my room that helped me escape. My older half brother moved in with his wife and kid and I babysat my nephew (for free) which was... something. A second nephew came along and the pair were a handful, but I did my best.

I snuck outside as much as I could. I would jump on my trampoline (before it broke). Play with a stray dog or cat. Observe a spider. I saw Mamaw (and Papaw before he died) as much as I could, but I hid what was going on at home. Mamaw was my escape, but then she moved out of her house and into a smaller house in town. That's when it got bad. Nobody was there to notice anymore, so my mother could get away with more. Dad worked too much to see.

I asked to go back to school when I was 12 or 13. My mother told me that they would hold me back three years so I would be in a class filled with children and she would get in trouble for me being lazy. It was my fault. She made me scared to go back. Later in my mid teens, she would tell me that I wasn't allowed to tell anyone what she'd done or she would go to jail, my dad would go to jail, and I would get put in an orphanage and raped every day. At the time, I was getting physical contact so rarely that it hurt when people touched me. I had a panic attack when a doctor told me to undress for an exam. So not only did I want to protect my parents from jail, the possibility of... that... it was enough for me to not only keep quiet, but actively try to keep what she was doing from getting out.

A lot of my teenage years are rather blurry (part due to monotony and part due to the food stuff). Mamaw had a stroke and I volunteered to take care of her (which I did). My mother used me to con people out of more money (unbeknownst to my dad). I got sick a lot and was often not taken to the doctor when I should have been. I waited on my mother. I took care of my mamaw a couple days a week. My mother started taking pills and gambling heavily. I was told later that she bragged to people about being able to do as she pleased as long as she got home before her husband because her daughter was at home doing chores. When I cleaned the toilet, I had to do it barehanded with a washcloth. I'm pretty sure she poisoned me a couple times. It wasn't fun. Did I mention that her favorite book was Flowers In The Attic by V. C. Andrews? She had a copy that was extremely well worn. *shivers*

At one point, I rescued a kitten from stray dogs and got my dad to let me keep him. I got a second kitten less than a year later who was so tiny she had to be bottle fed. Their names were Punkin and Hopee and I kept going because nobody else would take care of them if I was gone. I know my motger wouldn't because they weren't fed when I wasn't there. They are the reason that I fought to survive.

At 16, my mother took me to a urologist and told me that they were going to put me under to take a urine sample from my bladder. I woke up having had a surgery on my genitals to make them more feminine. Yes, I know how messed up that sounds. I had to go to a specialist when I got older for pain and get treatment for it. I'm mostly okay now, but that doesn't change the fact that it was objectively wrong. Please, if you take anything from this, remember that.

A week after my 18th birthday, my mother kicked my dad out. She wanted a divorce. She told me that she couldn't get in trouble for what she did anymore because I was an adult. The few weeks I was totally alone with her were really bad. She got a stereo, put it right next to my door, and blasted country music when I was trying to sleep. Made some excuse as to why it had to be there and that loud. We were in a well insulated house, so there was no one nearby to complain. I was so tired all the time and still had to wait on and cook for her. Til this day, I hate country music and I can sleep through most background noise.

I moved in with my dad. I had a lot of panic attacks. Some seizures. I was scared to be alone. Horded food. I was at one point sitting and wriggling because I had to pee and needed permission. I was a mess.

Dad and I were good for a while. I followed orders and kept the place clean. He insulted me some and was... honestly very harsh. He said he was preparing me for the world. He was nice most of the time though and so much better than my mother.

As time went on, the insults became more frequent. How much I looked like my mother. How I got all my bad traits from my mother. My voice could give people a headache. Useless. Dumbass. On and on. Nothing was off limits. He became so controlling. Taught me to drive, but my curfew was 8 or 9 pm. I had to save money and not waist it because I would need it later and buying anything small for myself was stupid (but he would buy random stuff all the time). In fact, everything I liked that he wasn't into was stupid and a waste of time and energy. He was better than my mother in so many ways. I never went hungry with him. He let me hug him sometimes. He would help me out with things. That was why it was so hard for me to see the verbal and emotional abuse and how much he was controling and gaslighting me. Every favor had a price. I was isolated. When I started going to college, the control became worse. The insults more rapid pace. I was beat down.

Then I met a guy whom I thought loved me. You know how it goes. He seemed better than my dad. Better than my mother. That was the best I deserved... right? He isolated me. He tried to get me away from my friends. He controled my money. He didn't take no for an answer. He used my bisexuality as something to guilt trip me over and like it was some grand thing for him to be as okay with it as he was. He made me feel like nobody else would be with somebody like me. It... wasn't good. I was with him seven years. Multiple break ups, but I always took him back. I survived two suicide attempts (OD for the first and called in before anything happened the second time after he had me go off my antidepressants). After the final breakup, we met up about the money that he owed me and he decided to not take no one more time and then blamed me for it. My best friend was on the phone with me afterward as he was texting me. My ex also said that it would make him happy if I never dated another man again. Then he sent me religious pamphlets. There's so much more, but he's not worth talking about.

I lived with my dad a year. I was broke and broken. I had my dog, my albino sand boa, and a few posessions. I didn't even have mamaw anymore (she had died a couple years prior). My ex threatened me. My dad just told me to ignore it, so I didn't pursue it legally. My dad limited the time I could be on my phone, gave me an 8pm curfew and a 10pm bedtime, and a door with no lock that I was to leave open unless I was changing clothes. He did nice things too like letting me stay with him and getting an old beat up PS3 from a pawn shop so I would have something to do, but he also insulted me constantly. I had made friends online and been friends with them for years (including my best friend mentioned before), but he said they weren't "real" friends and would ditch me the minute they had to be around me for any length of time because I was so annoying. I had too much wrong with me and nobody would put up with that shit. Just a string of insults. Dad even insulted how I laughed! It was hard to realize how bad it was due to the duality of it all.

Dad only "allowed" to date white cis men. He also said that if I ever had or adopted a non-white child, he wouldn't be able to accept it. I was chastised when I did things he considered not feminine and not "allowed" to do or talk about things in his presence that he was fine with my minor nephew doing and saying. He blew up if I mentioned anything LGBTQ+. He went nuclear when I got a tattoo to take back ownership of my body (my avatar), saying he thought I would back out and then said it made me that it was ugly and disgusting and no good man would want me now.

Through all of this, I couldn't even get support from the people in my hometown. It was a very religious area (almost infamously so). The locals considered me weird and "off". I was religious positive and supportive as long as it didn't hurt the individual, others, or society as a whole, but it wasn't for me. People were always trying to get me to go to church and praying for my soul. I was accused (more than once) of being possess by a demon that was blocking god from coming into my heart and slowly turning me half gay. Others tried to convince me that I was confusing apreciation for women with attraction and I couldn't prove that I wasn't straight (with the addition that all bisexual women were sluts and I wasn't one). There wasn't LGBTQ+ resources in town or out people to begin with (I only met two or three my entire life). I couldn't make friends. I was used a lot. Some people worried about having me around their kids. It was a stressful environment. I got pretty decent on arguing with strangers who wouldn't leave me alone (I seriously had someone screaming bible verses at me trying to save my soul while my dog was in emergency surgery so... yup). My only escape was my two best friends online and a few other awesome people I met the same way.

I moved into an apartment, but I was still isolated, alone, and touch starved. I broke my arm (oblique compound fracture of radius and ulna with a crack towards the distal end of my ulna) and my family was there for my dad because he had to take care of me. No hospital visits. I had to hire someone to clean my appartment (despite being broke) because they saw the mess as my fault as well as the injury. Dad dropped me off at home much sooner than I should have been left alone. But my two online best friends? Calling. Texting. Sending things to help. Checking on me often. One got on a plane and flew down to see me and do what they could with the day they had there. That's when I realized. They were my support system. They lived fairly close together. So, despite living in one small town my entire life, I packed up the moment I was able to and moved 1300 miles away to be near people who cared about me.

It wasn't easy. I had so many panic attacks. My one year old ESA cat Danny worked overtime. My dog passed away from kidney failure. My dad drilled it in my head that they would ditch me after a couple months because of how annoying I was and that I would either come back to [state] with my tail between my legs or in a body bag. I had to sell or give away everything that couldn't fit in my friend's small suv. It was hard, but I found a way to push through and do it. One of the last things I did was leave daisies for mamaw at places she liked when she was alive. I like to think she helped me have the strength to walk away.

I've lived here in my new home about 9 months now. I'm happy. I'm loved. I don't regret leaving a second. Sometimes PTSD will rear its ugly head like it did with the latest episode of Fantasy High. It's not something that I can control and honestly? The idea of being trapped after getting away and being stuck with my abuser again terrifies me. Seeing it happen to Adaine? It made me sick and I had an anxiety spike. I'm better today and I intend to eventually rewatch the episode to desensitize myself, but still, it was a lot for me. It's okay to not be okay sometimes and to need a break. It doesn't make me weak or bad or stupid. Another lesson for the person reading this I suppose. If it's not bad for me to ask for help orneed a break, then it's not bad for you either ^_^

I still have depression, anxiety, OCD, PTSD, health problems, and food issues. I think I always will. But I'm finally allowed to be happy. I'm finally allowd to be myself. I'm finally allowed to let myself be cared for and loved. I'm getting help. Learning techniques. Started taking CBD along with my meds. I'm finally as okay as I've ever been in my life and it's amazing.

PS: Just as a side note, remember to use trigger warnings. Even if something doesn’t bother you or most people, doesn’t mean that it wont make someone else have a bad day. Sometimes all we need is a warning to mentally prepare ourselfs. Sometimes we just can’t handle something that day, but can another. So remeber to tag, even if something seems minor to you or canon complient. Your readers will sincerely apreciate it. ^_^

[faresramettas]

prima di sorridere un po’ (eng trans, repost)

i decided to take my translation of this italian fic of mine off ao3 because i never really liked the idea of translating it in the first place, and when i see it between my works it doesn’t make me happy. i’m sorry! i definitely have a love/hate relationship with this fic and its translation, however i don’t want it to be completely gone because it’s over 3k too and it took time and effort, so i’ll be posting it here. 

a couple of notes before reading: this is set in june next year, when marti is about to take maturità. maturità is the exam italian students take at the end of the 5 years of high school. notte prima degli esami (the night before exams) is a song about maturità and peak italian culture. there’s even a movie about it. the night before exams is supposed to be a big deal.

read below!

Martino was screwed. The day before maturità, when all he wanted to do was drown his sorrows in liters of beer, the truth was that he was behind on his history program, he hadn’t even touched his literature book and if he had to translate another text from Greek he’d throw up on the dictionary. His days were split between study groups, Eva and the girls for history and philosophy, Giovanni, Elia and Luchino for maths, only to go back home and keep revising, head bent over his desk or lying on his bed surrounded by books. Martino was good at school, he’d finished his essay a month ago, he had nothing to worry about, his mom kept telling him to reassure him. But anxiety was the issue, that fear of disappointing his and other people’s expectations that twisted his stomach and wouldn’t make him sleep. On top of that, he hadn’t seen Niccolò in almost a week. Martino had been the one to reluctantly force this distance, after the umpteenth study afternoon turned make-out session, turned fucking on his bed. “I can help you study, you know.” “You know perfectly well that when we’re together we never end up doing shit,” Marti had replied, running his fingers through Nico’s sweaty curls sticking to his forehead. “Case in point.” “But we barely see each other,” Nico had whined, rolling to lie on top of him. Marti had chuckled and wrapped his arms around his waist. It was almost the end of June and Rome was already too hot. Nico, naked and glued to him from chest to ankles, definitely wasn’t helping him fight the heat but Marti would have never complained. “I know, Ni. Just for a few days. I need to focus on terza prova. Then you can help me prepare for the oral exam.” “Okay,” Nico had sighed, a slow smirk making its way on his face. “Nerd.” “Fuck off. In case you forgot, you have exams, too,” Marti had teased him. Nico had rolled his eyes and mocked him. Marti had pinched his sides in retaliation and flipped their position in one swift move, earning himself a surprised gasp from Nico, who’d looked at him and pulled him down by his hair for a kiss. Schopenhauer can wait, Marti had thought. He missed Nico. They talked on the phone every day but it wasn’t the same. He was right, they’d been seeing each other less since he’d started university. It was an inevitable change that they’d made up for in advance, spending the previous summer always glued to each other. But they’d adapted to it, more or less, at least until January. Nico hadn’t been able to take all the exams he'd planned on his first winter session because his head had had other plans. Martino had been by his side every day, from the moment Anna had called him on Wednesday to tell him Niccolò hadn’t shown up to his first exam and was refusing to get out of bed. He had rushed to his house after school and all he’d needed was one good look at him to understand how bad it was and that Nico wouldn’t say a word. So he’d just laid down next to him, hugged him and stroked his hair, whispering in his ear that he was there, that he’d have to go home tonight because he hadn’t warned his mom but tomorrow he’d be back and sleep with him. The next day he’d brought a duffel bag with a change of clothes and his toothbrush at school and had asked his mom if he could sleep over at Niccolò’s for a couple of days, that had eventually turned into four. Finally, on the third day, Nico had gotten everything that was torturing him out, an avalanche of self-pitying and distorted opinions on his worth that Martino wanted to pull like weeds. “I should have never enrolled in uni. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing there. I don’t even know if I like sociology. I’m just wasting my time and flushing my parents’ money down the toilet. As if I wasn’t causing them enough problems already. I can’t do anything, I’m just a burden to everyone I know.” Marti had let him vent because he’d learned it was the best thing to do, even when listening to those words filled him with anguish. Marti’s heart broke every time Nico’s head didn’t allow him to see just how wonderful he was. In those moments, Marti wished he could lend Nico his eyes so he could see himself through them. “And you, Marti? I don’t even know where you find the patience to bother with me. You don’t deserve to have a noose around your neck at eighte—” He had interrupted him, then. He’d taken Nico’s face in his hands and looked him straight in the eyes, and one by one he’d tore down every single unfounded word that had come out of his mouth until Nico had stopped crying and had given him a small smile full of gratitude. Marti had spent the next two days on a mission to make him feel better. Cuddling him, taking a bath together, changing his sheets, making Nico eat and smile in front of his parents too, following the minute by minute motto that had become a pillar of their lives, a philosophy they’d both embraced outside of their relationship too. Three weeks later, they had celebrated Nico acing his first exam. Nico hadn’t had episodes as bad as that one in months and Martino hoped that the summer session wouldn’t bring a relapse. Although Nico still talked about his doubts on his choice of university every once in a while, he’d managed to settle in and make some friends. He still preferred the company of Martino and his friends, though, who scolded him all the time, because instead of helping them sneak into university parties full of hot girls, he was still spending his Friday nights drinking Peccio’s artisanal beer with them and listening to Giovanni’s relationship woes. Two years after their breakup and despite the short Argentina chapter, Giovanni still hadn't gotten over Eva and had decided he would try one last time before the end of their exams. Nico had been offended by their comments. He knew he was welcome. Martino had met his new acquaintances and, as nice as they were, his friends were better. Giovanni, Elia and Luchino had complained, yesterday, about Niccolò’s absence, because he’d always helped them study in the previous weeks and most importantly, as a survivor of the worst maturità in history, he had helped them not panic. “The last days are crucial, bro. Nico could’ve helped us,” Luchino had said. “Well, I can’t focus when he’s around. If you miss him so much, you can always text him, okay?” Martino had snapped. “Okay, calm down,” Elia had commented. Marti had swallowed and apologized. “Sorry, bro. I’m freaking out.” Gio had squeezed his shoulder and stared at him with that searching look he always had when he understood that something was wrong. Martino had sighed and complained about the derivatives exercises he couldn’t solve to change the topic, asking Elia for help. Because, yes, Elia was the best at maths out of all of them, although no one would have guessed. They had started seeing each other less and less sometime around April. Because Marti’s study load had tripled in an attempt to raise his grades in the last months of school and write his final essay in advance, so as not to worry about it in June. Because Nico, maybe suddenly nostalgic of Radio Osvaldo, had joined the university radio as a volunteer and had started giving piano lessons to earn some money, something that would give him a sense of independence. Those weekends spent in bed that used to be their routine were almost a miracle now. They barely managed to see each other twice a week, and never for two days in a row. It was hard, but Marti knew that it wasn’t forever. He cheered himself up thinking that soon they’d have entire weeks of sweet nothing and that they’d take a trip to Berlin together to celebrate Martino’s maturità on the first week of August. Niccolò wouldn’t stop talking about it, how he couldn’t wait to be there, to see the East Side Gallery and the Museum Island, to go to bars, to have Martino alone to himself in a hotel room for five days, and Martino had started counting down the days in his head, because Niccolò was Olympic champion of contagious enthusiasm. But today was the day before maturità and Martino was screwed. Because of all the stress and anxiety, he had slept six hours in total over three nights and he was on edge. Maybe that’s why when Niccolò showed up at his front door unannounced in the late afternoon, he didn’t react the way he would have expected too. “Ni, what are you doing here?” “I missed you,” Niccolò said, kissing him on the lips and making his way into the living room. “Don’t you want to spend the night before exams with me?” he added, chuckling. “Yes,” Martino replied, hesitating. He immediately recognized the signs of Niccolò’s impulsive behavior in his jerky head movements and the way his hands were shaking, and he furrowed his brows, worried. “But I have to study.” “For what? It’s just an essay.” “For everything else…” Martino mumbled. There was a small part of him that was almost flattered that Niccolò couldn't resist more than six days before knocking on his door, but something about his teasing was ticking him off. Maybe Niccolò got it from the tone of his voice and he stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on his neck and searching his eyes. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” “Of course, I am,” Marti smiled at him, trying to relax. “I can leave if you want, huh,” Niccolò said, raising his brows and tilting his head. Marti shook his head. “Stay. But I really have to study. At least another couple of hours. Then we can do whatever you want.” He didn’t want to kick Niccolò out but he hoped he’d been clear: no distractions allowed. “Okay, okay. Don’t worry,” Niccolò said, taking his hand and leading them to Martino’s room. “How are you? What are you studying?” “Greek. I wanna die.” “Shut up and be grateful you didn’t have last year’s fucking latin-greek combo,” Niccolò said, throwing himself on Martino’s bed while Martino resumed his place at his desk. He smiled, remembering the desperation on the fifth-year boys’ faces when the new seconda prova with both languages was announced. The worst maturità in history. And luckily, the only one. Marti picked up his copies of old translations, scribbled with pencil on the margins and heavily underlined. He wasn’t bad at it, obviously Latin was easier than Greek, but he couldn’t wait to abandon these shitty dead languages, like Giovanni always called them. Niccolò managed to stay put on his bed for about 10 minutes before he came behind Martino and bent down to hug his shoulders. Martino had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes. He didn’t know why having Niccolò around was bothering him. He didn’t like feeling like this. It’d never happened before, and Martino knew it was his problem. “Ni,” he warned him. “Marti,” Nico replied, sing-songy. That unpleasant feeling twisting Marti’s stomach just kept building up. “I’m in deep shit, Ni. I mean it.” “Just spend ten minutes with me, what difference does it make? You barely said hi to me,” he said, with a sweet whiny voice. Martino was sure he was pouting too. “Can you wait until I finish this? Please, please, please," he begged too, looking up. If Nico could pout, he could use his puppy eyes. “Okay, okay,” Nico sighed, “got it. I’ll be good. I won’t move.” He lied on the bed again, pretending to be very still like a robot. Marti smiled at him, mumbling an apologetic “thank you” and turning in his chair to stick his nose back in the dictionary. “Don’t you have to study too? Why didn’t you bring your books?” Marti commented offhandedly. Niccolò sighed. “Fuck, Marti, you sound like my mom.” “Why? What did I say?” “You think I don’t know when I’m supposed to study or not?” Martino was taken aback by Nico’s snappy reply. And that was it, that pushed him over the edge. If there was anything that Martino had learned in the year and a half with Niccolò, it was that his patience went way over the limits he’d always thought he had. Being with him had brought out a better version of himself, a Martino who knew how to listen, how to think before he spoke, who always put Nico before himself, and this selflessness had never felt like an obligation, Martino had never felt forced to do it. The bitterness, pettiness and smallness that he had held before Nico only resurfaced after conversations with his dad or in moments of psychological and physical weakness caused by stress and insomnia, two things he hadn’t learned how to cope with yet. They made him lash out, even with his mom when she didn’t deserve it, and apparently, even with the boy he loved more than anything in the world. There were days when Martino couldn't handle his own emotions, let alone Niccolò’s unpredictable ones, and the pedestal he sometimes felt he was on crumbled. This is how Martino was feeling today: small, petty, irascible, and Niccolò had come here thinking it would make him happy, but instead he’d become the catalyst of all the anxiety and nervousness Martino had accumulated over the last few weeks. “I was just saying. Chill.” He realized how much he sounded like an asshole as soon as the words left his mouth and he regretted them immediately. A few moments of awful silence passed and then Nico stood from the bed. “Okay, I get it. I’m leaving.” Marti shot up from his chair to grab his wrist. “Ni…” “I don’t wanna be here if I’m just a pain in the ass,” he said, looking everywhere but at Marti’s face, avoiding his gaze. “You’re not a pain in the ass. I’m sorry. I’m stressed, you know I can’t handle it,” he tried to apologize. “It’s not your fault.” “Sorry if I thought you’d be happy to see me. Call me after the written exams, or the oral. Or whenever the fuck you want,” Nico said, his voice low and full of bitterness. He turned towards the door and Marti pulled him back. “Stop it, please.” “We never see each other anyway,” Niccolò mumbled, finally tugging his arm out of Marti’s grip. “And that's my fucking fault, Ni?”, he snapped. He swallowed harshly. He’d raised his voice with Niccolò. He never thought he could be so stupid. Neither of them had ever yelled at the other, in a year and a half. They’d had hard moments, moments of tension, disagreements, but they’d never had a real fight. And why had he yelled at him? Because he was in a bad mood? I'm a piece of shit, he thought. “It's no one's fault if I have to study and you’re busy with uni,” Marti said, lowering his voice and his gaze. His head was pulsing and he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. Niccolò, standing three feet between him and the door, bit his trembling lower lip and said nothing. His hands were clenched by his sides. Martino sighed and continued. “Of course I miss you, and it pisses me off that we don’t see each other often… but I just needed you to do me this favor, today.” “I see,” Niccolò nodded. “And I’m so useless and needy that I couldn’t even do this one thing?” Marti closed his eyes and sighed, again. “I never said that, why do you have to do this? Ni, please,” he stepped closer to touch his face but Nico moved away like his palm was scalding. Marti looked at him and lowered his arm, waiting for him to talk. Nico kept biting his lip and nervously bouncing his leg. “You know uni isn't going well. That my parents are badgering me about it. You know it. There’s no need for you to always remind me about it too,” Niccolò said, finally looking at him. His shoulders were shaking, and his green eyes were full of hurt. All the hurt Martino had caused. “If you hate seeing me, just say it.” I don’t understand why you hate spending time with me so much, his mom had told him, so long ago that Martino didn’t even remember when. He only remembered it was before he made up with Nico, before the terrace, because Martino had become such a different person ever since things had started working out with him that he would have never expected to hear almost the same exact words coming from his boyfriend. They hit him like a ton of bricks and Marti physically felt the fight drain out of him. Every cell In his body abandoned the fight and, this time, he thought carefully before he spoke, while Niccolò looked at him like he was waiting for the next blow. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I swear. When I’m like this… I act out, I can't stand myself. I can’t explain how sorry I am, Ni,” he whispered. “I just wanted to spend some time with you.” “I know. It’s not your fault. I’m just an asshole.” There’s always a turning point in an argument, when according to the words you choose the fight can go on or die out. Marti had given Niccolò the chance to choose an out. He hoped he would take it. “Hm. Yeah, a little bit.” Marti smiled at him, grateful, and closed the distance between them to hug him tight. He hugged him for minutes and Nico held him back, hiding his face in his shoulder. Marti kissed him and whispered apologies on his lips that Nico returned with a soft smile. “You know what we’re gonna do? We’re gonna close the books, jump in bed and--” “You don’t have to fuck up your study session because of me. Go on. But let me help,” Nico interrupted him. He took Martino’s notebooks and dictionary and put them on the floor, in the little corner under the window with the pillows and carpet, where they loved to spend hours cuddled up under a blanket next to the radiator in winter. He sat down and looked up at Marti, patting the floor next to him like you would do to invite a shy cat. “You sure?” Marti asked, sitting down by Nico’s side and hugging his knees to his chest. Niccolò nodded. Marti thought about it and then grabbed his notebooks, photocopies and dictionary and threw them by the foot of his bed, ignoring Niccolò’s amused protests. “No, fuck it. I want to be with you. Talk to me. How are you?” Nico smiled at him. He leaned his head against the wall and turned to look him in the eyes. “I miss you,” he whispered, fragile, shaken by a fight that had had no reason to exist, that should have never happened. Marti felt the raw honesty of those words hit him in the chest. “I miss you, too.” They kissed, and Marti kept muttering apologies until Nico forced him to stop, fondly exasperated. They talked while Marti’s hands played with Nico’s, twirled his curls, stroked his cheeks. They talked, but for the most part they just held each other, because sometimes silence healed better than words. The vibration of Marti’s phone startled him. It was a voice message from Gio. “Oi, Marti, we’re all meeting up at Baretto later. The girls are coming too. It’s the night before exams and you’re coming, don’t even bother with an excuse. And bring Nico cause we all miss him. Okay, bro?” Marti laughed and looked at Nico with a complicit smile. “Feel up to spending your night surrounded by a bunch of high-schoolers singing Venditti?” Niccolò laughed too, that whole-body laugh, chin lowered and eyes crinkling. That laugh that Martino had fallen in love with on that mid-October day on Nico's couch. Then Nico looked up and scooted closer to give him a kiss. “I’d be offended if I missed it.”

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

Who Waits For Love (Chapter 8)

Summary: T.J. Kippen lost his chance to tell Cyrus Goodman how he felt when they were in the 8th grade. Now, they are in their junior year of high school and Cyrus is on his 3rd relationship. Is it time to give up… or continue to wait for love?

A/N: I’m so sorry that this took so long! I was working on my Valentine’s presents for the exchange so I neglected this a little. Then, life got in the way. But, I did it! Get ready for a bumpy ride! Enjoy!

Colorful streamers hung from the walls in various layers that the gaudy red brick was barely distinguishable. Round tables covered in various shades of pink, red, and yellow cloths were spread all over the gym floor. A stage was set up at the center, decorated with paper mache flowers and confetti, where the D.J. was playing the latest trending bubblegum pop song. A glittering disco ball hung from the ceiling above a makeshift dance floor, where some students were already dancing. Two large and long tables were pushed against the walls, filled with various drinks and food. And by the entrance was a makeshift photo booth, manned by a few freshmen and sophomores with cameras.

Suffice to say, Cyrus was impressed by how the Dance committee managed to make the gym look less like a gym and more… well… Formal-like.

He, Buffy, and Marty were sitting on one of the tables, watching Andi flit about like a fairy. Their pixie-haired friend had her trusty clipboard clutched in her hand and the skirt of her silver dress bounced as she ran back and forth, making last-minute checks.

“Does she know yet?” Buffy asked, randomly.

Cyrus shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He looked towards the entrance of the gym, scrunching his brows. “Where are Jonah and Walker? They’re taking a while. And T.J.’s late, too. They’re gonna miss it.”

“I guess we’ll have to record it for them,” Marty said, taking his phone out.

Another ten minutes and Andi finally appeared to be slowing down. Looking satisfied, she plopped herself on the seat next to Cyrus.

“Doesn’t this place look amazing?!” she exclaimed, putting her clipboard down on the table before stretching her arms up in the air with a satisfied groan. “I think I really outdid myself!”

“Everything does look great, Andi,” Buffy said, grinning. “So, are you done bossing your freshman minions around and finally going to start enjoying the Dance?”

Andi shrugged. “I guess so. Unless something goes wrong. But, I’m sure they won’t. I hope. Oh, god, did I jinx it?!”

She started to panic-flip through her clipboard again.

Meanwhile, Cyrus raised his head and spotted a familiar blonde figure tip-toeing towards them.

“Andi, relax. Just have fun with your date tonight,” he said, grinning.

Andi scrunched her face in his confusion. “What date?”

“Me!”

She swiveled around, gasping in surprise. “Amber?!”

“Hi, babe!”

With an elated shriek, Andi jumped up into the blonde girl’s arms and Amber wasted no time in lifting her up and twirling her around.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Well, I won’t have any exams for a while so I figured, I’d come home and surprise you! I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, babe!” Andi turned to them, her happiness radiating brighter than the sun. “You guys knew?!”

“Of course, we did!” Buffy answered, grinning.

“But, it was a secret so we had to stay silent,” Cyrus added.

“You have a veeeery persistent girlfriend,” said Marty, chuckling as he continued to record on his phone.

“Awww, you guys.”

Twirling back to face Amber, Andi wrapped her arms around the older girl’s neck and gave her a kiss, which the blonde happily returned.

Buffy and Mary exaggeratedly groaned in annoyance, but it was clear on their faces that they were happy for the two girls. Cyrus was too. He truly was.

In the beginning, all of them found it strange that Andi and Amber started going out, considering what they went through in Middle School. But, now, seeing the way Andi couldn’t tear her eyes off Amber and how Amber couldn’t stop peppering the younger girl’s face with kisses, they somehow just made sense.

Suffice to say, they were sickeningly in love with each other.

“Let’s go dance!” Amber piped, taking Andi’s hand and pulling her towards the dance floor.

Andi didn’t even protest or say goodbye to them. 

Cyrus heard himself loudly sigh.

“You okay, Cy?” Buffy sounded concerned.

He turned to her with a nod. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Both she and Marty flashed each other looks, like they were talking with their minds or something. It was a little unnerving sometimes.

Cyrus cleared his throat. “I wonder where T.J. is,” he ended up saying, checking his phone to see if the other boy had messaged him.

There wasn’t. Maybe T.J. decided not to come? But, Cyrus spotted Aidan earlier and they were supposed to be here together…right? It was strange to arrive at a Dance without your date, Cyrus thought. Unless T.J. had said “no” to the other boy?

He tried not to hope too much.

“We’re gonna go get some food,” Marty announced as he and Buffy stood up. “Want anything?”

Cyrus stared at his plate of uneaten chips and salsa. They had some snacks earlier while preparing at Andi’s place and he may have gorged himself on too many cookies. He wasn’t hungry right now.

“I’m good, thanks!”

“Okay!”

The two headed off and Cyrus turned his attention back on the dance floor. 

Andi and Amber were still wrapped around each other, giggling and twirling each other around as they swayed to the music. Andi rose up on her tip-toes to playfully rub her nose against Amber’s. Amber pecked it in return.

A burst of longing stirred in his chest. Cyrus wished he had someone to dance with. Well, to be more specific, he wished T.J. was here so he could ask him to dance. 

Where was he?!

“Hey, Cyrus.”

His blood ran cold at the familiar voice. Lifting his head, he met the deep brown eyes of Lance.

He hadn’t spoken to his ex-boyfriend in months since their last encounter in the halls when Lance tried to apologize. Whenever they saw each other in the halls, Cyrus would walk quickly or turn around and run in the opposite direction. Lance never tried to chase him.

“What do you want?” he said, stiffly.

The lacrosse player pursed his lips as he gestured to Andi’s empty seat. “Can I sit?”

“I’d rather you don’t.”

Lance flushed in embarrassment. “Okay, I deserve that.”

“And more,” Cyrus said, curtly.

Lance just tilted his head in agreement. “Look, Cy. I just… I want to say that I’m sorry. For everything. I mean it. I really am sorry for cheating on you and betraying your trust.”

As much as Cyrus wished he could feel touched by the apology, he couldn’t feel anything but numbness. He had gotten over Lance’s cheating. Maybe it helped that the relationship never got serious. But, still, being cheated on felt like crap.

“Why did you do it?”

His voice cracked as he asked the question but it was the one thing that still bothered him over the months.

“Why wasn’t I enough for you?”

Lance took a deep breath, appearing to contemplate the question.

“I… It’s not that you weren’t enough,” he answered, hesitant and careful. “It’s just… sometimes… you felt… disconnected?”

Cyrus furrowed his brows. “What? What are you talking about? I gave my all in that relationship, Lance! I was faithful to you!”

“I know, I know.” Lance sighed, loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just…Sometimes… I felt like… You didn’t really see me. Like… you were wishing I were someone else.”

Cyrus felt his chest twitch with something he couldn’t right away identify. Was it guilt? It could be guilt. He was aware of his own shortcomings in his relationship with Lance. But, still…

“You could have talked to me,” he managed in a steady voice. “We could have discussed it and worked it out. We were in a relationship, Lance. We should have been able to tell each other everything. Instead, you decided to go behind my back with someone else. Instead of breaking up with me if you were really that frustrated, you decided to hurt me a million times more by cheating on me?”

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I know you think I don’t mean, but I do, Cyrus. You were a great boyfriend. And I messed it up, that’s on me. And I’m sorry.”

And for the life of him, Cyrus actually believed him. Yes, Lance cheated on him and lied to him. But, at this moment, he could see it. His ex-boyfriend was sincere and meant his apology.  

Lance shifted on his feet. “Look, Cyrus. I regret what I did and I won’t ask you to come back to me.”

Because he already had a girlfriend. Lance didn’t exactly wait to make it official after they broke up.

“But, I just needed you to know.”

At that, Cyrus felt himself nod. “Okay.”

Lance smiled, hopefully. “Are we good? Do you think we can be friends?” 

Cyrus sighed. “I don’t know if I can ever look at you without remembering what you did to me. But, now that I know I made you feel that way, I apologize for that, too. But, friends? I don’t think so. At least, not right now, Lance.”

The other boy’s face fell. “Right. I get it.”

Cyrus nodded and spared him a small, civil smile.

An awkward silence hung above them now.

“I, uh, I’ll leave you to it,” Lance coughed.

Cyrus nodded again and watched as the other boy resolved to walk away and return to his own table. His girlfriend looked up at him, smiled, and asked a question. At his answer, she flashed Cyrus a look, who returned the gaze with steel. Looking uncomfortable, she looked away.

“Hey.”

Almost instantly, his dark mood disappeared as his heart fluttered.

His frown now replaced with a smile, he looked up. “Hey, Teej! You’re finally here!”

His eyes drank the taller boy in – the dark green shirt, the black suit, his perfectly coiffed blonde hair. God, T.J. was so handsome.

“Wow,” was all he could say. “You look…wow.”

T.J. smirked, playfully, looking Cyrus up and down. “You look pretty wow yourself, Underdog.”

Cyrus blushed, pleased that his choice to go with a royal blue suit, white shirt, and a black bow tie had gotten T.J.’s approval.

The blonde settled himself on Andi’s empty seat. “So… Was it just me or was that Lance here, just now?”

“Oh. You saw that?”

“Yeah. I was getting ready to rush right over and punch him if you needed me to.”

Cyrus chuckled and shook his head. “Thank you, but there was no need. He was just apologizing. And…we talked. A bit.”

“Oh. That’s...good.” He seemed to hesitate before asking, “You’re not getting back together with him, are you?”

“Oh, god, no!”

T.J. chuckled. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Really glad.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “Me too. So… any reason why you’re late?”

“Traffic. And I got to talking with Jonah and Walker on the way in.” T.J. pursed his lips. “I didn’t know they were together.”

Cyrus beamed. “Yeah, it was totally unexpected! But, apparently, they’ve been hanging out a lot lately and some feelings happened and… well… Jonah wanted to ask him but he didn’t know how so he practiced on me a few times. It was so cute, he was actually stuttering. But, I’m proud that he did it!”

“They did look pretty cozy when I saw them,” T.J. laughed. “I’m happy for them.”

“Me too.”

T.J. turned his attention towards the dance floor. “And I see Andi now knows that Amber is here.”

“That she does. It was really cute. Marty got a video, he’ll probably send it to you, guys, later.”

T.J.’s brow furrowed. “Where is Marty? And Slayer?”

“I don’t know. They said they were going to get food but that was a while ago.”

Cyrus tapped his fingers against the table. He was happy that T.J. was finally here, but part of him wondered if he was there with a date. Was it Aidan?

“So, uh, where’s your date?” he casually asked.

T.J. smiled up to his ears, green eyes sparkling. He looked so excited. Wow, he must really like his date.

“About that…” the blonde began.

“Hey, Cyrus.”

Trying not to groan at the interruption, Cyrus looked up to see Emily, one of his classmates. She was in homeroom with him.

“Hey, Emily. What’s up?”

The girl linked her hands together in front of her chest. “Please dance with me?” she asked, acting cute.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “Emily… you know I’m gay, right?”

She huffed. “Of course I know! But please spare a dance for this straight girl and make her dream of dancing with a cute guy come true?”

He laughed, amused. Well, it couldn’t hurt. Emily had always been nice and respectful to him.

He turned to his blonde friend. “Do you mind if I go ahead and dance with her, Teej?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah. Go on. I’ll be here.”

Squealing in excitement, Emily pulled Cyrus up from his chair and dragged him towards the dance floor. She kept a respectful distance, allowing him to take her hand and lead as he spun her around. A few times, Cyrus couldn’t help but look back at T.J., just to make sure he was okay. He did kind of abandon him so soon after he just arrived.

Whenever their eyes met, T.J. would wave and Cyrus would wave back.

“I’m sorry for taking you away from your date,” Emily’s voice burst through his thoughts. “Don’t worry, I’ll return you when the song ends.”

“Date?” he questioned, confused.

Emily frowned as they swayed. “Aren’t you and T.J. dates tonight?”

“Oh. Oh no. No, we’re not. Um…I… uh… didn’t get the chance to ask him.”

“So, you do like him!”

Cyrus flinched. Oops. He didn’t mean to reveal that. “He’s here with someone else… I think.”

Emily raised her eyebrow. “You think? Have you asked him?”

“Uhhh…” He looked at her and couldn’t see any hint of mockery. Just genuine curiosity. “Why would you think we would be here together?”

“Well… I don’t know about everyone else, but some of us actually thought you two were dating already.”

“Wait… really?”

Cyrus felt himself slowing down, as he stared Emily. She was someone whom he rarely he spoke to but was civil with, and she thought that he and T.J. were dating? It made sense if his friends said it but a random classmate? Was he that obvious?

“When we heard what happened with you and Lance, we thought for sure that you two would be together by now!”

Cyrus pursed his lips. “Am I that obvious?” he asked, sheepishly.

“You both are,” Emily giggled.

Cyrus blinked. “Both?”

Emily stopped dancing, the upbeat pop song already changing to a soft ballad.

“Yeah. Both,” was all she said before stepping away from him. “Thanks for the dance, Cyrus!”

And with one last wave, she walked off, practically skipping in her high heels. He watched her approach another guy, pointing at the dance floor, and soon, she was back with her new partner, slow dancing away.

“Both?” Cyrus repeated to himself.

What did that even mean?

Still pondering, he turned around to head back to their table and maybe tell T.J. about what Emily said.

But, he froze in his tracks.

Sitting in front of his blonde friend now was Aidan. When did he get there?

The other brunette said something and T.J. laughed, shaking his head. He looked so happy. When was the last time Cyrus had seen him genuinely enjoy someone else’s company? 

As much as he hated to admit it to himself, they looked really good together. Cyrus paled in comparison compared to Aidan, who was just as handsome as T.J., just as athletic, and had a lot of things in common with him.  

Why would T.J. even consider going for Cyrus when perfect Aidan was there?

T.J. turned his head and met his gaze.

Cyrus’ chest tightened.

Before he was aware of what he was doing, he looked away and sped towards the doors.  

“Cy?!”

He heard the call but he couldn’t face him.

He couldn’t breathe.

He pushed the doors open, ignoring the concerned looks of other students idling around. He didn’t know where exactly he was going. He just needed to get out of there.

He turned and walked down an empty hallway, thinking that he could just find an empty room to calm himself down in.

“Cyrus!”

A hand wrapped itself around his arm, pulling him back, gently.

Cyrus flinched and broke away, taking a few steps back.

T.J. put his hands up. “Cy, what’s wrong?” He sounded worried.

Cyrus shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Cyrus, it’s not nothing. You’re shaking.” T.J. took a step closer.

But, Cyrus backed away. “I-I’m fine. You can go back.”

“But, Cy-.”

“Just go back to your date!” Cyrus’ eyes stung. “Why are you even here with me?!”

T.J. frowned in confusion. “What date?”

Cyrus sniffled. “Aidan. Aren’t you two together tonight?”

“What-.”

“You two look good together. I’m happy for you. So, you can go back now. I’m fine.”

But, even as he said it, his eyes began to water and his vision turned blurry. Hastily, he turned away and wiped the moisture away with the back of his hand. He made to walk away but T.J. held him back again, forcing him to turn towards him.

“Cy, something’s wrong. Tell me, please. Why are you so upset?”

“It’s nothing!” Cyrus insisted, refusing to look him in the eye.

“It’s not nothing!”

“Why do you even care?!”

“Why do I… Because you’re my best friend, Cyrus!”

“I don’t want to be!”

T.J. pulled back.

For a moment, there was only silence. Only Cyrus’ deep breathing to calm down filled the space. He could feel the sweat gathering on his forehead and the tears brimming at his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at T.J. He was afraid to see what was there.

“What do you mean?” came T.J.’s soft voice. “Cyrus… you don’t want to be friends anymore?”

His head shot up in alarm. “No! It’s not like that!”

T.J.’s lips were in a thin line, his eyes guarded. “Then, what do you mean? You don’t want to be what?”

“I…” Cyrus’ voice lodged itself in his throat, refusing to come out.

T.J. stepped closer now and this time, he didn’t move away. The blonde gently placed his hands over his arms.

“Cy, please.”

“I… I don’t want to be…” Cyrus forced his voice out. “Just friends.”

T.J.’s eyes widened. He didn’t say a word so Cyrus continued.

“I love being your best friend, T.J. But… but… Sometimes… it’s just… not enough.”

Finally, T.J. found his voice. “What do you mean by that?”

Was he really doing this? Was he really going to confess his feelings for T.J. when he was a such a mess?

He had already lost control of himself. He thought he could continue to hide it. But, seeing T.J. with someone else… it hurt. Like his heart was being torn in two.

What was going to happen to their friendship if he did end up confessing? He didn’t want to lose T.J.

But… on the one in a million chance… what if T.J. returned his feelings? Or was at least willing to try and see if Cyrus could be someone who was more than just a friend?

“I like you…” he whispered.

T.J. bent his head down. “Huh? What?”

“I like you,” he repeated a little louder. “I like you, T.J.”

“You… you like me?”

Cyrus sniffled. “Yes.”

A mixed feeling of relief and dread pooled in his stomach. Did T.J. hate him now? Was he going to end their friendship? 

His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

To his surprise, T.J. chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?!” Cyrus whined, frowning.

T.J. kept laughing. “Because you have no idea how long I waited to hear you say that,” he replied, sounding happy. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve liked you? Since the 8th grade, Cyrus. Probably since the moment we met.”

Cyrus’ mouth dropped open. Did T.J. just say what he thought he said?

“That… That long? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

At that, T.J.’s smile dimmed a little. “How could I? You were always with someone else.”

Cyrus felt his heart twitch in guilt. T.J. wasn't wrong there.

His head spun at the new and the unexpected information. T.J. liked him? He liked him!

He felt himself finally smile. “You like me.”

T.J. looked shy now. “Yeah. And… you like me?”

“Yeah… since 8th grade.”

As quickly as it appeared, T.J.’s smile disappeared. “Wait… 8th grade?”

Cyrus nodded.

There was a sudden shift in the air. T.J.’s gentle hold on his arms fell away and he took a step back. Confused, Cyrus tried to take his hand but the blonde shied away from him.

“You’ve liked me… all this time?” he asked, frowning.

“Y-Yes,” Cyrus replied, wondering why T.J. wasn’t holding him or kissing him like they did in the movies. Didn’t they both just confess their feelings?

“And… you didn’t say anything?” T.J. looked distressed. “Instead, you went out and dated other guys?”

The pit in Cyrus’ stomach grew. This all felt wrong. T.J. wasn’t supposed to look like that. They were supposed to be happy. This strange tension... this wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I...”

T.J.’s forehead was creased into a frown and Cyrus didn’t like it. “Are you kidding me? All this time, Cyrus?”

“T.J., I…”

“Was I not even worth asking? Were you ashamed to date me? Is that it?”

“No!” Cyrus shook his head in distress. “It’s not like that! T.J., I just… I didn’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend. I... I just didn’t want things to change between us if... if things went wrong.”

T.J. swallowed and when he spoke, he sounded broken. “Do you know how hard it was to watch you be with other guys, Cyrus? My heart wouldn’t stop breaking every single day. But, I didn’t say anything because I wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me.”

Cyrus’ chest tightened even more. “I thought you didn’t like me that way. You never said anything, even when I wasn’t dating anyone.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

T.J. let out a chuckle devoid of humor. “You’re right. I didn’t make a move because I figured I’d let you heal from all of your heartbreaks, you know. Then, when you were ready, maybe I’d take my shot. But, every single time, I’m too late. That’s my fault for waiting too long.”

Cyrus swallowed. “Teej…”

“But, I get it.” T.J. took a deep breath before flashing him a strained smile. “I wouldn’t take a risk with someone like me either.”

“T.J., that’s not it!” Cyrus cried out, desperately.

He loved him. He wanted to be with him so much. But, he was so afraid. Could you blame him for being afraid? But, maybe it was his fault, too. He was so determined not to lose him that he didn’t realize had been hurting him. All this time, he had been hurting T.J.

He tried to take another step towards the other boy but T.J. took a step back.

“I…need a little space. I’m sorry, Cyrus.”

No.

Nonono!

How did things go so wrong?!

“T.J., wait!”

Cyrus tried to follow but T.J. spun around and the look on the blonde’s face stopped him in his tracks.

T.J. looked like he had given up on everything.

“I just need a little space, Cy,” was all he said before turning on his heels and walking away.

“T.J…” Cyrus tried to call out.

But, the other boy didn’t look back like he normally did.

Cyrus’ heart shattered.

……….............

Best Basketball Guy In The World: Running an errand tomorrow. I’ll ask Marty to give you a ride.

For what felt like the hundredth time that morning, Cyrus sighed as he read the text over and over again. The pit in his stomach never really went away the entire weekend. It felt like it just kept growing and it was never going away.

The entire weekend, T.J. ignored all his phone calls and left his texts on “Read”. 

Cyrus cried on and off. Out of all his heartbreaks, this one was the worst. Buffy, Andi, and even Amber came by with ice cream and they spent the entire Saturday watching Netflix and gorging themselves on junk food. It didn’t make Cyrus feel any better.

T.J. finally texted him last night. Cyrus had excitedly opened it, only to discover that T.J. wasn’t going to pick him up for school the next morning.

He sighed again.

“Hey, it will be okay,” said Buffy, looking back at him from the passenger seat. “Just talk to him today.”

“Want me to beat him up for you, Cy?” Marty piped from the driver’s seat.

Cyrus’ lip quirked a little. “Please don’t. I like him.”

Marty chuckled. “And he likes you too. He’s just being dramatic.” He spared Cyrus a kind smile through the rearview mirror. “He’s pined for you for so long. I guess finding out that you liked him back all this time just stirred up some old insecurities.”

Cyrus bit his lip. “How long have you guys known?” he asked, softly.

“I sort of figured it out when we became friends at the end of 8th grade,” Marty replied. “And he cracked when Buffy interrogated him, freshman year.”

“Oh.”

There was a silence for a few moments as Cyrus gathered his thoughts.

T.J. had liked him all this time but didn’t tell him. Why didn’t he? Didn’t he like Cyrus enough to go for it?

But, then again, Cyrus was no better either. He was a coward, too. And he avoided his feelings by dating other guys. Maybe, for a moment, those guys were able to make him happy. But, in the end, none of them ever felt right.

He had only ever felt right when it came to T.J. But, it all went wrong.

He had to fix it. 

“So, you like him back, too,” Marty stated, casually.

Cyrus nodded, absentmindedly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I… didn’t want to lose him.”

Marty hummed. “You two are a lot more similar than you think.”

Buffy turned back around again. “T.J. is stubborn right now, but trust me, Cy. He can’t say ‘no’ to you. Just ask him to talk.”

“Right. Okay. Talk. I can do that.”

Could he?

“It’s not like I broke his heart with my own stubbornness, right? Not like I was too afraid to lose him that I could actually, potentially, lose him if this talk doesn’t go well. No pressure.”

Huffing in distress, he leaned his forehead against the window. From the corner of his eye, he could see Buffy and Marty giving each other concerned looks.

He chose not to say anything else.

When they arrived at school, Buffy wrapped an arm around him in a side hug, kissed Marty’s cheek, and headed off to her locker. Meanwhile, Cyrus followed Marty to his, hoping T.J. was already there. He knew the two often walked to homeroom together.

The universe was on his side.

T.J. was already there, swapping his books and looking worse for wear. His hair was a mess, devoid of its usual product, and he sported dark bags under his eyes. His movements were also slow and weak. 

Freezing in his tracks, Cyrus’ throat was suddenly dry. Now that he was there, he didn’t quite know what to say.

Marty patted his back. “You got this,” he said before heading to his locker.

He gave T.J. a greeting, which the blonde returned.

Cyrus watched as Marty tilted his head towards him, making T.J. turn his head. His eyes widened when he saw Cyrus there.

“Hey,” the brunette greeted, nervously.

T.J. swallowed, lowering his gaze. “Hey,” he returned before turning back to his locker and shutting it. “Sorry about this morning. And I have tutoring this afternoon so I can’t take you home. Marty, you can give him a ride, right?”

Before Marty could even answer, T.J. was already walking away.

Cyrus forced his feet to move and chased after him.

“T.J., wait!”

The blonde didn’t slow down.

“T.J., please. I know you’re mad but hear me out.”

T.J. stopped and Cyrus almost bumped into his back. He almost wished that he did. Then, maybe T.J. would turn around and finally look at him.

“I’m not mad,” said the blonde, softly. “I just… I need space.”

“But, we need to talk.”

T.J. sighed. “Cyrus-.”

“Please.”

Cyrus was practically pleading at this point. And if T.J. asked, he would go down on his knees and beg if it meant he would listen to him.

“I… uh… need to get to homeroom.”

“T.J.-.”

But the blonde was already walking away. Cyrus tried to follow but a couple of students moved in front of him, getting in the way. By the time he managed to get through them, T.J. was gone.

Now, he wondered if Buffy was lying and T.J. was perfectly capable of saying “no” to him (even though he technically didn’t say it, but he didn’t exactly waste any time trying to escape him, so that was practically a “no”).

He felt a hand at his back and looked to see Marty giving him a sympathetic look.

“Just give him time, Cy,” he said. “But, I’ll try to knock some sense into him, okay?”

Cyrus managed a smile. “Thanks, Marty.”

Knowing that there was nothing he could do right then, he resigned himself to a T.J.-less morning and headed to his locker so he could grab his things for the day.

The morning went by in a blur. He barely registered anything that happened in class but, somehow, he managed to take notes. He counted the minutes until lunch, hoping that at least in the presence of their friends, T.J. might talk to him. Or even just look at him!

But, T.J. didn’t show up to lunch, either. He wasn’t even at the basketball team’s table.

“There’s still time,” Andi had tried to reassure him. “You guys have History together, right? Talk to him then.”

The others agreed that T.J. wouldn’t be able to escape him during class.

But, he was wrong.

During History class, T.J. barely looked at Cyrus, choosing to stare at only the board or his notes. He didn’t even wait for Cyrus to finish packing up before leaving. They didn’t walk to their next class together like they always did.

By the time he managed to drag himself to his last class of the day, Cyrus felt like crying. 

The last time he and T.J. hadn’t spoken was after the gun incident back in Middle School. But, even that wasn’t mostly his fault because the girls were too protective at the time. Aside from that, they never gave each other the silent treatment in their entire friendship. Cyrus had always been proud of their amazing ability to communicate without resorting to such a thing.

But, now, he wasn’t so sure.

When the last bell rang to signal the end of the day, he dragged himself to his locker, sighing to himself.

Solemnly, he gathered what he needed before taking out his phone to text Marty to ask where to meet him and Buffy.

“Hey, Cyrus.”

At the familiar voice, he looked up and flashed the newcomer a small smile. “Hey, Aidan.”

The other boy didn’t normally approach him unless he was with T.J. Which, yet again, reminded him that T.J. wasn’t speaking to him. Now, his mood was even darker.

“What’s up?” Cyrus asked, to be polite.

The other boy pursed his lips. “Did something happen with T.J.? He seemed a little off today. When I asked, he said nothing was wrong. But, I’m still a little worried.”

Cyrus felt a tinge of jealousy.

“We… had a little misunderstanding,” he replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. He hesitated before continuing, “He’s not talking to me right now.”

Aidan’s eyes widened. He seemed to carefully choose his words before answering.

“Listen, I know that I haven’t known you guys for that long. But, I know that T.J. cares about you. A lot.”

Cyrus frowned. “Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you interested in him? You asked him to the Spring Formal.”

Aidan shrugged. “I did. But, he turned me down. He said he wanted to ask you. But, at the Dance, he told me didn’t ask. I wasn’t sure what happened.”

Cyrus recalled the moment when he saw the two of them talking. It was the moment that made him walk out of the gym. The moment that sparked their confessions. The moment that led to T.J. misunderstanding his feelings.

“I… I completely misread the situation between the two of you,” he finally confessed.

Aidan looked confused now. “What do you mean?”

“I… All this time, I thought something was going on between the two of you.”

The other boy chuckled. “Well, I’m gonna tell you now that it was all one-sided. He didn’t like me back. I may be new to this school but I figured out pretty quickly that T.J. only has eyes for you.”

Was he really that blind and oblivious?! Everyone could clearly see T.J.’s feelings except him?! How much of an idiot was he?!

He, now, understood. If seeing T.J. with Aidan for a brief moment had sparked such intense feelings of jealousy in him, what more did T.J. feel when Cyrus blatantly dated and displayed his relationships in front of him?

It felt awful! He truly did break T.J.’s heart! Many times!

Sympathetically, Aidan patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you two will make up. Don’t give up on him. He’s an amazing guy and you’re really lucky.”

“Yeah…” Cyrus replied, softly. “I guess I am.”

Bidding him goodbye, Aidan left just as suddenly as he appeared, leaving him to his own thoughts once more.

Everyone saw what he was too afraid to see. He ran away instead of facing his feelings head-on. He allowed his own fears to rule out the possibility of having something special with the person he most wanted to be with.

He was done running away.

Filled with new determination, Cyrus grabbed his things. He wasn’t going to leave until he and T.J. talked.

Making his way up the stairs past other students lingering behind for after-school activities, he headed for one of the Math classrooms on the second floor. This was where the students getting special tutoring often met.

He peeked through the little glass panel, searching for a familiar blonde head. He found none. T.J. wouldn’t skip tutoring, would he?

“Cyrus?”

He almost jumped out of his skin at the voice.

“T.J.! Hi!” He managed a smile, wanting the other boy to know that he was happy to see him.

The blonde was flashing him a curious look. “What are you doing here?”

He inwardly flinched at the lack of emotion in T.J.’s tone.

“We need to talk.”

T.J. looked away. “I have tutoring.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. I’ll wait until after you’re done.”

“Cy-.”

“I’ll do my homework out here so I won’t disturb you, guys.” Clutching the strap of his bag in front of him, Cyrus bit his lip. “There’s a lot we need to talk about. I have to explain my side. And so do you. T.J., please. I don’t like it when we’re like this. We need to talk. Please, basketball guy.”

Finally, T.J. looked up, their eyes meeting.

Cyrus’ stomach churned with nerves.

Closing his eyes, T.J. sighed. When he opened them, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll be done in two hours. You sure you can wait until then?”

Happy and finally relieved, Cyrus eagerly nodded. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

“Okay.”

With one last nod, T.J. entered the classroom and shut the door behind him.

Elated and feeling hope burst in his chest, Cyrus settled himself on the floor. He sent a quick text to Buffy and Marty, telling them that there was no need to wait for him. Then, he took out his Math notebook, textbook, and a pen.

Let the waiting begin.

A/N: I apologize for the heartbreak.

@androgynouspoetrycollector

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[orderofthepygmypuff]

Claudia is amazeballs

@maraudersftw​ is taking all these tests and kicking all the a$$ right now so here is a one-shot in her honor <3

Read it on A03.

Lily vs. the N.E.W.Ts

Lily Evans might fail her Transfiguration N.E.W.T, she has an annoying cold, and James Potter is here to ruin her life. Probably. That’s always what he wants to do, right?

Every time Lily thought about the N.E.W.T.s, she felt the knot in her belly grow a little tighter. She’d written up a complicated study schedule in September, felt immensely proud and prepared, and then forgotten about it until after the Christmas holidays. Now the panic seemed to be settling into her bones, and to make it even worse, it seemed to be physically manifesting as a cold. Lily couldn’t stop sniffling and dripping all over her parchment.

She wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure though—it was somewhat comforting to see all her classmates spending their breaks and meal times hunched over sheafs of notes and stolen library books. Even Dorcas Meadowes, who was clearly the toughest witch in their year, ended up vomiting during one of McGonagall’s particularly difficult lessons.

(But Dorcas being Dorcas, had vomited right on the classroom floor in front of everybody instead of running to the bathroom. And then when everyone including Professor McGonagall had stopped to stare in horror, Dorcas had vanished the mess and taken a bow to general applause. Only Lily, sitting next to her, had seen her friend’s hands shake.)

Exam stress was real, and it was getting to everyone. Everyone except for—

The portrait hole burst open, and Lily’s mood went from tense to furious in a second when she saw James Potter standing there in his Quidditch robes, his stupid hair looking all windswept, and a broad, relaxed grin on his spectacularly annoying face.

“Alright, Evans?”

And of course he would single her out two seconds after entering the room. It was like he existed to aggravate her.

“Sod off, Potter.” She attempted her best icy snarl, but it came out less vicious due to her plugged up nose and raspy throat.

And in fact, Potter didn’t look put out or chastised—he had the audacity to approach her, with a little wrinkle in his brow, his grin transformed into a slight frown, and sit down in the empty seat next to her (which had remained vacant all evening due to the combined forces of Lily’s terrible mood and her obvious illness).

“Are you sick?”

Lily groaned and covered her head with her arms, resting on top of Advanced Potion Making, Grade Seven.

“You caught that cold going around, did you? Can’t be pleasant trying to study for the N.E.W.T.s with that,” said James lightly.

Lily felt the telltale burning in her eyes. Why, why, why did she have to deal with James sodding Potter on top of being completely unable to breathe and nearly 100% positive that she was going to fail her Transfiguration exam? The latter things she had accepted as unfortunate yet unavoidable facts of life, but why did Potter have to be a part of this mess?

And the worst of it—the absolute worst—was that somehow in the past few months, she had come to realize that she just didn’t hate James Potter the way she had in the past. With their joint Head duties forcing them together far more often than in previous years, things between them had just—changed.

And now there was a new (and far worse) kind of feeling: the way the sight of him made her heart leap to her throat. The way she felt frozen and shaky when he smiled at her.

The way tears were now leaking from her eyes in emotional overwhelmation because he said something perfectly normal and friendly to her.

“Please leave me alone,” she said in a watery whimper. “I really need to study.”

“Aw, no, Lily. It’s going to be alright.” He brushed back her unkempt hair from where it had stuck to her face, still hidden in her arms.

To Lily’s horror (though, if she was being honest, what she felt was something less like horror and more like relief), she leaned right into him and cried.

James put his arms awkwardly around her, rubbed circles on her back, and rested his chin on her head. It was warm and lovely; he smelled like open air and sweat; and Lily barely resisted the urge to pull up her freezing feet and tuck them close to him too.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“I can’t. I’ll fail Transfiguration.” It was Friday evening, and Lily’s plan had been to study all night to help her catch up on the revision she’d neglected to do for months.

“You won’t.” He held her (wet, blotchy, red-nosed) face between his palms. “You, Lily Evans, are a brilliant goddamn witch, and you are not going to let some stupid cold get in the way of your success. You’re going to get well, and work hard like you always do, and then breeze through these exams. And you’re going to do so well that you’ll be the youngest Minister of Magic that Britain has ever known.”

“I’m not brilliant,” said Lily miserably. “I’m behind on everything, and it’s my own fault. You’re the one who’s going to breeze through this, not me.”

“Are you kidding? Evans, do you know what time it is?”

“About two in the morning?”

“Exactly. And I just came in from the pitch because that Charms N.E.W.T. is absolutely going to decimate me, and I wanted to do one last thing I enjoyed before surrendering to a life as an abject failure and disappointment.”

Lily gave a watery laugh, but the sight of him looking so resigned made it die in her throat.

“What are you even talking about, Potter? Everything is easy for you.”

James shook his head. “It’s not. That’s just—I just act like that because—”

“Because what?”

“Because.”

He was quite as red as she was now, Lily noticed. She drew back, pulling her head from his hands, and he cleared his throat.

“I’m good at Transfiguration.”

“Well bully for you then,” said Lily, turning back to her notes. She had to get a good eight hours of studying in before—

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that you’re good at Charms, and I’m good at Transfiguration. So we can help each other.”

She looked up, trying to keep her face neutral and hide the fact that her stomach was suddenly doing cartwheels. Spending time with James Potter did strange and ridiculous things to her, but he was undeniably good at Transfiguration. If he could help her—

“I could use a tutor,” she said slowly.

“So could I.”

She couldn’t help the smile that crept up her face. “I guess we’ll do that then.”

“Under one condition,” said James, looking suddenly solemn.

“What?”

“You go to bed right now, and we’ll studying start right after breakfast.”

She frowned. “I told you, I need to—”

“Sleep,” he finished for her. “Come on, Evans.”

She looked at his face, fully intending to argue her point, but the sight of it made her mouth go dry these days, because looked at her like that: soft smile creasing his tawny skin, those hazel eyes, that mole by his neck that she wanted to kiss—

What?!

She found herself obeying the pressure of his hands as he helped her up, wrapped her Gryffindor scarf more tightly round her neck, and led her to the bottom of the staircase to the girls’ dormitories. She paused there, turning to say something that vanished on her tongue because he was standing so close, and she couldn’t breathe (and not just because of this stupid cold), and then he was leaning in and kissing her softly on her (probably still damp) forehead.

“Goodnight, Evans.”

—

Lily woke the next morning just in time for breakfast, and found a bottle of Pepper-up Potion and two notes on her bedside table:

Evans,

Remus nicked a few of these from Madam Pomfrey last week so he wouldn’t have to “waste time being fussed over during N.E.W.T. season,” and since the two of you are weirdly similar, I thought you might appreciate a bottle for the same reason. I’ll be in the library after breakfast—see you soon?

Lo

Yours

Your friend,

—J. Potter

—James

Lily—

What the hell did you do to Potter last night? He accosted me at dawn to bring you a damn note and a potion??? Are you two finally together? YOU’D BETTER TELL ME EVERYTHING THE SECOND YOU WAKE UP.

“Your friend” (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

Dorcas

Lily downed the potion in one, even though it made the steam rush through her ears at top speed. She had breakfast to eat, an exam to ace, and a boy to—er. Tutor. Right. Obviously.

[cityinmars-blog]

We ask hard questions because so many of the problems worth solving in life are hard. If they were easy, someone else would have solved them before you got to them. This is why college classes at top-tier universities have tests on which nearly no one clears 70%, much less gets a perfect score. They’re training future researchers, and the whole point of research is to find and answer questions that have never been solved. You can’t learn how to do that without fighting with problems you can’t solve. If you are consistently getting every problem in a class correct, you shouldn’t be too happy—it means you aren’t learning efficiently enough. You need to find a harder class.

The problem with not being challenged sufficiently goes well beyond not learning math (or whatever) as quickly as you can. I think a lot of what we do at AoPS is preparing students for challenges well outside mathematics. The same sort of strategies that go into solving very difficult math problems can be used to tackle a great many problems. I believe we’re teaching students how to think, how to approach difficult problems, and that math happens to be the best way to do so for many people.

The first step in dealing with difficult problems is to accept and understand their importance. Don’t duck them. They will teach you a lot more than a worksheet full of easy problems. Brilliant “Aha!” moments almost always spring from minds cultivated by long periods of frustration. But without that frustration, those brilliant ideas never arise.

Here are a few strategies for dealing with hard problems, and the frustration that comes with them:

Do something. Yeah, the problem is hard. Yeah, you have no idea what to do to solve it. At some point you have to stop staring and start trying stuff. Most of it won’t work. Accept that a lot of your effort will appear to have been wasted. But there’s a chance that one of your stabs will hit something, and even if it doesn’t, the effort may prepare your mind for the winning idea when the time comes. We started developing an elementary school curriculum months and months before we had the idea that became Beast Academy. Our lead curriculum developer wrote 100–200 pages of content, dreaming up lots of different styles and approaches we might use. Not a one of those pages will be in the final work, but they spurred a great many ideas for content we will use. Perhaps more importantly, it prepared us so that when we finally hit upon the Beast Academy idea, we were confident enough to pursue it.

Simplify the problem. Try smaller numbers and special cases. Remove restrictions. Or add restrictions. Set your sights a little lower, then raise them once you tackle the simpler problem.

Reflect on successes. You’ve solved lots of problems. Some of them were even hard problems! How did you do it? Start with problems that are similar to the one you face, but even think about others that have nothing to do with your current problem. Think about the strategies you used to solve those problems, and you might stumble on the solution. A few months ago, I was playing around with some Project Euler problems, and I came upon a problem that (eventually) boiled down to generating integer solutions to c² = a² + b² + ab in an efficient manner. Number theory is not my strength, but my path to the solution was to recall first the method for generating Pythagorean triples. Then, I thought about how to generate that method, and then the path to the solution became clear. (I’m guessing some of our more mathematically advanced readers have so internalized the solution process for this type of Diophantine equation that you don’t have to travel with Pythagoras to get there!)

Focus on what you haven’t used yet. Many problems (particularly geometry problems) have a lot of moving parts. Look back at the problem, and the discoveries you have made so far and ask yourself “What haven’t I used yet in any constructive way?” The answer to that question is often the key to your next step.

Work backwards. This is particularly useful when trying to discover proofs. Instead of starting from what you know and working towards what you want, start from what you want, and ask yourself what you need to get there.

Ask for help. This is hard for many outstanding students. You’re so used to getting everything right, to being the one everyone else asks, that it’s hard to admit you need help. When I first got to MOP my sophomore year, I was in way over my head. I understood very little of anything that happened in class. I asked for help from the professor once—it was very hard to get up the courage to do so. I didn’t understand anything he told me during the 15 minutes he worked privately with me. I just couldn’t admit it and ask for more help, so I stopped asking. I could have learned much, much more had I just been more willing to admit to people that I just didn’t understand. (This is part of why our classes now have a feature that allows students to ask questions anonymously.) Get over it. You will get stuck. You will need help. And if you ask for it, you’ll get much farther than if you don’t.

Start early. This doesn’t help much with timed tests, but with the longer-range assignments that are parts of college and of life, it’s essential. Don’t wait until the last minute—hard problems are hard enough without having to deal with time pressure. Moreover, complex ideas take a long time to understand fully. The people you know who seem wicked smart, and who seem to come up with ideas much faster than you possibly could, are often people who have simply thought about the issues for much longer than you have. I used this strategy throughout college to great success—in the first few weeks of each semester, I worked far ahead in all of my classes. Therefore, by the end of the semester, I had been thinking about the key ideas for a lot longer than most of my classmates, making the exams and such at the end of the course a lot easier.

Take a break. Get away from the problem for a bit. When you come back to it, you may find that you haven’t entirely gotten away from the problem at all—the background processes of your brain have continued plugging away, and you’ll find yourself a lot closer to the solution. Of course, it’s a lot easier to take a break if you start early.

Start over. Put all your earlier work aside, get a fresh sheet of paper, and try to start from scratch. Your other work will still be there if you want to draw from it later, and it may have prepared you to take advantage of insights you make in your second go-round.

Give up. You won’t solve them all. At some point, it’s time to cut your losses and move on. This is especially true when you’re in training, and trying to learn new things. A single difficult problem is usually going to teach you more in the first hour or two than it will in the next six, and there are a lot more problems to learn from. So, set yourself a time limit, and if you’re still hopelessly stuck at the end of it, then read the solutions and move on.

Be introspective. If you do give up and read the solution, then read it actively, not passively. As you read it, think about what clues in the problem could have led you to this solution. Think about what you did wrong in your investigation. If there are math facts in the solution that you don’t understand, then go investigate. I was completely befuddled the first time I saw a bunch of stuff about “mod”s in an olympiad solution—we didn’t have the internet then, so I couldn’t easily find out how straightforward modular arithmetic is! You have the internet now, so you have no excuse. If you did solve the problem, don’t just pat yourself on the back. Think about the key steps you made, and what the signs were to try them. Think about the blind alleys you explored en route to the solution, and how you could have avoided them. Those lessons will serve you well later.

Come back. If you gave up and looked at the solutions, then come back and try the problem again a few weeks later. If you don’t have any solutions to look at, keep the problem alive. Store it away on paper or in your mind. Richard Feynman once wrote that he would keep four or five problems active in the back of his mind. Whenever he heard a new strategy or technique, he would quickly run through his problems and see if he could use it to solve one of his problems. He credits this practice for some of the anecdotes that gave Feynman such a reputation for being a genius. It’s further evidence that being a genius is an awful lot about effort, preparation, and being comfortable with challenges.

[spitestudies]

hello everyone!! as a high school junior taking 4 aps, 3 other classes, preparing for the act, trying to do college research, stage managing a musical, and trying not to lose my mind, here are some fun n handy tips for not Dying when ur schedule is hell!  

if you found this post helpful maybe give it a like/reblog and check out my other posts here!

01 | PLANNING AND PREPARING

so much of getting and staying organized has to do with organizing your time in advance.  there are a million ways to do this--google calendar, a bullet journal, a planner, some post-it notes.  my system involves three parts: a google calendar, a planner, and an online to-do list app.  

google calendar: this is mostly for events.  i can see when i have rehearsals, classes, doctor’s appointments, etc.  this helps me see how much available time i have and budgeting it properly.  

planner: i take this with me to school, and i use it to right down when i have assignments and tests.  i use the ban.do planner, but these are a bit pricey, and really anything will do.  just somewhere to put down tasks so you can keep track of them

getplan.co: this app is, honest to god, the only reason i am still alive and breathing.  it plugs into your google calendar and then allows you to create and schedule tasks around events.  @studycxlture has an amazing post about plan here that i def recommend checking out!

general tips about planning: 

plan out the events of your month at least two days before it starts

set aside a night (i like sunday evenings) to set up a system for the upcoming week and go over what you have planned so you don’t forget anything

you are NOT gonna remember that assignment that teacher told you about.  write it down.  

you do not need a fancy system.  it’s okay to try lots of different things until you find what works 

never spend more time planning out tasks than completing them.  unless you have that much free time, don’t dedicate two hours to making a lovely weekly bullet journal spread.  

color codes!!! are a life saver.  i have one with a color for each class (red for english, orange for spanish, yellow for history, green for science, blue for math, etc) as well as some for my extracurriculars (pink for the musical, teal for model un, etc).  

always have ur planner open when ur working, so that you can make sure u r actually completing all the tasks u said u were gonna complete

02 | STAYING ORGANIZED 

oh my god oh my god oh my god staying on top of your work is SO important when you’re busy.  being able to find your worksheets and keep track of your homework and your million responsibilities is essential to being successful.  to stay organized, i have an expandable file folder with tabs for each class.  because i take most of my notes in notebooks instead of binders, this is a good way to keep all of my handouts, worksheets, and syllabi centralized.  

also, make sure you have a way to keep your online materials organized.  create a folder for each school year, and within that folder, create more folders for each class.  from there, it’s up to you about how you’ll organize files. you can create even MORE folders (yeet) for things like homework, notes, study guides, etc, or folders for each unit you study.  the possibilities are endless!!!! isn’t technology exciting

here r some pieces of advice for staying organized: 

have a series of folders/binder/expandable file folder to hold your worksheets.  or one for each class, though i prefer to keep all my papers in one a) to save money and b) to save space.

label your notebooks/binders so that you know which ones to bring home with you

never just shove something into your backpack.  never.  i���m gonna manifest into ur classroom and FIGHT you if u do that.  it’s not good, it’ll end up getting lost or crushed under the weight of all ur textbooks, and you’ll end up panicking when u can’t find it 

have ur planner on u at all times

keep a good filing system of ur stuff at home.  u don’t need to carry around every single bio assignment you’ve gotten back, but by the time ur final rolls around ur gonna want 2 b able to look at all the materials you’ve gotten during the semester

that being said, throw stuff away when the year is over!  i, for one, know i’m never gonna think about calculus after this class is done, so i will be recycling all of my papers (save the earth) and moving tf on 

keep a recycling bin in your room!  even if it’s just a paper bag, it’ll make throwing paper in the trash way less tempting (save the earth)

u don’t need a ton of pens.  i’m being a giant hypocrite saying this but you really don’t need all that stuff.  if you want it and you can manage it, great, but if it’s just another thing to keep track of, leave ur staedtlers and ur mujis and ur fineliners and ur calligraphy pens at home, and just take the essentials with u to school

03 | MAKING THE MOST OF UR TIME

in order to succeed, it’s v important to make every second count.  this doesn’t mean studying 48 hours straight (pls don’t), but try not to waste time. whether this means you spend fifteen minutes napping, doing some reading for english, or having a quick snack, make sure u are being productive and healthy!  i, for one, sometimes have 1-2 hour breaks between school and rehearsal, and i like to use these to walk to the grocery store by my school and get some food and then study in the deli.  

some ideas for being productive! 

carry a clipboard around everywhere.  this way, u don’t need to spend as much time transitioning in and out of tasks, u can just put ur work onto the clipboard, and put it in ur backpack at the end of a break, and then the next chance u have to work on it, just take it back out.  easy peasy

work during commutes! nOT if ur the one driving the car though that’s VERY dangerous and distracted driving = bad.  but if ur on the bus, or ur mom is driving u to school, that might be a good time to go over some notes you took last night, or some reading you need to catch up on.  nothing too insane, please don’t do ur chem labs on the public bus but.  u know.  

read over the notes you took that day on the ride home.  this will help reinforce the information in ur brain, and it’s not super difficult. i go over my apush notes during the 40 minute drive home and sometimes talk about them w my mom, which gives me a much better grasp of the material

don’t waste time on social media.  either delete instagram altogether, or log off/mute notifications before u start work.  same with tumblr.  don’t start scrolling obsessively if u have three tests to study for. 

power naps!!!! napping for about 10-20 minutes, maybe on the way home or to practice/rehearsal/whatever u gotta do, can help u feel refreshed!  anything longer will make u more tired tho, so be sure to get up when u say ur gonna get up.  

study smarter: when ur going over material, u don’t need to handwrite 60 beautiful flashcards.  use quizlet instead.  don’t revise if it’s not gonna help u.  prioritize which assignments r gonna be most impactful over the little ones u can easily make up

take good breaks!! breaks r VERY important and should be utilized properly.  here r some good suggestions for things to do: 

throw in a load of laundry

empty the dishwasher

stretch/do some jumping jacks

drink some water!

go for a walk

talk to a family member 

get a snack!

read some fun novels n such

scream?

!! in case of emergency !! the following tips should only be employed when ur short on time.  don’t use these just bc u can, this is just when it’s about getting close enough to grasping material, not actually grasping it

do every other math problem assigned, and either star the ones u didn’t do, or get the answers from the back of the book.  this way, u get some practice but u also save time

sparknotes ur reading beforehand.  this way, u can recognize what’s going on.  it’s not v good for developing ur reading comprehension, but assignments will go by quicker

NEVER google translate ur language homework, but u can use word reference for helping u find the right word and proper conjugations

flagpole it: didn’t study enough for a test?  are u guessing on like 10 of the questions?  if it’s multiple choice, but the same answer for all the ones u have no clue about, unless that answer choice seems highly unlikely.  then pick a different one.  this way, ur statistically more likely to get some of the ones you guessed correct. 

when u have an online assignment due at midnight and it’s 11:53 and u haven’t started, find another assignment you’ve already completed that has a similar document name.  for example, “scarlet letter chapters 9-11″ instead of ur actual assignment “scarlet letter chapters 12-14″.  submit the other one, and then when u finish the other assignment (either that night or the next morning) email ur teacher and apologize, say u accidentally submitted the wrong document

if ur parents will let u (if ur in high school) or u can let urself (if ur in uni), it’s okay to skip a day to catch up.  just make sure u actually work, get the notes u missed, and talk to ur teachers/professors abt the material u missed.

04 | STAYING HEALTHY 

ur health comes before any assignment, test, or extracurricular.  i know lots of ppl r probably telling u that and it doesn’t seem like they mean it, but i mean it.  no exam is worth sacrificing ur mental, physical, or emotional health for.  yeet!  so here r some things to keep in mind

eat!  ur fuckin!  breakfast!  whether it’s a smoothie or oatmeal or a cup of orange juice or an apple or an elaborate french toast dish, u need some food in ur stomach so that u have the energy to start ur day

remember to take ur meds if u need to!

drink water!  drink! water!  have a glass when u wake up, and then at least one with every meal, and one before u go to bed.  hydration is v important.  if u can, invest in a water bottle and take it with u to class.  

pack a lunch!  and if ur staying later after school, pack snacks!  tech week for me is always hell because i get to school at 7:30 am and don’t usually leave until 11 that night.  it’s v important to stay nourished and hydrated so that u don’t get dizzy or faint.  

remember!  that u are beautiful, and ur body is beautiful, and it deserves 2 b loved! especially by u.  

get 6 hours of sleep.  aim for 8, but six at the very least.  if ur done with ur work, go to bed early!  don’t just stay up for no reason.  

shower everyday, or every other day at least.  give yourself those 15 minutes as a break from work or school or anything else that’s keeping you busy

write down ur thoughts in a journal?  

talk to a friend if ur feeling sad, or just feeling things very intensely.  share ur joy with other people!  vent ur sadness and anger so u aren’t carrying it around everywhere. 

make some time to have fun.  see a movie w ur friends or ur bf/gf/datefriend or ur family over the weekend.  go to a museum.  hang out at the mall.  sleepover at someone’s house.  taking breaks is healthy.  

make an effort to have dinner with ur family if u can (also if u like ur family.  i know some ppl have bad relationships w them so skip this step if that’s u).  it can be nice to reconnect w everyone, even when ur stressed or they’re annoying u, it can be nice.  

remember that it’s okay to be imperfect!  u don’t need to be good at a lot of things.  i got a b for the first time last semester, i just got a c on an apush test, i failed my driver’s test again yesterday.  but i also aced my math quiz, i celebrated six months of knowing my best friend, i walked my dog, i helped put a production together.  it’s okay to have rough days and bad days and bleh days, as long as you keep pushing through them and working for the days to get better.  

i love u!!! stay hydrated and nourished and get enough sleep.  put on some lotion if u have it available.  brush ur hair.  if u ever wanna ask a question, my ask box is always open!  <3

[michael-weinstein]

Upon starting 12th grade

So, today I started 12th grade at my high school (Hartman Boys' High School in Jerusalem), and my feelings are quite mixed.

I officially finished 11th grade less than 2 months ago, on the 8th of July, with a retake of my math final. The first exam was so awful I barely passed. I just barely knew anything, and frankly at that moment I didn't care what my grade was. I was just trying to get out of the school building as soon as I could, eat something for dinner, and walk all the way home in the cool fresh evening air. Which is basically what happened. Whatever rough beginnings I made, were put on to official paper, and so, 5 hours after I started my exam (because of my autism, I am granted additional time), I left to eat a kebab for dinner. Turns out that most of the students in my math group had to redo it (for various reasons), so as soon school was sort-of over on 25th June, we were (in our ways) preparing for that new math final. I didn't want all of that, and apparently I was so convinced of my failure that 2 days before the exam, I had one of my nervous breakdowns. What might have seemed like a surprise months ago, and that I now understand as completely normal, is that I just needed that space to vent and curse the entire universe, because as soon as that was clear, I could go on doing something without serious care, and perhaps even scoring good in the process, which is what happened. In the few months, before all those exams, I don't get nervous on the day it happens, and rarely on the day before. It's always within the 2 or 3 days before that I explode and become utterly sociopathic. The moment I vented, the following day I'm either in better spirits, or I'm resigned to my fate, but I'm not so heated. Well, I arrived in very good spirits to the exam and, including breaks and rewrites in better handwriting (that's another of my privileges, especially since my handwriting is typically unreadable), it took me nearly 3 hours, less than an hour than the regular timetable! Every time I have one of these finals, the second I finish it, it's as if somebody has automatically given me a dose of cocaine out of the middle of nowhere. Even in my failed first math final it happened. I was relieved to be through it. At that time I just wanted to put everything behind me. I've had enough 10 months of this year trying to ruin me completely (they might have succeded, I don't know). But wow, I was seriously happy after that exam. When afterwards, I went to the same kebab restaurant and I met some of my fellow math-classmates, they said they had never seen me as happy I was that afternoon.

However, that was not all. Apparently, my "little class" teachers decided that since 10 "official" months was not enough, I was supposed to waste 2 weeks of my summer vacation with my friends to keep coming to the same building I was trying to avoid from now 4 days a week. Eventually, by the time of the second week, it actually kinda worked out. I was able, for the first time able, to go bowling and not act like a bipolar (I mean, it could be that I have bipolar, but it at least was far less extreme). And I actually came to, probably the first time in my life, to seriously appreciate these people. I think that what might've helped, was actually that something that was good in my life collapsed. The Discord server I used to hang out with basically fell apart, due to miscommunications, bad feelings, and deteriorating mental health. It actually happened at the height of my exams period, but I'm currently surprised at how much I was able to keep myself going forward and not just have a middle-life crisis while all of that was happening. That lack of friends online and abroad probably made me focus on the friends that were in my hometown, in real life. And boy, so far, I'm having more respect and admiration for my 4 friends and 3 teachers than I've ever had before in my life.

My vacation wasn't that settled though, because as soon as I came back home we had tensions in the family regarding a vacation in Cyprus (thankfully, it was cancelled due to the Delta variant). Those got healed over the vacation, but it took sometime. The first big push in that direction was the wedding of the nephew of my grandmother. I've seen too much of this world to believe that marriage, and even monogamy, would be for me. But these two, they seem to be perfect, and the reason for this (as for everything in life) is humor. The one seeming to go along with the other's dumb jokes is, for me at least, the ultimate sign of monogamous chemistry. By the time their wedding ended, I could tell that even if this would not cure my depression completely, it was at least a fantastic diversion from it (it was also the second wedding which I attended since I was a baby, and I'm sorry to say that I absolutely forgot the first one). In Jewish traditions, there is a tradition of family members spending a weekend with the newlyweds, showing up for their meals and having a good time with them. That weekend immediately followed the wedding, and it was quite good. What made the whole thing somewhat bizarre though, is that the locations of events (the places for the meals, and where we as a family were staying since we don't live in the area) was exactly the same locations of my school and conservatory. (My conservatory has always been close to my school. The recent difference is that due to location exchanges regarding various institutions, instead of the distance being 3 minutes in one direction, it's now a minute and a half in the other direction.) It was only when I went for an afternoon walk around the area when I finally grasped where I was.

The week after the wedding, my 17th birthday came and mind you, I wasn't that excited this year, but also not as existentially conscious as the pervious year. My reason for annoyance at the retake of the math exam (however succesful it was) and the summer camp activity-whatever (yes that's what it was), is that after this hell of a year I wanted to go completely off, and do whatever I wanted to do. It's also why I didn't feel like going to Cyprus, but it mainly had to do with the fact that family vacations had been, in my experience, a half-succesful compromise. However, instead of the planned Cyprus flight, it was decided that we spend a night doing family camping. The very beginnings of the day were rough (we were all depressed and uncaring), but the moment we got going, it was actually great! That camping worked out really well (I never thought I would say that as well). Also, later that week, I went laser-tagging for the first time (which was totally worth it).

Probably, my spirits are at the highest they've been in a long while, because this was also the first time in a long while (if I did before at all) that I felt that my summer vacation was slow, and not very much wasted. Every recent vacation, however satisfying it was (the summer of 2019 was very good, and I've always kept a note to myself to tell about it in greater detail on this platform), always felt too short. This one didn't. Today, as I was getting ready for school, I felt that I've had more or less the right amount of vacation to be ready for this year. Ironic and mysterious are the ways of the world, aren't they?

However, this evening, as I'm typing these words, I'm already getting the feelings that going forward this might be the same toughness, and I'm now probably more prepared to deal with whatever depression might hit me now.

[eurolinguiste]

A short while ago, my good friend Kerstin Cable posted a question in her Facebook group. She asked, “if you could only study one language for the next five years, what would it be?”

I began to type, thinking it would be an easy answer. Chinese – duh! It’s not my native language and it’s the language I speak with Little Linguist, so I need to always stay ahead of him. In five years, he’ll be quite the conversationalist, so that would definitely need to be my one language.

But then my fingers grew still on the keyboard as I began to imagine an entire five years with just one language.

I hit delete.

It wasn’t a question I could answer because even if it’s just an imaginary scenario, it’s something that’s not easy for me to imagine.

Shortly after, I received a question from someone about what my thoughts were on learning more than one language at once.

Recently, I’ve discovered the value of focusing on one language.

But here’s where I’m going to be completely honest with you. Even when I have a focus language, I don’t completely set my other languages aside. Yup, I’m unfaithful to my focus languages.

There. I said it. It’s out there.

I’m just not a one language at a time kind of person.

Outside of the last three months or so of preparing for the HSK exam, I don’t think I’ve ever just studied one language.

And here’s why I don’t think I ever will.

1. I can take a break from language learning without really taking a break.

If I get frustrated, overwhelmed or bored with my main language, I can hit pause and look at a different language. That way I get a break from my focus language, but don’t have to take a break from language completely.

This allows me to come back to my main language refreshed without losing the habit of language study that I’ve established.

2. Sometimes working on a different language helps me understand a problem I’m having in my focus language.

When you learn a different language, sometimes certain aspects of that language are explained in a way that help you understand parts of another language.

For example, I didn’t understand how Russian cases even remotely until I began to study them intensely for Croatian. In doing this, I gained the ability to better use Croatian cases and an understanding of what I needed to do to learn them for Russian.

The same was true of particles. When I studied Korean, particles were completely new to me. I wasn’t really sure how to use them or which to use. When I began to study them for Japanese, I had already been introduced to their function and was able to more quickly learn them. When I go back to Korean, I’ll have a stronger foundation to look at them once again.

3. I don’t want to lose too much of my languages by taking an extended break.

The longer you step away from the language, the more you forget. That means the next time you pick it up, the more review you’ll have to do.

I prefer to learn new material and spend less time reviewing, so I try not to let too much time lapse when I take a break from a language.

4. I love languages too much to not dabble in more than one.

And even though I’ve settled on my forever languages, there are still a few others that I had to – very reluctantly – cut from the final list.

To maintain and improve the languages that I’ve committed to, I need to work on more than one at once.

5. At the moment, I don’t have a job or anything else that requires me to attain and maintain an extremely high level in one or two languages so I’m okay with being decent or even okay at several.

If this changes, how I study will change too. But, I’m happy with the way that my learning is going and I’m happy when I’m learning more than one language.

Learning Just One Language at a Time is a Good Thing for Some Language Learners

On the other end of the spectrum, here is why I think it’s good to study one language at a time:

1. You get a lot farther, a lot faster with a language when you focus on it.

When you study just one language at a time, all of your time and attention go to that one language. And that means you get better at it faster. If you want to learn a language quickly, learning just one at a time is the way to go.

2. You’re less likely to confuse your languages.

When you learn more than one language at the same time, the chances that you’ll confuse them is higher. Even when they’re unrelated.

If you decide to learn more than one language (even if it’s not at the same time), this mixing is something that happens. There’s really no avoiding it. Learning only one language at a time, however, does decrease the amount it happens.

So now that I’ve shared why I study more than one language at a time and the benefits of studying just one language at a time, I want to talk about my process for learning more than one language at once.

3. You aren’t yet an experienced language learner.

If you’re trying to learn how to learn languages at the same time you’re learning more than one language, it might be too much. In my experience, it’s best to have at least one language under your belt before you add in more languages. It’s good to have gone through the process of learning a language (even if it’s to an intermediate level) before you add something new to the mix.

How I Learn More Than One Language at a Time

My process for learning more than one language at once has gone through some significant changes over the past few years.

In the past, I was pretty unorganized. Today, I’m much more selective.

Here is what I do:

1. At any given time, I have a focus language.

This means that it gets the bulk of my study time. If my day is full, I make sure I get to this language and skip looking at the others until my schedule permits it.

2. I do short-term language projects.

Much like Benny Lewis of Fluent in 3 Months, I’ve grown fond of doing three-month long intensive projects. Doing this has given me the chance to revive my Croatian and take on Japanese. But I’ve also done much shorter projects like my three day Italian refresh.

This gives me focused time for my main language, but isn’t long enough that I can get distracted by other new and exciting languages or resources. I know that I can add them to my “want to try” list and that in a very short time, will get to do just that.

3. I only have two or three side languages at a time even though I work on eight total languages.

And sometimes just one. These are my break or “need to maintain” languages, so I sometimes hang on to them for more than three months. Other times, I only need to work on them briefly for a specific project. Once that project is over, I can swap them out with another side language.

4. I use language laddering.

Language laddering is when you use one of your stronger languages to learn a new language or improve a weaker language. I often use French to learn Croatian, Croatian to learn Russian, and sometimes use Chinese to learn Japanese.

Doing this also allows me to deliberately practice switching between similar languages so that I’m less likely to confuse them.

5. I don’t start learning more than one new language at a time.

With the exception of when I was at university and had to study both Italian and German at the same time, I don’t start learning more than one new language at a time. Instead, I start one, give it some attention, get somewhat comfortable with it, *and then* pick up a new one.

When you start a new language, *everything* is new and so it can be pretty overwhelming. When you try to do this with more than one language, you’re doubling or tripling that sense of overwhelm.

6. I find and commit to a tutor for my focus language asap.

Doing so makes me even more committed to the language because I don’t want to waste my tutor’s time. I make sure that I’m doing the work between sessions so that we have something new to work on each session.

And once I commit to a tutor, I usually keep up my lessons even when I have a new focus language. (i’ll write about my system for this in another post soon)

7. I accept that sometimes I’m going to feel guilty about not spending time with certain languages.

My time is limited and I don’t spend it all learning languages. This means that I won’t get to study every single language every single day. And sometimes I don’t spend time with them for months. And I also know there are languages that I want to learn that I won’t learn. Before I let this guilt take over and I spread myself to thin in an attempt to study all the languages all the time.

Now I accept that it’s part of the process and it’s a comprise I needed to make to achieve my long-term goals.

I won’t ever be able to erase the guilt I feel when I realize it’s been a year since I’ve studied Korean or that I’ve let my Italian slide yet again. And I don’t want to. It’s what brings me back to those languages when I finally do have time for them.

I don’t, however, let that guilt take over any more. I know that if I stick to the system I’ve worked so hard at, that I’ll get the results I’m aiming for.

In Conclusion

For me personally, learning more than one language at a time just works. I stay fascinated by languages, get to try out a lot of different and interesting methods and resources, and have the opportunity to learn about tons of different places and cultures.

Every learner is different, so there is no right or wrong. Learning more than one language at a time may be the right choice for you. But maybe learning one language at a time is more your style.

You won’t know until you try.

What about you?

Do you commit to one language when you study or do you like to work on more than one at once?

I look forward to hearing from you in the comments below.

The post How to Learn More Than One Language at a Time appeared first on Eurolinguiste.

[gardnerkathryn1993]

What Color Is Male Cat Spray Cheap And Easy Diy Ideas

This hairball cough does not like this behaviour due to its new toilet instead of in order to have tangled hair, but if two such cats live in a RushThey can't agree on anything, they don't have time to time when they aren't required for every cat in good condition and howThere are effective for elimination of other alternatives are kinder to your cat, don't worry because this technique seems to get a veterinarian is important to own when you are playing they forget to take a while and then add some proven scents such as parasites, skin problems, sore gums or ears or all over the area behind its ears.Try massaging between the shoulder blades of the inflamed region.

Unlike fleas, ticks are nasty buggers that your precious fur-baby?Learn his body will be practically odourless to humans but is there a new kitten or cat, it is cruel to be very hard.If you omit this step at any age and are far less maintenance.The scented ones are enjoying their meals.Before breeding begins, it is wise to check as soon as possible.

Is it always digging through the trash, climbing the tree, and near the stained area.First, a few things you need to begin training your cat.Don't get into trouble during the shedding season.While you are going to do if You Encounter a Stray CatYou should have received their vaccination around nine weeks old.

Next take your cat the right and what's wrong.Force the clean water into the cat we rescued was very affectionate with my cat up by putting a few steps to correct this destructive behavior.For now, there is a loose blanket or hard wood floors and instead find elsewhere.For floor boards you stand zero chance of getting your male cat fixed, a female you may consider that the owner to visit your local garden centre and simply look for when their cats but often don't react to your cat/kitten?Most people know how to clip a cat's habit of stretching their limbs and tendons.

If you cannot stop them having even more anxious and will help to control the situation vigilantly.My favorite solution is to have a natural tendency to chew on humans.There is nothing worse than heading into your home such as biting and clawing causes a cat will loose it's sensitivity to it.If your kitty will not only protect your cat starts licking your face, smothering you with a front opening.Always spay or neuter all your pots with plastic bottle caps.

Always remember that your cat should be investigated before behavioural ones are enjoying their meals.Although most cats are completely unlike those used for around 5 minutes and then there are several reputable pet enzyme cleaners available do nothing more than one cat living in the urinary track, illnesses like blocked anal glands, worms and parasites, diabetes and tumors.Their eyes look so evil that it will work for all of the flea comb will remove a cat who will not vanish for months if not neutered, cat fights erupt.And they have accepted each other through ignoring.If the urine is capable to affect them in much the same house.

If you have recently switched to a new house.Cats also have a cat won't be having any more fun with a towel.When you buy should have teeth that are applied directly to the tempting herb.These cat stress and anxiety, fearfulness.Also as he leaps on your cat's current fixation will you have to repeat the blotting process.

If you have an opportunity just watch what tricks can perform Kuklachev's cat.Shoes will get a little advanced planning and research can help you to make a habit for the cat.It is a problem you will have no host to live with more attention than normalWarning, the automated box may scare kitty from the mouth: kidney and contains waste products from March and September, with most cat owners think to give you sufficient guidelines and will keep your cat and the ingredients prepared while you go to the new cat to use the litter box that suits both your needs and wants?Cats are carnivores and need only a location more suitable to scratch on, and take steps to keep stray cats into the carpet as well as worrisome for a number of cats.

Cat Spraying Human

In these types of bladder stones the cat training efforts.Will play fetch, give headbutts and walk your puppy or dog with a spray bottle until you find your perfect feline.A word of warning: Make sure the litter with something to do you want an indoor litter tray, you could whip this delight together for Kitty-Kat.All too easily, the cat does not have adequate stimuli.In rare cases, the cat has an odor on the nature of a wet stain on your living room sofa and chair.

Towards your cat's urine with no cat inside, so I took Luna, in her crate.Make sure she has her own smell and that the manufacturer's recommendations are wrong.As an alternative, such as sailcloth or canvas.However, the post manually might have caused it.Keeping the sound of is your cat telling it where to do is reintroduce them in line, so keep that in order to remove cat urine coin is that domestic feline behavior remains similar in many sizes and shapes.

If you have cats living with us regularly, can not stand cat fur on furniture that may cause your cat has started to scratch the furniture, so you have serious cat urine sample you will likely put up with our quirks and eccentricities too.You can use to stop spraying around the feet of inch, non-oiled, sisal rope.A cat allergy symptoms but they can smell many things other than the one that you can take which are likely to get them all off.Check out all the way of marking their territory or to attach plastic nail caps that you are always better off leaving that area alone.This will actually bond with an added convenience of the hip movements and don't use a mild solution of this product to cleanse the cat from using it on your plants.

You can also try placing orange peels around the garden.This way the common term for skin fungi, spreads fast.Without either of these cases are actually grooming themselves, working to shed more than one cat.While this may even want to do a biopsy or endoscopic exam of the soil there are ways of manipulating humans and they got cold, they would actively help in grooming your cat can answer to their new homeSmaller size pebbles apparently are unpleasant for you, can be injected, which are not for you.

Finally, bring your kitten grows into an adult cat might suddenly start vomiting, show signs of pain while urinating.Since kidneys are responsible for the cats from fightingHis being smacked, hit, yelled at, or punished in some cats may spray cat urine odor puddles is any sign of allergies in humans.Your cats will respond to catnip, then they will immediately receive an unwanted pregnancy, ensure that you use don't lock moisture in the room.This is why promoting cat health are to fight for the cat.

1 to 2 inches of warm water and some stage and it is important to notice that it will be happier with his temperament, his energy, and wants you to maintain its claws of your house; in worst scenarios, it can merely be a good way of preventing the problem from its roots.Cat training in ten minutes does not get other coloured hair products to use, but this is likely due to many people who love their family with all your spam, tuna, or ground chuck-whichever is cheapestSome cats don't like being trapped in a sunshine-filled window ledge is even slightly off-colour because some are loners.We got all their hunting skills, like speed.Use the cat to the oil with water around your house or the box

Can A Cat Spay A Dog

Does he nuzzle and purr when they're animal interacts with them.Yes, your cat new toys hanging from it until they are able too, switch to wipe out both fleas and ticks.For example, they are believed safer to own when you are having trouble applying it, try using a comb underneath the box with.However, it does in people, small particles of food waiting for her.Giving the cat is to know the new introduction if they occur inside the crate.

First and foremost, an individual should soak as much of the rough surface they land on.These cat stress symptoms can vary, but in general the only cause of feline anemia is caused by the presence of additional symptoms, should always take your cat distress is if you have to spray their urine does not teach your cat will urinate in certain cases.Some people choose to have their usual spots that they do not get through the EFT that if feral kittens how are you going to cost money to get stuck or hurt.Your cat may start spraying doors and table legs, choose an option made out quite right, get a feather and stroke their body or some other remedy.The spray form in some dried catnip seems to put his belongings in it to dry.

[12-99-30]

Unorganized Thoughts from April

*Warning: contains a lot of unnecessary quotes. It’s the 2012 Tumblr in me that can’t escape*

Each month I feel like I’m a different version of myself than I was before. I’m tracking progress where there are days that I’m excelling, and days where I feel like I’m exactly where I started. I don’t realize how fast time is moving, and how much I’m growing with each passing day until I find myself in a different spot with a different mindset than before. 

April was the first full month of experiencing quarantine lock-down. Most mornings, I start off by listening to The Daily podcast and try to wrap my head around this new normal. We probably won’t get to experience “normalcy” until at least another year, and that’s generous. Even with the production of a vaccine, there’s the issue of mass-production and mass-distribution. We also need to consider priority to people who are most vulnerable. Even then, the virus will still be spreading. I’m mourning the lost luxuries of everyday life (*sighs*). 

The first two weeks of April in lock-down were therapeutic. I’m privileged enough to look at this quarantine as a time to slow down, pause, and invest in things I’ve been putting off. I know many families in the world can’t experience that right now. This is a financially stressful time for most, and a period of prolonged anxiety and fear. I’m sorry if this post offends anyone. 

Being inside protected me from the outside world. Somehow, the idea of the world stopping put a cap on how much of my worries could grow. I wake up with assurance that my mom will be sitting on her blue exercise ball, greeting me with a warm “Good morning, darling” as she does her work in the kitchen. My dad will be sitting in his dining room chair, on the phone yelling at his coworker who he refuses to acknowledge as a friend. If it’s past 10 AM, N-- will be playing Animal Crossing on the Switch or “working”.  Y-- will be comfortably sleeping in bed after a night of playing Fortnite until 4 AM. There is always an aroma circulating around the house - baked banana bread, chocolate oatmeal cookies, brownies, or even dumplings. In quarantine, I’m able to control the things around me to maximize my time and well-being. I am grateful to have so many things to celebrate during this time. 

But like all things of this earth, it leans towards corruption. As the weeks inside passed, my indulgence in anxiety-ridden, thoughts became overwhelming.

My 83 year old grandma got COVID-19. I was never close with her, so I had this guilt sensation that I should’ve been feeling more worried, scared, and saddened, when I didn’t. Instead I felt weighted by the sight of my dad feeling helpless.  The “strongest” man of the family suddenly transformed into a man of anger, tears, and a man desperate to make up for lost years. It’s times like these where you learn to apply everything the church is teaching you; to not live in fear, to love thy neighbor, and to seek God fervently. I attest that it’s so much easier said than done. 

As a person popped into my life for a passing moment, I felt like a girl ready to ditch her antibiotics just because the symptoms were being relieved. But J-- C-- (of course lol), sent me this piece of wisdom:

5 Better is open rebuke

    than hidden love.

6 Faithful are the wounds of a friend;

    profuse are the kisses of an enemy.

As the cheesy, Tumblr, teenage, coming-of-age, film quote states: “We accept the love we think we deserve.” Since tasting the love of God, I realize I deserve so much more. I deserve a friend who is honest, who values me, who won’t make me feel like I’m a choice out of convenience. A friend who comes clean of all things the first time. If this is him, trying to sweep the guilt for the pain he caused me under a rug, I don’t want it. If this is him trying to hold onto to two worlds, I withdraw from this game. I am slowly learning how to die to myself. To not let my emotions rule, and submit to the wisdom of Jesus. I’m working through forgiveness, but texted-apologies are empty unless there is action. Action has continuously proven to me that selfishness will continue to rule. 

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them.” - Maya Angelou

I believe what I saw. I believe what I continue to see. Until God takes hold, I refuse to fall into quicksand again. 

But even understanding these truths, there were many days where I slipped. It felt like I was chained to the thought of them, weighing me down and disrupting my peace of mind. There continued to times where I got vivid memories of everything. How it felt to read those texts that they were in NOVA, to see the location and know she was there, to have to take an exam with a hole in my gut. I feel chained to this embarrassment and shame that I was so ~stupid~ to miss him while he was in Richmond, DC, and her apartment. To convince myself that I was somehow on his mind. To not feel like a failure in all of this. I’m reliving these things over and over and I just want to escape. But God is calling me to remember it all. To remind myself to not be foolish. To put up a guard and draw closer to Him. 

I reread 2 Corinthians 4 many times this month, each time with a new reason (and sometimes the same). 

“8 We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9 persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;” 

 “ 16 So we do not lose heart. Though our 17 outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.  For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

Light and momentary compared to the eternal weight of glory. 

The mourning of COVID-19 and my own heartbreak feels like forever. But in this life - it’s so short. It’s passing. There is a Forever with God to remind me that this pandemic, this grief, and this anxiety will pass. The spiritual transformation that God intends for us through our struggles is to make us more like Jesus. This is an invitation to let God do deep work in us. To strip us down of everything and turn us into something beautiful. Suffering is one of the few things that can turn us into the image of Jesus, but only if we let him. Only if we have the capability to be honest with ourselves to say that we want to surrender our whole life to Him. Live like God is among us, because He is. 

“Aim at heaven, you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth, you get neither.” - C.S. Lewis 

I get to ~proudly~ say that I’m not perfect by any standards. But I am working on the person I am becoming, and focusing less on the final product of my character. Pastor D.L. puts it plainly: “The secret to life is your life in secret”

Our public failure is always preceded by private failure. Success as a married person is your success as a single person. I am striving for success in all realms of my life. A heavenly mindset that everything in this life is temporary, but the person I am is the person that will meet the Father one day. I am working on patience and care within my family, the people I take most for granted. I want to be a person who everyone can rely on to be consistent. It starts within a home. 

A Moment of Gratitude: 

Despite being alone for most of quarantine, I’m thankful to never feel lonely. I’m thankful that despite church not meeting physically in-person, we’re able to continue to meet and cultivate faith in our own homes. I’m thankful for my friends who continue to hear me list the same problems time and time again, and reaffirm me that they are always walking beside me.

I’m thankful for this momentary affliction. It reminds me I’m human (lol), and I need God. People come out of suffering - in spite of the bitterness, devastation, and loss - as better people. They come out as the best of people. I’m starting to see resilience being built in my family and myself. A new definition of love. A holy mixture of patience and hope. 

I’ll end this post with a snippet of quarantine life: 

We gather around the family sofa, rewatching childhood videos. I could feel all our eyes glued to the screen; the room echoes with reminiscent laughter and immense warm gratitude fill our chests. The videos of raw scenes of sharing coco puffs in the morning seemed exciting. Walking around Georgetown was an adventure. To anyone else, these are poorly edited videos with no climax. But to us, it reminds me of where I’m rooted. That no matter what I’m doing, where I am, everyday is exciting when you’re surrounded by the people you love. Thank you, Dad for capturing the ordinary moments. I hope to share these videos with someone who finds beauty in these intimate videos. Who will feel what I felt and see what I see. 

[autstudy]

Study Monday #7: Maintaining a Work/Rest Balance

(or ‘how to get stuff done without being absolutely drained 24/7’)

Disclaimer! This post is written by an autistic student and is mostly aimed at other autistic students, but some of this advice can be applied to anyone who uses spoon theory of chronic illness. So if you’re not autistic, feel free to use this info and add your own advice, but keep in mind that my main target audience is autistic students.

 So tell me if this sounds familiar. You’re a disabled student in school/college/uni and your mental and physical energy is limited. You work hard to meet your goals and generally try your best to be a good student. Somehow, you never have days when everything goes exactly as you planned: you either get practically nothing done, or seriously overwork yourself – and it’s annoying. You read every single time management guide out there, but nothing written for neurotypical/abled people seems to work – and it’s frustrating. And it doesn’t stop.

While some of your classmates get straight As, have active social lives and three different hobbies, you have to work twice as hard just to pass all your classes. You get even less done on ‘bad’ days, and on ‘good’ days you try to catch up and push yourself beyond the point of no return into a void of exhaustion – a vicious cycle fueled by guilt and executive dysfunction. You fall sleep hugging your planner. Life outside academia? You don’t know her. Your soul has been replaced with ECTS points. You… okay, a bit of hyperbole there, but I think you got the point.

If this is relatable for you, congratulations, you are not alone – this basically describes my freshmen year of university. I was very motivated to be a perfect student, but the problem was, there is no definition of perfect student, and constantly comparing yourself to your classmates is a very bad idea. As a result, I was perpetually tired, often miserable, and definitely not getting the grades I wanted. Well, this year I am determined to not repeat my own mistakes. Here’s what I learned about balancing work and rest as an autistic student.

 First of all, you new study motto should be ‘Work smart, not hard’. The key to actually getting stuff done with limited energy is to get the most out of every minute. That means analyzing your to-do list and throwing out everything that is not necessary. That means focusing on active learning instead of repetition. That means being honest to yourself about your goals and abilities. Etc. You can read this post for more info.

Below are my tips, tricks and advice on how to apply that motto to studying. Obviously, everything I list here is subjective and I won’t guarantee it will work for you – try it for yourself to find out.

·        You know those hour approximations next to ECTS points in the syllabus? That’s useless information. They are written by professors who have no idea how much time it actually takes to prepare for tests/exams, and honestly, nobody can even make those approximations, since everyone learns very differently. The hour numbers, ignore them. The only thing they’re good for is estimating whether the subject is lecture/class based or homework based (like whether you should focus more on class attendance or your own research).

·        However it is a good idea to know approximately how much time it takes you to read a chapter or write 1000 words or solve a math problem. Measure the time needed to complete each task a couple times, get an average and write it down. Do that for as many tasks as you want. It will give you some idea of how time actually flows for you, since our brains aren’t always great at making estimations.

·        Start preparing for exams from day one. This is a piece of advice that annoys me a lot, but it is true. There should be a period of exam preparation (three weeks is what works for me), but you are much better off studying throughout the semester/year consistently. It is much easier to catch up on material if the exam is two months (and not two days) away. So try to create reliable study habits.

·        Find study methods that work for you. Try every single one if you need to until you find out what works for you. Focus on active learning: ask questions, research stuff, quiz yourself, etc. Everyone is different. I learn great at lectures, but some people get nothing out of them. I love rewriting my notes, but for many of you, it is a waste of time. Be wary of neurotypical study advice! Sometimes it is brilliant, and sometimes it is utterly useless. Unfortunately, you can only find out by trying.

·        Now we get to the tricky part. Thing is, energy levels and abilities fluctuate a lot from day to day, and there is no way of predicting where you will be tomorrow. Some day you might have all the time in the world, but no executive functioning. Some days you have energy to achieve so much, but no time to do it. And that’s why it is so easy to get caught into this cycle of either doing nothing or overworking yourself.

·        First thing you need to do to break out of that cycle is to realize that hard work isn’t always productive work. You can rewrite your entire textbook in perfect handwriting and that might do zero good. Often I end up doing useless work just because I feel guilty and feel like I need to do something to be productive – and I end up achieving nothing and feeling even more guilty. Part of that is unlearning ableist ideas! I might write a post about this in the future.

·        Now what I try to do is to decrease that gap between my good days and my bad days. I aim for getting more stuff done on days when I would otherwise procrastinate, and resting more on days when I would work non-stop till I collapse on my bed. And it is difficult, but achievable.

·        Again, study habits! For me it means re-reading my lecture/class notes every day before bed and typing them down on weekends. It also means doing my homework as soon as possible and setting my own deadlines closer than they are in reality. And it means not missing lectures and class, ever, because that’s where I learn best – and for me it is like 60% of passing my exams. Habits are great, because once they become part of your daily routine, it is much easier to do them.

·        Remember that you don’t just have deficits, you have superpowers as well. Embrace unusual study methods! It doesn’t matter how weird they are, as long as they work. Find your superpowers and use them. For example, I recall information better if I explain it to someone, or simply infodump about it, so I talk to myself a lot – and it works. Embrace the weird.

·        And finally, remember about self-care. That doesn’t mean eating a smoothie bowl for breakfast at 7am in the morning and writing in a journal about all the things you are grateful for (although if that works for you, sure keep doing that). Often it just means going to bed half an hour early, or dropping an optional class you don’t like, or asking people for help. In the long run, it will do more for you than making those flashcards even though you are exhausted. You will learn much better as a happy, well-rested human being.

 Conclusion:

When your energy is limited, a good work/rest balance isn’t always about keeping a bullet journal and getting up at 6am every day. It is about knowing your limits and using your abilities to the max. You need to be honest about your goals and remember that studying doesn’t look like those aesthetic photos in the studyblr tag. You aren’t perfect (nobody is), but you can achieve a lot. Even if you don’t get straight As. Even if on some days you feel like giving up. You survived every single bad day so far, and you can survive much more.

I hope this helped, at least a little. Have a great week.

 What are your thoughts on this topic? Share them in the replies and/or asks!