#i used to passionately lie to/try to convince people in second grade that i was a vampire bc my canines are a bit bigger than most peoples.

[strangerhands]

godddddd i wish i had longer and sharper canine teeth... pls... please.

[noteguk]

bad influence | jjk | m

— summary; in which you know Jungkook is a bad influence on you, but you can’t avoid falling for him every time. 

— contents and warnings; pwp, badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, car sex, dirty talk, fingering, hair pulling, breast play, jk has a big dick and an attitude, unprotected sex (condoms are your friends), jk being kind of a douche, use of the word “slut”, cum eating, creampie, cockwarming, possessiveness, he slaps her ass like once, enemies to fuckbuddies pretty much 

— words; 4.5k

— author’s note; I got carried away because I don’t know how to control myself!!! Also bad boy Jungkook is a fucking concept and I’m exhausted. Have fun. //  BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

You didn’t even know who you were trying to convince when you told yourself that you wouldn’t fall for Jungkook’s cheap charms anymore because, clearly, that wasn’t working. Every time you saw him, every dumb promise you made in front of the mirror came crumbling down, erasing your defenses along with it. 

That whole “falling for the bad boy” fiasco was really pathetic, and you knew that terribly well. You thought you had prepared yourself well enough to see through that mess of testosterone and leather jackets, of hollow smirks and messy dark hair. You knew better than to get involved with someone that didn’t take anything seriously and, worse, that mocked you for doing the opposite. 

You knew that Jeon Jungkook was nothing but trouble and, yet, you came crawling back to him every single time.  

“Fuck,” he moaned against your mouth, his eyes flickering shut at another roll of your hips. His voice was so deep, so rough, that you felt yourself clenching around nothing, a small whimper dripping from your lips as you pressed your panties against his bulge one more time. “You should wear skirts more often, you look like a sexy schoolgirl.”

You rolled your eyes, struggling to keep your balance on his lap. Straddling him on the driver seat of his car really wasn’t how you thought your night out would end, but it wasn’t all that surprising either. “I fucking hate you sometimes,” you spat.

Jungkook smirked, taking one of his large hands to the back of your head. “Only sometimes? I should try harder, then.”

You were left without a chance to respond because, within a second, he was pressing his lips against yours in a deep, sensual kiss. Jungkook always made out with you like he was about to lose you, like he was drowning and you were his last, desperate gush of air. Jungkook had been the only one who had ever kissed you like that, so messy, but yet so passionate; every curl of his tongue against yours making you melt in his embrace. You, of course, would never tell him how much you liked it, your pride would never allow you to do so.

His palm was firm and hot against your cheek, tilting your head slightly to the side so he could deepen the kiss. His other hand was tenderly placed on your hips, guiding them as you continued to grind against his clothed erection. The air inside his car was so heavy that you felt as if you couldn’t even breathe, only small whimpers echoing between your mouths at the gentle caresses of your clit against the fabric of his pants. 

But, as much as Jungkook was having fun, that grinding session was starting to annoy him a bit. He had been waiting to have you all night — going through the motions of boring bar conversations and brushing off the shameless flirting of other girls — and he wasn’t going to spend his sweet time just dry humping you like you two were horny teenagers. 

So, he took his shot as you raised your hips from his. Before you could move your body down once again, one of his hands traveled beneath the hem of your skirt, his nails pressing down on the skin of your thighs as he made his way towards your pussy. Jungkook had been daydreaming about your cunt wrapping around his cock for far too long then, and he needed to remind himself of how good that felt. 

“Fuck, babygirl, look at you… You’re soaked and I didn’t even touch you yet.” Jungkook smirked wickedly, his fingers faintly tracing its way up and down your clothed folds. You shivered at the contact, biting on your lip to avoid moaning out — he, of course, noticed that. He had quite the natural talent when it came to seeing what made you tick. “Why are you holding back, baby? Afraid that someone will hear you?” 

Your only response was a shaky breath from your nose, the words far too complicated to leave your mouth. Only Jungkook, in all of his great self, was able to make you such a mess so quickly, and you hated your body for being so reactive under his touches. It was the expectation, you noticed, the anticipation of knowing how well he fucked you, of knowing he was only taking his time before ruining you. 

Without hesitation, he pulled your panties to the side and placed two of his fingers between your pussy lips, barely brushing your entrance. Jungkook covered his digits with your wetness and moved them toward your clit, pressing them delicately on your sensitive nub. “I asked you a question, baby.” 

A bit overwhelmed, you breathed out, trying to keep yourself composed. It was almost impossible when it came to him. “Yeah, I don’t want people to know,” you admitted. 

He knew that, of course. It was a common worry amongst the two of you — especially when Jungkook had such a thing when it came to risky places to have sex in. Fucking you in his car, right outside the bar where you two had accidentally ran into each other, was far from being one of the most out-there situations he had created. 

“Hm? Know what?” He continued playing his self-indulgent game, pressing down on your clit. Your body jilted at the contact, mouth parting slightly and hands resting on his broad shoulders as he began slowly moving in circles over your sweet spot. “That pretty little ___ isn’t such a good girl, after all?” 

“J-Jungkook,” his name was a pathetic moan that died on your tongue, barely a whispered plea as he continued his advances on your clit. You had broken down so easy and so fast, you didn’t even remember you had once promised yourself that you would never come back to his bad boy shenanigans. 

But it was so, so hard to keep yourself away from him. You were only human, and Jungkook was this little demon ruining you just a bit more every time. 

“Are you worried that they’ll know that, beneath all those good grades, all those nights spent studying in your room, all that fucking charity work...” His fingers pressed harshly against your clit and your back arched, making you almost hit the steering wheel behind you. The thought of accidentally pressing down the horn made your blood run cold, and you forced yourself to lean back against his chest. “That under all that, you’re still a slut for my cock?” 

Your eyes fluttered shut, pleasure starting to climb up your spine as his voice guided you towards the past. All the times you snuck out during the night, all the times he fucked you raw after just bickering with you in front of your friends. All the times you told everyone that he was just a pile of trouble, and yet you begged for him to bury himself between your thighs until you were crying out his name. Really, it was difficult to find a bratty clapback when he was fucking you senseless, and Jungkook seemed to like that discovery just as much as you. 

And still, sometimes he didn’t like when you didn’t answer him. 

“You’re so shy all of a sudden…” he trailed off, taking one of his hands to pull up your crop top. He didn’t take it off, especially when he knew you’d freak out being topless in a public parking lot, he just needed to have better access to your bra. “You aren’t this quiet when you’re around other people, though. Always mocking me, being so mean…” 

“Don’t play the victim, you do the same to me,” you found the strength to respond, making Jungkook stop his motions on your clit right away. You sighed in frustration, your shoulders falling as you watched him lick his lips. “Why did you stop?”

“I’m waiting,” he said.

“For what?” 

“For an answer, baby.” He smirked. “You’re so mean. You always leave me hanging.” 

“That’s not true,” you said, taking your hands to his nape. There, you played with the strands of his hair, making him groan after a harsh pull. “What’s the question?” 

Jungkook hummed, taking his free hand to your bra and cupping one of your breasts — his other one was still paused, hovering over your clit like an unspoken promise. “Do people know?” He repeated, unclamping your bra with one swift motion and pushing it up along with your top. “Do they know how much of a dirty girl you are?” 

You swallowed hard and pushed your body against his fingers, trying to find some more friction. “I’m not,” you said, but could not believe your own words. “It’s just—“

The lie vanished the second that his lips found your nipple, his velvety tongue coming out to circle around it before he gave you a harsh suck. You pressed yourself closer to his mouth at the contact, and you could no longer hide the needy moan that escaped you — which seemed to satisfy Jungkook. 

“You’re not?” He spoke as he pulled away from your breast. Jungkook’s fingers slithered away from your clit and dove inside your pussy without further warning, making you cry out his name. No matter how many times you touched yourself, your fingers could never compare to his larger ones, making you stretch out so sweetly around them. “So why are you soaking my fingers like this? That’s so filthy, baby...” 

You clenched your teeth. “God, you’re so annoying.” 

“And you’re so wet,” this time, however, the mockery in his voice had faded a bit, giving space to a newfound wave of lust. As much as Jungkook loved to tease you, he was quite fast to break too — and the lewd sounds of your pussy were making him lose his mind. “Are you remembering all the times I fucked you before? All the times I pounded this tight pussy until you were crying? Begging for my cock?” 

God, you could feel as the heat started to spread down your body, guided by his words alone. When you spoke again, your voice wasn’t as firm as you expected. “J-Jungkook, that’s not…”

“Not what, baby?” He interrupted, tilting his head to the side. You hated how clothed he was, but you couldn’t deny that you wanted to ride him like that — in that stupid leather jacket of his. “You didn’t like it?”

“I- I did.” It was getting hard to think when his thick fingers were pumping in and out of you so well. “I loved it.”

Those words left your throat before you could stop yourself, and your heart almost sank when you realized you had actually praised Jungkook, local douchebag, for something. You knew that he wouldn’t let that go anytime soon. “Loved being fucked like a good slut, right?” He asked, moving his fingers faster. You moaned especially loud when he started pushing them apart, scissoring you. 

“Yes,” you gasped, utterly defeated at that point. 

“Hmmm… so let me ask you again, and I expect a direct answer this time,” Jungkook said, leaning his head against the crook of your neck. His voice was a cloud of heat against your skin, vibrating up and down your body. “Do people know that you’re a slut for my cock?”

“No,” you finally responded, fingers digging on his hair. Your pleasure was increasing so fast that you knew it was just a matter of time before you were cumming around his fingers, like you had done so many times before. “Only you know, Jungkook.” 

That seemed to really satisfy him, because it was his turn to grunt against your flesh. The sound of his voice, so hoarse and guttural, made you clench around his fingers. “You’re getting so tight, baby.” He breathed out, unable to hide the desire that coated his words. Jungkook really needed to feel that delicious pussy of yours around his cock before he went insane. “Close?”

This time, your answer didn’t take long to come out. “Yes.”

“I have another question for you,” he started, and you would've rolled your eyes at him if you weren’t so awfully close to your high. “Do you wanna come on my cock or my fingers?”

“Both, please,” you moaned out and rolled your hips against his hand, dignity long forgotten. You wondered what your friends would say if they knew you were pleading for Jungkook, of all people, to make you cum. 

“Not both, you have to pick one.” Jungkook stopped his movements for the second time that night, and you couldn’t help cursing out at the absence of motion. You clenched around his fingers, making a sly smirk spread across his features. “I’m feeling especially greedy tonight.”

“Fuck you,” you said, taking a moment to organize your thoughts. As much as you really, really needed to cum, the idea of not having Jungkook’s dick inside you was much worse than waiting just a few more minutes to have it. “Your cock.”

He smiled and, for a moment, he almost looked innocent. Almost. “I thought so,” Jungkook teased, giving you one final pump of his fingers and watching as you bit your lip at the abrupt feeling. “I know you love it.” 

You scoffed. “You have such an attitude.” 

“Maybe,” Jungkook said as he removed his fingers from your pussy, watching how they shimmered, coated by your wetness. He looked up at you and took his hand towards your mouth. “Let me see you taste it,” he told you, tapping on your bottom lip. Obedient, you opened your mouth for him, allowing for his digits to slither inside. With a whimper, you sucked him like you would his cock, curling your tongue around him in a way that left Jungkook cursing out. “So fucking hot.” 

His eyes were focused on your mouth as he pulled his fingers away from it, swallowing dry at the “pop” sound it made when it left your lips. “Now,” he almost groaned, “let me taste it.” 

Jungkook crashed his mouth on yours, making you moan against his kiss once again. His tongue hungrily danced with yours, searching for your taste as his hands grabbed your ass, pressing you down against his aching member. You never wanted something as much as you wanted to feel him inside you right then, and Jungkook also didn’t want to wait any longer. 

He smirked against your mouth when he heard the sound of his zipper opening, your hands working fast to pull his pants down. “I told you that you love my cock.”

“God,” you complained, pulling at the hem of his pants. Jungkook raised his hips from the seat so you could slide them down, bringing his underwear along with it. “Do you ever stop talking?” 

“Only when you let me eat you out.” His cock had sprung free, resting against his abdomen as your hands moved to grab it. Again, another compliment that you would never give him, but Jungkook had one of the prettiest (and biggest) dicks you had ever seen; already so enlarged and red-tipped, leaking with pre-cum. Just looking at it made you horny, and it wasn’t long before you were taking it in your hand, giving it a few pumps before brushing your thumb over his crown, spreading his wetness all over it. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

The pleasure in his voice almost blinded you for a moment, making you forget what had been your intention in the first place. However, as you felt yourself clenching around nothing, you came back to your senses. 

“I wanna feel your warm little cunt around me, baby,” Jungkook breathed out, watching as your hand continued to pump him. 

“You’re lucky I’m feeling especially nice tonight,” you told him, placing your thighs closer to his center. With a grunt of expectation, Jungkook’s eyes followed as you raised your skirt with one hand and guided his cock towards your heat with the other one. “Ready to make your schoolgirl fantasy come to life?” 

He opened his lips to respond, but his voice was lost the second that you pressed his tip against your opening, coating his cock with your warmness. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned, hands grabbing your ass as you sank down on him. 

“Oh, God,” you whined as you bottomed out, your walls pulsating around him as you got used to his size. No matter how many times he fucked you, you couldn’t get used to his large size and the amazing way he filled you up like no one else could. “Jungkook, you’re so big.” 

That was another comment that, unfortunately, you could not hold back. Because you hated yourself, that was why. “You can take it, baby,” he said, pressing down on your ass. “Be a good girl and take everything.” 

With his added force, you sank down until you had all of him inside you, practically sitting against his thighs by the time you were done. Taken away by the delicious feeling of his thick cock inside you, you started slowly setting a pace, moving up just so you could crash back down; the sound of skin on skin filling the still, muffled atmosphere of his car. 

“Shiiiiit, ____, you’re so tight.” He breathed out heavy, watching the way your bodies connected; the way his dick was coated by your wetness. “I can’t get used to it, it’s the best pussy I’ve ever had.” 

Now it was your time to be carried away by his compliments. It was stupid, but having Jungkook praise you (especially after he spent most of his days making fun of you) had you feeling over the moon. Before you could hold yourself back, you were already setting up a rhythm, bouncing up and down on him in a way that got him seeing stars; moaning in delight every time you rolled your hips on him. 

“Fuck, yeah, ride this cock,” Jungkook groaned, thowing his head back against the seat. His hair was a mess, falling over his eyes and gluing against his sweaty forehead; and yet he looked like sin incarnated as you fucked yourself onto him. Those saliva-coated lips, those furrowed eyebrows, and the deep, hungry gaze that he sent you way every time you sunk down on him would be the death of you. 

Jungkook breathed out as you started to pick up your pace, your hands pressing down on his shoulders as your ass bounced against his thighs. “Such a good slut,” he praised breathlessly, taking one of his hands to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes.  “Such a filthy little thing.” 

Pride forgotten, you knew what he wanted to hear. “O-only for you,” your words were a confusing mess of syllables, mind drunk on the feeling of his big cock pumping in and out of you. Only Jungkook could fill you up like that, only he could make you such a mess so quickly. 

“Oh, I know, baby.” His palm came down heavy against the globe of your ass, stinging your skin and making you cry out in an amazing mixture of pain and desire. You whimpered at the feeling that his slap left behind, your eyes dazed and unfocused as you looked down at the boy. “This pussy is all mine.” 

You called out his name as he started thrusting up, the force of his movements increasing your pleasure immensely. You loved when Jungkook started to get rough with you, when he started to use you like you were just a doll for him to seek his own high. 

He pulled on your hair, making your head tilt backwards and presenting him with a glorious view of your neck. Jungkook groaned against your flesh, his lips and tongue attacking your skin in a way that you knew would leave marks the following day — just the way he liked it. “I want to fuck you forever,” he moaned, “Wanna make this pussy so messy with my cum. Mark it as my own.”

“It’s yours, Jungkook,” you told him, lost in the buildup of your pleasure. “It’s all yours.”

He groaned, and the force of his hips snapping against yours only increased. Weak, you allowed your body to tumble against his strong chest, letting him use you the way he wanted it. 

“Such a tight and wet pussy for me,” he moaned out through clenched teeth. Jungkook looked almost animalistic then, only wanting to fuck you until his stamina ran out. “Say my name, baby.”

“J-Jungkook,” you gasped. 

“Louder,” he hissed, buckling his hips higher. The feeling of his cock thrusting upwards and reaching even deeper inside you got you seeing stars, eyes rolling back and mouth falling open. “I want everyone to hear it. Hear how good I make you feel, hear that this pussy is all mine.” 

Any other time, you would refuse to do something so absurd — but, at that moment, your mind was floating far away from that car, and all that you wanted was to be a good girl for him. “Jungkook!” you called his name louder, moaning out at you felt his cock throbbing inside you. 

“Again,” he rasped out, his jaw clenching. 

“Jungkook, fuck!” You almost yelled out, the world turning into nothing as you continued to fuck yourself on his cock. Moments like those were wonderful: all your problems went away, and you could only focus on the way he made you feel so deliciously full. 

“Ah, that’s it, shit,” he cursed out, member throbbing inside your pussy, “I’m gonna fucking cum.” 

You cried out at the thought, wanting nothing more than to see him cuming because of you. “C-Cum inside me, please.”

“Yeah, baby,” he said, his voice lost in pleasure. You could feel his desperation from the way his hips crashed against yours with much more force, hitting deep inside you. “Take everything.” 

His mind went blank when you clenched around his cock, wiping everything away from him but the delicious feeling of your walls sinking down on him. Jungkook looked like he was in a haze, his eyes unfocused and teeth sinking on his lip, barely watching the way he disappeared inside you. He only needed a bit more to be pushed over the edge. 

“Please, fill me up, Jungkook,” you begged. His eyes darted towards yours, watching your face. He could see that you had tears pooling at the corner of your eyes, a faint heat in your cheeks. God, he had completely ruined you. “Please, I need your cum.” 

And that was it. His orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, a deep groan leaving his throat as he spilled himself inside you, hearing the lewd sounds of your wetness as he continued to thrust up against your pussy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed, head falling against the seat once more. Jungkook’s eyes closed as he felt the last drops of his cum being milked by you, his mind a jumble of broken words and disconnected ideas. “Oh, fuck, baby, fuck. Take it, baby, fuck...” 

Of course you did as he asked, and you took every drop of his cum until it was starting to spill out of you. You couldn’t even look down, but you were sure that you were a complete mess between your legs. “J-Jungkook, I’m so close,” you cried out, drunk on the feeling of his thrusts. 

“God, that’s it.” He pressed down on your hips, overwhelmed with the feeling of your walls clenching around his sensitive member. Jungkook loved it, though, loved seeing you cum around his cock like it was all that you ever wanted to do; loved watching your face as you looked at him with so much desperation that he almost grunted out. You really were a precious thing. “Make a mess on my fat cock, come on, baby. Let me see you cum for me.” 

His request was like magic to you, and you came right after, calling his name amidst breathy moans and high-pitched whimpers. Jungkook kept whispering in your ear as you rode your high, praising how good you were for him, how good you felt around him, until you crashed down against his chest, absolutely spent. 

Still, you had experienced enough sexual adventures with Jungkook to know that he still wanted two more things before he called it a night. He had his particular tastes. 

“Let me see it.” Jungkook told you about a minute later, and you knew exactly what he wanted you to do. With your thighs still trembling a little, you leaned back against the steering wheel and pushed your body upwards, letting his dick slip out of you. Jungkook hummed in delight as you pulled up your skirt and he watched his cum dripping down your thighs, painting your folds in a delicate shade of white. He always loved to admire his work. “So fucking pretty… and all mine.”

You had to bite down your lip not to whimper at the touch of his fingertips against your pussy, catching a bit of his cum on them. He took it to his mouth, humming around his digits as he tasted himself. “You always make such a mess,” you complained. 

“Shut up, I always clean it.” Jungkook sighed, looking at you almost tenderly. “You know what I’m gonna ask.”

Yes, you did. 

You sighed. “Fine.”

Jungkook hummed happily as you propped yourself over his cock once again, now half-hard, and placed it back inside you, sinking down until you were sitting on his lap. “Good girl.” He sighed in bliss, his hand caressing your hair as you rested your head against his broad chest. You didn’t understand why Jungkook loved staying inside you after sex, but you couldn’t deny that you weren’t bothered by it. You just liked to pretend as if you were. “Feels so nice.” 

You pressed yourself against his chest. “I hate you.” 

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around your lower back. “No, you don’t.” 

And you hated that he was right.

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

[wreckmetoji]

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader ↳ Megumi Fushiguro/Reader

Part 7/?

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6

content warning. negative thoughts, self doubt, angst, slight fluff, poor megumi This is part seven of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

1.9k words

You glared at him, only to be met with a shit-eating grin. "Looks like that smart mouth is good for something. Now get out of my car." The exchange was less than desirable. Nothing screams you're worthless more than pleasuring a man and then being told to promptly get out of his sight. There were no more words exchanged between the two of you, once you had gotten out of the car and slammed the door shut, Toji sped off without as much as a glance in your direction. It made you seethe, but at the same time you felt so incredibly disgusted that you let him degrade you like that. It took you a while to clean up, deciding to crumple your only half decent dress and throw it in your closet to be forgotten, and shower away the now dried cum sticking to your legs. You don't know why you were left feeling this way, you knew Toji wasn't a good man. You also knew that whatever you two had going on was supposed to be zero feelings involved. Still, it wouldn't have killed him to treat you decently. Sitting on your bed in nothing but a towel, you held your phone in both hands, staring at the bright screen in stark contrast to your nearly pitch-black room. You needed to talk to someone, you felt vulnerable. You knew Nobara had a date tonight, and Yuuji was taking night classes to make up for failing grades, that only left... A sigh fell from your lips, heart wrenching when your thumb pressed the call button, your heartbeat hammering in your ear as you brought the phone to it. It only rang two times before he answered, like he was already anticipating your call. "Hey," Megumi sounded tired, and you could hear the rustling of his sheets on the other end. It was nearly midnight, the realization that you must've disturbed his sleep making you feel even worse. "Hey..." You answered quietly, unsure what else to say. How were you going to get emotional support from him? It's not like you could say your dad fucked me stupid and made me feel used, I need someone to talk to. You heard his gentle voice call your name, once, then twice, before you placed your hand over your mouth and sniffled, trying to keep your tears at bay. You were human fucking garbage. "Hey, hey whats wrong? Are you okay?" Again, you heard the rustling of sheets, then a click followed by a long creak. "I'm gonna come over, wait for me, okay? I'll be ten minutes." You nodded, even though he couldn't see you, and the line went quiet. He never hung up, staying on the phone with you while he drove. Every time you sniffled, or whimpered, or quietly sobbed, he would croon it's okay, I'm almost there. In much less time than he said he'd take, you heard the phone go silent, followed by his frantic rapping at the door. He knew the code to get into your building, him being one of three people you trusted so dearly with it. You were suddenly very aware of your towel-clad body, but really unable to care at the moment. You just needed someone. Less than a second after the door was opened, Megumi was inside your apartment, kicking the door shut with his heel. When he quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, your hands balled into his chest, accepting the halo of warmth he provided as you quietly sobbed into his shirt. It didn't take long for you to stop crying, standing in the entryway in silence as Megumi held you with such care. Once he could tell you'd calmed slightly, he brought you back to your room, sitting you on the bed and going through your closet to find you something to wear. You didn't see that he noticed the dress you wore tonight so angrily discarded in the corner. He managed to find one of his old graphic shirts he gave you, and a pair of loose shorts, placing them on the bed beside you. "I'll give you a minute. Let me know when you're done." He stepped out of the room, making sure not to close the door completely behind him, letting the hallway light bleed into the dark room so you'd be able to see what you were doing. You softly smiled at his choice of clothes, the faded cartoon dog on the shirt was nostalgic. Once changed, you slowly opened the door, refusing to make eye contact. If he knew whatever was wrong was tied to him in some way, he didn't show it. You sat on the couch with him, legs bunched up, leaning into his side with his arm slung over your shoulders. The silence was comfortable, your tears and sniffles mostly subsided as the two of you absentmindedly watched whatever movie he decided to put on. "So," He broke the silence, taking a deep breath, "Do you want to talk about what's wrong?" This is the part you were dreading. How were you going to say this, if you could even say anything? There's nothing you could say that wouldn't give away who hurt you in what way. You could only imagine how disgusted he would be with you. "Shit, no," Megumi cursed, turning towards you on the couch when you started to cry again. "It's okay, you don't have to talk about it." His arm was still over the back of the couch, his other reaching out to grab yours, hesitating for a moment before he threaded his fingers between yours. "I feel like," You hiccuped, gripping his hand in both of yours. "I feel like if I talk about it, you'll end up hating me. I can't have you hate me, Gumi." You hung your head, tears falling onto your joined hands. Megumi remained quiet, scooting closer to you on the couch, his free hand coming to rub your back. "You know I could never hate you." You knew that was a lie, at least in this situation. "I'm just a pile of fucking garbage, I can't even get my life together for one fucking day! I just hurt everyone around me and–" Your words were caught in your throat, the hand that was previously holding yours now grasping your chin and forcing you to turn and look at him. Despite that, it was still gentle. "Don't say that shit, you know better than that." He firmly scolded, sapphire blue eyes boring into yours. The longer he stared, the more you cried. "I just feel... so disgusting. I feel like everyone would be happier if I weren't around. I feel worthless." Your tears slowed, watching his eyes as they scanned your face, settling on your lips a little longer than anticipated. You wanted to feel like you were worth something. In that moment, and that time, you wanted to feel loved. It didn't matter by who. Leaning into his touch, moving your face closer, your gaze moved between his eyes and his lips, watching them part ever so slightly. When he leaned back, even if just a centimeter, you stopped dead in your tracks. The tips of his ears were flushed, his breaths heavy and slow as they fanned over your lips. "I... I don't know what I'd do without you, so please..." Megumi swallowed, seeming unsure of what to do. His hand moved to the back of your head, cradling it when he closed the tiny gap between you two, kissing you so passionately, and so desperately. You returned the favor, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt, his other arm coming to wrap around your waist and pulling you impossibly close. This was wrong, you were horrible for using him like this, but he was the only one that made you feel wanted, needed. He was the first to pull back, keeping you in place as he rested his forehead against yours. Sapphire eyes were closed, and his brows were knitted together. When you leaned in for another kiss, he turned his head slightly. Your name fell from his lips in a pained whisper. "I don't think this is really what you want." He sounded sincere, but absolutely shattered. "I think you think this is what you want, and I'm sorry I took advantage of that but... I can't have you disappearing on me again because I'm selfish." If only he knew that you were the selfish one. You were quiet for a moment, hands loosening their grip on his shirt. "Please," You begged, tilting your head to kiss him again, only to have him lean back and look at you. His expression was doubtful, like he didn't believe what he was hearing. "Please, Gumi, I need you right now." With the way his jaw visibly clenched, you knew you wouldn't have to convince him anymore. He was weak to your requests and wide teary brimmed eyes, you'd put him in a position he just couldn't refuse. You moved forward again, this time successful in managing to kiss him, just as desperate as before. The feeling of his resolve crumbling made you sigh against his lips, both of his hands coming up and cupping your face. It was nothing like the treatment you'd experienced the last few times with his father, the two seemed like complete opposites in how they handled a partner. Perhaps it really all came down to whether or not they cared about who they were touching. Megumi moved his hands down, moving under your shirt just enough so the flats of his palms came in contact with the bare skin of your waist. He dared not go further than that, you knew he wouldn't even as he pulled you into his lap, never once breaking the needy, now crooked kiss. He had been the first to crack, hesitantly brushing his tongue against the lip of your slightly parted mouth, and you eagerly returned the favor. It was clear he wasn't thinking straight with how firmly he held you against him, chest heaving when he exhaled through his nose. His grip tightened, halting your movements after you had rocked forward on him, causing your clothed heat to rub up against the forming tent in his black pajama pants. Clearly, with how sensitive he was, he wasn't wearing underwear. He parted from you, cheeks flushed and irises blown. "I... we can't. Not yet." "You don't want to?" "No– fuck, I do. I want to, I want you– I just don't want you to regret it again." Maybe, you thought, the disappointed expression painting your face would tell him you wouldn't, but deep down you knew he wouldn't budge. He always had a good moral compass, at least when he was sober. You nodded, and he let out the breath he was holding, leaning up and giving you one, two, three kisses, the third lingering much longer than the others. "I'll stay with you tonight, if that's what you want, but if we're gonna do something like that, I want to do it proper this time." That was admirable, you thought with a bittersweet smile as he carried you to your room, settling you down on your queen bed and crawling in next to you. He didn't have to beckon you once he put his head down on the plush pillow, since you were already making your way over to his side. In this moment, and in this time, you felt loved. You felt needed. You felt respected. And you knew that come morning time, you'd probably regret that too. 

______________________________________________________________

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post). 

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use). 

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban. 

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions). 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed. 

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate! 

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore. 

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks. 

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all. 

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…" 

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out. 

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

[peachesandmilktea]

For an Obey Me! Matchup Commission

So, I'm a 1m70 plus sized girl with hazel eyes and shoulder length wavy hair. I'm a rather shy person at first (I apologize a lot and tend not to talk to a lot of people) but I can come out of my shell easily and when I do, I'm actually talkative and passionate. I'm very affectionate toward others and like to give hugs. I'm very honest (can't lie), I'm creative, loyal, rather childish and simple minded, perfectionnist and manage to get good grades even though I can be extremely dumb. Now for the bad part ( cuz we need to be realistic ); I can be impulsive, I have strong emotions that sometimes cannot be controlled, I'm anxious in general and have low self esteem. Im also lazy and can be jealous sometimes. I love animes and Mangas, drawing, eating, collecting stuff (whatever it is) and play simple video games (dating sims, minecraft, sims 4 , ect. ) I know it's complicated but I just wanted to give out a lot of details lmao

THIS IS A COMMISSION. This match-up is not part of the 200 followers milestone event. (If you're interested in getting a matchup commission for My Hero Academia, Jujutsu Kaisen or Obey Me!, click here!)

I match you with...

𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧!

He'll be cold to you at first although he can't help himself stealing some glances you way from time to time (you're just so beautiful and yet painfully out his league). But then, all of his pretend icy persona melts like snow on a hot summer day when he realizes you have common interests. There's no stopping him then; he'll knock on your door at 3 am to tell you about a game he just bought, all in the hopes he'll see those little sparkles of excitement that sometimes light in your oh-so-pretty eyes, he'll try and convince you to put on a few cosplays, nearly fainting when at the sight of you wearing his favorite character's outfit, and he'll even pretend not to understand a few subjects at school just so that you'd volunteer to be his tutor. He's like a puppy, craving for your attention, and he'll instantly melt as soon as you give it to him. He never has enough of your touch, always yearning for your hugs and kisses, even though he's a bit shy at the idea of cuddling with you at first. Once he gets used to it though, whenever he feels sad or lonely he'll simply walk up to you and snuggle against your chest for you to wrap you arms around him, no matter how much taller he is. He lacks a bit of confidence but you do help with that (after all, if he was able to date the literal perfection made flesh that you are, then he must not be that bad). Now, on the other hand, he'll crush the world under his heel before allowing you to belittle yourself. You won't even have time to think about your self-esteem; he'll then spend every second of his days telling you everything he likes about you. After all, he's Leviathan, the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy; he's lived thousands of years, seen the three worlds and more, and if he tells you that you're the most beautiful being to ever grace the universe with your presence, then you can believe him, he knows.

He loves taking you to the sea, but mostly at night, when there's no one else and the two of you can watch the reflection of the moon and stars over the calm waters. If you want to swim, he'll complain a bit beforehand but agree still, and maybe he'll even summon Lotan if he thinks that it might impress you. Then, once the two of you go home, he loves to help you dry your hair and prepare snacks for a movie night, delighting in all of that simple domesticity. It shows him that you're not just spending time with him because he's a pitiful, gross otaku and you feel bad for him; no, whenever the two of you snuggle under a blanket in front of a movie and you quietly take his hand in yours to pull it on your lap, he knows you're sincere, and his heart might feel like it'll explode everytime that happens, but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Leviathan gets flustered easily when you're close to him, but it's nothing next to the times you have him writhing underneath you, tears of pleasure running down his cheeks as you gently take him from behind. There's nothing more adorable than the shivers that run down his spine whenever you call him a good boy or tell him that he's taking you so well, and he'll beg you for more, even if there's no way he can handle coming one more time. Anything for you, though, and he'll look at you, love and desire swarming in his irises as you make him come undone once more, and once more, and once more, until he even forgets his own name, until yours is the sole and only word that slips through his lips when you wreck him yet again.

-------

Please tell me if you liked it ♡

[flowesona]

The Hermit - Yandere! Seokjin x reader

The Tarot Series

Warning: Mentions of Suicide, Explicit Content

Seokjin could not find real love for the life of him. Everyone around him was too vain, too obsessed with themselves to care about him. Everyone was hungry for money, or attention, and it made him sick. In his desperation for romance he turned to the previously taboo area for relationships - the internet.

He could find someone that shared his passions. He was even prepared to pretend to like something, just to find that special someone. But luckily he didn’t have to seek out anyone as desperate as he was. She just stumbled into his lap incidentally.

He’d found that Discord was the easiest way to find friendly, chatty people to satiate his hunger for love. That was how he’d found her, on some server about a video game he’d played casually a few times. He’d been pleasantly surprised when she sent him a message individually, asking if he was down to play a few rounds with her.

He’d instantly asked his friend to borrow his console, since this girl didn’t use PC. Jungkook had been persuaded to hand over his console with enough bribery and guilt tripping, and Jin was set to win the game and her heart.

“What do you do for a living then?” (Y/N) was relaxed enough, sat back in her chair with her knees to her chest and eyes on the screen.

“I’m a model. You?” Her teammate answered simply. Sure, he was only beginning his career, but what harm could a little white lie do?

“A model? That’s really cool. Guess I’m going to be the ugly friend, huh?” She laughed, before going silent to focus on the game.

“You didn’t answer me. What do you do?” Jin didn’t seem content to let silence take over.

“I’m stuck in a permanent limbo buddy. I don’t really know what I want to do once I’ve graduated. If I graduate that is.” 

(Y/N) sighed, shifting in her seat slightly.

“I can help you. I’m successful enough to-” She laughed, cutting off his wheedling statement.

“Not happening. You can kill me before I let you become my sugar daddy, buddy.”

“Seokjin.” He responded quietly. “My name’s Seokjin, but you can just call me Jin.”

“Well, Jin if you want to help me out maybe take care of these people behind me?”

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

He’d finally convinced her to skype him, to allow him to see her face after weeks of asking. Jin’s fingers trembled as he typed in the username and sent the request, an odd feeling in his stomach. Anticipation but also a slight fear - what if she didn’t look how he imagined his ideal woman to be? What if he’d wasted all his energy on a catfish?

But the face that appeared on his screen was nothing less than that of a goddess. It was as if his fantasy had been projected before him, as if his Galatea had been breathed into life.

“Hey Jin? You okay?” Her words shook him out of his trance and he nodded eagerly.

“It’s nice to put a face to the voice.” He said light-heartedly, flashing her a charming grin.

“You catch the lea- oh hold on a second.” (Y/N) left briefly, leaving Jin to stare at his own reflection in pity, to see the sad man he had become doting endlessly after a girl who couldn’t talk to him for a full minute without being interrupted.

Luckily, he only had to suffer for a few minutes as she re-entered the view of the webcam with a decently sized package in her hands.

“Sorry about that buddy. I forgot that my shoes were being delivered today.” It was that repeated use of the casual nickname that was starting to make his heart ache. As if she saw him as a friend and nothing more.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” He called her attention away from her parcel, revelling in her ethereal face. “Do you have a boyfriend you’ve never told me about?”

“Nope.” She responded. “And don’t you even think about trying to weasel your way into that role.”

“Why? Would I not be the perfect boyfriend?” His tone was teasing but his heart was thumping in his chest at the conversation.

“You are the perfect friend, Jin. I would happily hook you up with one of my close friends some time if you’re looking for love.”

“Yeah….” Throughout the rest of their conversation there was a notable absence of Jin’s normal self. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t convince himself to be happy when she could never be his.

Yet he couldn’t stop himself. No matter how much she talked about him being a friend he was constantly pulled further into his obsession with her.

He hadn’t even realised that he’d gone too far when he contacted the leader of their discord (a personal friend of hers) to ask her last name. He wasn’t even aware of how fucked up it was when he solicited a professional to dig up as much personal information as possible on her. There wasn’t a sliver of sanity left when he ‘casually’ took a stroll through her neighbourhood, waiting for her to bump into him and invite him back to her place.

Jin had gone crazy for her, and she didn’t even know.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“(Y/N), you could do a lot better.” The older man said sternly, taking off his glasses. She stayed silent, hands on her knees to keep them from bouncing.

“I know, I might have rushed it since I was so busy with-” As the pair spoke, they were unaware of the third party spying on them. Jin had found a peephole in the storage room next to the professor’s office, and was watching the whole interaction with a second hand anxiety for her situation. 

“Well, there’s a few ways that you could make it better. I haven’t logged the grade in the system yet, so you could try again. Or, you can do me a little favour and I’ll log it as a B plus.” Jin watched in horror as (Y/N) cautiously nodded and got down on her knees, her hands unbuckling the older man’s belt.

He felt like he was going to be sick seeing (Y/N) being so intimate with another man, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to look away. He started to imagine himself in her professor’s position, thinking about how it would feel to have her mouth on him, her mischievous eyes looking up at him, and before he knew it he had one hand in his pants and another covering his mouth, hoping the walls weren’t too thin and they wouldn’t be able to hear their voyeuristic partner. But it was over too soon, (Y/N) standing up to wipe at her lips and muttering some kind of thank you as she left, trying to fix her appearance.

Jin started to make himself presentable as well, wiping his hand on his jeans. He checked back on the professor, seeing that he was packing away his laptop, ready to go home for the night.

‘Shit’.

Jin had to do something to stop this monster plaguing his (Y/N)’s life, and fast. 

He slunk out of the janitor’s closet, hoping to fit in as he walked to the parking lot. There, after checking that there weren’t any security cameras watching, he waited. Only half paying attention to his phone, some music blaring through his headphones so that he was camouflaged into the university setting, no one was even aware that he could possibly have the means to kill tucked away the back of his jeans.

Finally, the professor walked out, a tower of books in his hands. Jin approached him with a charming smile.

“Need any help there, professor? You seem to be struggling with that!” He offered, his hand outstretched to take some of the weight off his shoulders.

“Oh, thank you young man. My car is just over here.” The man smiled gratefully, bending to let Jin take the highest books on the stack before leading him to his vehicle.

“Just put them in the trunk for me. Thanks so much for your help.” Once all the books were loaded, the professor went to enter his car only to be stopped by the feeling of a gun being pressed to his back.

“Unless you want to die, get in the car. Act natural.” Jin muttered in his ear, easing the pressure off his hostage’s back for a second. “Don’t even fucking think about running or you’ll be dead before you know it.”

The professor gave a shaky nod, climbing into the driver’s seat as Jin sat in the passenger’s seat directly behind him.

“I want you to go to your home. Don’t think about acting up to get pulled over, got it?” He hissed. 

“Why are you doing this? I swear, if it’s money you want I’ll give you whatever you need, no questions ask-”

“I thought you were smarter than to question the man holding a gun to your back. Drive.” Jin snarled, his victim jumping into action once he felt a jab through his seat.

Jin didn’t even feel bad. In his mind, it was all just, punishing the man who was coercing his perfect (Y/N) into such gross, indecent acts.

Pulling up at his residence, the professor felt slightly more at ease, thinking he could just give this maniac money or his valuables and just be free. But Jin had other plans.

“Your laptop. Bring it with you into the house. You’ll need it.” He snapped, keeping the gun low enough that it wasn’t obvious to passersby but high enough that it was still a threat. His hostage nodded sullenly, pulling out his briefcase and laptop bag.

“Now, we’re going inside your house. I don’t want any funny business, got it?” Jin said quietly, following the professor as he unlocked his front door and entered, disabling the security alarm.

“What do you want no-”

“Where do you normally sit when you’re thinking?” Jin interrupted.

“My study, why? Please, whatever you want just tell me-”

“Go there. Sit in your chair or whatever.” Jin held the gun up higher. “I’m getting impatient.”

Once he was seated, Jin finally said what he wanted.

“Get out your laptop. You’re going to write a confession about everything you’ve done wrong, the young girls you’ve abused and apologise for it all.” His victim turned as pale as a ghost.

“I-I didn’t do anything, what are you on about-”

“I’ve seen it.” Jin snarled. “Getting those girls to do you 'favours’ for passing grades? You’re sick.”

He pointed the gun right at the professor’s forehead, pressing the cool metal into his skull.

“Get writing already. If you miss anything out then I’ll know.”

It was silent for a while, the professor’s pages slowly creeping on and on, detailing every incident from the start of his career onwards until that very day, all of which had been pushed aside for so long by loyal colleagues. But his crimes were not to be ignored for much longer.

He finished typing, having left his name at the bottom of the account.

“Send it to the university board, your colleagues, your family and the Gazette. Everyone. They deserve to know who you truly are.” Jin commanded lowly. 

“Why are you involved in this? Who told you?” The scholar questioned as he started to type out the names of his colleagues, giving occasional glances up.

“You fucked my girl, (Y/N), this afternoon. I saw the whole thing, and I’m not happy about it.” Jin answered, his hands shaking slightly. “What gave you the right to ask that of her, to make her some common whore for you when she’s so much more? You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Okay, I sent it. Now what?” 

“Thank you. Now, you die.” The bullet was lodged in his victim’s brain before the man even had the chance to react, slumping forward onto his desk. Jin smirked, wiping the gun down before easing it into the corpse’s hand.

“I told you would get what was coming to you.” He taunted the corpse before leaving, praying that he hadn’t left a trace.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“(Y/N), you seem different.” Jin commented, only half concentrating on his gameplay. Most of his attention had been drawn by how stunning (Y/N) looked through her webcam. She was practically glowing, and Jin was honoured to have a front row seat to her euphoria.

“Oh. It’s kind of fucked up that I’m happy about this, but my professor shot himself yesterday apparently. He was a real creep and it’s weirdly liberating to be able to talk about what he did.” She sighed.

“Really?” Jin answered, heart thumping.

“He made me… well, at least he’s gone. He confessed to everything, so at least his victims are at peace knowing his crimes have been exposed.” (Y/N) said uneasily.

“Well, at least he can’t hurt you anymore.” She gave him a warm smile, only for it to fade in a few seconds.

“Jin! Concentrate! If we lose this round I’ll gut you like a fish.”

He laughed, finally satisfied to see how (Y/N) was happy once again with her troubles gone no sooner than they’d arrived.

He’d found his true happiness was making (Y/N)’s life better from the shadows, being her ‘buddy’ to her face but her knight in shining armour behind her back. He didn’t care who it was, he’d cut anyone who was being toxic out of her life. All for his idea of love.

[dino-nugget7]

A Manifesto Against The School System

As of writing this I am a second year Public High School Teacher. I won’t be able to live with myself if I spend another year at it. Literally, I feel like a bit of a monster for deciding to finish out this school year rather than quitting right now. But we do what we must to survive, my students won’t be less oppressed because I left, and if nothing else, it gives me an opportunity to strategize about what I can do to aid in revolutionizing school because authentic alternatives to public school exist but none I have found have been intersectional enough to replace public education without excluding the kids who would most benefit from escaping the main school system here in America.

Some of the reasons I did not understand how oppressive school actually is, are that my interests and hobbies happened to align very neatly with the “core” classes, and that even though I grew up very poor and moved around a lot as a kid, we eventually settled and I went to a well funded high school that had just about any elective and/or after school club that I might be interested in trying and then some. During that time, I came to see school as a place where I could explore my passions and escape my home situation. So I figured I would love to pay it forward and go be a teacher.

I recognized at least, the privileged position I came from and decided I wanted to go learn how to teach in settings as different from my high school as possible. Which is why I went and got special permission for most of my classroom placements throughout the teaching program to be at alternative schools. In Colorado at least, alternative schools are small public schools which primarily serve students identified as “at risk”, which is shorthand for “Statistically more likely to drop out than the general population for one reason or another.”

I did not know when I asked to be placed in one, but learned within days of being there that most people that even know alternative schools exist, think of them as the places where “the bad kids” go. I realized very quickly that they are actually places filled with kids who have experienced a lot of trauma in and out of school and don’t respond to that trauma the way adults want them to respond. I came to adore kids at alternative schools because they remind me of my younger siblings.

Like my oldest brother, many of them find school mind numbingly easy and boring and have much more pressing matters to devote their mental energy to.

Like my middle brother, many of them have spent so much time around teachers who do not understand neurodivergence that have been convinced of the lie that they are weird, dumb and/or lazy and because of that, trying to participate in school is like hitting their head on a brick wall.

Like all of my brothers and my sisters, they have a ton of skills that they are brilliant at, but that are not prioritized by the school system, so they never pursue them, such as construction, music, makeup and programming.

Many, if not most of them come from living situations full of abuse and neglect and/or poverty so they don’t have the mental or emotional space to worry about much beyond survival, and not only haven’t learned how to make and achieve long term goals, but have never had the luxury of a stable enough environment for that kind of planning to be worthwhile.

All that being said, something that you only realize if you actually work in a few public alternative schools, as I have done through college and my current job, is that the name is actually an oxymoron.

What started me down the path of considering and researching all the ways school is an oppressive system, was a conversation I had with a student in my first year teaching. He was learning about chemical reactions and safety and asked me the infamous question, “Why do I have to learn about this?” to which I said “Because everything is chemicals and understanding how they can interact with one another and ways they can harm you can keep you safe when you do things like clean or cook.” To which he replied, “Well no offense but I have no idea how this shit relates to cooking and please don’t tell me because its not like I’m actually going to remember it when I am cooking, and I already know how to clean safely because of work. But you’re still going to make me learn this boring shit anyways so seriously, why do we have to learn about this?”

I paused to consider what he was asking. I had interpreted, as the system trained me to, that the question he was asking was, “what value does this knowledge hold?” But what he actually meant was “Why are you making me waste my time learning about this thing that I never asked to learn about?” So I replied, as a sort of test of my new understanding, “It’s part of the physical science curriculum the Education Department thinks is important for high schoolers to learn.” He was taken aback, “Wait, you don’t decide what stuff we learn about? What’s even the point of teachers then? Why don’t they just give us a list of all their stupid stuff they think we should know so we can get on with our lives?” He had a point and I have spent a lot of time reflecting on and growing from that conversation.

Sure, there are some key differences that make alternative schools slightly more tolerable than your standard 800-4,000 kid high school. Class sizes are smaller so students get more individualized help. We get funding to help students access things such as food, clothes, hygiene products, and healthcare and know students well enough that we actually know which kids are lacking these resources. We have slightly more leeway than traditional schools to create innovative lessons. We don’t give out homework.

But public alternative schools are still oppressive in most of the ways that the big schools are. I’m sure none of this will be a surprise to most readers, but I want you to really consider how restricted kids in public school are, how restricted you probably were in school as you read through this.

School starts early in the morning and students have to constantly shift mental gears throughout the day due to a tight schedule of constantly rotating classes and a very short lunch break. Throughout the day, bells tell students when they can’t or must move around or eat. Students have to ask when they need to go to the bathroom or get water and teachers cannot go at all outside of their plan period because students are not trusted to be in the classroom without an adult even for a few minutes. They have no control over who they share space with and very little control over their ability to leave that space if it conflicts with their needs. There is a strict dress code which disproportionately targets marginalized students. Students are expected to be sociable but not given nearly enough opportunities to actually socialize. The school keeps records of everything the student has ever gotten in trouble for, every class the student has taken, every grade they have received, their “class rank,” and every intervention program the student is part of. And like every public school, alternative schools must follow state curriculum standards and by extension, grading, data collection, and required testing. On the surface it might not seem like it, but that last point is actually the most insidious one and its the one that has followed students into remote learning during the pandemic.

According to the people who decide how schools work, there are four factors of student choice: These factors are Time, Place, Pace, and Path. For example, if I am running a unit on plate tectonics, rather than giving students a worksheet and telling them to work on it as we go through a slideshow and turn it in at the end of class, I could put them in groups, give them an online choice board of three different but roughly equivalent projects relating to plate tectonics to choose from, each with different rubrics for completion and tell them they can turn it in at any time in the next two weeks. And then instead of devoting class time to direct instruction, I would give them a variety of resources to peruse and teach them how to research more and let them choose what aspects of plate tectonics to focus on and how to present their information. Now, this is certainly a few steps in the right direction away from making kids sit in rows and listen to the teacher drone on about plate tectonics while they take notes. But it misses the most important factors of choice in my eyes, the things that I would be fired for if I actually gave them the choice about: How students spend their time and what they are allowed to prioritze.

None of this is to say that expecting kids to learn is inherently fucked up or that teaching inherently makes one an oppressive person. On the contrary, authentic teaching and learning are vital to our ability to solve our problems and grow as people. If all students were given the opportunities to spend their childhoods learning things that they were actually interested in, to explore the full breadth of knowledge that humans have compiled at their leisure without timelines or milestones except the ones they set for themselves, to socialize with people of all ages, to authentically participate in society both as learners and as educators, as leaders and as team members, the world wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be a lot less soul crushing.

Now, I mentioned at the beginning of this piece that authentic alternatives do exist.  To get you started on researching what’s out there, I recommend starting with Sudbury schools and the unschooling movement.

But unless these models somehow miraculously become a large and accepted enough presence to get government funding, or money ceases its hold on us all, the public school system will be the only one that most students, especially impoverished students, transient students, english language learners, and disabled students (especially those with profound disabilities) will have access to. Which is a damn shame and a problem I am committed to trying to figure out how to contribute to solving because those are the students whose lives would be most radically transformed for the better if they got the opportunities that these models provide.

[ndbookreviews]

The Love Letters of Abelard and Lily Review

The Love Letters of Abelard and Lily by Laura Creedle

Genres: young adult, fiction, contemporary, romance

Rep: adhd (main character), autism (love interest)

Is the author part of the groups they’re writing for?

Laura Creedle is ADHD but to my knowledge isn’t autistic.

Synopsis:

When Lily Michaels-Ryan ditches her ADHD meds and lands in detention with Abelard, who has Asperger’s, she’s intrigued—Abelard seems thirty seconds behind, while she feels thirty seconds ahead. It doesn't hurt that he’s brilliant and beautiful.

When Abelard posts a quote from The Letters of Abelard and Heloise online, their mutual affinity for ancient love letters connects them. The two fall for each other. Hard. But is it enough to bridge their differences in person?

This hilarious, heartbreaking story of human connection between two neurodivergent teens creates characters that will stay with you long after you finish reading.

Would I Recommend?

No. This book made me so angry after reading it if weren’t the middle of the night I might’ve thrown my phone across the room. 

It started out really strong and held a lot of promise for me, finally a book about adhd and autistic people interacting! A book with more than one neurodivergent character! And it’s a romance!

Well. It sucked.

The book starts with Lily and Abelard breaking a door together by accident, like one of those shitty sliding doors they use to divide rooms, and end up in detention together. They start talking and Lily, who obviously has a crush, awkwardly kisses him. This in itself is an annoying trope in YA in general but I also resent the implication that she impulsively kisses him because she was off her meds. Maybe this is one of those cases where personal experience varies but I’ve never forced a kiss on anyone because of my ADHD. 

Through a series of shenanigans Lily and Abelard start texting each other and quickly start dating. Most of their interactions are limited to text and email which is not very romantic but honestly since they don’t seem to be in any of the same classes and he has extracurriculars this isn’t THAT much of a stretch to me. 

Most of their conversations are taken from the novel The Letters of Abelard and Heloise (hence the title) as sort of a game where they try to take quotes from the novel to fit the conversation they are having. Honestly this is kind of cute if a little dorky. 

Both Abelard and Lily have strained relationships with their mothers; Lily’s mother never listens to her about how her medication is making her feel and doesn’t try at all to understand ADHD or her daughter. Abelard’s mother is like, the stereotypical autism mom and treats him like a child even though he’s in high school (I’m pretty sure they are juniors but I’m not sure). 

Lily also has a complicated relationship with her father who left them to pursue his passion project. In the beginning of the book she wants to go live with him and attend the experimental farming school he was working on for kids who don’t excel in typical school environments. Her mother had originally promised that she could go if she kept her grades up, but as this requirement becomes impossible for Lily (because she has literally no support at home or at school), Lily instead decides that she will flunk out of school to convince her mother to let her live with her dad. 

As it turns out, her mother’s promise was a lie the whole time anyway, and in true flaky deadbeat dad style, he doesn’t even have the school anymore but he does have a new wife and son. 

Abelard kind of takes a backseat to Lily’s family drama around this point in the book. 

Lily’s mother tells her she wants Lily to consider undergoing an experimental surgery to cure her ADHD (you see why I hate this book now?). At first Lily is hesitant for obvious reasons, as it’s literal brain surgery and this is coming from the woman who has literally done nothing but try to change Lily all her life. 

Of course, then her father comes to visit and she realizes how much he sucks actually and it’s sort of implied he also has ADHD? And so she decides she doesn’t want to end up like him and wants to go to college so she decides to undergo the experimental brain surgery. Yeah. Really. 

There is some more background relationship drama but honestly after the first few chapters their relationship gets barely any development and is not really central to the story at all, despite the title.

And finally I can talk about how much I detest this book. 

For one thing, from what I can find the experimental brain surgery Lily is supposed to undergo doesn’t exist (thank god). While if it did this book would be a whole different kind of problematic, it is kind of infuriating that the only solution Lily finds at the end is something that isn’t something that translates to real life. I can’t even imagine how I would have felt reading this when I was younger and struggling a lot more with school. 

The idea that the only hope someone with ADHD has to live a productive life and not end up a deadbeat is something that doesn’t even exist is so incredibly harmful. The issues in Lily’s life were not caused by her ADHD, they were caused by the adults in her life refusing to accommodate her even to the bare minimum they were supposed to. 

This book honestly feels like wish-fulfillment written by a struggling high schooler; it should have never seen the light of day. Everyone has times they struggle with the complications ADHD can cause, but writing your insecurities into a published novel without any sort of criticism of them is embarrassing at least and actively harmful at worst. 

Abelard barely has any personality and fits literally every criticized stereotype of autistic characters ever. He’s white, stoic, interested in stem, a genius, etc. He was boring and abandoned halfway through the book so he never really gains any characterization. Also the book ends with them being in a nebulous long-distance relationship anyway so it’s not even a particularly good romance. 

All-in-all, this book makes me angry to have ever even heard of it, especially since I did actually like parts of the beginning and had high hopes for it.

[sydneytriestowrite]

Fuck

AO3

Adrien noticed that each of his friends had a favorite curse word. For the longest time, Adrien thought that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was in the same boat as him, that is, she didn’t swear. But he was sorely mistaken, and his world was turned upside down the day he found out that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, one of the sweetest girls he knew, swore like a sailor.

“Fuck.”

The second the word had come out of his mouth, he cursed Alya’s existence.

“Adrien Agreste.” Gabriel’s voice boomed over the photoshoot. The room grew quiet, and Adrien inwardly cursed his friend’s potty mouths. Of course, this had to be the one photoshoot all month that his father had actually shown up to. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing father.” As Adrien openly lied to his father, he cursed the chain of events that had led him to this situation.

----------

Adrien Agreste hasn’t always been a quiet kid. He remembered when he and Chloe used to play when they were younger how often she would complain that he was being too loud and was hurting her ears.

But after his mother died, he learned that being too loud or saying the wrong thing would get him in trouble with his father. Eventually, Adrien figured out how to tame his voice. He no longer voiced every thought that ran through his head, he figured out which questions weren’t one’s to ask around his father, and he decided there were some words he just shouldn’t repeat at all.

But Adrien had never thought too much about how he filtered everything he said. He figured it was a natural thing for people to do.

So when he started going to school at François Dupont, the biggest shock to him wasn’t how far ahead he was in their curriculum, or that everyone already knew who he was, even though he didn’t know them, it was how the other students spoke. In his first month there alone, he must have learned at least five new words, and they were not of the academic sort.

There were slang words like ‘lit’ which Adrien figured out meant cool, ‘fam’ which is simply short for family, and ‘salty’ which Nino told him was a bit like upset.

And then there were the swear words. 

Not the mild ones, like ‘hell’ ‘shit,’ and ‘damn’, which he already knew because his father would mutter them under his breath while working, but the extreme ones like ‘fuck’ and ‘bitch,’ which he had also heard before, but never in the way they got used at school. He had always heard them in intense situations in shows or movies that his father wouldn’t have approved of. But, the students of François Dupont used them casually, and frequently. 

Over time Adrien grew used to their way of speaking. It could almost be considered its own language. He never learned to speak it, but he now could at least understand everything they said without having to ask for clarification.

Adrien noticed that each of his friends had a favorite curse word. 

Alix loved referring to everyone as a bitch, fondly of course. She once got to leave school early, and before heading out the door called out “Sayonara bitches!” Adrien was certain she would’ve gotten detention for that if she hadn’t taken off down the hallway in a sprint. 

Chloe also preferred the word bitch the most, but not in an affectionate way.

Alya’s favorite was fuck. She used it in every way possible; as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, you name it and she had done it.

Nino enjoyed using the word ass, and as Adrien grew more comfortable around his friends, he often found himself on the receiving end of this one. 

(Everyone else in his class had one too, but that would take too long to list.)

For the longest time, Adrien thought that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was in the same boat as him, that is, she didn’t swear. But he was sorely mistaken, and his world was turned upside down the day he found out that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, one of the sweetest girls he knew, swore like a sailor. 

----------

Adrien had gotten to school early, so he could sit alone and have some time to think about how he could convince his father to let him go to the big sleepover his friends were planning on Friday night for Marinette’s 18th birthday. When he walked into his first-period class, he was surprised to see that Marinette was already there, and was furiously working on her tablet. He didn’t want to disturb her, so he quietly slid into his seat in front of her, and opened his schedule on his phone. 

Right now, the only thing he had planned for the weekend was a photoshoot Friday afternoon, but he would still be able to make it to the sleepover as long as he could keep his schedule clear.

Adrien opened the notes app on his phone to write a list of reasons why his father should let him go.

One- His grades were the highest they had ever been. 

Two- Next week was going to be very busy, and full of photoshoots, so he could use a day to relax before all of it.

“No, that doesn’t work,” Marinette mumbled to herself, and let out a sigh of frustration. 

Adrien wasn’t sure if Marinette was yet to realize that he was in the room because she was so focused. He almost envied how passionate Marinette got about her work. The only thing he was passionate about was Ladybug, and she only thought of him as a friend. Right now he needed to be passionate about getting his father to let him go to the sleepover. He couldn’t miss another chance to hang out with his friends. 

“What if I did it this way?”

Adrien continued to leave Marinette to her musings and turned his focus back to his list. 

Three- He hadn’t been allowed to hang out with his friends outside of school for weeks. 

Four- A loving Father wouldn’t trap his son in the house for no reason. (Adrien almost laughed out loud at that one.)

As he continued trying to think of other reasons, the rest of the class began trickling in. He waved at Alya and Nino as they walked in, and put his phone away, instead choosing to chat with his friends about the sleepover.

“Shit.” Marinette exhaled as she dropped her head to the table. She still seemed to be talking to herself, unaware that most of the class was now present. “This damn tablet- Now I’m gonna have to fucking restart this bitch of a dress.” 

Adrien turned around to stare at the dark-haired girl in disbelief. He had never heard her curse before.

“Girl, what happened?” Alya reached out to her friend.

“My fucking-” At the moment Marinette lifted her head from the table, and locked eyes with Adrien who was still staring at her with wide eyes. “-dablet just tied. Tablet just gone. My design dead.” (Marinette hardly stumbled over her words like that anymore, but Adrien’s intense gaze focused on her, was enough to send her back to feeling like she was 13 again.)

Marinette turned her focus off of Adrien and gained enough composure to explain to Alya what happened.

Meanwhile, Nino elbowed Adrien in the side. “Are you okay dude?”

“I’ve never heard her swear before.”

“Really? You’re talking about Marinette right?” Nino motioned to the girl who was now getting up to find a spot along the wall where she could charge her tablet. “She’s like the worst out of everyone in the class, and you’ve never once heard her swear before right now?” 

“Never.”

“Alya,” Nino turned his attention to the girl behind him. “Adrien says he’s never heard Marinette cuss before just now.”

“Really? I mean if you thought I cuss a lot, Marinette is even worse.” Alya paused in though. “Come to think of it Agreste, I’ve never heard you cuss either.”

“That’s because I don’t.”

Alya leaned forward onto the table. “Oh, come on. You can’t lie to me. Not once have you said a cuss word?”

“No.”

“Now I wanna hear it.”

Marinette slid back into her seat. “Wanna hear what?”

“I want to hear Adrien say fuck.”

Marinette wore an obvious expression of confusion, so Alya filled her in on Adrien’s swear word virginity.

“Leave him alone Alya. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t cuss.” Adrien was glad that at least Marinette had his back, as Nino seemed to be backing Alya’s idea.

“Just once, Agreste. Say fuck and I’ll never ask again.” The teacher walked into class and began to call roll.

“F-” He started, “forget it.” Adrien smiled coyly and turned around in his seat, raising his hand as the teacher said his name. 

 Alya leaned even farther forward, so she was practically laying on the desk. “I’ll get you Agreste.”

“Another day babe, another day.” Nino half-whispered to her, giving her a little pat on the head.

Keep Reading

[coffeecomicsgalore]

She... Loves Me?

Ao3

Chapter 4 – Macaroons

Adrien sat numbly at his desk, notes long forgotten as he doodled little ladybug and cat figures in the margins of his notes. He should probably pay attention; the mock test after lunch was important and considered a large part of their grade. He studied all week for it, so it would be a surprise if he failed the test, but he still didn’t have it in it to care.

He let out a hearty sigh and looked at the clock. Just a half hour to go until the bell released them for lunch. He was able to convince Nathalie that he would be working on an experiment during lunch testing the weight, composition, and texture of spherical products made with sucrose and sodium chloride. What she didn’t know was that he was tasting those spherical macaroons filled with delicious sugar (and of course salt to taste) to see if it was good enough to sell.  

It was still an experiment and not a full-on lie; he just chose to omit a few words on where the experiment was being held. Yet the thought of spending time with his friends this way felt thrilling. It was just like the moments when he transformed into Chat Noir just to get away to breathe, catapulting into the air and into his famous barrel rolls off the rooftops.  

Twenty minutes.

Ms. Bustier continued to go on as his mind went over his conversation with Nino the night before.  

When you finally realize that she’s more than that to you, I’ll be right here to catch you when you fall.

Marinette was just a friend. He was in love with Ladybug. He would always be in love with Ladybug. He wasn’t going to just stop that just because another girl confessed her love to him. Well, she didn’t do it to his face, but she still said it. Yet the thought of Marinette wouldn’t leave his mind.

But then there was Kagami. She confessed her love to him in her akuma form. Even though she tried to sway him to change targets, he outright said he wouldn’t. He would keep trying until the world fell apart at his feet. His lady deserved all the love in the world and he would be the one to give it to her. She was his soulmate and one day she will realize that he is hers too. One day she’ll say that they can be together. So until that day, Adrien would just keep chugging along.

Ten minutes.

Adrien started to feel restless. He put his elbow on the table and leaned his head against his fist. His leg started bouncing and he tapped his pen against the edge of the notebook in rhythmic pats. Nino noticed the desk shake slightly and looked to his right to see Adrien suffer in silence.  

“Dude.” He whispered causing Adrien to freeze mid movement.

“Ugh, sorry Nino. Just antsy to get out of here.”

“So you can see Marinette?”

“What?” Adrien’s eyes widened at the comment. “N- no!” He said a little too loudly.  

Ms. Bustier paused her thought and glanced at Adrien. “Adrien? Is something the matter?”

The class paused their note-taking to stare at the interaction. Adrien blushed. “No, Ms. Bustier. I thought I messed up my notes. I’m sorry for disrupting your lesson. I didn’t realize I said it loud enough to be heard.”

“If you need to fix your notes, maybe Marinette would be willing to assist you.” She said flatly.

“Th- thank you, Ms. Bustier. I will let her know.” Adrien said as he sunk slowly into his desk.  

-----

As soon as the bell rang, Adrien gathered up his belongings and turned around to wait for Marinette, Alya, and Nino to finish to do the same.

“Are you guys ready?” Marinette said sweetly and coherently as she tugged a loose lock behind her ear. Her eyelashes flitted down some, making her look bashful.  

Adrien noticed her little movements and unconsciously grasped the strap on his book bag a little more tightly than normal. He smiled just as sweet back; a feeling of flutters radiated in his chest.  

Alya and Nino watched him carefully. A cunning grin curled her lips. “Let's go!” Alya said jolting Adrien out of his trance. “Those cookies last night were off the chang. Hopefully Nino and Adrien will like them just as much.”

Marinette made her way down the steps slowly past Adrien, her eyes closed and her shoulders scrunched up as she let out some giggles. The sound echoed throughout the classroom and the flutters increased a little more.  

Clearing his throat to rid of the nervousness, Adrien coyly added, “I can’t wait to try out those pastries. Everything your dad makes is amazing. If Alya says they are good, then I won't doubt it for a second.”

Marinette ducked her head and a blush spread across her cheeks. “W-well you're in thuck, len. I mean - in luck, then. My dad made a fresh batch and created a few extra treats in that same flavor. When Alya, myself, and my mom praised him, he spent a few hours going over his recipe books finding out where else he could incorporate it in. He told me this morning that he made about four different treats. If they were just as good as the macaroons, then they'll be a hit with the other pastries.”

Adrien and Nino grinned when she mentioned the extra treats.  

“Dudette, your dad is the man!”

“What flavor are we taste testing today?” Adrien questioned with an excited tone.

Marinette paused to think it over. Her finger tapped against her lips as she scrunched up her face in thought. “Nope! Alya and I were sworn to secrecy!”

Adrien clenched his hand against the fabric of his shirt as he pretended to falter to the ground. “Oh, my heart! Your betrayal is too much for this poor boy.”

Nino joined in with him. “The pain! The horror. Dudettes, you broke our spirits.”  

Marinette and Alya crossed their arms and laughed. “Adrien,” Alya started, “I didn't know you had it in you. Perfect model has a dorky side?”

“Alya!” Marinette scolded.

Adrien straightened himself up and laughed. “I’m usually a model citizen. But I'll let you all in on a little secret.” He looked around conspicuously and huddled the group in closer before whispering. “I'm a huge dork-a-sarus.”

Marinette’s eyes widened and then snorted out a laugh. “Oh my god!” She squealed. “Adrien Agreste? A huge dork? No way.”

“Way. Anime, video games, books... you name it.”

“It’s true. My bro puns and talks in anime phrases all the time behind closed doors. It’s like he has a secret identity.”

The group continued to laugh as they made across the street. The bell chimed as they opened the bakery door, prompting a welcomed greeting from both Sabine and Tom.

“Hello dears!” Sabine said cheerfully as they wandered towards the register.

“Hello Mr. Dupain, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng.” The trio said. Marinette added a kiss to her parents’ cheeks.

“I’ve told you all to call us Tom and Sabine.” She said with a grin. The trio smiled as they nodded their heads.

“I’m so thrilled that you are all trying out my newest flavor pairings!” Tom said, clasping his hands together in joy. “I don't know if Marinette told you, but I was so happy that everyone loved them last night that I could not wait to test them out in a bunch of other recipes. So I have the passionfruit, papaya, and strawberry buttercream macaroons from yesterday, but I also made danishes, cream puffs, croissants, and flan with the same flavoring!”

The bakers could see Adrien and Nino visibly salivate over the prospects. Sabine laughed. “But not until they eat a small dish of food first, Tom.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll make sure I set a plate of each piece for everyone to try and I’ll personally bring them up to you in about a half hour.”

“I can’t wait to try them!” Adrien said excitedly. “Passionfruit is my favorite flavor!”

“Well then, it looks like we have the perfect taste tester amongst us.” Tom bellowed.

“Marinette,” Sabine added. “I have vegetable stir fry ready upstairs. There is steak and chicken. The steak is on the spicier side, but the chicken is just right. Go on and enjoy yourselves.”

Marinette led the group upstairs and into the kitchen. Alya assisted with the plates as Nino and Adrien poured drinks into the cups. They all sat down, Nino sitting across from Alya and Marinette across from Adrien. They ate as they conversed about random things – video games, the Ladyblog, and the new music that recently came out – until the topic of summer vacation came up. Nino talked about a few gigs that he had lined up and Alya said she had a trip to Marseille sometime in July. Adrien was about to ask Marinette what her plans were when Tom walked into the apartment with the tray of treats.  

Adrien took a bite of the macaroon and almost cried in delight. “Oh wow! This flavor pairing is absolutely delicious!” He took another bite and passionately ate it with his eyes closed. “Yup. Your dad is the absolute best baker in Paris, Marinette. There’s no doubt about that.”

Marinette beamed. “Thanks, Adrien. I thought so too last night. I told him it was the perfect flavor – it wasn’t overly tart and had a bit of sweetness. It would taste good anywhere, so he just went with it.”

Adrien sipped down a glass of water and then took a cream puff to enjoy. Nino did the same and moaned in delight.  

“Dude. So good. Just. So good.”

Marinette and Alya did the same and just moaned as the dessert dissolved on their tongues. “My dad is seriously the best. I wonder how long it will take to put this on the menu.”

Adrien gulped down the last bite of the cream puff before asking. “How long does it usually take?”

“Depends on what it is.” Marinette started as she took a slice of flan. “Now that he figured out the perfect flavoring in a small sampling, he’s going to have to multiply it a couple of times for larger quantities. But he has to start off slow first and have larger group samplings over a course of a few weeks.”

“Is that to have it tested out in random test groups?”

“Exactly. The same twenty people won’t come in daily. So he’ll have samplings throughout the week for one item, then he’ll switch it out for something else the next week. He’ll then go back to the first set of samplings, before going out for the second samplings the week after that. He’ll cover more ground, gather more testers, and have more data.”

“So it won’t be on the menu for at least five weeks?” Adrien asked curiously.

“Something like that. But when he makes batches for samplings, he’ll actually make enough to have a limited supply for the day or days. It depends on the item. Like flan isn’t great sitting out for a few days, but macaroons can.”

Alya and Nino watched Marinette and Adrien converse. She hadn’t flustered once and the conversation was moving smoothly. This was the first time that Aly could remember Marinette actually speaking in full sentences with her long-time crush. Was this the start of a new Marinette?

Alya smirked at the pair with a sneaky thought. She took out her phone before a worried glance crossed her face. “Oh shoot. My mom just texted me. She needs me to run an errand for her and bring it to her before lunch is over. Nino, do you mind coming with me? I need an extra set of hands to bring the stuff.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Sorry Marinette.” He said with a shrug. “Thank your pops for me. I just wish I could have tried everything.

“Oh, ye-yeah. No problem. I’ll just....” she said as she looked down to the plate nervously, “I’ll just package everything you didn’t get to try and I’ll get it to you?”

“Sounds good, my friend.”

With a wave to bid them goodbye, Alya and Nino left.

Marinette sat back down at her seat at looked at the treat on her dish. The air started to feel a little tense, so Adrien tried to lighten up the mood.  

“So... have you designed anything new lately?

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Actually...” Marinette stood up and walked to her bookbag to grab her sketchbook. She flipped through a few pages until she fell upon the one she wanted to show him. “I’m designing this dress. I was... inspired.”

Adrien sat there with wonder in his eyes. It was a black dress with green trim around the off-shoulder sleeves and on the waist of the dress. There were simple silver accents in specific spots on the bodice. The dress reminded him of his costume. All it was missing was the bell.

Marinette let out a breath. “I’m loving this dress, but there’s something missing. I just can’t figure out what.”

Adrien looked up at Marinette. She was so creative and passionate in her designs. Her perplexed look made him wonder what was going on in her brain. Her blue eyes seemed to shine brighter when she talked about something she loved. It was mesmerizing. So mesmerizing, in fact, that he didn’t realize he was staring at her until she looked up at him and touched her face.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“No! No.” He brought his hands up in surrender. “I just noticed how blue your eyes get when you get excited. They shine brighter.”

“Oh. Th-thanks.” She said as she shyly smiled, her fingers running through one of her pigtails.

Great, I made her nervous again. Make her happy! Make her happy!

“Ho- How’s things with you and Luka?”

Marinette shot him a confused glance. “Um. Good? He invited me over a few days ago to listen to one of his new songs. It sounded... amazing.”

“That’s good. His songs are pretty good.”

Marinette picked up the sketchbook and closed it. She shuffled back to her bag and slowly placed it back to its spot. Marinette let out a shaky sigh.

“Yeah. They are.” She fiddled with her bag again, but didn’t turn around. Actually, she sounded somewhat dejected. “How’s everything with Kagami?”

Adrien noticed the shift in mood, but didn’t question it. “Kagami is doing good. She’s been working hard since our last fencing tournament. Said something about rising to my level since I won the tournament last weekend.” He chuckled. “I don’t know why she thinks she isn’t just as good. Sometimes I think she’s better than me.”

Marinette turned back around her with a wet smile. “I’m glad things are good, Adrien.”

“Hey, Marinette? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just poked my eye.” She said as she wiped her eye. “We should probably get going. Lunch is almost over.”

[nyxxon]

Secret Admirer (Football Player Bakugou Katsuki)

(A/N: Before you read, I'd like to state this is a regular high school AU with no quirks.)

It was now or never.

     Swallowing, you walked quietly down the now empty hallway as you made it towards a certain locker that belonged to a certain ash blonde while tightly gripping a letter you had in hand though not tight enough to cause any ugly creases and such on the envelope that protected the letter inside to a certain extent.

     Once at the designated place, you stopped in front of the red locker before looking left and right to make sure no one was present to see you. You then looked back at the locker, your heart beating rapidly. Who'd thought you'd be doing something like this? Then again, your friend, Shinsou Hitoshi (who used to be in the same class as you but got moved up to 2-A for his outstanding grades and especially his promising sports ability) had convinced you to do this.

     Having had had a crush on one of the most egoistic and hotheadedest boys in the school who was also one of the best football players in U.A., Bakugou Katsuki, for a little over a year... The indigo haired male had convinced you to tell the ash blonde albeit in a reluctant manner since he wasn't too keen on him... But bluntly went on about the inevitable rejection you'd face from the ash blonde being big on that and the fact that there were multiple other girls that like him. Though he had then come in right after saying that there was always a zero point three percent you'd actually not be.

     With the bluntness and statistics along with the fact you were not the only girl that had a crush on the male, you had opted not to do so and told him you'd rather not face rejection and would rather keep it to yourself. However, he then had come up with another alternative to it. This had earned him a weird look though he didn't seem all too bothered by it⁠—probably having expected⁠—it as he had then proceeded explained his idea.

     The idea being:

     Give Bakugou a secret admirer note.

     Giving you the line of 'you can't be rejected if he doesn't know who you are, I guess.' after he had shrugged. You still felt a bit skeptical of the idea though but you could see where he was going with it. You couldn't really be rejected fully if Bakugou didn't even know who sent him the letter, the worst he could do would be throwing it away.

     After that, Shinsou had continued to push you multiple times throughout the school week to do it until you finally agreed, he wasn't usually the type to care much for this stuff but since you two had been friends for quite a while⁠—since you both were little kids⁠—he felt it to be an exception. After all, you were like a little sister to him. Though he'd never admit to such directly even though you knew it, he cared for you deeply and would do anything to see you happy.

     It had been a strain the past year to see you in such a lovesick puppy state, but he had been super busy trying to get into one of the top classes (A or B) and aiming to gain momentum in football⁠—a sport that didn't seem like it suited him though he had had a secret passion for it yet had been unable to previously join the team at the start of high school for reasons⁠—he didn't really have time to help you much. However, with him now in the top class (Class A at that), he had some downtime this year⁠—⁠though he still had to continue working hard if he wanted to stay put—to actually help you out...

     And that was basically why you were here now... In front of the locker of the ash blonde male who had caught your interest as he did with many other girls around the school which didn't make you any more special than them... You wouldn't lie that you were having seconds thoughts...

     But you knew, deep down, keeping such feelings bottled up would not be a good thing for you to do and even though you weren't directly saying any of the things you wanted to tell him to his face, it was still better than not telling him at all. Though you also knew he was the type to prefer face-to-face contact... So the likelihood of him instantly throwing the letter out⁠—as Shinsou had said and yourself had thought of—was high.

     Taking in a deep breath, you looked down at the envelope in hand before quickly shoving it inside the locker through the little openings in the front before you'd change your mind completely about doing any of this and let the breath you had been holding out before you quickly dashed off back to the classroom since you had told the teacher you were actually going to the bathroom and weren't really supposed to be out this far in the halls...

The majority of the day had been nerve-wracking as all you could think about was the letter you had left in the ash blonde's locker.

     You knew he hadn't seen it yet though as he usually only ever went to his school locker at the end of the day (only knowing of this from casual observations throughout the past year since your locker was only a little ways down the hall like it was this year because the hall arrangements were similar to last years since they ordered locker placements in class order, A-K, and being only C you had a pretty close distance from the A lockers) hence why you had placed it there.

     Letting out a sigh, you walked out of the classroom and into the empty halls, empty because it was an hour or so after school, and made your way to your locker to get your bag. You having had stayed a bit later than usual since you had class clean up duty... On most days you'd walk out and all the way home with Shinsou... But he had after school personal training with the football coach, Aizawa.

     Not too bothered by it though, you continued walking to get to your locker and passed the corner but instantly stopped upon spotting a certain ash blonde making way to his own while on his phone. As quick as light, you instantly went back behind the corner and pressed your back to the surface. It was obvious he hadn't noticed you yet though as he was looking down at his phone (thank goodness).

     Hearing a locker open, you glanced to the side as you poked your head out⁠ slightly (just enough to see exactly what he was doing)—⁠having a good view of his side profile since the locker door was on the other side—and watched as he paused for a moment while an envelope, obviously yours, fell to the floor.

     Bakugou raised a brow at the envelope before bending and picking it up. He had a pretty good idea as to what it was though it looked oddly plain compared to the many others he'd get just about on a daily basis as they'd usually be decorated with shitty sparkly heart stickers, disgusting glittery pink ink that had his name spelled out with it, and a pink envelope to top it all off... But this one was just a plain white envelope with his name on the back written in plain black ink. It honestly made him second guess if it was a love note though he knew better given the location.

      He began to just stare down at it, contemplating if he should bother to open it or just throw it away like he usually did as he could guess exactly what it said; however, he remained oblivious to a pair of (eye color) orbs that were staring intently at him as he pondered what to do, curious as to what his reaction would be and if he'd just throw it away.

     After a few seconds more, he started to slowly open the envelope, curiosity getting the better of him, and pulled out the neatly folded notebook paper inside⁠—yet another oddity since he usually got pink paper as well though it was welcomed in all honesty as he practically hated the color at this point, not that he ever liked it in the first place⁠—and began to read the note.

Dear Bakugou-kun,

     I’m writing this and leaving it where you’ll find it. It’s not that I wouldn’t like you to know who I am, but it’s just that I’m really, really shy... (I guess that much is obvious by how I just left this in your locker)... I’m also afraid that if I tell you who I am, you’ll reject me or laugh at me... Both probably... So for now, I’d just like to admire you from afar...

    Signed,

Your Secret Admirer

   Bakugou blinked a few times at the letter. He honestly didn't know how to feel about it though it had a much different feel from the normal 'love letters' he'd receive some days as they'd usually always straight up tell him they loved him even though he had never seen some of them a day in his life...

     Before he knew it, his lips tugged upward in a smirk of slight amusement. He wasn't usually a big fan of people not confronting him directly as he found that low; however, for some reason, this letter more so amused him than pissed him off like he'd usually be.

     "Heh."

     He shoved it in his backpack after he had removed the bag from his locker before swinging it over his shoulder, closing his locker, getting his phone out once again, and turned heel to exit out of the school to go home still having not noticed the pair of eyes that were watching him.

     Once the ash blonde had left you by yourself and you had waited for a few minutes to make sure he was completely gone, you returned from around the corner and continued to stare in the direction that he had left in, your heart still beating rapidly as surprise was very evident on your face from him reading and not even throwing your letter away...

     Slowly a smile made way to your face as you placed your hand over your chest and a blush lightly made it to your cheeks while a newfound confidence started to bubble inside of you.

     There was no doubt inside of you that you'd most likely continue giving the ash blonde male little secret admirer notes to express the deepest depths of your feelings in hopes that one day... He'd perhaps return them...

[thestudyfeels]

Why Celebrities Are Worth More Than You

Before I dive (copy that? Because this post is gonna be so deep? Edit: I’ll take Jesus and one litre of bleach, thank you) into this storm of revelations, ANNOUNCEMENT!!! This is the first post in a series where I go all in on a particular topic and dig up hidden nuggets of wisdom from it. In other words, I rant. Hard. 

Why am I blessing you with this goodness?

This entire series boils down to improving your mindset. You’ve probably heard the legend that in the Solomon Islands, villagers practiced an, ahem, unique form of logging. If a tree was too large to be felled with an ax, the natives withered down the tree by cursing it for weeks. That’s the idea behind this series: repetition. The PRIMARY reason why I win a lot, is because I am a perennial liar and I won't take a no for my dreams. If I want to have ‘x’ trait, I’ll lie and say I have ‘x’ trait till I do have ‘x’ trait.

This is also known as the Reality Distortion Field, popularised by Steve Jobs. “Steve Jobs’s “reality distortion field” was a personal refusal to accept limitations and to convince himself that any difficulty was surmountable. This “field” was so strong that he was able to convince others that they, too, could achieve the impossible. It was an internal reality so powerful it also became an external reality.” (x)

The catch? The distortion field, and mindset in general, works MAJORLY through repetition. So I don't care if you think you’re the biggest, saddest wanker around, I’m going to drum into your ears that you’re a star and trust me, by the end of this series, every constellation out there will be pining for you.

So tea, I’M ON FIRE TODAY, so if you have a coffee (tea?) to drink, some time to invest on yourself, and a sturdy ol’ cerebrum to upgrade, then join in and watch out for this series (Letters From Solomon Islands, WHATTUP) on your dashboards. My people already know that the how-to’s are clickbait anyway (Coughs, chokes on the shade.)

Why We Adore Our Celebs

The other day I was stalking Tom Hiddleston in my bathroom (please don't use your imagination) and exactly one day ago I had been stalking Billie Eilish in there (yes nosy Eric, I'm bi, but again, don’t get carried away) and there was an interview talking about her rise to fame, and THAT, fellow denizens, got me wondering: Why do we have celebrities? (A profound question Nandini, you’ve done us proud.)

Before you spit something political like “capitalism!”, put down that crochet pattern for a sec. Close your eyes (welcome to woke therapy, ayo), and I want you to envision one of your role models- the people you look up to and would DIE if you get a chance to meet them. The icons you stalk excessively on Insta and have all the notifs on for. No, Sally, your crush on Zac Efron’s abs doesn't count. Sorry to crush your hopes.

Second, consider WHY you love this person so much. It could be anyone - an actor, influencer *smirks*, singer, that hot man down the street who helped you pick up your groceries that one time because you’re clumsy- yup, anyone. Now, trap that love here, in these pages, as you read. (Oh Sally, here’s toilet paper and a cookie, stop sniffling.)

Here’s some foreshadowing: In a nutshell, ‘celebrities’ exist because the rest of us are— excuse us, politically incorrect statement coming through— losers. Or better put, because we can't become ‘celebrities’ ourselves. Don’t run in with your frying pan just yet, James, I’ll do a thorough deconstruction. Stay put and listen up:

           Look around and you’ll find that most of the citizenry is living a life for others. Whether subconsciously, or consciously, it’s as if we’re pre-programmed to imitate and copy whatever the herd is up to. “Yo, whatcha up to, Nate, you out partying? I’ll see you in ten then.” “Lol, are you living under a rock? Do you seriously not know what Uggs are?” “I mean… yeah, I hate Justin Bieber too, of course I do.”

And that's not our fault, really. Society briefs us on the ground rules of fitting in pretty early on: get good grades, go to college, try to find a nice paying job– and we do it, like unquestioning muppets helpless in its domineering hands.

Because we all know the ramifications that’ll crop up if we don’t. If anyone even dares to be a bit different, they’re freezed out and ridiculed. They’re slapped with labels such as “insane”, “naive”, “misfit”, or the best one yet - “selfish”. Selfish for living true to themselves. Selfish for hustling hard and making THEIR dreams a reality. Selfish for having the courage to put their own desires before society’s. What. A. Big. Yawn. I’m sleeping on y’all.

          And that’s precisely where celebs beat us to the finish line.

Look, these ‘acclaimed’ personalities bubble up because most are afraid to be the most bona fide and best version of themselves. It’s much easier to plop on the couch, switch on the TV, and say, “Man, I could do that any day. And prob better too,” while trying to pick up the remote control with your two toes because you’re too comfy to get up right now.

Your role models, idols, and mentors – the entire bulk of these people have a willpower and fortitude that you could only dream of. They’ve hunted down their fears and faced numerous challenges to follow their dreams. They’ve chosen to remain true to their authentic selves even under constant judgment. Sure, they were all called eccentrics and crazy at one point or another, but— ok no, (edit: wow, I had a mood swing here, lmao) they ARE eccentrics. They ARE crazy. Wild for wanting to change the world. Mad for inspiring millions of people. They’re lunatics who had the audacity to dream big, shed the shells of doubt and insecurity, and dared to live their best life.

Moral of the story is: Celebrities, pop stars, and internet personalities aren’t just people who got lucky and wealthy. They had a special kind of fearlessness and self-awareness to get here, qualities worth examining for yourself.

So here’s your mental workout for this post —

Go and ruminate deeply about what makes you love the people you admire. What do they have or do that you want as well? Is it their spontaneity? Their courage and faith? Or is it their kindness and humanity? Or perhaps most importantly, their passion? Have you fallen in love with their excitement to go to work or does your heart melt at the gratitude they show others?

Find out what it is that makes your eyes sparkle and the corners of your lips turn up when you look at them. It is easier to find what you’d love to do from what others are doing than brainstorm on an empty page. *Sally looks up from the corner* “And then what?” *Me, smiles, sensing the crazy philo rant coming ahead* “And then, Sally dear, you live.”

The next step is a big one. You do what THEY did. If they’re passionate, YOU learn to become devoted to your dreams as well. If they don’t give up, you NEVER STRAY either.

You see, we have it in all of us to become great. And we can start wherever we are. Jen Sincero, an author and coach, put it well: “It’s not your fault you’re fucked up, BUT it is your fault if you stay fucked up.” So start where you are. Start NOW. Follow the advice Will gave to Louisa in his departing letter in Me Before You (I’m a soppy romcom fanatic) – “There is a hunger in you, Clark. A fearlessness. You just buried it, like most people do… so live boldly. Push yourself. Don’t settle. Just live well. Just LIVE.”

Love, the world isn’t as scary as we’ve all grown up to think it is. Passion, kindness, faith and magic breathes among us. You’re not a loser, darling, scribble over that insult so it says “lover”, and heal, knowing that the world awfully, I give you my word of honor (still an 18th century woman, y’all), wants you to win.

And I? I’ll be right here waiting for the day when there’ll be no such demarcation of people as “winners” or “suckers”; just conquerors with big hearts and unbreakable faith, all ready to make that small life count. 

Go win.

The End Card That Rambles On And Plugs Even More

🌚🌝 Further reading? 🌝🌚

Last post: 13 Lessons from the 2018 Chapter

if you don’t love yourself, read this. please.

+ Want to request a post? Leave your request in my ask box & I’ll get back to you asap!

Thanks for dropping by! It was a pleasure having you around. If you wish to stick for a bit, I’d suggest picking one of the related posts mentioned above.

I post new posts bi-weekly, and my wins, & journal entries throughout the week, so follow me if you’re into conquering life, leaving a legacy and being the baddest badass you can possibly be. I’ll be your side pal, cheering you along.✨

And that was it, it’s a wrap! Martha, shut the cams, Henry, pause the audio, and Nandita, I know you’re pretending to be deaf, but Mom’s yelling something about doing the dishes. Better skip along.

And you, fellow conqueror? Keep slaying life, doing the work and making it count. I hope you’re well, stay strong and go conquer life. ✧

I’m sending you so much love, see you soon.

— Nandini 💌 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[acup-o-suga-blog]

Limerence |Min Yoongi |Ch.1 |

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut | Vampire!AU High School!AU

*This story is told from Yoongi's perspective unless stated otherwise. Also, this beginning is going to be a bit like Twilight, so forgive me. I'm trash for shit like that*

Winter. Probably the most enjoyable season for me, all though when there is just plain white everywhere, theirs really not too much to enjoy. But I was always taught to enjoy the sweet simple things of life, for they are the real things. But winter is the preferred season for me and my kind, for there's hardly sun, so it's easier to get shit done than having to sneak around during the middle of the night hoping no one notices your abnormally, sharp canines. It's not easy trying to seem normal, although that's all I've really ever wanted. To feel normal, to fit in, and to feel like I belonged. But I don't. Society doesn't accept things like me.

Monsters.

Blood-thirsty monsters.

I'm the kind of being that your parents tell you about before going to bed, the being that really isn't a being, but a ferocious beast that is scavenging for the little ones that misbehave and rebel.  That I, and all the others like me, are dangerous.

But we aren't. Or so I told myself the first while I was transformed. I tried to reassure myself that they were just stories and that I was still considered to be part of society. But after so long, you, or even the most optimistic person, can't fake it any longer. You get tired of hearing the same lie over and over again. That's when you start to shun everyone away, or what's left of the people who cared about you. And then you just start to sit around for decades and decades, just resenting the world and feeling sorry for yourself, that you soon don't realize that decades become centuries. But you're too far gone in grief that you really don't give.

But they helped. My brothers. They found me in my darkest times, stayed by my side even though I was convinced that I didn't need them, but they still stayed. They made everything easier, helped me understand that I wasn't the only one that was being punished. They took me in, helped me feed and learn more about myself and what I was than I ever thought I would.

But that was 200 years ago.

I've dealt with not being normal for longer than I can remember, and I've been alive for over 300 years. In the present day, 2018, my brothers and I are striving to survive and to fit in.

Which brings us to my current predicament.

“I can't believe I'm doing this.” 

“Oh c’mon hyung, I think it’s time we socialize with the rest of society. I mean, we are still apart of this world.” said Jungkook, my youngest brother. “Yeah, don’t you think it would be cool to see the transformation of our generation to now? It’s been over 300 years” continued Jimin. Sighing, I nodded my head and decided to walk with them up the stairs to our high school. 

“Although everything has changed, I really have no desire to go to school,” I stated. It was true. Everything was different, the laws, the monarchy(which we basically don't have anymore), and just the way of living. I haven’t been to school ever, but being around so long, you can read books and teach yourself, so I have a modest understanding of everything up to Grade 11 education, in which I am enrolling, along with my 3 other brothers; Jungkook, the youngest, Taehyung, The second youngest and most irritable, and Jimin, the third youngest but whom I like best and am closest with.

“You have no desire to do anything but sleep, lazy ass” murmured Taehyung. I looked at him and glared while he quickly looked away. I decided to ignore his comment, and just continue on with the admission process. After walking around the front of the school for a bit, we found the main office, which held two middle-aged women sitting at desks quickly typing things into their computers, whom I presumed to the secretaries. I cleared my throat to get their attention, but only got a muted “One second, please”

While waiting for the secretary, I decided to take a good look around the office. It was pretty simple looking. Square and about relatively decent sized, the walls were a muted beige, with posters hung on the walls about school events and what not. The secretaries were sitting at desks at the back, on the walls opposite of each other with a window in the back wall. Infront of us, there was a small ledge that held the P.A system, the sign in/sign outs sheets, and the visitor sign in. Suddenly, a voice brought me out of my thoughts

“Hi there, I'm so sorry for the wait. It's the middle of the year and right before Christmas break, it’s always a little hectic and busy around here.” One of the secretaries said with a smile on her face.

“It's fine.” 

“So, what can I help you boys out with today?” 

Jungkook started to tell the secretary about us being ‘transfer students’ and we were given our class schedules and a map of the school of where we would need to go. Smiling, the secretary welcomed us and sent us off to our classes. Walking out of the office, I took a look at my schedule, reading and reciting my classes for the rest of the school year.

9:00 - 10:35 - ENGLISH

10:45 - 12:15 - SCIENCE

12:15 - 12:55 - LUNCH

1:00 - 1:45 - KOREAN HISTORY

2:00 - 3:30 - LITERATURE

3:45 - 4:45 - MUSIC

I sighed as I read over my time table’s, slightly glad that I had music for an hour at the end of my school day, every day. Music has always been something I was good at and passionate about. I stopped at the end of the main halls where my brothers and I would part our ways to get to our classes.

“Well... I’ll see you guys at the end of the day. This is big, and I’m really proud of all of us.” Jimin said with a smile. Bidding our goodbye’s for the time being, I looked at the school map and maneuvered my way around to the third-floor and finally found my English class, the class I’m probably least excited about. I never liked English, I always thought it was quite pointless as I’ve never left Korea in the past 300 years of my life. Stopping in front of the classroom, I made sure my hood was up and was covering the whole top part of my head. This is another annoyance about being a vampire and going out in public. 

Being in any source of light makes my skin shine. Humans weren’t wrong with their folk tales about vampires not being able to go into the light. It doesn’t burn, but it’s quite uncomfortable and would freak any person out if they saw someone with shining skin. 

Once I was finally in the classroom, I sat down at the table in the back corner of the classroom where there was the least light and set my bag down. After about 5 minutes, students started piling in, and the once silent class grew louder and more lively. I started feeling anxious, not having been around so many humans in one room like this in many years. I tried calming myself down by taking deep breaths, but the teacher had walked in and had started to talk about how we would be reading an English book called “Charlotte’s Web” and something like that. I wasn’t paying much attention before I suddenly felt all eyes on me and heard the teacher calling out to me.

“Excuse me! Are you the new transfer student?” She inquired. I slowly nodded my head and said “yes”.

“Oh, that’s great! Why don’t you introduce yourself to us? Come stand up at the front!” For fucksake. She urged me to come forward and I started to feel very nauseous not really being comfortable around so many people. Timidly, I walked forward to the front of the class and started to introduce myself.

“My name is Min Yoongi. I'm from Daegu and I’m 3- I mean 17 years old.”

“That’s very nice now why don’t you try introducing yourself in English? This is English class after all.” 

This bit-

“H-hi, I am Yoongi.” I mentally groaned as the class started to giggle and murmur about my limited vocabulary and my pronunciation. 

I hate this class already.

---

Finally, after English, I have science, which I have no opinion on. After I make it to the classroom, I make a point to go to the teacher first and introduce myself personally. After we exchanged greetings and names, she directed to my seat which was by a window, which luckily it was cloudy outside today and almost every day in this region of Korea. We're in Gwangdong, which is mostly covered in natural scenery and quite cloudy because of the rivers and the condensation. After getting a brief fill in on what we are learning in science, I was handed a textbook and I began reading through the chapters and answering the questions in my notebook.

"Ah, I'm so sorry I'm late, I slept in this morning. Sorry, Unnie." a sweet voice rang through the mostly silent classroom. Looking up to see who the voice belonged to, my eyes were met with the most curious and innocent doe-eyes I've ever seen.

After staring at each other for a few seconds she smiled and turned to the teacher, bowing her head and handing her a slip, which I presumed to be a late slip. I was suddenly met with the most delicious scent I've ever smelt. My body froze and I had to cover my mouth to keep myself from smelling it anymore, or I would pounce someone.

Throughout my 300+ years of being a vampire, I hadn't always been vegan. I've killed innocent men and women for blood, for I thought that was the only way I could live. It was horrible. I felt guilty and it helped no less in trying to tell myself I wasn't a monster. But when I had met my brothers, they helped me go vegan and helped me to stop feeding on humans. I've been vegan for 150 something years, so I don't have cravings for human blood and flesh, but this scent, it's like it was taunting me, calling me.

And I had to taste it.

[duderaccoon]

i am in my grandma's jewelry store working in her place. i have been since last friday. she and some family of mine traveled to the countryside for mother's day. i desired to go as well, however, for circunstantial reasons i couldn't join them. instead, i am taking care of the business that she is passionate about while she takes a well-deserved rest.

tomorrow, she's going to resume her job, and so will i. for months, it has been my duty, as a high school-graduated teenager that is yet to attend to college, the delivery of her lunch at noon.

i live a block and a half away from the store. i first moved in as i was to begin the third grade in a flat four stories below the one i live in, my parents rented it for three more years, then bought out current one.

no matter how many years i have lived in this district, i haven't grown quite used to it yet. i do know how to move myself around here, my issue doesn't lie in a lack of safety or order, but in the population.

everyone that lives here or that has been here has an idea of the common resident's profile, both psychologically and physically: a fair skinned brand-wearing brat who sees the rest of the city as a jungle and the others as lesser than them. it's an stereotype i haven't been able to fit into. even if i wear designer clothing or travel around the globe and brag about how this country is a pile of garage on fire and wish to escape it no matter the means. i am not white. i am beige.

which of course gives me an upper hand against others with darker skin tones in terms of how comfortable my neighbours are with us sharing an elevator. still, my skin tone makes me very insecure when i go out.

most people that look like me work for those of fairer eyes, hair and skin. they are nurses for the wealthy grandmas that despise those who don't live here to visit the park in our district which's area is probably larger than that of most in the city, nannies to the brats that throw fits in the streets when they take a second too long to make their wishes come true, house cleaners of bleach-stained uniforms that earn more than office workers with diplomas and debts to pay off taking care of bathrooms bigger than where these others try to complete their "professional" tasks. people that are looked down on for taking care of the responsibilities their employers don't want to waste their time on.

i have had countless nannies growing up. every week a house cleaner makes sure our home is still a place four people can live in. they are not less than me or my parents, my shame doesn't have a logical reason. i still feel it though. i still walk my dogs and wonder how many people i have walked past that think they aren't mine. i still wear hoodies and joggers and feel pain when some policeman looks at me for far too long.

i try my best to not forget the stupidity of the situation. i remind myself that what others think of me is their own damn problem.

i still hate being in my grandma's jewelry store in her place. behind a glass desk trying to convince those that think less of me to buy a pair of earrings or some bracelet with my prettiest voice and kindest face.

[bibibourellymusic]

Fucked. ( 2017 )

They say that one day I wont care about you anymore. I want to believe them but I don't. They say that I'll somehow wake up one morning and you'll have miraculously disappeared from my memory. That the thought of you wont hurt anymore and I'll somehow manage to laugh at the thought of us without having to force myself to.

Maybe I'm a pessimist. But I really don't believe them. I'm partially happy you never got to see how much I loved you, which is fucked up. I'm also partially distraught you never got to see how much I loved you which is even more fucked up.

I’m so tired of thinking things are “fucked up”. Literally exhausted.  Like , it entertained me for a while at first. Gave life a little "spice" ,so to speak but at this point I’m out of energy.

I’m also out of the times I can use the word 'fuck' in one sentence. Boys are fucked, love is fucked, adults are so fucked (Im over  them) , Trump can suck a dick, and I write shitty songs. Yup. There it is.

Okay , maybe I’m being a little melodramatic but you get the gist. Its like , without you everything sucks more. I wish I were more romantic about this and I somehow wrote out some sort of deep,poetic, wedding vow because I know that,that's the type of shit you like and I totally could do that but I mean this shit so authentically that I feel like trying to turn this into a beautiful “coldplay” lyric would defeat its purpose. I also know you're not coming back so there's no point in losing my head over it lol. Me writing this is more for me then it is for you. I'm totally selfishly writing right now. I also know youre never gonna read this so I guess this my little secret between my 90 thousand instagram followers and I. Hi guys. whats Up. Totally confiding in you right now. ha. whats the harm right?

Im laughing. Not because Im chipper but because this is just really funny to me. you know? my life. these stupid first world problems. The fact that I'm effected by these stupid fucking first world problems. “A BOY? REALLY BIBI? A FUCKING BOY? How is this even possible?” I know your thinking it. Cause I am too. Im not always this much of a wimp. I promise.

Its like I feel like Im High School all over the again. Its almost like : THE SHIT NEVER ENDS.

Boys who lie turn into men who lie. Adults are just as mean as teenagers , except with money , cars and houses. Its all still a big ass popularity contest filled with grown people all in a rat race competing to be the coolest and the richest. Oh, and I almost forgot; the prettiest. cant forget "pretty" right?

side note:

Heres a question I have for the world. WHY DOES EVERYONE CARE ABOUT BEING COOL SO MUCH? ISNT CARING ABOUT BEING POPULAR AND BEING LIKED AND BEING "COOL" THE VERY THING THAT MAKES SOMEONE "UNCOOL"?

Then again , what do I know right? I never won prom queen or was the class president. Shit, I never even got good grades for that matter. I spent all my time smoking cigarettes , hanging out with people just toxic and crazed enough to keep me inspired, and writing songs and singing them in the practice rooms....and at home on grandmas old grand piano , and at dads house on his good guitar,..... and when dad was home and I couldn't sneak and steal his , I played on my shitty two stringed guitar in my hot pink and lime green bed room.So by the looks of it , I dont have the cool card. not that I give a shit.

Oh and the boy I love? He totally has his cool card. Hes so "cool". As a matter a fact, hes probably on some island with a cigar and a beautiful edgy girl with tattoos and long colorfulhair who takes really good instagram pictures and never complains.

Theyre probably talking about cool stuff like drake and rihanna, the new childish gambino song, tumblr and bragging to all their "cool" friends that'll last them about a week about how they only "shoot in film because iphone pictures are corny."......

While I'm here. Moping like a pathetic teenage drama queen. Self Loathing in the same fucking notebook ive written since I was 15 , eating cocopuffs without milk (whack) , with my guitar, tryna conjure up some passionate emotion so I can write the best song of my life, as usual.

I think I’m having an early 20’s existential crisis. you know? the one were you spend your nights wondering what this life and world we’re in is actually even all about. Here I am, Senselessly obsessing over a boy with a lower IQ than me that everyone says I’m going to forget in 5 years so “theres no point.”

*sigh*

so what is the point then?  can someone tell me the point of all of this growing up shit that everyone seems to be so fucking obsessed with? Apparently Im not in on the secret.

Managers are like Parents, Suits are like teachers , Celebrities are the new mean girls and the government and donald dump is like the grey , dated, school system they locked us all up in for 12 years of our life when all we ever wanted to do is just to break free and be ourselves. There you have it ladies and gentlemen. I think I figured it out. The point is - THERE IS NONE. great.

I’m convinced that I am a 6 year old girl trapped in a 23 year old womans body.

OH and back to YOU. mystery boy. If you do happen to read this (which you wont) and have the urge to pick up the phone to call me..(which you wont either.) dont bother. My iphone broke this morning.

notes to you , notes to self

bibi PS. if you, for one second thought i was bitching. Youre absolutely right. Annoying. I know. Im annoyed with myself too.

[danithebookaholic-blog]

NEW RELEASE!

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Apple of My Eye

By Christine Barfknecht

Publication Date: August 4, 2018   Genre: Psychological Suspense

Synopsis:

Laurie Brandon isn’t crazy. It’s a bout of panic that has her muttering indecipherable sounds and crying out like a mad woman, an attack brought on by her infant daughter’s sudden disappearance from the town’s annual Apple Festival. Not insanity. She needs help to save Emily. Someone has to see that, do something. 

But her recent history of psychosis coupled with witness claims that Emily was never at the festival with Laurie isn’t helping her credibility. Neither is recent suspension from her job as a school teacher over stability concerns. Perhaps most damaging, though, is Laurie’s insistence that her ex-husband, Jake, had something to do with the child’s disappearance. Any sane person knows a dead man can’t run off with a baby. 

The town sheriff believes Laurie is, at best, unreliable and possibly something much worse. But Laurie knows what she saw. She knows other things, too, details too hard to believe and even harder to accept. Now, she needs to convince someone – anyone – that Emily is in danger before the sheriff locks Laurie away permanently.

Goodreads

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Excerpt:

Chapter One

Laurie

September 18, 2018

I’m not crazy. I know what I saw.

With a wave of dizziness, I hunch forward, my head hanging low, my palms pressing against a cool, hard surface. The evening sky blackens before my eyes and the chill in the air raises goosebumps on my arms despite my fleece lined sweatshirt. I can’t think straight, can barely breathe. 

The silhouette in the darkness…that posture, poised to take action…

I didn’t need to see a face. I’d know that stance anywhere. But it isn’t possible.

I chew on my lip, try to gnaw the panic away. It has to be possible. I saw with my own eyes.

I can’t just stand here and wait, need to do something, find help. No one will believe me, though. It’s hard enough for me to believe me. It won’t help that everyone seems to think I’m out of my mind.

A tingling sensation shoots through my head like a strike of lightning and heat spreads through my body, starting in my head and washing through my chest. My heart beats so fast I fear it will burst. I remind myself to breathe. It’s just a panic attack. I’ve had plenty before and right now, it’s no wonder. Soon it will be over. I’ll be back to normal, get help, make someone believe me. Someone will help. They have to.

Breathe in, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.

A fog settles in my head, sprinkling over my mind like chalk dust. I find myself gasping, my heart racing faster and harder. This symptom is new. I blink, trying to focus on the brick surface of the street but it’s a blur. The dust is growing thicker, an eraser materializing, brushing over my mind and randomly choosing which memories to wipe away.

Not my memory. I must remember. 

My palms slide farther over the surface of…a table, counter…I’m not sure, but it’s rough like a sheet of unfinished wood. I lean hunched over it, struggling to breathe as I peer beneath my arm to look behind me.

Emily. My sweet baby girl.

She sits in her stroller, kicking her feet and cooing at the plush doll in her chubby fist. Cold flushes her cheeks pink, but the fleece bonnet tied beneath her chin keeps her head warm.

She’s here. She’s safe. I think. I’m not entirely sure. The fog is getting thicker, her image waving in and out as if it may not be real. I have no way of knowing. In this state, I can’t trust my eyes.

Maybe I can’t trust what I saw before either.

No. That was different. Not panic induced. Real.

A high-pitched shrill slices my skull, piercing my eardrums before fading to a crackle. Light flashes, then dozens of white stars appear.

“Laurie?” A voice slices through the static. 

I force myself to stand up straight and blink. Lights swim before a backdrop of blackness and voices echo around me. Screaming. But in a happy way. The scent of grease lingers in the air, mingling with a sweet and spicy smell, like sugared cinnamon.

The lights twirl and I blink again. A Tilt-a-Whirl spins, masses of people passing in front of it. My eyes are drawn to one man, not because I know him but because he looks like a marionette, his arms outstretched, pulled by strings. My gaze follows the threads to four little dogs, Teacup Pomeranians, the kind Jake would never let me have.

“Ankle biters. Useless yippers.” I hear the rage in his voice, the unwarranted anger I’d become accustomed to. “Food for real dogs, that’s what they are.” That’s my translation, the clean version with every other word removed. 

“Laurie, are you okay?” That voice again, soft and feminine, though drowning in background music.

I bring my vision in, notice a woman standing on the opposite side of a counter before me. I know her, Rochelle, a good friend of my mother’s. Two pies sit on the counter between us and she holds a wad of bills in her hand. A cool breeze brushes my skin, whisking the aroma of the pies toward me. Apple.

A memory washes over me, replacing Rochelle’s current image with one of her in my mother’s kitchen from many years ago. I see Rochelle pressing dough into pie tins, hear my mother counting with me as I measure sugar and sprinkle it over a huge bowl of sliced apples. “One…two…”

I’m five years old and wearing my favorite apron. Mom made it for me, complete with an embroidered apple on the chest. In front of me mom’s apple shaped clock ticks on the wall. Except for Christmas it’s my favorite time of year, being with mom in the kitchen and baking pies for the festival.

I blink, focus on Rochelle. Present day Rochelle. I remember. The Apple Festival. I’m in a booth selling pies to support the school. I brought Emily. My friend, Josie, came too. I look beside me, but Josie isn’t there. She must have stepped away.

Rochelle is still staring at me, her eyes wrinkled with concern. I force a smile and straighten my back, pulling myself off the countertop. “I’m fine,” I tell her. “Just getting a migraine.” I can’t tell her the truth. Everything I love is already in jeopardy; Emily, my job. Thanks to Jake, rumors of my supposed insanity spread over town as quickly as softened butter over a slice of bread.

I’m fine. I am. Postpartum psychosis, the doctor called it. My-wife’s-an-effing-nut-case, Jake called it.

Ex-wife. Almost. He forgets that part.

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As I blink my thoughts away and hone in on Rochelle, I can’t help wondering what she thinks of me. Does she believe I have a migraine or is she waiting for the right moment to make an emergency call to the mental hospital?

“You scared me for a minute there,” Rochelle says, handing me the bills in her hand. “Keep the change. For the school.”

I force another smile and take the bills from her, my hands trembling with the aftereffects of my attack. I’m still trying to get my bearings, breathe in and out, slow the hammering of my heart.

Rochelle hoists her purse on her shoulder, a huge tan bag that causes my shoulder to ache just looking at it. “You sure you’re all right?”

I nod and force my mind to focus. My name is Laurie Brandon. I’m a second grade teacher. I’m in Jackson, Ohio at the Apple Festival. My hometown. I glance at the surface of the street where the booth sits, the brick street confirming my location. A few blocks away, lights illuminate the water tower hovering over the town, painted red to resemble an apple and embellished in a green leaf with a pipe protruding from the top as the stem.

I live on Mountain Valley Road. My parents are Gary and Paula Barreau. Emily is nine months old.

My heart rate slows and my body relaxes, the routine stabilizing me. I take a deep, long breath. I’m okay. Everything is fine. I’ll call the doctor in the morning. The medication she gave me has been working well. It’s just the extreme stress, my psychopath-almost-ex-husband worsening my psychosis, if that makes sense.

I remember. There’s more. I let out a gasp.

“I can tend the booth for you if you want to head home to lie down,” Rochelle offers.

I don’t hear Emily behind me. It shouldn’t surprise me. I can barely hear Rochelle over the crooning country band a block down the street. Still, I spin on my heels to check on my daughter.

She isn’t there.

My eyes shoot left to right so fast the plywood walls of the booth seem to flail. Emily… She was there just a moment ago in her stroller, wasn’t she? I saw her. I looked behind me, under my arm… I thought she was there.

My heart races again, my stomach turns, fog swirls in my brain. I can’t help questioning myself, replaying the day through my mind to make certain I brought Emily with me. I picture Josie in the booth and Emily right behind us in her stroller, just like I saw her earlier.

It was today, wasn’t it? My breathing grows faster, intensifying the dizziness. I’m not sure. The fog needs more time to clear. I force a deep breath. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.

“Laurie?” Rochelle’s voice jumbles with my thoughts.

I just need a moment to get through this and then everything will make sense. Maybe I’m remembering another day. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.

In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.

But I spot something on the street. I lean in, force myself to study it, make sure of what I see.

There is no mistaking; it’s Emily’s soft pink doll. If she wasn’t here, where did the doll come from?

The next scream I hear rolling over the crowd is my own.

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Purchase:

Amazon / B&N / Smashwords

Author Bio:

Christine Barfknecht has a passion for weaving the darkest bits of the human psyche into page-turning fiction. She’s been crafting stories since before she printed her first word and credits her overactive imagination to a lifelong love of reading. She seeks out books that keep her hiding beneath the covers at night or turning pages long after her eyes begin to cross, and strives for those qualities in her own writing. 

Christine lives in rural Wisconsin with her husband, children, and pets where she is also a virtual bookkeeping entrepreneur. In addition to reading and writing, she enjoys gardening, crafts, time with family, and traveling. APPLE OF MY EYE is her debut novel.

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From one bookaholic to another, I hope I’ve helped you find your next fix. —Dani

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