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star-on-a-beach · 19 days ago

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Okay um. I really don't like doing this, like, ever

But

Tw for vent post, Bc idk, maybe it'll help if I talk about this where it'll be seen and not on a vent blog where I know no one sees it

So it's pretty obvious that pretty much everything right now is in kind of a shit state and I'm really at the end of my line trying to be optimistic about it. Presidential election, rp, guard, college, art, writing, all of this shit, even stuff I'm supposed to enjoy, makes me want to fucking shatter a rock because I don't want to do anything anymore other than scroll through social media on my phone which, I've probably developed an addiction, and of course that makes me feel even fucking worse bc I told myself I'd never get addicted and look at where I am now

So many things I'm unhappy with are really kind of tying back to me and I'm so angry at everything but especially myself now, but theres nothing I feel like I can do about it but try and break it all down I guess?

There's shit going on with color guard and, other than the friends I've made within it and the actual performances, I don't fucking enjoy it anymore because our coach is apparently super fucking shitty and a liar and unfair and argumentative and never sticks with the drill she writes and doesn't give us the resources to put it together correctly, WHEHN SHES LITERALLY OUR COACH AND THATS HER JOB, IVE TRIED SO HARD TO STAY KIND TO HER BUT WITH EVERYONE AROUND ME TALKING SHIT AND TALKING ABOUT WHAT A BAD PERSON SHE IS IM STARTING TO DO IT TOO AND I HATE IT

And then obviously there's the actual schoolwork that needs to get done, I thought I had not one, not two, but 3 FUCKING ESSAYS DUE ON THE 11TH, WHICH WERE ASSIGNED TO US ON WEDNESDAY, AND EACH HAD TO BE 700 WORDS LONG. Granted it doesn't actually have to be like that but teachers are talking about finals now and I'm going to have SO many essays for that and I have a whole debate too. I'm tired and sick of waking up at ridiculously different times for classes and not being able to have a goddamn nap bc I'm either working, procrastinating with the screens addiction again, or I don't have enough time because god knows I can't take power naps for SHIT, and I'm not fucking paying for coffee in this economy

I can't even relax how I normally want to because I'm so tired from everything, too. Writing big things for TAOCC or drawing feels like a chore, and then I feel obligated to draw others characters or I want to actually do so but I have no energy for it, and I can't get my art to look how I want it to perspective-wise, no matter how many tutorials I look at, and it never ends up the way I want and I haven't even finished TAOCCTOBER or Memoryquest, both of which I feel shitty for, because then they're both more things that I'm giving up on, and I give up on so much shit so easily unless I'm being pushed over and over and over and over, although rn I really wanna just say to hell with it and kill both of them entirely

And with taocc as a whole, I don't even know where to begin. I mentioned in my earlier post that I'm struggling to be assertive and actually say what I want with RP, which results in me feeling really unsatisfied with it a lot. I feel like people aren't interested in my characters and I need to be the one trying to build the characters' connections by asking questions, which. I love when other characters ask mine questions, because so much would be revealed if PEOPLE JUST ASKED. I know you guys don't mean it in this way but I feel like I'm trying to push all of this out, but I barely get anything back except for maybe one question or comment or smth, but it feels like the characters aren't interested in my characters' pasts, and that means the mods aren't either. Which, is really no fault of yours, whether you are or not, it's my fault because I can't bring myself to get off my high horse and actually say "hey, are you willing to have your characters ask about mine?" because I have the firm mentality of "if they wanted to, they would", and I'm trying to make other characters feel important while also craving mine to feel important, but the moment they do, I wonder if I'm taking the main-character roles too much and I need to even it out so I immediately divert the attention back to yours and feel shitty about it. Once again, this is no one's fault but mine, and this is partially why my relationship with my last rp partner, aka my ex bsf, ended, because I wasn't assertive enough and kept wondering if I was hogging the spotlight any time focus did switch to my characters which just isn't enjoyable for anyone. So I'm angry and terrified that these patterns which are repeating are going to lead to a similar outcome.

It isn't even just that though, I just really hate how I write as a whole rn. I used to be so poetic and good with words but now they read difficult unless I'm writing a great wall of text, and my characters aren't acting the way I want to, partially because I'm trying to morph them to get along more with other characters and diminish their flaws so they're liked by others, but it just takes away from who they were originally and I hate that as well. It's easy to get caught up in the heat of the rp but for fucks sake I expect myself to be a better writer than this.... and I haven't even gotten around to fixing the fucked-up-with-a-side-of-cheddar timelines, which have been NAGGING at my mind for FUCK KNOWS HOW LONG, but once again, I don't even want to do anything anymore and I get mad bc the only things I wanna do are just self indulgent shit and like hell I'm asking for that from anyone (see, that's part of the problem, right there.)

I think the only thing I hate more than not being assertive with rp is the fact that I'm an adult among you all. Yes, being 18 now while the majority of you are minors is a massive fucking deal to me, and I'm realizing why exactly adults generally avoid friendships like this, because I'm constantly worried about being a good example to you all. I have to have the good advice, I have to be available, I have to be good with assertiveness and boundaries, hell part of the reason I try and avoid venting so much is because you all do not fucking need to have that burden. Every time I do something like this post I immediately think "these are kids and I'm an adult, it's kids trying to help an adult who should not be saying this stuff or laying this burden on them", as if I'm some kind of weirdo. I really try my damndest to not be one of those adults who dumps all their problems on adolescents in order to feel better about their own shitty life, I don't want to be the adult who their younger friends are comforting all the time and have that burden on them (yes, I am completely aware this post contradicts that, and yes, I am very ashamed but I feel Im at rock bottom and you guys deserve to know (but don't deserve the burden of it)). I don't feel like the example I want to be to you guys, I'm incredibly dense, and half the time, I feel like an oblivious idiot for the simplest fucking things in rp even when no one says anything that implies any of you guys think that. I get so annoyed as well, and that's another part I especially hate, it's that I get annoyed with the smallest things so damn easily, whether it's someone saying something random in call and breaking silence, or someone talking about a subject after we've moved on, or a rant that's gone on for a really long time. All of those are ridiculous things to be annoyed by, and I'm completely aware of that. I'm not proud of it whatsoever. It might also be the weather, but I'm so, so, so annoyed by so many tiny, insignificant things nowadays that it's ridiculous, and I've snapped on call a few times which I feel horrible about. I'm trying so hard to be a good, strong role model for all of you, because that's what you deserve and I want to be like that for you. But, both here and in real life, my own idiocy and density and emotions make me feel like I'm never going to escape being a dense, emotional, spacy child who keeps trying to catch up. And as an adult, I'm really, really, really upset that I feel like this because once again, you guys are the minors, not me. I'm not saying you guys should feel like that (I really hope not, no one should feel like that), but it feels even worse since I'm trying to be the adult for you guys to look up to, but I'm looking up to all of you instead. And then, even worse, I get jealous. Not of the bad shit you guys go through, but like. Insignificant things. Art styles, friends, activities, actually having your family around. I really hate myself for being jealous of that and always comparing and trying to match it since it's completely hypocritical of me otherwise.

I'm closing up this vent, but tw for some darker themes in the next paragraph

I'm really just kind of sick of life as a whole. I'm done being an adult, to hell with this, just let me be the younger friend again so I don't have to see myself as an old baby. I'm tired of all of this and the dark jokes I make, they're horrible, but they're becoming more common and I think about the content of them a lot. I'm so tired of this shit and feeling like this and I'm mad and ashamed that I'm making this post because of everything I said above. I'm so done with everything. To hell with this country, to hell with my future, to hell with drawing and writing and trying to put stuff out. At the time of writing this I'm crying, because I'm really really missing my dad. I want to hug him and be with him. I want my family overall to be okay. I want to feel happy and content with myself and my life like back in summer. I'm so sorry for having to say all this but it's the truth and, again, this is my last resort for trying to feel better because hell knows I don't have the initiative to make an appointment and talk to a therapist on campus. Ik this will go away later but ffs i don't know if I can wait until later.

Ok, heavy vent part is over

I've said a lot so I'm ending it here. If you choose to ignore this, that's fine. I'd appreciate some kind of acknowlegement, tbh, whether it's a like or a comment or something, or just a kind word (whatever you do, please don't just put *hug* and leave it at that, hugs dont really feel like they have much more meaning at this point). It feels ridiculous to ask you for comfort especially after kinda dumping all of this here for you guys to see but I might as well try ig. Idk, I'm gonna just try and not delete this out of shame.

I hope you all know that I love you guys so, so, so, so much. This community has brought me so much joy and leaving is the last thing I'd ever dream of unless I had to. I hope you guys don't mind me doing this too much. Logically Ik you probably don't but, really, none of what I just vented about is based in logic regardless.

Thank you for reading, whether it was skimming or fully reading it. Kind words are appreciated but obviously not forced and I love you guys so much. Goodnight ❤️

#tw vent #im going to look back at this in the morning and think #“wow i was completely blowing things out of proportion”

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femmesandhoney · 8 months ago

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Hey I hope this isn't too annoying of an ask, but literally how are you so happy at college? You're like the student I want to be, you're always posting on here about your classes and you're so engaged and seem so into it. Every semester for me is just another couple months of the time passing and panicking. I'm either completely paralyzed in bed or I'm crying in bed. Like, how do you seem so good at this?

it's not all sunshine and rainbows believe me. even my best friend has told me i come off as someone who "has it all figured out", but i often do not feel the same lol, i miss assignments, i stress out and procrastinate until the last minute, i get drained from all the work mentally and physically. all the regular college shit. outside of that tho, i legitimately love learning and interacting with others who are interested in what i like and who i can learn from. that's usually what keeps me happy! i love the people i meet in my classes, i like group discussions, i like being introduced to new things, i love my profs and take all the classes i can with them. generally, im just friendly w people in my classes and that makes me enjoy going to them, and i take classes i enjoy, and if they're reqs i don't care for, i always try to take something out of the experience.

some people do not find learning for the sake of learning fun, but i do, which makes even the roughest days okay, but that doesn't mean the tedious and demanding aspects of college curricula do not wear me down too. i decided to wait to go to grad school bc im exhausted! i am tired and need a break from always having another damn assignment to do and another article to read 😭 those things are taxing, and i already have bad self discipline habits, so you can imagine i often make stuff harder for myself than they need to be. the only reason i get good grades is bc im smart and have a relatively easy time understanding the subjects i study. if i take anything outside my favorite academic areas, like say the natural resources class i took a few years ago, that shit had me crying every damn day lmao.

so yeah, i just enjoy learning for learning sake, but also i like academia and going thru the motions of a classroom experience is fun to me for all the reasons i listed, including the fact i want to be a college professor and just enjoy that atmosphere a lot. i would wager if you're constantly frustrated by your college experience, maybe analyze a bit deeper on what you most dislike? is it specific profs, the people in ur classes, the subject material itself? if theres anything you can try and control to make it more agreeable for you, always take the opportunity, tho ik its not always possible. im lucky that all my areas of study have naturally wonderful people drawn to them (especially the international studies students!), but ik some majors can draw less nice people sometimes :( which can make ur experience harder than it should be. or some people legitimately do not enjoy the institutions that are schools and what they traditionally demand from a person, which is completely understandable. my best friend didn't go to college bc she barely graduated high school bc she hated attending and never turned in her hw. some people just do not thrive in such strict school environments for many reasons. but whatever your case is, i hope you have easier semesters in the future if you continue, no one should ever be so stressed from a class that they cry over it. i think thats a failure of a class and a professor when that occurs, and a sign of a bad class/prof rather than a bad student.

#im writing this at 2am i hope its not typo ridden

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flowers-and-fichte · 2 years ago

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Novalis's Guide to Surviving College

Okay. Here it is. Something I've been waiting to post. These are hacks that have helped me survive college and have served me well.

DO NOT PROCRASTINATE. I already have this one down, but I'm aware it's a vice for many people, and that's okay! But it's not a good thing to have at this point in life. Try not to wait until the last minute to get things done, because some assignments may require more time than you think. Procrastination is not your friend, no matter how tempting it is to put things off.

Start studying way ahead of time. I prefer to do it about a month before the exam so I can have enough time to prepare. It actually pays off. I recall studying a month before a notoriously hard test and I actually got an A on it. No matter how pain-in-the-ass it may sound, it is very helpful.

Correspond with your professors! It's not only important to email them about any questions you have about assignments or exams, but also to cultivate friendships! So, visit office hours! Chat with them after class! Getting to know your profs has its perks. Maybe they can tell you about new sources or maybe tell you about research opportunities.

Phones aren't everything. This is something it took me a while to learn. During school days, I make sure to try not to look at my phone as much. Phones are addictive and can take away from social interactions. Spending time on your phone not only tires out your eyes, but it's also a HUGE waste of time. So, do what I do and write or draw on paper or curl up with a book! Hang out with your friends! Listen to music or a podcast without looking at a device! It's not only restful for your eyes but it also makes you more aware than when you're staring at the screen.

Get enough sleep, especially before tests. Sleep. Is. Important. Always. No matter what. But some people may function on 6-7 hours of sleep rather than 8-9 hours. I'm not encouraging you to get that much sleep; rather to sleep as much as you need to in order for information to stay in your brain.

Back to #4. If you find yourself distracted from your assignments by other activities (such as phone use), WRITE IT DOWN. For example, if you've got a math test you planned to study for and you were looking at Instagram for that intended time, write down something like "Was looking at Instagram when I really should have been studying stats". This way, you are being honest to yourself about how you really were spending your time. In fact, this helps damage your ego and realize that technology or other vices aren't everything and are actually dampening. It's a life lesson in general.

Okay. I do this one ALL THE TIME: MAKE A SCHEDULE. Schedules help you figure out how much time you have in your day, counting your classes, giving you some thought about how you can spend your free time. It's very helpful. Also, list out your break times and set a timer. Also use a time for your study time in case it's confusing to tell how much time has passed, but feel free to go over the time limit. Time honestly doesn't matter as much. But it doesn't hurt to give yourself extra time for work if you feel like you need it. Scheduling has been super helpful to me in several cases, including for daily commutes.

These are my top college survival hacks, but I'll probably come up with more if I can.

#college hacks #life skills #how to adult #novalis speaks

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patrywoso · 20 days ago

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(Heads up this is long so get comfy)

Hey lovely girl, for starters if you would like to take a break, go ahead! It’s your life and you decide how to live it :) me and the other anons will be here when you return! (Do let us know beforehand though I’m still recovering from the near heart attack I had when I found out u were in the hospital) if you would like, I can try and request more stuff but I’m afraid I only like quite a small group of people haha and my taste is kinda bad.

Hope your dad gets discharged soon darling and you can both enjoy the countryside together. If not, I do hope that you at least take some time off to recharge yourself!

I’m gonna be honest with you the study method varies by the subject and what’s being tested. There are certain ones where I do something very unhealthy called procrastinating. Basically I attempt to cramp all the information into my brain in under 24hs. Is it detrimental to my health? Yes physically and mentally. Does it work? Unfortunately so.

But a more healthy method which I rarely use is to write out everything you need to know and space out the topics each day leading up to your exam. For organisation, I use notion! I find it easier to spend some time at the start of my course to create a notion page that can keep track of all my assignments, exams and any due dates I might have. It’s also helpful as I can link the list of topics tested and see what needs to be done clearly. Additionally, when listing out the topics, I make sure to also indicate how confident I am in doing it/ remembering it while also highlighting which topics seem to be harder than the others. From there I pick what to prioritise and try to space out my study schedule evenly to ensure that I’m not studying hard topics everyday back to back cause I would literally kill myself. I’ve also found it helpful to reindicate my confidence level in the topic after revising it to see if I should take a final glance at it the night before my exam! This is for subjects/exams that require a large amount of topics or information.

Another thing I learnt off one of my classmates back when I was younger was to study smart. Make friends with people in your class, share notes, don’t be afraid to ask for help from the professors and consult them regularly! Additionally, I’ve found that everyone studies differently so what works for me might not work for you! Do take what I’m about to say with a grain of salt.

For starters, none of my study plans really worked in the beginning, so I had to invent my own. Basically, I really enjoy talking/ telling stories so I treated my content heavy subjects as like a giant talking session. I would either talk to my friends and go through the content with them, basically teaching them or I would literally just pretend I’m tutoring my siblings on what I’m studying. Additionally, treating it like a giant gossip session allows me to simplify content into memes or stories that I understand. When I used to study history, I just treated myself as like a newspaper girl spreading the latest gossip in the square lmao. It might not work for u tho but do give it a go!

This is getting kind of long but I do hope it’s helpful to you cause literally no one online helped me for years so I built all this myself haha.

For some methods that have worked on my friends but not me,

They would buy/ use whiteboards to regurgitate all the information they needed to know and draw like huge Mindmaps. This is kinda like my gossip tea spilling method except it’s silent and you look less batshit crazy doing it yourself.

One of my friends just bought notes off our really smart classmate and memorised it. Sometimes u can find free notes online/ for a discounted price so if ur short on notes start there.

My friends and I also use different study apps that lock away distraction apps on ur phone (social media etc) and u can start a timer to see how long u can study in a day. General thoughts on this is that it really isn’t for everyone. It caused me to severely neglect my health as I felt peer pressured to be studying whenever they were studying thus resulting in me not taking breaks. I called it quotes after I pushed myself to study through a fever until I actually started hallucinating my work.

These work for memorisation courses but if for whatever reason your doing things like Math (why??? This subject can burn in hell) you just need to practice. Like learn the formulas then just spend the rest of your time practicing cause this bloody subject isn’t something u can memorise. Hence it does not work well with my procrastination.

Okay this is bloody long, let me know if there’s anything else you would like to know! I’m free to answer any study related questions haha. If u do go back for your masters, that’s great! Cause we should keep on learning. But do remember to take care of yourself in the process and take breaks when necessary. You’re doing great, and that you made it so far you can complete it. Take care, love you xoxo.

Thank you so much sweetheart, i didn't mind a bit it was long cause i found it really interested to know what you do and they way you explain it and i really appreciate it so much, i have the ideas wrote down on my notebook and i will try to kind of practice them with some work related things to see how i feel and if they can help. Thank you so much for taking the time to send it you're the best.

You can always send ideas or anything, you're really good at It so if you have one you want to send do it 😊

I don't think i'm taking a break but if i do i will let you know i promise.

Hope you're having a wonderful day, love you

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pietrasgreeklitblog · 8 months ago

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Reflections on a Year of Reading Greek Literature

This year I have read: Greek Gods, Human Lives by Mary Lefkowitz; Song Of Achilles by Madeline Miller; and Circe by Madeline Miller.

Each book has described the setting of Ancient Greece in its own distinct way. I have learned specifically about Mount Pelion in “Song Of Achilles” by Madeline Miller, I found out that It’s composed of a river with cool and mossy rocks on the bottom, with fishes that the book refers to as “loaches, vimbas, and perch”, that usually hide in muddy holes or quieter waters upstream when they are frightened. The summer is also described as harsh: “The sun bore down on me, hot and hard in the summer sky”. However, it also snows hard in the cold winter as well, to the point where the river would freeze, which was new to me, I wasn’t aware that Greece was a four-season country, I had always assumed it didn’t snow, and it would just be a little bit cooler around the winter time. Mount Pelion is also composed of several mountains.

I also became very aware of Greek history, which I had always been interested in, and also why I chose Greece in the first place. I have always been curious about Greek mythology and the reading/blog project was a perfect opportunity for me to begin learning. In “Greek Gods, Human Lives” by Mary Lefkowitz, I was surprised by her interpretation of the gods, I remember specifically learning about Zeus, and how he’s depicted as powerful but blunt and indifferent towards humans and their problems. In “Song Of Achilles”, the story talks about the Trojan War from the point of view of Patroclus, with the Trojan War itself beginning because of a Trojan Priest wanting to free his daughter from Agemmenon (The leader of the army). As a consequence of his refusal, Apollo sends a plague until Agemmemnon agrees to give back the hostage. As a result, Agamemnon is extremely upset with this, and he ends up taking one of Achilles’ dear friends.

In “Circe” by Madeline Miller, I learned about the different societal standards between men and women. I wasn’t able to read most of the book, however, I believe the story mentions issues with themes of misogyny, how many men are praised for the same things women are looked down on, and how women are seen as less significant just because of their gender regardless if they accomplish the same things as their male peers. Regarding cultural foods, in “Song Of Achilles”, there was a reoccurring theme with figs, with possible symbolic significance towards it. I believe the figs reflect Achilles and Patroclus’ relationship throughout the story.

In “Greek Gods, Human Lives”, I learned how you can use many of these mythological stories about the gods in your own life, and learn a lesson from each story. In “Song Of Achilles”, I learned how you shouldn’t let power blind you, and remember the significant connections you have had between the people you love before it’s too late. In “Circe”, I learned that you should never let other people drag you down, and always be confident in your ability to achieve incredible things to prove them wrong.

This project has opened my eyes to several things, I was able to fall in love with reading again, and this project was the push I needed to break that cycle of procrastination. I was also happy I could get creative with the posters that were assigned, I love drawing and I’m glad I had the opportunity to get in touch with my creative side. Overall, this project has taught me so much about myself and Greece, and how important it is to apply each lesson I read about in my own life.

Word Count: 603

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darkdaydr3am · 1 year ago

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Drawing Class One-Point Perspective Project

For our third project in Draw 100 class, my classmates and I were assigned to create a final 18x24" drawing that uses one-point perspective to give the illusion of space, choosing a still from a film or TV show. Before drawing the final 18x24" drawing, we had to complete two thumbnail drawings of one-point perspective points of view. One of these thumbnails was required to exemplify an exterior view, where the reference plane projects towards the viewer, while the other showed an interior view, where the reference plane proceeds to the back, converging into a single vanishing point on the horizon line.

As far as materials go for these one-point perspective drawings, I only used one 2H and 2B Staedtler graphite pencils, along with a small gum eraser and a Staedtler Mars plastic mechanical eraser. Because I was sketching and not doing a lot of shading, I did not really need more than those two pencils, as I used the 2H for my outline sketches, then my 2B to emphasize edges of the objects I depicted in my drawings. For my 9x12" drawings, I used the paper from my mixed media 11x14" Canson spiral sketchbook, and for the final drawing, I used drawing paper from an 18x24" drawing pad.

My first thumbnail sketch was a 9x12" one-point perspective of various 3-dimensional shapes, using the interior view perspective, meaning all of the objects are proportionate in relation to the vanishing point in the center of the drawing. Although I did not draw an actual interior space, say, with a couch and a TV in a living room, this drawing still depicted an interior view perspective and gave me good practice visualizing the concept of one-point perspective, allowing me to move on to my next thumbnail drawing.

My second sketch, which was my comp for the final 18x24" drawing, was another 9x12" drawing. I chose this still from the movie Knives Out (2019). Although this still is not an exterior view of an architectural building, I really liked how this still made the knives look like they are converging into a central vanishing point which is covered by the figure, Benoit Blanc, from the film. As shown in this thumbnail drawing, this sketch used an immense amount of detail with all of the individualized, unique knives, making the overall drawing process take much longer than I expected. Nevertheless, I continued with the project and began the final 18x24" drawing, depicting this movie still.

After a few weeks of procrastinating and panicking to complete my final projects for all of my classes, I finally managed to work on this 18x24" drawing, which progressed much slower than I would have liked.

I began by drawing the figure of Benoit Blanc and placing a small cross at the implied vanishing point, which was near the center of his forehead.

Using my ruler to draw straight lines for the edges of the knives' blades, which all faced the central vanishing point, I began making progress on my final drawing, and the one-point perspective aspect of this still started to show.

After spending countless hours on this project, I finally needed to turn it in, even though the final product did not fully reflect my capabilities as an illustrator. I did not get to finish the ring of knives, but I learned a lot from the overall process of this project. For my next quarter in college, beginning in January, I will need to be much more cognizant of my time management skills and the feasibility of the subject matters I choose for my future assigned projects. Over my winter break, I hope to complete this drawing in its entirety.

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shegxox · 3 years ago

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moments with you series

taking a break from requirements with kenma

kenma x f!reader , pre-med student! reader, scenario, fluff, comfort

cw: some swearing cause c'mon, reader is a pre-med student for heaven's sake. not proofread lol, wrote this on a whim I'm procrastinating

wc: 1, 635

a/n: as a pre-med student myself, I desperately need this. kenma irl where r u *bawling, screaming, banging head on wall* also got this inspiration when I was doing my own schoolwork and I found this godly asmr ambiance video thingy for kenma, kurapixiv is the name of the channel listen to it yourself here , you can listen to it while reading for a more...realistic visualization *cries*

YOUR eyes are burning, your back is aching, and your shoulders desperately need a drill as a masseuse. You've been hunched over your desk for the past three hours working non-stop for your school requirements, answering laboratory reports, lecture assignments, and now, lab exercises. All that for a single subject in your college course: Anatomy and Physiology.

For your laboratory exercise, you are tasked to find a picture of a specimen under a microscope, draw it as realistic as possible, then label the parts.

Let's get this one thing clear. At the start of the semester, you were no artist. You sucked at drawing. Whether it was traditionally or digitally, you never had the practice to draw. But now, in your stupid course, you were forced to learn and practice art.

"This damn course," You mutter to yourself angrily. Trying your best to imitate the histology picture you were using as a reference. "If I knew that I had to do shit like this, I would've just become a fucking art student."

Were you regretting choosing a pre-med course right this moment? Yes. Do you wish to throw your work out the window and burn it? Yes. But do you still want to pass this stupid subject? Yes...

You decided to go through this course, and now you must endure.

You were so immersed in your work that you hadn't noticed your boyfriend enter the room that you both shared.

"Hey, babe." Kenma calls out softly, making you glance up. Your weariness faltered just the tiniest bit at the sight of your beautiful boyfriend.

His hair was thrown in a sloppy bun, wearing his own oversized jacket merch and a pair of shorts. Even with an attire as simple as that, he still makes your heart flutter like a highschool school girl in love.

"Oh hey," You answer in acknowledgment before placing your focus back on your drawing. "Done streaming?"

"Yup." You hear him sigh. "And I got you something."

Kenma pushed aside the books scattered on your desk and placed a mug.

Your nose caught a familiar scent that made you finally pause with what you were doing.

"Hot chocolate?"

"Yeah," Kenma gave you a warm smile. "It's raining outside. I figured you'd want some."

"Raining?" You whipped your head to the side where the window was located, and clear enough, droplets of rain were pattering heavily against the glass. "Ah, I didn't notice..."

Guess you really are that busy to notice something that should've been so obvious.

"How's your drawing?" Kenma asked, peeking at the screen of your iPad where you have been drawing your work.

"Ah, that looks good." Your boyfriend complimented. "It looks so close to your reference."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you let out a tired breath, looking at Kenma desperately. "Is it really?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? Or are you just saying that just to-"

Kenma cuts you off with a swift peck on your lips, instantly making your heart pound.

"Yes," Kenma affirmed, patting your head. "You're doing great, bub."

Blood rushed through your cheeks. Kenma looked so proud when he said that. Are you really doing a great job?

"Th-Thank you..." You murmured before shyly turning your eyes down to your work. "And thank you for the hot chocolate, too."

"No problem. Just call me if you need anything, okay?" He gave you a kiss on the side of your head. "I'll be here in bed."

"Okay..."

With that, Kenma walked towards the bed located behind you and laid himself comfortably. Grabbing the Nintendo Switch left on the nightstand.

You couldn't help but smile to yourself. Thank God for online classes.

If classes were face to face, then you wouldn't be able to get this kind of treatment, and if it were face to face, you wouldn't be able to see Kenma. He's probably the reason why you try to push yourself to do your best in your subjects. Whether you fail a quiz or miraculously pass a score, Kenma will always be there to support you, cheer for you, and of course, love you. Sure, he could still do that when universities open for class again but, nothing beats going for a straight hug to Kenma whenever stress was starting to rile you up.

A pre-medical course is clearly not just a simple walk in the park. It's a bloody battlefield out there. A literal new form of hell.

But with Kenma whose always got your back whenever you seem to fall, you feel like you could get through hell just fine.

As you work on your drawings, the sound of Kenma playing Animal Crossing can be faintly heard from the background. Accompanied by the gentle sound of rain outside, the gameplay noises, and the familiar sound of a character walking around gave off such a peaceful and comfortable vibe.

When the room got colder, Kenma graciously threw a hoodie for you from behind— which almost hit the mug that was dangerously close to your iPad and gave you a mini heart attack. You spin your chair to face him with wide eyes only to see him already mirroring your surprised expression.

"Oopsies." Kenma chuckled sheepishly.

"You little prick." You tried to sound mad, but the stretching smile on your lips contrasted your tone. "If that mug fell on my iPad..."

"Then you should've caught it properly then." Kenma remarked smugly.

"Excuse me?" You raised an eyebrow towards him.

"Hey, I was a former setter. This is all on you." He accused with a sly little smirk that he tries to hide behind his Switch.

'Damn, he has a point.' You couldn't help but laugh, defeated.

"Heh, Touché, kitty." Swinging your chair around, you went back to work.

"Love you," Kenma says aloud, and to which you cheesily uttered reply,

"Three Thousand."

After ten minutes, Kenma caught you stretching your arms and back accompanied with a tired yawn.

"You done, bub?" Kenma asked.

"Almost, just one more picture."

Kenma glanced over his Switch and to your weary form in front of him. Your back must be aching like hell right now.

"When's the submission of that?" He casually asked.

"Uhm, a day after tomorrow, I think?" You glanced at the wall of sticky notes in front of you and confirmed. "Yeah, a day after tomorrow."

Kenma hummed, "So does that mean you could still do it tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but." You sighed wearily, "I wanna have a free schedule tomorrow so we can have more time together, y'know?"

Kenma would be lying if he said that his heart didn't flutter at your words, but you're tired and needed a break. Your health should always come first.

"Alright." Kenma paused his game and placed the Switch on the bed. He got up and approached you, his hands finding their way to your stiff shoulders before kneading them.

"Oh, God." You groaned in bliss. "That feels good."

"Do the last one tomorrow." Kenma suggested. "Come join me in bed and take a rest."

"But I only have one more left." You reasoned, "I can finish this. Just give me thirty minutes or...something." God, his hands are making magic to your shoulders. It's very tempting to do as he says, considering how worn out you already are.

"Exactly, it's just one. One couldn't possibly take all your time tomorrow, right?" Kenma said, dipping down to place a kiss on top of your head. "And you're tired, bub. I know you want to sleep, especially when the weather is like this, so come to bed with me?"

You know what? He's right. It wouldn't hurt to do just one task tomorrow, and you honestly have more time. It's nice that you want to finish everything today so you wouldn't worry about tomorrow but, it's not healthy to overwork yourself. Knowing Kenma, he always tells you to put your health first, just like what you'd always tell him whenever he works.

"Okay, I'll rest." You gave in. Standing up from your chair and turning to face your beloved boyfriend with a tired smile.

Kenma returned a small smile, "Thank you." He says gently before leaning in to give you a sweet kiss on your lips.

"Now, let's get to bed."

"Mhm."

Now sitting upright on the bed with your backs leaned against the headboard, you lay your head on Kenma's shoulder as you watch him play on his Switch, the soft music coming from the game and the brightness of the screen was lulling you to sleep. Kenma was careful not to move his arm so much, mindful of your head.

As he continues to play, he would unconsciously press kisses on your head every now and then, pleased and happy with your mere presence sitting right next to him. And when he thought that you'd fallen to sleep, he carefully moved you to a more comfortable position.

"Kenma?" You suddenly murmured just when he was about to pull a blanket over both of you. He winced at your groggy voice, "Sorry, I woke you up."

"It's fine..." You answered sleepily. "Thank you...I love you so much."

Kenma's heart clenched at your words. He brushed away the stray hairs covering your face gently, tucking them behind your ear.

With a fond smile on his lips, he happily answers,

"I love you so much as well."

Quickly finding your way back to sleep, Kenma proceeds to pull the blanket over the two of you. He leaned back to the headboard to continue playing his game, but not before taking a lingering look at your peaceful sleeping face. His eyes darting to every detail and feature.

How could you make his heart skip a beat without even doing anything?

His hand then carefully reached for your head, stroking your hair gently with his thumb.

He can't help himself from smiling.

"Sleep well, bub."

137 notes · View notes

hrina · 4 years ago

Text

In The Ring, Pt. II - Cross

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: highly lol!

hi again! here’s PART 2 of boxer!harry :) thank u all for such a wonderful response on the first part, i can’t explain how much it means to me. i worked really hard on this chapter, so i hope u guys love it! if u do, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated, and i’ll probably ask for ur hand in marriage in return.

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

u can find the rest of this series on my masterlist, which is linked in my bio! my inbox is also there if you wanna spare a few thoughts about this part. love u guys sm, stay safe out there 💛💛💛

~*~

January 19, 2021

It’s ten at night, and you’re curled up in bed, scrolling through social media. You should be doing the assigned readings for your anatomy class, but you’re procrastinating. Besides, watching video after video of cute kittens peeking their furry little heads out of cardboard boxes is a much better way to pass the time.

Your relaxation period is interrupted when a notification banner descends from the top of your screen. It’s an unknown number, but the content of the message makes your eyes widen in surprise.

Hi. It’s Harry. I’m at the gym.

You tap on the text immediately, waiting with bated breath as you’re taken to a different app. You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, thumbs hovering over the screen before they begin to type.

Hey! I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Harry’s reply is short, concise, to-the-point—just like him. Oddly enough, it makes you smile.

Okay. See you soon.

~*~

The first thing that Harry notices when you walk through the door is that you’re slightly out of breath. He’s standing in the middle of the ring, his eyes fixated on the opposite side of the room as you enter. Your hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and you’re wearing a pair of leggings and a tank top under your jacket. Your sneakers squeak against the floor as you stride over to him, fingers wiggling in a friendly wave.

“Hi!” you call out, shooting him a kind smile.

Harry leans against the ropes circling the ring, careful not to put too much of his weight on the barriers lest he flip over and fall to the floor. It’s happened once or twice, and each time, he ended up with a bruised tailbone afterward.

“Hi,” he replies.

You shrug your coat from your shoulders as you draw nearer. “How are you?” you ask, peering up at him curiously.

“Good, thanks,” he says. His fingers toy absentmindedly with the silver cross pendant dangling from his neck. “Er…did you run here?”

“What? Oh, no,” you answer with a breathless laugh. “I drove. But I was hurrying—I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

You’re so fucking sweet. He’s going to throw up.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say, tightening your ponytail with both hands. “You’re going out of your way to do this for me. And while we’re on the subject of that—thank you, again. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Harry says. He slips between the ropes and hops down from the platform. “Shall we start?”

“We shall,” you agree, biting back a teasing smile. “Am I going up against you?”

Despite himself, Harry chuckles. He shakes his head. “Not yet. First, you need to learn the basics.”

“Basics,” you echo, nodding once. “Right.”

He leads you over to the side of the ring, where a pair of punching bags have been strung up near the wall. The arrangement is nothing special—twin leather bags, one brown and one black, filled with sand and stitched together with strong, coarse thread. Reflexively, you reach out, running your fingertips along the black bag and giving it a gentle push. It swings outward before returning back to you. Harry watches you closely, examining the gentle crease between your brows and the slight glaze that smooths over your pupils. He clears his throat quietly, and you seem to snap out of your trance.

“Do you know how to punch?” he asks.

You purse your lips, looking unsure of yourself. “Um…I think so.”

He nods. “Show me, then.”

The blow that you deliver to the bag is weak at best. Harry immediately notices a handful of things that you’re doing wrong. When you pull your arm back and peer up at him, he’s trying his hardest to hold back a smirk.

“What?” You frown.

“Nothing.” He snickers softly, shaking his head again. “It’s just…that was cute.”

“‘Cute’?” you parrot, narrowing your eyes. You scoff good-naturedly, stepping back and holding your arm out in invitation. “You do it, then.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Gladly.”

The chain hanging from the ceiling rattles when his fist makes contact with the leather. The punching bag itself swings forward in an extraordinary arc before hurtling back in your direction. You gasp when Harry stops it with his palms. He grunts quietly, stilling it before turning around to face you. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, and he’s sure that his eyes are gleaming with a smug sparkle. You just cross your arms over your chest, gazing at him evenly with your chin held high.

“Fine,” you say. “Tell me what to do.”

Harry gets you situated back in front of the bag, standing beside you and studying your posture.

“First of all,” he starts, “you need to make sure that the position of your feet matches the position of your arms.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shooting him a confused pout.

“Like this—,” Harry reaches for your shoulders before pausing, his fingers only inches away from your skin. “Er,” he clears his throat, fixing you with inquisitive eyes, “is it alright if I touch you?”

You nod wordlessly. Harry swallows down the lump in his throat as his hands close the distance between your bodies. He slants your torso to the side before reaching for your arms, bending them at the elbow so that your fingers—now curled into loose fists—are suspended in front of your face.

“If you’re angling yourself this way,” Harry starts, mimicking your stance, “you need to make sure that your right foot is leading you. But if you stand in the opposite direction—,” he changes sides, adopting a mirror image of his previous position, “—then it has to be your left foot. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say confidently. That same crease is digging into the space between your eyebrows; Harry aches to reach out and flatten it with the pad of his thumb.

“Also,” he says, delicately wrapping his fingers around your wrists, “when you punch, you can’t drop your other hand. Keep it up at all times—you need to guard your face.”

“Guard my face,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “Okay, cool.”

You throw an experimental punch at the bag, and Harry doesn’t miss the shadow of pain that flashes across your features. His eyes trail down the length of your arm, lingering on your fist. Before you can deliver another blow, he stops you, catching your knuckles in the calloused valley of his palm and halting your movements.

“Keep your thumb on the outside,” he says, peeling your fingers open and freeing your thumb from beneath them. “You’ll break it, otherwise.”

He curls the digits back up, this time so that your hand is settled in the proper arrangement. He then steps back, jerking his head toward the bag and encouraging you to take another swing. “Try it, now.”

The third blow is better than the past two. You beam up at Harry when a promising smack! echoes through the air. He smiles reassuringly at you, nodding his head and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “Good. That’s a start.”

“Put me in, Coach,” you tease, bringing your fists up to your face and bouncing playfully on the balls of your feet. Your eyes shimmer as you peek at him from behind your knuckles. Harry presses his lips together to keep himself composed, but he can’t stop the faint snort that slips out of his nose. You laugh cheerfully, dropping your arms back to your sides.

“Okay, so I know how to punch,” you say. “What’s next?”

“There’s four main punches in boxing,” Harry replies. He steadies himself in front of the bag, his left foot extended to provide balance.

“The jab—”

He punches with his left fist, pointed and forceful.

“—the cross—”

He strikes with his right hand, driving the weight of his body into the blow.

“—the hook—”

He curves his arm, angling it accordingly so that he can deliver a hit to the side of the bag.

“—and finally, the uppercut.”

He bends his elbow, scooping upward so that his fist makes contact with the bottom half of the bag. The sand inside shifts audibly as it rattles around, looping in every direction and gathering momentum. Harry turns back to you as it continues to swing in circles, cracking his knuckles loudly and seeking you out.

Your eyes are wide. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you look a bit…enthralled. His brow furrows in confusion.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, and he’s taken aback by the breathless quality of your voice. You clear your throat quickly, scratching at your hairline and looking away. “You’re just very…dedicated. That’s all.”

“I’ve got to be,” Harry hums. He turns back to the punching bag and ceases its movements. “This is how I make a living.” His lips quirk up with the hint of a smile. “We can’t all go to medical school and become doctors.”

A weak laugh tumbles from your mouth. “I haven’t even gotten in yet,” you say from behind him.

“But you will,” he murmurs, the reply slipping out before he can weigh it on his tongue. “Without a doubt.”

He pauses when the words finally sink in, his shoulders stiffening and his eyes stamping shut. If you weren’t standing so close, he would have leaned forward and crushed his forehead into the rough leather of the punching bag. His lips mould around unspoken curses as a heavy silence descends upon the two of you.

At last, you finally choke out, “I—thank you, Harry. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“No problem,” he grunts. He steps back, spinning on his heel but refusing to meet your gaze. You’re probably looking at him like that—with soft, glimmering irises and earnestness woven through every cell in your body. If your eyes lock, he knows that he’ll be overrun with the urge to kiss you.

And he knows that if that happens, he might not be able to hold himself back.

“What time do you have to be home?” Harry asks, subtly trying to change the topic.

You lift one eyebrow challengingly, like you know exactly what he’s doing. Still, though, you humour him.

“I told my dad I was going to a friend’s house,” you say, shrugging lightly. “We have time, don’t worry.” You smile as a thought crosses your mind. “Just make sure you don’t get me too sweaty by the end of the night, okay? I can’t go home looking like I’ve just run a marathon.”

Harry’s cock twitches in his shorts at the thought of rendering you sticky and speechless. Of watching you walk away from him with wobbly knees and messy hair. Of dropping you off at home and nibbling on your neck one last time for good measure. He quickly shoos the temptations away, clearing his throat and nodding in accord.

“Minimal sweating,” he concedes. “I’ll try my best.”

Deep down, he knows that you’ll most likely be drenched with perspiration once he’s through with you. You’ll figure that out soon enough, though.

Harry makes his way over to the ring, snatching up a pair of gloves lying on the platform. He turns back around, tossing them to you and fighting a smile when you yelp in surprise. With an awkward flail, you manage to catch them in your arms. You shoot him a questioning look, lifting your eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.

“Put those on,” he orders, clapping his hands together once. “We’re gonna try to perfect your stance, tonight.”

“Why do I need to wear them, then?” you ask, gazing down blankly at the gloves nestled against your chest.

“You don’t need to, I suppose,” Harry says, shrugging. “But your knuckles will probably be destroyed by the end of the night.”

“Oh.” You make a face, wrinkling your nose up in distaste. “Okay, yeah—I’ll use them.”

He smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “We want to be careful, don’t we? Those are the steady hands of a future surgeon.”

You scoff, laughing gently at his quip. “Hopefully,” you say, a sweet smile playing on your lips. “Let’s just pray that I get the right grades.”

You will, Harry thinks, but this time, he bites his tongue to keep the sentiment contained. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful, and you’re kind. You’re perfect. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you. I want to sleep next to you at night and prepare you breakfast in the morning. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you smile. I want to—

“Harry?”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

You fix him with a benevolent look. “Zoning out on me?”

“No.” He shakes his head, approaching you as you struggle to tug on one of the boxing gloves. His eyes fall to your hands and he reaches out, halting your movements with a gentle, “Let me.”

You peek up at him shyly as he guides your fingers into the glove. He keeps his gaze trained downward, avoiding your eyes. One of his rough palms grasps your elbow as he tugs the Velcro strip tight around your wrist. Once he’s done the same with the other one, he releases you and steps back.

“Thank you,” you say softly. He just nods in response.

“Make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart,” he says, and you spread your legs according to his command.

For a brief moment, the image of you separating your thighs to accommodate his hips flashes through his mind, but he squeezes his eyes shut and wills it away.

The rest of the night is painful—his cock grows stiffer and stiffer by the hour, spurred on by each sweet smile that you send his way. By the time you’re through with the session and bidding him goodnight as he locks up, he’s half-hard beneath his black shorts. He hopes that you don’t notice.

You shoot him a cheerful wave and drive away, and he watches before toddling over to his own vehicle. As soon as he slides into the driver’s seat, he releases a heavy, guttural groan, slouching forward and pressing his forehead to the crest of the steering wheel. Blindly, he sticks his key into the ignition and turns it, and the truck rumbles to life. A quick glance at the dashboard reveals that it’s well past midnight. Only then does he realise the extent of his exhaustion.

He backs out of the parking lot, pulling onto the main street and training his eyes on the road ahead. If he squints, he can still make out the red taillights of your car.

The journey back to his apartment passes in no time. Harry climbs sluggishly up four flights of stairs, tumbling into his home and pressing the door shut with one hand. He drags his feet down the hall and past the threshold of his bedroom, pausing only to rip his t-shirt from his torso before collapsing onto his mattress. Obscure silhouettes dance across his eyelids as they drift shut.

The last thing on his mind before sleep overtakes him is the gentle slope of your smile.

February 21, 2021

One month and a handful of late-night sessions later, Harry finds himself inundated with guilt. He’s constantly plagued by memories of your virtual conversations—short, brief little interactions consisting primarily of him letting you know that he’s free to train that evening. Your responses, ripe with exclamation marks and prattles of gratitude. You’ve taken up the habit of texting him after each lesson, too, composing a quick thank-you message before shutting your phone for the night.

And Harry regrets everything—agreeing to teach you how to box, letting you know when he’s available to meet, encouraging you as your technique progresses. On several occasions, he’s considered breaking things off, telling you that he’s too busy, that you should be focussing exclusively on school instead of on how to throw a right hook.

But then you look at him like that. With bright, trusting eyes and open features and that easy, dazzling smile. And the wall that he’s been trying so hard to build back up—not that it was particularly robust to begin with—comes crashing down.

His match is set to start in fifteen minutes, and you’re not here. You have a midterm tomorrow—your father had mentioned it in passing. You’ve been holed up in your room all weekend, he said, permanently absorbed in the pages of your textbook.

And Harry’s nervous, because you’re his lucky charm. What the fuck is he supposed to do, now?

The minutes seem to fly by—before he knows it, he’s stepping out into the ring with the crowd’s thundering screams echoing in his ears. His opponent isn’t the biggest man he’s ever gone up against, but he’s definitely not scrawny. Harry’s maybe two inches shorter than him—under normal circumstances, the height difference wouldn’t have fazed him. But he’s already on edge due to your absence, so even the smallest observations are proving to be exceedingly disconcerting.

Looking back, he supposes that he should’ve known.

Doomed from the start, destined to fail—whatever you want to call it.

Point being, he loses. Horrendously.

And he’s not quite sure when they bring the stretcher out and peel him off of the floor of the ring, but he knows that it’s sometime after the second round. He blinks rapidly, fading in and out of consciousness as moisture trickles down the side of his face. Somewhere beneath the wooziness, he’s well aware that the match is over. Your father is standing over him, walking at a brisk pace to keep up with the two men carrying him out of the arena.

“What do you mean, he called in sick?” your father spits, his eyes alight with anger. “You couldn’t find anybody else?”

The man behind Harry’s head says something that he can’t quite discern. His response makes your father grit his teeth and pinch the bridge of his nose. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, punching in a number and bringing the device up to his ear.

A few moments later, his expression lights up, relief flooding his features. “Gioia? Yeah, hi…”

Harry’s vision fades to black.

~*~

“…going to have some strong words with the bastard that did this—”

“Gioia, please. That’s how the sport works.”

An outraged scoff. “Who the hell kicks a man while he’s down?”

No reply.

Harry drifts off once more.

~*~

When his eyelids flutter open, it takes a moment for him to regain his bearings. Through the blurriness of his vision, he sees a dim light hanging from the ceiling, bathing his surroundings in a pale white glow. He blinks rapidly, hoping that his sight will sharpen with each flutter of his lashes. There’s a dull pain throbbing against the right side of his torso, battering against his ribcage and pulling an agonized groan from his lips.

The low sound is met with a high gasp. Seconds later, a face is looming over his own. Harry forces himself to concentrate on the person’s features—kind, worried eyes, raised brows, and pretty, parted lips. His heart begins to gallop in his chest.

“Harry,” you breathe. A few gentle fingers card through his hair. The sensation of your nails against his scalp makes him shiver. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” he croaks, his voice hoarse.

Despite the worry swimming around in your irises, you emit a shy laugh.

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask, pulling your hand out of his hair. He nearly whines at the loss.

“Think so,” he mutters. He places his palms flat against the surface beneath him—a bed, perhaps?—and pushes himself onto his elbows. The muted pain in his side flares fiercely, making him choke on his own breath. You reach out for him, setting one hand down on his shoulder while the other wraps delicately around his bicep.

“Easy, easy,” you soothe, tutting disapprovingly. “Be careful.”

“’M always careful,” Harry says.

“Yeah,” you reply sarcastically, nodding your head. “And that’s how you ended up like this, right?”

A short, wheezing laugh punches its way out of his lungs. “Touché.”

Once he’s sitting up, he takes note of the room—well, it’s not really a room. The only thing separating the two of you from whatever lies outside is a thin curtain drawn over what he presumes to be the exit. To his left, a single cabinet with multiple drawers stands only a few feet away. You’re both tucked into a little alcove in the wall, no bigger than a standard bedroom. Harry glances around, his gaze landing on a single plastic chair facing the bed. Everything is set up like a hospital room (but far less comfortable, and severely lacking in terms of medical equipment).

“Where’s Coach?” he asks, creases forming along his forehead.

“He went to go grab us some coffee,” you explain, your eyes scanning his face. “It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Nearly two.”

“Fuck.” His head snaps toward you. “Don’t you have a midterm tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You chew nervously on your bottom lip. “But it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, gritting his teeth and glaring at you sharply. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You recoil a bit at his harsh tone. “Your stupid medic took a sick day,” you tell him, your voice hard. “And my dad asked me to come in and have a look at you. Who knows where you’d be if I hadn’t shown up.”

Regret washes over him. He slouches back against the bed—it’s more of a cot, really—and blows out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.” You wave his apology away with a quick flick of your fingers. “Just…be quiet for a second, alright? I need to examine you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch as the words sink in.

“Can you move to the edge of the bed?” you ask, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. “I need to see you properly, but I don’t want to make you stand just yet.”

“Sure.”

He shifts his body to the right, slowly dragging his legs off of the cot with a distressed wince. The floor is cold when his feet make contact with the ground, but he pays it no attention. He’s shirtless, clad only in the shorts he’d been wearing when he first stepped into the ring. He purses his lips and feels something stiff realign against his cheek. When he brings his hand up to his face, he finds a cottony piece of fabric taped onto his skin.

“What—?” He looks up at you in confusion.

“It was bleeding pretty badly,” you tell him. “I had to stop it, somehow.”

For the first time that night, he takes you in properly. You’re wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants—it looks like the type of outfit that one would shrug on if they were in a rush to leave the house. Another pang of guilt jolts through his chest.

“What happened?” Harry croaks, pulling his hand away from his cheek.

“My dad told me that the other guy was wearing a bracelet,” you say; frustration drips from your words. “He didn’t take it off before the match started. It’s not a big cut, but it’s deep. You’ll probably need a few stitches.”

“And you know how to do that?” he asks, watching as you circle around the bed and approach the cabinet on the opposite side. He twists in an attempt to keep his eyes on you, but then grunts lowly at the ache that thrums against his side. When he looks down at his torso, he discovers a large splotch of blue and purple decorating the skin covering his ribs.

“I watched my mom do it back when my dad used to coach Artie,” you say absentmindedly, rifling through a few drawers and collecting the supplies that you need. You pause, your eyes clouding over with something forlorn. “Now that I think about it, that’s probably why I want to go into medicine. I think…it would’ve made her proud.”

“It would’ve,” Harry agrees.

He watches you carefully as you make your way back over to him, afraid of prying or saying the wrong thing. Your mother’s death had hit your family hard; he rarely hears you or your father mention her. But maybe that’s for the best—wounds can’t heal if they’re being ripped open time after time again. He would know.

You dump a handful of materials down onto the bed—disinfectant, cotton swabs, tissues, gauze, a needle, thread, and a pack of medical sutures. Harry swallows heavily.

“Do you mind if I…?” you trail off, pursing your lips timidly. Somehow, he understands exactly what you’re referring to.

“No, not at all,” he says. The words fall from his mouth a bit too quickly.

With no further preamble, he spreads his legs, and you step into the space made available between his knees. You lean to the side, reaching for the disinfectant and cotton swabs on the bed, but then nearly lose your balance in the process. Harry’s hand flies upward reflexively, settling on your hip to keep you steady.

You glance down at him with wide eyes, and he hastily removes his palm from your body. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and is it just his imagination, or do you sound a bit…breathless?

“You’ve got a couple of scrapes on your face,” you continue. You clear your throat, uncapping the antiseptic and dipping a cotton swab into the bottle. “This’ll hurt a little.”

“It’s alright—fuck!” he swears, scowling deeply at the sting that blooms across his chin. You chew on your bottom lip, dragging the swab over his injuries with practiced, nimble fingers. His toes curl against the cold, concrete floor.

Once you’ve finished sterilising his minor wounds, you turn your attention to the massive bruise on his torso.

“Can I?” you ask softly, extending your arm but pausing only inches away from his skin.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He fights back against a shudder when your fingertips ghost over his ribs. You hesitate, applying a bit more pressure and cringing when he groans. “Sorry,” you whisper, making a move to pull away.

“No,” Harry breathes quickly. He catches your hand in his, trapping your palm back against his side. Briefly, he notes the unmistakable softness of your knuckles, so different from his own. “’S okay. Do what you need to do.”

You nod tautly, pressing your fingers against the bruise once more. Harry grinds his teeth together, trying his best to withstand the pain. You prod around for a few seconds, your brow furrowed in concentration. When you don’t appear to find anything worrisome, you sigh in relief and drop your arm so that it rests limply at your side.

“No broken ribs,” you announce quietly. “At least, not as far as I can tell.”

“That’s reassuring,” he jokes.

A weak laugh falls from your mouth. “I haven’t gotten into med school yet, remember?”

He chuckles. Your eyes suddenly darken, and an angry scowl curls along your lips.

“He kicked you while you were knocked out,” you murmur, shaking your head in disbelief. “Fucking asshole.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly upward, his mouth twitching at your vulgar words. You catch sight of his amused expression, but instead of mirroring it, your frown only deepens.

“It’s not funny,” you say. “He fought dirty.”

“This whole setup is illegal, baby,” he says. Neither of you comment on the pet name that slips out of his mouth. He hopes that you view it as part of an expression, and not a proclamation of his affection. “Fighting dirty—they don’t care about that. If anything, it just gives them one hell of a show.”

“Still,” you mutter, gluing your eyes to the discoloured skin covering his ribs. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

Harry smiles softly, reaching out and tucking two fingers beneath your chin. Your lips part in surprise, and he tilts your face up so that he can look at you properly.

“Thank you,” he says, his tone entirely sincere, “for taking care of me.”

Your throat bobs with a hefty swallow—he can feel it against his knuckles. You lift your hand up to his face, and for a moment, he thinks that you mean to stroke his cheek lovingly. But then you scrape your thumb over the bandage covering his cut, and he’s reminded that this doesn’t mean anything.

You’re here to stitch him back up—nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“I’m not done yet,” you say.

The two of your drop your fingers at the same time. Harry clears his throat, trying to absolve the tension in the air. You seize some of the other supplies still strewn across the bed, laying them out properly before getting to work.

You’re diligent, removing the bandage on his cheek and using a few tissues to mop up the blood that immediately begins to drip downward, rolling over the jut of his jaw. He curses when you pass another cotton swab over his injury, screwing his face up at the smarting prickle of the antiseptic.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur absentmindedly, keeping your eyes trained on the wound. “We definitely don’t want this one to get infected.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, because he can’t exactly nod with your fingers probing around.

“This is going to be the worst part,” you warn, pulling back and opening the pack of stitches.

You unwind a piece of thread from its spool, taking the string between your lips and severing it with your teeth. Harry watches you closely, anxiety frothing in the pit of his stomach. In all of his years spent boxing, he’s only needed stitches once—the procedure hurt like a bitch, especially since there had been no anaesthetic available. He remembers the pain like it was yesterday, and he’s not looking forward to having to endure it again.

When you guide the first stitch through his skin, he balls his hands into tight fists. His lips tuck themselves into a thin line, and an agonized moan bubbles up in his chest. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment; upon reopening, they glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your voice shakes.

“It’s okay,” Harry grits out. His blunt nails dig into his palms. “Keep…keep going.”

“A few more,” you babble; he’s not sure whether you’re trying to comfort him or yourself. “Just a few more.”

It takes you roughly fifteen minutes (you haven’t really had much practice, after all) to sew his wound closed with five stitches. It is by no means the cleanest application, but it’s not bad. You retrieve another cotton swab and dip it into the bottle of disinfectant, running it along the seam of his injury one last time. After that, you finally blow out the stale air that has accumulated in your lungs.

“Thank you,” Harry mutters. “Truly.”

“No problem,” you breathe. You busy yourself with gathering up all of the supplies, cradling them to your chest and making your way around the bed. As you dump everything back into the top drawer of the cabinet, you say, “Harry. Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he hums. He’s nervous about speaking too animatedly, afraid to disrupt the work you’ve just done on his cheek.

“How long have you been boxing?”

He peers at you from over his shoulder, eyes following your movements as you return to his side of the cot and sit down next to him. “Er…,” he pauses, thinking, “…about ten years, now.”

“You started at sixteen?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

He smiles softly before remembering the sutures sewn into his skin. A beat of silence passes.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Why did you want me to teach you how to box?” he says. You open your mouth—to feed him another lie, surely—but he carries on before you get the chance to speak. “And don’t say it’s because you were just curious, or some bullshit like that. I want the truth.”

“Harry…,” you begin softly, looking at him with pleading eyes. He shakes his head, adamant and unmoved.

“The truth.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Instinctively, you reach for your throat, tugging at the rose-gold chain hanging there and fiddling nervously with the pendant nestled between your collarbones. It looks like you’re trying to figure out what to say, how to approach the situation without revealing something that could potentially make it any worse.

“Do you remember that guy I was seeing a few months ago?” you say, your voice small. “James?”

And oh, Harry remembers. He remembers watching the two of you swap spit on top of the bleachers at one of his matches. He remembers imagining James in the place of his opponent, and then making sure to aim all of his punches directly for the face (he won, that night.) He remembers seeing the sparkle in your eyes slowly start to dim the longer you stayed with him. He remembers the aftermath of your breakup, when James had shown up at the gym and screamed at you to come outside, deterred only after Portia threatened to call the police.

He fucking remembers.

“Yeah,” he spits. The affirmation is coated in a thick layer of venom. “What about him?”

His eyes widen a touch when it all clicks, then, like pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly into place.

“What did he do?” he demands immediately, fixing you with a stern glare. “Did he fucking touch you?”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just…I’ve been seeing him around. A lot. And I’m not sure if I’m just being paranoid, maybe, but—,” you inhale deeply, “—it feels like he’s following me.”

Your name slips past Harry’s lips in a hard, firm tenor. When you look up at him warily, he stares straight into your eyes, leaving no room for you to break away.

“You need to tell someone about this,” he says steadfastly. “You need to go to the police.”

“I don’t even know if I’m right,” you tell him. Your mouth curls down into an apprehensive frown. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, especially if it all just turns out to be one big coincidence.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Harry asks. A bitter taste settles on his tongue. “How often has this been happening?”

You tilt your head to the side, lost in thought. “Two days ago,” you finally say, shrugging helplessly. “And…I don’t know. I’ve seen him, like, nine or ten times in total.”

“Ten times,” he hisses, “in a few months? That’s not normal, and you know it.”

“Harry,” you plead, tugging nervously at the hem of your t-shirt. “Please. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“How can you—?” he starts, but then you lurch forward, putting a dainty hand on his thigh.

“Please,” you repeat, shaking your head softly. “Just…keep this between us, okay? The last thing I want is for my dad to find out.”

And maybe it’s the tenderness brewing in your eyes when you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the wilt in your voice, the feeblest he’s ever heard. Maybe it’s the feeling of your fingers on his leg, burning a hole through his shorts and searing a mark—a brand—into his skin. Harry sighs, looking away from you and running his fingers anxiously through his curly hair.

“You’re bloody stupid, you know that?” he asks, scoffing quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply, the corners of your mouth kinking up into a half-hearted smile. “I know.”

“Got you a latte, gioia—”

The dinky curtain in front of you is pulled back by none other than your father, who is holding a tray of coffee in his right hand. He blinks at the scene laid out before him—you and Harry on the small cot, sitting a bit too close for comfort. Your hand on his thigh. You both jump, breaking away from each other and inhaling sharply. Harry clears his throat as you cough into your elbow, standing up and reaching for one of the drinks nestled in the tray.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your father’s cheek.

His eyes bounce between the two of you, forehead wrinkling in curiosity as he asks, “What’d I miss?”

You peer down at Harry from over the rim of your cup, panicked and beseeching. He just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly; the tattoos inked into his skin ripple with the act. His tone is steady when he meets your father’s gaze.

“I’ve got some bruised ribs and a wicked headache, but aside from that—,” he lies, “—nothing at all.”

~*~

Your father ends up driving him home.

He parks the car just in front of Harry’s apartment complex, watching with worried eyes as he slips out of the passenger door.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” he asks.

Harry just nods, waving away his concerns. “I’m fine, Coach, really. Thanks for the ride.”

Your father nods—still looking a little unsure—before speeding off.

Climbing up four flights of stairs with bruised ribs is hell, Harry soon learns. By the time he reaches his floor, he’s panting and wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. He pulls his keys out of his coat pocket, unlocking the front door and staggering into his apartment. A pained whimper slips out of his mouth as he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders.

He slowly makes his way into the bathroom, cupping his battered side over the material of his t-shirt. The water is cold when he first turns the shower on. He grits his teeth, fiddling with the temperature and meticulously removing his clothes as it warms.

The moment the first droplet hits his skin, he lets out a deep, guttural groan. He hadn’t realised just how tense he was until now. He stands under the spray of the water, tipping his head back and letting it wash away every trace of dirt and grime on his body. His hair grows heavy with moisture, sticking to his scalp and his forehead. He leans against the wall of the shower, inhaling deeply. His eyelids flutter shut, and your smiling face appears amidst the darkness.

Almost subconsciously, his hand finds its way to his cock.

Part of him is disgusted with himself. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be—

He moans.

In the realm of his perverse imagination, you’re straddling him, your arms looped leisurely around his neck and your whimpers echoing into the cavern of his mouth. Your hips roll against his, unhurried and languid and deep. So fucking deep. Harry reaches down with one hand, squeezing greedily at the curve of your ass, and you whine in response, encouraging him to do it again.

He pumps his length in the shower, panting quietly.

Your fronts are pressed together as you rut into his lap, your nipples brushing against the ebony birds on his chest and your silky walls wrapped around him like a vice. He grunts; you swallow the sound down, your hot, heavy breaths wafting out onto his chin. His fingers dig into your thighs when you steady yourself on your knees, doing your best to bounce up and down on him properly. It’s frantic, it’s uncoordinated, it’s sloppy, but…it’s perfect.

Your nails scrape down his back as the two of you move together, a steady series of push and pull, like water under a bridge. If you’re the moon, then he’s the tides, bending and swirling under your gentle light. Every time you rock forward, he meets you there, your bodies connecting with faint slaps of skin on skin. You gaze at him with hooded eyes, lust simmering beneath your lashes. Electricity tingles across his shoulders.

The noises that you emit are music to his ears. Delicate sighs when he nips at your breasts, earthy groans when he hits that special spot inside of you. And woven between them, imploring pleas, murmurs of right there and oh, yes and so good.

It’s embarrassing, how quickly he finishes.

He stands there, leaning against the tiles with his cock in his hand and his release dripping from his fingertips. He has the decency to feel appalled by his actions, at the very least. If you were aware of what he had just done, he knows for a fact that you would never speak to him again.

He cleans himself up, shampooing his hair and scrubbing down every inch of his body. When he steps out of the shower and shuts the water, a wave of exhaustion washes over him, making him sway on his feet. His lips vibrate with a soft sigh.

His phone chimes from where it’s perched on the bathroom counter. When he taps on it, he finds a message from you.

Feel better soon, it reads. The guilt festering in his chest increases tenfold.

Thank you, he says back, shoving the remorse down. Good luck on your midterm tomorrow.

A moment later, your reply comes through.

Thanks! Goodnight, Harry.

Goodnight, he types. He pauses for a moment, debating over whether he should include a little red heart after the word. But then he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at his own insolence and sending the text without a second thought.

He doesn’t even bother drying himself off before padding across the hall and into his bedroom. He collapses onto his mattress, still covered in tiny droplets that bead along his shoulders and trail downward, wetting the duvet. He doesn’t care. It’ll dry, and so will he.

He falls asleep moments later, the repaired skin of his cheek tingling in the dark.

~*~

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #eeeeeee okay here it is!!! i love this part a LOT so i hope u guys do too 💘#harry writing #boxrry

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lettersinscarlet · 4 years ago

Text

Notes (Obey Me! Lucifer Imagine)

What’s up guys? It’s me again! See, I promise, I’m slowly resuscitating my blog. Apparently, it just takes me forever to write, so that’s fun. But anyway, I am here to deliver an imagineto you! My requests are open, and I have a whole list of different fandoms and characters I write for, so feel free to drop a request in and I will get to it! It’s just I’m a little slower now when it comes to writing. Hope you enjoy this one!

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You were walking down the halls of the House of Lamentation, just heading back to your room after classes. Your teachers had given you a ton of work to do, and you figured that if you started now, you might be able to finish it all before you passed out from exhaustion. But if you’re being honest, you might do a few assignments and then procrastinate and turn the rest of them in late or make an excuse as to why you couldn’t do them. Maybe Diavolo would take pity on you and give you a pass or something.

As you walked by, you passed the door to Lucifer’s office. You stopped outside, wondering if he was in there. You didn’t want to disturb him if he was working, but you just wanted to check up on him. You heard some soft music playing, which was just a little sign to you that he was in there. You sighed, hesitating outside the door, before you just shook your head and walked away from the place.

Honestly, you really felt bad for Lucifer. He was always in his office, almost like he was trapped in there because of the paperwork. You knew he never left, because when you would sneak down for a midnight snack from the kitchen or to get some water, you could hear that soft music playing from behind the door. He just had to be exhausted, working that late into the night without a lot of sleep, rarely taking breaks often. You could appreciate his work ethic, but you knew that was also one of his flaws, that he really would just work too hard.

With Lucifer always in his office, that also meant that you didn’t get to spend as much time with him as you wanted. You’d actually gone to hang out in his office, and those times were great. It was easier to talk to him than it normally was, and it gave you an excuse to make sure he was taking breaks and eating and all the good things. But even in those precious times, someone would come in with more work for him to do, or more forms he had to review and sign. It always seemed to kill the mood, and that smile of his that would show up would quickly disappear.

The hall seemed to stretch on forever, but you finally arrived in front of the door to your room. With a heavy sigh, you pushed the door open, heading straight for your desk, dropping your bag down beside the chair. You knew this was going to be a long night, and not even a single ounce of your being was looking forward to doing all this work. As you settled into your chair, you pulled out your various notebooks and textbooks, diving in and getting started.

Hours later, you decided it was time for a break. You were about halfway through with everything you had to do that night, but you knew you needed some sort of sustenance and water if you were going to keep going. Hopefully Beel hadn’t already cleaned out the kitchen, and maybe there would be a snack or two left for you. You stretched out your arms and legs, a few satisfying pops and cracks following the motions.

Quietly, you slipped out of your room and headed back down the long hallway, on your way to the kitchen. Before you headed to your destination, you wanted to check on Lucifer. You’d been working for awhile, and you really hoped that he’d decided to take a break, or maybe he’d stopped for the night. It was late anyway, and most of the other brother’s were asleep, with the exception of Levi. He’d told you he was waiting for a new sale that was starting tonight, and there was no way he would be sleeping until it was open.

When you stopped at the eldest brother’s office, you noticed that the door was cracked, but the music was still playing. A sign that he would be in soon, and you assumed he must’ve went to get something quickly, or maybe a bathroom break. A realization came to you that now was a chance to get him some water, because you were certain he hadn’t been properly hydrating.

You ran to the kitchen, making sure you were light on your feet so no one would hear your thundering steps. Snagging two bottles of water, you checked the cabinet, and it seemed you were in luck. There was a few snack options, and you grabbed your favorite of the options, then grabbed something you knew Lucifer would like. You hurried back to his office, feeling a bit like a spy on mission.

He still wasn’t back, and you walked into the room, heading straight for his desk. Papers were a bit scattered, his pen left on top of a small stack of documents. From the looks of it, he probably wouldn’t be stopping until the early morning with this amount of work. A sigh escaped your lips, and you went to set the water and snack on top of the papers, making sure he would see it. You noticed a stack of sticky notes nearby, and you grabbed one, placing it in front of the little refreshments you’d brought. Grabbing his pen, you wrote a little note.

“Don’t forget to have some water and food to keep you going. If you get a chance, please take a break, because you’re health is more important than the work.”

You signed your name at the bottom, adding a little heart. But, as you looked at it, you realized the heart was a bit forward. He could be coming back to his office at any moment, and you knew you didn’t have much time left. Somehow, you managed to turn the heart into a strange looking flower. Satisfied with your work, you put the pen back how you found it and ran out of his office, making sure you grabbed your own snack and water.

You made it back to your room unseen, and you took your snack break. It was more needed than you thought it was, because you seemed to be starving. The snack would be enough to hold you over, but you’d probably eat a little more at breakfast the next morning. Once you finished the snack, you walked back to your desk, setting the water down and getting back to work.

At some point during the night, you’d passed out on your desk. Notebooks sprawled out, papers scattered, pens on the floor but luckily your pencil stayed safe, just a few inches away from your hand. You woke with a start, an alarm you hadn’t realized you’d set blaring some annoying tune that you just had to turn off. When you finally succeeded in that task, you looked at the mess of things on your desk. Turns out you’d gotten more than you thought you had, and there were only a couple of assignments you would need to turn in late. Lucky.

You stretched out your hands, your back arching as you yawned, your body trying to wake up. It hadn’t been the most comfortable sleep, but at least it was something. As you were stretching out, you glanced down and you noticed a bright pink square. Next to the pink square, there was a water bottle, and what looked like some sort of food. Breakfast food. Wiping at your face, you blinked a couple times, waiting for your vision to clear up some. Then, you grabbed the note, bringing it to your face so you could read it.

“Thank you for the food and drink, and don’t worry, I took a break eventually. Looks like you could use some of the same. Don’t be late for class.”

The words were written in a fancy script, almost cursive, and it was very easy to tell that Lucifer had left it. There was even a small little flower drawn on the corner of the note. It made you smile, and you moved to eat your food and to get ready for school.

Neither of you ever really mentioned the notes to each other, it was just an unspoken thing between you. Each of you appreciated what the other had done, and it was almost like it was your little secret.

It started off as just that. Every now and then, you would leave a little note for Lucifer in his office. Most of the time, there was a bottle of water and a snack with it. Sometimes just the water, or sometimes it was just a little note for a check in. Usually, some sort of drawing accompanied it, of course, nothing with too much detail. Just a little something to maybe make him laugh or smile.

For whatever you’d left, he always gave you a note back. Even if it was just to say thank you. He’d leave them around your room, and sometimes, if he felt daring, even on your door.

This little passing of notes between you, it was almost like a game of tag, waiting to see if the other would leave something, waiting with anticipation to see how they would respond to whatever had been left. It was a wonderful little thing. So wonderful, that eventually, it became and everyday thing. You’d leave a little sticky note on his door, in his office, or just places around the House of Lamentation that you knew he would see. Most of the time, if you weren’t feeling super creative, you would just write hello in different languages, or maybe leave him random facts about yourself. The facts were his favorites, and you didn’t know, but he always saved the notes in one of his drawers.

Lucifer was walking to his office, and when he reached the door, he noticed a little blue square, just right above the door handle. He smiled, going to pull it off of the door to look at it closer.

“Out of all the stars, my favorite has to be the morning star”

The little compliment made him flush, and he quickly went to his office, going to put the note in the little drawer. He sighed, sitting down in his chair, leaning back as he spun a little bit as he thought.

He would never admit just how much your little notes meant to him, but he absolutely loved to read them. It made his heart swell with pride, and a little something else, too. The messages you left them, no matter how strange or weird, he found them wonderful and adorable. Even if it was just some random fact that taco cat is the same spelled backwards or forwards.

With each little note, he could feel himself slipping more and more into these little feelings for you. It had started off as a simple little crush, and then you actually took the time to check up on him, make sure he was pacing himself while he worked, also making sure that he was caring for his health. Just showing that sort of care towards him, it made him feel something a little stronger for you than just his little crush.

He sighed, rubbing his temple as he sat in thought. He hated not being able to do anything about these feelings for you, just keeping them trapped in his head and in his heart. It frustrated him, the fact that his thoughts kept wandering to you, knowing that he couldn’t act on them.

Wait a second... why couldn’t he act on them? He is Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride. He’s the oldest, he’s well respected, hardworking... so couldn’t he act on these feelings? Let you know that he wanted to hang out, more than just leaving these little notes between you? Of course he could.

He went to stand up, his brain determining that he should just talk to you, but then he stopped. Something about it didn’t feel right, and what would he even say? Slowly, he sat back down in his chair, now lost in his own thoughts. How was he supposed to do this? Lucifer’s eyes began to wander, and he settled on a sticky note pad.

It was almost as if a lightbulb had went off over his head, moving to grab the pad so he could begin writing. The perfect way to do this would be through your own little communication system, wouldn’t it be? This definitely felt like it was the right way. He took his time, elegantly writing out his little message. He looked it over, shook his head, and threw it out. Starting over, he wrote it out again, workin the phrase just a bit differently. Turns out, he didn’t like it any better. Writing this note for the third time, he made another few adjustments. This continued for about half an hour, until he finally crafted the perfect note.

Lucifer waited and then left, going to your room. He knew you weren’t back just yet, probably out with one of his brothers. He quickly slipped in, going to leave the note on your desk. There was no need to spend too much extra time in here, so he left relatively quickly, going to find something to do so that he wouldn’t think about the time. Now, he played the waiting game, feeling the anticipation of when you would see his note, wondering how you would answer it.

You came home a little while later, laughing as you walked back in with Mammon. He’d needed you to come along with him today to some sort of important event, but it turned out that the event was rescheduled or something, so the two of you just ended up hanging out together for a little while.

Once you could escape to your room, you flopped down on the bed, sighing as you relaxed into the soft material. It had been a bit of a long day, and you closed your eyes, just resting for a moment.

You woke up from your accidental nap, sighing as you sat up, just waiting for your body to truly wake up. When you finally did, you stood up and walked over to your desk, intending to start working on your other assignments or at least map out what you needed to do. That’s when a small pink square caught your eye, and you picked it up to read it.

“If your free, what would you think about dinner tomorrow? Just the two of us, at 7:00?”

The little question made you smile, and you held the note close to your chest. So he’d finally asked. You were bursting with excitement as you went to write on your own sticky note, your handwriting sloppy but still legible. You underlined what you’d said, and this time, you’d added the little heart. But it was under an exclamation point, so you could just play it off.

Nearly sprinting down the hall, you almost knocked over Mammon in your rush. But that didn’t matter, you could apologize later. You were just wanting to make it to Lucifer’s office as quickly as you could. Finally, you reached your destination, grinning to yourself as you realized he wasn’t in his office. You placed the note right in the middle of his desk, so that there was no doubt he would miss it, and then you dashed back out of the room. Now, you were headed to Asmo’s room, hoping he could piece together some outfit for you to wear.

Lucifer was riddled with nerves when he made it back to his office, sighing as he closed the door. He hadn’t really been able to focus since he’d left the last note, and it certainly didn’t help that you hadn’t answered yet. He knew you were back from RAD, because he’s heard you and Satan talk as you came in. Hours had passed, and still nothing. Was that your way of saying no? Surely, you’d tell him if you weren’t interested.

He sat down in his chair, reaching to grab a pen so that he could attempt to start on some paperwork, hopefully get through a few stacks, when something caught his eye. It was bright yellow, no mistaking that it was a sticky note. Lucifer’s heart pounded in his chest as he peeled it up, going to take a closer look at what it said. When he read it, a smile came to his face, followed by a quick breath of laughter. Just with a few simple words, you eased all his anxiety from the past few hours, almost making him forget them completely. He tucked the note away in his drawer, just smiling and overall pleased. He couldn’t wait.

“It’s a date!”

Three simple words, and it was enough to keep him smiling for the rest of the night.

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shysneeze · 4 years ago

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phases of falling in love (ginny weasley x fem!reader)

Description: the painful process of reader falling for her Ginny Weasley, her best friend.

Warnings: angst af, I can’t think of anything else specific but please let me know if you come across anything and I’ll add it

Authors note: in love by khai dreams and she by dodie fit this in my head and are worth a listen.( edit, : i have a playlist here that fits this entire fic) .

...

(Y/N) has decided that falling in love comes in three distinct phases: realisation, denial, and acceptance, though with various forms of panic in between.

No one’s ever boasted that falling in love is easy, the bitter angst of doing so the subject of too many pieces of literature to be doubted. Yet, no one’s ever told her it would be this hard, but she supposes the stakes were always going to be higher when it’s your best friend.

Realisation came first during a party, sat in a small group by the fireplace as the cheers and laughter so typical of a Gryffindor victory party raged on around them. They weren't much different from the others, talking loudly and laughing with their heads thrown back dramatically. They were discussing the game, (Y/N) thinks, though she can hardly remember now, nor was she particularly invested at the time.

How could she be with her just across the from her, fair freckled skin aglow from the fire, who's light danced across her face with each flame’s flicker. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders effortlessly, as if it was pulled straight from the ponytail she wore during the afternoon's match.

That was the night she looked at Ginny Weasley and felt something in her heart, longing perhaps, that went beyond mere friendship, the first night Ginny's smile made her chest tighten and her eyes finding hers with a wink made her gulp.

It was the first time she looked at Ginny and saw her best friend but longed for more.

Denial was easy after that, the whole thing flippantly dismissed as a fluke of the evening, blamed on the giddy feeling that accompanied the house’s victory that Ginny played such a vital part in securing. It was nothing more appreciation, awe.

Weeks later though, and the tugging in her chest still lingers, holding her hostage and controlling her every move.

It flares up unexpectedly, from a smile at lunch, a wave during matches or a laugh hidden behind textbooks during classes. There is an endless array of quirks and habits that (Y/N) has never once before paid attention to that now leave her stomach victim to butterflies and her heart to palpitations.

Yet the denial continues, excuses ranging from the outlandish to the self-deprecating. Perhaps an insensitive prank, a love potion slipped regularly into her morning orange juice, or maybe it’s just all in her head, a crush manifested from loneliness, from the desire to be loved by someone.

Excuses are easy to provide, yet even easier to disprove and it soon becomes clear that every attempt to deny her own feelings is fruitless. Acceptance looms over her, unmindful of the heart it’s about to break.

Acceptance comes reluctantly during an evening’s study in the library. There’s no blame to place on atmosphere this time, hidden together at the end of an aisle of shelves, sat across from one another at a desk most certainly made for one.

The characteristic smell of old books lingers in the air and speckles of dust are illuminated by a dim lamp as they float aimlessly around them. The light does nothing to highlight the red in Ginny’s hair the way the flames of the fire had during the party, or to draw the warm brown from her eyes, yet (Y/N) is enamoured.

(Y/N)'s quill hangs limply between her fingers, ink drying on the tip with a word half-finished on her parchment. Across from her, Ginny bites her lower lip in concentration, deep brown eyes scanning each word she writes, occasionally lifting her hands to fix the loose bun holding her fiery red hair from her face, ridding her eyes of the messy stray strands with a frustrated rush of air from her pink lips.

(Y/N) gulps and panics slightly that in the quiet of the library, her best friend might hear the hammering of her heart in her chest. They're so close that their knees touch under the desk and (Y/N) is left unsure on whether to move her legs or not from fear of only drawing attention to it.

She's trying to convince herself to act normal, that this is all normal, a scenario they've been in so many times before with procrastinated essays and last minute deadlines, that she has no reason to act any different, yet her heart races, and she can hear it in her own ears.

It’s terrifying.

She's mid inner quarrel when Ginny lets out a loud sigh of surrender and lets her quill clatter against the desk. (Y/N) blinks out of her daze, dropping her own quill in surprise and frowning at the red head.

"Snape is asking for one of the twin's puking pastilles in his tea." She grumbles.

"They'd give you them for free if you tell them it's for Snape." (Y/N) manages a laugh. "How much more have you got to do?"

Ginny peers at her own parchment, then at (Y/N)'s with a questioning frown, reaching over to snatch it into her hands. She examines it with arched brows and stifles a small laugh at whatever she's read.

"Better than you- You've neglected to finish the word 'assignment', (Y/N)." She snorts softly. "It just says 'ass'."

(Y/N) stands abruptly to grab it back from her amused friend with a quiet 'oi' and a flustered wide-eyed expression that only adds to Ginny's laughter until she's clasping her hand atop her lips to muffle the sound.

"I got d-distracted." She explains embarrassedly. "It's just the first draft."

"Oh no, I think you should hand it in as is." She grins. "I want to see Snape's face."

"I'm not getting detention just so you can get a laugh." She argues.

"Aw, come on." Ginny pouts. "Not even for me?"

A part of her, a shameful part, almost instantly concedes to the offer, despite its teasing nature, just for Ginny's puppy dog eyes, which (Y/N) has until now been immune to. She falters for only a second before fixing her friend with a frown.

"No, not even for you." She decides firmly. "Lets hear yours then, Gin."

Ginny dramatically clears her throat with a grin, something that eerily reminds (Y/N) of her elder brothers, and begins to read aloud before (Y/N) stops her with an eye roll, cautious of the pacing click of Madam Pince's heels as she roams the aisles for the opportunity to evict noisy teens.

"You'll be surprised to hear I finished all my words and never once spoke about my arse."

"Sod off." (Y/N) rolls her eyes again.

"Well, what’s got you so distracted you felt the need to conclude that you 'learned lots about counter curses from this ass'?"

"You memorized it all ready?"

"Of course." She beams cheekily. "How else am I to tell the rest of our friends?"

"You are the worst."

"You love me really though."

(Y/N) worries when she can't laugh that off, when she falters for only a second, but enough to remind herself of this new and scary situation. She forces on a smile and hope she's been quick and convincing enough to seem normal, though something in Ginny's eyes tells her otherwise.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?"

"Fine."

"Hmm, you look nervous." Ginny hints. "What are you hiding? Is it a girl?"

(Y/N) is exposed instantly by the involuntary widening of her eyes and Ginny grins menacingly at her from across the tiny desk. She leans over, palms flat against the desk and head so close to (Y/N)'s that their foreheads almost touch.

(Y/N) forgets to breathe.

"Who is it?"

"No one." (Y/N) manages, edging back as subtly as possible. "It's not anyone."

"Aw, c'mon." Ginny rolls her eyes. "Tell me."

"You're going to make Madam Pince kick us out again."

Ginny tuts, rolling her eyes and returning to her seat, allowing (Y/N) to drop her shoulders in relief. She sighs as she picks her quill up again, soaking the tip in ink with a rejuvenated intent to write, motivated by the chance to change the topic of conversation.

"You're no fun." Ginny mumbles. "I'll find out."

“There isn’t anything to find out.” (Y/N) exhales, not daring to look up from her parchment, knowing once again her expression will betray her. “Or anyone.”

“Oh, but there is.”

(Y/N) doesn’t need to look up to know the red-head is grinning, it’s evident in her voice. All she can do in response is take a deep, calming breath and continue with her work.

It’s not long before she can feel Ginny’s eyes on the top of her head and she freezes again, not sure when this became a talent of hers, to tell just from some new sixth sense that Ginny Weasley is staring at her.

“Can I help you?”

“Is it Willow Kings?”

“Been there, done that.” (Y/N) mumbles with a sigh. “She’s nice but talks about her owl too much.”

“Hmm.” Ginny hums in contemplation. “You’re not crushing on Pansy again, are you?”

In every single way, (Y/N) wishes that was her current shameful crush, rather than the girl currently interrogating her. When (Y/N) denies it, Ginny begins to hum again in thought.

“Luna?”

“Luna’s just a friend.” (Y/N) sighs, distinctly trying to convince herself the same thing about Ginny at this exact moment. “I’m not telling you, Gin.”

“Ugh, why not?” Ginny grumbles loudly.

The red-head’s face pales when the methodical clicking of the Librarian’s heels halts, wincing at what is soon to follow. The sound begins again, quicker and sharper as it approaches the pair.

“Shit.” Ginny curses, already gathering her work into her arms. “Here we go.”

“You two.”

The girls turn sheepishly to the other end of the aisle, where Madam Pince stares them down, one hand on her hip, other extended outwards to point at them with a disapproving look.

“We’re just leaving.” Ginny assures.

Ginny stands, reaching out innocently for (Y/N)’s hand and clasping it in her own to drag her to her feet as she splutters out protests, flustered instantly by the action. Ginny only gives her enough time to gather her things before pulling her towards the exit.

“S-low down, Ginny.” She pleads. “Sorry, Madam- “

The librarian scowls at them with an icy look as they squeeze past her towards the exist, Ginny’s laughter barely concealed as they go. (Y/N) can barely focus on anything other than the hand in her own.

Once in the corridor, convinced of their own escape from the strict librarian, Ginny flings he rhead back in a laugh, bun bouncing on her head at the action, cheeks flushed from the excitement of it.

“Every time!” She exclaims. “We get chased out every time.”

“I-“

(Y/N) is too stunned to form a sentence, stunned not by their actions, one’s regularly performed to avoid Madam Pince’s wrath, but rather how suddenly loud her heart is in her own ears.

She could blame adrenalin, it would be so easy to do so, but she knows it’s not. It’s many things, but not adrenalin. Instead Ginny’s laughter, her free and proud laughter so cheerful on her ears, it’s the baby hairs framing her face, endearingly messy, and it’s most certainly the hand still clasped in her own, warm and soft.

Acceptance, that final phase. No amount of excuses in the world could hide it now, that (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is undoubtedly, and most terrifyingly, in love with her best friend.

In this moment, watching Ginny’s grin, that infectious smile that has (Y/N) own lips pulling into a smile of her own, she’s about ready to risk it all for her, to tug her closer and ask, even beg, to kiss her.

“Ginny- “She starts

“Harry!”

Like that, the spell is broken and Ginny’s hand is slipping from (Y/N)’s and her feet carrying her towards the red faced boy-who-lived at the other end of the corridor, flinging herself eagerly into conversation with him and leaving (Y/N)’s smile to drop.

The tugging feeling in (Y/N)’s chest returns, and she finds herself back in reality. Ginny likes Harry, she always has, it’s been the topic of so many late-night teasing, how could (Y/N) possibly forget. It hurts though, in a way it never has before, a painful stab of reality sent straight to her heart.

(Y/N) has just learned for herself that falling in love is never easy, even if her heartbreak isn’t one likely to be documented as a great tragic romance in future. No one told her it would be this hard, but as she watches Ginny grinning up at the boy across the hall, her heart twists with the reluctant acceptance that, not only is she in love, but that her best friend is in love with someone else.

#ginny weasley x reader #ginny x reader #ginny weasley imagine #ginny weasley reader insert #ginny weasley #ginny imagine #ginny reader insert #harry potter #weasley x reader #fem!reader #i'm a bi stereotype it's ridiculous #ginny fanfiction #ginny weasley fanfiction

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vinnieworld · 3 years ago

Text

Tips and advice on Note Taking

It took me a while to figure out what works for me, and I'm still experimenting. Note taking can be fun but it can be time consuming and takes a lot of effort and motivation to do. Here are my little tips on tackling that.

1) Keep one book for all your modules

- So you don't have to carry five-six books at once

- Divide the book into equal sections (for each module)

- On the first page of each section write all the assignment and exams for that module as a self-reminder < So every time you open the book you know you shouldn't be procrastinating :) > (of course if you don't open the book this isn't an issue but that's not why we here)

- Keep a general section where you write extra information that relates to the subjects (e.g. extra seminars, extra activity sessions, groups project notes, your own research for subjects, assignment preparation etc. )

2) ONE lecture = ONE page

Sometimes, this might not be possible because Uni likes to give us 90-100 powerpoint slides. So in that case it's okay to have an extra page or two ( I will post how to break down long lectures like this), condensing such lectures can be tricky cause there's so much content but DON'T PANIC ... do what works for you at your own pace!!! <3

- Personally, having like five pages for one lecture can be overwhelming so I tend to cut down my notes one page for lecture.

- Condense the lecture slide into one or two sentences

- Draw a separate box on the page for extra information (either given by the lecturer or researched yourself)

- Any diagrams or tables given, either copy then into a digital note taking place (personal favourite Notion) or put them in a note-card or sticky note

- Staple extra note-card or sticky note on to that page so it doesn't get mixed up with the other lectures.

3) Colour code

I'm a sucker for colours, so I need colour if I'm going to revise. So I make my notes as colourful as I can.

- Have a colour theme (preferably for each module) - e.g. purple, yellow and green for Human pathology and pink, yellow and light blue for Human anatomy. (This low-key tricks your brain into associating that information with that colour , so it becomes easier to recall information)

- Only highlight most important information (sadly... this doesn't mean the whole lecture )

- Important information can be definitions, examples, equations, comparisons, research areas.

- Separate box to keep extra information given or needs to be researched (Highlight the box not the information in it )

4) Draw illustrations

I personally can't stare at a page without pictures, especially when I'm trying to revise. So I tend to add little drawings on to the page, it's not always annotated diagrams but small illustrations relevant to the lecture

- Overall diagram or drawing (e.g. lecture on the heart = anatomical heart)

- Pick an area or subheading and draw something that reminds you of it (it doesn't have to be scientific - make your notes fun)

- Relate the annotated diagrams to the lecture (leave space for the drawing and the annotations)

5) Summarise -> flashcards

More condensed version of the lecture, based on the information on the page (Do not go back to the powerpoint slides). Then condensing the summary further into a flashcard. This personally helps me to understand the content better and keep it in my memory for longer. It's also easier when revising for exams.

- One to two paragraphs from the lecture notes summarising the whole page

- Pick out key information. e.g. Main purpose, definitions, examples.

- Link the content, subheadings, form your own connections

- condense the paragraphs even further only picking out information you MUST remember and put it on a flashcard

- Write at least 4-5 sentences or key words on the flashcard (that summarise what was covered in the lecture)

Thank you so much ya'll for reading this, I hope this was helpful for you and make sure to tell me your thoughts and feelings.

Till next time lovelies x

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blakeylikestowrite · 4 years ago

Text

Of handsome strangers, coffee cups and gay panic (Intrulogical oneshot)

Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairing(s): Intrulogical (Logan x Remus) Word count: 1167 Summary: Logan meets Remus in a coffee shop. Warnings: One tiny graphic description towards the end because Remus! Genre(s): Fluff, Light Angst

It was a cloudy Tuesday midday and Logan was sitting in his favorite coffee shop doing his assignments for university. Logan could easily focus on his work.

Nothing could distract him. Which is why he was deeply confused when he found himself getting distracted because of a handsome stranger who entered the coffee shop.

He had dark brown hair with a streak of it dyed silver and a mustache. His eyes were a blueish grey. He was wearing a green crop top, black ripped jeans and platform shoes.

The mysterious man confidently made his way to the counter and said: "Black coffee please.".

He couldn't take his eyes off of the man. There was something about him that was just so attractive to Logan. He wasn't even his type. He looked into Logan's direction and Logan felt his breath hitch.

"May I also get an iced black coffee for the cute guy over there?", he said, loud enough for Logan to hear.

He almost choked on air when he heard that. His cheeks were as warm as freshly brewed coffee and Logan knew that they were burning up like that because he was blushing.

The handsome stranger who had just bought him an iced coffee walked over to his table with the black coffee in one hand and the iced coffee in the other.

"I noticed your coffee cup was empty.", he said as he put down the coffee cups on the table and sat down in the chair across to his. "Thank you.", Logan said.

He took the iced coffee and took a sip.

"What's your name?", the guy asked.

"Logan. And yours?", Logan replied.

"Remus.", he responded.

Logan couldn't stop his heart from racing. Guys usually didn't show any interest in him. His friend Virgil had once told him that it probably was because he gave off "straight vibes". Remus' very obvious flirting was something Logan didn't know how to handle. He was so flustered, he could barely talk.

"What're you writing?", Remus asked.

"Huh? Oh. Um... It's for university.", he answered.

"I heard university work is very stressful. You should take a break. What do ya say? Wanna go somewhere else?", Remus suggested.

Logan hesitated. He had to get this done until Thursday and he wasn't one to procrastinate on finishing projects. But every part of him was screaming to go with Remus. And without even noticing Logan began packing up his things.

"I'm taking that as a yes. Awesome!", Remus exclaimed. He got up with his black coffee in his hand and made his way to the door. Logan threw away his empty coffee cup and took his new coffee in one hand and his laptop in the other before following Remus.

"Where are we going?", Logan asked after a few minutes of walking.

"How about... That empty playground over there?", Remus proposed, "All the kids are at school or in kindergarten right now, so we're gonna have some piece and quiet for a while.".

"Sounds good to me.", Logan replied.

They headed for the playground and sat down on the roundabout.

"I haven't sat in one of these in years.", he admitted.

"Really? I go here all the time. My brother used to come with me but nowadays he doesn't talk to me much anymore.", Remus responded.

"I'm sorry to hear that.", Logan said.

"It's fine. I guess I'm just too weird. Even for my own twin.", Remus assured him.

Logan frowned upon hearing that.

"I don't think you're weird.", he told him.

Remus' lips curled upwards into a half-smile.

"Thanks. But enough about me. Tell me about yourself!", he said.

"Well... I like reading, I am very interested in science and I want to become a teacher.", Logan answered, "What about you?".

"I love drawing, painting, writing... Really anything creative. Though my works are usually perceived as creepy or disturbing by people. And I play guitar.", Remus spoke.

"May I see one of your works some day?", Logan asked.

Remus looked a little taken aback by that question.

"Uh... Sure. If you think you can handle it.", he replied.

"I'm certain I can handle it.", Logan said.

Remus looked like he was lost in thought for a second before exclaiming: "I think I brought my sketchbook with me! Do you wanna see something right now?". "Sure!", Logan responded.

Remus rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a sketchbook. "Now what can I show you...", he mumbled while looking through his sketchbook, "How about... this!". He showed the drawing to Logan.

Logan looked at it. It showed a person with a hole in their chest. They were holding their heart in their hands.

"This is incredible! The heart is so detailed!", Logan exclaimed in amazement.

Remus looked at him with a shy smile and muttered: "Thank you.".

"Seriously, this is amazing!", Logan continued praising Remus' work.

He turned to look at the - now blushing - artist only to notice how close their faces were. He gulped. He glanced at the other man's lips, back at his eyes and at his lips again.

"I..", Logan spoke.

"Forgot what you were going to say? Like my lips? Want to kiss me? What is it?", Remus took a few guesses about what Logan wanted to say.

"All of the above.", he replied. "You have my permission to go for it.", Remus said.

So Logan moved in for a kiss. Their lips met and Remus put his arms around him, softly kissing him back. Remus' mustache was poking him a little but he didn't mind. In fact, he had a hard time forming any coherent thoughts.

Eventually, Remus gave him one final peck on the lips before he pulled away.

"Our coffee is probably cold now.", he pointed out.

Logan laughed and said: "I totally forgot about the coffee.".

He picked up his cup and drank the rest of the now cold coffee. Remus did the same with his cup.

"You said you come here often? Mind if I join you tomorrow too?", Logan asked.

"Not at all. It's a date.", Remus answered.

"I would like it to be a date.", Logan said sheepishly.

"Great! Give me your phone.", Remus demanded.

Logan obeyed and Remus saved his phone number in Logan's contacts and sent himself a message.

"Now we have each other's phone numbers!", he said and gave Logan his phone back.

"We should probably get going soon because the kids will fill up this place soon.", he added.

He put his sketchbook back into his backpack and threw their empty coffee cups into the nearest trash bin.

"You're right. Plus I need to get to work on my assignment again.", Logan said and picked up his stuff.

"Good luck with that. I'll talk to you later?", Remus replied, making his way to the exit of the playground with him.

"Definitely.", Logan said in response.

Remus chuckled. Then they said their goodbyes and went their seperate ways. Only until their date on the next day of course.

#sanders sides #ts remus #remus sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #remus x logan #logan x remus #intrulogical #ts intrulogical #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #intrulogical fanfic #intrulogical fanfiction

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mbti-notes · 4 years ago

Note

**Hi mbti-notes! I’m an INFJ. I wanted to ask you about something I’ve noticed in myself in hopes that you might have insight or advice to offer. I read your information about learning and study as well as perfectionism. I do believe perfectionism is at play here, but I get the feeling there’s more. Do you think this is type related? Is it just plain ol’ misuse of Ni and Ni-Se imbalance? When it comes to lengthier college assignments (especially papers), I have an ineffective way of attempting

[con’t: the assignment. I know that I need to break it into smaller pieces in order to do it, which I do. But, as I go along, once I get to a point where I’ve written a decent bit, I get stuck. I feel completely clueless as to how to synthesize, sort through, and structure my work, which I need to do to go forward. Then, I start to freak out. I get overwhelmed by having no idea if all of what I’m writing is tying together, coherent, flowing, making sense, following the directions as a whole. I seem to be incapable of identifying the next step, focusing on that one step, and completing it.

Part of it is kind of like I can’t get out of aerial view, almost. It seems my natural way of approaching writing is trying to revise, edit and organize *as* I’m writing, which, of course, is impossible and completely destroys my ability to write. This is something I really want to change, because I believe I have potential to contribute something valuable to the world through my writing. I won’t be able to do that if I continue this harmful approach. Reflecting, I notice some other ways this issue seems to crop up in my life, too? When drawing, I’ve made messy attempts to sketch, ink and color all in the same sitting instead of going step by step through sketching, finishing that, then starting to ink (repeat), etc. Thoughts? Thank you!]

I see two issues that need to be examined:

1) Poor Organization Ability & Lack of Clear Objective: The ability to organize ideas requires development of your judging functions, especially Ti. Ti allows you to take Ni ideas and put them into a tight organizational model or framework. Since Ti is a lower function and tiring/difficult to use, it is often good to use Fe to find an existing “template” that you can modify for your purposes. This could be something as simple as learning how to create a detailed outline for an essay, or learning (from experts) the most effective techniques or procedures for what you want to achieve.

It seems that you often begin an assignment without a clear idea about the objective or what you want to express or argue. For example, when you’re writing an essay, you should BEGIN with a thesis statement and then proceed to construct an argument to support it. However, many students just start writing down their thoughts without knowing where it should go, and hope to eventually arrive at a thesis statement, at some point. This kind of mental organization ability is more commonly referred to as critical thinking ability. Thus, it seems that you need to spend more time explicitly improving your critical thinking skills. I have recommended books about it on the resources page.

2) Perfectionism: This is a problem when you start to feel anxious about not being able to complete a work to your ideal expectations. Anxiety is mentally draining. It takes energy away from focus and motivation. It may even lead to procrastination. Combat perfectionism by breaking the work process down into two distinct stages:

The first stage of your work should be the “creativity” stage, where you can just do whatever you like, explore whatever ideas you want, write whatever comes out, etc. This allows you the space and freedom to develop ideas to a more mature state. Then you won’t cut off promising directions before they even get going.

The second stage of your work should be the “refinement” stage, where you apply your critical thinking and organization skill to refine what you want the work to look like. You keep refining until you are satisfied enough to let it go. Sometimes, you may even want to redo the whole darn thing because, through the process of refinement, you’ve become armed with more knowledge and skill than when you started.

To allow enough time for you to properly get through both stages of work, you have to also manage your time well. Get started on assignments earlier so that you don’t feel too pressured to end the first stage prematurely. If you have trouble with that, then perhaps you should also work on your time management skills. INFJs, being J, don’t generally have trouble with time management, as long as they can keep emotional obstacles like anxiety or perfectionism in check.

#infj #study #creativity #work #critical thinking #organization skill #productivity #tertiary ti #ask

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unicolabsworld · 3 years ago

Text

A (almost) productive week before my mid terms🌿 | High-School Edition|

Date : 11.09.2021

Good Morning world!🌦

Yes, it was drizzling here in the morning! So the weather is kind of cool. I love this kind of weather more, so it was a great start for me. I woke up at 6:30, so I kinda running late from my schedule😩, I usually wake up around 5:30/5:45 -ish [ʸᵉˢ, ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵃⁿ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵇᶦʳᵈ].

After completing my morning routine[ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᶦˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵈᵃʸ😉], I sat down to study for exam at 7-ish. Our first exam is Biology. I usually take a small 5 mins break while studying, during that time I hear motivational songs, but we had a huge syllabus to cover.

I studied for 3 hours or so and then my unproductive self came to light and I got distracted👀[ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵐᵉ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗᵎ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵃ ʰᵘᵐᵃⁿ ᵗᵒᵒ, ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵈᶦˢᵗʳᵃᶜᵗᵉᵈ😗]. I started digital painting on a specific topic which I took up few days back [ᵀʰᶦˢ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ. ᴵ ʷᶦˡˡ ˢʰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᶦᵗ ᶦˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ😊]

I spent a good 45 - 60 mins in drawing/painting, but then the fear of failing in the exam crept into me. And I started studying again.

Around 13:00, I went to the bath, & after that I had lunch. I had private tuitions on Botany, Physics & Zoology from 14:00, so I had to keep my open and stay attentive even though I felt sleepy[ᶦⁿ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵃ]. And the tuition went till 20:30. I took a 15 mins break and I got myself something to munch on.

And from 20:45, I started my live group study session on Bindr platform till 23:00. That day I got a total of 21 students, generally I get somewhere around 11 students, I think this is the magic of the Exam Season.

And then I had my dinner and went to sleep by 00:00

Good Night🌃

Date : 12.09.2021

Good Morning world!🌤

YESSSS!!! I woke up at 5:30. Today, I will be able to do my exercises🐱‍👤. I did it for about an hour, and got super exhausted. But I collected myself. I freshened myself and did my morning routine, as I had time so I made myself a glass of coffee☕. And I sat down to study, today I had to give my full concentration towards studies as I had private tuition starting from 9 till 15:40😭

I hate private tution😩[ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʷᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ²⁵ ᵐᶦⁿ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ & ¹⁰ ᵐᶦⁿ ˢʰᵒʳᵗ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ], but in these short time we need to do things with superhuman speed. Thankfully I mastered those superpower🏃‍♀️🌪[ᴵ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ, ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ]

After completing my tuition, I sat down to have my lunch. After that I took a short nap for 45 mins ONLY👅. I woke up at 17:30, freshened up myself and started to study again till 23:00.

Yes, and that's how my day ended 🙂.

No, that's not the truth, I got distracted in between. I spent my precious 60 mins on social media. But that's okay as I completed what I was supposed to learn.

Good Night🌃

Date : 13.09.2021

Good Morning world!🌥

Today I woke up on time, as usual I did my exercise and my morning routine. I had school from 7, so I got ready. There is nothing to get ready, TBH😜. I have a practical exam today on Food Nutrition & Dietetics Subject. I was kinda nervous. NO I WAS HELLA NERVOUS. I am seriously bad at oral exams. I was SUPER stressed, but I had my friends who helped to calm me down.

But much to my surprise, my practical exam went really well. I am kinda proud of myself because I could do it without blacking out or giving any answers wrong [ᵂᵉˡˡ, ᵃᵗˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᴵ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵏ ᴵ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵐʸ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳˢ ᶜᵒʳʳᵉᶜᵗ😗.]

Our school ended at 14:00. I took a bath and had my lunch. I did my project assignments. Those were A LOT. A LOT. [ᴬᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ, ᴵ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵒ ᶦᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ😐]. I completed those by 23:30 [ᴺᵒᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵒ] . I procrastinate when it comes to doing project [ᴵ ᵃᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ (┬┬﹏┬┬) ].

Date : 14.09.2021

Good Morning world!🌥

Today I took a leave from school to complete my practical assignments. I still have a lot to complete(┬┬﹏┬┬)

I also had a practical exam for Physics in Google Forms. So I didn't have to worry about blacking out or so. The exam was scheduled to be at 13:30. So I had a lot of time to complete my practical assignments by then.

Also our things were shifted from our old house to our present house, so it was kind of chaotic in the background, but I had my earpods + Slowed music😎. No one can disturb me with these two powerful weapon😈(*Evil Laughter*). Sorry, enough of being dramatic. Now back to work.

Aye aye madame!

At the scheduled time, I gave my exam. It went okay-ish if I have to say.

Today I have to submit my FND (Food Nutrition & Dietetics) practical assignments. The due time was at 23:59 and I submitted mine at 23:54. Wait, wait! I have my reasons. The picture which needed to be pasted was lost. Like really lost. I was screaming internally because if I don't find it immediately I will lose my numbers. Exactly at 23:49, I found those pictures in my English Literature book. I clicked📸. Converted the file into PDF. Submitted and turned in.

Oh my! that was intense. At Least I submitted my files on time. After that I had my dinner. Yes, I know it was pretty late, but I was hungry.

Good Night🌃

Date : 15.09.2021

Good Morning world!🌥

Today was study leave given by school, AS TOMORROW IS EXAM🥶. Thanks to God that it was not my subject, I got an extra day to study. My first exam was Biology. It is my most favorite subject to study.

But I studied Chemistry because that is one of my weakest subjects.

I studied and studied but after 4 hours, I got bored. I thought about taking an hour break by painting and listening to songs.

Nothing really happened that day because I was busy with chemistry. I had an intention to improve my chemistry marks [ᵐʸ ᶜʰᵉᵐᶦˢᵗʳʸ ᶜˡᵃˢˢ ᵗᵉˢᵗ ᵐᵃʳᵏˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡ ᵇᵃᵈ]

Good Night🌃

Date : 16.09.2021

Good Morning world!🌥

Tomorrow I have an exam of my favourite subject -------- Biology. I looove this subject🙆‍♀️❤.

But there is no time for celebration. I have a lot to cover.

This is a MCQ - pattern question so I don't have to practice drawing diagrams. But I will learn the diagrams just to be on the safer side.

And after studying almost 6 hours, I got a little unproductive but I didn't want to go to SNS as I was afraid I would forget whatever I studied, instead I thought to edit a video that one of my friends asked me to edit. I spent a good 60 mins on it. And after having some snacks I went straight back to studying.

I actually slept early today,

1st reason - I hate/can't pull an all-nighter

2nd reason - My parents will not allow me to stay awake that late

3rd reason - We should get enough sleep before an exam

Good Night🌃

Date : 17.09.2021

Good Morning world!🌥

Today is the 1st day of the exam. I woke up a little late today, at about 7:30 am. I wanted to stay a bit relaxed to avoid the stress of exam because it is not healthy to take too much stress.

I made myself a cup of iced-coffee (ᴵᵗ ᶦˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵉᵃˢʸ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ) and sat down to do a last quick revision of my notes.

At 9:30 am, our exam started.

🥁The war of brains started🥁

Sorry for being dramatic. Actually the paper was not as hard as I expected it to be. It was quite easy, but I think I made a mistake, actually I was confused with the options 👉👈.

But I am quite happy with the exam, it went well overall.

I want to eat an Ice-cream😗[ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷᵃˢ ʳᵃⁿᵈᵒᵐ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶜᴬᴺ'ᵀ ᴴᴱᴸᴾ ᴵᵀ]. But "My mom won't allow me to have one" is silent😶.

So this was all for this week. I hope you liked it. This is my first time so please feel free to correct me , & I will try to improve and correct my mistakes in my future and upcoming posts.

Please stay tuned for my next blog❤💕

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