#But we had a few teachers so bad you never quite forget them

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Eating Out Of The Palm Of Her Hand

So I'm pretty sure this little idea came about as a result of a conversation with @bigolgay (but there's every chance I'm wrong)

Anyway, it's brief, peppered with mild angst and a tiny bit of Gary bashing (only because it fitted the idea and not because I hate him)

~*~

“Shoot.”

Barb looks up at her friend across their shared table with concern.

“I forgot about that tasting night I signed up for, back when, you know,” mumbled the red head.  She had been trying to expand Gary’s culinary knowledge in a way that didn’t solely involve her cooking.  Not that she didn’t enjoy cooking, but she didn’t like it when it was just expected.  Nor when her suggestions for dinner were shot down and he would suggest bad takeaway pizza and beer.  “You fancy it?”

“Sorry girl, but Taylor is in town and we have plans this Friday,” apologises the kindergarten teacher.  She nudges her friend, however, and nods in your direction. 

Melissa raises an eyebrow at her friend who it seems is forever keen to push her in your direction.  Still, she fathoms, it’s not exactly a bad solution.  You’ve been out together a few times outside of school and are always good company.  And just because it’s a couples thing, well, that’s more of an insignificant detail, she reasons.  “Hey, half pint?  What you doing this Friday?”

You look over as you hear the nickname the red head often uses for you, despite the fact you’re only a couple of inches shorter than she is.  “Nothing why?”

“You fancy this?”  She waves her phone at you and you push yourself up out of your chair to take a closer look.

“Tasting delicious things and drinking wine with you, where do I sign up?”

She smirks.  “You don’t need to sign up.  Just turn up.”

*

You make an effort for the evening.  The e-mail made the event look pretty classy and you were being seen out with Melissa, who never looked less than a million bucks in your book, so if you spent a little more time than usual putting on your make up and taming your hair, well, it was only because you didn’t want to show her up.

Despite the fact that you’d dressed up, you weren’t quite prepared for Melissa doing the same.  Yes, you’ve seen her most days for nigh on a year now, but you rarely get to see her like this.  “Fuck…”  It’s not quite the hello you’d intended, but then again, you were pretty sure it was criminal in some states to look that good. 

“What?  Something wrong with it?” asks Melissa, looking down at herself at your greeting. 

“No!  No definitely not!” you quickly reassure her.  “It’s just…” 

She smirks.  “Words, kid.  Come on, you got this.”

Your cheeks flame red.  “I know I see you every day, but I guess I just wasn’t ready for…” you trail off, gesturing vaguely at her. 

Her smirk only grows more devious.  “Don’t look so bad yourself,” she quips before heading inside, giving you a glorious view of the back of the outfit and suddenly making it rather difficult to breathe.

*

It immediately becomes apparent that tonight’s event is a couples event.  The chirpy receptionist that greets you both takes Melissa’s name and checks her off on her list, wishing her and ‘her partner’, who is apparently you, a lovely evening. 

The red head, however, seems not to care and you can do nothing but follow her lead.  As you settle in at your assigned table, you both share polite smiles and easy conversation with the other couples sitting close by.  They also assume that you’re together, and again, Melissa doesn’t correct them. 

You know you could clear up the situation with a few words, but it just feels easier to go with the flow.  Afterall, it doesn’t seem to bother Melissa, so the only real harm is to your own heart.  It’s something you’re learning to live with.  At this point, you can’t quite recall a time when you weren’t in love with the red head. 

As the evening progresses, it’s enough that even you forget for a while.  Her enthusiasm and passion are things you love about her, and when it comes to food, they shine through.  She knows her stuff and engages with the producers and chefs that have put tonight’s menu together.  You, meanwhile, are drinking her in just as much as the wine on offer. 

You know that part of her being so vocal about tonight’s offerings is down to her finding this an easier way to digest the information than reading the leaflets that have been left on your table.  Meanwhile, you take note of the things she’s been particularly keen on, tucking away the associated pamphlets and business cards into your bag to help jog her memory later if she wants to track any of them down. 

Each time there’s a new offering, you prompt Melissa to taste them first.  It’s not that you don’t like trying new things, but you like to have an idea of what you’re letting yourself in for first and you’ve found observing Melissa’s facial expressions to be both a reliable and enjoyable way to do so.  When she comes across something she thinks you’ll like she’s immediately reaching out to feed you the delicious morsels of food, and it’s not until you catch yourself thinking that she has you literally eating out of the palm of her hand that you realise you’re in dangerous territory. 

This is just how Melissa is, you remind yourself.  How she always is with you.  It’s not the red head’s fault that you want to read further into it.

*

At the end of the night, you’re both pleasantly buzzed.  You walk a little, agreeing to find somewhere for one final glass of wine before heading home for the evening.  That’s how you end up side by side on a small couch in a dimly lit wine bar. 

You’re not quite sure how it happens, but one moment Melissa is talking about new recipe ideas she has, and the next she’s leaning in, her intentions unmistakable. 

You pull back, one hand resting on her shoulder to keep a distance between you.  The hurt expression that crosses her face doesn’t escape your attention.  “Sorry, I just…”

She shakes her head.  “No.  No, it’s fine.  I just thought, we were having a good night, you seemed to be enjoying it, you thought I was hot.”

“I was.  I do,” you tell her.  As awkward as this situation may be, you owe it to her to be honest.  You’re well aware she doesn’t make friends easily, but she let you in, and for that alone, you refuse to let this moment go without making it clear why you’re refusing her.  “I think you’re beautiful,” you tell her.  “Beautiful, stunning, gorgeous.  Take your pick or take all three.  I think you’re amazing, and that’s why I can’t.”

She frowns, not understanding.  The whole evening had gone better than she had ever hoped it might.  Rendering you speechless before you’d even made it in the building had given her the confidence boost she’d needed to believe that Barb’s hunch that you liked her might just be true.  Then there was way you responded to her flirting, and now your words? 

“I can’t be someone who helps you scratch and itch, or fulfil some curiosity,” you say, smiling sadly.  “I can either have you as my friend or my everything, Melissa.  I won’t survive some middle ground.”

At this, she sits back, looking at you.  Really looking at you as your words sink in. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, ducking you head.  “I just…needed you to know.  I didn’t mean to ruin tonight or for things to get so heavy.”

“No, don’t apologise,” breathes the red head, scooting closer.  She reaches out, gently cupping your cheek.

“Melissa.”  Your tone is a warning.  One you hope she heeds. 

“I’ve never been someone’s everything.”

You look up at the quietly spoken words to see Melissa smiling shyly at you.  Your breath catches in your throat at the realisation that you hadn’t been reading too much into tonight.  It had felt like a date because it had been.  “Then maybe it’s about time you let someone show you how it feels,” you whisper in reply, closing the distance between you.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader

[outofcontextbokumono]

In your Allen post you mentioned Natsume is notorious for bad translations. That's super interesting, I had no idea! Is it more of spelling error stuff or just straight up mistranslations?

first of all great question anon!! it's kind of a mix of both, and it varies from game to game. most natsume dialogue just generally reads very clunky and robotic in the english versions, especially when compared to the newer games, where everyone has their own unique way of speaking, and you can usually tell who's talking just based on their mannerisms.

there's more general info on this topic + natsume's involvement with marvelous games in my masterpost here.

xseed's newer games obviously aren't immune to forgetting a few punctuation marks here and there, but natsume's was bad. like, "something about the games just feel Off and uncanny and there's no other way to explain it" bad.

i'm pretty sure it's just because the translators weren't native english speakers, so everything is translated super literally, but if you are one yourself it becomes blatantly obvious simply by looking at the dialogue for more than 5 minutes. this ranges anywhere from minor miswordings to lines that just don't make any sense at all no matter how many times you read them.

and then there's stuff that's so messed up we don't even KNOW how it got there. like some of this shit i would 100% believe you if you just said the game got corrupted because if it isn't that then i can only assume the employees did a large dose of crack cocaine before translating these games. i'm talking like... entire lines that didn't even get translated. text so butchered its straight up unreadable. that one time they misspelled their own NAME in the startup screen. TWICE.

and, last but not least, probably one of my all time favorite errors in a natsume game but one i'll never be able to post here because it's funny purely in context- and it is the singular line in harvest moon: friends of mineral town where the priest, carter, just speaks to you in fucking German

this. this is the error i don't have even the SLIGHTEST explanation for. and, correct me if i'm wrong, but i'm 99.9% sure nobody else does either.

this was....just one line. just the one line of dialogue. where he speaks german. in a japanese farming game that was being localized into english.

at least with the untranslated kanji you have some general sense of how that happened. like, yeah, okay, they just missed a line, whatever. but this isn't even remotely close to the same situation. there should be NO german in this equation whatsoever. it's like if you did 2 + 2 and somehow got 17. and nobody looked over your paper and went, "hey, that doesn't look quite right, man, maybe you should fix that", so you just turned it in and for some reason not even the TEACHER questioned it, they gave you a full grade and a gold star and put your paper on the whiteboard clear as day for all your classmates to see. that's what this feels like.

I. do not think the natsume employees are okay can someone check on them for me

#bokumono #bokujou monogatari #mod speaks #harvest moon #story of seasons #hmanb #harvest moon a new beginning #hm fomt #harvest moon fomt #harvest moon anb #harvest moon friends of mineral town

[randomperson3736]

Already Gone

Pairing: Damian wayne x dying fem! Reader

Genre: angst

Warning(s): character death, mentions of loved one dying, sad

Word bank: Y/N- your name, L/C- length (short, long) and colour of your hair, E/C- your eye colour, L/N- your last name, M/N- your middle name

Note: this is just imagine/ similar scenario inspired by the fiction called "the galaxy is endless (I thought we were too)" on wattpad. Hope u enjoy, shed some tears cus ik I did. Also ik this is kinda bad but I tried, ok?

(Listen to this while reading)☝️☝️☝️

Damian was all too aware that Y/N didn't have much time left. It was written all over her features, heard in the beating of her heart monitor that only grew slower, weaker each pasting day. She was a shadow, a echoing shell of the person she had been when Damian first leaded eyes on her. Her beautiful, bright smile that Damian loved dearly was now replaced with a hollow nothing that shattered Damian's heart every single day without fail.

He was shrugged back on the very uncomfortable hospital chair that sat by her side, her thin pale hand in his. Every few minutes Damian would place a feather like kiss on her hand reminding her that he wasn't going anywhere and to hold on just for a little longer. He knew it was selfish of him to want her to hold on, knowing how much pain she was enduring. But, who wouldn't want their loved one to hold on? Y/N was the love of his life, the person he cared for deeply, the one person who he wanted to grow old with, have a family with but all of that was torn from him like multiple bullets piercing his heart.

Damian closed his tired eyes that held bags under them and thought back to all the wonderful moments he had shared with his beloved. The moments he'll hold dear in his heart, the moments he'll never forget even if he wanted too. He remembered the first time they met, it was back in his days at Gotham Academy.

~Flashback~

"Alright, students i have some incredible news to share with all of you" his form teacher, Mr. Rodriguez spoke with a kind, warm smile. "We have a new student joining us, this fine year. Every one, this is Damian wayne"

Damian stared around the classroom and watched at how all girls in the whispered among themselves about whatever stupid reason it was. He saw how one girl, with L/C hair sit in the back right corner alone, unbothered by him. Usually when girls see him they go wild, asking for his number and all sorts of useless things. He watched her curiously, something drawing himself to you. Something in his gut told him that he needed to learn more about you.

"Alright, everyone quite down" Mr. Rodriguez spoke. "Damian you can take a sit next to Y/N. Y/N please raise your hand" Damian watched as the girl he was watching curiously early raise her hand up still unbothered.

As he walked past the other students he could hear their whispers about this 'Y/N' girl. They were all (mainly the girls, tho) complaining about how he couldn't sit next to them or how she's a freak. When he made it to her desk, he cleared his throat pulling young Y/N from her thoughts. "Yes, all gorious Wayne?" She said sarcastically at the said boy. He glared at her before he spoke. "Could u remove your bag from my seat?" She just smirked and replied with "Oh, I'm so sorry your highness I'll move it right away and while I'm at it would you like some tea too?"

Before Damian could say anything back, Mr. Rodriguez interrupted. "Now, Y/N please move your bag off his seat?" The girl groaned and moved her bag. "What do you say Damian?" Mr. Rodriguez raised his eyebrow up curiously waiting for him to say 'thank you' But the boy only scoffed and took his seat. His teacher could only shake his head and start his lesson.

"The name's Y/N, Y/N L/N" the voice said beside him. Damian nodded his head in acknowledgement. Y/N L/N? He thought, he was sure gonna have some fun digging stuff up about you when he got home.

~End of flashback~

Damian felt his heartstrings tug in his chest as he thought back to the good all days, knowing too well he would never be able to tell your childern or grandchildren that lovely story. Damian fought back tears that threatened to fall, he tried to ignore anymore thoughts cause he knew that if he thought about anymore, the tears he was holding back would definitely fall. So, he just watched Y/N's chest fall and raise knowing each breath was more painful then the last. It pained him to see you in so much pain.

"Beloved" Damian called out. He didn't have a reason to do it, other than that same tug at his heart telling him that it almost time. Y/N hummed, eyelids not even fluttering. That was the first sign that it was worse than Damian had even thought, worse than he would admit. "Beloved?" He called out again. Nothing.

The faint beeping of the heart monitor was what Damian, was trying to focus on. A sure reminder that Y/Nwasnt gone, that she was still in arm reach. She was still here. Damian wasn't alone just yet. It felt like infinity before Y/N finally spoke, her voice as fragile and shaky as a bird lost in a tumultuous tempest. "D-Damian?" Damian grabbed her limp hand once again, alerting her that he was still there. "I'm right here, love. What is it?"

"Damian, it hurts"

And, oh how Damian's heart shattered.

Not once had Y/N faltered like this; not once had she complained about anything. She hadn't complained when she was diagnosed, nor when the symptoms had gotten the better of her, not even about the fact she was gonna die soon. Damian hadn't been fooled. He was hyper aware of the fact that Y/N had spent more time protecting Damian's heart then voice out loud her own pain, her own struggles. No matter how many times Damian begged and told her everything was gonna be okay, she hadn't budged; she was just as stubborn as him. Damian couldn't imagine how much pain she was in.

"Do you want me to get a nurse?" Damian asked. There was nothing he could do to is her pain and her suffering, it killed him that he couldn't help. Y/N ignored the question; and just asked her own. "Can I say it now?" She asked it so gently, so softly, as though she wasn't worried about breaking Damian's heart more; destroy his world. Damian shook his head. "No, no Y/N, please don't" he didn't try to fight the hit tears pricking his eyes this time, he let each one roll down his checks. A soft whine left Y/N's throat. "I can't do this anymore" each word was a slurred shatter, each a stab to Damian's heart.

Was it selfish for him to ask her to keep fighting?

"Beloved..." Damian didn't know what else to do, what to say, so he just squeesed Y/N's hand. Ge tried to blink away the tears welling up in his eyes, not wanting to show weakness but he just couldn't stop. They just kept coming more faster, almost like a waterfall in a way.

"I'm s-sorry Dami"

"If-if you don't say it, it means we still have a chance, right love?"Damian's words were nonsensical babble, clutching Y/N's hand in his. "It can't be the end" Damian had spent countless months trying to prepare for this very moment. He'd had countless conversations with himself, imagining every possible outcome, but never he prepared for could stop the cold feeling running up and down his spine.

"Please, don't say it. Please"

Was he ready to lose the one thing he can't replace?

Was he ready to lose his whole world?

There was no way he was.

But denying Y/N anymore would be cruel, how could he ask her someone he loved to stay in this pain?

He looked back up at her, through his tears.

"Okay"

Y/N's shoulders sagged back in relief; as though she could finally leave all the weight and pain.

"I love you, dami"

Damian couldn't hold himself back anymore not after that. A guttural sob left his throat, followed by another, and another. His whole chest ached with a pain that made him feel as though his heart had been ripped into two then ripped again. All he could think about was the fact that his beloved, his Y/N was fading away.

"Y/N, please" Damain begged through broken sobs, swallowing all his pride he had and letting it dissolve into a freash wave of tears. "I can't do this without you"

She lightly squessed Damian's hand. Making him look up at her and it was only him that notice the light leaveing her E/C eyes slowly despite the trickle of tears trailing down her face; the life leaving Y/N's features with each passing breath.

"Please don't leave me"

The words left Damian's mouth before he could even think. So much emotion was carried in those 4 words. His sobbing turned into wailing, each cry wracking his body so violently that it could of broken him like glass. "Say something, Y/N please"

Y/N didn't hear her lovers broken words. All she could hear was her heart slowly making its final beat. A smile formed at her lips as peace over came her body.

Damian fall from his seat and onto his knees upon hearing the heart monitor go flat. Y/N's cold limp hand was still clinched in his. He cried on his knees, for what felt like eternity. He hadn't even noticed when the nurses and doctors came running in, to try and help but he knew it was already to late. He didn't even hear whne the nurse asked him if he wanted her ot call anyone but he cpuodnt think, not riht now. Damian remained on the hard cold floor, begging any God who was listening to bring Y/N back. But none of them did. Damian let out a sobbing screech that caused everyone in the room to flinch, he just couldn't except the fact that his love was already gone.

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #x fem!reader #x dying reader #sad #fypツ #batfam #Spotify

[bitchin-and-bustin]

Girlfriend and Boyfriend

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Harrington!Reader

Genre; fluff

Summary; tutoring at your former high school has you running into the stranger who drove you home a week ago

Warnings; fluff, mentions of sex, slight age gap, teenage boys being dicks, smoking,

PART ONE | PART TWO

You had never really been one for sappy relationships. So that's why you mostly ignored you brother and his girlfriend talking in the front seats of the car.

You wouldn't have had to be there at all if your former algebra teacher hadn't requested you tutor a few students. Considering the fact that you had already graduated high school, you weren't thrilled with the idea of coming back, but upon being told you would be paid, you had a change of heart.

Still, you had been tutoring at Hawkins High School for two weeks, and it got more dreadful each day.

At least you were getting paid.

Third period was typically the class that you would meet up with the students you tutored, and you would sit in the library or the cafeteria, and would attempt to help them with their studies, while forcing herself not to pull your hair out in frusteration.

But with your car having broken down the week prior - and still nonworking - you had no choice but to hitch a ride with your younger brother, who was a senior at Hawkins High, and keep yourself locked up in his car until third period.

Steve Harrington was quite different from his older sister, from his personality to his taste in music. The only thing you two really had in common was your godlike hair and your charming smiles.

One thing that truly separated Steve from you was his girlfriend.

Nancy Wheeler was a little too perfect in your opinion. She had perfect grades, a perfect house, a perfect family, and perfect looks. If you were honest, you didn't think that Nancy was Steve's type. But, he claimed to be in love with her, so you didn't bring it up.

You did think they were cute together, though.

"Do you think I should start from scratch?" You heard Steve say from the front of the car where he and Nancy were going over his college application essay.

"No, I mean..." Nancy trailed off, staring at the paper before looking up at Steve. "When's the deadline?"

" 'S tomorrow for early application." He said quietly. "I mean, can you come help me tonight?"

"No, we have our dinner tonight, remember?" Nancy reminded him.

Steve groaned. "Oh, my God." He sighed, leaning back against the headrest of his seat.

"We already canceled last week." Nancy sighed as well. "Look, you don't have to go, just work on this."

"No, no, no." Steve mumbled, before snatching the paper back from Nancy and crumpling it up frusteratedly. "What's the point?"

"Hey, calm down-"

"I'm calm, I'm calm. I'm just being honest, you know? I mean..." Steve trailed off a moment. "I'm just gonna end up working for my dad anyways."

"That's not true." Nancy tried to assure him.

"I don't  know, Nance, is that such a bad thing?" Steve started. "There's insurance, and benefits, and all that adult stuff. And if I took it, you know, I could be around for your senior year."

"Steve..." Nancy smiled slightly.

"Just look after you a little bit, make sure you don't forget this pretty face." Steve said. Nancy, smiling, looked away for a moment. "Nance, I'm serious."

Nancy turned back to him. Steve leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips. In the backseat, you sighed loudly.

"I'm still here, Steve." You said to your brother. "And as sweet as this is, it's making me sick. Please, for your dear old sister's sake, take this lovebird moment somewhere else."

Steve glared back at you. "Yeah, I hear you. Pissy pants."

You were about to insult Steve back, but the sound of a loud car engine revving outside caused you all to turn towards the windows and furrow your eyebrows.

Curiosity got the better of you and you opened the door to stand up outside and see where the commotion was coming from. Steve and Nancy followed your actions, and the three of you leaned against your respective car doors with narrowed eyes as you watched a new car peel into the parking lot.

Your eyes furrowed further as you saw that this car was a blue Camaro - a very familiar blue Camaro. For your own reasons, you silently hoped it wasn't who you thought it was.

Unfortunately, your suspicions were confirmed when you saw a tall boy step out, with long, sandy hair that was almost an overgrown mullet, and the strange yet alluring combination of denim on denim. Seeing him in the sunlight now, you took your thoughts from that night a week ago back: Billy Hargorve made denim on denim a good look. Your eyebrows raised a considerable amount.

From the passenger's side of Billy's Camaro emerged a smaller person, who was a girl with fiery red hair and freckles. She clasped a skateboard in one hand and held her backpack strap with the other. She was considerably younger, perhaps middle school age, and you assumed she was Billy's sister.

"Rock You Like a Hurricane" was playing from the Camaro again, and whether or not it was a coincidence, it gave you a strange sense of deja vu.

The red headed girl threw her skateboard down and stepped on it, immediately skating away in the direction of the middle school, which was a few buildings over. You watched intensely - unintentionally - as Billy's head turned to follow the red head's leaving form, before he took a glance around the parking lot.

You thought you might as well have had a stroke when you noticed Billy's eyes linger on you longer than they did anything else. Though you didn't do anything to convey your thoughts, they were practically screaming at you inside your head. And you could have sworn you saw Billy's lips curve into the slightest smirk before he put his cigarette back to his mouth and slammed his car door shut, and walked away.

You couldn't help but stare at him as he strutted off - mostly because his pants were tight and his ass was nice.

You couldn't help but stare at him as he strutted off - mostly because his pants were tight and his ass was nice.

You were so caught up in watching the new kid that you barely noticed two people approach Steve's car.

"You guys have any clue who that is?" Said the voice of Tommy H - Steve's former best friend since sixth grade. You turned to see that he and his girlfriend Carol had come up beside Steve, and were also watching Billy disappear behind a row of cars. As usual, Steve looked irritated at their presence.

"I don't know, but he's fine as hell." Carol murmured.

"Normally, I'd disagree, but yeah, you're not wrong." Said Tommy. "Better ass than me."

You cleared your throat slightly, drawing the attention to you. "Um...I might know him." You said.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "How? I've never seen him in my life."

" 'Member when I told you some creeps were getting at me the other night?" You asked, and Steve nodded. You nodded your chin towards where Billy had disappeared. "Yeah, he showed up and got them off my backs. He's the one that drove me home that night."

"Do you know his name?" Nancy asked, looking at you.

You paused for a moment before you answered, deciding that in a small town like this, everyone would know the new kid in town by the end of the day.

"Billy." You told Nancy. "He's Billy Hargrove."

The rest of the day, you tried to rid your mind of thoughts about Billy Hargorve. But it was difficult. He was new, and alluring. Though you were sure that every girl in Hawkins High School had realized that already. They'd be lining up at his door just for sex. You would have sex with him if meant you got a ride in that sweet Camaro again.

You stared at said Camaro from the back of your brother's car. In fact, you rather glared at it. Your job as a tutor was going to start soon, so you sat moping in Steve's car miserably. Normally, you would have been reading a book to pass the time, but you were too busy thinking about the other night.

You sort of wished it hadn't happened. Finally, you glanced down at your watch, seeing that it was almost time to leave. You sighed to yourself, and started collecting the textbooks and notes you'd need for tutoring and shoved them into your bag.

When you stepped out of the car, you winced slightly and narrowed your eyes to shield them from the harsh afternoon sunlight. After being in the dark car for so long, the sun was almost blinding to you.

"Hey, girlie, watch it!"

Due to not being able to see much of anything, and the fact that you literally had you back turned, you didn't notice that there was two boys with a basketball running through the parking lot towards her. Before you could even attempt to move out of the way, one of the boys shot past you, and his shoulder slammed into your, causing you to gasp and stumble forward and drop your bag, its contents spilling out and onto the asphalt.

You looked up just in time to see the two boys scoffing and laughing and they dribbled their basketball and disappeared toward the school. You scowled and sighed.

Annoyed, you knelt down to your knees, and started collecting the papers and pens that had fallen out of your bag. As you grumbled under your breath about idiotic boys, you didn't notice that someone had approached you until a pair of shoes stood in front of your line of vision and you paused your movements.

"You have a knack for getting into trouble, don't you, girlfriend?"

You craned your head back to look up, eyebrows raising when you saw that Billy Hargrove was the one standing in front of you.

You cleared your throat and hesitantly looked back down at the papers she was holding. "And apparently, you have a knack for running into me when I do."

Billy dropped down so he was level with you, and you glanced up, seeing him grin. "Apparently I do."

You smiled and reached for a pen that had rolled across the floor, only to have Billy beat you to it and pick it up. You stared at him, and watched awkwardly as he started picking up the remaining pens. Then you gave him a wary smile as he held them out and you took them.

You found an excuse to turn away as you put away the rest of your pens. "What are you doing out of class, Billy?" You questioned.

"I have a free block third period." Billy told you, at which you made a face which said "you're smart enough to have a free block?"

Billy stood up and then held out his hand you, which you took hesitantly, and he pulled you to your feet. "What about you? What are you doing in school?" Billy asked you. "Thought you said you were too old for me?"

You grinned slightly and you pulled your bag further up your shoulder. "That's because I am. I graduated last year."

"That only makes us a year apart, girlfriend." Billy said with a smirk.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel your cheeks heat up. "You're quite the flirt, aren't you?" You started walking towards the school.

Billy followed, walking beside you. "Its my best attribute, girlfriend."

You gave him a look. "You're really putting emphasis on this, aren't you?" You said.

Billy shrugged slightly. "My offer still stands."

You tried to hide your smile. It was strange, you thought, how Billy Hargrove was taking an interest in you of all people, when he had a whole town full of girls already frothing at the mouth over him.

It was just that Harrington charm, you guessed.

"I'm tempted to accepct that offer." You told Billy. "But I barely know you."

"Then you'll get to know me," Billy said. ",when we go on a date."

You turned your head to look at him, eyebrows raised. "A date?" You questioned.

"Yeah." Billy said casually. "That diner with the cherry pie, downtown. I've heard its good."

"It is, but-"

"So, eight o'clock, this afternoon?"

You sighed and stopped walking. Billy paused too, and you both looked at each other. "My brother's in your grade." You started. "He's not gonna like this."

Billy smirked and leaned forward slightly. "Then screw your brother, Harrington."

You stared at Billy, leaning back to avoid close proximity with him. But you couldn't stop staring at his eyes, his beautiful, crystal blue eyes.

God, he was gorgeous.

So, you sighed again, and nodded. "Okay. It's a date."

Billy smiled in success. "Eight o'clock?"

You nodded. "Eight o'clock."

"Deal." Billy back up, and started walking back towards the school building, but still facing you. "See you tonight, girlfriend."

Then he turned around, and you were left to watch him disappear behind a row of parker cars.

You smiled to yourself, and felt a blush creep up on your face - just a bit to late. You rolled your eyes, still grinning giddily, and shook your head. "Boyfriend."

Please like if you enjoyed! Reblogs are appreciated!

-- bitchin n bustin <3

Taglist!

@dees-newest-obsession

#Stranger things #St #Stranger things x reader #Stranger things x you #Stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #Billy hargrove #Billy Hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fic #steve harrington x sister!reader #Steve harrington #Nancy wheeler #Bitchin-and-bustin

[promiscuouspomegranate]

could we get more on ezra? his character seems interesting and i wanted to see more of him in the oneshot! IT WAS STILL REALLY FOOD THOUGH !!

Me fucking rambling

TWs: Bullying, harassment, self harm, physical violence, stalking, manipulation, unstable home life, Lenore isn’t a good person, and Ezra just sucks.

(I hoped someone would ask for more because I focused on adjectives and “Oo, this sounds pretty” more than the plot… erm.. my bad 💀)

When Ezra was nine–maybe ten, he can’t remember anymore–he witnessed his dad strike his mom across the face. His dad cussed her out over a minor inconvenience and then left her alone to go for a drive. His mom needed her “beautiful boy” to hold and coddle with saccharine affections. She whispered in Ezra’s ear, “You are far kinder than your dad… Never turn out like him, Ezra.” Ezra’s father came home an hour later with a bouquet of roses, and he heard his parents kiss from his room. At that age, Ezra took to heart the interaction and prayed that God helped him flourish in love the way his parents did. God never answered his prayers, but the devil did.

When Ezra was twelve–he could never forget the moment–he felt his childhood friendship with you change. You were starting to flourish and grow in ways he never knew someone could. Your mother had passed away, your father became a deadbeat, but you managed to thrive in your miserable conditions. He viewed you as someone capable and strong.

You ruined his perception when he heard you sobbing at the pond. You were crying for your mom to come back. That’s not what you were supposed to be like. You were meant to prevail by yourself. He already has to take care of his poor mother, now you?

The next day at the cafeteria, Ezra handed you a packed lunch from his mom. He waited for you to thank him and swoon–maybe confess your love if you felt like it–but you were so ungrateful. You hoarsely muttered, “I don’t need this, but thanks.” That’s definitely not how you were supposed to react. Weren’t you needy? You needed him. Stop being so confusing.

Your pessimistic attitude and nihilism–as philosophical as a middle schooler gets–were apparent to others. You arrived late to your classes, you cried in the bathroom stalls, and you were no fun to be around. People used to show false sympathies and whisper amongst each other, “Oh, poor thing, I hope they brighten up soon.” Even teachers pitied you and would murmur in the lounge between gas station cigarettes, “Can hardly believe what it’s like to be so young and lose your mom. I knew her well before she passed, lovely thing. Such a shame she didn’t pass her optimism to her child.”

You first experienced bullying when Ezra, enraged by your unwillingness to acknowledge you needed him, spread a rumor about you freshman year. A tale so disgustingly detailed and grotesquely exaggerated, it just had to be true. He told others in a hushed whisper in the band room you caused your mom’s death, whether willingly or not, he left for people to interpret. The car accident was your fault; you told him in tears, “Couldn’t handle hearing complaints about your father anymore. You snapped and lost her in a second.”

He showed them pictures of you in the hospital and old diary entries about your mother. Soon, people felt revolted by his lie and found you guilty of your mother’s death. Rumors stacked, and suddenly, you were getting things thrown at you in class; people would fight you when you least expected, and you were violently bullied and belittled by everyone.

Ezra realized his plan was working when he overheard a group of girls gossiping, “Bet they miss their mom so much they’re trying to join her in the afterlife. Someone saw them cutting themselves in the bathroom… like; get a fucking life, honestly. I knew them in middle school, and they always had a horrible vibe, y’know?”

Yet, not everyone believed Ezra’s story. The school’s book club knew a plot hole when they saw one, and there were quite a few in Ezra’s rumor. The polished president of the club, Lenore, extended a hand and invited you to her group. She would defend you when one of Ezra’s friends harassed or threatened to hurt you. Although her reputation was battered and she became a target, she stuck with you.

At a snail's pace, your personality resurfaced, and your mind soothed itself. By senior year, you laughed alongside your friends, defended yourself from verbal altercations, and debunked Ezra’s rumor. Only Ezra’s friends believed it, and many had apologized to you for their actions.

Yet, the wound was still bleeding, and you could only apply bandaids to patch it. Yes, your depression faded, but it persisted. Yes, you could walk in the hallways without getting your hair dragged, but you still faced violence. Yes, you had a friend group and a fantastic soul to defend you, but Ezra was still there. Why couldn’t he leave you alone? You used to be friends.

Lenore tried to patch your grief with positivity and smother sorrow with her sweet smile. Lenore would hold you close and whisper, “I’m here for you. Isn’t that all that matters? You have someone to look after you.” In contrast, Ezra would open wounds and stab you with words. He’d always repeat, “Just give up, fisheyes. Some people will always know the truth that you’re a murderer.”

tbh I’d move to Wisconsin in this situation and make cheese for a living !?

#yandere writing #dark romance #yandere #yandere character #yandere oc #yandere oneshot #❤︎.pomegranate #☆–ezra

[mariamariquinha]

Meetings and Greetings (Jonathan Levy x f!reader) - Part 1

Part 2

Summary: You and Jonathan met because of Tulsidas.

Word count: 2.7k 

Warnings: Mentions about divorce, bad words, maybe a few academic terms, consumption of legal drugs and talks about Jainism/Bhudism. There’s nothing to worry about here, I guess, but don’t expect Jonathan to be... I don’t know. It can have a pinch of angst.

Author’s Note: This is very self indulgent because being a college teacher is literally my career. Yeah. Anyway. I did a personal research about Tulsidas and Jainism, so I’M TRULY SORRY if any of my considerations here are wrong on some level, that's why I even mentioned it superficially so as not to talk nonsense. 

Ah, this will have a second part. When? Well... It will happen. Don’t worry. 

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

------------------------------------

You always knew Jonathan, but you’d never met him.

He would share a “hi” or “good morning”, nothing more than that, before leaving for his classes nonchalantly just like most of the teachers. Of course that didn't stop you from noticing him; after all, you two worked in the same department and he had a good reputation as a professional.

His divorce happened during your first year at the university; this information came as a gossip, a big occurrence there, but you tried to skip whatever speculation people would have to focus on this simple detail. Jonathan looked tired, walking around the building with an even quieter demeanor, affecting his own performance with students, who began to complain.

“Jonathan, we know things have been complicated for you recently, but you’re one of my best guys here, okay? I need to be sure you’ll be able to keep going or…” 

This information came by accident, one that you could avoid but ended up paralyzing you in the hallway, one hand on the wall and the other on the books you were carrying. Your supervisor’ voice was condescendent, thinking he was talking to a child - you could hear Jonathan sighing at it. 

If the talk had any effect on the man, you just knew that he decided to reduce his classes for a time, passing some of them to other colleagues while getting his shit together. Whatever happened in the meantime stayed a mystery even for the ones with good ears for gossip. In months, Jonathan Levy turned into a ghost, allowing only small snippets of their appearances in hallways or meetings.

----------------------------

It was… August, yeah. A new semester, new faces, and you’re already used to the experience of leading a full class that year. You would start with special grades for Religion & Culture Studies, an offshoot of your research work for quite some time, and the idea had been getting you really excited.

With forty or fifty students intent on their introductory explanations of Jainism, did you not notice when someone came in through the side door of the room really discreetly. 

“For a very long time, Western researchers saw Jainism as a sect of Hinduism or a heresy of Buddhism, which isn't true considering…” Your voice faltered for a moment as you glanced toward the door, finding a serious, attentive Jonathan Levy standing there, clutching the bag strap slung over his shoulder. “... specific differences in their creation, reasoning and form of manifestation, despite sharing common elements.”

And he stayed there, silent, listening carefully just like the other students, not even daring to move from his spot. You talked, talked, talked, not losing your focus again even if no one noticed your first slide with the surprise of seeing him there.

“Jiva Jago… It’s a song, right?” 

Everyone was gone, leaving just you two there with his voice echoing considerably through the big space. You gave him a small smile, gathering your things nonchalantly and trying not to be so tense at having his full attention after a long time receiving two words or nothing at all. 

“From Gitavali book.” Gesturing at one of the books on the top of your desk, you could see him turning the object just a little to see the cover. “Do your students study Tulsidas?”

“Eventually,” The answer made you frown, which he noticed. “Sanskrit ends up being more specific, not really my area. But in religious contexts... Worth the discussion.” 

“That's for the boring teachers.” 

“You think?” He was grinning at your teasing, but you just shrugged.

“I think that by the end of the semester I will have ten very determined students here.” 

“What about the others?”

“Studying with cool teachers.” 

You stopped hearing about Jonathan for a very long time. No one found any funny or interest in talking about his personal life, nor on the way he would show such a miserable appearance around the university. He got divorced, this you knew, and with time he got back to his old days of talking excitedly with the students and being on the level of praise from your supervisor.

As always, you watched him from a distance. Read his new articles, accompanied the interviews he would give to the university newspaper, heard a joke that he told someone and that someone told you. 

Him being in your class and talking to you was new, especially with the full smile he gave you. 

“I've been reading your work lately, you know.” He said and you raised your eyebrows at the comment. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, well, people like you more than you think around here. After hearing so many good things, I decided to see it for myself.” 

“I appreciate your consideration. Do you have any conclusions?” You crossed your arms over your chest, seeing him shrug and repeat the motion. 

“None that would make justice to your work.” A pause. “I just… It came to my mind that we never met. At least not properly since you started here.” 

“Oh no, Professor Levy, it's totally understandable. I would never take that as a personal offense.” 

“It's kind of you, but I insist on apologizing. The last year has been a little rough for me and I feel it's impolite not to be receptive to my co-workers.”

Oh. Well, it wasn’t a thing you’re expecting, but good to know he thought about it in the middle of so many problems happening in his life. 

“... Okay then. Apologies accepted.” 

“Good. Very good, in fact.” He extended his hand at you, offering a handshake that you gave. “See you around, Professor. Keep going with… Sanskrits.” 

“And you keep going at being the cool teacher.”

You tried to stop smiling to the wind after that small encounter. Well, who were you kidding anyway? It felt good, if unexpected, and pretending it didn't affect you would be stupid.

----------------------------

Getting to know Jonathan was more than a fluke. He seemed as committed as you are to creating some friendly bond, and it took a while for you to stop associating your approach with any possible guilt. Now and then, when time allowed, he would stop by one of your classes - sometimes until the end, other times for some minutes. It eventually led to him making small talks about your methodology, then full talks about what he was up to do with his students and vice versa.

You felt so involved with this subtle approach that you didn't feel when the discussions turned to personal stuff. Memories from your time in college, plans for the holidays, movies you liked, music you listened to. You became… close. Friendly close. And maybe someone would look at you two laughing at something in the corridor or sitting beside each other during a lecture from the Department, but nothing came to your ears and you couldn’t care less if it did. Jonathan proved himself to be a funny guy, not limited by his work and respectful; a good company, of course. 

Took you a time to start with the attraction. Like, he was obviously a beautiful man, a nice middle ground between someone who maintained a certain care for beauty and preferred something more natural, but you wouldn’t dare to put a finger on it for a lot of reasons. He was a colleague, maybe there was some rule about this type of thing, and more than that, he was divorced. You never asked how much of that past relationship affected him - personally, the age difference also left you a little apprehensive and in lack of hope, after all, he might prefer someone who was in the same age group (if he wanted someone at all).

The feeling stayed buried in your heart, untouched, invisible. Jonathan would touch your shoulder or look at you while listening to what you had to say, and that was the closest you got to keeping a warm feeling about him. 

“I didn't see you at the congress this week.” He stood in front of your seated figure during the lunch break and when you raised your head, you saw him towering over you with a frown. 

Oh. The congress. You wish you could, for sure, it was the best way to find funding for your research work and everyone you liked was there with panels or other interesting projects - but then your supervisor came with that stupid thing about restructure some classes and the time you didn't have was reduced even further.

Maybe Jonathan noticed it. God, maybe everyone noticed your grumpy behavior, but now he was looking at you with a concerned expression and you sighed, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes to give him more than an ugly face. 

“I’m not participating in it.” 

“Not even as a visitor?”

“Let's just say I've been a little busier lately.” 

Explaining the situation to him was like taking a big weight from your shoulders. As always, he listened carefully, even pulling a chair to sit at a certain point in your complaint.

“The thing is that I’m almost done, but sincerely I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to do anything for, like, months now.” 

“Maybe you just need to take your mind out of work for a time.” He said in a low tone, which made you scoff. 

“How?” 

“I don’t know, there’s a lot of things you can do.” There was an hesitancy in his voice, as if he wanted to verbalize something but was thinking better of it. You waited, even if the idea of believing you knew him that much sounded stupid and naive. “Why don’t we… Have a few drinks after this?”

You stared at him in awe, not daring to open your mouth and compromise yourself with any embarrassing thing. Well, this was… Okay. Drinks. You can have a few drinks. He’s Jonathan, after all, and he wanted to help you. 

“Drinks?” The smile you gave him was genuine, making him tilt his head to the side and follow the movement of your face hiding in the palm of your hand. 

“Just a few.” 

“Yeah. Right. A few.” 

“We can set a limit, like, two whole bottles of wine. For each other, I mean.” 

You both laughed while you slapped his arm lightly for the teasing. 

--------------------------

“Since when did you smoke?” 

It was late, probably after midnight, but none of you were feeling able to leave the bar at that moment. With more than a few drinks, your head was buzzing with that good feeling of the alcohol letting you be more free, and Jonathan looked the same, even if he made a better half-drunk person than you, staying with the quiet side of this state of mind. 

The place was nice, not new but away from the university to prevent any student surprises. Nothing too fancy, nor cheap - balanced enough that you could wear a dress at least. And he was… Him. Blue t-shirt. Jeans. Glasses. Nothing out of ordinary until, of course, he asked if you would be okay to keep him company at the smoking area. 

“Disappointed?”

“Surprised, is all. I don’t think I’m in the position to be disappointed with you.” 

Then Jonathan stared at you, his face illuminated by the cigarette and the light coming from the inside. He watched your stance, per se, head to toe, taking in the hands behind your back that were supporting your body, because you leaned back just a touch to look at the sky. It felt different. It was different. You weren’t in your job clothes, so the position could give a good glimpse of your cleavage and neck, even your thighs considering the wind flowing through the skirt of the dress. 

In a way, the choice wasn’t intentional. You fully wanted to feel more able to fit in the place, to pretend you didn’t have work to do back in your apartment and to really make the encounter a night out. He has stayed indifferent from it since you arrived - well, at least until that moment. 

Then you would lie if you said that didn’t bring a specific warm on you.

“You put a lot of faith in me.” Jonathan blew the smoke out of his mouth.

“... You’re on the list of the ‘cool teachers’, Jonathan. This is more than proof of your competence as a person.”

“I should be the one cheering you up.” He turned his body to you lazily.

“We can do that with each other too.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s fair. I’m just a miserable man who has no more solution.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic!” You grunted before walking in his direction to give him a better look. “Hindu spirituality: Post Classical and Modern, page… 80. There's no difference between knowledge and devotion, both of them save the soul from the miseries of worldly life.”

“Tulsidas, I suppose.” He teased.

“Mm-hm.”

“And how do you know that so clearly?”

“I just like this phrase enough to know it by heart.”

“Nerd.” With that, he gained a slap on the chest and there was a light laugh that easily turned into silence. For your luck, Jonathan turned his head to blow the smoke away from your face, because then you could look at his profile with care.

Yeah, definitely, he was such a beautiful man. His nose, his beard, the curls of his hair… You would blame the alcohol later, but for a moment, when he just leaned his head against the wall and stared at the sky as you had before, your eyes wandered on his features, taking in every detail you wouldn’t be able to see in other circumstances. 

You would blame the alcohol later. Hell, you would. But then he looked back at you, sensing your stare, and you just knew that if someone asked, if someone dared to ask why that moment of simple adoration filled you, your mouth would say something about the beers, but your mind would remind you that the only responsible for that was Jonathan - Jonathan and his beautiful eyes. 

“You look beautiful tonight.” He whispered, the cigarette long forgotten on the floor while he held the side of your face with cold fingers. 

“Cheering me up?” 

“No.” A head shake. “It’s a statement. You look beautiful everyday, tonight is no exception, but… Back then I could stay at a distance.”

“Not now.”

“Not when you look at me like that.”

The first touch of his lips on yours was determined, even if a little tentative because it was really new for both of you. It felt also innocent, at least from the start, when he limited himself to taste just your lips. Gently, you pulled him closer by his neck, which he reciprocated with his arms circling your waist and his tongue brushing your lips to deep the kiss. 

The abrupt stop made you gasp. Jonathan stood a few feet away from you, a hand on his mouth and it didn't take you long to feel the first wave of rejection by the way he looked suddenly surprised. 

You wanted to say something. You should say something. He was standing there, really creating a big distance between you both, as if you’re some kind of plague he needed to stay away immediately. Being really honest, you would cry if the shock wasn’t so paralyzing. 

“Jon…”

“Nn-nn. No, just… I… I’m sorry, this…” His voice was firm and he paced back and forth a few times with indecision. “... Sorry. Really. Let’s just… I’ll take you home.”

Huh?

“What are you talking about?”

“This shouldn’t have happened, we… It’s not right.” 

Not right. Okay. 

Then the tears came, but you didn’t dare to let it show in front of him. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, thinking about what to say, and trying to avoid looking at his regretful face as much as possible.

“... I can do it myself.”

“No, at least let me…”

“Fuck off, Jonathan.” Your voice was bitter and full of a specific type of pain. “Just… Let me go.”

And he did. He fucking did. It made you more angry because, at the end of the day, after all you could ever imagine for a good relationship with him, he gave you a taste of heaven just to throw you in the dirt right after. 

If you cried in regret that night, he wouldn’t have the pleasure to know. 

---------------------------

Taglist

@paintlavillered

#jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy #jonathan levy fic #scenes from a marriage #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fandom

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

A brief, terrible joy

It was a time when, for a while, people stopped.

I wasn't sure what a thing like "stopping" would even mean, but it sure was happening. Even our very bodies, so well adapted to what we knew as Earth, seemed to forget how to go on. Our cells slowed. Our hearts flickered, and in the heat of a hot summer. Our blood cells clogged up and then began to dissolve. I remember seeing one of the city's few remaining public pools dry up and then be drained, and standing there next to a young woman who thought this was all so terribly beautiful.

We were all supposed to feel this as some sort of terrible, painful tragedy.

I do not think our city was a particularly good city. I have never felt that the city's inhabitants would have preferred their city in a different shape. Certainly, I can imagine what it was like to build and to move through a better city. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but the city always seemed to do its best to turn all its people into unhappy, depressed people. The city wasn't very big. It was built to live in, not to inspire a sense of its inhabitants as great actors on the world stage.

We tried to make the city different, in any way we could. We built on higher and higher and higher stories in an attempt to reach up into the light. We tried to change the shape of the buildings, but that was hard to do when most buildings had been designed to house a lot of people. Our parks were always well-tended, but the people themselves were not, so a lot of them were shabby and overgrown. We tried to raise everyone to a common level. Our schools were not quite bad enough to be truly horrible, but a lot of the teachers we had were very old and very confused. So were a lot of the children. We tried to raise the average IQ of the city, but it wasn't enough to raise it into something we could call a genius.

Perhaps that was our fault. Perhaps the genius population of any city grows at an unsustainable rate, and the city suffers for it. Perhaps you can't have a healthy, happy city with millions of people on the streets, shouting over each other to be heard over the noise of their city's engines. Perhaps it's just not that simple.

But still -- there were some brief, terrible joys.

Of course, it wasn't all fun and games. We knew we were killing all of us, all of us in the city. But at least there was joy in knowing that the light was getting closer. There were times when I would feel the floor start to tilt towards us and then I would think of our great tower and of the city above it, and I would know that at least, for a while, it didn't have to be like this. There were times when there was just a glimmer of hope in our collective, collective, collective heart.

I am not proud of this. There are times I am ashamed, even. The city was still a terrible place to live -- even the people in the towers still knew no peace, in those brief, terrible times. And I know I should not be allowed to complain about how things were, when things got better. And they did get better, even if for only a little while. And we did feel terrible, for only a little while, when we stopped.

(I need to stop before this gets worse.)

#original fiction

[one-abuse-survivor]

Hello,

A new anonymous here. You can reffer to me as Al

I want to first apologise, if I will forget about anything that's in tumbrl etiquette, while asking you. I am still quite new to tumbrl and didn't figure out everything out.

Secondly I want to apologise for any bad grammar, as while I trust in my english speaking skills, it still isn't my native language.

I wanted to ask you,

Do you know about any subtler signs of abuse of any kind? I am right at the moment in a place, where I feel my parents might be abusive and I started to search up the issues, but while I might relate to a few of the things I have found, It never was too bad for me to feel like it is justified to think my parents are abusive, because as much as I feel hurt by them many many times, there are times when they are supportive in some way to make me doubt myself.

They have never called me too bad words, they didn't tell me that I am stupid or that I am worthless, though sometimes the way how they speak make me feel like that. My mother at the moment usually calls me pig, for no reason, but she told it in such nonchalant casual way that I don't know if it isn't just a teasing and I am not overreacting. However it wouldn't also be the first and possibly last time, she has start calling me nicknames by some traits that I have. Usually after I try to tell her I do not like something and we fight, she loves to bring out the things and tell me that I am being too oversensitive or that I need to toughten up to the outer world because people will be even more ruthless there.

For every bad thing I think they are doing, I can point the fact that they did gave me at some point support or buy me something or were actually nice to me, which makes it even more sting when the more serious fights happen.

The reason I have reached out, was the last major fight with my father, who I also think is abusive. I had a partime job during summer, where the normal customs were that if you didn't want to work the day, you could just text you aren't going that day. I had been dealing with major burn out a month before the incident, so I was more home than working, which should be understandable as I had my finals done this year and my parents were fine with that until one day my father have decided to harsly wake me up, when I wasn't feeling really well mentally and physically and when I told him that I am not going he called me a spoiled brat, that can't be count on.

Which truly wound me as both of my parents come to me first, when they are in need of money, because I am usually responsible enough to have some. WHile they returned it, being called a person that they can't count on truly hurts, especially when my sibling didn't even care to write to the same parttime job and they didn't get scolded.

What also hurt is, that my mother tried to justify my fathers action and if she wouldn't hard push my father into it, he wouldn't apologise. Even during the apology, it was very much clear he thought he was in the right and that he was just teaching me a lesson. They keep tellign me, that as parents they are allowed to "morally poke me" and that they are allowed to raise their voice at me, because they are my parents and that their tones of their voice doesn't mean anythign and I should just accept it and hug it out, while also reprimanding me for my voice being disrespectful, because I, not even five minutes after being hardly woken up, dared to shift my tone of my voice to fight back after my father says such words.

There is a lot more that comes to my mind, especially about them being coercive on how I spend my money, or my mother telling all my family that I will become a teacher, before I have even decied where I will go to the university, pressuring me to have educational course, but if I would name all things that came to my mind, this post would be even longer than it already is. Maybe if you will be okay with me reaching out at some point again, I would truly appretiate that. There is no pressure of course.

I am truly sorry for the info dump and possibly vent. I am just very confused and I don't know if I am being abused or not and trying to figure out. There is no pressure in replying immidiately I know, you propably get a lots of asks and have also a very busy life, so it's okay.

Still thank you, if you will respond in any way and I hope you have a wonderful day even after reading the mess of an message I wrote to you. 💖

Hey there, nonnie ❤️ you can absolutely reach out again, however many times you need! And don't worry, English isn't my first language either and I understood everything you said :)

Thank you, I did have a nice day today. I hope yours was good too and the burnout has gotten better.

To address your concerns: I think every instance of hurtful behaviour toward you that you've listed here is a subtler sign of abuse. Therefore, yes, I do think your parents are abusing you from what you've shared here.

No, they don't just get to raise their voices at you or "jokingly" call you names because they're your parents. That's verbal abuse. And no, they don't get to "morally poke you" if that means calling you oversensitive and telling you to toughen up when you show any emotions, needs, or reactions they don't like. That's emotional abuse and victim-blaming. Your mother calling you names related to traits of yours after you tell her you don't like those things about yourself is also incredibly emotionally abusive.

Moreover, your father calling you a spoiled brat for making sensible and reasonable decisions regarding your mental health is also hurtful and, in this context, does sound abusive. Especially so if this kind of behaviour from him has happened before, where he randomly picks apart your decisions and insults and belittles you.

And, nonnie, I understand why it's hard to discern if your parents are abusive when they're good parents half of the time. My own mother was a great mother in some aspects. I think the majority of abuse victims/survivors can name one good thing their abuser has done for them for every bad thing the abuser has done. Please know that the good things do not take away from the abuse. In fact, in many cases, they can make the trauma even more complicated to deal with, because, as a victim/survivor, you can feel so much guilt and confusion to the point of mentally siding with them against yourself, and this can make you hesitant to label it "abuse" or to seek help. Their good moments can be what traps you in the belief that you're exaggerating and don't deserve better.

So, yes, even if your abuse doesn't feel as overt or violent as other people's, and even if your parents have had as many good moments as they've had bad ones, it is abuse, and you deserve better. You deserve to get out of this situation. You deserve to look for help and support.

You don't deserve to be called names. You don't deserve to be mistreated and then be told you're overreacting and that the world is going to be cruel. You deserve to stand up for yourself. You deserve to go into the world expecting to be treated with respect and basic decency by everyone you come across. You don't deserve to let others walk you over. By teaching you that, your parents are setting you up for a lifetime of accepting the bare minimum from others, ignoring red flags, and assuming you deserve and are overreacting to any abuse and mistreatment that comes your way. That is extremely unfair, damaging, and dangerous.

I hope some of this helps to hear. I also really hope you can get away from your parents and find the support you need to heal from what they're putting you through. And just know the label "abuse" is going to be there for you to reclaim it as yours, whenever you're ready.

Sending all my support your way ❤️

#Ask #Al anon #Abuse #Abuse tw #Abusive parents #Signs of abuse #Verbal abuse tw #Emotional abuse tw #Vent #Abusive mother tw #Abusive father tw

[abyssalhuntersnerd]

Alright, y'all. Let's talk for a little today. Since I finished my second semester, it's time for me to update you on shit cause I am. A busy woman. I passed all of my classes though, so that's that. :^)

So, if you've been here for a little while, you might have noticed I've been... Acting a little bit more grumpier than usual during these past few months. And there's a reason and while I can talk about it, I can't really go into intensive details because:

One, gotta and want to be respectful to everyone who's involved in this mess.

And two, there's things that I really want to keep to myself and some that I really feel like I gotta get out somewhere before my feelings suffocate me and this is one of them.

So, right around New Years, someone who I really appreciate, got sick. I won't specify who it is and what they have cause I know they are reading this and they would be upset if I revealed any of that stuff. They will be fine. But we are gonna leave it there because I'm not here to attack them or want anyone to hate them. And if you do read this, understand that I'm here for peace and I'm only doing this to update the fishies that deserve an explanation.

Due to this, my life has been fucking crazy, most of my free time is gone. I have to take care of this person and deal with my parents and their shit. Which is a lot. A freaking lot. It has been so bad that I had to drop out some of my classes out of my own volition so I wouldn't have a damn mental breakdown. I also had some issues with some of my teachers ignoring my ass or calling me too forgetful because well, oh, I won't be able to remember something I've never done before and you didn't explain it beforehand but I'm the one to blame. I was too exhausted to keep up and was more focused in other things (Listed above) so I decided that it was for my own good to quit. Thankfully I'll be able to take those same modules next year which makes me extremely happy but I really hope I get better classmates next year and the same goes for my teachers. But alas, can't have it all.

But I won't lie, this decision has been really tough on me, more than I'd like to admit and was met with so little support that I have been feeling completely invalidated and like an idiot. Even though I am one of the best students in class, but alas, people won't see your worth as a student in your grades apparently or anything because quitters are lazy. Or the fact that you are in the top 10 students who will pass and won't be kicked out. Never in my life have I ever wanted to persue something so badly but was met with so much disapproval from the people I love. I think what sucks more is that I am doing people a favor by doing this and I'm being treated like shit for it. So you can imagine how I feel.

But then, when they freaking need me I always have to be there for them and can't complain about it. Irony at its finest. I'm so tired.

Not only that, but I'm so emotionally exhausted. Drama is just everywhere and anywhere. I just can't catch a damn break and it's affecting me so much I'm not really sure what I feel anymore. Which is a huge problem because relapse is not something I can allow myself right now.

Nothing brings me joy, nothing calms me down and the only thing I want to do is sleep. I miss my classes. I miss the days I felt something and was able to create things. I feel like I'm right back where I started 3 years ago. And it's horrible.

I'm not trying to blame anyone here. No hate towards them or anything, but I wanna be honest for once and really talk about what is happening in my private life and stop with the damn excuses. Things have been really rough y'all. I'm so exhausted that I've run out of words to explain my situation anymore because why would I talk about it when no one can really do anything about it and all I can do is pity myself? I hate when people repeat themselves and that includes me.

I'll be fine. They will be fine. But if I suddenly disappear for a few days from time to time, now you know why.

I need a vacation. Sighs. And to feel something.

#normal posts

[fanficwriter284]

Chucky: Story Of My Life

All right let's get this shit over with. Alright so let's start off with the basics I was born in Hackensack New Jersey, My parents were Lukas Ray and Julia Ray. My dad's German/Austrian and my mom was German and French. When I was a baby we went back to Germany for some reason and lived there till I was 5 or 6. Then we went back to the United States and I didn't speak English. My parents spoke broken English but primarily spoke German.

On the plane ride, I was scared and nervous since I didn't understand a word people said. School was a struggle at first. Like a month before I started school, my parents tried to teach me English. So when I went to class I had no idea what my teachers were trying to tell me so, when the teacher tried to get to know me and the only words I knew were Yes, No, and Ok. So when they asked me questions all I said was Yes and No. Till they eventually caught on and realized that I didn't speak English, so I needed to do special classes. The only subject I knew how to do and was actually good at was math. Eventually, I could hold a conversation and semi-understand English.

Home life was shit. Had a fuckin alcoholic as a father and a mother who was never really there. Always working. Whenever she was there me and her got our asses beat by my father. Or whenever she would walk in on him beating my ass she would just watch horror and didn't do much to help. Most she did was clean off my cuts and that was about it. Normally to calm myself down I would draw or paint. In art class, the teacher always told me to sell a few pieces. Eh, I sold a few but I really never stuck to selling them. At school, I played the piano and guitar, and I was considered to be quite good at it I guess. As I got older I became more distant from my classmates and I just never really liked people.

Let's see ummmm. Oh In the 4th grade that's where I met Tiff. Ok, I'm not going to lie but at first, I hated her. She always followed me around and never left me alone. Till me being the asshole that I am I snapped and told her to fuck off. Then I actually felt bad. I know right. ME of all people felt bad for hurting some person's feelings. Anyways, I went and apologized to her. We became friends and Blah Blah Blah! You know the rest of that story. How I killed my dad and all that jazz. My mother committed suicide leaving with that monster. I got put into the foster system, which sucked. And I got put into a foster home with a woman named Mary Hiddle. I was a jerk to her at the beginning but eventually, me and her eventually grew close. BUT things went downhill and she lost her job. So we had to move to Chicago and lived with her mom. Later she eventually got back on her feet and she adopted me. Then we moved back to Jersey, where Tiff and I reunited and eventually started dating! Uhhh am I forgetting anything? Oh yeah, Eddie. We met Ed when we were in the 9th grade I think 10th maybe eh I don't remember. Around that time and we befriended each other. We did some fun shit and had a good time. I was doing college classes in middle school and I didn't pay for anything since I had good grades and I did sports so that was cool I guess. But my Mom got sick and we found out she had cancer. So....uh....yeah.....She eventually passed away after 5 years of battling cancer....and uh...I don't know what else ta say.

Ok what else???? Uhhhhhh.... Oh! Eventually, me and Tiff moved in with each other. Yes I know it's supposed to be Tiffany and I for proper grammar and shit but I don't give a damn so deal with it. Anyway, We had the time of our lives and went on killing sprees. It was some of the best years I had. Then life turned upside down. Getting shot and killed and becoming a doll and all that good stuff. Eh, I won't bore you with the details, you already know what happened. And now I'm happily married and have two kids. You know with me there's never a dull moment.

#Chucky #Tiffany #Glen #Glenda #Rays #chucky #chiffany #childs play #charles lee ray #chucky x tiffany #raysforever #tiffany valentine #chuckyxtiffany #glen and glenda #young charles lee ray #young tiffany #young chiffany #Eddie

[thyhappynotions]

I just woke up to tell my dream. It was wonderful and I don't want to forget it. So I was pretending to be dumb in a store, I asked the cashier if is this is for something, obviously sarcasm and this guy near me hated me according to how I act. I hate to say I don't quite remember this scene but he gave me a purple milkshake. Later on the next day after school, yeah can't believe I'm dreaming in my school but few places are changed. I found him sitting at the bench alone, his name was Alex. I talked to him and I don't know it felt good.

Next day after school again, my old friend greeted me and my old classmate behind me asked, "you know ga?" I said "No, I don't even know him", actually I do but I didn't recognize. Then, I asked someone if they've seen Alex. Alex is a known guy I suppose but he's lonely. They said he's over there, I came near and the guy I asked to said don't go, don't come near him. I ignored until I saw few seniors near him but they're facing back. Alex looks so lonely but I had an instinct I may cause trouble if these seniors I don't know knows I talk to him.

After school again, My dad and mom came to pick me up in car which is odd because I commute to home. I came in the car and asked again to step out, I came to Alex and lend him five hundred, "what is this for?", He asked "because you gave me a milkshake" and then I walked away.

Next after school scene AGAIN, I can't help but to talk to him, I saw these seniors again around him talking. As I came near like nothing, they're be littling and bullying him. I wanna defend him but I can't, that's the worst feeling. All I remember is there's a blonde girl, brunette girl, Asian guy idrk..Again and again I saw him with these people but this time it's different, a girl is flirting with him. It's disgusting because she is way more older than Alex.

I invited him in my house to feel safe and he was comfortable, I'm happy. I don't know but I have this urge to protect him. But he already have to go, next time he invited me in his house and I saw a large swimming pool from a high place. It was terrifying and someone said don't go there only Alex can swim there. I was like, umm ok I would never go there and I lied that I can't swim. Alex walked beside me and he jumped in the pool in from that high place. I can say that he's wealthy. Next day he came to me in a garden with his dog and my other friend I don't even know but she has brown hair and younger than me. We we're playing and I don't mind if his bullies will come because I think they're outnumbered. We we're having fun and we came in an open area, suddenly the bullies walked around us in different positions, cornering us " why are you with him?? " I was scared I said " It wasn't me who came first, he did!! " and I ran away. I know it's a bad decision but I saw him the next day and I'm doing boring stuffs like sneaking.

To the weird part, us three were sitting in an open grass area, talking. Then this psychopath woman shouted to us up there, she's holding a sniper and the bullies were also up there. I don't remember what they said and there's this girl again with two buns, with bangs an dyed hair colored yellowish green seem to have something with Alex. Umm, yes the woman shot me and my friend. Alex is between us and he's nearly shot. I was there lying and suddenly my perspective moved with my history teacher, knowing what happened. They were frightened and suddenly crying even though my teacher hasn't said anything yet. She's talking to them sarcastically " why are you looking behind me, is there something? " well behind her is where I was laying, being shot. Soon they were called. I don't know is I was really shot or pretended I was but Alex was crying.

Next scene in classroom, we were having a quiz this last period and I couldn't write properly, I took a lot of paper to rewrite my answers and it's not cooperating. I remember when i was trying to write the word "tanghalan" I wrote "science" instead and I told my teacher that something is wrong to me, i know what to write but my hand is writing on its own. I told her to come and I will show but then I can't find the paper, it was just like there and it disappeared. She came back to his place and my classmate showed her something in his phone, she called names of two smart guys in class. Knowing they're in a cheating group, it's a real issue in my school. So they went in the principals office and we were left in class. Alex was suddenly my classmate. My friend came near me and talked to me, It was awkward because Im ignoring him in real life for some reason, I am ignoring them because I don't use social media's anymore and the last time I was with them I feel.. hatred? Or avoidance... He patted my head and I moved, I came near Alex and saw him sitting on the floor too, it's normal since it's free time. We took pictures in his gadget and his dad messaged him, he was happy, I saw his chat with his family and they were getting along, they're even playing something to have fun together. I asked him if can I try to play too? He gave me and I couldn't play properly because my perspective is far and suddenly blurred. That's the last thing I remembered..

I can say that Alex is gr00m3d and bullied, so he's lonely. People dont come near him because they thought he's bad. I even thought he was in the first place but hey, he gave me a drink. It's weird to say I like people in my dreams and i hope i can meet them in real life.

[99problemsbutthisblogaint1]

Dad’s Eulogy - 08/11/22

While it seems like we were gathering here not that long ago for mum’s funeral it has actually been a minute, so for those of you don’t know me I’m Michael, John’s favourite son.

My job today is to try and put into words how kind and gentle the man you all knew as John, was as my father. Fortunately for me, the source material I’m working with is long and varied.

In the last year, and especially few weeks of dad’s life, music therapy became an important outlet for him. Starting with learning to pick up his guitar again, singing with the voice we all know and love so well and finally on his last day, having his music therapist Rowan play some of his fondest tunes to help him peacefully leave our lives.

I was lucky enough to join dad during some of his sessions and we will be showing a couple of snippets from them following these eulogies. During one particular “jam session”, although dad’s ability to play the guitar had long gone, he was still able to sing along (every word mind you, with no lyric sheets to be found) and at the end of the song when asked what he thought of that rendition, as quick as a flash, dad replied – “Not bad, probably around a 6 out of 10”. To be fair, I think he was mostly scoring his contribution. But when further pushed by me he offered up these words of wisdom - “The songs are there, you’ve just got to find them.”

His gentle nature and decades of being a teacher were always close at hand.

One of my favourite facts about dad was that he took two years off working to stay home with Liz and I while mum went back to work. Even in 2022, that would be seen as quite radical but in the late 80s it was almost unheard of.

On top of that, I had the pleasure of having dad, I mean Mr. Nicholson, teach me for two years during primary school. And while I always thought he was a great teacher as well as being the best dad in the world, I often wondered what the other students thought and whether my perspective might have been slightly coloured by bias.

After I shared the news of dad’s death on social media the comments started to come in.

A previous student of dad’s wrote: “It’s more than 40 years since I was in your dad’s Year 4 classroom but I can remember him reading to us all straight after lunch in an effort to get us all to calm down. There was something soothing in that voice.”

I think most of us here today still have the pleasure of being able to hear dad’s calming voice in our heads. Something we will try to hold onto for as long as we can.

A few of my primary school mates also chimed in with one saying, “I still have vivid memories of what a great teacher John was, he left a lifelong lasting impression for so many people.”

Another added, “Remembering in deep gratitude the gift of an education for life that you father gave to me. I’ll never forget his generosity, impact and encouragement on my own journey in life.”

And lastly, “He was always nice to me even after having me for detention.” That checks out.

Even one day at the aged care facility when he had visitors and I was asking him about his experience of teaching me. It went something like this.

Dad do you remember teaching me?

Him: Ahhh yes.

Me: Was I naughty?

Dad: Well you weren’t naughty… (he paused, then I saw the cheeky twinkle in his eye)…. you just wouldn’t keep your mouth shut.

Always firm but fair.

Dad was a man that never swore (ok maybe there might have been once or twice on the tennis court, but it was mostly at himself) and was never at us… and definitely never at mum. How could he? Him and Carms were a perfectly imperfect couple – one of life’s true great love stories.

Given that my wedding to Cara is just around the corner, he will always remain a shining example of how I want to be as a husband and father – patient, helpful, loving.

On the one hand, it weighs heavily on my heart that Cara didn’t get as much time with dad as either of us would have liked. But on the other hand, I will sincerely cherish the time we did get to spend together as a family. And I know exactly how dad felt about our upcoming marriage. From the day Cara walked into my life, dad welcomed her with open arms.

With that all in mind, there was still trepidation with telling dad of our engagement because as his condition declined, we didn’t know exactly how he would react to emotional news of any nature.

But on the day Cara and I told dad we were engaged – he stood bolt upright, with tears in his eyes and exclaimed “this is the best news ever! I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time!”.

I’ll remember that moment forever and be comforted to know that all of us in attendance will be bringing his energy to the festivities on New Year’s Eve.

I could go on and on about dad, such as the time he went to fill up his tyres with air at the petrol station and was confronted by a woman asking him whether he had intended to leave the house wearing a particular item on his back…. It was a metal coat hanger clinging to his jumper. Or perhaps go on about his obsession with movies and DVDs that has probably lead to staff at Big W and JB Hi-Fi wondering why sales across the past year are well down year on year – but dad would be happy if we wrapped this all up sooner rather than later, as was his nature. Never wanting to be the centre of attention, always happy to be the supporting role, clearing a plate at a party or politely sitting off to the side watching as the chaos unfolded around him.

Dad left us all as he had lived his life, with little to no fuss, quietly and with family and music always nearby.

The songs are there, you’ve just got to find them.

Love you forever dad. 💙💛

[ljbrary]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @anxiety-banana HEY AB ILY I'M SORRY I KNOW YOU TAGGED ME IN THIS A MONTH AGO SO THIS IS SO LATE BUT STILL

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

22

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

101,550

3. What fandoms do you write for?

right now ive been writing for the last of us but most of my fics are star wars (specifically most of them are the clone wars) and i have one six of crows fic

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

all of them are star wars fics

lean on me (but let me laugh, first)

don't fix it if it's not broken (but broken's only a point of view)

fill the hollow space with silence (and other words of comfort that aren't so comforting)

it's a process (you wouldn't understand)

it's not good grief (but it's better)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i think i get to most of them and i seriously try my best to but like i struggle with replying to even my texts irl and i have no concept of time at all (the adhd is adhd-ing unfortunately) but every single one literally makes my life

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i think either the love only lasts so long (the grief lasts longer, the guilt never leaves) or this silence hurts worse than the truth (if only you would tell it) which are quite literally the same exact situation just from different povs because i have never had an original thought in my life. it's post-mortis arc in the clone wars with anakin and ahsoka and the transparently trauma-shaped elephant in the room between them.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i honestly have no idea? so im just going to say my tlou fic statistically significant because although its bittersweet it ends with joel and ellie together and thats literally all i need to be happy at this point in my life.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, but i probably should.

(that was a joke. but like if i did its fine bc i have 3 brothers who've already found my ao3 and bullied me for it so the hater would prob need to get real creative after all that lmao.)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

no

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

no i dont have the executive functioning skills necessary to plan one of those out but they sound interesting.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

guys my fics aren't that good. if someone stole it they'd just return it no worries.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no i haven't but that would be sick.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

like ab said in her post, ab, ash, and i tried but it just never came to fruition but it was a fun attempt

also my older brother and i when we were younger tried to write a percy jackson fic together.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

i like found family more than romantic stuff, but if i have to choose definitely percabeth because they are the reason i have unrealistic expectations in life.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

ALL OF THEM IM SO BAD AT FINISHING THEM

16. What are your writing strengths?

thats so funny lmfao

okay but self deprecation aside idk maybe like imagery or metaphors sometimes? also apparently writing emotion ig? my english teacher in high school told me i was good at the psychological aspect of understanding a character and their actions/emotions but i don't know man

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

for starters, starting. im supremely bad at starting things. i always struggle with intros/the beginning of writing pieces. and i struggle with plotting/planning things. i also am incapable of writing genuine dialogue, every conversation i write sounds so disjointed and awkward. i also tend to focus too much on the introspective aspect of characters and forget about that irrelevant little thing called a "plot."

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i made up my own language for a few star wars fics and it was so atrocious that i can't even bring myself to reread them again so i think i'll be staying away from that one for a little while.

however if i was smart or savvy enough to pull it off i would totally do it that would be sick.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

percy jackson when i was 10 years old on wattpad. my older brother and i co-wrote the fic and then i made my friend at school edit it on the computers in the library. still have yet to live that one down.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

weighted words hurt more than loaded fists (if you know how to use them) i have a soft spot for it even though it's one of my least popular fics in terms of like hits and kudos. its just a found family (shocker, i know) modern/foster care au with rex and ahsoka. i like the imagery, metaphors, and just the vibes overall.

okay leaving this open to anyone who wants to do it!!

#fic

[a-bruised-display]

I'm going to preface this by stating that I am nonbinary, and I do firmly place myself under the transgender umbrella. I use they/them pronouns and I refuse to be anything other than proud of who I am. This will always be difficult, though, as no one around me ever seems to respect who I am. I started college just a few weeks ago, and the struggle and pain to even begin is nothing less of disheartening. I've always struggled with money, my family could be described as 'in poverty' with ease. And after I came out to them? Any support I might have had, even just rides to and from the college, vanished like thin smoke. They do not care about me, perhaps they even detest me. Any given opporutinty to disrespect me and they will, any chance to bad-talk anyone transgender and they will. They use my deadname constantly, assigning me pronouns that physically pain me to hear. I thought college would be different, you know? I thought I could find like-minded people, maybe even solace. I've found nothing, though. Just mountains of debt and smug professors who bear down on me. I wear a simple wristband displaying the pride colours, because this is who I am and I refuse to be ashasmed, but I can feel the stares. The weight of disapproval and the student-body glaring at me. I had the courage to ask just one of my professors about using my chosen name and pronouns-- I was rebuked. My name is Tori. Tell me why that is so difficult? So unttainable? I refuse to be ashamed, this is who I am and I will not back down-- but I feel the pain everyday. I am the outcast and the other, the thing to sneer at. You would think you'd get used to it, after a time, but each jab still feels like a dagger straight through the chest.

I struggle with finding a job, and believe me I've tried. I live in a fairly urban area and I submit 5-10 job applications on a weekly basis. I've applied to everything I can possible think of and is offered, but nothing ever gets back to me. Or if it does it always accompanies the "We don't feel you're right for this position." To be honest, I'm not sure what the 'right' fit is for a janitor, but it leaves me disheartened nontheless. I struggle with trying to move out of my family home, I'm much too pained by the dismissal and disrespect over my idenity. But wouldn't you know? I was denied for that too. I can't share a room with any dormmates because of my idenity, and single room dorms are far too expensive. I'm already in enough debt and drowning under the weight of it. Perhaps I am too maudlin, because there is hope. I have a single friend who I stake my life upon. She actually uses my name, you know? Tries my pronouns quite often. She forgets sometimes and messes up on others, but she tries and I am forever grateful for it. In a few years, once we progess farther in college and amass even more debt I can never pay off, we plan to move in together. Some crappy, cheap apartment somewhere while we figure things out and work towards our goals. I want to be a teacher. Isn't that funny? But it's true, I want to be a teacher. My life was shaped by my teachers growing up, for good or for ill. And while I had some lovely teachers that encourges and helped me-- I had just as many who were downright horrible. I seek to levy that balance, help the students I can and try to find my own happiness in the meantime. If I can help just one student like how my favoured teachers helped me-- saving my life with ink and prose, then I would consider my life a life well-lived. I don't want to stop there, though. I want to help all the students I can, teach them and help them grow. And one day? One day I want to be happy, living under my own name and in my own body. Hopefully with less debt while I'm at it.

#transgenderfirst

[the-insomniac-cat2]

When he says 'Wednesdays. Are the new Fridays.' and looks down the camera with That Look Of His™, it's like you had till Friday to hand in your homework but the class has played up so much today he's pissed, and got a headache coming on, and so Now. Wednesday. Is Friday.

#I haven't been to school in #I'm not telling you #*decades* #But we had a few teachers so bad you never quite forget them #Luckily in time I've realised what eejits most of them were #But some were cruel and wouldn't have got away with their shit back then #Like throwing a shoe at you #Or #Nah let's not go into it #I don't mean Tom brings on bad memories #No no no #That's not what I mean ata ll #It's just that look #And that jumper #And that voice #All he needs is glasses

[sugas-sweetheart]

This is a dumb ask but the jjk cast (or how many characters you want) with an SO whose got glasses? Very near sighted, theyd have to a scooch up to five inches away until they can see clearly.

A/N: help i kinda felt this my eyesight is so bad but I haven’t had my eyes tested in like 8 years so I don’t have glasses LMAO my friend used to read me the notes in class bc my teacher didn’t let me take a photo of the board - i only did the few characters that i could think of an idea for so please feel free to request for someone else if you want to see them here <3

Title: Glasses 

Genre/warnings: none!! general sweet headcanons, megumi is concerned about your eyesight, they just want you to remember your glasses okay, reader is a sorcerer in makis i guess, not proofread as per usual

Pairings: Itadori Yuji, Gojo Satoru, Zen’in Maki, Fushiguro Megumi x gn!reader (separate) 

Format: written headcanon (makis is exactly 100 words omg) 

reblogs appreciated!

Itadori Yuji 

 ⤷   He adores you so much. Even with your poor eyesight. Yuji is probably one of those kids who has always had near perfect vision and it’s just always been something he has, he doesn’t gloat about it like other people do. He’ll happily get photos of things you can't read and zoom in for you, he’ll even read it out to you if that’s easier. If you’re forgetful about your glasses, he’s constantly reminding you to grab them or wear them, or will pick them up for you if you’ve left them on the side somewhere. Sometimes lets a chuckle out when he sees you scooting closer to something and offers to read it for you. 

Gojo Satoru

⤷   Absolute menace. Teases you about your glasses quite a bit, but he also bought you both matching glasses. So you now have a pair of round, tinted glasses with your required prescription in, and he doesn’t regret buying them ever. He will often carry them around sometimes as a spare, just in case you ever forget your own glasses and require them. He will help if you ever need him to read something, or if you need a photo of something. He means well in his own matching glasses way. 

Zen’in Maki

⤷  She lightly teases you about your eyesight as if she doesn’t need glasses to see curses (we love you Maki i’m sorry). Another one to constantly remind you about glasses, she probably makes sure to send a reminder text every time you two are preparing to go out anywhere whether it be a mission or a day out. She just wants you to be able to go about your day without a hindrance. She probably once hit your glasses off during training and broke them, she apologised profusely before going out with you to get new ones/get them fixed. 

Fushiguro Megumi

⤷  He’s fairly indifferent to it at first, he probably never realised how bad your eyesight was until you forgot your glasses one day. He’s slightly surprised the first time you forget them and he sees you squinting like there’s no tomorrow until he takes a photo of it or reads it out to you. (headcanon that he has really weak prescription glasses for like reading) He let you borrow his glasses once, and when you first put them on, you proceeded to state that it made almost no difference for you. It was then he realised he should always remind you to bring your glasses or grab them for you. 

taglist (open): @justamultifandomfan16 @mattsvn @yee-harr @mushr00m00 @mystic-helena @silkylious @therealcozyy @katsulovee 

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