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#I swear I can math in real life
shinseifer · 1 year
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"average cat owner spends 3 years in prison" factoid actualy just statistical error. average owner spends 0 years in prison. Miette's mother, who kicked her body like the football and went to jail for One Thousand Years is an outlier adn should not have been counted
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riordanness · 4 months
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fictional — [p.jackson]
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2.1K wordcount
warnings: none
requested: no
‘i put myself in another world, where i can be any other girl, cause i don’t really wanna face it. cause if it isn’t real you can pretend all you want…’
I sigh as the lyrics of ‘Fictional’ by Khloe Rose filter through my headphones. My head leans against the cool glass window of the bus, bumping my forehead every time the driver goes over a pothole.
Hey, call me crazy, but this is probably the most relatable song in existence. At least to me. Falling in love with boys from books and movies was basically my job at this point.
I had one, though, that meant more than all my other ‘fictional boyfriends’.
Percy Jackson.
I’d grown up with this character, laughed with him, cried with him, held fast and braved the storm with him. I’d adopted his personality, tried to be like his girlfriend, acted as if we were best friends, talked to him, dreamt about him, read and written fanfiction about him, anything you can think of. I am obsessed, and no, I’m not ashamed of that fact.
I’m five years running with this crush now, and it’s not going anytime soon. I let out another sigh as I realise, yet again, that this is impossible. He’s fictional, as much as it hurts to admit. He isn’t real, and I can’t live my whole life pretending to date and marry a fictional character. Life just doesn’t work like that. Sadly.
The bus pulls up at school, and I climb off, slipping my headphones into my pocket. I’ll probably get them back out during a boring lecture in one of my classes, but for now I’ll just keep the daydreaming at a minimum.
“Hey, girl.” Andie sidles up to me, nudging me with her shoulder. “What’s kicking?”
“Nothing,” I deadpan. “Unless you’re a goat, like Grover Underwood.”
Andie laughs, my sarcastic comment going right over her head. I love her to death, seriously, but the girl hasn’t got an ounce of sarcasm in her. She’s the most literal and honest person ever, but she’s also super sweet and sincere. So, sarcasm isn’t even a word she knows.
“I’m not a goat, silly,” she giggles. “But guess what?!”
“Yeah?” I am actually kind of interested. Andie usually has all the gossip (somehow), so her news tends to be pretty good.
“There’s a new guy in our class today,” she squeals. “Apparently he just moved here from New York.”
“New York is where Percy Jackson lives,” I say automatically. “I wanna visit there someday so bad.”
Andie rolls her pretty eyes. She likes Percy Jackson. I made her read the books, and she did, but just so that she knows what I’m talking about most of the time. “You and your fictional boys, I swear. This is a real boy, y/n! You need to get your head out of a book for once if you ever wanna meet somebody.”
I shrug. “Real boys suck though.”
And even Andie can’t argue with that.
I’m doodling in my notebook, half listening to Mr Mintar explain something about geometry. I’m not terrible at maths, so I figure I’ll just catch up if I need to. My brain doesn’t want to pay attention today.
I perk up, though, when I hear something new.
“Students,” Mrs May, our principal, announces. “We have a new student joining us today. Please be kind to Mr Jackson and show him around. Remember, you were once a new student yourself.”
Jackson? Like Percy Jackson? How cool is that, I thought to myself. I yank my headphones out of my ears and glance up.
A boy is talking quietly with Mr Mintar; who is probably explaining what we’re learning and where he’ll sit. We have assigned seats in basically every class, because a few boys in our grade are idiots, so I sit alone in every class. Apparently, other students are very likely to copy my work if they’re sitting with me, so the teachers decided to make me sit alone all the time. It’s kind of okay, though. Means I can do whatever I want with no one to tell on me for listening to music.
I watch as Mr Mintar talks with his hands, waving them a lot. The boy has his back to me. He has messy black hair, and he’s wearing jeans, converse and a blue hoodie.
Mr Mintar gestures at me, and I sit up straight. The boy glances quickly, nods at Mr Mintar, and I realise what’s happening. He’s being assigned to sit with me, which probably means I'll also be assigned his personal ‘welcome-to-our-school’ guide. Which means I’ll be forced to be this guy’s friend for the next few weeks. Yay.
The boy turns to face me, and I swear my heart literally skipped a beat. Now, this wasn’t like those dumb fanfics where a girl’s celebrity crush just so happens to turn up at her school for some stupid reason, and they fall in love blah blah blah.
This was an honest-to-goodness ‘what the hell is happening’ moment. The boy now walking towards me looks exactly how I’ve always pictured Percy Jackson in my mind. The same crazily messy black hair, loose and slightly curled at the edges, twisting around his ears and falling in his eyes a little bit. He has the same smattering of freckles on his nose, the same tan skin, troublemaker grin, the same glint of determination in his eyes.
And gosh, I’d know those sea-green eyes anywhere.
The boy slides into the seat beside me. “Hi,” he says softly. “You’re y/n?”
I can’t do anything but nod, and I try to not stare at him too hard.
“You’re supposed to be my guide, or something, I think.” The boy sounds apologetic, like he knows how annoying being forced to be a school guide is. “And I’m supposed to sit with you in all my classes.”
I nod again, a little dazed. Even his voice is Percy Jackson-coded. A slight rasp, a little accented, ugh.
I find my voice. “That’s cool. I’d be happy to show you around and get you into the groove of things here at East High.”
The boy smiles, and he has little crinkles at the side of his pretty eyes, as if he smiles a whole lot.
“Awesome. I’m Percy by the way.”
I blink at him, absolutely sure he’s pulling my leg somehow. “What do you mean?” I ask.
Percy frowns. “Like… my name? The thing that people call me? It’s Percy. Percy Jackson.”
I just stare at him.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.
“Your name is Percy Jackson?”
“Yeah?”
“Like the book character,” I add, surprising myself with the calm in my voice. Inside my head, though, I was screaming.
Percy’s brow furrows. “A book character? I dunno. Never heard of a book character called Percy, but there probably is. I don’t read that much. Dyslexia.”
I nod slowly. “Of course.”
Percy frowns again, then chuckles a little. “You’re weird. I like you.”
My tongue feels like someone’s deep fried it in the microwave. I try to swallow, and it’s nearly impossible. “So you’re not messing with me right now? You’re really called Percy Jackson, and you have dyslexia and probably ADHD, and sea-green eyes, and your hair isn’t dyed, and…”
Percy laughs again. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. What’s this about?”
I shake my head. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you.”
Percy raises his eyebrow. “Try me.”
It’s been a week since Percy’s arrival, and I’m still about 89% sure I’m dreaming. Not that I usually dream like this, but still.
I’ve spent basically all my school hours with Percy, as well as half my bus rides home, as his mum lives nearby to us.
The longer I know him, the more I’m sure that he’s real, that he’s actually here, and that he’s really, truly, Perseus Jackson, the not-so-fictional boy I’ve been in love with forever.
The weirdest thing, though, is the night after he arrived, I got home and all my Percy Jackson books and merch were gone. Mysteriously vanished. Even Andie doesn’t know what I’m talking about when I bring up PJO.
It’s like that movie, Yesterday, where everyone forgets about the Beatles. It’s like that, but with Percy Jackson. Oh, and obviously I have a real Percy to replace it; whereas Jack in that movie didn’t really have that.
Anyway, it’s crazy, it’s probably a hallucination, and it’s absolutely incredible. I’m spending every single day with my absolute favourite person in the universe, and he’s real.
The boy I’ve cried over, laughed over, loved for years… He’s here. He’s real. And he’s my friend.
“Marshmallows are not designed to be eaten alone,” I argue, pouting a french fry at Percy. “They aren’t even that nice anyway, but especially not when you eat them dry. All the powder, like, clogs up your throat and it’s disgusting. If you eat them on their own, you’re crazy.”
Percy laughs. “I hate them in my hot chocolates. They get all gooey and mushy, and… ugh.” He makes a face.
I roll my eyes. “You’re insane.”
Percy shrugs. “At least I don’t hate rice.”
“Hey!” I protest. “I have sensory issues! It’s not my fault the feeling of rice in my mouth makes me feel sick.”
“Hey, I know,” Percy says. “I was just kidding. I’m sorry.”
I relax. “It’s okay.”
I stare at him a moment, realising once again that this is really happening to me. That his pretty sea-green eyes are actually looking at me.
“What are you thinking about, love?”
“Huh?” I snap out of my trance, sitting up straighter. “What did you say?”
Percy smirks. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
To be honest, I barely remember. “Uh—nothing. Trying to think of what to do this afternoon after school.”
“You don’t have plans?” he asks.
I shake my head, and sip my chocolate milk. It tastes terrible.
“You’re going on a date with me, dummy,” Percy says, so casually I almost miss it. He leans his head back and throws a grape in the air, catching it in his mouth. It’s surprisingly attractive.
“Wait,” I say. “What?”
“You.” Percy points his finger at me, then himself. “Me.” He makes a swirling motion with his finger. “That new waterpark by the beach.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to go on a date with you?”
“You aren’t saying no.”
“No,” I reply, my voice soft, “I’m not.”
“Wow,” I say. “That’s an epic waterpark.”
Percy grins down at me, his eyes looking extra pretty in the afternoon sunlight. “You wanna race to the gate?”
I pretend to think about it for a second, then begin sprinting as fast as I can. I hear Percy gasp in laughter, then start after me. He catches me easily, his legs much longer than mine, but as he does, he scoops me up into a hug.
“Hey!” I shriek. “Put me down!”
I can tell he isn’t taking me seriously though, because we’re both laughing too hard. Percy eventually drops me gently on the ground. I can’t help but suddenly miss the feeling of his bare chest against me. I blink, and instantly shake those thoughts away.
“Buy me an ice cream and I’ll let you win all our races from now on,” I tease.
Percy scoffs. “Darlin’, you couldn’t win if you had a jetpack on.”
I try to ignore the flutter in my chest and roll my eyes. “Could so, and I don’t need any old jetpack.” I flex my nonexistent muscles. “You see these? I’m perfectly fine on my own, thank you.”
“Oh, oh yeah of course. Sorry, your majesty.” Percy has a stupid grin on his face, and I have an urge to kiss him right then and there.
And so I do. I grab hold of his shoulders, pull myself up onto tiptoe, and press my mouth to his. “I love you, Seaweed Brain,” I whisper into his lips.
Percy wraps his arms around my waist, causing the flutter to return, more greatly this time. He deepens the kiss, his head tilting downwards to accommodate my shorter height. His lips taste of the jellybeans we were eating earlier together. He had insisted on eating only the blue ones, of course.
The world around me blurs, and fades, and I’m left with only him, only Percy Jackson. His fingers on my waist, his mouth on mine, my heart in his hands. I am completely and totally his, as I’ve been forever, but now? He’s completely and totally mine too. My not-so-fictional boy.
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y-vna · 1 month
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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿
 ੭୧ ⠀⠀ ๑⠀⠀ ₊⠀ 𐀔  𐫦  ♡ 1 000 🐇   ۪  ✽    ۪   ⊹
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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀A ppreciation ⠀⠀🍥
 ᥥ⑅ᥥ   :   Ohh emm gee hi everybody!? I can't believe I, yes, ME, could EVER get here. Like omg wtf I swear to god i was not this big just a few months ago. and its not even about the follows at this point, I've just grown really really REALLY fond of the people on this platform, you all make me so so happy istgg. A lot of people have left tumblr recently, and I wish them only the very best, but I am real grateful for those who havent left me yet 😭 I have gained an overwhelming amount of support since the start of this blog, and I've definitely had my ups and downs, but nonetheless I'm still here! THANK YOU FOR THE OPPORTUNITY TO BE WHERE I AM TODAY AND THANK YOU DO MUCH MY LUVS FOR 1k!!! 😭😭😭💗💗💗💓💓❣️❣️
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ x-tra L ove 💌⠀
- I love you all so soooo much, I just want you to know I believe in you, and you are gorgeous inside and out. I don't care what anybody else says, if they disagree, then screw them, I'll argue to my grave if I have to, because they are 150% wrong (2 points proven here, im so good at math and i like arguing bc im stubborn af). I know I'm supposed to be talking about how grateful I am, and obviously i really am, but it makes me happier when I'm talking about how much I love other people in my life, its super fulfilling. Even if I don't know you...I wish you the best lovely! ꣑୧
My favorite babies on this platform because UGH I LOVE THEM. LIKE REALLY LOVE THEM ☹️☹️
(not in particular order besides first few. Sorry babes they’re the ogs.)
@p-uki @yooorei @p-oisn @wiotas @fairytopea @yeritos @eun-luv @lil-liaa @ha-erins @7hyein @mxlly143 @vsnilla @jaes1lvr @i08wony @y0oni3 @fuckici @y-ves @iluvrei @shiolu @gigittamic @egorls @acdyzx @y-unjins @baesol @s-heon @khaer @raeceah @sugarish @yeribbon @umiena @yumjins @yujin @i-kyujin @y2jiz @bambicito @tookio @wcnbear @jnthri @minslune @munequitta @phuoris @h-aeism @h-anis @crazyfrm @vg-k @ryeins @gyustarzzi2 @florietas @wonysela ++ sooo MUCH MORE I love all of you!!!
I hope I can continue making you all proud for at least a little longer <3
Xoxo,
Ari
Aka yours truly
@y-vna
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landograndprix · 6 months
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「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」
part x
✧.* your fans will do anything to defend you and lando and while life keeps getting better, someone else is struggling.
✧.* been listening to Lover by Taylor way too much lately, its giving birdie and lando..do whatever you want with that 😅 this a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️
✧.* prev part - next part
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y/nusername
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liked by riabish, maxfewtrell and 672,652 others
y/nusername dumb, dumb, dumber and the dumbest. ❤️
tagged: cecilemoulin, landonorris, maxfewtrell
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hannahh cool..y'all looking for a fifth? Asking for a friend..
cecilemoulin ❤️
norrizz who's who though? 👀
landofoouurr milou punching air right now
norry4 why? They're literally double dating and milou isn't dating anyone..awkward fifth wheel she would be
bott_ass now I ain't good at math but they stopped hanging out after those pictures of Carlos and Y/n got leaked so I think we can figure out who's at fault here 💀
landoy/n my favorite comfort people 🥰
yourmumsuser cuties 🥰❤️🥰❤️
bobsnorris not mamma y/l/n adopting Cecile and Max as well 😭
maxfewtrell ❤️
landonorris ❤️
landoscar I want what they have, is that too much to ask?
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mclaren
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liked by pierregasly, landonorris and 236,532 others
mclaren and another P1 for y/n! 🥇🏆
#miamigp
tagged: y/nusername
view all 456 comments
marcuskleim woman is on her way to win her 4th wdc
norrizz that's mah gal 🥰
bott_ass love seeing max getting his ass humbled 🥰
jonathan0 max fan here loved the battle between them!
maxmaxmax love how the friendship between max and y/n seems way better than before!
maxverstap good thing kelly wasn't there, that hug was real tight 😭
norry4 no but he was so happy he could fight against y/n again, like you can't convince me he enjoyed last season..
maxverstap pretty sure they told y/n to let him win before every race..😒
riabish that's my girl ❤️
norrislan why are you favouring y/n again?
landoscar I don't think mclaren knew Milou was going to drive straight into lando's rear but okay...
mrsnorris I don't like y/n but this is a reach, milou fucked up lando's race.
hamilt44n can we talk about how happy max is whenever y/n is on the podium with him 😭
norstappen they were teammates but they're friends now ☺
charlos16 y'all talking about the way max and y/n acted but refuse to see the interaction between Fernando and y/n?
yukisan exactly!!!
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landonorizzzz
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liked by y/nusername and 547 others
landonorizzzz lando with a fan earlier this morning 🥵
norry4 call me an ambulance cause I just died dead 😭
norrizz @.y/nusername
landoscar @.y/nusername lucky girl 😭
bobsnorris @.y/nusername
bott_ass @.y/nusername
landonorizzzz not y'all tagging y/n and her liking my post 😭
y/nusername I see that he's managed to escape his cage and go out looking like this..
maxnorris absolute slut behaviour 🙄
mrsnorris oh my god 🥵
y/nusername y'all have his phone number? You think I have a chance?
landonorris that's me in that picture
hamilt44n shoot your shot girl 👀
y/nlandooo these two I swear 😭
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Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits @hockeyboysarehot @ironmaiden1313 @justdreamersdream
Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10
Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @minkyungseokie @harrysdimple05
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b33zlebubz · 4 months
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RECKLESS ABANDON--------
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CHAPTER ONE - school, life, and a punch to the face TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC) MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns
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"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."
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If hell is real, you’re pretty sure you’re dead.  
Time drags on; seconds feeling more like hours and hours feeling like an eternity—punctuated only by the shriek of the occasional bell.  It’s a familiar limbo you’ve grown to tune out in favor of your daydreaming, interrupted only by the end of a period or the sound of your name being called from across the room.  Your pencil taps idly against the desk with the beat of your heel against the floor.  Untied shoelaces pull taught under your feet when you shift to lean forwards, squinting at the equations scribbled across the whiteboard by a wrinkled, dark hand.  Numbers and letters swirl together.
Mrs. Hall.  An elderly, frail, equally as tired woman—worn down by decades of bullshit brought on by stubborn, unmotivated students much like the kids behind you, whispering and snickering in a way that made your eye twitch with deep irritation.  Still, you’re not much better, your mind lost in thought staring at rain that pounds against the ground of upstate Texas until the sound of your name stirs you from the depths of your own brain.  When you look up, confused, Mrs. Hall stares back at you with an expecting stare—and a few students are turned around to stare at you.
You’re also pretty sure if hell is real—it's the American Public School System.
“Uh…”
“The three X’s in number five,”  Mrs. Hall taps the equation on the board with the marker.  “On the homework.”
“Right.  Sorry,”  your tired eyes flicker down to the chicken scratch on the paper in front of you, scanning the crumpled paper for the answer you hastily scribbled down earlier that day.  “Three, square root of two, and negative one?”
“Incorrect.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, scratching at your neck as you try and fail not to notice when one of the boys behind you stops whispering mid-sentence and stares daggers into the back of your neck.  Shit.  Fuck.
That’s the last time you do someone else’s algebra homework.  Math, in all its forms, was your academic Achilles heel.
The rest of fourth period escapes you.  After what feels like a lifetime and a half of talking and scribbling on your paper, the bell rings out across the classroom.  Like Pavlov’s dogs—the students instinctually rush to life—shoving chairs and throwing backpacks over their shoulders, eager to get on with the day.
You're quick to sweep your things into your backpack and high-tail it towards the door of the classroom before a certain boy behind you can notice you've left already.
Mrs. Hall says your first name again.  You stop in your tracks, not missing how your fellow student sends you an angry look as he strides past to leave—crumpling the homework you did for him the night before to add to the effect.  He must be telepathic, because you swear you can hear his voice without him even saying anything.
"You're dead."
Your feet shuffle towards the door, "can't talk, gonna be late—"
"I'll write you a pass."
"I have lunch next, though."
"No you don't."  Mrs. Hall scoffs, shooting you an unamused look from over her rectangular glasses.  "You think I don't know your schedule by now?"
You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the next,  "worth a try."
"Sit,"  she gestures beside her.
You hesitate, almost arguing further, but you sigh instead.  Getting lectured actually sounded much better than whatever hell waited for you out in the hallway the second you walked outside.  You let your backpack fall from your shoulders as you drag it over with you to collapse into the chair beside your teacher's desk.  Your eyes flicker up to where her frail hands card through some papers.  
"You graduate in two months, dear."  She reminds you, as if you haven't been scratching the tallied days into a spare notebook like you're on death row.  "Your test scores are average but all the homework seems to be…lacking.  If you even do it at all."
Average.  A word that's been thrown around a lot regarding your name, which you intended to stick with.  Average meant nobody would stick their nose in your business—that you could blend in with the crowd and avoid any and all weird glances and low whispers.  You made the mistake of showing off once, to snap back at your dickhead classmate; only to end up doing his bidding for the rest of the semester.
You figure Mrs. Hall won't take very well to being told that the reason you aren't completing your homework is because you're too busy doing Ben Davis's under the threat that he won't smash your face against the lockers again.  Broken noses are a special level of hell, but it still isn't as low as the torture that is highschool.
"Maybe I joined some sports,"  you quip sarcastically.  "Don't have as much time as I used to."
She only deadpans at you.
You stare innocently back at her.  If you play dumb enough, maybe she'll finally give up.
"I'm not attacking you.  Just worried.  If you need some extra time because—"  she lowers her voice and the bracelets around her tiny wrist jingle as she waves it about,  "---because of your family life, or anything…I'm willing to give it to you."
Your brow lowers, annoyance beginning to nip at your nerves as you sit up a little straighter.
Pity.  You've long grown tired of it.  You weren't some fragile orphan—no.  You were an adult who, in two months, would finally be free from the clutches of your frustrated social worker and the slew of whatever excited, naive couples the system dumped you on.  People have been tip-toeing around you your whole life, and it never fails to make your fists clench.
"My grades are average, you said,"  you say, stern—poking the score on one of your tests with a pointer finger.  "I don't need help."
"I don't doubt you don't need help, sweetheart.  But you're a smart kid.  Really smart, if you put the effort in.  I'm just saying if you ever need any extra—"
"I'm fine.  If you really wanna help, you won't make me late to my next class."
Mrs. Hall seems to freeze, stunned at the bite her otherwise quiet student seems to bear.  The clock ticks above your head, the rain pitters against the window outside and, for a moment, shame floods your senses; but it fades as the seconds pass and that concerned look on her face deepens.
You're the first to look away, picking up your pack and turning for the door.  "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Hall."
"Wait."
You stop, tossing your head back with a sigh.  "What?"
"Tie your shoes, sweetheart,"  she says, her voice kind as she turns away to tap your stack of tests on the desk.  "You'll trip walking around like that."
You only frown and duck out the door.
The rest of the school day passes in a familiar haze.  You space out throughout two of your classes, goof off for the rest, and get your shit handed to you the second school is out.  Ben takes the time to lecture you as well after he levels you in one punch—and you sit rubbing your jaw, bored, as he goes on and on about how you did that shit on purpose and next time, you're fucking dead.
He needed a perfect score to pass the class.  In a low moment of pain, you promised it to him despite the fact that your algebra skills had much to be desired.  Still, with a little bit of extra effort—you managed to make it through most of the second semester without a black eye.  
You're the one that always bleeds; but a part of you finds it funny how he always finds a way to talk himself into angry tears, storming off somewhere distant while kids scramble to get out of his way to avoid the same fate as you.
And, as always, you pick yourself up, wipe the blood from your face onto the sleeve of your jacket—and walk away.
Because that's all you can do.
The rain settles deep in your clothes as you make your way home, music loud in your earbuds.  It's silent and gray, as it has been all week, and your thoughts are mere static as you drag your feet back to your front doorstep.  Your bed is calling for you after such a shitty day and the bruise forming on your left eye is just making the blankets seem all the more welcoming.
You barely notice how your door is already unlocked when you enter.
Inside, the house is just as silent and empty as the rest of your street.  Rain drips to the floor in a steady rhythm as you pad across the living room of the house, dropping your backpack to the floor.  Muscle memory leads you to the bathroom—where things are, as usual, spotless.  
You've seen plenty of bad homes and residencies during your time in the system.  Most of them blurred together in a long string of things you wished to forget; either by the caretakers' fault or your own.  This house, though, was high on your list of favorites.  Your folks were never around, and if they were, they were asleep.  When you weren't working; you usually had the house to yourself.
"Fuck,"  You breathe, prodding at the swelling flesh around your eye. You run some water over it and the irritation dulls slightly as dried blood turns the water pink.  Excuses run rampant through your mind as you scramble for a way to explain the injury---because you're pretty sure they won't believe you if you said you tripped again. 
That's when you catch movement from your doorway.  Shuffling.
You whip around just as the movement disappears, and suddenly the quiet house turns eerily silent.  Your eyes lock on the doorway as the sink continues to run and water continues to drip from your clothes.  
Nothing.
You turn the sink off.
Your brow furrows, eyes locked on the cracked door of your bathroom as your hand grabs hold of the first weapon you can get your hands on—a shower curtain rod.  One foot after the other, you peak around the corner.
Again, nothing.
Out of some itch of paranoia—or just completely on coincidence—you happen to turn your head to the wall next to you.  Instead of an empty corridor like you expected, you're met with a face.
A face that immediately lunges at you the second your eyes widen.  
You stumble to the side with a yell just for the individual to grab your arm, and the curtain rod falls to the floor with a clatter.  You struggle as he yanks you to the side and around the corner and, before you have the chance to react, cold metal is pressed to your back.
"Don't fuckin' move,"  a voice hisses in your ear, and you stiffen.
You wheeze, struggling against his hold, "who–"
"Your gardian fucking angel,"  he sneers, shifting to clap a hand over your mouth.  You thrash again—but it's useless.  The gun presses painfully into your side.  "I said don't move."
A thump echoes through the room, and suddenly you see why.
You fight to keep your breathing under control as you stay firm against your captor's geared chest, still as a statue.  Your heart slams against your ribs and your ears as you listen to each heavy footstep against the floor, and your eyes widen whenever a second soldier creeps down your hallway.  Standard camo and green clothes shuffling as he walks.
You catch the long muzzle of a rifle over the soldier's shoulder, and suddenly you find yourself leaning into the gun pressed into your back.  The hand on your mouth tightens, silently shifting you away from the door.
The shifting of gear and the click of the rifle echo in the silent house as your nails dig into the skin of your captor's wrist.  You watch a muscle in his stubbled jaw twitch near your face as the sound of your first name echoes through the hall, sing-song and taunting.         
You squeeze your eyes shut.
Think.  Think.  Think.
“If y’know what’s best for ya’…”  A thick Scottish accent taunts from down the hall as he nudges the curtain rod with his foot, causing it to scrape against the wood floors.  “You’ll quit puttin’ up a fight and show yourself.”
You glance over to meet your captor’s gaze.  A flicker of anger crosses his eyes, nose wrinkling into a scowl.  He has a scar across his cheek.  
Then, suddenly, he shifts, pulling you further away from the doorway.  His grip on your shoulder is deathly tight as it digs into your clothes.  He lifts his finger from the trigger of his gun only to bring it to his lips in a silent command to stay quiet, stay with me.
Panic burns bright and all-encompassing through your veins.  For whatever reason—all your body will let you do is shake and listen. 
He ducks around the corner, pulling you with him.  You have to force your feet to move.
The Scottish soldier stops just at the end of the hall, hulking frame and what must be at least thirty pounds of gear making him a jarring sight against the flowered wallpaper of your foster home.  He must have an earpiece of some kind; because you hear him whisper every so often as he sweeps the hallways.  
"They're here,"  he mutters.  "Little fuck's just good at hiding."
It's tiny and muffled, but in the deathly silence of the house you can make out two voices in his earpiece that reply to him.  One female, the other male.  You can't decipher what they say but their responses make him growl in frustration.
"C'mon, we don't got all day…"
Tense, your captor shoves you along to another room.  He signals something down the hall, where you spot more movement in the house.  More soldiers—these ones dressed in similar, dark garb to the man who still presses a gun to your side. They have bigger weapons, concealing helmets.
Startled, you trip over your shoelaces.
Your captor scrambles to grab you before you clatter to the floor.  He curses just as the Scottish soldier whips around, gun pointed and ready.
There's a solid two seconds of complete silence.  Your gaze meets with the Scott and his eyes widen.  Then, he spots the other man with a gun pointed at you.
That's when all hell breaks loose.
You scramble to your feet and bolt.  The Scott is the first to grab you, and he's met with teeth deep in his arm.  He yells out as you kick free, gagging on the metallic substance that floods your mouth.
There's shouting.  Movement.  Gunfire lights up your house with noise and lights as you wipe your mouth, stumble, and fly down the stairs in a blind dash for your front door.
Instead, you run directly into something solid—Landing you flat on your ass.  Again.
Panting, panicking, your eyes rake up dark figure; past two giant boots, a geared chest, and hands that clench a rifle in their grip to meet a masked face and bored eyes.  You scramble backwards against the wall with a yelp.  The sound of yelling, gunfire, and heavy footsteps flood the rest of the house as the masked man's eyes widen at you.  You stare at each other; you, sizing him up and him, confused.
"Graves?!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"
"Commander!  We lost the kid!"
"Does anyone have a visual??"
"L.T.!"
The skull-faced man finally leaps into action at the sound of what must be his rank—because he's suddenly moving faster than you can realize more soldiers are flooding around the corner.  In a flurry of practiced movement, he grabs them.
You yell out as he knees one of the men and shoots the other.  Blood splatters across the walls and your clothes.  Then, he fires twice more at the soldier unconscious on the ground—and the house goes quiet other than your pounding heartbeat.
The towering man before you shifts, and the floorboards creak under his feet.  He rolls his shoulders and let's out a breath as he stands, slowly, up to his full height.  He turns, and the same blood that splatters across the walls runs in tiny rivulets across the skull of his mask.  His voice thick and low when he speaks.
"You broken?"
Your shaking hands lower from your ears as your eyes then rake across the corpses at his feet, but it's no use.  Through the ringing in your ears, your racing mind is unable to put together what he says for a few minutes.  It's even more impossible to tear your eyes away from the blood splattered against the patterned wallpaper.
You swallow and shake your head.
"Good."  Nonchalant, he lowers his gun and shouts down the hall.
"Johnny, you with me?"
"Over here, L.T.,"  grunts the Scottish voice from down the hall.  "That little shit Graves—"
"Let 'em go.  We'll deal with 'em later.  We got what we needed."
Johnny curses in response, but mutters a begrudging "copy" as he saunters over—nursing the clear bite mark in his arm. 
Then, the Lieutenant's eyes shift in your direction.  His hand twitches, almost reaching out to you, and you pull your legs closer to your chest against the wall.  Blood soaks your untied laces.  You clamp a hand over your mouth as you will your breathing to settle.  It doesn't.
He freezes.  Then, to your relief, he turns away and presses a finger to his ear.
"Bravo 0-7 to Actual; five shadows have been compromised on the property.  Looks like the Shadows got the word the same time we did.  Could be others, too.  Things got bloody, but…"  The lieutenant's eyes meet yours again as he speaks.  Through the bloodied skull mask, his gaze holds a calm resolve that's probably supposed to be comforting, but it only makes your skin prickle.  
"...we got the kid."
It's quiet, but you can hear static before someone speaks on the other end of the communication device.
"Copy that, Bravo.  We'll clean up the mess,"  A female voice replies.  "Bring 'em home safe, boys."
"Roger that."
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athenasgotu · 2 months
Text
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title: you're all i need.
pairings: teenage!ellie williams x female!reader
summary: after so many things happening in your life. a break up, sister passing away, and then losing half of your friends. only one person stuck with you and it was ellie. she never left your side, and overtime you grew feelings for her. but you can get your hopes up.
warning: mentions of suicide, swearing, and lots of angst. (minors dni!)
authors note: part 1 is more on y/n story and how she feels. ellie will be there to comfort her.
MEN DNI❗❗
part 2
╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗
one more month. one more month and no more school, no more stress, no more fake friends. how could someone possibly be this sad? mom is over it, why aren't you? your boyfriend calling you a slut? no biggie. just act like you don't care then no one will notice.
you walk out of your room to brush your teeth. numb. that's all you felt. you have no one. no friends. no love. no sister. wait.. ellie. how could you forget the one person who hasn't done one thing wrong? god, she's an angel. she hasn't left me, yet. you can't even dress nice for school, just sweats. your mom tries to get you to be happier. therapy, not working. quality time, making it worse. talking to her.
communication was never good with her, will it ever be? how can you tell her how you've been craving death? wanting to be with your sister. she was your light. she made you smile on days you couldn't. i mean sure, you had your rough times. but that's how siblings are, right?
or did she secretly hate you?
faked it all?
faked her love?
no. she couldn't have, hah. its funny to think i even thought of that.
suddenly, the time changed late. twenty minutes in the bathroom? jesus. time passes, you're in school.
you see your old friends, teachers, then her. she smiles at you and waves.
"hey! you feeling ok?" ellie asks.
am i? i spent twenty minutes in my own thoughts earlier.
"i'm good." you smile. great acting.
ellie nudges your shoulder and hands you a plastic bag with a cookie, she baked every once in a while even though it wasn't the best. she knew i like sugar cookies. she's so sweet..
"thanks els." you smile, but it was real.
ellie was the only one who could get you to smile. not even your own mom could make you really smile. ellie was special. really special.
as you two walked in the crowded halls, she makes it to her class.
"see you later?" ellie smiles at you again.
gosh, that smile..
you nod and smile back at her "mhm." you mumbled.
you walked to your class, attempting not to be late again. but it was math, you were already failing horribly in math. school makes everything worse for you. tears your soul down. not always though, your sister made those long eight hours fun and exciting. too bad she's gone. you groan under your breath. these thoughts weren't helping. you take your earbuds out and put on a song.
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you sigh in relief. finally, you can relieve some stress.
╭──╯ . . . . . hours later . . . . . ╰──╮
you were finally at home, alone. your mom was still at work, she wasn't coming back until midnight.
long shift, as usual.
you laid down in bed sighing. everything is going to be ok. you kept telling yourself. was it though? your life was already fucked up enough. how could it possibly get better?
⇢˗ˏˋ beep beep !! 📞
you pick up your phone to see a message from ellie. you smile, she always messages you.
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she worried so much.
she's so nice.
you put your phone down and turn off your light. hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day.
╰┈➤ end of part 1
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alchemistc · 2 years
Text
Eddie's been a perpetual DM his whole life so when Dustin offers to run a one-shot over the first Thanksgiving break everyone actually gets time off for, Eddie leaps at the chance to play as a PC, and begs Steve to play. Steve hasn't seen all the kids (they're in their mid twenties but to Steve they'll always be The Kids) together in years and he's been subjected to enough lectures about it that he's half convinced he knows his way around a campaign and he's hopelessly in love with his best friend anyway. ("No, Robin, it's different alright, I can have two best friends." "Uh, no, dingus, you can't.")
So they all huddle into the Byers-Hopper living room and to no one's real surprise Eddie's PC is just breathtakingly detailed, backstory fleshed out and built into Dustin's storyline and he goes absolutely HAM with the character voice and has a blast with it.
The shock comes from Steve's character - because Steve is determined to make this the last year he moons at Eddie Munson from afar and he's recruited Dustin's help to weave in some memory loss for Eddie's character and spent hours upon hours working out his own character with Eddie because "I'm hopeless, man, you gotta help me."

(And Eddie does, bc Steve is his best buddy in the whole world and no one is immune to his puppy eyes except maybe the Wheelers.)
Steve goes for it, because he's nearly thirty gd years old and what does he care if sometimes he's a little silly - and sometimes things come out a little awkward and sometimes Eddie has to redo Steve's math from over his shoulder (he swears he's not being an idiot on purpose, honestly, but he doesn't actually mind the way Eddie eventually just drags Steve's chair closer to his and slings an arm around the back of it so he can press into Steve's space and do the mental math every time Steve has more to count than one die and a stat add-on). The party gets used to it all quickly enough even though the first hour or so is spent laughing incredulously every time Steve affects a Voice of his own.
The campaign takes seven hours and it isn't until halfway into hour five that anyone except Steve pieces together the threads of Eddie's characters mysterious memory loss and Steve's PC's cryptic history. Mike gets a funny look on his face ten minutes before they break for snacks and drags Steve into a bathroom.
"What are you doing?" he asks with a grimace and Steve pretends to be confused. "I swear to God, Steve, if you're using this campaign to finally get into Munson's increasingly tight pants I'm going to punch you in the dick."
Steve shrugs and shields his junk, and Mike maybe has an aneurysm but that's his own problem.
The thing is, Dustin is a little shit and when Eddie'd finally convinced Steve to play he'd gone to Dustin with a plan of his own because "I'm a goddamn coward, man, I'm never gonna muster up the courage to do this on my own I need something to force me into a corner." so, like, Eddie knows there's a big reveal coming too and when Dustin drops the lore that Eddie's PC once saved an entire village, died about it, and was brought back to life when Steve's PC made a deal with a literal demon (the same demon they've been chasing across the countryside for the whole campaign, only Steve's PC has been playing it off like he doesn't have a clue who this fucker is) Eddie really leans into the story - presses into Steve's space while Steve gives a lofty speech about how he'd agreed to let the demon take only the memories of his own character because not being known by the love of his life was so much worse than him being gone and maybe it all hits a little too close to home and maybe Eddie only realizes right as Steve's throwing a second failed death save that Steve and Dustin must have planned this and maybe Will is a little too knowledgeable about the intricacies of these disaster gays intricate mating rituals, because he could totally heal Steve's character but the moment is fraught and this shit is fascinating so he lets Steve give a death speech while Eddie - actual Eddie, not his character - has tears in his eyes and thank fuck he doesn't throw a third failure because Eddie looks about ready to upturn the whole table when Will saves a reaction.
And, hey, when Steve's finally up Eddie's hand sort of just doesn't leave it's spot clenched around Steve's knee and they get through the rest of the fight and Dustin builds out a nice little happy ending for them all, Lucas doesn't pretend not to cry about it, and Mike begrudgingly admits it was a cool way to frame the story, and Will stares at Eddie and Steve like he's trying to read their minds.
(It's possible he can read minds? Steve doesn't know for sure except sometimes he's convinced Will has some left over shit from all the Upside Down crap and sometimes Will Knows Things.)
They don't, like, talk about it right away, because that was exhausting and they're all hungry as hell but like, they're sharing a room, sharing the tiny bed tucked up against the window, and it's not the first time they've ever done that but Eddie doesn't really let them get that far because halfway through brushing their teeth together, scrunched up together in the tiny bathroom across the hall, Eddie spits out toothpaste and tucks his face into Steve's neck and Steve hums around his toothbrush and curls a hand in Eddie's hair and it's super fucking inconvenient because now is the perfect time to actually Tell Eddie like he's supposed to but he has a mouthful of toothpaste and an armful of Eddie and -
"I'm gonna kill Dustin," Eddie murmurs into Steve's neck and Steve manages to maneuver his body at an alarming angle so he can clear his mouth without letting go of Eddie. "Gonna kill you too, what the hell, Steve?"
And maybe the whole dying to save the village thing was a little on the nose and maybe Steve's speeches were a little purple prosy and maybe Eddie's never been more charmed by such an absolute dork of a man in his entire life so when Steve gets to eye level and ticks up a brow in question Eddie thinks about how he's always felt like a coward but sometimes The Kids make him brave and he just lays one on Steve, toothpaste lingering in both of their mouths and Mike loudly banging on the bathroom door before Eddie's even managed to get his tongue involved and -
"Holy shit, dude, you're such a dickhead, I'm trying to stick my tongue down Steve's throat, man," Eddie says when he yanks the door open and drags Steve past a beleaguered Mike and a thrilled Will and shoves Steve none too gently back through the bedroom door. "You got earplugs?" he asks, and Mike grimaces.
"No."
"Cool, no worries, if you hear any noises for the next few hours no you didn't."
Eddie actually manages to keep it fairly quiet but Steve is a whiner and Dustin never lives down giving Mike the, like, third most traumatizing evening of his life.
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koostarcandy · 2 years
Note
Could I request welcome home kisses with Jungkook, or whoever you feeling inspired to write about! 💜
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so, give me all your kisses
pairing: jungkook x chef!reader
summary: after one long, tiring month, all jungkook craves is his lover's kisses.
genre: fluff
wc: 1.4k
a/n: thanks for the request! hope it was upto your expectations ^^ if you ever find yourself requesting smth you like, please make sure to follow the guidelines!
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it's been an excruciating wait.
jungkook swears the video calls and photos you send from the land of love itself doesn't do justice to your beauty. you never fail to send updates about your work, sending him random snaps of kittens and puppies in paris. he sleeps with your pillow close to his chest, counting and striking off the days on his calendar till you're in his arms.
it's been 3 weeks, 5 days and 8 hours since you've left his side, if he can recall correctly. you laugh teasingly at his math, questioning if it's right. he'll take anything you give him, even if it's blurry pictures of the eiffel tower or pixelated video calls with your pretty face.
"just 2 more days then you're here, right baby?"
"yes, koo. for the millionth time, yes. i promise i'm not changing my schedule, okay?"
jungkook pouts, slightly miffed that he can't see your face before he sleeps. "are you sure you can't switch to video call for a few seconds?" he can hear you sigh sadly, "when i get back, you can look at me all you want, my love."
he mimics your sigh and wishes you a good day at work, suddenly declaring he'll love you for the rest of his life if you bring back souvenirs. you chuckle, saying that you weren't planning on coming back if there weren't plenty of gifts to give him. he hangs up after whispered confessions of love between the both of you, sending the sweetest of "mwah's!" your way.
putting his phone on the bedside table, he rolls over to your side, burying his face deep in your pillow. it's lost your distinct scent of jasmine and cinnamon sugar but he tries reviving it with the weekly laundry washes which you claim to love the smell of. he thinks you know him all too well, promising that the pillow mist you bought him will work just fine in your absence.
groaning at his lack of will to sleep, he grabs the small silver bottle of pillow mist ("its smell reminds me of the time we went to that botanical garden, koo. it's a happy memory, so isn't it best to fall asleep happy?") and sprays the required amount on your pillow, head falling back and eyes immediately closing, the scent pleasing to his sensitive nose.
he smiles instinctively of your time in the garden, the pictures he took you posing with the millions of flowers there playing like a movie in his head. it was the last date you both had before you left for your work trip. jungkook was, after all, the one who urged you take up the workshop at this famed restaurant, claiming it would help you in your future as the greatest chef he'll ever know.
he falls asleep to the thought of you and your nimble hands making him the best food he's ever had, the same hands handing him flowers at your date and the hands which hold him close and safe at night.
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"i'm coming, i'm coming! it's 5.45 in the morning, for goodness' sake!"
jungkook groans at the sound of the incessant ring of the doorbell, regretting his decision of ever installing one. all his hyungs know the pass lock to his door and he knows it isn't you because you're the one who made it. if it was the staff, they would've called him. he fixes his hair and rubs his eyes off the sleepiness, internally calming himself before he opens the door.
"excuse me but you can't ring the doorbell like this at-"
"good morning, koo!"
all of a sudden, sleep's tight hold on him has vanished. your crescent eyes and face half covered by the plushie you showed him as your sleeping companion (who he was very jealous but that's not the point) is infront of him, very much real, not blurry and not pixelated.
he flings the plushie off, hands cupping your face. if there's tears in your eyes, you both don't say a thing, instead beaming at each other with sparkly eyes.
"hello, my love," jungkook whispers shakily, trembling lips falling on yours. his hands fall to your waist, gripping you tightly. you're still in your work clothes, smelling of cheese and bread. your hands, which he dreamt of so vividly, are on his arms, quivering fingers gripping the long shirt he wore to bed.
he can hear the clear sound of glass bottles clinking against each other, probably the wine you spoke of so fondly. he doesn't care about the potential mess it may create and in all honesty, who would? he's got his favourite person in his arms, his favourite smell back in his nostrils and his favourite smile on his lips.
"you promised you wouldn't change your schedule," jungkook mumbles into the kiss, hands reaching behind you to shut the door and lean you against it. "but this is a good change, yes baby?" good would be an understatement. his feet stamp on something soft which startles jungkook just abit. he looks down at the culprit, picking it up, "ah, you," glancing back and forth at the plushie and your smiley face, flinging it off again to god knows where.
"hey! that was unbelievably expensive, you know."
"why get that when you can have the real thing, baby?"
you giggle and laugh happily, when he picks you up and spins you around, practically zooming to your shared bedroom. he places you gently on your side, hands below your head so it's laid on the pillow. your smile beams up at him, arms reaching up for him. he promptly falls on you, his limbs getting tangled with yours like it's muscle memory.
you stroke his hair just like how he likes it, the steady but slow rays from outside making it seem like there's an angel on you. "was the flight too early? you must've been so tired," jungkook says, face propped on your chest and hands untucking your shirt. you shrug and boop his nose, smiling when he scrunches it up, "i left after the last class and grabbed all the wine available at the duty free and i slept through the whole time so, no koo, i'm not that tired," you giggle amusedly.
"good. now tell me all about it!"
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jungkook holds the tall bottle of wine away from him, face contouring into one of thought.
"this must be from france, am i right or- ah, it's rome, hehe"
you shake your head in amusement and spread the garlic confit on the crisp toast, "let's have breakkie, koo, we've been up too long without food."
he all but rushes to the kitchen/dining area, eyes sparkling at the sight of the food. "thank you for the food," he says in perfect fashion, teeth peeking out to have a bite. his eyebrows furrow in delight, much to your mirth. "eat up all you want, darling," you encourage, humming in delight at your simple breakfast.
jungkook brushes his fingers off of crumbs, doe eyes on you as your tales of the city of love is said from your point of view. he always wondered what he missed when you were gone, always having your pictures and videos a few clicks away. as you ramble on about some sauce and how you finally mastered on how to get it creamy, he finally gets it.
it was you.
you and your never ending chatter of your first love, food and the way your eyes light up when the topic falls on it. your expressive gestures and your gleeful laughter, which never fails to make his day. you in his clothes, a simple oversized white tshirt. you in your shared dining table, talking to him.
he doesn't waste any time to get closer to you, not caring one bit if you complain of him almost spilling your juice. he tilts your chin up so he can get his lips on yours, hand on your neck and tattooed hand curled around your waist. he vows to never let you go anywhere without him ever again, be it for work or for leisure.
you don't question him nor complain, instead wrapping your arms around him, pulling him impossibly closer. he pulls away first, combing your hair out of your face and smiling at your blissed out expression.
"let's invite our friends for dinner tonight," you suggest, "i want to show them all what i learned there."
jungkook nods, never turning down an opportunity to be proud of you. "what do we start with first?"
"well, obviously, hors d'oeuvres-"
"what did you just call me?!"
you roll your eyes at his lame albeit childish joke, smile threatening to break from your lips. he giggles at his own joke, hugging you from the back when you walk away from him. he promises to listen and learn from you, only if you give him your infamous kisses as a reward.
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pt time: @armys-dna ; @joondiary ; @soobhyun ; @shatzkrinslinzki ; @highly-functioning-mitochondria ; @taegisms ; @cherishoshi
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fettuccin-e · 2 years
Text
The Perks of Being A STEM Major
this came to me in a dream,, like actually. I had a dream about fucking machine and i wanted to write something with peter in it, so yeah (Tags: Peter Parker x Reader, fucking machine, sex toys, fem!reader, blowjob)
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It’s not a secret that you were single for a long time before Peter Parker came into your life. 
Your friends still tease you about it, about how Peter broke your vow of swearing off men, trying to focus on your robotics studies. Which, of course, you did. You were, throughout college, at the top of all of your classes, a model intern at Oscorp, extremely successful in your field.
When Peter came into your life, you were terrified your, frankly overwhelming, feelings for him would derail your studies, and throw you off course, but Peter was perfect. An absolute dream; he kept you on top of all of your deadlines when you were overwhelmed with all your classes, helped you when you were struggling with a concept in one of your many math classes and gave you soft kisses as encouragement while you were studying. Even now, after college, with his job at the Bugle and your full-time job at Oscorp, he supports you daily, staying the most beautiful, perfect boyfriend you could ask for.
Not to mention the sex. The mind-blowing, life-altering sex.
Between his strong arms, powerful body, and ridiculous stamina, Peter Parker is a fucking god in bed. He can spend hours between your thighs, eating your pussy like a man starved. His fingers spread you open, long and pressing into the deepest parts of you. His cock, thick and long and heavy like the rest of him, fills you up so good, turning you perfectly dumb and pliant when he sinks into you. He’s ruined every other man for you, and you’re not ashamed to tell your friends that.
But, you were also single for a very long fucking time. And as a student without any time to date, and without the willpower for a one night stand, you found other ways to fit your needs. The fact that you were a robotics major was just a perk.
The machine isn’t sophisticated in the slightest. A contraption of spare parts from other projects, specifically designed to perform one motion at three different speeds. It took you four hours on a boring Saturday to build. Better than your standard vibrator, much better than tiring your arm by thrusting your thick dildo into your tiny pussy every night. The machine did the job for you. All you had to do was attach your dildo to it, set yourself in front of it, and press one of the three buttons on your remote. And, dear god, did that satisfy any of your needs while you worked through school.
You had honestly forgotten about the machine after you met Peter. While the machine was regularly brought out every weekend while you were single, Peter Parker, with his thick cock and strong body, kept the machine in your closet, collecting dust while he fucked you stupid every night.
You didn’t think twice when Peter asked you to move in with you a year into your relationship, jumping at the chance to wake up next to him every day, to spend your free time cuddling and kissing and fucking like rabbits.
“Hey, honey?” Peter calls from across your little apartment, packing some of your things up in your bedroom while you sort your kitchen supplies into different boxes. “Do you think you could come in here, real quick?”
“Coming!” you yell back, setting your toaster into a box before crossing into the bedroom.
And there he sits, your boyfriend, grinning smugly with your machine sitting in front of him, your dildo still attached to it. You swear to god your heart drops into your stomach. 
“I, uh, that’s just- well look,” you stutter, stumbling forward to snatch up the machine, but Peter beats you to it, snatching it up to set it on his lap.
You can feel how bright red your face is, breathing a little ragged with your complete and utter mortification. But Peter just keeps smirking at you, holding the machine. 
“Use this a lot baby? Did you build this yourself?” he asks.
“No! Well, yes, but also no, uh. No to the first question, uh, yes to the second?” you stumble over your words, trying to look anywhere but that fucking stupid machine.
“So, you haven’t used it in a while?” Peter asks, tilting his head at you, teasing.
“No, um, not since I met you. I haven’t used it since I met you, Peter.”
“Hm. Well, that’s good.” Peter says, running a finger down the cold metal of the base of the machine. “Means I’m doing my job right, fucking you good.” He looks up into your eyes from his place on the floor. “But, I bet you looked fucking gorgeous when you used it, didn’t you baby?”
You don’t think your cheeks can get any redder as you mumble, “I don’t know, maybe.”
“Oh,” Peter chuckles softly, “I know you looked gorgeous, sweetheart. Getting plowed by your little machine. Little pussy needed someone to fuck it before I met you, didn’t you?” You don’t respond, but Peter doesn’t need you to. He stands, still holding the machine while he towers high over you. “Now listen here, angel. I’m going to go clean this off, and while I’m gone, you’re gonna strip down and get on your hands and knees on your bed, okay? And you’re gonna stuff your little fingers into that pretty pussy and get ready to take this fake cock while I watch, alright sweet girl?”
You nod without thinking about it, dumb and glassy eyed at the thought of your boyfriend watching you get fucked by a fucking dildo. Peter grins, kissing you softly before walking into the bathroom, machine in hand.
You don’t waste any time, stripping your clothes off and kneeling on the bed. You brace one of your hands on the bed while the other reaches under yourself to sink two fingers into your already dripping pussy. Your fingers are smaller than Peter’s, they don’t reach as far, but being filled just feels so good. You whimper softly as you work your fingers in and out of yourself, slipping a third one in to stretch yourself even further. You rock your hips back into your hand, desperate and dripping, and it’s so fucking good, you need to be filled up so bad-
“Goddamn, baby,” Peter groans from across the room, and you jump at his sudden presence, ripping your sticky fingers out of your cunt. “That needy pussy needs to be fucked so bad, doesn’t it?” Peter croons, and you nod frantically. 
“Please, Peter, please fuck me?” You whine, but Peter shushes you softly. He moves behind you, and suddenly you feel the distinct texture of silicone pressing against your throbbing hole. 
“Now, baby,” Peter says, crossing in front of you to look at your red face. “I want you to get into the perfect position for you, okay, since you have, well, more experience with this thing. But I’m the one with the remote, okay?”
You nod at him, eyes glazed over. You shift yourself back, just a little, to press the tip of the fake cock into your pussy. The perfect position. You whimper softly as you look up at him again.
“Good, sweetheart?” He asks, and smiles as you murmur a soft “yes.”
The click of the first button practically echoes across the room, but all you can focus on is the silicone sinking unwaveringly into your pussy and drawing back out again, not giving you a second to adjust like Peter usually would. “Ah,” you gasp out as the machine fucks you slowly, so slowly.
Peter’s eyes are wide, watching as you take the dildo into your pussy, before he presses the second button. The machine picks up speed, fucking you at a more normal pace. The silicone drags in and out of you, lacking Peter’s warmth, the feeling of his big hands gripping your waist as he fucks you. But it’s also so fucking hot, the feeling of Peter’s eyes on you while your machine fills you again and again. Little keening whines are slipping from your lips, high-pitched and embarrassing, but you know, you know from experience, that Peter has one more speed on that goddamned remote.
You look at him, waiting for the final press of a button to fuck you into oblivion, but Peter doesn’t press it. Instead, he sets the remote on the bed, and reaches down to pull his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs, freeing his dripping cock. It stands, thick and long, throbbing against Peter’s stomach. You lick your lips absent-mindedly, pussy clenching unconsciously around the silicone still moving inside you, and Peter has the audacity to chuckle.
“You think you could suck my cock while your little machine fucks you?” Peter asks, wrapping a hand around his cock and kneeling in front of you on the bed, dick red and dripping in front of your face.
“Please, Peter,” you whisper, and Peter doesn’t have to be told twice. He presses the fat tip of his cock against your plush lips, groaning deep when you suck on it gently. You’re so focused on the taste of him on your tongue that you don’t even register him picking up the remote again. He weaves a hand through your hair, sinking your lips further on his cock.
“I’m gonna fuck this pretty mouth, okay baby? If it’s too much, double-tap on my thigh, okay?”
You nod around his cock, moaning softly, and Peter moans at the vibration of it. The silicone is still moving inside you, filling you up.
But then Peter presses the third button, and it’s like you’ve been struck by lightning.
You scream around Peter’s cock as the machine jackhammers into your pussy, slamming into your sweet spot over and over and over. Peter thrusts his hips forward, blocking your pretty moans as the tip lodges in the back of your throat with every thrust. 
“Shit, baby, you look so pretty, getting fucked from both ends. With a machine you built yourself, god. My beautiful, intelligent, needy baby, ah, can’t believe I found you,” Peter groans above you, shoving his cock into your hot mouth again and again.
Tears are leaking down your face, overwhelmed and sensitive. You suck at Peters cock fucking your throat while your pussy clenches around the dildo fucking your cunt. The tip of the dildo jams into your sweet spot, sending hot zings of pleasure up your spine. It’s so good, you feel so fucking full, and it’s so, fuck, it’s so-
Your orgasm takes you by surprise, and you scream loud around Peter’s cock while you gush around your dildo, still fucking in and out without remorse. You stomach clenches as you feel liquid spill down your thighs and onto the bed, and your cheeks burn with the realization that you just-
“Fuck, angel, did you squirt? Oh, oh, Jesus, fuck, you’re so sexy, beautiful, didn’t know you could do that,” Peter groans as he spills down your throat while you drink his cum down greedily.
You’re shaking hard while the machine still fucks you recklessly, and you thank any deity that’s listening that Peter has the sense still in him to turn the machine off while he slips his cock from your mouth. 
Peter stands on shaky legs to take the machine off the bed, before he’s lifting you gently in his strong arms. He lays you onto his chest while he lays back onto the bed, wiping away the residual tears from your eyes.
“Okay?” he asks, and you manage a small smile, nodding at him before nuzzling into his chest.
“Baby? He asks in the quiet of the room, and you release a sleepy “mhm?”
“We are absolutely keeping that machine.”
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archangeldyke-all · 2 months
Note
Hi Angel!
I've been reading your kidfics and if it's okay I'd like to contribute to your little fucker cinematic universe because I have a real story that happened to me when I was tutoring and I think you might like it. 🌸
Little fucker is a clever kid. Sometimes too clever. And the problem is - she can't sit for the life of her. She will stand on her chair, rock it back and forth, run for water and for snacks and for whatever thing she wants to show you, but she will not just sit and do her homework.
Which is fair, she is only 7, but you're not so patient. So you decide it's going to be Sevika's problem now. Part of you hopes that little fucker will be more intimidated of her grumpy mom, but this hope is more of a delusion - you know Sevika is a softie and your daughter knows it as well.
Sevika thinks she got it, she is an adult, what can be hard about 7 year old's homework? Counting apples? Sevika is cocky about the whole ordeal, but you don't say anything, letting her find out by herself.
Sevika gets absolutely humbled when she sees little fucker's homework and gets confused at a math question 10 minutes in. Then she sighs in relief when she remembers she is only supposed to monitor little fucker and only help her if she is confused. Yeah, she can't sit through five minutes of work, but Sevika finds a way in a "waste my time I'll waste your time" deal. Little fucker's time management improves immediately.
One day they're doing homework and little fucker has to write a story, but before that, she needs to write details about her character (teddy bear on her shirt).
"How do you call really smart people?" Little fucker asks with a philosophical frown.
"Geniuses?" Sevika tries, also frowning in an effort to find the right word.
Little fucker looks at her disappointedly and Sevika sweats like she is a first grader in front of a teacher.
"Prodigy? Also a great word." Sevika offers, but the disappointment on your baby's face grows.
"I have no fucking idea, kid." Sevika admits.
Little fucker just flops her arms encouraging Sevika to try.
"Do you mean scientists?"
Another look of extreme disappointment. Sevika starts to feel bad.
Little fucker sighs and taps her pencil on her book, frustrated. Then she looks at Sevika again, still shocked at her lack of intelligence.
"Nerds." She says in mock surprise. "They are called nerds, mom."
Sevika is speechless. Then she snorts and nods, admitting her defeat.
"Okay. You're right." Sevika is kinda proud of her baby's sass and she doesn't even try to hide it.
"I'll use genius though." Little fucker says like an expert and slowly writes down the word.
"Yeah. Don't think your teacher will like it very much if you say your Teddy is a nerd."
Later Sevika asks you the same question.
"How do you call really smart people?"
"Competent?" You try offhandedly as you wash the dishes.
"Well, according to our daughter, they're called nerds."
"This girl, I swear to God." You snort. "It's all your influence."
"Dunno, I married a nerd after all, not you."
this is FUCKING ADORABLE IM SOBBING
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lyriluscss · 9 months
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Propaganda:
Ari (made by several people):
— is the proud adoptive mother of at like half of tumblr at this point
— I love all my kids and would die for any of them in a heartbeat
— butterflies trust me
— so do small children and animals and baby birds
— I can swear in three different languages in the same sentence!! — I have and can perform minor avian surgery (on chickens) in my laundry room on multiple occasions
— I taught myself rudimentary Elvish when I was twelve out of the back of LOTR appendix
— I can talk about books for hoursss
— my poetry occasionally makes people cry
— I give really comfy hugs
— the name Ari (by pronunciation) means sunlight in elvish and that’s like the coolest thing about me
— I LOVE SUNRISES AND SUNSETS AND WILL GIVE PICS TO ANYONE WHO ASKS
she makes all her friends feel a bit better as always shes an amazing photographer and painter and writer
shes an earth goddess might i have to say vote for her
she makes lists of “drunk” me interactions (i’ve never been drunk in my life)
she knows how to curse in three languages in the same sentence (one word in each language)
she’s very silly
she’s the best
hozier would write a song about her
she’s studying math and man that takes guts
she's my (ex) wife
she's going to be a world famous author one day
she's one of the bravest people I know
she is a studio ghibli character
she knows how to dance!
she's the colour yellow in human form
she's EXTREMELY well read
she's my role model
she is 5 feet
she is the piss monster
her nickname is uwu
she is really smart and even though she's sometimes really stressed out she pushed through it all and always is nice to everyone
emphasis on that nice part, i had to beg her to be mean. she's an absolute angel
she's also an amazing peoples person, accommodating to all and super welcoming
she's pretty
she's going to take me to a beach
good
(y’all need to CALM DOWN with the Ari propaganda this is I think all of it—)
Grave:
They’re literally Kagamine Len real
theyre vv cool but they didn’t submit propaganda but yeah vote them or vote Ari I’m scared for this round it’s gonna be close
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Text
Here we go again
Hi gang. I'm back on my Chris-Get's-Healthy kick, again. I know I've talked about this and asked for your help in the past. I am once again attempting to quit sugar and work out more.
If you have offered me advice in the past and are tired of my requests, yet again, for advice and ideas, I understand. I get it. Believe me, no one is more tired of my bullshit and my inability to stick to a regimen and make the healthy choices than I am.
This last time I was derailed by my mom's illness and death. I just did not have the mental space or physical energy to commit to disciplined nutritional choices and consistent work outs while taking care of her. But the reasons don't really matter because there were excuses before this one, and on and on. I have been starting and giving up on, healthy living routines since I was 18 years old. Let's do the math, that's 30 years!
A little background: I am not a yo-yo dieter. I very slowly put on weight starting with my first desk job at 20 and never dropped it. The weight has never bothered me. I am a confident woman who has never needed to fit into a six 6. I am also single by choice and nothing in the last 30 years has given me a reason to change my mind about this.
This situation now is that I'm looking hard at 50 and the little aches and pains: the trick knee, the occasional sciatica, the feet that get a little too sore too soon, are, I feel, all red flags signaling that hitting snooze on my health is no longer an option.
I truly believe that fitness and nutritional eating are not only the key to staying fit and active, but I think if I just commit and get through those first few tough months, I would actually like it.
Lately I've been drinking my Dr. Pepper and eating my high-calorie cheesy pasta and lots of sourdough bread (all my favorites), but they just haven't been as satisfying as they once were. [Sidebar: I realize some of this could be residual depression and grief making life just not as wonderful as it once was. That will take time.]
Mostly, I'm just tired of giving the "I have got to get my health in order" thoughts the mental real estate in my brain. I need to deal with it so I can move on from it. So it is not such big part of my daily thoughts.
My long-winded and self-indulgent post here is just to ask once again - and I swear for the last time - what do you all find works for you as far as fitness and nutrition goes? My fitness goals are:
to get stronger and improve flexibility and mobility while protecting the joints and ligaments
staving off osteoporosis
alleviating some peri-menopause symptoms
My nutrition goals are:
to kick the sugar addiction once and for all and change my palate so I don't crave sweet things so much
prevent diabetes/heart disease, etc. before they start
improving gut health
I welcome all comments and advice, and that includes the tough-love "girl, you have got to get your shit together!"
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froggywritesstuff · 11 months
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monster | yandere!amber freeman
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Pairing: Yandere!Amber Freeman x male!reader 
Warnings: Scream 5 spoilers, swearing, yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, possessiveness, mentions of murder, dub-con touching, stockholm syndrome, fluff if you squint
Fandom: Scream
Request: anon: Yandere Amber Freeman x Male Reader, where he urges her stop being Ghostface because he's worried sick about her being arrested or killed - and she's a bit taken aback, because despite everything she puts him through, he still genuinely cares/loves her and wants her to be okay?
A/N: (i hope y'all are liking yandere amber as much as i am.) fem readers DNI and spoilers ahead. i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life
Your legs bounced with anxiety as you stared at the clock reading 1:14am. Every second that passed felt like an eternity. Amber was supposed to be home ages ago. At first it upset you because you missed her (though you'd never let her know that), but over time, you got a gnawing, dreadful feeling that something bad had happened to her. You knew she was smart about killing people - she made sure to tell you all about it in explicit detail - but lately you had started to worry about something happening to her. What if she slipped up and got caught on a security camera, or someone started fighting back, or if she got arrested. You hated to admit it, but you didn't know what you'd do without Amber. She was completely unfair to you in every possible way, you weren't even sure she viewed you as your own person, only seeing you as her helpless boyfriend. But still, you had become attached to her. You felt like you needed her. That feeling terrified you.
You grab your phone and check your notifications, making sure to get rid of all the notifications from your friends talking about how they miss you and wanna hang out more, as Amber would get insanely jealous if she saw those when she checked your phone. You frowned after seeing no response to the message you sent to Amber, feeling yourself getting more anxious by the minute. You heard noises from outside the door, and the gnawing feeling in your stomach became a thousand times worse.
You flinched as the door swung open loudly, but you calmed down slightly when you realised it was just Amber.
"Hey babe," she greeted with a smile, slipping out of her Ghostface costume and heading toward the kitchen sink to wash the blood off herself. She swore never to touch you with anyone's blood if it wasn't from you or herself.
You said nothing, just stared down at the floor. 
Amber frowned at your silence as she dried her hands with a towel, "Hey," she snapped, moving so she was in front of you and towering above you, "Answer me when I speak to you," she grabbed your jaw, making you look directly at her, "Understand?"
You nodded, "Yeah, sorry Amber." you mumbled, flinching when she moved to sit down right next to you, arms wrapping tightly around your body.
"How was your night, baby?"
You begged your body not to shake in her arms as you spoke, "Why were you out so long?"
Amber just smiled, and you were just grateful she didn't get mad at you for not answering her question, "Aww, did somebody miss me?"
"Why were you out so long?" you repeated, your voice coming out way more shaky than you wanted.
"Aw, don't worry baby, I just had some extra stuff to take care of. Tyler, that ass from your math class was being extra difficult tonight." she sighed, "That kid can run."
"I want you to stop." you blurted out, regretting saying anything the second you did.
You felt Amber's cold glare on you, "Stop what?"
"I... I want you to stop killing people." you kept your gaze glued to the floor.
"And why is that, Y/N?"
You took a shaky breath, "I don't want something bad happening to you."
Amber's gaze immediately softened, "What do you mean, baby?"
"Wha-what if someone catches you with your mask off, or if the police come and you can't escape quick enough, o-or what if someone's stronger than you and they fight back," at this point, tears were rushing down your face, "what if you leave and don't come back?"
Amber froze, your words repeating in her mind until she finally made sense of them, "You... you really care about me?"
If you were in the right mindset, you would've said something else about how it was just stockholm syndrome and how Amber had made you feel like you were worthless without her so you would feel helpless if she was gone. But you weren't in the right mindset. You were sobbing over the thought of something happening to your girlfriend who was responsible for hundreds of innocent people's deaths.
"Yes, Amber. I hate being without you, I need you." you sobbed, wiping at the tears on your face.
Amber said nothing. She just stared at you. She looked genuine for once. It wasn't some trick or some way to manipulate you. She loved you more than anything in the world and to hear you crying over how much you cared for her? She adored seeing you cry but she couldn't stand it now.
She pulled you in a hug, letting you sob into the crook of her neck as she ran her hand through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. She took a while to gather her thoughts, wanting to say the right response to something she had no idea to respond to. She had put you through absolute hell, even she could admit that. You should've been jumping for joy at the chance to be away from her. But you weren't. You were crying over the thought of something bad happening to her. No matter how confused she was, she adored this new attitude of yours.
"It's ok baby, nothing's gonna happen to me." she whispered.
"But what if you're wrong?"
"Come on baby, I've been killing everyone in this town for over a month now, not even my closest friends know I'm Ghostface. You didn't either until I told you." she pulled out of the hug, cupping your face with her hands, smiling as she used her thumb to wipe away your tears, "You're gonna have to trust me, Y/N." you went to shake your head, but felt her grip on your face tighten, making you unable to move, "I'd never lie to you baby." That was a lie. But you couldn't bring yourself to think of that.
You sniffled, staring into your girlfriend's eyes, "Do you promise?"
She nodded, "I promise, baby. I'm never gonna leave you." she pressed her lips against yours, before pulling away, and glancing at the time, "It's late Y/N. Let's get ready for bed, ok? You must be tired."
You said nothing as she pulled you up from the couch by your hands and led you to the bedroom. Deep down you knew there was something very wrong with this situation. Your girlfriend was responsible for the death of countless innocent lives, and you genuinely loved her. That thought terrified you.
You sat silently on the edge of the bed as Amber dug through the drawers to pick out your pyjamas. You cringed as you recall yourself purposely not getting changed so Amber could choose your clothes. You felt sick at how you had grown so accustomed to being with Amber. How bending at her every whim was slowly becoming second nature to you.
"Put this on." Amber was standing in front of you, a pair of folded pyjama pants in her hands, smiling as you took them from her hands, thanking her as you stood up to undress.
It had been especially cold the last couple of nights, so Amber immediately jumped at the chance to make you dependent on her. She'd give you as little clothes as she could, forcing you to cuddle up to her for warmth during the night. As well as this, she loved seeing your bare skin exposed to her, especially when you would tense up under her touch.
You slipped under the covers of the double bed, staying as close to the edge of the bed as you could as you felt Amber slide in next to you, wasting no time to wrap her arms tightly around your body.
She pulled you close to her, "I love you baby." she mumbled, smiling against your neck.
A pit formed in your stomach as you wasted no time responding, "I love you too."
What scared you most was that you knew it was true. You loved Amber. You were capable of loving a murderer - a monster.
buy me a coffee <3
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polaroidbills · 11 months
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something great.
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"i want you here with me. like how i pictured it. so i don't have to keep imagining."
genre! - angsty, fluff too, mega slice of life
paring! -non-idol!beomgyu x fem!reader
synopsis! - these days, love is always glorified in movies and books. but it's not always like that. sometimes it can be amazing and instant. other times, love can be damaging and complicated. but is it ever too much to ask for something great? - inspired by something great by one direction -
warnings! - not proof read, kiss (kinda), teeny tiny swearing (lmk if i missed anything)
word count! - 1 572
author's note! - first little imagine after my hiatus!! this is literally me rn (minus the dream part). he literally has a bird too and he doesn't play basketball but hockey. anyway hope you enjoyed!
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i've always been into romantic-comedies. whether it's books, movies, or shows. they're my favourite. they allow me to get away from reality and slip into my imaginary world. a world so great, filled with love and joy. it's like an over powered hide and seek spot.
but sometimes i get fooled. sometimes the love shown through these films and novels aren't real. love in reality is never how they are in the movies.
boys don't fly across the world to see you. boys don't put on a musical performance as a way to apologize. boys don't join the drama club just because you did.
i just wished he did.
choi beomgyu is his name. he's been my crush since kindergarten. i'm im grade 8 now. soon i'll be graduating into high school. he doesn't know. he's never known. and i don't plan on letting him know. how could i?
he charming, funny, caring, and so much more. the way he rakes his hands through his hair, the way his laugh is contagious to everyone around him, the way he can always lighten up the mood, the way he isn't only socially successful but academically successful, and the way just his presence is comforting.
my feelings for him never leave. even if i try my best to force them out, even if he's dating someone else, even if we go on summer break. they never leave.
it's now friday, 10 days before graduation. i sit myself next to him because my teacher changed the seating arrangement.
"hey y/n!" his cheerful voices rings through my ears.
"morning beomgyu!" i respond.
"did you do the math homework?"
"i did yeah. you?"
"uh nope," he scratches his head.
we often have these small conversations. just short and casual. just a hi and hello. usually it would end here. i guess not this time.
"haha do you need help with it?" i ask.
"actually yeah. i don't really get it," an embarrassed look plays on his face.
"you know, i could help. i don't really mind."
"really? you would do that?"
"of course, i have nothing else to do anyway."
"okay sure! how about after school? i have to carpool with soobin and yunjin though, if that's okay with you?"
soobin, beomgyu, yunjin, and more of my classmates live on the same street. so they often carpool together.
yunjin is one of my best friends. she's one of the only one's that know about my crush. but ut weirds her out because she has like a sibling relationship with beomgyu.
"sure let me just text my parents!"
"great!"
and just like that i have plans. plans with him. i know it's just studying, but it's something? i mean, i can barely look him in the eye, let alone help him with math.
the school day goes by in a blur. i can't get my mind off of what's happening after school.
its 3:15, 15 minutes before school ends. i go to the bathroom to freshen up a little, bringing my emergency bag. in which holds a hair brush, mascara, blush, bronzer, highlighter, and a lip gloss.
i go back into class, as everyone starts packing their backpacks, getting ready to leave. i too get ready to leave.
3:27, 3 minutes until the bell. we're already lined up waiting.
"hey y/n!" soobin call my name. i walk over to them.
"you're coming with us?" soobin asks.
"yeah, is that okay?"
"for sure we have an extra seat anyway."
"okay cool," i smile.
the bell rings and we walk out into the parking lot.
"hey mom! um y/n is riding with us, is that okay?" soobin asks his mother.
"of course! come on in sweetie!"
beomgyu gets in first onto the far left seat.
"sorry y/n, you're in the middle," beomgyu says, as they already have assigned seats.
"thats fine," i climb into the middle and soobin gets in too, closing the door.
the drive is quiet, with only the low radio playing. but uts a short drive.
i've never been this close to beomgyu. it's quite awkward but also comfortable in a way.
the car halts and we climb out of the car, walking over to beomgyu's house.
"i'm home!" he unlocks the door. and his mom hurries to the door.
"hi y/n! come in, come in," his mom smiles.
as we walk in, i notice the lovely furniture and layout of the home.
"you have a very nice home mrs. choi!"
"thank you! but please call me diana."
"okay mom stop mingling, let's go upstairs," beomgyu interrupts. and we make our way up.
i notice all of the family and chcildhood photos on the walls and tables. cute.
"no funny business!"
beomgyu rolls his eyes and shuts his bedroom door.
"okay so where should we start?" i ask.
"well i couldn't really understand question 1?"
"okay we'll start there," we set down our books on the foors and start studying.
a couple hours later, dinner is called. we walk downstairs to a neatly setted table and the smell of delicious food.
i sit next to beomgyu and diana serves the food.
"thank you! this looks delicious."
"of course! cooked a special dinner for a special day!"
"mom!" beomgyu makes a weird look to his mom.
"oops- anyway, y/n what wer eyou guys studying up there?"
"oh beomgyu needed help on some math."
the dinner goes by really well. i feel like diana and i have a connection, as we were talking the whole time.
we go back upstairs to continue our work.
"hey don't you have a bird?" i ask him.
"yeah, his name is toto."
"can i see him?"
"sure but be careful, he isn't good around new people."
we go into the birds room and there's toto in his cage.
beomgyu slowly takes him out.
"here put your finger out, like this," he demonstrates the movement. and i follow. "toto up!"
toto moves onto my hand carefully.
"woah! toto's never good around new people! he must like you! toto kiss," he point to my cheek as toto places his beak on it.
it's a fun moment. laughter and smiles. this is why i like him.
he puts toto back into his cage and we go to his room.
"hey i'm tired of studying can't we stop now?" beomgyu says after a few more minutes of studying.
"yeah sure what do you wanna do?"
"hmm i don't know? we haven't really talked all lot, i wanna get to know you more."
"oh well what do you wanna know?"
"do you have any hobbies?"
"yeah, i love reading and watching movies and shows i guess?"
"oh cool what kind?"
"mainly rom-coms. what are your hobbies?"
"well i play basketball for one. i also really love music and playjng the guitar."
"oh cool i love music too! who's your favourite artist?"
"i love taylor swift and seventeen."
"me too!"
silence falls between us, but it's not awkward. i make eye contact with him – something i never do. the tension between us is strong and the space between us is small. i can slightly feel his breath on my skin. his eyes travel to my lips and back to my eyes, and the same thing goes for mine. his moves in closer, now the space is really small. i can definitely feel his breath on me. he moves in even closer.
"y/n?"
"yeah?"
"i really really like you, for soo long. i like you y/n."
"y/n! y/n! y/n! wake up! you're gonna be late for school!"
i awaken by the sound and nudging of my brother.
"what?"
"you're gonna be late come on!"
of course it was just a dream. it always is. just my stupid imagination and mind. he would never like me. his way out of my league. why would he even like me? there's so many other girls too.
my mind is occupied with these negative thoughts, untily brother yells once again.
i shake my head to brush the thoughts away and quickly get ready for school, walking straight out the door.
the whole walk to school my head is filled with these thoughts and reminders.
love isn't real. it never was. i was just to delusional and blind to know it. true love is just in the movies and books. those scenarios never exist in real life, only in fictional films and novels, of course. no matter how much i imagine and hope and dream, nothing will change. it's just something i ask and beg for.
but is it ever too much to want someone with me, like in the books and movies, like how i picture a true love is?
when will i be able to stop imagining?
why do i still have to keep imagining?
is it too much to ask for something great?
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@1-800-143 please DO NOT copy, plagiarize, or repost any of my work.
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lorre-verie · 1 year
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◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Modern Avatar Highschool AU A-Z (Pt. 2: H-N)
6:96 ───|────── 9:69
you are now reading a post by lorre
warning: use of swear words
pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | masterlist
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⌲ H for Hobbies and Hates (What are their hobbies and what do they hate doing?)
neteyam: his hobbies include; archery, calligraphy, hiking, canoeing, skiing, camping, rock climbing, basically almost every outdoor sport that requires amazing core strength. And chess. Don’t tell me this man doesn’t like chess. He’s good at a lot of things he tries, but he especially loves outdoor activities. If you don’t like going outside then i have some bad news for you babes cause he goes out almost every weekend. morning walks/runs everyday. AND he’s a genius at chess because of course he is. Once Ao’nung challenged him to a match and lost like 3 minutes in because he got too cocky. Neteyam had the smuggest look on his face for the rest of the day. I also think he likes sketching small doodles messily with a pen when he’s bored.
He claims to not hate anything, but his siblings know he’s traumatised by yoga (i have a backstory for this), so don’t ask him to participate in anything like that cause he’ll decline immediately (but politely.)
kiri: Girl loves the outdoors like Neteyam but not so much all the physical activities. She likes swimming but only in lakes and rivers and not public pools cause she’s disgusted by the piss and the smell. She also loves thrifting her clothes and cutting them up and making them into personalised outfits for her own style. She lives for aesthetics and probably has a scrapbook and loves journaling about all the plants and unique animals she finds on her little walks. She and Tsireya also have a podcast (that Lo’ak and Rotxo religiously listen to). The only thing she really doesn’t like is being in loud places with too many hyper people like music festivals, concerts, basically just doing anything that involves being in large uncoordinated crowds.
lo'ak: he does basic rebel boy stuff like skateboarding, playing games on his phone (be real he’s too broke to have a PC), yo-yoing, and since he can run real fast he likes volleyball, tennis, badminton, anything that requires you to be quick on your feet cause he’s awesome at those things. He hates anything that requires you to use your brain (except chess he’s actually kinda good at it surprisingly, but not as good as Ao’nung or Neteyam). He had an ant farm once when he was like 6 and cherished it so much but then he dropped the frame and they all scattered in the house and it earned him the spanking of his life (everyone kept finding ants in their shit for the next 4 months).
ao'nung: as you know by now, he’s a chess douchebag. He’s amazingly freakishly good at it (like math) and if he meets new people and there's a chessboard conveniently nearby he’ll challenge them to it just because he wants to humiliate them a little. He doesn’t actually like it that much, he just likes beating people using his smarts for once. Other than that, he loves basketball, volleyball. He hates walking in forests cause he hates insects (always carries mosquito spray around).
rotxo: he likes writing stories and photography since he’s a literature lover and the yearbook editor. Sometimes he’ll go with Kiri on her walks and they have fun photoshoots of little animals, plants or her. He’s so good with a camera, he’s often the guy people give the phone to, to take pictures for their instagram. He doesn’t like loud places like Kiri and i headcanon he’s actually claustrophobic. He’s okay with most activities.
tsireya: enjoys public speaking hence the podcast, loved cracking jokes as a kid and still does now, likes to listen to a bunch of different genres of music, learns a few dances and likes making aesthetic graphics on her laptop as well as edits of her favourite tv show characters. She’s alright with physical activity. terrified of heights so anything that requires her to get above 20 floors of height is a no no.
⌲ I for Income (Do they have a part time job and what are they like when working?)
neteyam: Yes he does, he works at an animal shelter. Originally he was a volunteer but then the owner of said shelter thought he was doing a great job and decided they’d start paying for it. He refused a couple times but the owner insisted. The animal shelter has a few birds, some dogs, cats, hamsters, one snake but it escaped and they’ve never seen it since. He remembers all the feeding times and schedules and memorises any allergies, difficulties, injuries, etc and he’s just great with the animals, he adores them. He also takes the dogs on walks often.
kiri: she’d probably be a barista at starbucks, 70% of the time she’s the voice taking orders at the drive through. Dislikes dealing with karens and annoying people cause unlike classes she can’t argue with them else she’d get fired, but it’s great for practice calming herself. Enjoys mixing her own drinks, HATES the cleaning process after closing everyday. Definitely makes tiktoks about customers in the backroom when she's bored
lo'ak: the guy that sells snacks and drinks at the movie theatre. He steals some popcorn from time to time cause he’s hungry but he’s really good at convincing people to buy stuff. Super friendly and never fails to get people to buy more snacks or upgrade their popcorn box size. “Yo bro I think you and your girl need a little more popcorn than that, don’t you think? I can hook you up if you’re interested.” (said deal was always available but he knows people never read the little advertisements that flash on the tv menus)
ao'nung: lifeguard at the beach. Enjoys his time tanning and swimming around leisurely, (the girls love him and go to the beach every weekend just to see him) and it’s a pretty calm and easy job, nobody usually has any problems. Except for one time when a girl faked passing out to get him to do CPR on her but it didn’t work cause he knew what she was doing and claimed to not know how to do CPR. Instead he said he’d call her parents and she miraculously woke up the very next second.
rotxo: doesn’t have a job he sleeps a lot after school (hence the submitting assignments at 3:33am)
tsireya: she’s a babysitter and she does so incredibly well with kids, she’s so kind to them and sometimes lets them stay up a little (JUST A LITTLE) past their bedtime because she was once in their shoes and knows that sleeping at 7.15pm when they were supposed to sleep at 7pm doesn't make too big of a difference. they love her and she always gets callbacks from happy satisfied parents.
⌲ J for Jealous Of Your Lunch (or not) (What food do they eat during lunch?)
neteyam: he brings a homemade sandwich with lettuce, egg, some kinda meat and some sauce. Packs it himself, even leaves a little encouraging note for himself so he can read it later on (lo’ak calls him a dork). Doesn’t have a lunch bag, just puts it in a reusable plastic container (reduce reuse recycle guys). He usually just brings water but he’ll bring organic freshly squeezed orange juice on good days.
kiri: she steals the sandwiches/paninis from work and just microwaves them the next day to bring to school because she can't be bothered to actually make a homemade meal for herself. Sometimes she’ll pack gummy bears stolen from tuk’s “secret stash” or a small pringle can. Occasionally brings an extra stolen sandwich to give to tsireya or rotxo. brings cold water in her hydro flask or hot tea sometimes.
lo'ak: bro brings chips. Just a bag of chips. Takis if he can get them but he always eats chips during lunch and it concerns tsireya a lot because??? That's a whole lot of salt he consumes everyday. To make matters worse he keeps buying coke from the vending machine. Sometimes he gets school lunch with rotxo (i feel like they’d be chill buddies but only if ao’nung wasn’t around cause he kinda drags the attention away from rotxo unintentionally).
ao'nung: his family is rich so he just orders food online for himself. Sometimes if he’s feeling up to it he’ll treat all his friends to a meal (yes, including lo’ak, kiri and neteyam) but not that often else he’d be completely broke. You will find him and tsireya waiting at the school doors for the dude bringing their food to get there during the first 5 minutes of lunch.
rotxo: he eats school lunch. It’s not that bad in pandora high but it's still not the best. Always grabs rice and some form of protein, always gets chocolate pudding but he thinks chocolate milk sucks ass mainly cause of all the powder in it. he also has trauma of pizza from eating an expired school slice of pizza cause after that he projectile vomited all over the floor during a presentation and the only reason he’s lived it down is because nobody knows that it was him that did that (npc behaviour im so sorry rotxo)
tsireya: orders food with Ao’nung, definitely is the girl that offers to buy drinks for everyone (u gotta pay her back though…she’d be too nice to ask if you forgot but her brother WILL track you down and charge you interest every day that you don’t pay up. you do NOT want secret maths genius ao’nung keeping track of your debt everyday and staring you down in the hall menacingly).
⌲ K for Kick Off The Year (What are they like back at school after the holidays?)
neteyam: he’s actually always ticked off at school after the holidays, even on mondays just after the weekend. he enjoys his relaxation time where he doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances and at home where he can just sit back and chill. if it’s been more than a week since he’s been to school expect him to be upset for another week. he won’t make it obvious but his handwriting definitely becomes more aggressive and it’ll always look like he’s glaring at someone when he’s just looking at them. (im listening to she knows by ne-yo while writing this and ngl an upset neteyam….i wouldn’t mind that too much 🤭 hell someone remind me to write headcanons of neteyam when he’s upset please oml i can just see it now)
kiri: definitely annoyed about going back to school but let’s be real who wouldn’t be? She’ll get used to the schedule and everything after like a day or two of school. she enjoys hearing the teacher’s sighs as they come back on monday, seeing her sitting front row ready to point out all the mistakes they’ll make after the weekend.
lo'ak: bro acts like he hasn’t been to school in YEARS. He’ll sludge through the doors of school like goop and just be dead as hell. if you talk to him he’d sound like a dying goat. He does however light up when he sees Tsireya. that’s really the only good part of going back to school for him.
ao'nung: he never usually has a dull day at school and he’s pretty chill with it. Once he steps through those doors he’ll have people crowding him asking him about the new haircut he got during the holidays and the fact he looks more fit (may or may not be true)
rotxo: you’ll never know what this manz is feeling. His face is just 🙂constantly. He’s definitely happy to see kiri again but besides that you would never know if he’s happy or upset by going back to school.
tsireya: girl is excited as hell. super excited to tell her friends about the holiday to the maldives she took, super excited to run for president again (she’s actually not supposed to but the teachers love her so they just let her and she always ends up winning), super excited to get back to teaching the little kids ballet at the preschool building every thursday, super excited to talk to kiri and lo’ak again. you might think she’s one of those girls who peaks at highschool but you're wrong because she’s been peaking since she was BORN.
⌲ L for Locker (What’s their locker look like?)
neteyam: locker probably plain as hell, he doesn’t pay attention to it much. Maybe a calendar pasted on the inside as well as some reminder notes but that’s it. His books are neat, but i don’t think i needed to include that detail cause with neteyam everything is neat (except the bitchy attitude on mondays)
kiri: she probably has fairy lights in there and if you ask her how tf she’ll say magic, cause there’s literally nowhere to plug the goddamn thing in. she has polaroid photographs of the whole friend group pasted onto the door and has leaf stickers decorating them.
lo'ak: he has stickers of random shit in there, like a mcdonalds sticker, sticker from someone’s kpop album, sticker of a skateboard and a star wars sticker. used to have a pic of tsireya but took it down after one of her friends laughed at him in the hall. he has extra hair ties for tsireya in case she ever needs it.
ao'nung: has a mirror in there. Like the door is just a whole ass mirror when he opens it up. that's it. idk i just feel like he’d stick a mirror onto it, that just seems like what he’d do. always wipes the mirror in the morning to keep it shiny.
rotxo: also has photographs of the friend group and a childhood photo of him and ao’nung where he kisses ao’nung on the forehead (ao’nung still hasn’t noticed it to this day since rotxo put it up) and also has extra batteries for his camera in case he needs it.
tsireya: now this is the whole reason i put L for Locker. her locker is magnificent??? she has a little heart mirror that sticks to the door, a box of tissues and some emergency items in case any of her friends need something (which include but are not limited to; pads, tampons, a mini power bank, perfume, bubblegum, mints, hand sanitizer, wet wipes, glue, scissors, extra sheets of paper, a stapler, a hole puncher, etc).
the moment she got her locker key she DIY-ed it and made a cute keychain with her initials on it so nobody could mistake it for others, and people often drop little letters to her anonymously asking for something or a change in the school or a suggestion since she’s the president, or even love letters sometimes so she created a mini letter box and attached it beneath where the hole was so everything wouldn’t just fall to the floor when she opened the locker.
on the door there’s like a little slot she made for her hairbrush and some chapstick yk just in case. probably sticks glow in the dark stars on the top of the locker so she peeks into the locker before opening it just to admire them. oh and instead of post it notes to remind her about stuff, she has a mini eraser board on the door below the mirror.
⌲ M for Morning Routine (What’s their morning routine before school?)
neteyam: he gets up literally 4 hours before school starts, brushes his teeth, goes on a walk/run, showers, makes breakfast for himself and packs lunch for later, puts on a hoodie and cargo pants, and then he just lays on his bed watching youtube videos and/or studying. He doesn’t even need to wake up 4 hours before he just does it because he wants extra chill time before school. Has to wear earplugs when he reaches to 2 hour mark because of lo’aks loudass alarm.
kiri: she definitely gets up earlier then lo’ak, probably wakes up an hour and 30 minutes before school starts since their house is like 30 minutes away from their school (15 if there's no traffic). She can finish getting ready in like 25 minutes and she sits on the couch scrolling through social media while waiting for lo’ak’s dumbass to get up. Grabs a starbucks sandwich and airfries it for the amount of time that Neytiri takes to wake him up.
lo'ak: gets up an hour before school starts, alarm on max volume blaring into his ears (and been doing that for the past hour) and making the whole household deaf. rushes literally everything, forgets to bring at least 1 thing each day, and scrambles out the door after 30 minutes jumping into the backseat of Jake’s SUV.
ao'nung: he gets up 2 hours before school starts. their house is about the same distance from school as the sully’s, but idk i just feel like their house is huge and it takes up 3x maybe 4x the space a normal house would. he probably has his own horse or something, and tends to it every morning. if he could he would probably ride a horse to school idk. he does normal stuff, i dunno what you would want me to elaborate about besides the stupid little sibling fights him and reya have every morning.
rotxo: he wakes up an hour before school and spends 30 minutes getting ready and probably just eats cereal everyday for breakfast. spends the longest time taking care of his hair and brushing it out making sure it looks flawless. before he gets going he makes sure have this specific conversation with ao’nung over text: “u otw bro?” “yea bro” “k bro” “k” just because they think its funny and they’ve been doing it for years.
tsireya: gets up at the same time as ao’nung because their rooms are next to each other and his alarm is obnoxiously loud. has a whole skincare routine she religiously follows every morning, her bathroom is just stocked full with a variety of different products that she will use. she will make pancakes for herself and for ao’nung if he hasn’t eaten anything yet, and she always takes a pic to put it on her instagram highlights of all the pancakes she’s ever made. she also has her own horse but ao’nung usually tends to it for her so she doesn’t need to worry much.
⌲ N for No Cap (How up to date are they with today’s slang?)
neteyam: he’d know a lot of it because of lo’ak but would rarely use it. he speaks properly almost constantly, even over text. he does use abbreviations like wrud wya lmfao noyb stfu wsg stuff like that (if u didn’t understand any of that then ur just old i don't make the rules). If he’s dating sb that's a whole different story tho he’d probably send like 4 paragraphs professing his undying everlasting infinite love and passion for his s/o.
kiri: definitely knows all the words, all the insults, all the abbreviations. even more than lo’ak. would not use words like pop off queen or slay though because she thinks it doesn’t fit with her aesthetic. Her way of texting kinda mad tho cause she’ll text like “yo u got the math notes?” and then she’ll follow immediately with “Appreciate it, thanks.” with correct grammar and everyones so fed up with it. An even worse example is “Hi, what are you doing currently?” and then she’ll say “k cool” like wtf do you want, woman??
lo'ak: knows a lot and uses it in everyday conversation like he’s the type of person to say lol and lmao in real life. nothing special to say that you wouldn’t expect from a man of this caliber.
ao'nung and rotxo: had to combine these mfs for this one cause they’re like the same. they both like saying L and W over text but not irl cause it's kinda cringe. pretty normal when talking in real life but they do know all the slang. partially cause lo’ak will use a lot of it during lunch together.
tsireya: absolutely, she knows it all. she’s the most active on social media out of all the avatar teens, consistently uses new slang and introduces it to her friends. she’s the it girl, what more can i say?
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | masterlist
dang i finally got to finish this 😭 so happy to finally have another part out. This series will have 2 more parts from O to T and U to Z! In case u want to see more of my works, my masterlist is in the link above.
taglist: @calums-betch (im so sorry this took so long 😭)
another thing: i would like 2 make it known that again i am accepting requests! please view the rules in my navigation (link in my desc) before requesting anything btw. and also i will mention again the hashtag specifically for modern avatar au content that any other creator can use freely (modern jc avatar au)
okay thats all, tysm for reading and have a wonderful day!
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throwaway-yandere · 5 months
Text
I want to be honest (no this has nothing to do with fics lmao youll get it as scheduled)
This post is an explanation as to why I consider myself as "retired". I know I've said it's because of studies, but that'll be 1/3 of the truth. I want to talk about the true three real reasons why, and I'll do my best to be straight to the point. This isn't a cry for help (I swear to the heavens it is NOT). This is just to clear out assumptions.
Here's the other two reasons:
Grief & Mental Health
Writing itself & interactions
Grief & Mental Health:
I'll pour my heart out, so I'm sorry if it's long. As I said, I'll be straight to the point, so: my grandfather around the first week of June. I remember how I received the news so vividly. I was listening to Two Birds while washing the dishes at 12 AM. My mom went down the stairs with my father, crying as they tell me the news that he's gone. We drove half an hour to the hospital where I get to pat his head one last time. I remember mindlessly wandering the hospital halls— I remember mindlessly using the free alcohol attached to a wall. I remember breaking down as I realized I just cleansed away the hand that last had contact with him. I remember every detail, from the ride home where I messaged my good college friend to tell her that she needs to be a good nurse because the public healthcare system in the country is awful. I remember silently hating everyone and everything. I remember thinking about how cruel it was that life took away the one relative who genuinely cared about me and I was sure was related to me by blood. I remember thinking how much I'm distant to everyone else on my mother's side except him. I remember feeling so empty. I remember not sleeping for two days straight.
But let's back track for a bit. Before his death, I did have one final conversation with him. He was sedated and tubed miserably. Deep down, I knew his time was coming. So, I just made jokes about how grandma was growing senile and mistook me for a nurse for ten whole minutes. Then, I thanked him for everything he's done, and told him I'll become an engineer. Just like him.
And now here I am, dorming 3 hours away from home. I dormed because I had nearly decided my life meant nothing after lack of sleep through daily commutes and workloads. But I am lonely and unwell. I don't know what I want in life. I don't know what I actually want to be, but I already shifted courses as a chemical engineering student. I was so stressed to the point I've accidentally cried to my chem professor in a phone call. I don't know what I'm doing with my scholarship and education if it's for no one. And I am scared that I'm draining my parents' already limited resource for nothing. That I'm wasting the scholarship my country had given me nothing. That I am wasting my people's taxes for nothing.
It was only when another friend told me that I seem to live my life based on other's decisions and opinions did I notice just why I'm incredibly miserable.
I know I don't have dreams for myself. And even if I did, how the hell will writing and drawing feed me in the future when the industry in this 3rd world country is absolute garbage?
I guess Asians really do the things they hate so they can get what they love. Okay, I'll stop making jokes.
I miss my long-time friends, Phitre and Frost. I also miss my old blockmates when I was a BSEd-Math student. I am too used to eating alone, studying alone, walking alone. I am too used to being an outsider. But I'm not used to silence. I'm not too used to hearing actual silence.
All I have is Discord and Messenger.
And even then, it's quiet.
Writing itself & Interactions
I love writing and drawing. I just hate posting it at this point, which is why I made another account that's purely interaction-based.
I love writing a lot— my happiness is turning shtposts into something terrifying. I don't like writing romances, I like the thrill instead. I like laughing like I'm Hubert from FE:TH after thinking of an evil plot twist.
But I hate posting it. Because I know, no matter how much effort I put it, it's not enough. No matter how long it is— no matter if you learned basic coding for it— drew art— made interactive google forms— it's just not enough. I literally made two long separate fics with different endings depending on your choices and it just performs less on something I didn't actually put anything on.
Lord.
Lord I hate Creative Differences for that. I finally understood why bands hate their hit songs because of that lol.
Don't comment something like "oh, you content creators are just whining—" I am whining. Why? Because we don't treat artists and writers like they're human enough. Like we're just uploading content and that we don't want to hear what the others have to say. I remember there was one ask telling me how they're gonna miss traumatizing their friend— and I'm just sitting there wondering "why didn't YOU tell me their reactions? Why are you making me feel like I'm talking to a brick wall for 2k words and more?" It's not their fault. I am not mad at this anon. They've done nothing wrong, but lord do I hate feeling like this.
I could follow "part 2???" requests, finish all my drafts for the events. But I know. I know the chances of the person who requested them won't actually answer after all the effort.
[insert Berkut's "all that effort, what is it all for?!" voice line from FE:Echoes here to lighten the mood]
But that aside.
It's just silence. Just notes, when I feel like comments are what matters more. I'm used to being alone, but I really hate silence. I hate it so much. That's why I'm always so grateful to the people who do interact often, and don't say that's not true because I can prove it. You can see me make content just for them, dedicate fics, art, everything. I love them, I love the "noise".
I know we all have lives, I know we're all busy, I know. I respect your time, I respect you.
And I think it's just time I respect myself as well.
So that's why I'm retired. No pressure on events (idol and letters), no pressure on anything. I'm actually taking my time in End Of Year Blues. It's nice.
Edit: I forgot to mention
My father hates that I write. He constantly tells me to stop it, to prioritize my academics, when writing is my only way of coping.
So.
Haha, what the hell do I even do anymore, right?
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