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#but apparently online classes are worse for me!

pattypanini · 1 month

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Lay All Your Love On Me Chapter 5- Rules

Josh Kiszka x Reader AND slight Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: Around 4k

AN: Hi everyone! Here is the fifth chapter of Lay All Your Love On Me from me and @mar-rein12! Thank you so much for all the support, we appreciate it all. Here is the taglist incase anyone wants to be added to it: TAGLIST. This is our last 'smaller' chapter but its filled with lots of good stuff. We hope you enjoy chapter 5, Rules.

Also get ready for smut because it doesn't end from here, only gets worse. LOL. And get more use to Jake, because we’re going to be seeing a lot more of him soon 😘

Next chapter coming this Thursday!

Warnings: 18+, SMUTTTTT, Unprotected sex, Tit fondling, Fingering, Oral (F receiving), Angst, Flirting, Cursing, Hickeys, Alcohol, not good coping mechanisms, jealousy, heavy petting. (lmk if i forgot anything!)

Y/n’s POV:

Walking to class the next morning was an experience. You both ended up sleeping through the alarm and had to get ready at his house. So that meant having to go to class in his sweats and t-shirt from last night. Charlotte wasn’t the happiest that you didn’t walk with her to class, in fact you ended up being half an hour late to your lecture, but telling her about the night distracted her from her anger.

“He may or may not have eaten me out..” You raise your eyebrows, as you tilt your cold brew up to your lips, taking a swig.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Charlotte covers her mouth to keep her drink in.

“Char, quiet down please. I don’t think all of Starbucks wants to know about my night,” you scolded her with a chuckle. It had become routine to go to Starbucks after your first class due to the break you both had before your next one.

“Well… how was it? Was he good?” Charlotte presses.

“It was really good. A lot better than I expected, I’ll say that. His talkativeness definitely translates into the bedroom.”

“Omg, I bet you're looking forward to practicing now. I mean you guys are, like, practically married at this point.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, in a teasing manner.

To be honest you weren’t looking forward to practice this afternoon knowing that Lindsey would be expecting a cover of your adventures of last night, and that Josh would be listening to it to hear what you rated his performance. So fucking cocky.

“Umm yeah, sure I guess I’m excited.” You respond, knowing you were completely lying to her.

You finish your drinks and say your goodbyes, making your way to your hour and a half long class that you would spend most of the time online shopping.

—

First week of April 2023- Spring Semester- Junior Year

The rest of the week, practice goes fairly smooth. It was now the beginning of April and you were enjoying your time at practice, feeling very confident in your role. You still had a little over a month before the real deal but everyone was making good progress. But of course something was nagging at you. Josh was still talking and flirting with that bitch, Sophia. Yeah you were a little jealous, but so was she. She wanted Josh so bad and can’t take seeing Josh being flirty with you.

When everyone was trying out, Sophia explained that she would be soooo perfect for the role of Sophie. Apparently, she's not as perfect as she thinks because you’re the one that got the lead. Guys only want her because she has a fat ass, but she’s just a fucking airhead. All looks, no brains and definitely no personality. She was very rude to everyone she met except for guys. You didn’t understand how Josh couldn’t see that. Or maybe he did, and he just wanted you to get jealous. Asshole.

By the time it hit Friday you were so done with the week. You were kinda excited to hangout with Josh this weekend since you barely talked during the week, but you couldn't seem too desperate.

You walk over to Josh who is still talking to Sophia way after practice ended to talk to him about the weekend. “Hey Sophia, are you done talking to Josh?”

“I’m actually not sooo.”

“It was a rhetorical question dumbass soooo, bye.” You give a bitchy smile, sending her on her way. Josh turns to you with a confused look on his face.

“Uhhh what the fuck y/n?”

“Did you really have any interest in what she was saying, because your body language alone shows literally anything but interest.”

He rolls his eyes, waiting for what you have to say.

“Are we hanging out this weekend?”

“Why so desperate for me y/n? Did Monday night really change you.” He says smirking, eyeing you up and down.

“Sorry for wanting to be around you, besides I can’t be hanging out with anyone else, but you don’t seem to be holding up your end of the bargain so I guess it doesn’t matter. So what are you doing tonight?”

“I’m going to the Alpha Delta Phi house tonight for their party, but you're not coming, those guys would be all over you.”

“Is Sophia coming?”

“Yeah but only because she heard I was going, but you're not coming.”

“Okay fine. I’ll just call Mark to have him over. See you on Monday.” You turn, beginning to walk away before you feel a hand grab your shoulder, turning you Josh’s way.

“No you're not!” He says looking deep into your eyes with anger, and jealousy. “If you're coming you're staying with me, got it?”

You nod your head with innocence and leave without another word. Tonight was going to be fun, and Josh would finally realize why no other girl could ever replace you.

JOSH’s POV:

The shower was relaxing, especially after a week of long practices and stupid classes. You just wanted to unwind and get a little drunk at tonight's party. You weren’t super thrilled when Sophia said she wanted to come to the party, not that you care about her being around everyone. You just didn't want to hear her yap all night, that was your job.

You wanted to pick out an outfit that you knew y/n would like, but she really hasn’t expressed what she likes on you, so you opted to stick with your basics, a white t-shirt, khaki shorts, and high top white vans.

You quickly shoved your pen in your pocket and keys and you and Jake started heading towards the main road. You texted y/n that you would meet her outside the frat house at 11:15 before you went in. You wouldn’t let her walk into that damn house alone, even though she probably has a million times.

The walk to the house was quiet. Jake has obviously been flirting with y/n, but she wasn’t reciprocating it so you didn’t worry. When you finally got there you waited outside and sent y/n a text.

11:13pm Josh: We’re here, where are you?

11:13 pm y/n: I’m on the street, chill.

You waited a moment and scrolled on your phone until you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn to see her. Holy shit. She was pure beauty. Y/n stands there wearing a plum corset top with black leather pants and black docs. Her long hair was curled loosely and fell over her shoulders perfectly. Her makeup was gorgeous and perfectly accentuated her features. You hadn't realized how long you had been staring for before y/n said something.

“Josh, hello? Are you good?” She flashed her perfect, white teeth at you.

“Oh yeah, we can head in.” You notice her necklace is off centered and reach forward to fix it, lining the initial in the middle of her collarbone.

“Thanks Joshy.” She smiles at you and makes her way up the stairs as you turn to look at Jake.

“Pick your jaw off the floor Jake, she's not yours bud.”

“We’ll see about that, brother.” He pats you on the back, a stupid smirk plastered across his face, following y/n’s footsteps.

I’m gonna kill him.

Something about tonight made you think you were going to need a fair amount of alcohol. You make your way to the kitchen where bottles are scattered across the counter tops. The rooms were dark and overstimulating with all the music and people. You make your way across the room on the creaky floors into the kitchen. You grab a cup for you and y/n and attempt to find her in the ocean of people. When you finally find her dancing with some of her friends you tap her and hand her her drink.

“Thanks Joshyyy.” She smiles, takes a sip, and continues to dance. She already seems a little tipsy.

“Did you drink already?” You ask, taking a sip of your own drink.

“I meannnn, I had a few shots before I came, but I’m tot-ally in control.” She says slurring her words. She grabs you by your shirt pulling you into her, forcing you to dance with her. In her drunken state, you feel a splash of something soak into your white shirt. “Josh, oh my god, I’m sorryyy.”

“Fuck. Uh, it’s fine,” You were pissed, slightly embarrassed as well. Annoyed, you stomp away from her to find some napkins.

As you enter the kitchen, you locate the napkins and look over to y/n’s direction. You see she’s already found another guy. She leans her head on the mystery man’s shoulder, loudly speaking into his ear.

“My number is 517, wait, that's not close. Um, haha. Uh, 273- 5. Wait fuck- its actually 274,” she screams into his ear, laughing hysterically. “The last four digits are-”

You’ve had enough, you race towards her leaning into her ear. “What did you not understand about our deal?” You say through gritted teeth, speaking just loud enough so only she could hear.

“I’m only being nice. Cool it.” She snaps back at you, defensively.

“Fine. I guess I can be ‘nice’ too, hm?” You walk away from her, beginning to regret letting her come along. You grab your pen from your pocket and take a quick hit, followed by another sip of the mixed drink. You make your way to the dance floor, looking for her. When your eyes spot her, you quickly make your way over.

You reach your hand out to her, inviting her to dance with you. “ Care to dance?” You offer her a syrupy, sweet smile. Your eyes plead with her to say ‘yes’.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Sophia takes your hand and you guide her so her back is pressed against your front. The song Kill The Lights begins to blare through the speakers, undoubtedly rupturing anyone’s eardrums who were in close vicinity. The strobe lights flicker around the, otherwise, dark room. Your hands land on her hips, grinding her ass into your semi-hard dick. She looked lovely tonight dressed in an emerald green bodysuit paired with black skinny jeans. Her tits practically falling out of her top and her jeans perfectly highlighting her curvy hips.

“You look pretty tonight, Soph,” You lean down and whisper into her ear.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Kiszka,” she retorts, biting her lip and grinding harder into you.

“Oh fuck,” the friction of her grinding was beginning to get to you. You break away from her, turning her around to face you. “Want me to fill up your drink?”

“Please,” she hands you her cup and you scurry off to the kitchen, yet again. It appeared to be your favorite place tonight. You find yourself looking y/n’s way, to see her staring back at you.

Y/n’s POV

Are you fucking joking. After everything you guys talked about, he still takes it as a fucking joke. Well, maybe you weren't one to talk, but two can play at that game. You make your way through the crowd, in search of a Kiszka twin, and certainly not the slutty, fuckboy twin. You see him standing leaning against the wall, beer in hand. His black button up only buttoned to his navel, enticing you even more. “Can you dance?” You ask him, batting your lashes at Jake.

“Fuck, yeah!” You grab his hand forcefully pulling him to the dance floor, and right pass Josh so he can see you and his twin walking by, hand and hand. Blame It by Jamie Foxx and T- Pain begins to play and that was enough to get you in a certain mood. You left no time to start grinding up on Jake, pressing your ass into his dick.

His hands began feeling up and down your body, going from your ass, around your hips, up to your waist. As you look deep into Josh’s eyes you grab Jake's hands and begin to reach down pulling them higher so they are just below your tits. Your hips sway against him, feeling his dick harden into your ass.

“y/n…” Jake mumbles into your ear, seductively. “Damn..” You move his hands to sit right on top of your tits and he gives them a light squeeze. “... you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You would hate this type of PDA normally, but tonight you were just in the mood for revenge.

“I know you’ve been wanting to touch me, Jake,” You turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Yeah? Who says?” His brow quirks up, challenging you. He pulls you closer, your bodies now flush together.

“Says me, and all the flirting you’ve been doing lately.” You tilt your face up to his, looking directly into his chocolatey brown eyes. A few moments of silence pass as you both continue to dance.

You feel a hand wrap around your bicep and pull you away from Jake.

“What the actual, fuck, do you think you’re doing?” It was Josh. His eyes darted between you and his brother.

“Just having some fun Josh since you wanted to leave me stranded on the dance floor! You expected me to dance all alone? I don’t fucking think so,” You snap at him, ripping your arm out of his hand, turning back to Jake.

“Where were we?” You shoot him a small smile, simply to get under Josh’s skin.

“No, it's time to leave, let's go.” He says pulling you away from his brother, dragging you out of the party.

You rip your hand out of his, yet again, and cross your arms as you walk with a purpose to get back to your dorm, whether he would follow or not.

“You’re no fucking fun Josh! You expect me to just stand there while Sophia is grinding on you. I may have been a little drunk but I’m sober enough to realize that you aren’t following the rules. So, OF COURSE, I wasn’t going to either. I didn’t think you could be so dense Josh!” You practically scream at him, as he follows close behind you.

After a long quiet walk you finally make it to your dorm, with him still hot on your heels. Charlotte, without a doubt, would be staying at someone else's dorm tonight so you would be alone. You swing the door open trying to shut it infront of him, but he stopped it before it could fully close. As you make it into your bedroom, you slowly peel your pants off feeling over-stimulated, leaving you in only your corset and undies. After struggling to get your pants off you flop onto your bed, facing up to the ceiling.

You close your eyes for a brief moment, and feel a presence above you.

“You’re being a fucking brat you know that, and its making me crazy, y/n.” He begins to put his hands on both sides of your head, hovering above you. His lips dangerously close to your ear. “You don’t know what you do to me, mama, do you?” You shake your head, obviously knowing you make him horny. “Well I’m gonna fucking show you, and there won’t be any more confusion.”

JOSH’s POV

God, you don't know how long you’d be able to keep it together before you unleashed everything you had on her, but you had to work up to it. You wanted so badly to put her over your legs and spank her hard to teach her a lesson, but since she drank you didn’t think that would be the best move. Hooking your fingers under her panties you pull them aside, giving you full access to her beautiful wet pussy that you know you didn’t contribute to. But you knew you’d contribute to her not being able to walk tomorrow.

“Who made you this wet, mama?” You already know the answer but you just want to hear her say it out loud.

“Y-You Joshy.” She says with innocent eyes. Anticipation written all over her pretty face.

“No, I said who fucking made you this wet, huh? Was it the guy in the corner or my fucking brother. Don’t you dare lie to me,” You say, grabbing her face slightly, making her look into your eyes.

“It was Jakey, I’m sorry baby.” Jakey? Not the fucking pet names.

“Don’t be giving him fucking pet names, those are for me and me only, got it?” She nods again, and you let go of her face.

“There seems to be a lot you need to learn mama, and we're gonna make sure you know all of that before the end of the night.”

You kneel again before her, wasting no time to get to her wet heat. You bring your fingers up to the entrance of her mouth, “Open.” She opens her mouth up, sticking her tongue out slightly. What a dirty whore. You shove your fingers deep down her throat, making her gag slightly. As you bring them out she sucks on them, making your already hard dick throb under the fabric of your shorts.

You shove them deep into her pussy, curling them up to hit all the good spots. As if you had hit a button, she begins to arch her back and moan.

“Let it all out, let me hear you baby. Your moans make me so fucking hard. They turn me on so much, mama.” You quicken the pace of your fingers.

“Josh, oh my god. You’re perfect holy fuck. Your fingers fill me up so good.” You’d be filling her up even more soon.

You notice her tits bouncing in her corset, that needs to come off, immediately. You remove your fingers and flip her onto her stomach. You start unlatching all the clips and turn her back over to back to peel it off the front of her. Her marks had faded from the other week.

You lean forward, making quick work of your mouth to create new purple bruises that would match her corset perfectly. Kissing each one of them before connecting your mouth with hers.

“Are you ready for my cock mama?” You ask quietly.

She frantically nods her head, you could tell she needed it, but we weren't going to give it to her that easy.

“Beg for it baby, tell me how much you need my hard cock in that pretty pussy of yours.”

“Fuck Josh I need it so bad. Wanna feel you inside” You begin to unlatch your pants pulling them down to the floor. “You're gonna stretch me out so good with your huge cock.” Bending down to her pussy, spitting straight onto it. “I wanna cum around your cock, please Josh.” You grin feeling like she gave you enough. You slap her pussy before thrusting into her hard, not giving her much time to adjust.

You lean forward, one hand on the bed, one on her tit. You lay a sloppy kiss to her lips and fuck into her hard. You could tell you were hitting the right spots. She was moaning and bracing herself by grabbing your biceps, which very quickly escalated to her nails scratching down your back. Fuck. It fucking hurt, but hurt so good.

As you continued to pound hard into her you felt a new angle was needed. You pick yourself off her and begin to grab her ankles, and pull them up to your shoulders. Letting them rest there as you fuck her even deeper now.

She was melting beneath you, becoming a sloppy mess. Her moans picked up, you could tell she, and yourself, were close to a breaking point. You kiss her ankles softly, which contrasted to the hard pounding you were inflicting onto your pussy.

“Where do you want me to cum baby?” You say through heavy breathing.

“Cum in me Josh, I wanna feel you fill me up.” Holy shit. You weren’t going to question it. As you get closer to your release you begin to feel squeezing around your cock.

“God, y/n, if you keep squeezing me like that I’ll come right, fucking, now.”

“FUCK JOSH, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop, harder!” She begins to buck up against you, meeting your thrusts.

“That's it baby, cum for me. You're such a good girl for me”

With that she let out one final moan, filling the room with pleasure. You weren't too far behind her. You continued pounding her hard and within a few seconds came right into her pussy, just like she told you to.

You fell into the spot right beside her in bed.

“You think you learned your lesson?” You tease, looking over at her.

“Definitely Josh, it’ll be hard not to think about you.”

“Yeah? Why is that y/n”

“Because I’m going to be thinking about you every single time I try to walk.”

You can’t help but laugh at her comment. You wanted to make her feel good, make her want you even more.

You couldn’t be bothered to get dressed, instead you pull the blanket up from the bottom of the bed, press a kiss into her head, and fall asleep next to the girl of your dreams.

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

TAGLIST

@demonrat444 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jordie-gvf @jazzyfigz @slut4lando @gvfmarge @peaceloveunitygvf @jjwasneverhere @areuirish @mar-rein12 @woyayaofdreams @freyjalw @musicspeaks

#greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #greta van smut #gvf fic #gvf smut #josh gvf #josh kiskza fanfic #josh kiskza smut #josh kiszka #jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake gvf #jake kiszka

59 notes · View notes

writing-blog-iguess · 10 months

Text

Online Matchup 3

Summery: Y/N just wanted to study and head home for some sleep, to bad the night in Gotham has different plans. Now all they want to do is see the one person who's been on their mind since they started talking. Question is, will Jason agree?

Warning: swearing, fluff, it gets a little angsty, comfort, a sprinkle of gun violence, a mugging.

A/N: I got it done by Friday. I did not think I could do it, but I did. I’m not sure part 4 will be up, but I will be taking the next week to try and finish other projects. If there’s anything you’d like to, let me know. Uh, this ended up being over 6k works, I hope you enjoy! Feedback is welcome.

Words: 6574

ao3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

————

October 7

Y/N (7:30 am) Why is it so cold?

Jason Because it’s october

Y/N October just started! It should be illegal for October to be so cold so soon

Jason You’re the one who wanted to live in Gotham

Y/N I know But still

Jason: You lived in Gotham for how many years?

Y/n … Three

Jason: And you're still not used to the cold? and to think you chose Gotham

Y/n Shut up

Jason All because Gotham and I quote ~intrigues~ you

Y/n Shouldn’t you be at work?

Jason Shouldn’t you be in class?

Y/n I’m on my way there Why’d you think I’m complaining about the cold?

Jason Could have fooled me Maybe your heater broke in your apartment and it’s freezing

Y/n I would cry if that happened

Jason Don’t like the cold?

Y/n I don’t like getting sick

Jason Touché

Y/n But I also hate the cold

Jason It’s sweater weather

Y/n Still cold

Jason Fall is not cold Winters cold Fall is the perfect season It’s not too cold not to hot Perfect

Y/n Maybe for cuddling under the blanket and read

Jason That an invitation?

Y/n Wouldn’t you like to know

Jason Awe come on, little bird don’t shy on me now It’s been what? Three weeks?

Y/n Yeah But, uh I’m a little nervous It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date or something

Jason Ah I get that Honestly me too We can wait a bit longer and when we do meet up it’ll been in a public place

Y/n The confidence you have that we will be meeting is showing

Jason What can I say? I’m falling and I can’t get up

Y/n Oh my god You ruined the moment

Jason ‘Twas the plan

Y/n You dork

Jason No but really I really did fall and now my ass hurts

Y/n What do you want me to do about it?

Jason Come kiss it better

Y/n In your dreams

Jason Every night

Y/n I hope you step on a Lego

Jason First my ass and now my heart? Y/n you wound me

Y/n Sure, we’ll pretend your not into it

Jason I- Okay wow

Y/n Am I wrong

Jason I plead the fifth

Y/n Mm thought so

Jason Shouldn’t you be in class?

Y/N Yup, just waiting for the professor

Jason Is it true that if the teacher isn’t there after a certain period of time that there’s no class?

Y/n Some people think it is but no They always end up coming to class Unless there’s an attack of the school or something

Jason Does that happen a lot?

Y/n Like maybe every few months Don’t quote me on that, I barely pay attention

Jason I think that’s something you sure pay attention too

Y/n I did when I first moved here and now I just roll with the punches

Jason I really hope not

Y/n Like my guard is up when I’m out but other than that I guess, I don’t care?

Jason That’s even worse

Y/n That’s what my mom said too Oh look, the teach is here

Jason I'm more worried about you then I have worried about someone in my life

Y/n (12:20 pm) Hey You keep up with the news right?

Jason When I have time Why?

Y/n Have you heard anything about college students going missing?

Jason No I don’t think I have

Y/n Mm, not surprised I guess Apparently it’s a recent thing

Jason How recent?

Y/N Um, like a few days ago?

Jason And the cops haven’t done anything about this?

Y/N Nope Said they probably dropped out Some tried to report them as missing But they haven’t looked into it much

Jason How do you know this?

Y/n Rumors mostly Guess that’s why the cops won’t do anything But I don’t think they’re rumors I know some of the students that are missing Most are on the top of their classes Some are scholarship students, they wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it

Jason Damn My brother’s a cop, I could get him to look into it?

Y/n You’re brothers a cop in Bludhaven What do you think he can do in Gotham?

Jason How do you know that?

Y/N Jason, we’ve been talking for awhile And sometimes when you complain about your brothers, you let information slip past. Not that I mind, everything you tell me I keep to myself But you need to pay more attention to what you’re talking about

Jason Right, sorry I forgot about that

Y/N Have you been sleeping lately?

Jason …no

Y/n Everything okay? Er, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to it’s fine

Jason No it’s okay I want to tell you I just don’t know where to start

Y/n Start wherever, and how much you want to tell me I don’t need the whole picture

Jason I guess I’ve been having nightmares lately

Y/n About when you died? Allegedly

Jason … Don’t know if I should be impressed that that’s where your mind jumps to or not

Y/n It’s a gift

Jason But yeah, that’s what they’re about Someone found me after, and took me in and raised me for a couple of years And then coming going back home It’s a lot I guess Sometimes I feel like I’m broken

Y/n I bet I’m not going to pretend that I know how you feel and I’m not sure what exactly what I can say And I don’t want to invalid your feels, you’re allowed to feel how you feel But you’re not broken, not completely anyways Maybe a little bruised and banged up And like any bruise, they heal with time Sometimes with help sometimes without All depends on if you want it or not

Jason Are you sure you’re not a shrink or something?

Y/N Pretty positive It’s something my mom told me sometimes

Jason Wise women

Y/n You have no idea So, if you ever want to talk, chances are that I’ll be awake at any time

Jason Thank you And as for what Dick could do? Not a whole lot, but he does have friends in the gcpd though

Y/n You think he can do that?

Jason Yeah, he owes me

Y/N He’s your brother Does he have to owe you?

Jason Our relationship is a bit complicated

Y/N You’ve mentioned But if he can do something, that puts my mind at ease a little I’m worried and maybe a little scared

Jason As you should Just be careful okay?

Y/n I will do my best

Y/n (11:30pm) So… Have you heard anything from your brother?

Jason Smooth It hasn’t even been a day

Y/n That’s me The ruler of smooth A lot can happen between now and when you talked to your brother about it

Jason All true you dork And yeah I have Turns out they aren’t just rumours He went to check out the students dorms are they left everything there Usually when someone leaves they bring some clothes and stuff with them right

Y/n Yeah, unless they were in a hurried and couldn’t care less then they would pack important stuff

Jason Yeah but they left everything there Phones, wallets, keys I’m not sure what the connection is and all that But the cops are working hard

Y/n Mm okay At least some things being done about it

Jason Mm

Y/n No sleep tonight?

Jason Not yet Helping my brother with something

Y/n You know, for someone who has a complicated relationship with one’s family You sure do help them a lot

Jason What can I say? I’m a family man

Y/N Is this your way of saying you love your family?

Jason So how’s your dad doing?

Y/N I cannot believe you pulled the same move I used on you, on me This is a disgrace Unacceptable

Jason I’m just using when you taught me

Y/N I didn’t teach you shit

Jason Well it worked, didn’t it?

Y/n Unbelievable

Jason Answer the question

Y/n Okay I guess Tired mostly Says he’s trying to keep busy but my mom tells me he gets tired easily There’s no win win

Jason I’m sorry

Y/n Yup

Jason Still repressing your emotions?

Y/N You know it

Jason I’m here if you want to talk

Y/N Thanks Jason That means a lot

Jason Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

Y/N Yes But I’m currently doing a project that’s due tomorrow

Jason Ouch

Y/N Did you know that the library I’m at is open this late?

Jason Why?

Y/N College students needs books

Jason Yes But you can take them out and bring them home

Y/N I left my library card at home so now I’m stuck here with the book I need until I’m done

Jason See, I want to feel sorry for you But something’s holding me back

Y/N I can see the compassion from here Anyways I should go home soon

—

My phone’s about to die and I don’t have my charger either, you typed out and before you could hit send, you were met with your reflection on a black screen. “No,” you whined, slumping back into your chair. “It’s fine. I’ll just use my laptop, it should work.”

Sitting up straight, you reached over to wake your computer up, you were met with the same fate as your phone. “No, nonono,” you muttered, frantically searching your backpack for your laptop charger. When you couldn’t find it, you dumped everything on the table, hoping you were just blind. But it wasn’t there.

You groaned when you came to the realization that luck wasn’t on your side tonight.

Sighing in defeat, you made a note of the books you were using and the pages before cleaning up the table. As you stuffed your backpack with your things, you took a quick glance at the clock on the wall and cursed. If you don't hurry now, you’ll be late for the last train for the night.

If there’s one thing you hated most about Gotham, it was walking home really late at night. And the last you wanted to do was that, also you didn’t want to make Jason worry.

With the rest of your stuff hazardously stuffed into the backpack, you raced out of the library hoping to make the last train.

—

Jason You good? Home yet? Is everything okay? Hellooo? What happened? Are you safe?

—

Nothing. There was no response and when Jason tried to call you, it went straight to voicemail. No matter how many times he called, it always yielded the same result.

Jason is not worried. He knows you're busy with your project. Maybe you misplaced your phone while talking to someone. Or you’re already on your way home and need to concentrate on getting home. He vaguely recalls you saying you take the train to and from school.

Lighting up his phone to check the time, he nodded to himself. Yeah, that was it. You were just busy and on your way home. Jason’s not worried, he’s not.

“You okay there Jay?” Dick asked in concern, “you look a little worried there.”

Okay, so maybe he’s a little worried and maybe a little scared of what could potentially happen. In Gotham…At night.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jason lied, trying to push images of you hurt away. It didn’t help that there was this group out there kidnapping college students. For what, who knows. Jason only hoped that you didn’t get mixed up in it.

Dick leaned in front of him and poked Jason’s forehead. “Are you sure? Your brow is pinched like you ate something sour,” he commented and Jason pushed him away with a scowl.

“Maybe he’s worried about his new friend,” Tim sang from the Bat computer. “It’s awfully late for a college student to be out in Gotham.”

Jason whipped his head around so fast, he was surprised he didn’t get whiplash. “How the fuck do you know?! I haven’t told you shit.”

“I’m a detective, Jason, I detect,” Tim pointily said, pressing buttons on the keyboard before a file with pictures of you showed on the screen. “Gotta say, they are kinda cute.”

“Why are you spying on them?” Jason asked, trying to keep his voice even. He was pissed he couldn’t have something in his life to himself. But his nosey siblings had to meddle in his life, love life too. It's like they have no life outside of fighting crime.

“I was bored,” he replied as Dick made his way over to the computer. No doubt curious on what Tim found.

“Don’t you have cases to solve?”

Tim shrugged, clicking through photos of you, which only served to piss Jason off even more. Why is it that he wanted to slowly get to learn more about you, that his brothers decided to do a deep dive without his permission? Times like these made him wish he stayed dead. “Your love life is more interesting at the moment.”

“Well, you can fuck off then,” he said, grabbing his Red Hood helmet from the nearby table and put it on.

“Where are you going?” Dick called over the roar of Jason’s motorcycle.

“Anywhere that’s not here,” he answered and sped off.

He had meant to drive aimlessly, but soon he found his way towards the library you were currently studying in.

He couldn’t get the images of you hurt out of his mind, and he convinced himself that it was fine to make sure you were okay. Otherwise, he’d be drowning in worry.

As he drove, he heard a cry for help. He almost dismissed it, thinking that someone who was on patrol would help them. But with his bike in idle, he heard it. Granted, the last time he heard your voice, you were all nasally with a hoarse voice from a sore throat. But he recognized you’re voice anywhere.

Parking his bike, he unholstered his gun and slowly made his way to the alley that your voice came from. Peeking his head around the corner, he saw you fighting with someone over your backpack. You held your own for a while, and Jason could only wait until there was an opening.

Was there a little part of him that wanted to see you fight? Maybe. but he doesn’t want to think about that now.

“Let go you asshole,” you grunted, pulling your backpack hard enough that the mugger tripped forward. Which gave you the time to kick him in the balls, hard. Jason winced at the impact and the mugger staggered backwards with a groan and you successfully gained back your bag. “Ha!”

“You bitch!” he yelled and lunged towards you. But before either of you could do anything, Jason surged forward and shot him in the leg. The both of you screamed, you at the sudden noise and the mugger at the pain. Without looking to see who was there, you ducked behind a dumpster, out of harms way.

Clever Little Bird, Jason thought as he stalked towards his prey. “Your mom ever teach you manners?” Jason asked. The mugger shook his head and begged Jason not to kill him. Jason was tempted too, but an annoying voice in the back of his mind, who sounded suspiciously like Bruce, whispered, don’t kill.

“Nah, I’m not gonna kill ya,” he grumbled and waved him away with his gun. “But if I see ya again, I ain’t making any promises.” He took it as it was, and limped away as fast as he could. Jason watched as he disappeared before holstering his gun and turned around towards you with a frown. You were curled in on yourself, hugging your bag tight.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to tap you on your shoulders. With no warning, you quickly spun around and hit him with your bag. He winced as it collided with his chest, surprising him.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed once you realized who he was. You dropped your arms from the next attack Jason had no doubt would have followed through. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize it was you.”

“What are you packing in there?” he grunted as he rubbed his chest, “fucking bricks?”

“Textbooks,” you answered sheepishly, hugging your backpack to your chest. “I’m really sorry I thought you were someone else.”

“No worries, I ain’t mad,” he said with a smile. Though you couldn’t see it given the helmet. “Hellva reflex though. Not many would fight back.”

You shrugged, tightening your grip on the backpack. The adrenaline must be wearing off, Jason noted. You were starting to shake. “What can I say? My flight or fight kicked in and there was nowhere to run.”

“Still,” he said, taking the moment to study you, and wishing he had shot the punk when he clocked the bruise forming under your eye. Other than that, there was nothing of note to worry about. Physically at least. Emotionally, he had no idea where your mind was at. “Are you doing okay?”

“Uh maybe?” you said, unsure yourself. You took a deep breath to calm yourself but it came out shakily. “I don’t know. I will be, once I’m home though.”

“Need a lift?” Jason offered, catching you by surprise. You lifted your head to look at him, eyes narrowed. As if you were trying to see under the helmet. He stood there and waited. Eventually, you shook your head. Disappointment filtered through Jason but he pushed it down.

“Thanks, but I’m just down the street. Don’t think anything else can happen between here and there,” you said and Jason’s heart leaped at all the possibilities of what could happen.

“You’re gonna jinx yourself if you keep saying stuff like that,” he pointed out. You only shrugged and gave him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“I’m sure an angel is looking out for me,” you said, getting enough courage to pat him on the chest as you walked past him. “Be seeing ya, Red.”

Jason stood there for a moment and shook his head with a smile. You sure were something else. Though it was a short distance to your place, it didn’t stop Red Hood from following you until you made it to your apartment. Even then, he stayed on the roof adjacent to your building, waiting for your message saying you were okay.

You stood in front of your apartment door, keys in hand and frowned. With the adrenaline completely out of your system, and finally being alone, your mind raced with the events that transpired over the last couple of hours.

You had managed to make the last train and the journey was uneventful. It wasn’t until the walk home that your luck turned bad.

You were so focused on getting home that you didn’t notice the guy following you until he grabbed your backpack. You fought, Red Hood showered up surprising you and talked before going home.

You blinked at the memory. If you weren’t so in your head, you’d be giddy that you actually talked to Red Hood. You talked to Red Hood. What the fuck? You’re not even sure if you flirted with him near the end or not. But you were still processing everything.

You shook your head, trying to get out of it. You didn’t want to go inside. Going inside meant being alone, alone with your thoughts and that’s the last thing you wanted.

What you wanted was company, what you wanted was someone you haven’t even met yet, yet you knew you’d feel better after seeing him. You wondered if you called Jason, if he would pick up and ask to meet up. It couldn’t hurt to try.

With a half-baked plan, you finally unlocked the door. The first thing you do is plug in your phone, the second is to shower.

You wanted it to be quick, the faster you're done the faster you can leave the apartment. But you’re not sure what happened between grabbing your clothes and now. You just know that when you come to, your hair is wet and dressed in your comfortable clothes, and you find yourself standing in front of the mirror.

You feel better, if only a little. You wince at the bruise and you could cover it up, but you’re tired and you don’t want to stay here any longer than you already have. Instead, you bushed your hair and leave the bathroom.

With your phone half charged, you grab it and your keys and wallet before leaving the apartment. As you walk towards the elevator, you open up your phone to see a few missed calls from your sister and Jason, and some texts from Jason asking if you’re okay. You made a note to call your sister in the morning and tried to ignore the guilt at seeing the messages from Jason. You pressed the button for the elevator, your thumb hovering over Jason’s name.

Maybe calling him will be a mistake, Despair whispered in your ear.

Or, maybe it’ll be the best thing in the world and you won’t regret it, Desire countered. And hope bloomed a little in your chest. With that, you pressed the call button without much thought and brought the phone to your ear.

One ring, you step in the elevator as you begin to second guess yourself that this was a bad idea. Second ring, you press the button for the lobby, starting to panic. Maybe he won’t pick up. Half of you hoped. By the third ring, you're off the elevator and almost hung up when the call connects.

“Little Bird?” Jason answered, and the grip on the phone tightened. You really didn’t think he’d pick up, and he doesn’t sound tired. For how late it is, anyways. If anything, he sounds awake, like he was waiting for something.

Guilt rears back into your stomach again when you realize he was waiting for you. Tears start to pool in the corner of your eyes, and you blink them away. You didn’t want to cry, that was for later, when you're curled up in a ball in bed. Waiting for sleep that you know will never come.

“Hey, you still there?” Jason asked, voice soft as if he knew that’s what you needed right now. Your heart warms at the person you’re slowly falling for. You clear your throat and hope your voice sounds normal when you answer.

“Hi,” your answer is a whisper, and you find yourself you don’t care.

“Hi,” he greeted back and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m surprised you're still awake. Figured you’d be in bed by now.”

"Yeah, me too. But I’m too wired to sleep,” you said, forcing your feet to move. You start walking out of the building and towards your favourite café that’s near your place. “Surprised you’re awake too. Still helping your brother?”

You’re so engrossed with your conversation, that you don’t feel eyes on you as you walk. And Jason hoped to keep it that way. “Nah, doing my own thing before going to bed. Surprised you called though. Usually, you shoot me a message.”

You stall for a moment, almost tripping on your feet, before walking again. “Er, yeah. Sorry I just…I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to say sorry. I don’t mind talking either. Besides, you've voice is music to my ears," Jason said, and you try not the blush with how casual he says things like that. "So, what’s up?”

You’re quiet for a second, chewing on your lip before blurting out the question, “do you want to meet up?”

You’re met with and you close your eyes at your stupidity. “Sorry,” you started, “that was stupid. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I get it. It’s fine. Plus, it’s super late, like two in the morning late. And we should be sleeping but the thought of being alone right now scares me. And I don’t want to be alone and I just really need some company. And I thought why not Jason? I wanted to meet him for awhile and I’ve now realized it was bad timing and-”

“Are you sure?” Jason interrupted your rambling and you couldn’t be more thankful. You were positive you would big yourself in a hole you couldn’t get out of if you kept talking.

“Sure about what?” you asked dumbly, as if you forgot what you had just asked him. You’ve reached the café and stood in front of the door, peering in.

“That you want to meet up,” Jason said with a chuckle.

“Oh, uh yeah, I am sure,” you said with a nod. “I mean if that’s okay with you?”

“Sure is,” he said, “can I ask what brought this on?”

You're silent for a moment, debating whether to answer him or wait until he’s here to say. But you think of the bruise under your eye and you think it’s better to tell him now. “I, um, almost got mugged on my way home. He didn’t get my stuff, but he did clock me in the face. Could be worse though, but I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Shit,” he breathed out, “are you okay?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled to the couple coming out of the café and stepped aside to let them go. You shrug even though he couldn’t see you. “Like I said, it could be worse.”

“Don’t. Don’t downplay what happened to you,” Jason said softly, “anyone would be shaken up after a mugging. You’re allowed to not be okay, sweetheart.”

The simple sentence is what breaks you, and you start letting the tears fall down your cheeks. “Damnit,” you mumbled, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “Have me crying in public Jason, not cool.”

“Sorry sweetie. Where are you? I’ll get there as soon as I can.” You rattle where you are and you can feel Jason’s smile through the phone. “I know the place. Order me a hot chocolate and I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Try not to break any laws now, Jason,” you muttered, though you smile all the same. Knowing you’ll meet Jason soon has you in better spirits since the incident happened.

“No promises.” With that, you hang up and walk into the building. You tell the barista your fine when she asks about the bruise and order your usual and Jason’s drink with a cake and find an empty table. You find yourself in the corner by a window, making your way over and you set your order down and sit facing the door.

You’re scrolling through your phone while you wait, trying to keep yourself distracted. And it helped with Jason texting you updates on what’s happening. You find it endearing, and a little silly, but it keeps you from spiraling and you're thankful.

Before you know it, you hear a roar of a motorcycle driving past, and you look up just in time to see them part in front of the building. You watch as they turn off the bike and climb off before taking the helmet off.

Breath escapes you as you recognize who it is, and pictures didn’t do Jason justice. Jason’s pretty, and you like the little white strip he has in his hair. It suits him, somehow.

Lifting your phone, you take a picture of him fluffing out his hair and type out a message saying you see him before sending it to him. You watch as he takes out his phone, frowning a little at the message. He whipped his head up and scanned the building until his eyes landed on you. All you can do is wave, and your heart almost leaps out of your chest at the smile he gives you.

It's brighter than you imagined and you're okay with it. Your eyes follow him as he makes his way inside. You stand when he makes his way towards you and you smile as he stands in front of you.

“Hi.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before you start to laugh. Not a full belly laugh, just a light chuckle as if someone told you a joke. You’re not sure why you find the whole thing funny, but you do. Maybe you're too tired to fully process it completely.

“Are you okay?” Jason asked, a little worried. He took a step forward, arms moving to give you a hug, but stopped himself. Worried that you wouldn’t appreciate the gesture, scared that you might reject his touch. Your heart warms at the hesitation and you make the decision for him. Stepping forward, you wrap your arms around him and practically met into his chest.

After a moment of hesitation, Jason wraps his arms around you, hugging you tight. It's one of the best hugs you’ve ever had, and you can't seem to remember the last time someone hugged you that wasn’t family.

“I am now,” you whispered, blinking away more tears. “Sorry if this first meeting isn’t exactly to your expectations.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t change this for the world,” he said, leaning back a little. Snaking one hand to your chin, he gently lifted your face to look at you. He hissed a little at the bruising and you can’t seem to find yourself to be embarrassed about. Not with the look Jason’s giving you, like you’re the only person who matters to him.

“That’s good,” you mumbled, blushing a little with the attention he was giving you. You pull away a little, only to pull him to sit down. Your feet started to hurt and you needed to let them rest. Sitting across from him, you wrap your hands around your cup and let the heat seep into them. “You know, I almost didn’t call. Was too afraid you’d say no or something.”

Jason leaned over a bit and took off his jacket and you tried to not openly stare at his arms.

“Don’t think I could say no to you,” Jason said, taking a sip from his drink as you averted your gaze to his face. “But I’m glad you called, I was trying to work up the nerve to ask you to a coffee date or something. Something always stopped me though.”

“Well, we’re here now,” you pointed out, leaning over the table with a smile. “Nothing we can do but move forward.”

“Wise words coming from a lady who thought I was asking for a booty call,” Jason said with a smirk. You gasped at the reminder, and reached over to pull the plate of cake you had bought to share with him.

“You know, just for that, I’m not sharing this with you,” you said, and moved the plate closer when Jason moved to grab it.

“Now that’s not fair, Little Bird. It’s been a tough night dealing with my brothers all night, I need a little pick me up,” he said, trying to grab the plate from you again. You moved it just before he could grab it, and stuck your nose in the air.

“Guess you should have thought about that before insulting me, good sir.” Jason snorted, mock surrendering. You giggled and moved the plate back to the middle. “How was your night? Anything interesting happen?”

“Nah, not really. Turned out he didn’t really need my help, just said that to rope me in for family supper,” Jason answered, picking up the fork and stabbing a piece of cake before eating it.

“If you’re gonna be mean to the cake, I won’t share,” you threatened, trying not to smile when he gave you a look. “Family dinner huh? Can’t be all that bad.”

“It’s not,” Jason hummed, “I get to eat Alfred’s cooking and there are some siblings I don’t mind hanging out with. It can be too much sometimes, you know? Like they lived their lives while I was somewhere out there being raised by different people, you know?”

“Mm not really but I can imagine,” you said, smiling when he snorted. “But they’re trying, that’s all you can ask for. Question is though, are you trying?”

Jason shifted as you stared at him with raised eyebrows. “What is this? An interrogation?”

“Can be if you want it to be,” you quipped back. Following his lead as he leaned forward.

“If anyone’s gonna do the questioning, it’s gonna be me.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, Little Bird.”

The two of you stare at each other, waiting to see who cracks first at the challenge. You blink and you know you’ve lost. “Yeah okay. But you didn’t answer my question,” you reminded him, leaning back.

“Yeah I’m trying, just hard,” he answered and he took a moment to study you. “Are you doing okay? Not to be rude, but you look exhausted.”

You snort and rub your eyes only to wince when you touch the bruise. “I don’t know. I haven’t really had time to process everything properly.”

“How’d you mean?”

“Like I didn’t sit down and cry about it yet. When I got home all I wanted to do was leave. But I forced myself to shower but I think I blacked out or something, I don’t know. I don’t remember it. After that, I left my apartment as fast as I could and called you.”

“Which I’m glad you did, but now you have to take a moment and let it sink in. You can take it now, let yourself not be okay, I won’t judge. Hell, I’m probably the last person to judge.”

You gave him a sad smile and slowly slumping down into your seat, trying to hide from the mostly empty café. As if sensing what you’re trying to do, Jason gets up and moves to sit beside you, angling his body so you’re hidden from view.

A wave of fondness washes over you, and you think he can’t surprise you anymore then he already has. Taking a deep breath, you slowly let it out and close your eyes. Listening to Jason and let yourself not be okay.

The night plays like a movie behind your eyelids and you fight to keep it playing. You feel all the emotions that you managed to push away hit you like a truck, making you tear up. You cover your eyes with your arm and feel movement from beside you.

But you're too embarrassed to look, so you wait until Jason’s right beside you.

“I’m going to hug you okay?” You hear Jason whisper close to your ear. You nod and almost flinch when his arms snake around your waist, but you don’t. This touch is warm, caring. The complete opposite of the mugger. You feel safe for the first time that night.

You relaxed in Jason’s embrace and balled your firsts in his shirt as you cried. He sat there, rubbing your side, whispering that you’re okay, that it will be okay, and waited until you were done.

You sniffle when the sob has subsided but you don’t let go just yet. You’re exhausted, embarrassed that you ended up crying on Jason, and you're not yet ready to face him.

“You’re okay,” Jason murmured, squeezing you reassuringly. You only nod, moving slightly to wipe your nose with your sleeve. But as you move to do that, there’s a napkin in front of you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking it and blowing your nose.

“Feeling better?” Jason asked, moving slightly but he kept you in his hold. And you're grateful for it. His touch was something you could get used to.

“Yeah, much. I think I could sleep forever,” you joked, leaning into him you felt his chuckle more then heard it.

“Please don’t, I enjoy your company,” he said and you smiled. “I hope you feel the same.”

“I do,” you hummed, “I’m sorry for crying all over you. I think I got your shirt all wet and snotty.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. It was something you needed and I’ll gladly be your shoulder to cry on.”

Silence settled between you, and you closed your eyes feeling the need to sleep. The two of you stayed like that until Jason could feel your body relax into sleeping.

“Come on, I think it’s time for you to go home,” Jason stated, shaking you a little to keep you awake.

“Noooo,” you whined, pouting as you sat up slowly. “But I’m having a great time.”

“You need sleep,” Jason pointed out, collecting your garbage and standing to throw it out. When he came back, he put on his jacket and smirked as you stared. “We can always hang out another time. Maybe next time it won’t happen at three in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he answered, holding out his hand. You blinked at it before grabbing it and he helped you up. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to have,” you said, quick to shake your head.

“Please? For my peace of mind,” Jason said as he walked the both of you out. “Plus it prolongs the time I get to spend time with you.”

Opening your mouth to argue, you stop yourself and feel the blush creeping into your cheeks. “Fine,” you agreed begrudgingly, though glad for the company.

The walk was short, you spent the time talking about anything that came to mind. And before you knew it you were standing in front of your door. Jason had insisted on walking you up, to make sure you didn’t trip on anything. He had claimed and you didn’t seem to mind.

You have thought about inviting him in, but sleep was calling you and you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“So this is me,” you said awkwardly, unsure how to say goodnight.

“I had a good time,” he said, smiling. You squinted up at him, only now realizing how tall he was.

“I ended up crying.”

“You had a bad night, you deserved to cry after what happened to you,” he countered. “Like I said, I’m the last person to judge.”

“I’m going to get that story one day,” you challenged, and he leaned down a little, smirking. Cocky bastard.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, and you gently punched him in the chest with a laugh.

“Text me when you get home?”

“Awe, you worried about me,” he teased. You rolled your eyes as you took your keys out and unlocked the door.

“I can unworry about you,” you said, swinging the door open. Before going in, you turned and gave him a hug, squeezing tight. “Thanks, for you know.”

Jason returned the hug and buried his nose in your hair. “Anytime. Glad you're feeling better.”

You stay like that for a moment before Jason lets you go. He cupped your cheeks and for a brief moment, you thought he might kiss you.

“Night Little Bird, see you soon.”

With that, he turned and walked down the hallway, leaving you feeling warm inside.

Walking in, you unlocked the door and immediately plopped into your bed, letting your body relax. Sleep pulled at you but you were determined to stay awake until Jason texted.

But sleep was just as determined and stronger, you fell asleep just as your phone chimed.

Jason I’m home

#jason todd x reader #jason todd gn!reader #jason todd #batman imagine #online match up #my writing

313 notes · View notes

jjungkookislife · 25 days

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Quarterly Fic Recs 2024: #1

Hello! I'm back again with the first fic rec list of 2024! I enjoyed reading these fics, and I hope y'all do as well! Please be mindful of the warnings on each fic and I encourage you to reblog fics you enjoy as well :)

Seokjin

king of tides @sailoryooons

summary: Seokjin meets a ghost of his past when he and his crew stop to celebrate for the evening.

Yoongi

desecrate @hamsterclaw

summary: A fall from grace causes you to stumble into the hands of a demon prince. Inspired by Lilith.

stress relief @dreamescapeswriting

soft Yoongi having a bad day

morals on sundays @/gimmethatagustd

summary: You’re still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.

Hoseok

spider web @/sailoryooons

summary: Playing games with vampires is a bad idea. Playing with Spiders is worse.

Namjoon

gang shit @gimmethatagustd

summary: Your daughter’s classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you’re his arch-nemesis.

Jimin

technicolor @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Love is one hell of a drug. Bottled and sold on the black market, it isn’t for the faint-hearted. You’re not really interested in trying it until you meet Jimin.

Taehyung

the one with taehyung's indecent proposal @eoieopda

summary: your fuck buddy’s class reunion is coming up. that’s not something you expected to learn about. it’s definitely not something you expected to be implicated in.

Jungkook

none :(

OT7/Multiple Members

carnival of terror @theharrowing

summary: The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

immortals @bang-tan-bitches

summary: Sometimes, you find your destiny. And sometimes, your destiny does whatever it takes to keep you.

petrichor @purpleyoonn

summary: You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

Seokjin

memories of you @shuadotcom

summary: Your memories with Seokjin are some of your favorite.

serve me @chateautae

summary: kim seokjin has been your annoyingly stoic butler ever since you started university, and were gifted your own penthouse. for years, your relationship had remained on the outs, subjecting seokjin to hearing your desperate moans for other men each time they climbed into your sheets; and each time you rubbed it in his face. little did you know that you were only riling him up, and it would be your moans for him bouncing off the walls when your taunting finally unravels his ironclad self-control.

sweet dreams @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Seokjin loves when you paint your nails pink.

Yoongi

broken pt. 2 @kithtaehyung

summary: the championship game lights up… and everything goes down.

maybe so @diorh0seokie

(cheating/angst)

Hoseok

gone wild @johobi

summary: Hoseok consumes porn like he does Cheetos: in unhealthily large amounts. He’s seen, and jacked off to, most things imaginable. But there are those photos that always draw him back…

hot rod @kinktae

summary: a 1950′s inspired fic where greaser Hoseok can’t keep his eyes, or hands, off the new waitress at his and his boys’ favorite diner.

keeping a secret @/kpopfanfictrash

summary: You and Hoseok have been hooking up for a few weeks now. No one in your friend group knows. What happens then, when he shows up at movie night looking better than anticipated?

flower @readyplayerhobi

summary: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

who's your daddy? @ppersonna

summary: in order to get over your hopeless crush, you sign up for DADDI, a daddy-dom dating site. you can’t tell your friends, especially your best friend hoseok. but as weeks go on, you’re desperate to meet the man behind the screen.

groupie love @kimnjss

summary: he’s ½ of the famous rap duo, the 94′s. when stumbling upon a pretty youtuber, he’s quick to decide he wants to have her. but one night with her just doesn’t seem like enough.

heartbreaker ^

summary: you’re just his type. so it’s no surprise when all of his time and effort goes into making you his. though, they’ve always said… you only want it because you can’t have it.

swallow your pride @/ugh-yoongi

established relationship

ho ho horrible ^

summary: the one where your neighbor is a relentless christmas caroler and refuses to take a hint, but at least he’s really hot.

hate that i love it @yoongiphoria

summary: hate-fucking hoseok is your favorite and least favorite thing to do.

take care of me @/gimmethatagustd

summary: You’d never trade quiet, sleepless nights with your boyfriend for anything in the world, even when sometimes it feels like the world is falling apart around you.

not today, satan ^

summary: If you had known the demon tasked with reaping your soul would be a total #daddy you would have gone to Hell sooner!

Namjoon

the gang summons a demon @ugh-yoongi

the prompt: you, a powerful demoness, have just been summoned to earth. this man, this human, wants you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a few days so his parents will get off his back about it.

in the closet ^

office au

Jimin

none :(

Taehyung

rotten angelcake ch. 11 @inkedtae

summary: she’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten. this is a series following the complicated relationship between a sugar baby, sugar daddy and his corruption kink.

loverboy @kookslastbutton

summary: After a startling conversation with your coworkers, you start feeling insecure about your sexual prowess. You don’t initiate as much, you haven’t worn lingerie yet, and you’re still timid about doing much seducing with your body–are you giving your boyfriend boring sex? Taehyung reassures you that you are perfect and have nothing to worry about.

Jungkook

be mine @minisugakoobies

summary: Won’t you be his Valentine?

to give a helping hand @oddinary4bts

summary: when Jungkook comes home from the gym, he goes feral thinking about you.

oxygen @/gimmethatagustd

summary: If you get caught, you’ll both die. Jungkook wants to be yours anyway.

OT7/Mulpitple Members

lavender lover @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Taehyung broke all his rules for Jimin, even when it hurt.

Seokjin

chivalry @out-of-jams

summary: And they say chivalry is dead.

burn after reading @raplinesmoon

summary: The agency made the biggest mistake they ever could by trusting Kim Seokjin one more time. You weren’t going to do the same.

Yoongi

exitus acta probat @/bang-tan-bitches

summary: “All you need to know is that my name is Yoongi and you’re mine now.”

beloved ^

summary: Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win

the mark of yun-ki @/ladyartemesia

summary: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir… but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

romancing the tome @/kpopfanfictrash

summary: Min Yoongi is many things: renowned archaeologist, versatile hat-wearer, on a bit of an unlucky streak with his work and kind of an ass. What he isn’t is fluent in Latin. Meaning, Yoongi can’t quite determine if he’s being led astray on his most recent archaeological expedition. Enter you, cultural linguist and all-around badass. The goal? Treasure. The means? Your teensy, tiny car. The problem? Min Yoongi is so damn annoying, you might just kill him first.

be my baby [SMAU] @/kimnjss

summary: when the love of his life suddenly vanishes, he drives himself mad looking for her. seemingly erased from the world, he’s forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on… fast forward three years and someone who looks a lot like the woman he lost is being spotted, holding a kid with an oddly familiar gummy smile…

too easy @sweetestofchaos

summary: Yoongi’s sugar baby really wants that new Zimmermann dress

blackthorn ^

summary: Prince Yoongi and Princess Keena have been friends for as long as they can remember. But finding out they’re promised to one another in marriage isn’t the only obstacle they must overcome as war threatens their home.

stop thinking about me @/yoongiphoria

summary: there's only one person he thinks about with that song.

Hoseok

hot and bothered @sahmfanficbts

summary: You’re hot and bothered and your lawn needs some TLC. Enter: Hoseok with his big lawn-mower.

Namjoon

promise @joheunsaram

summary: Namjoon has always been in the periphery of your friend group, but when you meet the cute boy he doesn’t make the best first impression, or second, or third…

Jimin

renegade @/yoongiphoria

summary: is it insensitive for me to say get your shit together, so i can love you?

Taehyung

new flame @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Flame is a dating app designed for omegas and alphas to find heat and rut partners. You’re skeptical of using the app, not anticipating that you might find someone who is more than just a new flame.

enfer @/out-of-jams

summary: Enfer, the ironically named club, was well known for helping to bring together those of the living with the dead, well, undead. And your best friend had convinced you to try it out, to potentially find a partner amongst the sophisticated group of the otherworldly elite. You’d been open to it. But never would you have imagined meeting him.

stranger danger ^

stress relief @joonsmagicshop

summary: Taehyung gives you an offer you can’t refuse

Jungkook

none :(

OT7/Multiple Members

cosmic collision @/gimmethatagustd

summary: A responsible weedman, Yoongi always tests out new marijuana strains before selling them to his customers. When his supplier offers him a new strain, Cosmic Collision, Yoongi is eager to try it. What he doesn’t expect is the alien that comes with it.

accidental texts (hyung line) @ppersonna

accidental love confessions @kookiesjoonies

#jjungkookislife fic recs #jjungkookislife fic rec list #jjungkookislife masterlist fic recs

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maccreadysbaby · 2 months

Text

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: much angst, psychological torture???

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

geez you guys. just geez. this is so intense. this chapter, as well as asten and jasons little moment made me cry while writing them :,(

part twenty-two

❝ TOO CLOSE TO HOME ❞

TUESDAY — AUGUST 11 — 3:31PM

BENTLEY HADN’T CONSIDERED JUST HOW QUICKLY HIS DAY COULD TURN DISASTROUS.

Hey, buddy. There’s been a change of plans — I want you home after school today. I’ll explain when you get here.

That was the text Bentley got from Bruce exactly seven minutes before Spanish class ended, exactly seven minutes before he was supposed to go home with Nico, so he could make the burner calls with him and Asten.

Bruce had already said yes to Bentley’s fake science project earlier that day — a lie he felt pretty terrible about — but apparently, now, it was a no.

At first, he was terrified he’d be getting in trouble. Had Bruce found out about Dr. Keene’s phone? About the cabin? About the burners? Did he know their entire plan from beginning to end? He probably did since he was the best detective in the world, and if so, Bentley was screwed.

But it wasn’t that. It was much, much worse.

Now, twenty-five minutes after the end of school, when Bentley, Damian, and Duke walked into the Manor, it was evident that something was wrong. The entire house was silent. Not the people-in-the-distance kind of silent, but the could-hear-a-pin-drop-from-the-other-end-of-the-Manor kind of silent. Nothing in the golden entryway was out of place or messed up, but the quiet gave the place quite an eerie feeling. As far as they knew, Dick, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, and Tim were all home. But there was no noise, no anything that would imply anyone had been there in a while. Not even the dogs or Alfred the cat made a peep at the sound of the front door. And Bentley… didn’t like it. He didn’t like it so much he ran a hand through his red hair and grabbed onto the hem of Duke’s blazer with the other. Their trio of matching Gotham Academy uniforms would not make for good outfits to die in.

“Titus?” Damian called through the house, shrugging off his backpack and dropping it at the door. Bentley had barely seen the giant gray dog since Damian started getting angry — and it seemed he wouldn’t be seeing him now, either. Titus didn’t come running to Damian’s call like he usually did. Like he always did.

That freaked Bentley out even more. He was pretty sure Titus would chew his way through a wall if Damian was calling him from the other side, but now, not a thing in the Manor moved. Not a sound pierced the air.

“Duke…” Bentley muttered, his voice hardly audible. He jumped a mile when Duke’s hand landed on his shoulder, and the older boy peeled his own backpack off, laying it gently on the floor.

“Let’s go to the cave,” He whispered back, squeezing Bentley’s shoulder.

Bentley slid his bag off, too. He wasn’t exactly sure what Duke’s metahuman superpowers were — seeing the future or something — but he hoped they were online. Just in case. There was no telling what was going on, why the Manor was so quiet.

Damian and Duke started down the nearest hallway — the one with the den, library, and cave entrance through Bruce’s office. Bentley trailed along behind them, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he stepped ever-so-softly, eyes flicking here and there. The end of the hallway was dark and creepy. They weren’t ready for a fight, not in the slightest, although Damian’s fingers were twitching by his side like he was subconsciously searching for a sword. What if someone had broken in?

It felt like an eternity before Duke pushed open the door to Bruce’s office, and they all peeked inside. Everything was in order. The desk was neat, the bookshelves were organized, the lights were off, and the grandfather clock was…

Open.

The entrance to the Batcave was open.

Bentley breathed in, the familiar feeling of terror prickling at his skin. This was… so wrong. Everything was wrong. No one left the cave open. And why was it so cold in the house? Bentley only just realized that the prickling on his skin wasn’t terror alone, but also, the temperature in the Manor. It was cold like someone left the front door open for too long. Why was the cave open? Where was everybody?

“Don’t worry, Babybird,”

Bentley brought a hand up to his forehead as a voice he knew all too well rang inside of his skull, sending an echo of vertigo through his head. She was here. The Secret Keeper. She was… she was…

In the Manor.

Duke and Damian filed into Bruce’s office, and Bentley followed slowly behind. There was something at the end of the hall. Someone, standing there. He could see the silhouette in the dark. It was a girl. It wasn’t Steph. It wasn’t Cass. Her eyes were glowing an amber-gold in the darkness, and she was staring at him.

“I won’t tell your secrets,”

She smiled a twisted, stitched smile, one Bentley could hardly see that terrified him all the same.

She was right there.

Bentley shouted in terror, swerving into Bruce’s office so quickly that he whammed into Duke face-first, thumping onto the hardwood from the force.

“Bentley!”

“She’s in the hallway!” He squeaked.

Everyone was suddenly moving. Bentley was trying to scurry away from the door at the same time Duke was trying to get between him and the hall, and Damian was going for Bruce’s desk, ducking under it and re-emerging with an actual katana in his hand.

In a flash, Damian ran for the hallway, but Duke grabbed onto his arm with a shrill: “No. The light. I saw-”

“Unhand me,” Damian ordered, wrenching his forearm from Duke’s grip and jogging out of the room before he could finish.

“Damian, no!” Duke was moving to get Damian out of the hall, and Bentley was still pushing himself backwards on the floor until his back thunked against Bruce’s desk. Oh God, oh God, oh God. They were going to die.

When Bentley looked up, Damian was just standing there.

And his eyes were amber.

It was only a split second, but Bentley would probably remember it for the rest of his life — the way Damian stood there, blankly, his fiery-yet-cold greenish-blue eyes nothing more than empty, hollow as they shone the exact same amber as the Secret Keeper’s.

And then he fell, the katana clattering off to the side. Duke was close enough to catch him, just perfectly, like he knew it was about to happen. He dragged Damian back into the office and slammed the giant wooden door, locking it behind him.

“Don’t worry, Babybird. I won’t tell him your secrets,”

“C’mon, Bentley, stay close to me,” Duke ordered, hefting Damian up into his arms bridal-style. Bentley’s brain was hardly able to function with the Secret Keeper’s voice bouncing around in it, and he didn’t move. His heart was pounding and pounding and pounding in his ears and it was getting so hard to breathe.

The Secret Keeper was in the Manor. Talking to him, in the Manor.

They were going to die.

“Bentley! I need you to stay with me, little dude. Hey,” Duke crouched down, somewhat awkwardly since he was holding Damian, and his hand landed on Bentley’s shoulder. Their gazes locked, both pairs of brown eyes searching the other for a moment. One full of terror, the other soft with understanding layered over fear and determination. “I know it’s scary, but I need you to stay with me, okay?”

Bentley’s gaze fell to Damian, who was hanging limp in Duke’s arms, his eyes open but unseeing with waves of amber crawling across his irises like lightning. He was staring at Bentley, but he wasn’t seeing him. Damian looked…

Dead.

Bentley was suddenly back in that nightmare he’d had so long ago, tugging Damian’s lifeless body into his lap by his Robin suit.

“Stop it. Get up! You’re Robin, get up!”

All he could see were Damian’s lifeless eyes, staring at him but not seeing. Damian couldn’t die… he was Robin, he couldn’t die.

Bentley couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t stop crying. He was on his knees, surrounded by the corpses of the Wayne’s that his father had killed in that nightmare so long ago. Damian was looking at him but his eyes weren’t seeing. Everyone’s eyes were open but they weren’t actually seeing anything. They were dead. They were dead. They all had amber pulsing in their irises and they were all dead. His father wasn’t in the doorway anymore, it was her. It was her with her amber eyes and they were all dead.

“Shh, shh, shh… I’ve got you, babybird. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,”

They were all dead. They were all dead.

“Bentley, buddy, I've got you,”

Bentley couldn’t even think coherently enough to realize that the voice wasn't hers. He couldn’t stop seeing Damian’s amber eyes.

“I’ve got you, kiddo. Open your eyes,”

Open your eyes. That’s what he needed Damian to do — open his eyes, look at him again, not be dead. Damian couldn’t be dead, not after Bentley knew a way to fix their relationship. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t die. Robin couldn’t die.

“Bentley, can you try to open your eyes and look at me?”

Robin can’t die.

“I’ve got you, babybird. You’re safe now,”

He wasn’t safe. No one was safe anymore.

Someone was humming.

It wasn’t a song Bentley knew. He didn’t know many songs — but it was a song he might’ve heard before. He was moving. Only a little, back and forth, and something was touching him.

His thoughts began to swirl like water going down a drain, Damian’s dead, amber eyes melding with the rest of everything in his head. What was going on? And who was humming? Was something touching his hair?

He was very… aware of his own existence. He could feel his heartbeat pulsing in his fingertips, his chest, his toes, his head. He could feel the terror twisting in his stomach, the air moving a bit-too-quickly in and out of his lungs. The wetness on his face. The something warm he was up against, the fingertips moving through his hair, the gentle rocking that the something warm was doing. The faintest of vibrations he could feel that coincided with the humming he heard. The fact that his eyelids seemed glued shut and he couldn’t see anything.

Slowly, like he was trying to pull open a tomb that had been sealed eons ago, Bentley opened his eyes. He was greeted by a blur of bright. Bright everything that swirled around for a moment before it started to come into focus.

He was in the medbay, facing the door to the rest of the cave. Sitting in a chair, but not actually in a chair, because someone else was in the chair and he was on their lap. Their fingers were moving through his hair with such a familiar rhythm that he knew exactly who it was.

“Dick,” He whispered, his voice and vision impaired by tears that were still coming without his permission.

“Hey there, kiddo,”

Bentley blinked, looking at his own hands that were balled up in Dick’s blue t-shirt. “…What happened?”

“You’ve been having an anxiety attack, bud. For about twenty minutes now,”

Bentley looked up just far enough to meet the crystalline blue eyes that were so undeniably Dick’s. He had the vague intention of speaking again, but another hand landed on his head, this one from behind.

“Hey there, chum,”

Bentley breathed in and out shakily at the sound of Bruce’s voice, glancing at the room around them through his tears.

Everyone was down there. Barbara was at the Batcomputer, laser-focused on the screen. Cass and Steph were watching over her shoulder. Alfred was moving back and forth from machine to hospital bed, and Tim was in a chair just to the left of Dick’s, his leg bouncing almost impossibly fast. Duke was pacing behind them. Bruce was in a chair only a few feet to Bentley’s right, his hand still resting in his hair, right at the edge of a hospital bed.

The hospital bed had someone in it.

And so did the one next to it.

The one Bruce had taken up residence next to held Damian. He was laying eerily still, attached to several machines that were beeping and whirring. His chest was rising and falling, much to Bentley’s relief, and the heart monitor next to him was beeping at a normal pace… but he wasn’t awake. He was just… laying there. Unmoving.

Bentley startled when the person in the other bed started screaming.

His eyes landed on the violently thrashing figure of Jason Todd, his wrists, ankles, and waist restrained to the hospital bed by thick leather straps Bentley didn’t even know they had. His eyes were closed, but he was throwing his weight around so forcefully that the whole bed was clacking and moving when he did. He was absolutely drenched in sweat, his entire gray t-shirt stained a darker shade, his hair wet and floppy and very unusual looking. He was breathing so hard and fast it rivaled Nico’s asthma, his expression constantly twisting between pain, rage, despair, and agony, over and over and over.

Bentley gasped lightly, turning his head back toward Dick when the burning in his eyes threatened to double. Bruce’s hand left his head, and Bentley thought he might’ve heard him stand. “What… what happened? To Jason?”

Dick sighed lightly, gently pressing Bentley’s head against his shoulder as he carded his fingers through his hair. “Secret Keeper got him the same way she got me.”

Bentley sniffled lightly, glancing over just far enough to look back at Damian, laying so stiff it looked like a funeral. Bruce was standing between the beds now, and seemed to be talking to Jason, who was calming. “…And Damian?”

Dick breathed in. “Yeah. Dami, too.”

They fell silent when another round of screaming and bed clacking came from Jason. Dick didn’t do that when he was unconscious, so what was Jason seeing? Bentley must’ve recoiled at the noise, because Dick kissed his hair. “It’s okay, babybird. He’ll be okay.”

Dick didn’t sound entirely too convinced.

Bentley just stayed there for a while, fighting the urge to cry and keeping his face hidden every time Jason started screaming again. Bruce had moved his chair in the middle of the two beds. Bentley wasn’t sure when.

“She was… the Secret Keeper, she was upstairs,” Bentley muttered after a while. “She was here.”

Dick hadn’t ceased petting his hair. “It’s okay. Bruce and Cass cleared the Manor after you guys came down. Wherever she is, it’s not here.”

But the Manor is huge, he wanted to argue, but he didn’t exactly feel like arguing. Everything felt like a battle. Why was it so hard to just live? He’d been at school less than an hour ago, finishing off a more-or-less normal day of classes, and now? Now a raging supervillain had broken into the Manor, terror-coma-fied two of the closest things he had to brothers, and Bentley just had to have another anxiety attack about it. Why couldn’t he just have a normal life? Was that so hard?

He started crying.

“Why is this happening to us?” He managed between his quiet cries, bringing his sleeves up to scrub at his eyes. “I just… I can’t… I just want to live with you.”

That statement seemed to take hold of Dick for a moment, because at least five seconds of silence passed before he replied: “I know. I know you do, kiddo. It’ll all be over soon.”

Something like rage bubbled up in Bentley’s chest in place of his hopelessness, though the tears kept coming. “That’s what everyone keeps saying, but it’s a lie! It’s not getting better, it’s not ending, it’s just getting worse!”

Jason started screaming again, fueling Bentley’s tears until he was well and truly sobbing into Dick’s blue t-shirt.

Screw life.

Dick tried a quiet: “It’ll be okay.”

“Stop saying that,” Bentley choked, somewhat venomous but mostly pitiful.

“I love you,” Was what Dick resigned to, just like when he didn’t know what to say to Tim at the end of their conversation.

Go away, Tim had said.

“I love you, too,” Bentley half-whispered. “But I hate everything else.”

Jason calmed, and the timer until he started screaming again began to tick. Dick kept on stroking Bentley’s hair while he cried for everything he hadn’t cried about yet. Part of him wished they weren’t superheroes. That his father had just wanted to destroy Bruce for being Bruce, that Bentley had gotten shoved into a normal family with a normal life. Everything else was exhausting. Draining. Maybe they wouldn’t be targeted so badly if they were just a family of civilians.

Jason started screaming, again. He started his ultra-violent thrashing, too, shimmying the hospital bed across the floor of the medbay with clacks and scrapes of metal on concrete.

Tim abruptly stood from his spot beside Dick, looking rather sick. “I’m gonna go upstairs.”

It didn’t take a detective to realize that he looked like he might pass out. His skin was pasty, and his eyes were dull and sunken. He also looked kind of… green.

“It… it would probably be best for all of us to stay down here together, Timmy,” Dick tried, but Tim didn’t listen, making his way out of the medbay and into the rest of the cave.

For the second time that day, Bentley watched one of his brothers hit the floor. Except no one was there to catch Tim when he went down.

Everyone seemed to move. Duke, Cass, And Steph all flinched in Tim’s direction, although none of them were close enough to actually catch him. Even Dick jostled Bentley around in his lap by nearly shooting out of the chair. Bruce stood quickly, holding a hand out toward Dick, rushing to Tim’s side.

Bentley clung ever-tighter to Dick as the tears came doubly as hard, listening to Bruce fuss over getting Tim in a third hospital bed, flinching at Jason’s screams, and watching Damian’s hands ball up and relax over and over against the sheets. The stress of everything seemed to build in his head, tighter and tighter and tighter until…

The world faded away.

—

When Bentley woke up, he was on a cot, on the floor of the medbay. There was a scratchy hospital-like blanket thrown over him, and a quick glance around revealed that Dick had nodded off in the chair they’d been sitting in. His arms were crossed over his chest and his head was down, his black hair hanging over his forehead, blue eyes hidden from sight. Alfred was on the farthest end of the medbay, running tests, it seemed.

Duke, Steph, Cass, and Barbara were out near the batcomputer, taking up residence on the floor. (And in a wheelchair.) Barbara and Duke were speaking quietly, And Steph looked to be asleep, her head pillowed on Cass’s lap. There was a map of Gotham on the Batcomputer behind them, red dots flashing near the docks of Gotham Harbor. Did that mean the burner calls had worked?

And now three beds had a Wayne in them. Closest to Bentley laid Damian, stiff with still curling and uncurling fists. Then came Jason, who wasn’t screaming, but was still writhing around on the bed like he was covered in ants. In the third bed came the small, fragile looking Tim, who was unconscious and still. He was hooked up to a lot more stuff than the other two.

And sitting right in the midst of all the beds, like he couldn’t make up his mind, was Bruce.

He was on the edge of his chair, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes trained on the floor below his feet. Bentley was sure he’d never seen him looking so… lost. He was fiddling with a ring that sat around one of his fingers, spinning it over and over to the rhythm of Damian’s heart monitor.

Bentley’s hurt for him. For everyone. For the whole world, at this point. What was Bruce supposed to do, watching three of his kids suffer like that?

Bentley pushed himself off of the little flat cot and onto his feet, earning him a little glance from Bruce. Neither of them spoke as the child padded across the room, stopping only when he made it to the man’s chair.

“I’m cold,” Was what he said, eyes flicking down to his feet. He actually meant I want to try and make you feel better with a little hint of please hold me, life sucks. He prepared himself for a rejection and walk of shame back to the cot — that’s what his father would’ve done.

Bruce leaned back and scanned Bentley with his gray-blue eyes, opening his arms up.

“So am I,”

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

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mbti-notes · 2 months

Text

Anon wrote: Hello, 24M ISTP here hoping to help my 25F INFJ girlfriend, or at least understand her. It’s a persisting problem that’s taking a noticeable toll on her mental health and I’m a little lost on what to do.

We live in the UK, and drinking culture is HUGE here, particularly regarding an almost obsession with pubs. They’re seen as a community hub in a way for a lot of people. I personally only have one or two drinks on special occasions and my girlfriend is teetotal, so neither of us feel the need to go to these places ourselves. The problem, for my girlfriend, is how this interferes with the rest of her social life. She has a lot of online friends, but aside from myself and her sister, she only really hangs out with her work colleagues. Most of these outings involve drinking to an extent.

My girlfriend said herself, several times, that she doesn’t like the pub crowd. It’s not her scene, it’s noisy and cramped a lot of the time and she just finds it boring. Honestly I agree with her. She’s even had some people grilling her about why she doesn’t drink, which obviously won’t help. When it’s just the two of us, we usually go to some sort of cafe, or an actual activity like arcades or museums, because that’s what we both enjoy. Whenever she goes out with her colleagues, though, she comes home miserable and deflated. I suggested offering to go someplace else with them, but she’s apparently asked a few of them around the weekend time and they always say they’re busy.

I’ll see her obsessively scrolling on Reddit or Twitter at sometimes 4AM, looking into why people love drinking/pubs so much and to see if anyone feels the same way that she does. It seems to start this vicious cycle of guilt if she can’t find the answers she wants because she’ll see people praising pubs and what they mean to them. She tells me how she feels like she doesn’t fit in here, and it’s warping her view of the world generally, because so many people love and revolve their leisure time around an activity that she hates. Basically she thinks that there’s something wrong with her.

She’s tried to branch out a little over the last few weeks by taking music classes and volunteering, but she’s really shy and hasn’t formed any friendships so far, which is making her feel even worse. So she falls back into her usual routine of going to places that she hates because people want her to. I take her out to do what she likes as often as I can, but honestly I think there’s a deeper problem at play here.

I asked her if she feels lonely, and she said no. She doesn’t miss the connection of an actual friendship, she actually enjoys having lots of alone time. She told me it comes from a need to feel socially competent, and this does line up with her behaviour. The way she talks, acts, dresses, is all done so she can be perceived a certain way. She wants people to see her as someone that has friends and a fulfilling social life. But like I say to her - she’s not a public figure, she’s not a fictional character. There’s no audience here aside from the people she chooses to be around. Why is she sabotaging herself?

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

Consult the article about Caring for Emotional Needs for tips about how to offer comfort to people in distress. Questions about how to help are always complicated because there are so many factors that could influence the outcome. The most important factors to consider are: 1) how open the person is to receiving help, 2) whether they possess enough inner and outer resources to carry out good advice, and 3) whether your presence has the potential to hinder them. From your description, it is unclear how these factors will play out.

Have you read the study guides and do you understand functional stacks and type development? It sounds like she is having difficulty with auxiliary development and reaching a point of auxiliary resistance, which can potentially trigger a gradual descent into tertiary loop. It is a common issue across all types.

It's possible there's something awry with her intentions. Approaching function development with the wrong intention often leads to negative results. She works very hard, perhaps too hard, to fit in, which indicates Fe overindulgence, but then also claims that she does not need the Fe things she's working for. She claims to want "social competence", which is ostensibly about healthy Fe, but then rejects vital opportunities to develop genuine social competence. Denial and ambivalence are major factors behind why people get stuck in developmental ruts. In essence, people want auxiliary development but also want to avoid the difficulties of it, which can lead them to choose dead ends and overlook viable opportunities.

Yes, it is self-sabotage, but it's important to remember that these "choices" are generally made unconsciously from a deep and dark place of pain, suffering, ignorance, or desperation. Although it might seem irrational to onlookers, it is rational to do what is necessary to alleviate short-term pain, in an effort to regain enough mental capacity to tackle long-term problems. However, when pain cannot be adequately alleviated (usually due to not having learned the right tools for coping), it starts to wreak havoc psychologically.

I often say that the easy path isn't usually the right path when it comes to personal growth. Ideally, she should go through the arduous process of making new friends with people who are better suited to her personal preferences and needs. Branching out is the better choice but also the more difficult choice because it involves facing up to painful truths about herself, i.e., to nakedly expose the shyness and deep insecurities that lie at the heart of the struggle. She has yet to realize that it is precisely through facing up to those vulnerabilities that genuine social competence is eventually achieved.

Since she isn't ready to face up to the real underlying problem, she's leaning on her colleagues at the pub. As you said, pub culture is huge in the UK, so enjoying it would allow one to quickly fit in with a significant swath of the population. However, as huge as pub culture is, there are also huge numbers of people with other interests, but it might be difficult to meet them without making a big change to one's immediate social environment. From my observations, spending too much time with people at work can really limit one's perspective, like putting all your eggs in one basket. I generally don't recommend seeking out personal relationships in the workplace unless you just happen to meet someone you really, really click with.

If she lacks the wherewithal to change her social environment, she might be feeling out of options and that might be why she's trying to force the pub situation, as it helps maintain some illusion of control. The misery she feels as a result is an extremely important warning sign but she's ignoring it, which indicates poor self-care and a need to improve emotional intelligence. Chasing these existing relationships is the golden path of least resistance, but it only seems easy on the surface. In the end, it's also an incredibly difficult path because she must deny herself and sacrifice her integrity for the pretense of fitting in, which basically amounts to self-violence.

In short, both paths are difficult, but only one will lead to proper function development and personal growth. In cases of auxiliary overindulgence, the dominant function doesn't work optimally. Without healthy Ni, it's difficult for her to understand the longer term implications of her choices. All FJs need a strong sense of belonging and community in order to flourish in life. Fe-related needs are legitimate and she must learn to fully embrace them as an integral part of her identity. Ideally, she should be encouraged to fulfill her Fe needs and be offered support as needed/requested. However, though it's hard to watch someone you care for struggle, you can't compel or force them to develop a function when they are not psychologically ready for it. It's something she ultimately has to decide to do on her own, for her own good.

Since her auxiliary function is your inferior function, you are in a dangerous position. You could inadvertently be a negative influence if your inferior Fe distorts her view of auxiliary Fe. It's important that you are mindful about your own relationship to Fe. You have to understand that auxiliary and inferior functions are very different animals that require very different approaches in type development. You should avoid expressing inferior Fe in a way that gives her a convenient excuse to withdraw from auxiliary Fe development entirely. This would be the worst case scenario from the perspective of type development.

#istp #istp relationships #inferior fe #infj #auxiliary fe #helping #ask

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slidersimp · 1 year

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for the ficlet requests, maybe ice and mav first learning asl?

i love your mav service dog series so so much 😭 your hard work definitely pays off with it ❤️

Omg okay I love this request so much but I must warn you it turned super long for a little ficlet and got so fucking angsty I nearly cried. But thank you so so much I'm so glad you like the series!! I need to go write some Mav and Ice cuddling with Tess and Piper to heal me from the emotional damage that was writing this fic my god.

This is about 3,000 words so I might end up posting it on AO3 as well as here, so that's fun! I love feeling like a productive human being. Anyways! Please enjoy! Send me ficlet requests with ideas for fluff that I can write to make me (and hopefully you too) feel better after you read this!

---

Seeing Pete “Maverick” Mitchell committed to an institution was, quite frankly, terrifying.

Ice had known him for a long time. Maverick wasn’t in the Navy because he supported the military. He didn’t go to college because he appreciated academia. He hadn’t dreamed and planned for him and Ice to get married because he believed in the legal system that would bind them together. Pete Mitchell—Pete Kazansky-Mitchell—cared about people. Pete Mitchell joined the Navy because of his father. He went to college as a means to an end, and because it was what his mother would have wanted for him. He married Tom because he cared about Tom. For him, nothing was about the institutions he lived under, so when he suddenly committed himself their community college classes like a man who’d fight to the death to defend a city college, Tom knew the reason was not because he’d taken a shining to academia. The reality was much worse.

They’d enrolled in a class in American Sign Language a month or so after Ice’s cancer diagnosis, after it had become apparent that Tom might not make it out of the trial with his voice intact. They didn’t acknowledge the fact that Tom might not make it out of the trial, period. That was too large to acknowledge, the prospect too terrifying. If the instability of their lives had taught them anything, it was that they could control only what was in their hands, and fight as he might, Tom’s life wasn’t as in hand as he’d have liked, so they controlled other things. They went to their classes. Twice a week, in the evenings after they got off work or treatments, they’d duck home for a quick dinner and drive to to the college for their class. Sometimes Tom would have to meet Pete there, running late with this national security crisis or that cancer treatment. Regardless, they'd make it to the college for their class and they’d fit themselves into an arc of students, their professor standing in the center teaching them to communicate without their voices.

Sign language was something Tom might have found interesting if he’d had the ability to learn it on his own, without necessity driving his pursuit of the class. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that luxury. Every time Tom entered the silent classroom, he felt his skin crawl. He’d lived his life, built his career in screaming fighter jets. He felt at home speaking over a radio, singing with Pete in their home, telling his husband he loved him with his own voice. He would be able to communicate even if he lost his voice—when he lost his voice, as his doctors were beginning to say—but the knowledge that he would have to lose it in the first place was debilitating. He looked at Pete signing beside him, the most vibrant, bold man he’d ever met suddenly subdued and silenced, and he could think of nothing else.

For the first time in his entire life, Tom was failing a class, and it was a class he was going to need to exist and communicate in the very near future.

Pete, however, had the highest grade in the class.

He practiced constantly, signing to himself, signing to the professor after the class dispersed, studying online in his free time, in his breaks at work, whenever he could manage. He was practically a teacher’s pet. He’d raise his hand at every opportunity, answering questions or participating in dialogues with full sentences when the rest of the class could only manage broken fragments. Tom knew Pete could achieve whatever he put his mind to, but he’d never seen him throw himself into something like this, but Tom knew why.

The knowledge seemed to make it worse.

Tom spent every class distracted. Trying to learn, but caught in the brutal understanding that he had to learn. He felt the pressure and he tried to respond to it with grace, as he always did, but he couldn’t manage it. Stress drew him thin. He hadn’t relinquished all of his duties at work—it seemed he’d climbed high enough in the ranks that nothing short of death, not even retirement would get everything off his plate—and the additional stressor hung over him more than it ever had. He sat in class and wondered about national security, his eyes glazing over as his professor instructed the class. He wondered how he’d participate in the collect calls he had with the other admirals without his voice. How could someone even interpret for him if he didn’t know the language they would interpret? Pete’s elbow would nudge his as he signed to the professor and Tom would snap back into reality, witnessing his husband’s skill in stark contrast to his own ineptitude. The contrast was starting to breed resentment.

He knew Pete’s skill could be explained as well as his failing could be. They were both stressed, their stress finding different outlets. In Pete, he channeled his emotion into focus, picking something he could control and grabbing onto it with everything that he could. Tom’s battle was more physical, but mentally it left him drained, and his mind decided to check out, to swerve into damage control and hunker down in everything that he already knew, to hold tight and not let go. It made logical sense that he was having trouble learning, but he couldn’t help the frustration he felt at the sight of Pete signing so skillfully. Their instructor had learned of their situation early on, but one of their classmates had suggested he and Pete practice together after Tom had admitted his own struggles with learning the language—a well meaning, reasonable suggestion—and Tom had nearly snapped at her. He didn’t want to practice ASL, at least not with Pete. He didn’t want to sign with him—though he did, whenever Pete wanted to—and he was constantly asking Pete to speak to him, to speak for the two of them as it became harder and harder for Tom to voice his own words. He didn’t want an ounce of Pete’s silence.

Still, he was trying to be graceful. He was trying to adapt, trying to be flexible, to learn and change as he had always done. Every life lesson he’d endured had taught him that message, but Tom found it harder now than ever.

“Tom.”

Pete caught his attention as he stood at the kitchen counter, a glass of water in his hand. He’d been still for the past five minutes, sipping slowly, while Pete had been rushing to and from their bedroom frantically changing out of his uniform. Work had run late, they'd made it home later than usual and were both forgoing dinner in favor of getting to their class. Or at least, that was the plan.

“What are you doing?” Pete asked him, threading his belt into his jeans. “Go get changed, we’re already going to be late.”

He made one handed signs as he spoke, running his thumb up over his chest, waving his hand down with his arm lifted out to his side, pointing away from them, towards their bedroom. Clothes. Late. Go.

He’d been signing like that for weeks now. Tom wondered if he even knew he was still doing it.

He set his glass on the counter. He was still in full uniform, the stars on his shoulders felt like lead weights, but there was still something known in them. Changing into civilian clothes, sitting silently beside Pete as he drove to the college—because Pete would insist he was driving—was so terribly unknown, so awful and foreign and different, that Tom was standing at the kitchen counter with a glass of water in his hands and stars on his shoulders knowing full well he was making them late. He felt like a child, and yet his feet wouldn’t move.

“Tom.” Pete said again. His voice was stronger. Tom wondered when he’d stop using it around him entirely, when he decide that it was crueler to speak to Tom when he couldn’t speak back, and he’d sign instead, because Tom was supposed to know how to sign back. He didn’t want Pete to be silent.

“I’m tired.” His voice was already rough and gravelly. He knew the sign for ‘tired,’ he’d place his fingertips on his chest and let his wrists fall down towards his chest as if pulled down by exhaustion. Pete would have made the sign but Tom kept his hand around his water glass, his other hand resting on the counter. “Go without me.”

“Tom, I’m not–” Pete broke off with a frown, moving towards him when Tom suddenly picked up his glass and turned from the counter. He brought his glass to the sink but didn’t look back. If he didn’t look back, he couldn’t see Pete’s signs.

“I’m not going to go without you.”

He made it to Tom’s side, setting his hand on his arm. Tom could see him out of the corner of his eye, watching him, imploring him to look back. He knew without looking that Pete’s face was filled with concern, open and honest and kind. He wanted to scream, but he knew he couldn’t. Even ignoring propriety, he couldn’t imagine the pain screaming might cause him. Just the thought of it felt like it could render him silent months earlier than he might be able to hold onto his voice.

“Then let’s not go.” He could feel Pete’s thumb tracing one of the bars on his sleeve through the fabric of his jacket, and he looked down, unable to help watching him.

“Tom.” His name again, soft and kind but imploring in the same way. Pete’s hand tightened on his arm. It was as good as begging Tom to look at him but still he didn’t turn.

“Look.” Pete swallowed loud enough that Tom could hear it. “It’ll be fine if we’re late, Scott will understand. Just go change and then we can go. We’ll come straight home afterwards, you don’t have work tomorrow so you can sleep in for as long as you want.”

The flow of reasoning off his tongue was nearly enough to make him turn, but he didn’t. He felt his eyes slip closed at the hint of pleading in Pete’s voice, like getting them out the door was something he needed.

“Come on, Tom.” He pressed, his voice soft. “I know we’re not doing this for grades but you have to at least pass. They’re not going to let you move up if you don’t—”

“Stop.” He pulled Pete’s hand off his arm, prying his hand away with trembling fingers. “Please, just–”

“Tom–” When he finally turned to look at his husband, Pete’s eyes were wide with concern, fear swimming in the green, fear for Tom, for whatever mess was living in his head.

“Pete.” Now it felt like he was begging, but for what, he had no idea. Pete was right, he needed to go to this class, he needed to pass, but what did he want, now at this moment? Pete couldn’t take away his cancer, he couldn’t make him better, he couldn’t take away the exhaustion and pain hanging over his entire being.

Pete’s hand reached up to cup his face, his eyes softening. Maybe it was at the sight of Tom’s face, the fact that he was looking at him now, maybe it was because there were tears welling in Tom’s eyes and Pete could actually see the problem rather than fumbling around in the dark, but the fear faded from Pete’s eyes.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He whispered, his free hand settling on Tom’s hip. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

There was so much love in his voice. Pete never failed to show him how much he loved him. He’d been doing it publicly only for a few years now, since he and Tom devoted countless hours to helping drive Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell into the ground, but he’d been doing it privately long before then. He kissed it into his skin, murmured it into Tom’s ears, promised it to him just with a moment of eye contact, a word over the radio that no one would suspect but Tom would know. Pete had been telling Tom he loved him since wingman had stopped meaning friend and started meaning family.

Tears spilled over Tom’s eyes and he suddenly felt like a failure. He could count the number of times he’d cried in uniform on one hand and most of them came from pain or panic. Watching Ron hang limp in his chute after he’d passed out from pain wrecking his shoulder on the canopy during an ejection. Tom had thought he died. Hazy moments of half-consciousness when he was dragged from his own plane after smoke started to fill his lungs, panic the only sensation he could feel. Showing up in a hospital sleep deprived, drowning in stress and being told he couldn’t even see Pete because of a records mix up that left Tom unable to prove his power of attorney to the partner he’d taken for life.

“I don’t want to stop talking to you.” He croaked, tears and pain making his voice rough. “I want to be able to talk to you.”

Pete’s features softened, sympathy in his eyes but also pain, sadness for what Tom was losing and what Pete would be losing as well. He stepped a little closer, wrapping an arm around Tom and guiding Tom’s head down onto his shoulder.

“I know.” He whispered.

“I don’t want—I don’t want you to stop talking, either.” He croaked. He pressed his tears into Pete’s neck, shivering at the feeling of Pete’s fingers brushing through the hair at the base of his skull. When would he lose that, too? “I love your voice, Pete. I don’t want you to stop talking to me just because I can’t talk back.”

“I’ll talk whenever you want me to.” Pete promised, but Tom kept going.

“You’re not quiet, Pete. And I–” he broke off with a gasp, his tears rapidly starting to push towards sobs, but he had to keep going. He was desperate to keep speaking. It felt like if he couldn’t speak now, he’d never have the opportunity to speak ever again. “I hate seeing you in those classes, I hate seeing you silent. You talk more than anyone I’ve ever met, I can’t lose that. Not like I’m losing everything else.”

The truth was almost too brutal for him to bear, and maybe it was for Pete, too, because he stepped back from Tom slowly. He took his hand instead, leading him from the kitchen and into the living room, where he guided Tom to sit on the couch. He nudged his legs apart and moved to stand between them, guiding Tom close and cradling his head against his body. Tom felt his hands curl into Pete’s clothes, holding onto him tight as a sob wracked through his body.

“I want to be able to tell you that I love you.” Tom rasped. They’d only just gotten married a few months before his diagnosis. They hadn’t even had a wedding anniversary yet. “I can’t lose that.”

“Tom.” Pete pushed him back by his shoulders enough to cradle his face again, lifting his chin until Tom was looking at him. “You will always be able to tell me that you love me.” His voice was firm, offering no room for argument. “I don’t care if you whisper it. I don’t care if you mouth the words. I don’t care if you sign it or type it out or use morse code or fucking flags, you will always have a way to tell me that you love me. And I will love you no matter what way you decide to tell me.”

Tom couldn’t hold his gaze. He pulled his face from Pete’s hands, hiding his face in the fabric of Pete’s shirt. He couldn’t stop his tears, but Pete didn’t seem to mind, holding him close even as he cried splotches into Pete’s shirt.

“I love you.” He croaked through his tears. His arms wrapped tight around Pete’s waist and he held him close. “I love you so much.”

Pete pressed a kiss into his hair. “I love you, too.”

He held him until Tom stopped crying, until his tears dried but he breathed in ragged little gasps. He slipped Tom’s uniform jacket from his shoulders and tossed it onto a chair nearby, then guided him to lie down, laying on the couch with him. They lay together until Tom’s breathing had calmed, and Pete rested his hand on Tom’s chest, his thumb, pointer finger, and pinky extended. I love you.

Tom picked up his hand, curling his fingers back in. He kissed them each individually, pressing his lips to Pete’s knuckles, then his palm, and the back of his hand.

“It’s not really about me being quiet, is it?” He asked quietly, and Tom shook his head, tears threatening to well in his eyes just at the admission.

Pete pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, Tom.” He murmured. “And I know this is hard. Probably the hardest thing we’ve ever faced, but we’ll go through it together. I’m going to be here for you, no matter what.”

Tom let his breath out in a slow, measured exhale. When he felt like he wasn’t going to burst into tears again, he pressed a sign into Pete’s chest, his thumb, index finger, and pinky extended. I love you.

((p.s. shoutout to my asl professor Scott (sign name an S fist tapped on the chest) whom I’ve name dropped as icemav’s professor. Love you, Scott. What a fun guy.))

#tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #top gun #top gun fic #top gun fic asks #ficlet #it's a little long for a ficlet but whatever #top gun iceman #top gun maverick #icemav #slidersimpfics #why does tumblr keep getting rid of my read more links?#what's up with that?

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gofancyninjaworld · 10 months

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Call this the anti-Scooby gang plot

Wait, what?

So, the latest manga chapter of One-Punch Man (update 231, online: chapter 184, fan-translation: chapter 186) may be similar to chapter 108 of the webcomic, but it's Not The Same. And one of those differences is very important:

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoaaaaa. Scheduled? SCHEDULED? Leaks scheduled by who? Why?

Yes, I know it's the Neo-Hero scouts. I'm shocked that they're that confident that Genos will choose to jump ship rather than go to the HA and tell them that there's an organized smear campaign planned against them. Yes, they're right that Genos has no loyalty to the HA. Still, that takes some balls: that could go so badly wrong.

So, these scouts must have approached, what, at least a dozen of the most powerful heroes on the planet and told them about plans to undermine the Hero Association.

We know that the S-Class heroes in the manga are an astute bunch and that they're not too proud to talk to each other and take joint action. If they wanted to foil the Neo Heroes, they could. Seriously, imagine Genos thought the HA needed protecting. Imagine that Child Emperor thought the same. Imagine that Fubuki saw the curiously insecure back end of the HA's servers and thought 'damn, I need to warn them and see to it that something is done' rather than think how she might extract advantage from it.

Why aren't they? Because no one loves the Hero Association.

How do you misuse me? Let me count the ways

And why would they? The Hero Association was founded specifically so that the individuals who feel themselves moved to do good in the world wouldn't have to choose between doing good deeds and making rent, but in a hundred little (and not so little) ways, they've shown heroes that they're not at the centre of the organisation.

Shit pay

The shit pay is a frequent plot point. I've spoken already about Tatsumaki apparently unable to afford a good home. When the number two hero lives in a shitty old house, think how bad it has to be for everyone else. If they were coining it in, Metal Bat would have a nanny for Zenko so he could afford to work full-time as a hero rather than only during school hours. He's one of their longest-serving and most loyal heroes.

Terrible benefits

Instead of helping, the HA reads it as his being uncommitted and punishes him with low ranking (and corresponding worse pay). Just like IRL organizations treat working mothers. Hell, the HA has been positively vindictive in how slow they've been to raise Metal Bat's rank. Despite spotting his talent early, when the other low-ranking heroes were swept up into the newly-created Class S six months after founding the HA, do you know when they put him in Class S? A year ago.

You put it together and go 'wait, so for a year and a half, Metal Bat's had to watch heroes far weaker and less capable than he is be promoted over his head while he barely makes ends meet?' You start to understand why hero relationships are so often fraught.

It's a burning indictment of the Hero Association that Metal Bat jumped ship on being offered child care. If the Hero Association's standards of care were any lower, they'd be subterranean. They didn't deserve his loyalty.

The Hero Association pays its heroes the bare minimum they can get away with, despite collecting billions on their behalves. It's interesting to note that almost every hero on their roster is a young, single man. I remarked on this demographic seven years ago on Reddit. I know, what was I thinking? That the membership there had eyes and brains -- so foolish. As the story has progressed, I'm vindicated on this.

Yes, a lot of hero work is hard and physical, but that's not the whole story. Anyone with a family to support or caring responsibilities will find themselves pushed out -- god forbid your parents grow old. Add to it that they don't encourage teamwork or cooperation and the isolation of it will repulse a lot of women. Good, strong, capable ones. And as the story shows, there are a lot of them out there:

in a big population, even a small proportion of people is a sizeable demographic -- the HA has put off a lot of people who could have helped

Not to mention that as soon as you start thinking of marrying, you'll leave, even if you're the sort of loser dude who hates the idea of a man doing 'women's work'. Because you know that the HA is not going to be there for you or your family if you get hurt, and while you're okay taking risks for your own sake, subjecting your family to the same... no thank you. Sekingar's then-fiance making him choose between being a hero and marrying her really comes to mind.

Leaving aside poor pay and benefits, let's talk more broadly about the industrial relations disaster that exists between HA management and the heroes.

Disrespectful names

Shitty disrespectful hero names that leave their recipients feeling bullied, and no good way to change that name.

Inadequate, inconsistent support

The total lack of an effective mentoring program, not to mention the unreasonable and even unethical demands on them:

Not to mention an excessively harsh disciplinary regime

A lack of anyone actually looking out for heroes

We watch Busho, a junior official, try to get better conditions for the heroes on the ground and see his appeal go nowhere.

Disastrous leadership

The fact that most of the executives appear to be just... wet. People who have position but nothing behind it to inspire respect:

The fact that heroes are hurting with the desire to see actual competent leadership:

Sleazy practices that offend heroes:

It all adds up to not what heroes signed up for

Anyway, the important thing is that heroes, ALL HEROES, are working to make the world a better place. They aren't there to be loyal employees. If someplace else will let them work as heroes with less nonsense, they'll move.

No love lost

And that's why the heroes who could stop this Neo Hero plot right here, right now, aren't lifting a finger. It's like watching the Scooby Gang get told who's behind the creepy funfair at the outset, shrug, and go, 'eh, let him get away with it.'

Probably the only hero who actually cares about the Hero Association is Metal Knight, as he literally built a lot of it. But he's fucking furious at the top brass right now, for good reason. He probably thinks they deserve to suffer a little.

The heroes have no idea what kind of evil they're letting into the world. But then again, none of them are Madame Shiwababwa.

#OPM #meta #heroes #Hero Association #Neo Heroes #the heroes who could stop it are letting the Hero Association be attacked #because they're just that disgusted with the HA #True the HA doesn't deserve its heroes #However the new angel is much less than angelic

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boltedfruit · 28 days

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Employment Struggles

I'm going to do something shocking and use this as an actual blog post.

I am SO sick and tired of applying to jobs, only to be ignored completed, or even worse the interview is scheduled and then the role is filled before I can interview. Today the interview was cancelled a minute before the scheduled time. Then the person who would be interviewing me ignored me on email and phone.

I am mentally exhausted. I am broke all the time. I don't get unemployment because I've never been eligible for it. The only good thing about this is that I have full healthcare coverage and food stamps.

I am a medical assistant with experience, I am a certified professional medical coder with internship experience, I have experience in retail, yet I cannot even get a call back from McDonald's, let alone a good healthcare job.

I've considered becoming a behavioral health tech, but I just truly don't want to be hit/bitten at work. I also couldn't deal with the families of children disagreeing with a preset therapy plan while I'm physically stuck in their home. The other options I was looking at was security, or 911 dispatcher, but dispatch classes are few and far between into next year, and also expensive. And security can be dangerous.

At this point, being 30 and just defeated by how unsuccessful I am in life, I am considering going to a trade school. Like welding. Or automobile tech or something that is actually in demand. There is literally no other options for me and I'm literally five minutes outside of San Francisco. I am mildly considering an IT course, but tech is so unstable and unsafe while also being over saturated right now and I don't trust it. But then, you have to deal with stereotypical personalities in 'conservative' trade jobs too. The other risk is I spend time and money doing a trade school and then no one wants to hire me (like I've done twice now). I don't know what to do.

The trades I'm considering:

Electrician

Welder (part of machinist trade) (honestly this is most appealing to me)

Aircraft Maintenance Technology (Can't hurt with SFO next to me and their planes literally falling to pieces in the sky every week)

HVAC (still don't really understand what this job even is)

The guilt I'm feeling is that I am about to finish my BA in psychology next month, and I'm waiting to hear back from the two colleges I applied to for a Master's to become a therapist. If I get in to my top choice, that's $60k+ I'll need to fund. If I get into the state school, which is slim, that's likely covered by school loans, but I'll still want to make some kind of income for three years I'm in the program. If I don't get into either program, then my last choices are: work while getting med school pre-reqs done, or work while doing an online MFT program (which I really don't want to do an online only program but if it's accredited at the end of the day I don't care.) The online only school would also be $60k+ so I'd need to work regardless.

I'm feeling guilty too because I've never been the fanartist who can drop a new print and have thousands of followers want it. I can't make money that way. Commissions have always been my most lucrative offering as an artist, but it's often mentally very taxing. It's also unstable. I don't have a lot of followers to drum up a successful pays-my-rent-every-month Patreon, and with the way of algorithms and sites are these days, I likely won't ever. I'm not trying to complain for sympathy, but this is just how it's been for me.

I know it's stupid to feel guilty for things like this, but I just am in this nebulous space between being apparently unemployable while also not being unemployable enough to receive livable benefits while continuing job hunting.

So I guess I'm looking for opinions on trade professions. I'm trans, but I pass masc in public save for my voice really. I also am not the kind of person to wear pride pins or color my hair rainbow, which would draw attention that way. I'm not too concerned about mean people in a trade job, because honestly the rudest people I've worked with have been in healthcare anyway. And a trade job would mean no customer service positions/working with my hands, which requires little mental gymnastics.

Also pointless, but true, I keep thinking of Debbie in Shameless getting her welder certification after becoming a teen parent.

I guess the takeaway here is, I'm more willing to be hurt on the job by a machine mistake on my part than I am willing to be hurt by other people assaulting me (very real in healthcare jobs/security) while working.

What do you think?

#I'm sorry if this is coming off whiny but I have no one to talk to about this #so to the tumblr masses it goes

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sabakos · 10 months

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I tried to find out if Derrida had ever responded to the open letter where several analytic philosophers requested that Cambridge not award him an honorary degree on the basis that his work was nonsense, and found this instead:

In 1990, Derrida signed an agreement to donate his scholarly papers to [UC Irvine], where he taught part time. But after his death in 2004, Derrida’s heirs began questioning the pact. The university tried to negotiate, then sued three months ago, a maneuver that outraged professors in California and beyond.

Oh huh, that sounds pretty serious. Wonder what that was about...

According to multiple sources, Derrida wanted UCI to halt its investigation of a Russian studies professor, Dragan Kujundzic, who was accused of sexually harassing a 25-year-old female doctoral student. So he tried to use his archives as leverage to derail the case, they said. UCI officials declined to comment on Derrida’s letter or Kujundzic last week. But court records from a lawsuit filed by the doctoral student might fill in some of the gaps. The 2004 sexual harassment lawsuit contends that Kujundzic, who taught a popular class on vampires and signed his e-mails with a colon to symbolize Dracula bite marks, used his position as the student’s advisor to manipulate her into a series of sexual encounters.

Well, that's certainly an ethics violation at least, which at least ought to be grounds for dismissal if the allegations could be proven. Unfortunately for Derrida, there wasn't much plausible deniability.

Kujundzic, 47, who left Irvine in 2005 for a job at the University of Florida, told campus investigators the fling was “voluntary and consensual.” The student said she felt coerced to engage in sex or risk having her academic career ruined.

But of course it gets worse. The letter Derrida wrote to UCI's chancellor itself was online until recently, because some of Derrida's colleagues were somehow under the impression that this would help "clear things up" with regards to how Derrida has been misrepresented by the LA times.

These are some highlights of what Derrida's supporters thought would make him look favorable.

I will begin by making it unequivocally clear that I fully approve the principles of all rules meant to prevent, or even to repress, the kinds of behavior defined in the United States as “sexual harassment.” In their principle, these laws seem to me just and useful. But everyone knows that, in practice, they can give rise to applications that are abusive, capricious, or even perverse and deceitful—often devastating for the person, reputation, and career of those who are unjustly victimized by frequently malevolent maneuvers and sometimes by judicial errors.

I have especially heard said that, without even envisaging all sorts of intermediary stages, the provision of a whole range sanctions or warnings, a recommendation has already been made to apply the worst possible sanction of last resort: the exclusion of our colleague from UCI. Why has such a precipitous action been considered? Why go so quickly and so far?

The truth is this: if the scandalous procedure initiated against Dragan Kujundzic were not to be interrupted or cancelled, for all the reasons I have just laid out, if a sanction of whatever sort were allowed to sully both his honor and the honor of the university, I would sadly be obliged to put an end, immediately, to all my relations with UCI. The somber and tragic hypothesis of such transgressions (which I wish still to exclude) would mean, quite obviously, that I would neither attend nor participate in the widely international conference in October that is devoted to me and was organized, precisely, by Dragan.

So in addition to both rebutting good faith attempts at engage with his "work" by Searle and others, and subsequently ignoring all other future negative reviews and criticisms, he apparently found the time to try to throw his weight around the UC system to get them to drop an investigation into his colleague, despite said colleague admitting guilt! And UC Irvine, for their own lack of taste or seriousness, still maintains his archive up until 1998, while the last six years of Derrida's life are presumably still held by his estate.

#derrida #deconstruction #mine

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stitchbot-cain · 2 months

Text

Cheyrolls University: Chapter 1

Warnings: Implied Bullying, Implied Death, Implied attempted murder, All mispellings and strange wording is intentional

AN: Hi, welcome to my writing blog, happy Valentine’s Day, have a fun little series about a Russian transfer student spiraling into madness over a sexy sea monster

Entry one:

I’m not sure how to explain this. I’m not sure if I even can explain this. But I’ll try.

First, I am Adrik Kotik. At least, that’s what it says on my student ID. Most of my legal documents still use my mother’s last name for me. I much prefer Kotik though; I do not associate myself with that woman anymore. I am 23 and am studying to be a geologist in America, specifically Montana. I’m keeping this journel to help me practice my English and gauge my progress in it by the end of the year. I will attempt to write in it every day.

I arrived at Cheyroll’s University of Montana this morning, and learned that my classes do not start for another week. That was completely fine with me, as I still needed to explore the campus and get moved into my temporary home. The people at the desk were very nice and did their best to help me understand what they were talking about. In hindsight, I think some of them were trying to put me down, but I didn’t let it bother me at the time. I had filled most of this out online back during the summer. I was put in room 4-E, which is on the fifth floor. The woman helping me prepare looked scared when I told her this, and told me, in her own words that, “Your roommate is notorius(?) for eating everyone we try to put with him. I dont know why they keep trying to put people with him. Be careful.”

I pushed this off as rumors at first. I have had to deal with several rumors like this about myself back in highschool as well. I went up the stairs to the fourth floor with plans to make a good first impression. He was probably just shy, and I am sure that living with someone who struggles with their English would not help his situation. Since I had learned he clearly enjoys eating enough for rumors to be spread, I decided to take him out for breakfast and pay. I know now that American breakfast is so much worse than Russian breakfast, but at the time I believed it was a good idea. He did not seem upset with it though so I think that was a success.

I am getting ahead of myself though. When I met my roommate, I should mention his name is Mango, he was much taller than me (and I am already 203 centimeters, so I have never met someone taller than myself. He must be well over 300 centimeters). He was a very big man, but was also very clearly not a human. He has grey scaley skin, a tail, legs like a lizard, yellow eyes, and tentacles as his hair. He looked as if I had just woken him up, which I do not blame him for being upset with me about, especially since he apparently slept shirtless. At the mere sight of him I paniced and spilled my intentions to him. I did not think he got any of it at first so I went to repeat myself, but he told me to shut up because he was thinking about it. I think I only realized that those likely were not rumors at this point. He did say yes, thankfully, however he did grab me by my collar to throw me onto his couch while he got ready which frightened me.

I did get to see some of his interests at this time though. Apparently Mango is quite the fan of retro gaming as I saw an old Nintendo 64 console under the TV and at least 4 different controllers for it. There were a few posters for bands I did not recognize, but I assume he is a fan of. The most confusing thing I saw though was that the second room was almost completely converted into a storage room. Mango got really defensive once he noticed I’d seen the storage room, so I immediately faked ignorance and asked if we were sharing a room. He just laughed and told me that most of his roommates don't last long.

This campus seems to be in its own little town, so we didn’t have to go too far to get to the restaurant; however, Mango still pulled me almost the whole way from the room to the restaurant. Thankfully, he didn’t attempt to get in the elevator, likely because the door frame was too small for him to fit. I understand his pain, I too have to duck under most doorframes. I do not think he slowed down until we reached the restaurant. He was really excited for the free breakfast, and he must’ve been hungry as he ate enough to feed eight people. I was able to learn a few things about him too. He has a twin who lives next to us, Luden, and two cousins who live across from us, Angel and Devvie, who are also twins. He didn’t talk much about his other family, but he talked a lot about them. Angel is a really Catholic person, Devvie is also religious but he refused to talk about his beliefs, and Luden is a very reclusive guy but is studying video making. It was pretty funny hearing about how much he liked Devvie and Luden, and when he got to Angel all he said was that she was a bit of a bully, but she meant well. He also knew the person at the counter. Their name was Amber, and when they saw him they looked angry. I do not think they like each other very much.

We went home around noon, and Mango was very insistent on us spending more time together, despite me trying to go and check with the office. We played several videogames and I learned very quickly that he sucks at fighting games. I genuinely thought he was going easy on me until he complained. When it was late, and I tried to leave for the office, he would not let me leave for a moment. He looked down at me for a while. I swear my heart stopped for a solid minute. I was afraid he was going to eat me, before he finally broke eye contact and told me he’d clean out the room for me.

As of right now, I am writing in my new room. I plan to unpack my things tomorrow after orientation. Mango is in his room talking to someone. I am more than a little nervous for the coming days, however I will try to act as kindly as possible to Mango. I hope we can be friends, but I still worry.

- Adrik Kotik

(Next)

#Cain Writes #Cheyrolls University #writers on tumblr #Adrik #Mango

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invincible-selfxmade-punk · 8 months

Text

YOUR FRIDAY TEACHING RANT

What a flipping day!

There was a volleyball game and a football game tonight. Before school there was face painting which always gets the students excited. Then during first period, we had a visit from the girls volleyball team. The class, especially the boys, really freaked out.

"They're so big!!" "They're so tall!"

" I've never seen so many girls before , I'm scared!"

"Can I hide behind your desk!?"

I had to spend my conference running to Walmart to get treats for my third period class, because in that class only 2 people failed chapter test. I had tried to go the day before and apparently there had been a power outage and the store was closed.

The kids were already jacked up all day because of the visit from the volleyball team. Then on top of that every Friday the kids that attend all week & don't miss any classes get an extra recess period and all the teachers have to be out and on duty. I

Just as we had gotten them in from recess, changed classes, and barely started on the next lesson-----there was a @&%%$^^:ing FIRE DRILL

That did it, the day was officially a loss.

5 minutes before I was to meet Adrianna for her first lesson in reading, I realize someone had stolen my Scrabble tiles.

When I came back in after the summer and after not having been there for the first two w weeks of professional development I realized that someone had been in my room and had taken some of my stuff. At first it wasn't that bad but I still was not happy:

Among the missing items were three boxes of multicolored Expo markers, six bottles of glue, and a box of classroom set markers that have several colors missing but they were still good enough markers to use there was no reason to throw them out.

3 years ago I had a space motif going and with that I had found on Amazon an original Star Wars poster of Mark Hamill as Luke skywalker. He was very young obviously in the poster and it was in perfect condition. No I didn't pay that much for it but it was just the fact that I got it and I was so proud of it. At the end of the year I folded it up nestled it among all the other posters that I had and put it in my cabinet. My cabinet does not have a lock on it or rather it does but the key has been gone for years so you can't lock it.

When I came back after that summer someone had taken the Skywalker poster.

And the fact that I am 100% sure it was a fellow teacher makes it just that much worse because they're in the same boat I am. Neither one of us have that much extra money to spend on stuff.

I was able to pull up an online free Scrabble game on scrabble.com. still it was not nearly as good, even with the interactive projection board we have, as it would have been with all those wooden tiles that you can actually hold in your hand.

Adriana still did really well though.

Well the first class was not paying a whole lot of attention to it. So the second class I had I started acting it out. And line by line what was being said I acted out as the video played. The kids loved it.

And. And. And on top of all of this:

We try to start off each class with some type of inspirational video. This week though, we have been so far behind--- because nobody will stop talking---that we have had to skip the video.

So today we had one and it was about the importance of being yourself and not following the crowd.

youtube

Being the awkward autistic I am, (I am a big fat ham when it comes to showing off) I loved the attention. Win-win.

However every class showered this Praise on me;

"Miss!! We didn't know you knew SIGN LANGUAGE!!"

#life the universe and everything #teaching #teaching rant #4th grade #friday #Youtube

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suiana · 9 months

Note

So to give to a little context first. I have a friend whom I met from my old online school. We have a enemies dynamic. We've each other for 2 years now. When we first met I was the one who talked the most, which he used to see as "annoying". Ever since I left the online school and became busy with my new irl school, I started messaging him less and when I do, he acts more and more nicer and chill than before. To the point he stared flirting with me but I always brushed it off as I also flirt with everybody. Did I forget to mention we are the complete opposite of each other. He's extremely introverted online while I'm literally just putting out my phone number for everyone to see. Irl tho I'm introverted and scared of people unlike him who suddenly has the ultimate rizz and getting into fights with other boys.

One time he messaged me while putting on his just as he got out if the shower. Lemme tell you I was dense af back then. He literally asked for shampoo recommendations. I didn't know anything about men's hygiene so I told him to use a flower scented shampoo. He left for 15mins which I thought was because he was drying his hair. No he was running to the store. He asked for which shampoo brand I use. I didn't want him to know that much about me so I said any sakura scented one.

Another time was when we were talking about a game we like and he thought about cosplaying the character I liked and I thought of it as just some teasing between friends and went along with it by saying I prefer the female characters.

I'm always questioning my sexuality so I'm always joking around that I'm gay and I think that's the reason why he hasn't been straight forward.

He started his own irl school last week and a girl kept looking back and forth at him and when he was about to go home she stopped him saying he could always ask her for help about studies and the school.

And again with a different girl but this time is his deskmate. Apparently every single girl he has met had asked him if he has a gf to which he responded with "not ur business" and I already knew something wasn't right at this point because I have seen his face before and he is mid. Sure ig some girls r into tall boys but he's a freaking emo.

And did I tell you about my suspicion about his deskmate not even being a real girl because the Coincidences if them being neighbors and having way too much in common is too suspicious. Did I also mention "her" personality is completely unreal. She says she's "not like the other girls" and HE him out of all people fricking agreed

And his description of her sounds exactly like me. Short wolfcut, gets mistaken as a boy, kinda tall. Even her behavior is like mine, Just randomly zoning out. And the last thing that completely threw me off guard was her grades. She's the Top of the class. I'm literally part of the student council.

But then I wanted to meet her too if she was comfortable with it but y know what he said.

Idk I can

He thinks I might accidentally hurt her feelings. He has known me for nearly 3 years.

And his response to me was

"Didnt mean it but since she has many mental issues and tried to suicide her self because of got bullied and mocked,i just don't want to makes her feel bad and depressed"

I relate to her so now im always telling him to protect her even if her stories might be worse than mine.

But now that I'm rethinking about it

I think he's lying to me

I heard getting advice from random strangers on the internet is better than getting actual help /j

I actually really like him and I don't have the courage to confront him directly about it

There's a very high chance I'm just being delusional and should continue being some wingman

But I don't have any other friends to tell this and I really need to get it off my chest and get other ppls opinions so I hoped I didn't make too many Grammer mistakes

don't worry about making grammar mistakes it's totally ok

u should subtly try to egg him on for answers

like asking what's Ur ideal type, what would u do if u date me, do u think we'll be more than just friends etc

if he hints that he does like u maybe u can shoot your shot lol haha, and don't be disheartened if he rejects u, there's plenty of fish in the sea :3

imo u probably have a good chance of getting that because he probably likes you ++ no guy I've seen would do such things for someone they just call a friend :)

I hope everything goes well for you bae and all the best

#suiana's sinners

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oleworm · 1 year

Text

i find it kind of weird to read incels in the language of gender dysmorphia as well, like they’re just people being innocently oppressed by the gender binary as opposed to a group committed to violently maintaining it!! insane how much sympathy they get when compared to other similar online groups esp given that they have perpetrated actual terrorist attacks

I apologise in advance for the long reply, but I guess this really bothered me...

@pussiel It really doesn't make sense to me why people are mentioning incels specifically as people we should help and be sorry for. Incels don't want to have equal standing with other people! They're angry because they're not at the top of the social hierarchy. Not only do they consider women inferior, but they're also driven to a rage when men of different cultural backgrounds or God forbid, disabled men manage to have a loving relationship with a woman. Or worse yet, when this "wrong kind of man" achieves a high social standing, which is what these incels are actually about -- possessing a woman that they consider impressive to other men is their goal, not merely to have sex. They talk very openly about it, even though the sex part is the one that receives more attention. It's no secret what they think of women they consider to be "low status". And well... Like you said, they've actually killed people, more than once.

The reason so many people, myself included, were upset about that post is that we can agree that neither men nor women should be bullied for their appearance, but they had to try to make us pity incels, who'd very much like to harm us if they got their way. They mention something that makes a lot of sense, and then stretch it out in a way that you must help and be sorry for and pity the person that wants to end you. It's like bringing up the oppression of the working classes of the world, and then focusing on the sector of the population that joins a movement for ethnic hatred. And asking the group that they hate that they should be nicer to them so that the people in the hate movement don't feel so bad about themselves. I hope that it was just poorly worded, I post things without thinking all the time, but it's worse that there were many that read it and said, "Yes, I agree completely." Not to be #not all men, but there are many reasons to dislike or be opposed to incels specifically, but a lot of those who write about it, whether journalists or people who are just saying things, do try to make it about men in general... As if going through social and economic hardship turns every man into a violent misogynist, a eugenicist, a bully, sometimes a racist as well. As if women didn't have to go through the same pressures (who would have thought).

I don't know what it will take for people to understand that hardly anyone hates incels for being "ugly," whatever that means, but for their values and their personality, which is shaped by these values. I don't understand why people insist on the idea of "ugliness" as the incel's tragedy. That is only what they say to themselves and each other; I insist that what they resent is their perceived loss of status, and when I say these things I risk repeating what everyone already knows (I do not doubt that you already know it, for example) but apparently a lot of people weren't actually aware of what incels believe, or they wouldn't take it so lightly. Elliot Rodger was wealthy and conventionally attractive for a man, but was reportedly rejected because he acted in a rude and entitled manner to peers of all genders. Incels hate seeing conventionally unattractive (whatever that means) or disabled men having a relationship because it disrupts their myth. They are always very angry when they see that. But they also hate men that they consider to be more attractive than them. They hate anyone that has what they think they deserve.

You will have noticed a curious thing. That I mention what incels think of other men, when they are known primarily for their hatred of women. That is because they do not see women as people, or at least they pretend to other incels and MRAs that such is their belief--but they do see other men as such, not only that, but as competitors. I don't have the information here with me, but I remember reading that at least one of them killed more men than he did women. It really is very tiring to be asked to be kind to people who have these beliefs because, really, someone like that? Considering the demographics of this site, they would barely see any of us as people in the first place. I don't know what the solution would be, but I'm pretty sure that it's not to ask a site full of people hated by incels that we should be nice to them and help them realise how good looking and lovable they actually are.

EDIT: Back to the first thing you mentioned (sorry that I took so long...), that they are viewed more sympathetically than other similar movements, but perhaps it is because the suffering of women and other groups is considered to be natural? Just a part of life? Whereas, to some degree, men of a certain class are supposed to have a life of comfort and satisfaction. Some difficulties, but only enough to add to the challenge of life, a kind of enrichment so to speak.

One thing that I wanted to mention but forgot to add before this edit is that the defense of incels whether by themselves or by the people who write about them is that there's a sense of wronged justice.

There is a just order of things, and when it is disrupted, it creates a state of injustice (it must be reverted to how things were before, when they were just). Men (the platonic idea of a Man) used to have A (money?), B (status?), C (sex?) & D (labour from their dependents?) in the past, now they are unhappy because they no longer have them (the implication is that they should have them again to resolve this problem / this injustice).

I have read several articles that leave the question of a solution open-ended, but the factors that they mention as characterising the idealised past of Man are in themselves suggestions about what should be done to stop incels acting the way they do (give them everything they want / put everyone else in their proper place).

#sorry to make such a long reply #I've been... ruminating #long post

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ernmark · 1 year

Text

Apparently me being in IB got a lot of Same Hat responses.

So: Same Hat!

I was in the first year that my high school had the program-- so the enviable guinea pigs, only like a quarter of which got the full IB diploma.

Along with the lock-in, we had

A weirdly insular group-- almost all our classes were together for those last two years, so despite being in a student body of 4000, I only actually knew the other 12 I spent time with (my face blindness was very grateful)

One teacher who was Very Bad at teaching precalculus, to the point that literally every person who had her dropped out of the full program because there was no chance of passing the math portion

Friday pitch-ins during history class every week, because nobody is food motivated like stressed teenagers. Among regular favourites were my mom's apple strudel and egg rolls from one classmate's family Chinese restaurant

A science teacher who took the extra IB duties because he wanted extra pay, who gleefully plagiarized resources from other teachers that he found online. His idea of teaching was to show us video of his marching band

Due to zero supervision and guidance, our class royally botched the Big Group Science Project for his class. So we instead researched the hell out of what our results should have been and falsified a semester's worth of data. So... Um... We definitely learned something in that class.

A surprisingly diverse student body considering our tiny size. Because it was so new and badly managed, the only people who were willing to participate were people who wanted to go to college abroad, or people who were desperate for those low-cost college credits and cofident enough in their academic skill to trade their mental health away for the discount. So, in short, a whole lot of immigrants.

A study hall collective thing where we tried to fill in the gaps in our education and understanding by reteaching each other whatever had just been botched.

Class t-shirts

A motto: "divide and conquer" referring to the way we'd divide our larger homework assignments among the group, each do a part, and then collectively copy down the answers from each other. We all did the homework-- we just didn't all do all of it.

Mental breakdowns to the degree and consistency that would become the norm across the United States 5-10 years later. (During one of my worse ones, my dad flailed his way into giving me a pair of stray kittens we had been trying to rehome because when I was handling them was the only time during that particular period that he saw me not crying.)

It was certainly an experience, alright.

#international baccalaureate #ib

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bokatan · 1 year

Text

15 Questions for 15 Mutuals

Tagged by @twosides--samecoin and .....i think somebody else tagged me in this as well, except i can't find it in my likes so uh. yeah. thank you though! Tagging: @dudethatsgay @kharonion @bluepriestess @kyngsnake @ragedaisy @buthappysoverrated @bleumanouche @millionsknives + anyone else who wants to participate

1: Are you named after anyone?

I am! My middle name is from a family friend that passed shortly before I was born. I've considered going by it since I like it more than my first name, however 1: it gets butchered even worse than my first name, and 2: it's extremely close to the name of a character from a podcast that was super popular on here back in the day and I don't want people to think I named myself after that character lmao.

2: When was the last time you cried?

shgdlusfhjgdffgifdshsg literally at work this morning, one of my favorite patients was put down last night and then again after my coworker got a really fucked up call and made me listen to it

3: Do you have kids?

Absolutely not.

4: Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Absolutely, I have a very dry sense of humor and it usually takes people a bit to catch on to that lmao. Doesn't translate much online but any of y'all that have talked to me or heard me on voice chat know exactly what the fuck I'm talking about

5: What sports do you play/have you played?

I did dance and figure skating for a few years when I was a kid, then picked up horseback riding and did that for ...12ish years I think? I started when I was like 10 and stopped in my early 20's. I don't currently do people sports but I'm starting to get into dog sports

6: What's the first thing you notice about people?

General vibes, I'm pretty observant and pick up on body language very quickly.

7: Eye color?

Green, with central heterochromia so my eyes are light brown/hazel in the middle. I may have given one of my OCs the same eye color

8: Scary movies or happy endings?

100% scary movies

9: Any special talents?

I'm good at reading people and can usually figure out what issues are going to come from them immediately. Like I've had a few friends that I thought would be flaky or sketchy on first impression, and years down the line - guess who's now being super flaky or sketchy. I've picked up on a few different work relationships/affairs way before that dirt's come up, too. I'm also apparently very intimidating irl and play into that a ton so I get to be the scary dog friend or whatever the kids are calling it nowadays

10: Where were you born?

Detroit

11: What are your hobbies?

Art, photography, crafting & cosplaying(this is probably like 8 different hobbies in one - I primarily do sewing, painting, sculpting, leatherwork, 3D printing + finishing 3D prints, vacuum forming and working with thermoplastics, etc etc), and basically anything involving animals - I'm really into dog training currently.

12: Do you have any pets?

My house is basically a zoo lmao. I'm apparently a stray collector or something because I keep either finding animals that don't get claimed or they get rehomed or surrendered to me. Here's a list of everyone:

Molly: ~10-12 year old seal APBT mix

Zelda: 5 year old black & white Great Dane

Lucy: 2 year old seal & white Siberian Husky & APBT mix

Obi: 8 year old black domestic longhair

Loki: 8 year old orange & white domestic shorthair

Oliver: 2 year old tuxedo domestic shorthair

Felix: ~2 year old tabby domestic shorthair

+ a currently unnamed alien betta - haven't posted pics yet since he's still settling in, but he's solid turquoise and very feisty.

13: How tall are you?

5'10"

14: Fave subject in school?

I really liked taking history classes, biology, & art. I also really liked the geology class I took way back, & I've had to take some various science-aligned classes for my program(example: art-based anatomy class focused on visible anatomy, how bodies move, range of motion for various joints and parts, etc) that were cool too.

15: Dream job?

I mean ideally I'd be getting paid to live in some rich guy's house and make whatever the hell kind of art I want, but that isn't a career path nowadays so I'll just say artist. I'm in school for game design and plan on going into concept art or character design, but who knows at this point.

#thanks for the tag!!#tag games

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