Tumgik
#like i literally know for a fact i got lower grades than every single other nursing major last semester
riflebrass · 5 days
Text
I just got to thinking about back when I was in private school. The curriculum had a very Stanley Kubrick approach where failure was never an option and you have to get everything right to advance to the next course. And like, in Public school 60ish percent on a test is pretty disgraceful but is passable. In the private school anything lower than 80% was a fail. Every single work sheet, every single quiz, every single test, if you get less than 80% you have to do it over again until you get it right. And my big hangup was around the 8th grade I had to take a world geography course. Each course covered a different continent. You had to hand-draw a map with each country, memorize their names, locations, capitols, major agriculture, and major export among other things. First country? Africa. Couldn't learn it. By the end of the year I was still stuck on the very first course and I was told I gotta do it. I gotta pass it or else I can never advance to the next material and in the long run I'll never graduate. I gotta do it! Fortunately the following year I got put back into public school and I didn't need to learn all that stuff. Never once have I needed to know the major crop in Sudan. I have no idea what the capitol of Angola is. Ask me to point out where the Congo is and I couldn't tell you. Literally the only thing I know about Uganda is the Ugandan Knuckles meme. It just doesn't impact my life. In fact I'll bet if I looked up every single person I went to school with that graduated that course none of them could answer any of those questions.
1 note · View note
how-gross · 10 days
Text
3:29am — Sunday, May 5th, 2024
Totally underestimated the power of senioritis and academic burnout. Talk about a double whammy.
I already got into college and the money seems alright (by “alright”, I mean I hopefully won’t be drowning in eternal debt), but I still have so much work that still needs to get done. I have a Semester Project for my Theater 1 class that is meant to act as a substitute for our general exam due on Tuesday, I have 3 AP exams for the next two weeks — AP Literature and Composition, AP Psychology and AP Biology II — and I have a College Trigonometry Dual Enrollment Exam from Tuesday-Thursday (we can choose the dates; for me I’m taking the first part on Tuesday and the second part on Wednesday because my AP Psychology exam is on Thursday and I can’t handle a DE Exam and an AP exam in the same day).
I’m mainly stressed about that Dual Enrollment exam. My teacher says 4-6 attempts on the practice exam should allow you to feel prepared for the exam, and that she’ll give you 5+ bonus points if you do 5 authentic attempts (like don’t just do an attempt and make a zero on it cuz you didn’t try and just wanted an attempt under your belt). The problem is College Trigonometry is SO FUCKING HARD — Literally, the unit of the HARDEST TESTS is in the exam, and no matter how many times my teacher says “the exam is easier than test 3” it doesn’t take away from the fact that Test 3 IS APART OF THE EXAM—
And my AP Literature Exam… I don’t want to admit it, but I honestly gave up on that exam and am planning to just yolo on it. But let’s be honest, my version of “yoloing” anything is just me studying less for that assessment than I would for any other assessment. By that, I mean I’m just gonna watch the AP Classroom Videos that she’s posted throughout the year, read through the notes on this app for AP Prep called Knowt, and try to remember the slim advice she gave for writing essays and the general format of the exam itself, and just hope for the best.
It’s hard when the fucking teacher gives you shit-all to help prepare you for the exam. She literally gave my class NO practice exam assignments on AP Classroom, NO practice essay assignments on AP Classroom— and when I tried to find her on my last day to ask for the AP literature exam prep book in my school library, SHE WAS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN. Don’t even get me started on the essays. I don’t feel confident nor prepared for my essays at all. And I know why— it’s because we did NOTHING but IN-CLASS ESSAY ASSIGNMENTS for MAJOR GRADES for THE ENTIRE YEAR. I got a B on every single one of those in-class essays— on only one of those essays, I got an A, and it was a pretty low A to say the least. And when my class asked her to give us more prep for essays — such as take-home essays, or assigning the in-class essays for a lower grade, or both — and she said no because she knew that she would take a long time to grade them. I can account for her on that, she does take a long-ass time to grade the in-class essays. Like about three-four weeks, maybe even longer cuz my perception of time is off.
But… that all falls apart because here we are, AP Literature students, writing or trying to write full-on essays in a 40-MINUTE TIME SPAN. And you can’t get grades in within 2 weeks or less? My mom was an English teacher and a pretty damn good one at that. I’m swallowing my pride for this, but she’s the whole reason I’m a good writer right now. My mom straight up said that if you know what you’re looking for in an essay, it shouldn’t take you that long to grade an essay.
And my past English honors and AP language teacher can vouch for that; this woman would give us in-class essays as well as take-home essays, and would give them back to us fully graded either the next day, or the day after that. No more, no less. I understand that all teachers and people are different, and they have own strengths and weaknesses— but when those weaknesses interfere with my success, that’s when I become frustrated. I literally don’t feel prepared for a NATIONAL EXAM that could guarantee me for college credit, that COSTS MONEY TO APPLY TO, all because my teacher can’t grade papers fast enough to provide us with more preparation. This is literally insane.
And yeah, that’s pretty much all I have to vent about; my AP Lit and my DE exam. AP Psychology doesn’t count because it’s mainly just my academic burnout talking— my AP Psych teacher is an angel blessed upon this Earth. This woman literally gave an entire Exam Cram worksheet to go by, along with multiple respires to fall back on, and they’re required, which helps me because it forces me to study, which I needed because probably would have procrastinated and had an anxiety attack otherwise (probably still gonna have an anxiety attack but that’s neither here nor there). I’m not focusing on my AP Biology II exam right now because if I do, my head may actually implode in on itself and we can’t have that. I’ll focus on that when the time comes.
Fortunately, my AP Bio teacher is still hosting classes and exam prep days for us, and she’s allowing seniors to come back regardless of administration has anything to say about it. I love her for that.
My poor boyfriend. I feel so bad. I’ve unintentionally ignored him for a good couple months now all because of my academic burnout and senioritis, and the fact that I’ve learned some not-so-good stuff about my home life that has impacted my mental health in a weird way. I have to promise myself that I’ll call him the minute summer hits. There’s no excuse after that (unless I pass out or sm).
Ughhhhh and graduation is a thing that exists. Kill me now. I might just relapse.
0 notes
homiro · 7 months
Text
A random vent ramble thing. scroll on
A new day and new nay. But I left the house. I went to a class even though I was shaking the whole time because this prof is ableist and weird and like I decided that I want to do my work on neurodiverse authors so both she and the other prof were fumbling with positive discrimination trying to decide what to call a neurodiverse congenital condition until I got upset because I noticed it and said yes you can say it it's a disability but I didn't add that being scared of calling someone disabled is actually pretty shitty like it's not an insult, it's a fact and we're fine with it as long as you don't call us the R slur to refer to our our disability like just because a lot of us are somewhat functional and you can't see the disability doesn't mean we're less disabled and what do you call a person in a wheelchair if not disabled? You won't call them walking impaired or some shit like that or you will and people will be annoyed unless they want pity which can happen. I'm not impaired, I have an invisible disability and it does affect my life in every single way so call it what it is not the "politically correct" version because that sounds stupid and ableist to a lot of us (and I don't say all because some people may prefer it I don't know I only speak for myself and the people I know). You don't have to walk on eggshells around us. Just say disabled. There done that shows that you're informed.
And this day was not it. I was very upset last night, didn't sleep, almost overslept then had to leave the house in a rush and forgot my music had to turn on Spotify and eat up data and phone battery then I was upset still because of course I had to forget the one thing that brings me some form of calm and I bought a cheap ass radio from a well we call them Chinese shops here and it's basically AliExpress IRL and people who work there don't get mad and sometimes the shop is literally just called 'Chinese shop' so yeah I don't know if this is a thing outside of the Mediterranean but in here they're life savers if you need household items and other things like clothes and cheap stuff like radios and headphones and stuff. Like I said real life AliExpress and I got a radio I'll show it
Tumblr media
Great vibes. And this bag has a hole for a usb port and came with a cable that has a usb entry and a usb insert that I don't understand the purpose of but it's a good bag so far and I could poke the aerial through that hole for better reception lol but yeah I just went there with basically no sleep and was barely able to speak when it was my turn and I'm still at grips with getting a useless paper that attests my diagnosis just so I'm not fucked over again due to my disabilities and like it's literally all it does it doesn't benefit you it just ensures you're not getting lower grades than the others because you've got a congenital condition that affects your ability to communicate and interact with people you're not familiar or friendly with. And the reason I'm at grips with this is because I have not been able to see my main psychotherapist since last year lol so I can't get this shitty paper and yeah random ramble shit that's under a break because that's how I normally do these things. I don't like to take up space but yesterday I was really on edge so well exception to the rule
0 notes
watevermelon · 3 years
Text
Expectations | Shirabu Kenjirou x Reader
Tumblr media
✧ Summary: Having attended Shiratorizawa Academy from junior high, you were familiar with most of the students in your year. They were average, nothing special — until a certain vbc setter, from god knows whatever small town junior high he crawled out of, changed up your world. -> Tag: maybe language cause it’s shirabu; fluff and jealousy + slight angst
---xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx---
Shirabu Kenjirō was a living, breathing pillar of salt. And it was rightly so. He was the friend, the shoulder to cry on, and the person that everyone viewed as reliable. This was not entirely a bad thing, since he was viewed as much more dependable than others. And this idea was not limited to volleyball. But being placed in that category separated him from the very people who put him there. The girls viewed him as, at most, a friend. He was the king and leader of the friend zone.
It was the end of his second-year and he would soon be taking over as captain of the boys’ volleyball team. He justified lack of love life on the fact that he had bigger things to focus on. And after their crushing defeat, Shirabu reasoned that Shiratorizawa needed a focused captain to lead them to victory.
But the road to triumph was… rather lonely.
Shirabu had his team with him one-hundred percent and silently appreciated them for their confidence and own unfailing determination (he won't admit out loud!) But it seemed like he was surrounded by couples. His kouhai, Goshiki Tsutomu, found comfort in another first-year that was a regular on the women's volleyball team. 
Couples were disgusting.
Of course, majority of the members of the male volleyball were single. Ushijima was a super volleyball idiot and his focus seemed to never stray from the sport. But even with his cinnamon roll personality, the female base of Shiratorizawa seemed to flock to him. He was undoubtedly very handsome and tall. His grades were well above average and his fan club was incredibly prominent. Ushijima had all the makings of a great man and was noticed as such by a large pool of the student body. The difference was that Ushijima was willingly single.
Shirabu, deep in the non-explored depths of his heart, wanted to be noticed like his Senpai. When playing volleyball, Shirabu strived to be the type of setter that went by unnoticed and drew out the strength of his ace. And he knew the consequences of such. But still. He was the main setter on a highly prominent team and his skills are not hard to notice.
Maybe it was his rough personality? Pft. He would never change that for a person, no matter how special.
Shirabu was above average height and had amazing grades in a prestigious powerhouse. What wasn’t there to like? His sense of style was trendy and he was complimented on his clothes more than once. He as not too preppy like Goshiki and not too wild like Tendou. Was it his looks? His bangs were unusual, but they weren't as bad as coconut-head/bowl/Goshiki. Since entering adolescence, he failed to ever break-out and was blessed with marvelous clear skin. On more than one occasion, he would stare at the mirror and truly wonder just why.
Why was no one interested?
Enter you.
You attended Shiratorizawa in both middle and high school. Coming from a wealthy family, there was nothing standing in your way. You were fairly popular and had seen the multiple personalities flit through your advanced classes. And in your first-year came Shirabu, an outsider to Shiratorizawa from a lower-class middle school. After being in the system for three-years, you knew almost everyone and seeing a new face was refreshing.
From the very start, you wanted to bet to know him more. But he was incredibly reclusive and mysterious to the general student body. Nobody could answer your questions. Well. Nobody except a certain Salami and volleyball idiot. You shared an advanced statistics class with the two third-year volleyball players in your first year and from them you were able to peer more and more into the life of Shirabu Kenjirō.
“Why do you want to know, (F/N)-chan?” Tendou instigated, “You have a crush on him?”
“Please, Salami calm down.” He raised his hands and gasped, “Come on. There isn’t a single person in this school who I don’t know and suddenly nobody knows anything about him?”
“He is smart and adaptable.” Ushijima chimed in.
“And a little shit, that’s for sure.” Tendou stated. You rolled your eyes and returned your attention back to the statistics teacher. Sure, you wanted to learn more. But this class was hella hard and you still needed good grades. Eventually, you were able to gradually acquire more information and Kenjirō. You learned that he was the only player from the boys’ volleyball team to not get into Shiratorizawa with a sports scholarship. Instead, he got in on his own accord through the arduous exams and good grades.
The more you discovered, the more you liked him.
Shirabu had a work ethic that you hadn't seen in a while. Being in this particular school-system for so long ruined your perception of it. You perceived most of your classmates to have a truly pretentious or judgmental personality, but showing to be as sweet as honey to your face. Of course they wanted to be your friend, who wouldn't with your last name?
He hadn't.
Shirabu was straight-forward with a tongue laced with salt. Sign you the fuck up!
He had no qualms about talking back to you and you looked forward to your daily banter with an odd smile. It was strange. You could get any nice, sweet boy in the whole school. But what was the point if they didn't mean it? Shirabu was honest - a trait that should never be given up, even if it offended others. You would rather have someone give you genuine advice - even if it was mostly mean - rather than an empty friendship.
You had majority of the same classes together for the second year in a row. And you were the only person who would had the immediate desire to sit next to Shirabu as a partner. You silently viewed him as a friend, but there was always this barrier that you could never get over for your friendship to deepen. His time was always dedicated to volleyball. And you did not play any sports anymore.
You watched the volleyball team's crushing defeat to Karasuno and the heartbreak it caused to so many people, Shirabu included. The women's team was resorted to tears and you could not even look at the men for too long. Reon and Semi were so sweet and you wished you could protect them for all the bad in the world. You had never seen Shirabu cry before.
Shirabu... He seemed to only display emotion around his team. And this made sense since those were the people that he was closest too. The rare occasion you had seen his smile was when you had watched a game. They had an overwhelming victory against Johzenji High and you spotted the small grin on Shirabu after he scored the winning point. Your heart could barely take it. You only wished that he showed that side more to you...
He was friendly, but distant enough for you to want more. Shirabu was not cold to you and his harsh chitchat did not hold any true malice behind his words. But he never opened up to you. You wanted to learn more about him personally and if you wanted to, you would have to pry and almost force him to speak. He would give curt answers and then be done with the conversation. But, on more than one occasion, you would spot him typing away on his phone. It was no secret that the boys’ and girls’ volleyball team were fairly close and had a groupchat shared amongst them. You silently wondered if he was texting a girl from the team.
That thought had you instantly deflated and made you wondering if you ever had a chance with Shirabu. You were not one to be easily defeated, but with every brief conversation and blank expression he gave you, you considered giving up altogether. This happened around Valentine’s Day of your first-year. Shirabu was abnormally delighted and even smiled in the classroom at someone’s joke. You figured that sure, it was the day of love and he probably had something lined up for himself and his significant other – that was why he was so happy. And it hurt your heart. He smiled, but it was never because of you.
From there forward, you tended to avoid him to evade the imminent heartache every time you saw him. This was hard since you literally sat next to each other in most classes, but something entirely doable. You would leave the classroom immediately after class, show up right before it started, and not initiate conversation. It was always you that had previously opened up discussion, so when you had stopped there was little to none at all.
Shirabu caught up to your change and silently questioned it. On multiple occasions, you would catch him observing you from the corner of your eye and you silently hoped he would not question you outloud. Within a week, he was ready to corner you.
You were at your locker right after class, ready to pack-up and head over to photography club. He was silently bounding towards you and when you closed the locker he was standing right-there before your eyes.
“Did I do something to offend you?” He asked the moment your locker closed.
“No…” You stated haphazardly, clutching your backpack.
“You’re never his quiet or shy.” He noted, “Did something else happen?”
“I have to get to photography club…” Shirabu put his arm on the locker and blocked your exit. He was tall and there was no way you could out-run him, you were trapped.
“Don’t lie. We know it starts in twenty-minutes. You might be on the executive board, but you have a lot of time.” He sighed out, locking to the ceiling and then back to you. “Why are you ignoring me?”
“… Am I your friend, Shirabu?”
“Of course.” He did not hesitate to answer. “And it’s Kenjirō.”
“What?”
“Call me by my first name.”
“Oh.” You paused and let the name roll of your tongue, “Then you should call me by my first name too, Kenjirō-kun.” His eyes widened at the added suffix and a rosy dust covered his cheeks.
“Was that it?” He asked, “Come on, (F/N). That’s an immature reason to ignore me.”
“How was I supposed to know?” You questioned, “It never seems like you actually want to talk to me.”
“I’m talking to you now.”
“Outside of this!” You were beyond frustrated, “Ugh I’m fine now go away.” You lightly pushed his arm, but he did not budge.
“As if that would convince me.”
“You are so annoying.” You commented, “You never initiated conversation. I thought I was just bothering you.”
His gaze on you softened and you could not break the eye-contact, “You’re an idiot.” He teased and then ruffled your hair. That was the first time he had ever done physical-contact with you and you almost exploded then and there.
“I’m an idiot?” You repeated before walking away mid-sentence, “I’m hoping you treat your girlfriend better.”
He paused and let us hand drop down to grab your elbow before you go away. “Girlfriend? Where did this come up?”
“I thought…” Shit, you let that thought slip out-loud, “The men and women volleyball teams are close. And I’ve only ever seen you hang-out outside of class with them and those girls. I just assume...”
“You assumed wrong.” He quickly cut-off, “Ugh. What am I going to do with you?” He asked as he grabbed you into a hug. You returned the affection and you knew that a blush must have stained your face! And what was that question?
Shirabu continued, “So was that the real problem? You were jealous of my supposed ‘girlfriend?’” He laughed at his question and you were going to die from his smile. God it was so rare and you wished he graced you with it more!
“No! Don’t get too ahead of yourself!” You yelled back, but it was muffled against his chest. He leaned back to see your face and teased you for your embarrassed expression.
“You’re an idiot.” He laughed again.
Since then, your friendship with Kenjirō was gradually improving. But it seemed that there was this silent barrier that you could not overcome. You could talk about your problems, but not about his. And since then, he had not initiated any physical contact. If you ever brushed hands or simply leaned against him, he should shift away and pretend it never happened! Did you really make any progress?
Finals were coming up and that was giving you one last chance to spend time with Shirabu before the end of the schoolyear. Sure, you could always ask your father and he had the power to put you two in the same class again next year - But! Did you want to waste your last year together pinning after him?
Your study group was comprised of yourself, Shirabu, Kawanishi, and two people from his class. Kawanishi was in Class 5, which was also advanced, but he was so damn lazy! You saw his potential and only wished that he tried harder and quit fucking around.
The three other members of the group were missing that night and the two of you were left alone to grovel over English. Your English was better than Shirabu’s but the opposite could be said about history. You paired each other well and aided the other's faults.
You commented on this once jokingly, saying, "You complete me!" He simply rolled his eyes and brushed it off before continuing to study.
Damn. This boy cannot take a hint.
You attempted to show the boy your advances. But it seemed Shirabu would shut you down at every try, almost like he knew what you were doing and was firmly against it. A part of you considered backing down. He had made his intentions clear for two straight-years, maybe you should not waste another year on someone who obviously does not want your attention?
That thought last for a second before you waved it off. There was no one else you were even remotely interested in. If he said no, that’s fine. But you were probably not going to peruse anyone else.
Both you and Shirabu were spacing out from over-reading the textbook and happened to make eye contact. "What's on your mind?" You asked.
"Things you cannot understand."
"You really think that low of me?"
"No. I'm going to be the captain of the volleyball team in a few weeks."
"Wow."
"There's no way your pampered ass would get it."
"You think about my ass?" You teased, but he pretended to ignore the question. You spent enough time with him to notice the minute narrowing of his eyes and the slight curve in the corner of his left lip.
Damn, this boy had you bad.
"I'm sure you'll do fine, Kenjirō." You comforted, "You're very smart and reliable. I believe that your training won't betray you."
"Reliable..." He murmured. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."
"What do you mean?"
He scoffed at your question, "Exactly. You won't understand."
"Then explain it to me!" You exclaimed.
"Why should I?" He seemed just as inflamed.
"Because I care about you! You big, dumb, idiot!"
Shirabu paused before fully looking at you, surprise evident. "Well, everyone expects this idiot to be reliable and lead the team. But..."
"But...?"
"That's all that people expect from me. To be the smart one. To live to everyone's expectations and shoulder the border of living up to the name ''powerhouse.'" He was getting more agitated and louder with each word.
"Woah, calm down."
"I can't calm down! In a few weeks, I'll lose the ace that I've admired for years and majority of our regular team! How am I supposed to fill in their shoes when we're losing one of the top 3 spikers in the country?"
You had no shame in grabbing his chin and turning his full attention to you. "Listen here you idiot. Don't interrupt me! I said don't! I stopped sports, but I know this is something entirely inevitable. Your senpai's are moving onto the next phase of their lives, but it's not something you can stop or change. You have to accept the future and make the most out of it and I know you will. Shiratorizawa is not the only school with graduation. Your rivals and others will lose their precious third-years and its then will you be able to analyze them and attack. But you need to calm the fuck down."
Shirabu was hanging onto every word. Nodding at some parts and fully taking in what you were trying to convey. At the end of your speech, he pushed your hands away from his face with a slight rosy dust on his cheeks. No woman, outside of his mother, had ever done that to him before.
"You're a real pain, (F/N)." he started, "But thanks. I needed that."
"No problem, I just want you to know that I can be here for you." You extended your hand to cover his own on the desk.
His eyes latched onto your hand before he averted his gaze and attempted to pull his hand away. You kept a tight enough grip to keep it in place, but not enough to hurt. "Must you touch me so much?"
"You are such a tsundere, oh my god." You commented, "Of course, I had to like you."
He stilled and looked directly into your eyes, as if that would confirm your previous statement. "Are you really that surprised?" You asked. "You're really handsome and you have the type of personality that I find most attractive."
"Tsundere?" He joked.
"No. You're honest." You admitted, "You're not like the rest of them, who only see dollar signs when they see me. You've roasted my ass multiple times in class and I wouldn't have it any other way. You say the truth and don't sugar-coat your words for anyone."
"I like you." You simply stated. You watched the words seem to finally reach something in his mind and at this point he seemed to panic. He pulled his hand away and you did not hide your outward hurt. Shirabu made a lame excuse and quickly packed up his stuff to leave.
You never felt more sad and alone.
XXXXX
Shirabu was freaking the fuck out. He wanted someone to notice him and it had to be you??? You were beautiful and nearly perfect in every way. Your beauty went beyond the physical level and you were blessed with intelligence and an even greater family tree.
None of this mattered to him before. You were his friend and classmate and probably the one person in class who did not endlessly irritate him. How could you possibly have feelings for him? He didn't deserve you, not a bit. He had an endless list of faults, including his knowingly sarcastic personality, and you were the friendliest person in school! No way. You could be happier with literally anyone else.
He could not deny all your positive traits, even though he made an effort to ridicule you. You were an overall amazing person and he could not deny his latent crush on you. But he had squashed it since your friendship was mostly comprised of friendly banter. You could never have feelings for him, he previously thought. So he would rather treasure your friendship and watch you from the sideline.
However, Shirabu had to admit that it was a dick move of him just to leave you there after your confession. He was usually the type to speak his mind and your feelings must have blinded his brain. He set-out to clear the air and admit why.
In class the next day, you were nowhere to be found and refused to respond to calls and texts. Seeing you so affected, Shirabu could not help but feel like a huge ass. He owed you big-time, but he had to start somewhere: an apology. Shirabu had to clear the air and make it known that he appreciated your affections, even if he had to deny them. He was not above annoying you and did such continually.
Knocking on your dorm room, he showed up right at your front door.
Shirabu heard movement inside, but not closer to the door. He called your phone again and heard the ringtone go off from within, just for you to mute it. He knocked about eleven more times before you opened the door.
"What do you want?!" You asked as you swung the door open with full force.
"To clear the misunderstanding, (F/N)."
"God, you are so annoying. Did you know that?"
"You are too. Now hear me out, you crazy."
"Excuse me?!"
"Please." You sighed and moved aside for him to enter and he did such. He uncharacteristically took your hand and guided you to sit-down on your bed.
He paused, as if to fully think about his words, before sitting next to you. "You need someone who has time for you."
"What?"
"I'll be the captain soon and I do not want to disappoint anyone. I'll be busy and unable to be the proper boyfriend."
"Is that your only complaint to this relationship?"
"No."
"What else?"
"You deserve someone who can make you happy."
You gave a small laughed and asked, "Who says you don't already make me happy?"
He stared at your for a moment before asking, "What?"
"I don't want someone who you think will make me happier with kind words or bullshit. I want someone honest." You candidly admitted, "And we are friends already. I know you're dedicated to volleyball and I don't want that to change. I already know how you are and that’s why I like you more than anyone else. You alone can make me happy. For someone smart, why is this so hard for you to understand?"
He sputtered, unable to give a cohesive reply and for once you saw be great Shirabu struggle over his usually articulate words.
"Wait." You realized that he had multiple complaints about this relationship before you interrupted him. "Just be straight with me. Do you have feelings for me?"
It was at this moment that Shirabu had the clearest view of you. You were in the closest proximity than ever before, sharing a seat on your bed! He could gaze clearly into your eyes and sense the distress and vulnerability from your previous words. He stretched the silence and you took that as a rejection. He immediately rectified the situation by grabbing your hand and placing a light kiss at the top.
"I never thought you were interested in me." He admitted, "I thought I was deep in the friend zone. So I would have rather kept your friendship than risked ruining it."
"You're an idiot." You smiled grabbing his wrist to pull him closer. He obliged and allowed you to place a light kiss on his cheek.
"Now will you be my boyfriend or will I have to convince you?" You whispered in his ear to tease him and could literally see the shiver go down his back as he stiffened.
When you pulled away, his eyes were half-lidded and you silently wondered if his dominant attitude translated romantically.
You didn't have to wonder long since he returned the favor and went even further, nibbling your ear lightly before placing butterfly kisses around your neck. "Maybe you'll have to convince me."
You laughed before wrapping your arms around his neck, quickly taking command and enveloping his lips against your's. However, you did not have it for long and the setter was quick to flip the positions and hover over you. He gave one his rare smiles and you felt one breaking out across you'rs, stretching from ear to ear. Shirabu, who was in no rush, descended back down to your silky lips - noses bumping and hands fisting into each other's hair. His grip was firm, but not tight enough to hurt. You moaned, unintentionally, and he took that as an invitation to lick the entrance to your cavern. You parted your lips quickly, eager to feel his tongue against yours. The rest of the day went by ignored, the two of you enveloped in each other's affection with not a single care in the world.
300 notes · View notes
lesbianrobin · 4 years
Note
hello em i have a request. can u please rate mr harrington's looks/outfits i just feel like u have the best takes and i'd LOVE to know how you'd rank his choices 👀
this is the single greatest ask i’ve ever received. i will be ranking the outfits, not steve’s moral alignment or actions in each scene. in order of appearance:
The Introduction
Tumblr media
4/10
hair is tragic
steve copied this entire fit from a mannequin in the ralph lauren polo outlet store
would honestly be a 0/10 except for the obvious valiant effort being put forth by his lower half to resist the sexless curse of khaki pants. the devil (st costuming department) works hard but by god steve harrington (joe keery’s body) works harder
nice brown watch that certainly came from a department store
also gains points for being next to nancy’s anemic librarian fit, thus looking better by comparison
The Rich Bitch
Tumblr media
8/10
thank god he ditched the khakis
hair looks much less demonic
it’s a simple look but the sweatshirt rides up when he shotguns the beer
he also gets wet
solid 8 for sluttiness alone
The Whore
Tumblr media
10/10
wet
please note that his chest is waxed. keep this in mind.
The Heterosexual
Tumblr media
2/10
hair looks like he dipped his head in glue
bold choice with the grey pants. unfortunately that choice was wrong
matching outfits with your comphet girlfriend isn’t as cute as you think it is stevie
you only get points because despite that ungodly pastel stripe pattern the polo’s decently fitted and makes your arm look kinda nice
The Dickhead
Tumblr media
3/10
glue head pt. 2
at least the stripes aren’t pastel this time
The Cuck
Tumblr media
6/10
hair slightly less glue-y
yet another striped polo is peeking out unfortunately
but! it’s green and green looks good on him
finally wearing jeans like a normal fucking human instead of weird slacks
pivotal moment in steve’s fashion evolution from preppy male model to sexy morally upright king
his morals are stored in the denim
The Final Girl
Tumblr media
9/10
an outfit with a character arc to rival steve’s own
pretty fucking good hair if i do say so myself!!
it’s fluffy!
that shit looks like if you touched it it’d be soft... no glue here!
finally not copying from the goddamn l.l. bean catalog
iconic green slut sweatshirt? check! jacket and nikes? check! fucked-up gorgeous face and baseball bat full of rusty nails? check, baby!
looks good on its own OR with some blood on top
overall a very solid look
The Darling Little Drummer Boy
Tumblr media
7/10
babe no... please don’t go back to the khakis... they won’t treat you like jeans do...
not quite glue head but not his best
apparently steve owns a single green sweatshirt, a thousand striped polos, and one very precious christmas sweater
almost makes up for prep-related khaki crimes by being really fucking cute
The Simp
Tumblr media
8/10
glue head is DEAD
further evidence that steve harrington’s entire closet is just striped polos
this is his fifth unique striped polo
most of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair
actually all of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair
he’s finally let go of the fucking pastels thank jesus
and you can’t see it but he did wear jeans with this fit i just forgot to make sure they were pictured and it’s 4:15 am so i don’t feel like going back to remake this collage
cannot tell if this is a lighter blue version of the jacket he wore three times in s1 or if it IS the jacket he wore three times in s1 and the color grading is just that different
either way he loves jackets and i think that’s very sexy of him
The Intellectual
Tumblr media
9/10
i’ve been waiting for this one... turn it up!
literally invented vests
excellent hair
loses a point for unfortunately introducing steve’s SIXTH unique striped fucking polo
i can’t see the collar but i know it’s there i know you’re wearing another fucking polo steve you can’t hide from me
can’t decide if he looks gay or just really preppy but either way he’s got some repression going on
still a very solid look
The Oh No Oh God It Hurts I’m Looking Away I Can’t Watch This
Tumblr media
10/10
yes that middle picture is absolutely to show off the texture of his blazer and not at all me making sure that if i have to see his heartbroken little face then you all do too
anyways i Know that blazer cost at least $100 like i Know that shit’s expensive
excellent gorgeous soft-looking hair that someone ought to run their hands through but only people who haven’t dated him for a year while pining after someone else
emotional devastation... but make it unbelievably fucking sexy
stevie baby i know you’re a colorful guy but please wear more black
The Meathead Jock
Tumblr media
9/10
aw christ whatever happened to standards?
introduction of the blue nikes <3
god his hair looked fucking good here
could have gained that final point by using tube socks with blue and GREEN stripes to tie together the shoes and the gym uniform :/
shorts could be shorter but are an altogether appropriate and enjoyable length
fun sweatstain to customize the look <3
The (is there a word for victim of bullying?) Serious Athlete
Tumblr media
8/10
the yellow stripe was more fun
still cute though
The Sudsy Boy
Tumblr media
11/10
wet
suds indicate that he’s washing his hair, presumably with faberge organics. is this why he’s being bullied?
steve brings his faberge organics shampoo and conditioner and his farrah fawcett spray to school with him whenever he has basketball practice
steve either has shampoo, conditioner, and hairspray in his backpack at all times, or he has a separate gym bag that’s mostly haircare products
just need to make sure we all know that
excellent freckle showcase
his chest is still waxed. please, i beg, keep this in mind
one of his strongest looks
The Babysitter
Tumblr media
10/10
his most versatile look to date
a different jacket than the one(s) he’s worn before but it still has the same kind of collar. steve found a jacket he liked and bought it in at least three colors
the whole thing fits So fucking nicely! shirt, jacket, jeans... baby boy is TAILORED
return of the white nikes with the red check indicate that they are his fashion nikes, while the blue nikes with the white check are his sport nikes. interesting.
this fit lasts like 48 hours and steve simply looks sexier as time goes on which is a testament to its quality as well as his inherent power
every new accessory elevates his appearance. roses, nail bat, rubber gloves, blood, sweat, band-aids, bandana, goggles... each element complements the look in its own way!
an overall win
The Chauffeur
Tumblr media
8/10
we can’t really see the whole fit but he’s not wearing a striped polo so i’m calling it a win regardless of what’s on his bottom half
cannot give him a 10/10 though because he might be wearing khakis
red is such a nice color on him when it’s not just from his blood
i lied when i said he should wear more black he should wear more colors
that plain sweater absolutely cost $85 or more
hair looks very nice and soft
excellent look!
The Sailor Man
Tumblr media
9/10
very precious
absolutely the best hair i’ve ever seen
baby boy got highlights for his hot girl summer!
bright colors make his very red lips pop
shorts could be shorter
love the little accents! especially the white pockets and belt
excellent color coordination on steve’s part with the blue sneakers (notably different than his s2 blue basketball nikes) and the red bruising/blood
i hope you remembered that steve’s chest was waxed. as you can see his chest is now unwaxed. some change between s2 and s3 drove this decision, presumably either his breakup with nancy or the fact that he no longer showers in front of other guys at school. up to your interpretation
shock blanket at the very end is a nice touch so we don’t forget he’s traumatized
The Drowned Rat/The Man Overboard
Tumblr media
10/10
wet
shorts could be shorter
the decision to purchase and wear a hoodless raincoat is absolutely ridiculous and stupid
however it is also very steve harrington and i value self-expression
The Chick Magnet/The Flaming Homosexual
Tumblr media
100/10
what can i even say about this fit?
the absolute best pants he’s worn thus far. amazing fit, excellent classic wash. i say this as a former american eagle outfitters associate and the winner of my freshman year dorm’s “best at folding jeans” award
manages to make blue jeans with a half-blue denim vest work effortlessly
bold primary colors make him stand out without being too gaudy
excellent pairing of t-shirt with simple stripes and vest with simple color blocking to create a complex yet cohesive and flattering look
simple brown belt gives the look a put-together yet down-to-earth vibe
hair has only gotten better
still wearing that same brown watch that he’s had since the introduction
this man looks like he waxes his chest
this is steve in his final form
thank you for your time
1K notes · View notes
faerielleart · 3 years
Text
who is here for a really bad and random high school au that is completely self indulgent yo
in which levi loses a bet with erwin and mike and is forced to audition for their school’s production of les misérables, he tries to mess up the audition but somehow he still sucks less than everyone so he ends up getting the part of marius??? and he can’t quit because it will influence negatively on his grades??? idk imagine levi reading the script without knowing shit about the play and reading all the cheesy lines for the first time and him hating every single thing about this situation until the first day of rehearsal where he meets the person who will play cosette, his weird schoolmate hanji who shares some classes with him who is always spending time in the school laboratory to do experiments and shit and oh. Oh.
at first dude wants to Scream because he just can’t bear the thought of acting like a booby who is madly in love (quoting old les mis memes from years ago here) with this wEiRdO who somehow has a pretty fucking amazing voice and wow maybe this weirdo,,,,, isn’t a bad weirdo. how bizzarre
Maybe just maybe as the days go by they start spending time together because hey! Looks like they are polar opposites but at the same time they have SO! MANY! things in common!!! and they eventually use rehearsing as an excuse to spend even more time together! and they bond over the fact that they’re supposed to play characters who are SO distant and different from how they are irl and levi finds out that hanji tried to audition as a joke but got the part bc she can actually S I N G like an angel and has a really solid head voice and range despite being a mezzo and cosette needing a soprano bc her parents forced her to take lessons, while levi despite having a decent singing voice actually had to have the songs lowered a lil bc bby is a baritone in a tenor role and has never had lessons and can’t support all the notes but fear not! Hanji offers to teach him some tips and tricks and whoops now they’re spending even more time together
And maybe just maybe it becomes easier for levi to sing “in my life she has burst like the music of angels, the light of the sun, and my life seems to stop as if something is over and something has scarcely begun”, maybe it comes natural for levi to stutter his line in “a heart full of love, a heart full of song, i’m doing everything all wrong” because?? he is looking right at hanji’s really pretty brown eyes and he can’t concentrate?? and he hates feeling like this lmaooo like sweaty palms butterflies fast heartbeat,,,,, boi is in love and he doesn’t realize it he just thinks he’s constipated
anyway let’s spice shit up and add erwin to the mix! erwin knows hanji, they’re childhood friends and they actually met through their singing lessons, the dude who was going to play enjolras gets idk chicken pox and the director is frantically looking for a substitute, levi wants to get back at erwin for making him audition in the first place (it’s all in good faith tho it’s a joke and they’re best friends dw he just wants to have a lil revenge) and suggests erwin, not knowing that he and hanji know each other and that he actually has been trained in singing so yeah erwin gets called for a last-minute audition and dude SMASHES it the director’s crying tears of joy they found their authentic tall hot blonde enjolras who looks like he’d be a great commander and people would die for him (;DDDDD) and during rehearsal levi finds erwin and hanji chatting like old friends!! and dude’s like wtf do u know each other??? and hanji says hell yes we studied together since we were children :D and just because i am huge huge erumike trash lemme say that mike got a lil part bc they needed ensemble members and he got to play grantaire so yeah enjoy both e/R and erumike there we go erwin gets to act with his boyfriend!! and they both watch levi and hanji during rehearsal and see how they obviously pine for each other but are far too oblivious for their own good so they decide here and there that they must get those two together bc it’s exHAUSTING to watch them stare lovingly into each other’s eyes and hold hands and kiss and then brush it off saying “it’s just acting we literally have to play a couple”
anyway the day of the show is here ladies and gentlemen levi is nervous af but doesn’t show it, he has to act like a lovesick fool in front of the whole school, the students, the teachers, the parents, EVERYONE and oh my god i hate it here might become his gratuation quote but all he needs is hanji backstage who squeezes his hand and whispers “can’t wait for you to sweep me off my feet shorty” which is extremely cringy but hanji did it on purpose just to see levi get embarassed and he does lmao so yeah the show goes amazingly! levi went flat a few times on the higher parts but it’s totally normal bby’s not trained and he did great everyone praise the birthday boy he deserves it
it’s after the show that things get a lil sad for our boi bc now he doesn’t have to rehearse anymore and is afraid that hanji won’t spend time with him anymore bc the show’s over :(( but fear NOT hanji plans on glueing herself to his side for the rest of the schoolyear and until they graduate and even after that and years later they’ve graduated college they’ve been living together for a while and they go to see the actual show on bway done by professionals and hanji acts weird all evening and OH as they’re going home she stops in the middle of the streets and whips out two lil matching rings,,,,,,, and says the cringiest cheesiest fucking thing in the world that has levi groaning and facepalming,,,,,, hanji says “will u be the marius to my cosette” and yeah levi just sighs and puts the ring on his finger and they smooch under the moonlight aw isn’t that CUTE and they lived happily ever after victor hugo is smiling down at them from the afterlife and patting himself on the back for helping them get together
NOW THERE’S TOO MUCH FLUFF AND I NEED ANGST TO BALANCE IT OUT so imagine this is also a reincarnation au and whenever levi sings “empty chairs at empty tables” he gets a weird feeling in his stomach and he gets really emotional singing “oh my friends my friends forgive me that i live and you are gone, there’s a grief that can’t be spoken, there’s a pain goes on and on” and “oh my friends my friends don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for, empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will sing no more”?? He blames it on the character getting to him too much but then he sees the scene where the students sing drink with me and the lyrics “drink with me to days gone by, can it be you fear to die, will the world remember you when you fall, could it be your death means nothing at all, is your life just one more lie” sound really familiar and resonate with him somehow as if he heard similar words somewhere else already, he sees erwin playing enjolras and being a commander giving orders and singing “let others rise to take our place until the earth is free”, he sees the scene where all the students get shot at the barricade and die one by one and he feels his head pulse and he has the strongest feeling of deja-vu and suddenly everything goes black and he wakes up in the infirmary with a very worried hanji sitting on a chair beside him and he really can’t explain what happened except that he feels like he just woke up from a very long dream and he feels like he fought through a battle and hanji just waves it off as him taking the stanislavski technique a bit too seriously for a high school play but the feeling doesn’t really ever go away and sticks with him even years later whenever he hears les mis being mentioned
42 notes · View notes
rabbitrah · 3 years
Text
To Anyone Still Kind of Fucked up about their Grades in Elementary/Middle/High School:
Whenever I see the posts going around with people rehashing grade drama from school like “Fuck that kid who would act like he failed when he got a 92″ or “Gifted children in elementary school all have depression now” or “Gifted children are whiners and know nothing about how shitty under grade-level kids were treated” and all variations thereof make me feel INSANE because people will act like academic grades in school is some kind of inherent, unavoidable class system. Even takes like “this is why the entire grading/school system is bullshit” don’t really work because every classroom, teacher, school, district, and country will handle assessment/grading differently. If you are carrying any of these wounds with you as a teen/adult I beg of you to realize that your experience was created by a number of things: 
How assessment generally worked during your school experience (all your teachers probably assessed you differently from each other, but the “norm” or whatever experiences made a big impression will have molded your perspective on this) 
How your family thought about and talked about grades 
 How your peers / their families / y’all’s community thought about and talked about grades. 
Your own personal learning profile, history, and mental/emotional state. 
Or to put it another way, your individual experience with grades was influenced by factors in all five “ecological systems” that affect a developing child: 
Tumblr media
[Image Description: A circle divided into 6 rings. From the outside going in, the rings are the 1. Chronosystem: environmental changes that occur over the life course. 2. Microsystem: attitudes and ideologies of the culture. 3. Exosystem: Extended family and neighbors. 4. Mesosystem: no description is given, but arrows indicate interaction between the 3rd and 5th ring occurs here. 4. Microsystem: Family, School, Peers, Neighborhood playground, Daycare facility, Religious organization, health services. 5. Child. End Description.] 
(This is a theory developed by a guy named Brofenbrenner ... tbh Russian psychologists always had the best stuff to say about how the role of community in development. Thank you communism.) 
So what you have to remember is that every single student is having a slightly different experience based on all the possible combinations of the above factors. Assessment in elementary, middle, and and high school is (or SHOULD be) nothing more than a tool to track learning progress for the students and teaching progress for the teacher. It’s literally just data. It should only be treated as data. Unfortunately this idea has routinely been corrupted by families who want their children to succeed at the highest level possible, teachers and administrators panicking about how poor grades could impact their funding or job security, and yes, a bit of a cultural meritocracy where we start shifting people into “smart” and “stupid”  categories and treating them differently according to those labels. 
Where painful experiences come from
They occur when one or more of your ecological systems makes you feel like: 
Your grades are an end-all-be-all measure of worth (positive or negative).
Your grades are purely a measure of intelligence. 
Your grades are purely a measure of effort (controversial. some educators/researchers think you should encourage kids to see all grades as a measure of effort, but this ignores other factors and may burden kids with an overly-powerful sense of responsibility.) 
Your grades are meaningless and don’t matter at all (your grades are data. So they have value and matter. This perspective encourages kids to stop caring/trying.) 
Your grades are the final goal (the grade itself is worth more than mastering a skill.) 
Your grades and your classmate’s grades can and should be compared and ranked (not even going to go into why this is a terrible idea.) 
A lower grade than usual, or lower than desired (by individual, teacher, or family) should be shamed/punished. 
The individuals with the highest grades should be loudly and publicly praised (Victories should be celebrated and shared, but if grades are the measure of student success, then data is being praised instead of actual mastery/success.) 
Other peoples’s grades are your business / Your grades are other people’s business. 
So who should you blame for your painful experiences? 
Maybe you had a family member, classmate, or teacher who inflicted a particularly nasty wound on you because of your grades (whatever they were). In this case, go ahead and ladle out some blame. But as for the larger, systemic picture, preventing this kind of damage means change needs to happen throughout the ecological systems. Families, schools, communities, government agencies, and more need to promote the idea of what grades are vs. what they aren’t and treat them accordingly. 
What’s the Solution? 
Obviously, such a large-scale change doesn’t have a single solution. That’s why education professionals have known this stuff for decades and kids are still having shitty experiences in school. That doesn’t mean a cultural and legislative shift isn’t possible, though. All such shifts come as the result of many coalesced individual changes. As an individual you can: 
 Place your own painful experiences into context. You were exposed to some subpar attitudes, misinformation, and stressful/humiliating experiences. As a result, you might have also inflicted some of these attitudes and experiences on others.
If you have any children in your life, or plan to have children in your life, remember that you are in one of their spheres of influence! You can contribute the perspective that grades are just data. Nothing more, nothing less. We can use them to say “Oh I understood this and didn’t understand that,” and sometimes to say “Oh, I slept badly the day before I took this test.” They should never be moralized. 
Remember that the REAL goal is to master a skilll or a concept. This still applies whether you’re still a student or not. 
Encourage a love of learning for learning’s sake in yourself and in the kids in your life. This is one of the most powerful tools you can have. 
If you are a teacher you better know all this already!!!!! But here is a friendly reminder to carefully monitor how you assess, how you talk about assessment, how your students talk about assessment, how your coworkers talk about assessment, and how your students’ families talk about assessment! I could write more but LIKE I SAID you should KNOW this stuff. I shouldn’t have to tell you who Brofenbrenner is! Do your part! 
TLDR: Grades and other forms of assessment are just data. While data is important, they are often treated as more than what they are. Your own pain related to grades is a result of many spheres of influence. The pain (or lack of it) in others is a result of their own unique spheres of influence. 
EDIT: I don’t really talk about the facts of race, class, gender, language, etc that play an undeniable role in student experience. There is so much to be said on the topic and I encourage you to learn more about educational inequality as it relates to these systems. I just wanted to focus on specifically individual and cultural attitudes about grades and how they can cause harm to the individual. 
16 notes · View notes
oikawas-fav-alien · 4 years
Text
Distance | Shirabu Kenjiro x Reader
Tumblr media
✧ Summary: Having attended Shiratorizawa Academy from junior high, you were familiar with most of the students in your year. They were average, nothing special — until a certain vbc setter, from god knows whatever small town junior high he crawled out of, changed up your world.
-> warnings: none — maybe language cause it’s shirabu; fluff and slight angst :)
Shirabu Kenjirō was a living, breathing pillar of salt. And it was rightly so. He was the friend, the shoulder to cry on, and the person that everyone viewed as reliable. This was not entirely a bad thing, since he was viewed as much more dependable than others. And this idea was not limited to volleyball. But being placed in that category separated him from the very people who put him there. The girls viewed him as, at most, a friend. He was the king and leader of the friend zone.
It was the end of his second-year and he would soon be taking over as captain of the boys’ volleyball team. He justified lack of love life on the fact that he had bigger things to focus on. And after their crushing defeat, Shirabu reasoned that Shiratorizawa needed a focused captain to lead them to victory.
But the road to triumph was… rather lonely.
Shirabu had his team with him one-hundred percent and silently appreciated them for their confidence and own unfailing determination (he won't admit out loud!) But it seemed like he was surrounded by couples. His kouhai, Goshiki Tsutomu, found comfort in another first-year that was a regular on the women's volleyball team. And another female on the team seemed to be interested with the middle-blocker of Karasuno!1
Couples were disgusting.
Of course, majority of the members of the male volleyball were single. Ushijima was a super volleyball idiot and his focus seemed to never stray from the sport. But even with his cinnamon roll personality, the female base of Shiratorizawa seemed to flock to him. He was undoubtedly very handsome and tall. His grades were well above average and his fan club was incredibly prominent. Ushijima had all the makings of a great man and was noticed as such by a large pool of the student body. The difference was that Ushijima was willingly single.
Shirabu, deep in the non-explored depths of his heart, wanted to be noticed like his Senpai. When playing volleyball, Shirabu strived to be the type of setter that went by unnoticed and drew out the strength of his ace. And he knew the consequences of such. But still. He was the main setter on a highly prominent team and his skills are not hard to notice.
Maybe it was his rough personality? Pft. He would never change that for a person, no matter how special.
Shirabu was above average height and had amazing grades in a prestigious powerhouse. What wasn’t there to like? His sense of style was trendy and he was complimented on his clothes more than once. He as not too preppy like Goshiki and not too wild like Tendou. Was it his looks? His bangs were unusual, but they weren't as bad as coconut-head/bowl/Goshiki. Since entering adolescence, he failed to ever break-out and was blessed with marvelous clear skin. On more than one occasion, he would stare at the mirror and truly wonder just why.
Why was no one interested?
Enter you.
You attended Shiratorizawa in both middle and high school. Coming from a wealthy family, there was nothing standing in your way. You were fairly popular and had seen the multiple personalities flit through your advanced classes. And in your first-year came Shirabu, an outsider to Shiratorizawa from a lower-class middle school. After being in the system for three-years, you knew almost everyone and seeing a new face was refreshing.
From the very start, you wanted to bet to know him more. But he was incredibly reclusive and mysterious to the general student body. Nobody could answer your questions. Well. Nobody except a certain Salami and volleyball idiot. You shared an advanced statistics class with the two third-year volleyball players in your first year and from them you were able to peer more and more into the life of Shirabu Kenjirō.
“Why do you want to know, (F/N)-chan?” Tendou instigated, “You have a crush on him?”
“Please, Salami calm down.” He raised his hands and gasped, “Come on. There isn’t a single person in this school who I don’t know and suddenly nobody knows anything about him?”
“He is smart and adaptable.” Ushijima chimed in.
“And a little shit, that’s for sure.” Tendou stated. You rolled your eyes and returned your attention back to the statistics teacher. Sure, you wanted to learn more. But this class was hella hard and you still needed good grades. Eventually, you were able to gradually acquire more information and Kenjirō. You learned that he was the only player from the boys’ volleyball team to not get into Shiratorizawa with a sports scholarship. Instead, he got in on his own accord through the arduous exams and good grades.
The more you discovered, the more you liked him.
Shirabu had a work ethic that you hadn't seen in a while. Being in this particular school-system for so long ruined your perception of it. You perceived most of your classmates to have a truly pretentious or judgmental personality, but showing to be as sweet as honey to your face. Of course they wanted to be your friend, who wouldn't with your last name?
He hadn't.
Shirabu was straight-forward with a tongue laced with salt. Sign you the fuck up!
He had no qualms about talking back to you and you looked forward to your daily banter with an odd smile. It was strange. You could get any nice, sweet boy in the whole school. But what was the point if they didn't mean it? Shirabu was honest - a trait that should never be given up, even if it offended others. You would rather have someone give you genuine advice - even if it was mostly mean - rather than an empty friendship.
You had majority of the same classes together for the second year in a row. And you were the only person who would had the immediate desire to sit next to Shirabu as a partner. You silently viewed him as a friend, but there was always this barrier that you could never get over for your friendship to deepen. His time was always dedicated to volleyball. And you did not play any sports anymore.
You watched the volleyball team's crushing defeat to Karasuno and the heartbreak it caused to so many people, Shirabu included. The women's team was resorted to tears and you could not even look at the men for too long. Reon and Semi were so sweet and you wished you could protect them for all the bad in the world. You had never seen Shirabu cry before.
Shirabu... He seemed to only display emotion around his team. And this made sense since those were the people that he was closest too. The rare occasion you had seen his smile was when you had watched a game. They had an overwhelming victory against Johzenji High and you spotted the small grin on Shirabu after he scored the winning point. Your heart could barely take it. You only wished that he showed that side more to you...
He was friendly, but distant enough for you to want more. Shirabu was not cold to you and his harsh chitchat did not hold any true malice behind his words. But he never opened up to you. You wanted to learn more about him personally and if you wanted to, you would have to pry and almost force him to speak. He would give curt answers and then be done with the conversation. But, on more than one occasion, you would spot him typing away on his phone. It was no secret that the boys’ and girls’ volleyball team were fairly close and had a groupchat shared amongst them. You silently wondered if he was texting a girl from the team.
That thought had you instantly deflated and made you wondering if you ever had a chance with Shirabu. You were not one to be easily defeated, but with every brief conversation and blank expression he gave you, you considered giving up altogether. This happened around Valentine’s Day of your first-year. Shirabu was abnormally delighted and even smiled in the classroom at someone’s joke. You figured that sure, it was the day of love and he probably had something lined up for himself and his significant other – that was why he was so happy. And it hurt your heart. He smiled, but it was never because of you.
From there forward, you tended to avoid him to evade the imminent heartache every time you saw him. This was hard since you literally sat next to each other in most classes, but something entirely doable. You would leave the classroom immediately after class, show up right before it started, and not initiate conversation. It was always you that had previously opened up discussion, so when you had stopped there was little to none at all.
Shirabu caught up to your change and silently questioned it. On multiple occasions, you would catch him observing you from the corner of your eye and you silently hoped he would not question you outloud. Within a week, he was ready to corner you.
You were at your locker right after class, ready to pack-up and head over to photography club. He was silently bounding towards you and when you closed the locker he was standing right-there before your eyes.
“Did I do something to offend you?” He asked the moment your locker closed.
“No…” You stated haphazardly, clutching your backpack.
“You’re never his quiet or shy.” He noted, “Did something else happen?”
“I have to get to photography club…” Shirabu put his arm on the locker and blocked your exit. He was tall and there was no way you could out-run him, you were trapped.
“Don’t lie. We know it starts in twenty-minutes. You might be on the executive board, but you have a lot of time.” He sighed out, locking to the ceiling and then back to you. “Why are you ignoring me?”
“… Am I your friend, Shirabu?”
“Of course.” He did not hesitate to answer. “And it’s Kenjirō.”
“What?”
“Call me by my first name.”
“Oh.” You paused and let the name roll of your tongue, “Then you should call me by my first name too, Kenjirō-kun.” His eyes widened at the added suffix and a rosy dust covered his cheeks.
“Was that it?” He asked, “Come on, (F/N). That’s an immature reason to ignore me.”
“How was I supposed to know?” You questioned, “It never seems like you actually want to talk to me.”
“I’m talking to you now.”
“Outside of this!” You were beyond frustrated, “Ugh I’m fine now go away.” You lightly pushed his arm, but he did not budge.
“As if that would convince me.”
“You are so annoying.” You commented, “You never initiated conversation. I thought I was just bothering you.”
His gaze on you softened and you could not break the eye-contact, “You’re an idiot.” He teased and then ruffled your hair. That was the first time he had ever done physical-contact with you and you almost exploded then and there.
“I’m an idiot?” You repeated before walking away mid-sentence, “I’m hoping you treat your girlfriend better.”
He paused and let us hand drop down to grab your elbow before you go away. “Girlfriend? Where did this come up?”
“I thought…” Shit, you let that thought slip out-loud, “The men and women volleyball teams are close. And I’ve only ever seen you hang-out outside of class with them and those girls. I just assume...”
“You assumed wrong.” He quickly cut-off, “Ugh. What am I going to do with you?” He asked as he grabbed you into a hug. You returned the affection and you knew that a blush must have stained your face! And what was that question?
Shirabu continued, “So was that the real problem? You were jealous of my supposed ‘girlfriend?’” He laughed at his question and you were going to die from his smile. God it was so rare and you wished he graced you with it more!
“No! Don’t get too ahead of yourself!” You yelled back, but it was muffled against his chest. He leaned back to see your face and teased you for your embarrassed expression.
“You’re an idiot.” He laughed again.
Since then, your friendship with Kenjirō was gradually improving. But it seemed that there was this silent barrier that you could not overcome. You could talk about your problems, but not about his. And since then, he had not initiated any physical contact. If you ever brushed hands or simply leaned against him, he should shift away and pretend it never happened! Did you really make any progress?
Finals were coming up and that was giving you one last chance to spend time with Shirabu before the end of the schoolyear. Sure, you could always ask your father and he had the power to put you two in the same class again next year - But! Did you want to waste your last year together pinning after him?
Your study group was comprised of yourself, Shirabu, Kawanishi, and two people from his class. Kawanishi was in Class 5, which was also advanced, but he was so damn lazy! You saw his potential and only wished that he tried harder and quit fucking around.
The three other members of the group were missing that night and the two of you were left alone to grovel over English. Your English was better than Shirabu’s but the opposite could be said about history. You paired each other well and aided the other's faults.
You commented on this once jokingly, saying, "You complete me!" He simply rolled his eyes and brushed it off before continuing to study.
Damn. This boy cannot take a hint.
You attempted to show the boy your advances. But it seemed Shirabu would shut you down at every try, almost like he knew what you were doing and was firmly against it. A part of you considered backing down. He had made his intentions clear for two straight-years, maybe you should not waste another year on someone who obviously does not want your attention?
That thought last for a second before you waved it off. There was no one else you were even remotely interested in. If he said no, that’s fine. But you were probably not going to peruse anyone else.
Both you and Shirabu were spacing out from over-reading the textbook and happened to make eye contact. "What's on your mind?" You asked.
"Things you cannot understand."
"You really think that low of me?"
"No. I'm going to be the captain of the volleyball team in a few weeks."
"Wow."
"There's no way your pampered ass would get it."
"You think about my ass?" You teased, but he pretended to ignore the question. You spent enough time with him to notice the minute narrowing of his eyes and the slight curve in the corner of his left lip.
Damn, this boy had you bad.
"I'm sure you'll do fine, Kenjirō." You comforted, "You're very smart and reliable. I believe that your training won't betray you."
"Reliable..." He murmured. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."
"What do you mean?"
He scoffed at your question, "Exactly. You won't understand."
"Then explain it to me!" You exclaimed.
"Why should I?" He seemed just as inflamed.
"Because I care about you! You big, dumb, idiot!"
Shirabu paused before fully looking at you, surprise evident. "Well, everyone expects this idiot to be reliable and lead the team. But..."
"But...?"
"That's all that people expect from me. To be the smart one. To live to everyone's expectations and shoulder the border of living up to the name ''powerhouse.'" He was getting more agitated and louder with each word.
"Woah, calm down."
"I can't calm down! In a few weeks, I'll lose the ace that I've admired for years and majority of our regular team! How am I supposed to fill in their shoes when we're losing one of the top 3 spikers in the country?"
You had no shame in grabbing his chin and turning his full attention to you. "Listen here you idiot. Don't interrupt me! I said don't! I stopped sports, but I know this is something entirely inevitable. Your senpai's are moving onto the next phase of their lives, but it's not something you can stop or change. You have to accept the future and make the most out of it and I know you will. Shiratorizawa is not the only school with graduation. Your rivals and others will lose their precious third-years and its then will you be able to analyze them and attack. But you need to calm the fuck down."
Shirabu was hanging onto every word. Nodding at some parts and fully taking in what you were trying to convey. At the end of your speech, he pushed your hands away from his face with a slight rosy dust on his cheeks. No woman, outside of his mother, had ever done that to him before.
"You're a real pain, (F/N)." he started, "But thanks. I needed that."
"No problem, I just want you to know that I can be here for you." You extended your hand to cover his own on the desk.
His eyes latched onto your hand before he averted his gaze and attempted to pull his hand away. You kept a tight enough grip to keep it in place, but not enough to hurt. "Must you touch me so much?"
"You are such a tsundere, oh my god." You commented, "Of course, I had to like you."
He stilled and looked directly into your eyes, as if that would confirm your previous statement. "Are you really that surprised?" You asked. "You're really handsome and you have the type of personality that I find most attractive."
"Tsundere?" He joked.
"No. You're honest." You admitted, "You're not like the rest of them, who only see dollar signs when they see me. You've roasted my ass multiple times in class and I wouldn't have it any other way. You say the truth and don't sugar-coat your words for anyone."
"I like you." You simply stated. You watched the words seem to finally reach something in his mind and at this point he seemed to panic. He pulled his hand away and you did not hide your outward hurt. Shirabu made a lame excuse and quickly packed up his stuff to leave.
You never felt more sad and alone.
XXXXX
Shirabu was freaking the fuck out. He wanted someone to notice him and it had to be you??? You were beautiful and nearly perfect in every way. Your beauty went beyond the physical level and you were blessed with intelligence and an even greater family tree.
None of this mattered to him before. You were his friend and classmate and probably the one person in class who did not endlessly irritate him. How could you possibly have feelings for him? He didn't deserve you, not a bit. He had an endless list of faults, including his knowingly sarcastic personality, and you were the friendliest person in school! No way. You could be happier with literally anyone else.
He could not deny all your positive traits, even though he made an effort to ridicule you. You were an overall amazing person and he could not deny his latent crush on you. But he had squashed it since your friendship was mostly comprised of friendly banter. You could never have feelings for him, he previously thought. So he would rather treasure your friendship and watch you from the sideline.
However, Shirabu had to admit that it was a dick move of him just to leave you there after your confession. He was usually the type to speak his mind and your feelings must have blinded his brain. He set-out to clear the air and admit why.
In class the next day, you were nowhere to be found and refused to respond to calls and texts. Seeing you so affected, Shirabu could not help but feel like a huge ass. He owed you big-time, but he had to start somewhere: an apology. Shirabu had to clear the air and make it known that he appreciated your affections, even if he had to deny them. He was not above annoying you and did such continually.
Knocking on your dorm room, he showed up right at your front door.
Shirabu heard movement inside, but not closer to the door. He called your phone again and heard the ringtone go off from within, just for you to mute it. He knocked about eleven more times before you opened the door.
"What do you want?!" You asked as you swung the door open with full force.
"To clear the misunderstanding, (F/N)."
"God, you are so annoying. Did you know that?"
"You are too. Now hear me out, you crazy."
"Excuse me?!"
"Please." You sighed and moved aside for him to enter and he did such. He uncharacteristically took your hand and guided you to sit-down on your bed.
He paused, as if to fully think about his words, before sitting next to you. "You need someone who has time for you."
"What?"
"I'll be the captain soon and I do not want to disappoint anyone. I'll be busy and unable to be the proper boyfriend."
"Is that your only complaint to this relationship?"
"No."
"What else?"
"You deserve someone who can make you happy."
You gave a small laughed and asked, "Who says you don't already make me happy?"
He stared at your for a moment before asking, "What?"
"I don't want someone who you think will make me happier with kind words or bullshit. I want someone honest." You candidly admitted, "And we are friends already. I know you're dedicated to volleyball and I don't want that to change. I already know how you are and that’s why I like you more than anyone else. You alone can make me happy. For someone smart, why is this so hard for you to understand?"
He sputtered, unable to give a cohesive reply and for once you saw be great Shirabu struggle over his usually articulate words.
"Wait." You realized that he had multiple complaints about this relationship before you interrupted him. "Just be straight with me. Do you have feelings for me?"
It was at this moment that Shirabu had the clearest view of you. You were in the closest proximity than ever before, sharing a seat on your bed! He could gaze clearly into your eyes and sense the distress and vulnerability from your previous words. He stretched the silence and you took that as a rejection. He immediately rectified the situation by grabbing your hand and placing a light kiss at the top.
"I never thought you were interested in me." He admitted, "I thought I was deep in the friend zone. So I would have rather kept your friendship than risked ruining it."
"You're an idiot." You smiled grabbing his wrist to pull him closer. He obliged and allowed you to place a light kiss on his cheek.
"Now will you be my boyfriend or will I have to convince you?" You whispered in his ear to tease him and could literally see the shiver go down his back as he stiffened.
When you pulled away, his eyes were half-lidded and you silently wondered if his dominant attitude translated romantically.
You didn't have to wonder long since he returned the favor and went even further, nibbling your ear lightly before placing butterfly kisses around your neck. "Maybe you'll have to convince me."
You laughed before wrapping your arms around his neck, quickly taking command and enveloping his lips against your's. However, you did not have it for long and the setter was quick to flip the positions and hover over you. He gave one his rare smiles and you felt one breaking out across you'rs, stretching from ear to ear. Shirabu, who was in no rush, descended back down to your silky lips - noses bumping and hands fisting into each other's hair. His grip was firm, but not tight enough to hurt. You moaned, unintentionally, and he took that as an invitation to lick the entrance to your cavern. You parted your lips quickly, eager to feel his tongue against yours. The rest of the day went by ignored, the two of you enveloped in each other's affection with not a single care in the world.
113 notes · View notes
Text
Ouija
Tumblr media
Words: 6160
Genre: smut (m), slight horror
You kick the door to your small apartment open, leaning against it with your back so as to enter since your hands are holding up the cardboard box of all your supplies.
You’d honestly laughed when you’d seen it as you knew there weren’t enough belongings in that office to fill up the entire box but you still accepted it anyway.
It had only been seven months and today when you’d been called to your supervisor’s office today morning, you’d been foolish enough to think that it was to congratulate you on meeting your sales target for the month before it even ended.
What you’d been greeted with was an apology and a letter.
And of course, the cardboard box.
You sighed as you sat the box down onto your table atop the due bills and letters that had slowly grown into a heap on your coffee table as you sat down heavily on your couch with a sigh.
You leaned your head back over the armrest as you closed your eyes, briefly wondering about the time since your apartment was already plunged in darkness. You knew you couldn’t be alone for too long—not without overthinking and falling into a state where you couldn’t leave your bed for days.
The way you had seven months ago, on a similar night like this, when you’d been fired from your previous job. That was an entirely different kind of low because a lot of things had fallen apart at the same time—you’d just found out your boyfriend of four years had been cheating on you and had broken up with him, your landlord had just threatened to kick you out if you kept delaying the payment of the rent and to top it all off, you had just gotten fired.
Which was when you decided to try a little game from your childhood.
You hadn’t expected it to work. No one would believe you (if you ever told it to them, that is) but you honestly hadn’t expected it to work. It certainly hadn’t worked in fourth grade when you’d first tried it with your friends at a sleepover.
At least, you don’t think it had.
The idea had struck you as you were cleaning out your old place to move to the cheaper apartment that you currently stayed at. Your friend had just sent you a photo of the boyfriend that you had just dumped—happily smiling with the girl who he had been fucking behind your back.
It had got your blood boiling as you started carelessly shoving boxes around the new apartment while you settled in at the new place. The Ouija board had fallen out of an old box of yellowing books, hitting the floor with a soft thud.
You were at a low, you needed a distraction—albeit a seemingly childish one. You hadn’t been thinking of anything as you went through the ritual, murmuring the incantations that you’d passed off as silly while moving the green triangular planchette mindlessly around the board.
When you’d asked in a bored tone, ‘Is anyone here?’ the planchette had flown across the board to the ‘YES’ sign at the top-left corner. You’d frozen and felt your blood run cold as all thoughts had stopped in your head.
And then you’d looked up and screamed.
That’s how you’d met Kāi.
Maybe ‘met’ isn’t the right word since you’d technically summoned him. You’d only been able to mumble something akin to asking him who he was.
“Kāi,” he had responded, his husky voice taking you by surprise as you stared in shock. “I’m an incubus.”
“A what?” You’d paused, thinking and suddenly growing wary. “Do you… do you mean those demons who sleep with human women?”
“Did you expect an angel when you played around with an Ouija board?” He’d rolled his eyes as he shook his green hair slightly. He didn’t look human nor did he look like what you pictured a demon to look like.
But one thing was for certain: he was the sexiest creature you’d ever seen.
Almost as if he had heard your thoughts, Kāi smirked dangerously as he’d leaned forward until his face was mere inches away from yours, warm breath fanning your cheeks.
“Do you know why I’m here?” He asked, his voice an octave lower in a low husky rumble that made your stomach twist.
You’d blinked, unable to form a coherent response and he’d raised his hand to lift your chin with a finger as he muttered lowly, “Because you called me. You wished for someone to ruin you and I heard your wish.”
Your breath had hitched in your throat, eyes involuntarily fixated on his luscious pink lips.
You didn’t respond to him but you knew he wasn’t wrong. Your entire life was in shambles and that photo of your boyfriend was bothering you more than it should have. Although you’d dumped him, you were the one crying while he was warm and snug in the arms of another.
You wanted that warmth, oh god, you did.
“I can give it to you,” Kāi had whispered right on your lips, not kissing you but leaving a hair’s breadth of distance between your mouths as he teased you. “I can give you warmth like you’ve never had it before.”
And so you threw caution to the wind and had kissed him.
It probably wasn’t the smartest decision you made in your entire life but it was hard to regret it when it gave you the best sex you’d ever had in your life. Kāi had given you more than warmth—you didn’t know if it was his demonic powers, his insatiable drive, the way he could make you forget all your problems and have you transcend to an alternate plane of unparalleled pleasure and bliss that you never wanted to come back from, but it was addicting in a way that you’d never been addicted before.
You opened your eyes, wondering if he was in the dark hall with you as you softly called out his name.
Kāi usually appeared whenever you thought of him and tonight, you wanted him. You craved those cool fingers, those sensuous licks, those obsessive kisses and the way the hard planes of his body moulded perfectly against all the softness of yours.
Tonight, you’d had enough of reality and you needed your escape of your nightly incubus.
When you heard no answer, you sighed as you stood up. Annoyed, you strode to the bedroom and flicked on the lights. Furrowing your eyebrows when you didn’t see him on your bed—his favourite place to be in your apartment—you called out his name a couple more times. Receiving absolutely no response, you ran your hands through your hair in frustration as you start pulling off your sweater.
Where did he go? You wondered silently as you threw your clothes onto your bed. You usually didn’t ponder too much on Kāi because that usually lead to questions such as ‘What exactly are we doing?’, ‘Is this going to end like a Faustus situation?’ and of course, the dreaded ‘You started this as a rebound but it’s been almost seven months now.’
You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know what you were risking—was it your soul, your body, maybe a demon spawn? Regardless, you were sure it wasn’t healthy but you didn’t know how to stop either. Every time that Kāi appeared, every time that he smirked at you, every time that your eyes met his lust-crazed white ones that looked like they wanted to ravish you had you falling helplessly back into bed underneath him.
You were quite literally addicted. To an incubus, nonetheless.
Your phone vibrated with a message, interrupting your thoughts as you unlocked your phone to read the text from Seira, your friend:
Hey, I heard about the job, I’m so sorry. I know you’re probably feeling down so how about you come out with me tonight? There’s this new club that opened downtown and we could go check it out!
You chew on your lower lip as she sent her location followed by a, ‘Junho is there too ;)’
Junho. You remember Junho. Dark hair, honey eyes, he was a charming guy that could easily give you a good time.
Not the best, though. No, only Kāi could give you that.
You sigh again as you glance up from your phone, casting accusatory glares around the room to no one in particular.
“Kāi,” you call out again loudly. “Kāi, if this is another one of your games, I swear it isn’t funny.”
Silence meets you and a slight tinge of worry fills you as the thought of something bad having happened crosses your mind.
No. Not to Kāi, you were sure.
You glance to the mirror, catching your reflection. You blink as you hardly recognise yourself—your tangled hair, smeared eyeliner and hollow cheeks.
I need to stop.
Before you can second-guess it, you grab your phone and text back that you’ll meet Seira in half an hour. Once she replies with excited smiley faces, you toss your phone aside and make your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower as you decided to get your shit together.
The right way this time, no Ouija or incubi. You were going to turn over a new leaf.
And by that, you mean, end the night in a new bed. With a human. Who you had possible chances of a future with. Or at least a one-night stand that didn’t leave you desperate for more.
Besides, with every minute that passed in your apartment where you were alone after a long time, you were starting to believe that Kāi had finally returned to whatever hell that he had crawled out of.
***
An hour later, you enter the new club named ‘Exodeux’ with Seira as she excitedly gushed over the guys that were waiting for you inside.
You couldn’t remember the last time that you’d stayed a night out at such a place. In fact, you couldn’t recall the last time that you had just stayed out—for seven months, it had just been Kāi, you and various places in your apartment in several different positions, every single night.
It was bizarre to even think of such a thing now, endless sex for so many months on end. The worst were those weeks when you were on your periods since Kāi would never leave your side then—his tongue was always in your mouth, lips constantly on your neck, your breasts and any other place that he could use to tease you to the brink of insanity. He repeatedly told you how he had no problem with period sex but your constant refusal and denial—since you found it icky—irked him enough to the point that he’d just use all tricks and tactics possible to get you as turned on and as frustrated as possible, only to leave you cold and dry in the end.
If you had any doubts that maybe he wasn’t all demon, he usually cleared those up for you during those weeks.
Every night since the night you’d moved into your new apartment was just another night spent in his arms, your throat going sore as Kāi made you moan his name over and over.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t that hard to believe since one night with him was enough to have you addicted.
“There they are!” Seira cheered beside you, drawing your attention to the corner where you recognised Junho standing with another man. Junho smiled as soon as you looked at him, his eyes almost involuntarily dropping to rake over your frame as a smile came across his face.
You couldn’t blame him. It had been a while since you dressed up and tonight seemed the best night that any other to go all out: you’d blow dried your hair to perfectly fall around your face that was contoured to perfection, with sharply winged eyeliner and a firetruck-red lipstick to complete the bold look that matched your red stilettos perfectly—a contrast to your smoky-eyes and black shimmery bodycon dress that hugged your body snugly.
You looked ravishing and you knew it.
If Kāi could…
You shook your head, trying to banish the thought. No. No more.
You let Seira pull you forward as she led you to the booth where Junho and his friend sat.
“Y/N,” Junho greeted with a smile as he looked at you and glanced down at the round table that was between the two of you. Seira quickly walked around it to hug Junho’s friend and he stared at you expectantly as if waiting for you to do the same but your legs seemed frozen to the spot, you couldn’t make yourself move around to hug him, you didn’t know why.
Or maybe you did. Maybe you knew exactly why but you chose to not dwell on it, instead smiling brightly at Junho as you said, “Hi, Junho. It’s been a while.”
“A little longer that a while,” he teases, gesturing for you to follow him to the bar      as the two of you sat down at the counter. He swivelled his seat to yours as he gestured to the bartender for a drink, apparently remembering your order as he repeated it along with one for him before turning to you. “How have you been? Not great, I’m assuming. I heard about the job, I’m sorry.”
You shake your head as you grab the gin and tonic that the bartender passes to you, giving Junho a pressed smile. “It’s fine. It’s for the best anyway.”
You were lying but he didn’t need to know that—you didn’t think he cared all that much, to be honest. His eyes met yours with a polite concern as if to affirm that you meant what you said and you felt your insides flutter with nervousness.
This was… strange. He wasn’t a demon, he wasn’t an incubus and you hadn’t summoned him from the seven circles of hell using a dusty old board that you’d played with during middle school.
Junho was a human. And for some reason, that seemed more terrifying. You had to talk to him, had to build a conversation, had to play coy and beat around the bush for a while before going for the kill.
He couldn’t read your thoughts. He couldn’t find out which spots on your body had your pupils dilating just with a feather-touch, memorise them and use them to his advantage until he had you falling apart in his arms over and over again.
He wasn’t a demon. No, Junho was a human and whether you surprised him in bed (which seemed highly likely, given your history of the past seven months) or not, it was highly unlikely that he would meet even the basic level of the incubus before him.
Yet, you couldn’t explain why you felt anxious, why your palms were sweating as you stared into his brown eyes and realised how normal he was, how not… Kāi.
You were crazy. Seven months with an incubus had made you insane—how else could you explain why you found one demonic white iris and another blue one with the most intensely dark pupils more comforting than regular human brown eyes?
You sip your drink slowly as you realise he’d asked you something and was waiting for your response. You lower the glass to the counter and open your mouth, the words stopping at your throat when you turn your head to see Junho was leaning forward, his face close to yours.
“Listen,” he said softly, his lips on your ear to be heard over the music. “I know you’re trying to lie about how you’re feeling… and I get that cause you probably don’t want to be here with all this crowd. What do you say, we go back to my place and we can talk about it?”
You close your eyes, a surge of annoyance coursing through you at his insinuation as you feel him place his hand on your thigh. You’d liked Junho—he was a decent guy and sure, sex tonight would be great but you had higher expectations of him, you’d thought that he’d seen you as a person or even a friend and not just a conquest for the night. You even want to get angry but you know you shouldn’t be complaining, not when you’ve literally been using a demon as a rebound for sex.
You suddenly feel a familiar grip on your elbow, fire-hot as it grabs you and swivels you around on the barstool. Your eyes shoot open and you gasp as you see Kāi in a red jacket that you’d never seen him in earlier—in all of the seven months, you’d only seen him in a yellow jacket that contrasted with his forest-green hair and you hadn’t cared either way because it never did stay on him for long.
His grip on your wrist is as sharp as the glare that he rivets towards Junho, yanking you off the barstool harshly enough to have you almost falling from the height but his other arm is already wrapping around your waist to steady you.
“I’ll take over from here,” Kāi growls, holding you to him such that your head is in his chest. Fingers digging into your wrist, he turns around and drags you out of the club and your heart is pounding louder than the beats reverberating through the club.
The two of you step out of the doors of the club and you blink in astonishment when you realise you’re back at your apartment living room, Kāi slamming the door loudly behind you as he used his powers to teleport you right back to where he wants you.
You turn around to face him, stunned as you say, “Wh—?”
He cuts you off with a gasp as he slams you against the wall, hand wrapped around your throat as the length of his body presses against yours. Your eyes widen as he hisses, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I—” you gasp at his hold, your voice sounding slightly distorted as you manage to choke out, “I tried calling you.”
“And I didn’t respond so you jumped into the arms of the next guy you found?” Kāi sneers, his eyes boring into your soul with an almost feverish intensity. “Like a fucking slut?”
A heavy breath escapes your parted lips at the word and you feel your thighs clench in response. Almost as if he understands the effect, he tightens his grip around your throat and let his eyes rake over you from your hair to your red stilettoes. In your stilettos, you are almost at eye-level with him and you can’t tell if he appreciates it or not.
“Look at you,” he taunts, his fingers digging painfully into your throat. “Dressed from head to toe like a slut. You must be batshit crazy if you’re trying to piss off an incubus, baby.”
His hands finally release your throat and you gasp loudly, your own hands rising to massage your throat that you knew would have marks tomorrow but then, Kāi suddenly wraps his arms around your middle and hoists you up, throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.
“If you wanna go out to fuck other guys like a slut, I’m gonna treat you like a slut,” he mutters as he carries you to your bedroom.
He throws you face-down onto the bed and you can’t even catch a breath before you feel his fingers on your ankles, flipping you around so you were on your back. You groan as the top of your head bumps against the headboard but Kāi is already yanking you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles, his hands shimmying up your dress roughly and spreading your thighs.
He barks out a laugh as his eyes fall on your bare unclothed centre, chills running down your spine at the menacing sound as he says, “You’re more daring that I thought, Y/N. You must have really wanted to piss me off.”
You shake your head, swallowing as you stare at him couched in between your legs, your stomach twisting with excitement at the lust in his eyes clouded with just as much anger. It makes you almost wish you’d have kissed Junho if only to aggravate Kāi that much more so as to have him punish you that much harder.
Kāi’s expression changes suddenly as he stares up at you, fist clenching on your thigh as his eyes harden and his lips set into a grim line.
That’s when you realise he heard what you thought.
“Kāi,” you breathe, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean—”
You yelp as his hands wrap around your ass and yank you into him until his face is buried between your thighs, his nose right against your clit. A loud moan leaves your lips as you feel his familiar tongue lick a long stripe right over your slit, inserting it and licking at all the arousal that had collected from the second you’d seen him at the club.
He groans against your heat as he tastes your essence, his lips and tongue hungrily lapping up all your dripping wetness with a ferocity that had you writhing on your bed. Your back arched, hands clenched tightly around his green hair, you keep your eyes closed as you feel him eat you out like a starving man.
“Kāi,” you gasp his name as he continues tonguing you roughly and quickly, flicking the little bundle of nerves until you were squirming with pleasure. Kāi’s hands tightened on your thighs in an effort to stop thrashing around as you hooked your ankles around his back.
“Kāi,” you panted loudly, eyes shooting open as you felt the knot in your lower abdomen tighten in a tell-tale sign that you were going to release soon. “Kāi, I’m going to—”
You cut yourself off with a scream as his tongue circles your nub faster, making stars explode behind your eyelids as you cum inside his merciless mouth that still didn’t let up, licking away at all the sopping wetness and cleaning you up.
You gasp breathlessly as he finally raises his head from between your legs, the back of his hand wiping his glistening chin and lips. You watch with bated breath as he quickly undresses and lifts you from the bed just enough to pull off your dress and bra, hurling them to the other side of the room.
If there was one think that Kāi loved, it was teasing. You couldn’t count the number of times he had denied your orgasm and had your throat sore as you begged and pleaded for his cock while he left you aching and dripping for him.
Usually, he enjoyed eating you out right until you felt like you were close and stopping right at that second, making you catch your breath, before starting all over again as he teased you endlessly.
Now, Kāi leaves your heels on as he crawls over your body. You’re immediately arching up to mould your body against his, his arm wrapping around your back as he smothers you under his weight while he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You close your eyes as you feel his teeth bite into the soft sensitive flesh of your throat, marking at the hickeys that hadn’t really disappeared for about seven months now since he keeps nipping at them and sucking on the skin until he left blooming purple flowers in its wake as if it was his personal mission to keep at them until they became permanent bruises.
You moan softly as you feel his hands then roam around your chest and his fingers slowly tweak your nipples. You arch your back, one arm wrapped around his broad shoulders and the other hand gripping his hair as he sucks your nipple into his warm mouth, tongue circling around the hardened bud. Sparks of arousal ignite deep in your stomach as his hand trails down your chest and navel slowly, teasingly.
A sigh leaves your mouth as his fingers find your centre again, a single digit slipping inside easily with how wet you are, despite having just released and Kāi licking you clean. He smirks against your skin as his other hand helps to part your thighs until he’s comfortably nestled in between your legs with his hardness digging into your hip while his finger moves teasingly around the walls of your pussy, careful to avoid your clit.
You groan in protest as Kāi explores you without ever touching you where you need him most and the sound of your wetness is audible even to your own ears. When you try to buck yourself into his hand, he quickly removes his finger and tuts at you.
“The more eager and disobedient you are,” he warms, nibbling at your collarbone. “The more I’m going to draw this out.”
You lower your hips back onto the bed, biting your lip in frustration as you relent to the demon. You gasp as Kāi suddenly thrusts two fingers inside, your pussy squelching at the intrusion as he quickly starts fucking you with them. The pads of his fingers circle your clit mercilessly at an inhuman speed that have you squirming underneath his body as you try to pull away, unable to catch your breath.
Kāi holds you steady with his body and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that you’re familiar with—his tongue distracting you from the unravelling that his fingers are going to do to you. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes you moan into his warm mouth as he continues fucking you with them, drawing figure-8’s on your clit with both the digits. Your stomach clenches and you barely get a warning as you cum again, soaking his fingers with your release as your entire body sings with pleasure.
You’re panting for breath as your back that had reflexively arched at your orgasm falls back onto the mattress heavily. You feel Kāi raise his head from your chest and you know he’s watching your face—he loves to stare at you when he’s with you, watching you crumble beneath him—but you’re still not sure you can even see as you stare at the ceiling, white spots clouding your vision as you try to come down from your high.
He removes his fingers from your wet heat and you’re certain that the sheets beneath you are stained now.
“Kāi,” you whisper, your chest heaving as you blink hazily. “I’m—”
The words morph into an incoherent moan as you feel his familiar hardness against your pussy, feel him rub the head of his erection over your slit and coat it with your leaking cum.
Your eyes shoot wide open just to see that dangerous smirk of Kāi’s, the one that meant he was up to no good as his eyes glint with malice while he positions his dick to your pussy, nudging your thighs open further with his knee.
You close your eyes when he slides inside you easily, the head rubbing against your clit just slightly but enough to have your back arching with the equal bouts of pain and pleasure that zing through your body.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as Kāi presses each hand onto the pillow under your head as he begins snapping his hips against yours, pounding into you. You lean your head back and moan, making him grab your thighs and raise your legs until he is buried to the hilt, deep inside you until you can feel every single inch of him.
You’re chanting his name in the unholiest way as he licks your calf with that teasing smirk, pushing into you and filling you in a way that you can feel him all the way in your cervix. You clutch the sheets at your side tightly, gripping them in between your fingers tightly as you feel the tightening at your lower stomach again, another impending orgasm.
Your body feels sore and you’re certain that you can’t take anymore, demonic incubus dick or not. Kāi, however, is merciless as he keeps thrusting into you at an inhuman pace that has you seeing stars again. You close your eyes tightly and feel your thighs clench as his dick rubs repeatedly against your clit and before you know it, you’re orgasming again.
Kāi’s fingers bite into your skin as he feels you coat his dick with your cum and he hooks your ankles around his slender hips, lowering himself onto your body to pound you harder into the mattress. Your eyes widen as you feel the coiling sensation again as Kāi goes rougher, fucking you faster to chase his own high. Immeasurable pleasure and pain clouds your senses as you grip his shoulders, feeling sweat sticking to both of your bodies as he moves against you in a way that you’re sure will leave you sore for at least a week.
You scream as you feel him finally flood inside your heat, painting your walls white as he reaches his high and triggers your orgasm again. You cum right after he does and you feel full in a way you never have before, feel the wetness seep out of you and drip down the curve of your ass as Kāi finally slows, his chest heaving against yours as he collapses on top of you.
You can’t open your eyes and you’re certain that you can’t move as you feel your consciousness slowly leave you, the familiar darkness that follows a good fuck welcoming you in its warm embrace.
 When you come to again, you notice Kāi propped up against the wall at your feet, his fingers lazily running up the length of your calf.
You blink and sit up, pulling your legs to you and curling them beneath you as you look at him. He leans his head back against the wall, quiet, eyes carefully watching you.
Kāi wasn’t much for aftercare, which you suppose was not to be expected since he was an incubus, after all. But in an unexplainable way, it gave you a sense of comfort to wake up and see him still there in your bed—“Incubi don’t sleep,” he’d muttered in explanation when you’d asked him why he was snooping around your room after you’d woken up from having sex the first time.
That, however, didn’t make this any less confusing. At the end of the day, whether he stayed or disappeared to wherever he did, he was an incubus.
And you weren’t sure if you could keep doing this.
Kāi raised an eyebrow, still staring at you. “Is this about that guy from yesterday?”
You shook your head and then hesitated before nodding. Not Junho but it didn’t matter. If it wasn’t him, it had to be another guy. Another mortal. Not Kāi.
Kāi nods. “If that’s what you want.”
Your eyes widen at this, surprised at how easy that was. “What?”
He shrugs. “What?”
“No… no throwing me on the bed? No punishment? No ‘I’m going to prove to you how great I am’?”
“Do you want all that cause trust me, I can keep going until you pass out again,” Kāi stated wryly, rolling his eyes and for a moment, the gesture reminds you of his ‘angel’ comment when you’d first summoned him. He smiles suddenly and you realise it’s cause he can hear that thought too—the expression catches you off guard, never having seen it on him prior to this.
“I know what you’re scared of, Y/N,” Kāi says, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he looks at you with those intense heterochromia eyes. “You’re worried about getting addicted, although in my opinion, I think you already are.”
“That’s why I have to stop,” you state loudly, as if to convince yourself. He raises an eyebrow at your tone and you lower it as you clarify, “We. That’s why we have to stop. I can’t keep doing this anymore. It’s been… long enough.”
“Mm, one kiss and I can have you singing a different tune, baby,” Kāi teases and you flush, pressing yourself back further against the wall as if to keep him at a distance—because you knew he was right, you were weak and he knew it as much as you did.
Kāi laughs at your expression. “Relax, Y/N. You forget that I can read your mind and I know that this is what you want. So I’ll leave.”
You hesitate, still feeling slightly wary and maybe even a bit disappointed. “You sure you don’t want my soul or something?”
You were joking but Kāi chuckles nonetheless, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m sure you’re going to call me back again. There’s no mortal on this planet that can satisfy you. I’ve made sure of that.”
You roll your eyes. “There it is. There’s the Kāi I know.”
He instructs you on how to send him back in such a way that he isn’t stuck around you or on this plane anymore—you grab the Ouija board and chant the incantations to end the session from the first time, seven months ago, bidding the demon that you had summoned goodbye.
Kāi’s form shimmers for a second as if he is dematerialising and your fingers freeze on the planchette when you notice him smiling at you.
“Y/N,” he says your name, intense eyes trained on you. “Take care. And good luck.”
Your heart flutters at his words and you swallow, suddenly wondering if you were making a mistake and right at that moment, Kāi smirks, his eyes glinting in that familiar mischievous way.
You narrow your eyes right as he disappears and the planchette flies across the room, hitting the wall opposite the bed before rolling down the narrow gap between your bed and the wall.
Always a demon, even until the end. Just when you thought he might have been serious.
You stare at it in silence, feeling empty all of a sudden.
“Kāi,” you call out tentatively, your heart in your throat. Silence meets your ears and you sigh, running your hands through your hair tiredly as you read 3AM on the digital clock at your bedside.
It’s over.
You slowly pull the covers over you and force yourself to fall asleep, missing the body that had kept you warm, missing your addiction.
***
Your head felt like it was going to split open as you headed inside the café, lips quivering from the cold and welcoming the warmth of the cosy interiors and the smell of coffee.
I never should have ended it, I’m a fucking idiot, your eyebrows furrowed as the thought crossed your mind as you waited in the queue for your order. It was almost noon and probably too late to be having coffee but you wanted something to help lessen the headache, especially since your conflicted thoughts wouldn’t stop.
It was for the best. You knew that.
But you also knew it was the best you’d ever had and probably would ever have.
Just summon him again tonight, you sighed heavily at the thought as you stepped forward as a person stepped away from the queue with their drink. He can’t resist your call. At least, not if you call him by his name.
Another person. You step forward again.
Aren’t demons usually secretive about their names? You know his. He told you. He wants you to call him.
The line grows shorter. Another step forward.
Just use the damn board. Yeah, he’s a cocky bastard and he probably won’t stop gloating after you call him but—
“Welcome to Universe Café, miss, what would you like to order?”
“Yeah, I’d like an Iced Americano,” you sigh tiredly, running a hand over your face. “Decaf, please, and—”
You stop, feeling your entire body freeze as you look at the barista. Your eyes widen as you take in his teal hair, his honey skin and chocolate eyes that became little crescent-moons with the smile that he gives you.
“And?” He prods, raising an eyebrow in an oh-so-familiar gesture with his hand hovering over the keypad as he types in your order and waits for you to finish.
You swallow, your heart racing in your chest in a way that it hadn’t in what seemed like forever, even when with Kāi. “Decaf. That’s all.”
He smiles. “That’ll be three dollars, miss.”
You hand over the money, your eyes dropping to the name-tag on his chest before flying back up. “Thank you, Jongin.”
373 notes · View notes
Text
Survey #351
“the writing on the wall  /  a psalm of napalm  /  abandon all hope, but try to stay calm”
Do you have bad posture? Oh yeah. Are your eyes sensitive to sunlight? VERY. How many miles can you run without stopping? An astonishing zero miles. Who is the most attractive person you know personally? My high school friend Alon, probably. Have you ever dated someone who was very vastly different from your “type”? No. When was the first time you said "I love you" to a significant other? When I dated my first real boyfriend Jason at 16. I actually said it very early in because I thought I was "supposed" to, and I did REALLY like him. How old were you when you first lived alone? If you’ve never lived alone, how old do you think you’ll be? I haven't yet, and idk. What do you wish you had been better prepared for? Ha, adulthood. Is there anything about you (physically) that you think turns people off of you right off the bat? My weight. Do you know anyone with a semicolon tattoo? I have a semicolon butterfly tattoo on my wrist, and while it's very subtle, my Mark tat features a semicolon, too. It's outlined by a quote he's said ("you are important, never forget that"), and the "i" is a semicolon. Idk if I know anyone else with one. Have you ever overdosed on a drug? Once accidentally, once purposefully. Have you ever kissed a guy you didn’t want to kiss? Yes. Who was the last guy you cuddled with? Girt. What is something you’ve had a toxic reaction to? The breakup with Jason. In the last picture taken of you, how did you pose? I just tilted my head, smiled, and gave a peace sign, haha. Mom wanted to show my sister how I looked with a dozen wires and other shit attached to me for my sleep study. Have you ever made a fake Facebook account? If so, why? No. If you were an Eevee, what would you wanna evolve into? Probably Espeon? They're so, so majestic and beautiful. I'd love to feel like that, lol. What flavor was the last piece of gum you chewed? Raspberry lemonade. Did you ever used to watch the show Teen Titans? Nah. When you were in school/if you are in school, do you actually share your grades with your parents? If you got/get a bad grade, do you hide it from them? My mom always stayed up-to-date with my grades. I never really had anything to hide. Have you ever been the designated driver? Once or twice, yeah. Were you obsessed with Webkinz when they first came out? "Obsessed" is an understatement. I was that kid with dozens upon dozens. They were pretty much my favorite thing. Who do you subscribe to on YouTube, if anybody? Oh Jesus, looooots. Are you wearing nail polish right now? What color? No. Neon colors, or pastel? Pastel. Are you currently pregnant? Do you wish you were/weren’t? I'm not and have zero desire to be. Have you ever had a dog? A good number of them throughout my life. Is there any drama going on right now in your life? No. Does your hair fall out a lot? No. What’s your favourite type of bird? Barn owls. I also love ravens and crows. How many friends do you have on Facebook? 126. What was on the last sandwich you ate? Pb&j. What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school? The same as I do now: metal and its various subgenres. Have you ever gotten back together with an ex? No. How far away is the closest store to your house and what is it? I'm actually unsure which is the closest. We live in a cul-de-sac with a bunch of houses, and the street opens into just outside the main city, so there's a lot of stores. What is your favourite Thai dish? I've actually never tried Thai food. How many contacts do you have in your phone? Very few, but I don't feel like counting. Are there any candles in your bedroom, and what scent are they? No. What pet names do you use with your significant other? I'm single. Do you have to wear a name badge where you work? I don’t have a job. Can you hear anything right now? Yeah, I'm watching Gab Smolders play Skyrim. It's a game I've always wanted to play myself. Is there anybody else in the room you’re currently in? No. What’s the name of the store you usually get your groceries? Walmart. Does your house have a porch/balcony? It has a very, very small porch. What is your mother’s first name? Donna. Did you have a tree house as a kid? No. Are you afraid of speaking to large audiences? I'm terrified of it. Have you ever cried from being so mad? Oh yeah, it's very common for me to cry when I'm mad. Have you ever taken a bath with someone? As a kid, yes. Do you have any brothers? One older one. Does your family use coasters? Is anyone in your family excessively tidy? No. Do you wear pajamas to places other than at your house? Ha, yeah, just depends on where. Do you take showers in the morning or at night more? Morning. I used to be ALL about night showers, but I just love how refreshing they are in the morning. It's a good start to the day. Do you snore? Steal the covers? Roll around in your sleep? I steal the covers SO bad and roll around a lot. God bless whoever marries me. You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do? I can guarantee I'd be a total deer in headlights and probably tear up or just straight-up cry. Have you been/are you depressed? It's nowhere near as bad as it was once upon a time, but I honestly am depressed these days. Who is the one person you can completely be yourself around? I only feel entirely "safe" doing that around Sara. Are your popups blocked on your computer? Yeah. Are your parents night owls or morning birds? My mom's a total night owl. She absolutely hates sleeping because it's "such a waste of time" to her, but of course she does it anyway. I haven't lived with my father since I was like 16, so idk what he's really like with this stuff now, but I'd call him an early bird, particularly because his job has him up early anyway. Do you have high blood pressure? No; my blood pressure is actually extremely low, so much so it scares every doctor who hasn't treated me before. It's a medication side effect and seriously sucks, because I am absolutely always light-headed and dizzy. Have you ever pumped gas? No. Are you affectionate? Very. What would a perfect yard look like for you? Hmmm... I'm going to include things I know I won't realistically have for maintenance reasons, but what's ideal. I would loooove love love at least one really big tree with maybe a birdhouse and like a bat box (is that what they're called?), and I'd love tons and tons of flowers to feed bees and other wildlife. A koi pond would be amazing, but that's one of those things I know I won't actually have. A pool would be really nice, preferably inground, and having a spot in the shade would be perfect. Some berry bushes would be cool, and grape vines... Man, I'm really fantasizing now, haha. What is a topic that you have just recently become interested in? Nothing very recently, but I'd say the most recent would be uhhhh tarantulas, though that's been a thing for many months now. What is a feel-good song that you’ve been listening to lately? None lately, anyway. I can tell you "Jump" by Van Halen is the staple "feel-good" song for me, though. What are some things you enjoy seeing pictures of? Meerkats... Mark... more meerkats and Mark... oh also meerkats and Mark... Is there anything you are scared/awkward about talking about in life? Don't talk to me about sex. Has a pet ever stolen food from you as you were eating it? AS I was eating it, no. What is the weirdest compliment you have ever been given? I have no idea. What’s stronger - your upper or lower body? Jesus, I couldn't tell you. I'm just weak, period. Women tend to have more lower body strength, so I GUESS maybe that, but given the fact my legs are horribly weak, I don't know. My arms aren't strong, either. Are you very careful with your technology (phone, laptop, etc) or do you take risks that could damage them? I try to be mindful and careful, but you could say the way I pick up my laptop sometimes is risky. Have you ever been in the newspaper? What for? I think so, as part of my graduating class? But that would be a LOT of people... so I actually don't know. I have this faint memory of being in it with other people, but idr. Would you say that the area you live in is particularly picturesque? Ew, no. What is your favorite type of cat? One does not simply pick ONE favorite kind of cat. I love Persians, Ragdolls, Siamese, sphynxes, bengals, Abyssinians, and I could go on and on. If you had your way, what color(s) would you dye your hair? I have A LOT of colors I want to dye my hair, but the ones I'm currently most interested in are pastel pink, creamsicle orange, and lilac. Do you like seafood? If so, what is your favorite? If not, what is your favorite type of food? I only like shrimp. What religion/spiritual path intrigues you the most, if any? Paganism. It's the one I think is closest to what I believe in, and I just find it all very interesting. I love the nature focus. Would you ever consider getting dreadlocks? Nooooo. How many times is your cartilage pierced in your ears? None anymore. :( I miss all my piercings that closed while hospitalized. Have you ever had a pet bird? Nah. It'd be cool, but I don't want one enough to actually get one. Do you like dinosaurs? I looooove dinos. They were my obsession as a kid. My first dream career was even a paleontologist. Do you like going for long walks with friends? If my legs worked like a healthy fucking human's, I would love to do that again. I would literally collapse if I tried to go on a long walk now. Do you miss anyone from school? I miss a lot of people from school. I'm thankful for Facebook for that, but even that's not enough, really. What is your favorite flavor of Jolly Ranchers? Watermelon, I think? Was there a strawberry one? How are your parents right now? I'm assuming Dad's fine, and Mom's okay, just stressed as she always is. Can you take naps, or does it make you feel horrible? Man, I love naps. They're like, mandatory for my existence, lol. If you celebrate Christmas, do you get a real tree or an artificial tree? A fake one. Have you ever been told you were a good writer? Yeah. Do you watch music videos? No. Do you own an account on Club Penguin? Haha awww, remember the worldwide heartbreak when that site shut down? Anyway, I did as a kid. Do you like lemonade? Sure do. Was your first kiss perfect? To me it was. How do you feel about the first person you kissed? I feel a lot of things about him. As of right now, how do you feel about your future? Nervous. Who is the last person you ran into unexpectedly? *shrugs* Is sex something special, or just for fun? It has to be something special for me personally. Do you follow fashion? If so, why? Not at all. Have you ever played a real pinball machine? No. Do you like the smell of BBQs? I love the smell, but don't like the food. Do wasps scare you? Yes. Are you currently trying to get over someone? I mean, yes and no. I don't think I'll ever be fully over Jason, but I feel like I'm as "over him" as I'll ever be, maybe. I hope I can even further let him go, but we'll just have to see. Have you ever dated someone with longer hair than yours? Yes. Have you ever worn flip flops in the snow? HA, oh yeah. If it's only a dusting, I don't care at all. I pretty much always wear flip flops. How old were you when you met your first love? I was 15. If you could have one more pet, what? JUST one? Probably a Brazilian Black tarantula, ideally. I technically want a western hognose snake more, but given I already have a snake, in this hypothetical situation, I'd take the spider. Would you rather have an owl or a snake? Ha, speaking of snakes. A snake, even though I adore owls. What do you order at Chic-Fil-A? I don't give my business to Chick-fil-A. They're reigned by homophobic, transphobic pieces of shit that have given monetary contributions to anti-LGBT foundations, including most disgustingly those that support conversion therapy. I admittedly looooove their chicken sandwiches, but I just can't in good conscience go there. Have you ever been addicted to cigarettes? No, given I've never smoked and will never. Which do you use more? Facebook or Instagram? Facebook. Did you enjoy your past relationships? Yeah. Do you like '80s music? '80s metal is great. Something you would NEVER buy? Drugs. Have you ever questioned your sexuality? I first questioned if I was bisexual in middle school, 8th grade I think, but I went into denial about it given I was Christian at the time. Looking back, there were many clear signs of me liking girls too, I just didn't notice them until a few years ago when I came out as bi. Do you like Star Wars? No. What is the best thing about life? Experiencing love, both platonic and romantic. Are you superstitious? No. What show/concert have you gone to that you didn’t like much? I haven't experienced a bad concert before, but then again I've only been to one. Is sex a must in your life? Nah. Have you watched porn alone before? I've never watched porn period. I have absolutely no desire to watch two random people go at each other. What do you think about weed? It should be legal everywhere, but treated similarly to alcohol in that there are legal repercussions to doing certain things, like driving, under the influence. There are just too many benefits for many health conditions to ignore. Have you read the entire Bible before? No. I've started to before, but I didn't get far.
4 notes · View notes
antiracistkaren · 4 years
Text
The Email I never sent.
From June 24th, 2020
Hi. 
If you are getting this email, it’s because I feel the need to share this information with you. I don’t expect you to answer me, and frankly, I’m sending this to a pretty wide ranging group of folks, so if you don’t respond ever, I’m unlikely to remember or hold it against you. I’m telling you this up front so that when you open this email, you’re not on edge. I care about how you feel as you’re reading these words. I hope that you can hear my tone, a voice that you know well: one that cares a lot about you. This email isn’t carrying any anger at all, only information which, as you know I love. 
You know what’s going on with my husband, and how turbulent things are right now. Well, imagine that, in the midst of that, not being able to function. Literally. Imagine breaking down in total tears in panic while on the phone with your husband’s brother (who you’re not at all sure likes you) because you’re so terrified of your own husband that you cannot speak through it, and trying to explain why you’re suddenly overcome. Then imagine trying to explain yourself, over and over, to people who keep asking, “I thought you were fine, and loving quarantine?” 
Imagine discovering, the middle of your husband’s mental breakdown, that you seem to be having one of your own. How horrifying. When you’re in your room, you’re fine. In fact, it’s nice in here…
I can put on headphones and slowly organize my own room. In here, I’m safe. I can fold clothes. I can make my bed. I can bring order to the chaos inside of my room, but I cannot seem to bring order to the chaos of voices inside of my head. Usually I know exactly what my day will look like: I have it planned out from 8 AM until 8 PM. And then I get a structured hour of free time and after that I should really go to bed. (I don’t. I can’t fall asleep lately before midnight because my thoughts are clamoring in my head, and then a baby wakes up… you get it.) 
Unfortunately, I cannot stay in my room. People need me outside--my husband can’t seem to handle the children on his own after he comes home from the mental institution. Mental Institution. I say those words a lot and giggle a little bit after those words every time, especially when I am alone. I never thought I would be saying those words out loud, much less out loud in a house that we somehow live in with kids I’ve somehow had with my own body and a husband who is in a mental institution.  
But anyway, as I was saying--I do that, going off on little thought tangents all the time--my partner can’t seem to handle the kids without me. That’s odd to me because I’m not special, and I’ve somehow done it before and have lost that skill somewhere, but he needs me, so I put myself together (in the wrong order) and wear my Happy Mommy mask until bedtime, when I collapse into a gigantic ball of emotion.
I’m confused, my husband is confused, and all of the kids are scared. I can see how scared we all are, the whites around our eyes showing. Anthony is cut by me, my anger, my emotion, my white-hot truth-telling tongue seems to be cutting him all over. And then I see my kids cut him, and seeing Anthony get harmed by me, by my kids, it spirals me down all over again. I can’t even mention my partner, who seems to handle me like I’m just made up of sharp edges. I feel like a … butterfly knife or something. Something sharp and dangerous and very deadly in the hands of someone skilled with it. 
Looking back, this Autism pattern fits neatly over my whole life. It’s so strange though… because...
Ah, here’s the best example: become aware that you’re breathing. 
Please. Just do it. Think about the fact that you’re breathing. You do it all the time. You don’t think about it, right? Unless I tell you to. 
What if I told you that I had to think about breathing in order to breathe? That my whole life, I thought everyone had to think about breathing. That we were all just together in a room, y’all breathing without thinking about it, and me--watching you breathe and imitating the breathing motion, thinking that I am required to operate that way in order to stay alive. No one told me that breathing is automatic, so why would I mention to other people how I’m breathing? 
It has come to my attention that I am unique, which is weird, so here’s what it’s like:
Every single day I am aware of every word, facial expression, vocal tone, and hand gesture. I have spent my life carefully curating a personality based on imitating those around me that  I love. That radio voice I use on the mic? Classic Ron--finding my lower register and leaning into the mic. The way I read Geeks rules? That’s Josh, who showed me that being quirky and having a big personality can be leveraged on stage in order to BE on stage. My mom taught me quick-witted insults to hurl back at kids who were mean to me. I built a personality based on other people that I thought would serve me best, and I think I’ve done fairly well considering I’m still alive and fairly happy. Or I was, until the quarantine. 
You see, every single day, deep in the recesses of my mind, always running like a little motor in the background is the program “Fear of Being a Bad Person”. Every move I make is processed through this motor and filter in the back. Everything I say or text, emojis I use, all of this, is processed through a “I’m trying to be a Good Girl” filter. 
When I was young, I didn’t think I was a Bad Person. 
When I was in preschool, I was lauded. I had friends. I remember my friends Jason and Summer to this day. I remember feeling safe and cozy in my elementary school in Wetumpka, Alabama. I remember my mother ensuring that I was put into an advanced class in kindergarten. Teachers could tell that there was something different about me, but also, they couldn’t handle my fidgeting, my impatience with kids not being fast as I was to know the answer. I would roll my eyes, make faces at the other kids, get up--because I knew all this stuff anyway--and go away from circle time. That was Bad. 
And then suddenly I spent most of my day with older kids. I got to do Tangrams, write plays, dress up and hang out with kids who seemed to accept that I was a bit smarter, a bit different. My mom fought for that for me, every time.
But then my mom got remarried. Moving mid-year in 2nd grade was difficult. I didn’t understand the new kids, the nuance at the school. I didn’t know who could be my friend. I didn’t understand the wealth gap. By the time middle school came around, I was regularly teased for the clothes I wore. I would cry to my mother about the teasing and she would throw up her hands, confused and furious because I had picked these clothes out. I would alternate between starving myself and eating furiously and crying when I got home from school. I would wear baggy clothes because boys would pop my bra strap, and make unwanted comments about my body. Suddenly my outspokenness made me a target. Boys started to touch me without me wanting them to, and I didn’t understand why. I also couldn’t seem to make it stop, no matter how baggy my clothes were. 
Once I told my mother about a boy grabbing me on the bus, and I am talking about hand between my legs and squeezing at my vagina as I walked off the bus to my house, and she told the principal. I was forced to confront the boy and his mother in a locked room… his mother, who sat across from me and called me a slut and a liar. I have a very hard time being called a liar. 
I don’t lie. I really don’t want to. If I am being forced to lie, it is because I believe social nuance demands it. I don’t really like your new haircut, but I’m required to lie about it because telling the truth is rude, in that situation. I’ve learned these boundaries by repeatedly being punished (through embarrassment in public and repetition). 
So you can see how it might be tough for me to hold a job when I make off-the-cuff comments in meetings like “If we care about diversity so much, how come we don’t have any students of color or low-income students in our most expensive residence hall?” 
And, “Are you kidding?! Tornadoes just ravaged Tuscaloosa. If I had extra money to give, and I don’t, I’m not going to give money to the this scholarship fund.” (This was after the deadly tornadoes ripped through my home town--because Tuscaloosa was my home, and I couldn’t believe that I was being asked to donate to the scholarships of rich, mostly white, kids when the Black community in Tuscaloosa was in literal rubble.) 
Is it any wonder that I couldn’t seem to stop making mistakes in detail work, which I’m not interested in? Doesn’t it make sense that you’ve seen me not be able to sit when I’m playing board games that I’m excited about? That I get so nervous if there’s a scoring error during quiz, I drop my papers? That although I love public speaking, my hands shake uncontrollably? 
A repeated phrase through my life has been “I know you’re a smart girl, why can’t you get this?” 
If I am a Smart Girl… why can’t I seem to understand people? I guess I can’t really be a Smart Girl. So I guess I should stay home with my kids since I can’t seem to hack it out in the “real world.” 
Imagine my relief when my psychiatrist spotted me immediately. I think my brain is completely broken. I am telling everyone I run into that my brain is broken because I don’t know who can help me. I can’t get it together because the person I’ve hyper focused on for the past 7 years isn’t around--and even though he is home now, he is different and I am different and together we aren’t the same. 
Imagine my relief when my psychiatrist lets me in on a secret that other people are just breathing naturally, that it’s not my fault that I have to work so hard. Imagine figuring out that all of those times that I was touched without consent, made to feel stupid, made to feel less than, screamed at, rejected, and put on performance plans and forced to fight for your right to have a job and speak the truth… that it wasn’t because I was deficient… it’s just because I am different. 
I had piled on mountains of guilt for hurting people’s feelings. Those moments of embarrassment and shame in my life are vivid memories, and they read in my brain like well-worn books. I take them out and remember them, literally read about them, (I write a lot about these moments in my journals) so that I can make sense out of them. I’ve gotten smarter over the years because I’ve allowed myself to learn how to type as fast as I think. And then I can pour out all of these thoughts on paper, edit them and use them to communicate. 
I used to spend hours as a kid in my room, writing, coping with how difficult my life was by getting outside of myself and drawing conclusions, writing poetry, acting, performing music. I’ve lost all the time to do any of those things, and that is why I am completely breaking down.
I am Autistic. I’ve always been autistic. If you have met me in the past 4 years, this is a shock. You’ve only known me as a surprising stay at home mom in your life. Yeah, I’m a little weird, but I’m Fun! Right? That’s on-brand for a stay at home mom, I’ve learned. 
So if you’re getting this and you’ve met me since 2016, I have to say you don’t know me very well. The people who have made it the long haul, the folks I’ve known since Alabama, they’re seeing a return to the norm for me. This is normal ol’ weird Sam and, yeah, she’s intense but we love her. I’ve told many of my Alabama people first, and you know what they say? “Oh yeah, I can see that… but I mean, you’re still YOU. You’ve always been this way!” 
It seems like it’s, well, my newer whiter wealthier friends who are struggling with this. I think it is because Autism has been presented to us [human beings] as a deficiency, and sure, yes, I am deficient in some ways. But to me, it’s like being free. I am free to be honest about not understanding, and you are free to believe me. You’re free to not be scared to say, “Sam, you’re going on about this social justice thing…” because I understand now that I monologue. 
I am certain this is me. I am finally seen and understood, and I can see and understand. I’m sharing this with you because I want you to see and understand me. If I have hurt you in the past, I promise you, it was blindly and unintentional. I feel love very intensely, and if I’ve sent this to you, it is because I love you and I consider you safe. 
Through all of my life, my faith has been an underpinning of my making sense of this world too, and it will continue to do that for me. I was wonderfully and fearfully made, and I am loved by my creator, and I am an autistic woman. I hope that you can accept that diagnosis with me.
9 notes · View notes
Text
AN EXCHANGE OF MEAT
Late valentines day ZADR drabble, extremely nsfw, takes place in the #izspacetrash universe NSFW 18+ Warning: Petplay, Zussy, Choking, Power play, Power theft, Over-stimulation, flirtatious bullying 
Back on Irk, coupling is illegal. It’s a big deal for humans because they can’t name a rock without forming an emotional attachment, for Irkens however, there’s no reason for the law to even be in place. As a species we have evolved past the need to interact with others. Every individual in the empire has the potential to be a sturdy, self sustaining island unto themselves. We’re built better than every sentient stain in all the known everything!! We have YET to encounter anything that even compares to our size and MIGHT. The last fertile cluster of Irkens died out a thousand decades ago. Every irken is cloned and easily replaced if not functioning at maximum capacity.
So, the desire to do more than indulge yourself is...low. There’s no reason to involve another irken in the matters of ones…..self congratulation.The practice of an EMOTIONAL and spiritual coupling fell out of favor long before we learned to control our natural impulses. 
If this is all true (and it is), how can I feel so much for the vicious neanderthal that calls me his? Dib was working on one of his drones as I sat in the dark pocket of the lower bunk bed, the bed itself built into the wall of a home on wheels. Dibs white rectangular fat assed Arr Vee was parked behind a dunky doughnuts so that we could stay out of the sightline of main roads and siphon power to recharge the vehicles battery. See, the outside of Dibs roaming home looks like any other shitty old caravan. In fact, it is more like Dib’s own mobile base. The battered shell outside the chrome and black and blue innards of the crisp sterile mobile lab are no more than a clever disguise. An infuriatingly smart trick. It’s a trick wrapped around stolen Irken technology and it’s to our collective benefit that everything stays hidden. It’s more comfortable being a prisoner, knowing that Dib has become secretive of his most prized belongings. Legs crossed, back pressed to the wall, chin in hand I was thinking my thoughts. 
My hand drifted down my neck to trace the soft top edge of the lined matte black metal collar locked around my neck. I felt at the difference in texture between the soft barely there fuzz on my skin and the smooth cool metal. It had been locked there for thirty one days, ten hours, six minuets and eleven seconds. It’s some fluke of nature that Dib is as smart as he is. At one point in my career as an invader I theorized that as  humans grew taller, their brain shrunk to make up for the increase in body mass. With Dibs lineage, this is less so. As an adult he is only more cunning, more dangerous, more cloyingly obsessive, more driven. He neglects his sleep to work. He works with the single minded diligence of an Irken researcher. His drive to excel in his field transcends the greasy smelly differences between our kinds. The efficiency he commands my own technology with rivals that of a practiced PAK technician. He’s studied the things I left behind on earth for 14 of his years, and it shows. With a single steady bare claw I traced the shape of the emblem embossed onto my collar tag. Dibs skull shaped symbol, displayed in shiny silver across the front of my neck at all times. An unnecessary humiliation that marks me as one of many stolen treasures. I feel its shape on the bare pad of my finger and silently kiss my teeth, stung by the reality that Dib thought of it first. If the world was just, if things made sense, things would have been flipped, things should have been different. If I really am the more advanced life form, I have no excuse for his subjugation. Thirty one days, ten hours, seven minutes and forty fucking seconds.
From my dark hideaway I could see him, hunched over his desk with the posture of a scoliosis king. A bright white desk light illuminates the front of him and reflects off the cobalt blue shine of his protective eyewear. The blue strips of emergency LED light that mark out the floor area catch the underside of his form, and stripe the wrinkles of his sloppy mechanics smock in toxic blue slivers. Through the gap in the curtains in front of him, I could make out a flickering yellow street light. Dibs sigh broke through the silence. He set down his tool and leaned back in his chair, away from the open shell of the drone he’d been repairing. I watched him drag a long fingered skeletal hand back through his greasy weird hair, and watched the unruly sprig of bone and black people fur spring back up as his hand passed it. “You’re quiet.” The human announced, obviously. Before he could twist the rotating chair around to face me I let my hand fall into my lap and folded both hands neatly together. “My brain is loud.” It needed no explanation, but Dib had demanded the cause. Slouched back in his chair, I watched him copy how I had my fingers folded into each other. His eyebrows arched high on his forehead and crinkled his sweaty brow. “You’re thinking? You’re capable of thought?” He’d lick his loathsome incisors and grin. “Damn, I’ll have to correct my notes. I thought the metal parasite on your back did all that for you.” “IT’S NOT A PARASITE! I TOLD YOU! It’s as ME as the rest of ME!” The corners of Dibs eyes crinkled with delight as he watched me retrace the fact. “MY PAK stores the thoughts of my brain jelly- it’s not responsible for my depthy, nuanced original thoughts. It’s all to my benefit. Your simple animal mind can’t BEGIN to perceive the archives of information, understanding and theorizing, locked away between my two magnificent thought centers.” On my knees at the side of the bed, I pointed to my skull, illustrating the thing Dib wished to understand but could never fully unravel. He reached up to peel the lenses of the goggles from the hollows of his eye sockets. As Dib deftly replaced them with the large circular frames of his glasses, he spat noise at me. “You’ve beaten that dead horse to a pulp, Zim. I don’t think your PAK is any different than a circuit board hardwired to the brain of a roach. You’re just as animal as I am. Only, your issues stem from being part evil cyborg, and mine stem from trauma.” Sunny as a blistering summers day, he grinned at me. Smugness radiates from him like pulsar blips, and my innards are assaulted by tight gripping trembles. I tense my core muscles to keep my tymbal from rattling at the slightest provocation. With my antenna pitched slightly forwards, I can smell the pheromones on his sweat. I crossed my arms over my chest, raised my chin, curled my lip at him to flash fangs. “Tch. Zim is no creature. You’re the animal here. You have the technology to advance yourselves into a race of space faring monstrosities, and yet all you want to occupy yourselves with is the pursuit of earthly pleasure. Your kind construct elaborate rituals just to try and rutt against each other. It could be so much simpler!!!” Dib scratched his chin, nonplussed. “Yeah, I never really got all that either. We do have dating apps and that can simplify things if you don’t account for catfishing, and people who straight up lie about themselves just to get their dick wet.” I grimaced at the mental image of a wet human phallus. I re-contextualized the image in my head and imagined the organ as Dibs. I bit the inside of my cheek. “Sooooo… what? As you get older you stop exchanging meats, and instead swap false personal information?” Dib laughed, quick and dry, brimming with unearned superiority. “Oh, fuck- what you mean like what we did back in grade school?” He sat up, leaned in closer to me. Elbows folded on his knees he hunched closer. I could smell his breath on my antenna. Coffee and sugar and bacteria filled my senses and the stalks flicked quickly backwards at the olfactory intrusion. “Yeah I don’t really know why we did that. I have a theory it’s all metaphorical, some kind of mind manipulation game the government was playing with kids to get them to associate “love” with “flesh”. I mean, you know what “meat” alludes to, right?” My face screwed up as I searched my brain for obvious answers. “MMHhn. HHHMN. Pain? Obviously, pain. Emotional...badness.Maybe hormone tampering. Disease?” Dib was already getting out his phone, snickering to himself as he does when he knows something I do not. I kept going. “Death? Blood? Salt? Disgust? The inevitability of the cycle of consumption? How you’re all doomed to be slaughtered by a greater predatory force?” “No. No- what?” He cocked an eyebrow as he looked back up at me. I wanted to rip the piercing out of it. “No. Shut up and look at these.” Dib held out his portable telephone slab to me and on it I saw a digital gallery of meat related memes. The phrase “beat my meat” was prevalent. There were photos of hammers pounding sickly off grey slabs of deceased pig muscle, and a man dusting a sprinkling of salt or spice over a carved rib of bovine corpse.
My head pulled back, giving me the appearance of multiple chins of disgust. My gut churned as I turned my head away. “Why would you show me those??! THEY’RE REVOLTING!!”  
Dib frowned, irritated, and put his phone away. “The “meat” those memes are talking about? It references human JUNK- y’know, genitalia? The memes aren’t talking about actual dead farm animals. And, that’s what I’m saying.” He put his large warm hand on my shoulder and continued, sure to hold my eye contact as he put the curl of his thick broad thumb against my cloth covered collar bone. I tensed my guts to keep my tymbal from rattling. “The government has skool children trade literal meat, so we get the idea early on that we’re supposed to exchange our "meat" with people we're attracted to. So that way, we learn to breed, and the men in power get more workers and soldiers and grease for the wheels of their self destructing machine.” My eyes flicked to look at his hand- the long pale olive fingers, the beaten fight scarred knuckles. My gaze then returned to Dibs humorless expression. “That’s a… problem?” Dib groaned, he rolled his eyes, he took his hand off my shoulder. 
It slid down to my hip, his free hand mirrored the motion  and I was lifted up from the bed and onto my humans lap. He held me there and growled at me in frustration. “YEAh! Zim! It’s a problem! If people are going to have sex it should be their own choice to do so, it isn’t something we should be culturally brainwashed into accepting! And we don’t NEED to do it! Some people are asexual- some people don’t want children and-” Dib rambled, on and on, laying out the injustices of an archaic capitalist system reliant on the breeding whims of its workers. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of the argument was fueled by Dibs xenophilic leanings and revulsion towards his own kind. I gave less than a quarter of a shit about the very political tangent my human was going off on, but I did like how Dibs lap made for a nice sitting surface, and how the heat of his angry body felt against my skin. As Dib spoke I smoothed out the front of his damp black wife beater absentmindedly, my expression unmoved. As my hand rested in the center of Dibs chest, I patted him, I then mock pouted at him. “Poor Dib, how he’s been rejected by his own kind at every turn. How hard it must’ve been for you! Brainwashed into needing the fuck, harassed by the need for fuck with noooo options for how to obtain it!!”
That got him to glare at me, and my spine tingled for it. I grinned as he countered; “You’re missing the point.” And I kept going. “Addicted to the unknown feeling he can never hope to attain, his vile monster meat might have shriveled up without the wetness- like an unwatered flower! Like a rotting length of carrot! Like a bundle of seaweed on a beach, growing drier and nastier the longer it’s left alone, collecting nothing but mold and botfly eggs and-” Dib grabbed me by the throat. His hand closed around my throat. He gave a warning squeeze as he told me to shut up and I peeped in response. 
Lowly, my tymbal rattled. 
Dibs narrowed angry eyes softened as he caught the surprised chirp of arousal. 
The words on my tongue stalled at the tight curling of his long fingers as they overlapped my neck.
“Even if that was how things worked, I’m not at risk of that anymore, am I?” 
Dib looked at me with a gaze that implored an answer, and I shrugged coyly. As he frowned and squeezed harder I gagged, my stomach fluttered and a chirp rattled out of me far clearer than the first. 
"Mhhn. That's what I thought."
Dib hummed, his human purr was deep and infuriating. He used his free hand to shift my placement on his long thigh, so that I straddled his thigh as he choked me. My eyes began to water as he raised up his knee and gently bounced my vent against his leg. 
There is nothing playmates can do for eachother that a squidgyblit cannot also achieve the end goal of. However, being choked while your nemesis grinds your pleasure center against his leg hits differently. 
I moaned with a grimace. I scowled at him as he drew another choked out squirm from my body. Unpleasant as the sensation of constriction around my throat was, we both knew the short term strangulation wouldn't kill me. It was a comfortable routine and Dib continued his gloating games. 
"You think you can resist all this? You think you can resist the urge to get absolutely wrecked- by someone who's going to lovingly put all your pieces back together when he's done? You need me as bad as I need you, you fucking moron."
He’s wrong. I don’t need him. But, his games are so amusing, they’re so entertaining. It’s such a thrill to be obsessed over. If he ever knew that, it would all go to his head. As bad as he already was, there was ample room for things to get worse. Dib pressed his fingers up underneath my jaw and held my mouth shut. My growl came out as a choking sound, I tried to open my mouth wider and he put his free hand on my shoulder as a threat. “Shhh. You don’t need to talk right now. Why don’t you show me what you want?” I glared, I tried to hack out a rebuttal, but he didn’t want that. Pink heat spread across the skin of my face plate, I chirped and ground my slick vent slowly against the black jean fabric of his thigh.  In doing so, I inspired an unhinged smile to pull across his gaunt snout.
He released my throat and my posture bent, towards him as I gasped. My throat opened back up, and my PAK hummed softly as it began to replenish its oxygen reserves.
Dib patted my warm cheek with his hand. “That’s a good boy.” He mocked softly. I was well within my right to bite him. His hands settled on the bone of my hips, I watched his eyes pass over my head and point towards the bunk behind me. The curious gentle twitching of my antenna caught the heat of his words as they stood on end, and I lifted my chin to glare up at him. “Is that really what your brain was being so “loud” over? You’re still angry about our arrangement?” My lip twitched, it’s downwards arch could not have been more dramatic. “HOW could I not be mad about it? You know better than ANYONE what a powerful beacon of mayhem my existence is- that I can be controlled by someone as misshapen and weasley as you is a blistering amount of shame for Zim- full offense.” As I spoke his fingers laid over the small of my back, he rubbed along my tense lower spine and his gentle ministrations forced my aggressively postured antenna to lower. “Oh, full offense taken. But I know you’re happy about it. Deep down, somewhere in your cold blooded brain, there’s a tiny Zim just glowing over how it feels to be fully appreciated. You’re a hideously evil space terror, I can’t take that away from you by loving you. And I wouldn’t want to.” The heat in my face wouldn’t stop, the fluttering sickly feeling in my guts wouldn’t go away. Like knotted strings being unwound or spider web being gently tugged by a trapped fruit fly, the vibrations of his words unwound my nerves. I had to look away from him to speak, the weight of his useless human affection was too heavy to bare the brunt of head on. It was blasphemy that something a horny ugly alien said to me could mean more than the approval of any tallest. “MMMhhNNG. Stop making words.” I growled politely. Dib chuckled without malice, he curled in over me to press his lips to the crest of my skull. “You love serving me.” “Phheh. Zim loves nothing.” “You love what I’ve done to you, Zim. And I can prove it.” Dib lifted me up to move us onto the bunk bed, and bumped the front of his proportionally massive head against the shelf of the top bunk. “Fuck-ow,” “HAH!”
I reached up to hit the button on the bottom of the shelf, and the top bunk folded up against the wall behind it. As the mechanical components hissed, Dib rubbed his five head. “Yeah? That’s funny? You think your master getting brain damage is just hilarious don’t you?”
“If my “master” (I used my fingers to make mock air quotes) is dumb enough to turn his brain to garbage when we aren’t even under attack, he’s not showing mastery over anything, is he?” Dib dropped me out of his arms and onto the bed, I landed with a yelp of surprise though the impact came painlessly. “HEY!”
With his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed Dibs hands flew over my body, grabbing and groping, pulling off boots and leggings, striping me of the new uniform I’d been given, replacing dark blue cloth with an expanse of green skin. There was ample evidence to suggest Dibs need was as urgent as my own, from his feverish actions to the telltale tenting at the front of his tight emo boy pants. He needed me. I gave a quick shiver twitch at the feeling of air on my exposed skin, and hissed at him. He pinned my chest down with one hand, and sneered at me as the other cupped over my pelvis. “Your standards are way too fucking high for someone who screws up constantly.” I grinned at him with challenging eyes as my legs folded up and opened. “Where would your challenge be if I lowered them, Dib?” His middle finger split the wet slit of my vent open. He traced the sensitive pink interior and I had no choice but to draw in an afflicted breath. The finger slid deeper, he brushed the base of my wriggling dwarf ovipositor, and the distraction sent my antenna fully back. “You, crave conquest.” I crooned, distracted. Sensations continued. I felt the shivers of pleasure in the back of my teeth, my tymbal rattled with quick twitching clicks each time his middle finger teased the inch length of my pink wiggly hot button. “You don’t know what I crave, Zim.” I cackled, light and airy and I gripped the blankets beside my face. I bit my lip and looked at him. His thumb slid into my slit and he gently pinched his fingers around my “dick”. I gasped sharply. I kicked out a heel as he pressed firmly enough to make me whine. I could not help how my eyes wanted to roll back into my skull at the continued friction, but I swear I caught the reddening of his cheeks before vision became meaningless. I do know. I chirped, I moaned, I rubbed my cheek into the soft blankets stained with floral detergent as the tingling feeling of goodness rolled from my loins up the rest of my body. I felt good, and I made it LOOK good. Dib likes to watch me writhe, and in return he  rubbed over and over, again and again he rubbed, till it seemed I was breaching a new level of tingly bliss with every passing second. “But, I know what you want, don’t I?” I groaned in disagreement, his fingers stalled on my sex, then his thumb rubbed small twitching strokes at it’s base. I trembled all over at the teasing agitation, and breathed out hard. “MHn, you’ve… got AN idea, of it.” Dibs motions were less practiced as he set out to release his tube steak from it’s denim cage, but he didn’t move his hand from the source of my sultry keening sounds. He wouldn’t, I had been so SO fucking good to him. Letting him work uninterrupted without a single complaint of boredom. I hadn’t tried to attack him in DAYS. It was a personal best record at the time. I was overdue for a reward.
“UHM, EXCUSE YOU??” Dib took his hand out of my vent and I sat bolt upright on my elbows, glaring at him in a sex flushed daze as I watched him inch the clothing down his nearly non-existent ass. “I WAS BUSY. Who said you could STOP?”
He pushed me back down, grabbed my leg and sharply fixed himself between my open thighs. “I’m not stopping, you know I’m not stopping you shrill shitty bedbug.” It spiraled into more routine. In the act of copulation I could always count on the sensation of his fingers sliding into my orifice to pull it’s tight walls steadily open. I could feel all the bumps and ridges, the rough calluses, the finger pad curling around my core and pulling delicious sensation from the thing inside me that made my guts twitch and tremble and rattle like a sack of angry crickets. It didn’t take much. I didn’t need long, and he wasn’t willing to hold off from indulging in the ambrosial clutch of a wanting Irken tunnel. I groaned as he withdrew three of his fingers from me, pulling with them a thin strand of pinkish slick that broke and collapsed over my cleft. I trembled, I hissed in disgust with myself as Dib aligned the head of his extraterrestrial shaft with it’s destination. As he looked down on me, he commanded. “Beg.” “What?” My head cocked, one antenna lifted while the other lowered, my hand reached up to wipe the pearling sweat from my brow. “Really???” He ground his length into the gooey mess he’d left my vent in, I grit my teeth as my tymbal rumbled. “Yeah. Really Zim.” “Mhgghh.” Eyes closed I tensed as the friction of dick on dick action swayed my compliance. “ Plleeeeeaaaase.” “Please what?~” I tried to scowl at Dibs goading, but his grinding made me bite my own tongue. “You have to say it, pet. I won’t give it to you unless you ask properly.” The nickname is a scorning stinging wound that burbles and pops like a pollution born wound, it feels like a hot sudden burn, it catches me the way his fingers do when they clamp around my most intimate points. In the most pathetic of tones and volumes, I answer my mate; “Please, please fill me with your cum, master Dib.” I was rewarded by a hand coming to stroke across my skull. He cradled the dome of my head and caught one of my antenna stalks between his fingers. With the same care he gave my cock, he gently strokes the black hairs to reward me. “Good boy. Good bug.” When the rutting commences sense tumbles out the window in a broken screeching fury, like an escaped chimp on meth, like a rat on fire making a break for water. I lose my fucking mind to the reactions of my body. The vehicle rocks under us with the power of Dibs mighty  thrusts.He fills me so deeply with his oversized ovipositor, I can feel his pulsing want bulging against the skin of my stomach at full hilt. When he finally spills in me I am so wound up that I have already hit my climax twice over. I snarl, I lean into him and the lips I have put to his salty skin part so I can taste his sweat on my tongue. My jaws open wider, and as Dib grunts, at the height of his peak, I bite hard enough to puncture his fragile skin on the edge of my teeth. The red taste of metal is smeared over my lips, on my tongue, over the pasty tan palette of his shoulder muscle. Dib hisses air in through his teeth. “You couldn’t- you couldn’t help yourself, could you?” His panting breath stalls his words, a red tinted smile spread across my fuck drunk face. I licked my lips as I replied, and watched a thin trail of human red meet up with the black fabric of his shirt and diffuse into it. 
“No, no I couldn’t.” I hummed back at him. In the state of high endorphine swing I am not fully myself. Everything was brighter, lighter, more exciting. A hazy happy drugged exisence takes hold of me and sways me to Dibs whims. As he pulls out of me, he sighs with a shivering buzz. “Then, you’re not done yet.” In a matter of minutes Dib is redressed while I remain naked, wrists and ankles shackled to the four rectangular points of the bunk via metal shackles that the walls of the Arr Vee spat out. I was only just beginning to come out of my fogy mental state when my human retrieved a black blunt vibration wand from a drawer of tormenting devices. Over the following hour I grew more and more delirious as Dib wrung my body out for increasingly mind crushing orgasms. Things stopped having meaning, Dibs taunting words lost their sense, and I rattled straight through to my bones. That I could not pull my limbs in towards myself and protect my body from the assault of sensation had at one point been disquieting, but then and there, it encouraged me to let go of my resistance. I had let go of my fruitless delusions, I had given myself up to Dib, and Dib did not stop till I was crying with the intensity of multiple peaks.
It made up for everything else that had happened. The blinding beacon of his smothering affections absorbed me in it’s garish embrace as he unshackled me from the walls. He cleaned me, he held me in a folded blanket  till the shaking of my overwhelmed body stopped. My prickly insults bounced off him like harmless pebbles of sand.  The Dib stroked over my antenna, groomed them with the sex scented oils of his fingers, the Arr Vee reaked of the smell of our sins. Accepting Dibs terms of affection is illegal, but I’m defective anyways, aren’t I?
106 notes · View notes
steve0discusses · 4 years
Text
Yugioh S4 Ep 17: Just Throw em on the Murder Pile
Ah, week one of the Stay-at-Home mandate. After a week of getting so little work done, I decided to get Animal crossing so I could get away from the people I live with to our own little virtual islands. So, I spent my time, fishing so many fishes and bugs for the the museum that wasn’t open yet, placing them all over the island so I could use them later. Went to bed having done all this wonderful work, my masterpiece, my beautiful island.
The next day I woke up an hour later than my brother, who spent that time logging into Animal Crossing, not realizing he was sharing an island with me (for some reason you only get one island per switch, which was a decision they made???) and he was like “the hell are all these fish everywhere?” So he sold all of them, made himself an Oricalchos shirt and a Yami third eye in the fashion editor, and then used all my fish money to buy so many oil drums and put them all over the trash side of his island.
I was asleep one hour. One single hour. It is all trash oil drums and fire and a poorly drawn Oricalchos t-shirt.
Ah, the irony when you get a game to escape the people you live with only to realize that you share the location of the game itself--with those same people. The irony. 
So anyways, we found out that our efforts were futile anyway, long story short we sort of...soft locked this children’s game, and had to restart the entire island. lol.
So while I recover from that shock, lets talk about Yugioh.
Tumblr media
They’re still on the Caltrain and Yami is still appearing to have a lot of difficulty remembering how to use cards without Yugi. But, we find out at the end of the episode, he’s mostly just pretending to have difficulty. We’ll get to why this bluff is so mind boggling later--Yami just has a lot of weird layers to him, and most are just so...so lovingly stupid.
Anyway, Timaeus doesn’t work with him now, but honestly it wasn’t clear why Timaeus ever did in the first place since Yami is both two people and a dead person at the same time. Yami shouldn’t exist.
Tumblr media
This doesn’t matter in the end, because Yami is good at cards when he isn’t actively trying to get cursed to give himself a handicap like he did with Raphael.
Tumblr media
Unlike Yami, Joey decides to reflect upon the moral consequences of Hella Killing a Guy, which youknow...should mess you up a little bit.
But obvi, Rex has to die for the plot to move forward, so RIP.
(more RIP under the cut)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Yugioh made sure to give Rex a big send off that took waaaaay longer than Gurimo, just saying.
Tumblr media
Lololololol
Just two u’s, sleeping so pleasantly.
And I’m just guessing, ps, but I feel like it’s a good guess. I feel like this wasn’t like this in the original.
Back at the train that should be crossing the ocean at this point, Weevil has pulled out some misdirection. Knowing that Yami has been misdirecting Weevil this entire time, it is just so baffling that he’d totally fall for this.
Tumblr media
If someone did this to Seto Kaiba--that I would believe, instantly. But to Yami? OK there, Yami.
Mind you, Yami is grieving, and he’s not mentally all there in both the literal sense and in the mental sense, but wow, Yami. You fell for that.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Yami has lost his entire mind and is just kind of winging it until he gets arrested.
He has no reason to be better than this. He’s like “FML. I’m gonna go ape, I don’t freakin care”
Like, Yami has this anger problem, which the show has said out loud a few times this season, but we haven’t really seen too often in previous seasons to a great degree. So we have to give him some places where he can demonstrate getting super pissed, to make up for the fact that Yami’s character developed has mostly been about “I’m too lonely and cursed to make friends, Yugi.” and “I’m DEAD, Yugi, I don’t want to learn about my history.” and “Gods why are you always making problems for me to solve for you, Kaiba?”
Not saying he hasn’t been mad and vengeful before this moment, but he hasn’t been as explosive before this season--it’s always been a chill anger, a quietly menacing kind of crazy, youknow? But...characters change. Yami’s developed to be different now and that’s fine. Being pissed someone killed your soul bud that you share a body with, I feel, is a natural thing to be pissed about.
But, Yami is permanently in a state of anger and brooding since Yugi left, despite being pretty chill for most of the past 4 seasons. It’s like the first time we get to experience Yami be Just Yami since the beginning of Season 1 and it’s a completely different Yami anyway.
I guess this is to point out that they really did rely on the other to complete their personality. Which is weird, but that is a thing you do with people that you’re spend a ton of time with--you kind of forget how to do things solo.
Like there was this interesting study where they took married people and asked them simple grade school questions, and they answered them fine when they were together in the same room. But, when they were separated--they suddenly would blank on random stuff. They couldn't remember capitals or multiplication tables--simple stuff. But people who were single, were able to do these things fine alone or with a friend.
People who spend a hell ton of time together learn to help eachother answer the questions as a team, and the parts of the brain you use to like...memorize capitals and multiplication might decay because there’s someone else who will just always do it for you.
So anyway, the takeaway I get from this is that the part of Yami and Yugi that could read if Weevil is lying was Yugi and that’s a lot to take in. Yugi might be smarter than Yami? Weird. Low bar, but weird.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
So, Yami won’t need to justify to himself like Joey, he’s just gonna kill this guy outright. Immediately. There was some card shenanigans, and I guess he had the opportunity to beat him even further after he was dead? I didn’t fully pay attention to the card logic but it was so brutal that Tea had to get involved.
Tumblr media
She was quicker to save even S1 Seto Kaiba, just throwing that out there. Tea was like “I’ll step in between you two, but I’ll be run really slow about it.”
I think she was more worried about Yami going dark than Weevil who’s...already dead. And again, you don't have to worry about Yami going dark. I say it a lot but he’s a dark wizard. This is kind of his zone.
And then, they actually touched for the first time in like--kind of a lot of episodes. I kind of forgot about this ship.
Tumblr media
How come when she’s wrestling him it looks more like a hug than the few times they’ve hugged? These writers, man. They’re just...so close to figuring out how to write a ship but just so, so far away.
I just want to remind y’all that the Oricalchos broke Valon’s arm but Tea and Tristan just walked away because they’re that hulk IRL.
Tumblr media
I just love that Yugi is so short that Tea has to be on a ladder below him in order to have this pose happen.
After that awkward moment that Yami lost his entire mind and killed a guy, he had another weird moment where he just...looked down at his hands and was like “I’m the real monster?????”
Tumblr media
He didn’t think about the moral consequences until AFTER he killed Weevil. And honestly, that feels a lot more like the Yami I know. That was maybe the most Yami thing he did this episode. Reminder, they got into this train duel while trying to stop a runaway train, and they did nothing about that.
So anyway, how’s this train going?
Tumblr media
(San Jose has over one million residents but don’t tell Yugioh.)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
And then, sadly, I had to say goodbye to my penultimate favorite character in Yugioh, second only to the storyboarder. Goodbye, forever.
Tumblr media
At least the death sequence for the Caltrain seemed appropriately long, as it should be. Rex’s went ON but the Caltrain? Lets get that slowmo pan for it. Goodbye, first train in Yugioh (that wasn’t shaped like a dragon.)
Tumblr media
And I just figured it was Darts who did this, but apparently Darts was just as upset as I was when he saw that train derail and then soar 500 feet above the track like a figure skater.
Tumblr media
Y’ALL
First off congrats to Darts’ fluffy as hell lower eyelash extensions, I’m lowkey jealous.
Second off, every year on the ballot we get a measure that wants to funnel money into the Caltrain. Every single year. It almost never passes, and when it does, the money sort of vanishes into the aether. It’s really annoying.
To think that THIS ineptitude is what helped Darts loose track of Yami and I’m going to assume save the whole damn world.
I can’t believe the auto lobby and the corrupt Caltrain management just saved the world like that.
I can’t believe that’s Canon to Yugioh.
Tumblr media
My expression when I found out that after we just mercifully cut the cast by two, they decided to stick in this new guy?
Ugh a new guy.
So Yugi and Tea do say at the end “you ok?” “yeah” so it’s nice that Tea can survive a train crash off a cliff into a ditch. Tea, and this reincarnated ghost. God tier.
Anyway if you just got here, this is a link to read these in order
https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono
I feel like I say every week “ah, I finally have time to catch up” but I still post at exactly the same rate anyway but...I guess we’ll see, huh?
28 notes · View notes
ifdragonscouldtalk · 4 years
Text
I never realized how much I wasn’t bad at math but was assumed to be bad at math because it took more time and different methods for me to understand than other people until I took Calc I in college
For those that don’t know I go to a pretty prestigious liberal arts/sciences college on the east coast and Calc I or Stats I are required for graduation from ANY individual (yeah, even me, an English major). For literal years I had been struggling with math. The last time I had felt confident in math, it was in middle school when I first took Algebra, which I aced thanks to a lovely actress and mathematician called Danica McKellar. She wrote math books specifically targeted towards preteen girls struggling with math, and I absolutely adored those books even though they were math and I had always struggled with math.
I actually enjoyed doing math that year, I loved her explanations which made the math seem so easy and simple, and she had a lot of really uplifting quotes and advice for girls too! The reason I needed her books, however, was because they had placed me in the wrong math class -- instead of pre-algebra they had placed me in the one below it, and when my parents found out they were really pissed because i was a “gifted” child, so the school said said “well, she needs to learn pre-algebra over the summer” and my parents were like “consider it done”. And sucks to be the school, because I aced that fucking class.
Only math class I ever aced.
I had taken AP Stats my senior year of high school, and if I had taken the AP test for that I would’ve been able to skip the college Calc. If I had taken the test. I was so incredibly lost in that class -- and not just me, the valedictorian and salutatorian were in my class and they struggled -- that I seriously thought I was going to get a D or F in it. I’ve failed (like, 54% FAILED) math tests before, but never the entire class, and I had done early acceptance to my college. The stipulation on early acceptance is that your GPA doesn’t drop and you don’t get lower than a C grade in any class, and a C was pushing it, and I’ve been hovering at 76 the entire class. (Note, the grading system in my county is an 8-point based system, meaning you needed at 92 to have an A.) I called my college, panicking that they were going to kick me out, and explained that my teacher was really bad and I could give them testimonials from the other students in the class, but to please not kick me out that I was really trying. The person in the admissions office who I spoke to asked me which school I went to and then replied “Oh yeah, we’ve heard about your teacher, you’re fine.” Not exactly what my high school wanted to hear.
So the high school ended up letting a bunch of us drop the AP test, something they’d never done for any previous AP test, and refunded us. I decided in college that even the idea of taking stats again gave me so much panic that I wouldn’t take it, and I had done alright in Calculus, so that’s what I ended up taking, second semester of my freshman year with one of my friends who also struggled with math.
And that class changed my perspective so much.
Math in high school drove me to insanity. Hours long sobbing fits, panic attacks, depressive episodes, tearing up my homework and screaming into my textbooks. I was expecting something along those lines for college, because it was supposed to be even harder. Me and my friend walked into class the first day, both terrified because we remembered Literally Nothing from high school math, and our professor, a self-professed introvert and a very shy and kind woman, was insanely patient. Calc I, at least the section we took, was really for the liberal arts majors who just Did Not do math. She said she had never planned on teaching, had only been doing it for a couple years, but really enjoyed it.
Even when we asked stupid questions, she tried insanely hard to understand where we were coming from. If we were having trouble verbalizing what we were confused about, she never pushed us to go faster, she gave us the time to work out what we were trying to say, often ending up with us answering our own question. If we were confused, she was very good at explaining the concepts in a different way. She gave us big-picture ideas, what the formulas could be used for, but never tried to push us into thinking we might use these in our every day -- she flat out said we probably wouldn’t, but they were good to know anyway!
And we asked stupid questions. Like stupid questions in the sense of almost-every-one-of-us-couldn’t-add-4-and-9 stupid questions. But she never ever gave any indication of judgement for that fact. Sometimes we would confuse her -- how did they get 12 from 4 and 9? -- but never once did she get annoyed when we didn’t understand. And we didn’t understand a lot! We literally spent two class periods on one concept she expected to take twenty minutes, and she never got mad or tried to rush us along. Our questions were ALWAYS answered.
Not saying the class wasn’t hard, because it was. My friend and I would spend an hour every single day sitting at my desk, slaving over the work, my dad (a math major) on the phone trying to help us. We both got Bs in that class, and we were so overjoyed.
I don’t think I had a point to this post, but if I did, it would be math should be patient. Not everyone understands Shakespeare when they first try to read it, and not everyone understands math when it’s first explained. The idea that everyone should understand a concept when its explained the same way to every person is asinine. Not everyone learns the same way, and I know so many people who have gone into huge spirals over math. That’s not how it should be.
So many people don’t go into STEM because of the math portion. Because we’re afraid of it. But in a workplace, we have the time to double check and to ask questions and to try and understand, in a way that school never lets us.
I think I absolutely would’ve adored math and probably would’ve gone into Bio, if only someone had taken the time to understand that I didn’t.
tl;dr High school math, and especially with those standards of learning implemented, literally destroys students who otherwise just need a helping hand, not a bad grade
39 notes · View notes
Note
Any idea why my reblog wouldn't go through? Since I obliterated every single point you made, you ought to read it. The reply I posted tagged you instead.
No idea. As far as I know I haven’t blocked you and I don’t know what post you are talking about since I haven’t been tagged in anything.
Never mind. I realized that you were in fact were a racist and I blocked you’re other account so you got bitter and tried to argue using information that is innacurate. And if anybody would like to know the other account of this person, it is thoughtsandreplies.
So I’m going to go over each statement the person made with the exception of what originally began this, Immersion (Piss Jesus). Art is a very personal experience, but how you interpret art does not give you the right to use it as an excuse for racism.
Tumblr media
So 1) No one is actually saying that Lincoln was a racist. They’re arguing whether or not the depiction of the Black man in the Emancipation Memorial, a real former slave named Archer Alexander is racist and if it should be taken down because of that. This specific instance is not about the white man involved, but the black man being represented and if his representation as someone physically and what could be taken as symbolically lower than a white man is degrading. This is a complex issues that even two of his descendants are have opposing opinions on. Muhammad Ali was a direct descendant of this man and his third cousin, Keith Winstaed, and his oldest daughter, actress Maryum Ali, have opposing opinions. Winstaed is in favor of keeping it because he is more focused on the historical context, that the sculpture of Alexander was meant to be seen as empowering because has broken his chains and beginning to rise. However, Ali is viewing with the eyes of someone living in the 21st century who expects better representation for minority communities that have historically been vilified in art, literature, television, and politics. She believes the statue is degrading and offensive because even if Alexander’s chains are broken, he is still below Lincoln, a white man, and is in a position that can be interpreted as him bowing to him. As I said before, art is personal and both people have valid interpretations of this piece. This is not the same as tearing down statues of actual racists. We put up statues of people to honor them, but we must be able to recognize that we can no longer honor people who were legitimately horrible. I don’t see any statues of Hitler in Germany so what’s your excuse for why you want to keep up sculptures of racists?
2) off the bat I could tell you were a racist who hasn’t bothered to examine their words and actions by referring to the Black Lives Matter Movement as a “historically illiterate mob”. Most of the people in the movement are black so I can assume you are perpetuating the stereotype that black people can’t read which is enforced by the fact that it was illegal for slaves to be literate and black and brown communities have historically and continue to receive less funding for their schools, which leads to lower quality books and teachers, which leads to students who have difficulty in their studies, which leads to students who have lower grades, which leads to black and brown communities being forced to accept work at lower paying jobs, which leads to black and brown parents that are not able to spend time with their children in order to make enough money for food, water, electricity, and housing, which leads to kids who don’t receive the attention they need, which leads to students who are being taught by these same lower standard teacher with old outdated books, which leads to students being frustrated over not being at the level of their studies that they should be but are unable to seek outside help because of a lack of tutors and familial help, which leads to students who “act out” because they were not able to develop the emotional tools necessary to monitor behavior and are then forced into prisons by teachers who have called the police on them, which leads to another lack of education because the U.S. prison system does not want to rehabilitate prisoners and help them become better people, it just wants to find a way to legally continue slavery.
3) It does not matter if someone had doubts about whether or not someone had doubts over their racial superiority. What matters is that they still willingly continued to be a part of that system that benefitted them because it was more convenient to not do anything. Also, nice job on conveniently leaving out the fact that Jefferson was known to have raped his slaves and produced multiple children with slaves, but still did not bothering freeing any of his slaves.
4) Don’t bother bringing up almost any of the other founding fathers also since they were also slave owners perpetuating the system because it helped them make money. And don’t try to excuse it by claiming that it was just accepted at the time. Abolitionism was a thing during that time. Even when Columbus began raping and pilaging, there were people who knew what he was doing was bad. There is writing about how people already knew Columbus was fucking insane and even Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand of Spain, you know, the ones who started the Spanish Inquisition, was so disgusted by rumors about Columbus that they had him investigated and took away his titles when they found out about what was happening. They’re not off the hook though because they were still, you know, the reason for why many Saphardic Jews were imprisoned, killed, and forced to run away.
Tumblr media
5) No, I don’t use the word “racist” too lightly, you’re standards for what count as racist just don’t include enough things that are racist.
6) Black people live in fear because they have historically and systemically have had legitimate reasons to, not because I’m calling out things that have been blatantly racist.
7) Yes there has been property damage. Yes there are people who are going to use these events as an excuse to do whatever they want. That will always be a part of protesting. But don’t act like cops aren’t doing this same thing, intentionally planting themselves in protests and then creating violence or causing property damage in order to give other cops a reason to attack protestors. If you know enough, you can spot them based on whose wearing shoes that can be run in or heavy combat boots, whose wearing nondescript clothes that you can see protective gear under, and who is wearing the “color of the day”, a tactic cops have used in order to disguise themselves among protestors but signal that they are cops to other cops by wearing matching accessories like armbands, headbands, or wristbands.
8) Funny how you don’t want to bring up the fact that these are populations with large black and brown communities that are usually overpoliced. Also, just because someone is a Democrat does not make them a liberal. The only reason I’m in preference of Democrats is because of the multiple marginalized communities that will hold them accountable for anything they do.
9) Not every single time a black person is killed is it because of racism. That “black-on-Black crime” people like to bring up? That’s not racism, that’s just the fact that people in close proximity to each other are more likely to kill each other and there are still heavily legally segregated parts of America due to wealth disparity. That example you brought up about a black cop killing a black man? That’s not racism. That a person knowing that they are untouchable because of the power that they have because the only good cops are cops that have quit. If you haven’t quit or been fired, you are likely a member of the blue wall of silence that refuses to condemn offices who intentionally act violently knowing that they will not be punished. Also, let’s not forget that people can also be prejudiced against people in their race or ethnicity because of the shade of their skin and the socio-economic class.
10) When have you seen any white man being bashed for having a black wife or being a “big brother” to black children? Often the only people who have problems with black women getting married to white men are black men who feel like they own black women and then claim they are “betraying their race” when they seek love from men in other races and ethnicities, but expect black women to stay silent as they chase after snow bunnies who fetishize mixed children. The only other case I could think of would be racists not wanting races to mix. And the “big brother” thing? The only reason I could think of would be complaints about wanting more black men to be “big brothers” because white men just cannot relate to the experiences of being a black child.
Tumblr media
11) You conveniently left out that despite being one of the smallest racial communities in the U.S., black people are also the most policed, and will get arrested for things cops would let a white man go with like weed charges. Look no further than lovely white wonderbread comedien John Mulaney saying in his second comedy special “the comeback kid” “it’s (weed) always been legal silly goose”. This means that they have a disproportionate amount of black people in their records because if black people only make up 13% of people in the entire nation, they should only make up about 13% of all crime to, but they make up more because policemen have quotas to fill for how many people they arrest in order to receive more funding, and its easier with a racist system backing you up to arrest Black than white people.
12) Again, people in close proximity to each other are more likely to kill each other than people who do not know each other and people who live far from each other. Also, it’s the ultra extremists who really want to abolish the police. I still think we need a protective system, but we need it to work for the common people, not corporations and politicians. I think that every district should use the same system as wealthy white neighborhoods, where anyone who wants to be a policeman must be assigned a position in the neighborhood they are from because anything they do wrong will make them accountable to their neighbors, family, and friends. Also I believe that all cops should undergo mandatory psychological evaluations every 3-6 months, especially cops who have worked on extremely traumatic cases. I also believe that the U.S. should require at least 3 years of school for anyone wanting to become a cop because no one is actually able to learn the law, learn to enforce it through peaceful means unless in dire circumstances, and care for the wounded, mentally ill, physically disabled, or anyone mentally impaired by drugs and alcohol in 6 months.
Tumblr media
13) Another example of how this person is racist because they are actually suggesting that we enforce racial discrimination and black poverty. Also, if you want to bring up gangs, the biggest gang in the U.S is police force using propaganda that promotes the idea of “belonging” and economic stability in order to entice people who do not feel like they belong wherever they are, and then giving them a gun and badge that basically means “kill whoever you want because we will cover it up for you”.
14) Unless a woman feels like she is able to provide a stable enough home environment for her and her child, NO ONE WILLINGLY CHOOSES TO BE A SINGLE MOTHER! Single motherhood is caused by multiple events. A woman was impregnated by someone who left her, a couple with a child divorced because of legitimate reasons because divorce is a long and financially exhausting process, a woman was raped and decided to keep the child, and woman was raped and forced to give birth because she lives in a state that limits women’s healthcare, which includes abortion.
15) Fatherless homes do not equate to a rise in criminal culture. If that were the case, all wlw couples and single mothers would raise criminals. Do you know what does equate to criminal culture though? Teaching people that they are superior to someone else because of their race, gender, ethnicity, religion, or sexuality and then promoting violent behaviors in that child.
16) Black families were never more intact during slavery than after slavery. Slaveowners and slavetraders intentionally worked together to make money and create a lack of unity among slaves by selling individual families members to different regions. One of the first things that former slaves did after they were freed was go out and find their stolen family members.
17) I can’t say anything about economics since I don’t have much knowledge about the economic system before the New Deal. However I will say that this is the only valid point you have made. Politicians have historically tried to get as many black votes as possible when they realized what a reliable voting community they were and then never actually done much to help the black community. However this is a very general statement.
Tumblr media
18) How is group called Black Lives Matter that is focused on gaining racial equality attempting to sow discord in a nation by basically say “can you stop targeting us just because you’re racist and don’t like the color of my skin”.
19) How is a group asking for racial equality a lie? Are you really going to deny racism when we have seen shootings, lynchings, and people getting run over by cars all within the last month and a half?
20) WTF IS A LIE ABOUT A CHANT THAT MEANS “I HAVE NO WEAPONS, DO NOT KILL ME”
3 notes · View notes
telltalebatman · 4 years
Text
oc facts: frankie
once again no one tagged me, i just need a warm-up after not writing anything sorcione-related for nearly a year. might as well talk abt frankie.
Tumblr media
(frankie when she first met mac gargan / frankie currently telling the story to spider-man)
PLACE IN SOCIETY
✖ FINANCIAL – wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty
this one is actually a tiny bit complicated. frankie used to be filthy rich - but that changed after she cut her wealthy family off. she doesn’t actually have any actual financial issues, and is still able to afford living in a comfortable new york apartment - but she most definitely couldn’t afford a ferrari, for example.
✖ MEDICAL – fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged
frankie is definitely fit and agile, having practiced martial arts, gymnastics, yoga and running from early childhood. she also used to spar with mac... but those sessions usually just ended in bed. assuming he even agreed to them, as he wasn’t a big fan of physically fighting his Tiny Wife.
✖ CLASS OR CASTE – upper / lower / middle / working / unsure
whether she likes it or not, she is a member of new york social elite. her family’s name - moretti - carries a lot of weight; her father - bartolomeo - used to be a consigliere and confidant of cicero, one of the maggia dons. and frankie herself almost became a part of don fortunato’s family, having nearly married his son; they are still on good terms, and don fortunato still calls her by her first name.
✖ EDUCATION – qualified / unqualified / studying
frankie never went to college, as her mother emotionally manipulated her into working at her bakery instead. agreeing to it is one of her biggest regrets, as she feels she had missed out on a lot.
(she still reads a lot though, and has a genuine interest in psychology and sociology.)
FAMILY
✖ MARITAL STATUS – married, happily / married, unhappily / engaged  / partnered / divorced / widow or widower / separated / single / it’s complicated
frankie is - happily and lovingly - married to mac gargan, one of spider-man’s biggest enemies. their marriage isn’t perfect though, as she hadn’t seen her husband in months.
✖ CHILDREN – has children / no children / wants children / adopted children
she has no children and she very much wants it to stay that way, as she has negative interest in motherhood.
✖ FAMILY – close with sibling / not close with siblings / has no siblings / siblings are deceased / it’s complicated
she has an older brother - takeshi - and she hates him. she hates him and their parents to the point of turning to maggia for help in getting away from them.
her brother had always had a weird obsession with her, obsession that eventually unfortunately turned sexual. their parents knew about it - and pretended like everything is fine.
she’s not on speaking terms with her family anymore.
✖ AFFILIATION – orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by both parents / it’s complicated
she was raised by both parents, and it sucked. her father was mostly absent, and her mother was emotionally abusive; eventually frankie cut them off - and in response they promptly disowned her.
TRAITS & TENDENCIES
✖ disorganized / organised / in between
to put things simply: frankie has her shit together. she always knows what time it is, where her keys are and how much money she has in her bank account. she likes to get up late, yes; but most the time she gets up when her alarm starts to go off.
✖ close-minded / open-minded / in between
she has to be open minded - she lives in new york. the avengers are there, spider-man is there, rhino is there, the maggia is there... she simply has to be open to new experiences and discoveries, because otherwise - she’d go crazy.
✖ cautious / reckless / in between
most of the time, frankie strategically plans her every move; but then again - there also are times where she decides fuck it and goes with the flow.
✖ patient / impatient / in between
oh she IS patient. doesn’t mean she doesn’t get annoyed at people who are late though.
✖ outspoken / reserved / in between
it all depends on her relationship with people around her, really. around angelo - her best friend - she’s outspoken and chatty; but around his father - don fortunato, the don - she’s reserved and cautious, meticulously cherry picking her every word.
✖ leader / follower / in between
frankie was forced to be obedient her entire life; now she just craves giving orders. her end goal is to become maggia’s first ever donna.
✖ sympathetic / unsympathetic / in between
frankie actually has a lot of sympathy for others, mostly due to what she went through. the thing is - she absolutely can’t express it without coming off as awkward at best or patronizing at worst.
✖ optimistic / pessimistic / in between
that entirely depends on the scenario - but most the time she can’t even be bothered to think about actual outcomes. she’d rather stick to planning instead.
✖ hardworking / lazy / in between
frankie is, without a shadow of the doubt, the most hardworking person amongst her social circle of maggia kids. but the thing is - she truly, madly, deeply hates it. given a chance, she’ll sit around and do
nothing
all day - but there’s no rest for the wicked. first she worked on her grades, then she nearly worked herself to death in her mother’s bakery, then she had to try to make ends meet after moving in with mac, and then - she had to work on getting him back.
she simply has no chance to ever not be hardworking.
✖ cultured / uncultured / in between
partially thanks to her father, partially thanks to the necessity of getting along with don fortunaty, and partially thanks to her own gothic interests frankie is actually very well-versed in literature, history, theater, opera, art, and food.
✖ loyal / disloyal / in between
despite what “she cut her family off as soon as she got the chance” might sound like - frankie is actually very loyal. but the thing is - her loyalty does not come easily. you have to work for it.
✖ faithful / unfaithful / in between
frankie is as faithful as it gets. once she’s in a relationship - she’s not gonna cheat on her partner, literally no matter what.
SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION
✖ SEXUALITY – heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual / omnisexual / demisexual
even though she doesn’t have tons of experience - she is bi, with a slight preference for guys. her best friend’s tall, muscular bodyguard was her first crush, when she was around 12.
✖ SEX – sex repulsed / sex neutral /sex favorable
all in all, she’s generally sex positive - even if she finds talking about sex a little bit awkward, especially with people who are not her current partner. she also gets very flustered very fast when her partner begins to talk dirty - there is something about merely hearing about all the things the other person wants to do with her that gets her all worked up.
but yeah. she likes sex. it makes her feel good, plain and simple - and she likes the sense of connection between her and her partner, as well as feeling comfortably vulnerable.
also she simply likes it when other people make her feel good.
✖ ROMANCE – romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable
romantic love is something she enjoys - but at the same time she did spend many years without it, and it didn’t really do her any harm. but, if there is someone who has feelings for her, and she finds herself returning them - she’s not gonna be scared.
✖ SEXUALLY – sexually adventurous / sex experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious / uninterested
she enjoys having sex, and trying out new things, and she does have her fair share of fantasies. they are not particularly wild or kinky - but they are there.naturally there’s also a fair share of things she’d never try with anyone.
ABILITIES
✖ COMBAT SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
while she’s no superhero - she’s actually rather good at hand-to-hand combat, thanks to having spent years training. she often sparred with mac, and he taught her quite a few things - but she could never best him in actual combat. but, assuming she fought a regular security guy, or even a cop - she could stand her ground.
✖ LITERACY SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
she reads a lot and is actually very good at critical analysis and interpretation.
✖ ARTISTIC SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
frankie is actually a great poet and a self-taught painter. her poetry is evocative and raw and her paintings are realistic, yet hauntingly unreal; if she had a chance - she could be america’s next top artist.
except - she was never given said chance, and never approached any of her talents as anything more than a casual pasttime.
✖ TECHNICAL SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none
this one is interesting. years of working at her mother’s bakery made her excellent at handling various kinds of dough, shaping intricate designs and working quickly with her fingers - but that does not, at all, translate into being good with electronics.
she is, and i cannot stress this enough, a femme fatale of the engineering sphere. she is absolutely awful when it comes to screwdrivers and wrenches and bolts and all that stuff. she’s kinda decent with computers and smartphones - but only on the software level. if you asked her to install more RAM in your desktop pc - chances are you wouldn’t have a pc anymore.
and it’s not like she’s an expert hacker anyway - her proficiency is around as high as mine. she can pirate software, and use vpns, and knows the difference between ipv4 and ipv6...... but writing her own pieces of code? absolutely the fuck not.
3 notes · View notes