#simultaneously more and less work than last semester | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Text

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (part 17)

Tw: readrr crying so hard its gross

As usual vote down below, will only consider the first 20 votes

Part 18

You told him no, thanks. You do not want to go on an all-expense paid trip to some foreign country you know little about nor speak the language of. No less, with a man whom you have only known a little over a month.

He expected this, but it doesn't hurt any less that Yves could see signs of you being excited and invigorated that he's leaving for a while. Not a long while, only 7 days. If you weren't so averse to his presence now, this could have been a 36-hour trip. Alas, he has to keep himself away from you.

Yves told you that he will be traveling overseas for an important conference regarding his research. He initially didn't intend to leave, but his control over himself is noticeably waning. In a way, this is his punishment; and he actually has to attend this to share his latest findings and discuss them with other researchers. Yves will still be watching over you, he is just not within arm's reach.

It's such a shame that he isn't your source of comfort for the time being. Your semester is starting soon and you did a terrible job of hiding your displeasure that he will be sending you to and picking you up from University. He knows you're trying your hardest to pretend you're enthusiastic, but he could see right through you.

You needed some space of your own. As much as he wants to be with you on your first day of the second semester, he knows that would be the last straw and it would push you to run away from him. Yves will only return after your first week.

Yves types away at his laptop on your desk, this time he has a spreadsheet of what he's planning to bring on this 7-day trip. Simultaneously, he's waiting for you to come back from the bathroom after claiming that you have a stomach ache.

He switched tabs to the live video feed in your makeshift refuge and saw that you were scrolling mindlessly on your phone, not even sitting on the toilet. Your knees are brought to your chest and your back against the shower wall. Your housemates have been complaining to him that you're hogging the bathroom.

He tried bringing it up to you, but your discomfort talking about it is so extreme that it's also painful to him.

Yves thought that by reducing his physical affections to a meager 5 kisses and 12 hugs a day, you would recover without needing him to disappear for 168 hours straight. But he was wrong, you're more out-touched than he thought. You started wincing at the sparse touches he gave.

He started coming in at 3pm and leaving at 7 in the evening. That wasn't enough to make you stop gritting your teeth when you saw him. As if a dagger had gone through his heart, your body told him everything, you started flinching in his presence, hunching over and idling in a closed-off manner, barely maintaining eye contact with him. The last one, not out of shyness or bashfulness, but out of disgust at his appearance.

Yves understands you don't think he's hideous. He knows your mind is just bored, he is all you see almost the entirety of your semester break. He should have brought you out to dates, but he was too blinded by selfishness to see that. Yves wanted his hugs and kisses, it would be a lot more inconvenient to receive or give them outside.

He managed to fix your sight fatigue by putting his hair up in different hairstyles and subtly changing the details of his makeup. Yves would smile when your curious eyes lingered on his face longer, trying to figure out what was fresh about him, but there were only so many styles he could do. Yves knew he would eventually exhaust his options and go back to square one.

Yves sighed again, feeling like such a fool for going against the plan. Well, he is a lovesick fool for you. There is no use beating himself over the past, he has to settle the problem at hand.

He got up from his seat, saving his work and switching his laptop off. Yves left your room and made a beeline to the bathroom.

He raps his knuckles on the door. You yelled out 'Occupied!'

"(name), you have been in there for two hours." He crossed his arm and leaned against the door frame, his ponytail swished along with him and brushed his neck.

You widened your eyes. That's right, you've been in there for a while. You lost track of time.

You told him that you would be out in a few more minutes.

You heard no response from him. Because you didn't hear those distinct heels striking the floor, it's safe to assume that he's still outside.

You quietly grumbled as you got up from the floor, flushed the toilet even though it hadn't been used, and then turned on the tap to wash your hands.

You dried them on the hand towel Yves provided for you to use. You don't know how he managed to keep your housemates from stealing the things he puts out specially for you.

You took a deep breath and had to hype yourself up, telling yourself that Yves would be gone tomorrow and life would go back to normal for at least seven days, more if he found someone else he liked in the conference.

Yves heard that and it made his heart ache. He has to remind himself that you're thinking of him in that light due to your own insecurities. Not because you think he's a cheating scum. It hurts, it really does. Because Yves would never lay his eyes on anyone else besides you, it wasn't a possibility at all.

You slowly opened the door and awkwardly greeted him. Yves smiled softly at you.

"My flight is at one in the afternoon tomorrow." He stared at your face, you're waiting for him to finish speaking. Oh, how he will miss seeing it in this proximity. "I will be at the airport by noon."

To his surprise, you offered to send him off. Warmth spreads from his chest as he realizes that you still cared for him despite you wanting to claw your skin off when he touches it.

Logically it isn't sane to break up with him for being too clingy. The good outweighs the bad by a metric ton. You're actually happy deep down that he has some sort of a flaw in your eyes. In a way, by putting up with his bullcrap, you're repaying the 'debt' that you have incurred. You didn't feel too bad having him go above and beyond for you anymore.

You're starting to think he noticed that you're withdrawing from him. You feel bad.

"I would appreciate your company very much. Thank you-" A silent gasp escaped his lips when you wrapped your arms around his torso and squeezed yourself into him.

His emerald eyes were wide trying to make sense of this sudden change in demeanor.

You had to hide your face, or else your grimace will give it away you're not enjoying this. But he could see your reflection on the radiator nearby.

He beamed, now realizing that you either fear losing him, or felt guilty for avoiding him. Either way, it's assurance that Yves will have an easier time worming back into your life after the trip.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you. Trapping you against him for just a few more seconds, savoring what he can get.

Yves was elated that you're willing to sacrifice your comfort for his.

___

For a man with an uncountable number of beauty regimes, he is packing light for 7 days. His handbag, a suitcase and a luggage bag. The one thing you're surprised though, is that he's here only an hour before his flight. Usually you would wait in the airport for at least three hours.

You wished he had his confidence in travelling. Or maybe it's the fact that he's flying first class, he didn't have to worry about coming early. That would give you plenty of confidence.

He checked in his baggage and prepared his passport. You stretched your neck to try and have a peek, but he clasped the booklet closed when he noticed you're being nosy.

"If there is anything. Anything at all, please don't hesitate to contact me. I will always answer no matter where I am." He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and smoothed your frizzles.

He cupped your cheeks and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You stared into his eyes, he stared back longingly.

Your lower lip began to quiver and immediately after you burst out crying.

You hugged him and sobbed in his chest. You wished you chose to skip the first week and come with him instead. You're scared because you will be that friendless person on campus again. You have to take the night bus due to your classes and your housemates will go back to disrespecting you.

You know it's only for a week. But you're so used to having him stuck by your side like a parasite that you didn't realize what you took for granted. You're going to miss his freshly cooked meals despite him preparing a week's worth of dinner in the fridge. But you didn't want microwaved dinners, you wanted dinners fresh off the stove. You wanted a warm lunch, not a cold sandwich from the vending machine at the university.

He cooed, asking what was the matter.

You can hardly get a word out, coughing and choking over your own tears and mucus. He gently pried you apart from him and crouched down. His hands held your head in place, you gripped onto his sleeves like it's your lifeline. His thumbs wiped your tears away, Yves is shocked that you're already receptive towards his touch again. But this is most likely a false result due to the overwhelming emotions you're feeling right now.

"Dear, I will not be gone forever, only seven days." He reminded. You cried harder, that means from Monday to the next Monday. It shouldn't be that bad because you lived your entire life before meeting Yves. But you don't want to go back, to living pathetically. Even just for a short period of time.

The only thing Yves can gleam from your incoherent babbling through your hiccups is that you won't have any friends and that Yves is your only friend.

He had to pull you back into the hug, letting your chin rest on his shoulder to conceal his amused expression from your sight. This is wonderful, you are guaranteed to run straight into his arms when he comes back. Completely touch-starved and absorb all his warmth like a sponge.

You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his hair and ruining it at the same time. It's all wet with tears, snot and spit. Yves didn't mind, he is happy to enjoy one last hug before he leaves.

"(name)." He called.

You tried to control your wailing, but tears kept rushing out and you don't know why. This is getting ridiculous, he's only gone for a week! But it feels like he's going to die.

He created some distance so he could see your face. It's all puffy and red. Yves gave you a pitied expression. He pressed both of his palms on the side of your face.

"It's not good to cry so much, (name). I am only leaving for a week." He gently pinched your nose to remove the excess mucus, Yves reached for his handbag. "The time will pass by and I will be back by your side." He pulled out a piece of tissue and cleaned his fingers.

Crumpling the soiled one and putting it nearby for him to dispose of later, he took out a fresh piece and began wiping your face.

"(Name), look at me." He whispered. His fingers guided you by the chin. You saw Yves donning an empathetic, caring smile. "I know you will do well in class. You are an excellent student with a lovable personality."

You sniffled and squeezed more tears out of your swollen eyelids. Yves moved closer to kiss you on the forehead.

"I would love to hear about your day through video calls. You can always send me a message at any time. I am never truly apart from you, I will always be there, watching over you."

You whimpered, trying to rub your eyes with the back of your hand. But Yves stopped you, using a sanitary paper napkin to do the job instead.

"You're resilient and kind, you can achieve anything you strive for." He pressed another kiss on your damp cheek.

"Enough tears now. Be good for me during my absence. Promise." He brought up his pinkie finger. You hesitantly hooked yours around his, Yves momentarily tightened it before giving them a delicate kiss.

"Go to Jones. He will drive you anywhere you want." He picked up the trash from the floor, dumped it into a garbage can and guided you by the shoulders. Mr Jones, the man Yves hired to chauffeur him to the airport is standing nearby.

Yves discussed with you this arrangement whereby you would give Mr Jones a call and he would arrive in 10-15 minutes to pick you up. He could be your means of private transportation to and from the university.

You found out that it costs Yves $200 an hour to drive you anywhere. That means $50 just to get to your place and another $50 to go to the university. Not worth it, you rather take the bus than burn a hole in his wallet.

"Goodbye, (name). Take care." He stroked your hair and gave you a smooch on the lips. He smoothed your hair with his manicured fingernails. "Eat and sleep well, please." There was a mild warning in his tone. You nodded profusely.

"Jones." He acknowledged his chauffeur.

Mr Jones tipped his uniform cap towards him. After that, his gloved hands were tucked neatly behind his back.

You watch Yves prepare to enter the first-class boarding area, he handed his boarding pass to the officer. He checked it and unhooked the velvet ropes for him to pass. He spared you one last ominous glance before disappearing into the room.

You stood there for a few seconds, now feeling... an odd sense of relief. You're still a bit sad that you will not see the man who took care of you as if you're a newborn for a week. But you felt this new sense of freedom washing over you.

You looked at Mr Jones. He bowed. "At your service, Mx (name)."

You looked around you and saw a plethora of people crying and saying their goodbyes to their loved ones. You did that already. You couldn't believe you were so sappy with Yves.

What now?

You have air conditioning in your room, so you could just rot there until tomorrow.

Or you could go somewhere else and spend the last day of your break wisely. You always wanted to try that ice cream store you saw on social media. But too bad, Yves isn't here to pay for it. It's $15 a scoop!

Suddenly, you received a notification on your phone.

You felt like your eyes were about to pop out of your head.

"$5000.00 has been credited into your account number ending XXXX6969."

You quickly tapped on it to see what was going on.

"Instant Transfer From: Yves

Amount: 5000.00

Description: Allowance

Reference: I love you."

You convinced yourself that the redness on your cheeks are from the crying earlier.

You fan yourself for a bit before turning to face Mr Jones again.

"Where to, Mx (name)?"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves #oc Montgomery

50 notes · View notes

ayoitslilith · 2 years

Text

sick

The last year has been simultaneously wonderful and horrible. Wonderful in that I feel like I’ve finally been making progress with my life - I started my transition, got therapy, and spent a couple of semesters at college. I made friends, found a lover - “it slaps tbh.” At the same time, I started digging into myself, trying to get to the root of what makes me tick. I found out a lot about myself, good and bad. Things tend to stick together less as you dig deeper though, nothing can retain its form or cohesion past a certain depth of mind. That took recovery time, of course. All stresses have some form of recovery time requirement, so that the stressed individual can get back to optimal performance. Unfortunately, I did not have enough time. Classwork became overbearing, not necessarily because of its own difficulty, but because of my inability to keep up with other parts of life. I began to freeze when attempting to complete my tasks. I missed assignments that were due. I nearly failed quite a few classes. This needed to change. I needed time. I couldn’t make time, though - I felt the need to push myself so that I could get to making things better, sooner. I wanted things to slow down. I wished so dearly that things would just slow down.

A finger on the monkey’s paw curls.

I’ve been back with the family this summer, as I don’t really have the resources to secure my own place for the time being. My father went on a vacation just after I got home, and came back a couple of weeks later. He seemed fine at first, but after a day, began to fall ill. The day after that, I followed.

The night after my father began to show signs of illness, I stayed up a bit later than I suppose I should have. I usually find it hard to sleep anyways, so staying up to nearly five in the morning venting to a close friend of mine was easy to do. Even as I was laying in my bed waiting for the sweet embrace of sleep to take hold of me for the next hour and thirty minutes, I was oblivious to my mistake. It was only when I then woke up at nine that same morning when I began to realize my mistake. When you are sick, time begins to feel like it slows down around you. My head tends to feel like it’s “full of tar” when I’m not feeling well in general, but especially so when I am physically ill - this exacerbates that feeling of time slowing to a crawl. This is of course, much worse, when you are also fighting sleep deprivation. Worse yet is if you are also trying to sleep because you know you will be spending the rest of the day sleep deprived if you do not manage to fall asleep. After an hour of waiting to fall asleep and only feeling simultaneously as tired and awake as I’ve ever been, I sat up.

While this might not have been a mistake, it felt like it was.

My head immediately started pounding. It felt as if my blood itself was working overtime, rushing through my body as if making up for lost time. All of my nerves seemed to be carrying sensory input that found itself in the same race. The little bit of light that found its way through my window, the sound of my parents outside of my room, and even the sound of the blood pounding around my skull - I took it all in immediately, and couldn’t stop taking it in. My sensory issues have always been a problem, but this simply added more weight to it. As I began to take in everything all at once, either because of my own movement or because of the senses being flooded, my head began to hurt terribly. It certainly wasn’t the worst pain I’ve ever felt, but that doesn’t make it stop being terrible. I continued to get up, and the assault on my mind - the pain, my senses, everything - worsened. This would continue to be how I felt for the rest of the day, fading in and out of consciousness - every time I woke up, wishing I could just pass out again.

This, of course, turned out to be COVID-19. My father tested positive, and due to my symptoms, we could safely assume that I contracted it from him. Luckily, the three of us in the house are vaccinated, and my mother has not displayed any symptoms yet. Knowing that others have suffered much worse fates from the coronavirus, I consider the three of us extremely lucky. I’m currently hoping that we aren’t left with anything permanent, but at least for now, it seems that it won’t be fatal or debilitating. Unfortunately, I know others who can’t say the same.

Please stay safe. Wash your hands. Wear a mask. Social distance. Try not to go on unnecessary trips. We’re still in a pandemic.

#covid #sick #as in physically ill #:^'(#disease #pandemic #coronavirus #wash your hands #at least it gave me something to write about i guess

2 notes · View notes

themomsandthecity · 1 month

Text

The Very Real Sacrifice of Caring For Aging Parents in Your 20s

"I think things will be easier if my mom dies first," I found myself saying out loud to my best friend late last year, sitting on the carpeted steps of her rental house. This sentence may have come across as cold and morbid to anyone else, but I knew Tessa understood where I was coming from: Her dad and my dad both have terminal lung diseases, and neither of us have the best relationships with our moms, either. My mom in particular is generally healthy, but I worry about her living alone as someone who can be forgetful, overly trusting, isolated, and naive. Tessa and I met working at our college bookstore as cashiers. She's now a math teacher married to a great guy with a new baby boy. Tessa just turned 29. I'm a healthcare reporter who lives in Oakland, CA. I take art classes, love walking around the Bay, and have a 9-year-old cat named Clark. I'll be 28 later this year. Tessa and I both have older parents, and have bonded over how it can sometimes feel like we got robbed of fully enjoying our 20s. I don't call Tessa to gab about a new crush, or text her photos of my outfit options before a date. Instead, we talk about having to navigate federal healthcare on behalf of our parents, and arrange care for them while simultaneously trying to keep our own lives afloat. Neither of us feel like we have the same normalcy our friends do; we don't often call our parents for advice or anticipate the holiday season with excitement. Instead, our 20s have mostly felt like we're consistently waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when it does, we turn to each other for support. I am one of many millennials being affected by what's been referred to as an elder-care crisis. It's difficult to care for aging parents, especially with whom you have a strained relationship, while also navigating early adulthood. . . and financially earning less than they did at my age. The weight of credit card debt, student loans, and societal expectations can feel crushing. Hell, sometimes vet bills for just Clark can get pricey, even with pet insurance. I want to save money. I want to travel. I'd like to upgrade from a studio to a one bedroom so I don't have to fall asleep staring at my desk, since I work from home. But I also know that when my dad inevitably passes - and likely before my mom due to his condition - I'll need to be able to spring a last-minute plane ticket home and help get things in order. I recently received a master's degree from Syracuse University's Newhouse School, and throughout my final few semesters, I routinely thought to myself, "I hope my dad stays alive at least until I finish this degree." It can often feel like I'm holding my breath, hoping my parents hang on until I'm in a more established place in my life, so that I can offer the best care while also being my best self. My dad's prognosis was originally around seven years max, and he's now in his third year since being diagnosed. His health isn't currently changing much day by day, and when people ask how he's doing, I reply, "About the same." It can often feel like I'm holding my breath. I deeply desire to maintain autonomy in my own life, which still feels like it's just beginning. But I also want to make sure my parents are safe, healthy, and have all the resources they need as they age. So, rather than save for an eventual wedding or other milestone, I now have a separate savings account explicitly meant to help my parents in the event of something tragic. Just like a wedding is a major life event, so is losing a parent and maintaining care for the other parent - particularly if you're an only child, like I am. (At this point, some might ask, "Why don't you just leave the Bay Area if you're so concerned about money?" So, I should note that I have two uncles who live here, and we're very close. They weren't always part of my life, and as they also get up there in age, I want to be around them as long as possible, making… https://www.popsugar.com/family/millennial-taking-care-aging-parents-essay-49351514?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

0 notes

techycatartist · 1 year

Text

Something I’ve been doing for a while on Toyhouse is what I call the “What’s Next?” bulletin— basically a post detailing what you guys should expect from me for the next few months in terms of my creative works. Additionally, I also reflect on what I’ve posted in the previous few months. While I’ve been cross-posting this information to my Insta and Twitter since I began doing this bulletin series, I’ve neglected to cross-post it here. That changes today; keep scrolling to find out what I want to do over the summer!

Yesterday was the last day of my Spring 2023 semester. Normally this would mean that I'm on summer break and therefore having more time to devote to my creative pursuits. However, I am taking two courses over this summer; while less than my usual four-class schedule, it means that I will continue to be primarily focused on school. While I'll still be posting my photography, what else can you guys expect from me?

In Terms of My Art: I continued to release what was left of my "Alternate Universe" series featuring some of my Great Adventure personifications (Joker, GASM, and Nitro). Next, I created two art pieces (one of Toro, one of SteVe) that released simultaneously with "Red-Tagged" and "Race For The Sky", respectively. Then, I put out some art featuring characters I haven't drawn in a while; one with Ultra Twister and Viper, the other with Lil' Devil Coaster, Joust and Kozmo's Kurves. Finally, I posted a picture of two keychains made using a Shrinky Dink sheet and some wire; ice-cream character bar designs of JDC and Toro. In regard to future art, I have ideas for two Coastermaynia 2023 prompts; one will be for Nitro (with an intended release on May 27th), the other for the "Your Choice" prompt (with an intended release on May 31st). While I would like to do something for Steel Vengeance's 5th Anniversary (sadly I wasn't able to make something in time for the actual date), I'm unsure if I'll be able to put something out during this semester. Outside of that, I'll just wait for inspiration to strike (but I still want to focus on drawing some underutilized characters).

In Terms of My Stories: As mentioned in the previous bulletin, I had two stories that I wanted to post sometime during the spring semester. The first one was "Red-Tagged", a companion piece to Tricks and Turns that takes place in an alternate universe; this was released on February 3rd, as advertised. "Red-Tagged" had an accompanying piece of art featuring Toro, the main character of the story. The second one was "Race For The Sky", aka the fifth installment of my "Winter Chill Out" series that released on March 31st. "Race For The Sky" also had an accompanying piece acting as the story's "cover art". As for any future stories, I currently do not have plans to put out anything on the scale of "Red-Tagged" or "Race For The Sky". However, I have recently been writing some drabbles (aka stories that won't be fully realized and are comparatively shorter); they can be found here under the "techystory” tag.

That's all for now; the next bulletin will be put out at the end of my Summer 2023 semester.

-Techy

#techytext #long post

0 notes

dpathshala · 1 year

Text

Take Home Lessons on DISTANCE BBA COURSES IN INDIA

One of the greatest possibilities is to choose a BBA (Bachelor of Business Administration) Online and distance learning programme. Even for those students or people who desire to choose this route in order to advance their careers in business management. In essence, the curriculum is a three-year degree that is broken up into six semesters. Even so, you will be aware of a variety of online BBA course streams if you choose this BBA Course Online which is provided through distance mode of education. Training, knowledge, and abilities in management responsibilities and business skills are provided by the three-year Bachelor of Business Administration degree provided by various corresponding universities and colleges through Online and Distance mode of learning. In the undergraduate degree programme, students from all backgrounds are allowed to apply. A wide range of specializations, covering accounting, administration, and human resource management are offered as you pursue your Distance and Online BBA Course in India.

Take Home Lessons for your Online and Distance BBA Program

For students and other candidates like working professionals who wish to work and pursue their studies simultaneously, there is an Online and distance learning BBA programme. The Online and distance learning BBA programme lasts three years and it consists of six semesters. The semesters are of six months each. UGC-DEB has given the sanction for the Online and Distance BBA programme at certain Indian colleges and Universities which provide programmes though Online and Distance mode of Education. The BBA Online and Distance Course provides the same chances as a traditional BBA degree, but with the freedom to study whenever and whenever you want. Distance learning can provide you with the skills and information you need to grow in your profession, and many employers respect candidates who can complete their degrees while holding down a job.

You require a distance and Online BBA course in India because it provides a number of advantages, such as:

A fantastic opportunity for professional progression is to work while enrolled in a distance learning BBA online course in order to change your job profile to a managerial one.

Convenient learning method: You may study online using your smart phone at any time and from any location.

Cost-effective educational model - Distance BBA Course is considerably less expensive than a traditional BBA degree.

The BBA in Online and Distance programme assists in the development of analytical and conceptual skills in the numerous functional areas of management as you pursue a profession. Pursue your Online and Distance BBA Course via Distance Pathshala. Our experts will guide you and help you choose the Best Correspondence College or University which provides Best BBA Distance Education in India. You can use all of your academic concepts in the job if you enroll in a BBA programme through online and distance learning. Students who aspire to continue their education through distance learning can do so while pursuing a career. One of the most in-demand courses in the world today is a bachelor's degree in business administration, or BBA as it is more commonly called. Also, students who successfully complete their BBA programme through Online and Distance mode of Education can expect to find employment in the financial, marketing, and human resources sectors.

The major goal of the Online and Distance BBA course is to prepare students for managerial positions by increasing their understanding of management-related courses & concepts. Also, it helps develop interpersonal and communication skills. With the advancement of digital telecommunications and information and communication technologies, the concept of the BBA programme through Online and Distance mode of learning has evolved, allowing for better and faster knowledge dissemination. The networks of telecommunications systems enable individuals as well as communities to have fast and reliable connections, allowing for greater information interrelationships. Furthermore, the convergence of computer technology, audio visual media, and telecommunications has had an impact on globalization and distance learning.

Summing it up!

A lot of students or people who want to pursue further education in their life are forced to enter the workforce at a young age since life might be too challenging at times. Yet, we can today affirm that acquiring an education is extremely simple and diverse in terms of costs, admission standards, timetables, programme choices, teaching methodologies, and evaluation methods thanks to Online and Distance education Colleges and Universities.

As a result, students today are becoming more and more interested in online distance learning. More students will have the chance to improve their academic backgrounds and themselves by enrolling in distance learning courses without having to postpone their employment or other responsibilities. Choose the Online and Distance University that best matches your needs for your Correspondence Course by visiting our website at distancepathshala.com.

The members of Distance Pathshala are experienced educators with a variety of specialties. Our staff focuses on the crucial role that distance learning plays and provides accurate information on reliable schools. With Distance Pathshala, discover a fresh approach to distance learning. Visit our website- www.distancepathshala.com and choose the best Online and Distance Colleges & Universities by consulting with our experts team and pursue your Distance BBA course through Online mode of learning. Take home lessons from anywhere and at any time as per your own convenience. You can also pursue your Online and Distance BBA Degree while you are working on a job as you get the opportunity to attend classes at flexible timings and you can also study from pre-recorded lectures. The goal of Distant Pathshala is to offer comprehensive information and comparison support on academic institutions and degree programmes. We at Distant Pathshala are concerned about your future, thus we maintain our process efficiency to better serve you. Using our artificial intelligence (AI) based and technologically advanced filtering and comparison functions, we compare multiple Distant Universities for your desired course at once.

#best bba distance education in india #best distance bba colleges in india #best distance learning bba in india #distance bba course in india #best distance education university in india for bba #BBA distance education in Noida

0 notes

jpeelerttpp · 2 years

Text

Entry 1 - About Me

I grew up playing and loving sport from a young age, this mainly consisted of cricket in the summer and Australian Football in the winter. Playing sport was a great way to exercise and have fun with friends simultaneously. My passion for sport is an integral part of my life, as even though I play much less organised sport now, I still love watching on TV or streaming services and discussing it with mates.

Given how busy playing sport kept me throughout my school years, I didn’t work at all until after my VCE. My work history started with gardening with my Dad in 2014, once a week or 12 hours. This was fantastic experience however I needed more work than that and gardening was quite taxing on the body, more so than football. Cleaning at my old highschool (2015 - 2017) once to three times a week was something I became accustomed to for a while. Responsibilities apart from cleaning included de-alarming alarming the school, plus locking the carpark gates. The pay was adequate, however the shifts were only three hours, so I needed a second job. My best friends worked at a local cinema where I used to watch many films as a child. They had a job opening and the manager started me the following day after I went in for a brief meeting (June 2017 - current). Waverley Cinema even furthered developed my already strong communication and interpersonal skills. Mutli-tasking, team work, customer service and integrity are other main attributes of mine that have only grown stronger thanks to this job.

During lockdown in June last year I decided to drive with Menulog (food delivery) to make extra money and given people were mainly at home, I seized the opportunity to make the most of it, to which I have made well in excess of 500 deliveries. Most recently I started working at Lilydale McDonald’s where I quickly had to adapt to a super fast paced environment. The food is made incredibly fast and multi-tasking is imperative. Accuracy whilst cleaning equipment and utensils is highly important also and I love a challenge.

Moving onto my study performance in Sports Media so far, I’m certainly of the view that I could be performing better. My first semester in first year was excellent with a Distinction for all four classes. However since then I have had a mixed bag, mainly high credits, which isn’t awful, but it is something certainly below my capabilities. I need to learn how to balance my work/study ratio, as I work a lot more than I previously did before starting Sports Media.

Getting this balance right would be a great step in the right direction for me, as it would increase motivation and energy due to more time. I know how I can improve and I can’t wait for the rest of the semester and the internships the following semester.

0 notes

imaginationintowords · 3 years

Text

Folklore [song series]

my tears ricochet

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years

[warnings: death, and funeral]

word count: 4829

[a/n: sorry for such a long wait. I've been busy. I thought once I was done for the semester I would have a lot more time to work on my stories, but if anything my summer break has been more hectic. Just because I haven't been posting, doesn't mean I haven't been working on them. Just know that I am working on the new chapters for this and for TKWBA, just need a bit of patience from you all. Also thank-you for the continue love and support on all my work]

Series Masterlist

Tag list info here [if you want to be tagged please read this]

Age: 21

Year: Sep. 2015

Location: Brooklyn, NY & Stanford, CA

Elizabeth was sat at her desk doing her homework. She was anxiously waiting for Steve's call about the baby arriving. He had called her two hours prior to let her know that Natasha had gone into labor, and they were at the hospital. Steve told her that he'd call her as soon as he heard the news. She tried her hardest to focus on her homework, but she found herself constantly checking her phone for any updates.

Suddenly her phone started going off. She instantly picked it up and answered the call.

"Is the baby here?" She immediately asked.

"Liz," Steve choked out.

"Steve, what's wrong?" She could hear the distress in his voice.

"Natasha, she," he tried to say but the words got caught in his throat, and she could hear the soft cries.

"Steve, breathe," she tries to calm him down the best she could without actually physically being with him.

Elizabeth was simultaneously trying to keep herself calm, and not rush into any assumptions.

"She died," he said after calming himself down enough to tell her what happened.

"She died?"

"I guess there were complications, he tells her, still unsure of what exactly happened.

Steve hadn't thought to ask further into what exactly happened when Bucky's mom called to tell him the devastating news. He couldn't wrap his head around what she was telling him. He just never imagined that this would be the outcome of his best friend welcoming his first child into the world.

Steve clears his throat trying to force the lump back down.

"I'm catching the next flight out to New York," he tells Elizabeth, "I just gotta be there for Bucky."

"Yeah, of course," she says, completely understanding.

"I know you can't exactly fly out now, without letting your professors know, so as soon as I find out all the funeral," his throat catches at the word, he takes a small breath, "all the funeral information I'll let you know."

"Okay that works," she agrees.

"Okay. I haven't to pack real quick and get to the airport within the next hour," he tells her.

"Okay, I'll let you go."

"Wait, Steve," she calls out before he could hang up.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," she says with a shaky voice.

"I love you too, so much," he says, "I'll text you when I board the plane."

After one final goodbye, Steve hangs up the phone.

The flight seemed like Steve's longest one he's ever been on. As soon as he landed he quickly grabbed his carry on, the only thing aside from his backpack that he brought with him. Elizabeth had messaged him letting him know that she could bring more of his stuff once she flies out.

Steve made his way out of the airport to find his mom waiting for him by her car. He quickly made his way towards her and wrapping his arms around her.

On the drive to Bucky's apartment Steve sent Liz a text letting her know he landed. He then called Bucky's mom to let her know he was on the way.

"Thank-you for coming out Steve," Winnie thanks him, "The baby is just about to get discharged, we should be at the apartment before you get there."

"Of course, I'll see you guys soon," he says hanging up the phone.

Steve then sends a quick email to his boss and professors explains his absence and why he'll most likely be gone for a couple of weeks.

An hour later Steve's mom was stopping outside of Bucky's building.

"Let them know I'm here if they need anything," his mom tells him before he exists the car, "I'll come back at noon with lunch for everyone."

"Thanks Mom," he says leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Steve exists the car leaving his bags with his mom. He takes one final breath before walking to the front doors. Steve presses the call button for Bucky's apartment and was immediately buzzed in.

As soon as he reaches Bucky's door, he knocks quietly. The door opens and he's welcomed by Rebecca. He takes in the sullen face on the teenage girl.

"Hey Bec," he says.

"Hi," she quietly says, as they hug each other in the door way.

When they pull apart she steps aside letting him inside.

"It's just my parents and I here. Bucky didn't want to deal with a lot of people right now," she explains to Steve.

"Steve," he hears from his left, Keith, Bucky's stepdad makes his way out of the small kitchenette over to him, and embracing him, "Thank-you so much for coming. We know you're a very busy person."

Before Steve could respond Bucky's mom Winnie walks into the living room.

"Oh Steve," she immediately wraps her arms around him.

"Thank-you so much for coming on such a short notice," she says. Steve could hear the shakiness in her voice. He could tell she was trying to keep it together. No doubt the last 12 hours being the most stressful and emotional she's ever been.

"There's no need to thank me. This is where I need to be," he tells them.

"Let us at least pay you back for the flight," Keith says.

"No, don't worry about that," Steve waves him off, "I had a lot of miles that needed to be used."

"Well, thank-you again," Keith nods his head, understanding where Steve was coming from.

"You can go on ahead Steve. Bucky is waiting for you in the nursery," Winnie tells him, giving him an assuring nod, he nods back making his way towards the nursery.

The short walk seemed like it was much longer. Steve has never felt so nervous in his life. When he approaches the closed door, he softly knocks on it.

"Come in," Bucky calls from inside.

Steve walks in, closing the door behind him. He's immediately greeted by Bucky sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, feeding his newborn daughter.

"Hey," Steve softly says, not sure what to say.

"Hey," Bucky greeted Steve with a sad smile.

It had been 12 hours later and it still didn't feel real to Bucky. The hospital had even offered the chance for him and Poppy to stay a couple of days, but all Bucky wanted to do was to go home and get away from the hospital. But now being back in the apartment without Natasha was surreal. He was trying his best to keep it all in, at least while the baby is awake and needs him.

He was determined in being the one that cared for her, even when his mom offered to take care of her for a few hours while he gets some rest. He assured her that he needed to do this. He had to do it alone, because he knew that soon enough it would just be him and Poppy.

Bucky was very grateful when he heard Steve was flying out. He felt like Steve was the only one he could really talk to about everything going on.

Steve was still standing by the door, just watching his best friend be a dad for the first time. He had no idea what to say in this kind of situation. The words were caught in his throat the moment he actually saw Bucky.

"Thanks for coming," Bucky says breaking the silence. Steve immediately looks away from the baby to meet Bucky's eyes.

"You would've done the same thing," Steve says, "And like I've said before, I'll always be here for you."

"I don't care how far, I'll always be on that first flight to you," Steve continues, he glances down at the now sleepy baby, "You're my brother Buck."

There was a moment of silence between the young men. Both understanding what the other one means with such few words.

Steve watched as Bucky gently placed the sleepy baby on his shoulder to burp her.

"It suits you," Steve quietly remarks.

"What?" Bucky looked up at him confused.

"Fatherhood, it suits you," Steve says again, stepping closer to his friend.

"You think?" Bucky looks back down at the now sleeping baby.

"Yeah. I know it's only been less than a day, but you look natural. Make it look easy."

"Thanks," Bucky smiled, getting up for the he chair and walking over to the crib to gently place Poppy in.

Steve walked over, standing next to Bucky, watching the little one sleep peacefully.

"What's her name?" Steve whispered, realizing that he hadn't found out what the name of the baby was.

"Poppy James Barnes," Bucky proudly says.

"That's cute," Steve commented, he placed his right hand on Bucky's left shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

Bucky looked over at Steve and they both nodded their heads in agreement, before falling into an embrace.

"I am so sorry," Steve quietly says.

"It happened so quick, she barely even got to see the baby," Bucky quietly cried into Steve's shoulder, "I never even thought of this would be the outcome. I never imagined I'd be coming home solo with the baby."

Steve tightened his embrace on Bucky, just listening to his friend.

"I don't know how I'm going to do this Steve. I don't know how I'm going to raise her without her mom. I'm trying to keep it together to not worry my mom, but fuck Steve, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm scared I'll screw this all up. I'm scared I'll screw her up.

"I'm so scared Steve," Bucky cries.

"It's okay to be scared," Steve tries his best to comfort Bucky, "I'd be more concerned if you weren't scared. This is entirely new territory for you. You're raising a child, a child who unfortunately no longer has her mother. That alone is a fucking terrifying thing to go through.

"It's not going to be easy. There's no point in lying to you, and saying it will. You and I both that won't be the truth. But if there's anyone I know who could do this, it's you Buck. You're the strongest person I know. Whatever has happened before this doesn't matter. The only thing that matters now is that little girl. And I know damn well you're going to give her the best life she will ever have," Steve pulls away from Bucky and holds onto his shoulders.

"And you're not alone in this. You have a lot of people who care about you, and now Poppy. You will never be alone. You'll always have someone to call, someone to help you. You're crazy to think we would ever leave you to do this alone. We're here, and we're not going anywhere. You and Poppy will never have to be alone. She might not have her mom, but she's got you, and I know damn well you won't ever let her wonder what being without one parent truly feels like.

"You've got this Buck," Steve assures him, "And we're here every step of the way."

"Thanks Steve," Bucky sniffles, wiping the tears away.

"No need to thank me," Steve smiles, "Now why don't you go take a nap. Get some rest. We're here if Poppy wakes up."

"Yeah I could use some sleep," Bucky yawns, his adrenaline from the last 12 hours fading away.

Steve walks Bucky to his bedroom and watches as he gets into his bed, and quickly falls asleep. He quietly closes the door behind him, with the baby monitor in one hand checking to make sure Poppy is still asleep.

He walks back into the living room, placing the monitor by the tv for everyone to see and hear.

"They're both asleep," Steve announces to the room.

"Oh thank goodness," Winnie sighs, "James hasn't taken a moment to rest since everything happened."

"Knowing Bucky, we'll probably have to be forcing him to rest for the next couple of weeks," Steve says.

"I just got off of the phone with Natasha's father," Keith said walking back inside the apartment.

"What did he say?" Winnie asked.

"He said that the funeral is all up to us," Keith sighs, "Something about how Natasha made her own path with getting pregnant, and that once she left she was no longer his responsibility."

"He really said that?" Winnie asked mortified.

"I'm afraid so," Keith sighed, "I tried reasoning with him saying we would handle everything financially and he can come to the funeral but he said no."

"What kind of father doesn't show up to his own daughter's funeral," Winnie shakes her head in complete disbelief.

"Explains why Natasha was the way she was," Rebecca whispered, so that only Steve could hear her.

He reluctantly agrees.

Two weeks later

Elizabeth was helping Steve with his tie in his childhood bedroom. She had flown in yesterday for today's funeral services. Elizabeth had gotten in late last night, so she still hasn't seen Bucky or Poppy yet. She was a let to get a week off of work and her professors gave her an extension on her assignments when she explained to them what happened.

"I still can't believe Natasha's dad isn't going," she says as she straightens out Steve's tie.

"Bucky's mom is still holding out hope that he shows up," Steve says.

"What does Bucky think of it all?" Elizabeth asks.

"He's not worrying about it," Steve explains, looking over himself in the mirror, "His only concern right now is Poppy and only Poppy. If Nat's dad shows up then he does. But as of now Bucky has made the decision that he will not be in Poppy's life. Not until he proves himself."

"That's very mature," she says grabbing her purse.

"This Buck is like a whole new one you've never seen before. Fatherhood has made him a thousand times more grown up these last couple of weeks."

"That's good."

"Ready to go?" Steve asked her, grabbing the keys to his mom's car.

"Yup," Elizabeth says following Steve out.

Bucky had asked Steve to pick him and Poppy up, and Steve had of course agreed.

They arrived to Bucky's apartment in fifteen minutes. Walking up to Bucky's door they could hear a lot of commotion coming from inside. Steve used the key Bucky gave him to let himself and Elizabeth in.

As soon as they walked in they were greeted by the sounds of a baby crying.

"Buck?" Steve called out.

"We're in here," he calls from the nursery.

They go to the nursery to find Bucky looking frazzled while trying to change Poppy's diaper.

"I'm so sorry. I'm running so behind," Bucky tells them, glancing over his shoulder quickly,

"Poppy didn't sleep well last night. And nothing I've tried has been working."

"It's okay Buck, just take your time," Steve calmly says.

"I still need to shower, shave, and get dressed," Bucky rambles, "She's going to need another change of clothes because she spat all over herself, and my mom only bought this one outfit for today."

"Hey Bucky, calm down," Elizabeth calmly spoke up, placing her hand on his back, "Take a breath."

Bucky felt the warmth and comfort from Liz's touch. He listens to what she says and takes a deep breath.

"Okay good," she says, "now you go get ready. Steve and I got this."

"Okay," he nods his head, handing the baby over to Elizabeth, "thank-you."

"Of course," she softly smiles at him, "now go get ready."

Bucky quickly makes his way out of the room and into his own to get ready.

Elizabeth looks down at the small baby in her arms. She could see so much of Bucky in the baby with hints of Natasha. It was a little strange for her to be holding Bucky's baby and it not being her baby as well. Not that she ever wanted to get back together with Bucky, because she didn't. There was just a little voice in her head, that of her teenage self, saying how it was supposed to be them, doing this together.

She quickly shut the voice down.

Elizabeth was incredibly sympathetic of Bucky's situation. All she wanted to do was be there for him, as a friend. She wanted Bucky to succeed as a father, and she would do what she could to make that happen.

Steve silently watched Elizabeth watching Poppy. He couldn't really read her expression. He hates to admit it to himself, especially with everything going on, but he was slightly worried about how Liz would react to all of this. He had faith in their relationship, of course he trusted her immensely. But he still couldn't help but feel like she might decide to leave him for Bucky. Elizabeth turned around to see Steve looking at her with a distant look in his eyes.

"You good?" She gently asked, breaking him from his self-destructive thoughts.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah," she nods her head, handing the baby over to him, "I'm going to try and find her a new outfit.

"Okay," Steve says sitting down with the baby.

"I love you," Liz quietly says to Steve, knowing what could possibly going through his mind, if hers was also wandering.

"I love you," Steve replies back, finding himself relaxing at just hearing those three words, any doubt slipping away.

30 minutes later Bucky was ready to go. He walked out to the living room where he found Steve and Elizabeth sitting with each other holding the baby. He paused for a moment taking in the scene in front of him. He felt a sense of warmth and low flow through him as his closest friends admire his daughter. In that moment he knew he had made the right decision in what he would tell them next.

Steve glanced up to see Bucky leaning against the frame of the hallway.

"Ready?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, but I actually wanted to ask you two something before we go," Bucky says walking over and sitting on a chair next to the couch.

"Sure, what's up?" Steve leans forward, leaning on his knees, giving Bucky his full attention.

Elizabeth tears her eyes away from Poppy to also give Bucky her full attention. She smiles at him, letting him know he could continue on.

"I first and foremost just want to thank you Steve, for what probably is the hundredth time," Bucky says, "I know you have a lot going on with work and school. So I really appreciate everything you've done for me and for Poppy. And you too Elizabeth, I know you're incredibly busy especially with law school prep. And with everything that's happened between-"

"Don't," she stopped him, "What's past is past."

"Well anyways, thank-you," Bucky says, "Now here comes what I wanted to ask you two. There's no other two people I wouldn't trust more with Poppy. So I wanted to ask if you would be her godparents?"

"Really?" Elizabeth asked taken back by Bucky's request.

"Yes," he nods his head, "There's no one else I wouldn't trust with her if anything happens. It'll help me sleep better knowing she'll have two people who'll love her like I would. Two people who have so much love between them, that I know will always be together."

Both Steve and Elizabeth were taken back by Bucky's last statement. They knew Bucky had accepted their relationship, but to actually have him not only say it out loud but to practically give them his blessing, it meant the world to the couple.

Steve and Elizabeth both share a look with tears glistening in their eyes. Elizabeth nods her head.

Steve turns back to Bucky, "We'd be honored to be Poppy's godparents."

Elizabeth and Steve stood up to hug Bucky. All filled with a wide range of emotions. Bucky felt a huge sense of comfort after asking Liz and Steve to be Poppy's godparents. He knew he made the right decision, and he knew he could now sleep better at night knowing his daughter would be taken care of. And by two people he knows can love her the way he does.

After what happened with Natasha, Bucky just wanted to make sure Poppy would be taken care of. If she couldn't have her parents, then she would have the closest thing to having parents. And Bucky knows Steve and Elizabeth would be amazing parents.

That alone allowed him to be at peace for whatever may happen.

Arriving to the funeral location Bucky felt his nerves start to spike. He sat in the backseat looking out the window at the familiar faces walking into the chapel.

"You okay?" Elizabeth asked turning in her seat, after Steve parked the car.

"I don't know if I can do this," he mutters, glancing towards the sleeping baby in the car seat next to him.

"We'll be right next to you along the entire way," Liz calmly says.

"If you feel too overwhelmed we'll leave whenever you want," Steve tells him, "We won't stay if you absolutely can't handle it. No one will hold it against you."

"Okay," Bucky takes a deep breath.

"Stay here, I'll get the stroller out," Steve says, getting out of the car.

"No one is expecting you to be brave, Buck," Elizabeth says, "You're allowed to be vulnerable. You're allowed to show emotions."

He nods his head, taking in what she's telling him.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small necklace. Clutching onto it as if his life depended on it.

Elizabeth catches the small 'N' on it, realizing that that was the necklace Natasha wore everyday since she was 13.

Bucky takes one final deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"Okay, I'm ready," he tells her.

"Okay, let's do this."

Bucky was grateful that they arrived only minutes before the service started. Everyone was already seated in the pews.

He slowly walked down the aisle pushing the stroller, Steve and Elizabeth walking right behind him.

Bucky tried his best to avoid any eye contact with everyone. He couldn't bare to look at the pity in their eyes.

He caught sight of his family siting in the second row. He also noticed a man sitting alone in the first row.

He instantly knew who it was.

Once Bucky reached the first row, the man made to movement to greet Bucky.

Bucky cleared his throat, "Mr. Romanoff."

The older man looked over at Bucky, then at the stroller.

"James," he stiffly said, turning his attention back to the front.

Bucky awkwardly sat down placing the stroller next to his legs, away from Natasha's father, while Steve and Elizabeth sat next to Bucky.

The service was going smoothly up until the priest announced that Natasha's father would be making a speech, catching everyone off guard.

Bucky looked at the older man as he walked up to the stand. He turned around to face his mom, "Did you know this?" he whispered.

"No I didn't," she shook her head.

Right as Mr. Romanoff was about to start speaking, Poppy began to cry. Bucky quickly went to get her out of the stroller, while Steve quickly went to grab a bottle to help him out.

As soon as the baby calmed down Mr. Romanoff began to speak.

"First and foremost, I want to thank everyone for coming," he begins, "I really appreciate it. Natasha would be eternally grateful for all of you."

Bucky started to get annoyed by the beginning of Mr. Romanoff's speech. As if the man didn't turn down the invitation for the last two weeks. Now he's trying to act like the perfect father, as if he didn't kick her out and cut off his pregnant daughter.

"Natasha was a kind hearted person. Only wanting the best for those closest to her. She was the most selfless person you would have ever met," he continued on with his speech.

Elizabeth couldn't help but be confused by Mr. Romanoff's speech. She hated thinking ill of the dead, but that man had no idea who his daughter truly was.

"Natasha was so smart, earning her way into Yale. She was only months away from graduating. I was so incredibly proud of her. If only we would've gotten the opportunity to watch her walk across the stage.

"Other than leaving an everlasting impression on all of us, she also left behind a part of her. Her last moments on Earth was spent bringing in another Romanoff," he says.

Bucky's head snapped up to Mr. Romanoff, then towards Steve.

"Romanoff?" Bucky whispered, "This man has the fucking nerve."

"Ignore him," Steve whispered back, trying to calm Bucky down, "He's just saying all of this to make himself look good."

"Natasha brought her daughter into the world," Mr. Romanoff continued, forcing fake tears to fall, "I remember being by her side as she was in labor."

Bucky clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to call Mr. Romanoff out on his lies.

"As she was dying," Mr. Romanoff paused for dramatic effect, "Her only request was to name her daughter after her."

Steve paled his hand on Bucky's shoulder, trying his best to calm him down. It was too late, Bucky was already placing Poppy in Steve's arms.

"What a fucking lie," Bucky stood up shouting at Mr. Romanoff, causing everyone to gasp.

"James," Mr. Romanoff said through gritted teeth, as a warning.

"How could you just lie to all these people?" Bucky shouted, "How could you lie as if you didn't disown Natasha months prior when she told you she was pregnant. Or when my parents kept inviting you to the funeral, you kept saying no and how Natasha's decisions led to their death. How dare you say you were in the delivery room. As if you didn't have her number blocked. My mom and I were there when things took a horrible turn. We were there when the doctor walked out and told us Natasha didn't make it. Not you! Us!

"Then you go on to make some shitty story about Nat's last words. Which is completely false. Natasha never wanted to name the baby after herself, you'd actually know that if you were actually present in her life. But you weren't. And you sure as hell will never be a part of your granddaughter's life."

Bucky turned to Steve and Liz, "Let's go."

They nodded their heads and helped put Poppy in the stroller. They followed Bucky as he walked out of the chapel.

After leaving the funeral services, Steve was able to calm Bucky down. Winnie had called Elizabeth to let her know that the burial services the next day were officially going to be private. Liz agreed that that'd be best for everyone involved. Especially with what happened during the funeral services.

The burial service was only attended by Bucky, and his family, along with Elizabeth and Steve.

Everything went along smoothly. Everyone giving Bucky the safe space to grieve.

After the burial, everyone gave Bucky a few moments alone at the grave site so he can say his final goodbyes.

"Hey Nat," he pauses taking a deep breath, "these last two weeks haven't been the easiest. But boy have they been amazing. I may be more exhausted than I've ever been, but boy is she worth it.

"She may only be two weeks but I can already tell she's going to be the most amazing person ever," he softly cries, "You would've loved her so much. But like I promised back at the hospital, she'll never not know who her mother was. I will always make sure she knows who you were. Always."

"Goodbye Natasha," he whispered, before walking away to join his family waiting.

Age: 26

Location: Brooklyn, NY

Year: 2020

"Daddy, what's this?" Poppy calls out to her father from his bedroom.

"What's what petal?" He asked walking into the room, finding her surrounded by boxes, as they prep for their move uptown.

"This," she holds up the small necklace with the 'N'.

Bucky kept that necklace in a small box in his nightstand. He kept it at the bottom of his nightstand for safe keepings. Planning on one day to give it to his daughter. He always planned to wait until she was 16, but he figures now is as good as ever.

"That was your mommy Natasha's," he said walking over to her, and sitting next to her on his bed, "She got it when she was 13, and wore it every day up until when she died."

"It's pretty," she says admiring it in her hands.

"It is isn't it," he smiles at his little girl, "It's now yours."

He grabs the necklace from her little hands. He unclasps it, then gently moves her dirty blonde hair to the side. He places the necklace around her neck, and clasps it shut.

"Thank-you daddy," she smiles brightly at her father, admiring the necklace that now lay on her chest.

Bucky smiled at his daughter, watching as she kept admiring the necklace. It was a little big on her, but he knew she would grow into it.

"Anything for you baby," he kisses the top of her head, "Anything."

63 notes · View notes

187days · 3 years

Text

Day Forty-Nine

I simultaneously love and hate the first Monday after Daylight Savings. I love that it’s not dark out when I go to work, but I hate that my brain is convinced I’m running late because it’s not dark out when I go to work. It had me all out of sorts this morning.

So, y’know, it was a perfect morning to get observed Block 1!

Actually, it was fine. It was just Ms. H observing me, so it wasn’t for my professional evaluation or anything like that. Of course, it’s still important because I want to set a good example for the new teacher, but I’ve had new teachers observing me since my second year of teaching, so it isn’t a high pressure thing at all. It’s just part of what I do.

It’s the start of a new unit in World, but since it’s the start of a new quarter, too, I began class by asking my students to write me a quick reflection: what went well Q1, what did they enjoy, what was difficult, what are their goals for Q2. I gave them my thoughts on Q1, as well (basically, tons of compliments on how well it ended). After that, I went over the new unit vocab in my typical, old school fashion (board notes). Usually, students will ask a lot more questions than they did during Block 1 this morning, but they might’ve been out of sorts like me, or nervous that another teacher was in the room. The students in the other two sections had a ton to say, though, so it balanced out.

My GOV students took a crack at an argument FRQ to start class- just for practice, not for a grade, since there’s a test coming up- and then I had them read a couple news articles relating to executive orders, administrative adjudication, and oversight- all concepts I taught them about last week. I always like to link the things I teach to current events so students can see the application. They read while I marked their FRQs, then we discussed everything for the last 15 minutes or so. So that was good.

The day didn’t end of a high note, unfortunately. I have a student who’s either been disrupting class or skipping class most days. I thought we were making progress, but now it feels like we’re back to square one. Mrs. F, the student’s counselor, asked if it would be better for the student to drop my class and enroll in something they could pass and get credit for this quarter instead- try again with World next semester, or even next year- and that’s a question I almost never say yes to.

But this time I did.

Nothing I’m doing is working, and I’ve been teaching long enough to know that sometimes it’s just like that. No teacher is the right match for every single student, sometimes there are things outside our control that prevent students from being able to engage in their learning, etc, etc... I know this happens. I’ve even counseled newer teachers through it when it’s happened to them.

It doesn’t make it feel any less lousy, though.

#teaching #teachblr #edublr #educhums #education #teacher #high school #social studies #Ms. H #Mrs. F #daylight savings #day forty nine #I got observed today

23 notes · View notes

inkofamethyst · 2 years

Text

January 20, 2022

Update: math actually sucks and I’m glad to be done with it. I can say “oh I love problem solving and applying things I’ve learned to new situations” till I’m blue in the face but my true feelings are hiding just beneath the surface and make themselves known as soon as I encounter a problem that is ever so mildly more difficult than anything I’ve done before. [my sister needed help with test corrections and they were hard (I mean I eventually figured it out but only after giving up lol)]

Okay but,,, Lin Manuel Miranda, am I right?

Listen. That guy has such a talent for writing musical lines that go on top of one another and build with each other and are separate but flow into and out of one another’s orbits and it’s just kind of incredible. You can switch between listening to each line individually like changing television stations or you can have them all going at once like you’re listening to four different youtube videos simultaneously but they all line up at certain parts. Like, I remember doing that one song before the Big Fight in West Side Story and thinking that was cool. Two summers later I heard Non-Stop for the first time and haven’t been the same since. We Don’t Talk About Bruno? Incredible. I’m sure In the Heights had an example of this too but I can’t recall specifics.

What’s interesting is that concert band/orchestral(/chamber choir too, apparently) music does this type of thing all the time, but the tricky part is the addition of words. In band, different instruments have different voices, sure, but adding words can make things muddy (I have personal experience with this through singing warmup rounds at choir practices last sem ugh). Miranda’s music is clean.

Anyway I’m gearing up for next semester (yknow, setting up Notion, clearing out Notability, etc), and I have a look at my schedule and come to find out that I’m taking the less favored prof for both biochem 2 and physics 2 which is lovely (I can tell based on who has the most seats left open lol). Frankly, I chose to stick with the same phys prof because even though he can’t teach I a) don’t want any classes before 11a this sem, b) want as many of my classes as possible to be back to back instead of having a gaping 2-hour hole between them, and c) got an A in his class last sem despite being frustrated and fed up the whole time so it probably will be annoying but at least it’ll be annoying in a way that I expect. The only reason I’m taking that biochem 2 prof is because the other one conflicts with my anth class.

Speaking of anth,,,,, I’ve been stressing over the past few weeks bc I couldn’t figure out exactly when the right time would be to send the anth prof an email checkup of like “heyyy I know I’m supposed to TA for you,, are we still cool for that?” because I didn’t wanna be too forward but then it got to the point where I’d waited too long to follow up in my opinion and I was also stressing bc I’ve got the whole imposter syndrome thing climbing up my throat again like bile (you know how it is) and it’s been absolutely paralyzing and the first day of his class is this Tuesday and then today he just goes and sends a casual little email today and is all like “excited to have u as a uta :) also meet ur co-uta she’s been working with me for a bit :)” and honestly that made me feel a little bit calmer. That’s what I’m thankful for today. That my fears were unfounded (and that, so far, everything seems to be turning out alright), as they so often are.

Last thing: It’s a crazy thing to be involved on campus. Over the past few days I’ve received emails from almost all of my major orgs about kickoff meetings and jazz and it’s kinda wild. That said, seeing the email from the orchestra reminded me that there was one primary goal which I did not complete at all: practicing the concert music. Not once. I completed the waistcoat and walking skirt (which I took out for their first spin today actually and it was fabulous (if I get some American Duchesses the skirt length will be perfect)), started on another top instead of the mauve one bc I need to figure out sleeve length stuff (might be able to finish it before I go back), finished my mom’s dress, started Ni No Kuni and Shadow of the Colossus pieces, and started working on my summer plans. So while I didn’t complete everything, I did do quite a bit, and I’m proud of what I was able to accomplish.

6 notes · View notes

fluorescentbrains · 3 years

Note

I am officially giving in to my impulse to watch supernatural, but like I don't think i can do fifteen seasons, so I'm looking for advice. I watched the first couple of seasons like, years ago, but i am basically only coming back because of the deancas fandom on tumblr these past few weeks. do you have any seasons you would start with, any episodes i should watch, etc.

dkjasjldfdklsfdlk like 2 years ago i was working on a list of spn episodes that would omit a lot of the bad writing and filler. i only made it to season 7 but i’ll drop the draft under the cut and maybe i’ll finish the rest of it after the semester is over

seasons 1-3

ok so the thing about the early seasons is that spn is an evolving beast. this is part of what makes the show fascinating and compelling, but it also makes binge watching it weird as hell. it was a very different show in 2005 than it is today in 2018 (holy shit). the tone is different, the monsters are different, even the way the show LOOKS visually is very different. it’s also much less focused on an overarching plot and the episodes tend to be more self-contained, so you can safely skip many of them.

full disclosure: i actively dislike the early seasons because i think they’re dank and dark and ugly as hell, so i have little memory of the episodes i’m about to recommend to you here lmao. some people feel the exact opposite and will tell you that the only time spn was actually any good was in its first couple of seasons and it’s sucked ever since. and i will concede that the early seasons might, technically, be “good.” however, they are not valid. ahem. anyway:

season 1 - meet the winchesters

*1x01, Pilot. it sucks imo but it’s the pilot

1x09, Home. missouri mosely is in this one, but it can be skipped if you’re in a rush

1x11, Scarecrow. meg’s first appearance

1x12, Faith. this episode gets referenced often and is a significant one for The Brothers.

*1x14, Nightmare. sam has plotty visions

*1x16, Shadow. john returns and so does meg

1x17, Hell House. the tulpa episode and the first appearance of the ghostfacers. skippable, but why would you

1x18, Something Wicked. john is not a good father

the final three episodes of the season set up the plot for season 2, so they’re worth watching if you want to know what’s going on.

season 2 - a conga line of demon deals, part i

*2x01, In My Time of Dying. picks up where the final of season 1 left off. tessa’s first appearance

2x02, Everybody Loves a Clown. ellen harvelle’s first appearance

*2x05, Simon Said. sam’s powers are partially explained

2x08, Crossroad Blues. first appearance of hellhounds

*2x10, Hunted. continues sam’s psychic children arc from 2x05

2x14, Born Under a Bad Sign. feat. jo and meg. if you like jo watch 2x06

*2x15, Tall Tales. first appearance of gabriel, currently masquerading as a trickster god

the last two episodes make up a two-parter finale that pulls together the plot and sets up for season 3, so probably watch those

season 3 - a conga line of demon deals, part ii

*3x01, The Magnificent Seven. who let the demons out? (woof woof)

*3x02, The Kids Are Alright. first appearance of lisa braeden and ruby

3x04, Sin City. ruby antics; the colt is introduced

*3x09, Malleus Maleficarum. the ruby backstory episode

3x10, Dream a Little Dream of Me. the bobby backstory episode. if you like bela, watch 3x03 and 3x06 too, and make sure to hit up 3x15

*3x11, Mystery Spot. gabriel returns to torment the winchesters. simultaneously one of the funniest and most brutal episodes of spn, has been HEAVILY memed, definitely watch this one

3x12, Jus in Bello. bela is there, ruby is there. if you like henrikson, go back and watch 2x12 and 2x19

3x13, Ghostfacers. gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day

*3x16, No Rest for the Wicked. it’s the finale, duh

seasons 4-5

seasons 4 and 5 are when shit starts getting cosmic, with the show actively working towards an endgame. more episodes are tying into the plot as opposed to being stand alone monster-of-the-week. but the most important thing is that castiel is finally, finally gonna grace your screen

season 4 - gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day, part i

*4x01, Lazarus Rising. pamela barnes’ first appearance. cas walks in lookin like a bird of paradise

4x02, Are You There, God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. cas crashes dean’s dreams

*4x03, In the Beginning. a time travel episode; mary and john’s backstory

4x06, Yellow Fever. dean catches ghost flu and it gives him anxiety

*4x07, It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester. uriel appears, calls humans “mud monkeys,” plans to smite whole town

4x08, Wishful Thinking. the one with the teddy bear. skippable, i included it for the memes

*4x09, I Know What You Did Last Summer. anna appears

*4x10, Heaven and Hell. the angel drama from last episode continues

4x14, Sex and Violence. the one where dean is manipulated by a male siren. can be skipped but it’s insane so why would you

*4x15, Death Takes a Holiday. tessa and pamela return

*4x16, On The Head of a Pin. dean’s hell trauma episode. cas takes a step towards rebellion. definitely recommend watching this one, but big TW for torture

4x17, It’s a Terrible Life. the one where dean drinks health shakes

*4x18, The Monster at the End of This Book. the chuck episode

yeah, you’re gonna wanna watch the whole rest of the season, basically. it’s all relevant and for the most part pretty engaging

season 5 - team free will

*5x01, Sympathy for the Devil. cas’s first death, but far from his last. chuck returns and becky rosen the wincest shipper (yes, really) debuts

*5x02, Good God, Y’all. cas searches for god, the harvelles return

*5x03, Free To Be You and Me. funny and sweet, with cas and dean both showing their softer sides, destiel stans do NOT skip this one

*5x04, The End. absolutely depressing as fuck but you gotta. also, pink satiny panties

5x08, Changing Channels. the one with dr sexy. gabriel returns. as funny as mystery spot but less brutal, 10/10 do recommend

5x09, The Real Ghostbusters. the one where they go to a spn fan convention

*5x10, Abandon All Hope... crowley’s first appearance

*5x13, The Song Remains the Same. another time travel episode. anna breaks bad

5x14, My Bloody Valentine. equal parts goofs and tremendous gore, feat. naked cupid and a horseman of the apocalypse

*5x15, Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid. jody’s debut episode

5x17, 99 Problems. the whore of babylon and a drunk cas. lisa reappears

*5x18, Point of No Return. “i gave everything for you.”

*5x19, Hammer of the Gods. lucifer comes for the pagan gods, gabriel “dies”

*5x21, Two Minutes to Midnight. the conga line of demon deals marches on

*5x22, Swan Song. the apocalypse

seasons 6-7

the apocalypse has been averted, but the ever-present threat of cancellation hasn’t. spn attempts to find a new path after the conclusion of the apocalypse arc, with mixed results. personally i’m just glad the sets are properly lit now

season 6 - a burning ring of fire

there’s some shit with like.... the brothers’ grandpa in this season that basically doesn’t matter and is never mentioned again so just don’t worry about it

*6x01, Exile on Main Street. sets up the season, so you should probably watch

6x02, Two and a Half Men. the bros take care of a baby

*6x03, The Third Man. cas returns, we meet balthazar

6x04, Weekend at Bobby’s. not essential but a good episode that focuses almost entirely on bobby

6x07, Family Matters. watch to find out what the heck is going on with sam

*6x10, Caged Heat. meg is back and she’s hitting on cas

*6x11, Appointment in Samarra. ooooooooooo death

*6x12, Like a Virgin. introduces eve

6x15, The French Mistake. the one where they go to our universe and spn is just a television show. on par with mystery spot and changing channels, do recommend

*6x17, My Heart Will Go On. cas breaks all the rules

*6x19, Mommy Dearest. a plotty episode about eve and her diabolical schemes

*6x20, The Man Who Would Be King. “we can fix this, cas” “dean, it’s not broken!”

6x21, Let It Bleed. the dean/lisa subplot comes to an end

*6x22, The Man Who Knew Too Much. the one where cas becomes god

season 7 - gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day, part ii

*7x01, Meet the New Boss. cas fucks up big time

*7x02, Hello Cruel World. sera gamble fucks up big time. also, jody is back

7x04, Defending Your Life. watch if you miss jo

*7x09, How to Win Friends and Influence Monsters. the one where the leviathans are capitalism

7x10, Death’s Door. the one where bobby dies but won’t move on

7x11, Adventures in Babysitting. sam meets krissy chambers. skippable, but in this house we love & support krissy chambers

7x15, Repo Man. this one is technically skippable but it goes so hard and the twist is so fucked up i recommend it anyway

*7x17, The Born-Again Identity. cas returns to save the show from cancellation yet again. i actually kind of hate this episode lol but there are reasons why it sucks--the backstage antics behind it are insane and some... Things... were cut. i recommend reading what this post has to say about it

7x18, Party On, Garth. absolutely not required viewing but nice if you need some comic relief in this shitstorm of a season

7x20, The Girl With The Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo. charlie bradbury’s first episode!

*7x21, Reading is Fundamental, Kevin’s first episode. also features “crazy!cas,” a concept which is about as horrendously executed as you might imagine. just grin and bear it, it does get better

the final two episodes wrap up the season and set up season 8, so do watch them

#Anonymous

103 notes · View notes

thesewordsareallihavetogive · 4 years

Text

I Used To Call You Home - Isaac Lahey x Reader

(gif source)

Summary: Isaac comes back from France after two years after leaving without saying a word. (Requested by anon: Could I have a teen wolf Isaac Lacey imagine where he comes back from France? It’s angsty but has a happy ending)

Word Count: 2660

Warnings: angst, fluff, cursing (what else is new)

a/n: hi! sorry this took so long, thanks for sending in the request anon! if i’m being completely honest i kinda like the title more than i like the actual fic (oops). but hopefully you like it and i did it justice! as always, please message me if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

masterlist

It was the last day of y/n’s first semester of college. It had gone by in a blur, really. The pack, y/n included, had still been recovering from everything that had happened with the hunters back in Beacon Hills, so to say her mind was elsewhere at the beginning of the semester was an understatement. She had finished all of her finals the day before so technically she could have already gone back to Beacon Hills, but given that her family all but disowned her when they found out she hung around with the “freaks” of the town, she wasn’t exactly eager to go home. When Scott’s mom found out that y/n was planning on staying on campus for the break she graciously invited the y/h/c to stay with them for the holidays. While y/n was looking forward to spending time with her found family, she found that now, with her classes over and almost a month of nothing ahead of her, she had more time to think about things than she’d like.

Despite her efforts, her thoughts always wandered back to him. The one that got away. If one could even call it that, technically they were never together. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less - in fact, maybe it made it hurt more - when he left without so much as a goodbye. y/n was packing up the last of her clothes for the break when her phone rang. When she saw the name, she could’ve sworn that her heart dropped through the floor.

Isaac.

She almost didn’t answer. She would’ve been smart not to, considering all the pain he caused her. But something inside her - the part that still loved him with every fiber of her being - told her to pick up the phone. The line was silent for a moment before she worked up the courage to say something.

“Hello?” y/n began timidly. Another beat of silence passed and she wondered if he’d called her by mistake. Or worse, as a joke. She heard him clear his throat and she let out a silent gasp as he answered.

“Hi… I’m… I’m at the airport, could you come pick me up?” Isaac said shyly. y/n could’ve been knocked over with a feather in her state of shock. He’s here. He’s in California. He’s home. On his end of the line, Isaac was almost sure that she’d hung up on him based on the lengthy silence that followed after he spoke. Though she couldn’t see him y/n knew that he was scratching the back of his neck, the way he always did when he was unsure or nervous. Before she could give herself a chance to be bitter, to be sad and resentful, to leave him hanging just like he did to her, she said yes. She was almost as shocked by her answer as Isaac was.

“Okay… um, yeah, I’ll be there soon. Give me like 45 minutes?” she stumbled over her words as she pressed her phone between her ear and shoulder while rushing around her room to pack the last things she’d need while back in Beacon Hills.

“Great, no rush. I can’t wait to see you, y/n,” Isaac smiled warmly before hanging up the phone. y/n stood still in the middle of her room, surrounded by sweaters and leggings with her mouth wide open. I can’t wait to see you, she repeated in her head.

“Fuck me,” she murmured under her breath as she shoved the last few items in her bag. “So much for moving on,” she muttered to herself, shutting and locking her door behind her as she left.

The drive to the airport from y/n’s college campus really wasn’t too far, much to her dismay. Sure, she was eager to see Isaac, but she was definitely not looking forward to confronting the feelings she’d been avoiding for years. As she pulled off the interstate she had to remind herself that they’d been friends since they were in middle school. They knew each other like the back of their hands. Well, they used to know each other anyways. She reminded herself that he always had her back and she always had his. Until of course, he left. No matter what she thought about, it always seemed to come back to that. He left home. He left the pack. He left her. There were some days it made her so angry that she could cry - so she did - but today it was more of a low simmer with the potential to burst at any moment.

The moment y/n pulled up to the terminal it all seemed to fade away. The hurt, the anger, the sadness, gone. Just like that. It didn’t take long after she parked to find him in the crowd. Her blue-eyed, six-foot-two scarf-wearing best friend stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd of shorter travelers. Her breath hitched in her throat when they locked eyes through the window. As far as she was concerned, the rest of the world ceased to exist in that moment because all she could see was Isaac striding towards her car with multiple bags in hand. She snapped out of her daze and nearly tripped over her feet as she rounded the car to greet him and help him with his things.

Before she could say anything Isaac haphazardly dropped his bags on the ground, the safety of his belongings be damned, and wrapped his arms around her in a tight bear hug. A million scenarios had gone through y/n’s mind on the ride over but this was not one of them. Isaac buried his face deeper into her neck as y/n finally came out of her state of shock and returned the hug.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered quietly. His breath was warm, much warmer than the uncharacteristically frigid December night, and it sent a warm tingle down her spine. I missed you so much. God, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She was convinced it had to be a joke, this whole thing was playing out as if she hadn’t spent an entire year putting the pieces he’d left her in back together. The worst part was that she knew him leaving had nothing to do with her. He had never meant to hurt her and she knew it would kill him if he knew how badly he did. But, she decided, that was a conversation for when she wasn’t dangerously close to getting a parking ticket for being in the terminal pick-up for too long.

“I missed you too,” y/n replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Isaac was instantly able to tell something was bothering her.

“Hey,” he said with a concerned smile on his face. “What’s the matter?” He genuinely cared, y/n could tell that much. She would’ve felt bad lying to him if she knew she’d get away with it, but she knew he’d be able to tell the moment the words left her lips.

“I’m fine,” she replied with her lips pressed into a thin line and an expression that Isaac couldn’t quite read. He knew something was up, but he also knew y/n. The last thing she would want is to talk about whatever was bothering her in public, so he squeezed her arm gently before effortlessly picking up all three of his suitcases simultaneously to load them in the back of her car. They were quiet for the first few minutes of the drive and a silent understanding passed between them. A lot has changed. The silence remained until Isaac glanced away from the yellow street lights reflecting off the pavement to look at y/n. She’d grown a lot in the time since he’d last seen her; her hair was darker, the bags under her eyes had faded to a lighter color and her skin was clearer. He was almost too wrapped up in rememorizing her features that he didn’t see a small tear slip down her cheek, followed by another, this one larger and faster. Almost.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, worry etched all over his face as he gently placed a hand on her arm. If she was being completely honest, y/n hadn’t even realized she’d let the tears slip out until he said something. She glanced in the rear view mirror before quickly rubbing her face with the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt.

“What? Nothing. I’m fine,” she managed to say without her voice cracking. A small sniffle escaped but she never looked away from the road. At first Isaac was patient, he really tried to be anyway. He realized that after nearly two years of radio silence he didn’t have much of a right to come back and act like nothing had changed. But every being - supernatural or not - has their limits, so when y/n lied about her feelings for at least the second time that night, Isaac got tired of being patient.

“Pull over,” he ordered gently, looking at her expectantly and drumming his fingers on his thigh.

“What? No, I wanna get back ho- to Beacon Hills by a decent time,” she answered, only tearing her eyes away from the highway momentarily to try to read his face. He didn’t miss the way that she avoided calling Beacon Hills ‘home’ and that spurred him on even more.

“y/n, pull over, Please,” Isaac pleaded. y/n, who was really not in the mood to unpack her feelings this late at night, almost said no again. When she took in the soft look in his eyes though, she melted. Just like old times. She pulled off at the next exit and parked in the nearest well-lit area. The place was so quiet that it reminded her of a ghost town. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the pack’s encounter with the ghost riders. Boy, did they have a lot to catch him up on. They sat in silence again for a moment as y/n was nervously wringing her hands together in her lap while Isaac studied her face.

“What’s bothering you? Seriously? Do you know how much it kills me when you’re hurting?” he asked sincerely. y/n let out a small chuckle at that. If only he knew. She thought about deflecting again but she knew that would accomplish nothing and he’d keep them there until the early hours of the morning if she didn’t tell him what was on her mind.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” y/n murmured in a small voice. A beat of silence passed before she continued again. “I know why you left, I get that. I know you were hurting after Allison died. Hell, we all were,” y/n took long pauses every now and then and Isaac gave her all the time she needed. “I… fuck, Isaac, I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell you this,” her voice getting louder and gaining momentum with each word. Here goes nothing.

“I- I loved you, okay? I loved you and you just left without a single goodbye. I was stuck picking up the pieces of myself for almost a year and loving someone who was gone. I lost my best friend,” she rushed out before she lost the courage to say it all. “I still love you,” she whispered quietly. y/n refused to look towards her used-to-be best friend after her confession. She started to regret the words the minute she was enveloped in the silence that followed. Loved. Love. I still love you. The words rolled around in Isaac’s mind for a few moments. When they’d finally registered he lunged towards her, narrowly missing the center console as he gently grabbed her face and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. y/n honestly thought that he was going to get out of the car and walk back to Beacon Hills after her admission, so when he kissed her like he’d been waiting to for years she let out a surprised gasp and sat frozen for a moment. When she finally snapped out of her daze she returned the kiss with a newfound fervor as she threaded her fingers through his brown locks.

The pair only broke apart when their lungs were screaming for air, and by then the car windows had managed to fog up a little. y/n smiled sheepishly at Isaac, who wore a grin big enough to crack his face in two. She looked down to her lap shyly as she chuckled.

“So…” she trailed off, a little bit lost for words.

“So…” Isaac mimicked, a playful look in his eyes as a smirk danced across his face. y/n rolled her eyes and playfully slapped his arm.

“Be nice to me, I could’ve let your ass freeze outside the airport,” she retorted, followed by a very mature display of sticking her tongue out at him.

“Oh, I think I was very nice to you,” Isaac wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. y/n groaned but nonetheless smiled at his boyish nature. The two years apart hadn’t harmed his sense of humor and y/n was grateful for that, maybe just as grateful as she was to have him back home. A few short but sweet kisses were exchanged before y/n drove back towards the highway. It wasn’t until they were nearing the exit leading to Beacon Hills that y/n realized she didn’t know where she was taking Isaac.

“Hey, umm, where are you staying?” she asked as she flicked on her blinker before merging into the right lane. Isaac looked at her like she’d grown two heads.

“With you, to Scott’s place,” he answered, confusion written all over his face. y/n’s jaw dropped and she tried her hardest to keep from swerving off the road.

“So they knew you were coming! And they conveniently forgot to tell me! And you conveniently needed me to pick you up from the airport! What the hell?!” she ranted. Truly, y/n was far too giddy from their earlier kiss to be angry with her friends, but the little plot they had orchestrated definitely had her brainstorming ways to get back at them. Even though Isaac was unaware that the pack had kept y/n in the dark, he found her outburst a bit amusing. During the remainder of the drive to the McCall house they alternated between playful bickering and laughing at each other’s stories from the past two years.

When y/n and Isaac pulled into the driveway they sat there for a moment, basking in the warm feeling of each other's presence. The air between them was quiet for a moment before Isaac broke the silence.

“You know, there’s something I meant to say earlier,” he began as he slowly leaned toward her.

“And what would that be?” y/n asked playfully as her eyes danced around his face.

“I love you too,” he murmured sweetly before pressing his lips against hers. Joy swelled in y/n’s chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. After they pulled away y/n nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Scott, Stiles, and Lydia standing only a few feet away from the front of her car. Both of the boys wore knowing smirks and Lydia was swatting Stiles’s arm.

“I knew it! I knew it!” the red head squealed. Isaac chuckled as y/n’s cheeks began to burn bright red. She buried her face in his chest and he rested his chin atop her head, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair.

“I think this might have been part of their plan, too,” he whispered with a smirk.

a/n: if you saw me using italics 534988 times in this post, no u didn’t ❤

join my tag list!

tag list: @linkpk88

#isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey fanfic #isaac lahey fanfiction #isaac lahey x y/n #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf imagine #isaac x reader #isaac x y/n #isaac fanfiction #isaac fanfic #isaac lahey

262 notes · View notes

bastardtetsu · 4 years

Text

critical thinking | ch①

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 1.9k

warnings: swearing, being a theatre major

※ mlist | ● ② ③ ④

you knew it was a dumb bitch move to procrastinate on your science requirement.

trying to schedule gen-eds around the demanding requirements of your theatre degree was already a nightmare, and your aversion to maths and sciences makes it even more difficult to find classes that both fit in your schedule AND don’t make you want to actively drop out of school. you weren’t sure why you thought putting off your one and only science credit until your final semester was going to solve any of that. so, you couldn’t be shocked when your only option to graduate on time ended up being 9am chemistry 1. on a monday, no less.

the first class is just as bad as you expect. the lecture drags on for ages, and as much as you will your sleepy morning brain to wrap your head around the concepts being thrown at you, no amount of caffeine, color-coded notes, or mental gymnastics can ford the river of brain-muddling frustration standing between you and a passing grade - the one you need to graduate.

panic begins to set in as you visualize all the hard work you put into your degree rendered useless, all because of a class that doesn’t even have to do with your field of study. who decided there had to be a science requirement anyway? i don’t need fucking chemistry to get a theatre degree??

“if you’re having trouble with anything,” your professor announces, bringing your attention back to the lecture that's finally wrapping up, “the tutoring center on campus is a great resource. i also hold office hours at the times listed on the syllabus. that’s our time for today folks, have a good week.”

you check the syllabus - all of the professor’s office hours conflict with your other classes, of course. asking your classmates is out of the question, seeing as you’re the lone arts major in a sea of STEM and pre-med. as annoying as it is to have to add another item to your schedule, tutoring seems like the only option if you want any hope of graduating. luckily you have some time before your next class, so you pack up your things and head for the tutoring center.

you pray that a decent chem tutor is available during any of your limited free time as you approach the lady at the desk of the tutoring office. she informs you of several with hours later in the week, none of which align with your schedule, and one who is available for the next hour. you figure tutoring right after class isn’t a bad deal - especially considering it’s your only option. the woman gives you a classroom number and a name - kuroo tetsuro - and you set out.

it doesn’t take you long to find the right classroom, but you aren’t prepared for the sight that is waiting for you there. a strong jawline and a mess of black hair that appears to stick up on its own catch your eye first as he taps away at his phone screen, his bored slouch doing nothing to hide his imposing height.

“um... hi, kuroo?” you say tentatively. his eyes glance up from his phone, slightly startled.

“oh, hey,” he responds, sitting up a bit, “you here for tutoring?”

“i am,” you reply with a half smile, “y/n.”

“kuroo. nice to meet you, y/n,” he pulls out the chair next to him as an invitation, “what year are you?”

“i’m a senior,” you say as you make your way over and sit down, “i’m in chem 1.” he definitely seems taller up close, even sitting down.

“chem 1? as a senior?” he asks derisively, his lips curling into a smirk. embarrassment and annoyance shoot through your chest.

“i’m a theatre major, alright,” you respond dryly, “i’m just trying to get my science credit and go.”

“left it ‘til the last minute, huh?” that smirk is still on his face.

“yeah, not my best decision,” you reply, trying not to let your annoyance seep through, “but i’m just trying to pass this class so i can graduate.”

“well, hopefully i can help with that,” he says smugly, “i may be a lowly business major, but i’m pretty good with chem if i do say so myself.”

a business major. of course. you’re familiar with the future capitalist machinery of the business school from your limited experience with the frat parties they so densely populated. needless to say, the impression was not good.

“so what do you need help with?”

“um...” you pondered, “all of it?” he snickered.

“you’re gonna have to be more specific if you wanna get anywhere.” his tone is dripping with amusement. is he trying to piss you off?

“ugh,” you let out an exasperated grunt, suddenly averse to showing any kind of weakness to this jerk. you pull out your notebook and flip to the page where you had attempted to take notes earlier. “this stuff.”

he leans over to take a look at your notes, and as his eyes scan the page you suddenly notice his smell - some fancy-smelling cologne with like, sandalwood or some shit - and his strong but elegant bone structure. i could cut myself on those cheekbones, you think.

“these notes are terrible.”

annnndddd he ruined it.

“well i can’t exactly take good notes if i have no clue what’s going on,” you counter, “isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me with?”

“i can try,” he says with an amused grin, “but I’ve never seen someone struggle this much with the basics on day one.”

now, you could put up with a lot of shit, but the one thing you cannot stand is being condescended to. especially not by some egotistical capitalist fucker who barely knows you.

“look,” you say pointedly, holding back the urge to throat punch him right then and there, “i’m really busy, and i just wanna pass this class, so if you could help me without being a dick about it i’d really appreciate it.”

“aw, but where’s the fun in that?”

his lips twist back into that patronizing smirk - he’s definitely trying to get a rise out of you.

“fuck off,” you say with a roll of your eyes, refusing to take his bait, “are you gonna teach me chemistry or not?”

he chuckles quietly again, thoroughly entertained. “sure. only because I’m so kind, and i could use the challenge.”

you scoff, but hold yourself back from retorting. you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

at first, it’s excruciating. you loathe this douchey business bro getting off on being condescending while explaining chemistry to you like you don’t understand anything - which, to be fair, you don’t. but that somehow makes you resent him more.

granted, once you actually get down to business, kuroo is actually a pretty good tutor. he’s not actively annoying when he’s actually trying to teach you something, and he’s surprisingly patient and good at breaking things down. dude is smart, there’s no denying that.

nevertheless, even when he’s not being snarky, every correction he makes seems to fluster you more. you hate looking stupid in front of others, and something about kuroo seems to amplify that feeling by a thousand. you blame his attitude.

as you fumble trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar numbers, symbols, & formulas, you’re simultaneously attempting to maintain a shred of dignity in front of this man who clearly thinks of you as the dumbest bitch on the planet. and the more you struggle, the more you worry he’s right.

“seeeee? i told you it wasn’t that hard!” he hums as you finish off another homework question you’d been struggling with. he can’t seem to praise you without being patronizing as fuck, either. you look up from your page momentarily to shoot him a glare.

frustration and embarrassment simmer inside of you with each of his snide remarks, but you hold yourself together and divert the attention back to studying each time. the restraint it takes not to deck him right in his pretty face is honestly deserving of a nobel peace prize.

“not bad,” he muses as you finally finish off the last of your homework, “and it only took you two and a half hours!”

“i’m floored,” you deadpan. your brain is too exhausted to formulate a more clever comeback. then you suddenly realize - “hang on... has it actually been two and a half hours? i thought you were only available for one??”

“technically,” he shrugs, “that’s when my tutoring hours end. but I wasn’t doing anything after, and you seemed like you needed the extra help.” that shitty smile is back. you can feel your blood boiling, but at the same time that... is actually pretty nice of him?

“ah... th-thanks,” you mumble, still resistant to showing any signs of weakness - much less gratitude - to the messy-haired prick.

“so, should i expect you back next week?” his stare reminds you of a cat sizing up its prey.

“uh... maybe,” you say. you honestly don’t have an answer yet. “i have to run though, i’ve got another class to get to.”

“don’t be a stranger,” he grins, “you’re gonna need a lot of help if you wanna graduate.”

you shoot him another glare as you swing your bag over your shoulder.

“i’ll think about it.”

he's still smirking at you as you walk out the door.

—

as much as you’d like to deny it, there’s not much to think about. none of the other chem tutors are available when you are, and there’s no way you’re passing the class without the extra help. and, as insufferable as he is, kuroo did help you get through your entire first week of homework successfully.

of course, you still resent having to rely on some nasty ass, pompous business major to mansplain chemistry to you every week so you can graduate. well, technically it’s not mansplaining since you don’t actually know anything about chemistry. and you technically also asked him to do it. but god, does he have to be such a dick about it??

it’s just an hour or two once a week, you reassure yourself, you can put up with it.

this is easier said than done, of course. the following monday, you begrudgingly approach the same classroom, empty except for one (1) chickenhead douchebag, who promptly stares you down with the most shiteating smile you’ve ever seen.

“oya oya~ look who decided to come back!” he croons.

“don’t flatter yourself, it’s not like I had much of a choice,” you respond flatly. why is he still looking at me with that dumb expression?

“true, there’s no way you’re passing on your own.”

“listen,” you reply pointedly, “some people have better things to do than worry about how many neutrons are on hydrogen or whatever”

“hydrogen doesn’t have any neutrons.”

“COOL!!!! i just want to graduate!!”

“well then you’re gonna need to know that hydrogen doesn’t have any neutr-”

“ALRIGHT, i got it,” you huff, “can you just… help me figure out this balancing equations shit? WITHOUT being an asshole about it?”

“hmm… sorry, i can only accept one request at a time.”

this is gonna be a long fucking semester.

a/n: eeeeee this is the first time i’ve actually wholeheartedly attempted to write a fic in lord knows how long (possibly ever?? idk them memories repressed) and my first time posting my own writing so i hope y’all like it !! everybody who’s ready to see me trash talk k*roo t*tsuro say way ho

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #.txt #e writes

105 notes · View notes

darkstem · 3 years

Text

A Note About School in Quarantine:

It’s okay if you’re doing shitty in school, it’s okay if you’re really struggling with your school work, it’s okay if right now you don’t love learning.

My spring 2021 semester went like this:

I registered for three classes, which were Anthropology, Calculus 1, and General Chemistry 1. For the first two and a half weeks, I was having a mental breakdown like every other day. I missed the drop period for classes only by a few days. I withdrew from Calculus 1 not even three weeks into the semester. It was just too much. I tried really hard to keep up with Anthro and Chem, but I was having a really hard time understanding things and focusing. I made it through midterms with both classes, but I was still struggling so much and I started having mental breakdowns again. I couldn’t finish the lectures on time and it was always a rush to finish all of the work, I was barely hanging on by a thread. I decided to withdraw from Chemistry too. This simultaneously felt like a big relief and a huge failure.

This puts me way behind on my transfer credits (I was already behind before this) and it may take me more than five total years to graduate with a bachelors.

I was venting to someone who asked about it recently and he said, “So you have a couple of w’s and you are behind on your transfer requirements? You are studying at one of the most stressful and demanding times of the last century kid! Cut yourself a little slack!”

My boss also told me that it took her seven years to graduate. As long as I keep going, no matter how slowly, I’ll get there.

My point is you are not a failure no matter what happened these last couple semesters. You are smart, you are strong, you are enough. And so am I. We will get through this together. You gotta do what you gotta do, even if you have to take a semester off or withdraw from a couple of classes. Its okay if you failed classes, that doesn’t make you stupid or any less ambitious. You and I, we will get through this.

You are important, remember to practice self care.

Yours affectionately,

Your Local Gay Hufflepuff 💛 💛 💛

13 notes · View notes

jackie-talks-about-starkid · 3 years

Text

Thoughts About StarKid, Theatre, and Money

StarKid is severely underlooked within the professional theatre industry as a viable source for providing theatrical entertainment and performing professional theatre worthy of artistic criticism.

Though the company has gained a significant amount of internet fame and name-recognition within the laymen theatre community over the past decade, their mode of production and artistic work has gone undocumented by the greater professional theatre culture and been either flat-out ignored or deemed not worthy of taking the time of noting in academic journals or wide-reaching theatre influencers. While watching the evolution of their productions throughout this semester and tying my recent rewatching experiences with my personal knowledge and history of StarKid as a theatre company, I’ve come to the (easily reachable) conclusion that the only reason as to why more production companies do not take after StarKid’s multimedia, digital-heavy access to theatre is a combination of the desire for capitalist gain and the elitism that accompanies modern-day theatre culture. I’ve outlined both positive and negative points of comparison for StarKid Productions and traditional, commercial musical theatre, such as one sees on Broadway or the West End, to simply sum up my overall final thoughts regarding the work I’ve done in analyzing how StarKid produces their shows and hope that in some way, the points I’ve made will impact at least how one other person sees theatre from now on.

Before theatre was about the best way to make the most money, which in relation to the rest of human history is a fairly new development, theatre was simply about providing entertainment. Because StarKid emphasizes artistic value and the enjoyment of their audience upon watching their productions, StarKid Productions has become successful in a way that no modern commercial theatre company is currently (there’s a reason why there are blogs like mine dedicated to StarKid Productions and not the Shubert Organization or regional companies like the Los Angeles Theatre Center). The reason why theatre kids (and I mean kids in the colloquial sense of the term-StarKid has fans in all age demographics) appreciate StarKid so much and allow them to continue making musicals so successfully is because of the combination of their dedication to access and good content. That does not mean to say that StarKid is perfect by any means; they are, in fact, people too. It just goes to show that theatre does not have to live in the exclusive little bubble that it’s built for itself within the past hundred years or so. I think that within the next hundred years, as theatre evolves and thrives in various corners of the globe throughout whatever our society throws at it *cough* Covid *cough*, theatrical content creators will look back at StarKid and think, “Wow, I wish I would have done that first!”, not because they would have made a fortune but because they would have made art.

StarKid

Negatives

Modems (rip) and other tech issues

Camera lens chooses perspective of audience, taking away individual viewer’s experience of choosing who/what/where to look at in any given moment

Still a developing area for theatre-what are the protections for content producers

Can online performances be equity? Can equity members perform in non-equity online performances (like performances during Covid in which little to no actors are currently working or making enough money to balance out what their wages would have been if Covid did not impact their work)?

Should payment be different? Production costs are generally lower but people still need to make a living

To what amount can the community control the distribution of other people’s IP? Live theatre already debates the negatives and positives of bootlegs. Providing theatre online for free and to purchase lessens bootlegging and increases audience accessibility but opens up opportunities for people to take advantage of online creators and the content they put out. Anybody can transcribe an online production, perform it either online or in-person, and charge tickets for people to see that production, but because it was transcribed from a production and not licensed, no money goes back to the creator which prevents the creator for making more of their accessible content

Positives

Accessibility

People in different geographical locations can access the same production as people experiencing it live

Online performances generally cost less to view online

Travelling is not always an option for viewing theatre-some people don’t have the financial ability to travel to places where a specific production is being performed

Physical and mental disabilities-not all theatres are physically accessible for people with wheelchairs, eyesight issues, hearing issues, or people with invisible disabilities (MS, chronic migraines) that are unable to sit in the average theatre seat for the length of a production. People with emotional anxiety, spatial anxiety, or sensitivity issues (ex. autism) may find live theatre too overwhelming to attend. Any person with a physical or mental health issue that has the financial ability to attend a live performance may find purchasing a ticket or making travel plans too risky because health issues can happen at any time and canceling tickets and reservations at the last minute is difficult at best, especially when one is dealing with the added stress of coping with a health issue

Less elitism

The lack of accessibility has created a culture of elitism in theatre. People with more financial ability or people with higher professional education in theatre have more access to experiencing live theatre, making traditional commercial theatre, like Broadway and the West End, only available to a small percentage of the theatre community.

Rewatching

It’s just nice to be able to rewatch a live performance for fun

Rewatching for academic purposes!

Free or significantly reduced price

Negative: Risk of price gouging for online performances and non-explicit processing fees

Live performances are also at more reasonable prices - average highest value Starkid ticket that includes set tours and meet & greets are still less expensive than the average cheapest ticket on the commercial theatre market for Broadway or off-Broadway, which averages at $79

Commercial Theatre

Negatives: ACCESSIBILITY IN ALL FORMS

Extremely limited accessibility for people with financial burdens

Buying theatre tickets shouldn’t require hours of research searching for the best prices so that you can go to a single performance (ex. 5 Ways to Buy Affordable Theatre Tickets https://www.playbill.com/article/5-ways-to-buy-affordable-theatre-tickets, http://www.broadwayforbrokepeople.com/, https://www.cheaptheatretickets.com/, https://officiallondontheatre.com/tkts/, https://www.todaytix.com/)

Many of these websites and third-party apps charge high fees for discounted tickets that make the cheaper ticket only $15-30 cheaper than a direct purchase from the theatre)

Outdated accessibility for people with physical and mental health issues, etc.

Programs like the Theatre Development Fund and theatre-specific programs at the Segerstrom in LA, the Kennedy Center in Washington DC, West End productions run by the Society of London Theatre, etc. are not commonplace and offer very limited performance dates

Not all audience members are respectful of live performances-talking, loud drinking/eating, etc.

Lack of accessibility provides incentive for people to make bootlegs that creators (actors, crew, directors, writers, composers) do not get any share of profit from. Producers have more to financially gain from a production than the average actor so making an illegal bootleg instead of a professional recording takes away an opportunity for a performer to make more money and get more financial recognition for their work

Cultural accessibility (see “Less Elitism” point in StarKid positives)

Historically disenfranchised groups have less access to live theatre because of social and financial burdens on top of mental and physical health issues that they get disproportionately less treatment for which would allow wealthier people with more access to healthcare attend the theatre more comfortably

Positives

Cultural capital!

Concentrated production areas in urban settings, regional or otherwise, give money back to the performance community in that area and boost the general economy by providing cultural centers in areas that rely on tourism for cashflow. It also legitimizes the production value of performances available in that geographic location by working with the given environment to create a culturally-specific niche for that location’s theatre scene (ex. The MUNY is St. Louis, The La Jolla Playhouse in California, Hartford Stage in Connecticut, etc. http://lort.org/theatres)

The live experience

Live theatre is simultaneously an individual and group experience. Each person attending a production interprets the performance differently and physically experiences the environment in ways unique from other audience members by sitting in different areas closer to/farther from/in different angles from the stage, lights, speakers, etc. Yet, the audience as a whole experiences the same unique production all at the same time, witnessing acting choices, understudies and standbys, or even stage mishaps all at once that a different performance of the same exact production may not have. The energy of a live performance in any venue changes with each performance and physical environment.

48 notes · View notes

monster-bait · 4 years

Text

Monster Match: Ermir the Javelin Sand Boa Naga; M Naga x FTM Human, NSFW

Monster Match for @aime-801 I am a trans-male (ftm), looking for NSFW male match. I am fairly quiet and withdrawn, my hobbies are writing and drawing, and my passion in life is programming. I like to stay inside most of the time, but my favourite life experience was feeling the wind as I wrote the next chapter of a love story on top of a Welsh mountain I climbed. My ideal partner is someone who I can talk honestly to, who respects my quirks and interests that I'm self-conscious about.

The mountains were beautiful from a distance.

You found yourself staring at the hills often during the day, their uneven terrain looking lush and green from your seat in a lecture hall, or from your favorite window seat at the little cafe in town, tucked out of the way. You were able to lose yourself in a good stare, unworried about people thinking you were inadvertently staring at them, as had happened on more than one occasion previously, for the landscape was wide and inviting and perfectly worthy of your attention.

You were not enjoying climbing them nearly as much.

The flyer had been posted on the board inside the cafe’s doorway, alongside others advertising rooms for rent, used books, and private tutors. It had stood out amongst the others, catching your attention instantly: a silhouette of the mountains, rendered in long, graceful brushstrokes above a curling logo.

Stormwind Studios — Private study available

It was less of an ad and more of an announcement, and you liked the quiet confidence of the cornflower blue design. Snapping a picture of the ad with your phone, you left the cafe that afternoon with a sight spring in your step, heading home to the university flat you shared with three other students.

You’d been in Wales for two semesters at that point, although it may as well have been just a few days, for as social as you’d been. Tashsa was from Brixton, was loud and outgoing and, upon meeting her flatmates, had immediately decided that you and Benji, a quiet Glaswegian who kept to himself nearly as much as you did, were not worth her time. She stayed almost exclusively with her boyfriend, leaving your flat quiet, which suited you just fine. You preferred the quiet, liked staying indoors to work on your art or writing, enjoyed losing yourself in a videogame more than you enjoyed the prospect of a noisy pub.

Your parents had hoped university life would have brought you out of your shell a bit more, but if anything, it reinforced the reality that you were quite happy with your own company. Coming out to your family and loved ones had been hard, even though you suspected it hadn’t exactly been a shock to some of them. You’d never felt comfortable in your skin growing up, had always felt as though you were living someone else’s life. Since coming out as trans and taking steps to assert your new identity, things had been better, and moving away from home for the first time for university was a chance for a fresh start: a new you, the real you.

The real you was just as shy and withdrawn as the old you, it turned out, but you were happy.

The notion of private study in an actual art studio was wildly appealing. You loved art, loved to draw and paint, and wanted to improve your skills...but your major was your priority, and ate up the bulk of your class schedule, leaving room for little else. You loved computers, loved learning the language of data and machines, and were happy with your chosen field...but you wished you had more time for your creative pursuits. There was plenty of time on the weekends, when you weren’t joining your classmates on noisy pub crawls or house parties, you thought, and going to a studio might force you out of your shell.

“This is Ermir.”

You’d been unprepared for the rich, lightly accented voice that answered the phone, deep and dark like a particularly decadent chocolate, and stood dumbfounded and silent until he spoke again.

“Y-yes! Hi, um...hello. I-I’m calling about the ad? For the art studio?”

The reverberation of his chuckle could be felt through the phone, shivering down your back and heating your core. You sagged against the battered formica countertop as he continued, and tried to keep your composure.

“Ah, yes! You saw the flyer, I take it? I am offering private instruction in my studio, on Thursdays or Saturdays. Are you a beginning student?”

The cost he was asking was manageable, well within your budget with the money you saved by not going to the pubs, and you hung up with the promise to be at his studio at noon on Saturday.

“I am looking forward to meeting you,” he rumbled before the call disconnected. Your stomach was a riot of butterflies, your head reeling. It was a silly thing to be proud of, but almost nothing was as anxiety-building as phone conversations, and you were pleased with your accomplishment. You’d be working on your art and you’d be leaving the house to do so, meeting new people. Saturday was just two days away at that point, and you were simultaneously elated and terrified. It’ll be fine. You’ll go to the studio and work on some art. No worries!

Now though...now you were huffing and puffing, following the winding trail up the hillside, wondering what on Earth you’d been thinking. When you’d typed the address into your phone and the pin it yielded had been on the side of the mountain, you thought you must have transposed a number. Instead, the enhanced view showed you the small studio, the familiar logo visible in the satellite image. Set in one of the lower hills, the student drive would bring you to the base of the foothills, and from there you’d have to walk.

At long last, the curving trail showed you the studio front, and you paused to catch your breath and slow your heart rate before approaching the door. A tinkling wind chime announced your arrival. The small space was dimly lit, painted in a cool dove grey, and the walls were covered with canvases. You recognized the long, flowing brushstrokes immediately, but before you could take another step closer, a throat cleared behind you.

“Welcome,” he intoned, his voice even more lush and dark as it had been on the phone, sending a shiver up your spine.

The naga standing in the backroom doorway dwarfed you in his shadow. Thick, dark hair fell over a high, olive-skinned forehead, brushing a sculpted, square jaw. His cheekbones were high and his nose was long and straight, as though he were carved from the mountain itself. His reptilian lower half was thick and strong-looming, disappearing behind him...he was the most striking individual you’d ever laid eyes on, and you forced yourself to keep breathing when his smile displayed long, curved fangs. “I hope the journey up was not too difficult.”

You took the cold glass of water he held out, gulping it gratefully before shaking your head. “It-it was no problem at all,” you lied. Intense green eyes held yours, and you sipped from the glass again, grateful for the distraction. He wasn’t as old as you were expecting, maybe only five or six years older than yourself, but even standing there silently, he seemed to possess more confidence in his little finger—fingers which were long and graceful-looking, you noticed—than you could ever hope to boast.

“Let’s see what you can do, and then we’ll discuss what your objectives are.”

It was late afternoon by the time you left the studio, your giddiness practically carrying you down the mountain on wings.

“I don’t think I feel comfortable taking money from you,” Ermir had said seriously over the small pot of tea you had shared in the messy backroom.

Your stomach had folded in on itself in disappointment, even though you’d been expecting it. The time you’d spent in his company that afternoon had been more enjoyable than any occasion you could remember. He was impressed with your skill, seemed interested when you’d haltingly confessed to enjoying writing as well as drawing, and shockingly easy to talk to.

He’d rumbled that you would be better off in one of the university classes as he flipped through the work stored on your phone, while you took advantage of his momentary distraction to surreptitiously look him over. He was broad-shouldered and well built, his narrow waist tapering to his reptilian coils began. His scales were a mottled brown, bittersweet cacao giving way to light milk chocolate, and you had the idiotic supposition of what they would feel like beneath your palm, hypnotized by the way he subtly swayed in place. You’re too awkward, someone like him would never be interested in you...

“You’re hardly a beginner, you’d do well to take a few painting classes...but this was fun. Would you like to still come by to work in the studio? It's been nice having someone other than myself to talk to,” he admitted with a deep laugh.

The several hours spent in the small studio had been completely without stress or judgement, and despite how nervous you’d been to come here, you weren’t quite sure what you would do with yourself if you couldn’t come back to this cool room and his deep voice and sharp-edged smile.

“I-I’d really love that. That would be great.”

“Does this look too blue?”

You turned from your laptop to where he painted in the grey afternoon light. Ermir squinted at the canvas before him, swaying on his coils.

“Not at all, I think it’s perfect.”

He scoffed before turning his attention back to his work, continuing to mumble to himself and you shook your head, still smiling, and turned back to your screen. He liked to tease you over your preference for using a digital art program, and you teased him for painting the same thing, over and over again, but he never tired of capturing the mountains, and you never tired of watching him.

It had been three weeks since you’d journeyed to his studio, three of the best weeks of your life. Working in the art studio had turned into helping him digitize his business and giving the studio a social media presence, something for which he had little patience for or skill with, and you found yourself making the trip up the hills a few times a week, on your short class days. He was confident and composed, a complete opposite to your anxious shyness and tendency to babble nervously, and your dreams had become an endless loop of his strong arms and sleek coils and hot mouth. You were completely smitten, and you had no idea what to do about it. Pine forever, probably.

Ermir didn’t seem to mind that you were quiet, that you were more comfortable behind a computer screen than with people, for he was quiet as well. He asked after your classes and assignments, listened quietly as you talked about your family and your transition journey. You’d never shared your story with anyone else, had never felt comfortable enough to disclose your thoughts and fears, how you’d grown up feeling as though you were someone else and the dysphoria that still occasionally stressed you, but you did with him. In turn, he’d shared his story of emigration from a small town on the Balkan coast when he was around your own age, how strange Welsh customs were to him and the prejudices he still encountered, both as a foreigner and as a naga.

“What do you think of this?” you asked, sucking in what you hoped was an invisible breath as he turned. The logo you’d made incorporated his trademark painting of the mountain, along with rolling, windswept script. You said a silent thanks to yourself for having the foresight to take the breath, for when his giant hands landed on your shoulders, your lungs lost the power to inflate. Ermir was quiet but commanding, and the soft dominance he exuded never failed to thrill you.

He smelled like the mountains—crisp and clean, meadow grass and warmth, and you desperately wanted to turn your head up as he leaned down and press your nose to the side of his neck, to better breathe him in.

“That’s perfect, mišiću. Exactly what I wanted.”

Your heart joined your lungs in their cessation of movement when his hands squeezed gently, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive points at the base of your neck in slow circles. The pet name was not new. You had no idea what it meant, but it lit a fire, lower in your belly every time he addressed you in such a way. His voice continued to drone on, praising you in his rolling rumble for setting up and linking a collection of social media accounts, but the rush of blood in your ears nearly drowned him out. The rhythmic pressure of his thumbs against you, slow and steady, was all you could focus on. When they caught on a pressure point that occasionally caused you pain, you gasped, arching upwards into his hands for more contact, and his hum of approval nearly turned you to jelly.

When the phone rang, shrill and insistent, he released you, and your lungs screamed for the breath you’d evidently been holding.

Your mind could not account for how you were able to stay upright for the rest of the hour, for the next thing you knew, you were gathering up your things before you missed the last bus of the afternoon. Shrugging into your jumper, you took your backpack from him with shaking hands.

“Zip up, mišiću,” he murmured, looking you over with his wide green eyes. “It’s too windy for you out there, you’ll blow right away.” You loved the wind, loved the feel of it in your hair and against your face, loved how free you felt, free to be exactly who you wanted to be...but he was right. You could hear the way it whistled against his door and knew it would be cold, zipping the jumper up to your chin. He hummed in approval again, smoothing the fabric at your shoulders with a feather-light touch. “That’s my good boy.”

His words nearly turned you inside out. He couldn’t possibly know that you fantasized about a dominant partner, fantasized about him almost nightly; that his sparkling eyes and sharp smile were all you’d thought about for weeks, that you twisted in your bed, what those scales would feel like pressed against you.

“Go, before it gets too dark. Be careful, mišiću. I’ll see you this week.”

The storm blew in quickly.

Living in Wales wasn’t that different than living at home, not as far as the weather was concerned. The clouds had gathered ominously as the bus pulled away, and you gulped, hurrying up the path. The rain began to splatter the ground midway through your hike, the first rumble of thunder rocking the hillside once the studio was in sight. Ermir was there, his long tail moving in a serpentine as he paced in front of the door, exclaiming when he saw you, looking like a drowned rat.

“Mišiću, I was so worried!”

You found yourself swept into the studio space, your dripping coat removed along with the sodden jumper beneath. Before you could object, a towel was slung around you, and Ermir’s huge hands were pressing to you, drying you off. You’d never been so exposed before him, in just your thin t-shirt, always wearing some sort of jumper or a hooded sweatshirt as you always did. You’d had your top surgery more than a year ago, but the self-consciousness you’d carried for years had not left you. You could feel the great span of his hand, pressing to your ribcage, your sternum, to your collarbone, and as they pressed to you, you grew increasingly certain you were about to pass out.

Before it could happen, you were revived by the towel moving to your head, vigorously rubbing your hair dry. You cried out in protest and he harrumphed in response, continuing for another moment. When at last the towel was lowered, your heart tripped again to find him very, very close.

“What were you thinking, lovely boy?”

Your shrug was weak and heat moved up your neck, frozen beneath his emerald gaze. His eyes were always intense, seemed to glow with laughter or harden in seriousness when he worked, and just then they seemed lit by an internal fire, heat that seared into you, seeping into your skin. “I-I already said I was coming by today. I didn’t want to go home...I didn't think the storm would blow in that quickly.”

“You had me worried sick, mišiću.”

You were able to feel the heat of his mouth, so tantalizingly close, close enough to feel the whisper of his breath upon your lips. You wondered what path you would have needed to take in life to have been brave enough to close the miniscule distance and kiss him, and where you’d gone wrong—

—but it hadn’t mattered, because he was brave and confident enough for the both of you, and closed the distance without hesitation. On the second pass of his mouth, he captured your lower lip between his fuller ones, sucking it lightly until your mouth opened, intrigued by the sensation of his flickering forked tongue. Molten heat enveloped you then, and you realized his arm had come around you, crushing you to his front.

The storm picked up its intensity outside, as lightning lit the sky.

“I-I don’t think the busses will be running in this weather,” you whispered, wondering if he was able to hear the pounding of your heart over the din of the storm.

“I suppose you’ll have to spend the night, dragi moj,” he rumbled against your lips. When he trailed a hand up your back, you arched, and he took advantage of your upward momentum to catch your lip with his teeth. “But first we should get you out of those wet clothes.”

A grey mist enveloped the hills the next morning as you shifted blearily from your resting spot. Ermir did not have a bed, not in the traditional sense, but his coils were warm and supple and shifted with you, and kept you well supported throughout the night.

You’d never woken up with another person before, you realized, had never spent the night in someone’s arms. The weight of all that had transpired combined with the early morning left your head feeling heavy, and you dropped it against his shoulder once more, closing your eyes with a contentment you scarcely remembered feeling before.

The studio opened to a small backroom, which you’d been in numerous times, but the loft above had been new to your eyes. You were surprised at the ease in which Ermir moved up the narrow staircase, his long tail moving in a concertina pattern, chocolate scales shifting rapidly, until he’d cleared the top landing. The air had been warmer there, at the top of the small building, although goosebumps had still raised on your skin when he’d pulled the damp t-shirt over your head.

Your arms had been struck with rigor—thankfully—preventing you from raising your hands to conceal the scars on your chest. They would fade with time, according to the surgeon, but it hadn’t been long enough at that point. The ugly red of your post-surgery months had faded considerably, but you were still self-conscious for anyone to see them.

Ermir, you realized, was the first person who had.

The sharp tips of his fangs grazed the side of his neck before he gripped your waist and lifted you easily to sit on the edge of a low table. When his lips trailed down your neck, pausing to suck at your jumping pulse before continuing their downward path, you’d begun to tremble. Across your chest, and over your scars, his mouth moved across you slowly, mapping your skin. When they landed at the waist of your jeans, you shuddered.

“W-wait...I haven’t...I’ve only had the top done, and—”

Your protestations had been cut off by his lips, and his flickering tongue tickled at your ear. “Each of us are our own work of art, mišiću.” Letting go of your fears, you nodded, letting him make short work of undressing you fully.

Hormone replacement therapy had changed things, regardless of the surgery. Increased sized and a different sort of sensitivity, a sensitivity that had flared to life beneath his stroking tongue and sucking lips, relentless against your skin until you were a writhing, gasping mess beneath him, left limp as the room spun.

When he raised himself at last, shucking his own shirt, you got your first good look at his long body. You wanted to map his skin with your lips, as he’d done to yours; wanted to learn every peak and valley of his taught flesh, but that would have to wait. The two cocks that had unsheathed from a slit in his scales curved up to his flat belly, staring and thick, ivory up the shaft and capped with overlapping golden frills at the tip. He paused just long enough to allow you to grip them in turn, giving them each a pumping stroke as he groaned.

Your legs were stretched wide as he settled over you, guiding one of the thick lengths to your opening. When he slid into you slowly, your mouth opened in a silent scream. Thicker than you could have possibly imagined, he withdrew, surging forward again, over and over until the sound of your cries rivaled the sound of the storm, raging outside the studio’s walls as you came around him. His arms had been strong as he lifted you from the table, once he’d cleaned you of the shimmering release he’d sprayed across your belly, cradling you to his chest as he settled onto a large, plush sheepskin rug in the corner of the room, arranging his body to support you, and you’d fallen asleep almost immediately, lulled by the the sound of the rain and his deep rumble, murmuring into your hair.

When you woke again, the room was brighter. The mist had stopped, you realized as you carefully climbed from him, walking unsteadily down the staircase to the small bathroom. The sky was grey, but the rain had stopped, and the wind lifted your hair as you breathed into it, free to be yourself. You wondered if this was what it felt like to be in love.

“Are you slipping away already, mišiću?”

Ermir’s voice was heavy with sleep, and he squinted from the doorway as you laughed. It was a confident sound, one you scarcely recognized. A new you, the real you.

“I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”

“Good,” he grumbled, turning back into the studio. “I’m going back to bed, it’s natural to be up this early.”

You laughed again, turning to follow him back into the cozy studio. Going back to bed, back to his arms and his lips and warmth sounded perfect to you. The mountains and the wind would still be there later...and so would you.

#Exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #Naga #naga boyfriend #monster match #monsterbait writes #monster x reader #monster x human

159 notes · View notes