#fucked up my time at my old school and got my gpa fucked up because shitty ass roommates kept going after me

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 11 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You decide to give Bradley the opportunity to talk about what happened. You end up learning more than you bargained for.

Warnings: Angst and swears, maybe fluff

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

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What was wrong with you? You had agreed to let Bradley stop by later in the evening so you and he could talk. You didn't really want to talk to him, because you knew you would end up a crying mess. But there was no way he was going to worm his way back to you. Not after what he did last weekend. 

And yet, you found yourself touching up your makeup before he got there. And you decided to stay in your skirt and sweater instead of changing into leggings like you usually would after class.

"You're ridiculous," you told yourself in the bathroom mirror. You looked so sad, and you just knew you were going to have to kick Bradley out later if you started crying. 

Janessa was already out for the night, so at least you would have some privacy. But maybe that was worse, since you didn't even know for sure what Bradley wanted to talk about. He had told you he wanted to be your boyfriend. You weren't lying to him when you told him you would have said yes. 

Sighing, you exited the bathroom and picked up one of your graduate exam practice books to help you pass the time. You had narrowed your application list down to just four schools. Three of them were a bit outlandish, including the University of Chicago, but you were hopeful that one of them would be willing to give you a scholarship. Then you'd keep the University of Virginia as your last resort, since you were almost positive you'd be accepted to stay on in the math department here. You had a 4.0 GPA, and now you just needed to ace your exams. 

You jumped off the couch when you heard knocking. Time to get this over with. You unlocked the door and were met with sad, brown puppy dog eyes and a face that you immediately wanted to kiss. And he was holding more flowers.

"Come in," you managed to say in a steady voice that didn't betray your nerves and the butterflies in your tummy. Why had he picked you? What was even special about you in the first place? Nothing. He could have used his voice and charm on any other girl, and you kind of wished he would have. Why the hell was he here anyway?

As he nodded and walked into the living room, you took a deep breath. He smelled so good. He was still wearing that ugly Grateful Dead shirt, and you knew how soft it was. You wanted to rub your cheek against his chest and feel it again for yourself. You wanted to change into it for bed. 

"These are for you. Since I messed the other ones up earlier," he told you, holding out the flowers.

You took them, saying, "Well, you didn't mess them up, but thanks." You set the flowers down and nodded for him to sit.

You followed him over toward the couch where he stood, looking at you. "What did you want to talk about?" you asked, crossing your arms as casually as you could. 

He ran his hands through his hair and looked around the room before his eyes settled back on your face. "Me, you, everything. I don't know, Sugar. I fucked up with you. And I don't know if you can forgive me, but I wish you would."

He looked so serious, you thought you might as well call him out on it. "I'm not sure how to respond to you right now. You look and sound sincere. But I'm not really in the market for being tricked or fucked over again."

Bradley's face fell and he rubbed his eyes like he was in agony. Then he dropped his arms to his sides. "I've always been sincere with you. Always." His voice was pleading as he added, "Maybe not with everyone else. But with you, yes. So please, please don't start treating me the way everyone else does. Okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, although you weren't really sure what you were agreeing to.

"You treated me like I was important. Like I fucking mattered to you." He rubbed his hand over his mouth and looked at the ceiling. "You don't know how sorry I am that I fucked this up, Sugar."

You swallowed every snarky remark that you had spent the last few minutes coming up with and took him gently by the hand. Immediately his other hand dropped to his side and he was looking at you again.

"Let's sit down," you whispered, and he nodded and sat on your couch, pulling you down and keeping his hand in yours. You took a breath to speak, but he was already going.

"I was so jealous of that fucking guy. I don't even know who he was. But I immediately thought the worst. And I know that's not fair to you, because you're... you. You're just better than everyone else. I think that's why I like you so much. You're smart, and your opinion matters. And you treated me like I was worth being around. Like," he said with a shrug, "I was worth your time." He swallowed, and your eyes dipped to his Adam's apple and his scars. 

You thought for a second that he must have been pretty badly mistreated if your opinion means so much after knowing him for a month. You thought about his door and his mom and how he always seemed to be at odds with his fraternity brothers. 

"You're worth my time," you said softly. He was looking at you again, his eyes sincere but laced with pain. "And you are important."

"But...?" he prompted, still holding your hand. "Come on, Sugar. Just say what you want to say."

You took a deep breath. "I just want you to be honest with me. That guy I was talking to? His name is Max. He's on the lacrosse team, and he's really, really stupid. I used to tutor him. I don't know why you thought you needed to be jealous of him. He's nothing."

"Sugar, I'm an idiot," he groaned. 

"No. You're smart, Bradley. So what gives?" you asked.

He just shook his head and looked at the floor. "Everyone already thinks I'm a fuckup. Everyone expects me to be a certain way. And sometimes it's just easier to give in to their expectations than it is to try."

You laced your fingers with his so he would look at you again. "Who is Hannah?" you asked softly when he met your eyes. You watched the expression on his face change from pain to anxiousness. You wanted to know why he and Jeff couldn't get along.

"Chase was in my fraternity," he said simply. "Hannah was his girlfriend."

"What happened?" you asked softly, and then he told you everything. 

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

Bradley just wanted to hold you and feel your arms slip around him. He wanted to feel your lips move against his neck while you spoke to him in your matter of fact voice. He wanted to listen to your laughter in his bedroom. The last thing he wanted to do was tell you about Chase and Hannah. Nobody else knew the full truth. Not even Phoebe, and she was there. 

No, nobody really knew all of it. But you were about to. Because if it meant that you could understand him, then it was worth telling you. 

"Chase and Jeff were best friends, and Chase got expelled from Beta and then from UVA for fighting. For fighting me," he told you. 

You just shook your head. "You're not a fighter."

Bradley laughed softly. "No, perhaps I'm not. But I think I became one. I used to drink a lot more. Made it easier to deal with the names on my door, I guess. Made it easier to watch girls write their phone numbers and leave." And then in your dimly lit living room, you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him hold you. He took a deep breath and let it out before he said, "The drinking definitely made it easier to stand up for Hannah."

"What did Chase do?" you asked softly, as if you already knew what Bradley was going to tell you. Your nose skimmed the collar of his tee shirt as he let his body relax against yours. 

"He hurt Hannah when he got drunk. All the time. He hit her and made her cry. He cheated on her all the time too," Bradley said, and you gasped. "He was the only guy in Beta with a girlfriend, and I thought that if that's what having a girlfriend did to you, I wanted nothing to do with it."

"Oh my god," you whispered. 

"Hannah was scared of him. I found her crying in my bathroom one night, and I saw the bruises on her. She was sweet, like you, but not sensible. Chase was nice to her when he was sober, so she just stayed, I guess. I don't know."

You didn't pressure him to keep going. You let him gather his thoughts while he rubbed your back through your sweater. 

"I started butting heads with Chase and Jeff more, because Jeff was always standing up for him. I saw Chase push Hannah, and he was always calling her a slut and a bitch. When I tried to insert myself in the situation, pretty much all the guys in Beta agreed with Jeff when he said I was just trying to sleep with Hannah. And why shouldn't they believe him? I'm easy, you know? Every other fucking name under the sun was on my door, why wouldn't I want Hannah's there too?"

"Bradley." You whispered his name so softly he barely heard you, but he wanted to finish. 

"After Chase busted up Hannah's lip, and she missed a bunch of her classes, I picked a fight with him. I waited for a night when he was in a particularly bad mood, and then I got wasted on purpose. Drank an entire bottle of vodka. It took all of my strength not to fight back. He slammed me around pretty good, and broke a glass table by putting my face through it. Hence the scars."

You were fully in Bradley's lap now, and you were crying. "No, Bradley. You did that for Hannah?" you asked, running your fingers along his cheek. 

He nodded gently against your head. "Yeah. Chase got expelled, putting some distance between him and Hannah. She ended up transferring to Florida for her senior year. She and I have stayed in touch. She was always nice to me. I've... never told anyone that I got drunk on purpose. I was like that a lot, so nobody really thought it seemed strange, you know?"

You pulled away from him, and the loss of contact sent him scrambling for your hand. "That's not who you are though. You're not a fighter. And you're not easy either, Beer Boy. You're really, really good."

Bradley wished you'd lay on him again, but he wasn't going to press his luck. At least you weren't asking him to leave. 

"I told Hannah all about you."

"Really?" you asked, sounding surprised. 

"Yeah. She told me I'm an idiot for what I did. She also told me you're too good for me. But I sent her a picture of my door, and she called me screaming."

A soft smile was touching your lips now, but it faded as you asked, "Who was that girl last weekend? Did you know her?"

He nodded and forced the words out. "Her name is Willow. I slept with her a few months ago. It didn't mean anything. I wish I could take it all back. After Phoebe, I started sleeping around, because I didn't really have anything else," he said with a sardonic laugh and a shrug. "I am sorry. And I would never do that again... to you. If I stood a chance." 

Bradley had to swallow the lump in his throat as you pressed your lips together and studied him. "Are you leaving soon? The party is probably in full swing now."

He just shrugged helplessly. "I'll leave when you ask me to, Sugar. I'm not partying tonight."

You licked your lips before you shifted so you were no longer touching him, and he started to brace himself for your dismissal. 

"Do you want some pizza?" you asked. "I'm hungry, and I won't be able to finish it by myself."

Bradley just nodded. He would have agreed to anything you said if it meant he could be around you for a little bit longer. He watched you walk to the table to pick up your phone, your skirt hitting the backs of your thighs with each step. He cradled his forehead in his hand, he had no idea what was going on here. This felt like a subtle reminder as to why he shouldn't actually try to date anyone. 

He listened to you order a pizza and watched you pace around in a small circle. Then you started to dig around in your wallet, but he jumped up and handed you money. "I got it," he said. But you just shook your head. 

"Don't worry about it. And we're not done talking," you said, gently pushing him back toward the couch. 

"We're not?" he asked, dropping back down to sit. But you remained standing in front of him. 

"No. I want you to tell me, why me?"

"I don't understand."

"I don't understand either, Bradley. Why me? Why do you want me to be your girlfriend? You could get with any girl on campus."

He scoffed. "Maybe physically, Sugar. But that's not the only reason I like you. I already told you... you talk to me like I'm important."

"Oh, Beer Boy. You have no idea."

When you sat down next to him and curled up against his body, he just held you until the pizza arrived. 

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

Both of you sat on the floor in front of the coffee table and ate pizza, but Bradley seemed on edge the whole time. You hated this. Being around him had been so easy before. When you stood up to refill your drinks, you watched his eyes drift up your legs, lingering on your body before settling on your face. You turned toward the kitchen and took your time. 

The idea of forgiving him had almost taken over your entire mind. You wanted to. But you also felt like you were just asking for trouble. But when he told you about Chase and Hannah, you really wanted to just wrap him up in your arms and never let go. 

When you walked back to the living room, he was standing, hands tucked in his pockets. "Sugar, I'm gonna go. I think I need to go."

Your heart dropped. "Why?" You didn't want him to leave yet. 

"This is... I need to... protect myself," he said softly. 

"Oh. From me?" You were going to cry if he said yes. 

He nodded his head.

You could feel your face scrunch up, tears beginning to sting your eyes. "I don't want you to say that."

"This isn't your fault. I did this, because I am a fuckup."

"Stop it," you said, running your fingers across his scarred left cheek and resting your thumb on his lips. "You're not." You couldn't stand the hopeful look on his face now, so you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face against his chest. 

His voice was deep and raspy as he asked you, "Can I touch you, Sugar?"

You looked up at his face, his eyes already on yours, but he didn't take his hands out of his pockets until you whispered yes.

His hands found your waist like they belonged there, and you let him hold you. When you pressed a soft kiss to his neck, he groaned. 

You felt powerful around him. You always had. He'd given you control. Bradley had given you control. He was smart, but always selling himself short. He was organized, like his mom. He let Chase beat the shit out of him without fighting back. He was very in control of himself, whether he wanted to admit it or not. But over the past month or so, he'd let you control this. 

"Do you want to sleep over, Beer Boy?" you asked him.

He looked a little stunned, but he muttered, "Of course, Sugar."

You nodded and led him to your bedroom. "I'm tired. Can we snuggle?"

He laughed softly. "Please."

Without another word, you pulled your sweater over your head and unhooked your bra. He watched you intently but didn't touch you as you got undressed in front of him. Then you grabbed the bottom of his tie dyed shirt and guided it up over his body. He raised his hands in the air without a word and let you take it off. He swallowed hard as you pulled it over your head and ran your hands along the soft fabric. When you climbed into bed, he quickly took off his shoes and his jeans and climbed in next to you. 

"Just snuggling," you murmured, but he was already curled up behind you, burying his face in your hair and squeezing you. 

Bradley whispered in agreement, but soon you were turning in his arms and wrapping your hands around his neck. That first kiss felt so good, you gasped. You had missed him so much like this. You kissed him again and again until you felt sated, but his hands stayed on your waist on the outside of the Grateful Dead shirt, rubbing soft, soothing circles. Somehow he had become the one offering you some much needed comfort. 

"Just snuggling, Sugar," he whispered against your lips. You nodded in agreement, and at some point between kissing him and your whispered conversation, you fell asleep in his arms. 

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

Bradley woke up with his arm pinned beneath you. It was light outside now, but you were still sound asleep. He didn't want to move and wake you, so he just got used to the pins and needles sensation. He examined your gorgeous face, lips parted slightly and breathing softly in sleep. Had you forgiven him? He wasn't sure, and he was going to be too afraid to ask you now. 

Today was Valentine's Day, and this moment right now was the closest thing he had felt to love since his mom died. If you let him, he was pretty sure he could fall in love with you. He'd never done it before, wasn't exactly sure of the logistics, but it seemed okay here. So when you rolled closer to him and sighed, he pushed your hair away from your forehead and kissed you. 

It seemed easier to ask you something else first. When your eyes opened, a smile graced your lips when you saw him, as if you weren't expecting him to be there but you were happy that he was.

"Beer Boy," you whispered, your voice raw from sleep. You rolled onto him further, and Bradley was thankful for your bodyweight on his and that he was finally able to move his arm. 

"Sugar, will you be my girlfriend?" he asked you before he could backtrack or rethink anything.

You examined his face for a moment. His ears were ringing. He shouldn't have asked. You were going to kick him out now. Why was this shit so hard for him?

"Yes," you told him, nodding and leaning up to kiss his lips, gently nudging his nose with yours. 

"Fuck," he whispered against your lips. He wrapped you up in his arms. "Can you forgive me?"

"Yeah, Beer Boy, I can forgive you."

Bradley smiled for the first time in almost a week. 

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

Sugar! Did she make a smart decision? Thanks a million percent to @mak-32 This is for you!

PART 12

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw

[s0lam33y]

shuriri hcs [new and updated!]

side note: these aren’t the same HCS that I uploaded on my old acc. Some may be similiar but anyway hope it’s obvious that I did better on these. enjoy them and reblogs/feedback is always welcome.

Timeline: about two years after the bpwf film.

Shuri’s convinced that they need a theme song when they go on missions but they have opposite music taste.

Shuri always makes corny ass vine references and it makes Riri cringe.

“Shuri, quit talkin’.”

Shuri practically lives in Riri’s dorm. She’s there so often that Riri kinda expects it.

Shuri cannnnot stand when Riri brings up the whole bulls game situation because she ends up fighting for her life.

Shuri loves to rest her chin on Riri’s head, if not her head then her shoulder.

Riri is the big spoon, all the time. Rarely, does she ever get spooned.

They’ve been told that they remind the lab staff of an old sassy couple because they always throw fake shade at each other.

Riri always up on herrrrrr, but shuri doesn’t mind at all.

Once they decided to play fight and Shuri forgot about her panther strength…Riri ended up with a bruise on her thigh.

Riri did not know how to work her kimoyo beads at first and ended up calling a council meeting once my accident.

Their height difference. That’s it.

they always some how matching? Not necessarily color coded but they always for some sort of matching accessories or shoes.

Shuri has no comebacks…at least not when needs them so she just agrees with what Riri says.

“Who’s the man in the relationship?”

“Your mother.”

“What she said.”

Riri asks dumbass questions in the middle of the night.

“You’d still fuck with me If I was a butterfly right?”

“No.”

Riri taught shuri how to drive an actual car on the road and they damn near crashed Riri’s red barracuda.

Shuri’s always braiding her hair.

“Would you hold still?”

“Braid less tight, then maybe I would.”

when they go out together, Shuri’s social battery runs out so quick because she’s much rather be home.

When they go shopping, Shuri’s always carrying Riri’s bags.

“You the one with super strength not me.”

Shuri sleeps 60 percent of the time so when they hang out, half of it consists of naps and it rubs off on Riri.

Shuri always making some smartass comment about Riri’s height.

“I think ironheart would be more of a success if she was taller.”

“Literally fuck off.”

Riri is genuinely unhinged because she knows how fine Shuri is.

“Drop yo drawls, bruh.”

“Riri, we’re in a council meeting.”

“They can watch-“

“You can never be serious.”

“I’m being so serious.”

Shuri cannot take a compliment for some reason. Every time Riri says something, she gets kinda shy.

Riri ‘borrows’ Shuri’s clothes.

“Yo, can I get that hoodie?”

“What-“

“I’ll give it back.”

“I know you won’t, but here….”

Shuri is so petty when it comes to her lab so Riri has her own area.

Shuri gets her mad on purpose to hear that Chicago accent. Trust she gets it.

Shuri’s a morning person and ends up having to drag Riri out of bed every single morning.

“Just get up.”

“M’coming.”

“The alarm went off an hour ago.”

Both of them love them some chains.

Riri’s unhinged, we know this but so is Shuri, just more subtly.

“We got five minutes till your next class starts.”

“Girl….”

“I’m just saying, I felt like it was worth mentioning.”

“I missed a week of school cuz of you, TWO YEARS AGO….and I need that 4.0 GPA, I’m goin to class.”

Shuri cannot stay still when she sleeps and it pisses Riri off so bad but she doesn’t say anything about it. She’s also a blanket hog so Riri has no choice but to cuddle with her.

They argue over things that don’t really need to be argued over.

“For the last time…Chicago Pizza isn’t the best.”

“What’d you just say?”

…

“Chicago was not Micheal’s best song, you’re just saying that because you’re from Chicago.”

“Shuri, i want to have a peaceful evening.”

Never let them play Uno together because it ends up in some sort of argument.

“You only took two, take four-“

“I’m not taking four cards.”

“Fuck you mean, I put down a plus four.”

“Take it back, I’m not taking four cards, Rianna.”

The same way Riri takes Shuri’s clothes, the same thing happens with Riri.

“Is that my MIT sweatshirt?”

“No.”

“….”

“It’s comfortable.”

“So it’s my sweatshirt?”

“I didn’t say that.”

As previously stated, Riri is UNHINGED…so trust that her comments make everyone turn around sometimes especially when Shuri’s done with training.

“And the jog was quite nice- are you paying attention?”

“Mhm mhm, y’all do ab workouts too?”

“My eyes are up here.”

“I know.”

“What was the last thing I said?”

“….”

“….”

Shuri hates hanging up the phone. She sleeps on the phone, eats on the phone and sometimes they just sit in silence.

#shuri udaku #riri williams #black panther #shuriri #shuri x riri #mmcanons

[roffmychest]

(CW for ableism, misogyny, sex, stalking, harassment, slutshaming)

I hate having autism because I have to do everything perfectly. Otherwise, my rights get taken away! Autism parents are a special kind of evil. If you don’t do everything perfectly on the first try, even if it’s something you have zero experience with, you’re never allowed to do it again and get treated like a toddler as a result.

A good example of this is how I was removed from public school as a 16-year-old because I got a C in one fucking class. I aced everything else but because I messed up that one class and got harassed over and over again by one particular guy and his stupid friends, my mother decided that I was too autistic to be successful in public school.

Instead, she placed me in a private pseudo-school for autistic people. It was made by a lady with no formal educational training who had an autistic son. They taught us well below our actual grade level. I had no contact with other children my age for the rest of my high school education because the vast majority of them were in middle or elementary school. The stuff they taught me was stuff I learned in middle school. I have a diploma, but it’s fucking bogus. I never learned more advanced, mathematics, or had the opportunity to take a foreign language class like I was supposed to.

 I’m also not allowed to date anymore! My mother is one of those insufferable nerdy girls who brags about how she’s not like other girls and likes to put down “stupid women” which in her mind is anyone who isn’t her. The first relationship I was in was with a guy when I was between the ages of 20 and 22. I waited for a whole year before sleeping with him. I went on birth control, and I asked him to use a condom. However, he dumped me and my mom said it was because I chose to have premarital sex, and therefore cheapened myself.

In spite of my educational setbacks, after much pleading with my mother, I was allowed to apply to a college and got accepted. I did really well up through my junior year. 4.0 GPA every semester, no partying, no dating, no friends. I was a model student. At least until I got sick. I came down with pneumonia. That wouldn’t go away despite two rounds of antibiotics and got sent to the hospital. I had to withdraw. After that she decided I couldn’t handle college and wouldn’t let me go back. She refuses to pay for another year because I wasted her money by getting sick. Fuck me and fuck my stupid worthless immune system.

She told me that by choosing to sleep with him, I had exercised, poor judgment, and could not be trusted to consent. After that my access to birth control was removed, and every interaction I had with a man my age was closely monitored to ensure there was no chance of me ever being romantically involved with somebody else. She had me ruled as incapable of consent, even though what me and my boyfriend did was a mutual decision. I had to listen to that bitch tell me for weeks that I was worthless for a relationship now, and was nothing more than blown out street meat. I hate her, I hate him, but I hate myself more than both of them.

One of my old coworkers started stalking me. They figured out where I lived because they were friends with somebody who lived in my apartment complex. They didn’t start stalking me until months later. My mom says it’s my fault because I exchanged contact information with most of my coworkers in case we needed to contact each other to have someone cover or something. At the time, my coworker wasn’t stalking me. I didn’t know they were that kind of person but it’s still my fault and now I’m not allowed to work anymore.

I moved out and was happy for a little while with the life that I built for myself. Except then they switched management, and the new management changed the terms of my lease. Now I have to move. Now she’s having an intervention with the rest of my family to evaluate my intellectual competence because she wants to be placed under a conservatorship

 And people wonder why I’m so perfectionistic. Why I am such a fucking control freak. I actually didn’t used to be like this until she started treating me differently after my diagnosis. I used to be normal until I had to earn my fucking humanity.  When your autonomy, human rights, your very existence, hinges on absolute perfection, you will understand. This is why I need a back up plan for my back up for my back up plan. This is why I meticulously micromanage every single tiny thing I try to do. This is why I am so bossy whenever I have to work with other people. They might have room for error, but I don’t. Any mistakes they make, no matter how small, reflect poorly upon me. I am aware how a narcissistic that sounds, but that’s the reality of my situation. And people wonder why I hate myself so much



.

#r/offmychest

[the25thviolence]

Writer Interview Thing

So this weekend I--- Lets roll this back a tad. So the beginning of this week I got super motivated to be creative but I work 4 day weeks of 10 hour shifts.  So I didn’t really time to do anything till now.  I want to finish 3 bits of writing this weekend and this is one of them. 

1. When did you start writing?

Actually writing in this form?  I’m not sure honestly.  I remember as like a teen writing poetry a little and writing my mom like a nice mothers day poem I made up.  She was convinced I took it from somewhere.  

Early writing was based on just too many feelings and or emotions inside of me and just needing a release.  Writing after that was because I could write to someone I cared about.  Which led to the early stages of this kind of writing.  

I actually pushed more into this because way back in the day when people rode around on dinosaurs a guy found some of my very first stories on a blog website.  He thought they were funny which is why some of my stories are the way they are today.  He also hosted my original website and writing for a few years back than. 

2. Favorite story you’ve written?

As the person who picked most these questions I don’t know why I fucking picked this one.  

I’m not sure, I really enjoyed writing the Summer Time Madness part with (Captain) Sean and the Kraken.  I have a huge soft spot for any part of a story where I use the ocean as symbolism for washing someone away.  

3. Favorite character?

I don’t think I remember all my characters to be honest.  It would be an insult to my own creation to not say Sean and the Girl/Princess/Ashley.  They’ve been in my head for over a decade now. 

Currently I really do enjoy Claire and the Baristas though. 

4. Best hidden message in a story you’ve written?

Hidden seems to be an abstract thought to me.  When I feel something is hidden it is apparently very obvious.  And when I feel something is obvious it is not noticed at all.  I think for now my favorite hidden.... You know I haven’t really fleshed this part out, written it, or come to a concrete thought on the matter.  But a certain character mite have connections to the girl from the star character from a very old story of mine.  Well Claire mite have that connection.  I’m not sure yet.  But the stars themselves mite be coming back to my stories. 

5. Why so many spelling and grammer errors? 

Short, because I can.

Long, hmmmm.  I didn’t like grow up smart.  I didn’t really start reading till like the 4th grade but than by the 5th grade I was devouring books.  Do to many personal issues in life (people dying and being extremely poor etc) I didn’t really try to do anything in school.  I graduated high school with one of the lowest possible GPAs because I thought I was going work at mcdonalds after I graduated.  Turns out I was so poor the government gave me money for college and I was able to attend community college and get an associates for free because of that.  The only and most depressing silver lining to having a parent die when your 12 years old. 

Basically I have no real education on the matter of writing.  

Also I can’t draw for shit. 

I can’t sing or make music for shit.  

I can’t paint. 

I can write, anyone can write.  I view writing much like someone would view painting.  Each word but a stroke on the canvas.  And every error or mistake but a drop of paint misplaced.  Now apart of something greater and beyond my control. 

I know its wrong but I heavily prefer my writing be a one shot.  Written once and released into the world.  I have slowly, very slowly, come to terms with editing and proof reading and all that nerd shit.  Its a process I am still heavily refusing to this day. 

Yes, grammer is spelt wrong on purpose you heathens. 

6. Any sneak peaks or future plans for writing?

Hmm

If the Moon can be apart of the story.  

A vessel of power. 

A weapon. 

A dramatic bit of symbolism. 

What of the sun than? 

7. Can you explain “The Void” and “Post Void”? 

Many parts of my life have shoved there whole hand into my chest and squeezed.  Every time it happens it feels worse than the time before.  I would call my high school years a void and everything after a post void.  I would call some years after losing someone I cared about in my twenties a void than post void.  And this rehash of loving people and losing people another void than post void.  Depression is crippling.  Depression has ruined every single tooth inside my mouth.  To the scars on my body to the tattoo on my wrist.  

Simply a void is when life wraps its cold star ridden hands around my neck and holds me still till I either die or stand back up. 

And post void is everything that happens after.  Consequences and all.  Standing back up always comes at a price and I pay it greedily each time. 

8. Does anyone in your family know that you write?

No? I guess some know I scribbled at one point as a hobby.  But no one for sure knows about Once Was A Stranger.  

If anyone is curious as to why.  I don’t trust my family with the deep bits of my existence.  As the youngest of 6 kids nothing I do will ever have a strong meaning. 

9.  “Why am I not a main character?”

I can’t tell if this a question from my good friend twchh or from Sean himself.  Sir, I could never capture your essence in simple words.  God could give me the canopy of the night sky and I still wouldn’t be able to put you into mere words with all that space. 

10. “How much of Once Was A Stranger is actually inspired by/based on reality and how much of it is me misreading it as that.”

Warning: A friend/peer/tortured proof reader asked me this question so I up chucked a metric ton of words on the subject.  This is the last question here and its full of non-organized words. 

This is going to be a really really really long answer and I will try my best to make it as coherent as possible.  I’ve reread this story multiple times to better answer this. 

Its so hard to explain everything without shoving 86 links with 86 different stories down your throat.  Once Was A Stranger was every bit of writing I ever tried to write in my life.  I was finally able to reign in my scatter brain and write a complete story in the style I desired.  I have some small regrets still on some parts.  I had really big expectations for the market scene where the Stranger gives his big speech.  I tried for a really long time to write that part and just couldn’t do it.  Which is why the scene is so.... off center and cuts off.   It works just well enough to fit its role in the story but I wanted so much more from that section of the story. 

I am already off track. 

I’ll start with the characters. 

Sean

Sean for all intensive purposes is my first character.  Like my first character ever.  Sean is a major carry over from my first stories I’ve written.  Why the name? Because I liked it.  Sometimes it reminds me of the Shawn meme from that one video game (SHAWN!).  Sean’s shtick is that he was a thought, a happy little day dream, a fantasy trapped in some girls head.  And he was used by the girl to make herself happy.  But one day he started slowly growing free will and becoming alive.  He would turn against the girl in her dreams trying to escape.  The girl would often “reset” him back to a basic little fantasy but suddenly it didn’t work.  I never finished this story, I knew how it was going to end, but I never finished it.  

Princess

Princess is just the---the girl---every single girl from every story.  Most precisely the girl from Beads that used Sean as an escape inside her own head.  I used to know a person a lifetime ago.  A very very very long lifetime ago.  This character was based off of them and the relationship I had with them. 

Jim

Now this one is funny.  While rereading the story I didn’t realize that this mite be read as a problematic name for people who knew me.  I’m not sure if this was a separate story or a part of Beads (Beads was my first too much for me to handle large scale failed story attempt).  

But Jim is named after an old one off character.  His full name was Jim the goldfish.  Jim the goldfish lived on an alien planet full of goldfish.  Jim’s wife left him and he was drafted into the army to fight in non copyright infringing battle suits (much like gundams but totally not gundams).  In this story the ruling class, the Kardashians (yes, those ones) were battling revolutionaries to keep there power.   They got this power  by abusing the exchange rates between there planet and earth.  And they used that money to get amazing plastic surgery and become famous on earth.   The “Sean” character, a guy in a pair of white nikes drifting thru space (was and still am a huge kid cudi fan) was drifting past this scene in the story.  

Stranger

Once Was A Stranger.   Not much in the story really takes inspiration from my life till the end.  But the title.  The act of writing this story.  The life I breathed into it and the immortal bit of lightning it threw back at me.   The title is very strongly based on events from my life.  Thus he was titled.  For he was a stranger.  Much like myself. 

List of all the references:

Stars: I have a great personal desire to escape life, all of it.  And stars are about as far away as you can get.  I once wrote a story about a fallen star who met a strange boy.  Boy and girl.  Sean and princess, etc.  Boy obviously had problems at home.  Girl was a star exploding with life not wanting to go back to the night sky.  Not that bad of a story I think this still exists and is readable somewhere.

Succulent plants:  A small reference to a person someone tried to make me friends with and the interaction of wanting to own plants but not being capable of keeping them alive so they were suggested to me.  I thought they best fit the character for this story.  Kind of like a foreshadow to Jim having a darker bit of torment inside of him. 

The Actual Moon

Honestly, I have no real clue.  I wanted something great to destroy.  I have more to explore and write about in future stories so I won’t get into too much detail.  Big kid cudi fan (man on the moon).  Its in space and away from here.  Big and bright and in the sky.   Also completely crazy concept to try and fight it.  

King/Princess/Royalty

The girl is referred to as Princess as like an emotional show of importance.  The way the girl from the star story was a star.  And in that same story her father was the morning star always searching for her till the last moment each morning.  The princess had a king.  Someone of authority who did not like the stranger.  What? A girl with a father who didn’t like the boy.  Crazy.  That’s totally never happened to anyone before.  

The napkins in the end scene.

Unicorn/Bear/Mysterious monster

These are all references to old bit of writing pieces or short stories I’ve written.  Sean even notes his white sneakers aka the white nikes story. And this is all a deeper reference to the fact all those stories have long been deleted.  I had a...

I had a. 

A blackhole void consumed my life.  

An irl friend had to come grab me out my house one day to make me move.  

I deleted almost every single part of my online presence because of that.  

Many references in Once Was A Stranger are from long deleted stories. I think I wanted to acknowledge them and pay my respects even though I was the one that deleted those stories.

Repeated phrases/bits

Because I find them entertaining and this was my story.  The telling time by the stars or sun.  Repeated phrases.  Etc etc etc.  My favorite part of Once Was A Stranger was slightly noting the writer was apparent to the characters.   It wasn’t breaking the 4th wall in my opinion because the writer, myself, was in fact also a character in this story.  

Sliding between Sean and Jim and different parts of the story

This was a major shoutout to Beads and to what that story could of been if I was a better writer at the time.  To make it seem like the Princess was trapped between stories.  A turn on the original Beads where Sean was strapped between stories.  

Sean/Jim 

Were they the same?  Different sides of the same coin.  Not to spoil future stories yet to be written too much.  They represented the split between my long time main character. I’m not sure if there any really parallels between nice Jim becoming angry and angry Sean becoming nice.  I think I was in too deep of an emotional space at the time of writing to really know. 

Baristas

I have no idea.  That just sprouted in my brain.  They became apart of the story than proceeded to get there own “spinoff” story.  

Late game writing

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yep

You read these parts

I guess I should spell this out. 

Knife.

The void

This all hurts to talk about honestly. 

I’ve been kicking the words for this around in my head lately.  Hoping to write something that would relieve the pain a little.  

I was in love with someone.  It was unrequited.  And it caused a forest of stars to sprout and take root in my heart.  And it made someone very very very close to me hate me.  Hate me so much.  It felt like they stabbed me in my chest with a knife.  Trying to kill the forest of stars inside my heart.  To kill that love.  That unrequited love.  A deep bit of selfishness shared all around.  All because we loved the same person.  

As far as the story is concerned.  Sean, The Stranger, twisted and turned.  And now the knife was in there hand.  New name and all.   

The Ocean

As far back as Beads I have always used the ocean as a way to cleanse.  Clean.  Restart.  Change.  Give birth to.  The ocean is as much life as it is monstrous and uncontrollable.  The ocean cleansed this story and gave a rebirth to the boy and the girl.  Or a death.  They walked purposely into the open arms of the ocean.  

Ashley

This is the shortest answer.  Big fan of Halsey. 

I’m not very good at putting things in order.  Jesus H Christ that much is obvious.  I hope they shined random bits of light on some things. 

This is the end of this bit of writing.  And I am completely open to follow up questions.  I know only one person mite have them but you know how to contact me and scream insanity into my ear. 

[tremerechantry]

Applying to law school is literal hell.

My friend who I have been keeping unnaturally updated on my law school application process has said that I am insane for doing this, that this whole process is inherently humiliating, and that this + the LSAT test community explains why lawyers are Like That.

I am inclined to agree. If only because not being included in the Berkeley acceptance wave today has thrust me into darkness and I don't even want to go to Berkeley.

It's been an unusually slow and weird cycle for me in particular! I applied September/October, which is the absolute earliest one can apply, and still have absolutely no idea where the fuck I'm supposed to be in August. If January isn't the month I may just lose it. I've been ghosted completely after two interviews, and at this point I'm wondering if I accidentally copy-pasted Nine Inch Nails lyrics into my personal statement when I applied, because this silence is baffling to me.

The one coworker who was actually applying at the same time and kind of my go-to dude for daily law school debrief got into both of his dream schools and is now utterly uninterested in the rest of the cycle for me. Fair because I want to forget this shit happens the second I get into my dream school, but it also means I end up debriefing my mother now, who says things like "maybe it's because you're 20 or you applied tooooo early and they forgot about you". Um. Thanks? Forgot about me...?

If applying is this stressful, law school is going to break me. I just wish I had a better GPA... if I had known (why didn't I know? Oh because law school in Turkey works completely differently and I'm an idiot who just. trusts my parents in these things) how important it would be I would not have gone for the double major and I would have taken my 4 years so I could slow down on my classes :( It feels like I'm 20 and I've already made horrific professional mistakes even though by everyone else's metrics I've done great! But I haven't done great because I have to be the best. I have to be the best to make up for me <- LOL

I am going to be okay. I have exceeded my teenage self's wildest dreams. I remember aging up my OCs because it made no sense to me as a teenager that a 21-22 year old could be a college graduate with a job and a (shared) apartment. It's stupid to hold on to this as proof that I am in fact doing okay but I am! My undergraduate loans are in a manageable state! My credit score is good! I'm just afraid of the law school decisions that, in the next 3 or so months, will determine my career. That is not unreasonable.

#lawschoolblogging #Still want to scream NO HOPE NO HOPE but like none of my friends deserve to be called so I can be like why don't my dream schools want meee #am I so undeserving of ivy league. Is the american dream inaccessible to me alone?

[icemankazansky]

3, 4, 16, and 18 for the writing meta asks?

Thanks for playing!

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Oh man, I have those all the time. All the time. My brain is constantly dreaming up little scenes or snippets of dialogue, and often they would require like a whole universe. Just yesterday, I was sharing some thoughts and one (briefly sketched, not written written) of the scenes that my mind has been building for a TG OG med AU I will almost certainly never write. None of this is polished or edited.

Mav had to go to med school in the Bahamas bc of his GPA or he fucked up part of the mcat or whatever, and he got licensed in the states no problem but he is defensive and touchy about it. Ice got an MD-PhD because of course he did, and he's extremely serious and dedicated but with a better bedside manner than people think initially.

Ice gives Maverick a speech about having to control your emotions for the patients and their families, and Maverick calls him heartless and actually hits him. Obviously he's in trouble, but then he finds out Ice basically told their supervisor, "It was my fault, 100%, don't blame him" before she told him to shut the fuck up and go get his eye looked at. Maverick goes to see Ice in the locker room to apologize, sees Ice's black eye, and Feels Bad. Angles his face, examines him closely, asks if it hurts. Tells him he never wanted to hurt anyone, especially not him, because—And then they kiss.

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

“Dear God,” he said, and then stopped. He looked at Ice, the familiar shape of his features. He’d know him blind. He would never forget an angle or an expression or a freckle or a scar. He knew Ice’s face better than he knew his own. He was Maverick’s reflection, the reflection in the mirror when Maverick held the glass up to his life.

from The Fulcrum (Top Gun, Iceman x Maverick, Teen)

16. Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)

I recently wrote a fic in second person, but that second person is actually a canon character. I don't think I've ever done that before, and tbh I'm not entirely sure how it came about, but I guess this old dog can learn new tricks.

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

Answered here!

#asks answered #fic memes #my writing

[lorenpala88]

I am writing a memoir

More to come as I continue writing 1988.

19

The first time I felt depressed, worthless, confused and angry with myself was when I was 19 and just started college. To put into perspective, I came from a town of about 34,000 people and I went to the still oldest functioning high school in the state, Manitowoc Lincoln High School in Wisconsin. Back then it only had 10-12 grade but it was a total of 1,200 students. My graduating class was 407 people. That’s more than the total students enrolled in other schools around the state. I had the typical high school experience to an extent but not the drama as one could put it. I studied hard and had a few close friends. But I wanted to study International Politics and was accepted to Brown and waitlisted at Georgetown but the out of state tuition was too expensive. I had been awarded several scholarships for my academic achievements and decided to study at a junior college, back then it was just UW Manitowoc. For those that may not know, a junior or technical college is one that you study for your associates degree (60 credits) and then you transfer to a four year college and obtain a bachelors degree. This background is relevant because up until early 2023 I had been close to some people who studied with me after I went to UW Stevens Point. I wanted to take this time to mention that I am not calling anyone out or trying to bring up these memories to hurt anyone. This was my first experience of feeling like it was me who something wrong, I must have, otherwise why did they treat me like shit?

Fall 2007 was an integral time for me, I had become friends with a few people who were from different areas around Wisconsin. They were friendships that seemed to click right from the get go. However, after a few months and two of them becoming a couple, things began to change. As I stated before, I didn’t deal with the typical high school drama between friends but this seemed to be that but with a bunch of 19 year olds. Back then, I believed that all the drama ended once you left high school. The jealousy, altruism and side-eyes were something I wasn’t familiar with but I was about to find out. I became close to the one other friend in our group of four but by spring break of 2008 we were two and two. It was a mix of being naive and not knowing what the fuck I did wrong. My Dad would ask what happened as my grades started to slip and I isolated myself in my room. I went from a 3.7 GPA the first semester to barely passing with a 2.3. Again, I didn’t know what I did to suddenly be treated as if I had the Bubonic Plague and was told to “grow a backbone” because I was a pushover.

The friend who I had become closer with while all this was happening had a brother who graduated from UW Stevens Point and we even visited him and he told me more about that school. I just wanted to get out and applied to transfer mid semester—I was rejected due to enrollment capacity and it being harder to transfer mid semester than if it was summer or winter. I had to suck it up and say fuck it. I wanted to keep believing that things would go back to how they were. We were young and so much was going on…

Eventually things somehow got better and those people began to treat me better. I still didn’t know what I did wrong or why I deserved to be pushed out slowly without any reason. I know that now that it wasn’t my fault. I’m not a person to hold grudges but I don’t forget. I promised myself after that I would never let anyone make me feel how I did that year.

Everyone is beautiful, everyone has their story and has their own light that deserves to shine. For a while my light was dim and was put out because I thought for the longest time that “I was the problem. I must have done something to anger these people and that I deserved what was coming to me.” But I didn’t.

We tend to say we wish we knew now back then to protect ourselves. But we can’t always fix that and sure, one may argue that we were young. However, nobody deserves to feel like they’re a burden. Talk, don’t judge and if your told “You know what you did” speak up and say “Then why don’t you tell me?”

I know that I’m worth it, I’m beautiful and I’m me. You’re not alone. Confide in someone you know. 15 years have passed and I’m better than I have ever been mentally and physically. Technology changes but certain human traits never will. The old saying “Sticks and stones will…but words will never hurt me.” They do.

[rufflesome-blaggart]

Having thoughts about family dynamics and shit because it's the holidays and that is the time it rears it's ugly head.

Grew up the eldest of two, and the responsible child. The old soul, the wise beyond their years, the sensitive one, the book smart one. You know the stereotype. This is by no means a dig at my sister, who is both very smart and very responsible too, but resents me in some ways because of it. I don't blame her - I resent that she had a free pass to fuck up as much as she needed, and everyone would rush to her aid for any little thing. She never got proper credit for how hard she worked or how well she did in school - to this day our parents generally consider her greatest achievement to be being the one of us who is properly married. I can understand entirely why she feels the need to rub her achievements in people's faces and to judge harshly those who do not live up to their potential. I can understand why she holds it against me that I am still the one people call upon first for help or to talk to because I am the reliable one, or whatever reasoning they have based upon this older sibling/younger sibling dischtonomy they have forced us in to. But I am not thinking about my sister's achievements right now, despite how I made sure to applaud each one.

I am thinking about the burden of expectation. I am thinking about how when my sister chose to take lower level courses in high school so she could attend vocational school on the side to pursue her talent for cooking, she was encouraged to do what felt right and best for her. When my grades began to suffer due to a tremendous depressive episode on top of obtaining a job and I asked to switch to lower level courses so that some of the burden could be eased, I was told it would ruin my GPA, that colleges would not accept me, that I was wasting my potential. When my sister came home and cried because a boy broke her heart or she called me or texted me our code so that I would pick her up from a bad date or go and fetch her things from a boy she feared would grow violent or even scare off the ones that would not take no for an answer, I did so. But when the first boy I ever let see me naked told me to keep my clothes on and the first boy I tried to have sex with would not take no for an answer no one comforted me or held my hand, no one chased them off or offered to find them and make them pay. Because I was responsible for my own actions, wasn't I? I had a good head on my shoulders. I could take care of myself.

When my mother screamed herself hoarse and threw things across the room at us and then cried into the arms of others, she was encouraged to go and get help. When she did and she went on a pill and it was no longer a game to guess which version of her we would come home to, she was told she was strong and brave for doing right by her family. When my father would work himself half to death and never see us and then drink himself half into oblivion to silence his terrified mind because it was preferable to sleep, he was given an ultimatum to change or lose his family. That is an unkindness that was done to him that I will never forget. Nor will I ever forget that when he was drunk he was not angry, he would only tell me 'I am so sad' when he was drunk, the closest I could get to a real conversation with him because he was expected to be the man of the family. He had to get his act together, keep his shit together, he was supposed to be the reliable one. Then, when my sister would cry herself to sleep and spent 2 years on the floor of my room because she was too scared to sleep alone and could barely go a day without tears, she was told it was okay, everyone struggles, let's talk to a doctor, a therapist and she refused, that was okay too. Because yoga and changing her diet helped. But when my depression became so severe that I did not want to live any more, when I tried to reach out, I was met with anger. How could I say such horrible things? Didn't I know how hard it was for them to hear that? Didn't I know how lucky I was to be provided for? What did I have to be so sad about? And when the pills and the blades and the car and the bleach didn't do their fucking job I tried therapy and that didn't work, either. The pills now (my prescription this time, not just whatever was in the cabinet) help, but sometimes the hole is so dark and so deep I can hear the call to jump again and again and again. And when my sister told me that my mother had told her in confidence that my pain and my sadness was 'too much to handle', when she admitted to me herself that she did not know what to do with me, that my pain was unfathomable to her, I think that was when I cracked completely. How could I feel this way, when I am so smart and so responsible and doing so well?

My father held my hand when I would panic myself into tears while the medication altered my brain. "It will be okay". He told me, because he had been there and he knew and I could see the same deep, dark hole I stared into reflected in his expression and knew he gazed into it too. We will drop everything the moment someone else needs help because we carry our own weight every fucki day but we will help you carry yours, too, so you don't have to do it alone. We will struggle and claw our way into saving ourselves and people will ask 'why didn't you just ask for help?' because we know that the help is not there for people like us. People who are expected to be fine. After all, we can take care of ourselves. We are the responsible ones.

#this is a depression rant please ignore #and also maybe a confession of a girl who wanted so so bad to be her father's favorite son

[theluxuriansecret]

Dear Diary 09132023

9:25 am

Last night I decided to finally show up for myself. I deleted twitter because I realized that I spend way too much time consuming media. Well, I didn't just have that realization but I saw this tweet asking if anyone has any hobbies outside of media consumption and it really sat with me because I really don't, and it it sucks. I want all these hobbies and to be this hard working busy girl but literally all I do is sit on my phone and I've had enough so I'm making the change. Twitter gone. Some people may see it ass excessive but I see it as the only real way to discipline myself. This is what I have to do.

My phone and social media is doing exactly what it's built to do. Ruin my fucking life. And it has gone one for way to long. I have things I want to accomplish like... Fun is fucking over. I have to lock in now. This is it. Going for straight A's. Gotta raise that GPA if I wanna go to grad school. I know I kinda let that thought erase me but it's time. I gotta do this shit for myself. I gotta prove to myself that I can have the life I literally dream of every single day. It is going to be work, but I fucking got this. The only person standing in my way is me. That is literally it, nothing and nobody else matters.

Last night, I kinda did some old me lux shit. I hit up my summer fling, the only guy I have been messing with like all summer. (ANd by all summer, I see him once or twice a month and we do not speak outside of that haha.) But, again, I tie these fantasies to the guys I meet and find attractive. I never go out of my way to get to know them because I feel like I won't have feelings in the end but I always have A feeling. Limerence. It sucks ass. I still want to see him though. Probably going to see him tonight but we'll see. After this though, I'm thinking it should be the end because I'm over it. For real. It's time to put me first because no one else will. It's time to get the shit I want because no one is going to do it for me. So.. yeah.

#morning pages #online diary #journal #secret diary #dear diary #secret journal #journaling #2023 #growth #shifting mindset #dream #love #scorpio sun #sagittarius rising #virgo moon

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: The slow burn threatens so make Sugar melt, and Bradley can't remember ever feeling this way before.

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut, fluff

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

"Oh my God," you sighed when you woke up late on Saturday morning. As soon as you opened your eyes, you couldn't stop smiling. Being walked home by Bradley was like a dream you didn't want to wake up from. 

His lips had been all over yours, hips pressing you back against the wall outside your apartment door. When you asked him if he wanted to come inside, he groaned, "Of course I want to, Sugar. But can we just... not? Not tonight?" 

You nodded in response, and he looked so relieved, you didn't think he meant for you to feel bad about what he said. You thought maybe it was more about him than you. 

As you ran your fingertips along his scars, Bradley melted into your hand. "Tell me you'll come back over to the house tomorrow. We can hang out again."

You smiled at him. "Yeah, I'll come back tomorrow."

He nodded slightly, still leaning into your palm. "Text me. I'll walk over and get you. Shouldn't be walking by yourself."

And you were still thinking about what he said the next morning. He wasn't your boyfriend. He would probably never be your boyfriend. So maybe you shouldn't be encouraging him to walk you to and from his frat house all the time, but you had already promised him he could do it again. 

"You're an idiot," you told yourself as you climbed out of bed, still wearing his sweatshirt. "He's not a good idea. You should know better." But you were still smiling. 

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

Bradley was antsy as soon as he woke up. He had too much energy. You'd gotten yourself under his skin somehow, and he felt like he needed to do something about it. He started pacing around his room. 

He'd been threatening to kiss you stupid, but you were the one who had managed to turn him into a brainless moron with your lips and your face and your body. 

"Dude," he groaned out loud. You had invited him in last night. He knew Janessa was staying with Tyson, so it would have been just the two of you at your apartment. It was an invitation for full steam ahead to getting laid, but he had said no. As if he had a shred of dignity left to protect. Like there was a thread of virtue left inside him. 

Why was it so important to him that you didn't think he was a complete fuckboy? He never cared what any of the other girls thought. He never stopped them from writing on his door. He had even once fucked a girl after she told him she just wanted to be able to get her name up there, like riding his dick one time was some sort of prize you could win. 

Just thinking about it made him uncomfortable now. He couldn't even remember that girl's name or what she looked like. But he remembered that she brought her own marker. 

He collapsed back onto his bed. He had to swallow around the lump in his throat. That was probably how Phoebe had become his safety net. She was there the night his face got busted up. She knew what happened and could have probably guessed why he got into a fight with Chase. She never gave him a hard time about any of it. And she never got mad when he went into a spiral where he started sleeping around more than usual.

And yet, Phoebe got away with not getting mad about the things he did, because she wasn't his girlfriend. Nobody cared about him enough to be that. 

Maybe things had started to improve when he started drinking less. The past six months had been better for him, in a lot of ways. He had been taking extra classes to get his GPA up as high as possible. He had actually been enjoying school. But he kept on going along with the easiest girls on campus, the ones who he knew wouldn't give his scars a second glance. The kinds of girls he'd always chosen. 

His mom would be disgusted, and he knew it. His dad probably never did this shit. He buried his face in his hands. You were supposed to text him later to let him know when to walk to your place and get you. He needed to tell you he couldn't see you anymore. He needed to stop being around you, starting today. Maybe he could get better, be better, but he'd have to try it with someone else. Because there was no way he could let himself ruin you, drag your reputation down to his level. Jeff had been right. You were too fucking good. 

And then he thought about how sweetly you talked to him last night. How well you had kissed him, and how he had pressed you down underneath his body. You trusted him. Trusted him with more than just his ability to get you off. 

Then he thought about you in his lap in the library study room. He wouldn't be able to tell you no if you said you wanted him. He was so weak. He had never let himself be interested in any other girl like this before. 

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

You had finished all of your schoolwork, and it was only mid afternoon. You couldn't text Bradley yet; that would have been as mortifying as when you came apart in his lap. So you tried to take a nap, then you watched a movie. You wanted to text him while you were eating dinner, but then you frowned, because he had been the one initiating texts with you ever since you wrote your number on his pristine door. 

"What the hell?" you whispered. What could his problem be? What if he hooked up with someone else last night after he walked you home? You pushed your plate of food to the side, suddenly no longer hungry. 

You glared at your phone, not wanting to be the one to make the first move. And just then it lit up with a text from him, and you quickly snatched it up into your hands. 

Sugar, I miss you more than I should be allowed to. Tell me to stop. 

Your heart was pounding now. Stop? You didn't want him to stop. So maybe he hadn't been with anyone else last night. Maybe he'd just been thinking about you. 

You wrote back, You're allowed to miss me all you want, Beer Boy. Or you can walk over and get me. Then you wouldn't have to miss me at all. 

You waited for a response but got nothing. You got changed and finished putting on some makeup, and he still hadn't written back. Finally, when you were about to see where Janessa was, he replied.

I'm on my way. 

You bit your lip and almost screamed. You put your dishes in the sink and thought about taking a shot of the cheap tequila you and Janessa bought before you turned twenty one. You needed a distraction. But then there was a knock at your door, and you rushed to open it. 

Chocolate brown eyes, messy hair tucked under a backwards cap. Smirk that made you feel silly. 

"Sugar," he whispered, leaning against the door frame with both hands and examining your face. "Tell me I'm not allowed to miss you."

Fuck that. You reached for the front of his shirt, pulling him toward you, and he released the door frame. "What if I want you to?" you asked him softly. 

He groaned as he pulled you against him and kissed you. 

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

He wanted you. He tried not to. He spent the entire day telling himself no. If you had told him no, he would have been gone immediately. But you were dressed all cute again, and your body was fitted perfectly against his. And you kept giving him a green light. 

"Bradley," you gasped when he ran his lips along your ear. "Feel like hanging out here instead of going to the party?" you asked softly. 

His cock throbbed for you. He hadn't let himself masturbate all day, and it had been a week since he got laid. You could have him right now if you wanted him. Right here next to your front door. But he was trying so hard to do what he should. Part of him still believed he came here to tell you he couldn't be around you anymore. The other part knew he was full of shit; he came here because he couldn't stay away. He was a fucking mess. 

"I signed us up for beer pong," he told you, his voice raspy as you ran your hand along his arm. 

You giggled, and he pulled you closer. "I suck at beer pong."

"I don't mind," he promised, taking your hand and leading you out. He listened to you talk as you walked. You asked him questions and wanted to hear what he thought about things, just like you had last night when he took you home. When you stopped at the crosswalk and kissed his scars, it felt nice. 

Tyson and Dev waved you both over to the game as soon as you got there. "You guys are up," Tyson said, handing you the ball. "Ladies first."

Bradley watched you get ready to start the game, smiling softly at him over your shoulder. And you weren't just bad at beer pong, you were terrible. But he didn't mind when you missed three shots in a row, because your little crop top was riding up higher every time you attempted a throw. 

When Bradley made his shot again, you groaned and glared at him. "Told you I sucked."

"How are you possibly this bad?" Bradley asked you, taking you by the hips from behind and moving you a foot further away from the edge of the table. "You're good at math! It's like a physics problem." He let his hands linger on your body for a beat as Tyson took his turn. 

You turned to look at him. "Huh. I never thought about it that way!" you said, and Bradley grinned, because he had made your eyes light up. 

"See, everyone underestimates how smart I actually am," he told you as he squared your hips and let his hands ghost up the soft skin along your sides, making you shiver. "Just get used to the way the ball feels when it leaves your hand, and let it arc down into the cups." Bradley removed his hands once you were in position, and when you took your shot, you managed to get the ball into a cup. 

"It's math, Beer Boy!" you told him with a smile. He could still see the fading hickey on your neck whenever you tossed your hair back from your shoulders. When he leaned in and placed his lips there, you moaned softly, and he felt weak. What the fuck was going on? If you were any other girl, he could have had you begging for him, fucked you in his room, and come back down to the party with a clear head. 

"Are you guys going to stop feeling each other up and play?" Tyson called from the other end of the table with a grin. 

"Sorry, man," Bradley replied, picking up the ping pong ball and tossing it effortlessly into a cup. "Math," he confirmed with a nod. 

The match was close, but Dev managed to edge the two of you out on the last cup. "I've never been that good before!" you told Bradley as he led you away from the table as the next opponents were called over. 

"You know the secret. Now you'll be unbeatable. Come on, let's get some of the good beers," he said with a smirk, dropping his hat onto your head. He had no idea where Jeff was, and he wanted to keep it that way. The kitchen was empty, and as soon as he had you in there away from the horribly loud music, you had your arms around him.

He took two beers out of the fridge and opened them before picking you up and setting you on the counter. "Warn a girl next time!" you screeched as he jumped up next to you.

"Sorry," he said with a laugh. Bradley couldn't get over you. "You look adorable in my hat."

He watched your cheeks flush pink. "I slept in your sweatshirt last night," you admitted with a smile, but you looked away from him. 

Fuck. "Lucky shirt," he muttered, and you turned to look at him, pressing your lips together. 

"What's wrong today? You seem... a little hesitant. And you didn't text me as much," you said softly, and Bradley's heart was in his throat. "Not that you need to text me or anything like that, of course," you said, fiddling with your beer before taking a big sip. "I was just, you know.... I like you."

"Sugar." Bradley took the beer from your hand and set it aside. You looked at him tentatively as he leaned toward you and brushed his lips softly against yours. Nobody had ever said that to him before. He'd never be able to stop now. "I like you, too."

You made a soft sound as he wrapped his hand gently around your neck and stroked his thumb along your jaw. 

"I'm sure you say that to every girl," you whispered, and his lips touched yours briefly again. 

"No, I never say that to any girls. That's the problem."

You laughed softly as his fingers drifted down your back and he gently kissed your neck. "That doesn't sound like a problem to me, Beer Boy."

"Oh, it is. It's a big problem."

"Then how do we solve it?" you asked as he pushed you back until you were lying along the kitchen counter, his hat rolling to the floor. 

Bradley watched you reach out to him, and he let you pull him on top of you. "You're smarter than me, Sugar. Might have to rely on you to figure it out. I can only think of ways to make it worse," he whispered, letting his fingers meet the soft skin between your jeans and your shirt.

You reached up and ran your hands through his hair. "Then make it worse," you told him. "Kiss me until I sound so stupid. Touch me until I sound so fucking dumb." 

"Jesus," he muttered as his lips crashed against yours, humming softly. You nibbled and licked until he dipped his tongue into your mouth to meet yours. Your fingers were a little rough against his scalp as he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, and both of his hands were all the way up your shirt. 

All the little gasps and moans you made were making him dizzy. You were so sweet, but Bradley already knew you were a little dirty, too. "You're the best combination of everything," he told you, stroking your tits through your bra. 

"Oh, God," you moaned into his mouth when he kissed you again. You bucked your hips up against him, and he anchored your body against the counter as his fingertips found your nipple. He teased you there as his tongue found yours, and you whined his name so loudly he was practically seeing stars. 

When the door opened and the sounds of the party filtered into the kitchen, Bradley froze.

"Come on, guys! That's where I make my sandwiches!" Tyson yelled. "What the fuck!"

Instead of looking embarrassed this time, you just laughed as Bradley pulled his hands back out of your shirt and sat up.

"Uh... sorry," Bradley said vaguely in Tyson's direction. "Won't happen again."

"I doubt that," Tyson said, glaring at both of you as Bradley helped you down from the counter and picked up his hat.

Bradley laughed when you waved over your shoulder and said, "Bye, Ty!" as Bradley pulled you out of the room. 

"He has no right to complain, really. I'm the only one who cleans this fucking house," Bradley muttered. When he tried to lead you back into the living room, you tugged on his hands and he stopped. When he raised an eyebrow in your direction, you nodded toward the stairs.

"Let's go up," you said softly. "Your room is quiet. And I want to be alone with you."

Bradley let you lead him there.

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

Bradley let you take control. You paused outside of his door, which still only had the note he had written to you and your phone number on it. "Just the way I like it," you told him before opening it and going inside. The soft glow of the Navy desk lamp warmed the room just like the previous times you had been in here. 

Bradley tossed his hat on his desk and ran his fingers along the ends of your hair. "Sugar." His voice was so soft, and his grin was just barely touching his lips. "I shouldn't have you. You're too sweet for me."

You shook your head slightly. "No, I'm not."

"Too sweet for anybody," he told you as his hands found the bare skin of your waist again, and you had to squeeze your thighs together. "I fucking want you so bad though. I don't know what to do."

You traced the long scar along his neck with your fingertips, and his eyes fluttered closed. "I want you too, Bradley." Gently, you kissed the spot where your fingers had been, and he pulled you against him. "I like you. All of you. You call me Sugar, but you're sweet to me."

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against your lips. "I'm different now," he whispered, and while you weren't sure exactly what he meant by that, you nodded your head. He was different than you thought he would be. 

Bradley dipped his head down and kissed you, his lips smiling against yours as he worked his hands higher on your waist. He pulled away a little bit and watched your face as he stroked along your curves with his thumbs. "That tickles a little bit," you told him, biting your lip to contain your giggles. But his hands inched a little higher.

"Want me to stop?" he asked, his thumbs finding your bra again just like in the kitchen. You'd worn your nicest underwear and a tight crop top that really had no place even being in your closet. He smiled, waiting for you to answer.

"Don't you dare," you told him, whining as his palms met your breasts, gently squeezing and kneading you through the lace fabric. You expected him to rip your shirt off, but he was taking his time. Somehow you knew this was not exactly the same guy who'd had the names all over his door. This guy was a better version. It felt like he was being better for you.

When your head tipped back, his lips found your neck, sucking and teasing you. Even though you tried to stop, you found yourself grinding your hips against him. He was already starting to get hard, and you knew you were already wet. One of his hands slid down to your butt, slowing your movement. 

"Don't rush this. I want to spend the whole night making my smart girl stupid," he told you, and your body shook. 

"Fuck," you said, nodding and agreeing with him as both of his hands went to the front of your jeans. He smirked as you steadied yourself with his shoulders.

"One word response. Starting to sound dumb already, baby," he said, teasing your lips with his as he dipped his fingers inside your open zipper. 

You could only moan in response as he slid both hands up your body and pulled your shirt over your head. He stared at you like you were beautiful, stroking his hands over all of your newly exposed skin. You expected him to want to fuck you quickly and then get back to the party, but things were never as they seemed with him.

Then his breath hitched as he ran his knuckles along your ribs on your right side, just below your bra. 

"You have a tattoo," he growled, immediately dipping his head down to kiss you there. "What does it mean?" he asked, running his tongue along your skin and making you cry out. 

"Oh! It's a math equation. Called Euler's Identity," you gasped as he nipped and bit you. "It contains the most important mathematical constants making it the only perfect formula in science," you managed to say with a shaky voice. Because now Bradley was on his knees in front of you, unhooking your bra and sliding it down your arms.

"It sure does look perfect," he told you. He kissed your tattoo again before looking up at your chest and your face. "Never seen anything better." He ran the tip of his nose along the underside of your breast, his fingers never leaving the ink on your flesh. His mouth was all over you, kissing and sucking, leaving your wet nipples exposed to the cool air. 

"I should have known you'd have a sexy math tattoo next to your tits," he said, scooping you up as he stood. "You're too fucking good to be true." 

You squealed in his arms as he walked across the room. "It's really more of a natural sciences tattoo, if you want to nitpick," you told him with a giggle, as he dropped you onto his bed and pulled his own shirt off. His body was gorgeous.

"Oh no..." he said, shaking his head at you as you scooted back to rest against his pillows, and he yanked your shoes off. "You're sounding too smart again. I must not be doing a very good job." 

You tried not to smile, but it was useless. "What are you going to do about it?" you asked, your voice shaking with need as he settled himself between your legs and stretched out over your body. 

"This." He pressed his lips to yours, tipping your chin up for better access to your mouth. Then he gently pinched your chin, easing your mouth open so his tongue could meet yours. He felt warm and slippery as he explored your mouth. When he licked your open lips, you whined, grinding your hips up again and clenching around nothing. 

"And this." He caressed your tattoo and palmed your breast with his big hand before letting his fingers trail down your body and dip into the elastic of your underwear. He slipped his fingers lower, moaning into your mouth as he eased one digit over your clit and through your wetness. 

You were going crazy now. Making unnatural little noises and pulling his hair with your hands. He knew he was making you stupid, and he was looking at you like he loved it.

But he didn't know that your orgasm in the library was the best sex of your life. He didn't know that you'd never been able to cum with any other guy before. He didn't know how much you liked him. 

"How does that feel, Sugar?" he asked, swirling his fingers along your clit just like you did to yourself when you were alone. 

"Good," you moaned, shaking your head against the pillow.

"What do you want?" He licked your breasts before pulling your nipple between his lips and teasing.

"More," you whined. "You."

He grinned. "Back to one word answers, I see."

He moved so gracefully, sliding your jeans and underwear off and settling between your legs. When he slid a finger along your slit and pressed his knuckle against your pussy, you almost couldn't stand how good it felt. "Bradley," you whined, as he kissed your hips and your belly. Then he slipped his finger into your pussy.

You watched him watching you, and he looked delighted every time your body involuntarily squirmed. He added a second finger, moving them just the right way to get you worked up. When his thumb brushed you again, your back arched off the bed. 

"Fuck," he muttered, working his fingers as he guided his body back over yours. "You're making me crazy," he groaned before kissing along your tattoo again. You wrapped your fingers around his wavy hair and watched his tongue glide across your chest. "Do you want me, Sugar?" he asked softly. "Can I have you?" 

"Yes."

When he gently removed his fingers from inside you and licked them clean, you moaned and squeezed your thighs together. He was immediately off the bed, and you gasped, missing his warmth and weight immediately. "Where are you going?" you whined, propping yourself up. 

"Need to get a condom," he replied, eyes on you as his hands shook opening a new box. "I'm coming back."

When he returned to the bed, you sat up and unbuttoned his jeans. He let you take your time guiding them down his hips and easing his boxers down as well. When you say how big and hard he was, your eyes darted up to his face. You licked your parted lips and he groaned so loudly you squeaked. 

"You're huge," you told him. He was going to hurt you. The other guys hadn't been this big.  

He must have heard the apprehension in your voice, because he told you, "We can stop," even as he was practically panting. 

You wrapped your fingers around him and gently squeezed his velvety warmth. "No. Just go slow?" you asked, running your fingers along his length. 

"Anything you want," he gasped.

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

Bradley had never been this excited in his life. He wanted you, and you wanted him back. He'd tasted you. He knew how good your skin felt. Now he was about to fuck you. 

He was completely sober, and delighted that he would remember all of this. He had never seen anything as gorgeous as your body bathed in lamplight. 

You were whining his name as he rolled the condom on and got himself ready. He kissed your lips and cheeks, running his nose against yours until you were smiling. Then he whispered, "Sugar," against your lips as he pushed himself inside you.

Your lips were parted and your cheeks were flushed as you grasped his hair tightly with one hand and wrapped the fingers of your other hand in his sheets. He didn't dare move for a few seconds as you got used to the feel of him. You were so wet and tight and perfect, Bradley kind of wished he could just stay inside you like this. But then he started moving, and his own need was building. A few minutes of this and he could tell by the way you were responding to him that you were already close. He'd worked you up and now he wanted to be good for you. He needed to be so good for you so you would stay with him. 

So he worked his hips a little faster, filling you all the way and then easing himself out a few inches before filling you again. "Oh God," he grunted next to your ear. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your chest rising with each whimpering breath you took. "You're such a good girl," he told you, moving nice and steady. "Look at me."

Your eyes fluttered open, bright and trusting as he caressed your breasts with his right hand. Moaning louder now, you raised your hips to meet each of his thrusts. "You feel so good," you whispered, voice hitching on the last word. Bradley pressed his lips to yours, kissing you and inhaling all of your little gasps. He pushed his hand lower to tease you, and soon you were shaking beneath him, squeezing his cock with your tight little pussy until he was grunting. 

"Oh my God," you whined, shaking your head and pulling his hair as you came. Bradley pressed his lips to your tattoo and whispered your name as his last thrusts drove his own orgasm home. 

He was never going to stop touching you. Every inch of your skin that he kissed and caressed was like silk. As he pressed his lips all over your shoulder and collarbone, your grip on his hair started to loosen, and your breathing evened out.

When he started to move, you grabbed onto him, holding him against you. So he wrapped his arms around you and stayed inside you, afraid to speak and break the spell. 

Finally, you kissed his forehead and giggled softly. "I can't believe this was better than the library."

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

Beer Boy and Sugar.... oh man, they are sweet together.

Big thanks to @mak-32 for helping me along the way. This one's for you, Mak.

PART 7

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[leshitshow]

169

Nothing's changed. Everything's still shit. I just don't know why it matters if I'm alive or not, to be honest.

I'm so sick of fighting everything. Literally everything.

1) Job: I've been a dedicated excellent employee since I started four years ago. It looks like the perpetual slacker in my department is getting promoted though.

2) Transport: I agreed to move away from the train for my partner despite telling him I don't have money for car or gas. I have money for rent and groceries. That's it. He said don't worry about it I can use the car his parents gave him ... which was a decade old Toyota. So honestly a terrible idea from the start. I said so too. But whatever. I got sick of bickering and took the car and the distant home. Well the car broke and now I'm really fucked.

3) Home: My home I was begged to accept as a home for him is a slum house that floods in the rain and has a bricked up chimney that was never cleaned. I assume lung problems to follow.

4) Health: I have a tit lump but no reasonable health insurance because the company I've committed my time to for four years doesn't provide it. I have state health care and it's not good. Been two full months and I'm not sure if I have cancer despite trying to learn.

5) Health: My molar cracked. That's a $1800 root canal I can't afford and also a $2000 crown.

6) Relationship: My 20 year relationship is dissolving before my eyes. He got everything he needed and is leaving me out of his next steps while gaslighting me about all of it.

7) My school is trash. I'm working on a specialized degree but the teachers are more interested in ruining my GPA by testing me on shit that is either absolutely false that they made up and/or they're testing our class on shit that's a chapter after. So basically we're being tested on shit we don't know.

I'm just tired. Everything is a fight. Why am I even here if this is all there is.

[just-rogi]

I’m trying so hard to love my mother but god she makes this life so difficult- money has been right my entire life and I had to go to a college I hated because they gave me a ton of academic scholarships and I could only attend for one year so I studied my ass off and went to bed every night at 3 am doing homework and woke up every morning at 6:30 am and had an on campus job three days a week to scrap together some money, and my mom constantly reminded me that we were too poor to go on vacation or buy nice things or pay for one of the really nice colleges I wanted to go to (god I wanted to go to smith)… and now she has money and she spent 30k on a barn this year and 2500 on a greenhouse and she bought multiple fruit trees for the orchard, and my birthday is next week and we haven’t celebrated my birthday since I was 14 (when I turned 16 my friends threw a surprise party for me because I was expecting nothing at all) and I’m turning 21 this year and my mom not concert tickets to Bruce Springsteen (I hate him but she loves him so I was happy to go with her and her fiancé on the night before my birthday) and that’s really all we had been planning, but it was something- and now the tickets fell through so my mom just paid 1000 for two tickets to the same night… for her and her fiancé. Not me. I know it was never about me but she would never spend that money on me- I grew up so poor and staying behind on so many field trips or scrapping the money together myself from summer jobs and photography comissions and now she’s happy and I’m happy for her and everything is good and I’m glad, but god I can’t stop resenting her. Thirty thousand dollars on a barn. That would’ve been the cost of smith . You could’ve paid for me to go to a rebound four year college with a museum and a botanical garden and an anthropology and art history program but you dug your heels in and said we can’t afford it so I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and went to a horrible state school on full tuition waiver for one year and got my BA and had a 3.96 gpa too- and it’s fine. She isn’t obligated to pay for me, I know I sound so entitled because she doesn’t owe me anything at all and I’m successful and I have a job as a teacher in a big city and I make three times as much as my roomates and I don’t need her- but fuck I turn 21 next week and I know that she doesn’t have anything planned. Certainly nothing that costs $1000. I understood no birthday when I was 18 and we had nothing, but you CAN afford to drop that money on Bruce Springsteen tickets now…and I’m still comparing prices on jelly and eating rice and stolen lossed produce from Whole Foods and supergluing my four year old boots back together and wearing the winter coat I got in seventh grade. I feel strange and I don’t know how to articulate it. I hate my birthday. I hate that I’m turning twenty one. I hate that my students will probably make me hand drawn crayons cards on lined paper and they will be the people who put the most effort into anything for me- and I will love them so much, but I want my mom to just fucking try, yk?

[ploykantida]

twenty fucking one

Kantida is twenty fucking one. Twenty one. This number is freaking me out a little bit because damn, I didn’t think I was gonna live to see it. Thank you, momma and daddy for this life. I am forever grateful. I haven’t felt so good this month (I've been a train wreck ok) so I thought why not write 21 things I’m proud of to kick start this beautiful age.

1. You’re still here. In one big beautiful piece. 

2.You graduated high school technically 3 times. Who can say that? lol

3. You spent a whole year far far away from home when you were just 15. A Thai girl alone in Middlesex, North Carolina. God, that feels like a lifetime ago.

4.You are bilingual. More fluent than kindergarten you could’ve wished for. So many competitions growing up. You won some, You lose some you never gave up on it. You even taught kids English. Being other kids’ inspiration just like your how your favorite teacher was to you.

5. You made your whole family proud. You’ve been such a good girl from day one. Has nothing but good and love for your family from the beginning. Good job, Ploy.

6. You passed the entrance examinations for the best high schools in the country. When you wanted to be among the top 250 smartest kids in your country, you put your heart and soul into it, and you made it. You were just 14. Fourteen.

7.You got absolutely perfect gpa in high school. You worked so hard everyday with your best friends and you deserve it.

8. You were brave enough to get help. To be vulnerable. To learn to forgive and live and trust again.

9.You survived two years of covid girl I don’t know how you did that. Kudos to momma.

10. You gave him so much love. You saw the potential in that relationship and you were willing to give a piece of yourself and try to make it work. Even right now, you still do. Thank you, universe, for him. He’s the gift I received so early on in life and will keep near and dear to my heart forever. He gave me love the kind nobody will ever be able to recreate. Put me back together when I look around and see nobody else. The best of the best.

11. You are able to make such special friendship with genuine, loving, funny, charismatic, caring, smart, and so much more. With them, I know you’ll be able to get this degree.

12. You were the student council president when you were 17. Even though you were so scared of a crowd. So scared of speaking your truth. But you did ti flawlessly.

13. Then you managed to also be the presidents of two of the huge charity projects we had for school. You were able to help so many kids and brought those two schools so much joy

14. You got into dental school and not just any dental schools, the best one. Despite every obstacle in life, you’re here, sitting right next to a box full of dental material, countless pens for who knows what, neurology notes, two cups of coffee, and the opened Ipad that you kinda need to get back to right now but oh well. You’re living in the university of your dream. Of your family’s, your teachers, and your friend’s dreams. Of 7-year-old you dream. We’re graduating together and we’re gonna build this extravagant clinic for little Ploy that had been staring at Dental Land everyday on her way to school. We’re so close and I’m so proud to say that We have fucking made it.

15. You still paint. Still trying to put creativity in everything you do because you know the joy it gives you is unmatched. Keep going.

16. You finally got back into ballet!! The one thing you’ve regretted and yearned for for years and years. You finally muster up enough courage to take classes again lol

17.You became confident enough in the outfits and the accessories that you choose carefully to wear. Becoming the fashion girl you always drooled over from the magazine. Not ashamed of what you like. Just loud and proud.

18. You’re amazing at makeup. Gotta give euphoria for that courage and endless inspiration. You just have fun with it and post and create such fun and beautiful shoots.You’re the cool girl 15 year you wanted to be.

19. You wasn’t born with a sister but somehow you got one and remain having one since then. Call it luck or whatever but that girl is a keeper. Again, thanks universe, you know I needed her.

20. You live alone now at 20 well and 21 ofc lol Can you believe it? You used to be so scared of ghosts you can’t even go up to your bedroom alone when you were 12. Here you are, happiest in your solitude. Going to see movies by yourself, shopping by yourself, eat by yourself, protected in your own space. I’m proud of you.

21. You are, as we speak, writing something. Just like what you said you’d do in the career section of your school report. Yay

A lot of the time, I feel like a loser and feel like I’m never enough. But I’ll look back on this list I made on my 21st birthday and relive the glorious days of my younger years. I can hope this list will get longer and longer with time. Happy birthday to the girl I live most in the whole wide world. Happy birthday to the girl that never stop trying. I love you

- Ploy

30.01.2023

#bday #journal #diary #gratitude #2023 #aquarius #birthday

[likeastarstar]

The House Call

Summary: As a full time grad student and part time drug dealer, you have a lot on your plate and Namjoon being a shitty school project partner is NOT helping, ok?!

masterlist.

Okay, so you were a drug dealer.

Nothing major! It was just weed, which would be legalized quickly, given the way the rest of the world was going. It was just to get you through grad school, you only sold to friends. You kept your circle tight, not many people even knew you dealt. You were very selective, which is why when Seokjin asked to share your number with his friend, you were unsure. But he was your most reliable customer, so his friends must be too.

What made it even worse was that he apparently was too busy to meet up at your usual drop spot- insisting to pay extra if you did a house call instead. You agreed, obviously, but still. It was annoying.

You had things to do, there was a huge project due the next morning and your partner hadn't done his part of it. He looked smart enough when you were paired up- he had glasses and everything. How were you supposed to know he was lazy as shit.

A buzzing in your pocket interrupted your internal rant- who the hell was calling you this late at night?

"Hello?" You snapped, letting your bad mood seep through your tone.

"Uh, hi- I had a question about the project."

Namjoon- your project partner. Of course. You groaned, walking up the steps to the apartment complex to where you were meant to drop off the weed. All of your conversations with this new customer had been through Jin, a fact that you regretted deeply.

"Get it over with, you know you really should've done this sooner," You sighed, checking the apartment numbers twice before knocking on the door.

"I normally would've but I've been really stressed, ok?" He apologized, a shuffling sound coming through the line.

You rolled your eyes as the door in front of you opened, revealing-

"Namjoon," You gasped, taken aback. He was Jin's friend? What are the odds. You hung up quickly, raising your eyebrows dramatically, "What are you doing buying weed instead of working on our project?"

He looked shocked himself, towering over you with his phone still pressed to his ear. He was dressed more casually than you were used to seeing, his hair disheveled in a way that oddly looked better than when he tried to tame it.

"I told you I was stressed," He mumbled, "Come in. I didn't know you were a dealer."

"I didn't know you smoked," You bit back, rolling your eyes.

You pursed your lips but stepped into his place, looking around curiously. It was nice, decorated in a way you wouldn't have expected from a 20 something year old boy. His place was relatively clean, other than the multiple empty cup noodles placed in random areas and the insane amount of paper laying around, "is this all schoolwork?"

"I'm taking a lot of classes," He shrugged, "How much is it?"

"Uh- thirty," You answered, picking up the nearest piece of paper. It was for micronutrients in the human body. the human, a class you had taken two semesters ago on a whim. "No wonder you're stressed out."

He handed you the money wordlessly, trading you for the paper in your hand. You looked at him for the first time since you walked in, only now noticing the dark circles under his eye and the way he had seemingly bitten his lower lip raw. You groaned, feeling all of the annoyance you had minutes ago turn into sympathy.

You shoved the money in your pocket and handed him his weed, pulling your backpack off your back, "Get high, take a break."

"I can't take a break right now, I'm so fucking behind on all of my classes-"

"Chill, I'll help you. Light up, we'll work on the project together and then I'll help you on micro. I got an A in it, I'll tutor you."

So that's what you did, working through the mountain of shit he had piled up in his living room side by side. You never really noticed how funny he was before, both unintentionally and intentionally. He offered your own weed to you and you accepted, feeling nice and relaxed by the time you had gotten around to tutoring Namjoon on other subjects.

"Do you understand it a little more now?" You asked, looking up at him. He was sat beside you on the couch, thighs touching yours with an arm stretched behind your head on the couch. He nodded and frowned, correcting his work and leaning towards you to show you. "Y-yeah, that's right."

He smelt really good- like sandalwood and honey. You couldn't help but stare at the way he was sucking his cheeks in in concentration. Why the hell was this guy a environmental science major? He could be a model.

"You're a really fast learner," You noted, your voice soft and hazy, the way it always was when you were high.

"You're a good teacher," He mumbled, smiling sleepily at you.

He looked so cute you couldn't help it, leaning forwards to kiss him. Namjoon was caught off guard, freezing for a moment but his lips were soft and his skin was warm, drawing you in before you snapped back to reality, pulling away sharply.

"I shouldn't have done that," You gasped, leaning away from him awkwardly. You had to get out of here- eyes already searching for your belongings. Embarrassment crept up on your skin, heating your cheeks. Maybe you could blame it on being reallt fucking blazed, which you were.

"No," He said suddenly, catching your arm with a hand around your wrist, "I should've done it."

What?

"Why do you think I wanted to be your partner for this project?" He smiled, eyes lighting up in a cute way you hadn't noticed before.

"Um, because I'm the smartest person in class?" You guessed, playing with his large hand idly. His fingers felt good between yours, tingling shocks sparking in the places where his skin touched yours.

He laughed softly, nodding sheepishly, "That too- but more than a good grade, what I wanted was you. Part of the reason I'm so behind in class is because all I do during lecture is stare at you- you're not very good at controlling your facial expressions, did you know that?"

You pulled your mouth into a tight line, smiling awkwardly. It was true, you had been known to show every thought passing through your mind on your face. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"You're really scary," He shrugged plainly, as if it were just an obvious fact. "You yell at me a lot which makes me nervous and horny at the same time and I've been trying to figure out whether that means I'm a freak or not."

"It's a good thing I enjoy yelling at you," You noted, more to yourself than him.

"You can yell at me whenever you want, baby," He said jokingly, grinning down at you. Holy shit, he had really nice teeth.

You barely had time to process his words before his lips were on yours, leading the kiss this time. His hand cradled the side of your face, thumb stroking your still flushed cheeks delicately as his other arm wrapped around your waist. You placed your hands on his shoulders, squeezing the muscle under your palms and pulling him closer to you. Namjoon guided you onto his lap, holding you closer him. God- he was warm and strong and so, so soft.

His hands stayed in their polite place at your waist, kneading into the flesh of your sides with a purpose. Namjoon was a good kisser- an easy balance of dominant and soft. He knew where to push and pull, reading your body like it was second nature to him. First kisses could be awkward, but this one was perfect.

His tongue licked a tentative swipe along the edges of your mouth and you reached up to sink your hands in his hair, pushing his head to the side slightly as you parted your lips and allowed him to deepen the kiss. His tongue was soft against yours and he tasted like smoke and something sweet, your favorite strain of weed invading your senses.

"We should do this more often- maybe not the tutoring thing, but this- the kissing thing," He said, parting from you for a moment.

You nodded eagerly, pulling him back towards you, "Yeah, definitely- the kissing thing. Maybe if I give you enough time to stare at me outside of class, you'll do better too. I really can't date anyone below a 3.5 GPA you know."

"Okay, calm down," He pouted, narrowing his eyebrows at you, "I have a 3.8."

"I have a 3.84," You bragged, "Don't worry, I'll tutor you."

He stifled a laugh and began kissing you again. You smiled and reminded yourself to thank Kim Seokjin for asking you to make a house call.

(A/N: giiirrrl what the hell? I don't have a 3.84 in my program...maybe I should've gone into a creative writing grad program instead....LMAO)

#bts fic #namjoon x oc #namjoon fic #namjoon fluff #bts stoner #bts stoner fic #bts one shot #namjoon one shot #namjoon x you #kim namjoon fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #namjoon!classmate AU #Namjoon!grad student AU #bts!au #BTS!classmate AU