#oh my GOD ive had a rough semester | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonjxsung · 3 days

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hi hi angel!!! how are you?

it’s been sorta insane for me in the worst way (things are kinda better rn). long story short, i have two classes with the same professor and we had the final project (that i clutched super insanely and got a 98!! yay we love that) but i don’t have the best grades in the other class. so the thing is that since i don’t have the best grade in that one i obsessively check for her feedback on assignments and to see if there’s new assignments posted. and i randomly check yesterday and there’s two assignments that i had never seen (but she mentioned them at the start of the semester). i click on them and the assignments were overdue by like 2 months and i start having a full blown panic attack in the class. and i wait for it to finish and i ask to talk to her and i literally start bawling bc i thought that i hadn’t sent them. and she’s just like “take a breath, don’t worry, nobody sent them. idk what happened to the platform but it seems that they were never visible to anyone.” so yeah, i had a panic attack for nothing. but i told her about how overwhelmed and anxious ive been and that im back on pills and it’s been super hard too. and, she’s very strict but she was very nice about it and told me that she was always there if i needed to talk. and reassured that i wasn’t failing.

so yeah, i need my emotional support barbie/bratz too!! let’s make them happen. i looooove barbie and bratz movies soooo much but i hadn’t found anywhere to watch them until now :((( but i shall continue this weekend!!

for my mom’s bday we ate mofongo! idk if you’ve ever tried it but it’s soooo yum.

ateez, skz and shinee comebacks are literally insane, neither my wallet or my mental health can process it. i’m so excited!!!

tattoo update: im getting it done on monday!! i’m so excited!! i rlly want a piercing too but i rlly rlly want a skzoo </3

the fact that you’ve been having shinee dreams is sooo slay!! i’ve only had one shinee dream ever and it was literally the day i first saw the ring ding dong video like in 2012. (i beg you my unconscious or wherever dreams come from, give me some minho dreams🙏🏻). and im still soooo traumatized from my hyunjin dream, i will never be able to take a nude without thinking about that </3.

(i almost forgottt!!! i had never read the tv girl felix fic!! i’ve been getting into tv girl lately bc i saw that you really liked them and i love every playlist you’ve done for your fics so i trust ur judgment. anyways, not allowed felix is my new roman empire <3)

i missed u bb! i had two frozen mochas in ur honor with my classmates <3 i hope you’re well! and that ur weekend goes sooo well and that you can give everyone hickeys <3

-🐈‍⬛

Hi baby!!!!!!! I’m so sorry to hear this week has been so stressful :((

I’m so glad your professor was so understanding about it! I looooove when professors take the time to hear you out and give you a second chance at doing an assignment. I had something really similar happen in my freshman year of college where we had these textbook quizzes that were optional, but you had to at least open it to get credit and I didn’t know they had due dates bc they were optional so I realized like halfway through the semester I was missing a good HALF of them and I cried my eyes out so hard when I found out. I talked to my professor and she was super understanding about it because I’d gotten good grades on her tests so far and I never skipped any lectures so she reopened all the assignments for me and let me resubmit them 🥹 like all it takes it some communication!! Thankful for good professors and especially ones who understand when you’re going through a rough time. I hope things get easier and I’m always here for you if you need anything at all bby 🫶💘💓💗

I’m planning on bedrotting all weekend so catch me watching bratz & Barbie movies too LMAO I need to heal my inner child 🧘‍♀️🕯️🕯️🕯️

I have never heard of mofongo but I just looked it up and it looks AMAZINGGGG oh my god I need to try it so bad

PLEASE I need to be saving so badly I am NAWTTTT ready for skz/shinee/Ateez comebacks at all!!!! I want to go to 2 cities for Ateez if I can but the prices are so much higher than I thought they would be so I think I might just try for VIP in my city and hopefully get send-off! I need to be face to face with Yeosang at least once in my life 😔🫶

SOOOOOO EXCITED FOR YOUR TATTOOOOOO BABY AHHHHHH I CANT WAIT TO SEE IT !!

Onew dreams fulfill me so much I swear I wake up with the biggest wave of SADNESSSS bc I’m so sad we’re not married irl 💔💔 he also smells vvvv good I love him so much

PLEASE not allowed Felix fic is making its rounds again since I linked it to that anon and I still hate it just as much as I used to lfmfnkdemdnmsjjfjf it’s coming up on its year anniversary so I won’t shit on it tooooo much since it was the start of this blog (but realistically WTRS was the start) but oh goddd I hate it 😭 still love TV girl tho TV GIRL MY BELOVEDDDD 😔🫶🫶🫶🫶

I missed you so much bby I’m gonna have some good coffee tomorrow in your honor and bring a cute pc!!!! Have the bestest rest of your week I love you so so so much 🫶💓💖💞💘💗💕💓👼

#🐈‍⬛ anon #ask

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lunarbuck · 3 years

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Greatest Hits (4)

IV. Massachusetts - Bee Gees

pairing: bucky x f!reader

chapter summary: bucky meets your parents, and though it's a rough day, not all is bad

word count: 3.8k

warnings: mention of Alzheimer's, doctors, tattoos

series masterlist <3 | main masterlist

an: hope y'all are liking it :)

chapter 3 / chapter 5

Life is so much better with Bucky in it. Now that you two are aware of the feelings you have for each other, you are pretty much inseparable. Anna jokingly complains that she’s being replaced, but you assure her that no one could ever replace her, not in a million years.

Some days, Bucky keeps you company while you’re working, and his presence energizes you. On days you aren’t working, you try to help Bucky decorate his apartment a bit better. You know a lot of good spots to find cheap furniture.

You feel like the two of you have known each other for decades when in reality, it’s only been about a month. Though you are still recommending music to Bucky, you’ve had to pause the decades project for the end of the semester. You graduated from your grad school program, but you decided not to walk for it. Your parents couldn’t be there so what was the point? You had Anna take photos of you in your cap and gown with your diploma, and that was enough for you. Bucky even appeared in a few pictures, one of which became your new home screen on your computer.

This morning you’re working at the shop, it’s not too busy, but there are constantly a few people milling around. Bucky is with Steve doing Avengers stuff, so you don’t think you’ll be seeing much of him today. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you recognize the number of the nursing home your parents are at.

“Hello?”

“Hello, may I speak to Ms.Y/L/N?” The receptionist’s voice is familiar. You talk to her every time you go to visit your parents.

“This is her.”

“Hello, Ms.Y/L/N; I hope you are doing well this morning. I am calling in regards to an incident that occurred last night with your parents.” Your heart drops, and your mind races, jumping to the worst conclusions. “Your mother refused her medication and became very upset when she could not remember where she was, and she threatened the nurse attempting to console her. Your father became upset by the outburst, and there were concerns for his safety and well-being. They both had to be given a sedative.”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You’re not sure how you are supposed to respond. You’ve only gotten a few calls like this over the two years they have been living in the home, but you are taken aback each time and aren’t sure how to handle it.

“Thank you, Ms.Y/L/N. When they woke up, the doctor who evaluated your parents believed that a visit from you might be beneficial. Your mother asked where you were, so we are hopeful it will be a good day for her.” The receptionist does sound hopeful, but part of her job is to be pleasant, so you’re not sure what to think of her tone. “If you are available to visit, the doctor would like to talk to you before meeting with your parents.”

“Okay, is there a time that would be best for me to come?” Anna is scheduled to work in a few hours, so you can leave once she clocked in. It’s been about two months since your last visit. You feel guilty for not going back sooner, but it’s just been so hard.

“Sometime around 3 would be best.”

“All right, I’ll be there at 3. Thank you for letting me know about last night.” you kind of wish she hadn’t told you, but it is probably for the best.

“Of course, Ms.Y/L/N. I will see you at 3, and I will let the doctor know you are coming. Have a nice rest of your day.” She hangs up the phone, and you sit down on your stool behind the counter.

You want to go upstairs and be alone for a while before seeing your parents, but you can’t leave until Anna comes. Two other people work at the store, but they’re high school students, and they still have school, so they wouldn’t be able to come until later anyway.

You can feel yourself about to cry, and you swipe at your eyes before tears fall. You decide to call Anna and see if there is any way she can come early. She answers after the first ring, and you explain your conversation with the receptionist. The second you hang up, she is on her way over. You wait behind the counter in a trance-like state until she arrives. You don’t see or hear her come in, but you feel her arms wrap around you; she smells like roses and jasmine.

“Go upstairs, hun. I’ve got this.” She walks you to the back door that leads to the staircase to go up to your apartment and hugs you again. The two of you aren’t usually physically affectionate. You show your love through teasing and being there for each other. Anna, especially whose appearance might be off-putting to some, is not one for hugging, but she knows it makes you feel better. You squeeze her arm and sluggishly make your way up the stairs and into your apartment.

It’s 12:00, so you have two hours until you need to leave to see your parents. It’ll take about an hour to get there using public transit. You sit curled up on your couch; knees pulled into your chest.

Every time you think you are numb to the pain of missing your parents, something happens and pulls you right back to where you were two years ago. Some days are easier than others, and recently Bucky has been a distraction, but you can’t escape the reality of your situation. You turn on your TV and connect your phone to it so you can play music. You scroll through your music and put on one of your comfort songs, “Mistral” by the Decemberists. You’re unsure when it became so special to you, but you like putting it on repeat on your more challenging days. You let yourself fall over onto your side, still curled up, and stare at your records.

Your phone buzzes and you reach for it warily. You don’t want to talk to anyone right now.

It’s Bucky. You know you should answer, but you don’t want to make him feel like he has to come comfort you. You answer anyway, trying to put on a normal voice.

“Hey, Buck. What’s up?” Your voice shakes, but you hope he doesn’t notice.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He noticed.

“Nothing, I just got a call from my parents’ nursing home. Something happened, and I have to go see them today.” He takes a moment to respond, and you can practically see the face he’s making. He’s probably furrowing his brow and frowning, eyes a bit stormy.

“When are you going?”

“I need to be there at 3, so I’ll probably leave around 2.” The thought of sitting on the subway for an hour makes your stomach turn, but you don’t have a car, so it’s the only way you can get there.

“Do you want me to come over?” You’re not sure how to answer. All you want is for Bucky to hold you and tell you that everything will be okay, but you don’t want to be a leech on him and his energy. You’ve survived this long without someone doing that for you.

“No, you’re working with Steve. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.” You’re not very convincing. Your voice cracks, and a small sob escapes your lips.

“I’m coming over. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He hangs up before you can say anything, and you let your phone slip from your fingers and onto the floor. “Mistral” continues playing over the sound system. You’ve lost track of how many times it’s played.

You hear his footsteps coming up the stairs. When he gets to your door, he knocks lightly and tries the doorknob. You forgot to lock it, so it opens, revealing you still balled up on your couch, the same song playing. Bucky doesn’t say anything as he walks over to you. He picks you up effortlessly and holds you in his lap. You relax into his body, and he wraps his arms around you tightly.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” you say weakly. You can’t believe you’re acting like this. You thought you were past this. You know it’s normal to experience emotions; it’s perfectly natural. But something’s changed, though you’re not sure what. Maybe it was graduation, moving into the next phase of your life.

“There is nothing to apologize for, doll.” You like when he calls you that, when he uses pet names for you. He picks up your phone and picks a new song to play on repeat. You don’t mind the change, but you’re surprised by his song choice. He ends up choosing “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac.

You turn slightly and look up at him. He brushes your hair from your face and traces over your features. His touch is light and makes you shiver. The two of you sit, not speaking until you fall asleep in his arms.

Bucky gently wakes you up at 2 and tells you that he’ll drive you to see your parents. It won’t take an hour, but he figured he’d make sure you felt ready for the visit. You thank him and stand, stretching out to try to shake off your sadness.

“Thanks for letting me sleep for a bit,” you say, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder.

“Of course, Y/N.” He smiles at you, trying to cheer you up. You smile back and walk to your room to change clothes. You pull on a pair of denim shorts and an oversized t-shirt. The shirt is your dad’s; you’d taken it from his closet when you packed his things to move him to the home.

It’s a black shirt with the Bee Gees on the front. You try to wear things your parents will recognize when you visit, in the hopes that it’ll help their mood. You tuck the front of the shirt in slightly to your waistband and pull your hair back out of your face. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror: blotchy cheeks, bags under your eyes, tired skin. You don’t have the energy to do anything about it, though. You shuffle to the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face to wake you up more; it helps a little. You walk back out into the living room, and as you do, you notice Bucky staring at your leg.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” he says, sounding surprised. You could’ve sworn you had worn shorts in front of him before but thinking back, you realize this is the first time he’s seen your legs. You tend to forget about your tattoo as well, you got it when you were 18, so it feels like you’ve always had it.

“Oh, yeah, I kinda forgot about it.” You run your fingers over the ink. The tattoo is on your mid/upper thigh and wraps around in a band. It’s a musical staff, but instead of music notes, tiny flowers are arranged to play the chorus of “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles. Your mother had drawn it when you were in high school, and it stayed hung up in your house for as long as you can remember. You always loved how it had looked, and when you turned 18, you decided to get it tattooed. Your parents loved it, and your mom cried when she saw it.

“It’s beautiful.” He motions for you to walk over to him, sitting on the couch. You stand between his legs, and he looks closer at the tattoo and traces over it with his fingers. “Why did you decide to get it here?” When you first got it, your dad had asked a similar question, and you laugh a little at the similarity.

“I was going to get it around my arm, but I figured that I might have to cover it for a job one day, and it’s easier to cover my leg than my arm. I also just really liked this spot.” He nods, and you gently comb through his hair with your fingers. He’s been letting it grow out a bit, and it brushes his shoulders lightly. Bucky’s fingers move up to rest on your waist, and he delicately tugs you down to sit with him.

“I checked, and it’ll only take about 15 minutes to drive to the nursing home. I thought that in the meantime, we could put together my ’70s records -- if you’re up for it.”

“Yeah, let me grab my laptop so I can look at what records I picked for you.” You get up and walk back to your room to grab your computer. When you return, Bucky is over by your shelves, ready to grab the vinyls you name. “Okay, let me see. Rumors - Fleetwood Mac, Band of Gypsys - Jimi Hendrix, Blue - Joni Mitchell.”

Bucky searches for the albums and places them on the coffee table behind him once he finds them. You continue rattling off titles until there is a sizable pile on the table. This is the most significant selection so far, but the ’70s is probably your favorite era of music. You secretly hope that by recommending more music from this period, it will become Bucky’s favorite too.

“I can’t wait to listen to these. Thank you for picking these out for me, baby.” He kisses your forehead sweetly, and you kiss him back, this time on his lips. He hasn’t shaved in a day or two, and his chin is scruffy, hinting at a beard.

“Of course, Bucky. Thank you for coming over and spending time with me today. I hope I didn’t pull you from anything too important.” You still feel guilty about Bucky coming over on a workday, but he doesn’t seem too worried about what he’s missing with Steve.

“No, this was more important.” You nod and hug him tightly. The two of you sit on the couch and talk until it is time to leave.

You’re not sure if Bucky is planning on going in with you to see your parents or if he’s just going to wait until you’re done. Visiting your parents has never been predictable. You could be there for 30 minutes or 3 hours, depending on how they’re doing. You also don’t want to drag him into something he isn’t prepared for. At the same time, though, you don’t know how to ask what he wants to do.

You know your parents would love Bucky; you’re just not sure how they’ll respond to him right now. He’s so polite and caring; your father would definitely approve of Bucky’s old-fashioned approach to dating. You’re not sure how they would react to meeting Bucky today, though, even if it’s a good day. Bucky squeezes your knee to tell you it’s time to go. You stand and do a few jumping jacks to get yourself focused, and Bucky gives you a silly look.

“I feel like a zombie; I need to wake up,” you laugh back at him. He joins you in a few jumping jacks before he takes your hand and walks you to the door. You both slip on your shoes and head out to his car. You don’t know cars well, but his looks old, and you can tell Bucky has done work on it.

The drive is silent until he speaks. “So, do you want me to wait while you go see your parents?” You can tell that he means for there to be a second part of that question. The ‘or...’.

“I’m still trying to figure that out.” You try to think about what to say before saying something stupid and hurting his feelings. “I want you to be with me and meet them, but if it’s a bad day, they might not even want to talk to me, and it might just be upsetting. I just don’t know.”

“Why don’t I walk in with you, and you can decide after you talk to the doctor. I’ll be fine with either decision. I just want to make this as easy on you as possible.” He puts his hand on your leg and squeezes your knee. You nod as he pulls into the parking lot of the nursing home. He parks and walks over to your side of the car and opens the door for you. You step out, and the sun warms your skin. You hold Bucky’s hand as you walk inside. The receptionist you spoke to on the phone sits at the front desk and waves at you when she sees you.

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N. I’m so glad you were able to make it today.” She opens up the guest sign-in binder and turns it so you can sign it. “Will you be joining the visit today?” she asks Bucky.

“He’s going to come in with me today, yes.” You finish signing and pass Bucky the binder. He signs it and gives it back to the receptionist. She hands both of you lanyards with a visitor tag on them and points you towards the room where the doctor is expecting you. You retake Bucky’s hand and realize that you’re squeezing harder than you should be. Bucky opens the door for you, and you are greeted by Dr. Williams. He’s the doctor you see the most when you visit; there are a few on rotation.

“Ms. Y/L/N, it is lovely to see you again,” Dr. Williams says, shaking your hand before turning to Bucky. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dr. Mark Williams, and I’ve been overseeing the care of Y/N’s parents for the last few years.” He shakes Bucky’s hand, and you can start to feel your nerves melt away. Dr. Williams seems to be in a chipper mood, and it doesn’t sound like he is about to deliver bad news.

“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor. I’m Bucky.” The doctor nods and motions for everyone to take a seat. Dr. Williams sits on the other side of the table so he can face you and Bucky.

“Y/N, I am thrilled that you were able to make it in today. As I hoped, your parents are having a good day so far, and I have high hopes that this will be a pleasant visit. As you know, an incident occurred last night with both of your parents. I understand that it can be very worrying to hear about things like that, but you must be informed and stay in the loop.” You nod as he speaks; you’ve heard this speech nearly every visit. You basically have it memorized at this point. “I’m not sure how they will respond to you bringing a guest; this is the first time you have done so. If you feel that the visit is going poorly or that something is going wrong, please alert a member of the staff, but hopefully, that won’t be necessary.” Bucky places his hand on your knee, instantly making you feel a bit better.

“Are there any topics we should avoid today?” You ask this every time, and each time, there is a different response. It’s hard to tell what will upset your parents, but you always try to only talk about things that will make them happy.

“Try to avoid talking about last night’s incident or any big milestones in your life. Your mother mentioned to her therapist that she feels like she is missing out on your life during a lucid period.” You drop your eyes down to look at Bucky’s hand on your knee, guilt washing over you. He squeezes your knee, and you take a few deep breaths.

“I understand, thank you.” The three of you stand, and Dr. Williams leads you to the day room.

Your parents are seated by a table near a window. They are watching a duck, and its ducklings make their way across the courtyard. The doctor sends you off with a few kind words, then heads back to the other room. As you and Bucky walk toward the table, he tries to take your hand, but you gently decline the gesture. He gives you a look, and you shake your head to say, not right now. Your mom sees you first, and she smiles, seemingly happy to see you.

“Y/N! Oh my goodness, it has been so long!” She stands and hugs you tightly. You squeeze her back and run your fingers through her hair.

“I know. I’m sorry for not seeing you sooner. I missed you.” You pull back from the hug and walk to your dad. He doesn’t have the same look on his face, so you just put your hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Dad.” He nods but doesn’t reply. You remind yourself that that’s okay. You pull out a chair for yourself, and Bucky does the same. The two of you sit, not touching—you in front of your father, Bucky in front of your mother.

“So, who is this handsome man,” your mom says, wiggles an eyebrow at you, and Bucky chuckles to himself.

“My name is James Barnes, ma’am. I’m so honored to meet you.” He reaches out to shake your mom’s hand, and she takes it eagerly. He turns to look at your father and does the same. Your father notices the gloves on Bucky’s hands but doesn’t say anything, giving Bucky a firm handshake. Your father turns to look at you and smiles, a familiar warmth in his eyes. Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them away. You don’t want to upset anyone.

“Well, James, tell me about yourself,” your dad says, surprising you. You’re also surprised to hear Bucky’s real name being used. You’ve never thought to call him James. He seems more comfortable with Bucky, but you think it’s sweet that he introduced himself to your parents with his real name. Bucky starts to tell your parents his story, obviously the abridged version, but still, it is his story. Your parents listen to him intently, and you reach over to take Bucky’s hand.

You smile at him while he squeezes your hand. The two of you stay there, talking to your parents for nearly the next two hours. It is one of the best visits you’ve had in a while, and the fact that Bucky was there to meet them made you feel even better.

You and Bucky say goodbye to your parents and head back to your apartment. You spend the rest of the night together, watching movies, listening to music, and talking the night away. Today was a good day.

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duckymcdoorknob · 3 years

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BNHA Boys Headcannons:

He Hears You Sing for the First Time.

Hi fellas!! Welcome to my BNHA headcannons! I wanted to write something other than my normal fics, so I’ll be posting a master list of these scenarios and updating them mostly bi-weekly! ❤️✨

————————————

Katsuki Bakugo:

Tonight was a calm night during the sports festival. Classes 1-A and 1-B were at a shady bar, engaged in a heavy karaoke contest. It all started with a certain Monoma deciding that 1-B could be superior to 1-A in anything they wanted. Jirou decided to pick a karaoke contest.

Inside, you were mentally cursing yourself. You had never revealed your talent and it didn’t match with your quirk whatsoever. Nonetheless, If it would get that corn-headed bastard to shut up, you were willing to make a personal sacrifice.

After Jirou finished her rendition of I Hate Myself for Lovin’ You, she received almost max on the applause-o-meter. Next it was Tetsutetsu’s turn. You spaced out trying to figure out what you were going to sing. Then it hit. The best song. You didn’t even have to sing, just speak fast. It was perfect.

Tetsutetsu received low applause, making you feel bad in a way, but not too much.

“Next to the stage. Class 1-A, (Y/N) Tamayaki” Monoma announced.

As you passed by him, he flicked your shoulder. You turned your head and scowled at him, “if you’re scared about me beating your 5 on the meter...” you walked on the stage and tapped the mic, “you should be.”

You whispered to the DJ, selecting your most straightforward repertoire song, It’s The End of The World As We Know It

The familiar tinking of the intro played, gaining some hoots and hollers from the crowds. You took to the microphone, “that’s great it starts with an earthquake, birds, snakes and aeroplanes, Lenny Bruce is not afraid”

You masterfully complete the first verse, without a misstep or stutter. Seeing Monoma look like a deer in headlights made it all the more satisfying. When moving into the chorus, you notice a head full of blonde spikes walk through the door.

“Six o’ clock, Tv hour...” you spoke so fluidly it was almost mechanical. The usually stoic boy turned to look at you with a hint of shock in face. You moved through the second verse with a little wobble, mixing a word or two after seeing the explosive blonde.

“The other night I tripped a nice continental drift divide. Mt. St. Edelide...”

After the entirety of the bar shouted “Leonard Bernstein” at you, your turn was almost up. You finished the song with full power in your voice.

The audience erupted into boisterous cheering, leaving you dazed on the stage. Jirou ushered you away with a, “why the hell didn’t you tell us you sang?”

As you passed by Bakugo, you felt a rough hand on your shoulder.

“Oy extra,” a gruff voice sounded, “that was pretty damn cool. Since when do you do that shit?”

Your cockiness from Monoma never left you, “it’s always been there, pretty boy, just never let anyone know it.” You get on your toes and whisper in his ear, “it goes much deeper than this. Let me know when you want to hear more.”

You walk off with Jirou, earning a high five from her. Bakugo stood dumbfounded. Maybe you weren’t an extra after all.

Izuku Midoriya:

Class 1-A’s antics never did end. Kirishima insisted on the whole class hearing his singing voice, a god awful one may I add. So, the class was broken out into full on song.

You had never shown anyone you could sing, it just didn’t fit with your quirk. So you held it off. As soon as the whole ordeal started growing, you found yourself walking to the front of the school.

You plant down on a bench, plugging in your earbuds. You scroll through your Spotify playlist, but ultimately let it shuffle. You un-tensed as the beginning of The Boys of Summer echoed in your ears. You closed your eyes and let lazy lyrics escape your lips.

“Nobody on the road, nobody on the beach...” you quietly echoed the song.

This was the true symbol of peace: no one to bother you while you listened to a bomb ass song. You didn’t notice the added weight on the bench next to you until it was too late.

“Well I can see you, your brown skin shining in the sun...” you quietly let the words escape your lips like clockwork.

You opened your eyes to take in the world around you. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Izuku sitting right next to you.

“I-uh h-h-hi! Sorry to bother you, but you just disappeared. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You chuckled softly. How could you be mad at this stuttering mess?

“Um (Y-Y-Y/N)? C-could you keep singing for me?” Izuku was flushed. He was embarrassed with himself, clearly.

You let out a soft breath of air, your lips curving into a smile. You let the next words of the song release from you. You leaned back onto Izuku’s lap, not thinking anything of it. You felt the boy tense up in your lap, but he ultimately relaxed and began to play with your hair.

Okay you lied, this was the true symbol of peace. You spent the whole afternoon in the same position; singing along to whatever song happened to be next in the shuffle.

Denki Kaminari: (got a little carried away here. I’m a Kami hoe)

Certain days bring certain events that you can never plan for. The spring festival most definitely had the it’s surprises in store.

You were hanging out with your friends, Mina, Bakugo, Kirishima, Sero and Kaminari. Today has been the best day you’ve ever experienced. So many fun filled events! Bakugo dominated ring toss and won a giant stuffed zebra for himself, plus a giant stuffed Pikachu for Denki. Sero won the ropes course, receiving a small teddy bear. Mina and Kirishima took on a milk bottle toss, in which they both walked away with a stuffie of their own.

“(Y/N)-Chan! You haven’t won a prize yet! What game can we all play to get one?” Mina chimed

“Oh! I’m not sure! I’m not very athletically inclined, if you catch my drift.” You rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment.

“That’s okay! Neither am I, I just have a good throwing arm” Mina beamed back in response.

You gave her a closed-eyed grin as you continued with the group. You had to admit that you wanted a stuffie of your own, but how were you supposed to win one?

“Ooooh! Look! Look!” Kirishima’s voice suddenly rang.

You look up to see a midsize stage, a huge crowd of your fellow students and Present Mic setting up a microphone. This should be good...

“Attention studennnnntsssssaah!” A booming voice echoed through the field, “come to the stage for a cool talent show! Winner receives a speeeeeecial prizzzeee!~”

You looked at Kiri with furrowed eyebrows. You hadn’t told anyone about your singing voice yet, so you played dumb.

“What could I possibly bring to the stage? My quirk? You’ve all seen it already.” You snapped in defense while fiddling with your hair.

“You can sing! I heard you humming in the common room!” Kirishima bit back in rebuttal.

“That doesn’t mean a damn thing! And even if I could, Ive got tons of other people to go against!”

You looked amongst your friends, who all had the same look in their eyes. You hung your head down and went to Present Mic to sign up.

After a few minutes, your name was called. You mentally cursed yourself as you shuffled onto the stage.

“Next in our competition, (Y/N) Tamayaki!” Present Mic announced.

You looked at Kirishima, who gave you a thumbs up. As the music started, you sucked in a breath. This is it. The tempo grows and accompaniment becomes more intense. You can’t help but smile.

“Movin’ on the floor now baby, you’re a bird of paradise” you began to sing.

Kirishima cheered. Rio was a favorite amongst you and Kiri. You moved through the first verse with great ease.

“Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand.” You were feeling free, not holding back a bit. You sang your heart out through the next verse, masterfully completed the second chorus, and chuckled as the instrumental break sounded.

As the saxophone began to play, you felt a hand on yours and soon you were spun around. Kirishima has come up to the stage to get you to “loosen up”, but he just wanted to perform with you.

“You make me feel alive, alive alive! Luck is on my side or somethin’, I know what you’re thinkin!” You chimed as Kirishima spun you again.

You started the final chorus, while Kirishima beckoned the whole audience to sing. They all obliged except for one...

A dazed Denki stood with a pink tinge on his cheeks. He was awestruck for sure, for you had never revealed this side of you to him.

As the song ended, you stuck your microphone up in the air and smiled wide. The audience roared in applause, and you won a (favorite animal) plushie.

You exited the stage and tried to grab the voluptuous plushie, but it was so heavy you stumbled backwards.

“Woa-! Careful (Y/N)!” Kaminari cried as he caught you by your underarms, “dude! What the hell that was SO cool!!”

You chuckled and helped yourself to your feet, taking one end of the plush and Kami on the other. You both met with your group while Kaminari pestered you with questions.

Ejirou Kirishima:

Finally! Your first semester of U.A High was complete! Today was a great day for you and your classmates to hang out. So, you and your friend group decided to go have lunch somewhere fun.

“Oye Bakugo, I don’t know If I’m comfortable with you driving. Especially considering you road rage something awful.” Denki intervened your thoughts.

“Oh yeah definitely. Do not let blasty over here behind the wheel.” You agreed.

Bakugo glared daggers at the two of you. “I’m a more than adEQUATE DRIVER THANK YOU!”

“You’re welcome! But you’re not driving.” You chimed in response, “Kirishima can”

“Hell yeah!” Kirishima beamed as he trudged to the driver’s seat of his Mustang.

Bakugo called shotgun first, so you were stuck in the backseat with Denki and Sero. Middle set between these two tricksters? Can’t be as innocent as it seems.

Nonetheless, Kirishima started up the car and put the top down. “We’re riding in style today my friends.”

You chuckled and relaxed in your seat. It would be about a 45 minute drive to go where you all agreed, but it would be a fun one. Kirishima turned on his spotify, letting it shuffle. Some slow song came on and you felt your eyes get heavy...

All of the sudden, you saw your eyelids again. You opened your eyes to see that you had fallen asleep on Kami’s shoulder, and that he had done the same.

“Long day at the mill I guess?” Kirishima asked, looking at you in the rear-view mirror with a grin.

You chuckled softly, he was right. You definitely needed that nap. At that moment, your favorite song played on Kirishima’s spotify, Fallen Angel by Poison.

“WAIT! You’re a poison fan too?!” You shot up, forgetting about poor Kaminari on your shoulder. The boy woke up upon impact with the seat, and you gave him an amused puff of air.

“Jeez (y/n) I let you sleep on my shoulder and tried not to move you. But all of the sudden the tables turn and you don’t do the same? Not cool.” Denki said with a pout.

“BUT LISTEN TO THE SONG!” You chimed.

“It’s just guitar right now.” Kaminari responded as he yawned.

“ITS SO MUCH BETTER THOUGH!” You cried, “She stepped off the bus and out into the city streets.” You began to sing.

Kirishima looked in the rear-view again. He saw you absolutely jamming as you sang. He smiled fondly and turned his attention back to the road.

“Just a step away from the edge of the fall. Sometimes you can’t choose-“

“It’s like a heads you win, tails you’re gonna lose!” Kirishima started to sing with you.

“WIN BIG, MAMA’S FALLEN ANGEL, LOSE BIG, LIVIN’ OUT HER LIES.” You both erupted in to song, causing an angry Bakugo to roll his eyes and let out a fond scoff.

You and Kirishima sang your hearts out until the song ended. You repeated this pattern with all of Kirishima’s other music. You and this boy shared such similar music taste.

Kaminari and Bakugo tried to be annoyed, but they couldn’t seem to find a reason to not be amused. When a song you all knew came on, everyone started singing, even Bakugo. Upon arrival at the restaurant, everyone was smiling and ready for a nice lunch.

“I never knew you had such a nice voice (y/n)!” Kirishima cooed, “you and Jirou should totally team up and make music together!”

Your face heated up. “Oh- uh! Heh, thanks Kiri! I’m happy to hear that you’re a man of culture as well. Not many people our age know about Poison.” You rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment.

Kirishima’s eyebrows raised with excitement, “oh yeah! I love older music! There’s just something about it! I mean the backing music isn’t the main focus of the song, it’s like an accompaniment for the vocals and-“

“Jesus Christ Kirishima. Get a fucking room you two, you sound like Deku with all that rambling” Bakugo’s annoyed voice sounded. You both felt your faces heat up at the comment, walking into the restaurant with a new idea in both of your minds.

Shoto Todoroki: (got carried away here too uwu)

A lonely rainy day. The boys were all at the pool for some “extra training”. It was close to your birthday and the girls were out to find a present for you. You chuckled softly at the thought. You knew straight away what the girls were planning.

“(Y/n) Chan!” Uraraka’s voice echoed through your thoughts, “were going to the shop to get a-“ she cut herself off, “some snacks for you today! We want to get some (favorite chip flavor) chips!” She beamed.

You nodded in response with a goofy grin. They’re the best friends you could ask for. All of the girls took off in an instant, leaving you in the dorms by yourself.

“Waste not want not.” You hummed to yourself as you made your way into the common room. You prepared yourself a mug of (favorite warm drink) (hot choccy gang) and planted down by the large bay window.

The world was silent. Nothing daring to make a sound, but the pitter-patter of the rain outside of the window. You sighed with great satisfaction. How could this day possibly get better? You grabbed your phone and earbuds from the couch and turned on your Spotify.

“Well... it’s just me here. I can practice my audition music if I wanted.” You thought out loud. You clicked in the playlist containing all of the songs that suited your voice the most.

You instantly relaxed and prepared to start as the familiar tweets and twitters of Green Finch and Linnet Bird played through your earbuds.

“Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird, how is it you sing?” You began to softly sing, “how can you jubilate sitting in cages, never taking wing?”

You stared out the window, as if you were acting out the scene yourself, “Outside the sky waits beckoning, beckoning, just beyond the bars.” You stood to your feet and let the music run through you. No one was here to judge you, no one could laugh or glare or, in Bakugo’s case, sneer at you. “How can you remain, staring at the rain? Maddened by the stars?”

You were now in the center of the room, sitting on the couch. “How is it you sing? Anything?” The music crescendoed into a melodious break. You continued to the window, singing the song ever so softly, as if you were singing a lullaby. “Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird, teach me how to sing.”

The rain fell harder as you plopped down on the window ledge, “if I cannot fly... let me sing.” You stared out the window with a soft smile on your face. Yes... this is the best way to spend your birthday. Completely alone, cup of (drink) in hand, singing your heart out... Nothing could beat it.

You noticed that you were out of (drink) and returned to the kitchen to pour yourself some more. Upon exiting, the cord of your earbuds snagged along the handle of a drawer. Before you had time to react, a small beam of ice froze your drink, keeping you from burning yourself.

“Are you alright, Tamayaki?”

You stood dazed, unable to process everything. Your mouth sat agape as you tried to usher a sentence.

“(Y/N)? Everything’s fine, you didn’t fall, I caught you.”

That’s when you noticed the arm gripped around yours. You turned to meet the concerned eye of your best friend, Shoto Todoroki.

“A-Ah! Gomenasai Todoroki-San!” You stuttered as your face heated up, “gee how embarrassing.”

Todoroki simply grinned with an exhale of air. Your eyes widened and eyebrows furrowed as you swallowed, “that means you’ve been here the whole time... and you heard me-“

“Singing? Yes. Your voice is quite beautiful. It was a great accompaniment to my embroidering.” Todoroki admitted with a soft smile.

“-was gonna say talk to myself but...” you covered your face with your hands, “no one’s ever heard me sing before! I was always so careful!”

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. You truly have a gift.” Todoroki said softly, “if you don’t mind, I would like to embroider while you sing to me.”

You pondered. “Well you’ve already heard me, so there’s no sense in hiding. But, I do need some more (drink), because you kinda like froze my original cup.” Shoto nodded with a chuckle and turned on his heel to grab his supplies.

You smiled and retreated to the kitchen for a new cup of (drink). You then sat down on the couch, scrolling through your playlist to find something slow and quiet. When you felt the ouch weigh down next to you, you absentmindedly rested your head on his shoulder.

“Happy birthday (Y/N). Such a peaceful afternoon must be a gift.”

“Hanging with you is a gift enough.” You muttered, hoping he wouldn’t hear you.

“I feel the same. Now, I want to hear your beautiful voice again. Hop to it.” Shoto gently commanded.

You obliged and spent your quiet time with him. Hours passed and still you both sat, attention on each of your hobbies. Nothing could ruin this incredible moment. Until Uraraka bursted through the door, causing you to spill an entire mug of scalding (drink) in your lap...

“Happy friggin birthday.” You cringed as Todoroki patted your lap with a cold dish towel.

#bnha #mha #deku #midoriya #my hero academia #Bakugo #Katsuki #mha Bakugo #bakugou katsuki #mha todoroki #shoto todoroki #todoroki #shouto todoroki #denki x you #denki kaminari #Kaminari #Kirishima #ejirou

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lyalii · 3 years

Text

Nat’s 2020 Appreciation Post

Because the Mando/Pedro Pascal fandom is just the best (no you can’t argue with that point, it’s not opinion, it is scientific fact) I’m here to give some awards to yall

LOOONGGGG so under the cut

The ‘Just Read Their Entire Masterlist Literally I Can’t Pick A Favorite’ Award goes to:

@softpedropascal : Not only a talented writer but also the queen of Frankie like im pretty sure ive read the entire Frankie hc masterlist like four times and her Pragma series twice so...

@frannyzooey : y’all know how i feel... I did not start 2020 wishing to be a brothel girl in the Wild West but here i am...Everyday I wake up and think “Damn...I hope Gracie is having a good day.” Not to mention the very hot and decadent Frankie Box Set series.

@filthybookworm : Cris I haven’t actually read your entire masterlist yet but from what i have read, every word you type turns to gold. You’re a word alchemist my friend!

@dindjarindiaries : Where do I begin? Not only am I a full time resident in her ask box but I just finished Security and wowowowowow ok the talent!! And Touch It Softly, Take it Off, Behave, and Mine are some of my favorite non-descriptive smut/spice i’ve ever read.

@keeper0fthestars : I wish i had a big enough thesaurus to express the talent but alas, smol brain tired words too hard. YOU MAAM HAVE MADE ME CRY ON MORE THAN ONE OCCASION!

@auty-ren: Her. Dark. Mando. has. my. knees. and. p****. weak. enough. said.

The “You Should Still Read Their Entire Masterlist But I Can Pick a Favorite” Award goes to:

Dust by @etchedbox: Just started. Fucking amazing.

Dusty Trails by @hdlynnslibrary : US Marshal Din? Inject directly into my veins please

honeycomb by @goldafterglow : Idk why this isn’t on my 21st century literature reading list this semester...doesn’t make sense but alas...

Curriculum Vitae by @tiffdawg: MY FAVORITE JAVI SERIES EVER!

maybe next year by @huliabitch: made me cry so hard...like multiple times throughout the day...

Quixotic Series by @jangofctts : yeah that’s the good shit right there

toccare by @hansoulo oh yes yes this one is just so good

The ‘Writers on the Rise” Award (aka just found them/just started writing/just started reading their stuff award but holy shit they’re amazing award):

@dindadjarin: Just posted her first fic but omg its so soft and sweet and incredible!

@miss-me-jack: i’ve read a few of her works and its like reading poetry...so beautiful

@moonlit-djarin : Read a beautiful fic by them and can’t wait for more!

The “Rough Day” award goes to:

@no-droids : i mean, it better...

The “FUCK YOU (lovingly)” Award goes to all the writers that pulled me into the Dave York pit let me repeat FuCk yall oh my GoD I hATE him watch your head when you descend into their filthy pit y’all.

@ohpedromypedro @frannyzooey @filthybookworm @zeldasayer

The “Thanks for Reminding Me What Tears Are” Award goes to:

@aerynwrites for Trust is a Fragile Thing and Tragedy

@dindjarindiaries for Irrevocable and Alleviation

The “Thanks for Making Me Smile in Hell Year 2020″ Award goes to:

@thisisthe-wayson for Fried this is just the cutest thing dasjfsd;kjdfsfh

The “Your Fic Lives In My Mind Rent Free Please Pay Up Rent Is Due on the 8th of the Month” Award goes to:

@jollyrancher87 for Thunder

@heatherbel for Desideratum

@mostly-megan for Temptation of Bliss (Frontier!Frankie...enough said)

Okay those are all the specific fics and writers I can think of at the moment and I probably missed a billion incredible writers but just know I love and appreciate every single one of you whether you were mentioned or not! You all have made 2020 a lot more bearable and I cannot wait to read your incredible fics in the future!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

#appreciation post #lets give them a round of applause!!!!

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hunter-runstheworld · 3 years

Text

12/21

BEST DAY EVER TODAY!!!

Get ready for daily posts again y’all. THANK YOU to everyone who has been commenting on my posts recently-sorry I haven’t been responsive. Been SO busy. This semester ended Friday. Thank god. Been doing a huge catch up with life since then. Had my last final Friday and had two long lululemon shifts Saturday and Sunday. Peep me at work in the bathroom-thriving there too!!!

I love my new Lululemon store. The people are authentic, I am growing personally and professionally, and feel secure. Busy holiday season though and our capacity was cut because of MA covid regulations (understandable.. but I need the $$).

Health has been at a standstill. Did my best. Lots of takeout and only 2x a week workouts from thanksgiving to now. This was because of my semester in CORE. We pulled alll nighters to finish that 150 page business plan.

Went grocery shopping today, hit up the gym, did laundry, cleaned my entire apartment. Back on the grind now! Can’t wait to get back into cooking, going to try some new things. Excited to push myself in the gym now I feel super comfortable with everything. SO looking forward to getting out for some runs too! Feel like I lost a little muscle these last few weeks but may just be because I’m burnt out. Think ive still been losing weight though- clothes keeping getting bigger and bigger. This wasn’t even intentional!! Usually if I fall off I start overeating all the unhealthy food! I’ve been able to indulge in moderation. No problem about any possible muscle loss though. I’ll get it back. CORE is something else and it’s goneee. Hello 3 day weekend next sem!

OH and why today has been so great? FINALLY received (+planning on accepting) a merchandising internship offer for next summer with the TJX companies. Oh boy. Everything’s coming together I could CRY. Interviewing season has been rough.

I am so grateful to be where I am today. I am responsible for all my actions. I am responsible for my failures and successes. Responsible for how I manage my failures & then turn them into successes:) I was rejected by TJX last year as a sophomore, they said it was super competitive as a sophomore but to come back as a junior. Fall down 7 get up 8!

#hunterrunstheworld #runblr #fitblr #running #health #healthblr #healthy #nutrition #personal fitblr #runner

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secretlynestaarcheron · 4 years

Text

COLD AS ICE

Figure skating x hockey player

TWO: Cassian and The Bet

Cassian ran a hand through his wet hair as he makes his way back out towards the locker room, he throws his towel over his shoulder as he unlocks his locker. “Hey Cas, are you coming to the party tonight?” I heard a rumor that Tamlin might be there,” Rhysnd says from where he was sitting on the bench slipping on his shoes.

Cassian rolls his head, he was already feeling the tension in his shoulders from the stress semester, “I don’t know man, I’ve got a ton of homework and I don’t really feel like getting involved with Tamlin before the game this weekend.”

“Never thought I’d hear the day that Cassian Monte would say no to brawl, who are you becoming?” Tomas cheers from the other side where he changes despite not doing much throughout practice besides sitting on the bench. He was only on the team because his father donated the new bleachers.

Cassian looks over at Rhysand with a deadpan expression, growing up in foster care made Cassian a fighter but once he joined the hockey team in highschool where he met Rhysand and Azriel he had a new reason to fight. The only reason he was at this school working towards a degree in engineering was because of hockey.

He wouldn’t let his scholarship be taken away because of some fight off the ice or a bad grade in an easy class, Rhysand understood it but unfortunately not a lot of the rich kids on the team did. “I got an eight am tomorrow, why don’t you come have a few drinks and then we can head back to the apartment together?” Azriel chimes in, being the voice of reason as always.

Cassian frowns, rubbing his chin, “Okay, but text me when you’re heading over and if I haven’t gotten a load of my homework done its a no from me,” he retorts, slipping on his jacket and leaving the locker room.

As he makes his way towards the exit, he stops short when he sees Nesta sitting down on the bench in front of the rink, ear muffs and scarf pulled tightly around her neck. She had her knees to her chest as she clutched a book in front of her face.

He stepped forward, grabbing his keys from his pocket, he felt the need to go out there and talk to her. To pick on her, or maybe to offer her a ride home. He shakes his head at the thought, she was probably waiting for Mor or possibly her own personal driver.

He steps out in the cold making his way towards the parking lot where his beat up jeep was, it was a typical cliche but it was cheap and he needed transportation to take his gear all over the place. He jumps into the front seat, quickly sticking his key into the ignition before blasting the heat.

Once his mirrors are set and he can feel his hands, he pulls out of the driveway, looking over the bench in front of the rink where Nesta was gathering her stuff and moving towards the bus. He furrowed his brow, watching as she smiled at the bus driver chatting as she handed him her card. She had a transportation card. He curses himself for assuming that she was waiting on a personal driver.

There was more to her than he thought, he figured the blonde hair and figure skating made her the prime stereotype for rich white girls. There’s a beep and he looks in his rearview to see Rhysand sticking his hands up in confusion.

He waves apologetically before turning towards campus, where he was going to seat himself in the library and knock out the rest of his homework. His phone chimes after a couple hours and he looks up as someone shushes him, smiling apologetically, he grabs his backpack and answers the phone as he exits the library.

“Yeah, I know, I am heading home now,” Cassian retorts before the person even said hello.

“I am glad you just now remembered,” Azriel says on the other side but he was chuckling, “Where are you? I’ll just pick you up from there.”

“He’s probably still in his loungewear from after practice he is not going to a party in his joggers and teeshirt,” Rhysand calls out from the passenger seat, “He’ll come home and change, I don’t care if you’re late.”

Cassian rolls his eyes, “I am at the library,” he says.

“Cool, I’ll see you there,” Azriel retorts earning a groan from Rhysand. He leans against the wall, flipping mindlessly through Instagram while he waits for the slick black car to pull up. He finds himself pulling up Nesta Archerons page, he was trying to know more about her.

There were pictures of her with Mor, dressed up for parties or hanging in the quad, as well as a few of her competing, she looked angelic on the ice. He scrolls far enough down that he stumbles upon a picture of Nesta laying down on a hospital bed her head against an older lady who looks just like her. The lady is talking with a bright smile and Nesta looks over at her with sparkling eyes.

Cassian was familiar with the bright blue cap on the ladies head and all the IV’s, he was there when his own mother had passed away from cancer, he scrolled down her captain only a yellow heart, the comments full of condolences. Her mother had passed away as well. He takes note of the date it was posted, six years ago today.

He felt weird, he honestly kind of felt like that guy Joe from that stalker show. She posted on her instagram for all of her followers to see but he still felt like he was invading her personal space, as if he wasn’t welcomed.

“Stop spacing out and get in the car, it’s already six!” Rhysand yells. Cassian looks up to see him halfway out the window, waving wildly at his friend. Azriel shrugs in the driver seat as Cassian jumps into the back. “What were you so deep in thought about?”

Cassian runs a hand through his hair, “All the organic chem homework I am going to have to do when I get home at eight,” he says.

Rhysand laughs, “Like you're actually going to get home by eight,” he chuckles, reaching forward to turn up the music before Cassian has any objections.

Rhysand grabs his shoulder before moving past him into the house, it was already bumping full of intoxicated college (and probably some highschool) students and bland techno music. “Nesta! Nesta! Nesta!” a group of college kids in the back chanted catching the attention of Cassian as he moved his way through the crowd.

She sat on the kitchen island, taking shot after shot of some unknown liquid that happened to be neon blue. She took the last one, punching her hands into the air as she turns to the crowd letting out a loud cheer. The crowd cheers along with her but quickly makes their way deeper into the party aside from a few college guys who linger around her.

“People don’t know it but you’re such a crackhead,” Mor says as Nesta moves off the island, stumbling into Mor’s shoulder as she regains her balance. She looks up, her bright green eyes catching his, she pushes herself up keeping contact with him. “What? What are you looking at-Oh, Cassian,” Mor says, turning to face him, moving a hand around Nesta’s waist. “This is the last time I DD for her.”

Nesta rest her head against Mor shoulder, he wonders if she’s always been like this at parties or if it had anything to do with her mom. He had seen her at parties before, finding a dark corner and pulling a book from her bag to read. He had never seen her like this but he never really gets out much either.

“Amren!” Mor yells, groaning loudly, “God, why are both of them such bad drunks? Could you watch her while I grab Amren? I really hope I am not this bad when I am drunk.”

She pushes Nesta towards him, as she pushes through the crowd to find Amren, another figure skater on the team. He holds her up, looking around the room deciding what he should do next. His eyes fixate on a girl across the room talking with Rhysand, she had the same dirty blonde hair as Nesta as well as the same facial expressions.

Rhysand looks over at her, gaining the attention of the girl as well, her eyes widen and she bolts away from Rhysand who looks after sadly. “Cassian?” Nesta murmurs, looking up at him, blinking to regain focus in her eyes, she pushes his arm around her. “What are you doing here?”

“Babysitting you, apparently,” he says with a roughness that’s a little too sharp. She blinks up at him, her arms dropping to her side, “Wanna go outside?”

She looks up at him before nodding, she follows behind him towards the back door, Cassian didn’t know whose house this was but they would have a giant mess to clean up tomorrow morning for sure. He lead her over to a porch swing, she fell into it putting a hand against her forehead.

“My 9:30 class tomorrow is going to suck,” she murmurs, her head moving to the side, as she closed her eyes. He pushed off his foot, moving the swing lightly back and forth, “Who’s idea was it to have a party on a thursday?”

“Probably those kids from Autumn Court, their parents paid for their degrees so they don’t need to worry about class,” he hums, leaning back and looking up at the dark sky, “You know, I am still mad about your post.”

She groans, turning to look at him, “Seriously? If your team could have scheduled another practice anytime that day, but you chose to pick the two hours we were in there,” she says, pushing herself into an upright position staring down at him. “I want to see you do what I can do, you couldn’t even if I trained you.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Okay, deal.”

She frowns at him, running a hand through her tangled hair, “What do you mean? Deal? I didn’t make a deal with you?” she says, her speech quickly sobering up. “I don’t want to make a deal with you.”

He rubs his chin, “The game against Spring Court is this Sunday and so is your conpetition, you teach me to figure skate and I’ll teach you how to play hockey, first one to quit loses,” he retorts, “This way we’ll both learn how to appreciate each other's sports.”

She looks down at his extended hand, before grabbing it, “Deal, I hope you like losing. Balancing on one leg while wearing a revealing costume is a lot harder than hitting a puck with a stick.”

He rolls his eyes, turning as the door opens, he frowns standing up quickly, “Tamlin, what are you doing here?” he says, squaring up and blocking Nesta from his view. He looks down at the small frame beside him, the familiar girl that Rhysand was talking to earlier.

“Cassian,” Tamlin says, his lip curling into a smile, “Haven’t seen you in a long while, I am sure you’ll go back into hiding when we beat you this weekend.”

Cassian feels a shove and Nesta is standing in front of him, her eyebrows furrowed, “Feyre Archeron, what the hell are you doing here,” she growls, her eyes on fire as she looks at Tamlin, “Do you realize that she’s seventeen?”

Feyre frowns as Tamlins arm falls from where it was around her shoulder, “Way to kill my vibe, Nes, some sister you are,” she snaps, turning on her heel angrily and running into the house.

“Don’t you run away from me, we are having words, just because dad doesn’t care anymore doesn’t mean you can do something stupid like that!” she yells after her, following her through the open door, disappearing into the crowd of people.

“That’s pretty sick, man,” Cassian says turning back towards Tamlin who shrugged in response, “It’s not like we did anything, besides she’ll be eighteen soon enough. Her sister is pretty firey, maybe I’ll have her entertain me until Freyes birthday,”

Cassian gripped his fist, his nails piercing the hard skin in his palms, “I’ll see you on Sunday,” he says calmly, before pushing past him and back into the house looking around for Rhysand or Azriel. He had wasted enough time here.

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 5 years

Text

So I’m finally getting around to writing out a bunch of info about my Sander Sides au so I hope youre all ready--(its like 1 am im so sorry for any spelling mistakes and missed tags)

So its 1 am on a work night and I cant sleep and I’ve had lots of ideas and canon things for this au bouncing around my head for days and now TONIGHTS THE NIGHT ITS HAPPENING IM DELIVERING YOU ALL THE DETAILS AND EVERYTHING I CAN THINK OF AND TYPE

Also please feel free to ask about this! I know I got a few new followers from all my recent sander sides art and also thanks to @sugarglider9603 reblogging some art I made of their au I got the biggest flood of exposure and attention on my art ive ever had and I have so much to thank them for, for all recent exposure ive gotten the past couple days( theyre so sweet and lovely and easy to talk to sugar deserves all the love--) and its given me a huge surge of motivation and confidence to post this. And please, my inbox is always open to talk about my aus or my art! Ask questions, send requests, send headcanons or ideas, send fluff angst im open to anything and I try to do all requests sent to me(sooner or later)

Oh oh! and please id you catch any and all the little inspirations or anything let me know

And finally this au is a LAMP au with Remile and Demus on the side

Ahem ahem anyway onto the au!!!

More under the cut so I dont flood your screen too bad!

Ok so!

This Au was originally inspired by @residentanchor‘s amazing fanfic A Lesson in Practicality and also a little bit by @prettyinaccurate‘s fanged virgil au( I’ll get more into that further down)

So it takes place in a (currently) unnamed bigger city I based off San Francisco and Sacramento( because I live in Cali and those are the two major cities ive really visited ya know?) The boys are all in various stages of their twenties when they move into a four bedroom apartment together: Patton Foster is the oldest of the roomies at 27, then Logan Masters at 26, Roman Prince at 24, and finally Virgil Collins at 22. They move in together because it all works out for them really, the apartment is in a good distance to all their current jobs, whether by bus or even in Pat’s case in walking distance and with all four of them it was well affordable and was pretty nice. I mean hey it even came with a little communal balcony ( since theyre on third floor of the building)

Things are understandably a little rocky at first , i mean isnt it always though?

Virgil has alot of anxiety and so he tends not to talk really at all at the beginning unless he ABSOLUTELY had to, mostly communicating in noncomittal noises and soft grumbles, and he was fresh out of collage and barely two years into his job and out on his own for the first time and he wasnt really ready for it either like christ too many people

Patton was bright bubbly and caring. This wasnt his first rodeo with roomies, I mean cmon, hes been sharing a room with his older brother Damian(deceit) on and off almost all his freakin life, nor was it his first time living on his own with strangers(hes lived in two different parts of two when he was job hopping before he settled down in his current part time job)

Roman was extroverted loud and exciteable, he too was used to sharing his living space( he had TWO siblings after all) and before he had moved into the apartment he had tried living on his own and with other roommates while he attended collage, but those just didnt work out well ( he ended up staying with his older brother Remy in his studio apartment across the city while he finished out that semester and searched for a job to keep an income.

Logan was serious minded stern toned and confident, he had a minor degree in teaching that he was slowly repursueing and had been out on his own for awhile before he had moved in. And though cold at first he soon found his group of housemates...enjoyable.

Its about a month into them living together that they learn exactly why despite slowly getting close and getting to know each other Virgil still kept a wide distance: He had entirely sharp teeth.

“ I dunno....I was born with them..theyve always been a sharp pain in my ass...” - virgil, about his teeth

Of course just having sharp teeth wasnt bad enough oh no. You see a few years back when he was about 18 he was young and dumb and made horrifically stupid and reckless decisions under peer pressure and ended up doing something that not only pointedly (haha oh god im not funny) chipped his front teeth but it fucked up his teeth pretty majorly, he went from having a normal overbite to almost having a goddamn underbite and crooked all his teeth, and the only way to fix it( because somehow miraculous for all the damage done it turned out to be mostly reversable aside from the chipping) was getting braces to realign his teeth. So he’s had pretty purple braces over his fangs since he was 18 and they werent expected to come off until he was AT LEAST 25 and he was insecure about them. ( he got mocked for them through his two and a half years of junior collage)

Once the gang finds out they are understanding and helpful and dont make a big deal about it( though virgil gains a significant amount of more vampire related nicknames from roman)

Once they get close and comfortable around each other the apartment is pretty warm and lively!

Virgil works at the art store as an assistant manager and head stocker( a bit of a dream come true since he was an art student)

Roman works as a part time waiter at a family resturant as well as working at a nearby theater( he was of course a lovely theater major)

Patton worked at a nearby cafe and bakery as a bit of everything! He helped wait tables, serve behind the counter, and helped in the back in the kitchen( the owners were family friends and he’d been working there almost four to five years at that point, boi knows how to do everything)

Logan worked at a big name bookstore, and also provided tutoring sessions for highschool students on the side by commision

More FACTS~~

Family ages for the big families go as follows:

Fosters: Damian(28), Patton(27)

Prince: Remy(26), Roman(24, older twin by 10 minutes), Remus(24, younger twin)

Emile is 27 and is a licensed therapist and works as a counselor for young adults that volunteers at the nearby library to ready to children

Remy works as a coffee barista in Emile’s building

Remus does alot of odd jobs, kinda working as an independent for hire and gets a surprising steady flow of work and pay. Hes still a trash man though, but hes a successful trash man( partly thanks to Damian calling in favors with connections)

Damian works at a law firm slowly moving into the position of prosecutor

Virgil doesnt really get along with his family and at some point Emile offers to take virgil in as his adopted brother, with Damian assuring him if he wanted concrete legal papers to start changing his last name, cutting ties with his family, anything needed for it he’d see to it that they’d be providing(something our boi really appreciates)

Remy visits Emile on his breaks since hes literally just...two hallways down and vice versa

Damian and Remus live together in the next, slightly smaller city over because Damian’s work transferred him to a different office in order for him to keep moving up in the ranks so to speak.

Hes also good at what he does.

Family nights happen whenever they can

Patton got to teach them how to cook alot of complicatied dishes from scratch, a bonding time he adores

Roman got Virgil an Espeon hoodie after they all start dating and virgil loves it and wears it alot around the house because its a thicker hoodie and warm( though he tries to ignore the big ears and the obnovious tail

Virgil also loves visiting Roman’s work on what Ro likes to refer to as “ hellish days” AKA kids day which means goofy kid friendly theme days. His favorite was probably alice in wonderland day when Roman was Tweedle Dee

Roman played J.D at the local theater and likes to hum some of the his songs to switch up the Disney

The balcony is covered in houseplants and and a corner of old blankets and pillows to sit and chill on

Once a month Logan and Patton have what is affectionately referred to as the Cat Discourse

After any particularly rough days at work Patton tends to massage Logan’s shoulders and back to make sure Lo doesnt get any really bad stress knots

in return when Logan sees Patton’s head a hard day he makes Patton’s favorite drink and pulls him into a hug and let the older man fall asleep in his arms while they watch movies

Pat and roman sense each other’s bad days and order in some cliche diner food and hole up in pattons room with Pattons computer and relax the shittiness away with comedy specials and movies

Likewise Virgil has a knack of picking up Roman’s bad days and always grabs a couple glasses and a bottle kinda cheap wine and they end up curling up together on Romans bed marathoning Disney movies on Virgil’s laptop

and when Virgil closes himself off more than normal Logan manages to lure him out of his room and they end up sitting out on the balcony quietly talking and stargazing

so loving and fond and soft with each other

you hurt one of them you gonna get BEAT by the others.

Speaking of getting beat, never EVER mess with Roman or Remus in Remy’s proximity

Remy Andrew Prince can and WILL fuck you right up if you hurt his little brothers. He’s protective.

and where Remy will rearrange your face Damian will ruin you mentally and legally if you so much as mistreat a single freckle on his little brother’s face, despite knowing that Patton is fully capable of taking care of himself.

Everyone protects Virgil, dont mess with or hurt virgil or you have the pack coming for ya throat

aaaaaaaaaaaaaand thats all I have for right now! Of course more will be added but now its almost three in the morning and I have work at 1:30pm and im sleepy finally! But I hope you guys like this! And please, feel free to talk to me about it, my inbox is always open!!

Taglist: @phantommoonpeople @sweetsweetemo @loganberrysanders

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dashielldeveron · 6 years

Text

Cedere Nescio, or, Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Tom Holland/Reader. College AU.

Warnings: dealing with mental health in a Big Way, extreme thirst, language (Latin), and swears. But that’s college, I guess. Notes: Tom’s a theatre major, and you’re a theatre minor.

_______________________________________________________________________

i Maybe you gave off a gay vibe? You really didn’t know. Would that the perception of your sexuality were as clear as those of Achilles and Patroclus.

You sit on the edge of the stage, taking a break from building sets. Tom’s up in the grid, adjusting lights and putting in gels, and his sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, by the grace of God. Even from this distance, his biceps ripple. His eyebrows are furrowed, lines drawn between them, as he bites his lower lip and sticks out his jaw very slightly.

You pop off the cap of a sharpie and hold it between your teeth, never letting it get wet, as you idly doodle perfututum onto the inside of your arm, covering some parallel lines you made with something a little sharper. Perfututum—it’s Latin for totally fucked. And it’s you.

Tom Holland’s untouchable, you know? Everyone, in the theatre department and out, wanted to be his friend; everyone wanted his approval or to impress him, and his genuine approval wasn’t easily earned. He dances through his classes with panache; everything is easy for him, a delight. His laughter reverberates off the walls of the arts building, and good night, did you want to be the cause of his laughter. Sometimes you were, when you gathered enough courage to speak to him, to have a legitimate conversation instead of his instructions to you in scene shop.

He calls down to you to stand centre stage; he’s trying to aim a light in the right direction. You push up on your knees and jog over where he wants you. You would go anywhere he directed you, do anything he wanted, and he didn’t have a clue—that oblivious bastard.

A curl falls across his forehead as he bends over the PAR-can, and you, squinting, hold a hand over your eyes when he swings the light your way. He’s too bright for you to look at.

ii The two of you are practising monologues due for class later that day. You’re alone in a hallway and holding his monologue in front of you. He’s sitting at your side and desperately running his hands through his hair as he strives to remembers the exact words.

“I am the dog,” you prompt him. His profile sharpens when he puckers his lips in concentration.

His eyes light up as he stares determinedly at the top of the lockers, not really seeing them. “I am the dog,” Tom says, bouncing his leg up and down and tapping his fingers on his knee, “Oh, the dog is me, and I am myself—”

He’s fidgeting too much. What you do in rehearsal determines what you do in performance, and this monologue isn’t a fidgeting sort of thing. He won’t stop fidgeting. Why’s he so nervous? Hector wasn’t even this nervous when he walked into battle and to his death. Tom is never nervous, so why is he now?

Hector, however, had verse upon verse written about him posthumously and a hero’s pyre, and Tom wasn’t a legend. You’ll make him one, and even if you don’t, you know he’ll be one some day.

“You’ve got to stop fidgeting,” you say, “Let’s find you something to hold instead of fidgeting.” Both of you glance to your sides in the hallway, but your backpacks are still in the scene shop. Nothing’s around. Inwardly, you beat your chest, fortifying all courage as Hector did for his troops—you roll your eyes in an exaggerated way and, in a stroke of rare brilliance, you say, “Here, hold this.”

You hold out your hand.

Tom’s face breaks into a grin, his even teeth showing, and he glances down at his lap before turning to you, crinkling his eyes in a different kind of smile, a closed-mouthed, tight-lipped thing of beauty that shows acceptance and gratefulness. Tom takes your hand, immediately lacing his fingers with yours, and he squeezes it firmly as he continues his monologue. His focus is no longer casually on the lockers but swops between your hands and your reactions. Tom tries to make you laugh, and he wrinkles his nose in triumph when he does.

When you move onto your monologue, Tom lazily twists the ring on your thumb between his own and his index finger. It’s not a purity ring, but it might as well be (it’s the one from Lord of the Rings). Tom doesn’t know that right now, this moment, is the farther you’ve ever gone with a guy, that this instance of holding hands is the most intimate you have ever been.

You’ve never dated, never been kissed—watched as your friends loved and lost, went on rampages, and downloaded tinder. It’s not that you don’t want these things; on the contrary, according to a BDSM test you made everyone take, you’re the kinkiest piece of shit you know. You hear stories and read a lot of fanfic about one night stands, sex before romance, and loads of kinky shit—things you’d never do in your actual, real life for a couple of reasons, the primary one being that since you got overly attached to cars you drove behind for more than ten minutes, who knows what would happen to you if someone ate you out and never spoke to you again? So, it wasn’t entirely intentional, but you were (fuck, you hated this about you and yet couldn’t bring yourself to compromise [and fuck, you hated this phrase]) waiting until marriage.

Tom slides the ring down to your knuckle. The skin where it usually sits is paler and softer than the rest of your thumb.

iii

Tom’s got bags under his eyes in scene shop today. His hair is dishevelled, roughed up like bed-head, and he’s got grey sweatpants hanging loosely around his hips. And he’s pissed.

When you ask him why, Tom says he had a tough voice lesson, but as the afternoon drags on (and you’re repairing an ancient piano with a staple gun), he, miraculously, allows himself to be vulnerable. He’s not doing okay, and it’s tearing him apart. His relationship with his parents is in an unfamiliar, rocky stage, and he’s lonely, so lonely; he’s secretly a ball of rage that he never shows (you wonder if you annoy him, especially when you talk about Greek culture). So much of Tom is hidden, because he’s insecure about it. He’s the only person you’ve ever met who can rival you in terms of self-deprecation, even though, in everyone’s eyes but his own, he has no reason for it.

Tom is furious at a lot of things, mostly himself, and you want him to be mad at you, in a safe, consensual bedroom sort of setting. He already was dominating socially in the scene shop, since he was more than capable at construction had to teach you, with unconditional patience, how to do anything, seeing as you had never picked up a power tool before this semester. Tom would order you about, and each time punched you in your stomach as you thought about taking commands up a notch. Aut futue aut pugnemus: either we fuck or we fight.

His insecurities mirror your own, save for where he is rage, you are sorrow. Two sides of the same coin, down to your side effects of depression. Loneliness reigns.

At some point, he catches himself, climbs down from the ladder, and grabs both of your hands, grazing the ring on your thumb. “Thank you,” he says, his eyes wide (eyelashes dark against his skin), gripping your hands tighter to show his earnestness, “for listening. I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you; you don’t deserve that. I usually don’t—I’m sorry. You’re very kind. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t apologise,” you say, your fingers curving into the bend of his palms, “I like listening to you. You have worthwhile things to say, and everyone needs to be heard. Don’t feel like you’re burdening me—” You say this, because you worry about it yourself. “—I want to be involved in what you’re going through.”

iv In one of the dreams between pressing snooze on your alarm and actually waking up, Tom wraps his hand around your wrist and leads you up the ladder to the grid, high above the rest of the stage. At the centre, where anyone could see, were anyone in the room, he releases your wrist, links his index fingers through the belt loops of your shorts, and yanks you close to him, his hipbones poking you briefly. Tom’s got your shoulder blades pressed on either side of a pipe holding up stage lights, and his tongue is between his teeth when he grins at you in the moment before.

Who was wearing strawberry chapstick? It doesn’t matter. His lips are pressed to yours, needy and wanting; you feel the crease of his brow through the kiss—don’t, you want to tell him, please relax, for one damn minute. He doesn’t bite but nibbles at your lower lip, and your tongue is on the inside of his teeth when he moves his hands from your belt loops to grip your waist, toying with the hem of your shirt. Your fingers curl into his hair, and you pull at the wisps at the nape of his neck. His breath hitches. Tom breaks the kiss, calls you my girl with a dark inflection, and shifts to kiss your neck, once, before he drags his mouth down your chest, stopping to press his lips at the spot beneath your naval where your shirt has ridden up.

And he’s thrown your shorts somewhere across the grid; your underwear’s been tucked into his back pocket. Tom’s bottom lip is firm as he pushes it up underneath your clit (he’s got friction around all of it now); he sucks on it just barely, and after testing how sensitive you were with the underside of his tongue, he smirks as he swops to the rougher topside. Your hips twitch. Tom holds you achingly still for too long; it doesn’t take the oracle of Delphi to know that you’re close—

But Tom keeps going after you’ve come, and you don’t want to chicken out for fear of what he’d think. With a shaking jaw, you keep your gaze on the ceiling, trying to zone out, because this is too much, all at once, and you can’t ah, ouch, that’s a lot. Your thighs are quivering, and yikes, please, no, stop, even though you still—

“I know it’s intense,” he says, the sound of an air pocket breaking in the second he pulls an inch away, “but you can take it.” Tom kisses your clit and reaches up for one of your hands, the one with the ring. “Be good for me.”

When your alarm goes off, your underwear is soaked, and when you wipe the rheum out of the corners of your eyes, you repeatedly snap the elastic against your skin as you debate whether or not taking a cold shower is worth it.

v The final rehearsal before the show opens, you and Tom are alone backstage. He’s in the lead (and an argyle sweatervest), and you’re one of the minor ensemble characters. You’ve had a hell of a day and are on the cusp of a panic attack, and Tom notices. He guides you over to a private spot and leans on a stack of crates, resting his forearms on top. You copy him, and your shoulders touch.

“How do you do it, Tom? How do you manage to keep it together all of the time? You never seem to crack.” You don’t count that day he vented to you. It wasn’t quite the same.

Tom laughs through his nose and leans close to you. His breath hits your ear and the back of your neck as he says, “To be honest, I’m cracking right now.”

He’s got to be. Rehearsals running until past midnight every night with hundreds of lines in Shakespearean verse, long afternoons building sets, being on duty as an RA, not to mention classes and keeping up with his friends. Oh, and sleep, you suppose. He’s had to shove everything he feels down so that he can deal with the next task. He hasn’t had time to think, and frankly, neither have you.

Tom insists he doesn’t want to talk about himself, because he’s been thinking a lot about that time you spoke to him about holy listening, how most people only wait for their turns to speak and how listening, genuinely, to help and to understand, was a gift that everyone deserves but hardly anyone receives. So, Tom takes your hand (again. It’s become practise for when it’s just the two of you, and you’re unsure how to handle this uncharted territory) and listens.

And thank God someone finally is.

You’re facing him as you speak softly about how you essentially act as a therapist to everyone in the department (even though you are newly learning healthy behaviours yourself), because you want people to have someone who will listen. You check in with people who are going through hard times, and you usually end conversations by asking the person how he’s going to take care of himself later that day. Tom knows this. He’s been watching.

What he didn’t know was that no one listens to you back. Whenever you pry yourself open in a half-hearted attempt to be vulnerable, everyone clams up. They shut down. No one notices when you’re having a hard time—he nudges you at this, and you make a stupid noise, dismissing it. When you mention that no one’s noticed the burn marks on the inside of your forearm near your elbow, he could, for the first time, make out the small, circular burns in spite of the dark, blue light. Tom slumps against the crates, and he rubs the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I’m tired of taking care of everyone,” you say, “I want to be taken care of.”

You’re breaking your chains that protect you from being vulnerable. You can’t watch the shadows on the wall any more. You’ve got to walk out of Plato’s cave and let the sunlight blind you, even though you don’t have a word for sunlight yet, for all you’ve known is a tame fire.

Tom wraps his arm around your bare shoulders (your costume isn’t as modest as you’d like, but for now, you’re grateful). He presses a kiss to your temple and holds it there, and an alarm goes off in your head, as if you’re not the one truly experiencing this. When Tom removes his lips, his furrowed brow goes to their spot. “You’re safe with me,” he says after a bit, “I hear you, and I want to take care of you.”

Both of you jump when other actors start channelling behind you to get to their places. Tom has the first line, but he tightens his grip around your shoulders and quickly prays aloud for you.

vi Closing night, the cast and crew goes to IHOP, and it’s a lot of overstimulation all at once. When they kick you out around one o’clock, your original driver is going home for the weekend, so you hitch a ride with Tom back to campus.

Tom is at a stop sign, his turn signal blinking to drive into the parking lot of your dorm, when you say, “I will pay you ten bucks to keep driving past the school.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Please. I can’t go back there right now.”

With a wry smile, Tom flips off the signal and keeps driving into the night. The city is quiet but still awake, still shining. He cranks up his music and points out his favourite restaurant to you, saying he’ll take you there soon. Next week, you decide. Urban decay increases the farther you get away: flickering street lights, crumbling buildings, a lone shopping cart, that one vape shop that no one goes to unless you feel like getting shot. Neon lights bleed together through the car window, and the stars blur and mumble under his 90s hip-hop.

You take backroad after backroad, curving around trees and into the valley, just going without knowing where, and eventually, you park near an overlook into the valley, showing the city teeming with a quiet energy, with a cemetery behind you in the trees.

You thank him again for how he’s been treating you during the run of the show; it’s incredible to have someone to depend on. To trust. He shrugs it off, and you talk about the show, how things could have gone better, how he did that one gesture just perfectly in the moment, how hey, you didn’t get all of your stage makeup off; let me get that for you, and Tom’s kissing you, lightly, barely, and he swipes some of your hair behind your ear. His nose prods yours when he breaks the kiss so that you open your eyes—he knows it was your first; he wants to make sure you’re okay. You nod, your mouth quirking upwards.

When you’re on his lap and his hands are in your hair (turns out you were the one with the hair-pulling thing, so die mad about it), neither of you are the strawberry chapstick ideal. You both taste like makeup remover, and sweat drips down between his shoulder blades and down your neck. Neither of you was performing for once. It was just the two of you, simple and vulnerable. You made Tom laugh when you pulled away to yawn, and you laughed yourself when you made him gasp at a simple kiss on his neck (muttering “Peccavi,” and refusing to tell him what it meant, even when he threatened to…he couldn’t think).

It should’ve been much too early to do this, let alone ever consider it, but it was Tom Holland, who understood. Courage, dear heart. You’re not ready, but you can promise. He probably knows what it means by now; he’s clever. He’s probably guessed. Just do it. Your cheek is pressed against his when you say, “It’s yours—” You twist your ring off your thumb and slid it onto his middle finger. “—if you want it.”

Tom shifts to kiss your cheek. “Not now. But someday, if you’re ready. If you want me to.” He smiles, and this time, you let the light blind you. “C’mon, love. Tell me what you want.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Peccavi -- I have sinned.

here’s the link to the BDSM test, if you’d like to take it.

#tom holland #spiderman #tom holland/reader #tom holland x reader #fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #DASH IT ALL

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always-the-little-spoon · 6 years

Text

Five Times Scott found Stiles or Derek Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn’t

Part IV: aka Halloween

Someone was screaming. Scott couldn’t tell what direction it came from because everything around him was chaos. A witch bumped into his shoulder. He wasn’t affected by the collision, but it knocked her course. She huffed and straightened her pointed hat that had been knocked askew and stomped off, heels clicking against the sidewalk. Scott couldn’t help himself. His eyes slid south to the witch’s long legs under her puffy red skirt and the sexy black fishnets.

Halloween at college was awesome. The girls were hot, dressed slutty, and he had a built-in costume. He let his eyes wander a little longer over a sexy pirate that winked at him as she passed, and he grinned back around his fangs and flexed to make her giggle. It was the one time of year his beta shift wasn’t out of place.

As soon as Scott had finished his paper, he’d stripped off his shirt and shifted in the library bathroom so he could walk back to the frat house in ‘costume.’ It was pretty cool. No one looked twice at him unless it was to check him out. Another sweet bonus.

A little after ten in the evening, Scott was late for the Alpha Beta party. As a pledge, he was supposed to be helping, but his time management skills sucked. He’d left his comparative essay for his required first-year English to the last minute, and since the party would probably go all night, he’d locked himself in the library all afternoon to finish because pledge duty meant he had certain obligations, like helping drunk chicks home safely. A duty he took very seriously, and apparently, so did the president of the frat.

Derek had been adamant that the fraternity offer aid to anyone that felt unsafe. There was a story there, but Scott was a little afraid to ask.

The street was packed with partiers in costume, drinks, and glow sticks, and some dude was sitting in a treat chucking handfuls of candy into the crowd. Scott had never seen campus so packed, not even during rush week. To escape, he ducked down a partially hidden walking path that would take him to a shortcut through the woods that backed the frat house. If he hopped over the back fenced fully wolfed out, he could probably scare a few girls.

Scott fished his phone out of his pocket to send Isaac a text and let him know he was on his way. Focused on his screen, he tripped over something lying across the path. Only his supernatural reflexes managed to save him from face-planting on the concrete by snagging the arm of a nearby park bench.

There was an arm across his path. He’d seen enough severed limbs to last him a lifetime of nightmares thanks to the feral alpha that turned him going on a rampage during his sophomore year of high school. Thankfully, this arm was connected to a body, and the red hoodie was suspiciously familiar.

“Stiles?” Scott staggered upright and let his beta shift melt away. The kid was lying half on the ground with one leg propped up on the seat of the bench. “Ah, shit. Please don’t be dead.”

Scott focused. The distant noise of the night made it a little difficult, but he caught the jumpy heartbeat and saw the shallow rise and fall of Stiles’ chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Scott sighed. He dragged a hand through his hair and checked their surroundings. Surprisingly, no one was around since most students stuck to the main strip. Scott nudged the human with his foot. “Come on, dude. Get up. You can’t sleep here.”

Stiles’ just swatted at him, dislodging the cellphone that had been loosely gripped in his hand, and smacked his lips obscenely. “You’re dirty,” he muttered, but didn’t wake up.

Scott snorted and picked up Stiles’ phone. “Yeah. Okay.” He crouched down beside Stiles and poked the human in the cheek. “Wake up, man. Shouldn’t you be at the party?” he said, but Stiles just scratched his cheek where Scott had poked him.

Finding Stiles asleep in increasingly bizarre places was becoming a habit. Wiping smudges of dirt and grime off the screen, Scott woke up the phone to a partially written text that Stiles had apparently meant to send to Derek. Most of it was gibberish, so he hit the call button and waited. He’d rather call Isaac, but he knew that wouldn’t go down well.

Derek possessively doted on the odd human, ensuring that he kept him close in a way that Scott didn’t understand, and frankly, didn’t want to know. No one in the frat, or even the sorority, acted as if it was anything out of the norm for an alpha werewolf to stalk and almost hoard a teenage human. At least, Scott thought Stiles was a teenager.

The phone rang in Scott’s ear. It wasn’t cold enough for Scott to see his breath, but Stiles still shouldn’t be lying on the ground. He definitely shouldn’t be lying on the ground alone on a deserted path through the woods.

Sure, the local supernaturals all belonged to the same fraternity and sorority, but there were other dangers that lurked on campus. Human dangers. Part of the reason Scott and the rest of fraternity were part of the drunk patrol to get girls, and even some guys, home safely.

The thump of the bass and sound of the party reverberated through the tiny speaker when the call connected. “Did you finish your research, or did you just get hungry?” Derek asked. His voice was strangely gentle, with no hint of the usual gruff growl it carried.

“Hey, man. Look, Stiles’ is passed out-”

“Why do you have Stiles’ phone? Where are you?” Derek barked.

“Oh, uh. Shortcut through the woods behind the house,” Scott answered. “Did you want me to-”

The call cut off before he could finish his offer to carry Stiles home. Though now that he thought about it, he didn’t know where Stiles lived since, as a human, he wasn’t a member of the fraternity.

Scott stared at the black screen for a moment before he shoved the phone into his pocket with his own. It took him a few minutes to heft Stiles up off the cold ground to carry back to the frat because the human wouldn’t stop squirming. By the time Stiles was slung over Scott’s shoulder, thundering footsteps raced along the path behind him, and Scott swung around to the terrifying image of red glowing eyes in the dark as Derek Hale sprinted towards him.

Dear god the other alpha moved fast. It’d been less than three minutes since Derek had hung up on him. Derek roared as he skidded to a stop in front of Scott, and without thinking, Scott simply slung Stiles off his shoulder and handed the limp body over to the wolfed out alpha.

Derek crouched down, Stiles cradled to his chest, and buried his nose in the human’s neck. He inhaled deeply, slowly regaining his human features, and the red of his eyes faded.

“Hey, Der,” Stiles mumbled. “M’tired.”

Derek huffed. “S’okay. Go back to sleep,” he murmured in Stiles’ ear to low for an ordinary human to overhear. “I got you.”

“M’kay.” And Stiles drifted off again, carefully tucked against Derek’s chest like the first time Scott had met him his first day of school.

Stiles’ odd sleeping habits always seemed to have one thing in common: Derek. Scott hadn’t given it much thought before, but now that he did, Derek was the one to cart Stiles off. No one else dared to.

Leaves crunched underfoot as Scott fell into step with Derek. “So... this happens a lot?” Scott finally asked after several excruciatingly quiet minutes.

“Midterms are rough,” Derek responded by way of a non-answer.

“Yeah. I mean, no doubt,” Scott agreed. He scratched his bare stomach. “I just... Well, I find him asleep, a lot. Like, a lot, a lot? Ya know?”

Derek snorted and hefted Stiles’ a little higher in his arms. “Comes with the territory.”

“I... what?” Scott tilted his head to the side and frowned.

“Stiles has condensed his undergrad into three years,” Derek said. He stepped off the path to cut through the woods, and Scott followed. “He’ll be defending his honours thesis next semester.”

Scott stopped dead in his tracks. “He what? No way! That’s crazy!” he shouted.

“Shh!” Derek spun around, eyes red, and snarled at Scott. “Wake him up, and I rip your throat out, with my teeth.”

Hands thrown up in defence, Scott took a giant step back. “Sorry, man. Sorry,” he said, but was forced to catch up with Derek because the older alpha was already stomping through the forest towards the frat house. “I thought he was like, a sophomore, or a freshman, or something. How old is he, anyway?”

“Eighteen.”

Stiles’ own words tearfully mumbled into Derek’s fur earlier that month came floating back to Scott. ‘Freaky genius kid doesn’t need friends, right?’ Scott’s stomach sank, and he tripped over an exposed root. If Stiles’ was eighteen now, that meant...

“He graduated when he was fifteen?” Scott scrambled to catch up with Derek again. The other alpha wasn’t slowing down for Scott to sort through this sudden dump of information.

“Sixteen,” Derek grunted. Then a little softer said “There was an issue when he was younger. ADHD. Couldn't focus. It took a while to sort out his medication. But when he finally could, they couldn’t feed him new subjects fast enough.”

“Huh.” Scott shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Wait. How do you know all this?”

Derek tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows at Scott. “We grew up together.” Derek lowered his voice when Stiles stirred, mumbling under his breath and burying his nose in Derek’s neck. Stiles’ hand smacked Derek in the face, but the alpha werewolf only rolled his eyes. “I chose this college because I knew Stiles wanted to go here due to the flexibility and programs, so when he graduated a year after me, he followed.”

“I didn’t know that,” Scott mumbled. He kicked at the dry leaves.

If Stiles graduated high school early, he’d have been the runt of the senior class; the weird kid the older teenagers picked on and bullied. If Derek had graduated a year before Stiles, then Stiles’ senior year had probably been hell.

“Not something I advertise, for obvious reasons,” Derek said, but he slowed his hurried pace and glanced around as if to double check they were alone. “If hunters knew I had a weakness...”

“They’d use him against you,” Scott finished, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. Unconnected to the supernatural or not, Stiles was a human pawn for anyone that posed a threat to Derek.

Derek nodded curtly.

The thump of the bass from the fraternity’s Halloween party could be heard in the distance. Derek and Scott had slowed to a casual stroll.

“So, he doesn’t have a lot of friends then,” Scott said as nonchalantly as he could.

Derek stiffened beside him, and his fingers flexed as his grip on Stiles tightened. “No.”

“Well, he’s got more,” Scott declared and jabbed his thumb against his own chest for emphasis, and Derek stopped completely.

The faint boom of bass broke the eerie silence of the woods. Slowly, Derek turned to face Scott, expression hopeful, but cautious. “Yeah?”

TBC

#little spoon works #sterek #5+1 fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #eternalsterek #outsider POV #college au #college student stiles #college student derek #scott mccall #derek is a good alpha

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tales0fthenugget · 7 years

Text

letter to 10 years ago

June 4, 2007

Hello there, kiddo! Are you still feeling anxious that in almost a week you will be joining the work force already? You will not contribute in the country’s unemployment rate :) Yup, that’s going to be your new life - I mean your new chapter after college graduation. i know that you are more scared than excited at this point. And that’s okay. Sabi mo nga e, you are scared because you don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Yeah, unlike the past 15 years of your life when the expectation is you will go to school and well, graduate eventually. I don’t remember everything but I know you already wrote tons about the uncertainty that you are feeling since last school year.

Now, if you would let me - I’d like to say a few things to you. Uhm, just to make you feel a little better and to feel that someone understands you, maybe a little more than the others - including yourself.

I. What Matters More

Right now you have very low self-esteem. I can’t blame you. About a year and a half ago you were kicked-out of your first course because you got two D’s in a semester. That’s one more than the allowed in your “prestigious” course. Even if you never said it out loud, that drained whatever little self-confidence you had remaining then. What a major rejection! And you’ve been blaming that and your low grades in school for not getting a good head-start for life after school. But you have to get back right on track. You may feel that the job you are starting next week is not the dream job, but the world out there is much bigger than the comforts of your school/course/grades. Your self-confidence might be shattered but you will rebuild it and even better, you will strengthen your self-worth. Please continue to strive to be the best, regardless of your failed attempts. You will learn in no time that those things matter only in a few months, which is not a rationalization for you to feel better. You ought to trust me on this. Your passion to be better matters more.

June 26, 2007

II. Song of Silence

Last March was one of the turning points in your life. You’ve (hand)written 10+ pages of reflection and realizations during silent retreat. Keep those loose sheets of paper. You’d go back to it from time to time when you need it. You’ve been a Christian for about 20 years now, but it was only then that you knew and felt in your heart that you found God - or maybe more appropriately, that you found the grace to go back to God. The times ahead will be difficult and we both know that you will get lost again and again and again. Do not forget to keep yourself open to accept His grace again. Find the time to listen once more to the song of silence and find your way back. Silence may be difficult to hear amidst the noise of daily life but it’s not impossible. Promise me you’ll listen really, really hard, okay?

III. Learning How to Learn

I thought that your prepared (generic) answer to the job interview question, “what are your strengths?” is smart. Hehe. You didn’t answer traits. Instead you answered your not-so-generic life roles to make a point that your experiences from those roles made you what you are now. Basically, you are saying that your strengths come from the experiences and it’s ingrained in you. Smart, eh?? Lol.

You answer three things but the first one is your favorite i.e. you are a teacher. Being a teacher means you know how to learn and you’ve got a pretty good idea how to make others learn. Thanks to your high school and university for the opportunities to grow into one. You could go beyond that and learn continuously from new and different experiences and interactions with diverse people. Learning is knowing one’s self, you once said in a speech. And you’d get addicted as you find out that you are limitless. Learning enables you to do things you thought you never could.

IV. Never Give Up on Love

Let me share my latest realization while biking along the dusty, rough roads of Bagan. It’s one of the cliches to the highest level like in Harry Potter (which, btw, is celebrating 10yrs today for the first book) where Dumbledore said what makes Harry powerful is love. Good thing naitawid ito nang maayos ni JK Rowling (idol!).

A lot of times you won’t be loved back the way you want to be or you won't be loved back at all. There will be times you will feel alone or betrayed. People may break their promises, your trust and even test your faith. They could be ungrateful, not understanding or appreciating what you’ve done for them - absolutely no idea of what you’ve sacrificed or given up to keep the relationship and this so-called love. Oh the pains of finally accepting things are not meant to be that it’s time for you to let go. You will get hurt, cry your heart out and vow to raise up those walls again, making sure it’s not gonna be for just anyone to come in.

But how many times you’d also break your promise to yourself that never again will you trust or open up and share yourself to other people? Endless. Because you believe, rather you hope, that maybe next time you won’t get hurt. Because you also know that love is where you’d be the happiest. So you don’t ever, ever give up on love. Just like how God has never given up on you no matter how many times, most specially on times, you are seemingly unlovable.

V. Take Care

Please make sure to take care of your body, mind and soul. You’re an athlete so I trust you’d be diligent in taking care of your body and health. You know that very well from the silent retreat - things become a little easier if your body is in great shape. Plus you’d have to do this for your future hobbies that you don’t know yet ;P

But taking care of your mind - please take extra effort. You’ve had a good foundation with all those failures and disappointments. More of these will come as you grow older. Your mental toughness and its endurance will put you into test. Sigh. Good thing that your life motto included “the limit of 1/x as x approaches zero.” It takes time to get up whenever you fall. But basketball taught you that the game will not stop when you fall. You’d have to get back as quickly as you can. So you bounce back. You have to bounce back and it would make you tougher.

Please take care of your soul. I am not an expert - but whatever happens do yourself a favor and do not stay broken for long. Because you will be broken - not just once, or twice but many times. Learn to put your pieces back together. It’s gonna be hard but you’ll get there. Just believe. And well, listen to the song of silence.

Before I wrap up this relatively long letter - I just want to say that I am proud of you - of what you’ve become. You’ve been something I’ve never thought you’d be when you were little, tbh. Look at you - barely an adult yet you’ve had experienced and learned so much. I am mostly proud that you’ve embraced to be a woman for and with others, especially when you were teaching which you will make sure you’ll never stop doing. You may not be teaching inside a classroom anymore but oh you will continue to teach every chance you’ve got. I have no doubts that you’ll do more and continue to make me and other people proud. So long as you continue to believe, hope and love.

Lastly, I’d have to scrap this letter because honestly, you don’t really need it. You’re good enough to figure all these things on your own.

- From Your Future Self 10 Years After ^_^

#talesofthreedecades

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revel80r · 7 years

Text

On the turning of Scyther88

I met my best friend when I was five years old. at the Akron Chinese Christian Church. On this blog, I call him Scyther88. Scyther, myself, and another guy, let’s call him ‘Mango’, have been the three musketeers for most of my childhood. We’d only see each other on sundays, and sometimes a friday, or saturday here or there, because our families all lived in different areas of Akron and we went to different schools during the week. But oh, the bliss of those sundays together with those two idiots. At church on sundays, we hung out together, we got in trouble together, bullied and picked on other smaller kids together, and all the joys of 90′s boyhood ...together. We definitely had our different personalities too. Mango was the oldest (by 8 days). He was always domineering, manipulative, and was kind of our de-facto “leader” of the little gang. Scyther was always the lancer to Mango’s alpha. He always challenged him, had more of a streak of irony and sarcasm than Mango. He was cool. And then there’s me. I was younger than both of them by about a year. I was the little 3rd fiddle. I just played loyal and loved being with these two guys... complicit in all our stupid sins as a bunch of kids.

We got really, crazy into Pokemon, and bonded over it. To this day, Scyther’s email, gamername, username on most platforms has always been “Scyther88″ or some form of it. Mango’s moved on from his “Jolteon88″ or whatever it was. I was an ‘89 baby so I’m not even cool. Now I’m just reVelstΛr. I remember I was the first to get pokemon cards. Mango and I were at some Chinese church camp, and we both got one card each, he got a machop and I got a charmander. Later, a couple weeks later, I got the old blue Pokemon card starter deck. And I became the cool boy. Mango and Scyther both got rival (and better) decks pretty soon afterwards and the 90′s head fever of pokemon collecting materialism had bitten us, and our parent’s wallets hard. We fought, we argued over rules and technicalities, (the best that 4th graders could anyway), etc. But we were buddies and knew that. Even though we didn’t go to the same schools in Akron, we’d go to each other’s birthday parties, play N64 together, etc. It was the good ol’ days. The best and worst part of it was, the Chinese church met in this very large mega-church building in Akron. Very extensive facilities. And us boys had the inside of the church fully explored and mapped out. We knew the place very well. So on sunday we knew there would be the inevitable time our parents had finished socializing and decided it was time to go home, and do other things. And so, purposefully, to milk every sweet moment of pokemon-card battling that we possibly could, we would hide in nooks, crannies, upper rooms, balconies, anywhere we could find and hide in, to hide away from our parents so we could spend more precious moments pokemon-carding away. Our parents had to send out search parties and scour the buildings for us little brats. hahaa. We’re guilty of many white hairs on one of the assistant pastors.

Reality hits hard. Mango’s family moved away to Asia at the end of 5th grade, and we would not see each other for a very long time. Scyther’s life hit a very rough patch when his dad’s brother passed away. Scyther’s father got angry and blamed Jesus for the passing of his brother. He full turned away from the faith, and forbid Scyther’s mother and Scyther from going to church anymore. I was young and not aware of such heavy things. but I did remember my two best friends no longer being at church, and I was suddenly a lone little guppy in the church youth group. The youngest, least mature, and most annoying, by many grade levels, to the rest of the church youth group.

I saw Mango once, in 8th or 9th grade when his family stopped by Akron for a visit, and the next time I saw him was in college.

Scyther and his mother would occasionally come to church over the years. Scyther’s father was vehemently against God, but Scyther’s mother was all the stronger in the faith in Jesus. And so they’d sneak to church whenever she can over the years to come. And blessings for me, my friendship with Scyther was intact and I got to have a middle school and high school life with my best friend from time to time, talking to him about video games, stupid jokes, girls, and all other kinds of bad things.

Scyther and I even went on a mission trip together in 2006 to Beijing, China.

In the fall of 2007, all three of us idiot musketeers went to the Ohio $tate University as freshman, Mango, Scyther, and my darned self.

I got in contact with Mango the weeks before commencement, and hung out with him the first day on campus. We both got involved with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship and that ended up being our primary community on campus for the next 4-5 years (or on my case, [one of my] primary communities). Scyther and Mango were no longer buddies, no longer close. Mango’s become a popular, social kid. Scyther and I are outcast, and fringe people. I was not aware of this at the time, but Scyther had a very rough middle school and high school life, being rejected and picked on by his white peers, because he is one of only two or three Asians in his entire schools. White people. Y’all messed up. Need to get help. I was not aware, that this messed up my best friend on the inside, as he has a cynical, vengeful, vindictive streak hidden that I either missed or chose to ignore. He became ambitious and focused. So that, one day he will be at the top of the heap, looking down on everyone else who was cruel and had mistreated him in the past. And Scyther will know who had one in the end. That was his plan anyway.

Scyther was driven, ambitious, and disliked people. Mango was popular, responsible, and worked around people. I was a desperate loser junkie who would give up anything to be with people or video-games.

Guess which one of us dropped out of Ohio State, heheh.

And so Scyther did not like InterVarsity after attending one time, and picked up on the community’s unfortunate clique-y tendencies. decided he was not going to put up with that bovine stool, and chose to attend a Korean church instead. Meanwhile Mango and I became career InterVarsity attenders, becoming leaders in different chapters of IV. Mango got a lot farther along than I did, in leadership and socially, and so it went on.

I am kind of sad to admit that I picked up on signs that Scyther had given up on Jesus very late. He had stopped attending his Korean church, and I simply assumed it was because of the busyness of his schedule, as I had missed many church sessions, although that may have more to do with irresponsibility, though like many college students, I liked to chalk that up to “busyness”. And being roommates with Scyther, we would have bitter arguments from time to time. One time I got so angry, I threatened to murder him, and the dorm manager had to have me stay at a friend’s place overnight that time because of the difficulties in our dorm room. After a year of college I began to realize that Scyther no longer believed or followed Jesus. I was not even aware of my own shallowness and the brokenness in my own pursuit of Jesus, but all I knew was I felt InterVarsity was doing the right thing to me, and I seemingly couldn’t do anything to convince stubborn old Scyther to come back to either InterVarsity or church.

In Scyther’s mind, he realized that being in college, he could do whatever he wanted and was no longer forced to go to church by his mother. He could make his own choices now. And so he decided to not go. And his pains from his past, cynicism and disdain for people, including Christians, took over, and he lost faith in people, community, and Christ. He admitted to himself in not believing or seeing proof of God’s existence. and became atheist.

During all of this, Scyther’s mother remained the strong, strong prayer warrior Christian she has always been. Praying every day for the salvation of her family, urgently imploring God to bring Scyther back to faith. She prayed, and prayed, and prayed.

For many years after that, we had an understanding that InterVarsity and Jesus were just me and my ‘God thing’. but Scyther saw no evidenc, proof, or need for him. There was no way to work around his buttheadedness. Plus, Scyther’s got lots of crap on me, my deepest darkest secret, etc. So it’s not like I’ve been a particularly good, effective, or pure example of a Christian to him. And that was that. There was not much of a productive conversation beyond that.

Scyther graduated from Ohio $tate, and got into grad school in a virology PhD program at Cornell University, while I got academically dismissed, and dropped into crippling depression... Mango graduated and went on to teaching or something like that. There was a drop of contact for awhile.

Over the years from 2011-2016 Scyther and I would skype and hangout online from time to time. sometimes more frequently, chatting and playing vieogames together online every night. Other times we’d go through months of hiatuses from online contact. I visited him at Cornell University in Ithaca. That was a special night as by the grace of the Lord, I got a chance to talk with Scyther about why I believed in God, why I believed in Jesus, and how experienced him. A deeper conversation than the typical StarCraft and World of WarCraft talk we had. In the end, Scyther still saw no evidence, proof, or need for God and I had to just agree to disagree... It’s good. I love him. I love this guy. He is my best friend. He was there with me through much of my shit and depression. Especially that worst period in 2013.

This year in 2016, I took a very, very long hiatus from video games and much social media. Worked through some of the toughest semesters I had at Capital University, which God has provided for me after scraping and mopping up my mistakes through sweat, blood, and tears at Columbus State Community College... And so 2016 was a banner year for me. Most excellent. I got to go on not one, but two missions trips, one to Mozambique, and one to Taiwan. and after all that crazy goodness, I was brought into church staffship, and finished college in december, finally earning that accursed, elusive piece of paper...

Meanwhile, Scyther was told to wrap up his research, do a dissertation and defense, and finish his graduate school studies. And he did so. And now we all tease him and call him Dr. Scyther. What should have been a joyful, celebratory time, became a disappointment for Scyther, as life after attaining doctorhood was no different from life before. He did not feel any redemption, release, or beams of purpose. Only the emptiness. And so, with his emotions crashing. Scyther realized the truth of life is meaningless. There is no rhyme, or reason. Why spend so much effort building, only for someone else to enjoy the fruits of his labor? What was worth it? We all die and go to the same place, and life is meaningless. He spiraled into depression and decided to kill himself. and with the many years of laboratory experience, he knew exactly what he needed to do to kill himself. He planned it out, wrote apology letters to his mother, wrote one for me, and only found that..... he could not do it. The fear is too much. He is afraid of pain, and confronted with the fact that he did not know what happens to him after he does it. And so, THANK GOD, my best friend Scyther did not kill himself. During this time I was completely unaware that my Scyther was going through so much... Lesson and word of advice... check on your friends, keep in contact with them, ever after you sign off or swear off from social media.. check on your friends. Because honestly, depression and suicidal resolve can come quite swiftly....

Scyther did not kill himself. Thank God he chickened out. One thought reached out to him, The Timothy Keller book he bought out of curiosity on a whim a while ago: “The Reason for God” It is an apologetics book laying out philosophical, experiential, theological arguments fro the experience of God. Very good. Scyther read through it.

One day, in November of 2016, after a conversation with his mother, Scyther felt truth in his mind, that maybe, just maaaybe, God really is real. And that very night he had a terrifying demonic nightmare, as if he was being dragged down to hell itself. Sleep paralysis, the sciences call it. A couple nights later he had another sleep paralysis attack, this time seeing an angry face. He looked it up online and discovered sleep paralysis. And happening so suddenly and coincidally with his openness to the existence of God, a higher being..... He called me and asked about it. Being intrigued, I opened up a little about my own demonic experiences, and assured him that the name of Jesus has power. Jesus has power. Pray, invoke the name of Jesus, and the enemy will flee in every direction from you... We talked for a little while, I mentioned being at the church I was at, and how I was going to a big conference called One Thing in Kansas City that december.

A couple days later, my cell phone broke and I had to switch phones, missing a couple texts and calls in the process; several of these texts were from Scyther, inquiring about this conference, One Thing, and whether IHOP-KC was a cult.

By the time I got in contact with him a couple days after that, Scyther had already figured out the answers to his questions himself. And he was thinking about going. When I talked to him again, Scyther simply told me, unflinchingly, that “God is real. God is totally real. Acts chapter 9. That is all I can say, man.” I really was on the verge of tears, hearing my childhood and best friend, of 22+ years say to me over the phone that God is real, after he had abandoned the Lord and lived as an atheist for about a decade.

And just last month, in December, Scyther joined me and my church going to IHOP’s One Thing conference. It was a beautiful thing to see. His heart was being opened and his character was already different. He had a passion and a zeal for the Lord that I have not seen before. It was amazing. His heart was being opened, and he was being softened to people. My best friend, who in the past hated pretty much every single human being except for his 5-6 friends and family... is now an open, sociable, empathetic heart. I cannot make this up. Jesus is sooooo good and I am so thankful. God’s even opened up Scyther’s mind to the possibilities of prophecy, healing, and miraculous prayer. Things that were strongholds to Scyther’s mind and heart were being unlocked and opened and it is a beautiful, beautiful, redemptive thing to see.

Nowadays, Scyther comes to my church in Columbus, and we are growing, Scyther is growing so, so fast, we are all growing towards the Lord, we are growing together.

I cannot be happier with life.

#Scyther88

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