i attempt to make my own

Hello Studyblr! 

My name is Avery and I’ve had this blog for quite some time now, but I am so excited to finally start using it to make my own posts. I am really looking forward to all of the motivation and support this community has to offer, but first some things about me.

  • I am 16 and a rising Junior in high school
  • I’m from the Northeast, USA
  • I’m obsessed with science
  • I love love love reading
  • I’m *attempting* to self-learn German
  • I’m super fascinated by astronomy (RIP me because there aren’t any courses at my school)
  • This year I will be taking AP Environmental Science, AP Gov, AP Lit, Chemistry, Latin III, and Economics (Feel free to ask me about any and all of these courses)
  • My handwriting is sub-par, so I’ll probably spare you from looking at my notes
  • I’ll be taking the SAT this year, so that’ll be fun [cries internally]

Some Studyblrs that have inspired me are:

@rhubarbstudies , @studypride@studyign , @studyign , @elkstudies , @gradespiration, @studyingboba, @cmstudy, and many, many more…


Have a great day!

-Avery

Shameless Self-Promotion

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers (◠‿◠✿)

Originally posted by flandelle

*sigh* I was tagged by BOTH @littlegreenplasticsoldier AND @seenashwrite for this. Since I’m looking at my own masterlist right now, anyway, I figured I might as well do this, too. (Oy, I have to reread so much because it’s been a while and I’ve forgotten!)

I’ll start with drabbles/one shots, and pretty much just list the ones that have stuck in my head for one reason or another.

“You heard me. Take it off.” with Dean - A cursed bracelet makes you attempt to seduce Dean, but he knows you don’t really want him that way. So much angst.

Love’s Rules - This was a personalized one shot for @castielspahdehrah for Galentine’s Day a couple of years ago. I was going for a Domestic Discipline vibe (which I was informed I didn’t quite get right), but I’m still really proud of it. Spanking is so not my thing, but those who are into it said they liked it, so I’m calling it a success.

Office furniture smut with Sam - I still dream about the desk.

“There’s an interesting story behind that.” - I want someone to write the story mentioned at the end of this one.

I’m going to stop there, because I could go on. Seriously. My Louden Swain fics (especially Medicated and The Rest), last year’s Hiatus Challenge fics, and Nesting are all favorites.

As for my long fics, I’m most proud of these:

Third Wheel - Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader x Dean - Reader grew up with the Campbell’s and meets Sam Winchester during an all-hands-on-deck hunt. She and Sam hook up, then have an “arrangement” that suits both of them while she hunts with Sam and Samuel. Things get complicated when Dean comes into the picture, more so when he and Lisa break up. Just when the three are getting into a groove together, Death shoves Sam’s soul back into his body and Sam forgets the reader. I’m so proud of this, because I managed to weave this into season 6 canon, fleshing out minor canon characters and expanding on a world that is barely mentioned in the show. Oh, and the smut… have your fans and cannolis handy!!! SO MUCH SMUT.

Like Son, Like Father - Dean x Reader, John x Reader - This is the first fic I actually ever made notes for. I even had a basic outline. It’s the most complicated of any of my stories, since it follows two storylines at the same time. IMO, this fic fixes all of the reasons why so many people don’t like John. If nothing else, read the chapter with his letters. Made myself fucking bawl writing those.

Oasis - Cas x Reader, Dean x Reader, Cas x Reader x Dean -  The original idea for this was what would you do if you met Dean and Cas after their failed night at the “den of iniquity?” How would you get Cas to relax? After the first chapter was written, it kind of grew from there. This one is close to my heart because it includes music I have loved for years in the first chapter.

Originally posted by gifs-icollectthem

So, there you have it. Since I was tagged by two folks, does that mean it’s okay I listed 10 instead 5? I could list a few of those hiatus challenge fics, too, if ya’ll want. And I’m proud of Non-Trad since its my only AU. No? Ok. I’m stopping.

If you want to do this, consider yourself tagged!

My Season 13 Prediction (subject to change)

Well I will make my first attempt at a Season 13 prediction, based on what we know and the hints left by the actors and powers that be. I will recap when and if more information is given, and have my final prediction, the day before Ep 1 airs. 

We know that Sam and Dean are going to butt heads over what to do with Jack. Dean recalling past troubles will want to kill Jack, Sam, because of his own personal experience, will want to nurture Jack to teach him how to do good. I dont think this will be a big fight between the brothers, I think they will argue, and Dean will say “Fine we’ll try it your way, but as soon as things get squirrelly, Im taking over” and Sam will be alright with that. 

Jack, being played by a 25 yr old actor, wont allow for most real parenting, which is kind of a bummer, like rocking said child to sleep, or midnight feedings (insert Jensen’s “Sam makes an excellent wet nurse” joke here) but Im hoping Jack, though adult size, is less than adult in his thinking, and knowledge, and thus make for some funny, and touching moments, 

We know that Sam will wonder if Dean hates him or is at least ashamed of Sam’s past abilities. Which makes me really sad because I know Dean loves Sam more than we could imagine, and Sam does too, so its sad that he can still fall into that rut after everything. It can be painful, but this has some promise for some good broments, that we lacked in S12.

We know that Cas is deader than hes ever been. So this means we will probably get a sad montage for Cas in 13.1 maybe a hunters funeral (there was an obvious funeral pyre in a behind the scenes pic, but it COULD be for Kelly, but I think they’ll burn both bodies. Maybe when Cas comes back, late in the season, he can no longer use that vessle. keep that in mind. However I see Dean greiving much more than Sam. 1) over mom, because he will think mom is dead, and Sam will not. 2) Over Cas because though Sam loves Cas also, Dean has always been more emotional over him. Not in a Destiel way, but he gets angrier with him than Sam does, more anxious when hes missing than Sam does, and Dean is much more expressive about his emotions than Sam is. and 3) a bit over Crowley. They did have a friendship, where Sam only had one episode he wasnt bitching at him (justifuably). Sam is going to Be sad, but hes going to push most of his emotions down and cover them up with Jack. Maybe later in the season, this practice of his, will come to a head and he will NEED to air out his emotions. 

Sam will use his powers. I dont think, and I really hope, not the demon blood stuff, but the visions and telekenesis werent part of that. He had those powers before he knew anything about demon blood. He cant force visions to come, but maybe he can tap into the telekenesis and work it to be useful? He will probably tap into this so he can show Jack that he isnt a freak and the powers are controlable. Now do I think that will come back to bite him in the ass? Of course, everything always does. but they’ll figure it out, they always do :) but Sam hasnt had a big storyline since S9 and hes more than due for one. 

I think we will visit several AUs. Some just for a minute, some a whole episode or 2, but I dont think they’ll find the right AU that Mary and Lucifer are in on the first try. I would love for them to go back to French Mistake Land and see J2 both as husbands and fathers, and be tempted to stay there. Since it is rumored that Daneel will guest star in an episode this season, what better a  place to have her right?

Cas is shipped out in his very deadness to a place that has been talked about on the show but hasnt been shown, I think of course this is The Empty, and he is with another powerful being who is a great actor. My guess is Death, or maybe Billie since he would be the reason why she’s there. She is probably pissed too. The Empty is probably where monsters who die in Purgatory, and Angels go when they die, but I am curious to see if someone can die there? Logically no they can’t because theres no where left to go, but logic doesnt matter in SPNverse. However Misha says that he comes back but slowly. Maybe not the same Cas as before, but this death will effect future decisions he makes. I think he will either come back as Jimmy, and go hang out on the Wayward spinoff, or, go back to being an angel, but this time not remember, or maybe just not want to be around Sam and Dean. In any event, I dont believe the Cas we know will ever be back. 

Lucifer will no doubt get out of the AU as well as Mary, and he will take Jack and try to, and probably successfully corrupt him, and he will seek vengance on the Winchesters, particularly Sam but Jack will probably end up sacrificing himself for Sam, or, Sam will have a whole Sophies Choice arc where he has to chose between Jack and Dean. Maybe a Lucifer: Give me my son or your brother dies” Dean will tell Sam to let him die because Lucifer with Jack is worse than any nightmare they could have, but we know Sam cant do that. Or, maybe Dean grows fond of Jack too, and Lucifer threatens to take Sam if he doesnt give up Jack. Sam would insist he go so nothing else bad will happen and him be responsible, and Dean just wont hear it. Could go either way I think. 

As with every other season, there will be more than one big story line. There is normally one Big Bad that is part of the entire season, and 2-3 others going on throughout the season. I want to say Jack is the big bad, even if he isnt bad. getting mom back will be a side one that will conclude at mid season, dealing with Lucifer again, will get heavy after mid season, and Cas in the Empty will be the smaller one opens up next season’s theme. OR hey, there might be a storyline or 2 we have no clue about, which is also normal for SPN. 

Anyhow, Im really looking forward to S13. I think it has very good potential for things I really like, which are bromance, good character arcs, lots of Brother heavy episodes and bromance. Did I mention bromance? ;)

5

From Neill Cameron’s Twitter:

  • I was working recently with a bunch of kids who kept tearing up their own drawings in frustration, so I did something I’ve not done before.
  • I talked honestly to a classroom full of children about how much I hate my own drawing.
  • Okay, not the full extent. These kids ain’t ready to hear that. But that I do.
  • They were kind of appalled, and horrified and fascinated, but anyway, they stopped tearing up their drawings.
  • As I attempted to explain it — and many of you reading this will know already — when you make a drawing, there are two versions of it.
  • There’s the version that exists in your head, and then there’s the version that ends up on paper.
  • And because you can see both versions, you can’t help but compare them, and feel frustrated by the difference.
  • But here’s the thing, and I think it’s easy to forget this: no-one else can see that first version.
  • They can’t judge against it. They can only see, and judge, the version that exists on paper.
  • And you know what, this sounds crazy, but they might actually like it for what it is. They might think it’s cool that you made it.
  • I mean, holy god, if you guys could see the version of Mega Robo Bros that exists in my head.
  • Your eyeballs would melt and your heart be burned away by sheer divine fire of amazingness.
  • But the differences between that version and what’s on the page are only visible to me, and shouldn’t — can’t — matter to anyone else.
  • If a draing goes a bit wrong, ah well. Look at it, learn, try and make the next one better.
  • Or, possibly even better: abandon false objective notions of quality altogether and just enjoy the process, the activity, of making a thing.
  • Not quite how I phrased it to the Year5s, but hopefully you get the idea.
  • IN SUMMARY: be kinder to your drawings, and yourselves. I know, it’s hard. But try.

(Though this was written by a visual artist, the advice is applicable across creative disciplines – be kind to yourselves and to your stories!)

The One That Got Away

by reddit user bookshelfghost

Lily Harrison and I met at a graduation party when we were eighteen. As soon as I walked into the house, her bubbling laughter caught my attention. I couldn’t help but grin because it was so contagious, and she’d noticed. Already a couple drinks in, she pointed right at me and shouted, “Hey. You’re cute. Come be my partner.” 

Keep reading

10

Jellybots started as a number of character designs back in 2011- (which started as an attempt to prove to a friend that Beard Holograms are a sweet idea) then some more designs, and eventually a mini comic and a longer comic pitch (very just *almost* a series of GNs) and persistent dreams about wanting to do something bold and colorful and sci-fi/fantasy about growing up and mixing in major personal influences in a very particular sort of way that haven’t left me alone (despite never feeling like I have enough time or followthrough to do it justice). A quick googling should fill in some of the details but suffice it to to say: Jbots is my little personal project about kids and monsters, and a story world I’ve been taking trips to for years. Most characters are based, if loosely, on my irl friends. #DailyJellyJam is a month long attempt to take some of my own advice: one push-up is better than no push-ups! And a little bit of dreaming a day is better than no dreaming at all. So, at the suggestion of @erkshnrt, I’m making time to do some low-stakes worldbuilding at the glacial pace of no money, and I sincerely hope you guys are enjoying it! :)) Above is a sampling of some of the work that’s come together across the last few years- it’s all evolving and much is outdated and likely to be revised, but hopefully it gives you more of a sense of The Thing, or at least how gelatinous sausage gets made ;) new art momentarily!

Daily updates and process videos on Instragram:
https://www.instagram.com/nicholaskole/

Criss-Cross Lace Bodysuit

I’ve been wanting to make my own custom content, and so here is my mediocre attempt at it LOL. keep in mind it’s my first attempt at making custom content so it’s nowhere near perfect. I also wanted to make it as a thank you for 200 followers, but now here we are at over 300! thank u thank u thank u! I hope you enjoy!

Please Note:

  • there are two different versions - the top version and the bodysuit version
  • top version requires Backyard Stuff
  • bodysuit version is base game compatible
  • teen-young adult
  • custom thumbnail
  • please tag me if you use my cc! I’d love to see it in your game!

download the top version
download the bodysuit version

Part four of my quotes collection is dedicated to the artists! This one is a little bit longer, but this is because there were so many good artists and quotes I couldn’t pick a select few. As always, I hope you enjoy these quotes!

Leonardo da Vinci

  • “You can have no dominion greater or less than that over yourself.”
  • “Learning never exhausts the mind.”
  • “Time abides long enough for those who make use of it.”
  • “It’s easier to resist at the beginning than at the end.”
  • “I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. ‘Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but they whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles unto death.”

Vincent van Gogh

  • “What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?”
  • “Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.”
  • “The way to know life is to love many things.”
  • “Even the knowledge of my own fallibility cannot keep me from making mistakes. Only when I fall do I get up again.”
  • “One must work and dare if one really wants to live.”
  • “It is better to be high-spirited even though one makes more mistakes, than to be narrow-minded and all too prudent.”
  • “The more I think about it, the more I realize there is nothing more artistic than to love others.”
  • “Do not quench your inspiration and your imagination; do not become the slave of your model.”
  • “Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well.”
  • “As we advance in life it becomes more and more difficult, but in fighting the difficulties the inmost strength of the heart is developed.”

Florence Scovel Shinn

  • “Every great work, every big accomplishment, has been brought into manifestation through holding to the vision, and often just before the big achievement, comes apparent failure and discouragement.”
  • “You will be a failure, until you impress the subconscious with the conviction you are a success. This is done by making an affirmation which 'clicks.'”

Camille Pissarro

  • “It is absurd to look for perfection.”
  • “Everything is beautiful, all that matters is to be able to interpret.”
  • “Don’t be afraid in nature: one must be bold, at the risk of having been deceived and making mistakes.”
  • “When you do a thing with your whole soul and everything that is noble within you, you always find your counterpart.”

Pablo Picasso

  • “Inspiration exists, but it has to find us working.”
  • “Action is the foundational key to all success.”
  • “Everything you can imagine is real.”
  • “Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone.”
  • “I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.”
  • “He can who thinks he can, and he can’t who thinks he can’t. This is an inexorable, indisputable law.”
  • “Our goals can only be reached through a vehicle of a plan, in which we must fervently believe, and upon which we must vigorously act. There is no other route to success.”

Andy Warhol

  • “They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.”
  • “People need to be made more aware of the need to work at learning how to live because life is so quick and sometimes it goes away too quickly.”

Salvador Dali

  • “Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.”
  • “Have no fear of perfection - you’ll never reach it.”
  • “Mistakes are almost always of a sacred nature. Never try to correct them. On the contrary: rationalize them, understand them thoroughly. After that, it will be possible for you to sublimate them.”

Georgia O’Keeffe

  • “I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life - and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do.”
  • “You get whatever accomplishment you are willing to declare.”

Artemisia Gentileschi

  • “As long as I live I will have control over my being.”

Henri Matisse

  • “Creativity takes courage.”
  • “You study, you learn, but you guard the original naïveté. It has to be within you, as desire for drink is within the drunkard or love is within the lover.”
  • “There are always flowers for those who want to see them.”
  • “He who loves, flies, runs, and rejoices; he is free and nothing holds him back.”
  • “Instinct must be thwarted just as one prunes the branches of a tree so that it will grow better.”

Corita Kent

  • “Flowers grow out of dark moments.”
  • “Life is a succession of moments, to live each one is to succeed.”
  • “Love the moment and the energy of that moment will spread beyond all boundaries.”

Michaelangelo

  • “Faith in oneself is the best and safest course.”
  • “A beautiful thing never gives so much pain as does failing to hear and see it.”
  • “There is no greater harm than that of time wasted.”
  • “The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.”
  • “Every beauty which is seen here by persons of perception resembles more than anything else that celestial source from which we all are come.”
Being a violinist

PROS:
•good finger dexterity

•tiny fingers

•toned arms (especially if you play fiddle music like damn)

•beautiful instrument

•you’re automatically smart if you play the violin. don’t ask why. it’s apparently a stereotype. just go with it.

•kids love you regardless. play something they recognize and they will love you.

•backpack cases

•you develop good hand-eye coordination and enhanced muscle memory

•covers sound 10000000x better when they’re played on violin. 100% confirmed by scientists.

•you get gigs VERY often when you’re for hire (seriously when did people get so demanding for violinists/fiddlers?)

•jam sessions!!!

•dexterity in fingers = 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼

•music stores are your best friend

•electric violins are BAD ASS.

•violins are so diverse. they can be in jazz, bluegrass, classical, blues, swing, folk, gypsy, burlesque, ragtime, and basically every style of music.

•good vibrato sounds like heaven

•just basically a fun instrument to play. seriously.


CONS:
•calluses. calluses. calluses.

•HICKEYS. Hickeys. Yes they are a thing, don’t look at me like that.

•*shoulder rest decides to fly out from instrument while playing*

•backache. arm ache. backache. fingers are sore. neck is sore. everything hurts.

•"Can you play Beethoven?“

•don’t even bother going anywhere with customs. they’ll hold you back because your instrument case looks "suspicious”.

•*bridge decides to snap out from under strings while practicing*

•"Can you play Devil Went Down to Georgia?“

•no matter how hard you try to make that fourth octave C sound pretty, it’s still going to sound like you stuck a fork up a baby bird’s ass.

•"can you teach me how to play it?”

•doesn’t matter if you rosin your bow; slurring to the open E string will make a godawful squeaking noise.

•"I promise I won’t break it"

•watching movies/TV with a violinist makes you cringe because it’s obvious they’re not a real violinist. (seriously, when they’re playing whole note open G they’re playing eighth notes on the E string. what the fuck.)

•"I thought violin and fiddle were two different instruments!“

•that song may sound cool, but don’t bother learning it when it’s in the key of C#.

•up bow. down bow. down bow. up bow. down bow. up bow. down bow. Wait, fuck. *erase*

•"no, I did not slaughter a horse to make my own violin bow.”

•that soreness in your wrist is from your countless attempts to perfect that vibrato. oops.

•tuner? check. shoulder rest? check. mute? check. rosin? check. bows? check. instrument in tune? check. sheet music? check. Advil? yes.

•you’re automatically a stuck-up snob if you play violin. that’s also a stereotype. don’t ask why. I have no idea.

•when your string breaks, it’s the equivalent to having your life flash before your eyes.

•electric violins and their equipment are worth your entire bank account. js.

•"play this song! right now!“

•*bow hits microphone stand*

•"sorry, I couldn’t hear you since my instrument is always in my ear.”

•everything hurts.

badboy!jungkook + the reality of us

Six years ago…


“I told you I hate that flavor.” He glared, swiping at your lips with his thumb until you were slapping his hands away because he was wiping it all off.

“Well when you start paying for my lip gloss I’ll take it into consideration.” You spat, licking at your lips anyway because they taste less like grape and more like Jungkook.

Jungkook glared down at the little black bag sitting in the cab of his truck, a muscle in his jaw ticking until he reneged, ripping open the glove compartment to shove it in ‘til it was out of eye sight. After a final curse he unlocked his phone.

Jungkook [6:01:45]: when I say 5:30 it doesn’t mean make me wait in your drive way for 30 goddamn minutes

Jungkook [6:05:34]: what the fuck are you doing up there

Jungkook [6:07:23]: one more minute and I’m leaving your ass here

Jungkook [6:10:12]: fuck right off

He had only just sent the text when your front door was flying open, your very flustered self sprinting down your driveway until you could yank open the door of his truck with a grin. He wanted to glare, do anything but return your stupid goo goo eyes but he couldn’t help himself.

Not when it’s been an entire month since he’s seen you last, save for through the small rectangular screen of his phone. Especially not when you had returned home from camp looking gorgeous and brown from the summer sun, nearly blinding with your own radiance. He hadn’t understood, even all this time the point of going to a stupid fucking cheer camp the summer before college started and you would end whatever little thing you and Jungkook had had for the past year for good. But you had patiently if but a little patronizingly explained to him that you wanted to keep in shape for the fall tryouts at your school.

You sure had kept your fucking word about that. Somehow your body looked even more delectable than when you had left, the smooth expanse of your back revealed in a tank top cut so low there was no way you could possibly be wearing a bra under that. The ripped and frayed state of your jeans and scuffed white converse proved to be much less scandalous than your shirt choice. However—

“You cut your hair.” Jungkook said lamely, stating the obvious.

Your only response was to turn back to him with a grin, before attempting to throw yourself on him over he middle console. He still caught you though, his firm grip around your waist betraying the sneer he was sporting—it only made you grin wider when you brought your lips together.

Jungkook’s eyes widen the slightest when an eager tongue swipes over his lips and your physically climbing over the middle console to get to him, his hands catch you around the waist and he’s suddenly just as invested in the kiss. His mouth is scalding on your own, lips sealed over yours in an almost feverish haze as though he’s trying to communicate just how much the distance affected him in a single kiss. Your touch is just as desperate though, reaching up his shirt to press against the smooth muscle there. It had been so long, you just needed to touch him, feel him, feel the familiar press of his erection—one that never failed to make an appearance in your presence.

And then he’s pulling away from you, hands clutching your face a safe distance from your own, “Your parents.”

He asks the logical questions because it appears you weren’t going to be the level headed one this time around. Still, you try and dive back in for another kiss, but his grip only tightens with a frown.

“Out of town.” You whimper, making another attempt to get closer to him. This time you succeed and Jungkook waits all of five seconds with his mouth against your own to pull away again.

“Then why the fuck,” he says between kisses and swipes of tongue, “are we hooking up in my truck?”

“We’re not.” You groan, pressing your core deeper against the zipper of his jeans, “We’re not fucking. I’m just… I just—”

“Will you stop grinding long enough to finish your goddamn sentence. Jesus Christ,” he curses when your head dips back, and a hiss slips through his teeth on a particular roll of your hips, “You act like.. l-like we’ve been apart a year instead of a month. Fuck baby, quit that.”

“Okay, okay I’m s-sorry.” You say on a shudder when his teeth nip roughly at your lower lip. You still can’t help but dip your head into the crook of his shoulder and inhale his scent, “I don’t do good with distance s-sorry. I missed you.”

“I couldn’t tell.” He replied dryly, sending you a cocky grin when you glare at him.

Your glare is gone just as quickly as it came though and your eyes flutter shut in defeat, or a pout, Jungkook could never be sure with you.

“I’m so wet.” You whined before exhaling with a shake of your head, “We are not fucking today.”

Jungkook snorts, “Are trying to convince me or yourself?”

“You,” you answer firmly before cocking your head to the side with a frown, “No me. Wait… both of us?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes but catches you by the scruff of the neck, gaze laser focused on your full lower lip before he’s dipping in for another kiss—it’s slower this time and reverberating a softness you weren’t aware Jeon Jungkook was capable of.

“You irritated the hell out of me for a month.” He glared, but he was hugging your waist, you cocked an eyebrow at his contradictory behavior. As though a switch had been flipped, his gaze narrowed to slits and he was cocking his head at you.

“What?” You sigh.

“How was camp?” He implored, but his words were laced with suspicion.

“It was good.” You shrug, “Actually I kind of miss it. I made a lot of friends there.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook asks stiffly, “Then why’d you bother coming back at all?”

“Don’t start.” You groan, hands going to cup his face and though his pouting was adorable it ruffled your feathers.

“And what about that nerd…. Taekyung? You two keeping in touch over break?” He sneers.

You let out a deep exhale at the mention of your companion—you and Jungkook had been getting along well, fucking great in fact, as though the distance had triggered something in the both of you and lit a fire under Jungkook’s ass. He would call almost everyday, text you when he was busy, it was almost… domestic of him. You had gotten too comfortable with the Jungkook that was caring in his own roundabout way that you forgot to be wary of the green eyed beast that lurked just beneath the surface of his cool exterior. He had asked for a selfie and you had tugged one of the girls in your squad, and a very discombobulated Taehyung into a picture after one of the more intense days at camp.

Safe to say, Jungkook didn’t appreciate it—your lack of clothing or Taehyung’s close proximity.

No. I haven’t been keeping in touch with him.” You snapped, “But how are you and Jennie, I saw you tagged in more than one of her pictures on Instagram. Is she doing well? Still sucking dick under the bleachers?”

“If she is its not fucking mine.” He bites out crudely, “Considering I’ve only had my dick in one uptight bitch for the past year and half. I haven’t even seen her since we fought on the phone for a fucking hour because of that stupid ass picture.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Yep.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose before matching Jungkook’s glare with intense scrutiny, “We’ve been together all of five minutes why are we fighting already?”

“It’s not a fight.” He spits.

“Then what the hell is it?” You scoff.

“A discussion, a very loud fuckin’ discussion.”

“Are we seriously fighting over whether or not we’re having a fight?” You exasperate, running a hand through your hair. You pin him with a look, “I came here to hang out with you. I… I haven’t even bothered to call anyone else because you were the first person I wanted to see. So could you stop being a dick long enough so we can go on a da….”

Jungkook raised a brow at you. The two of you had long since been toeing the line of domesticity and while you were both aware of it neither of you was willing to swallow their pride long enough to show all your cards.

Movie. Let’s go to that movie and then when we get back we can do something that you like.” You say with a teasing smile, going to straighten his the ties on his hoodie.

Jungkook sighs but lets you pull him in by his sweatshirt for another kiss, this one longer but less heated than the first. 


“God that blew.” Jungkook stretches and you roll your eyes at him.

“How would you know, you slept through the entire thing.” You snorted.

“Not the entire thing.” He smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Right I forgot you woke up in the middle to finger me.” You scoff.

“As if you didn’t enjoy it.” He chides.

“I never said that.” You hum before shoving the popcorn at him, “Hold this, I have to pee.”

Jungkook grumbles something that sounds dangerously like an expletive and you don’t wait for him to agree, rushing to the restroom to relieve yourself.

It isn’t until your washing your hands that you remember the crumpled brown bag in your purse. Your hands flutter uselessly as you try to take it out, hoping to God that it’s not wrinkled. You grin to yourself when you find it in perfect condition.

“Would he feel put out if I got him something?” You grumble before worrying your lip between your teeth, “You’re overthinking it, ___. Its just a stupid t shirt.”

Right it was just a shirt. No big deal. Just something you saw in passing that you thought would look good on him, no big deal.

“No big deal.” You repeat to yourself before taking a last minute glance at yourself in the mirror. You looked nice… or you thought you looked nice but Jungkook hadn’t mentioned anything about your haircut other than the initial shock he sported when you were coming down the stairs.

You push back through the bathroom door, taking extra care not to touch anything after having already washed your hands, your eyes scan the room for Jungkook, letting out an annoyed huff because you told him to wait outside. You falter when you come across a broad back, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck in a familiar fashion.

“Jungkook I told you to—oh.” You hesitate at the halting laughter, whatever inside joke they were giggling about brought to an abrupt close when you draw near, “Hey.”

“Hey unnie.” she greets, hand coming up in a stiff wave, “… are you two here together…?”

Jungkook hesitates for the briefest of moments, eyes searching yours for an appropriate response. You don’t know why it annoys you so much or why you’re suddenly schooling your features into a tight grin.

“No. I, uh… we ran into each other and he was holding my stuff for me while I peed.” You lied, taking in the way the younger girls shoulders slump in relief.

“Cool.” Jennie grins, “Jungkook’s really helpful like that.”

Isn’t he?” You agree curtly, your gaze hesitates at the familiar black fabric wrapped around the girls shoulders, “Cute jacket.”

“O-oh this?” She asks before sending a shy grin Jungkook’s way, and you swear his eyes close in defeat, “He lent it to me a while ago I never did get to give it back so I was excited to see him and maybe return it but we got a little side tracked.”

You send a questioning look Jungkook’s way but he’s as silent as he had been the entire five minutes you spent having the fucking conversation.

“I’m sorry, don’t let me interrupt.” You feign apologetic, “I’ll just leave you two to it.”

Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh but if the younger girl notices she doesn’t say anything, only smiles politely at you.

“Wait, er… what about that ride you asked me for earlier?”

He’s grasping at strings.

“It’s fine, I’ll find my own way home. Don’t worry about me.” You send a fake smile their way.

“Quit being ridiculous.” He seethes before turning back to Jennie, “Uh… it was cool seeing you or whatever but I’ve got stuff I got to handle and—shit. ____ will you wait up?”

“Jungkook!” Jennie calls.

You don’t even bother turning around, your feet are eating up concrete before you have half a mind to realize that the heavy footsteps are getting closer. No, you don’t realize that until a hand is yanking you back by the wrist.

“Will you wait a damn second?” Jungkook grits out.

You bite back the immature words that are clawing their way up your throat and feign innocence.

“Oh. Sorry. Were you calling me?” You hum, but the angry flush in your cheeks give you away and Jungkook’s narrowing his eyes at you.

“What the hell was that about?” He implores.

“What was what about?” You frown.

“I’m not in the mood for your fucking games tonight alright, would you—would you just,” he ends on a growl, “tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing.” You chime, “Absolutely nothing is bothering me. If you were talking about in there when I came out and saw you talking to some random girl who you said you had nothing to do with and yet she’s wearing your hoodie then you’re wrong.”

Jungkook blinks at your for a moment.

“We’re not fucking… we’re not anything!” He groans, running a hand through his hair and trying to figure out how the hell you two ended up here.

Why you always end up here.

“Are you talking about me and you or me and Jennie?” You spit back, “Because you’re right about at least one of those things.”

You try to storm away again but he drags you back by a belt loop, bring you toe to toe with.

“We’re not anything—is that what you’re saying?” He queries and he doesn’t know why it irritates the hell out of him.

“We’re not.”

“Then why are you so fucking pissed, why are you so jealous about some random girl if we’re not anything, huh? Does any of that make sense to you?”

“I’m not jealous.” You hiss, “But if I were mad about this entire thing, which I’m not I’d tell that you I’m not fucking mad about you talking to some random girl I’m mad that you lied to me.”

“Stop fucking talking in hypotheticals!” He yells suddenly and you’re only partly aware of the fact that he’s already dragged you to the car and you’re slamming the door angrily. “When the hell did I lie to you?”

“You said you didn’t talk to her anymore but why is she wearing your jacket, are you two fucking?” You shout back and your tone has Jungkook reaching for you, hands clenching around nothing like he wanted to choke you before he was dropping his head back against the headrest.

“No I’m not fucking her!” He huffs, “I’m not fucking anyone but you and okay I admit I did lie I saw her last weekend, we’re in summer school together and the classroom was cold so I gave her my fucking sweater. I only lied for your benefit.”

“Do I look like I’m benefitting from your dumb fucking lie?” You spit, “And are you her goddamn boyfriend, let her freeze to death for all I care.”

“Well am I your boyfriend?” He demands and the car falls into utter silence around his question.

You inhale through your teeth before turning to face him, a frown marring your expression, “You’re right. You’re not my boyfriend because a stupid fucking boyfriend would at least say something about my haircut that I dumbly got for him but no you’re not my boyfriend you’re not my fucking anything.”

“What the hell are you talking about, when did I ever say anything about your hair? You look fine either way, who the fuck cares—”

I care!” You shout, “I care because I care about you and you’re stupid fucking opinion and I want to be your dumb girlfriend, okay? I don’t want to look fine either way, I want to look beautiful to you. I want you to call me for a change. I want… I want to be able to give you this stupid fucking gift without having to overthink the consequences—if I’m going to be moving us forward or back two steps and I… I like you, I like you so much that I remember things you say when you’re not paying attention like how much you liked some dumb actresses hair and so I do… I do stupid fucking things because of you.”

Your panting by the end of your confession because it was a lot, it was all the things you wanted to say, all the insecurities weighing heavy on your mind while you were away from him. And in a perfect world, Jeon Jungkook would have looked back at you and wiped your tear streaked cheeks and coo back all your rushed declarations.

But this wasn’t a perfect world and this was very much the reality of you and Jeon Jungkook.

“I… you… we said that we wouldn’t complicate things.” He says quietly, hands gripping the steering wheel, unable to meet your gaze.

All you can do is let out a bitter laugh.

“Right.”

“I think that it’s better this way,” he says lowly, “you’re going off to college and I’m probably not fucking going anywhere. It’s better if we end this now before either of us gets too invested.”

“Either of us… gets invested,” you repeat slowly before unbuckling your seat belt, “Why sugarcoat it? I’m the only one that’s invested, clearly. It was fun while it lasted right?”

Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh when you open the truck door, “Let me at least drop you home.”

“Fuck you and enjoy your stupid fucking present. And in the very unlikely future you feel inclined to try and talk to me—don’t.” You throw the brown paper bag at him before slamming his truck door.

“____!” He calls, but you’re already jogging back to the theater. Jungkook yanks open the glove compartment and grabs his idiotic present before throwing it out the window, watching as small tubes of ridiculously priced lip gloss go flying.

Notice how you talk to yourself, because more than likely, it’s awful

And now, a little snippet of the new book:

Spend a day just listening to your internal monologue. If it helps, and there is no one around you (or they’re super cool and you explain ahead of time what you’re doing), say it out loud. Every thought you have about yourself.

• Why aren’t you doing your work? You are so lazy.

• Oh, you have a UTI? Wah wah, no one cares.

• You’re sad about this? The same thing you’ve been sad about for months? Pathetic.

Would you say these things to a dear friend? Would you say them to a coworker? Would you say them to someone you absolutely loathed?

I sincerely hope not, because that would be cruel and completely unacceptable as a form of human interaction. Here, I will pause to remind you that you are, in fact, a human. Self-abuse is still abuse.

My friend Jo once told me something that I still think about, something that feels like complete audacity to even attempt, but I wish I would.

We were talking with a few other friends about the ways we hurt ourselves. She said that for the past five years, she has been working on treating herself like her soulmate. She says she tries to make decisions for herself out of love, never fear or pride; that even when she doesn’t feel like it, she works hard to bestow upon herself the affection, goodwill, and support that she would her own beloved.

You will always be with yourself. You will change and learn and grow but will never be someone other than who you are. You are your own Wilson, Tom Hank’s sole companion in 2000’s survival epic Cast Away.

Like every other human being on the planet, there are fantastic and wonderful things about you, and there are things you can work on. But as long as you’re doing your best — and most of us are at least trying, most of the time — then you should think about cutting yourself some slack when things don’t go exactly as you hoped they would or work out perfectly in your favor. It is about as useful as expecting, through the magical power of self-doubt and anger, that you will wake up one day able to fly.

In an attempt to be especially positive today, here is a small list of blogs that I follow that make me happy in some way, or another, whether y'all know it or not. So I figured I’d just put this up here and mention all of you for the sake of getting your attention to let you know you are appreciated.

@the-wiccans-glossary @its–in–the–weave (yes I’m aware that this is actually my own blog, but I appreciate its existence, tbh, because otherwise, there are things that wouldn’t have happened, and people I wouldn’t have met) @simonalkenmayer @vosh-daemon @mylifeisablogpost @nari-the-kitty-queen @lapis606 @shinigami-mistress @fearsomescarecrow @kristinalmeister @become-happier @justbadpuns @good-christian-memes @reapergrellsutcliff @mannhathaway @ladypoetess @moonry @toshio @writing-prompt-s / @promptguy @trickymicky12345 @reinelefey @phoenix-singularity @7hermeticprinciples @ain-individual @waiting4codot @thantos1991

P.S this was put up in no particular order (past the first two). Enjoy my terrible and inconsistant script!

An observation of Markiplier TV

Emphasis on the observation part because I’ve never really been good with theories. I have a number of things to do today but unfortunately, I watched this video and now I can’t stop thinking about it. Hopefully this’ll quiet my mind and let me function, and who knows? Maybe it’ll help someone out there with their own theories too. :)

So, let’s talk about this scene:

We got one hell of a group here BUT what I’d like to focus on is their seating arrangement and what that could mean, because if there’s anything I’ve learned in videos like this it’s that EVERYTHING is by design. This entire table scene (props to the Editor btw) has so much hidden psychological subtext in it, so while I’m no professional I’ll still do my best to uncover them all.

First off, let’s look at the table: Rectangular with two long ends and two short ones. Pretty normal setting yeah, but is it beneficial to their situation (i.e. finding a way to ‘take control’) where everyone easily agrees? Nope. Because tables like these embody competition and a clear sense of authority, and I love this detail. It means that while they could’ve easily gone for a round table to promote cooperation, they go for this because of course, no one’s going to cooperate that easily.

This setting, however, works better in the business cooperative world, because you got two people (Darkiplier & Wilford) who can control the meeting from both ends of the table and are essentially the people everyone will need to look up to.

Here’s a great detail though: In this kind of setting, the more powerful of the two is usually the one opposite the entrance to the room. This allows him not just a vantage point of whoever comes in and goes, but complete control as well. And as we see where King of the Squirrels pops up:

Originally posted by antisepticjack

Which we can easily tell was from the right of the room based on the direction his body and eyes shift to, we can point out where the entrance is and who was right there:

But yeah, in this moment it didn’t seem like Will had control over King’s sudden entrance but let’s face it: he doesn’t care. He already knows that there’s more than one king in that room.

Speaking of, let’s move on to the seating arrangement.

Obviously we got Dark and Will at the ends as the higher ups, but I’d like to talk about Googleplier and The Host.

In medieval times, kings would often have their advisors right at their side at the table. This actually explains the term “right hand man”, because the king would have them close at hand to help him rule, unless of course, he was left-handed. Looking back at Dark’s antics, I have reason to believe that he’s either left-handed or ambidextrous.

Originally posted by http-darkiplier-403forbidden

Which I guess would make sense, considering that while Ed, Bim, Silver and Dr. Iplier were all concerned about their parts in the video, only Google and The Host were able to keep a level head and not lose sight of their main goal/situation.

Now the last thing I want to talk about is Wilford’s idea for Markiplier TV. I must warn you though because this is going to be a bit of a stretch so stop reading if you’d like BUT… I think he may have been inspired by Anti.

AGAIN, please bear with me. Jack’s mentioned before that Dark and Anti ever meeting each other was very unlikely, which in Dark’s case (being the alter ego that’s been pushed inside the most) could be more than true. However, Wilford makes up for this as he’s the only one not bound by the laws of physics and is, potentially, omnipresent. So it’s possible that he’s aware of Anti (since he was aware of Septiplier after all) and his methods (i.e. using social media to have his fans notice him which then gives him control) BUT, being Wilford, he goes about it in his own roundabout way which is, of course, TELEVISION.

So, yeah, this is all I can come up with. Excluding my attempt in theorizing at the very end I hope this was helpful. Now I’m just hoping that my thoughts on Antisepticeye don’t get too hectic and end up like this long wall of text. Thanks for reading. :)

Only Echoes

My ex’s ghost begins to haunt my apartment a week after the break up. I spot him sitting in our the breakfast nook, sunlight falling like dust through his torso to the rumpled rug in front of the small table. He’s staring out the window, parts of him fading in and out of view.

“No,” I say, grabbing the counter in case my suddenly weak legs betray me. “No.”  

He turns and smiles at me with the weight of the world in his eyes.

I grab my cell phone from the pocket of my sweatpants and call him. One ring. Two rings. Three. 

“Hello?”

My hand tightens around the edge of the counter until I can hear my bones scraping together. “You ass. You don’t get to do this to me. Make it go away.”

He’s silent for a long moment. Then he sighs. “My ghost?”

Yes,” I say. “Get rid of it.”

“You know that’s not how this works,” he says.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to haunt you,” I say. “You broke up with me. That’s how this is supposed to go. So stop.”

Stop or come back.

But he doesn’t say anything else before he hangs up.

I turn to scream at his ghost but, like him, it’s gone.

—————————————————————

“He’s one of those,” my sister says knowingly. She sounds far away and tiny over the computer’s speakers. “You better be careful. Sometimes they don’t leave.”

I consider my cup of cocoa. She’s holding a matching cup half a world away so that they’re connected. I wonder if she’s foregone her usual shot of baileys this time. “What do I do then?”

“Try to move on anyway,” she says. Behind her something peeks around the kitchen doorway and is gone before I can make out who. My sister’s been drinking for a decade and hasn’t once talked about quitting.

“Right,” I say and imagine the poor quality of the speakers hides the hollowness in my voice.

Keep reading

Professor

In which Andrew didn’t choose Exy but still chose Neil, which meant Neil had to learn how to talk about something other than stick-ball. 

warning, mention of implied sexual assault/non-con


Lucy had not anticipated what she was dealt. 

Her first day of second year brought a tone of finality to it all: it wasn’t just a year-long dream of terrible decisions and alcohol and chaos. It continued on, and so would she. 

Her first day also happened to bring Professor Andrew Minyard, five feet and blond and utterly terrifying. 

Introducing the course had started off mundane enough, until Eddie Court – an asshole she’d regretted sleeping with dearly – decided to lean over her shoulder. He never got the chance to say anything because a pencil dotted him squarely in his forehead, so hard that a tiny droplet of blood threatened to bead. 

Everyone stared. Shocked, confused, but remaining in complete silence as they  – Lucy included – tried to remember if anyone had mentioned anything about the man, whether or not this was normal or out-of-the-ordinary behaviour. 

“Name.” He sounded bored. 

Eddie rose his fingers to brush his forehead, smearing the tiniest of droplets. He stared at his fingertips, then at Minyard, then at the pencil that had clattered on his desk. Then at Minyard again. “Eddie Court.”

“Court. Christ.” The professor said, with a palpable distaste to his tone. “I will say this once, despite having to repeat it every year, because students seem to get thicker with every new class.” His face was blank. Stone. Lucy had never heard someone utter insults with such apathy. She didn’t know whether or not to be scared or curious: Such a mask was difficult to maintain. “Shut the fuck up, or get the fuck out. Understood?”

Swearing in class. At the students. Completely against protocol. 

Lucy couldn’t help but smile. Just a little. 


Within weeks, the class had learned how to abide by Professor Minyard’s rules. His previous students were sought out, but they merely grinned at the mention of his name. One student dared to ask another law professor, questioning the teaching methods of the criminology expert. They shook their head, leaning to the professor next to them and sharing a laugh, an inside joke that none of the second years were a part of. 

Yet. 

Curiosity won out over fear eventually, and what that said about Lucy, she wasn’t sure. Eventually, he won her respect: The piece of white chalk he’d flung had imbedded itself in her tightly curled hair when she’d fallen asleep at the eight AM lecture on a Tuesday morning. 

“You think I want to be here, Rone?” 

That piece of chalk rested on her bedside table. Lucy didn’t want to be weird, especially considering her professor hadn’t played Exy since college, but he’d played with Neil Josten and Kevin Day. The Neil Josten, and the Kevin Day. And if she had spent nights watching old Palmetto State Fox games, sitting in awe as she watched him flick balls away from the goal like it was absolutely nothing, no one was going to know. 

He was just as apathetic as he had been back then. Lucy had decided he was just emotionless: That didn’t make him any worse at teaching, so it wasn’t really her problem. 

And then she became his problem. 


Her grades had dropped dramatically low. Andrew stared at the results that he’d just drawn up, picked the paper up off the desk, and leaned back in his chair. 

It was a midterm. He’d eyed Lucy Rone’s bad results in the past two mini-quizzes, her surprisingly worsening attendance, and this was enough to force his hand. 

Half an hour later, he was convinced this was abnormal behaviour, if her patterns rang true. 

Caring, caring. Perhaps the internal monologue would never leave him alone, but he knew better than to listen to it’s mocking tone. Watch yourself turn into Wymack, why don’t you. Call Dan and say you’re taking over as coach of the Foxes. 

He almost told himself to shut up, but the chime of his phone snapped him out of his head. It kept chiming and he sighed, picking it up and wedging it between his shoulder and ear, returning to stare at the mark scrawled in the corner of the exam paper. 

“Are you going to be here for dinner?”

“Not if you’re attempting to make something.” Neil had improved past the broke-college-student level of cooking skills, but he wasn’t apt enough to cook dinner without some form of disaster. 

It hadn’t taken long for Andrew to learn the sound of Neil grinning through the phone. A particular tone of voice, a particular exhale. “It’s already done. Just has to be heated up again.”

“Edible?”

“Can’t really be the judge of my own creation, can I?”

“I’ll be home soon.” Andrew liked the way his mouth curled around the word home.”Lucy Rone. Sound like someone problematic to you?”

“Not particularly. Lucy’s always been the name of that old woman sitting on the front porch, knitting. Five cats, crocheting and all.”

“So, you?”

“If old ladies swung heavy sticks at other people, sure.”

Andrew let himself smile. He allowed himself this. The small curl up on his lips. He’d earned that, after all this time. “Sure.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Unusually bad performance. Moved from sitting front and centre to back corner. Shit attendance.”

“You’re probably a much better judge of character than I would be, now.”

Because I’ve studied criminal, suspicious and victimised behaviour for a long time, Andrew wanted to remind him. But this was no longer a sore spot for Neil: He no longer needed to read people’s intentions in need to survive, because he was safe. He could let that overly-analytical part of himself behind. It had been almost 12 years since their first win against Edgar Allen. He was still alive, well. 

Happy, even. 

Hard to believe that was partly Andrew’s fault. 

Focus. 

Andrew emailed Lucy to visit him before their next class at nine o’clock the next morning. 


She was five minutes early, he was five minutes late. He couldn’t say anything about her appearance, considering he was wearing Neil’s jersey under his coat and that he had walked out of the door with a coffee, slippers and nothing to comb his hair with but his fingers. 

His students knew not to say anything. 

Lucy sported a pair of sweats that had her high school’s initials printed on the front, with a pair of exy sticks embroidered just underneath. Her name was printed on the back pocket, and they only just came down to her ankles. 

Exy fan, then. Andrew wouldn’t have guessed. 

She didn’t say anything, sparing him a hollow looking before following him into his office. He’d used to share it, until he’d bribed the finicky financial law to move somewhere else. It was entirely his own space, clean and devoid of decoration. 

He motioned towards the desk and she leaned against it, clutching the binder to her chest. 

Brown skin didn’t usually lose this much of it’s valour, even during winter. 

And winters in South Carolina were hardly anything worth mentioning. 

“Your grades.”

She was staring at the floor. Her eyes didn’t move when she nodded. 

“All I need is a reason.” 

She said nothing. 

“It’d probably be easier on you if you told me. I’m your criminology professor: I’ll find out eventually.”

“I’m not on drugs.” She said, quickly, but not so quickly that it was an immediate red flag. An orange flag. Andrew settled back into his seat and propped his ankle on his knee. 

“Never said you were.”

“I’m fine.” 

Andrew gave her a flat look. “You know who also says that?”

She shook her head. 

“Surely someone who still wears her high school’s exy uniform would have an inkling. Yay-high, hair like a fire-engine siren, mouth like one too.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to ask if he knows that you wear his old Palmetto jersey. I thought he hated you?”

“I hated him.” Andrew corrected her. “I hate him.” He corrected himself. “And he knows.”

She looked wistful. “Cool.” 

“Lucy.”

She looked back at him. 

“If there’s a problem, you come to me. Alright?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because you can trust me. I can be a lawyer, a therapist, an advice column, what have you.”

“Can I trust you?”

“When you’re ready to.” 

She seemed satisfied enough to nod, murmur a timid thank you, and slipped out the door. 


Lucy banged on the door, feeling sick. She couldn’t go back to her dorm, because it made her want to crawl into a corner and be enveloped in a shadow. To be the smallest, most insignificant thing. 

She wasn’t sure how on earth her criminology professor was supposed to empathise with her, when he was the human embodiment of a brick wall, but here she was, trembling, feverish, panicked, and knocking on his office door at ten o’clock at night. 

He opened the door with a mildly annoyed expression, which flattened out immediately at the sight of her. 

She’d only seen him this morning, but that felt like a whole world away now. 

“Hello.”

She wanted to ask why he was still here, on campus, this late at night. What on earth he could possibly be working on, at ten o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Instead, she blurted: “What does it mean if I didn’t say no?”

He stilled. 

Too much, too much, too much: She had asked too much of him, a middle aged professor who apparently had two cats and a boyfriend, if the senior’s rumours were true. Criminology professor aside, this was the last thing someone like him would want to be dragged into –

He stood aside and motioned for her to come in. She shuffled by him, arms around her stomach. He shut the door. 

Lucy wanted to be sick. 

He pulled a pen out of his pocket – professors always had pens on them, didn’t they? – and tore a corner off a piece of paper, scribbling down a phone number. 

“This woman helped me.” Betsy. “She can help you, too.”

“You said you could be a therapist.” Lucy hedged. 

He sighed, and she’d never seen him so reflective. “I have my limits.”

She nodded. She took the piece of paper. She left. 


“Where the fuck is Court?” Andrew leaned on the edge of his desk at the front of the lecture hall, eyeing the empty seat. Second lesson in a row. 

Lucy Rone sat in front of it, back straight, gaze steady. 

“Suspended.” 

Andrew looked at her. “For how long?”

There was a hesitant smile. “Undetermined. Charges have been pressed against him.” 

Andrew drew a long line through Eddie Court’s name on the attendance.


Lucy waited by the door and saw her professor approaching, with the stack of papers in his hands. She was anxious about this mark, more-so than the others. Her dip in performance would be hard to get back up from, but if she could do it in criminology, she could do it in the rest. There was a cluster of students waiting to get their essay’s grade back, but Lucy was first in line. 

“Yay or nay?” She asked. 

Professor Minyard gave Lucy a flat look, and opened the door. 

Lucy promptly had a heart attack at the man beyond the door. 

“Feet. Off.” Her professor said, looking flatly at Neil Josten, with his feet propped up on the desk, arms folded. He, too, was wearing a faded jersey of the Palmetto Foxes’ colours, but it was too bunched up for Lucy to read the name. 

“Surprise.” Neil Josten said, and Lucy wanted to scream. 

“Get your fucking feet off my fucking desk.” Her professor dropped the large stack of papers next to where Neil Josten had propped up his heavy boots. Neil did not get his fucking feet off the fucking desk. 

Lucy almost had the nerve to scream: do you know who that is? Do you have any clue how famous he was? But she remembered that the two of them were friends. Sort of. She held her tongue, and let her heart thrum in her chest, happy to be completely ignored. 

“Leave.” Professor Minyard flicked Neil in the temple. 

Neil smiled. Neil Josten smiled. 

Lucy was having heart palpitations. 

He slowly drew his feet away from the desk to stand, still smiling. “Have a nice day.”

“You weren’t meant to be here till tomorrow evening, Josten. Explain.”

“You’re busy. Later.”

Lucy watched her professor’s arm reach out to brush along Neil Josten’s forearm as he slid past, and there was a startlingly foreign crinkle of warmth in his eyes. 

The back of Neil’s Palmetto jersey read Minyard. A thin platinum ring, identical to the one her professor wore around his neck, clacked against the doorknob as he pushed it open. She remember her professor occasionally wearing Josten. 

There was a startling curve of her professor’s lips, an almost smile that made him look almost human. 

Neil grinned before slipping out the door. 

Oh, Lucy thought, and then she said it aloud. 

Her professor turned on her, pointing. “If you dare to ask me for a single autograph, I will fail you.” 

Lucy was still smiling. 

“If any word about this gets out, I will fail you.” He warned. 

“Are you married?” Lucy laughed. 

His face was stone. 

“Holy shit. Professor Josten-Minyard. Two cats and a husband.”

“It’s Minyard-Josten.” He said coldly. “Get out.” 

Lucy got out.


By the next class, everyone knew, despite Lucy not breathing a word. Which meant the entirety of Neil Josten’s personal but still public Instagram account displayed his home life. But that was none of his student’s – or anyone’s– business. 

And if Neil started coming in with breakfast on those Tuesday morning lectures during his off season, that was none of their business either. 

Darlin’

Lance x Reader

Summary: Just some jealous Lance Tucker porn

Word Count: 6399 (dayum I’m always a little extra) | Rating: R [NSFW]

Warnings: ⚠️ SMUTTY SMUT, Y’ALL. Unprotected Sex.  Dom!Lance, dry-humping, some spanking, oral sex (both, f&m), dirty talk, orgasm denial, NSFW gifs, tying reader up, I think that’s all… Minors avert your eyes, throw your phone/desktop away. Don’t read. I did my job to warn ya. 

A/N (1): Long live the dominating asshole called Lance Tucker. I’D LOVE SOME ATTENTION IN THE FORM OF FEEDBACK. Sorry, if there are any typos. Also there is another important Author’s note at the end of the fic, please do read it! 

Masterlist here


*gifs aren’t mine (also the gifs are not as precise as I’ve described them)

“You ready, Babe?” Lance asks, peeking from the door. You smile at him looking from the mirror, as you bite your lip and nod yes, sliding a bracelet that matched the dress you wore for tonight.

Lance smoothly walks inside, in his black button up shirt and dark jeans. The sleeves rolled to the elbows, just how you like it. He has finally shaved after two weeks, although you didn’t quite mind the rough stubble rubbing between your thighs during the time. Lance’s hair is styled in a perfect quaff, but that doesn’t compare to the style when you have your fingers woven in it, pulling at the roots and making him moan.

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