Summary: Jungkook’s blurted out his thoughts sincerely and you don’t know how to react. Jimin offers you a paid-leave to clear your mind and come back later, hopefully fresher than before.
A/N: Good news!! this isn’t the last chapter- I did some thinking and I decided to extend the series by ~3 chapters :) this chapter also has a lot of dialogue! It’s quite a sad chapter- it might be a little slow but this chapter is focused on the development of JK x reader’s relationship.
The grey clouds coated the sky and grumbled in annoyance as seeps of lighting passed through them. It was weirdly creepy that the weather was able to portray your devastated mood rather accurately. As soon as the elevator dinged, you stepped out with a burning desire to sprint out of the building. You legs worked with long strides and the rapid clicking of your heels showed just how frantic you were to leave. You never once looked back whilst running- all you could focus on was the salty taste of your tears and how fast your fast your legs carried you.
Despite the fact that you had taken the elevator, Jungkook still somehow managed to catch up- his worn out legs had jumped down 4 steps at a time to reach you with his dangerously fast paced heart. He looked no-where near presentable. His hair was still messed up, a couple of strands stuck up whilst his fringe clung onto his sweaty forehead. He didn’t have any time to put on his usual suit-jacket, let alone button up his white dress-shirt. His pink lips were swollen and they couldn’t help but repetitively form your name in hopes that you’d stop running away from him.
“Y/N! Please! Wait!” Jungkook’s voice echoed slightly across the spacious ground floor of the company building. The workers looked beyond confused at the sight of Jungkook in a panic and yelling. They’d always viewed him as an emotionless, professional and very well composed business man.
It was a total shock to see him in such a worn out and breathless state. His ostentatious figure was a mere inconvenience in this situation as the people did nothing but stare- which made you feel even more shit.
You thanked god for automatic glass doors as you swiftly ran past them and to the outside- where the thunder seemed to grumble louder than before. You helplessly wiped away your stream of tears that rolled off your cheek and chin endlessly, but that deemed to be useless as that image kept popping up inside your head. She looked so content straddling his lap- and he didn’t even do anything about it. The image was engraved into your mind and you couldn’t help but let out a loud grumble of pure frustration. Jungkook had just shattered the little trust you had left in him and that consequently lead to the shatter of your sanity for a brief amount of time.
Everything suddenly seemed hopeless. You’d just wanted to drown yourself in vodka to ease the stabbing pain in your heart. Your vision was clouded and blurry from the unstoppable tears and your brain couldn’t stop torturing you by constantly replaying the scene over and over inside your head.
Jungkook let out another loud yell and people on the street stopped to look at the dramatic scene. You ignored his desperate attempts and continued to strut forward- the last thing you’d wanted to do was see his face let alone converse to him.
Suddenly, you felt a violent tug on your wrist and Jungkook forcefully spun you to face him. His vision was also distorted and he found it difficult to breathe as his lungs were blazing with discomfort. Frenzy immediately washed over his expression at the sight of your tears. He had no intention of loosening his grip on your wrist- and he was sure it was going to leave a mark but it didn’t matter at that point.
He needed to speak to you- to clarify everything, to tell you how crazy you drove him, to beg for forgiveness and explain his ridiculous actions.
But before he could say anything, you attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, grumbling in pain as you could feel the flesh on your wrist sting under Jungkook’s grip.
“Don’t touch me!” You instinctively shouted and Jungkook’s expression softened, yet he didn’t loosen his hellishly tight grip. His lips quivered in fear as a blanket of regret washed over his mind. He knew he should’ve pushed her away. He knew he shouldn’t have let you go.
Ever since his realisation that you were the only person he had genuine feelings for had hit, his life had been flipped and shook out of proportion- much to his dislike as the downfall of his stocks screamed at him to concentrate but, he found it physically impossible to do so. All he could think about was how much happier he’d be with you by his side. He’d never felt so obsessive over anything.
There was a girl, and her uncle sold her, wrote Mr. Ibis in his perfect copperplate handwriting.
That is the tale; the rest is detail.
There are stories that are true, in which each individual’s tale is unique and tragic, and the worst of the tragedy is that we have heard it before, and we cannot allow ourselves to feel it too deeply. We build a shell around it like an oyster dealing with a painful particle of grit, coating it with smooth pearl layers in order to cope. This is how we walk and talk and function, day in, day out, immune to others’pain and loss. If it were to touch us it would cripple us or make saints of us; but, for the most part, it does not touch us. We cannot allow it to.
Tonight, as you eat, reflect if you can: there are children starving in the world, starving in numbers larger than the mind can easily hold, up in the big numbers where an error of a million here, a million there, can be forgiven. It may be uncomfortable for you to reflect upon this or it may not, but still, you will eat.
There are accounts which, if we open our hearts to them, will cut us too deeply. Look — here is a good man, good by his own lights and the lights of his friends: he is faithful and true to his wife, he adores and lavishes attention on his little children, he cares about his country, he does his job punctiliously, as best he can. So, efficiently and good-naturedly, he exterminates Jews: he appreciates the music that plays in the background to pacify them; he advises the Jews not to forget their identification numbers as they go into the showers — many people, he tells them, forget their numbers, and take the wrong clothes, when they come out of the showers. This calms the Jews: there will be life, they assure themselves, after the showers. And they are wrong. Our man supervises the detail taking the bodies to the ovens; and if there is anything he feels bad about, it is that he still allows the gassing of vermin to affect him. Were he a truly good man, he knows, he would feel nothing but joy, as the earth is cleansed of its pests.
Leave him; he cuts too deep. He is too close to us and it hurts.
There was a girl, and her uncle sold her. Put like that it seems so simple.
No man, proclaimed Donne, is an Island, and he was wrong. If we were not islands, we would be lost, drowned in each others’tragedies. We are insulated (a word that means, literally, remember, made into an island) from the tragedy of others, by our island nature, and by the repetitive shape and form of the stories. We know the shape, and the shape does not change. There was a human being who was born, lived, and then, by some means or other, died. There. You may fill in the details from your own experience. As unoriginal as any other tale, as unique as any other life. Lives are snowflakes — unique in detail, forming patterns we have seen before, but as like one another as peas in a pod (and have you ever looked at peas in a pod? I mean, really looked at them? There’s not a chance you’d mistake one for another, after a minute’s close inspection.)
We need individual stories. Without individuals we see only numbers: a thousand dead, a hundred thousand dead, ‘casualties may rise to a million.’ With individual stories, the statistics become people — but even that is a lie, for the people continue to suffer in numbers that themselves are numbing and meaningless. Look, see the child’s swollen, swollen belly, and the flies that crawl at the corners of his eyes, his skeletal limbs: will it make it easier for you to know his name, his age, his dreams, his fears? To see him from the inside? And if it does, are we not doing a disservice to his sister, who lies in the searing dust beside him, a distorted, distended caricature of a human child? And there, if we feel for them, are they now more important to us than a thousand other children touched by the same famine, a thousand other young lives who will soon be food for the flies’own myriad squirming children?
We draw our lines around these moments of pain, and remain upon our islands, and they cannot hurt us. They are covered with a smooth, safe, nacreous layer to let them slip, pearl-like, from our souls without real pain.
Fiction allows us to slide into these other heads, these other places, and look out through other eyes. And then in the tale we stop before we die, or we die vicariously and unharmed, and in the world beyond the tale we turn the page or close the book, and we resume our lives.
A life, which is, like any other, unlike any other.
And the simple truth is this: there was a girl and her uncle sold her.
Throughout a long and prolific career, Yayoi Kusama maintains that the primary theme of her work, an endless repetition of form and shape, exists not as a creative choice but a necessary act used to control the symptoms of a mental disorder. As a child, Kusama battled with visual hallucinations of patterns covering entire rooms and overtaking her. To combat this, she used art, obsessively repeating minute patters and forms to create a reality she could control. In the early 1960s, she began a series of “Compulsion Furniture,” of which Ladder is one. Ladders, chairs, and other everyday objects were covered in shoes and stuffed, phallic forms, and then thickly laden with white or off-white paint. This process not only fulfilled the artist’s obsessive-compulsive drive, but simultaneously defies male dominance by appropriating sexually-charged symbols. The resulting “furniture” objects relate to Pop art in their incorporation of common domestic items (found furniture, socks, and shoes), but also stand as physical manifestations of Kusama’s uniquely troubled aesthetic.
hey hey hey everyone!! as a self-proclaimed mathlete & absolute math nerd, i figured i could share some quick little tips for such an amazing subject! soooo here you go:
practice, practice, practice!!
I always say that practice is the most essential aspect of studying & learning math- and many other subjects! This can take the form of homework (mini tip: always do your homework if you are able!!! it’s only to your benefit! even if it’s not for a grade, try your best to work on it anyway), practice problems from a textbook or workbook, old questions from a past quiz or test, etc. Even just a couple of practice problems every day, or some quick q’s before a test, can help a lot. Remember, repetition is a key form of revision!
take active notes
Math is a very active subject, so it’s important for your notes to reflect that. Basically, if you’re working on an example problem in the middle of your notes, write it down too. These problems can come back in quizzes or tests, and they really help reinforce material when you’re reviewing. Another way to keep your notes active is by drawing diagrams!! Diagrams can be essential for certain topics, so please don’t ignore them, even if you think you can remember what that graph looks like. Also, if you ever need to jot something down in the margins of your notes, do it! All of this will really help when you review.
know your calculator
Whether you need to know how to use one, or how to survive without one, calculators are pretty much always relevant when it comes to math. If the subject you’re learning allows it, you should always have a calc nearby, and you should know its basic functions. That doesn’t mean know how to add & subtract (unless that’s all that’s necessary for you), it means being able to work the graphing function, or how to enter data into your calculator for statistical evaluation, how to find certain functions in your calc, etc. It’s also very important to know how to work without your calculator. As you progress in math, there will be certain things that you just need to know how to do, because they take too long with a calc. Basically, make sure you understand what you’re doing with your calculator, so that you can understand how to do it without your calculator.
keep track of everything!
Math is a lot of data & different steps that you need to keep track of. When working on something, know where your numbers (or other forms of data) are, make sure you aren’t missing any! Do your best not to skip steps, even if you’re great at working in your head. Missing data & skipped steps are major sources of error and tiny mistakes that can mess up a whole problem. Also, know your common errors! Do you tend to skip a certain step because you think you’ve got it? Do you sometimes misinterpret graphs or data? Once you’ve figured that out, be extra careful with the specific problems that you have trouble with. Keeping track of your work & your mistakes can help you improve a lot!
memorize what needs to be memorized
A lot of math can be done with basic understanding of how to work a problem & the process to find a solution (these things are generally memorized with practice!) but there are some things that just need to be memorized. Whether it’s elementary functions like addition & division, or basic trigonometry, if it’s not a process you can learn through understanding, and need to know, make sure you know!! Some things can be memorized with practice, and others require different methods of memorization (I typically write & rewrite things multiple times). You can find some great posts on memorization here!
Hi, I love your blog! I have a question about the difference between using perfective and imperfective verbs in the future tense; I understand the difference between something you do/did regularly as opposed to once, but how is я скажу́ different to я бу́ду говори́ть?
You are on the right track, but let me adjust your comprehension of perfective and imperfective verbs.
Imperfective verbs are for actions that last - either as a habitual, repetitive actions, or as ongoing, continuous actions. In English, there are simple and progressive tenses - they are approximately what Russian imperfective verbs are for.
For imperfective verbs, we can not say for sure when they started and when/if they are going to end. The “borders” of these verbs are vague. If you imagine time as a line, imperfective actions would be like clouds on the timeline.
Perfective verbs are for actions that have the beginning and/or the end. They are not endless - they have limits. To some degree, this is true - they are for actions that happen once - but actions that are ongoing (continuous, progressive), can be a one time occurrence too! So the best way to understand perfective verbs is to think of them as of verbs that can be “boxed up”, limited from any or both sides in the time line.
Perfective verbs form the so called simple future tense - perfective verbs in the future tense do not need any auxiliary verbs: Я сварю кофе - I”ll brew coffee. (There is an idea of a limit in this action: I’m going to have my coffee brewed after I’m done with it). Я посмотрю это кино завтра - I’ll watch this movie tomorrow (again, this action is not going to last forever or be repetitive).
Imperfetive verbs form complex future: быть + imperfective infinitive verb. They express the idea of an action in the future that, as you anticipate, will last, will be going on for indefinite time, or will become habitual:
Я буду помнить наш разговор всю жизнь - I’ll remember our talk for all my life. (Each and every moment of my life, to eternity, as long as I last).
Мы будем наслаждаться солнцем во Флориде, когда в Канаде выпадет снег. We’ll be enjoying the sun in Florida when it’ll start snowing in Canada. (ongoing, lasting action of enjoying, without any obvious time limits).
One more time, I’m wholeheartedly recommend a book by Yukihide Hashimoto about verbal aspect - the best book written about Russian perfective/imperfective verbs ever!
Garnet: Garnet is occasionally nonverbal, especially in stressful situations. Some of her stims are forming and dissipating her gauntlets, word/phrase repetition, forming gem bubbles, clapping (happy stim), and humming!
Amethyst: Amethyst has some issues with volume and stuff like that, as well as reading situations and when to be serious or not. She’s a dork! She stims by flapping, spinning, chewing on stuff and just generally moving her body around.
info-dumps a lot and tends to ramble, she also illustrates her thoughts with her gem holograms when she’s nonverbal. She stims by clenching her hands, flapping and repeating phrases and words or facts. Her current special interest is the history of gem society and the Homeworld!
Steven: Steven stims by singing and flapping, as well as, when possible, playing his ukulele!
Rose Quartz: She stims by singing and flapping, like Steven,and her special interest is human cultures and society.
Peridot: She doesn’t really know what’s socially appropriate and sometimes screws up, but usually manages to recognise it in hindsight and apologise. She stims by playing with her limb enhancer fingers (chewing on them, rotating them, making patterns) and her special interest is gem tech and how the kindergartens work.
When Solas sees a woman who looks exactly like Isii, he is transfixed. Hundreds of years have passed since the Inquisitor’s death and he cannot help but hope that maybe, just maybe, she found a way to return to him.
A Modern AU Reincarnation fic. Content warning: some strong language and mild sexual content.
For the briefest of moments, the sound of her laughter made his heart stop.
His senses returned to him, of course. Solas knew it would not be her. He had merely imagined it as he had before, hundreds if not thousands of times. The tone of a woman’s voice would hit a particular note of familiarity that would vanish as quickly as it had appeared. This was nothing new. Still, he found his eyes scanning the plaza beyond the café where he sat. He supposed the foot traffic was typical for a busy Saturday evening, crowds milling about on their paths to the various entertainments the city had to offer. The streetlights provided more than enough illumination for him to study the passersby. He casually glanced over them as his initial hopeful curiosity faded.
Then, he saw her - and the mere concept of time ceased to be.
He couldn’t move and for a moment forgot how to breathe. He had spotted her before, of course. Just as he had heard her voice, he had seen her face. A flash of white hair, a glimpse of dark skin, but as soon as he blinked the phantom would fade, replaced by a woman whose resemblance could never compare to what she had been.
And still, she remained.
The woman stood along the edge of the plaza, her cellphone pressed to her ear. She was scanning the crowd, clearly looking for someone. She continued to speak and even though he could not hear the words, he could pick out the tone of her voice at this distance. She looked so much like Isii that it made his heart ache. Long white curls fell in gentle waves along her back, draped against the shoulders of her coat. He assumed she wore a dress underneath, her legs bared beneath her jacket’s hem, their slender length elongated by her heels. She turned, light falling across her features and he could see her with perfect clarity – the furrow of her brow, the fullness of her lips, those sharp green eyes narrowing as she focused on her conversation. Her face was unmarked; her dark, beautiful skin unblemished and unmarred, exactly as she had been the last time he kissed her, the last time he held her in his arms…
But that had been ages ago. Hundreds of years had passed since that night. He had walked away - but even in that abandonment, he could never fully separate himself from her. He could still remember the day he learned the Inquisitor had died. A piece of him was lost that day, a hollowness formed that would never be filled. But he endured. He always did. He survived, but he never forgot. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He carried her with him through the passage of time, mourning her as much today as he ever had.
Found a great comment on this article by Laney Chandler. It’s wasted in a comments section, so I’m sharing it here.
So now imagine what it is like for an autistic person to work with
neurotypicals. Our nervous system is structured completely differently.
The challenges we face apply to essentially everyone around us.
expect us to read non-verbal communication, but we have a neurological
deficit that prevents this and yet people are not shy about chastising
or rejecting us for our disability, so we are operating from a place of
anxiety all the time.
The way we dress is based on sensory
challenges. Many of us cannot “tune out” tactile information, so while
you may put on a pair of woolly socks and find them scratchy, you soon
forget about it. For many of us, when we wear certain materials, cuts,
or something, we have the equivalent of someone following us, beeping
loudly in our ear all day. It becomes excruciatingly painful.
around us say one thing with their words and another with their faces -
which we often cannot read. We need to verbalize things, and we are
direct. We are susceptible to lies and manipulation because we have
challenges in reading certain non-verbal aspects of social
communication. It means we are abused and exploited many, many times,
and yet, most of us continue to try and show up. Only to be told we are
Repetitive behaviors can have several causes. Tic
disorders are extremely common, which means that many of us have
repetitive movements that are of neurological origin that cannot be
controlled. You think it is annoying to see someone shake or roll their
head? It is much harder to endure the social scrutiny that follows an
involuntary movement, not to mention pain from repetitive strain.
other cases, repetitive movements are a natural form of self-regulation
in response to a vastly different sensory system. Some people have
hyposensitivities, which creates anxiety. Thus rocking may be an effort
to feel where one’s body is in 3D space. We also routinely take in 2-4
times as much sensory information through the 5 standards senses, which
means the world is intense and chaotic. Repetitive movement helps to
ease the neurological pain we experience from that. The only analogous
experience in neurotypicals is physical pain.
We generally cannot
filter sensory input either, and cannot multitask. Our cognitive
functioning is different - we have to focus deeply. It is how we are
wired. If you startle a person on the spectrum while they are focusing,
it can be extremely painful. So what you dismiss as behavior is actually
an acutely difficult experience.
Temple Grandin is not the
archetype for what autism is. What Grandin does is pass, whcih means
that, even though she has sensory needs and experiences pain, she has
learned to pass as neurotypical (as close as she can manage), by making
her own needs and pain subordinate to the needs and expectations of
neurotypicals. It doesn’t change her disabilities - it just hides them
from your view. Many autistics do this out of fear of social punishment,
rejection, etc. But that does not make it right - the problem here is
that no room is made for someone with different neurological needs. Not
all of us CAN pass, and the damage from passing is cumulative and
devastating. Imagine having to hide who you are and sweat bullets
because you are in agony in every single social encounter just so you
will not be punished. It damages self-esteem. Fundamentally.
neurotypicals can bother to learn about the differences and at least
meet autistics half way in communication, a lot of the challenges would
be avoided, including what you call “trouble with men.” What is actually
happening is that autistics - the people with significant neurological
challenges and disabilities - are being asked to shoulder the entire
burden of bridging the communication gap. They are being asked to mask
who they are and live in pain so that neurotypicals, already in the
majority, can have a seamless experience of the world.
In terms of
providing accommodation for a disability. autistics are being asked to
accommodate neurotypicals far more than neurotypicals are being asked to
So in terms of having a “thick skin”,
autistics are absorbing the rougher end of that. It is worth remembering
that. Because they endure the challenge of dealing with difference in
99% of the people they meet. Likely all of their work colleagues (if
they are lucky enough to get a job). And they struggle with this for
their entire lives, feeling like an alien species and shut out of most
of social life. A little compassion in place of a zoological taxonomy
would go a long way.
Have You Been Seeing Repeating Numbers? What Do They Mean?
Do you have a tendency of seeing repeating numbers? It could be on a clock, on the radio or even street signs and addresses. If it happens a lot to you then it could mean that a non physical entity is speaking to you. Being a member of this third dimension, means I can only guess at who or what is trying to communicate with you. It could be a demon, angel, spirit, ghost or deity. As the different potential entities operate above or below our plane of existence, they are forced to communicate through indirect means.
Spiritual specialists have surmised the meanings behind these repetitions. Like other forms of divination, this interpretation is going to be very personal. While these guidelines will provide the general map, it will be up to you to highlight what it means to you and your life.
Genre: smut (im so nervous eviscerate me), lots of fluff….. and a bit of angst at the end
Excerpt: "When’s the last time you bottomed for someone?“ Dan questions.
Nothing but blunt curiosity is shown in his line of inquiry, but it still catches Phil off guard. The metal spoon slips from his fingers, only to be caught just before disaster would have the chance to strike. His eyes focus in on the multi-colored loops bobbing around in the sea of milk in his bowl, poking at them with the curve of his spoon. They sink and resurface and repeat.
Warnings: swearing, sex, and bottom!phil (lmao)
@ lauren if you see this please skip over it.. i have sinned and you are my tiny innocent wife