Teacher picked on me for being autistic, I got her fired.
When I was in 4th grade, i had a teacher named Mrs. Seeles (Like Seals). She was regarded as one of the kindest teachers in our school, to everyone. Everyone but me. I had quite a few learning disabilities that made much of her class confusing and hard to keep up with, especially with the way she taught. She would go over one thing and then have a test on it the next day to see if we learned it, which i always did bad on.
Now, I was no means a perfect student. But I did my work without complaining, I did homework like i should. My best friend at the time, Jack, would attest to this, as he liked to copy things off my work because he was a sneaky kid. We sat next to each other so it wasnt very hard to get answers from one another. We were both boys so it got a little excitable sometimes and rowdy (not to mention we like-liked each other)
Mrs. Seeles didnt like our friendship in the least, and would always snap at us, more specifically me because i was seen as an easy target. I would never speak up against it or try to do anything, unlike Jack who would demand that we werent doing anything wrong. So she decided to focus in on me instead.
Whenever I passed in class work or homework, she wouldnt grade it. I would get bad reports home saying how I wasnt doing what I was supposed to be doing. All in all, my parents believed her more over me because they never trusted me to begin with. So Jack and I plotted.
Being only in 4th grade, it wasnt the best plan, but it worked. I would do my work, then Jack would write the exact same things as I did. We did this for months. I would recieve bad grades while Jack excelled in his. We got the papers back. We stored them away.
Near the halfway part of the semesters, We both brought this up to our parents. We called each other on the home phones and explained what had been going on. How Jack would copy my work and Pass it in just like I did, but I never got the credit. We showed them the papers, which were exactly identical. Mine were marked wrong, Jacks were marked right.
My parents were furious. Because of that teacher their child was failing the 4th grade. They threw a fit over at the school board council, gave them complete hell. Within the week, Mrs. Seeles was packed up and leaving the school.
The new teacher that replaced her was wonderful. I went from failing to As in weeks.
Fun Fact: I actually stopped doing a lot of my homework because of Mrs. Seeles because why do it if it wont be graded? That problem developed heavily into my mind and its been a problem ever since. hope your happy. Graduating from High School this year, going into Theatrical Arts College.
- “You made me cookies?”
- “Everything we stand for ment nothing after all.”
- “You stole what?”
- “You aren’t pathetic.”
- “A dragon ate your homework?”
- “I was suppose die you dumb ass!”
- “You looked at me differently.”
- “You work at a zoo now? Neat.”
- “I’m being dead serious. I’m a vampire.”
- “I’m not pregnant!”
- “So instead of being normal, you started a revolution?”
- “You found a child?”
- “Oh c'mon you would have murdered that guy too.”
- “The stars are pretty tonight, aren’t they?”
- “You ever seen something as cool as this?”
- “You never did understand the concept of being wrong.”
- “So wait- hold up- you’re a mermaid?”
- “I thought you were dead!”
- “I know you love me and all but stop threatening the doctor.”
- “How. THE FUCK. Are you- so motherfucking tall?”
- “Did you just? You just- oh my god!”
- “Everywhere I go there is this crow! I’m telling you!”
- “ You fell in love with a vampire prince and didn’t bother to tell me?”
- “I shit you not.”
- “You? You know how to shoot a gun?”
- “My man, I am high as a kite right now.”
- “You aren’t leaving here without telling me who hurt you so I can take out a can of whoop ass and unleash it on their ass!”
- “You just kissed me.”
- “But you hate avocados.”
- “I may be a vampire but I am a vampire of the sun, not the moon.”
- “Hold up- just stop- just- what are you actually doing? It’s 2 AM!”
Requested by anon. I turned
this into an OC thing because I’m trying to distance myself from the
reader inserts. But you can just overlook the first name and simply
imagine it’s you. I will probably physically describe OC at some point, since you
requested she’s William’s sister, I figured they’d look alike.
Magnusson has always had everything she ever wanted in life, except
for one thing. The boyish charm of her brother’s childhood friend had
wrecked her poor heart and ruined her for any other guy – you can
trust her, she has tried. She could see the way he looked at
her, though she knew there were rules about not hitting on your best
friend’s little sister. Luckily for her, there were no restrictions
when it was the other way around.
Word count: 1.4k
A/N: From now on I won’t be able to spend my entire days writing like I did with Play Me, so to make sure you won’t have to wait too long between each chapter I decided to write short chapters (yes, Yours Truly has finally decided to become a reasonable person) Enjoy this little foretaste!
are simply not meant to be. Even when people maximized their chances
by doing everything in their power to achieve their goal, it wasn’t
always enough. Like in this maddening scene in Titanic where Jack
can’t get on the floating door, and after everything he has gone
through to be with Rose, he just dies. Well, maybe this was a little
bit dramatic, chances are you won’t die in real life, you will just
be really, really frustrated because all your efforts are thrown into
the trash. But she was drifting from the subject.
Mara’s brother had befriended the one guy who was simultaneously the
absolute worst and the best thing that has ever happened to her.
William and Chris were inseparable friends since- since always. As
far as her memory goes, Chris has always been in their lives. He was
like family to a certain extent – and that was precisely her
Can we have more Soul to Soul please? What does Anakin think about the situation? Does anyone show interest in taking him on as a padawan? What does Qui-Gon do to try to earn Obi-Wan's forgiveness? Thank you for your writing.
“What does it mean that you are soul
bonded?” Obi-Wan looked up at the cautious voice, blinking at the
blond shuffling in front of him wearing a set of Initiate robes
instead of the ragged clothes he had from Tatooine. “I-I mean you
don’t have to ans-”
“Its alright, its not a term you
usually find outside of Force sensitive so you wouldn’t have heard
it before I imagine.” Obi-Wan set his homework aside, running his
hand over his short hair. “As for what it means…” He mulled
over that while waving Anakin to sit down beside him.
The former slave slowly did as told,
settling beside Obi-Wan on the couch while watching the other
He hadn’t meant to disturb but he
really wanted to know what it meant to be soul bonded and he wanted
to know before he moved out from the Jinn/Kenobi quarters.
“Soul bonding can mean…different
things…when applied to different people. Different relationships.”
Obi-Wan started haltingly. “What it really means though is that…a
person soul isn’t complete, there are parts missing and someone
else has the missing part.”
“Like a lock needs a key?” Anakin
tilted his head.
Obi-Wan gave a small snort but nodded,
smiling approvingly at the other. “Yes. Like a lock needs a key.
Master Qui-Gon is my missing part and I’m his missing part.” He
settled his hands on his own knees, watching Anakin. “And we lend
each other stability through the soul bond. But because of that we
have…difficulties bonding to others in the same way. In some ways,
it isolates us but it also makes us stronger as a pair.” He
“Is that why the council says Mr
Qui-Gon take me as a padawan?” Anakin squirmed.
“In a manner yes. There is a
potential that he could bond with you but…it would be a very
lacking bond.” Obi-Wan explained. “And padawans deserves the
best.” His tone was firm. “They deserve their master’s best and
not to be considered a burden or a second thought.”
Anakin blinked at him, staring at the
redhead before slowly nodding, knowing better then to ask.
Thinking that was it for questions,
Obi-Wan reached for his homework again.
“Are you and Mr Qui-Gon lovers then?”
Obi-Wan’s hand froze at the
innocently posed question and then he sighed and looked back at
Anakin, looking faintly worn. “Sometimes. The soul bond doesn’t
require it but…we…its…” He ran a frustrated hand over his
chin. “Its complicated. Loving Qui-Gon Jinn can be a complicated
thing, especially since I’m still his padawan.” He sat back on
The boy on the couch hesitated,
fingering the edge of his tunic. “Does…does he hurt you?”
“Force no!” Obi-Wan sat up quickly,
giving Anakin a wide eyed look. Then he grimaced. “Well, not like
you’re thinking. But emotions can be a difficult thing and
sometimes you say things that hurts others without meaning to.”
“Oooh…mom says I have to say sorry
when I hurt people.” The blond offered solemnly.
“And that’s what Master Qui-Gon is
trying to do now. By giving me my space and letting me decide what I
want to do about my trials.” Obi-Wan sighed a bit, resting his
elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. “Emotions are
difficult Anakin. And with a soul bond… I can always feel him.”
He tapped his temple, catching blue eyes with his green. “Right
here, faintly when far away or the bond is shielded or clear when its
open and he’s close. Sometimes I feel just how much he cares for me
and it makes it difficult to…sort through my own emotions when I’m
That got a grimace from Anakin. “That
doesn’t sound nice.”
“No, it leaves him a tendency to run
rough over my feelings because I tend to forgive him so quickly.”
Obi-Wan sighed. “And we need to work on that. But at the same
time…” Obi-Wan’s lips twitched a bit. “At the same time its
the best thing in the world when I can feel how proud he is of me,
how much he cares for me, how grateful he is when I’m close…”
He let his words trail off.
There were some things a close to ten
year old didn’t need to hear.
Like how desirable Obi-Wan felt when he
could feel Qui-Gon’s lust and love.
He shook his head and looked at Anakin.
“Has the Council decided what’s going to happen with you though?”
Anakin fiddled heavily with his tunic
at that, flustering. “Well um…you got to promise not to tell mr
Qui-Gon but…uhu.” He nodded.
Raising his eyebrow in faint amusement
and mostly worry, Obi-Wan wondered what the council was up to now.
“Okay, I promise.”
“Master Koon is going to take me as a
padawan, because he’s um…” Anakin blushed and Obi-Wan nodded
encouragingly to him to finish his sentence. “Because he’s old
and knows a lot. And he’s raised a lot of padawans.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t resist a little
snigger. “Ah, okay then. Makes sense.”
Obviously feeling the amusement,
Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon reach out to him through their bond, Qui-Gon’s
side fully open as it had been since that disaster of a council
meeting, his query curious but not intrusive or demanding to what had
amused his bondmate and padawan in this moment. Obi-Wan just sent a
‘speak to the Council about it.’ Hum back to the man.
“Do you think Mr Qui-Gon will mind?”
Anakin fiddled with his tunic some more. “I mean he wanted to train
me… And Master Koon says I’ll be moving in with him at the end of
the week once he has the quarters ready. He had to move from the…um
the ones up stairs to down here?”
“He had to move to the padawan and
master quarters, yes.” Obi-Wan nodded, smiling. “And I don’t
think Qui-Gon will mind right now. He’s kind of busy…” A bit of
steel entered Obi-Wan’s tone.
“Getting your forgiveness?” Anakin
“Yes, that. He’s doing good right
now but we’ll see how long it lasts.” He hummed.
They quieted down for a bit.
“…Do you like Plo Koon?”
“…He says he’s going to get my
mother free.” Came the shy whisper.
“Ah. I’m glad Anakin.
Congratulation on getting your teacher.”
a/n: thank you so much for the prompt anon!! sorry it took so long to get to you, i was working on another one before this one and then this took me a little longer than anticipated. as requested this is extremely extremely fluffy and i’ll have you know anon, that this lowkey killed me and i’m now blogging from rucas heaven. enjoy!
word count: 1,398
“I can’t believe you almost fell asleep in my dad’s class.” Riley says, disbelief laced in her tone as she enters her bedroom and dumps her backpack on her desk chair.
“I’m more surprised that he didn’t embarrass me in front of the entire class, that seems to be a favorite pastime of his.” Riley rolls her eyes at her boyfriend’s comment as he follows her lead, entering her bedroom and putting his backpack down on the floor at the foot of her bed. “It’s all your fault you know.”
Akaashi Keiji did not believe in love, and he definitely did not believe in soulmates.They just didn’t exist, he had seen love go wrong so many times, it’s no surprise that he had lost hope. When Keiji was three, his mother walked out on him and his father, leaving behind nothing. His memories of his mother were scarce, even when she was still around she spent most of her time holed up in her office. It didn’t take long for his father to start bring home other women, none of which ever lasted long. In the twelve years since his mother left, Keiji’s father has been through three failed marriages, and countless failed relationships. It wasn’t for lack of trying, Keiji knew that, but it didn’t make him feel any differently.
By the time he was in middle school, Keiji had had enough. The women were changing constantly and he just wanted a way out. He began to stay at school longer and longer, always with the excuse that it was easier to concentrate, but his father was skeptical. Keiji loved his father, he really did, and that may have been the reason why he never told him how he felt. He hated all the women he brought home, he hated how they always acted nice around him just so that his father would like them. He loved his father, and he knew how hard he was trying, so he kept his mouth shut.
When his second year of middle school began, Keiji’s father made a comment. During breakfast on his first day, his father sat across the table, newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other. Mornings like this were rare, just the two of them, and Keiji would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. He preferred times like these, no nameless women, just him and his father.
“Keiji,” his father said, setting his paper down. Keiji glanced up from his meal, staring over at his father, waiting for him to continue. “You did well last year, almost perfect grades and you were at the top of your class. I’m proud of you, I really am, but is it really necessary to spend all that extra time at school? I feel like I hardly ever saw you.”
There it was, the guilt. He knew his father wasn’t trying to make him feel guilty, but that didn’t make the feeling go away. He didn’t want to tell his father the real reason he had been out of the house so often, so instead, he decided on a different tactic.
“I guess I can do my homework here,” he started. He felt bad, seeing his father’s eyes light up; he wasn’t done yet. “I’m going to join a club this year though, so I still might not be home a lot.”
“A club?” his father asked, forgetting about his now cold coffee.
“Yes, though I’m not sure which club yet. Being involved in a club looks good on your transcript,” he explained, finishing his meal. What he said wasn’t false, being involved did look good, but he wasn’t exactly doing it because he wanted to.
Somehow, during that first day of his second year of middle school, Keiji joined the volleyball team. He had never been athletic, never much of a team player, but somehow he managed to get scouted by the current volleyball captain, Shiba-san. The whole series of events were rather odd, and Keiji still wasn’t quite sure how things managed to work out how they did. He had been walking in the courtyard afterschool, wandering around looking at the various club tables set up, when he heard a shout from behind him. Curiously, he turned to see a tall third year running straight towards him, one arm extended and a look of worry on his face. As a shadow appeared overhead, Keiji looked up to see a volleyball a few feet away, rushing right towards him. While most people would have run out of the way or blocked their face, Keiji put his hands up, allowing the ball to land perfectly within his grasp. He wasn’t sure why, but he pushed the ball back into the air, were it arched perfected in front of the third year.
“You’re a setter,” the third year called, his voice full of amazement. Keiji furrowed his brow, he wasn’t anything.
“I’m not a setter,” he replied, staring oddly at the other boy. He knew enough about volleyball to know what a setter was, and it definitely wasn’t him.
“What do you mean you aren’t a setter? That was the most perfect toss I’ve ever seen!” the third year yelled, looking between where the ball had landed and Keiji.”Are you in a club? I’m Tatsumi Shiba, third year captain of the volleyball team, and we really need a setter, especially one of your level.”
“Akaashi Keiji, second year. I’ve never played volleyball, but if you’ll have me, then I will gladly join your club.”
When Keiji first began volleyball, he didn’t think he would like it as much as he did. He learned the rules of the game very quickly, and he somehow was a pretty good setter right away. He worked well with his team, even if he only considered them acquaintances at best. His team quickly realized that Keiji wasn’t one to make friends, he was realiable on the court and friendly enough, but they didn’t push it. The closest thing he had to a friend was Tatsumi, but Keiji still didn’t consider it friendship. He didn’t form relationships with people, that just wasn’t something he did. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Tatsumi’s company however; he felt oddly lonely during his final year of middle school without his former captain.
Graduation came and went, and before Keiji knew it he was headed for one of the best schools in Tokyo. He knew he could have gotten into Fukurodani with his grades alone, but spending two years on a good volleyball team was a good backup. Fukurodani had one of the best volleyball teams in the country, so being considered a good player himself was definitely helpful. Keiji’s plans going into high school was to focus on school work, quitting volleyball entirely, and he felt oddly disappointed about that. He knew that he wasn’t a bad setter and that he would probably make the team, but he also knew that there were much better players.
The morning of his first year of high school, his father said something. It was another rare morning, just the two of them together at the table, a similar atmosphere to that same morning just two years earlier.
“Keiji,” he began, setting down his newspaper and looking over at his son. “Are you going to continue volleyball?”
“No,” he replied simply, picking at his breakfast. Even though he said that, he wasn’t sure if he actually meant it.
“I think you should,” he father responded, taking a sip of his coffee. Keiji froze slightly, this was not how he expected this to go.
“And why is that?” he asked, putting his fork down. He really was curious; normally his father would want him to spend more time at home, so why was he pushing for him to continue volleyball?
“I know that you haven’t had the best upbringing and you usually just do what you have to in order to get by, but whenever I went to your games in middle school, you just looked so happy. You aren’t one to show your emotions, but when you were playing your eyes were the brightest I’ve ever seen them. I just don’t want you to stop doing something that makes you that happy,” his father explained. Keiji had never really thought about it, but he did enjoy volleyball, a lot. There were many other high schools in Tokyo with better academic programs that he could have easily attended, so he couldn’t help but wonder if there was another reason he chose Fukurodani.
“It won’t hurt I suppose,” he answered, turning back to his food. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father smile, true and genuine,
Volleyball try outs were right after school, and Keiji felt weird. He assumed this was what nerves felt like, but he wasn’t sure. nothing had ever made him nervous. When he arrived at the large gym, he was greeted by a tall and energetic second year.
“Hello! I’m second year Bokuto Koutaro, wing spiker and soon to be ace!” he smiled, his joy reaching all the way to his eyes. Keiji felt strange, but not in the same way he did before. It was, almost nice.
“Akaashi Keiji, first year. I played setter in middle school,” he answered politely. As soon as he said the word setter, the other boy began to bounce around the room.
“Konoha he’s a setter!” he yelled to another second year across the gym. Konoha glanced over and gave Keiji an apologetic look.
“Bokuto, don’t scare the poor kid away,” he called back, walking over to them. “Konoha Akinori,” he greeted when he reached them. “I must warn you, this guy can spike for four hours straight and not get tired.”
“I could never get tired of spiking!” Bokuto cheered, jumping into the air and swinging his head in a spiking motion. “Hey Akaaaaaaasghi will you set for me?” he asked, already running towards the court. Keiji sighed and looked over at Konoha, who just shrugged at him in response.
“It’s Akaashi, by the way,” he corrected as he got into place by the net.
“Sure thing Akaaaaashihi,” Bokuto replied, still somehow managing to pronounce it wrong. Keiji shook his head, Bokuto was definitely odd, but for some reason he really didn’t mind.
“Ready? Here we go!” Bokuto called, tossing a ball into the air. Keiji waited patiently, watching the ball. Bokuto’s throw was perfect, so he wouldn’t have to move in order to set it. As the ball got closer, Keiji watched Bokuto out of the corner of his eye; where he was going, the speed at which he was getting there, how high he was going to jump. As soon as the ball touched his fingers, it was gone again, speeding right towards Bokuto’s swinging arm. With a loud bang, the ball smashed against the wood floor, perfectly landing on the other side of the net. When Bokuto landed, he looked between his hand and Keiji, a big smile growing on his face.
“That was perfect Akagagashi! You’re really good!” he cheered, a goofy grin on his face. Keiji smiled slightly at the praise.
“You’re a good spiker. You have good form and power,” Keiji responded, he wasn’t great at complimenting people, but by the look on the other boy’s face he assumed he did just fine.
“I am the ace!” he grinned, smacking Keiji hard on the back. He flinched slightly, but he didn’t hate the contact.
“Hey, do you wanna stay after and set to me? It’ll be really fun!” Bokuto promised, looking directly at Keiji. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Konoha shaking his head violently, but something felt different about Bokuto, so he did something he never thought he would.
“Sure Bokuto-san.” The other boy’s grin lit up the entire gym.
Akaashi Keiji didn’t believe in love, and he definitely didn’t believe in soulmates. He did, however, believe in Bokuto Koutaro, and that was good enough for him.
Please write Iwaoi where Iwaizumi overworks himself
First of all, I adore this blog, your writings are great! And second, could you write a sick (sorry I know I didn’t spell it correctly) Iwazumi denying he’s sick and a worried Oikawa taking care of him? Thanks in advance!
sorry this took me so long to write for you, anon1! whenever i get excited about prompts i put too much pressure on myself to write them perfectly, which is pretty frickin’ unfortunate/ironic X’D combining it with this second prompt helped me narrow it down a bit. anyway, it turned out really long and i hope you like it!
also, thank you for the kind words, anon2, i really appreciate it!!! <333
WARNING: descriptions of vomit below
read the warning
read the warning
read the warning
okay, you’ve been warned! enjoy the fic!
“I’m fine, Oikawa, leave me alone,” Iwaizumi brushed Oikawa’s concerned hand from his shoulder, but took the hint and sat on Oikawa’s bed. “Now tell me what your nightmare was about so I can go back to sleep.”
Oikawa frowned. He’d called Iwaizumi over to his house in the middle of the night, as he’d done many nights before, complaining of a scary dream, and Iwaizumi had come, but something was wrong. Iwaizumi’s face was pale and sweaty, but he would shiver every so often as if he was cold.
In short, Oikawa’s suspicions were validated, though for once he wished he’d been wrong. The thing is, Oikawa hadn’t had a nightmare tonight. He’d had trouble sleeping, sure, but the main reason he’d called Iwaizumi over was because he’d noticed that his friend’s bedroom light was on at three am for the third night in a row and he was worried.
Of course, he hadn’t known it would be this bad. He crossed his arms. “Iwa-chan, your light was on before I called, and I know you can’t sleep unless it’s dark.” Iwaizumi scowled and avoided making eye contact. Oikawa sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Iwaizumi’s head snapped up. “For what?”
“For making you come here so late on Monday,” he replied, sincerely. On Monday, Oikawa had actually had a nightmare, and a really bad one at that; he normally made a point not to call Iwaizumi after one in the morning, but this one had been particularly bad. He’d tried to calm himself for two hours before relenting and phoning his friend at four am, and he worried that it had messed with Iwaizumi’s sleep schedule. But Iwaizumi was shaking his head.
“I don’t mind that; never apologize for your nightmares,” he said, sternly as ever. “I’m always here for you if you need me.”
Oikawa nodded, then turned to Iwaizumi with a stern expression of his own. “I know.” He put a hand, gentle but unyieldingly firm, to Iwaizumi’s cheek, forcing him to keep eye-contact. “Iwa-chan, you’re my best friend, and you worry about me all the time, and I trust you enough to tell you when I’m not okay because of that. I’m asking you to return that trust now, if you can.”
“Oikawa…” Iwaizumi’s expression was unreadable, though it was clear from his frown that he was somewhat perplexed. Then he punched Oikawa in the arm.
“Ow!” Oikawa explained, looking to inspect the injury, but also noting that the jab had been less forceful than usual. “Iwa-chan, why-“
When he looked back at his friend, Oikawa’s breath was immediately stolen. There were tears in Iwaizumi’s eyes, and even as he laughed he sounded like he was crying.
“When did you become a poet, huh, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi sniffled, voice rough as his mouth worked in vain to maintain a transparent and watery smile. For once, Oikawa, didn’t know what to say. So instead of trying to find the non-existent perfect words for this situation, he opened his arms wide and offered a kind smile.
That seemed to do the trick, because in a heartbreaking moment, Iwaizumi let out a strangled noise and fell onto Oikawa’s chest with a deep sob. Oikawa held his friend tight and petted his hair gently, wondering what could have possibly led to all of this.
“Oh, Iwa-chan,” he sighed.
They stayed like that for a long while, until Iwaizumi’s sobs finally tapered off into hiccups, and his breathing fell back into a regular, though still shaky, rhythm. Oikawa shifted so that he could lie down beside the other boy. He wiped the lingering tears from Iwaizumi’s red eyes and squeezed his hand.
“Do you want to talk about it? Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked quietly. Iwaizumi shrugged, his face now looking as though his emotions had all left along with his tears. Maybe he was just drained, but Oikawa feared it was an indication of the return of Iwaizumi’s old acquaintance, Depression.
“Can you try to tell me?”
Iwaizumi nodded, and spoke flatly after clearing his throat. “My dad lost his job,” he shrugged, as if it was no big deal. Oikawa’s heart ached as he recalled a conversation they’d had yesterday.
“Iwa-chan, why won’t you walk home with me after practice any more?”
“I have to go to work.”
Oikawa pouted. “Why do you have to work so much now?”
“Who says I don’t just prefer work to spending time with you?”
Iwaizumi never lied- it’s one of the reasons Oikawa had been so dead set on their being best friends as kids. Still, that didn’t mean he lacked the ability to skillfully distract from the truth. And Oikawa had been too eager to wallow in self-pity to notice.
“So that’s why you’ve been working all the time…”
Iwaizumi made an affirmative noise. “Thought I could help out a bit. Wasn’t that bad, at first, but my parents got angry because my grades have dropped-“
“Because you’ve been sacrificing your time to help them!”
“-and they said if I don’t get them up I’ll have to quit volleyball to make more time,” Iwaizumi explained, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Oikawa’s voice dropped and he could hardly hear over the angry noises in his head. As if that wasn’t enough to make anyone go insane, Iwaizumi continued.
“I stayed up late Wednesday to get my homework done, and got up early to work out to make up for how bad I did at practice on Tuesday, but the twins were sick with the flu, so I ended up taking care of them instead - sorry, Oikawa.”
Oikawa sputtered. “For what? Putting your little brothers first? Are you insane? And everyone has off-days! You know that!”
Iwaizumi blinked. “Right. Sorry, I’m kind of tired, not thinking straight for some reason…”
Oikawa made an incredulous noise. “Can’t imagine why,” he mumbled under his breath. Then he spoke up. “You should get some sleep, Iwa-chan. Don’t worry about anything else for now, okay?”
Iwaizumi shook his head and squirmed a bit, as if trying to sit up. “I gotta- gotta get my homework done-“
“No,” Oikawa put a hand on Iwaizumi’s chest. “We’re not going to school tomorrow. You’re sick, you need to rest.”
“We can take a day off, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa frowned. “You’re such a hypocrite, always telling me not to overwork myself.”
Iwaizumi was asleep before Oikawa even began his lecture, but the other boy didn’t mind. He just lay down next to his friend and allowed himself to drift off, too.
He woke up about an hour later to the sound of feverish sleep talking.
“‘m sorry, I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi was muttering. “Don’t know why, can’t spike it. ‘m sorry!”
Iwaizumi flailed and let out a sob that woke him up. Immediately, he tried to stand, but the blankets tangled around his feet slowed him enough that Oikawa was able to grab his arm.
“Iwa-chan, what’s wrong?”
Iwaizumi hiccuped. “I’m sorry, Oikawa, I need to practice or I won’t get in to the same school as you.”
“No, Iwa-chan, listen to me. We don’t have a clue where we’re going to college yet. It was just a dream.”
“A… dream?” Iwaizumi blinked bleary eyes.
“Yeah, a dream,” Oikawa confirmed. He was relieved when Iwaizumi laid back down, the tension draining from his figure. The sick boy soon fell back asleep, but Oikawa lay there awake trying to dismiss the scary new idea that Iwaizumi had put into his head. What would he do if his best friend went to a different college? It was a problem for the still distant future Oikawa to worry about, but it kept him awake in the present nonetheless.
He was only just starting to drift off when he heard a strangled noise next to him. He turned to watch just as Iwaizumi threw up, puke filling his mouth and pooling over it down his chin. Oikawa immediately pushed the sick boy onto his side so he wouldn’t choke, and Iwaizumi made a disoriented noise of defiance.
“You’ll be fine, Iwa-chan, just breathe,” Oikawa soothed. He could tell Iwaizumi was still waking up when the muscles in his stomach and back tensed again, ushering up another wave of vomit that spilled onto Oikawa’s bed and the floor. Iwaizumi let out a strangled, confused sob and shuddered as he woke up fully.
“It’s okay,” Oikawa assured him. “Don’t worry about the mess.”
“What-“ Another wave of nausea washed over Iwaizumi, silencing him.
“You got sick in your sleep, Iwa-chan, but it’s okay, I don’t mind.”
“I gotta-“ Iwaizumi was cut off with a heave, which he quickly suppressed.
“Let it out.”
Iwaizumi shook his head, and this time managed to get himself out of bed. Oikawa followed him to the bathroom, staying close in case Iwaizumi’s shaky legs gave out on him. In the bathroom, Iwaizumi bent over the toilet and heaved, but nothing came up. He continued to retch for long, drawn out minutes, and shrugged Oikawa’s hands off of him when the other boy tried to rub his back.
“Iwa-chan, you have to let it out.”
“Can’t,” Iwaizumi muttered.
“Let me help,” Oikawa begged. Iwaizumi hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Biting his lip, Oikawa hugged Iwaizumi around the waist, then applied pressure to his stomach. It took a few tries, but eventually it got to be too much, and thin streams of Iwaizumi’s stomach contents began splashing into the toilet. It was awful. Every heave brought up a little more, but it seemed like it would never end. Heave after heave brought up more and more sick. Iwaizumi had been there for nearly an hour with hardly enough time to breathe between retches by the time it stopped.
“Good job, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispered, a little bit in awe. “Do you feel any better?”
Iwaizumi shrugged, and Oikawa sighed. “You’ll be alright, eventually, Iwa-chan,” he whispered, hoping he was right. Tears were leaking from Iwaizumi’s eyes again and Oikawa’s heart stuttered. “I’m right here whenever you need me.”
At first he thought Iwaizumi didn’t hear him. Then the sick boy lay his head in Oikawa’s lap, and started drifting off to sleep, right there on the bathroom floor. Oikawa squawked, but quieted in time to hear Iwaizumi mumble, “Thank you, Tooru.”
“It’s not- you don’t- no need- argh!” He growled, blushing and struggling with words. “Just don’t ever overwork yourself like that again, H- Ha-chan!”
Iwaizumi cracked an eye open, nodded his agreement, and fell asleep with a small smile on his face.
Here is the obligatory reminder that the official translation isn’t actually available online and that scanlations will just have to do.
But. You know.
Meanwhile Watanuki fails every roll for deception he has ever made.
See also: Watanuki knowing that he could have, actually, just made extra somen for Doumeki when he was cooking for Yuuko. He could have done that. But what he did instead was make two entirely separate meals specifically so he could take one to Doumeki and lie through his teeth about where it came from.
Seriously Watanuki how much free time do you have.
It’s been several hours since Carl told Negan what his
father is planning to do. The war Carl’s overheard Rick discussing late with
Michonne in the kitchen, or at Hilltop. How Rick plans to gather up the guns of
all surrounding communities and attack the Sanctuary, him and the others from
Alexandria as well as those from Hilltop and the Kingdom. How Carl’s overheard
on his walkie-talkie some of the Saviors themselves talking on some secret
channel about joining forces with Rick, taking Negan down.
They’re laying together in Negan’s giant four-poster bed.
One of Carl’s legs thrown carelessly across Negan’s thigh. His face pressed to
the warm and tense join of muscle at the base of the neck. He can feel through
his hand Negan’s heart beating in steady rhythm; he doesn’t want to move nor to
think but he forces his mouth slightly away from the skin still somewhat salty
with sweat so as to say:
“I don’t know.” With his free hand he reaches for Negan’s
arm so as to trace the tattoos with his fingers—the dark ink sun bleached and
slowly fading after so long. “I—I wish there was a way I could just stop it.
All of it.”
Negan rolls onto his back, so that Carl is shifted half on
top of him, mouth now against his shoulder. “Is that really what you want?”
Negan asks, his voice rumbling against Carl’s ear.
Marinette had just turned off the lights and snuggled in, Tikki in her own spot above her head, when she heard the thump above. She waited, not being able to see much in the dim light, to see what other sounds she might hear. It could have been nothing after all. Eventually though, there was more sounds above her, a pacing of sorts. Marinette saw a shadow cast over her ceiling window, and then it was gone, only to appear a moment later.
Finally, Marinette couldn’t take it anymore. Ripping the covers off herself, Marinette stood atop her bed and opened the window. Outside, on her roof balcony, was Cat Noir, who looked surprised to see her. “Do you want to come inside?”
The black clad hero of Paris nodded, and soon she had him dropping down on her bed. “Sorry,” he started to say. “Today was sort of awful and…”
He stopped only because Marinette had put her fingers in his hair, her nails lightly scraping across his scalp. Cat Noir didn’t even realize he’d started to purr as he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.
Marinette for her part started to giggle lightly, only muffling her glee when he opened his greener than green eyes to glare at her for a moment before closing his eyes again. Marinette didn’t mind how her boyfriend leaned on her shoulder, emitting happiness like a domestic cat might. “You should detrans-… Wait, how much product was put in your hair?”
You look at Darry with a smile on your face as he
walks through the door.
“How was work, honey?” You ask instantly, walking
up to him and planting a kiss to his lips. “Did you have a good day?”
“It was fine” He sighed, rubbing a hand through
his hair. He looked stressed and completely worn down. “I’m just tired, is all.”
“Well, why don’t you go on to bed? I’m making your
favourite” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands hoisted
around your waist as he kissed your neck. “Go on honey, I’ll wake you when it’s
“I love you” He said, giving you a chaste kiss.
You grinned as you pulled away.
“I love you too, now go get some sleep” You
smacked his butt lightly as you went back into the kitchen were Ponyboy was
“How’s that homework going for you, Ponyboy?” You
asked kindly, mussing his perfectly greased hair as you walked past him.
“I’m nearly done, I’m just stuck on this last
question is all, do you think you could help me if you’re not too busy?”
Immediately you stopped what you were doing as you
stood behind him, grabbing the pencil from his hand as you looked over at the
math problem he was currently trying to solve.
You helped him solve it, explaining the rules he
needed to use in order to achieve the correct answer.
“Thank you” He said smiling up at you.
“How was school today, sweetie?” You asked as you
began chopping up the chicken you had brought from the store earlier today. “Did
anything interesting happen?”
“Not really…” He said trailing off.
There was just something so suspicious about the
way he said that.
“Not really?” You said with a raised eyebrow. “What
does not really mean?”
“It mean’s Darry is going to be angry at me.” He held
up his history paper with a big, fat D- marked on it.
“Angry” You huffed, a hand on your hip. “Did you
even study for this test?” You gave him your infamous ‘don’t you dare lie to me look’.
“No”” He sighed, looking down at his hands. “I
might have gone out instead.”
“Ponyboy Michael Curtis, what has Darry said to
you about doing your homework and studying? It’s important that you keep your
grades up, that way you’ll be able to go to college and make something of
yourself. You were made for bigger things than Tulsa!” You gripped his
shoulders lightly, forcing him to look in your eyes. “I want you to promise me
that you will study from now on.”
“I will, I promise” You wrapped your arms around
him, kissing his forehead.
You went back to cooking as the door slammed open,
making you jump at the sound.
“Goodness Sodapop, Darry is trying to sleep. Keep
it down, honey.”
“Sorry Y/N!” He yelled from the room he and
Ponyboy shared making you roll your eyes.
“Hey, Y/N?” Ponyboy said with an almost shy look
on his face.
“What is it, darling?” You asked, stirring the
mixture as you made contact with him.
“Do you think it’d be alright if I go out with
Dally and Johnny to see a movie?” You looked at him with a frown on your face,
wanting to say no. You knew Darry would be beyond pissed off if you allowed him
to go out on a school night, especially with D- he just got.
But he looked so damn innocent with those big
puppy dog eyes that he was giving you.
“Fine, but I want you back by nine. No exceptions,
you hear me?”
“Thanks Y/N” He grinned.
“I will put your dinner in the fridge, you can
heat it up when you get home.” He raced out of the kitchen, throwing a ‘thanks’
over his shoulder. “And I mean it, no later than 9!”
Darry woke up just as you were dishing out the dinner
you had cooked, you laughed as you saw his hair sticking out in all different
“Do you feel any better?” You asked as he sat on
the chair beside Sodapop.
“Ponyboy Curtis, get your ass out here right now!”
Darry yelled, making you inwardly wince, forgetting that you hadn’t put his bad
grades away from Darry.
“Actually, he isn’t here” You said in a small
voice as you placed their dinner on the table. “I let Ponyboy go to the movies
with Johnny and Dal-“
“You what?” He hissed angrily, rising from the
seat he had just been in. “You know my rules about him going out on a school
night, and did you know he got a D- when you let him leave?”
You didn’t answer him as you looked down at the
“Jesus Christ, Y/N, I thought you had more damn
sense than that.” He huffed, his fists balling at his side. “Honestly, what
were you thinking?”
He was yelling at you, he never yelled at you.
“Ponyboy hardly ever gets the chance to go out
anymore.” You said in a soft voice, refusing to meet his eyes.
“That’s because the last time he went out he ended
up in a murder rap, are you stupid?” His hands grasped your hips tightly as he
glared down at you. Poor Sodapop looked on with widened eyes, not knowing what
to do as he watched the drama unfold before him.
“Darry stop” You whispered, finally looking up at
him with widened eyes.”You’re scaring me, heck, you’re scaring your brother.”
His grip on your his lessened as he stepped back
from you, fire in his eyes.
“Y/N, I want you to pack your things and leave. I
don’t want you here”
Your eyes widened as you reached out to touch him;
he recoiled away from your touch like he had been burnt.
“Darry, please don’t do this! You don’t mean that.”
Tears were brimming in your eyes.
“Darry…” Sodapop whispered.
“You stay out of this Soapop!” Darry growled,
slamming his hands down on the table in front of the wide eyed Curtis.
“Don’t you dare talk to him like that, Darryl!” You
pushed him out of your way and bent down to Sodapop’s level.
“I love you, Kid” You pressed your lips to his
forehead as you ran out of the house, tears falling from your eyes. Quite
frankly you didn’t care where you ended up, you just ran, your dress flapping
behind you in the wind.
You found yourself at the park you had first met
You sat on the swings you and your friend had once
watched Darry from. You remember watching him play football with the gang, his
shirt was off and you were both swooning.
You were caught out of sweet reminiscent reverie
as you heard footsteps approach you from behind, you heartbeat pulsated in the
cage of your chest.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N” You heard a soft voice say
from behind you, their arms wrapping around your middle. “Please, come back
home to me, to us.”
You shook you head, pursing your lips, trying you
damn hardest not to let any sobs escape.
“No, Darry. You don’t want me, you said so
yourself!” You whispered through your tears, you felt his arms unwind from
across your middle as he knelt down in front of you immediately.
“Look at me, baby” When you refused to meet his
eyes his fingers went underneath your chin, gently forcing you to look into
“I’m so sorry, okay? I honestly am, I came home
from work and I was so stressed. I couldn’t even sleep with all the racket that
the boys were making. And when I came out and saw that damn report card… I
just lost it. And when I heard that you let Pone go… I just got so scared.”
You saw tears in his eyes. “I was so scared that I was going to lose him again.
I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.”
“That would never happen” You whispered, wiping
away his tears with the pad of your thumb. “Pony is a smart kid, he knows better
“I don’t want to lose you either” He said, looking
down at the ground.
You brought him into your chest and you kissed the
top of his head.
Hi! How do you think Got7 would react to their girlfriend getting frustrated about something like a tough homework assignment so she kicks a table or punches the wall to let it out, but she ends up kinda hurting her foot/hand in the process x] aka, me just a couple minutes ago lol
Aw I hope you didn’t hurt yourself too badly! Drink some warm tea if you’re getting frustrated it drink some passionflower tea. It helps induces sleeps and helps with anxiety! Helps me when its finals weeks. Sorry its so short!
JB: “Jagi you really need to stop getting frustrated at yourself, before you hurt yourself even worse..”
Mark: “I know you hate it when I try to tell you what to do but I really do think you need a break from your homework..:
Jackson: “Hitting something out of frustration isn’t good for your health. You need to find different alternatives instead of hitt- *pfft* did you just throw something at me!?”
Junior: “Come jagi you’re going to sleep you need it.”
Youngjae: “I don’t understand why you would do that to yourself if you need help I’ll help you.”
Bambam: “AWWWW MY POOR BABY LET ME KISS YOU TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER!!”
Yugyeom: “Why would you do that? I’m glad you didn’t hurt yourself too badly, I love you don’t do this again please.”
They’re standing in the doorway to Annie’s, waiting for the snowplow to finish clearing enough of a path for them to consider making their way back to the Haus instead of just holing up for another round of lattes and homework.
The conversation is idle enough that Dex doesn’t notice when Nursey’s answers start to get softer, when his responses start to have more to do with Dex himself than with what Dex just said.
“I did read the book,” he tells Nursey while bouncing on the balls of his feet in an attempt to stave off the cold. “You told me about it last semester, remember? So I read it, and I get what you’re saying, but you’re still being an idiot about it.”
There’s quiet for a moment after that. And then a whispered, “God, I…” but the rest of the sentence is too muffled to make out.
Dex is too focused on the snowplow and its glacial pace to catch the inconsistency at first. He grew up with harsh winters, yes, and he’s completely used to this, sure, but his fair skin still turns a bright, chapped red against the chill, and his long fingers never manage to hold a temperature higher than their current environment. He doesn’t even bother with gloves anymore, just cups his hands around his mouth and huffs hot air into them before rubbing them together a couple times, making fists in his coat pockets for a few seconds, and then pulling his hands back out to repeat the process.
“What was that?” he asks, not even looking at Nursey. Not realizing the magnitude of what he’s just missed.
When Nursey doesn’t answer, Dex finally turns his head, and his hands immediately start to freeze where they’re still hovering in the air between his face and his pockets.
Nursey has got his head ducked slightly, chin tucked into his thick scarf, and his lips pursed together tightly against the wool. If Dex didn’t know any better he’d say that Derek Nurse looks scared. But obviously that would be ridiculous.
“Um.” Nursey clears his throat. “Nothing.”
Dex’s eyebrows furrow inward. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
Nursey suddenly won’t meet his eyes. “Forget it, Poindexter.”
“Look, if our friendship has really regressed all the way back to you muttering criticisms about my opinions without even letting me defend myself, I deserve to–“
“I said ‘I love you,’” Nursey interrupts in a rush. And then grabs onto the ends of his scarf with two hard fists, like he’s ready to pull those ends so tight they prevent him from ever speaking again.
Instead, he closes his eyes and shudders a sigh. “I, uh. I love you. Like, a lot.” He opens his eyes again. “But please don’t– I mean– Fuck, are we still cool? I don’t want to fuck our shit up just because I’m having feelings all over the place.”
Dex gapes like a fish at his best friend for several long seconds.
“Derek, I…” Dex starts, and then trails off uselessly.
But before he can try again to think of the right words, he finally notices the growing pain in his fingers from the cold, and he grimaces as he starts to pull his hands back into himself.
Barely an inch away from his chest, Nursey reaches out and places his own hands on them. Pulls them gently up to his own mouth, and tenderly cups his palms around Dex’s boney knuckles. He breathes hot air into the insides of Dex’s hands, then rubs his callused fingers back and forth over the backs of them.
Dex forgets the English language entirely for a moment.
“…We should, uh. That is. Um. Head back to the Haus?” he finally says stiltedly. But he doesn’t pull his hands away.
Nursey smiles. “Alright.” He intertwines the fingers of his right hand with the fingers of Dex’s left, and tucks both hands into his own coat pocket. He takes Dex’s other hand and holds it up against his lips, warming one side with his breath and the other with his palm and fingertips.
Dex’s already chapped red cheeks blush an even brighter color the entire way back home.