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v-taehyung-kim · 1 year

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Mr. Jeon

“So, class, is that understood?”

What? What is meant to be understood? Fuck. I stared at him too long and zoned the FUCK out.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” said the class in unison while I just… sat there. My face gives away my confusion and well, just like every-fucking-thing else, shit is against me. For some reason my face just cannot hide my true emotions, so I’m an open book for EVERYONE to read. I can’t even lie, which is so useless in any school setting. Well this is University, but y’know , same thing.

“Miss y/l/n, kindly stay after class, I’d like to have a quick word,” Mr. Jeon says rather sternly, which is amazing it’s exactly what my soul wants to be fed with. Uh, a hot, sassy, stern and HANDSOME man? Yeah, I’ll take the whole lot, thanks. Also, it’s technically professor Jeon, but he likes to be a little more casual with us.

God Y/N can you quit rambling within your own head?

As the rest of the class heads out the lecture room, I gather my things and head up to the teacher’s desk.

“Am I in trouble?” I ask, awkwardly laughing. Does saying ha-ha literally count as laughing at all…? Fuck he’s talking-

“-and that’s not trouble as such, however, passing this class requires full attention.”

“Uh, sir, with all due respect, I’m doing fairly well in the tests recently, being a bit lost-in-the-daydream, or, I don’t know, zoning out thinking about something exciting, is, in my humble opinion, normal…yes?” I say fumbling with the corner of my skirt, which I definitely wore to get his attention. But I’m making a solid point here!

“Lost in the daydream? What are you talking about?”

“Uh. Isn’t that what you’re raising an issue with?”

“No, Miss Y/L/N but that is also proving to be a problem. Hmm. No, I was talking about not overloading your course load this semester with extra classes. Graduating early sounds great, only if you’re physically capable. I thought you were looking quite ill, for as long as you’ve been in my class. But I see now that’s just you zoning out? And every class?” He says, crossing his arms against his chest and furrowing his eyebrows. Phew that’s HOT. Okay no focus. For once, focus.

To be fair, I understand him. I zone out in all of his classes, daydreaming about him. I know I have to impress him though so I make an extra effort to rewatch his lectures and perform well in the tests. Well, that is actually tiring me out. Maybe I am sick?

Sick in loooove-

“Miss Y/L/N?”

God if I hear that from his mouth one more time-

“No, yeah, it’s a problem. I don’t know. I’m so sorry Mr. Jeon. Rest assured, I’m able to handle my schedule, at least so far I have been able to. Thank you for your concern!” I smile awkwardly, moving to the right to exit the class.

“If paying attention is hard, feel free to ask for help to repeat or explain any concept you need. I can let you know when I’m not in class, and you can visit my office.”

He said WHAT?

Uh.

Yeah, no, I’m gonna take him up on that fucking offer.

“Really? Yes, that would be very helpful. Thank you.”

“Alright. I’ll email you my schedule. Come with good questions.” He says and gets to clearing the whiteboard.

I awkwardly smile again, with my teeth forming a box, and leave.

Okay.

Time to process what happened.

Is he interested in me? No. He doesn’t give that vibe, at all. He probably thinks I’m an air head and doesn’t realise that I’ve the fattest and fastest growing crush on him, so that’s good.

He literally doesn’t care about me. That’s good. A one sided crush and I can fantasise about him all I want. Everything is better in my head anyway.

Reality is no good.

————-

It’s good that I actually have questions and this is actually a fantastic opportunity to learn better from someone that has researched this topic.

Definitely not just an amazing opportunity to potentially have his babies. Nah, a long way to go for that.

I pack up my notes and a bunch of highlighters- because I’m so shit at being organised I just keep loose highlighters, pens, you name it. At least I have some? Does the job.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeon. Thank you so much for giving me your time like this,” I said, blushing, because wow this is so… I mean… we’re alone in his office.

He chose to see me after he was done for the day but still in office to do some grading, which is good because I don’t need to feel pressured that he has another class coming up.

“Oh no worries. Anything for a bright student like yourself.”

Fuck, there I go blushing again.

“Are you feeling alright? You look like the heat really got to you today?”

Oh yeah, the heat radiating off your body- SHUT THE FUCK UP Y/N AND SAY SOMETHING!

But you just asked me to shut up?

Quit talking to yourself in your head dumbass and SAY SOMETHING-

And my face just for redder in embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah, phew, it’s HOT outside today!” I said, quite loudly, which is EXTREMELY awkward. Fantastic.

“Here, I’ll turn this aircon on for you. Don’t worry about it, get comfortable,” he says, turning the aircon on. Honestly that would be nice.

I take a seat by his desk and pull out my notes.

“So, I actually do have questions, but some might be out of curriculum. I went down a rabbit hole whilst researching the answers to my questions, and it only led to more questions.” I said, gathering myself and actually getting serious.

‘Actually getting serious’ you’re such a joke y/n-

-DON’T talk to me I’ve got shit to do!

You’re talking to yourself-

Ssh he’s talking!

“Classic sign of a good student. Your curiosity is valuable, hold onto it. Ask away, love.” He says, smiling so cutely, fuck.

‘LOVE?’

LOVE??????????????? NO NO NO I CANNOT ZONE OUT-

I clear my throat and ask my first question.

“Can you please explain the embryological development of the small and large intestines? I don’t know if it’s my lack of spatial imagination but I cannot visualise the twisting and turning, the umbilical cord and literally everything else.” The words came pouring out, and I’m thankful for that.

“Ah, of course. Let me draw it out for you, love.”

This is gonna be hell.

——

“It’s satisfying to have my questions answered, I must say. And I’m impressed you answered every single one, somehow?” I said, quite casually.

It took one session for me to actually become comfortable with him, and he’s actually more human that I expected him to be. He’s so dreamy, I didn’t think he’d be normal. And funny. And sweet. And cute. I’m in love.

“Well, I aim to please.” He said… slightly smirking and looking away.

This bitch.

Please me.

“Haha, yeah…” of course I’m fucking awkward, how else do I respond to that?

“So are you pleased?

“Uh, yeah. I did say it was satisfying.”

“Well, mission accomplished. I’d love to be of help to you, love.” He said, very casually, making it look like none of this sounds strangely sexual. Maybe it’s in my head because I’m a horndog for him, so sure.

“Oh man, I really need to head out to get some groceries before I get home. Would you like me to drop you home?” He says, packing things up along with me.

Classic. Yes take me home.

“That’s really kind of you, I’d love that. I mean not love, I just mean, it’ll be really nice, nice I guess in a way that I won’t have to take public transport at rush hour-“

“- I get it, Miss Y/L/N, I’d love to take you home.”

Oh hell no.

Not in my head.

Not in my HEAD.

But he LOOKS LIKE IT MEANS NOTHING? It doesn’t sound suggestive… I’m a fuckin’ creep.

“Haha, okay… I can come to the grocery store too. I live alone, so I need to figure this out.”

“Oh? I live alone as well, I have the same reasons.”

Come to think of it, he does look very young, and he is actually the youngest in our faculty. But being young doesn’t mean you can’t have a wife or a husband.

———

This grocery store is as dead as his feelings for me. Fun.

He’s picking out the good tomatoes from the bad, and I’m hoping he squishes my tomato-

That’s actually disgusting, y/n. Get a hold of yourself.

What do I say then? Pick my strawberry? Peel my banana? Mash my potato? Tear my clothes off like tearing layers off an onion? FUCK-

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

“Aren’t you going to… buy something? You’re just standing there?”

He thinks I’m a fucking creep, I know it.

“Yeah, nah, just thinkin’, “ I say, extra casually, y’know, because I’m cool. Keeping it cool. Smooth. Ice. Chill. Freezin’.

Simpin’.

“Thinking about what, this time? I’d love to know what you zone out about.”

Why is so fucking hot?

“Uh, haha, not much really!”

“Not much? You Zone out every 10 minutes.” Damn he noticed, huh?

It’s true, though.

“Mr. Jeon, I’ve heard it’s rude to ask someone to tell you their deepest darkest secrets.”

Why did I say that

Why

Did I say that

“Call me Jungkook.”

…..

Take a deep breath…

I’M ABOUT TO-

-SHUT THE FUCK UP AND REPLY BEFORE HE THINKS YOU’RE INSANE!

“J-j-uh.. j-j-uhhh-jungkook?” I say awkwardly, scratching my head and squinting my eyes, breathing heavily.

“That’s right, love. Jungkook. Can I call you y/n? I mean, we’re not that far apart in age and we’re not at Uni. If you’re okay with that of course, I respect your space.” CONSENT, BABY!

I guess we aren’t that far apart in age. But it’s a bit too much for my heart and my tomato to hear my name coming from his mouth.

“Y-yeah! Psshh, duh! Of course. Yeah no that’s all good.” I say laughing a bit too loudly and grabbing onto our cart, only to fail to actually grab onto it, nearly fucking TRIPPING.

“Sorry, haha, senses not working today. Heatstroke, remember?” No, y/n, that makes no sense you never had a heatstroke and if you did, you wouldn’t be here.

“Y/n,” he says, getting serious for some reason.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Crap.

I sigh.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m a little ditzy, that’s all.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s adorable.” He mumbles, smiling and looking away.

Yeah you stare at those damn tomatoes after turning me into one.

I’m… adorable? My exes all called me annoying, so, yeah.

“Adorable?”

“Yeah. It’s really cute how you get awkward, and sometimes ramble and fumble, I take notice of it all.” He smirks, adorably so.

Wait, that’s so… sweet.

“Oh, haha… yeah, I’m…I do that alright…” I nervously play with my fingers, looking down.

“Come on love, let’s get you your groceries.”

He pushes me along by my shoulders, laughing.

He ended up getting all my veggies in the cart, and nearly doing all the work for me. I just said the word, and he’d put it in the cart.

I’m feeling things.

Paying for my bit and him paying for his, we get in his car.

I forgot he’s Mr. Jeon for this entire duration…

“Jungkook?” I ask, as he’s putting his seatbelt on.

“Yes, love?”

Stop sounding like my boyfriend, fuck.

“Are you sure it’s okay for us to be so casual? You’re my professor?” I feel awkward even asking this question because now I’ve made things weird.

“How do you mean? We’re okay. I’m sorry, did I make you feel weird?”

No, please keep going.

“Oh no, it’s not something you did. It’s okay, haha.”

He turns to me and looks into my eyes for about 30 seconds. I’m worried about what he’s about to say.

“I think you’re really funny, y/n. And a bright student, I loved teaching you more about what we studied. It’s fun for me, as a teacher. I just think you’re interesting as a person.”

Somehow, I could tell by his face that he felt a bit conflicted but tried to make it sound okay.

“That means a lot to me, jungkook.”

———

A few weeks went by and we were getting closer at the speed of light.

I realised he’s so much more loveable and attractive than whatever his exterior shows. It started off as a crush on my hot teacher, but he’s such an amazing guy. He’s so gentle, listens so well, understands me, is so sweet and smiles so genuinely. He puts up no front, he’s so real and true to himself, his pure heart shines through. He’s generous, and actively gives back to the community. He makes the lamest jokes, and at the same time, is the smartest man in the room.

I’m fucked to say the least.

Here is walking perfection within my reach and now actually a close friend of mine, and I can’t even tell him how beautiful he is.

Weird to call him a friend, but we just connect so well.

“Jungkook, I swear, this shit has me turning my brain inside out. Draw this out too, please.” I say, sitting on his couch cross legged, staring at my notes.

“Y/N, for the last time, it doesn’t get simpler than this diagram right here. Even if I want to draw this, it’ll be the same as the diagram.” He says calmly, looking directly at me.

“Alright, fine. Can we take a break? My brain is fried, I can’t even comprehend the page number. Like, what? How did I get to page 254 when I was page 250?”

“You’re really asking me that?”

I awkwardly look towards my left and right before answering. “Uh??? Noooo? Of course not? I just, you know, yeah…”

“…yeah, okay, break time.”

I sigh in frustration as he gets up to clear the table away and put our notes aside.

I pull out my phone to scroll through Instagram to scroll till my brain is positively hollow, but then jungkook calls out my name.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm.”

“Love?”

Jesus fucking-

My head immediately snaps up and he smirks, seeing how I immediately respond to that.

He laughs a bit, and I blush knowing he’s caught me.

“Come here, love.”

Come here? Where? There?!

I get up and move towards him, and wait for him.

He pulls me into a hug and gently puts his hands in my hair, massaging my head.

“You must be tired. And this is going to sound strange but… you make me protective over you, with how adorable you can be. I’m sorry if it sounds inappropriate. I mean this with sincerity and care.” He says so softly, I’m going to yell.

Yell and screech, bitch.

“Jungkook, that’s incredibly sweet…” I breathe him in, and it ends up being audible.

He laughs at that, and hugs me tighter.

I’m in love. I don’t want more than him.

“I’m here, know that.” He says, so gently I could cry.

“And I’m here.”

We look into each others eyes and I feel all my love for him at once.

He smiles at me, putting stray bits of hair behind my ears.

His emotions seem so genuine, that he really cares for me.

“I’m here.” He says, again.

“And I’m here.”

We smile together, and I decide I want to squeeze him tight.

————-

Y’know, if I wasn’t sure before, I’m sure of it now.

I love him.

It’s true, it’s no longer a crush.

This has been a bad idea. I can’t even actually date him, so what the fuck do I do now?

I’ve been staring at him in class the entire time and I’ve completely zoned out. I know he knows it, he gave me a suspicious look. It’s fantastic, I’m exposing my own ass.

But he’s been staring at me too, every now and then. He looks my way so many times, it’s probably noticeable to others. Good thing I’m sort of hidden away.

But he probably looks at me like his younger sister, since I don’t see him making any particular moves or saying anything that’s remotely romantic.

He’s definitely not into me.

The class gets over and I head directly towards the exit because god knows, I need a break from FEELINGS.

“Miss y/l/n. Please come to my desk. Now.” Girl, I-

“Yes, sir.”

The classroom is now empty and I’m standing before him all awkward.

“Sir?” I say, looking at him, who is looking at me.

“Sir? Really?”

“What? Are you not my teacher? Professor? Sir seems like the obvious thing to call you.”

“And yet you talk to me like that? If you’re being professional, you may as well be more formal.”

“Uh, okay. Hello, sir. What is it that you wanted to speak to me about? I apologise if I caused any inconvenience.”

“As a matter of fact, you did, miss y/l/n.”

“I’m sorry, sir. What is it that I did?”

“Look, y/n. I noticed you really were not paying attention today, and you know this class is important for the upcoming test! The inconvenience is grading you badly!”

I want you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Come on, y/n. Your head has been in the clouds recently! You don’t ask me more questions, you’ve been doing the bare minimum!”

Can I marry you?

“No, yeah, I know.”

“I’m glad that you do but do you realise what’s at stake here? You want to graduate early, yes? Well failing a class will only delay the process! Come on…” he continues to talk, but honestly, I’m just lost in his eyes.

I like it when he yells. So passionate. His eyes are so lovely, so cute. Can I look into them forever? I’d love to marry him. Right now. Okay, tomorrow. He’s so perfect. Does he have eye dimples? Of course he does. I’ve known that from the beginning. I studied his face. Now I want to know more about him. Even more than I already do. He’s so… dreamy…

“Y/N! ARE YOU LISTENING?” He raises his voice, for the first time actually, and I jump in surprise.

“What in the world had gotten into you? Fuck. Meet me after my day ends, we need to discuss this.” He says, and leaves immediately.

Well.

Fuck.

————

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU’VE BEEN SLACKING?”

I’m sitting on his couch, listening to him get mad at me. Shucks, I fell in love with you, sue me.

“Y/N, I understand slacking off is not a conscious choice and you’re probably dealing with something and asking you to “get your act together” is the worst form of support and dismisses the root problem. So, talk to me. Please, love. I care for you.” He says, sighing.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to.” He apologises, looking down.

You’re so intelligent and kind to me. I love you.

I love you.

“I love you.”

I think out loud, and immediately turn pale.

“What?”

“I love your kindness!”

“You didn’t say that,”

“No, no, sorry I didn’t complete my thought haha! Okay I need to get home now, I left frozen chicken breast out to defrost and I need to cook it. I just remembered!” I say hurriedly and attempt to get up.

Pushing me back down, he sits on the couch next to me and takes my face into his hands.

It doesn’t take a second before he places his lips on mine and I think I’m about to lose my mind.

He’s so soft, so gentle, but so passionate and… I open my mouth to let him enter and I really do believe I’m going to pass out.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groans, and it makes me groan.

He pulls away to look into my eyes.

Do I even want to know what he’s going to say next?

#jungkook one shot #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook fluff #bts jungkook #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook oneshot

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abandoned-by-destiny · 1 year

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Chapter 2

fic masterlist // series masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Featured Characters: fem!OC Brynn Clarke, fem!OC Orli’Va, clone!OC Skip

Rating: General (However this series is 18+ as a whole so MINORS BEGONE PLEASE)

Tags: Language, Brief allusions to past loss/familial death, Feelings of inadequacy, Talk of clones being expendable

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Grand Republic Medical Facility on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

The shrill tone signifying the end of class interrupts the final portion of the lecture. As everyone surrounding Brynn begins to pack up their datapads, the Ithorian professor’s modulated voice rings out once more.

“Be sure to finish and submit your specialty applications before you sign up to take the certification exams!”

Brynn fights the urge to roll her eyes as she puts her own datapad in her bag. For the entire semester, students have been deciding which specialty they want to dedicate their lives to. If she were to make a decision right this minute, her specialty would be trauma. You don’t experience what she did at such a young age and not be fundamentally changed by it. If there had been a trauma specialist on level 1757 that night, she wouldn’t have lost everything. The rings dance against her chest as she recalls the fateful memory. Brynn wants to be that difference for someone, somewhere in the galaxy, but she needs to get away from the city-planet first. Her scrub top bunches up at the shoulder when she slings her bag on. Walking leisurely out of the classroom and down the wide halls, Brynn fixes the folded shoulder of her top and fishes a few credits out of her breast pocket when she reaches a caf stand— a perfect melding point for caffeine addicted students like herself and businesses looking to capitalize.

“Just my usual ‘Va.” Brynn tells the Pantoran barista when she reaches her counter.

“Of course B! One large hot chocolate with two dashes of caffeine crystals comin right up.” Orli’Va uses Brynn’s nickname before flashing her a cute smile. Brynn returns her smile with a wink before turning to face the immense window behind her.

The Grand Republic Medical Facility. It's a different view than the lower levels where Brynn grew up since it actually, you know, has a view. Until she came here, Brynn had never even seen the sky. So whenever she gets the chance, she stops by what she likes to call the Eye of Coruscant. Even though Brynn is still on one of the lowest levels of the spire, she is able to see far and wide across the city planet. Today’s skyline is no different than the rest, sprawling across the lanes of traffic and overtaking the skyscrapers. She just can’t get enough of the light. She has been here for 5 years and the sun fills her with the same amount of awe as it did the first day.

“B! Order up!” Orli’Va’s sweet voice brings Brynn out of her trance.

“Thank you, love,” Brynn tells the Pantoran.

“As always, darlin’,” she responds, “Have you made a decision about a specialty?”

“How did you know I needed to decide?”

“Hun, this is a caf stand in the Grand Republic Medical Facility,” Orli’Va moves her arms in a sweeping motion, gesturing to the extensive structures around them. “You can’t serve beautiful fifth years their caffeine without knowing when specialty applications are due.”

“Oh well, no, I haven’t decided on a specialty yet.” Brynn leans in further onto the counter, “But I am leaning towards not submitting one.” Orli’Va’s eyes get wider in surprise; the barista leaning in closer as well.

“Wait, so what are you wanting to do then?”

“Well I was thinking, and don’t judge me for this,” Brynn gently points a finger at the blue skinned woman, “I was thinking of applying to be a contracted medic for the GAR.” Orli’Va backs away in shock, a look of astonished horror glazing her eyes.

“Darlin’, why would you do something like that?”

“Because, O, I feel like it's the least I could do. These men deserve all that this genius could offer,” Brynn changes the subject with a joke before grabbing her hot chocolate, “I will let you know how it goes, beautiful. I’ll see you later.” She says with a smile over her shoulder as she walks away.

Brynn’s head is reeling with choices by the time she walks into the medical facility’s dining hall. She thinks that maybe talking to Skip could help her further decide about what to apply for, a speciality or a medic contract. The hall is packed this afternoon, classes all being let out early due to the term ending. Brynn stands on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd for the armor of her friend. Most of the Coruscant Guard refrains from painting their armor in brash ways—as Brynn has noticed among the other battalions around Coruscant. Skip has the notorious red painted in ripple patterns over his shoulder bells and vambraces—while his leg armor drowns in the color, leaving the rest a clean canvas of white.

“Hey, Brynnie!” Once she hears her name, Brynn’s eyes lock onto a trooper waving his arm.

“Skip!” she laughs out his name, “I was beginning to think you weren’t here yet.”

“Nah, you’re just a short shit so I figured I’d give you an assist,” Skip teases. She sets down her drink and pulls a sandwich from her bag as she sits across from the soldier.

“Ohhh, so someone is feeling bold today,” Brynn rolls her eyes. When she begins to unwrap her food, Skip snatches half of it before she can stop him.

“I am always bold Brynn, you should be used to it,” Skip replies, “Now what do we have today?”

“I…” Brynn emphasizes, grabbing to get her lunch back, “have a sliced nuna sandwich with Strider cheese sauce and Ferroan spinach.” Skip draws further out of Brynn’s reach, keeping the sandwich close to his chestplate.

“Aw, c’mon Brynn,” Skip takes a massive bite from the sandwich before continuing. Brynn is pretty sure that the noises Skip makes are supposed to be a sentence, but with a mouthful of her sandwich— she can’t make out a single word. Brynn tries to hide her laughter and fails miserably at his attempt to talk.

“I’m sorry, what?!” she says between laughs. Skip swallows before repeating himself.

“I said, you’ve never tasted the shit the Guard mess has. You would be stealing your best friend's food too.” Brynn rolls her eyes. She clenches her jaw while Skip continues to eat his half of her sandwich. She fights the urge to blurt out her life-changing decision, but before she can, Skip speaks up. “So, I have been hearing whispers that you will be choosing a speciality soon?”

“Yeah,” Brynn draws out, “Something like that.” Brynn absentmindedly picks at her own half of the sandwich.

“Okay, B, you better spill whatever the fuck it is that you are hiding,” Skip says pointedly, “Or I will get it out of you myself.”

“Ugh fine, okay. So, um, do you remember about a week or two ago when I told you that I was thinking of being a trauma specialist? Because of my parents?”

“Yeah, you seemed pretty adamant about working in the lower levels too. From my patrols down there it seems like they really need it.”

“Well—”

“Are you rethinking that? What do you want to do now?” Skip interrupts.

“Maker, Skip, shut up and let me tell you.”

“Okay sorry, continue.”

“I am rethinking it. I’ve downloaded the application for fifth years to go straight to the war effort, to be a field medic.”

“Brynn, why in the fuck would you want to go to literal war?” Skip enunciates each word with careful vitriol.

“Skip, you know for a fact that I have seen shit, and been helpless,” Brynn leans forward and stares the member of the Coruscant Guard in the face, “I can’t just stand back and not do anything. I want to be there and I want to help and do something that matters.”

“Brynn, listen to me, this isn’t the front lines. My brothers out there are literally in the midst of hell day in and day out. You can stay here. Save lives here. After what you’ve told me about how you grew up? You can be there for the children, the families, that actually need you here. Don’t risk your life for us. For clones. We are expendable. Replaced by the next model off the line.” Skip’s expression went from worried curiosity to a scowl as he spoke.

“No, Skip, you can’t say that. You and your brothers, you are all sentient human beings. You matter to me, and there are thousands of citizens that believe the same. You all are fighting a war. Those men on the front lines? I would trade an asshole who blew up himself and his neighbors for selfless men any day.” Brynn tries earnestly to explain her choice to not remain on the comparable safety of Coruscant.

“Brynn you call us clones selfless. Why? We don’t have a choice. We come off the lines living, breathing, and fighting for the Republic. We are bred to be expendable.” Skip explains again, his scowl deepening.

“Expendable? Why would there even be medics then? There are clone medics. There are positions for civilian medics. Skip, if you were truly expendable those positions would not exist.”

After that Brynn grabbed the rest of her lunch and left. Skip’s words hit her, in a way she wasn’t expecting. The amount of confusion, determination, and rage was starting to boil over. Now she has to submit the application. Not to prove a point to her best friend, but to show herself that she is capable and talented enough to make a difference in the lives of the men that she desperately wants to help. Because in this war, Skip is right, they have no choice. Brynn knows they deserve to be shown the kindness and the support that no one else wants to give them.

By the time Brynn gets to her final class of the afternoon, she had tear stains on her cheeks. The clones aren’t expendable like Skip said, are they? No, Brynn shakes herself out of her thoughts, out of the propaganda. They are human-fucking-beings, and Brynn will be damned if she’ll let them die without knowing how much they mean to the citizens they are dying for.

Her final class, a throwaway neurobiology course, comes and goes. Brynn could honestly do these procedures in her sleep. Her mind is still reeling from the conversations with Skip and with Orli’Va. Should she do this? Devote her life and well-being to the war effort? Brynn knows that she is smart, and that she is capable. Yet, she sees the look on the faces of her classmates. So young. So naive. They don’t know that she hears them talking about her. Second guessing her, and undermining her when they know she is correct. Brynn hears all of the comments, but they don’t know that she’ll remember every single one.

When Brynn finally makes it back to her dorm for the evening, she just sits. She sits and thinks about what she is about to do, and if she is doing it for the right reasons. Is she doing something crazy just to prove everybody wrong? No. She is not. Opening the blank application, Brynn decides to put her ego aside and think about everything she’s seen with the clones. Skip, last week, being yelled at by one of the instructors, just for doing his job. Other members of the Coruscant Guard being verbally assaulted, or having things thrown at them. Working for a Republic that doesn’t want them to exist. But then Brynn thinks about those few people who handed the soldiers a cloth to wipe their armor. The one who told the professor to walk away.

Tapping ‘Submit’ on the request, Brynn huffs and sets her datapad on the small desk in her dorm. Brynn looks around the small area, thinking back to when she first moved in; five years ago, with nothing more than a hand-me-down bag and some notebooks. One would think that after living at the Grand Republic Medical Facility for the last five years she would have a bigger living space, but a singular room and a refresher is all Brynn calls her own. Five years ago, she set out to try and make a difference. This field application is just the next step. As she settles down for bed, her mind wanders to what her future holds. Will she be in the thick of it? On the front lines, dodging blaster fire, surrounded by death? Or will she be aboard a medical frigate? Assisting the Kaminoan doctors and surgeons in a hospital setting? Brynn succumbs to the weight of her eyelids, drifting into a deep sleep. Her final thought of the night; is that in a day or two her request to serve the Grand Army of the Republic will either be accepted or denied.

Location: The Grand Republic Medical Facility on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

It has been well over a week since Brynn submitted her medic application and she is getting anxious. Brynn should be used to it, being anxious comes with the territory of being the youngest human among the fifth years. How long does Brynn have to prove herself? Everyone is always second guessing her because of her age. Yes, it has rubbed off on Brynn; she does second guess herself more than she would like to admit. However at the same time, 95% of it Brynn would say, her confidence outweighs the anxiety. She maintains some of the highest marks among her class, and she is still fighting for her place in the ‘big kids’ crowd.

“Just because you haven’t heard back on your request, doesn’t mean you’ve been rejected.” Brynn whispers to herself. Her datapad dings with a new message notification as she walks away from the caf stand. She senses that it is the answer she needs to quell her anxiety and quickens her pace to the dining hall. Maybe she can have Skip read it?

Finding Skip in the sea of hungry students wasn’t difficult; Brynn was on a mission. Once she reaches the table with her friend, Brynn unceremoniously plops her datapad in front of the soldier and spins it towards him.

“Um, what do you want me to do with your datapad?” Skip wipes off the corner of his mouth with a gloved hand.

“I know how you feel about me wanting to join the war effort, Skip,” Brynn begins, her eyes cast downward, “But I need, need, you to read this notification that I got. I just can’t do it myself.”

Skip takes the datapad in his hands, tapping on its screen to navigate to the message Brynn spoke of. The soldier narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Damn.”

“Wait, what?! My application got denied?” Worry fills her voice. Skip slides her datapad back across the table and she scans the message before glaring back at her friend.. She reaches across the table and gives the man a slight, but firm, whack on the back of his head.

“You can’t stress me out like that Skip, you know how much I wanted this.” Brynn begins to feel her heart rate increase, the excited anxiety of uncharted territory blossoming in her chest.

“Ah Brynnie, I just want to keep you around,” Skip looks into Brynn’s eyes, giving her a small smile, and grabs her free hand, “You are my favorite lunch date.” Brynn returns his smile. She’ll miss her best friend. The tears finally spill as she rounds the table, crushing the trooper in the tightest hug she can manage.

“You’ll have to tell me all about Kamino,” she whispers into his neck.

Location: Transport Docking Station on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

The morning sun is blinding as Brynn and Skip walk towards her transport. In less than five minutes she will be embarking upon a brand new adventure. Saving lives, doing good in the galaxy. Before they reach the gate Skip turns and grabs her shoulders, stopping them in their tracks.

“Okay! Review time!” Skip’s voice comes through his helmet’s modulator.

“Number one, remember, stay away from the tubies. You will definitely get attached because we are adorable little shits when we are babies.” Brynn nods her head in agreement.

“Okay, number two! If you see a reptavian flying overhead?”

“Just duck,” Brynn finishes, rolling her eyes.

“Hey! None of that dude, they will actually snatch you up for a quick meal.” Brynn scoffs as he continues, “And finally, you will soon realize, Kaminoans are weird as hell. Absolutely do not stare, they think it’s rude.”

“Skip, you do remember I grew up on Coruscant. I have seen probably every species that a humanoid deems as weird.” Brynn finishes with a slight laugh. After an awkward moment of silence she drops the bag on her shoulder and throws her arms around her armored friend.

“I’ll miss you Skip,” Brynn says. Skip gives her a strong squeeze and pulls away.

“I will miss you too, short shit,” he returns, a sniffle interrupting his goodbye.

Brynn grabs her bag off the landing pad and starts walking toward the ramp of the transport. Halfway up the ramp Brynn turns around, her braid fluttering in the morning breeze. She sees Skip still standing where they parted ways, bringing two fingers to her temple in a mock salute. Seeing Skip laugh, Brynn smirks to herself. Once she boards the ship, she catches a final glimpse of her best friend as the door closes.

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

Taglist:

@lady--kenobi @sleepingsun501 @cocolinagoodnight @ulchabhangorm @justanothersadperson93 @corrieguards @ariadnes-red-thread @baba-fett @rexxdjarin

Join the Taglist!

#ABD #ABD: FBW #original female character #OC Brynn Clarke #civilian medic oc

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dspdick · 1 month

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hello everyone. i hope you have some snacks on you because i have yet another thing to rant about. fortunately it isn’t about the bunch of idiots i have the misfortune of calling classmates, instead it’s the cursed place where i chose to continue my education. let’s yell about university.

for starters, i would like to point out that this is an expensive university. like. 900€/month expensive. i get to pay almost half of it because i have a discount due to my high school grades, but you have to keep it up during your stay in college and once it’s taken away you can’t ask for it again.

given the exorbitant price every single of its students is paying, you would think that my class would be in a decent building. wrong. we’re in a prefabricated shitty three-story building in the other side of campus from our labs. because medicine students have their own simulation clinics and the business students get a bajillion brick buildings but fuck the genetics kids amiright?

speaking of labs. the installations are cool and all but the materials need a serious upgrade. I CANT DO A PROPER GEL ELECTROPHORESIS IF THE MICROPIPETTE DOES THE EQUIVALENT OF A DRIVING NEWBIE WITH A MANUAL CAR. also the ph-meters are the bane of my existence and me the bane of theirs.

also. the lab practices are four hours long. which wouldn’t be too bad if they didn’t make us start them at three or four pm when we’ve been in classes from eight or ten am. yes i spend close to twelve hours on campus on lab weeks yes they also pretend that we have time to study.

BY THE WAY. OH MY GOD. studying. i know it’s necessary. but i have EIGHT SUBJECTS THIS SEMESTER. EIGHT. students in other universities have less subjects per year. one of them is a lab subject and we have a fuckin. oral and practical exam. ITS A LAB SUBJECT?? WHY DO I HAVE TO LEARN THE PROCEDURES AND WHY EVERYTHING IS DONE PLUS DO A NiCE LaB nOTeBoOk. SUCK MY DICK.

that and the fact that i not only have science subjects but also philosophy, communication and fucking BUSINESS. yes they’re useful but i frankly haven’t seen a subject with a worse organization than my philosophy class. and on top of that my business teacher just keeps sending projects and questions. maam your class is worth three credits. be grateful i do an effort to get out of bed and spend two and a half bitchass hours to listen to you yap about ip and business life cycles at eight thirty in the morning on a friday.

and now that i mention this, i still can’t believe we’ll have to do 50 mandatory hours of volunteer work next year. yay for volunteer work, i’ve done before and it’s amazing. but you can’t expect someone who spends 10+ hours in college regularly to do the same amount of time as people who only have 3 to 4 hours of class per day.

the worst part of all is the fact that our degree supervisor just expects us to act like phd students or some shit. she literally told to the class presidents that “we can’t expect to have compromises and extracurriculars outside of university. we have to focus on our college life”. this is our first year. i don’t even want to think about how we’ll be treated from now on.

and i guess this is why im so scared. i like genetics. love it, even, when applied to things i enjoy and not a clinical environment. but i want to live my life and be able to truly rest and enjoy and not want to kill myself constantly over the amount of workload that we have to deal with.

i don’t know if i’m going to drop out or keep going but all my options are bleak. either i continue and somehow survive college enough time to get my degree without having killed myself, or i drop out. and from there i have more options. a) immediately switching to a different college and/or undergrad, b) taking an off year and changing my undergrad.

i don’t even know what i’m going to do. i’m exhausted on all the levels a human can be tired and i have no idea if i have it in me to keep going or just take the easy out.

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benkyoutobentou · 1 year

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I Failed My 2022 Language Learning Goals- And Why That’s Okay

At the end of last year, and the beginning of this year, all the New Year’s hype surrounding language learning and goal setting got to me. On important thing: I’ve never been much of a goal setter. I wanted to set goals to stay on track with my language learning in 2022, and I had to research how to set goals; what was a realistic goal, what types of things are usually goals, things like that. The concept was almost completely foreign to me. Despite that, I sat down and wrote my goals. Some were easy, that I could complete early on in the year, such as finishing a TV show in Japanese. Some were more difficult, like finishing a novel in Japanese. Others were long term goals that spanned the whole year. I failed a lot of them, but I learned a lot, too.

At the beginning of the year, I started a language learning journal. I loved that journal, while I had the time for it. I had lofty ideas for it, such as writing reviews for everything I watched and read. It was fantastic output practice, but in reality the ideas that I had were just way above what I could realistically put into it, and that had nothing to do with my language abilities and entirely to do with my spare time. I’m a full time student who only studies languages as a hobby, and when things get tough, things like writing paragraphs per day in my second language are what get cut. This journal lasted probably about five months. I still think that it helped me improve my Japanese, though, and I would like to get back into language journaling, albeit on a much smaller scale.

Another one of my goals was to “finish” studying all vocabulary from the JLPT N3 level. By around February, I was about halfway through my list and it was looking like an easily achievable goal. Then I got bored. I’ve fought with vocabulary study throughout my whole language learning career and even written about it before (apparently what works for me is jumping from resource to resource. I’m currently loving jpdb), and this is just another example of that. I let myself fall off and just hope that the urge came back, but it never did. Ultimately, taking the JLPT was never a goal (hah) for me, although it’s looking more and more like a possibility now, so dropping this wasn’t detrimental to my language learning, especially because I study vocabulary elsewhere. And that’s really the point of this failure, in my mind. I don’t need to stick to arbitrary lists and just kind of hope they appear in my immersion. Immersion itself is studying vocabulary, especially when using other resources in tandem.

I feel like the biggest “failures” from this year’s goals were my monthly goals. One was to learn the lyrics to a song each month. I really enjoy this method of studying, but it died along with my language learning journal. Another goal, a big one, was to go through a chapter of my textbook, Tobira, each month. This goal was doomed from the start. The first textbooks I used to learn Japanese were the Living Language series, and I hated them. Add that onto the natural hesitance to start something new and you have a disaster waiting to happen. I think I started studying from Tobira in around June, far from my chapter-a-month goal. And as of writing this, I am on chapter three. I doubt it’ll move for some while. Lots of this was also due to time constraints. Most of my textbook study happened during the summer, and I think I only cracked it once or twice this past semester. I’m at a point where, while I do think studying through textbooks and other study resources is important for me personally, immersion has been my main focus, especially as it’s less time consuming and less mentally taxing than “traditional” study. So, although this goal was a bust, Tobira, and textbooks in general, are not things that are going to be leaving my language learning in the long term.

So why have my failures been important? People always say “learn from your mistakes,” and that’s exactly what I’ve done. For the most part, I feel that my main take away has just been to be kinder to myself. Even now I still have to remind myself to be easier on myself and what I want to accomplish. I don’t have all the time in the world, and even if I did, I still need to rest. I’ve learned my limits, and I’ve learned what works for me, and what doesn’t. I’ve learned that what you drop in one place, you can make up for elsewhere.

Of course, this isn’t to say that I don’t plan on setting goals for next year, but I do plan on having less intense goals and a lot less of them. After learning what has worked for me in this past year, I can adapt and shift my goals to be more reasonable and fit neatly within my capabilities while still working to improve my language learning journey.

#sorry if this is formatted like an essay like i said im a student still #not for long though im boutta be outta here #okay sorry im not proof reading this #langblr #studyblr #language learning #polyglot #studyinspo #languages #studying #benkyou posting #i almost feel dumb for saying publicly that i didnt know how to set goals #but

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fiascophoenix · 1 year

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Professors and Mental Health Response

TLDR on the bottom. TW for ablelist peers and mentions of mental health issues.

So, this semester I have a group project. It's my final class before I graduate in May this year. My group leader started to act ablelist towards me- calling my mental health issues and emergency surgery and PTSD and post-op depression "personal problems" even though I had letters from my Psychiatrist written to my professor to explain that I am struggling with day-to-day life so to excuse late assignments. My group leader criticized me for doing a "bad job" on a report I was expected to turn in Monday and said I was "sassing" her when I tried to explain that I literally just had surgery on Thursday before and came home Friday night.

I put up with it, trying to get my part of the work done alone, because when I tried to reach out for help in the group chat, I was ignored. And then after class one day, she insisted I get all my late work done in two days, which I tried to tell her it was my soft deadline and that four days was my hard deadline, since I needed to be kinder to myself due to my health becoming worse. She said no, two days and that was final. "We all have our personal problems."

I came up to a fellow student I know fairly well to ask what I should do in this kind of situation, knowing he also had disabilities. He immediately convinced me to talk to my professor. He helped me through that, and the professor promised to talk to my group leader the next day.

Cue a week later. I get an email from my professor, telling me he wanted a one-on-one meeting. My anxiety surged. Oh no...am I in trouble? Did my group leader lie and tell him I was being ridiculous?

But I was wrong. He told me he was so worried when he had heard how horrible I was referring to myself during our conversation the week before. That without mentioning my name, he talked to the university counselors for advice. I reassured him I have a therapist and psychiatrist working with me, and that my negative self-talk is a work in progress.

The point is guys, this is how all professors should react to alarming symptoms of mental health. My professor did everything right. He contacted professionals of the university without saying my name at first, immediately had a private meeting with me, and now is helping me by working with me on due dates and making sure my group members treat me fairly.

Once again guys, it's important to fight for the right to be treated fairly. You have a right to be treated like a human being and get the accommodations you need.

TLDR; My professor saw alarming mental health symptoms, and acted respectfully with professionals and is working with me to make sure I succeed. He is a great example of what should be expected.

I now have more hope in humanity.

#mental health #university professor #great professor #university student #university #student mental health #ablelist

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fulgurbugs · 1 year

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ok at this point i just need to explain. how fucking insane this stupid semester long assignment has been to yall.

So basically, over the semester in addition to the textbook, there have been extra readings we've had to read and over the class students have been leading in-class discussions on them. pretty standard stuff and everything.

the problem comes with this. each one we had to write a 600 word summary and reflection to go with each one. we had to turn in half at midterms, and im handing the second half the last regular class of the semester (tomorrow) she took one reading out so this was 17 readings total, 9 by midterm, 7 at final

as you can imagine, that sounds really not like the worst thing in the world but quickly spirals as you realized how fucking long this actually is printed out and formatted. this was the first half of the assignment

(note. literally 20 pages. big ass fucking packet when stapled together)

now, because this assignment is so long, AND this professor is a notoriously slow grader, I actually haven't been handed back this full assignment yet. last class, she handed back everyone a PARTIAL graded section of the first half of the assignment.

I received the first 4 pages of my 20 page paper back. and then, I also realized I had received a very low grade on it (like 68 I think?) which was weird, because she had said she wasn't going to be grading these very harshly like she normally does.

so i check the notes and its like this

ok, so basically she took off 1/3 of my points per entry for missing citation! what the fuck! because as you'll note,

obviously there are fucking in text citations. you can even see one of them next to the writing in the first image. clearly there are citations, but she's graded me like there aren't full citations in a bibliography at the end. but there are! every pdf assigned has a full bibliography entry at the end of the paper. like obviously, these are just the in-text citations for specific information i've pulled from the text.

but anyways. I bring this up with her in class, to make sure im not gonna be losing 1/3 of my grade for this, and it turns out what she's been doing is literally going through each paper, reading the first entry for the first reading, then reading the next paper's first entry only, and so on, and then going through every paper and reading the second entry, instead of grading each paper all the way through at once.

so since she was doing this, she never checked that I had actually provided citations by flipping to the end of my paper and seeing my 9 citations of every reading, as requested? whatever. what the hell. she said I'd get the points back so whatever, ill keep an eye on my grade to make sure she remembers to bring them back. (im not expecting to get full grades on the citations anyways, i've had this professor for two semesters and i've literally never fucking gotten them fully correct once somehow) I just want to not have a 0/4 on citations.

but anyways, I put off reading a bunch of the articles til right before it was due (not anyones fault but mine, im causing my own pain for this one lol) and im just speedrunning this, putting my citations before each entry so theres no fucking way she can miss them, and this thing is still

14 pages long.

so she hasn't graded 16/20 pages of the first one yet, and now everyone's gonna be handing her 14-16 more pages of writing for her to grade tomorrow. its never gonna get graded on time. I havent received my midterm test grade back yet. why does she do this. why did she need 34 pages of writing summary on these readings. why couldn't she make it 300 words per article. truly baffling stuff

but the paper is written, shitass garbage style and i am free.

#hopefully i get this grade back sometime this century i doubt it tho #she actually cancelled one of our 3 essays off the syllabus because she was so behind on grading.#maam i can see why. you have hundreds of pages of shitty article reflection because theres like 20 people in this class.#why would you do this to us and yourself.#the state of the art history department at my school. this isnt even close to how bad my other art history professor was though.

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thedovahcat · 1 year

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Gorillas Who Did Very Well

Been a while since I last updated everyone on what’s been going on. Been studying my little butt off in preparation for the college math/english placement exams (just to see where they’ll place you in the oncoming semester).

Thankfully due to me having a normal college level English class back when I first did college back in 2012, I was exempt from that portion of the assessment. The one I was not, however, was math, as we may as well have guessed. Math’s never been my strong suite throughout my life, so naturally I was pretty nervous about it the night before, especially considering now that I’m planning on majoring in a very math heavy area like computer science.

So that was today, went in at 10AM and took the test. I’m happy to say a good portion of it I recognized, some problems though were real doozies that I didn’t really understand too in-depth. Thanks to all the studying though I was able to feel my way through a majority of them. My only complaint is that it was one of those kinds of tests on the computer where, once you submit your answer? That’s it, dun deal no changing it.

Got stuck on a few problems here and there that took me upwards of 20 min of trying to brute force an answer. I am starting to see why this method of thinking is useful to programming of all things.

By about halfway I started feeling really bad that I didn’t understand as much as I felt I should for whatever reason, and I resorted to guessing on at least a few answers because I didn’t want to take any more time than I already had. So I wrapped up, finished the 20 questions and was relieved to see the computer did not flag me in that I got enough WRONG that there needed to be more follow-up. Machine spit out my score and I met with the advisor right after.

Nice lady, she had nothing but praise and ended up telling me that I got the highest possible score on the test and that that was something that didn’t happen very often there! And she’d been working there some years, yada yada yada. So naturally I was very surprised, and in disbelief! Either I guessed all those times correctly or I knew enough to make an educated guess... Who knows!

So ya girl over here dun passed with flying colors. I’m going straight into the College Algebra Pre-Cal track and hopefully by the time I transfer to the big boy college I’ll be a lot smarter than I am now. Things are lookin’ up! I’m not talented in all areas of academics though I had to really really study for this one. I hope I’ll be able to keep up my grades in the future to the point where I’ll be able to qualify for some decent grants and scholarships and such. Helps when I’m a minority, a girl, and applying to a STEM field no doubt. But for now, for a community college, I can easily pay for myself with no aid if it comes down to it. My savings will be eaten but... It’s worth it. I really reallllyyy want a degree and I feel bad it took me this long to get my act together. Back at 18 years old I wasn’t motivated or ready for this level of dedication but, coming upon 29 in March this year? I think I’ve had time.

I’m just a late bloomer, with everything. But that’s ok, better late than never.

So there’s that aspect of things. I’m still trying to fish around and save as much money as I can on the side so I can pursue the archery hobby I mentioned here and there before. It’s very expensive, understandably. But I really want to use that as a step stool to get into a sport I’ve been very, very interested in for a long time (like since single-digit ages). Hunting.

Not trophy hunting though, like meat hunting and for wildlife control and land protection purposes. Learning all about that stuff has been very fascinating, and I’m excited I’m now living in an area that’s a lot more open about that kind of thing (not to mention much easier and more convenient access.) There’s a lil’ bit of opposition from some family members, but there’s also support from others. I’m kind of starting to hit that point in my life where I’m realizing I don’t need permission to try things I want to try. That’s a very large hurdle for me to overcome, considering my sheltered life, and this combined with my amazing score today for the college thing? I feel like I’ll be able to do anything in no time. I really hope I succeed in my endeavors.

For now, gotta keep up the studies and gotta keep trying for commissions! I’ve been weight lifting on the side as well to try and de-noodle-fy my arms in preparation for learning a recurve bow, and I’ve managed to lose some decent weight from that I think (it’s changed my eating habits too) as well! So I’m very pleased. The most difficult part of all of this is going to be keeping consistency. I’m taking a break today from my usual cuz man, I deserve it, but tomorrow! Back to the rigamaroll!!

Only thing really to worry about now is Tato’s dental appointment next week. Poor thing, Riley already went through it and got some teeth pulled, though his teeth weren’t classified as too terrible (the molars he got yanked had cracks in them). Tato’s have generally been classified as worse so I’m a little worried... but We’ll see how that goes next Tuesday.

Thanks everyone for reblogging my sketch commission post too all the damn time, I really appreciate it and I know it may come off as annoying, but hopefully not! I’m just trying everything I know to do, it’s a hit or miss like anything else but yeah.

So until next time!

#math and gorillas

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inkofamethyst · 1 year

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April 16, 2023

I can be described as a bit of a control freak. In the way that I like to have control over every bit of my life as humanly possible. I feel most stressed when I feel that I lack considerable amounts of control. I wonder what my personal intersection of control and insecurity is? Those two must derive from some specific fears, some specific formative moments.

Jennifer Morrison’s character in House is so different from Emma Swan in Once Upon A Time. Emma Swan had that toughness, that red leather jacket. Dr Carmody comes off as so much more bright-eyed (and she wears vests lol). Actors man. The thing is though, I straight-up dislike boss-subordinate romance thing in most cases, this one being no exception. Idk, it’s just weird to me.

Also as entertaining as it is to watch a doctor with no bedside manner who ends up being correct about everything and saving the day in the end, I would hate to have him as a doctor or mentor tbh. I am way too sensitive to go through that kind of nonsense. But it is interesting--something I learned in a writing workshop is that people will follow a character (I’d even stretch to say this applies to celebrities who almost seem like characters with the way “we” fictionalize them) who is good at what they do even if they are unlikeable. Don’t remember the reason though.

I got my grade back for stats and did significantly better than the first midterm which is wild because the content was a lot more difficult and I studied significantly less :/ I’m (obviously) not upset about the grade, I am learning things (and enjoying it a lot! I’m actually looking forward to graduate level stats), I just think it’s funny. Continues to validate my bad habits, though.

I once again feel compelled to complain about my status as an emotional booty call with my saxophone-... friend. Literally the relationships/friendships that I dislike the most have to be the ones where the other person only calls/texts me when they’re sad or upset. It’s not even that I don’t want to be there when my friends feel down. It’s not even that I expect “50-50″ in a friendship at all times. I fully recognize that friends will need more support through difficult times and that a person’s life has high and low points for varying lengths of time. But friends are there for each other. If someone doesn’t reciprocate an interest in my life, I check out. I lose interest when they only reach out to me to complain about their own lives and almost never when they just want to hang out, no story attached. And I feel bad for passively accepting the role of an emotional booty call wen I have minimized my investment in the person, but I also don’t put any effort to continue the relationship, so that person fully has an out if they ever decide that me not ever texting them first isn’t something they can put up with in a friend. But until then, I open my ears, reassure them that their feelings are valid, smiling the whole way through, then come here to huff and haw.

Anyway. I’ve gotta get back to “writing” (more like formatting (and finishing!!)) what is essentially an undergraduate thesis but due to the circumstances of my research it cannot be officially deemed to be such a thing. Good thing is, it’s a relatively simple project. Another good thing, after the two presentations I’ve got coming up for it in a week and a half, I should be completely done with it. Thankful for that. Lowkey wish I didn’t have to travel again this week. I feel extremely thankful for the opportunity, but I’m also incredibly exhausted. Much more than I thought I’d be toward the end of my “easy” last semester.

Today I’m thankful... that there’s only a month left. Less than a month, really.

Goal of being in bed by 2 am.

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pluralismajestatis · 1 year

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Stuff and things. We haven't been writing in a bit, and I don't know if it's because brain empty no thoughts or because we've been busy otherwise or what, but there's a whole backlog of shit that's tiring and depressing and it's kind of hitting T hard. He seems to be the guy who's hoarding all of the mental illness we had before our DID diagnosis, and I think it's unfair to leave him to deal with it, blaming himself for what's going on with him. He's not bringing us down, we're placing all of the weight of everything the rest of us are blissfully unbothered by on him. And it's a long list, so let's start with something.

First - that fucking Canadian law. Never had a decision made on the literal other end of the globe hit us so hard and make us feel so hopeless on sight. We first heard of it some months ago on Reddit, which is the shittiest place on earth to be first hearing about anything on, mainly because its userbase consists of unrepenting voluntary sociopaths. (Something's climbing the cabin's wall. Sounds like a magpie but might be a squirrel. We're holed away someplace a stone's throw away from the Russian border in the arctic circle. It's atmospheric. Coincidentally also where T first became aware of being here, since I was talking about him earlier. None of this has anything to do with the euthanasia law, but suddenly hearing something scraping against your hut's outside wall is like, okay, cool, WHAT IS THAT?)

So yeah, Reddit. Knee-jerk reaction. Wrote in disbelief; this is unethical. This is not right. Suicidal ideation is such a common symptom in mental illness it's literally right there in most of the diagnostic manual entries. Literally right there, and now you're saying that instead of treating the people who experience common symptoms of mental illness, you're just going to kill them instead? How is that not eugenics? How is that not genocide? (It is.)

Got hit by a wave of forementioned Reddit cynicists. "You're the real monster," we're told. "You're denying people their right to end their suffering."

Brother - and I use this word with the utmost disrespect in my tone - I am these people. You might perceive that from just the way I mostly referred to myself as "we" in the text so far, but let me specify: we have been suffering of treatment-resistant, delibilitating, excruciating severe mental illness since we were children. We were neurodivergent before puberty and that was difficult enough, but by the time we started school, our father had turned into a violent monster who took his anger out on us, a child of 7 years old, while unemployed and our mother worked 8 to 4 every day. Sometimes she was out on business trips that took a week or maybe even two. She'd ask for her friends to babysit us, and they'd ask her why not just trust our father? She told them he had violent rages, they told her they couldn't believe that about such a nice guy, but because they were her friends, they'd do what she needed of them. Nobody ever believed us.

There's more than that, obviously. Not the point of this story. When we turned 11, our homeroom teacher responsible for most of our classes and all education outside of subject classes, had to take leave due to breast cancer. She was replaced by the meanest, most hateful bitch I've ever met. She targeted us because we weren't normal and she could smell it from miles away. By the second half of the semester, we would sit in our dark closet crying and wanting to die. We stopped doing our homework, and once that routine was gone, we could never pick it up again. By 12 years old, though she was gone by then, replaced by a creepy old guy who liked massaging the shoulders of girls while rocking into their desks with his hips and would make "checks" of the girls' showers after gym, we no longer could attend half of the semester at all. That period of unattending became longer and longer with each passing year, to the point where we'd go to school after summer vacation for about one month, and then drop out again.

We got placed in a group home, severing the last remaining friendships and connections we had at home, and leaving us in the middle of people with genuine behavioural issues and frequent clashes with the law, while our only problem was that we were desperate and could not keep up with routine.

We never did get better. A year after that ended, we entered voluntary hospitalisation for two months. The staff proceeded to ignore us, we were never even given our permission slip to exit the ward even though at the point where we were doing so poorly we demanded to cut the stay short, they wanted to act like it had been known all of the time that we didn't have to stay indoors under supervision. Guess what? Our name was not on the permission slip. Our mother made them check. The head psychiatrist of the ward was another insane control freak, I don't want to talk about her. Her deal was humiliation and arrogance, and her parting words to us "I'll see you back in a couple weeks when you're carried back here in an ambulance wearing a straitjacket." (She did not, in fact, see us back ever again.)

We moved out from home at 18, because living with our mother was impossible. She's never understood what mental illness means and cannot stand our neurodivergency. For just short of ten years from there, we were outpatients living on partial everyday assistance; we had an attendee from the social services who'd help us buy groceries, attend our appointments, and occasionally clean up the house though most the time we were too depressed to move a muscle if we didn't have to.

In 2016, we had a psychotic episode that didn't just go away like the prior ones had. I don't actually have much memories from any of our twenties, but they were miserable; we were either constantly in a permanent state of existential fear of our own impending death, or trying to hurry it along through suicidal fits and overdoses and self-harm. We were (mis)diagnosed with BPD around 27, after similar misdiagnoses of bipolar disorder earlier. The gist was that nobody knew what to do with us, and nobody was actually invested enough to figure it out. Our psychiatric contacts - doctors, nurses - dropped us on a yearly basis. The period of establishing trust got longer and longer each time, to the point where when they'd leave, we hadn't started to feel comfortable working with them yet. Constant abandonment, constant giving up, constant "you can't be helped." The years between our 25 and 29 were more or less spent trying to get a consensus on whether insurance would cover "real" talk therapy for us or not; every time one person told us to apply for it, the next person would tell us it was pointless because we were too ill to be approved, and would have to cover the whole cost ourselves, which obviously living on disability payments was not physically possible.

This all ended at the bend of 29 to 30, when we coincidentally met someone we for the first time told about our dissociative symptoms. They urged us to look into it more, which we did, and it immediately became glaringly obvious that the symptoms we'd obsessively protected and never uttered a word about in fear of some catastrophe or divine punishment raining down on us were actually clinically so significant that we needed help not yesterday, but decades ago. As a result, after failing to put us into involuntary care, our clinic kicked us out as untreatable, with nothing but a list of therapists to contact.

None of whom were dissociation specialists, and none of whom were taking patients, and only few of whom were covered by insurance to begin with, that is, if insurance would have ever even covered us to begin with. Again, untreatable. Turning to our mother, we hopped continents, got a trauma/dissociation specialist from the United fucking States of America instead, and with some cooperation between her and our local psychiatric unit (as they were ending our patientship with them) finally reached a consensus on what was actually wrong with us. Not BPD, which was scrapped, but DID.

So, how does any of this relate to Canada, and Canada's eugenics laws? Have you heard already about the patients who are recommended assisted suicide by their "care" teams? Do you see what I'm implying here?

This fucking disaster of a law is a glaring reminder that no matter the fact that we're doing better - marginally, not good enough to be anything but disabled, but still better than ever - we'd still be on the chopping block here? Not only do we have a disorder that the psychiatric world is inherently biased against and fearful towards, that most of it doesn't even want to try to understand, we are and have already been a lost case since childhood. There's no full recovery for us. There's no return to baseline functioning. Even as we are now, we are so vulnerable, teetering on the sharpest of edges, that it would be more of a surprise if, given the opportunity, our health "care" professionals wouldn't try to convince us into "assisted suicide."

It's the starkest of reminders that the world does not care about us, that we're treated and seen as nothing but burdens, that society wants us dead for reasons ranging from saving money to discomfort and embarrasment and fear.

How can you even keep trying to be better with that knowledge? Every time we open up about it, there's some self-appointed devil's advocate ready to ask us if it really wouldn't just be better, if we wouldn't actually be happier if we could just die. Not if they'd be happier if we'd just die, making their world more comfortable to live in as they don't have to contend with the concept of sick and injured people - but if we don't actually, secretly, still just want to be dead. And if we don't want to die then that's selfish; selfish because we're draining society's money, selfish because we're denying other people the right to be murdered by doctors who supposedly swore an oath to never do harm, selfish because we don't let them feel the self-assured comfort of being the good guy who lets the unfit to live take their own lives.

Suicidal ideation used to be a serious symptom that meant the patient was crying for help, crying to be seen, crying out to have people notice and care and show them that they're not alone and that there's always hope, someone who'll take their hand and help them walk forwards.

Now, apparently, this fascist shitshow of a society has decided that it's actually just the patient rationally showing that they agree with the mainstream view of it being better for everybody if they just died off.

And you want me to be okay with this? Just go on like it's fine? Just act like this isn't personal? Just accept that not only should I let other people be killed, but that I, and everyone else in this fucked up little head of mine, would actually be better off dead ourselves?

I have no fucking words left.

#assisted suicide #canada eugenics law #dissociative identity disorder #did #if you come here to tell me how I'm wrong I'm literally not only blocking you on sight #but I will crawl from underneath your bed at night and shove your fucking pillow so far down your throat #that the people who find your corpse will see it peeking out of your asshole #d post #legal disclaimer: despite being a wholly disembodied entity #I am not in reality capable of crawling out from underneath the beds of strangers #nor am I capable of shoving pillows down people's mouths as pillows tend to be large and mouths rather small

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schrijverr · 2 years

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Signing Up For Some Gay-Shit

Janie has professor Hale, who won’t shut up about his husband. She herself is trying to find the nerve to ask out Amishi, who is friends with a clumsy student named Stiles. Somehow, those overlap.

On AO3.

Ships: Sterek and lesbian OCs

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Professor Hale is one of the most popular teachers on campus. He is smart, friendly, serious and incredibly handsome. His classes are continuously full with people, who signed on for his looks and are passing due to his teaching.

However, Professor Hale is most famous for getting distracted from his own study program – which he sticks to religiously – when asked about his husband.

Janie signed up after recommendation of her brother, who told her Professor Hale is a good teacher ‘despite the gay-shit.’ Seeing that Janie is also a bit of gay-shit herself, something her brother doesn’t know, she signed up immediately. Getting hope for the future as a queer person as well as a good lecturer, hell yeah.

But she hadn’t expected it to be quite so much.

The words ‘my husband’ have been spoken so many times, not even three weeks into the semester, that she can still hear them when she goes to bed. She also knows so much about this mystery man that she almost starts to question if she’s straight with how convincing Professor Hale is about his strong points.

She still learns so much about mythic history, but every lecture is peppered with comments like: “My husband and I once went to an Aztec temple. It was quite the adventure, if you want to call it that, perhaps nightmare is more apt,” or, “Don’t get my husband started on folklore based mythologies.”

Professor Hale never mentions his husband’s name, but outside of that, everything seems to be fair game to tell the class about.

Many people there have noted about how cute it is among each other and most study sessions Janie has attended are more gossip gatherings to try and piece together what sort of person this infamous husband is.

The current main theories are that he is 1) incredibly smart and probably sophisticated, another professor maybe one in history or religions as well, one that is more private. 2) a charismatic and smart – because the amounts of times professor Hale has called his husband smart is too many – actor or famous person, which is why they keep it on the down-low.

Janie thinks it’s ridiculous to theorize about their professor’s relationship, but it’s better than hearing the poetry about his eyes. She gets it on an aesthetic level, but sometimes she’s more concerned about her classmates, honestly.

Today they’re in the middle of the lecture when a phone starts to ring. All immediately look around, because everyone knows that professor Hale does not allow phones in class, only to whip their head around in surprise when they hear professor Hale pick up with: “What’s happening? Are you all okay?”

“Yes, of course I’m opening with that, you fucking dumbass,” professor Hale hisses into the phone as a reply to whoever just called. “You never call during my lectures, of course I’m going to think something is wrong.”

A beat, then an eyeroll. “Yes, I am in a lecture. So, fill me in.”

“No, you’re not hanging up after you called me just because I’m in a lecture. You’re explaining right now. Or I’m leaving them here and coming to you. Don’t think I won’t be able to find you if I need to.”

After a moment, professor Hale leans against his desk with a smug: “Good,” as he settles in to listen.

Janie’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. That’s not exactly a conversation she has ever had with anyone. She has never picked up the phone expecting the other person to be hurt or in trouble and a new spark of curiosity goes through her as she watches her professor.

As the person on the other side talks professor Hale’s face goes through a slew of emotions. The smug expression melts away for concern, before he frowns in confusion, finally ending on an exasperated yet fond look.

When he finally hangs up, it’s with a soft: “Good to hear, I’m glad. See you tonight. Love you.”

Those words cause a ripple of noise to go through the students assembled in the lecture hall as they all suddenly realize that the person who had called was professor Hale’s husband himself.

Professor Hale looks up at all of them at that point, like he had forgotten about the hall of 200 students, who have been watching his every move since the start of the semester in hopes of gathering the credit they need.

“Is everything alright, professor Hale?” Amishi asks, breaking through the chatter with the genuine kindness and concern Janie loves about her. Not that she has ever scrounged up the courage to talk to her yet.

It seems professor Hale also knows she is a good person, because he smiles kindly at her and assures them all: “Everything is fine. Apologies for that. My husband and friends have a habit of getting themselves in trouble, but no need to bail them out today.”

The last part is said like he’s joking, but there is still a small pause, before people laugh. He is a bit too casual about it and Janie can feel old theories being discarded and new ones being cooked up all around her.

Picking up on the vibe shifting in the room, professor Hales clears his throat, before moving on with his lecture.

That week, Janie gets into study group with Amishi. Nervously she sits besides the other girl, tucking her hair behind her ear as she softly says: “Hi, uhm, Janie. We share mythic history, I, uh, I could use some help with the whole folklore bit and you always seem to take good notes.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she shuffles to the side to make room for Janie. “Come sit. I’m Amishi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Janie says, as if she hasn’t long since gotten the name and major from a friend before now. “I do history, so this course is adding to cultural understanding and stuff. Why are you taking it?”

“I do criminology,” she smiles. “I might want to go into behavior or cult murders. This is for me to get a bit of a background on everything.”

“That’s so cool,” Janie gushes a bit, happy to see Amishi duck her head slightly, pleased grin on her face.

Then they delve into the coursework, Janie mentally fistpumping at the easy camaraderie with the other girl. After a while they’re properly distracted from the work again, talking about their own courses and gossip going around.

“I think professor Hale’s husband must be law, or secret service or something,” Amishi declares. “I mean, why else would he pick up like that. Or be available in his own classes – which he hates – unless he doesn’t want to miss a call from his lover, near peril each day.”

Janie snorts: “That’s a bit dramatic, but I suppose. However, professor Hale always says how clumsy he is, don’t think that’s good in combat.”

“True,” Amishi gives in, before saying, “God, I have the clumsiest guy in my courses, it’s hilarious. First day he tripped over his own feet and spilled his coffee all over himself, then moments later he spat his water everywhere.”

“Quite a feat,” Janie giggles.

“Yeah,” Amishi agrees, encouraged by her reaction. “Last week he was late and full on sprinted against the closed door, while the other was open. He still has a bruise on his jaw, poor kid. But I wouldn’t trust Stiles with a gun, not for a second.”

“What kind of name is Stiles?” Janie can’t help, but ask.

“I don’t know, but he chose it himself,” Amishi shrugs. “Apparently he has a Polish name, knew he was being called on when the professor started to hesitate, I can relate to that.”

“Yeah…” Janie nods. “Does he at least have style to go with the name?”

“No, not at all,” Amishi laughs and they’re off talking again.

The next lecture of professor Hale Janie sits next to Amishi, trying to ignore the fact that the professor had quirked his brow at her, before giving her a knowing look. Her blush in response has probably given her away, but Amishi didn’t notice, so the slow wooing plan is still in motion.

Though wooing plans have to be put on hold for professor Hale’s lecture. Janie likes his lectures, so she takes her notes, even if they’re not color coded and neat like Amishi’s.

It’s nice, kind of peaceful.

A few lectures later that changes. Professor Hale is late and he is never later. So when they’re all seated and he’s not there, murmurs start to go through the crowd. Someone is just yelling that they’re allowed to leave after fifteen minutes when professor Hale bursts through the door, suspiciously not out of breath for someone who has obviously been running.

“I’m sorry guys,” professor Hale says as he starts setting up. “There was a bit of a hiccup this morning.”

He looks suitably disheveled. His hair is not in its perfect shape, mused on one side, which he is trying to tame as he taps on his laptop to set up his powerpoint. However, something else catches Janie’s attention and before she’s aware she has exclaimed: “Is that blood on your shirt?”

Professor Hale looks a bit startled at her words, but she is more focused on the dark splotches on the gray shirt. Why the hell is he late?!? Secret service is suddenly not so crazy.

“Oh, uhm,” professor Hale looks at his shirt, before looking a bit sheepish and apologetic as he says: “Sorry for that, my husband tripped this morning, had a horrible nosebleed.” No one sees how he nearly laughs at that, a memory of cousin Miguel coming to the surface. “It’s why I’m late.”

“Is he alright?” Amishi asks.

“He’s fine, thank god,” professor Hale answers, genuinely. “His clumsiness makes more appearances than I’d like, honestly. I worry when he’s not in sight. Always seems to get himself in trouble. All his brainpower goes into his smarts, not his movement.” Okay, maybe not secret service.

That earns the professor some coos, from those who find his worried protectiveness adorable, before he manages to start his lecture. He gets them back on track pretty well, despite the jerky start.

Once the lecture is done, Janie packs up, walking out with Amishi discussing when to hang out to compare notes, something Janie hopes to turn into a date one of these days. But before she can scrounge up the courage, they’re nearly bowled over by a loud blur.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry, I did not see you there. Like, I was going and suddenly you were there, which is not an excuse, so sorry. Truly, sorry- Oh, hey Amishi,” the blur rambles as Janie blinks until a lanky young man comes into view.

“Hey Stiles,” Amishi sighs fondly as she allows the other to help her up.

Then Amishi helps Janie up as she reconciles the young man in front of her with the klutz from her courses Amishi told her about. She can definitely see the clumsy and the lack of fashion with the horridly clashing flannel and shirt combo he’s wearing.

“Hey, again, I’m so sorry,” Stiles says, wincing. He has a bruise on his face and a cut on his hand, which he probably got in another incident like this.

“It’s alright,” Janie smiles awkwardly at him. “We’re fine.”

“Thank god, won’t be a good look, going around mowing down my fellow students,” Stiles grins. “I’m Stiles Stilinski by the way.”

“Janie, Janie Paulson,” Janie replies, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Stiles grins. “Amishi told me about you. Said you were chill.”

“She did?” Janie can’t help but ask.

Amishi elbows Stiles, who swiftly changes topics before Janie can pry further. “You’re talking the mythic history course? That’s awesome! I wanted to take it too, but my friends convinced me it was a bad idea.”

“Why would it be a bad idea?” Amishi asks

“Oh, I have an overactive imagination,” Stiles tells them brightly. “I would probably start seeing that stuff everywhere once I get into it.”

None of them hear professor Hale snort in the empty classroom behind them. While Amishi deadpans: “You literally look at crime scene photos all day.”

“It’s different,” Stiles shrugs. “Anyway, I was on my way before I so graciously bowled you two lovely ladies over, so I’m going to leave you two to it. It was nice meeting you, Janie!”

“Yeah, you too,” Janie manages to call after him, before he disappears with more movement and some curses. She turns to Amishi and raises a brow.

Amishi says: “Well, that was Stiles.”

“Interesting character. Seems nice,” Janie grins.

“He is when he’s not being a fucking idiot,” Amishi tells her. “Come on, lets do coffee and discuss all of this, because I’m never keeping these names straight.”

“Hell yeah,” Janie follows after her, because this sounds close to a coffee date and with Stiles’ words, she might actually have a chance.

They get their coffee at the local coffee shop that they both love. It has these dark green walls and plants everywhere, giving it the perfect study vibes. Janie treats herself to a brownie, while Amishi decides to get a cookie.

At first they actually focus on their work, but Amishi is better with the names than she led Janie to believe and it’s fresh enough on their mind that revising isn’t really useful. Neither of them comments on that, however, instead letting their conversation drift along.

“How did you hear about professor Hale’s class?” Amishi asks, conversationally.

“Oh, my brother said he as good despite the gay-shit and seeing that I am gay-shit myself, I decided I had to check it out,” Janie shrugs, casually, while scanning Amishi’s face at the fact that she weaved that into conversation.

Amishi has never shown distaste surrounding professor Hale being married to a man, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. So when she says: “You’re gay?” in a surprised voice, Janie takes the plunge and hopes that’s a good reaction as she nods: “Yeah, bigass lesbian, that’s me.”

“Thank god!” Amishi says. “Sorry, that’s a weird reaction. I’m bi, but haven’t met many other queer students that I’ve clicked with, except Stiles. But Stiles has this whole intimidating friend group, so that never went anywhere.”

Okay, score! She has a chance. Janie grins and salutes: “Happy to be of service.”

“You’re an idiot,” Amishi tells her, pushing her over, though she is smiling and that’s enough for Janie, who stares at her for a moment. Amishi becomes a bit shy as she asks: “What?”

“Oh, uhm,” Janie realizes she has been staring. “You have something on your cheek. Wait, I got it,” she reaches out and softly wipes it away, never really breaking eye contact.

“Thanks,” Amishi says softly, looking down at her notes. She clears her throat: “So, names.”

They return to the work and Janie tries to decide if that was a moment, or just a friend thing as she steals glances at Amishi’s beautiful, dark and concentrated eyes.

She hasn’t figured it out when the next lecture rolls around and hasn’t had the chance to talk with Amishi again that week. A bit unsure, she slides into the seat next to her, relieved when she smiles at her.

Professor Hale then starts his lecture, however at some point he stops and says: “Do you guys mind if I eat real quick? I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning and my husband will skin me if I didn’t eat the food he packed me.”

That earns him some chuckles as everyone assures him it’s fine.

He then pulls out an honest to god paper bag, like they’re in some sort of movie. Pulling out the food, causes a pink paper to flutter to the ground. When he picks it up, Janie can clearly see it’s heart-shaped and whatever it says, makes professor Hale flush bright red in a way that Janie hadn’t known he could do.

“What do you think it says?” she whispers to Amishi.

“Probably how he can’t wait to be eaten like that sandwich,” Amishi jokes softly as professor Hale chokes on his food. Amishi comments: “I’m glad my skin doesn’t show blushing like that, damn.”

Janie inspects her own pale arms and grimaces, muttering: “Lucky.”

“Ahw, come on, can’t be that bad,” Amishi says. “Now your freckles show. It’s cute.”

And there goes Janie, flushing like an idiot as she says in a strangled voice: “Shut up.” Proceeding to nearly die as Amishi giggles at her.

In that time, professor Hale has quickly wolfed down his food and is resuming his lecture, the tips of his ears still red.

No one there can ever know the note read: I’m always safe with you, sourwolf, but you can’t protect me without proper nutrients. Let me take care of you like you care for me. I love you, Der-bear! ~Your lovely husband, if I do say so myself ;p

It’s so simple and so Stiles and Derek just loves him so much that he couldn’t help, but blushing at his sweet words. The words of his students, however, did not help, so now he is still teaching, slightly mortified over how soft words did more to him than anything explicit ever could.

Janie meanwhile, can’t meet Amishi’s eyes, taking her notes with a blush still painting her cheeks. It felt like a moment there and Amishi’s voice. God, her voice. No, focus! But her lips…

Yeah, it isn’t the most productive class for her.

Afterwards, she has calmed her fluttering heart enough to talk again and is chatting with Amishi, who says: “I’m going to a study group with a few people from criminology this Thursday. We have one hell class that only Stiles seems to get, but it’s mostly fun. It’s at Stacy’s Diner, you should come too.”

“Sure, sounds fun,” Janie says, then spots her brother yelling her name. She rolls her eyes and nods at them. “Sorry, an idiot is calling. I’ll see you there?”

“Alright! It starts at five,” Amishi tells her, before Janie takes off.

She eats lunch with her brother, mentally planning an outfit for a fucking study group of all things as she tries to convince herself that she should just make a move.

Thursday rolls around and Janie has put on her gayest nice outfit she can find. She doesn’t know if she’s more nervous about the people she doesn’t know, or about being around Amishi in this new context.

About the new people, she shouldn’t have worried, because when she arrives, the guy she recognizes as Stiles calls out: “Janie, hi! Sorry about running you over that one time. Promise I won’t do that again.”

To which another jeers: “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Stilinski.” Before turning to Janie and saying: “He has unintentionally hit everyone here at least once. Welcome to the club. I’m Cillian.”

“Janie,” she introduces herself as the others do the same.

Amishi is luckily there to pull her next to herself, before forcing her to order the strawberry milkshake, since it is the best every, apparently. Janie isn’t complaining, especially when she steals a sip, a bit of her lipstick remaining on the straw.

They’re working on police procedure in their courses right now and all have become constricted in the administration. Except Stiles, who proudly says: “My dad is the sheriff back home. Police procedure is my bitch.”

He gets a lot of eyerolls, but no one counters him and Janie gets a look at the smart side that Amishi told her about as he coaches everyone through the different forms. He is still animated, arms flying around as he talks, but he reworks his rambling way of talking to clear instructions.

Janie doesn’t get much of her own work done, but she doesn’t mind. She’s pretty up to date on her work and it’s much more fun to participate with the others, being even more clueless than them.

The group has just decided to take a break to eat some food, when a phone rings. Stiles is in the middle pushing a bunch of curly fries into his mouth as he dives for the phone, picking up: “Hey, sourwolf.”

He quickly chews to reply: “Yes, I’m eating let me live. I have that study group, remember? I was going to be nice and bestow my knowledge on the masses.”

That earns him some protests, which he ignores in favor of listening to whoever is on the line.

Janie sends Amishi a curious look, who explains: “His boyfriend. Won’t tell us much about him, which is highly frustrating, but he’s pretty whipped.”

She nods in reply, just as Stiles bemusedly exclaims: “Oh my god, are you for real! You need to learn to say no to Scott’s puppy dog eyes, this is ridiculous.” A beat. “Yes, you can hand the phone to him.”

There is a wait as the phone gets handed to this Scott person before Stiles says: “Scott, buddy, my man, my hombre. I know you want all the candy and shit for movie night, but you’re all going to get sick if you eat that much. Just listen to me and Derek.”

“No, I don’t care that you’re Mr. Leader-man,” Stiles sighs fondly at whatever is said. “Teeth are still dead matter, that isn’t just going to heal like that. And all of you hate the dentist, so do us all a favor and get a normal amount of snacks. Alright, dumbass?”

It appears that Scott gives in, because soon Stiles is grinning: “Good, now hand me back to my beloved Der-bear. I need my grumpy fix, before I get back to my courses.”

When he talks again, his voice is obviously different than when talking to Scott. It can only be described as filled with love, as he says: “Hi! Take care of them all, you hear me. And have fun, those grumpy eyebrows deserve a break every once in a while.”

He chuckles at whatever Derek says. Then smugly goes: “I am a delight and you love me.”

“Of course I love you too,” he smiles, practically melting as he says it. “I’ll see you tonight. And I expect cuddles. Bye, bye!”

After that it’s over.

Stiles looks back at all of them, seemingly not caring at all about the fact that they’re blatantly eavesdropping. “Sorry about that.” He doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest.

“So, how’s the boyfriend,” Cillain asks, leaning in like they’re gossiping.

Without blinking Stiles pushes his face away as he informs them: “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“I honestly don’t know why you keep saying that,” Amishi says. “You live together and share everything. How are you not dating? Can you hear yourself when you talk to him? Are you that oblivious?”

He raises a brow and says: “I’m not the oblivious one between us.” Somehow, making Janie feel like she’s being addressed.

“Whatever you say,” Amishi shrugs.

“Come on, man. You can’t keep doing the mysterious thing forever,” Cillian begs, before they can move on from the topic. “Why are you so set on being secretive about it when you obviously love bragging about it?”

“One, that is none of your business. Two, it’s because what we discussed about it,” Stiles says. “Now, lets get back to this. If we work quickly, I can catch the tail end of movie night. Hopefully before they’ve finished all the snacks.”

“How are you not dating again?” Cillian mutters, though he does drop it, before they get back to work.

Once everyone gets it, Stiles is out of there. He says a quick goodbye to all of them, before climbing out of the booth, tripping over himself.

“So, what’s the situation there?” Janie asks when he’s gone.

“He and this Derek guy live together and he’s obviously head over heels for him. By the sound of it, they’re as good as married, but Stiles insists he’s not his boyfriend,” Amishi explains.

“We know little to nothing about him and it’s so frustrating, because whoever he is, he has zero online presence,” Cillian complains. “We study criminology, we like mysteries. But this is getting too much.”

“That did sound like a relationship,” Janie agrees tentatively.

She is met with more agreement and a few groans, before the study group slowly dissolves with more and more people leaving until it’s just Janie and Amishi. For a moment, Janie thinks about confessing, remembering Stiles’ words about Amishi being the oblivious one, but instead she says: “I had fun. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Amishi replies. “Walk to the dorms together?”

“Sure.”

Soon the semester is drawing to a close and Janie knows that in a bit she and Amishi won’t be sharing a course anymore. That doesn’t mean they won’t see each other anymore, but if she doesn’t make a move they might grow apart. She knows all this, but it’s still too scary and she just needs another push, just something to make her believe it can work out.

She gets that push two lectures later. Professor Hale is in the middle of his lecture when the door bursts open as a whirlwind of motion comes in.

Everyone’s head whips to the noise. Usually when someone is late, they’ll try to subtly side in, but not this person. This person is loudly interrupting professor Hale’s class, mouth already running, before he’s close to the teacher.

“I’m so sorry about this, sourwolf. I swear I’m making it up to you, but this is incredibly important and I have no other choice,” the person says.

It’s only when Amishi whispers: “What the actual fuck,” in a heartfelt voice that Janie realizes the person is Stiles. Like study group, Amishi’s course mate, clumsy smart, Stiles.

“My beautiful and hard working loving girl broke down and I have that internship interview today, which I’m running late for, because Isaac had forgotten his scarf and came to get it, so I really, really need the keys to the Camaro if I wanna have a chance at making it,” Stiles explains.

And professor Hale, who hates being interrupted, drops his lecture to dig through his bag while Stiles bounces on his toes. As he searches, he says: “Isaac has a key, he could get in. You didn’t have to wait for him.”

“I know, but he sounded a bit upset over the phone, so I wanted to make sure he was okay,” Stiles replies.

“Is he alright?” professor Hale asks, before pulling out the car key out with a triumphant noise.

“Yeah, he had just finished his book. Who gave him one with a sad ending anyway?” Stiles tells him, before taking the keys. “Thanks so much, you’re my hero.”

“Probably Lydia,” professor Hale says, before pushing Stiles towards the door. “Now go kick ass in your interview.”

“I always do,” Stiles tells him, turning to plant a kiss on their professor’s cheek. “But a kiss for luck can’t hurt.”

“You’re an idiot,” professor Hale rolls his eyes, but obligingly kisses Stiles’ cheek. “Now go. You were running late, remember.”

“Ah, fuck,” Stiles exclaims, checking his watch, before sprinting away. “I love you, Der-bear. Don’t be a sourwolf. And eat vegetables for lunch!”

“Just go, Stiles,” professor Hale yells, exasperated yet so overtly fond. “And I love you too.” Then Stiles is gone and it’s just professor Hale and the students. He claps in his hands. “Sorry about that, guys. Now, where were we.”

“Is he really going to move on like nothing happened?” Janie questions out loud, only realizing how hard she said that when it pierces through the quiet.

“I can’t believe I never connected the dots,” Amishi exclaims. “Clumsy Stiles, who insists he isn’t dating Derek. Professor D. Hale. And we ran into him outside. How could I not have noticed. He’s married!”

Professor Hale blushes, especially when Janie’s comment gets more support and more people start saying things like Amishi. He quiets them down again. “I get it, it’s all very interesting, but I can assure you that nothing about my husband will be on the exam.”

“Could have fooled me with how much he talks about him,” Janie jokes to Amishi quietly, this time, though professor Hale flushes more.

“Look, I know you’re all curious, but there’s a reason we don’t tell people who we’re with on campus, so I’m going to continue with my lecture,” professor Hale says. “He’s worth it all and I don’t need rumors floating around when I would give my life for him. Alright.”

It is silent in the lecture hall. Everyone there can feel how much professor Hale means it all. He takes their silence as a yes and starts his lecture again.

Janie thinks about it. Professor Hale married to a student. It’s a big risk, especially when being gay as well. A lot of people can use it against them. It can be a danger.

‘He’s worth it all’

In their every interaction Janie has witnessed, unknowingly or not, she felt how much the two mean to each other. It’s beautiful how they found each other and Janie wants something like that for herself as well. But she won’t unless she takes a risk first.

She glances at Amishi, who just happens to meet her eye. Or maybe- maybe she’s been looking just like Janie has.

Professor Hale is still talking in the background, but Janie can’t focus on anything but Amishi in that moment. Slowly she reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Amishi’s ear, before smiling: “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“What?” Amishi squeaks, ducking her head.

Normally professor Hale is very strict about talking in class, but he doesn’t cut Janie off as she tells Amishi: “You’re breathtaking. I- uhm, I would love to take you to dinner sometime, if you’d like that?”

“Oh,” the shocked ‘O’ on Amishi’s face very kissable, though Janie restrains herself. It’s not really a huge hardship when it turns into a blinding smile: “I’d love to.”

Janie smiles back, before focusing back on the lecture, though not before linking hands with Amishi, refusing to let go the entire time.

Yeah, some risks are worth it and she is so glad for signing up for some gay-shit.

A/N:

I have always wanted to write one of these fics, like every year without fail I go down a rabbit hole and this time I am finally free of my cringe phase and doing whatever the fuck I want, so Teen Wolf fic in 2022 baby

Btw, ngl, the lesbian subplot took over my brain bc I am a bigass lesbian, rip to Sterek fans, we’re in this now (though there was a tie in! Go me, writing my actual fic lmao)

#RR writing #the lesbians distracted me #but that's beside the point #OCs #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles x derek #derek hale #sterek #college student! Stiles #professor!Derek Hale #teen wolf fanfiction #outsiders pov

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