#Aimless Wardrobe Syndrome

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

WORM OC WORM OC WORM OC

his civilian identity is Wyatt Burns!!! he was an accomplished cruiserweight pro boxer with a promising career. after six years of gaining notoriety, he was finally invited to an IBF titlefight, and went out drinking to celebrate - only for an intense brawl to break out between two men playing pool, which quickly spiraled out to include the whole bar. he held his own for a short while but eventually received severe injuries, including several bone fractures.

he was given a two-month recovery time, long enough to lose his shot at the IBF title. worse, even after the bones had healed, the aching, burning, and soreness that had accompanied the fractures did not, and he was diagnosed with chronic pain syndrome with no apparent cause. the physical pain only compounded his worries - the shame of having been so badly overpowered by untrained strangers, the hopelessness following losing his career as a pro boxer, the aimlessness he had felt during those two months of recovery, the financial stress of suddenly becoming physically disabled and no longer having a job or any transferable skills, and the frustration that what had brought him so low was something as simple as pain which he thought he should be able to push past. the desperation brought him deep enough to cause him to trigger.

he is a breaker 4 (brute 3, mover 2, thinker 2.) his breaker state is not directly controlled by him; it begins as soon as he lands a close-quarters hit on someone else, or is hit BY somebody else in close range. it ends as soon as his mind or body no longer consider him to be "in a fight." while in his breaker state, he has enhanced strength, slightly enhanced speed and reflexes, and an innate understanding of the parts of human physiology that are involved in a fight, as well as the forces fundamental to fighting. this understanding allows him to land punches in a way that causes minimal injury to him and maximum injury to his opponent. finally, while in his breaker state, he has no pain response whatsoever (though he can still receive injuries and may change his fighting style to accommodate,) as well as having no emotional reactions. the downside is that when his breaker state ends, he experiences all of the pain and emotion at once, frequently bringing him to scream, fall down, drop to his knee, etc. following a fight.

his powers did not actually solve his problems. the pro boxing leagues refused to take him back as he would pose an unfair advantage. he took on the cape name Olympic and tried to make some headway in the parahuman prizefighting rings, but found them lacking both the reputation and money he was looking for - so he turned to mercenary work instead. he is... still relatively unsuccessful, but he's trying, okay

civilian appearance: mixed mediterranean-american, tan olive skintone, dark brown hair kept short, dark brown eyes. cheerful features. athletic build, fairly well-rounded with slightly above average emphasis put on shoulders, back, arms, and abs. civilian clothes are simple and he does not put much thought into it, though much of his wardrobe shows off his muscles.

costume: crimson exomis, low-cut to reveal much of his musculature. fastened at waist with brown leather zoster studded with bronze medals rather than with cloth belt. boots are a dark reddish-brown cross of the calceus and caligae, closed-toe and leather, fully covering foot like calceus, but with the caligae's hobnailing, and leather bands and laces that go further up the leg, to about a foot below the knee. reddish brown caestus worn on each hand/arm; thickest leather is from wrist to below knuckle, with cloth on inside as padding and bronze studs set into this region to increase damage done with hits. leather braces extend from caestus, criscrossing/wrapping around his arms all the way to the elbow. dark brown leather tainia just above browline keeps his hair in place and helps prevent sweat from obstructing his vision. no mask and does not make secret of his civilian identity.

#wormblr #parahumans #worm oc #wyatt burns

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier dark academia AU of my dreams (because writing these up keeps me sane; TLDR at the bottom because this escalated):

-Jaskier is so ready for college. Like, the readiest he's ever been for anything in his life. He couldn't wait to get out of his stuffy family home, away from his narrow-minded hometown, he is ready. He signs up for a Liberal Arts major, moves into a dorm, drinks his brains away during the first week. He makes an archnemesis, he makes friends, he live-documents the whole affair on Snapchat for his friend Triss who lives across the country, but is always with him in spirit. Life is good.

-Jaskier doesn't think twice when his roommate Zoltan invites him to come along to a party at the Kaer Morhen fraternity house because hello? Orientation week was last month, high time he goes to an actual frat party full of guys like wardrobes that eminate sexual self-assuredness and hopefully some sexual flexibility as well. He puts on his most revealing shirt and too tight jeans and joins Zoltan. The fraternity house is old, red-brick with sandstone pillars and iron-wrought gates which would seem rusty if not for the ivy that curls around them. It's chock-full with people of every kind of major and age, most of them drunk beyond reason by the time Jaskier and Zoltan arrive. Zoltan disappears in a tangle of rugby-players and leaves Jaskier to his own devices. He befriends a group of Archeology majors, their leader being a cute blond called Filavandrel, and they share a bottle of red wine, round and round. He meets his archnemesis, the one he spent all orientation week bickering about music with, Valdo or some nonsense, and they do tequila shots. It’s a nice party and Jaskier has the time of his life until he returns from the bathroom to find a god of a guy standing in the hallway.

-"Oh hello," Jaskier mutters under his breath. Before, his evening was aimless, he let the wave of the vibe take him wherever, let the alcohol blur the world around him. But now, he has an objective. And that objective stands all by his lonesome, scowling down the hallway. Man, does he brood well. Jaskier usually goes for people that are easy to read if some casual fun is what he has in mind -and it's not out of his mind just yet - but this guy intrigues him; there is more to him than simple dudebro-ness. He has shock-grey hair and startling amber eyes and seems to cast the longest shadow. Jaskier wants to ride him. Jaskier also wants to serenade him on a starlit wooden bridge and collect all the guy's deepest secrets and desires to keep under his pillow and draw divine inspiration from. Okay, that may be the Tequila shots talking. He scurries over to the bar, downs another two, then approaches the guy.

-"Hi," Jaskier says as he sidles up to him. The guy half-heartedly raises his beer in greeting.  Taciturn, dark, dramatic. Jaskier decides to go for it. "I absolutely adore the way you just stand here and brood." (Jaskier will only learn much much later that he accidentally used some weird Kaer Morhen frat code and set off a chain of events that changed his life forever). "Lamb," the guy calls out instead of answering, something that makes Jaskier think he's so far gone that he's actively hallucinating. But no, seconds later a guy with equally lush red hair and equally thick arms appears from the crowd. He wears a scowl which has Jaskier's throat tighten. "What is it, Wolf?" Wolf, huh? "Go collect Goat and Kitty-Cat. I found him." And Wolf-Guy grabs Jaskier by the back of the neck and hauls him through a door, down some stairs - is that marble? are those torches? GARGOYLES? - and into pitch blackness. Jaskier squeals. This is what he imagined when he dreamt of college. Well not exactly this, but close enough.

-They bind him with silk scarfs and put a blindfold over his eyes which, okay. Jaskier knows he shouldn't find this as sexy as he does, but he can't help it. He has no sense of self-preservation and this will just be the best of fuel for the first assignment in his screenwriting class. "Oh, this is fun," he murmurs when someone tugs off his boots and someone else smears a fatty paste onto his lips. It smells like... okay it smells lot like his uncle Matthew's pigsty. Weirdly disgusting. "Who are you guys anyway?"

-They don't speak at all that night, don't take off the blind-fold until way later. All night, Jaskier can hear them rustling around him, chanting in some language he doesn't understand. They give him several drinks, most of which honestly taste like asphalt, but make his insides go fuzzy. When the blindfold comes off eventually, Jaskier finds himself on the front-seat of a pick up truck, Wolf guy behind the wheel. They are parked behind the frat house. "Look, I don't think you're a suitable candidate. The guys all said they want to keep you, but my friend recognized you from the freshman introduction party and we usually only inaugurate sophomores." Jaskier blinks. He has absolutely no idea what's going in anymore. His friend Triss is probably worried sick because he hasn't checked in all evening. The faint taste of burned rubber clings to his lips and all Jaskier can think is: Fuck, is this man hot. "Go out with me," he blurts. "Go out with me, I'll show you how suitable I am."

-Over the course of a month's worth of introductions, preparation and inauguration traditions (which, among other things, have him dropped butt-naked in the middle of the forest, requiring him to find his way back to campus; have him spend more time learning long-dead languages than he is comfortbale with; have him getting thoroughly intimate with Eskel's (Goat) helper syndrome, Lambert (Lamb) and Aiden's (Kitty-Cat) ostentatiously loud fucking, Coen's (Hawk) frequent absences and Geralt's (Wolf) quiet, but passionate idealism) Jaskier learns the truth at the core of Kaer Morhen. It is more than a fraternity, it is a brotherhood of students that spend their free time in rituals to protect the college, its city, likely even the whole state from supernatural creatures that threaten to cross over into the world. The existence of these is no surprise to Jaskier who's come out of an adolescence of escapism and coping through fiction and song, but the fact that there are handsome tough guys who work to banish him is too much of a dream to be true. It is true. Unofficially, the call themselves Witchers. They catch wraiths in cricles of runes, they re-direct necrophages into Kaer Morhen's basement and slay them with blades of silver. They brew potions and cast minor spells to get rid of mutated insectoids. And Jaskier is to be one of them. They call him Lark.

-His first ritual goes bat-shit wrong. Jaskier is reasonably sure he did everything right, but the wraith doesn't stay contained after they bound it . "Fuck," Geralt growns after, pressing a cloth to the gaping wound in Jaskier's shoulder while they wait for Eskel to whip out the first aid kit. Jaskier shudders, can taste blood. "There shouldn't be fireflies here, right?" - "Ah, nope," Lambert says. He keeps snapping his fingers before Jaskier's eyes. "Hey, Lark, stay with us, okay?" - "He's fine," Aiden says, inspecting his nails. "If anything, it's Geralt we should be worried about. He's about to have a full blown panic attack." Geralt grunts and holds Jaskier closer.

-"Does this mean I can ask Priscilla to let me copy her homework," Jaskier asks later. He's in bed, bundled up in one of Kaer Morhen's bedrooms. Portraits of alumni line the wall and a hearth crackles away. Geralt sits next to the bed, a pretense-book on his lap. His eyes bore into Jaskier, wide, haunted. "Jask," he breathes out shakily. - "Hello, big guy. How are we doing?" - "Better now that you're awake. We... we had to call in Vesemir. He will want to talk to you." - "Alright, okay," Jaskier says. He knows who Vesemir is of course, but he has no idea what exactly his job entails or what having to talk to him means. "Geralt?" - "Hmm?" - "What did I do wrong?" - "Nothing. You were uncharacteristically precise... but it turns out I was right all along. You're not suited for this kind of work." - "Because I'm not big and buff like all of you?" Jaskier asks, pouting. Geralt has the audacity to laugh. But he also takes Jaskier's hands and kisses his knuckles and huh? What? Jaskier's brain short-circuits. Fuck when did he fall so hard for Geralt? "No, Jask, you're perfect. I mean, uh, ah, perfectly annoying." That bastard. "The wraith went crazy because it turns out you're an amplifier. That means supernatural creatures are pulled to you and can draw from you to manifest easier in our world. You wouldn't have noticed this unless you ever passed by a spot where the spheres overlap significantly. As it is, your participation in the ritual poses a danger." - "TLDR: I'm fired?" - "That's for Vesemir to decide... truth be told, I don't want you to go. But I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. Because of me, this." - "Go out with me, Geralt. Please. One coffee," Jaskier practically begs. Yes, his shoulder is minced meat and he feels exhausted from the blood loss but Geralt has never been this open and honest with him. "...fine."

-Jaskier heals up under the diligent care of his friends. Priscilla is allowed over too, practically drags him though his classes with tutoring and copies of her homework and sugar-coated emails to his various professors. Triss video-calls him three times a day. Eskel's med school expertise leaves Jaskier with the most neat scar he is ever going to get out of this, Lambert and Aiden hang out to play Gwent with him, a strange card game they invented and custom-painted, Coën even pops in to bring Jaskier his guitar and a venti Matcha Tea Latte even though the nearest Starbucks is miles away. Geralt... Geralt is there almost all the way. He sleeps in the chair at first, then - on Jaskier's stern insistence - in the bed with him, though careful to keep his distance. He helps Jaskier into the shower, something so strangely intimate without feeling innately sexual, he takes him out on slow walks. Geralt doesn't talk much, but Jaskier knows he feels responsible. It's fine. Sure. Absolutely fine. Jaskier is so far gone for this man by the time he moves back into his own dorm that he considers getting injured again just to have Geralt by his side. They never do go out for coffee.

-Vesemir doesn't so much invite Jaskier as have him called out of his choir session by a girl about Jaskier's age. She has the same hair color as Geralt and Jaskier thinks he's seen her around Kaer Morhen's bigger parties. "Hello, Jaskier," she says sweetly, but one look at her tells Jaskier she's deadlier than any of the frat boys. If his drunk memory serves correctly she also does a phenomenal keg stand. "Ves sends me to collect you." Which has Jaskier even more impressed with her. None of the boys dare to call him anything but Vesemir or Sir, even when he's not around. - "I've been expecting this," Jaskier says, shouldering his bag. The girl laughs and grabs his arm to guide him out of the building and across campus. - "You are cute," she says. "Geralt said so, but I thought that was just because he's so infatuated with you. I'm Ciri, by the way, his younger sister." Infatuated, huh? Jaskier has just enough brainspace left to save her name. Ciri. They will have to become very good friends. Infatuated.

-It turns out, Vesemir isn't half as scary as the boys made him out to be. He's closer to sixty than fifty, has a stern face, but a kindly voice and the first thing he does after dismissing Ciri with a meaningful glance is offer Jaskier a glass of whiskey. Jaskier sneaks a photograph of the bottle's label when Vesemir stands at the window and glances down at the campus, hands clasped behind his back. Triss will never believe this. It's the sort of alcohol that exists only in myth, at least to college students. "So, Mr. Pankratz. I'm afraid apologies are in order." - "Please, I prefer Jaskier." - "I know," Vesemir says and turns. "I would kindly ask you to delete that picture, my office and its contents fall under the terms of the non-disclosure agreement you signed when entering our brotherhood." Jaskier gulps heavily, the whiskey suddenly sour on his tongue. But he's quick to paste over a smile. He's gotten this far with the mysterious Kaer Morhen fraternity, he can pull all the way through. He deletes the picture. "Good," Vesemir says. "Now down to business." Vesemir gives him two options. Jaskier can consult a local magical artisan and have his memories of Kaer Morhen's true purpose removed. It is an easy procedure, won't cost him anything. Except for his new-found friends and the love he feels for Geralt. Except for the only place he's ever truly felt at home. Jaskier chooses the latter option which is to become the fraternity's chronicler.

-After that, things are supposed to calm down and they do, for a bit. Geralt still dodges any and all attempts Jaskier makes at flirting even though it's evident his resolve is thinning out. Jaskier observes and documents the rituals, begins to collect old notebooks. He's planning to go above and beyond his job and compile a comprehensive history of Kaer Morhen and its members before he's graduated. He may not be able to partake in the rituals or help the guys protect this city from monsters, but he can play his part. Leave behind a legacy.

-Between that and his normal studies, hanging out with his theater group, meeting Triss on alternate weekends and throwing epic frat parties, all of Jaskier's time is consumed. There are several instances in which Geralt and him almost manage to have their coffee, but then they have Eskel on the phone because Lambert and Aiden managed to give themselves poisoning over a simple Endrega job, or Priscilla needs an emergency stand-in for her weekly performances at a local bar, or Jaskier is simply too tired and falls into bed, sleeping over Zoltan's aggressive snoring. Jaskier doesn't mind so much. They catch glimpses of intimacy, Geralt's hand on the small of his back as he guides him downstairs for another ritual, a good night kiss on the cheeks once it's done, a spot of quiet homework-doing in Kaer Morhen's common room together, their legs pressed close under the table. One of these days, Jaskier will find the courage to close the last bridge between them. He just wants to wait until Geralt seems absolutely comfortable with it.

-All is as well as can be until Vesemir comes up with an idea. Because more and more creatures have been getting through and they are unable to hold off all, he wants to capture one of them, an Archgriffin, to bind in their world and act as guardian against lesser creatures. "You're mad," Aiden says. "That's fucking brilliant." - "It's a good idea," Eskel and Coën agree. Lambert keeps exchanging grim glances with Geralt because they both know what this means. They will have to use Jaskier to lure the beast. Which is why they both protest the idea heavily and Geralt gets into a fight with Vesemir. Jaskier is not there for it, but Aiden and Lambert tell him later, once he's back from theatre rehearsal. He watches them fight over it too and then it's only him and Lambert. Jaskier steals one of Zoltan's bottles of spirits and they get stupidly drunk, wandering around campus all night until Eskel collects them and tucks them into bed at Kaer Morhen. "I will not stand to lose you," Lambert slurs, arm dragged over Jaskier's chest. "You're like, almost my best friend. Plus, Wolf would be devastated." - "Aiden seems to think it'll be fine," Jaskier says, snuggling up to Lambert. - "Yeah, fuck him." They fall asleep like that and the first thing Geralt does when he finds them is kick Lambert all the way down the stairs.

-In the end, Geralt and Lambert are outvoted, not that they can stop Vesemir. Geralt is more silent than usual throughout prep and Jaskier can't seem to cheer him up. He knows his life is likely on the line, but he wants to help so badly. These guys are his family after all. If he can make their lives a little easier by doing this... well, he wants to. He needs to. Being in Kaer Morhen is the first time he seems to have a purpose other than writing angsty teenage songs. Eskel keeps checking up on him. Vesemir writes preliminary excuses for all Jaskier's exams which leave him with only A's, something Priscilla does not appreciate in the slightest. Lambert and Aiden fight and fight and won't stop fighting over this whole affair until Jaskier sits them down and makes them talk. Geralt... remains quiet. Jaskier can tell he doesn't sleep. Can tell he rarely eats. He decides now is as good a time as ever.

-It's the night before and the others have all returned to their dorms, but Jaskier stayed in Kaer Morhen under the pretext of Zoltan having his girlfriend over, and Geralt rarely ever goes home. He has a flat off campus, but Jaskier suspects it's drab and lonely. He gets it. Kaer Morhen has soft fluffly beds and fire places and wards and books. Currently, it has the two of them, bundled up in one of the upstairs rooms. They share an armchair before a low fire, not an unusual sight for them, not anymore. And still, Geralt pretends they're just friends. It's ridiculous. "You know I'll be fine, right?" Jaskier says. He has his head tucked under Geralt's chin and has been humming show tunes under his breath for the last half hour, something that usually puts Geralt right to sleep. Not so now. "I can't know that," Geralt replies. He lifts Jaskier's hand which he's been holding and traces the veins on the back of it with his thumb. "You've no idea how dangerous the ritual is. Even more so with you being an amplifier." - "So protect me." - "I will. I promise, I will." - "Geralt, when are you going to finally give in?" Jaskier sighs and pulls back a little. Geralt stares at him, a little cross-eyed and Jaskier gives a shaky laugh. "I'm going to kiss you now. Pull back if you don't want to, but allow it and I'll never let you go." Geralt allows it, kisses back. It's the first night they indulge in a love that has been growing for almost a year and it's gloriously sweet, blazing, beautiful. It leaves Jaskier with faith that, even if things go sideways, Geralt will get them both out of it alive.

-The ritual goes well thanks to the Witchers' meticulous preparations, the dozen or so warding spells they put on Jaskier and Geralt's reflexes that save him from a swipe of the Griffin's claw. They bind the creature to one of the basement holding cells and celebrate with excessive amoutns of vodka and cake. "All is well that ends well, huh?" Jaskier asks from where he sits on Geralt's lap. Strong arms hold him and his chest is full of nightingales that flutter and sing. He watches Eskel drunkenly dance-offing with Coen in a corner, watches Lambert and Aiden make out in another. Vesemir took off, but Ciri is there, lounging next to them on the couch, nose buried in her phone. "I will never put you through such danger again," Geralt grunts, his nose buried in Jaskier's hair. "Of course, love." Jaskier relaxes into the embrace. All is well, though it is not nearly the end of this story.

-TLDR: Kaer Morhen is an occultist fraternity that keeps supernatural beings away from campus. Jaskier, unable to participate in the actual rituals due to a genetic predisposition, becomes their chronicler. Geralt worries a lot. Jaskier tries for the longest time to get him to go on a coffee date or something. Lambert and Aiden are a disaster couple. Eskel keeps them all together, literally and figuratively. Ciri is the one who got all the brain cells.

#witcher #the witcher #modern AU #dark academia AU #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #gerlion #geralt #jaskier #lambert #vesemir #eskel #aiden #coen #priscilla #zoltan #triss merigold #lambden #lambert x aiden #my writing #I just want someone to write this for me #novel length please #maybe I'll return to it one day #also greatly inspired by Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo #a fantastic novel #filavandrel #kaer morhen #college AU #headcanon #my geraskier dream AUs

[inxcs]

       medalion rahimi  ,  27  ,  she/her   ------   hey  ,  did i just see marnie taslimi around the block ?  oh  ! yes  !  the last time i saw her  ,  i heard she wanted to be called marnie  .  people around say they are so headstrong  &&  protective sometimes i wonder how they can be aimless  &&  abrasive .  (  sunny weather on a fall day  ,  sweating out your problems  ,  post-workout muscle aches  ,  worn-out letterman jackets  ,  dream pop  )

heyo  !  i’m deni  ,  she/her pronouns in the gmt+9 section of the world  .  i hate proofreading and don’t know how to use commas correctly  .  below is one of the characters i’m bringing  ,  MARNIE  ,  my favorite sporty gay  .  i have some info and verse-specific information beneath but have a habit of updating  ,  adding and changing as i go  .  looking forward to writing with you  <3  !

☀  𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 .

➤  full name.  marnie taslimi ➤  date of birth.  april 1st ➤  hometown.  multiville ➤  gender.  cis female ➤  sexual attraction.  lesbian ➤  romantic attraction.  lesbian ➤  wants.  excitement  ,  a dream ➤  fears.  failure  ,  metaphorical disintegration

       universal facts.  sporty as fuck ------ softball  ,  skateboard  ,  streetball  ,  parkouring off anything  ,  basketball and biking  .  fit for the gods despite a steady diet of ramen and pizza  .  claims to like horror movies but a total schmaltzy indie snob  .  only has a twitter account for the memes and an insta for skateboarding videos  .  mix of a jock and punk  .  warped tour t-shirt and silky gym shorts  .  wants to be a beer snob but on a strict bud light budget  .  abides by a strict bed by 11 PM clock even if she’s tried to bump it a hundred times before  .  likes wearing makeup but is running late half the time  (  does she even know how to tell time ?  who knows  )  loves kids and is pretty good with them  .  squeals every-time she sees a playground  .  will kick your ass at anything competitive  .  only wears sports bras  .  read half the communist manifesto in college and thinks she’s a marxist  .  used to be a punk rock fan but her playlist is mostly indie pop and gal grunge now  .  really needs to wash her face but her room is spotless  .  gay as fuck and open about it --- parents are chill  ,  gets onto her more for her shitty eating habits than who she’s bringing home  .  will fight you  .  really needs a good cuddle  .  favorite past time  ? dancing around her room  .

       personality.   wants to do anything she sets her mind to and takes losing terribly  .  a little brash  ,  especially to people she’s just met  .  sociable  ,  but not exactly friendly  .  it takes a lot for her to come to trust someone  ,  but when it happens she’s loyal and protective AF  .  still talks to friends she has for years even if she doesn’t really like them anymore  .  speaks her mind  ,  often times saying the first thing that comes to her head  .  blunt and a little demanding  ,  quick to order people around and assume control of a situation  .  big leadership energy  .  she thinks  .  tends to pick up skills fast with a determined scrunch of her brow and a lot of sweat  .  pours herself into new hobbies and activities with an incredible amount of focus  ,  so when she isn’t good at something  ,  like  immediately she gets --- weird  .  pretends to brush off stuff with a shrug but takes a lot of criticism and failure to heart  .

       appearance.  5′6 but she feels taller  .  big  ,  bushy curls she maintains with argon oil and nights spent wrestling with a comb  .  throws it up in a bun or low in pigtails most of the time  .  closet is super simple --- jeans and a bunch of t-shirts  .  athletic wear  ,  sports jerseys  ,  sweatpants  .  thinks throwing on a vintage denim jacket dresses up an outfit  .  bites her nails  ,  but her favorite neighbor keeps painting them  .  polish stays chipped  ,  but at least the skin’s moisturized  .  no tattoos  ,  only has a piercing in each ear because she dreamed of gauges back in high school  .  posture is impeccable until she’s at work and then it’s like the whole world’s grinding her down  .  sneakers stay scuffed  ,  white space drawn in with markers and sharpies from when her co-workers get bored  .  socks are always matched  ,  clothes clean because she actually likes doing laundry  ??  never switches out her wardrobe from season to season  .  half of what she wears doubles as pajamas  .

☀  𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄 .

  ⇀   medalion rahimi  ,  27  ,  she/her   ------   hey  ,  did i just see marnie taslimi around the block  ?  oh  !  yes  !  the last time i saw her  ,  i heard she wanted to be called marnie  .  i hear they are a supermarket cashier  .  people around town say they are so headstrong  &&  protective sometimes i wonder how they can be aimless  &&  abrasive  .  (  scuffed pair of converse  ,  big dreams on a dime store budget  ,  messy hair and pigtails  )

       about.  a skyline she’s seen a dozen damn times  .  roads she’s carved ruts into with two feet  ,  a bike and a skateboard  .  a swing in the park where she smoked her first cigarette and the warehouse where she broke her first girlfriend’s heart  .  familiar and weird  ,  isn’t it  ?  coming back home after swearing you couldn’t wait to leave  .   marnie talked a big game back in high school  ,  leaning into all those softball trophies in her bedroom after leading the local team to the state championships not one  ,  not two  ,  but three times  .  once a rising star  ,  something about a post-college funk made her fumble  .  scholarship nabbed  ,  eyes on a pro team next  .  mandatory minimums on a GPA she couldn’t keep up with  .  a shitstorm of deadlines  ,  essays and study hours made her head spin and she tried --- damn did she try --- but didn’t everyone deserve to have a little fun  ?  burnout came fast and hard  .  imposter syndrome a thunderfuck of feelings she couldn’t handle  .  what became a tentative gap year to get her head right’s become three  ,  four  ,  six years  .  recently  ,  marnie’s signed up for local community college classes in the hopes of easing back into the desolate wasteland that is academia  .  problem is  ---  what she’s supposed to do  ?  she’s just so goddamn bored  .  

#. development ⇀ marnie taslimi . #multivrseintro