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starlocked01 · 4 years

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Second Glances

AO3

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary: Roman has spent years making his aesthetic Gay TM and yet his soulmate's first impression of him is that he's straight. What has he done so horribly wrong? Nothing, but first impressions often are wrong.

Day 18 Prinxiety- Your Soulmate’s first impression of you is written on your skin somewhere

Damn it all the cute ones are straight

The mark appeared on Roman’s 18th birthday at midnight and frankly, he was mortified. He had been out and proud for the past two years and almost always had a rainbow flag somewhere on his person or belongings. How in the world could his soulmate get such an incorrect idea of him?

He interrogated all his friends at school to see if any of them had crushes on him and had thought he was straight but with no luck. Apparently they all had better gaydar than his soulmate.

Roman didn't have much time to worry about soulmates though because in just a few weeks he and his twin were moving into the dorms for freshman year of college. They packed up their entire room and wondered what their roommates would be like.

"I don't know Ro, what if they don't accept me or get uncomfortable with me?" Remus ran his fingers through his hair. He'd been growing it out almost a year now.

"Then I will kick their ass and get you a new roommate. Simple," Roman reassured Remus.

"Heh, thanks Ro," Remus smiled, still visibly nervous.

Roman grinned, "no one hurts my sibling and gets away with it."

On move-in day everything was a whirlwind. The car was packed past full and Roman was a ball of nervous energy.

"Remus, are you ready?" he called up the stairs.

"It's Renee today!" she called back down, appearing at the top of the stairs.

"Oops! My bad. Ready to go, sis?" Roman smiled broadly as she walked down, fussing with her skirt.

"Yeah!"

"Let's go! College here we come!"

Renee was unusually quiet during the drive. Roman spared as many glances away from the road as he could.

"You okay, hon?" He asked gently.

She nodded slowly, "are you sure I won't get funny looks during move in? Should I change into something masc before we get there?"

"No, you will do no such thing. It's a co-ed dorm, Ren. And I'm literally right down the hall," Roman shook his head.

Renee glanced down at her palm, "do you think I'll meet my soulmate today? I mean there's gonna be a lot of people there and it is a fem day…"

Roman smiled, "anything is possible, sis. Just keep being your beautiful self."

Thoughts of soulmates reminded Roman of his own frustrating mark. He kinda wondered what his soulmate’s mark said. Guess he'd think it sooner or later.

After the slightest confusion at sign in, he and Renee were ready to move into their dorm rooms. He decided to help Renee with her stuff first (and to make sure any roommate would know who they had to answer to). They were carrying in their first boxes and found her roommate already unpacked and chilling out at a desk with a book on existential philosophers.

The boy looked up and Roman and smiled extending a hand as he and Renee set down their boxes, "you must be Remus. I'm Janus. Nice to meet you."

Roman glared and opened his mouth to reprimand Janus but Renee spoke up first, "actually, I'm Renee!" she took Janus’ hand and shook it, "Remus is my legal name."

"Oh. Oh, my apologies! You would think I would know not to assume," Janus laughed uncomfortably, "sorry, Renee. It's charming to meet you."

"I'm Roman, her twin brother," Roman's mouth twitched. He was ready to cause a scene if things went south.

"Well, actually this is rather fortunate," Janus looked between the two twins, "I get the feeling you two will be understanding. I'm nonbinary and go by sie/sier pronouns. Again, I apologize for assuming. I hope we can get off on a better second impression."

Renee giggled, "that's so cool! I'm actually genderfluid. We can talk more later though, Roman and I still have to unpack all his stuff too."

Roman sighed in relief and turned to go get the next load of Renee's stuff.

After moving all her boxes from the car, Renee and Janus both helped Roman move his stuff into a room just down the hall from them. Even with moving Renee first, Roman’s roommate was nowhere to be found and he wondered if he lucked out with a no-show roommate and accidental single dorm room.

Renee was bubbly and excited, talking about her roommate and sier interests and opinions. Renee was already pretty infatuated with sier. Roman started to unpack his clothing.

"Ro, this is going to be the best! I'm so excited I can't contain it!" she started bouncing on the bed. Roman chuckled and pulled her into a tight hug.

Just then he saw a boy drowning in a purple and black hoodie stop at the door, double-checking the door number. He was so skinny, the only thing Roman could think was Tim Burton Reject but like Cute. The boy caught sight of Roman and Renee hugging and Roman almost thought he saw the 5 stages of grief flash through his eyes.

"Uh, should I come back later? I think this is my room…"

Roman grinned and walked over to the door, "come on in! Virgil right?" Virgil nodded, "hi, I'm Roman! This is Renee. Need help with your stuff?"

Renee waved and Virgil set his box down, "um sure, thanks."

Renee fiddled with her skirt, "Ro, I'm gonna go change."

"Okay, cool. Name when you get back?"

She skipped out of the room, "Reagan! Thanks Ro!"

Roman chuckled and smiled at Virgil, "you'll get used to them. They're genderfluid and switch kinda frequently."

Virgil nodded and started back down the hall to his car, "how long have you known each other?" His voice was tinted with barely noticeable jealousy.

"Since the day we were born. Reagan is my twin," Roman followed his roommate, oblivious to the confusion on his face.

"Wait.. siblings… ohhhh, oh thank god," Virgil was wide-eyed.

"What?"

"I thought Renee was your girlfriend. That would have been awkward," Virgil flushed with embarrassment and Roman broke out laughing.

"Wow, that's a first! I've never been told my sib looked like my S.O.! You're funny Virge!" Roman hit Virgil on the back in a friendly pat that sent the smaller boy stumbling forward.

They quickly moved the few boxes Virgil had brought into the room and both boys started unpacking. The room was tensely quiet until Reagan came barreling back into the room with their roommate in tow.

"Oh my God! You guys!! Janus is the sweetest bitch," their eyes were sparkling with excitement.

"All I did was offer to help with classwork," Janus mumbled. Sie looked at Roman and Virgil and could feel the awkwardness in the room that Reagan was oblivious to, "so, anyone know a good ice breaker?"

Roman and Virgil replied at the same time, "polar bears."

Janus snorted, trying to contain sier amusement, "not quite what I meant, but A for effort."

"Ooh, have either of you two met your soulmates?" Reagan grinned at Virgil and Janus.

"My birthday is in a couple of months, so I have no idea," Virgil shrugged, taping up an MCR poster.

Janus rolled sier eyes, "no, I'm not really trying to find them either. Their first impression of me is disappointment anyway and you know how impossible it is to correct a bad first impression."

Roman laughed, "I feel like I'm looking for the impossible! My soulmate’s first impression is that I'm straight . How?" he held up the pride flag that he was preparing to hang above his bed.

"I could imagine it if the first time they saw you, you were… I don't know, hugging your sister," Virgil coughed suspiciously.

"Well, I will quickly correct them. Shoot, I forgot to ask. Virgil are you okay with queer stuff all over my side of the room? Because if not we have a problem," Roman smiled nervously and Reagan snickered at him. He supposed he should have figured this out before outing Reagan to Virgil but better late than never.

"You're good, Princey. I might not be flamboyant but I'm definitely gay," Virgil smiled softly.

"How lucky you're rooming together," Janus smirked, "should we dismantle one of the beds now?"

Reagan howled with laughter as Roman and Virgil both vehemently denied that suggestion, faces redder than strawberries.

"Give it a month, Jan," they snickered, wiping a tear from their eye.

"Indeed, bet?"

"20 bucks says you're on."

"We're right here!" Virgil protested.

"Shut up, you know I love you guys," Janus replied smoothly.

"No. No, I don't know that," Virgil flipped up his hood to hide his face from the others and pulled out his DVD collection to sort it. Roman glanced over and gave a triumphant shout.

"I knew it! Corpse Bride, Alice in Wonderland, Nightmare Before Christmas, Beetlejuice? I knew you'd be into Tim Burton!" Roman grinned happily, "fantastic movies!"

"How? We've known each other for like an hour…" Virgil was confused.

"Ah, I think it was the hoodie. You just look like one of his characters, you know?" Roman's grin turned sheepish.

"Fair enough. That is my aesthetic," Virgil shrugged.

"So should we leave you two future love birds alone now or…?" Reagan chuckled. They could tell Roman liked his roommate a lot, even if he wasn't outwardly flirting.

"Excellent idea, Reagan. We can cause more mischief elsewhere," Janus turned to leave with Reagan following close behind sier.

The first semester of classes went chaotically fast. True to Reagan's prediction, Roman and Virgil started dating within weeks. Despite outward dissimilarities, the two made for a good couple, balancing each other's sweetness and snark and flair and dramatics.

Roman couldn’t help but feel nervous as the clock ticked closer to midnight. Winter vacation had been hard enough with Virgil on the other side of the country, but tomorrow was his birthday and Roman was anxious to figure out if the connection he felt with his boyfriend was as deep and as fated as he wanted it to be.

They were facetiming when the alarm Roman had set for midnight went off.

"Happy birthday, my chemically imbalanced romance!" Roman grinned as Virgil shook his head at the nickname, "where's the mark?"

Virgil chuckled, "can't I enjoy being legally adult for two minutes?"

"Virgillllll please?" Roman pleaded, puffing out his lip.

"Fine. I think it's on the back of my neck though. Hang on," Virgil turned off the camera to take a photo while Roman waited impatiently.

Roman couldn’t see his face but he could hear Virgil’s soft gasp, "what is it, love?"

"Did you really think that about me, Roman?" Virgil sounded upset and Roman wished he would turn the camera back on.

"I don't know, V, what does it say? Please turn the camera back on," Roman prodded gently.

The camera flicked back on and Roman could see the back of Virgil’s neck with a single line of shiny scarlet text, "Tim Burton Reject but like Cute."

"Your first thought of me was that I was a reject??" Virgil brought the camera back to his face and Roman could just make out the line of a tear cutting through his makeup.

"Virgil, it's not like that-"

"Well, it sure looks like it! Either that was your first impression of me or we aren't soulmates! I have to live with this on my skin for the rest of my life I deserve to know!"

Roman glared at Virgil, "quite hypocritical considering I have to live with the fact you thought I was dating my own sibling written across my ass!" Roman took a deep breath before continuing, "yes, my first thought of you wasn't the kindest phrasing. First impressions are so often very wrong. People aren't static pictures, they're living art. Just look at Remus; he's constantly changing. And I've seen you change in so many ways the past four months, Virgil. I would never call you a reject now. I'm sorry I did back then."

Roman watched Virgil’s face as he finished his apology. To his surprise, Virgil started to laugh, low and quiet at first but quickly growing.

"You were right though. I was so skinny, so dark, and so edgy- I think just about anyone would have agreed with you. I think you got the short end of the soulmate stick, Ro, because now you're stuck with me, the Tim Burton Reject," Virgil's smile was wide and genuine and Roman clasped his hand to his chest in relief.

"Oh my goodness, you scared me. I thought I was going to be single! Who knew your birthday was the actual nightmare before Christmas," both of them laughed at that, "goodnight love. Text me when you open your present."

Roman smiled as Virgil saluted and ended the call.

Thank the stars they actually were soulmates.

Tag List: @stoicpanther @ifrickenhatedeverythingaboutthis @idontgiveafuckaboutshit @tsshipmonth2020

#tsshipmonth2020 #Soulmate September 2020 #prinxiety #sibling creativitwins #lowkey platonic demus #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #genderfluid remus #nonbinary janus #first impressions #cussing #college au #soulmate au

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the-ss-zemyx · 4 years

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PVP(umpkin Spice Lattes)

Zexion and Arpeggio are Discord friends. They chat in private messages, raid in Verum Rex together, and may or may not have feelings for each other.

Ienzo and Demyx are college roommates. They hate each other, for the most part. At least they can both agree on pumpkin spice lattes.

Happy 2nd Zemyx Day of 2020!!

Specifically for today, the S.S. Zemyx Discord Server hosted a collaborative fic-writing event! Over the course of the past five days, four of our writing members teamed up on a Google Doc in one glorious, inspirational, chaotic, frankenstein-esque fic-writing bonanza! That's right, the fic you're about to read is the product of -four- people's efforts! Enjoy!! :D

(A HUGE thanks to my co-writers: Aliceslantern, Ennarcia, and Carbonpixel. This was a hell of a lot of fun to do and I'm immensely proud of us!! - Mod Arxsia)

Also available on AO3!

__________

Demyx hated his roommate. Okay, no, hate was a strong word, and Demyx did his best to be a friendly, outgoing sort of guy, so ‘hate’ was definitely too strong a word. He liked to make friends. Having friends was nice. Having friends was very nice, and so, he tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But his roommate was a different story, and Demyx did not like his roommate very much at all.

At least he was easy on the eyes, because everything else about him got on Demyx’s last nerve. His name was Ienzo, but his name might as well have been "Jerk," with a capital J. When he wasn't hogging the Internet bandwidth doing God-knows-what on a chunky Alienware laptop, he was lecturing Demyx on the virtues of keeping the floor free from dirty clothes and giving empty soda cans a proper burial in the plastic wastebasket by the door. Lame. Also, he was a little condescending. That jerk .

One day, Ienzo burst into their dorm room with the gusto of a hurricane aiming to speak to a manager about a botched coffee order. He swung his laptop bag onto his mattress. It bounced when it landed. "Out," he commanded.

Demyx looked up from his phone. He sat with his legs crossed on his own bed, his Discord app open to a private message thread on his phone. In a few minutes, one of his server friends, a guy with the display name "The Cloaked Schemer" but going by his Discord handle, Zexion#1309, would be starting a voice call with him. It was kind of a big deal--they had been chatting in their shared server for almost a year, and in private messages for almost as long, but they had yet to actually speak to each other. "I'm actually busy," Demyx said.

"I don't care. Out."

It turned into an argument, of course, neither yielding and probably disturbing their neighbors with the yelling. Yep, Demyx didn’t like his roommate one bit.

He ended up in the lounge by the kitchen, utterly fuming, cursing his idea to “go rando” with a roommate all the while. It’s the best way to make friends, Demyx , his mother had told him. What better friend than a roommate?

Very funny.

At least he’d been able to grab his phone. Of course, Zexion was wondering where the hell he was.

The Cloaked Schemer: Do you need to reschedule?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: roommate’s being a dick and kicked me out. Sorry!

The Cloaked Schemer: Ah, I too am having roommate troubles. I can sympathize. I know too well what it’s like when one’s privacy is denied.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: he’s driving me NUTS!

The Cloaked Schemer: Have you tried talking to him about it?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: He didn’t exactly uh seem receptive to talking

The Cloaked Schemer: It’s always a good idea to try for maturity first.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I did! Not my fault the guy wasn’t having it.

Anyway. Id hate to let that guy take up any more time.

Hru?

The Cloaked Schemer: Doing as well as I can, I suppose. I’m enjoying my classes so far. It seems a little easy, but then again, it is only one of the first weeks. Things should pick up more by midterms.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ure too smart zexy. And didnt you skip a grade?

The Cloaked Schemer: A year, yes. I don’t think they call them grades in college.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Considering some of the people ive met, couldve fooled me.

The Cloaked Schemer: If I’m hoping to have a grad degree within five years, I have to fast track it. I’d rather not spend much more time in undergrad than necessary.

Though I am especially resentful that, despite the fact that I am technically a sophomore, I’m considered enough of a freshman to still be required to dorm.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: That blows

But dude, ure here. Might as well try to enjoy the journey, yaknow?

The Cloaked Schemer: Oh, Arpeggio. Your naivete is too obvious sometimes. It’s sweet, I think.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: har har

The Cloaked Schemer: I am disappointed though. I was looking forward to meeting you--in a manner of speaking. You’re probably one of the most sane people from our Verum Rex server.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Issa game, bro. Some of them, idk, take it a little too seriously

The Cloaked Schemer: Well, aspects of it are worth being taken seriously, but I understand what you mean.

Though the ship wars are grating.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ha! Yeah.

The Cloaked Schemer: We’ll have to find some other time, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Mann i was hoping to see if you sound as smart as you type

The Cloaked Schemer: You flatter me.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Do you think if we lived near each other we would hang out?

The Cloaked Schemer: If it’s all the same, I’d prefer to keep my location anonymous.

At least for now.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I know. Just a hypothetical question

The Cloaked Schemer: I’d like to say yes.

But for all I know, you’re actually a forty year old serial killer who lives in his mother’s basement.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: harsh

You listen to 2 many true crime podcasts

Anyway, I g2g. See if the roomie will let me back in. Got homework.

The Cloaked Schemer: Enjoy your night, Arpeggio.

Hopefully one of us has a good one.

Demyx closed the app and repocketed his phone. He flopped back on the lounge couch, eyes squinting at the fluorescent lights above and his limbs ragdolling in uncomfortable directions. A good night, huh? It’d be better if he could spend time in his own room without having to engage in guerilla combat whenever he wanted to exist in his own space. Wishful thinking, he thought.

__________

Ienzo stared at the chatlog open on his computer screen. The circle next to Arpeggio’s icon turned a dull gray, and the remaining bits of Ienzo’s hope for decent conversation dulled with it. He had finally caught up enough with his classwork to have some free time to spend, finally arranged to voice chat with Arpeggio, finally gotten Demyx to leave the god-forsaken room so he could have the one conversation he’d been looking forward to for weeks , and now… nothing. All that planning, gone to waste. Another wave of irritation hit him, and suddenly he was out of bed and grabbing his keys. He needed some tea.

Ienzo didn’t get tea at the coffee shop, despite his plans. The alluring, hipster scent of pumpkin spice hit his nose instead, and he caved before he could stop himself.

The college employed students as baristas in the campus coffee shop, as part of the work-study financial aid, so it wasn’t uncommon to see one’s peers at the shop. “Hey, Ienzo,” Riku said. It was getting late; chairs were already on top of all the tables. They’d met in Ienzo’s anthropology class.

“I’m not too late, am I?”

“I can bend the rules for you.” He went back behind the counter. “What’ll it be? Your usual?”

He blushed guiltily. “Pumpkin spice. Please.” Curse that glorious, wonderful scent.

He smirked. “Coming right up.”

“I know it’s dreadfully popular.”

“Yeah, cause it’s good ,” Riku said. “As long as you’re not one of those “half-caff, no whip, vanilla and almond, five shots” type of people.”

“Why complicate coffee so much?”

Riku handed him the paper cup. “At that point, just drink coffee-flavored syrup.” There was a pleasant lull for a moment. Riku began cleaning the espresso machine. “So why are you out so late? Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?”

Ienzo grimaced. “My roommate and I got into a fight.”

“...Again?”

“We are not well suited for each other.” A sigh. “I went to the Residence Life office to try and apply for another room, but the period for that is over. I was told, and I quote, “unless he’s hurting you, tough it out.””

Riku chuckled.

“He is simply-- obnoxious ,” Ienzo continued, the pressing need to vent taking over. “Slobby, loud, and always around at precisely the most inopportune times. I was supposed to have a call with a good friend of mine, and it took some doing just to get him out.”

“Right, your Discord friend.”

“You have a good memory.” Ienzo swished the coffee around a little; it was slightly too hot to drink.

“The one you have a crush on,” Riku said with a grin.

Ienzo flushed painfully. “I do not have feelings for him,” he said.

“Dunno. You managed to bring that call up in almost every conversation we’ve had. If he was really just your friend, would you be that excited? Enough to hype about it for weeks?”

Ienzo shrugged. “I do not know where he’s from, I don’t know his real name, I don’t even know what he looks like. For all I know, he only uses he/him pronouns online.”

“And?”

“I just… see no reason to desire something I cannot have.”

Riku wiped at the counter. “Oh, don’t be so doom and gloom,” he said. “If the call matters so much, it’s going to happen eventually.”

“I know.” He smiled. “Well, thanks for the tea and sympathy. Er, coffee and sympathy.”

“Any time.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You too. Play nice.”

“Just promise to bail me out if things go awry, will you?”

“Ha, on my salary?” Riku winked.

Ienzo left the coffee shop. He didn’t want to return to the dorms yet, but the fall night was calm and quiet. He checked his phone (maybe Arpeggio was free? Though he did say he had homework…).

As a stroke of luck, he had a message waiting for him.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I have a room again! \o/

the jerk was gone when I got back!

The Cloaked Schemer: How fortunate for you. I assume you’re flying through your homework now?

Mel0d10us N0cturn3: nope! :p

this science paper is kicking my ass!

Im really no good at this sort of thing

The Cloaked Schemer: Do you have any tutors available? Ordinarily I’d love to help but it might be easier and more private to go there instead.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: \o/

We actually do have one of those tutoring centers I think! Thanks for the idea!

Don't want you to waste your special brain-powers on little ol’ me lol

The Cloaked Schemer: I’d hardly call helping you a waste of my “special brain powers.”

It’s not a bad idea to check your local resources though.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: o7

Don’t think I’m gonna make any progress on this paper tonight tho lol

The Cloaked Schemer: Giving up already? I didn’t have you pegged for a quitter.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Awww, come on! Don’t guilt meeee

My poor brain!

It’s mush!

;-; will you not spare some mercy for my poor mushy brain?

The Cloaked Schemer: I suppose just this once, provided you use your resources and go to the tutoring center.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: o7 Yes sir !

First thing in the morning!

My mushy brain thanks you for your mercy and endless kindness!

Ienzo’s cheeks grew warm, but whether it was from the message on the screen or the sip of pumpkin spice coffee currently running down his throat, he neither knew nor was willing to explore.

Despite the late hour, there were plenty of students milling about campus, taking up their little spaces. It had taken him some time to find an empty bench to sit on, but one eventually caught his eye and he claimed it immediately, sitting down with his coffee in one hand and phone in the other.

The sky was inky black, dotted with stars, the sun long gone by now. Nights were starting to grow just a tad chilly, the beginnings of autumn seeping into the atmosphere. It was Ienzo’s favorite season and the aroma of pumpkin spice wafting past his nose was just what he needed to make up for the disappointment of having his voice call with Arpeggio abruptly cancelled.

Well, maybe not entirely. He’d been really looking forward to hearing Arpeggio’s voice for the first time, but this did nicely enough, he supposed. It was better than sitting around stewing in annoyance over his damned roommate anyway.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: so what are you up to right now?

The Cloaked Schemer: It’s a lovely night out. I needed some tea. Got coffee instead.

What is it about pumpkin spice that’s so irresistible?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Never wouldve pictured YOU as a devotee of the PSL.

The Cloaked Schemer: Guilty pleasure.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: theyre so good. I can’t have that many of them cause caffeine makes me SLEEPY

The Cloaked Schemer: Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me at all.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: whats that supposed to mean?

The Cloaked Schemer: Nothing derogatory, I assure you.

Though the idea of you being hopped up on caffeine amuses me.

You seem like one of those people who has energy all the time.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: i wish

The Cloaked Schemer: I should--begrudgingly--head back to my room.

You should try working on that paper.

I mean it about the tutor.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: yeah, yeah. I hear ya

Hopefully your roommates not being a dick anymore

The Cloaked Schemer: Fat chance. M3l0d10us N0cturn3: enjoy your coffee~~

__________

Demyx sat for a long time looking at that exchange. He could’ve heard Zexion say those words. He was just so painfully smart, but Demyx could listen to him say anything. About anything. For hours.

He showered and got ready for bed, hoping that Ienzo would stay gone. But as it was, he was back. Ienzo scowled in greeting.

“Nice to see you too,” Demyx muttered. He noticed the coffee cup Ienzo had set down. Ienzo seemed to live on caffeine and spite.

“I needed to clear my head, as I do not have the luxury of privacy.”

“Well I gotta sleep somewhere,” Demyx said. He crawled into bed. Ienzo rolled his eyes. Demyx saw him grab his own shower caddy and head out to the communal bathroom. He thought he smelled--he blinked. Slowly, ever so slowly, he got up, crossed over to the cup, and sniffed it.

Of course he likes pumpkin spice lattes, Demyx thought bitterly. Ugh.

He went back to bed and fell asleep listening to music.

__________

The universe thought it was just so funny. Demyx had taken Zexion’s advice and the tutor he’d met with was his jerk of a roommate. At least Ienzo was unhappy too, if the scowl on his insufferably nerdy face was anything to go by.

“What are you doing here?” Demyx blurted before he could stop himself.

“I work here,” his jerk of a roommate answered in response, “as a tutor, for my work study. I take it your procrastinating finally caught up to you and you need some last-minute help?” Did he really have to be so damn condescending though?

Demyx hiked his backpack strap a bit higher on his shoulder and rapped his fingers on the tutoring center's reception desk. Ienzo could glare daggers at him all he wanted from his seat at the computer behind the desk, but the curious eyes of the other tutors and students around meant that he would have to maintain decorum. They both would, lest Ienzo lose his job and Demyx lose his tutoring privileges. He took a deep breath. "I need help with a biology paper."

Ienzo's expression tightened. "Would you like to make an appointment?"

"No? You said it yourself: this is last-minute." Demyx tapped on the desk. "I need to talk to the science tutor on duty, please."

"It seems like we're both out of luck tonight, then," Ienzo replied dryly, absently clicking at something on the computer monitor. "I'm the science tutor on duty at the moment."

"You? Gross."

"I'm not particularly happy about it right now, either."

Demyx considered his options, and cringed at his conclusions. His paper was due in two days, and it was only half-drafted. Without a passing grade on the assignment, he would set himself up to fail the class. Petty squabbles were not worth the hit to his GPA. He sighed. "Well, can you help? I'm kind of desperate, here."

Ienzo returned the sigh. "Fine. Follow me."

Demyx followed Ienzo around the reception desk to a square table in the far corner, a plastic chair on each side. Ienzo alighted onto the seat closest to the wall. "This better not be a waste of time."

Demyx pulled his laptop out of his backpack before sitting down across from Ienzo. "Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent people skills? Because if they did, they lied to you."

Ienzo rolled his eyes. Yep , Demyx thought, amazing people skills. They were off to a great start. Getting through this paper was going to be agony. "I'm paid to tutor, not practice social niceties."

The laptop screen lit up as Demyx swiped one finger over the trackpad. A screenshot from one of his more memorable raids in Verum Rex guarded the rest of his files behind his login password. Demyx typed his password as quickly as he could, shooing the image of his and Zexion's avatars away before Ienzo could ask any unwanted questions. Evidently, he did not type fast enough.

“Verum Rex? You're familiar with it?”

Demyx nearly jumped, shoulders tensing. He knew Ienzo was there; that shouldn’t have startled him as badly as it had.

“Duh? It's only the best MMO on the market right now. Not that you would know, since you're so committed to the whole 'smug asshole' thing,” He snarked on reflex, feeling slightly guilty about it afterwards. Ienzo was being friendly for once, or was at least making something of an attempt at it. Yikes. Demyx wasn't usually one to make low blows like that. He opened the Biology folder on his computer and selected the draft of his paper, making an effort to get along with Ienzo while they were forced to sit together. "Please help me with this? If you would be so kind, please?" Demyx made praying-hands in Ienzo's direction in apology.

Eyebrow rising - was it just one, or both? - Ienzo shot him a look, obviously unamused in the slightest. “If you’re trying to be cute, it’s not going to work.”

Demyx pouted and opened up his biology paper, turning the laptop toward Ienzo. “Fine, fine, just help me?”

Rolling his eyes yet again, Ienzo was just about to lean in to read what Demyx had so far, when the familiar sound of a Discord ping had Demyx scrambling to turn the laptop back toward himself. Shit. He’d forgotten to close his Discord window before showing up at the tutoring center.

While Demyx closed the Discord app, Ienzo watched him carefully, contemplative. “You use Discord?”

Turning the laptop back, Demyx gave him a look, half in disbelief because surely Ienzo was too much of a nerd, but not in the cool way, to know what Discord was, and yet he did. Shit, it would be really awkward to end up in a server together. “Yeah, who doesn’t use Discord these days? I mean, especially if you play games or are into, I dunno, any fan community stuff.”

For a moment, Ienzo said nothing, slowly turning to look at Demyx’s biology paper on the screen. “Alright, let’s see what we have to work with so far, if anything.”

Demyx sighed. Asshole.

__________

Was this some kind of joke? Ienzo was being pranked, wasn’t he? Any moment now Demyx would start laughing about wasting his time and walk out, like the lazy slacker he was. Halfway through, he half collapsed on the table.

“This is impossible,” Demyx whined. “You don’t really understand this stuff, do you? You’ve gotta be lying.”

Ienzo felt his eye twitch. “Not all of us are lazy fools who give up after 15 minutes. Why are you even here?”

“Because my friend said I should, and I trust his advice. He never leads me wrong, so even if I have to spend time with you , I’m gonna do this.”

"Your friend sounds like he has the sense that you very much lack," Ienzo deadpanned, scrolling through Demyx's paper. He took stock of the misformatted section headings, missing in-text citations, and the off-center data table in the middle of the mess. The topic of the paper did not appear in any of Demyx's written work. "Can you tell me what this assignment is supposed to be? I can't tell from what you've given me."

"It's…" Demyx shrank back in his seat. "I don't know what it's supposed to be. My professor gave us all a table of data-results-things and told us to organize and analyze them. I don't know what he wants, exactly."

Ienzo huffed, and almost slammed Demyx's computer closed on the spot. Thankfully, his better faculties kept him from breaking Demyx's laptop. "There's your problem. You can't complete an assignment if you don't know what the assignment is . Email your professor for clarification and request an extension. If you do it early enough, they might grant you leniency."

"Really? That's your advice? Beg my way out of it?"

"Not begging. Requesting. It shows forethought, self-awareness, and emotional maturity, even if you don't actually possess any of those things. The adage of faking proficiency to gain proficiency has some truth to it." Ienzo pushed the laptop over to Demyx. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

Demyx's arms crossed, and his expression took on the quality of a betrayed toddler. "You didn't even help me with what I came in for, asshole."

Ienzo waved away Demyx's indignation with a dismissive hand. "There's only so much I, or any tutor, can do without having a good idea of what your professor expects. Emailing is the best advice I can give right now."

"So if I email my professor, you’ll help me?”

“I give you my word.” A promise made in haste, if only to appease the barest responsibilities of his job. Hopefully Demyx wouldn’t make him live to regret it.

Not long after Demyx was gone, Ienzo checked his Discord app, surreptitiously on his phone behind the reception desk, to find a message from Arpeggio.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Zexy, this worst thing ever just happened!

My roommate is my tutor!

Save meeeeeee

The Cloaked Schemer: That is peculiar. Though colleges are small worlds, so I hear.

What did he have to say re: the paper?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Ugh he couldn’t even help

Because I had licherally no idea what the professor wants

I mean, the dude has an F on ratemyprofessor so

He said to email and beg for clarity and an extension

The Cloaked Schemer: ...That is sound advice, actually.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Youre taking his side???

The Cloaked Schemer: Not exactly.

But in academic situations, it always looks good on you to take the initiative and seek help when you need it.

I guarantee the professor will work with you, and perhaps be able to refine that same assignment in the future.

If he’s worth his salt, he’s seeking to improve himself the way you are.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I GUESS

You wanna do a raid tonite?

The Cloaked Schemer: Alas, I, too, am a college student with coursework.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: RUDE

Ienzo leaned back in his chair in the campus library. How coincidental, he thought. He’d just given Demyx the same advice. Then again, college papers--especially in the sciences--were not always diverse on the gen ed level. He recalled Demyx’s paper; he should’ve asked him to see the email, or post, or handout with the assignment on it. Chances are the moron had merely misunderstood.

Demyx liked Verum Rex. Perhaps they could have this to talk about. Ienzo wondered who he mained. Probably Yozora, he thought with a sneer.

The Cloaked Schemer: Actually, I can do one raid.

ONE. Brief. Raid.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Thats more like it! \o/

One raid turned into two, then Ienzo ended up staying in the library, at the tutoring center, until it closed.

__________

Demyx begrudgingly took Ienzo’s advice. After his marathon raid session with Zexion, he sent a brief email--agonizing over the wording--to his professor, who responded almost instantly with an apology. Several students had already asked him about the assignment, it turned out, so he was going to extend the entire class’s deadline. But if Demyx needed a few days after that, he could have it.

“You were right,” Demyx murmured out loud, as he read the email the next morning.

“Of course I was,” Ienzo said, not looking up from his desk. “See? All it takes is a little maturity.”

The irony. Demyx grimaced. He looked over at him. “So you’ll help me?”

“When--and only when--I am on duty,” he said. “I have a life outside of work, you know.”

Demyx wondered how true that was. Ienzo spent a lot of the time in the room if he were not in class or in the library. Did he have friends? Did he go to societies? He nearly asked. Then he looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in weeks. He had bags under his eyes, and was washed out, books spread in a circle around him. “Outside of studying, too?”

Ienzo opened his mouth, then shut it. “I am not here to socialize. I am here for a degree.”

“But don’t you… have any friends?”

“Of course I do,” Ienzo said, just a little too quickly.

Like he would honestly tell Demyx. “Sure,” he said, shutting his laptop and tucking it into his bag. “Well. I got class. I’ll see you at the center later?”

“Much to my chagrin,” Ienzo responded evenly.

Demyx’s day was ordinary other than that. After the professor clarified what he wanted in class (and, to Demyx’s immense relief, it was much less daunting than what he’d thought), he stopped by the library to check out some books which might point him in a vague direction. Ienzo could tell him if they were any good. He stopped by the coffee shop to grab a croissant and a coffee, and, on impulse, got one for Ienzo as well. The idea of it made him nervous. Maybe I’ll say they made an extra by mistake, he thought. He already knew Ienzo drank them.

There Ienzo was, sitting in the office. “It’s you,” he said in an unreadable tone.

“It’s me.” He cleared his throat. “Um…” He thrust out the coffee without saying anything else.

“Is this for me?”

“Uh, yeah.” He felt his face heat--though why?

Ienzo took it, looking confused, and sniffed the small hole in the lid. “Oh,” he said softly.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked--”

“No. I do. That was kind of you.” He blinked, his expression odd, slackened; Demyx realized it was without malice. “Let’s get to work, shall we? I don’t want this to take any longer than it has to.”

Ienzo helped him structure the paper, and reviewed proper citations with him. It would take a little work, but seeing it outlined, Demyx felt a lot less overwhelmed. Something he thought was a mammoth project would maybe take an hour or two to write.

“Once you have it written, come back and I can help you with grammar and syntax,” Ienzo said.

“Awesome.” He took a deep breath. “I feel… a lot better now.”

“One typically does when one stops procrastinating,” Ienzo said. He leaned back in his seat. For a second--but just one--he sounded like Zexion, all firm and proper, genteel without being rigid.

__________

"You got your grade back already?"

Demyx beamed as he held his laptop screen-out, his browser logged into the university's online grading system. One score was listed under BIO 101, labelled "Paper 1." The percentage displayed next to the assignment name was higher than Ienzo expected from Demyx. "I didn't completely fail!" he practically cheered.

"So you didn't," Ienzo agreed, nodding slightly at the number from his desk. "It's amazing what a bit of work will do."

Demyx dropped himself onto his bed and turned his laptop. He bounced on the mattress a few times while he looked at the number. "This is the best news I've gotten all semester and it's the best feeling. Is this what it's like to be a genius and get good grades all the time?"

Ienzo returned his attention to his own laptop, where a half-drafted essay mocked him with its blinking text cursor and nonsensical thesis statement. He clacked another line of bullshit into the document. It was for English class, he reminded himself. Any answer was correct if it could be argued well. "No, not really. You get used to it."

"I… I should thank you," Demyx said, after a beat of silence. "For your help. I wouldn't have had anything to turn in at all if you hadn't told me to email my professor."

Another line of bullshit trailed across the screen. Ienzo squinted at it, unsure of what he had typed. "Don't mention it. It's my job."

"But still. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Ienzo could hear Demyx shuffling on his bed. "So… you play Verum Rex?"

"Fairly regularly, yes."

"Do you do raids or multiplayer at all?"

Ienzo shot Demyx a warning glance. "I already have a raiding group. I'm not looking for another one."

Across the room, Demyx had tucked himself into bed, his Star Wars sheets pulled all the way up to his chin. He blinked at Ienzo unceremoniously. "Jeez, forget I asked. No need to be snippy about it."

Demyx's head disappeared under the covers, and Ienzo returned his attention to his essay. At least, he tried. The Discord notifications in the corner of his screen kept distracting him.

Eventually, Ienzo admitted defeat and opened Discord. All of the messages were from Arpeggio.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: hey, do we have an opening on our raiding party?

Zexion?

Oh nvm he said no

What are you up to?

I'm taking a victory nap after getting a good grade on that paper I had to

write a while back

My roommate is typing something and he's so loud

What is he writing that makes him so angy

The Cloaked Schemer: I am also typing angrily at something

It is a universal collegiate experience

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: still so angy tho

Are you angy atm?

The Cloaked Schemer: I am… frustrated

I'm meant to be dissecting the themes in a short story but I feel like I'm only spewing garbage on the page

Perhaps if I present the garbage with enough conviction, I will be able to maneuver through this class

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: if youre writing it, it's definitely not garbage :P

you need to have more confidence in yourself, Zexy

The Cloaked Schemer: Ha. I think my roommate would disagree

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: well then he's a bum

Tell him that

Arpeggio says so

Ienzo looked back at Demyx, cocooned in spaceship bed sheets and doing who-knows-what under the cover of bed linens. He thought he saw the flash of a phone screen through the fabric, but the light disappeared as quickly as he caught it.

The Cloaked Schemer: I'll pass. He seems busy.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Busy doing what? Bum things?

The Cloaked Schemer: I certainly hope not. We're in the same room right now.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: oh. Awkward

The Cloaked Schemer: I’ll say.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: so you know ive been thinking

The Cloaked Schemer: Have you? What a concept.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ha ha.

Its been a while since we tried voice chatting

Maybe we could try again?

The Cloaked Schemer: You would want that?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I want to hear your voice. To see if youre actually as smart as you write

Maybe youve got, like, a transatlantic accent, or something. Thatd be cool

Ienzo blinked, staring hard at the screen. His heart beat a little faster. It was so hard to determine tone through text.

The Cloaked Schemer: Maybe I’m not as cool as I seem.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: highly, HIGHLY doubt it

Youve kept me sane

I really appreciate our

Ienzo saw him type “thing” and then frenetically edit to “friendship.” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

The Cloaked Schemer: The feeling is mutual.

A long, long pause. Ienzo did not know what else to say. His face was burning.

The Cloaked Schemer: Normally I’d rather be caught dead than admit this.

But it does get somewhat lonely here.

It’s nice to have someone to talk to.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I know what u mean

Sometimes i feel like i dont really know who i am

And like college is supposed to be about finding that

But its hard.

The Cloaked Schemer: You don’t have to tell me twice.

Part of why it’s so easy to exist in online spaces, in games. Appearance doesn’t matter. It’s like being a more concentrated version of oneself.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Do u feel like a more concentrated version of yourself?

The Cloaked Schemer: When I talk to you.

Ienzo’s heart was pounding. He thought he heard Demyx sigh across the room. Was he typing too hard?

Arpeggio started and stopped typing several times, just making Ienzo more nervous. What is he going to say? Did I push it too hard? Was I too forward?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Me too, Zexion

I wish we knew each other. Like, irl

Getting to do raids in person

That would be so fun

And i dunno, maybe do other things

Go out to eat. Go to the movies. Maybe go dancing.

Do u like clubs?

The Cloaked Schemer: I’ve never been.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: it takes some getting used to

But the energy of a crowd is electric

Especially with people you know

Oh god oh god oh god , Ienzo thought. His hands were trembling.

The Cloaked Schemer: Where would we go to eat?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: anywhere you want

Well. on a college students budget anyway

-laughs in poor

The Cloaked Schemer: Ah, so, five star cuisine, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Just dont order the lobster

In all seriousness. We need to vc sometime

The Cloaked Schemer: Yes.

There’s going to be a raid event on Saturday. Perhaps then?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Depends on if i have the room :/

Wanna say yes so bad

The Cloaked Schemer: I know the feeling.

I suppose if I get desperate enough I can rent out a study cubicle in the library.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Awww you’d do that for little ol’ me?

The Cloaked Schemer: Yes, I

His finger slipped, hitting the enter key a moment too soon before he could even finish the thought in his head. His hands felt almost clammy, the inner mechanizations of his mind working on overdrive, as if trying to race against the pitter-patter beat of his heart. Shit. Perhaps… Riku was right after all? Had Ienzo, usually so level-headed, actually developed a crush on Arpeggio? It was utterly nonsensical, and yet he couldn’t deny that he felt a comfort with Arpeggio that he didn’t feel with anyone else he knew, online or offline. Was it possible to fall- ...to develop a smattering of feelings for someone based on typed text alone?

Well, wasn’t that a theme in literature? Two people falling in love over written letters? For all Ienzo knew, there could very well have been instances of it happening in real life, in the days of old, long, long before the age of technology and the internet. A pair of penpals, miles and miles of distance between them, communicating through the written word; it could happen, couldn’t it?

Hold on. When the hell did he turn into a sap ? Frowning, Ienzo ran a hand over his face, feeling like a lovestruck fool.

No. No, this couldn’t be a crush. Just because it was so easy to talk to him, just because they’d been talking for a year or so by now, it didn’t mean-

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Zexy?

You ok?

Shit, how long had he zoned out for?

The Cloaked Schemer: Sorry. Got distracted.

But regardless, I think we should aim for Saturday.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Great!

Hoping we don’t get interrupted by our dick roomies

The Cloaked Schemer: Quite. It’s a date, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Yes :3

Ienzo took a deep breath. Regardless as to whether or not this was practical, it seemed that Arpeggio reciprocated his flirting.

Wait. Ienzo looked at the screen, cheeks heating up as he realized he’d typed the word ‘date,’ and Arpeggio said ‘yes .’ He couldn’t deny the little flutter of his stomach in that moment.

__________

Demyx set his phone aside, his heart beating heavily in his chest, his face bright red. He swallowed. There was no way sleep would come easily now, and it probably wouldn’t be until Saturday.

He thought about the nature of crushes. He’d never seen Zexy’s face, or heard his voice, but he was so adept at weaving words in the way Demyx wanted to be with music. He tried to imagine him, what he might be like.

He rolled onto his back. Ienzo’s frenetic, noisy typing had stopped. Demyx sat up, rubbed his eyes, and pretended he’d been napping the whole time. “You good?”

Ienzo shut his computer quickly, like he’d been doing something questionable. “Yes. Fine.” He was a little out of breath. What the hell had he been writing?

Demyx blinked. “I’m gonna go get a coffee,” he said instead. “Want me to bring you one back?”

“Sure,” Ienzo said, his face flushed.

Demyx shook his head. Well. If Ienzo needed to take care of that he had at least a few minutes now. “Cool.”

The whole time he was at the coffee shop, he kept thinking about Zexion, all their little conversations. It was evolving, and evolving fast. Demyx knew from brief experimentation with dating apps that just because a person sent you some flirty words didn’t mean anything would come of it. For all he knew, Zexion lived in New Zealand, or something.

That didn’t stop him from wanting it.

He drew a deep breath, exhaled. Well. Saturday he would find out.

Demyx wasn’t going to let Ienzo ruin his chances of meeting Zexion. He decided to strike preemptively, pausing at the door of their dorm room and sucking in a breath, steeling himself. He could do this. He could ask his roommate for the room for one night, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Hey, so, I have a thing Saturday,” he said vaguely. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t coming off as strongly as he intended, but he could still try. “Mind if I hang here alone for a few hours?”

Ienzo glanced up. The flush was gone, and he seemed much more composed. “Yes, that’s fine. I was going to go study anyway.”

“Study? Don’t you ever have any fun?”

“Perhaps I find studying fun,” Ienzo said.

“Suit yourself.” As he passed on his way back to the bed, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Ienzo had Discord open.

__________

Friday night, Demyx barely slept. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. Crushes didn’t usually… hit him this hard. It’s dumb. It’s so dumb. His loneliness was getting to him. Even Saturday morning, there were some hours until the events started. He looked at his DM history with Zexion. They’d spoken briefly, only to confirm a time and place for their characters to meet and chat. He sat at his desk, his hands trembling, as the game booted up.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: You ready?

The Cloaked Schemer: Of course.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Cool.

My mic isnt like great

But you can still hear me

He was shaking. He was shaking. “Get it together,” he muttered to himself.

The Cloaked Schemer: You’re a broke college student. I’m not expecting a professional setup here.

Though I will say my booth is pleasantly soundproofed.

Let me connect.

And Demyx thought his heart might stop. I’m so gay, he thought. A second later he heard that familiar call connection. He twitched a little, and his mic clattered loudly on the floor. Shit!

“Arpeggio? Are you alright?”

“I just dropped the--”

A long, long pause.

He knew that voice.

“Zexion?” He picked up the mic and set it down.

“Arpeggio?”

“I dropped the mic.” Demyx swallowed.

“You…” Zexion fumbled for words. “Speak a little more, please.”

“Is that really you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re in a library right now.”

“And you had an event… Saturday.”

“Ohh my god,” Demyx mumbled. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, just that he was feeling a lot of it. “Ienzo. You’re Zexion?”

“It’s an anagram,” he said, his tone numb.

“Seriously, this whole time--”

“Evidently.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but at the same time, there was something warm in his chest.

Wait, no. No. This was Ienzo, and they hated each other--

Demyx realized he was panicking. He also, vaguely, in the back of his mind, realized the call had disconnected.

Demyx spent the next few minutes desperately trying to control his breathing, trying to not focus on how Zexion- No, Ienzo- was so disgusted it was him that he’d immediately dropped the call.

Of course. Of fucking course. The universe hated him. The universe had it out for him, surely. Why else would this have happened? He finally meets this sweet, smart, wonderful guy who takes him seriously and actually likes talking to him, on a regular basis , and then… And then… It turns out to be the very same roommate who hates him. That would just be his damned luck, wouldn’t it?

Grabbing his pillow, Demyx face-planted into it, pressing it furiously against his eyes to stop them from burning, to stop the tears that threatened to spill. Of all the people it could’ve been. Why Ienzo ?

Demyx had been nervous enough as it was, afraid the person on the other end would think him annoying - his voice, his tone, the way he just couldn’t fucking shut up sometimes when he got excited about something. Alternatively, the filter between his brain and his mouth was immensely weaker than the filter between his brain and his fingers, and he could’ve said the wrong thing, unable to stop himself in the same way his hand can catch itself on the enter key before hitting it, or quickly delete the message before Zexion could read it.

But this was so much worse, because Ienzo already knew him, already had an impression of him, and that impression was far from good. It’s no wonder he disconnected the call so suddenly. He likely couldn’t stand hearing the truth any longer, stomach churning with disgust, head filled to bursting with regret, and not just regret over the voice call, but everything .

An almost entire year’s worth of conversations, soiled now, because Demyx was, well, Demyx . A slob. A slacker. An idiot. He wasn’t worth Ienzo’s time, and now he knew he wasn’t worth Zexion’s.

A sharp ache spread over his chest, cold and numbing, all of him tense with it. He… liked Zexion. He very genuinely liked him, so excited to get to talk to him, his bristling nerves aside. All week he’d thought about it, daydreaming, wondering what the person on the other end would sound like, if he’d love that voice as much as he loved the text on his Discord screen.

It no longer mattered, not when it was now clear that Zexion - no, Ienzo , was utterly disgusted with him.

It was over. It was all over - their friendship, a year’s worth of personal conversations, these budding feelings he was beginning to have, or that he’s been having for a while now…

On the flipside, was Demyx disappointed that it turned out to be Ienzo? He… didn’t know the answer to that, still reeling in the fact that Zexion, his dear friend and crush, hated him. The pillow was starting to suffocate him and he instinctively pulled it away from his face, eyes still burning. He sucked in some deep breaths and just when he was finally on the cusp of calming down, his door swung open so fast Demyx feared it’d break off the hinges.

Ienzo leveled him with a determined stare. “You.”

__________

Ienzo sat.

And sat.

And stared, and sat some more.

He was dizzy. Slowly, so slowly, all the pieces clicked together. The coffee. The references to Verum Rex. How they were always just missing each other. The whole tutoring scenario. Good god . So this person he’d been harboring feelings for this whole time was--

He pressed a hand to his forehead. And yet, a small part of him… was relieved?

It could be…

No, it couldn’t be anything! They hated each other! They’d complained to each other about each other more times than Ienzo could count. They had--

Ienzo felt the walls of the study booth begin to close in around him, pushing the breathable air out of the room. His ribcage constricted around his lungs, and his heartbeat pounded at his temples. He gathered his laptop and microphone in his arms and burst out of the room, chest heaving.

He braced himself against the outer wall of the study booth and willed himself to breathe normally, his head tilted all the way back to rest on the door. This was real life, and he was fine. He would be fine, anyway, with a bit of finessing. Okay, perhaps a little more than a bit.

Ienzo retrieved his backpack and stowed his equipment inside as he analyzed the situation. Arpeggio and Demyx were the same person. A strange revelation, but not world-ending. He could find another raiding party. He could join another server. There was more than one person with whom to play Verum Rex.

But--

Ienzo caught himself zipping and unzipping the top pocket of his backpack, more forcefully than necessary each time. A new server didn't sound appealing. A new raiding party, even less so. He would have to chat with new people, learn their idiosyncrasies and fighting styles, learn their pseudonyms and remember how they differed from their usernames. It all sounded so… hard, and boring, and unnecessary.

He zipped his backpack closed for the last time and held it at his side by its tiny top handle. Its back straps kicked at his calves as he raced out of the study area, through the main lobby, and into the courtyard. His mind was set. His choice was clear. The only thing to do was follow through.

Ienzo made a beeline back to the room. He found Demyx sitting cross-legged on his own bed, his computer accessorized with a small budget microphone and his face awash with something that looked like guilt. His eyes widened when Ienzo crossed the threshold.

"You." Ienzo's statement rang out like a gong.

Demyx swallowed. "Yeah?"

"We need to talk." Ienzo shut the door behind himself. It slammed closed, though Ienzo had not intended for that.

"...yeah." Demyx turned back to his computer, fiddling at the USB port where his microphone connected to the rest of the machine. "Ienzo, I--"

"Shut up." Ienzo stalked into the room, single-minded. He stopped at the edge of Demyx's bed. "Shut up and listen, for once."

Demyx's shoulders rose to his ears. He stayed quiet.

Ienzo dropped his backpack to the floor. Though his fingers trembled, his resolve held firm. The moment of reckoning was upon him. "Did you know?"

Demyx shook his head.

"Did you want to know?"

He responded in a whisper, pained and hushed. "I wanted to meet Zexion."

Ienzo's hands trembled faster. He balled them into fists to compensate. "And now that you know," he said, "do you regret it? Wanting to know? Learning the truth?"

A tear trailed down Demyx's downcast cheek. "No."

Something deep inside Ienzo wanted to reach out and wipe away the tears that followed, while Demyx's breath caught in gasps over his laptop keyboard. Ienzo steeled himself. "I… don't regret it, either."

"You don't?" Demyx looked up and met Ienzo's gaze with caution. Aside from the red tinge at their edges, his eyes looked almost hopeful.

Ienzo softened, relaxed his fists. "I don't want to find a new server, or a new raiding party."

Sniffling, Demyx nodded. "I don't, either."

"I don't want to stop talking to Arpeggio," Ienzo continued, his heart playing timpanis in his chest. "He is a close friend of mine."

"He's also your lazy roommate." Another tear escaped, this time going down the side of Demyx's nose. Demyx wiped at it with the heel of his hand. "Ienzo, I--"

"We've had differences. We've also had commonalities, albeit in virtual space. There's no reason we cannot bring the two together."

"Ienzo--"

"There's no reason we should be at each other's throats. We--"

"Ienzo!"

He blinked. The drum performance in his chest missed a beat, then started from the top at full speed. "Yes?"

Demyx unplugged the microphone from his computer, sighed, and tossed it to the far edge of his bed. "I don't think that will work."

Ienzo frowned and crossed his arms. He was beginning to remember why he and Demyx didn't get along in meatspace. "Why, pray tell, is that?" he asked.

Demyx swallowed again, more conspicuously than before. "It's just… I…"

Ienzo leaned forward, his head cocked to the side. "You what?"

"I, um, I…"

"Go on. I don't have all night."

Demyx pushed his computer aside and drew his knees into his chest. "I… shit. I had a thing for Zexion." His shoulders hitched with sardonic laughter. "Shit. Fuck. This sucks." He reached behind himself for his pillow and buried his face in it. "This is so embarrassing," he whined, his voice muffled.

Ienzo's budding anger deflated. "You… you did?"

Demyx nodded into his pillow. "Uh-huh. And now you know, too."

Ienzo opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't make the words in his head form coherent phrases. His throat sputtered with half-formed consonants instead. Words. For fuck’s sake, wasn’t he good at words? Why was this suddenly so damn hard?

"This is the worst," Demyx groaned. "Just kill me now. Make it look like an accident. Tell my family I loved them. Don't let my sister take my bedroom at home."

Ienzo's faculties returned in the bumbling, clumsy way that drunkards stumbled home from dank local pubs. "I... don't think that will be necessary," Ienzo managed, through his own confusion.

"No?" Demyx put his pillow back in its place, and faced Ienzo with dried saline clumping in his eyelashes. "What, are you gonna torture me instead? Make me regret being born? Because you're a little late on that front, buddy, I already do."

Ienzo took a deep breath. His crossed arms dropped to his side, then held each other at the elbows. "I may have developed… similar feelings. For Arpeggio." Ienzo's mouth went dry. The drum performance upgraded itself to a full marching band drumline, twenty-five snare drums pounding paradiddles and rolls in synchronized sweeps.

A silence consumed the space between them, interrupted only by Demyx's sniffling and Ienzo's heartbeat. It stretched into the abyss and the stratosphere in equal measure, and stung more acutely than the idea of never speaking to Arpeggio again.

Demyx broke the silence by clearing his throat. "So…"

Ienzo coughed. "So..."

"Are we…" Demyx unfolded his legs and swung them over the side of his bed. His hands grasped at his mattress, and his head hung from his shoulders "Are we, y'know… do we still, like…"

"Do you want to be?" Ienzo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Friends, cohorts, party members, server mutuals? Or…"

"Or what?"

"Or…" Ienzo trailed off. Or what, indeed? Friends with benefits? Significant others? Boyfriends? The mere thought made Ienzo's palms sweat. "Or…"

In the moment between Ienzo's efforts to name his emotions and act on them, Demyx had sprung up from the bed and slipped his hands around the sides of Ienzo's face, his thumbs resting just below the apples of Ienzo's cheeks. His breath tickled at Ienzo's nose and lips. "Or… this?"

Heat seared at every inch of Ienzo's face. If he could feel Demyx's breath, Demyx could feel his as well. "...I suppose, yes."

"In that case," Demyx murmured, somehow purring and wavering at the same time, "tell me no." He rested his forehead on Ienzo's. "Tell me no, and we won't. I promise. Things can go back to normal."

A whimper, wholly undignified and unbidden, escaped from Ienzo's higher register. "I can't," he whispered.

Demyx leaned forward, and Ienzo followed. At some point, they met in the middle, and the world's axis shifted two degrees to the left. It was a tentative press of lips, but Demyx’s hands on his face kept him anchored. It didn’t feel like Ienzo thought it would, and self-consciousness invaded. Suddenly Ienzo felt very young and immature; vulnerable .

But… after a moment or so, not so much. Demyx was so warm against him, and Ienzo realized it was a learning curve, one he was picking up with his usual speed. He was shaking a little in disbelief. It was so-- nice.

Demyx pulled away and brushed his fingers across his cheek. "You're trembling."

"Forgive me. I--" He swallowed.

"No, it's cool." Demyx pulled away and smiled, brighter than Ienzo had ever seen someone smile before. "Do you… want to go again?"

Ienzo did, very much so. "I'm not opposed, per se, but I think we should… explore our relationship a bit. Perhaps starting with our mutual interest in pumpkin spice flavors."

“Sounds like a plan to me, Zexy,” Demyx grinned.

__________

Riku set the pair of pumpkin spice lattes down on the little square table in the back corner of the coffeeshop, glancing at Ienzo, then Demyx, then back at Ienzo, one eyebrow shooting up into his hair. “Is the world ending? Did I miss a memo on the corkboard in the back room?”

Ienzo coughed. He was vaguely aware of the heat rising in his cheeks. Damn it all to hell. Of course Riku was here, why would it have been anyone else? Sighing, he gestured to Demyx, bracing himself for the inevitable bit of humiliation, courtesy of the one friend who knew about his very apparent crush on his Discord friend. “Riku, meet Arpeggio.”

Riku’s other eyebrow shot up into his hair. “You’re shitting me.”

Demyx looked across the table at Zexion, clearly trying to fight the incoming of a shit-eating grin. “You talked about me to people?”

"Only the unimportant ones," Ienzo said, picking up his cup and sipping loudly.

“Psh,” Riku spat with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, and every damn minute of the day. If I had a dollar for every time you made heart eyes at the ceiling while talking about him, I could quit this job and pay off my tuition.”

Ienzo balked at that, nearly choking on his latte. “It was not that often.”

Waving a hand, Riku corrected himself, looking pointedly at Demyx. “Wait, no, he’s right. I’m forgetting that half the time, he’d be complaining about his horrible room-”

“Shouldn’t you be behind the counter?” Ienzo hissed, glaring at Riku. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Demyx’s gaze flicking between him, like he was watching a game of ping-pong. “Or should I text Sora and Kairi about all those little hearts you like to draw around their names on the garbage receipts every time they come in?”

"Go ahead. I'm ninety percent sure they're both into me, anyway."

Ienzo pulled his phone from his pocket and brandished it at Riku. "Are you willing to test that theory?"

"Make sure you write it down," Demyx chirped, blowing into the hole in his drink's lid. "If you write it down, it's science. I learned that in Biology this semester."

"I'll do more than that," Ienzo said, tapping on his phone screen with both hands. After his phone played a short 'whoosh' sound, he placed it face-down on the table. "Images sent. Now we wait for our results."

Riku scoffed, then balked, then turned beet-red. "You're an asshole," he hissed through his teeth.

"Relax. I was just kidding,” Ienzo said with a glint in his eye that Demyx barely caught.

"Forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical." Riku scowled for a moment, but eventually softened into a smirk. "Whatever. Enjoy your Discord date, Casanova." He knocked on the table once before returning to the checkout counter.

"Discord date?" Demyx asked, taking a swig of his pumpkin spice latte. "I thought we were hanging out in real life."

"Let's not split hairs. We're about to see a show." Ienzo jutted his chin in the direction of the cafe's front door. As if on cue, Sora and Kairi burst through it like a duo on a mission.

“Oh Riiiiiiiiku!” they chorused in sing-song at the top of their lungs.

"Sometimes," Ienzo said, turning back to Demyx, "I like to watch the world burn."

“Yeah, I know. That’s actually kind of hot,” Demyx admitted, taking another sip of his latte. "Remind me not to piss you off again, though."

#Zemyx #Demyx #Ienzo #Zexion #Kingdom Hearts #fanfiction #Zemyx Day #Zemyx Day 2020

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despressolattes · 4 years

Text

AFTERMATH | CHAPTER THIRTY | LEGACIES

book masterlist » book one masterlist

< previous chapter

————

That night, Lilah went to the turret. She smiled when she saw Roman there, too, looking outside. The moonlight hitting his face brought back so many memories.

"Hey," she whispered, leaning against the side of the turret he wasn't leaning against.

"After the day you've had, shouldn't you be sleeping?" he asked.

"It was more of a stressful day for Hope than it was for me," she chuckled, brushing her hair out of her face.

"But it still brought up feelings for you that hurts," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I think you should get some rest."

"When I wake up in the morning, will you be here?"

"I'll be here."

—

When Lilah woke up, Hope was contemplating what to put on her next painting. The older Mikaelson girl pulled herself out of bed and into her school uniform, leaving their dorm to look for Roman. He was sitting outside their dorm at one of the chairs placed near the window. He was talking to one of the other students, who got up when he saw Lilah.

Roman looked at her with a smile, two pastries and cups of coffee on the table in between the two chairs. He picked one of each up, holding them out to her as she got closer.

"Wow, feels like the old days," she chuckled.

He laughed, looking down at his own cup of coffee.

She and Roman spent the morning talking until Jed came to find her.

"What do you want?" she asked, looking at the werewolf that caused enough trouble with her friend group.

"I thought you might want to know something's definitely up with your wolf," he said, glancing at Roman for a second at the end of his sentence.

Roman looked away.

"He's been zombie-like, and the wolves are worried," Jed said. "And I'm no longer alpha, but he won't listen to me. So, maybe he'll listen to you."

"I know you're worried about your alpha and everything, but Emma's been watching over Rafael. I'm sure everything's fine," Lilah said, fighting the urge to run and find Rafael to make sure he was okay. She only had limited time with Roman before he left again, and she wanted to spend it with him.

Jed sent a unassured nod, but he left anyways. Roman placed a hand on her knee comfortingly.

She gave him a small smile, and picked up her pastry, taking a large, almost angry, bite out of it.

"So, I got one more day where I get to be here," he said. "Let's get your mind off of everything else and go do something together."

She chuckled as he shoved the rest of his pastry in his mouth after gulping down his coffee. She picked up her own things, taking them to-go unlike him.

"Such a dork."

But she missed that dork more than she thought she would've when he left.

—

They spent the day in Mystic Falls, just walking around and talking. He told her all about the recruiting recon, how everything was going. She updated him on her life, not that there was much he didn't already know from when she told him over text or FaceTime.

They got back to campus in the afternoon after having gotten milkshakes at the Mystic Grill.

They walked in to see Rafael bump into a vampire on accident while walking.

"Watch it, wolf," the vampire said.

Rafael, who was usually level-headed and polite, angrily turned around and said, "What'd you say to me?"

Lilah and Roman shared a face, but watched from afar.

"I said, watch it..." the vampire said, also angry. "Wolf."

Rafael growled. His eyes glowed yellow ashtye both got in each other's face. The wolves crowded behind Rafael, growling too as vampires sped onto the scene.

"Get your vampires out of my face," Rafael told him.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Dr. Saltzman called, rushing over to the group of angry supernaturals. "Stand out."

"Got off of me!" Rafael yelled, shoving Alaric so hard he went flying, crashing into the chair and table that Roman and Lilah had been sitting at that morning.

Jed ran onto the scene as the crowd got bigger. "Hey! Hey, wolves. Stand down! Now!"

He grabbed Rafael, who tried to move out of his gasp.

Roman sped onto the scene, getting in the middle of the wolves and the vampires. "Enough!"

He blocked Rafael, standing face to face with the other vampire. He stared at Roman, who didn't back down, and backed off. With Roman there, the crowd began to disperse, no one willing to challenge him. That was when Rafael realized what he had done.

He walked over to Alaric, "Dr. Saltzman!"

"Everyone back to class," Emma said, getting to the scene.

Alaric moved away from Rafael.

"I'm sorry," Rafael said, shaking his head in disbelief of his actions.

As Jed passed by Lilah, he said, "I don't think Emma has it under control."

Lilah walked over to Roman, who looked at her with concern.

"I'm honestly debating leaving now," he told her, looking around. "Everyone's troubles are just going to keep getting dumped on you."

Rafael wandered off, and Lilah placed a hand on Roman's arm, hating herself for what she was about to do.

"I know I only have you here for a few more hours... but—"

"Go," Roman told her, motioning to Rafael with his head. "Take care of your friend."

Lilah walked over to where Rafael was, but Jed got there first. She stood back, letting them talk.

"You need to get some help," Jed told him.

"Don't pretend that you care about me," Rafael said, not looking at the other wolf.

"I don't," Jed said honestly. "I care about the pack."

Well, at least he's honest, Lilah thought

"They follow their alpha," explained Jed. "And having an alpha who can't control himself means the pack gets hurt. Look, I was a dick as a leader. So, take it from someone who lost what you have: the pack is everything. If you care about them, you won't let your pride get in the way like I did. I know it's hard. It was hard for me to go to Lilah earlier for help."

"Lilah? Why'd you go to Lilah?" Rafael asked, his face scrunched up.

"Oh come on, Rafael," Jed said. "Everyone in the pack knows how you feel about that girl."

The beta didn't give his alpha time to respond to it before walking away. Lilah decided to stay in the dark for a few more minutes to save Rafael from the embarrassment of thinking she heard the conversation. She was sure the pack was just reading too much into things, the same way Hope and Landon had been.

She walked inside, Rafael's attention turning to her. She watched as his eyes widened at the sight of her, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he told her. "Is Dr. Saltzman okay?"

She shrugged. "I came here instead of checking on him, but I'm sure Ric's fine."

She sat down on the arm of the chair he was sitting on the way she always did, even though it was uncomfortable because of how skinny the arms were.

"I know I've been preoccupied with a lot lately, but you can talk to me," Lilah told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm still your friend."

"I know," he nodded. "I just... I need to clear my head. You go spend time with your boy. He's leaving soon."

"Roman's not my boy anymore, remember?" she reminded him. "But if you don't want me here, I'll go."

She stood up, motioning for him to stand, too. He quirked up an eyebrow in confusion, but stood up. She went to hug him, wrapping herself around his torso and pressing her head into his chest. It took him a second before he wrapped his arms around her, too, delicately and loosely like he was scared to break her.

"A real hug, please," she said, and he snickered, tightening his grip on her. "Thank you."

With that, she went on her way. She hoped to god he'd be fine.

She walked into Alaric's office, going to see if he was fine.

"Freya just explained the Merge," was the first thing Hope said when Lilah walked in, staring at Alaric with wide and teary eyes. "Josie's pretty much figured it out, and uh, Lizzie is spiraling. So... either you do it, or I will, but it's time to tell them the truth."

"Well, fuck," Lilah whispered.

Hope stared at her cousin, realization seeming to hit her face. "You knew, too, didn't you?"

Lilah looked at the floor. It was impossible to have been alive as long as she had been, and not know.

"Oh my God, Lilah!" she yelled. "How could you know and not tell them?"

"Because it wasn't my place," Lilah said. "It was up to their mom and dad. I wasn't going to step of Caroline or Ric's toes about this. The same way Katerina didn't tell my story about being a Mikaelson. It's a respect thing."

"I still find it creepy you and Katherine Pierce were best friends," Alaric said, earning a glare from Lilah.

"It's why Caroline's always gone," Lilah told Hope. "She's trying to find a solution to the Merge. They wanted to be able to save their kids before telling them about their fate. How exactly, do you tell your kids something like that?"

"Our dads were able to tell us they were going to die," Hope said.

"Our dads were immortal, they had been here longer than anyone else on the planet. Josie and Lizzie have until they're twenty-two. It's different," Lilah said, a tear running down her face. "You know it's different."

"I'm gonna go talk to my daughters," Alaric said.

Lilah put an arm out, and Alaric went to hug her.

"You got this, Ric."

—

Hope needed Lilah to hear a voicemail, but she asked her to call Roman, too. So they could both analyze it, to be sure.

"Hey, Ric, sorry to take off like that," it was Landon's voice. "But I just needed a little time, so I'm going camping for a while."

"I can hear... shoes on a tile floor," Roman said, using his vampire hearing to analyze the message more.

"Hopefully, I can catch up on classwork later," Landon said.

"An air conditioner running?" added Lilah, listening intently to it, too.

"Tell Raf and Jed hi for me," Landon ended the message.

"Why would he say hi to Jed...?" wondered Lilah.

"That's what I'm saying," Hope told her.

"Keycards being swiped." Roman added.

"Triad," the Mikaelson girls said together. "I knew something was wrong. I mean, it has to be them! They've already tried to come for him once."

"What're you gonna do?" Roman asked Hope.

"I'm gonna go full Wonder Woman," replied Hope, "That's what."

"Do you need any help?" Roman asked.

"No," she said. "I've already got my Super Squad. But thank you, for everything."

Before she walked out the door, he said, "Hey, uh..."

She turned around and saw her cousin's epic love grabbing his bag, putting it on his shoulders. Lilah watched from behind them, seeing the bag for the first time. He turned to face her, too, but he looked at Hope while he spoke.

"Ric said I should probably head back into the field, and I just... please take care of her," he said, looking back at Lilah again. "That's my world right there, and she loves this place, these people, she loves her cousin, you, so uh... just watch out for her, please? I can't always get on the first plane out to be here whenever she needs someone to hold her. Also... I heard you on the dock. I wasn't trying to spy or anything."

Hope cleared her throat.

"You're not a mistake, okay?" Roman said, and Lilah stared at her cousin confused. She thought she was a mistake? "The cosmos is lucky to have you, and so is Landon. He'll figure that out."

Tears formed in Hope's eyes as she stepped forward to hug the vampire.

"Thank you, I'll let you two talk."

Lilah stepped forward as Hope left, but she sat down on top of Alaric's desk, staring at him. He walked over to her, stepping between her legs and placing his hands on her waist. She wrapped hers around his neck.

"We didn't get to dance at the pageant," she said sadly.

"Dancing where we can't touch? That was never really us, was it?" he asked. "We're more of a waltzing type of couple."

He put his bag back down, and clicked something on his phone, playing a waltzing tune. He put a hand out for her, and she took it, laughing. She hopped off of Alaric's desk, and for three minutes, the world seemed perfect as she waltzed her heart out with the boy who would always have a part of hers.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

#Legacies #cw legacies #legacies imagines #legacies fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction #Kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #mikaelson #hope mikaelson fanfiction #hope mikaelson

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thriftdyke · 4 years

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since you wanted asks! yesterday i went to the store and bought box bleach so now i am a lovely shade of platinum blonde! NOT lmao i have near black hair naturally so now i'm a ginger. i'm going to go to an actual beauty store tomorrow so i can get better bleach and some toner so i can get to platinum blonde. also these past two weeks not being able to see my friends have been absolute torture but my sister bought me an ice cream bar so it was all worth it. what's been your favorite meal (1/?)

(2/?) you've had this month? or your favorite dish in general? have you tried your hand at any new hobbies or are you practicing you've already been working on? or have you just been relaxing lol (i sure have) is your sleep schedule doing alright? i messed it up real bad but i've been remedying it so! hope everything gets back to its regular schedule. what's a song you keep going back to listen to? a guilty pleasure of mine is meant to be yours from heathers, which i think is funny because i haven't even seen heathers. is there anything you still haven't done that you keep telling yourself you're going to get around to? i promised myself i'd have a schedule yet two weeks later... i got nothing.... how's your skin? make sure you're drinking water and getting enough sun exposure! also, make sure you call your friends! that's what's been getting me through these days. (3/3)

hello ty so much for sending me something!! that’s dope that you are dying your hair I love impulsively stress-dying my hair I hope you are able to get it to a nice platinum color :) I actually cooked something kind of decent for once in my life that was really good it was like a rice salad with rice beans and a whole bunch of veggies and some homemade dressing it was really good so I made a lot and I still have a lot to eat so that’s nice! haven’t really tried any new hobbies but I’ve considered my old hobbies and have been trying to work up motivation to do them which hasn’t really happened yet but I’ll get there eventually.... my friend sent in our group chat a parody song she made to the tune of I dreamed a dream from Les Mis about being in quarantine and that inspired me to make my own parody song to the tune of Valerie so I did that and it ended up really corny and really bad but I sent it to my friends anyway and it was fun so I’m basically just wasting my time doing stupid shit instead of doing my classwork LOL but that’s all I really have motivation to do right now. i’ve been trying to relax but have been struggling to let myself relax because I feel like I should be doing stuff but then I can’t actually get myself to do stuff so it’s a struggle. my sleep schedule is a real fucked right now lol. I went to bed at 4 AM last night and then I had to wake up at 8 AM today because I had a online therapy appointment at 9 AM so I’ve just been like sleeping on and off and I don’t know what the fuck my circadian rhythm is doing right now but it’s a mess. i’ve been listening to a lot of Hozier lately. also currently singing karaoke by myself to Breathe (2 AM) by Anna Nalick. there is so much stuff I’ve been meaning to do that I haven’t gotten to… I keep telling myself I’m going to re-organize my room and sort through my closet but haven’t made any progress with that yet. my skin is what it usually is I guess it’s not the best but it’s hanging in there. definitely probably need more sun though I have been going on walks. also yes I’ve been trying to call my friends as well but then I start feeling clingy needing to call them all the time so I gotta get over that... hope things continue to go well for you, hang in there!!

#answers #ily!!!

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sp4c3-0ddity · 5 years

Note

Oh!! If youre still doing the au thing, neighbors plance au? Everything is still canon compliant but pidge and lance have known each other since they were in diapers (imagine The Angst when pidge disappears after Kerberos and reappears at the garrison and lance has to lie to hunk about “pidge gunderson”)

possibly not quite what you wanted and a bit more than five headcanons (a fic of nearly 3000 words…) but i hope you like it!! sorry it’s a bit of a mess

(also i made up some stuff about the Garrison and the timeline may be a little off)

“Whothe heck is Pidge Gunderson?”

Predictably Hunk shrugs, as baffled asLance is…thoughlikely not as disappointed. He hopedhis comm specialist would be any of the last five girls he had a crush on, andyet—

“Righthere.”

The familiar voice squeezes his chest andmakes it difficult to breathe for a second, but when he recovers - no way, it can’t be her- he spins on his heel to face his and Hunk’s new teammate.

But the round face and petite frame areunmistakable despite the uneven haircut and glasses. Lance doesn’tknow who Pidge Gunderson is, but it’s not the girlstanding before him.

Katie Holt.

***

Lance lay on his side glaring at theGarrison recruitment poster tacked to his wall, well-aware that he was sulkingbut unwilling to do anything about it. He deservedto sulk after Commander Iverson released their class ranking andclassification. Dreams shattered, hopes dashed, his future as a hero andprodigious heartthrob flushed down the toilet and piped all the way to thebottom of the Marianas Trench for the moray eels to make snacks of…

Score: 82.15Ranking: #11Pilot Class: Cargo

The kicker was that his score was a fraction of a point lower than thelowest ranked fighter pilot.

“Thinkof it this way!” Veronica had saidin that peppy voice she took on when he sulked.“You’re top of the cargoclass!”

“Bigwhoop,” Lance had grumbled. “Cargo pilots don’t go on explorationmissions like to Kerberos…”

No, missions like that would be reserved for Keith and James and all the rest at thetop of his year, while he’d be stuck at the bottom of a barreldelivering instant meals to colonies on the moon.

A sharp knock sounded from the door.

“Whatdo you want?” Lance called without turning around. “I’m doing homework!”

The door’s hinges creaked. “That’s a lie.”

He bolted upright, his heart, heavy withdisappointment, lightening when Katie peeked around the door. “Katie!What’re you doing here?” Lance wondered.

She walked in, shutting the door behind her(which his mother wouldn’t be too happy about for some reason…itwas just Katie, their neighborand his friend since forever) and perching on his desk chair. “Iheard from Veronica that you didn’t make fighter class,” she said, scuffing herbare feet against the carpet. “I’m sorry; I know how much you wanted it.”

Lance sat up and waved a hand. “It’snot a big deal,” he said without meeting her eyes. “I mean, at least I made something, right? And if someone in fighter classwashes out I’llbe the first one in line to replace them!”

Katie raised an eyebrow at him, theslightest smirk perking up her lips. “You know that almost never happens, right?”

He slumped, heart weighed down all overagain, and admitted, “Right, well, a guy can hope! Oryou can make it, shoot through the ranks, and change the rules so that the top eleven make fighter class?”He winked at her, oddly pleased when a hint of pink colored her cheeks.

But she rolled his eyes and retorted, “Itdoesn’t really work that way, Lance, and by then it’ll be too late for you.”

“Iknow, I know.” Lance leaned back against his headboard, hands behind his headand ankles folded in front of him. “You couldjust keep some other sorry rank eleven pilot cadet from suffering this samegrave injustice.”

Katie snorted. “You’reso dramatic, Lance.” The bed sank underneath him as she sat beside him andpulled her feet up. “I can tell you’re upset though.”

“Who?Me? Upset that I didn’t get the thing I wanted most in the whole dang universe?Obviously not!”

Katie shot him a flat, unimpressed frown. “Atleast you still get to fly,” she pointed out. “You did reasonably well inflight school, so it’s not like you’ll lack for missions later, even if they’renot glamourous.”

“Easyfor you to say,” Lance mumbled. He covered his face with his arm. “Your dad andbrother are on the mission of a century.”

“Neitherof them is a pilot,” Katie pointed out.

“I’mnot a multi-talented genius like you,” he said, peeking at her from under hisarm. “You can easily get in as a comm specialist or an engineer withoutfinishing school. You can probably get in as a pilot too if you did flightschool first!”

Katie shifted in place, looking suddenlyuncomfortable judging by how she glanced away, and Lance decided to drop thetopic.

“Whatabout you? Going to join me at the Garrison soon?” He grinned, quirking ateasing eyebrow. “Sure, you have to get through at least two years of highschool first, but that’s exciting too, right?”

Katie stuck her tongue out and said, “Please,if I have to suffer more than two years of incompetent teachers and meanclassmates I’ll steal a rocket from the Garrison and launch myself to Kerberoswithout a helmet.”

Lance laughed, but when Katie didn’tjoin in his eyes widened. “That bad?”

She shrugged but rested her chin on herknees, staring at the same spot on his wall that preoccupied him before shearrived. “It’snot a big deal,” she said. “I know there’s an end to it, so I can live with itfor now.”

“Don’tworry,” Lance said. He sat up and slid forward, feet touching the floor, torest a hand on her shoulder. “The Garrison’s better.”

“Easyfor you to say,” Katie said. “You make friends easily and aren’t super smart—”

“Iresent that!” he squawked, hand springing to his chest in offense.

“—soyou fit in.” She smiled apologetically and added, “Sorry, I meant that as anobservation, not an insult.”

“Iknow.” A grin pushed at his lips, and he flicked a strand of her long hair thatfell into her face, unsecured by her ponytail. “But lots of people are supersmart at the Garrison, so you’ll fit right in!”

Probably better than me, he thought with a twinge in his gut.Everyone at the Garrison was just so spectacular…

“Speakingof super smart people,” Lance said, “you heard anything from your dad andbrother lately?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and added, “I know youtalk to them behind the Garrison’s back…”

Katie’s eyes widened in surprise. She grabbedthe front of his shirt, shocking himinto yelping and his heart - did her face have to be so close? - into racing, and said, “No one’s supposed to know about that!”

Lance raised his hands and stuttered, “Sorry!You’re just not careful around me!”

Katie frowned but let him go. “Don’ttell anyone,” she said.

“Hey,your secret is safe with me,” Lance promised. He straightened his shirt andsighed in relief. “So…is that a yes?”

Katie beamed, the expression radiant andwarming him. “Actually,they’re only a few days away from Kerberos…”

***

“Pidge”avoids Lance just like Katie did after the mission failure, but unlike thattime, when her red-eyed mother answered the door with an apology or the pebbleshe lobbed at her bedroom window went unacknowledged, the truth of it stares himin the face.

So he chooses to confront her.

When she opens the door to her dorm, hesticks his foot in the gap before she can slam it back in his face.

“Ow,”he hisses, the shock of it shooting through his foot and forcing a wince fromhim.

“Whatdo you want?” Katie - Pidge? Isn’t that the nickname her brother gave her? -demands. “I’m busy.”

He refuses to budge, despite his stomachdoing somersaults and his heart pounding an uneven rhythm against his ribs. “Ineed to talk to you.”

“Ihave nothing to say to you outside of class,” she retorts tartly.

His chest tightens, but he scowls andinsists, “You’veavoided me for the last few months, Pidge,so I think I at least deserve an explanation.”

Her eyes widen - no longer hidden behindthose big lenses - while a flicker of shame crosses her face before she sighsand opens the door. “Fine,” she says, waving him in. “Let’s make this quick; I havework to do.”

“Work?”Lance snorts, accepting her reluctant invitation. “It’s the second day of thesemester!”

“Ihave more important stuff to do than classwork, Lance,” she grumbles.

Before he can ask what she means, she slamsthe door shut with enough force to rattle the window.

Clothes and books and manuals litter herfloor, a sharp contrast from her relatively tidy childhood bedroom, but despitethe fact that she seems to have made herself quite at home, nothing gives awayanything…personal. No stuffed animals propped against apillow on the bed, no photos of her family pinned to the wall or sitting inframes on her cluttered desk, no stickers or posters or comic books lining thelittle free space on the shelves….

The sight of it makes his chest ache withsomething like regret.

She - really, what should Lance call her? - stands in the middle of the almost hiddenfloor with her arms crossed and her glower fixed at some point past him. “Sowhat do you want?”

“Totalk,” he says, the adrenaline that sustained him up to this point fading as hurt took over. “Why did you ghostme, Katie?”

“Don’tcall me that here,” she snaps, a hint of fear crossing her face so quickly hemight’ve imagined it.

So that answers one question…

“Allright, Pidge,” Lance says through gritted teeth, “whyhaven’t I seen you in months?”

“I’vebeen busy.”

“Busygetting into the Garrison under a fake name?” He mirrors her pose, adding aneyebrow raised in skepticism. “You’d get accepted here as yourself with youreyes closed.”

“I’mnot here for academicreasons,”Pidge says. “I’m here for—look, it doesn’t matter toyou! I’ll be out of your hair soon enough anyway.”

And as much as it pained Lance when sheignored him every time he tried - and failed- to visit her after her father and brother were declared dead, as much as it hurt for her to attempt to blow him offnow, he really didn’tlike the sound of that.

A frown pulls at his lips. “Whatdo you mean?” he wonders.

“I’m…tryingto switch to a different team,” she admits. And she even has the audacity tolook abashed, her eyebrows drawn together and herfingers wringing the hem of her uniform jacket.

But her admission doesn’thurt like it should, not when his chest burns with anger and he snaps, “I don’tknow what you’re up to - and I sure hope you’ll tell me! - but I would never expose you when you’reobviously in disguise.” He rolls his eyes, scowling at the floor, and mutters, “Icovered for you with Hunk already. He sensedsomething odd when I ‘met’ you.”

Of course he had, when the sight of Pidgeand her big brown eyes made his breath catch and his tongue stick to the roofof his mouth and left him speechless.

Really, all his primary school teachersthat bemoaned how talkative he was inclass should’veemployed Pidge disguised as a boy if they wanted him to keep quiet.

“Hedid?” Pidge’s jaw drops. “A-and it’s not that I think you’ll report me,” shecontinues after clearing her throat. “It’s that…I can’t risk being exposed fromsomething so trivial as I’m too friendlytowards someone I just met. Your sister would catch on in a—”

“I’msorry,” Lance interrupts, rolling his eyes, “but that’s the dumbest thing I’veever heard. And look, I knowyou’renot used to making friends”—he doesn’t miss her grimace at the reminder—”but lots of people are really friendly with peoplethey just met, so don’t give me that excuse.”

“I—”Pidge sighs, gaze drifting down to the floor between them. “I just…I don’tknow.”

Lance, suddenly exhausted with all thisincluding the months of her avoiding him, drops onto her bed. “Whyare you going to all this trouble anyway? Your dad works - I mean, worked - here, so can’tyou just…waltz in if you wanted?”

Pidge shakes her head and confesses, “Igot banned from the premises.”

His head snaps up in shock. “Wait,what?”

She sits heavily beside him. “IfI tell you…”

“You’llhave to kill me?” Lance suggests when she trails off, staring into space.

She smiles fleetingly, but he counts it avictory anyway. “No,but you can’t tell anyone else.”

He draws an X over his chest and says, “Crossmy heart. As long as I don’t have to die for this secret…”

“Youcan’t even tell Hunk,” Pidge insists with a glare.

He raises his hands. “I’malready way ahead of you in that…but it’ll get harder,” he says, rubbing theback of his neck sheepishly.

Her eyes flit from his face to the floorand back again. “Itwasn’t pilot error,” she almost whispers.

He leans closer, unsure he heard her right.“What?”

A familiar ferocity enters her eyes,sending a shiver up his spine, as she says, “The pilot didn’t crash and my father andbrother aren’t dead. Something tookthem.”

Lance gapes at her. “Areyou…really? How do you know?”

“ClassifiedGarrison footage I wasn’t supposed to find,” she tells him shortly. “They’relying about what happened.”

“W-whatcould’ve taken them?” he wonders while dread ties his stomach into knots. Buthe forces a laugh and feebly jokes, “N-not aliens, right?” When Pidge doesn’treply, his jaw drops. “Pidge, what did you see?”

“Isaw enough to know there’s more to what the Garrison said publicly,” shepronounces, “but I’m here to find out as much as I can.”

“Anddo what?” Lance asks. “Expose the Garrison’s lie?”

“Maybe,”she says, frowning. “It…depends on what I find.”

“But,Pidge—”

And before he can wonder what she plans todo next, she cuts in, “I’msorry, Lance.”

At this rate, he’llhave a premature heart attack thanks to all the shocksshe’sdealt him.

“What?”

“Ishouldn’t have shut you out like that.” She pulls her feet onto the bed andhugs her knees. “I just didn’t know what to do after the mission failure, so Ithrew myself into investigating that rather than wasting time on other things.”

“Aw,thanks, Pidge,” he says, rolling his eyes despite the disappointment weighinghis heart down anew. “I’m glad that’s what I am to you.”

Her cheeks darken, and she waves her handfrantically to backtrack, “N-no, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Oh,really?” He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You mean I wasn’t trying to waste your time?”

“Th-that’snot it at all, Lance,” she says. She rests her forehead against her knees so hecan’t see her face. “It’s just…it was too tempting to use your connection and I didn’twant you to get caught up in this mess after you applied for the spot thatopened up in fighter class so I kept it to myself.”

Lance frowns, convinced that, for all thetruth in the statement, she hides something else, but he can’thelp quipping, “How thoughtful of you, Pidge.”

But then—

“Wait,how did you know about the spot that opened up?” he wonders, instantlysuspicious. “That happened a while after you started avoiding me.”

Pidge’s shoulders stiffen. “I don’t remember,”she says. “I might’ve come across it while I was hacking into the Garrison’ssystems and assumed you’d try for it.”

Lance doesn’t call her out on her obvious lie, notwhen relief fills him that her silenceis finally at an end and…well, maybe they can’t resume theirfriendship as it was before the mission failure, but they won’t have to startfrom scratch.

“Howcan I help?”

Pidge’s head whips around, her eyes bulging inbefuddlement. “What?”

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance despite hisheart pounding and the voice in his head that reminds him he’salready on thin ice in the Garrison’s eyes, and waves a hand. “You know, withyour…investigation.”

“Um…”She blinks once, twice, three times before saying, “Pretend like we didn’t knoweach other before.”

His heart plummets anew at that. “Why?”

“Ialready explained,” she says. She jumps to her feet and faces him, arms thrownout and eyes fixed on the ceiling. “It’s bad enough yourecognized me, so what if someone else does too?”

“But—”he tries to protest, but Pidge plows right through him.

“There’s…nothingyou can help with, Lance,” she says with a heavy exhale.

“ButI’m your friend!” He stands, flailing his arms and gesturing around her messyroom. “I can at least watch your back while you do your sneaky spy stuff!”

“I…maybe,”she concedes grudgingly, “but right now the best lead I’ve got requires I be asinconspicuous as possible.”

“D-doesthis mean you’re still switching teams?” His breath sticks in his throatpainfully at the thought that they can repair their friendship only for it tofracture moments later.

He grew up with Pidge; she’sas dear to him as…well, not a sister, exactly, but the last few months withouther - undoubtedly while she hurtand stewed over her father’s and brother’s not-deaths alone exceptfor her mother - left him almost listless with how much he missed her.

Pidge’s brown eyes bore into his as she says, “No,I guess that’s not necessary.” A slight smile finds its way onto her face,reassuring and warmingLance as much as her words. “Knowing one of my teammates is reason enoughto stay.”

#plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #aksj;fkj;fsdf i tried i dunno how i did #i wonder if i've lost my touch BUT oh well #how come i post two fics in one day??#WELL this is the only one i wrote today SO #voltron #reem writes fic #Anonymous #also don't want to post anything day of/right before season eight #because i know people will be preoccupied with that #qna

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th-emptyhearse · 6 years

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An Unexpected Discovery

Carry On Countdown day 3: Time Travel AU

Summary: Penny is creating a new spell and it goes a bit unexpectedly. She finds out something that she doesn’t know what to do about, to do with Simon and Baz. She doesn’t know what to do with the situation. 1.3k

Categories: Post-canon, time travel, new spells, angst

December 10 2017, 2.53 pm

I have the apartment to myself. The only class I had today was a 9am, but Simon and Baz both still have classes on. I think I should have about 2 hours before they’re back, so if it seems like its much longer than that before they’re back here, I’ll be able to tell that my spell has worked. Creating new spells can be dangerous, but I’m always feeling the need for more time to spend on my classwork, and to fit in whatever else I have going on in my life, so I figured I give this one a shot. What’s the use of being a Mage if you can’t improve your life and those of others’ with magic? I’m hoping to create a spell that will give people some kind of extra pocket of time to get what they want to get done in. Frankly, it astounds me that nobody else has created a spell like this yet.

I think a phrase from Doctor Who should be popular enough to work, and since ‘Time’ is the first word in the sentence, and the main subject, the spell should affect at least something to do with time. My ring is on my finger, the apartment door locked, my clock in clear view. Everything seems ready and safe, so I close my eyes and focus on pushing my magic up through my body and letting it flow to my ring as I utter the words, “Time and relative dimensions in space,” loudly and clearly.

I open my eyes, and I’m worried for a second because it feels like nothing has changed. The room looks the same, I didn’t feel any kind of tingling sensation, there don’t seem to be any changes in light or temperature. But then I hear the voices. The shouting, should I say, coming from the direction of the living room.

“You can’t break up with me now, it’s Christmas!” I hear Simon shouting.

“It’s December 10th!” Yells back a voice that definitely sounds like Baz.

Either Simon and Baz have just walked in early, or my spell has sent me far forward in time. I need to find out which. So, I softly step off my bed and open the door to the hallway. Simon and Baz seemed to have stopped shouting at each other, but now that I’m closer to the living room I can hear their quieter voices clearly.

“Why are you doing this?” I hear Simon ask, in a pleading tone.

“I already told you,” Baz is speaking very flatly, unemotionally, but I know him well enough now to be able to tell that he must be feeling a whole lot of emotion underneath the veil of his cold demeanour.

“But,” Simon stutters, “but I love you.” I’m in the doorway to the living room now, and I can see the two standing by the window that overlooks the road below. Baz just rakes his hand through his hair after Simon’s comment, looking down at the floor and sighing at the same time. They stand there in silence for a good ten seconds, and I can see tears welling up in Simon’s eyes, even from where I’m standing, slightly obscured, a few metres away. I’m just tossing up in my mind whether I should walk into the room or leave them be when Baz suddenly grabs his coat off a chair and stalks out of the room. Simon drops down on the couch, his head in his hands and starts sobbing as the door to the apartment closes behind Baz. I am so shocked by this whole situation that I stand frozen for a while, too lost in thought to move. Have things been going downhill in their relationship for a while? Because, so far I haven’t seen anything that would suggest I’ve gone forward in time in terms of how the apartment looks. Maybe I should’ve taken more notice of my surroundings before I cast my spell. But Simon and Baz’ relationship has seemed perfectly healthy to me lately. I’m utterly confused, but soon remember that my best friend is sobbing, freshly broken up with, alone on the couch, and I move myself out of my stupor and to him, no matter whether this is present or future. It only takes me a few gentle steps to reach the couch, and I quietly slide down next to Simon, putting my arm around his shoulders and holding him close.

“Hey, Simon, it’ll be alright,” I croon, leaning close to him so I can speak quietly, and stroking a piece of hair out of his face.

“I don’t think it will be, Penny,” he replies, still sitting with his elbows on his knees and his face covered with his hands. His voice sounds groggy and thick with sorrow, and it hurts to see him like this. I can’t believe Baz could do this, but then again, I really have no idea what has lead to this happening. I’m starting to stroke his back in little circles when he sits up.

“Wait,” he says, his eyebrows knitting together, “I didn’t know you were home, Pen.” And that’s when I see it. The Christmas tree in the corner of the room, that had been hidden from my sight by the wall before. Oh, and the fact that I have indeed traveled in time, of course. I’d noticed before that the room had vaguely smelled of pine, but it hadn’t caught my attention too much. But now, as Simon speaks to me, I see it out of the corner of my eye, and then turn my head towards it. It’s tall and a vivid green, decorated with all sorts of ornaments and a large amount of gold tinsel. I can see that Simon had a great involvement in the decoration. But what’s really important about the tree is that it’s real. Not fake, like the one that we had sitting in the house when I cast the spell.

“Uh, yeah,” I mutter vaguely, not quite sure yet of the appropriate course of action in this situation, now that I’ve more clearly established in my mind when I actually am. “Um, what date is it, Si?” The tears are still rolling down his face but the look of sadness has been momentarily replaced with confusion.

“December 10th, I think. Why do you ask?” So, the same date, but how many years later is it?

“Alright, this is going to sound strange, but don’t worry too much about it.”

“Ok...” Simon’s tone prompts me to go on. He justs looks even more befuddled and slightly suspicious now.

“What year is it?”

“2018.” Oh. Oh. Oh no. So, Simon and Baz break up on December 10th 2018. Crowley, I don’t say this a lot, but I don’t know what to do.

“Do you want some tea?” I ask Simon, out of instinct. Maybe some time to think about this would be good, anyway. And it would be best to stay and comfort Simon, keep him company. I can see that he’s really hurting over this, and even if I am in the wrong time, it seems like it’s the right thing to do. Simon needs someone right now, and ever since we were 11, I’ve been that person to him.

“Sure, thanks,” Simon says softly, his voice melancholy and slightly wobbly once again. I guess he’s not too suspicious. I just hope that nothing goes wrong while I’m here. I hope the me from 2018 doesn’t walk through the door. I hope I can get back, and that I’ll know what to do when I get there. Because, as of right now, I’m feeling rather lost.

...

To be continued... (I’ll probably turn this into a chaptered fic on AO3 and fanfiction.net, and maybe edit it a little. Find me at sour-cherry-scones on fanfiction.net and sourcherryscones on AO3!)

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millenialstudies · 6 years

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If you’re a student, it will happen. And 75% of the way through a crisis of such, I decided that it was only right to get the bad stuff out there, so you can take it, and fight it. You browse Tumblr, and see the pristine notes and the productivity goals, the occasional admittance to studying late, taking more caffeine than regular or being wracked with nerves for an upcoming exam and the workload it embeds into us students- but you don’t see any of that sheer, frantic rushing when some disaster or another throw you off course. It could be a family issue that has left you distracted; some recent general lack of productivity has pitted you several days behind; you’re having social issues, or some natural disaster forces you stay away from your school, college or university for more time than regular- there are thousands of things that can put you behind, and the catch-up is shocking.

Of course, I understand why people don’t regularly post about these mishaps and the partially reckless things they are forced to do to get back into shape when worst comes to worst- if you are beginning a crisis, you can sometimes seem disheartened and pessimistic, and who wants to read that for ‘inspiration’? But, being an optimist and being able to make light of all situations, I thought it would be reasonable to do so here, by recounting a current miniature disaster in blunt reality, and then presenting the reason why the occasional desperation downfall isn’t really so bad.

Here’s the situation: I’ve been ill for 3 weeks, with a horrible virus and my lack of immune system leading to me contracting a rash on my lower face. We’re finishing our last load of content, rushing through before we break up for Christmas and the torrential snow plus the fact we are all a little behind in our classes anyway means these last two weeks? They’re going to be crammed with heavy writing and classwork.

3:30 AM: I had a cup of coffee and chugged it down, hurrying to finish the next day’s Christmas cards in time for me to post or hand them out to my peers in the educational day ahead. I haven’t had any sleep, because I realised I had so much work, both social and educational, to get finished, and my head was pounding from my already debilitating illness. No, I shouldn’t be going to school tomorrow, I am too ill- but I can’t risk the time off and lack of work being given. When I’m done, I return to my room and look at the daunting mess of my most content heavy subject- history- and the 3 weeks (aka, 9 pages) of homework I’ve been unable to finish due to being bedridden- and revision for 3 other subjects. It has to be done.

4:30 AM: My heart at this point was genuinely racing. I felt awful and energised at the same time. Call me crazy, I had to stop myself shaking due to my body fighting the caffeine and how easily caffeine affects me by simply talking myself through the day ahead. I’ve pulled all-nighters before, and so I already know how I’m going to feel later on, and I’m mentally prepping for it.

5:30 AM: I’ve finally done my history and I know the rest will only take me an hour and a bit. I have to be ready to leave by 7:15- I can take 20 minutes at some point to grab my second cup of coffee (safely timed to be about 3-4 hours after the first, which is not bad for me, considering it’s only the second cup) and get myself prepped.

Right now it’s about 6:02, and I’m happy I’ve made it this far. I know I’m going to have a massive load of work thrown at me today, and that taking the day off and sleeping in would be much easier. I DO NOT recommend that you get yourself into the situation where you have to pull an all-nighter to work. It isn’t something you should just do, so don’t take that from this post. But this is the message I’m trying to convey by posting this:

Sometimes, things get bad. You get caught up, you’re depressed, you have just fallen behind in the race. And that’s okay- your situation could be a lot worse than this, or even a little easier but still hits you hard. When you feel that much pressure and know you need to do something fast, it is okay to endure an irritable night of study, lacking sleep, so long as you don’t get into a routine of it- learning and studying, at whatever level, is difficult. But the important thing about when you feel like you’re hitting a rock bottom with studying, or work, or anything- is that no matter what you think you have to do, you do it, and you persevere. You push yourself through your demoralised state and you keep writing, keep moving, keep calculating, even if you aren’t in your best form. Because however long it takes, after an hour, or five, it will be done, and you’ll be back on track. The feeling of accomplishment will help to alleviate some of that gritty hardship- and a day out of a year of feeling a little odd and not being as healthy for yourself as you might be normally is better than depressing yourself further.

Nobody wants to be in that situation, but it can happen, it might happen- let’s face it, it probably will happen. Just don’t give up, it won’t damage you once.

Mini Tips

• Don’t EVER make a habit of it. An all-nighter or general prolonged hours of study is fine if you know you usually are consistent with your work and rarely leave things too late or stray off tracks, but if you’re having to cram because you don’t have a study routine or leave things till last minute, I wouldn’t recommend doing this. Instead, I’d take a weekend to get your work straight then produce a routine so that you aren’t constantly cramming, because on a general it isn’t a good idea.

• If you need to cram for a test, then just don’t. You might be scared of struggling and not knowing as much, but cramming revision or pulling a revision all-nighter won’t be beneficial unless you’re producing revision material (such as flashcards) to revise from- if you’re trying to learn or memorise anything ready for a test in a few days or a week, it just will not process, and you’re better off with your current knowledge and the extra sleep/time in between.

• If you can find any other rational solution or something better than cramming, go for it. Some suggestions if you’re desperate but not quite desperate enough to do this:

>Between mass periods of work, do very small actions to keep yourself active and alert. Literally, go to the loo, brush your teeth, grab some water- 1-10 minute activities that barely take any time (avoid the phone though)

>Grab a 30-minute nap somewhere. It’s better than nothing, seriously. You’ll feel tired but you won’t feel brain-dead if you’re easily impacted.

>Instead of pulling an all-nighter, go to bed a bit earlier in the day and wake up early in the morning- though going to bed at 6-7 and waking up at 4-5 might be weird, you could find spending hours in the morning means you’re refreshed and will work for longer in comparison to procrastinating at the end of a day.

I know this is a weird post as one of my first- to be fair, I needed this as much as I felt like it would be beneficial to get it out there, and hopefully, it’s provided help of some kind! I’ll have more productive and optimistically viewing posts on study out soon!

Have hope, peeps!

millenialstudies

#all nighter #sleep #study #study inspo #realism #real life #study blog #studyblr

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jess-the-vampire · 7 years

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Tom Vs The Forces Of Evil (Au), Chapter 10

Previous / Next

"Tom?", Marco opened the door to his friend's room and peeked his head through the door, "We got school today, why aren't you up?" Tom was lying in his bed, covered in blankets, he wasn't dressed, and his hair was still a mess. Tom got up early to get ready, at least he usually did. Marco walked over to his friend and shook him, "Tom? Tom you have to get up we're gonna be late...." "Marco.....", Tom grumbled and looked at his friend, "I don't feel well.....". Marco sat on his bed, "You're sick?" "I think so....I just....I don't feel ok, I-I don't think I can go to school today...", He pressed his face into his pillow, "I think today I should just stay here and rest, just tell my teachers i'm sick today and you can bring me whatever I have to work on I guess...." Marco reached a hand out and felt Tom's forehead, "I could stay too If you want? I Don't want you to be alone..."

"No it's fine, your parents can take care of me......just let them know i'm here and....you should go.." "Are you sure?", Marco didn't enjoy leaving Tom alone, he could be hurt, or kidnapped, or who knows what. Maybe it was just his safe kid instincts as per usual, but he just didn't enjoy Tom being in places he couldn't see him in. Tom could take care of himself of course, but there was always a possibility of something huge happening and he wouldn't be there. "Yeah, you need to go to school more then me anyway.....I just need to rest...", Tom said, smiling, "I'll be just fine, you go on...." Marco smiled and helped pull the covers over Tom a little more, "Ok, i'll let my parents and your teachers know, and when I get back i'll get you some soup and i'll help you with your schoolwork, is that ok?". Tom nodded, and Marco waved at him and closed the door gently behind him. Marco couldn't help but look back at Tom's bedroom door before he went down the stairs, this was the first time Tom wasn't going to school with him since he moved in and he almost felt like Tom would get up any moment and leave with him. Tom must've caught a bug when he visited mewni a few days ago, he hoped it wasn't anything serious or that his dad poisoned his food. He found his parents in the living room, watching TV together. "Marco, where's Tom?", His mother asked immediately, "You both have school today..." "Tom's sick...", he informed, his parents' faces started to look worried and he immediately tried to calm them down, "It's ok, it's ok....I think he just needs some rest.... " "Should we go upstairs? I can get a doctor or-", marco knew they were starting to panic, they usually always were very concerned whenever their exchange students were under the whether, because they took it as a sign they hadn't taken good care of them. "No, just....check on him, and see if he needs anything..", Marco reassured, "I'm sure it's minor...." He looked at his watch, "I better go, just.....don't worry, he'll be fine....just bring him some food and keep an eye on him ok?" He starting heading out the door and waited for their response. They both gave him thumbs up, and he took that as a good sign and closed the door behind him in relief that his parents wouldn't go to any extreme to help cure Tom. Marco felt awkward walking to the bus stop without Tom. He was safe with his parents sure, but, he missed sitting next to him; Sharing headphones and listening to Love Sentence on the ride to school and mouthing the lyrics together like dorks. He never realized how much Tom became a part of his life, and his daily routine. He could even see his classmates around him eyeing him, taking note that the seat next to him was empty. Some girls were snickering at him and he blushed. "Hey Diaz....where's your roommate? He didn't go off and find cooler friends did he?" Marco resisted the urge to hit her in the face and instead gave her a look. "I dunno Abby? Maybe he wanted to go to school another route since this one is has your bad attitude stinking up the place?" The girl snarled at him and he resumed listening to music alone. Sigh, this was gonna be a long day.... - Tom sat up, feeling very hot and sweaty, his head hurt..... a lot. Can't sleep, can't relax, he wasn't sure if he was entirely sick but he was certain he was in no condition to go anywhere. His wand sat on the bed next to him, and he wondered if it was possible there was a spell that might make him feel better, but then elected to not point a magic wand at his face considering the consequences of messing up and making himself sicker. All he could think about was the screams and hollers of pain from the monster he tortured, and they wouldn't stop ringing in his ears. He also couldn't help but think about his father, and his reaction. He kinda expected him to be more pleased, but then again, his father was almost never pleased. He felt his throbbing head, he should've asked Marco more about how humans handle this, so Marco could cure him with earth magic. He wanted to call up Marco's parents, who'd been asking him almost every minute if he needed anything until he told them he'd be find on his own for a bit, maybe to ask for something to eat or whatever else humans did to make them....not-sick. For now he elected to take a cold shower and made his way into the bathroom. He pressed his head against the shower wall as cold water ran down his back, he felt really gross, he wasn't very used to being sick considering back on Mewni people took care of him quickly to make sure their future king would be alive to pass on the wand to his next heir. How did normal people bear this feeling for so long? He wrapped a towel around himself once finished, and decided to change into some clean, nonsweaty, clothes. He slipped into shorts and a tank top and tried to go back to bed, but then he shivered, feeling a bit cold now. He groaned into his pillow, he just wanted to sleep until Marco came back, and he couldn't convince his body to do so. He stood back up and walked to the corner of his room and let his rabbit out, the pink rabbit happily made his way onto the boy's lap as he scratched behind his ears. "Hey buddy...", Tom mumbled,"Guess we can hang out till Marco gets back...." Marshmallow sniffed his hand before hopping around the floor, he ran around for a bit when Tom saw him hide under his bed. Tom laughed, "Oh, c'mon you....you don't really think you can hide from me?", Tom made his way over to his flame patterned bed and grabbed his soft rabbit out from under it, but something else came with him. A red hoodie, Marshmallow poked his head out from the collar, and Tom laughed. "Oh yeah, I forgot I hid that....", Tom laughed at when he tried to prank marco by hiding his hoodie, only to find out Marco had 50 other red hoodies just like this one; Some prankster he was. Marshmallow plopped out onto Tom's lap and Tom looked at the hoodie and after thinking a bit, pulled it over his head to reduce the cold. "So this is what it feels like....", Tom mumbled, he wouldn't admit it but it felt like permanent hug from marco. It was nice. He looked around for a bit, Marco wouldn't be back for awhile, he wouldn't mind if he borrowed his hoodie for a bit right? He saw his Rabbit pawing at him and smiled, maybe being sick wouldn't be so bad? - Marco missed Tom, he missed him a lot. He was so used to hanging out with him at school, meeting up with him, having lunch with him, walking to classes together. Marco'd had a few friends before Tom, but he hadn't spent nearly as much time with them as he did with Tom now. He felt eyes on him, people wondering where Tom was since they were usually always together. At least his teachers were understanding, although carrying extra homework and classwork for Tom kinda sucked. Marco sat down at lunch, eating alone at he and Tom's usual table when someone sat down next to him. "Hey Marco!" Jackie. Marco had to calm down so he didn't choke on his sandwich. "H-hey.." "Sorry...", She started, "I just noticed Tom wasn't here and I thought you might like company, is that ok?" "Y-Yeah, that's totally ok!!.", he replied way too fast, "Tom's sick today....so..yeah.." "Aww, i'm sorry, I hope he feels better soon...", She replied, "Getting sick on a school day kinda sucks when you have tons of make up work to do, but i'm sure he won't mind getting a break from school..." "Y-Yeah...", Marco was having trouble coming up with proper replies, "I-I'm gonna help him make up his work so he doesn't fall behind....I mean, he doesn't really need earth school since he's gonna be king of mewni but..." He trailed off, feeling very nervous and sweaty. Jackie laughed, "Well you're a good friend then, he's lucky to have you.." Marco smiled wide. Maybe the rest of the day wouldn't be so bad? - Tom relaxed on the bed. watching his rabbit nibble pellets from his palm, snickering at the rabbit tickling him with his nose and whiskers. He half expected Marco would call to check up on him, but he hadn't. But then again he was probably busy at school, and apparently earth schools considered phones to be a distraction. "At least You're here to keep me company.....", He said, "Goofball....." He picked up his rabbit and put him back into his cage, Marshmallow burrowed under the bedding and Tom trotted back to his bed. He was still wearing Marco's hoodie and frankly he refused to take it off, no wonder Marco wore this thing so often. Tom buried his nose into it, resting and enjoying it as he laid back down. He felt very at home now, like he can finally sleep. Then he snapped his eyes open. He sat up, blushing and extremely embarrassed, he pulled Marco's hoodie off of him. He'd been sniffing Marco's hoodie, inhaling his scent. His best friend. He threw it back under the bed, trying to process the fact that he even did that to begin with. If Marco had walked in and caught him doing that it would be mortifying, a wave of cold hit him again and he desperatly wanted to grab the hoodie and put it back on again. But he couldn't. Yes, he liked Marco, but he didn't......he never.... Not since......The blood moon ball The memories of the ball flooded in fast and he followed his usual first instinct, which was to push them away. He rubbed his head, dumb move, very dumb move. Marco was his best friend, and if he kept acting like this, he wouldn't be for much longer. Tom didn't need a repeat of Star again, not another friend lost because he couldn't be the perfect boyfriend. Because he was so bad when he had crushes. Star was a prime example of that, he could try to be cool all he wanted, but half the time he felt like he never really did impress her at all. Not to mention how unhealthy his crush was, Marco had to convince him to move on before he did anything else stupid. And losing Marco was guaranteed to be much more painful then when he broke up with Star. He and Marco shared everything together, He lived with Marco, Marco talked to him about things he could've never brought up with Star, Marco's hugs made him feel safe.... His world would crash beneath him. Tom fell back on the bed, this isn't what he wanted to think about today, no no no. His mind, just had to leap to this strange idea of him dating Marco. He tried to calm himself down, he was fine. He was just jumping to conclusions again, Tom knew he got attached to people easily and he was probably just this way because he really did like Marco and Marco was apart of his home on Earth. Even Star, who once teased him being Tom's date, was being jokey. He felt better reassuring himself, it was all too common of him to freak out and assume things, and he was making a big deal out of something small. He didn't think of Marco that way and that was final, he was just being stupid. Marshmallow poked his head out from under his bedding to stare at the embarrassed mewman. "Don't look at me like that...", Tom grumbled. Then his mirror started ringing, starting him, he almost fell off the bed. Starship is Calling... His stomach fell, he hadn't been expecting that. Why would Star be calling him? He was sure she probably blocked his number ages ago. He stood up and trotted his way over to his mirror, and awkwardly answered it. "Hello?" Star stood in front of him shyly, Tail practically between her legs, Tom wasn't sure what to say after their last meeting. "Hi Tom...." "Star?" She crossed her arms, "I'm glad I caught you, I wasn't kinda really sure when to call, since I didn't know when you'd be here and if you still allowed me to call, or if mirrors still worked on earth, or if i'd be interrupting something or-" "Star, it's ok.....I-I I'm here sick today...", He looked at his feet, "Marco is at school, so i'm just kinda by myself......" "Oh...", She bit her lip, "Ok..." There was a moment of awkward silence, Tom shifted in place a bit, "So....what do you want?" "I wanted to talk.....a bit...", She started, "I'm sorry things have been kinda rough for you lately...." "It's not uncommon....", Tom muttered, shrugging, "Just my life I suppose....." "Well....I-I...I wanted to say, I-I uh.....I...If you need anything...I wanna help...", She sighed, "I-I'm not open to being your girlfriend but.....If you...need a friend? " Tom looked up, a noticeable blush on his face,"Y-You wanna be friends? What came up?" "I've been thinking lately....and....I know things have been rough between us, but...I wanna be an ear, if you need someone to talk to ok?", She pulled on her hair, "I wasn't great in the past when you were upset and I just wann-" "Star...", Tom said, "It's ok....y-you don't have to do that..." "I know, I just...Want to....I don't have to..but...I wasn't there for you then, and I don't wanna run away from it anymore.....", The demon relaxed and gave a small smile, "I'm sorry, Things went bad between us...and...I really didn't want to make you feel like...I hated you or anything.." "Star..." "We weren't the best couple but...things should've ended better between us...." "Star it's ok..I-I tried to push back into a relationship that was already gone.....and I shouldn't have...", Tom said, "You don't have to beg for forgiveness or feel bad for me, It's....you're not obliged to return my feelings or talk to me again if you don't want to-" "Tom.....it's your Dad...", Star interrupted, finally spilling the beans, "Mom talked to him yesterday, and....did he really threaten to hurt Marco?" Tom stiffened in place, he felt sick again, "Ho-how...what?" "Demon Magic...", Star mumbled, "Tom, Marco means the world to you....and if anything happens to him....I-I don't.....I wanna help, I don't want you to be....because I wasn't..." "I get it...", Tom said, "Just....don't tell Marco....I-I don't want him to worry.....not unless he has to know..." "Ok.." She looked like she had something else to say, and Tom motioned her to go on. "He's bonded to you Tom, Your dad doesn't know....does he?" Tom felt his stomach drop again, she just HAD to bring up the ball again, he'd tried to bury that night in his mind since it happened. He'd almost forgotten about it. And today, it managed to come back full force and refuse to go back under the rug. "N-No...he doesn't..." Tom knew a bit about the moon, or at least, he knew enough. At the time he was a bit awestruck, being chosen with Marco under the moon, dancing together so awkwardly. He had never looked at Marco like that before, never once, and after it happened he told himself he never would. That he would never let himself lose another friend. He stopped talking about demon culture entirely after that in fact, because the dance between him and Marco just wasn't....it wasn't right. The Moon was wrong. and now, dancing with Marco has re-entered his mind once again, and he felt himself grown warm. She brushed her long blonde hair out of her face, "I'm sorry this was uh..." Tom snapped out of his thoughts to focus on the matter at hand, Star. "No Star....I-It means lot to me, that you care...that you care about Marco.....that you care about me...", he managed a sad smile, "I-I just....thanks for calling, it means a lot to me that you're willing to do so much....you don't have to.." She grinned, "Well, what are friends for?" Tom gave her a matching grin. "Just...if you need anything...call me, ok?" "Yeah, and Star??" Star looked up, "Hmm?" His face grew stern, "If My Dad talks about Marco again, tell me.....please?" "If my mom finds anything....yeah..", she gave him one last look, "I hope you feel better soon....bye Tom." "Bye Star...", the call ended. Tom felt speechless after that conversation, Star wanted to be friends again, which was kinda cool, he wasn't expecting that; But then again his expectations were usually always very low. However, the idea of his dad talking about Marco just made him shiver, he tried to clear his head, he couldn't get angry again. But the Moon, the moon..... It had to have done something to him, that's when this began right? That was when he started doing this to Marco, and now that it was brought up, and now that his Dad had Marco in his thoughts, it was something he couldn't just bury again. He fell onto the sheets, face first, why couldn't his life be much simpler? He gripped the mattress, trying in all his power not to get angry, to not get angry at the idea of his father touching marco, hurting him, using him to make Tom break. Tom swore under his breath, if his father laid one hand on Marco.... But then he calmed down at the thought of seeing Marco again and Marco hugging him tightly in his arms. A feeling he was now starting to think of differently after wearing Marco's hoodie, and that alone made him feel sick. "What's wrong with me....", He mumbled into the sheets. Sometimes he wished he could turn off his emotions. - Marco and Jackie hung out the rest of the school day, it was a welcome surprise to Marco frankly. He, and his crush, were hanging out, and she actually even seemed to really like him. She laughed at his jokes, listened to what he said, and she didn't even think he was weird or awkward at all!! Today wasn't actually as bad as he was thought. By the end of the school day, he and Jackie actually exchanged numbers!! This was more then he could've hoped for. But eventually the bus came and he needed to head out while she needed to skate home. "Thanks for keeping me company today...", Marco said, not really looking at her in the eyes, trying to hide his obvious blush. "Hey, it's no problem , I had fun today...", She put on her helmet, "Tell Tom I hope he gets well soon.." "Of course!!", Marco replied, "Hopefully his bug will die down soon and he'll be back on his feet..." "We should all hang out sometime.." Jackie suggested, "Call me and we could all see a movie together ok?" "Y-Yeah, that sounds wonderful!", he replied all too quickly, but Jackie didn't care, she waved at him and skated off as he boarded the bus to go back home. By the time he was dropped off, Marco had a new skip in his step. He dropped his backpack off in his living room and waved to his parents, pulling out Tom's classwork out and heading upstairs to check up on his sick friend. "Tom, i'm home!!", the human knocked on his friend's door, "Can I come in?" He heard a grumbled from the other side telling him "Fine". Marco opened the door and found his friend covered in blankets, hiding from the world. Marco carefully pulled them off his face, "Hey Tom, How are you feeling...." Tom tried to avoid eye contact, "Not much better...." Marco sat Tom's work on the nightstand next to the boy's bed, "I can go make some soup if you want? Have you eaten at all today? I don't want you to feel any worse..." Frankly it wasn't his illness that was making Tom feel worse, but all the emotions and thoughts that made him feel sick. The confusing emotions to sniffing Marco's hoodie, and fear and anger at his father, the awkwardness of Star wanting to be his friend again... His head hurt even worse then it did before. "I-I guess if you want to.....", Tom mumbled, "I'm pretty hungry.." Marco smiled at him gently, "Ok, i'll bring you some food and we can work on your homework together, sound good?" Tom mumbled something Marco took as a "Fine" The human stood up, and almost headed out before stopping, "Oh, and Jackie wishes you the best of luck with getting better!!!". This made Tom sit up, looking at Marco curiously now, "What do you mean, y-you talked to Jackie today?" Marco turned towards his friend, blushing, "Well, we uh...yeah, more then before....we spent some school time today, it was REALLY cool, she's really cool. She actually asked if we all could hang out sometime, It was pretty awesome, I just....wow...". Tom blinked a few times, Marco's day was so much better, while his felt worse. He could hear little voices in his head trying to tell him that Marco had this day because he wasn't there, but he tried to push them back. Marco looked so happy, he didn't want to cry in front of him, didn't want to ruin his perfect day. "T-That sounds great Marco....", Tom mumbled, "I-I'm glad things are working out between you two...." He didn't miss you at all That's not true He's gonna replace you with Jackie, he's gonna find her cooler then you and leave you just like everyone always does. Marco is different You said the same thing about Star Marco isn't Star, Marco is not like Star How can you be sure? "Yeah..", Marco grinned ear to ear, "Tom, I gotta thank you..." "For What?", Tom snapped out of his thoughts. "For coming to earth...", He answered simply, "If it wasn't for you, Jackie and me might not have even hung out, I might never have gotten to see so many cool places, Heck, who knows how boring my life would be without you!" His stomach dropped for what he could assume was the millionth time today. Tom could feel himself grow warm under his smile, he was always happy and cheerful when Marco complimented him considering he wasn't used to being praised. But this time it felt different, he wasn't sure how to describe it, he just knew it was.....different. "Well.....my life would be kinda boring too....without you...", Tom managed to get out, "Earth is nice.....you're nice..." Marco walked forward and gave Tom a quick hug, and Tom hesitantly hugged him back. Tom even noticed the way he was holding Marco was off, like he couldn't hug him properly. That was odd, he hugged Marco plenty of times before, what made this one any different then the last? Then hit hit him, Marco's familiar scent quaffed over him, making him remember the hoodie incident and blush. What happened to him? What in the world did that moon do to him? Tom started to cough a little bit, startling Marco. Marco removed himself quickly from his friend, not wanting to get sick too. "Right, Soup!! I'll be right back!!" He ran out of the room, still smiling. Tom watched him leave, conflicted on how to feel at the moment. Today had been an emotional roller coaster for him, and right now he wanted to think about anything else, or maybe just go numb for awhile and turn off his cruel brain. But these thoughts were not going to simply vanish, and he knew it. He was going to have to find a solution.

#tomco #tom the demon #marco #marco diaz #Tom Vs The Forces Of Evil #star vs the forces of evil #fanfiction #fanfic #my art #star butterfly #jackie lynn thomas

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poisoneranarchist · 5 years

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The Curse of Satin Wing

There once was a boy named Satin Wing, but I knew him before he became dark, twisted, and evil. Look, I was his best friend since I first met him in Mrs. Cucuy's second-grade class. Mrs. Cucuy was a gentle teacher, she tried to help Satin. But it just increased his irritation. That's also when he started to change as well. You see, he was unusual. He acted strangely. He was bullied because of his brother Lucifer who was actually a pretty good kid, except that somehow he accidentally provoked a riot with the song "Riot" by Three Days Grace. It was actually pretty hilarious. Anyway, you came here to learn about Satin. He couldn't take the bullying anymore. He has dark black hair, like the kind of black in a very dark room. He also has deep violet eyes that have been known to turn an almost demon black when he gets irritated. He's average in height and surprisingly adorable. Well, I think he can be appealing at times. It begins like any other day, but it's sprinkling. Satin and I were walking home when James reveals his vulgar red-haired face and screams at the top of his lungs, "Oh, Satan! Where are you going? Huh?" "Ignore him, Satin," I said just as he yelled back, "Leave me alone, you imbecile!" James ran up and struck Satin in the face. Yeah, this happened a lot. But usually, Satin would haul me off of James and proceed to tell me, "That he's not worth it." But this time he joined in. Which disturbed me so much that I halted and hauled Satin off of James. Satin didn't come to school today, I guess he was sick or just didn't want to deal with James. I can't blame him if it's the latter. So, after school, I decided to pay him a visit. Satin's parents said he was fine. However, Satin wasn't okay. I could tell that something wrong because he was pale, well, paler than usual and he was sweating. He continued to freak out whenever I asked him what was wrong. Satin was having nightmares but would not tell me about it. "Satin, what's the matter?" He just glanced at the ground, refusing to answer. "Satin, you can trust me," I pleaded as I stooped down in front him. He sighed then looked at me, "You really want to know?" "Of course, Satin," I responded. He sighed again and proceeded to tell me what is the nightmare was about. It was about him having blood on his hands. I was lifeless at his feet with my throat ripped out. There was a man with a black cloak a couple feet away, who murmured, "Look what you've done, I knew what you were from the beginning. I could smell the blood. You were born to spill blood, boy." Satin woke up after that. When his parents came to get him up for school, he responded that he wasn't feeling great. So, out of concern for his health, they let him stay home. "I got your homework and your classwork. Which I guess is also technically homework for the day, if you want I can help you with it. Satin, are you okay?" I began to grow concerned because I thought he worried about the nightmare. I replied, "Don't worry about it, okay, after all, it was only a nightmare." But that didn't seem to comfort him at all. "Look, I think you should stay away from me for a while. I don't want you to get hurt." He glanced away and looked at the floor. I couldn't believe what Satin was saying. As a result, I started to scream and yell, "How could you say that Satin, after everything we've been through!? We promised that we would stick together, seriously what is wrong with you? So, you're just going to throw me to the curb like that after a nightmare!!!!" Well, he took all of it and just stood there dumbfounded. I screamed, "Are you going to answer me or stand there looking like an idiot, well?!" He walked over to me and enveloped me in a hug. My cheeks felt wet as if water were splashed on my face, and that's when I realized why he hugged me. I was crying and had been for a while now. I had never cried around Satin before so, now that I was, he knew he had done something wrong. He started to try and comfort me by saying he was sorry for what he said and that he didn't mean any of it. He just wanted to protect me. He kept telling me that we were friends. The next day, I entered the class and proceeded to take my seat next to Satin's and waited for him to arrive so I could talk to him before class started. But he didn't show up. As I sat there, I thought I heard people yelling. The yelling caught my attention as I walked out the door and into the hallway. Only to see a small gathering around two students fighting each other. I pushed myself through the small crowd of people to see who was fighting who. When I did get through I saw Satin punching James and James retaliating right back. Then I got in the middle of it and tried to shove James away from Satin. As I kept trying to keep James away from Satin. I attempted to ask Satin if he was alright. But two teachers got involved and tore Satin, James, and I apart. Well, they half carried half dragged Satin away, he was a bloody mess by the end of it. The teachers put James in a room and brought me to one. I entered the room, they closed the door after I walked through the doorway. They tried to talk to me. I refused to speak until I saw Satin. They lead me to another room, laying in a bed was Satin. He was a broken mess with his gorgeous violet eyes closed. I ran to his side. I stayed there until the teachers had to drag me away. "Why did you get involved with this fight?" asked the Headmaster. "Why did it take the teachers so long to intervene?" I countered. "That is not why you are here," responded the Headmaster, "You are here to explain why you got involved." "I think you know why I did," I replied through clenched teeth. "You have been somewhat of a good student these past few years, would you like to tell me the reason for the kind of behavior you displayed in the hallway with James?" "As I said before, I think you already know the reason why I did what I did." "I did not bring you here to condemn you, I only ask an answer to the question I just asked you." "And you already have my answer," I retorted, as I glared at the Headmaster. "Look," the Headmaster murmured, voice slightly angry, "I can't help you unless you tell me why you got yourself into this fight." I took a breath and explained to the Headmaster that Satin was my friend who would never do something like that unless he was provoked. I got suspended for a week. The entire time of my suspension, I was right by Satin's side. I even fell asleep in the chair right by his chair more than once. It’s been a couple weeks since Satin was in the hospital wing. We’re back in school together. I still help him throughout the day. We left school a little after dark, so, we decided to take a shortcut through an alley. We were walking, when I thought I heard something I turned around only to see a figure moving toward us. I turned toward Satin, and he wasn't walking anymore. "Satin? What is it?" I inquired as I looked around, trying to understand why he stopped. But I didn't see anything in front of us. "Hey, Satin!" I heard a familiar voice call out from behind us. Satin's still frozen in place to bother noticing as James starts to run toward us. I barred his path to Satin, "Move," James growled as he reached us. I don't move an inch. Instead, I proceeded to stare him down, which didn't do anything. He just shoved me to the ground as I screamed, "Satin!!" Satin snapped out of it a few seconds too late as his face met James's fist. Satin staggered a little from the blow, but to my surprise, he remained upright. He just glared at James. He tackles James to ground, forgetting that I'm on the ground not far where they landed. "Satin!! Stop!!" I shrieked as I tried in vain to get his attention. He disregarded me as he punched James repeatedly. "Is...that...all you've...got?" James mocked in between punches. I clutched Satin's arms and tried to get to him to stop. But when I turned him to face me, his bright purple eyes that are so intense it's almost as if one could drown in them. They were now obscured by darkness. "S-Satin?" I asked in horror. I nervously took a step back from him. He snarled at me like a wild animal then returned his attention to James, walking as if in a daze over to where James is who is now standing. "Come on, Satan, bring it on," James jeered, "Come at me." Satin went up to James and grabbed his feet, picking him up like he weighed nothing more than paper. James yelped as Satin slammed him on the ground. "Satin!!" I shrieked as he went to grab James again. He paused for a second. James to slowly dragged himself away from Satin as he stood there. He only got halfway before Satin noticed, crept up behind him, hauling James by his feet. He grabbed James's arm, picking him up again as if he weighed nothing, into the air and threw him into a nearby wall. James slumped to the ground. I limped over to where James was as Satin walked over only to find me barring his path. "That's enough Satin," I muttered as I glared at Satin, "I think he learned his lesson in not messing with you. Let's just go." Satin just stared vacantly back as he growled," Get out of my way." "No, I'm not moving." "I said, MOVE NOW!" "I said I'm not moving." "Then, I'll just move you myself." He flung me across the alley, I crashed into some garbage cans spilling the contents along the ground. I get up, shaking the dizziness away and stumbled in front of Satin. "Persistent. Tell me, when did that happen?" he tilted his head to the side as he murmured this. Satin's eyes were devoid of any expression, it was as if he lost all semblance of who he is, his eyes had this lifeless glaze to them, but he was breathing. "Satin, you have to stop this! This isn't you! And you know that, don't you?" My vision blurred a little as tears came to my eyes. He tried to push me aside, but I held my ground. He knocked into me, forcing the air from my lungs as we fell to the floor. He slowly started to wrap his hands around my throat, choking me. I tried to get his wrists to get him to stop trying to kill me. But he was much stronger than I anticipated. I struggled to get him off me as it was getting increasingly hard to breathe. Black spots dotted the edges of my eyesight that inched closer and closer to pull me away from consciousness. Those eyes were suddenly pushed from my field of vision. Air rushed painstakingly into my lungs. I gasped in pain as I turned onto my side and gradually lifted my head only to see James trying in vain to hold Satin down. I slowly got to my feet as I tried to soothe my throat and walked over to where James was failing to subdue Satin. "Satin, listen to me, you have to calm down," I rasped in an attempt to soothe him. But he continued to thrash against James and threw him off as he bared his teeth. "Satin! Noo!!!" I cried as I jumped the same time he did. We landed on the ground with a thud. Satin was on top of me as I brought my hands up to defend myself against his attack. "This is not how I envisioned this would go down." I gritted through my teeth as I tried to shove him. "Satin!" I yelped as he grabbed my hands, lunged for my throat. There was a soft ripping sound like a predator attacking prey. Then there was nothing but pain. I just laid there in shock as Satin's eyes return to normal, he looked at me in horror, I tried to reassure him. But it came out gurgled. It hurt to move. To talk and those black spots seemed to be closing in on me. I could barely make out Satin's cry when a voice suddenly appeared out of nowhere, "Look what you've done, you've killed your friend." My life was fading fast, I could feel it. He opened his eyes to look at me, I smiled as the last of my life ebbed away. Goodbye, Satin. I will always watch over you. The End.

#writing #my writing

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kocshei · 7 years

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‘Ello, studyblr! Maths (or Math, whatever) can be quite / extremely / obscenely frustrating at times and very simple at others and it’s sort of hard to find a bridge between that. You can’t exactly cram for it either or study in under a week for finals so after flunking my first term epicly, I came up with a strategy of sorts and now my grade’s an A+ (yay!!). Anyway, thought I’d share ‘cause this shit could have saved me a lot of tears.

01. Consistency is key. Again, maths isn’t something you learn overnight, no matter how good you are at it because even if you know your formulae really well, it’s how you apply it that matters - the same formula applied to the same numbers can give you two pages worth of calculations or half a page, and you have to know how to solve your problems most efficiently. And the more you practice, the more natural it will be for you and the less floundering and panicking.

Do your classwork everyday. As in: do it again at home, because though a certain type of problem might seem easy in class when the concepts are fresh as milk (?) in your head, you tend to forget over the course of the year. Obviously do your homework too, especially if it counts for part of your final grade. 10% may not seem like much but it could push your marks into the next letter grade.

Once you finish a chapter or a unit, try all the exercises in your textbook or workbook, as well as solved examples. Your teacher may skip some questions in your textbook that’ll be on the paper.

Cheap study guides usually have a vast amount of sums you can try, and if you’re hell-bent on getting really good grades or a full grade, buying/downloading one of those probably helps. They also mention questions that appear frequently in your paper.

Either make or find practice tests online and do them without your textbook/notes open. This’ll give you some idea of your strengths and weaknesses.

At the end of each month, revise the topics that you’ve covered and do some questions so you don’t forget what you’ve learnt.

02. Find out how you’re graded. Make a list of everything that’s considered for your grade and see how you can score the most marks.

If it’s based on assignments and projects spread out through the year, make sure you do them and try and submit them early if you can. Try getting a rubric from your teacher and try to do well on all the aspects. Most projects have points for neatness or presentation so slacking on those may not be a good idea.

For exams, most question papers come with an answer key or a marking plan that sort of allots points to things you have to mention. For example, a three mark question might have one mark for the formula, one mark for the calculations, and one mark for the final answer. Familiarising yourself with them will probably increase your score.

03. A month or two before finals (or midterms, you get it):

Try doing a few sums in each chapter, then get a past paper and try writing it. Give yourself a half-hour or so more than the time you’re actually allotted. Get the corresponding marking scheme and either correct it yourself or ask a friend/sibling/parent to do it for you, or a teacher, if one is willing. Try to give yourself the least marks possible so you know where you stand in the worst case possible.

List out your topics on the basis of your ability in them - from worst to best, and start solving problems everyday for at least an hour, and increase your time everyday.

When you’re thorough with everything, solve past papers the way you’d do your actual test - set a timer, isolate yourself from your notes and texts, and solve the paper. Your scores in these should hopefully be higher than the one you did in the beginning. If you can, try bullying a bunch of friends into solving the same paper, separately, in an empty classroom, so you feel like you’re writing the actual exam.

Identify questions that’ll be on the paper for sure, or questions you find hard in general, as well as geometrical proofs, etcetera, and write them out neatly on separate sheets of paper. Don’t do diagrams or colour-code extensively - just try writing the question in black and the answer in blue or vice versa. Make sure your handwriting is kinda big and legible, and put the sheets in a project file or just staple them together.

04. Planning!!

Come up with a plan for how you’ll write your exam. My tests are always divided into four sections where the first has 4 questions for one mark each, and the second 6 questions for two marks, third 11 questions for three marks each, and the fourth 10 questions for 4 marks. If you do the math (lmao), you’ll see that the last section has the most weightage, and so that’s the one I do first.

We’re allowed to do the sections in any order, and a friend of mine went in the order it was printed - so 1 marks, 2 marks, etc, and she was seriously short of time and couldn’t do the last four questions. She lost 16 marks on a 90-mark paper which is nearly 20% - just because four questions. Find out if you have to do the paper in the same order or not, and if not, try doing it in descending order of weightage so you don’t lose as much marks.

Divide your time. I get three hours for writing, and 10-15 minutes for reading the paper so I mark questions I don’t know the answer to at all, and do those in the end. I take one hour for the 4m questions, 45 minutes for the 3m questions, a half hour for the 2m questions, and 15 minutes for the 1m questions which leaves me with another half hour wherein I try the questions I don’t the answer to and check my answers again.

05. A week before doomsday:

Do papers everyday and try to improve on your weaker areas. If my exam’s on a Wednesday, I do a paper each day starting the previous Wednesday - meaning one each on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.

On Saturday I’d take a little breather and either focus on other subjects or just flip through my textbook and see if I’ve missed anything because paranoia and anxiety ahahaha. I’d do a paper again on Sunday and Monday, and take it chill on Tuesday, and hope to do well on the exam.

06. The day before your exam:

Wake up late. Like super late. Put your textbook, cheatsheets, notes, etc. in your backpack + a pencil pouch with at least three pens and whatever else you need. Don’t forget your geometry kit if you need it/calculator if you’re allowed one. Then put your bag in the back of your room and don’t think about it.

Get breakfast, listen to some music, watch tv, idk. Just don’t go to like a party or something.

Try getting an early dinner - if you eat at 9, try 7. After dinner, go over your notes once again. If you’ve got a certain type of problem that you always mess up, try it one last time and go to bed early. Set like a thousand alarms, and wake up an hour before you usually do on a school day.

07. The day of your exam:

Take a shower. Studies have probably proven some correlation between showers and smart people. I don’t know. But seriously, do it. Then get dressed comfortably. Grab a hoodie or a sweater just in case.

Breakfast! Don’t eat just a bowl of cereal - get something filling, but don’t overdo it either.

Grab your bag from wherever you put it. You should now have an hour or so until you leave for your exam centre.

I’m always groggy, confused, and dysfunctional before 10 in the morning, and I find that it is always hard for me to get into the flow (?) of writing and I start off too slow and I end up wasting time. Hence the questions I do in the first and last half-hours always tend to be wrong. Use the extra time you have in the morning to calmly go over important points and just do a few simple questions so you get used to the, erm, mathing.

Stay calm.

08. The exam !!:

Don’t panic. Have a bottle of water on hand. Make sure you have everything you need with you.

Do the questions you know the answer to first - in order of most weightage to least.

For geometry and trigonometry, diagrams sometimes have points, so draw those.

Don’t be in a hurry or be too relaxed. Try and finish the paper with a half hour or fifteen minutes to spare so you can check your answers again.

I’m not sure if everyone else does this, but for proof/geometry questions, I write ‘given’ as a sub-heading and list out everything that’s been given in the question (AB=7cm, PQ and QR are equal chords, etc.) and under ‘to prove’ what I’m expected to prove. It helps me sort stuff out and they also carry a half-mark each. If you have anything similar to write, don’t forget to.

Even if you don’t know how to solve a question, still give it a try. If you’re headed in the right direction, you’ll probably get some points for it.

Check your answers. Seriously. Do it like thrice.

Hope that helped! Good luck xx

#heysareena #equaticns #heystudiyng #smhstudying #studypetals #heysprouht #studyblr #studyspo #math #maths #o ; all #o ; maths #o ; studyblr

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pisati · 5 years

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it’s always such a relief to come home after having to spend time with family. I’m just straight back in the door, shoes off, straight upstairs, back into pajamas. sometimes I’ll just sit on the floor and take a minute to appreciate the quiet.

it wasn’t all that bad today, just really uncomfortable. mom’s boyfriend came with us to grandma’s and he’s really good about my family being so nuts. at least he doesn’t have to deal with them much.

I was glad there were things there that I would eat. it was a very small menu but I didn’t need to special order anything; almost everything was something I’d eat. for once. french toast with various toppings, bagels, potatoes, vegan sausage and eggs and whatnot.. yeah. it’s nice to be able to feel semi-normal about food. despite getting asked if I was sure I didn’t want sausage, because it wasn’t actually meat since it was vegan... it’s meant to taste like meat. if I wanted it I’d have asked for it.

mom asked me if I’d take a picture of everyone together and I obliged. she made some comment about how she knew I wouldn’t want to be in it anyway, and I said something along the lines of “thank you for finally accepting that, because I’ve only ever just said no”. she gave me some face. her boyfriend took her phone after and told me to get on over there so he could get a picture of all of us, and I said “nope.” and sat back down. of course the “come onnnn let’s take a picture” followed as it always does, despite mom’s “no, she won’t...”, and I just said “I said no.” I’m used to having to stand my ground much more firmly over pictures so I think he was a little taken aback, but that was that. my aunt, of course: “you know, you used to be in pictures all the time. you used to love it”. yeah, when I was five maybe. people change.

“your hair’s getting longer.” “yeah, I’m trying to grow it back out.” “good. I like it this way. I didn’t like it so short.” “well, I did.”

and grandma going on about how we’re so beautiful, how she wanted to show off her family to everyone, how she was disappointed that despite being right next to the door where everyone would go in and out she wanted everyone to see how beautiful we are. asking my mom if “the little girl wants any more to eat”, because I’m still 2 years old apparently and only capable of communicating my wants and needs through my mother. I guess I can’t get too upset because she’s always been like this and she’s got a lot of issues, but it’s still annoying to deal with. kind of like my dad. felt wrong to be upset, but it was still really stressful for me.

mom’s boyfriend was asked about his kids and he talked about his two older sons and their jobs and then mentioned his 24-year-old son who’s.. “living at home. playing video games. trying to figure himself out”, he said in a way that indicated he had some feelings about it he didn’t care to share. mom kind of glanced at me, my aunt said something about kids needing to learn how to go out and just work, because some people aren’t lucky enough to be able to live at home and ‘laze around’, and I contributed to that conversation with “well, it’s not always so easy. I’m kind of in that boat right now too; I don’t know what I want. but mom knows I’m not trying to live with her forever, and I just need a little time so I can get my feet under me”. mom smiled and said she knew. some jokes about kicking me out in a few months. “I’m not a bad kid, I just don’t have it all figured out yet.” “I know, sweetie”.

an uneventful car ride home. mom’s new car has a satellite radio trial, and I reminded her of when we’d listen to pearl jam radio in rental cars back in the day; found the station and at least got to listen to that the rest of the way. I don’t remember what else they talked about. tennis maybe.

I didn’t think I’d need a nap until I started crashing. mom snapped at me over the trash I still need to take downstairs; I’ve forgotten a number of times and every time I remember my hands are full. I wonder if she’s ever noticed that I distance myself from her as long as I can every time she snaps at me.

I’ve had a chance lately to read back on some very old blog posts and it was kind of weird to get a glance back into the person I was 8-9 years ago. I didn’t remember a lot of the terms I used for high school-related things; PALS for spanish testing (a word that used to inspire a lot of dread; I’m pretty sure it was oral exams, which I’ve always hated), interims (the grade check-ups we’d get during the quarter between report cards, and we’d have to get them signed by a parent if they were bad), hell, even quarters (the year divided into 4 grading periods). I wrote a lot about my day; school, my frustrations with homework and classwork. some vagueposting about boys I liked; of course. my frustrations about feeling invisible. trying to deal best I could with my mom.

she’d set the internet to time out around 10pm so I’d write blog posts on Notepad and copy/paste them the next day. I read back over a story about one day when she’d gotten super pissed at me for not cleaning my room, and she’d taken my laptop for the weekend. she’d given me “til the end of the day”, but I’ve never been one to start on anything til nighttime, and she was well aware of that by then. I was on my computer and literally about to get up and start cleaning when she came in and started snapping at me. I pointed out that there were still a few hours left in the day, me using midnight as the gauge, and she’d said “well I’m going to bed, so it’s the end of the day”. made me give her my laptop. I wasn’t that upset about it, because it was just for the weekend and at that point I was already used to her taking my things for longer periods, but I was upset enough that I didn’t even bother cleaning. I’d woken up to some noises, and rolled over to find her in my room, digging around in the clutter on my desk. she was apparently looking for “her ipod” (the ipod dad found in a car at work that nobody claimed, but mom claimed it as hers once he gave it to us). I don’t remember the exact things she called me that time from that particular post, but across posts “obnoxious” “lazy” “stupid” and “bitch” featured, so I’m sure a few of those came up. I think she may have even told me she was keeping my laptop for a week, which upset me more because I had classwork I needed to do. after she left, I looked at the clock to see it was 6am. I knew I’d knocked the ipod off my desk in the night and knew mom hadn’t seen it, so I picked it up and apparently put on the chili peppers. cried myself back to sleep. mom and my brother and dad left without me later in the morning. we were going to get our passport pictures taken; I guess that was the summer we were going to Rome? and mom had barely given me a chance to wake up. they just left without me. apparently they’d forgotten something though, and came back and I guess begrudgingly picked me up. I’m sure more punishments ensued because she hadn’t given me any more time, though I did apparently shove my clothes into my closet and pick up a few other things. maybe 50% better, I’d said. but I’d written about being beside myself, thinking I’d be failing my classes because I didn’t have my laptop and I wouldn’t even get to go to Rome because I wouldn’t have a passport, and all this bullshit... over not picking up my room when she said to. she was apparently a real bitch to me over the dishes too, even back then.

I understand when you’re stressed from work and cooking dinner every night and your kids seem too lazy to put a plate in the dishwasher; that would piss me off too. but her punishments did nothing but make me afraid of her. and she went way overboard over little things. I kind of understand a messy room, but not really. her reasoning was “it’s my house”. she didn’t want a mess in her house, therefore I had to keep my room immaculate. I wasn’t a slob like she made me out to be, I was just cluttered. also she raised me a near-hoarder like herself. she never regularly got rid of anything. I had way more than I ever needed, wanted, or even really appreciated. not to say I was a brat about it, I tried to appreciate everything I had, but I was just inundated with things and was never taught how to part with things that I didn’t need. I couldn’t even keep track of everything I had. mom still has clothes from the 80s hung up in one of her closets; she has two fucking closets and both of them are filled with clothes. both dressers filled with clothes. two closets downstairs with racks of her shoes. and she’d get pissed at me for having too much (that she bought me??) and not being able to keep track of it all or keep it organized. cleaning my room was often a multi-day venture because it could get so bad, and I didn’t have room for everything. I was put into this situation where I was never taught how to clean and organize all the Stuff I’d managed to accumulate over my life and then punished disproportionately for being a kind of messy teenager. and it was never just that.

I’d written about how she promised we could get a dog. we’d even put in an application at a rescue or something. I was promising so much because I wanted a dog so badly, and apparently the words “no kid should be deprived of a dog” actually came out of my mother’s mouth; a thing I’d latched onto that I couldn’t imagine her ever saying today. she’d already seemed to change her mind once, but I thought I fixed it. then one day she snapped at me to put my dishes in the dishwasher. I had a few left somewhere (not sure where I was piling up dishes back then?); apparently I’d done some and gotten distracted but I was going to get back to them. but that wasn’t good enough. suddenly no more dog. she’d just flip over nothing. and these were major things too; a dog, she let me think I wasn’t going to Rome, she told me I couldn’t go to my junior homecoming even though I’d already bought my ticket and a dress [and had a date she didn’t know about]... and she’d hold these things she knew I wanted over my head. apparently Maroon 5 was touring that year and I told her I wanted tickets to go with my friend. she’d used that to get me to do what she wanted too. even then I wrote about how I didn’t want to tell her anything anymore. I didn’t want to tell her about anything I was looking forward to or excited about because she would hold it over my head or take it away and I just wanted her to give me my time to get things done. I wasn’t a bad kid. I never was. I wasn’t trying to be lazy or spite her by making a mess of “her house”, I would clean when I got the urge to, and dishes would make their way back to the sink eventually. but it wasn’t ever good enough for her. even then I couldn’t keep up with her timeline and her need for a spotless house. I’d written about that too.

that also explains why, when she told me she might buy me a cello, I wanted to give her all $200 I had at the time so it wouldn’t be all hers. I wanted some foothold; something even partly mine that she couldn’t take away as punishment. I thought I was losing it sometimes when she’d take my laptop and my phone, but once I picked it up cello became my saving grace. when she and my brother would leave I’d take out the cello she was renting for me and practice and it would calm me down from whatever I was upset about. it was grounding and soothing and I held it so close to my heart; it was something that I’d taught myself, something that felt like my own. I loved it more than anything. if I’d have had my own and she’d tried to take it away... I don’t even want to think about what I’d have done.

the thing is... punishment never worked. she’d take things away from me and yell at me and call me such awful things and it never made me any less “lazy”. it never made me want to do more for her. it made me want to stop telling her about anything I enjoyed. anything in my life period. I never knew what she’d manage to hold over my head, but it felt like anything was game. it made me afraid. I’d written about one day in particular, can’t remember what happened, but I’d gone to the basement to be with my guinea pigs and cry it out and I was fucking terrified hearing her footsteps on the floor above me. I’m sure I was praying I wouldn’t hear them coming down the stairs. not because I was afraid she’d hurt me; I just wanted her to leave me alone. I didn’t want any more taken away, I didn’t want to be called any more awful things, I didn’t want her yelling at me. I’d had enough that day. I’d written that I felt like I was going insane. I was already stressed from school and everything else going on that 15-year-olds have going on and my mom really was the icing on the cake. scratch that; she was the cake.

barely 15 and I was writing about how I couldn’t wait to graduate high school when I’d pretty much only just gotten there. I wanted to be done with it so I could go to college and be away from her. I didn’t find it on this blog in particular, but I remember an old post of mine somewhere where she’d been particularly awful to me over something, possibly not practicing drawing exactly when she demanded; I was going to apply for interior design programs, many of which were in art schools, and I had never taken any art classes but I needed a portfolio to apply. an art teacher mom got to tutor me a little recommended I practice certain shapes and whatnot and mom would force me to sit down at the dining room table and practice, regardless of if I wanted to or not. I’d written something along the lines of “I’m going to be the best damn interior designer anyone’s ever seen and then she’ll be sorry she was so mean to me”. I’m sure she’d told me I’d never get into art school because I wouldn’t practice when she wanted me to. or at least my heart wasn’t in it. I was so angry. I knew I could’ve been a great interior designer, but I wanted to do it myself. not because she forced me to. I wasn’t going to give her credit for my hard work, but I wanted to work when I wanted to. I wanted to get away and stay away and make something of myself by myself and I wanted her to regret ever being like that to me. 15 years old.

I don’t remember much of this; I had to go back and read about it. I do remember some things now that I’m reminded, and I’m also remembering how stressed I really was. one of my friends once asked her to let up on me; I think my mom had driven her home once after she’d come over and my poor friend casually mentioned to my mom that I was really, really stressed so could she maybe take it easier on me? my dad had to do that too. I hated being at school and feeling so invisible (especially towards the end of it), but it was my safe haven away from home. I was a teenager. I had a lot of feelings and a lot of things happening, but my mom was honestly one of my biggest stressors. not college. not my crushes. not homework or projects. my mom.

I can’t imagine having a kid and treating them the way she treated me. thinking back, it really wasn’t okay. I wouldn’t call it abuse, but I do remember thinking back then if there was any way I could classify it that way. if there was someone I could call on her without looking like a bratty kid who didn’t get her way so she called the authorities claiming child abuse. technically she hadn’t done anything wrong, and in fact she was doing everything else that a parent should do. cooking dinner, buying us everything we needed and a lot of what we wanted, not actually hitting us [well... mostly]. once or twice I’d gone to the school counselor about her but they weren’t really the people I needed to talk to. they didn’t know what to do, but I also didn’t have anywhere else to go. after I froze up during a spanish speaking exam my freshman year, mom took me to a therapist, then promptly stopped once she figured out I was using the time to vent about her. I’m sure the therapist knew there was nothing actually wrong with me; I was just shy and I had a moment when I was put on the spot. I don’t like speaking when people tell me to. I become hyperaware of everything I say down to how I say it and I hate it. I remember one meeting with the therapist where mom was in the room with me and they’d tried to get us to talk; this was at least 10 years ago so I barely remember, but I do remember mom getting all teary over something or other and I was just sitting there stone-faced. sometimes it’d feel like she was putting on a show for people but I knew what she was like when there was no one else around.

it’s weird suddenly being so aware of what your parents and even your family considers “normal”. I’m reminded of being in New York for my grandpa’s funeral last year, and sitting in the closed-in patio at the hotel with my mom, brother, cousins, maybe some of the aunts and uncles, and grandma. my half-cousin came by with two of her daughters on the way to.. I guess dance class and a birthday party? one of the kids must’ve been around 5, the other maybe 2? the older one was much more talkative, because she already knew grandma and most of the cousins. the younger one was of course more shy; she’d never met most of us and somehow we all knew her name. but my half-cousin was trying to get her to go up and hug grandma; her great-grandma, but of course this didn’t mean anything to her, because she was 2. someone might have even picked her up and brought her over to give grandma a hug, and she started crying. she was already being really avoidant, and then she was being pushed even further to do something she clearly didn’t want to do. that felt way too familiar to me, and I honestly felt pretty mad about it. that moment still stands out to me and I almost wish I’d said something in the moment. my family did that to me too. they see it as normal. I could never do that to my kid, ever. if they were in obvious distress I could never push them. not for something like that. I know what it’s like, and I hate it. even at 2 years old, kids have their own brains. maybe their thoughts and feelings don’t make much sense, but if they don’t want to hug a strange old lady, to the point where they start crying, you don’t fucking force them to. even if they can’t or won’t say no, they’re still acting in a way that says no. that’s what I used to do too. body language is a way of speaking; no is no. I don’t know what’s so hard for people to understand about that. I really fucking don’t. some things you need to just suck up and do, even if you don’t want to. when it’s something stupid like that? like giving someone a hug or being in a picture or whatever? it literally doesn’t matter. it blows my mind that even my own family can’t respect what people want or don’t want.

I don’t really know why I feel like venting about my mom again. about my whole family. it’ll come up now and again and it’s the same things. it’s hard for me to remember now, since it’s been almost 7 years now since I started college and was able to get away. I felt so much better once I could be on my own. live on my own terms. that was all I wanted to begin with. I learned how to downsize; I recognized I had too much and I learned how to part with things and use up what I had before I went buying more; of course I have to be more disciplined with that, but I’m getting better. I learned how to organize the way I wanted to. I’d get to my dishes when I got to them, because the “mess” didn’t bother me. I know my clutter is just clutter and when it bothers me I clean it. I know I do feel more put-together when I feel more organized, so I want to do it more. my cleanliness standards aren’t nearly as high as my mom’s, but they’re not that low either. I’m just not bothered by little things on the carpet or dust on the furniture. I think she stresses herself out more than she needs to by keeping her standards at model-home levels.

I guess I can’t ask her to lower her standards, but I really wish she’d have let up on me because I couldn’t keep up with them. the messiness of my room didn’t affect her in any way. her room was on the opposite end of our old house; she didn’t have to come near my room if she didn’t want to. people weren’t coming through the house looking at all the rooms and judging her personally. if anyone ever came over they didn’t come upstairs. I never made the entire house a “mess”; at least not after I grew up. she did have some issues getting me and my brother to clean the room she’d designated as a toy room in our old house in Maryland, and often the mess would stretch out into the living room because we’d bring toys out to play in there too. not my fault she bought us so much crap and never made us part with anything. even now; the upstairs storage closet has a whole section of shelving that could be so useful for plenty of things, but it’s full, bottom to top, with our old board games that we haven’t touched in years. I want to get rid of a lot of it, but mom refuses to. I’m sure my brother wants to keep it too; he just told us today that, after we were reminded of this old button-up Yu-Gi-Oh shirt he had in elementary school, he wanted to keep it, and he’d make his future kid wear it. I told him he’d better prepare to pay for his kid’s therapy bills; it’s a really bad shirt, lmao. like....... I guess I get wanting to keep some things for your future kids. games are nice; it’s nice to have memories that you can share with your kids. but on the other side of that coin, by the time you have a kid of your own, there’ll be plenty of other things you can buy for them. personally I’d rather give my kid something that would mean something to them than force things that maybe meant something to me onto them. it would be cool if my kid shared my interests and I’d be thrilled to share those with them; like if I had a kid and we played a board game I had when I was a kid and they loved it, that’d be pretty neat. but I at least would respect that my kid would be their own person regardless and I honestly feel a little uncomfortable about having them do or wear things just because I was made to do and wear them when I was a kid. I certainly don’t feel any need to keep things I don’t care much about anymore for the sole purpose of “maybe my offspring will want this”. maybe I just don’t really get the whole thing with people wanting their kids to have what they did. yeah, maybe it made me happy when I was little, maybe, but, like.. my kid’s not me, you know?

I want mom to get rid of my old dresses and shit from when I was little, and she’s finally accepted that I very likely won’t have any kids to stuff into them, but she insists my brother might. I don’t understand that at all. they were my old dresses, most of which were straight out of the 80s-90s and bought at yard sales. mom’s only keeping them because I wore them a few times in my young life. and? so? they don’t mean shit to me, much less to him. I didn’t pick them out. I didn’t have any memories attached to them, she did. I honestly think it’s kind of unhealthy to put your kid on such a high pedestal. it’s nice to remember your kid when they were little and the cute little clothes you put them in, obviously, but that’s what pictures are for. you don’t need to keep the fucking clothes forever. it’s almost like celebrity worship, you know? “yeah but Leonardo DiCaprio touched this so I can never throw it out”. it’s honestly super weird to me. I was just a kid. like every other kid. every kid was tiny once and we all wore small clothes. that’s kind of the whole thing about being a human. what the fuck was so special about me that we can’t part with dresses that I was put in maybe a few times in my life? I don’t care about them, I don’t want to hold on to them, I don’t understand why my mom can’t just take pictures of them and donate them. a photo album takes up much less room than a box of old kids clothes. plus, like... I don’t think even my brother would subject his kids to some of those. there’s so much more modern stuff available now. I don’t think either I or my brother would ever be one of those instagram-ready parents, but, like, I’m sorry. I’m not making my hypothetical kid look like the thrift-shop 80s/90s baby I was, not when I can get them a cute t-shirt with a dinosaur or a unicorn on it or something, you know? or even, god forbid, take them to a store and let them pick out things they like; even if they’re young and don’t have a clue.

I don’t know if other people see it like that. I don’t know if it makes me seem detached to not feel very sentimental about my own childhood; to not feel like every second of my hypothetical future child’s existence would be some kind of holy. to just see myself and others as people. simple, human.

I don’t know if I would have been “less” mentally ill if my mom had treated me better when I was younger. it doesn’t do much to think about the hypotheticals, but sometimes I have to wonder. I know my mom’s got depression too. she denies it. she wasn’t exactly raised in an emotionally healthy environment, she dealt with my dad for 10 years, she dealt with a shitty boyfriend for 9... she’s never sought help for it or been diagnosed, but I know she’s got it. she’s never recognized it in me because of that. she never saw the huge red flags. she even saw dad sleeping all day and not helping around the house and chalked it up to him being lazy until he attempted suicide when I was little. I was never like that, so she never thought I had it. I started questioning myself when I was 15-16 I think; parroting my mom’s attitude in that I knew I felt sad and down a lot but it couldn’t be depression. I didn’t have that. but by 17 it was already starting to get bad. I knew I had it, but I told everyone I was fine. just tired. I wouldn’t dare tell my mom. she’d just be sad about it and I didn’t want to deal with that. but I feel like I could have grown up in a much more emotionally healthy environment for sure. if mom had leveled with me, or lowered her cleanliness standards a little, or allowed me to get to things when I got to them, because I eventually would, and didn’t yell at me or take my things away or call me awful things over something like putting a plate in the dishwasher or not being able to find “her ipod” that I’d borrowed to listen to RHCP, or ignore my “no”s and force me to do things I clearly didn’t want to do... I don’t know, man, I feel like I could have at least staved off a lot of the depression. if I felt like I could go to her, if I hadn’t been afraid of her, if I hadn’t been so stressed out that I didn’t even want to be at home...

I still remember all the sobbing fits I never let her see. all the self-deprecation I learned directly from her. I hated everything about myself by the time I graduated high school; my pickiness, my shyness, my entire body despite the puberty weight-gain being perfectly normal... I wasn’t even comfortable telling her about the unexplained sadness. it could’ve been curbed early. dad saw it in me, now that I think about it; he did bring it up a few times. but mom never listened, because of all the other crazy shit he’s said. he didn’t press, though, he just did what he could in little ways. I’ll always be grateful to him for being so compassionate and kind to me when I needed it most.

to this day I remember being 17 and not even being able to look at electrical cords; I’d get the urge to wrap them around my neck. once I had a pretty bad day; I can’t remember what happened. probably a lot of things piled up. school stress, mom stress, everything stress. I remember getting up in the middle of a fit and actually wrapping the cord from my blinds around my neck and pulling hard. I don’t know if I just wanted to see how it felt or if I was trying to push myself, but the feeling of it; knowing that that’s how it would feel if I did it, except worse, knowing that I really could be that close... that scared me so much I just curled back up in bed and cried even harder. I knew then that I didn’t really want to die, but I still felt so fucking awful and I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I didn’t have anyone in the world to go to. I just learned to let it pass. that’s about the healthiest thing I taught myself; that it would pass eventually, and doing something stupid over a brief moment of intense feelings would do way more damage than dealing with it when I was more level-headed. I did have a few more rocky incidents, but you learn something new with every dip in the road. I’ve learned to be more patient with myself; more empathetic with myself. I’m not the best at it yet, but I’ve had to teach myself a lot, and I started learning about emotional health much older than I should have been.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I know I’ve looked back at old posts and been sad about it before. I can see what a bright kid I was. I learned a lot of... I don’t know the right word for it. uppity-ness? snootiness? from my mom, for sure. I wrote once about how I didn’t understand why people dyed their hair or got piercings or tattoos; exact things I know my mom had expressed. she was never thrilled once I started actually doing those things. there were a lot of things I parroted from her that I’m still ashamed of, but I’m glad I learned better eventually. that aside... I was smart. creative. I did used to be more creative; I forgot about it because it was so long ago. I was genuinely excited about things. I wrote and wrote and wrote because I couldn’t contain all my feelings; even writing them out over and over didn’t seem to get them all out. I did have a really vibrant personality. maybe a little half-baked, but who isn’t when they’re still growing? I was shy, sure, but I had so much else about me to be proud of, and to build on. I feel like I could have been so different. if I’d been in a different family, if I hadn’t felt so beaten down by my mom and eventually myself. it makes me sad to look back and wish I could have been there for myself. I had so many harsh lessons to learn, but before that I really was a good kid. some things I absolutely would have decked myself for, but who doesn’t deserve a good punch in the face when they’re in their early teens? nobody’s perfect. I just think that the things I did get metaphorically decked in the face for... it wasn’t deserved.

all that just makes me want to do right by my past self. that’s all I can do. be kinder to myself. one day move out and get out of this environment again; distance myself from all of it again. take care of myself and live on my terms. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to talk to my mom about how she’s made me feel. it won’t change anything. she’ll inevitably come back with how I drove her to say and do those things with how hard I was to deal with. I wasn’t hard to deal with... she refused to adapt to having a kid with a different personality. that’s no reason to take it out on me. even now I still try to get as far away from her as I can while still having to live with her; I’ll shut myself in my room for hours after she snaps at me so I don’t have to deal with any more of her moods. it reminds me of being 15, curled up in the basement of our old house, dreading the sound of her footsteps. I don’t want to push it. I don’t want any more. if I get away she can’t say anything else to me. if I stay away she’ll cool down, if it’s late enough maybe she’ll just go to bed and I can unclench until she comes home from work tomorrow. hell of a relationship to have with your mother. if I ever had a kid and they ended up like me, I don’t know how I’d live with myself.

#long post #blah blah #just felt like rambling I guess #thoughts from reading old posts

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shipsbcshesdiabetic · 6 years

Text

Chapter 16

“Ew!”

Even though I wasn’t there to see it, I can picture it in my mind perfectly. I know they were in front of the gym, about to turn the corner to get to English. I can see Richard, The Dumbass, walking past as Bree is still asking around if I’m straight. She sees him, and asks that question. In a panic, he tells her everything he knows. She freezes up. He walks by.

I can even see her reaction, her face all scrunched up in disgust the moment she realized she’s the “guy” I like. The only thing I can’t picture is what exactly she was feeling. That’s the one part of this that I can’t fathom. Or, rather, I don’t want to fathom it. I would shatter.

The whole point of my coming out speech was to tell everyone I liked her so I wouldn’t have to sit around all day, wondering who knew the truth and who didn’t. Now that everyone, including Bree herself, knows about this, the presentation will just be dumb. It’s laughable. I tried to make it funny, but it’s more stupid than anything else. I have no time to redo it. Today is Halloween morning. The sun hasn’t risen, and nothing and no one is stirring. It’s just me and my thoughts.

Everything about this is stressing me out. No one will like this. I don’t want to publicly out myself. Things would be better if it were only an open secret that is clearly not to be discussed, because then no one would feel inclined to give me hell for it. It would just be an awkward blip in my otherwise boring life. And then, there’s that one sentence from Bree that’s been bouncing around in my head all night.

“If it’s me, I’m going to shoot you, because that’s disgusting.”

Everything about that sentence, especially how she said it, doesn’t make me so keen on admitting my feelings for her in front of the entire fucking class. Whenever I think about her empty yet meaningful death threat, my heart starts pulsing uncomfortably like nothing else.

I’m jolted out of my half-asleep state when I hear Kirsten stomping down the hall. She mutters something, voice tight, like she’s upset. I hear mom open her bedroom door and say something faint to her. Curiosity overrides my tiredness and I open my own door. Besides, anything is better than dreading the afternoon when I will be absolutely murdered by everyone.

I find Kirsten standing right in front of the doorway, holding a bundle of sheets, looking mad as all hell. Her clear tears shine in the low-light, highlighting the fact that she’s not wearing her usual heavy layer of eyeliner. After she gets sick of me looking at her, she carries the sheets to the washing machine in the bathroom, part of it dragging against the carpet.

“What happened?” I ask against my better judgement.

She halts suddenly, lifting her head up a little. Without turning around, she says, “I just pissed my goddamn bed.”

I don’t hold back my smile because I know she can’t see it anyway. “Didn’t you stop doing that when you were my age?”

She turns around. I quickly wipe the smile off my face. “I did. But it’s back. I’ve been under so much stress lately. I’m under such a moral dilemma…”

“That must piss you off.”

Her tired expression quickly changes into a wildly mad one, teeth gritted and everything. “You’re such a faggot sometimes,” she seethes, coming at me with her piss sheets in hand. A pang of real fear runs through my limbs, prompting me to run back into my room and slam the door as hard as I can. Nothing and no one can convince me that Kirsten wasn’t about to choke me out with her saturated bedsheets.

“Is everything okay?” Mom calls from her bed.

“Simply peachy,” Kirsten answers for me, still outside my door.

I hate library class. It’s the one and only thing that can make me hate reading. It’s one of those classes that are so dull and slow that you hope a beam of lightning strikes you dead where you sit. One minute in there feels like ten regular minutes.

It’s been ever more difficult to track time in that class ever since Mrs. Winery, our teacher, banned clocks. The only thing that kept us going was an old broken one that she kept hung up on the wall. Just before the minute hand reached the top, it would make a dead stop for two seconds exactly, and then jump two spaces. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but to a group of middle schoolers bored slap-happy, it was a godsend. We all have our differences, but whenever Mrs. Winery gave us a boring lecture about citing sources or told a lame-ass story about her dead grandmother, we would be united in laughing like maniacs at that clock.

Nothing brings people together like hating the same person.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Winery got really pissed off at us one day and threw the clock in the trash. Not only can we not be entertained by it anymore, but there’s no way of knowing what time it is without the risk of having your phone tossed in the trash too. I might be coming out to the entire class in five minutes or fifty minutes. There’s no way to know.

We all wrote an obituary for the clock and gave it to her last time we were in here. Surprisingly enough, she liked it a lot and still has it on her desk. It’s quite possible that she doesn’t understand it well enough to hate it.

Oh clock, with your hands, the hands of love and joy and the promise of a better future, cut off with indignation by the cruel oppressor. Ticking like the souls of quarreling lovers, skipping a beat like the heart of one who often cheats death, breathing life into those who need it. The loss of you versus our passion for you makes our very beings burn, exhaling the red smoke of the blood from our strife into the endless empty void of the blankness and brokenness of our lonely afternoons. We can no longer hold you in the arms of our love, Mrs. Winery took you off her crusty classroom wall.

“I hate Mrs. Winery,” Hallie groans as she walks into library class.

Out of nowhere, Mrs. Winery walks out from behind a bookshelf. “I heard that.”

Everyone tenses up, but she doesn’t do anything. She even still has her fake little smile plastered on her chubby face. We’re convinced that she’s dead on the inside.

Since it is Halloween, she decides to let us read instead of do classwork as usual. I select a random book from the shelf closest to me and open it. I find that my mind is buzzing and blanking too much for any of the words to get through. To keep up appearances, I stare blindly at the center and turn the page ever so often.

From the other side of the room, I hear Braxton and Tom laughing at something. I look and see that Alan is also with them, holding his phone so they can see the screen. “This is so gay,” he says, still giggling. My heartbeat pulses irregularly.

I know it wasn’t directed at me, but it’s still unsettling.

Braxton pauses then says, “My dad says he’ll kill me if I ever decide to be gay.”

Even more unsettled, I grip my book harder and attempt to work meaning out of the blur markings on the page.

I numbly walk down the seemingly endless hallway, carrying nothing but my folder that holds the speech. Somehow, I end up in the right seat: last row, second one down. I grip the sides of my seat and focus on not fainting. My face feels hot, signaling that it’s most likely already bright red.

The lights are turned off, and scary music quietly plays in the background. I eye the chair in the front of the room, sitting behind the small little black table with the lamp. I blink several times because it seems too bright. Mr. Patterson gets out his attendance sheet. It’s time.

Becca is the first victim. I can’t understand the story. I’m too stressed. She picks Sam. Sam stumbles through his paragraph and picks Alan. Alan picks me.

My mind blanks. I don’t think I remember how to read, more so than ever in this moment. I get up, head spinning, like I might faint for real. A rush of fear mixed with a sprinkling of excitement shoots through my stomach. This is the worst thing I will ever do. I make my way to the front of the classroom, still dizzy as ever. Everyone looks short in their desks. I should feel more powerful, being tallest, but I feel overexposed. Terrified, I turn to the side to smile at Mr. Patterson, who gives me a thumbs-up.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

‘You can do it. You’ve done it before. What do you have to be worried about?”

A shit ton of things. “Yeah…”

In the dark, everyone together looks like an expansive monster. Some are muttering things to each other, others bob their heads up to see me better, some text on their phones and pay no mind, but all are a part of this daunting and judgmental living tapestry. I sweat harder, knowing that the monster can see my face and my fear clearly.

“Alright Katherine, you have to do this. If you don’t, we’ll tell everyone for you,” Lauren says. Years of friendship slip from my mind. All I want in this moment is to rip her face off.

Here goes nothing everything. “One time…” I can’t finish the sentence. I’m terrified. This cannot happen. Not today. I’d rather not know who knows. The monster drills a hole through my eyes, waiting to hear more, though I’m sure it’s less that and more of it wanting to get this over with. “What are you waiting for?” a corner of the monster complains.

“I’m sorry. This is just hard.”

“It’s not hard at all, Katherine. Stop being a baby and do it,” Rose says.

“One time…” I stop. “One time…” I stop. Again. “One time, I thought…” I breathe in. “One time, I thought…” I force the air out of my rock-filled lungs. We all sit here like this for a long time, the monster, the teacher, and I. Everyone coaxing me on, and me sitting here, having a complete freak out at the worst hour.

“Can I just not do this? I don’t care if I get a zero, I just can’t do this.” I tell Mr. Patterson in the off chance he’ll let me.

“You’ll be alright. Just read it. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

“One time…”

They all stare at me unblinkingly, waiting for me to finish. When I don’t, some groan. Eventually, the scary background music goes out. Great, now I don’t even have that. The monster awakens, parts of it shooting darts at me.

“Katherine, just read the damn thing already!”

“Everyone knows what it’s about, anyway. Lauren told everyone this morning.”

“You’re wasting so much time.”

Go Ahead. It’s Not As If They Thought Well Of You Before. “One time…”

“Do we have to read it for you!?”

“One time, I thought…”

“Come on.”

“Okay guys, I can do this. One time, I thought I was…” I stare at the paper.

“Come, on, Katherine!” They’re obviously pissed. It’s been at least twenty minutes.

A chunk of the monster breaks away from the pack, walking closer to the lamp, casting a shadow on my paper. Someone tries to grab it. “Alright!” I swat the hand away. “I’ll do it…”

One time, I thought I was heterosexual. Then, one dark Halloween night, I sneezed and no one said “bless you,” so Satan entered my body, turning me into a lesbian. I was then inducted into the Gay Agenda, where we practice satanic burnt offerings of all the straights who have wronged us. Then, I took part in dark rituals including decapitating straights, devouring the souls of children, and ironing. All hail Satan!

I’m so kidding. Not the gay thing. That’s legit. But I’ve, you know, never tossed straight people into a fire. Nor do I want to. I’m fine with heteros as long as they keep that disgusting lifestyle away from my adopted kids. If there are any straight people in this room, I just want you to know that you can be fixed. Pray. Because practicing heteros can carry every STD known to science. I personally don’t believe in straight people, but whatever. It’s their choice. Just because it’s legal doesn’t mean that it’s right. The Bible says Adam and Steve, not Adam and Eve. Only gay people will enter heaven.

Change or burn for all eternity…

So, I’ve been wondering how to do this for a while. I was thinking about coming out in a video, but that might require telling my family, so… ha-ha, no. But I had to tell this class, because about five people find out every week. Why? Well, it’s been brought to my attention that you can’t keep secrets in a fancy smart-person class. Especially when your crush keeps asking you who your crush is in a crowded room and your face turns into a frickin’ FIRETRUCK every time she interacts with you. Thanks, Bree. By the way, I love your laugh. Don’t listen to Christina. It’s so cute. It’s literally my oxygen. So, yeah, I decided to go ahead and rip that bandage off.

Will coming out make me be more open about my feelings and make me a softer person as a result of it? Uh… no. But will I be able to possibly get a girlfriend now? Uh… no. So cold… So lonely… So many cats…

Life is hard if you’re like me. It’s not cool or edgy to be gay. If anything, it makes me extremely nervous around girls. Not even just the prettier girls either, because I even can get nervous talking to ones that look like old horses that died of stupidity. At this point, I’m not sure if it’s from being gay or being incredibly socially awkward.

All along I was wondering if I should do this at all. I mean, I don’t want to ruin my life. But then I was like, what life? What life? I consider going to the grocery store an event. I can’t ruin what I don’t have. Besides, the closet sucks. It’s dark and lonely. It’s so cold in there. And that, kids, is why lesbians wear so much flannel. Spending time in the closet allows us gays to sort out our fashion sense. It’s why we look so fabulous.

So yeah. I’m gay. Sue me. Actually, don’t. I can’t afford that. I just want you all to know that I’m the same freak that crawled in here this morning. So, after all of this is over, you all can go back to eating orange peels and or licking windows or whatever you straight people do in your free time. I have to say, this was horrifying. Perfect for Halloween. It should be scary for you guys too (girls, rather), because I’m coming for you… Actually, just don’t tie my shoes or stare into my eyes for too long, and you should be fine.

For a limited time only, join the Gay Agenda and receive a tube of glitter and a free haircut. Okay. I know that I’m going to regret this, but… any questions?

What The Fuck Did You Just Do?

Alan, who I can see only because he’s in the front, raises his hand. My stomach falls, knowing in advance that it’s going to be a horrible question.

“Yes?”

“Why did you become a lesbian?”

“This concludes question time.” Everyone laughs. I smile sheepishly and sit back in my seat. Now everyone is clapping. I’m not sure if that’s genuine or not.

They all start chattering, and I become slightly paranoid. Lauren turns to me. “During that whole thing, my mind went back to when Mrs. Coleman gave Xander detention for saying the word ‘lesbian’.

“Do you think I’ll get in trouble?”

“In this class, no, but in any other class your ass would be marching to the principal’s office right now. It was really fucking awful.” My heart squeezes itself.

The lights turn on, transforming the monster back into my class. The feelings of relief from finally getting through that no longer rush through my veins, prompting me to notice my surroundings more. Everyone knows now. I want to shrink into my seat.

“Katherine,” Mr. Patterson calls. I look up. “I want to talk to you after class.”

That doesn’t sound good. “…okay.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Lauren whispers to me.

“Yeah, I know that,” I hiss back. “Lauren, exactly how bad was that whole thing, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Remember when we had to read out loud in science last year, and I said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’?”

“Yeah, why?”

“If that was an eight, your speech was an eighteen.”

“I hate everything.”

“At least you can be yourself now.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

I’m not sure if I can ever look these people in the eye ever again. Especially Bree. I’m not sure where she is, and I’m definitely not going to look around to check. At least I don’t have a staring problem anymore. I’m too ashamed.

The bell rings, dismissing the class. I walk out after everyone else, carrying my notebook tightly in my arms, the edge pressing into my arm. Mr. Patterson catches up with me.

“That must have taken a lot of courage. I personally wouldn’t have been able to do what you just did.”

Mr. Patterson, I don’t think anyone in their right mind would do what I just did.

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