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strikethematch18 · 3 years

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Dadzawa x F! Reader - Over Worked & Tired Part 1

It was now reaching the hour of at least 3 in the morning in Japan and you still hadn’t finished your paper proposal that you have been working on for hours on end. It certainly didn’t help that it was weeks overdue with only a few days until the end of the semester for your college courses back in America.

You’re an American based student attending U.A. High, but also completing your bachelor’s degree at a college back in the states. Highly intelligent, as you were a member of Class 3-A and still in high school but only have one more semester until you finish your B.A. in English, about the same time you would graduate high school. Unfortunately, the time difference between the US and Japan has screwed with you reaching deadlines and a symptom of overusing your quirk is a lack of focus, something that you didn’t even tell your homeroom teacher, Mr. Aizawa. You were determined this was something you could do on your own.

Lately, you’ve been feeling like you have something to prove, almost like you’re somehow less than your peers as if your quirk wasn’t as useful or not powerful enough. As if your instant ability to feel empathy and affect emotions as well as being trained in formal combat in a similar fashion to Aizawa and his scarf. In fact, he was the one who worked with you and trained you with it.

None the less you still felt like you were on your own with this and felt like you had to overdo yourself in training exercising. Quite frankly, you were on the serious verge of burn out, you wanted nothing more than to just curl up in your bed and watch a little TV after a nice hot shower. But non the less you had to push those desires aside to finish your college semester out strong.

You take another drink of your contraband energy drink, as a student at esteemed high school U.A. things like those were highly frowned upon as they were enhancing your energy to perform due to their abnormal amount of caffeine. Right now, you didn’t give a damn, you were going to be up all night and had early morning training with Aizawa and you are exhausted either way. Just trying to pull these long nights to finish on time. The dark circles were aware to you and your sluggish movements during the day meant a lot more effort on your quirk.

The door to your dorm room was still open allowing light from the outside room to shine into your room as well as your small little desk lamp providing you with a little bit of light for you to write and research on your laptop. You had a light but warm blanket wrapped around you as you were cold and it was around you very similarly to Aizawa’s sleeping bag come to think about it. You were generally cold a greater portion of the time but this felt a little different than normal, you were starting to become congested, never a good sign.

You sighed as you dropped your pencil on your papers and took your hands and rubbed your face and sat there for a moment just resting them there. You could hear footsteps down the hall and took it as someone getting up to go to the kitchens for something, it was an often occurrence. It did slip your mind that teachers would take shifts to do monitoring at different times in the night just taking a stroll down the hallways making sure everything was alright. Honestly, most teachers just slacked on it most of the time so it wasn’t a regular thing. It didn’t really dawn on you that the footsteps were getting closer to your room and the kitchen was the opposite direction.

Usually, hallway patrols took around 10 minutes for teachers to complete which is why they were skipped so often, but Aizawa actually decided to do his tonight. And to his surprise, he saw one door open compared to the rest closed. His first thought was thinking about what was wrong and quickened his pace. But when he reached your door he couldn’t help but examine your hunched over posture wrapped in your blanket and head in hands, surrounded by loose papers, post its, pens, books, and laptop.

He knew you had a little extra course load normally but he didn’t realize it was something you would be doing well into the night, he just figured you were about to balance everything extremely well as you never complained and usually performed well in classes. However, thinking back to the last week you have seemed a little more tired and in a daze resulting in more quirk effort. The overuse of quirks segment of your student file was blank and he never made the effort to find out.

He continued to stand at your door for another minute and saw the can of energy drink beside you knowing you were a good kid and wouldn’t resort to something as foolish as that without it being a last resort. Aizawa briefly knocked on your door to alert you of his presence. He did have a soft spot for you compared to Midoria or Bakoguo so he was a little more gentle with you.

“Hey kid, what are you still doing up?”

Startled out your state you did a small jump in your desk chair, “Just trying to write this essay. It’s a few weeks overdue and the end of the semester is soon so I need to get this in.”

He took a few steps into your room and stood behind you, “12th-century convents and monasteries in Italy. Hmm, that doesn’t sound very interesting. What kind of class is this for?”

“It’s for my Origins of western though class, medieval through the renaissance. And trust me, it really isn’t, especially when you can’t focus on it at all,” you replied.

“You’re having trouble focusing?” he asked genuinely concerned, he had never heard those words come from you before.

You put your face back in your hands and simply said, “Quirk overuse.”

Aizawa was taken aback for a short moment, you were never one to complain or let someone know when there was something going on, “God kid how long has this been going on?”

“This time? At least since last week.”

“This time? So this isn’t something new?” he was a little shocked since this was the first time he heard of any of your overuse symptoms.

“God no, there’s also an extra degree of fatigue and the occasional headache. Night terrors are kinda common too.”

“Shit Y\N why have you never mentioned this before?”

“It just never seemed to be all that important really, I’ve handled it by myself for years why start before now?”

“When was the last time you got a decent nights sleep, you’re starting to look like me. You’ve even got the whole blanket thing going for you,” he asked looking at your form sitting at your desk as you shifted in your seat to look at him.

“Uh, you know, that’s a really good question and it’s been long enough that I can’t fully remember. To be truthful, I just want to finish this so I can take a warm shower and go to sleep.”

When you looked at him he got a better look at you. To be truthful you looked horrible and he started to feel bad because it was evident you were working yourself to death, and keeping up with both school lives on top of his added one-on-one training sessions were taking a toll on you. He had also noticed the congestion in your voice, that was never a good sign.

He put his hand on your forehead and you leaned into even though it felt cold to you it still felt nice, “Kid you’re burning up, you have a fever, why don’t you stop for the night and get that shower you want and you can crash on my couch tonight so I can keep an eye on you.”

“With all due respect sir, I need to finish this, my professor has been on me for weeks on end on this. I have to finish it tonight. And I couldn’t possibly bother you with just congestion and small fever.”

Aizawa sighed and took a seat on the edge of your still made bed, “Listen, kid, I’ll let you finish. I'm going to sit here until you're done and you’re coming with me.”

You put your head down as you knew there was no way out of this one. He took a book off your nightstand and began reading it as you continue your work. It took you about 2 more hours and he had managed to doze off wait for you. You look back at him sleeping quietly and simply close your laptop for the night and lay your head down and close your eyes for just a second truthfully, you felt horrible. In the absence of your typing, Aizawa woke up and saw you with your head down and got up and put a hand on your shoulder feeling the elevated body heat from your fever radiating through you.

He quietly sighed and in his general monotone voice said, “Come on kiddo let’s go, grab some comfy clothes and you can shower back at my room.”

You compiled and went to stand up but immediately the word was spinning and you had to grab onto the desk to steady yourself. He had immediately put a hand around your waist and only your shoulder not wanting you to fall in your sick weakened state.

“Okay, new plan, We’re going straight to my room, I’ll just give you some clothes and you can take a sitting down shower. I don’t want you to exert any more energy and risk you falling and hurting yourself, so I’m going to carry you, is that okay?”

You gave a small nod and he put one arm under your knees and one on your mid-back and you put your arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest feeling small. And quite truthfully, Aizawa did notice you were a little nighter and a little bonier than he expected before, almost as if you had been skipping meals.

Walking with you down the hallway still wrapped in your blanket ha=e quietly asked, “Kid I need you to be honest with me, are you eating?”

You give a small groan in response, “I accidentally forgot for a few days I’ve just been too busy and didn’t realize.”

Aizawa sighed and realized how work-oriented you are, stopping for nothing and not accomplishing things for your health, “I’ll make you some soup while you’re in the shower okay, then will you please eat a little bit of it?”

You simply nodded your head in his chest resulting in a lack of verbal response.

Once making it back to his living quarters he opened the door and was greeted by a cat waiting for him to get back. He closed the door behind both of you and took you to the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet and told you to undress and take a shower, and he would leave clothes and some towels for you in a bit.

As you did that and carefully sat down at the bottom of the shower and turned the water on you immediately felt the warm water hitting your skin rinsing some of the sick away and you let out a small cough, which didn’t go unnoticed by your teacher leaving a pair of black sweatpants and a charcoal grey sweater that will be much too large for you but are clean clothes you should find comfortable.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa shota #dadzawa #anime #short stories #myheroacademia #my hero academia short story #boku no hero academia short stories #bnha #mha #aizawa father #aizawa teacher #easerhead #earserhead story

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

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April Contest Submission #30: Break Me Off

Words: ca. 3,000 Setting: mAU Lemon: no CW: none

“Can I try yours?”

Elsa’s head snapped up from the book she was reading to look to her left. Her baby sister was looking expectantly, her small hand outstretched and waiting expectantly, fingers wiggling in a grabby motion.

“Sure,” she answered with a smile, and passed her barely started dark chocolate KitKat on to Anna. “I don’t think you’ll like it though.”

Anna ignored that statement and immediately put the candy bar in her ‘some teeth missing transition period’ mouth, and bit off a sizable chunk. She chewed for a few seconds before her chocolate-covered lips twisted in a grimace, and she threw the KitKat back in Elsa’s lap.

“Ewww,” she said once she finally swallowed the bite (she at least had the decency to not spit it out like she used to a few years ago, something Elsa could bet would drive their father nuts if she did it in the new car), then gave Elsa the dirtiest look ever. “It’s so bitter! Why are you doing this to yourself…”

The last words were said with an overly-dramatic flair as Anna put her hand up to her forehead and pretended to faint like an old-timey movie lady on an ottoman. Which would work much better if she wasn’t stopped by the seat belt.

“It’s not that bitter to me.” Elsa shrugged as she picked up the discarded KitKat and continued to eat it as if nothing ever mattered. “You just still have a baby palate,” she said around a mouthful.

Anna blew her a raspberry, and her gaze dropped to Elsa’s book. “Whatcha reading anyway?”

Elsa swallowed the KitKat. “Harry Potter.” She flipped the cover to show it to Anna, who immediately started tracing and mouthing the letters of the title. “The fifth part comes out next week, so I wanted to re-read it before then.”

“Can you read it to me?”

“Later,” she lowered her voice and glanced in the rear-view mirror at their father’s concentrated face. It wasn’t the best idea to read–and have Anna interrupt with her loud comments–while he was driving. “When we’re settled at the hotel, I’ll read some to you.”

+++

“Hey,” Anna whispered, leaning over the wide armrest so she could reach Elsa’s ear. “You wanna try a bite of mine?”

She offered her the obnoxiously white KitKat, and Elsa immediately took it, as if its glow-in-the-dark properties could be seen by the row behind them. Without thinking much, she chomped down on the half-eaten candy bar. The overwhelming sweetness exploded in her mouth and seemed to coat her tongue with a thick, fatty film.

“You like it?” Anna whispered again, absolutely disinterested in the screen, her eyes locked square on Elsa’s face. “It’s kinda sweet, but I think I dig the white chocolate.”

Fighting through the nausea, Elsa finally managed to push the saccharine mush down her throat. “It’s absolutely disgusting,” she whispered back, then chuckled at Anna’s betrayed face. “I can see why you’d like it.”

Anna opened her mouth to say something (presumably snarky, she was hitting that age) in return, but an angry shhh came up from behind them. Elsa glanced at the people sitting in the back row and mouthed a sorry.

She turned back to the screen and tried to catch up on what she’d missed from the movie. So far The Goblet of Fire was proving to be worse than the previous parts, but she still wanted to know how they managed to work out the lake task of the Triwizard–

When Anna opened her mouth again just a few seconds later, Elsa stuck the white chocolate KitKat in it.

+++

“Hey, tradition!” Anna screamed suddenly as Elsa unwrapped her finals-study-motivation KitKat, almost making her drop it. “Lemme try!”

Elsa blinked. This was just the dark chocolate variety, one that she was sure she’d already let Anna try at some point in her life.

“You already–” But before she could finish, Anna’s shark jaws locked around the still barely unwrapped candy bar in Elsa’s hand with a loud crunch.

She munched for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face as she was considering the flavor. It quickly gave way to a disgusted scowl.

“Ew,” she said with a fake gag. “It’s as bad as I remembered.”

So Elsa did let her try it before. She rolled her eyes and half-heartedly swatted Anna away.

With a devious snicker and a hurried good luck with the exam!, Anna skipped out of the room and left her alone to study.

Elsa shook her head and finally returned her attention to her long-awaited snack award.

For some reason, the sight of Anna’s glitter lip gloss on the dark chocolate made her stomach twist.

+++

KitKats turned out to be the best way to go through her finals that year, and the next semester, and the next next semester, putting in the required fuel, feeling of accomplishment and the calories missing from not having time to eat proper meals.

It was also one of her little pleasures to find and test new flavors, especially those not available locally. It was Anna’s little pleasure to never say she wanted to order some for herself, and instead take bites off of Elsa’s, ‘just in case I don’t like it and don’t wanna finish!’

And over time it was one of Elsa’s little pleasures to look at the print of Anna’s lips on the chocolate and tenderly place hers on top to match the shape.

That little pleasure turned into a major curse when she realized she was daydreaming about placing her lips on Anna’s directly.

From then on, she would only buy the 4 finger breakable Kits.

+++

“I don’t really like this one,” Anna said around a mouthful of the Ruby cocoa KitKat. “It looks super cute, but it just tastes kinda waxy.”

Elsa shrugged. “Honestly, it’s just like the regular, but pink.”

“No, it’s different.” There was no point arguing with Anna on that. While Elsa preferred to try out new flavors, Anna has always been a hardcore true fan and real connoisseur of the regular Kit, so all she could do was to believe the expert. The currently pouting, cutely irritated expert. “Do you wanna finish mine?”

Elsa’s blood froze.

The whole point of the 4 finger Kits (which she personally considered inferior as the ratio of chocolate to wafer was just not quite on par with the single stick) was to not kiss Anna by proxy. Is what she came to call it.

But Anna was holding out the pink KitKat with a darker pink lip gloss outline in her direction, looking at her expectantly.

“N-no, I’m fine,” she answered a little too quickly and in a little too nervous of a voice. “I don’t really like it either,” she lied.

Anna’s brows furrowed. “I thought you said it tastes like the regular to you.”

Elsa could feel herself sweat. Damn, the stupid act of sharing a KitKat, something they’ve done since they were little kids was making her sweat.

Probably precisely because they’ve been doing this since they were little kids. Growing up together. Being sisters. Who should not want to kiss each other, yet there Elsa was, looking away from Anna’s perfect cupid bow glossy lips like a teenager (which she was definitely not anymore, on the final stretch to obtaining her bachelor degree) in love.

Her own lower lip felt numb from biting down on it. Fuck, she was in love.

“Yeah, but you’re right,” she said, mouth dry. She was in love and she was just now realizing this because of a stupid Ruby KitKat. “It is waxy.” Stupidly good Ruby KitKat that she was going to deny herself because her sister’s lips touched it and she would burn in hell if hers did too. “Just toss it out.”

Anna’s face looked like she just told her she actually was planning to vote on Trump for the pure fun of it, but she didn’t say anything.

+++

“Hey, I’m just about to head out– oh is that a new one?”

Elsa almost dropped the half eaten candy bar on the floor. She was not expecting Anna to come in her room any time soon, and like the true disgusting goblin she was, she decided to partake in her secret stash of imported KitKats.

Her dirty little secret stash of single stick KitKats that she couldn’t find in 4 finger format, and thus could not ever, ever let Anna know about because even if she ordered two pieces of each kind Anna would refuse to try an entire bar on her own.

‘I mean, what’s the fun in that? Half of the joy of KitKats is sharing!’

Not really seeing any way out of that, Elsa admitted defeat. “…Yes.”

“Oh, cool!” Anna bounced over excitedly to drop down on the bed next to her. “Oooh, white chocolate and peach? So fancy! Is it from Japan? It looks about the size of the Japanese ones I saw online…”

Her pure, genuine excitement only made Elsa feel even worse about hiding in her room like Gollum with his ring. Then, right as she was reaching for Elsa’s KitKat, Anna’s face and hand suddenly dropped.

“Wait…”

Elsa gulped.

“…you… you were going to eat it without me, weren’t you?”

She focused on the pattern of her carpet.

“Oh my god, Elsa! You stinker!” Anna sounded full-on betrayed, and Elsa could honestly not blame her for that. “I thought KitKats were our thing!”

Elsa blushed, for many different reasons. “I-it’s not like that,” she started explaining herself, fully aware of how pathetic she sounded. “It’s just cause you never want a full KitKat of a new flavor and I couldn’t find them in the sharing format–”

“So? I didn’t know we were suddenly only allowed to share the break-apart ones.”

Elsa sighed. Right, to Anna it didn’t make any sense, because Anna was a normal person who didn’t fantasize about kissing her sister. Or flustered about indirectly kissing her. “I-it’s just easier to portion…”

“I’m pretty good at portioning a bite, thank you very much.” She still sounded a little miffed, but she did smile towards the end– right before her eyes turned very round and glistening. “Did you eat many without me?”

Holy shit, she was looking like the pleading emoji and Elsa was at her wit’s end. “No!” she denied quickly and truthfully. “I-I bought more, but this was the first one I was going to try…”

Anna crossed her arms.

“Aaand now that you know about it I guess there’s no point hiding,” Elsa continued sheepishly. “I’ll uh– I’ll go to the kitchen and cut you off a piece.”

She stood up quickly, holding the KitKat like a relay sprinter holds the baton, clinging on for dear life with the prospect of glory and escaping the rivals, or in this case escaping her sister before she could–

“Wait.” Anna’s hand was on her wrist and Elsa almost yelped. The rivals outran her and the finish line was nowhere in sight as she fell on her knees, defeated, and only metaphorically speaking as in real life she was just standing stiff in her place. “What? Just let me take a bite, it’s easier–”

“N-no,” she interrupted quickly, trying to pry the wrist away from Anna’s surprisingly strong grip. “Cause, uh– umm, that way I can make sure to cut in the middle and give you a fair share.”

Yes, that was a splendid save.

“I just want a bite, I’m not sure if I would like a whole half.” And a gloriously crushing response from the opponent. “Just let me–”

Her peach pink lip gloss would look amazingly fitting on the white chocolate and peach KitKat. Or on Elsa’s lips. Applied with her lips. On her lips. Kissing–

“No!” She yanked her hand away. Anna’s eyebrows shot up in shock, and Elsa realized she yelled that very loudly, even though she was mostly responding to her own dirty little secret thoughts. “I mean– I don’t wanna…”

What? What was she supposed to say to get out of this? There was literally no logical reason she could not be wanting to simply share the KitKat like they used to for so many years, aside from the obvious plague that was currently rotting her mind, but she could not tell Anna that–

“…are you disgusted by me?”

She said it in such a small voice, looking up from where she was sitting on Elsa’s bed with hands folded neatly in her lap, her big teal eyes glazed with a sheet of tears and Elsa’s heart broke into a thousand shards.

“Oh god, no!” Her hands moved on their own to grab Anna and pull her into a hug, but she stopped herself on the way, now with her hands awkwardly hovering at Anna’s eye level. “Why… no, I’m so sorry you would even think that, I–”

“Then what is it, Elsa?”

Fuck. Fuckity fuck shit fuck what was she–

“Just say it,” she damn near sobbed. “Out loud.”

“Your lip gloss,” she said in a flat voice, grasping at straws to not lie, but also not tell the truths. “It stays on the KitKat when you bite it.”

Anna’s eyes went wider. “You don’t like my lip gloss?”

Why the fuck was she sounding this hurt by the idea? “No, I–”

“I thought you said it looks good…”

“It does!” She could clearly feel herself getting flustered. “I like it, and it looks very good on your li– on you. Really good.” God, was she sounding as borderline creepy to Anna as she did to herself? “B-but it leaves a– a stencil of your lips on the…”

She trailed off, not really sure how to get out of the corner she just talked herself into.

Anna gave her a puzzled look. “So you don’t like… my lips?”

“No!” Jesus why was communication so difficult and why was the room so hot and why was Anna looking at her like this? “I love them. Like! I like them. I like. Them. Your lips. Like them.”

If Anna got up and called the ambulance right now because ‘my sister is having a stroke!’ Elsa would find it completely justified.

“Ookay…” Anna said slowly, not reaching for the phone, and instead continuing to try to read Elsa’s face (but what she could potentially read was that inside Elsa’s head there was a wind-up monkey puppet playing the cymbal, and nothing much beside that.) “So what is the problem?”

Elsa mumbled in response.

“I’m sorry?”

“It feels like we’re kissing,” she said weakly, absolutely giving up on her hopes and dreams in that instance. “When I bite the KitKat.”

Anna blinked at her. “That’s it?”

Elsa nodded.

“I mean, that’s all?”

It was Elsa’s turn to wear a confused expression.

“You’ve been getting only breakable KitKats for a year just so you could share with me without feeling like this?”

Elsa nodded again, albeit cautiously. She had no idea where Anna was going with this.

“And denying yourself flavors that don’t exist in that format so that I wouldn’t feel left out?”

Nod again.

“I’m sorry.”

Record scratch. “What? No, why are you sorry?”

“Because you were feeling uncomfortable because of me?”

“No, I– I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable knowing I want to kiss you.”

Wait, no– oh no no no no holy fuck no backtrack backtrack backtrack–

Her stomach sunk. There was no way to backtrack.

Red alert, escape the room.

Anna caught her hips before she could dash for the door and spun her around to face her again, this time meeting her at eye level. She reached for Elsa’s hand–which was currently hanging limply at her side, and still holding the goddamned half-eaten KitKat–and clasped it gently in hers, then brought it up until it was between them, right in front of Elsa’s mouth.

The scent of peach and white chocolate hit her before her brain registered the development.

“Bite,” Anna said softly, but with demand. “And hold.”

Elsa’s mouth opened on its own as her sister pushed the KitKat in, and obediently she clamped her teeth down on it–just enough to break the chocolate layer, but not all the way through.

She stood there patiently with the candy bar sticking out of her mouth, watching Anna remove the remaining wrapper as if her body was not hers to steer, as if she was just a passive observer as her mind was struggling to pick the pieces of what her sister was doing without going for what she really wanted Anna to be doing in her heart of hearts.

Once the wrapper was off, Anna climbed on her tiptoes and– Elsa could swear she saw her smirk right before the free end of the KitKat disappeared in Anna’s mouth, slowly, until their lips finally touched.

Their lips touched.

She was kissing her sister.

She was kissing her sister around a fucking candy bar.

And in just a few heartbeats she heard the tell-tale, trademark KitKat crunch as Anna’s teeth broke through the wafer, and with a final brush of her glossed lips she was off, leaving behind only a chunk of white chocolate and peach mousse in Elsa’s numb, speechless mouth.

“It looks good on you too,” Anna said with her mouth still full and gaze dashing between Elsa’s lips and eyes. “Bet it would be even better without the melted chocolate.” She swallowed down her bite, and let out a satisfied hum. “Mm, I like this one. Funny how the flavors work together so well… chew, Elsa.”

She brought her hand up to Elsa’s chin and pressed on it, and Elsa mechanically picked up the chewing motion, earning a delighted smile from her sister.

Anna glanced down at her watch. “Well, I gotta go. The sea and beach won’t run away, but my friends just might if I keep them waiting any longer.” She placed a soft, sticky kiss on Elsa’s boiling hot cheek. “But I’m really looking forward to trying the other flavors you got.”

With a wink, she pushed past her and out the door, leaving Elsa to deal with the lump (of KitKat) in her throat.

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break

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pedros-mustache-main · 4 years

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just a job

summary: working wardrobe for the new film ‘bohemian rhapsody’ is not all its cracked up to be. until it is.

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: language, ~suggestive~ themes (but who am i kidding? we’re all here for that)

a/n: i’m continuing to work on the next chapter for “even now” but this has been in my drafts for awhile, so i thought i would finish it. enjoy, loves! xoxo.

you hate your job. really, you do. despite what your younger sister believes, it’s not glamorous and it’s not well-paid. it’s simply a 9-5, clock-in & clock-out, leave-work-at-work gig to hold you over until your final semester at university ends.

at twenty-seven, you could have two degrees by now. instead you have zero—and a startlingly amount of student debt amassed thanks to your two attempts at completing a single degree. it’s been complicated, to say the very least, and you don’t like to dwell on past failures.

you consider your job a necessary evil. there’s no one to pay tuition bills except you, so when your cousin landed a position in makeup for a new film and mentioned the need for a wardrobe assistant, you applied. the work is simple, mindless even. you take measurements, offer your opinion when asked, and catalog the different costumes. you’re truly a glorified hunter-gatherer: you hunt through the rows and rows of possible options and bring back what’s needed.

still, it’s a job, and it pays the bills. for the most part, you stomach it. there’s loads of downtime, giving you ample opportunity to study or write a term paper. your co-workers are nice enough. they live completely different lives, surrounded by the latest fashion magazines and sketchbooks full of costume ideas. your workspace—a child-sized deck in the corner of the trailer—is covered in maths books. your future in mathematics lends itself to things like tailoring and fabric measurements, but it’s not the same. there’s an obvious disconnect; you try your best to smile and fit in, anyway.

your cousin, morgan, finds you on a lonely tuesday afternoon. it’s drizzling outside, so her hair is puffy when she enters the trailer.

“this damn weather,” she mutters. though she’s your first cousin on your mother’s side, she grew up in australia, and her accent, thick as it is, never fails to make you smile. “i swear, if gwil comes back and his wig is all frizzed out, i’m gonna pop a lid or something.”

“that bad outside?”

“humid as hell and still raining.” she sets her paper coffee cup, stained with purple lipstick around the edge, on the counter. “how’s the paper comin’?”

you glance at your work, at the empty word document on your laptop screen, and shake your head. “it’s not. i tried to start but i just...” your words drift away, incomplete but crystal clear at the same time.

“hey.” morgan crosses the narrow trailer to squeeze your shoulder. “stop doubting yourself.”

peering up through your lashes, you shrug. “i don’t know if i have what it takes to a researcher, that’s all.”

morgan scoffs. “that’s horse-shit and you know it! think about it: you like maths, for some strange reason, and you like medicine, and you want to marry those two and become the best biomedical blah-blah researcher the world has ever seen. and be smoking hot at the same time. don’t give up on yourself now, [y/n]. not when you’re so close.”

you rise from your chair and lift your arms over your head to stretch. you know she means well—hell, you’ve been through this all once before—but your fears persist. with a good-natured roll of your eyes, you close your laptop. “you’re supposed to say that. you’re family.”

“maybe, but it’s the truth.”

the trailer door bursts open, and you glance at the faded clock on the wall. post-lunch break. time for a scene change and costume switch.

your boss, richard, climbs the trailer steps, his glasses fogged over by the weather. he tosses a plastic-wrapped lunch plate on your desk before feathering your cheek with a kiss. his beard scratches your face, but you return the air-kiss, still feeling slightly ridiculous any time you imitate his standard greeting.

“sorry, lovie. you’ll have to eat later. the boys are on their way and we only have them for a few before the cameras start rolling again.” richard sheds his leather jacket and runs a hand through his rain-slick hair. “morgan, you’re taking up too much space. shoo, honey, shoo!”

“right, of course! i’ve got to go wrangle gwilym’s wig anyway.” before exiting the trailer, morgan lifts her brows in your direction. “remember what i said, okay? it really is the truth.”

shuffling to the door, richard waves his hands in a shooing motion. “yeah, yeah, we get it. you’re family and you love each other. scram—and i mean that in the nicest way possible.” once morgan disappears, he points to the back of the trailer. “i need you to find those god-awful corduroy pants. joe has to wear them today and last time i checked there was a tear up the inseam.”

you do as your told, squishing your way to the storage area. four clothes racks—one for each of the boys—take up the majority of the trailer space. aside from a bathroom the size of a postage stamp and an area for fittings, it’s a tight squeeze. that squeeze is made even tighter anytime one or more of the borhap boys makes their entrance. their personalities are distinct and their friendships are loud; it should be endearing, but it often leaves a headache grating at the back of your skull from all the noise.

from your place jammed between joe and ben’s clothing racks, you can hear him—joe—as he makes his way to the fitting stool.

“okay, but listen to this, richard.” his voice is muffled by the mink coat your head is pressed against, but you already know the routine. he’ll start with some ridiculous anecdote then work his way to a joke or two, peppering in a smattering of questions for good measure. it’s the same nearly every day.

joe is kind. they all are. but joe, specifically, is the most gregarious of the bunch—a bit much for your quiet tendencies. he makes you laugh on occasion, but the majority of the time, his personality is too big for the sandwich-sized trailer. you’d never tell him that, of course, so you often spend most of his fittings with a haphazard smile on your face, your mind millions of miles away.

corduroy pants retrieved, you wiggle your way to the fitting area. richard has his hands full with rami, attempting to peel a black-and-white checkered unitard off the poor man, so he gestures to joe with his foot.

“fix that inseam,” he says, his voice strained with effort.

joe has a wry smile on his face when you look at him. “look, [y/n], i normally don’t take my pants off on the first date, but i’ll make an exception for you.”

you toss the pants at his chest. an girlish blush crawls up the back of your neck, so you turn away, rooting around on your desk for your sewing kit. to further enflame your face, you cringe when you hear his jeans unzip and drop to the floor with a soft whoosh. your fingers stutter over the assortment of books, papers, and fabric materials on the table.

what has you so nervous, you aren’t sure. joe is handsome. again, they all are. you suppose it’s the idea of having your face inches from his crotch as soon as he’s clothed. not for the first time, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. a biomedical researcher would never have to deal with this.

“m’lady, i am ready.”

the plastic surrounding the sewing kit bites your palm as you hold it tight, turning to face him. “don’t be so smug. it’s not cute.”

joe frowns. he looks slightly ridiculous, like a small child, in his wig: the straight bangs, the uneven locks of hair brushing the collar of his shirt. he looks like john deacon; at least, you assume he does. you’re no expert. still, his frown coupled with the wig and the striped shirt and corduroy reminds you more of a primary school boy than rock god oozing sex appeal. it’s discombobulating.

“you’re a hard nut to crack, [y/n].”

lowering to your knees, you nudge his legs apart with your knuckles. already, you feel a lump rise in your throat. “yeah?”

“i’m in here every day and i don’t think i’ve made you laugh once.”

“that’s not true.” you search the recesses of your mind for a memory, but can only think about how, if you move an inch to your left, your forehead will brush the fold of his pants near his most delicate parts.

(god, you need to get laid. between a flurry of dead-end jobs and university courses, you can’t remember the last time you had a good romp in the hay just to blow off some steam.)

joe doesn’t seem at all bothered by your proximity. that is, until you run the flat of your hand down the inseam of his leg. you swear you hear him hiss, but maybe it’s just your imagination. regardless, he jumps a little, and you look up with a wince.

“sorry, cold hands. i’m just looking for the tear.”

he nods, a definite flush to his cheeks.

the tear—a whopping four inches from top to bottom—is nestled near the back of joe’s left thigh. you might be able to get away with a bit of fashion tape, but richard has an eye for detail. he claims the camera can pick out every loose thread, every minor snag.

drawing back, you pop open the sewing kit with a click. “you’ve made me laugh before,” you say. it’s a lame attempt to break the silence, but you’ve never claimed to be the best conversationalist.

“huh? oh.” he hesitates. his eyes narrow, but there’s a playful glint to his gaze. “you’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

“no, it’s the truth. there was that time with the... dinosaur story. and the other time with the baseball thing and your brother.”

he runs his pointer finger over the fingers on his opposite hand, eyes rolled toward the ceiling as he counts under his breath. “so, twice?”

you nod. “at least.” with a flourish of your needle and thread, you warn, “cold hands coming in again.”

he shifts to stand a little wider. his arms cross over his chest, straining the fabric around his biceps. “twice is good. i can live with twice. my normal goal is twenty times at minimum, but i can adjust.”

you fall silent. once you’ve located the rip, you give it a good tug, testing to see whether it will tear more before you’ve finished the job. it holds, thank goodness, so you place the needle at the base of the rip and start threading it back and forth.

you don’t turn when richard announces, "be back, [y/n]. rami’s stuck. we need baby oil from makeup.”

at this, joe laughs. his hand slaps his opposite leg, his body heaving as he all but cackles. you jostle with the force of his amusement, and the needle stabs the exposed flesh his thigh. this time he does hiss, pulling back on instinct.

you grimace. “sorry! you moved!”

“that’s your excuse? you sure you didn’t plan to stab me?”

“why would i do that?”

“‘cause you think i’m annoying!”

“i don’t think you’re annoying—not all the time, anyway.”

“aha! so you do think i’m annoying!”

you huff. “joe, please. i’m just trying to do my job.”

perhaps it’s the weariness in your tone that drains the good-natured grin from his face. maybe it’s your confession, which you hadn’t meant to confess. whatever it is, he clears his throat and looks toward the mirrors on the wall across from him, arms snug over his chest again. you return to the tear.

the silence stretches thin with tension. you’ve wounded his pride, you know, but you aren’t sure why it’s shut him down. you’ve interacted only a handful of times, and you try to keep professional, distanced, any time you do interact with a cast member. his suddenly-cold exterior is peculiar.

“can you turn around for me?” he does so without complaint. his ass looks good in the pants, you’ll give him that, and this vantage point gives better access to the top of the tear. a win-win, you suppose.

“what did you mean by twenty times?” you ask. “your normal goal being twenty times?” another lame attempt at breaking the tension.

he shrugs. “it’s stupid.”

tear repaired, you stand. “no, i want to hear. please?”

gently, you tug his arm so he faces you again. you glance over his new outfit, searching for minuscule imperfections. you can feel his eyes search your face in a similar manor, and your face grows warm under the scrutiny.

in lieu of an proper response, he kisses you.

the sudden contact causes you to drop your sewing kit to the floor. the plastic breaks—you can hear the crunch—but you don’t care. it’s been a long time since anyone kissed you and a longer time since anyone kissed you properly. his lips are soft and skilled, slow against your own. you rest your hands on his forearms, let him kiss you until he pulls back.

your skin feels like it’s on fire, and your chest is tight with anxiety. you swallow hard, eyes darting back and forth between his.

“i don’t like it when girls i like think i’m annoying.” his voice is thick, but his words remind you of a schoolboy’s again. it’s endearing; you smile.

“i’m quiet, that’s all.”

“i’m not.”

“i know.”

“usually i can tell if a girl is interested by how many times she laughs when i talk. twenty times and over, i’ve got a solid in. you’ve never given me an in.”

“i suppose twice is a little below the mark.”

he leans forward, as if to kiss you again, and your eyes flutter shut, but his nose merely brushes yours. “go out with me... to dinner. let me make you laugh again.”

you know you should say no. if not for the sake of professionalism, for the simple sake of proving your sister wrong. she’d told you at the start that you would meet someone and it would be dreamy and romantic and totally Hollywood. you’d promised her you wouldn’t.

but joe is cute. and even though he’s loud and chaotic, there’s something about him. he’s like a magnet. despite when your head aches because he and ben are singing too loud, you’re drawn to him. there’s no use denying it.

“one date,” you whisper, holding up your finger. “i’ll give you one date to let you try.”

“how do i know if there will be a second?”

you have to laugh at his boldness. his grin widens at the sound.

stepping back, his hands dropping from your hips, he shows three fingers. “that’s three times. i think that automatically qualifies me for a second date.”

“we haven’t even gone on our first!”

“doesn’t matter.” he hops down from the dressing stool and presses a loud kiss to your cheek. “pencil it in. two dates, back to back.”

“joe—”

he pauses at the trailer door. his toothy smile flips your stomach. “i’m being annoying, i know.”

before you can laugh again, you bite your lip. “get out of here, you idiot.”

he purses his lips in an air-kiss before bouncing out the door.

you grab the broken sewing kit from the floor. straightening, glance at yourself in the mirror.

your cheeks are flushed and your lips look freshly kissed, but you’re smiling. maybe not laughing, but smiling. joe’s the first guy who’s made you smile in awhile. he’s made the stress in your chest relax, and the constant worry at the back of your head slow.

that ought to count for something. maybe even a third date.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fanfic #bohemian rhapsody #j writes

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inkedstarlight · 4 years

Text

Bittersweet: Chapter Five

Summary: College is kicking Nesta’s ass, so she goes to her T.A., Tomas, for some extra help. Note: Read it on AO3 here! Bittersweet Masterlist Warnings: N/A

October

It was only a couple weeks into the fall semester, and it was already hell.

Nesta was drowning in schoolwork, whether it be essays or presentations or hour-long projects. She had exams every damn week, so she was at the campus library nearly every day – typically until the sun set and the stars emerged. But even then, her night was far from over. Nesta returned home only to catch up on the work she’d put off for her paid internship. Elain got in the habit of making Nesta tea and cookies when she returned from the library on those ruthless nights. And every damn time, Nesta would wrap her arms around her sister with thanks.

This was her routine for at least four days of the week. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Needless to say, she was fucking exhausted.

The worst part, though? Nesta’s grades were precariously low despite the countless hours she’d been putting in. And she knew exactly what was causing it.

It had been a month since her father’s death, yet Nesta was still waking up in her own sweat every morning after a nightmare involving him. Of him hanging on the edge of a cliff, begging Nesta to save him. Of her dad screaming at her to kill herself. Of her mother dragging Nesta into the other room as he watches idly by.

Nesta had cursed herself for letting her father’s death affect her in this way. She’d never been one to grieve, especially not for so long. She preferred leaving it in the past. It was easier that way.

Thanks to her merciless professors, Nesta was forced to dedicate nearly all of her time to school, which forced her to neglect her internship. They required she edit ten pieces of work every week, whether it be self-published books, college publications, or online articles. Even though the internship was entirely online – a convenient bonus – she still didn’t have enough time to fulfill the weekly goals. Instead of editing ten works, she was barely scrapping by with five. She’d already received several angry emails from her boss threatening to fire her if she didn’t get her shit together.

And, well… Nesta didn’t get her shit together. On the last day of September, she received that fateful email.

Nesta Archeron,

I regret to inform you that we’ve made the difficult decision of letting you go from Scribner Editorial. While I understand you’re in the midst of earning your Master’s degree, we are looking for editors who can reach – or exceed – the necessary requirements. Unfortunately, you have been lacking in the past few weeks. It has caused other editors to pick up your slack and do more than what we ask for. We are sorry to see you go.

Sincerely,

Ressina Laurent Scribner Editorial

Nesta read and reread the email dozens of times before closing her laptop. Her head fell in her hands, her shoulders trembling with the weight she carried.

She stared out the window, the world a flurry of red, orange, and yellow. Nesta had worked so hard for this, and all for nothing. She couldn’t believe she’d fucked up such a prestigious internship. It’d paid surprisingly well, and that had been the only income she was receiving. Even with the paychecks from Scribner Editorial, Nesta’s financial situation was holding on by a thread. She had used the money her father had passed down to her to pay off the remaining student loans she owned. Her family never had much money and when it was split in three, it didn’t make much of a difference.

Just like that, Nesta no longer had a job.

Fuck.

Within ten minutes of receiving that email, she was already browsing online for job opportunities. Nesta didn’t care what it was, as long as it put steady income in her pocket. There was no way she would be able to finish school without a job.

But unfortunately, after an hour of job hunting, Nesta came up empty handed. The only person who was hiring was the large grocery store downtown. They were looking for a cashier. And there was no way in hell Nesta would even consider working there. She’d seen the crowds they got on weekends. The work were incessantly forced to talk with rude, invasive customers. Nesta was far from the realm of customer service.

Nesta was down to her last resort. She didn't give herself another second to overthink it as she picked up her phone from her desk and texted Feyre.

I was just fired. You know of any job openings in the area?

Nesta sat by her phone for a couple minutes until Feyre deigned to respond.

The only one I know if is Rita’s, the local bar. They’re looking for a bartender, have been for months.

Nesta nearly snorted out her coffee when she read the text. Feyre had to be kidding. Nesta, bartending? There was no way in hell she could be a halfway decent bartender – anyone who’s ever met Nesta knew that. She didn’t possess the charm nor the patience, and she certainly couldn’t deal with drunken men who leered at her all night. In Massachusetts, she'd had her fair share of hook-ups, men and women alike. It was night after night of mindless, drunken sex. But then she'd grown up.

Nesta looked back at the soft glow of her computer screen. There had to be something, right?

----------------------------------

Wrong.

After scrolling through hundreds of websites with job opportunities (or lack thereof), Nesta collapsed on her bed. She checked the time to find that it was nearly one in the morning. Rubbing her face, she let out a low groan. Tomorrow was Monday. Gods, why did tomorrow have to be Monday? She was so exhausted that she was feeling physically ill: sore throat, cough, stuffy nose. The urge to skip classes tomorrow was tempting.

But Nesta knew she wouldn't skip. What would she do? A whole day to herself and a head full of intrusive thoughts. The perfect ingredients for a panic attack or two.

Her gaze fell to the small stack of bills she had yet to pay – that she couldn’t pay. Bills that would only grow.

With that thought in mind, Nesta cursed Scribner Editorial as she grabbed her laptop and searched ‘Rita’s’ on an open browser.

Then, she composed an email.

----------------------------------------

The next day, Nesta finally got around to contacting her Fictional Techniques teaching assistant. It was by far her most challenging class, and she despised the professor. A big chunk of her studying was dedicated to that course alone. And since she no longer had a job – for now – she finally had the time to meet with him for extra help.

His name was Tomas. He was notoriously known as the “Hardass T.A.” Nesta had heard her peers complaining about his grading on more than one occasion. It was common knowledge that he rarely gave students any feedback on their essays but when he did, it was brutal. It was practically unheard of to receive higher than a C from Tomas.

Nesta never got below a B+, though. And though she’d never spoken with him, Tomas always gave her detailed feedback on her papers, more so than any student.

So that afternoon, she emailed him.

Tomas –

My name is Nesta Archeron and I am a student in a class you T.A. in, ENG-403 Section 003. I have a couple questions regarding the paper that was assigned on September 28th. Are you available to meet after class? It would be much appreciated.

Nesta –

Thank you for contacting me. I would love to help you one-on-one. I’ve noticed the work you hand in, and it is spectacular. Your writing is sophisticated, and you have such potential. Coming from someone who has been in the publishing business for years now, I know several companies who would publish your work. Perhaps I can mention your name the next time I meet with them. How does tomorrow work? We can walk to the library together, maybe grab a cup of coffee (on me). Let me know.

Tomas –

Thank you. That works for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.

----------------------------------

“Don’t forget to finish up those essays! They’re due on October sixth, and I won’t be accepting anything that’s turned in late. Yes, Mr. Vanserra, I’m looking at you.”

Students snickered as they filed out of the lecture hall. Nesta grabbed her backpack and made her way down the stairs to the front of the room. Tomas had his own desk in the corner where he chimed in during class discussions.

He was already smiling at her when she approached.

“Hi, Nesta,” he greeted her. He was in the midst of packing his things. “Are you ready to head out?” She nodded.

Tomas had the charm of the boy next door. His dirty blonde hair was cropped short, eyes crystal blue, and he wore an easy smile. It was hard to imagine that this was the guy who gave students Fs for not having a cover page for their essay.

"Did you want to grab a cup of coffee?" Tomas asked her as they made their way out of the classroom. He shot her a smirk "Like I said, I'll pay."

Is he flirting with me?

Nesta prayed to the gods he wasn't. Sure, he was cute and all, but she had no interest in a relationship of any kind. Including a one night stand.

Perhaps I can use that to my advantage...

Nesta dismissed the thought immediately. There was no way in hell she would flirt with her T.A. to ensure a high GPA. She wasn't going to sleep her way to the top. That's not how Nesta did things.

A little flirting never hurt anyone.

She groaned inwardly and shut out that train of thoughts.

Tomas and Nesta chatted while they trudged to the library, backpacks full of textbooks in tow. Much to Nesta’s dismay, he fired question after question at her. Tomas asked about her family to which she miraculously deflected, about her journey to become a writer, and her ambitions. Luckily, Nesta was a pro at this sort of thing, so she simply responded to every question with a question of her own. Not the most subtle approach, but it worked.

The library was teeming with students when they pushed through the doors. Pryth U’s library was a sight to behold. Its foyer was ornate with hand-painted murals, the ceiling stretching far above them. They hopped on the elevator to the third floor. When the doors opened, Nesta inhaled the sweet scent of old books. The bookcases reached the ceiling, thus requiring a rolling ladder in every stack. When Nesta and Elain had toured the campus before the semester began, Elain was quick to jump on the ladder and sing “Be Our Guest.” Her voice was horribly off key. They both burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs until the librarian found and scolded them.

Nesta was pretty sure Elain hadn't stepped foot in the library since.

“Okay,” Tomas said, setting his belongings on a corner desk. He grinned at her. “Ready to be tortured?”

Nesta offered a less than enthusiastic smile. “Let’s do it.”

---------------------------------

After a couple hours of grueling studying, Nesta hurried to the coffee shop on campus. It was five o’clock and she hadn’t had a cup of coffee since the morning. If she didn’t get caffeine in the next ten minutes, Nesta wouldn’t function properly.

The meeting with Tomas went well; he was certainly a helpful resource to have. He'd even offered to meet with Nesta again to prepare for the next big assignment, to which she graciously accepted. There may have been batting of the lashes involved.

Nesta pulled her wool scarf tighter around her neck. Even with a peacoat and a hat, she was still freezing. She let out a sigh of relief when she entered the coffee shop, grateful for the inviting warmth.

That gratefulness disappeared when she looked at the line.

It was at least a dozen people long. Nesta let out a frustrated groan, managing to put a tamper on her anger and hauled her ass to the back of the line.

After a couple minutes of drooling over the scent of fresh coffee beans, she felt a tap on her shoulder from behind.

“Nesta?” a sultry voice asked. The familiar husk in her words had Nesta turning around to see Amren standing behind her. She was staring up at Nesta through her long lashes, a smirk playing on her face. Nesta couldn’t help but admire her feral beauty: chin length hair, angular face, dark and smooth skin, and exquisite makeup.

“Hi, Amren,” Nesta said blandly. “I didn’t know you attended Pryth U.”

“I don’t,” she snorted. “I wouldn’t last one week in college. This is the best coffee around, and I don’t mind driving twenty minutes out of my way.”

Another coffee snob. Interesting.

“I’m impressed that you even remember my name. I thought you always zoned out during the dinners.”

Nesta huffed out a laugh, and a hint of surprise flashed on Amren’s face. It was gone a second later.

“It’s tempting whenever Rhysand opens his mouth, trust me,” Nesta replied dryly. “But I have my ways.”

Amren’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Oh, I’m going to like you.”

--------------------------------

That evening, Nesta strolled back to her apartment with a steaming cup of coffee and Amren’s phone number.

It was quiet when she unlocked the door, but the living room light was on. As Nesta dropped her heaving backpack and padded to the kitchen, she noticed Elain sprawled out on the couch, her nose buried in her phone.

“Did you eat already?” Nesta called out as she rummaged through the cabinets. She dug through a shelf for pasta, which was buried under Elain’s many baking ingredients.

When Elain didn’t answer after a couple seconds, Nesta poked her head into the living room. She was still scrolling through her phone, the faintest smile on her rosy face.

“Hello? Earth to Elain?”

Silence. Nesta groaned in frustration. Rounding the overstuffed sofa, she assaulted Elain’s feet with her hands.

Elain’s entire body jerked as Nesta tickled her, pained laughs escaping her mouth. Elain was easily the most ticklish person Nesta had ever met. It made it easy to get information out of her.

“Stop!” Elain gasped breathlessly, laughing all the same. “Please!”

Nesta ceded and raised her hands up in surrender. Elain scrambled off the couch and narrowed her eyes.

"What the hell, Nesta?”

“I was calling your name for a good five minutes,” Nesta crossed her arms. She nodded her head at Elain’s phone. “Anything interesting?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, and Nesta gasped.

“Is it a guy?” Her voice was threatening. Nesta had always been protective over Elain.

“A guy? No! That’s… that’s just ludicrous. Why would a guy… I mean -"

Nesta let her sister stumble over her words with amusement. She raised a brow. “Show me what you were looking at then.”

“That’s none of your business!”

Nesta gave her no warning as she leaped at Elain.

Elain squealed in surprise, trying her best to deflect Nesta's tickling. They wrestled on the couch, Elain trying desperately to get her phone out of Nesta's reach. But Nesta was taller and stronger.

“Gerroffme -"

“Just gimme -"

“Argh!”

"Ha!" Nesta stood up and held Elain’s phone in her hand triumphantly. Elain was glaring at her from the couch, her hair sticking every which way.

Nesta looked down at the screen to see the Instagram app open. Then, she read the name of the account.

“You’re stalking Azriel?”

“No! I was just following him.”

All Nesta had to do was give her a stern look.

“Okay, fine," Elain threw her hands up. "I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“No,” Nesta glowered, “I’m not happy. He’s basically Rhysand’s brother. I'm not letting another one of those boys seduce my sister.”

“Seduce?!" Elain choked. She shook her head. "They’re best friends! And what does it matter anyway?”

Nesta shot her a leveled stare. “Rhysand’s an asshole.”

“He’s just protective over Feyre,” Elain explained incredulously. “Like you are of me.”

Nesta considered that for a moment. “Touché. But if Azriel hurts you -"

“Nesta!” Elain exclaimed, an exasperated laugh leaving her lips. “We’ve barely talked. I just think he’s handsome.”

“Does Feyre know?”

That got Elain's attention.

“You can’t tell Feyre.” Elain broke out her puppy face: wide eyes, pouty lips, knitted brows. No one in history had been able to resist her puppy face. Including Nesta.

She huffed out a laugh. “I may be a bitch, but I’m not that cruel.”

Elain threw herself at her sister and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you!"

After promising Elain she wouldn't tell Feyre about her crush for the tenth time, Nesta retreated to her room. She was just about to pull out her notes when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

I’m supposed to go on a date with this guy tonight, but I just met a hotter guy on my way home. Will you judge me if I ditch the first one?

Nesta looked at the phone number.

Amren.

She could help but let out a small laugh.

When in doubt, pick both.

Both?

Both.

Damn, Nesta, I didn’t realize how savage you are.

A couple moments later, another text came in.

Both is good.

---------------------------------

tag list (let me know if you want to be tagged):

@sjmships @sleeping-and-books @sirgwaines @books-for-sure @blowing-mikey @b00kworm @wineywitch202 @drielecarla @liquifyme @gisellefigue08 @iammissstark @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @loysydark @superspiritfestival @stardelia @sayosdreams @maastrash

#nessian #bittersweet #my writing #masterlist #nesta archeron #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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thinking-in-symbols · 3 years

Text

Quinquennial Life Assessment

So, it’s been a few years. When I was 19 I posted a sort of “roadmap” for the evolution of my life on this blog. Today I thought I’d revisit that. I want to take a look back and see what progress I’ve made, and then in a separate post I want to turn to the future, think about how my vision for it has changed, and consider how I can reincorporate these goals into that vision.

This is the list of things I wanted to get done in varying time frames. I’ve crossed off the things I’ve done to get a sense of my progress:

1 year:

At 19, my hopes were to accomplish the following things by age 20:

- Joined, and consistently participated in, at least 2 campus organizations that suit my interests, at least 1 of which should be competitive in nature - well, I joined the ISO and KVRX, my college radio station! Neither of those were competitive, but in retrospect I don’t really care about that :-)

- Made concrete plans to study abroad - Nope, unfortunately I never did this. I’m not quite sure I regret that, all things considered - I traded that experience for other things. I did make plans to spend a few months abroad of my own accord, and I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for that meddling global pandemic. But as it stands I haven’t done this.

- Learned C++ and python to proficiency - Hm. “Proficient” is a relative term. But I think I have a tendency to downplay my skills, so in the interest of counteracting that I’m going to count myself as “proficient” in these languages. I think that’s fair.

- Gone on at least a several day road trip with at least 1 friend - I’ve gone on several trips with @meeshbug, my very lovely girlfriend and best friend in the world :-)

- Decided on a concentration beyond the extremely vague umbrella of “computer science” - Unfortunately as far as my education is concerned I never really did this. If anything my interests have *broadened* rather than becoming more focused. More on this later...

- Made meaningful, ongoing contributions to an open-source project - You know what? I’ve published the source of everything I’ve ever made, and I’ve gotten to the point where I can make stuff that’s not trivial. So I’m giving myself credit for this one.

- Learned to cook enough meals to eat in most days and not get sick of my own food - I wish. I’ve learned to cook a fair amount of stuff but I still get way too depressed and lethargic to apply that consistently. Whether I consider myself to have achieved this honestly depends on the month.

- Learned to keep my living area clean - I’m much better at this than I was at 19, but at 19 I could barely clear a path to walk across my room. So there’s more work to do. More on these last two later.

- Gotten a pet - Meesh and I have a dog named Courage (after the dog of cowardly fame) and a cat named Jax!

2 years:

- Independently written a piece of software to completion and deployed it publicly - I’ve always pretty bad at actually seeing projects through to completion, but I do have a few full, independent projects under my belt at this point. I’ve built a simple game engine, a pathtracer, plugins for games I like, and some other stuff.

- purchased and begun regularly using some basic amateur radio equipment - Ah man. I got my license but I still haven’t gotten any equipment. I guess I have to get on that...

- purchased and begun experimenting with some basic music recording equipment - This one I’ve done, but I haven’t done as much experimenting as I’d like.

- hosted a party - I did this for my 21st birthday and it’s one of my favorite memories! Honestly this was probably the last time I had all my really close friends in one place. I’m actually getting kind of emotional about that.

- done some kind of hallucinogen - I have now done this. I definitely did get something out of it, albeit not what I expected. This is something I actually only did pretty recently and it’s still having a pretty profound effect. Maybe I’ll write a separate post about this.

- Gone camping with friends - Despite my best efforts, this hasn’t happened yet. Pretty fucked up.

3 years:

- learned to play another instrument besides the piano (guitar?) - I don’t feel comfortable crossing this one off quite yet, but I went ahead and bought myself some guitar equipment and have been messing around with it lately :-) I think I’m going to have to bite the bullet and pay for lessons if I’m serious about this, which I am.

- Written and recorded a song - Damn, I can’t believe it’s been 5 years and I haven’t even done this.

- Met a group of people I can play music with - nope

- Owned a leather jacket. I can’t believe I’ve still never even owned a leather jacket - I’ve done this and wore it frankly too much. Kinda cringe.

- Worked as a professional software developer - Yep! Worked as a software developer for a retail company for a couple years. I’m actually not working as a software developer right now, though; I’m working in a sort of adjacent position. More on this later.

- Participated in research related to my field - That’s pretty ambitious. Not sure I’ll ever do this, unfortunately. But we’ll see.

- Been to a film festival - Oh shit, I totally forgot about having written this. That’s a cool idea. I should do this, it’s not like it’s hard (well, at least in principle. I guess covid kind of changes the situation).

- Gotten a dog - Courage is one of those, I think, although he might also be part rat.

- collected 50 records - Lol, my dumb ass really thought I was going to buy $1,000 worth of records on college money. No, I haven’t done this, but I’m on my way there.

- Purchased a desktop computer - Well, my dad gave me his old desktop. That’s not really a purchase but I think it counts.

5 years:

- Begun accepting freelance development gigs - haven’t gotten here yet and I’m not totally sure this is a direction I want to go in my career. Freelancing has its own stressors as I’ve come to learn from others. No career path is sunshine and roses and I’m trying to internalize this fact.

- Participated in a student film - Nope. I don’t even know why I wrote this down to be honest.

- Gotten laid by solving a 5x5 Rubik’s Cube in front of a girl because surely that’s gonna have to work on someone eventually, otherwise I wasted a lot of time - These are getting weird. Surely I didn’t really expect this to happen, right? Well, either way I now have a long-term girlfriend, so I don’t - wait, Meesh has seen me solve a Rubik’s cube and she saw it before we started dating. So actually I’m going to give myself credit for it. I’m the one who makes the rules here.

- Fleshed out my political opinions - Yes, I now know everything about politics and can answer 100% of questions on political issues. Just kidding. But I know where I stand.

- Participated in a protest or some other kind of political event - Done! Went to a few protests as part of the ISO, participated in lots of their events, and attended some protests with friends as well.

- Studied abroad - Nope :-/

- Learned a language other than Spanish - I took a semester of French! But I don’t quite want to give myself credit for this one because I really would like to learn a different language to something resembling fluency.

- Run a marathon - Lmao. I am in much worse shape now than I was when I wrote this post, and even at that time I could probably do like 7 miles if I really pushed myself. How sad.

- Gone hiking outside of texas - This is weird because I’d literally already done this when I wrote this post. But I’ve done it more since then, so hey!

- Been out of the country with a friend - This I had also already done. I guess the point is to have done it without “adult supervision” or whatever. I haven’t done this since writing this list so I guess I have to leave it uncrossed.

10 years:

- Lived with a girl for an extended period of time - Meesh 🥰

- Spent at least 6 months living on the road in an RV, preferably with a dog and a girl - God, I am so close to being able to do this. I don’t want it to be an RV anymore - those things are expensive. But a van? Still pricey, but doable, especially if I’m willing to sacrifice some comfort. This has actually been front-of-mind for a while. I’ll let you know when I get the balls to pull the trigger.

- Started making Real Money - Well, yep, I have gotten to that point. I do have other thoughts on this, though. Money is weird, man.

- Lived in a long-term living space outside of Texas (i.e. not including RV time) - How long is long-term? Three months? If so, I’ve done this by living in Boston with Meesh for a few months after she went there for law school. However, I anticipate staying there much longer in the near future, so I’ll wait on this crossing this one off.

- Written a book about something, idk - Not yet. I’m halfway to the deadline on this one and I have some ideas, but ideas aren’t worth all that much, especially to me, who rarely sees them through. We’ll see where this goes. It’s not exactly a priority and historically I struggle to get even my priorities done. It might make more sense to replace this with recording a concept or narrative album, for which I also have ideas that I happen to take more seriously.

- Learned to solve a 6x6 Rubik’s Cube - nope

- Gotten laid by solving a 6x6 Rubik’s Cube - nope

- Lived in an apartment where I pay all the rent - Yes! :-))) We love independence

- Earned an advanced degree (this one’s iffy) - This hasn’t happened, and whether it will ever happen is something I’ve been thinking a lot about. I sort of decided half-way through college that I would be totally burned out on school by the time I graduated. But in retrospect it takes way less time to burn out on work than it does to burn out on school, and grad degrees are a different kind of thing. So it’s worth revisiting.’

- Given a best man speech (Sam, this means you have to get married within the next 10 years. Good luck out there.) - Holy shit, Sam, you maniac, you actually did it! Sam got married back in 2019 and I gave his best man speech! It’s another one of my favorite memories :-)

- Gone on a cruise with someone I’m dating - Hmm, not yet. I’ve gone on cool trips, but none on a boat. Maybe that’s something to aim for after the pandemic passes :-)

Retrospective:

1yr: Completed: 5/9

More than half isn’t bad! I’m not gonna worry too much about whether I got these things done within their assigned “time-frame”. I’m a procrastinator in my heart and I don’t see any reason to put that kind of pressure on myself. The point is, they got done. That’s enough for me.

The things I did best in in this category were academic things, and things to do with relationships. I’m proud of the academic achievements, I really feel like doing them has increased my belief in myself and my sense that I’m good at the thing I’ve spent the last four years studying. And of course, I am so happy to be in a loving, fulfilling relationship that brings so many good things into my life. I almost feel like the things I accomplished sort of fell into my lap - of course I’m gonna do programming stuff as a programming student, and getting pets / going on road trips are things I did as a result of my relationship with Meesh. I don’t say that to downplay the accomplishments, but I do think it’s worth noting.

The things I haven’t done are more to do with personal development, which is disappointing. I would like to be able to say, 5 years down the road, that I’ve done the personal development I expected to do in just a single year, but maybe that’s a lot to expect. These are problems I’ve dealt with my whole life. I think what this means is that I can’t expect everything to fall into my lap. Those things are going to take real concerted effort to change. I’m not quite sure how to go about that, though.

2yrs: Completed: 4/6

Two-thirds! Even better!

Lots of these are one-time accomplishments, not so much long-term commitments to personal development. The good news is, I did them, and I think those resulted in some development in their own right :-)

Again, though, the things I didn’t do so well are the things that require long-term, concerted effort. For instance, while I crossed off the one about experimenting with music, it’s really only the initial investment that I’ve really done at this point. It remains to be seen whether I’ll be able to follow through on the commitment to actually experiment and learn.

3yrs: Completed: 4/10

This category also follows the same pattern I’ve noticed with the last two. The other thing I’m noticing is that so, so much of my effort over the past few years has been going towards developing a very particular skill: programming / computer science. Music and art are so important to me, but I’ve done very little real development in those areas. I mean, I’ve done some. But not as much as I would have hoped for half a decade.

5yrs: Completed: 4/10

This is getting a little more fun because less of my goals have to do explicitly with my degree. I’m starting to think beyond college, which is good, because the stage of life I’m in right now requires me to start thinking about the kind of life I want to build now that I’m done with school. Also, I’m at the deadline for this one right now! So this is a particularly interesting category because it really shows where I thought I’d be by this time.

The goals I accomplished in this timeframe are, again, mostly things I’ve done through my relationship, but politics also feature pretty prominently on this part of the list. I spent a lot of time reading and researching political issues during college and really did look for ways to participate. I honestly made politics a pretty big part of my identity over the last 5 years, and I think it will stay that way forever, but I’ve gotten to the point where I think I need to devote less of my mental energy to knowing more. I know what I need to know. It’s time to think about other things.

10yrs: Completed: 4/11 (and counting!)

There’s some career stuff in this section that I’ve been able to do, which is good news. I’ve always been scared about entering the working world. All things told, it’s gone more smoothly than it could have. But I also have lots of lingering doubts about what I want to do in the long term. So one of the most pressing goals I should aim for is to resolve those doubts.

Ultimately, I have a lot of time left, and I’m not even done with this time frame, so I’m not gonna spend much time dissecting the things I haven’t done. What I’ll do instead is say that while I didn’t do everything on this list, I feel proud of the things I have accomplished. I said when I first wrote this list that it’s sometimes hard for me to feel that my life is moving in any particular direction, and I’m still feeling like that five years later, to be honest. But looking back on these things has helped me see that I actually am making progress in my life. Not in all the ways I want to, but that’s OK. There’s still time.

In the next couple days I want to come back to this and reorganize this list into an updated set of goals, for the same time frames. Maybe that will help me think through exactly what it is I want out of the next five-ten years, with the benefit of having analyzed the things that I did and didn’t do well over the previous five.

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otomaticallyobsessed · 4 years

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Quarantine Blues

Ok y’all so this is my first fic I’ve ever written... If anyone even reads this, feel free to give some feedback. I have some other fic ideas, and depending on how this goes I may or may not write those too. I think it’ll become obvious this is based off my real life circumstances - and I figured if the fic you need doesn’t exist, make it yourself right?

Karno x Reader, hurt/comfort

cw: depression, quarantine, some swearing

It was a dark, lonely night. I had been trying and failing to concentrate on my homework for hours, but to no avail. This quarantine was getting to me, seeping into my spirit and stealing away any amount of positivity and productivity I might have felt.

I am in my last semester of university. Actually, at this point I am only two weeks away from everything being finally over. But the pressure of finals, quarantine, and the reemergence of my depression is getting to me, and I am breaking down.

I sigh for probably the hundredth time in the last hour. I was getting nowhere, and the longer I sat here the more I wanted to just throw my laptop across the room, pack a bag, and go find some cabin in a woods somewhere and make my fate secluded from society.

I cast my gaze up to the night sky, trying to find some source of comfort. Immediately, my eyes are drawn to the familiar stars of the Cancer constellation. I sigh again, but this time not because of the homework.

Karno… I miss you.

I’m sure he is working harder than anyone in the heavens at the moment. I haven’t seen any of the Zodiac gods since this pandemic started, and I doubted I would anytime soon. I smile to picture Karno attempting to talk down Leon as he ripped into Zyglavis. Karno waking up Aigo for the thirteenth time that day. Karno staying up all hours of the day to make sure the department ran smoothly.

I couldn’t help but long to see him. He was always so calm, so reassuring. I could use one of his amazing hugs right now.

Ugh! Karno is working hard right now, so you should be too!

I shake my head to rid myself of thoughts of him. I didn’t want any of my wishes accidentally making its way into the department – Leon and Teo would never let me hear the end of it. And besides, I didn’t want to distract him.

I reopen my notebook, and glance back at my laptop. I really am trying to get something done, but I end up just staring at the computer screen for who knows how long. Eventually I groan and lay my head down on the desk. It was pointless.

“Well now, that’s not a sound I like hearing from you.”

I jerk up in surprise. “Karno?!” I frantically look around my room but no one is there. “Good gods I’m going insane.”

Two warm hands cover my eyes. “Well, I certainly hope not!”

I grab his hands from over my eyes, rise from my chair, and throw myself at him. “Karno!! Why did you hide?”

“I’ll admit, I thought it might be fun to play a joke. Maybe I’ve been seeing Ichthys too much. We’re all working together right now and its a little much.” He wraps his arms around me and holds me close to his chest. I missed his hands on my waist, and felt immeasurably more complete having him in my arms.

“Now, what has gotten my darling so upset I could hear her from the heavens?” I’m quiet for a second. Now that he’s here, I feel really silly thinking about telling him anything. I mean, he’s a literal god helping keep the world in balance, and I’m freaking out over a college final? “I tried to not call to you. I’m sorry if I pulled you away from something important.”

“Nothing is as important to me as you.” He whispers, making direct eye contact with me. He pulls away slightly, but only to guide me to my bed. He pulls me back close to him as we settle down. “Tell me what is wrong?”

“It’s silly.” “It’s not silly if it’s bothering you.”

“I guess its just… I can’t concentrate on anything. I can’t do anything right now either. I’ve been writing the same report for the last week. Usually something like this would take me three hours, not three days!”

“Why can you not concentrate?”

“The… uncertainty of the whole situation! This is an important coming of age time for me. Graduating college is huge for humans! And now everything is on lockdown, nobody is hiring, classes suddenly moved online, my work shut down… All within a week! And now its been six weeks, I’m still not recovered from the whiplash, and this room of mine has become a damn prison.”

He tugs me closer. “I’m so sorry, beloved. If you don’t want to worry about school anymore, you just have to wish it.” “You’re sweet… but I can’t do that. I have to do this work myself – otherwise I may have the degree but I won’t have earned it.”

“And that is why I adore you so much.” He pauses thoughtfully, then asks “Is this all that’s truly bothering you? Its certainly enough to have anyone rattled, but I feel like there may be more.”

I give off a mirthless laugh. I should have known he would notice something. He was too damn perceptive. “Maybe you’re right about that.”

“Mmm.” He acknowledges me, looking at me expectantly. His warm brown eyes show nothing but love and patience.

“Well… I don’t think gods deal with this sort of thing really but… Are you familiar with illnesses of the mind?”

“Well, I have heard of punishment cases of humans who have lost their grip on reality and hurt other because of it. Hue has mentioned though that are lots of different ways humans can be sick, physically and mentally, and that not all of them are so violent as those instances.”

I focus my gaze on the ceiling above me and take a deep breath. He waits patiently for me to say something. When I don’t, he prompts me, “I’m going to assume you suffer from an ailment of the mind as well?”

“It’s… humans call it depression.” “And what is it like?” “It can be different for anyone… But for me I can’t concentrate, and I just want to sleep all day. And all night. And just always. Always sleep. Because everything hurts, and I don’t want it to. I can’t even do the easiest assignment in the world! I can’t concentrate, and it hurts. I’m going to fail my classes and it hurts. I can’t see my family and it hurts. I can’t even take a fucking shower most days. And it hurts. Everything hurts. And it won’t stop. I can’t make it stop. I can’t make my brain shut up, and it just keeps telling me how shitty I am and-“

“Darling.” Karno calmly cuts me off. He’s taken my hand, and is slowly uncurling my fingers from my palms. I hadn’t noticed it, but I was clenching my fists so tightly that my nails had drawn blood in small crescent moons all over my palms. He rubs my back soothingly as he kisses away the tears marking my face. “How long has this been going on for?”

“All my life it comes and goes. Its… its been over a year since it’s been bad though. I was starting to think that maybe it was gone for good – it’s the longest I’ve been okay! I’ve been… good actually. I met you, I’ve made friends for the first time in my life, I’ve actually enjoyed school… But since this quarantine happened, its back. Its soul crushing, because now I know. I was naïve. It’s never going to go. It’s going to be with me forever.”

“Well. It’s a good thing I’m going to be with you forever too.”

I look up at him in shock. “Really? You don’t think I’m some kind of weirdo?” “You are a weirdo dear, but that’s because you don’t like spicy food. If we can get past that, we can get past anything.” I giggle a bit before he continues. “It breaks my heart to hear you’ve been dealing with this alone. But you don’t have to anymore, okay? Anytime you are sad, or lonely, I’m only a wish away.”

“But your work-“

“Let me worry about my work. As I said before, you are the most important thing to me.” As his words sink in, they fill me up to the brim and spill out as tears. “Please don’t cry anymore, my love. I’m here.”

“Can you just hold me?”

“Of course.”

I stay in his warm embrace, and close my eyes to inhale his scent. I could never quite place what he smelled like – probably something too divine for the likes of earth. It smells like citrus and… cinnamon, maybe. He runs his hands through my hair as I cry, and he murmurs soft words of comfort and love until I fall asleep there in his arms.

In the morning, my eyes are sore and puffy from the night before. I wake up warm and comfortable, and I realize Karno is still wrapped around me. Noticing I’m awake, he smiles gently “Good morning.” “You’re still here? I thought you would have left after I fell asleep?” He raises a questioning eyebrow. “Did you want me to?” “No!” I protest, probably a bit too quickly.

He smiles and gives me a soft, slow kiss.

“I do have to be going, my love. But I have a parting gift for you.”

“You do?” I look up at him curiously.

“Indeed. Do you remember my special power?” I nod my head, of course I do. “Well, I figured the least I can do is magnify your happiness, and productivity.” “But I thought that you could only magnify exiting properties… I don’t have either of those right now.” “Oh?” Karno smirked. “Then are you unhappy right now to see me?”

“No!”

“I know you, dearest. I know you are positive, and you are one of the most self-motivated people I know. They’re in there.” He leans over ad gives me a kiss on the forehead. Immediately, I feel a lightness and a warmth suffuse my body. “Remember my love, I am but a wish away.” He gently caresses my cheek, and I close my eyes to his touch. When I open them again, he’s gone.

I was sad to see him go, but no longer lonely. In fact, I felt better than I had in weeks. My love for him filled my chest until I felt like bursting.

Well then. Best not to waste a divine gift.

Time to kick an essays ass.

#Oops guess who didn't proofread #oh god here we go #scm #scm karno #star crossed myth #l365 scm #karno #scm karno fic #karno fanfic #I really didn't expect my first fic to be about Karno but here we are #I needed my sweet boy what can I say

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sparklyandchic · 4 years

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🦋 MINI MIND MAKEOVER 🦋

okay i started the idea for this mini little mind makeover when i broke up with my boyfriend in like january. instead of being sad or angry, i wanted to be grateful for this time and take it as an opportunity to make life better for myself. then quarantine happened, so some of these are related to things i’ve learned since that started. either way, these aren’t all concrete things to do for your mind; some of them are just ways of thinking or pep talks. but if you can find one little piece of information or thought that makes you a little bit happier for a moment, that’s all i can hope for!

5-htp: okay first off- please ALWAYS consult your psychiatrist or medical professional before taking a supplement! taking 5-htp with, for example, serotonin-increasing medications can lead to a fatal illness called serotonin syndrome. personally, i started taking it because i had been on 10 mg prozac for a few months. it definitely dulled a lot of my anxiety and had a lot of positive aspects to it, but it dulled them almost too much to the point where i felt apathetic and detached from myself and the situations i was in. i was in a very unhealthy relationship and felt like i needed my mental clarity and “overthinking” processes back in order to identify what i was feeling and how to deal with it. i felt a lot more “sensitive” after coming off it, which was actually really welcome for me at first, but then it sort of dropped off into withdrawals. i was having constant panic attacks and crying very often. after a while, i was debating going back on prozac, but remembered i had taken 5-htp before. 5-htp is an amino acid that is a direct precursor to serotonin being produced in the brain. when u eat turkey, tryptophan is converted into 5-htp which leads to your brain producing serotonin, thus why you feel calm and happy afterwards. after taking 5-htp for just a few days, ranging between 200-300 mg per day (again, do your research, ask your doctor, and start small) i stopped crying constantly and really felt this sense of calmness and wellbeing but without the detachment and apathy i felt with prozac. i could still think clearly but didn’t feel overly sensitive to every emotion which arose. personally, it is really a lifesaver and really does make a noticeable difference.

cognitive behavioral therapy: ive tried therapy a million times. well okay, like 5 or 6 different therapists. at its worst, therapists told me i needed to use my sexual power as a woman in order to get what i wanted from men, told me i’m bad at socializing and should do group therapy, said my mom shouldn’t have encouraged me to “be myself” when i was younger because it made me less likeable than if i had conformed to normal societal standards of dressing. i had gone to “therapists” who claimed to be trained in CBT, but when i told them about my experiences with dissociation, the only feedback i got was to “take more baths.” while going through a few unpleasant experiences in my personal life, i decided i should try CBT once more, but like the real kind. i found an ivy-league educated licensed psychologist (NOT a “licensed clinical social worker” who doesn’t even have a psychology degree!!) who SPECIALIZED specifically in cognitive behavioral therapy. just after the first session, i was so elated with my experience. as opposed to just telling me that i needed to be more normal or more kind or a better person, she tried to identify WHAT was making me feel that way about myself in the first place. she pointed out the positive things i do and reassured me i was kind, good, and deserving of good things. she pointed out many aspects of my situation that would have taken me days or weeks to come to on my own. i’ve realized my hubris isn’t that i’m not socially acceptable or not perfect enough, but its just that i tend to THINK that i am these things despite having no evidence of it. so, over time with therapy, my positive self image about who i am as a person has grown and strengthened and i dont just randomly feel like a bad human being anymore lol. moral of the story, if you wanna do therapy but it keeps sucking, dont give up. go to a legit psychologist, find someone who specializes in the type of therapy you’re seeking, and also be vocal during your sessions. stand up to your psychologist when they continually push a narrative onto you, and explain why you don’t agree with it. sometimes it’s their job to try different narratives to see what fits, and if you just passively let them say what they want to, you’ll never find the truth of your experience! it’s a communal effort! therapy isn’t usually a magic cure-all where one session fixes everything that goes awry in your brain. but if you find someone who knows what they’re doing they can in fact really help your thought processes become less twisted up and more clear and healthy.

meditation and mindfulness: a few weeks ago i felt anxious and overly driven to get things done to the point where i spiraled into a space of guilt or a panic attack over not getting enough things done. meditation can be so so helpful here. it’s better to spend an hour sitting and doing nothing, but doing it peacefully and then calmly moving on to doing something else, than to spend 5 hours stressing yourself over every single thing you need to get done and how much time you’re wasting. the things that need to get done will get done. another thing that i’ve realized and say to myself a lot is: “focus not on doing all things perfectly, but on doing the small things well.” by this i mean, stop thinking about the 20 things you need to get done and how it all needs to be perfect, but instead take your time with the task that presents itself as most beneficial right now and focus on enjoying it and giving your whole self to the process. for example, stop thinking about how you need to clean your room, your closet, donate clothes, take a shower, take out the trash, read, workout, etc. think to yourself; “which task would bring me the most joy right now?” if the answer is taking a shower, then take that damn shower. bring your speaker into the bathroom, scrub every inch of your scalp with shampoo, scrub your feet and behind your ears and your neck with body wash, brush the conditioner through your hair fully. you may end your shower with 19 other things to do, but god damn if you can’t enjoy a single one of them and be present for it, what’s the fucking point! go light a candle and bask in its glow, go make your bed and huddle up in your neatly arranged covers, go take a long bath or a thorough shower, and be proud of and content with that today.

relationships, with others and yourself: okay, if you missed the memo, my ex-boyfriend sucked. like genuinely was a bad person. he was a drug dealer, so that’s red flag number 1 (which i ignored of course), he hadn’t graduated high school (he was 18, i was 20, he was supposed to graduate the last semester but refused to do the work and ignored me and his mother when encouraged to do it, which is uhh definitely red flag number 2 which i also ignored), he habitually did not show up for dates on time or lied about what he was going to do or what he did (literally everything he did was a red flag and i rlly ignored all of it). the worst part was how he responded when i worked up the courage to speak to him about it. if we had agreed upon a time for our date but he showed up literally 8 hours late, he would blame it on me because i “could have called” him, or that i was “demanding too much of” him, or that i “should have said something earlier so now [i was] just dragging it out because it already happened.” basically, whatever narrative he pushed at me, i eventually gave into. i’ve dealt with gaslighting in a relationship before and a part of me knew what was happening to me, but a part of me also kept having hope for him, kept empathizing with him, kept wanting to believe in him. after a bit too much time, i finally realized you have to trust yourself, empathize with yourself, and believing in yourself over anyone else. at first i felt bad for him not being able to graduate because i had my own struggles with high school and getting work done. i thought he may have issues but he deserves someone to be there for him because i wanted someone to be there for me. despite the pain and stress he was causing me, i sat around crying over him because i cared about him and tend to over-empathize with people close to me, whether they deserve it or not. my therapist told me something that at first i did not understand, but over time came to grasp in its entirety: “some people do not deserve your love or kindness.” after our first session, my homework was to “consider when you are being kind and when you are being taken advantage of.” this made me realize that what feels like your instinctual nature to be nice to others, can in fact be a self-sabotaging unfair action, depending on the other person’s response. i might be dishing out a lot right now, but bear with me. think of it this way: you regard an action as a “kind action”. you might think “kind actions” include: forgiving someone for large mistakes, putting someone’s needs over yours, sparing them some change when they ask for it, listening to the problems they are dealing with every day. BUT when their actions include not forgiving you for minor mistakes, not giving a sh*t about your needs or considering them, not caring how much money they take from you and how much money you need to have around, or habitually glossing over your problems because it doesn’t benefit them to care, THEN those actions you performed are NOT “KIND ACTIONS” anymore. the act of continuing to give them leeway is now the act of being taken advantage of. the act of giving them money is now the act of being taken advantage of. the act of buying into their story at the expense of your sanity, is now the act of being taken advantage. basically, all i’m saying is START PUTTING YOURSELF FIRST AND TRUSTING YOURSELF WHEN YOU FEEL SOMEONE DOESN’T HAVE YOUR BEST INTERESTS IN MIND.

ending thoughts: i know quarantine is difficult right now. the desire to grow contrasted with the inability to move. maybe try and follow that old 2008~ quote; “bloom where you are planted”. you might not be able to reach the goals you thought you would during this time. you might not be able to run a marathon or make a bunch of new friends or wake up at 6 AM to workout or redo your bedroom or get a rhinoplasty or join a gym or get an internship. working towards productivity might be unrealistic right now. but you can work everyday towards becoming the woman you want to be, mentally. you can work on learning to be content, learning to make the best with what you have, learning to appreciate the little things, learning to slow down. these are all qualities that i for one want to have just as much as i want to be attractive or successful. if you can’t enjoy success, what’s the fucking point! life is on pause right now, take this moment as a gift and consider your internal world and what parts of your mind need a makeover. there are horrible things happening in the world right now, do what you can to help, but if you’re safe and healthy then be grateful for the things you can learn from this difficult time. take it slow, but keep moving forward!

#happyandchic #happy and chic

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knoxhq · 4 years

Text

► ( rudy pankow & cis male ) according to the school’s records, knox drury is a 22-YEAR-OLD senior studying political science, and he lives over in moriarty. he is a gemini, so that must be why others describe him as dignified, humorous, cowardly and naive. when i see him, i’m reminded of walking into class an hour late with sunglasses on, the feeling of anticipation as you wait for a firework to fully blossom, the sound of party music leaking through the walls of a bathroom. ( gibby, 20, they/them, est. ) ◄

hello everyone !! so i won’t even lie to u guys, i am NERVOUS and it’s literally only bc this is the first group i’ve joined in so long like dfdhkjsfjad the last group i was in was almost a year ago but i ended up having to leave due to personal reasons and didn’t get to write so like !!! idk i’m excited !! anyways w that in mind, pls bARE with me bc i have like one (1) braincell and i forgot how to write intros. anyways enough of me rambling, lemme give you knox !!

also this is a bad intro pls dont judge me im trying 2 like. rewrite what i had b4 the storm took it out n like, i lost the braincell

basics.

full name: knox hale drury.

nicknames: drury.

age: twenty two.

gender and pronouns: cis male and he/him

sexual & romantic orientations: bisexual, biromantic, femme leaning.

major: political science.

housing: moriarty.

backstory.

triggers: implied bullying, police and incarceration ( dw i didn’t make him jj 2.0 ).

nobody gets to pick their beginnings. it’s something that people tell knox all the time, hell, it’s plastered in every stupid coming of age movie, book, film, everything he’s ever seen. you don’t pick who your born into, you don’t pick who you get to be. and to an extent, he does think that this is true but he can’t help but wonder if maybe, if people could pick, if they’d pick differently. because he knows he certainly would pick differently.

it’s not that he even came from a bad home - hell no, he had the most loving family ever. his mother was a saint, a warm sensation bubbling up in his chest when he thinks about her warm cookies or the way she tried to still tuck him in even as a teenager. his father had his flaws, we all do, but he was a good and honest man. hardworking, he showed knox what that stupid american dream is that everyone likes to preach about.

no, it had nothing to do with them but rather the overall opinion on him and his family. see, the drury’s weren’t well liked - they were seen as lowlives and as shady, the kind of people who you’d only go to if you wanted to get stabbed in the back. generations of drury’s fit this narrative but no, his father was determined to change that. and so was he, even if nobody around him seemed to want to give him a chance.

knox would go throughout school with this name attached to him like a dagger to his throat - whisperings in the hallway of, “oh, my mom said the drury boy might be steal things if you let him over,” and other random, rude remarks. of course, the people that get close to him know better - they see him for who he really is.

that person is knox. he’s a golden light, often more selfless than the rich pricks who run that small town. he’d give his jacket or umbrella to people even if they didn’t ask if it just so happened to be raining outside, and despite the fact that his family didn’t have a lot, he’d still go out of his way to try to give when he could.

he eventually graduated high school - one of the top people in his class due to his father’s encouragement, and after a lot of debate, settled on attending haddon university - miles away from that sweet, small little hometown he knew, but a fresh start where he didn’t have to work for anything. he could just go in being him, with nobody attaching a new narrative to him. it was what he wanted, what he dreamed of.

and he loved it. his first semester there was memorable as he found himself surrounded by new friends and people he even considered family. back home, however, things were slipping.

the drury family was never rich, ever by any means, but business was low. nobody wanted to go there, fearing that his father was just as shady as his grandfather. as things got worse, his father had to resort to other needs - stealing, lying about taxes, and doing everything he could to try to make it by.

it finally caught up to him when knox came home for spring break - red and blue lights flashing outside as loud noises went on throughout the house, until finally someone swung knox’s door open and briefly blinded him with a flashlight, demanding to know where his father was. by the time knox got a grasp on the situation, his father was being rushed off in the back of a cop car.

he plead guilty almost immediately and for the next few months, knox did school from home to stay with his mother. it was then that he switched his major from what had initially been just a vague, business degree to political science in hopes of going into law after getting that degree - a way of changing things, of helping people so they never got to that point.

for now though, he’s gone back to haddon’s campus where he study’s away and occasionally finds himself slipping and partying, glasses always covering his eyes as he slinks back class, getting almost nO sleep every night.

study.

so i need u to know right now... knox is baby, FDSHJDFSHAJK

like he’s not by any means like he’s kinda a gross dude like, absolutely randomly burps n is like lol oops n shit, very little manners, will grab clothes off of the floor to put them on kind of man BUT LIKE as a whole ?? he means very well FDSJFAHJ he’s very gentle and will sit there and admire flowers on a bush and then get mad if u pick one bc ur hurting it like. he’s baby.

he also is very loyal to the ppl he’s friends w tbh like. damn he will never leave ur side

that also makes him kinda... super, actually, naive. you see, while knox is incredibly loyal, he often finds himself ignoring signs of toxicity for the sake of preserving a friendship - he fights for people who won’t fight for him, he lets people back in too easily, he just. he sees the good in everyone, even if there isn’t any good.

regardless, he’s not easy to just... manipulate to an extent. while he’ll fall for you being innocent, you can’t ever try to make him think he’s something he’s not - he knows his intentions and he knows they’re usually pure and he’s not gonna fold for anyone if it comes down to him or them.

bt like again he’s baby

like i dont think he ever gets mad but damn when he does its probs scary as shit like bc he nEVER gets mad !!! hes like. a golden retriever ig

if u cannot tell im trying really hard not to make him too much like jj bc i realize that might be a big thing ppl do n i dont think jj is baby bt like. knox? knox is baby DSFHJKFDHKJ

he’s just. idk. he’s very protective and cares about his friends a lot and will walk you home even if you went to HIS place and like is always ready to give you a jacket if it’s raining and he’s just lowkey a big, kinda dumb at times, teddy bear and i think that’s valid tyvm

wanted connections.

friends. — please. knox will lOVE ur muses just let him be their friend tyvm plus he’s a bit of a social butterfly now and i think he’d honestly have a lot of friends.

best friend. — i’m gonna keep this to one muse bc idk i think it’d be really cute if knox got to have his own like, ride or die where they care abt him as much as he cares about them and they’re always there for each other and like !!! that’s cute !!! also found family trope bc i think that is.. again, kyoot, ty

frienemies. — so these are always like, super fun to plot out and i think there’s a lot to work w here... like give me ppl who are happy that knox is loyal and would defend them but would push knox to the side n not do the same for him... also friendships where knox fucked up ?? where knox, despite his goodness, couldn’t keep his mouth shut and revealed a secret to their friend group bc u see he can kinda be a gossip fsjfdaskj. idk there’s a lot u can do n i’d love to brainstorm!

enemies. — pls. like. we can brainstorm this too so i dont just ramble but pLEASE?? please.

flings. — honestly romantic ships are not the point of rps but romantic flings and stuff can be really fun to plot and i love getting soft about them so like ?? idk dude lets fling it up n have muses date for two weeks n then break up like thats swexi, dramatic, 10/10

exes. — i mean this is kind of like flings but i have an idea... give me an ex of knox’s who really was like. everything knox wanted. hell, the two had a really good relationship - they were in love and etc etc gushy details but they ended up breaking up bc they just. they weren’t meant to be! as sad as it is like it was as simple as that! and then the angst comes in after they break up bc god they still love each other so much but they just aren’t meant to be and they see them with other people and oh it just hurts but like, bonus points if they manage to become good friends even after this !! (sidenote, idk i wouldn’t want this to be a full ship tht gets back together bc idk i think there’s a bittersweetness in stuff like this n its just. like. its ok !!! idk !!! )

roommates. — and they were roomates- fdshjkfdsahjk

other things. — honestly these are half assed plots but i’m down for anything !!! i’m still fleshing out knox a lil too bc i really did make him on the spot so pls bare w me :)

#had:intro #bullying tw #police tw #arrest tw #incarceration tw #again i did nOT make him jj dont worry dfsahjfd #also this intro is bad pls do not look at me #alcohol mention

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

The Silent Land (multi-ship) - Grey Darling

a/n: So it turns out that leaving this community behind was rather an impulsive decision that I am currently regretting. This is such a lovely community to be a part of and I missed you guys!!! So here I am, back back back again, ready to write some fic and have a good time with it. Anyway, this is just a sneaky wee paranormal au I thought up last night and got really enthusiastic about, hope you all enjoy <3 <3

Fic under the cut!

There was something very strange about that lonesome figure on the sand, sitting in her white day dress staring at the roaring sea, the expression in her eyes hidden by shadow. No quirk of her lips revealed her thoughts, her statue stillness an aid in her ambiguity. Her features rendered her a creature of beauty - silvery hair shining in the dull sunset light, milky white skin bathed in its tangerine glow. And yet it felt as though she wasn’t quite real, like if one was to rest their hand on her shoulder, she’d simply fall away into dust or smoke or sand.

She didn’t notice her observer approaching, the crunch of her bare feet in the sand falling on deaf ears. Not so much as a glance of recognition when her observer sat beside her, and for a moment her faculties of sight and sound were called into question. Speech was a remedy to that, however.

“Who are you?”

The woman neither smiled not frowned, merely batted her long eyelashes over arctic eyes. “You should know. You dreamed me up.”

“This is a dream?”

“Yes. Didn’t you realise?”

“No.”

“When was the last time you saw a beach this empty in summer?”

The observer glanced around - they were alone, and the beach ran on for miles.

“I… I don’t think I have.”

“Would you call that reality, then?”

“You’re not making much sense…”

“Dreams seldom do.”

“Right.”

“Do you think you’ll wake up soon?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“It would be a shame if you woke up. I’d miss you. But then again, we wouldn’t be parted forever.”

“Wouldn’t we?”

“You’ll fall asleep again, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll meet again.”

She fell into a song, humming the mournful tune, so sweet and uncomplicated and quiet. The observer listened in silence, the slow tune weighing her eyelids down and down and down until she couldn’t keep them open any longer.

And, like dust or smoke or sand, the singer vanished.

***

“Pearl? Pearl! Wake up, you lazy ass!”

No, waking up to a pillow bashed into her face was not the ideal way to start her morning, but Violet was giving her no choice. Groaning, Pearl pushed the pillow away and scrubbed her hand over her face, groaning. “Would it kill you to do that nicely…?”

“Yes, it would, now get up.”

“Why are you in such a rush, anyway?”

“Because it’s eight-thirty! We’ve got class at nine!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ…”

Pearl scrambled out of bed, almost falling to the wooden floor in her haste. Violet rolled her eyes at her - her usual response to just about anything Pearl did - and resumed applying her mascara with precision. Bloody Violet, always getting her makeup perfect… Why couldn’t she be like everyone else and go into class looking like she just got dragged through a bush? It worked for Pearl all through high school. But she supposed university actually had standards, and besides - there were boys to impress. Since when had Pearl ever cared about impressing boys?

Clearly, she wasn’t about to start today. Throwing on yesterday’s jeans, a bra that she’d worn a record five days in a row, and the first band t-shirt she happened to grab from her dresser, Pearl considered that good enough for a day on campus. But given Violet’s icy stare as she laced up her battered sneakers, it wasn’t.

“You’re seriously going out like that?” Violet asked, eyebrow cocked.

“What’s wrong with this? I’m not naked, right?”

“Yeah, but you look like you just got out of bed.”

“Because I did!”

Violet scoffed. She looked as though she’d been up since five am putting together her outfit - a short-sleeved blouse, plaid mini skirt, cute cardigan, the whole preppy she-bang. But the thing was, there was no wrinkle in her blouse, no sign of her knee-high socks falling down any time soon even without anything to hold them up, and her black pumps were so shiny Pearl could just about see her face in them. Not to mention her dark hair, which was sleek and shiny and pulled into an immaculate ponytail. How Violet managed to look so well put together so soon after getting out of bed was a mystery to Pearl - perhaps it was witchcraft.

But then again, basically everything about Violet was a mystery to Pearl. They barely knew each other, having only moved into their shared flat last Monday, a week before the first semester of the year started. The only thing she knew about Violet was her university timetable, but that was only because it was identical to her own. For all she knew, Violet was a serial killer or a drug lord - that’d teach her to flat with strangers - but so far the only dangerous thing she knew about Violet was how hot she liked her hair straighteners.

“Whatever… We can’t all be goddesses like you.”

“Yeah, and don’t forget it.”

As Violet started applying her lip liner (Seriously? Lip liner on a Monday morning?) Pearl let out an unladylike yawn and checked her phone, frowning at the sight of Instagram feed as it was flooded with photos of her old high school friends starting their first day at college. Pearl could’ve been one of those girls, doing a BA or a BCom or some other normal person degree. But no, she had to be the weirdo who not only applied to the one performing arts school in the country but got accepted too. So it was goodbye spending time with normal people, hello wasting hours on end with theatre kids. She could only blame herself (and her high school drama teacher, but that was beside the point).

“Get off your damn phone! We’re gonna miss the bus!” Violet, who had somehow finished doing her lipstick in the short time it took for Pearl to check her phone, was already dragging her out the door.

“Jesus, let me get my shit together first!” Pearl protested, not exactly sure what she meant by ‘getting her shit together’ but knowing it was very important that she did so and not get forcefully removed from her flat by Violet Chachki.

She’d forgotten about her dream by the time she was out the door.

***

“I am literally going to kill you.”

“What? My timetable said it was a nine o’clock start, I swear!”

“I could’ve slept in for a whole. Other. Hour.”

Violet scoffed. “Or you could’ve spent that time making yourself look, y’know, actually presentable.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Pearl grumbled, folding her arms and scuffing her already destroyed sneakers along the concrete. Ok, maybe she could do with some new sneakers. “Don’t make me look like the bad one here, you’re the one who got our timetable wrong.”

“I didn’t have to wake you up, y’know. I could’ve just let you sleep in and miss class - I’m your flatmate, not your friend.”

Scrubbing her hand over her face, Pearl let out a sigh. She was not awake enough for this. “Whatever, I’m gonna go get a coffee.”

Violet waved a dismissive goodbye before reaching a manicured hand into the pocket of her blazer and drawing out her cellphone, wandering off in the opposite direction to god knows where. At the very least, Pearl knew where she was going - the only thing she remembered from the uni’s orientation week last year was the damn good cup of coffee she’d got from a hole in the wall cafe in the hub. She could only hope the quality hadn’t dipped since then.

The hub was a place for congregation, for students to meet and chat before, between, and after classes, to make new friends and get acquainted with the people they’d be finishing their performing arts education with. The students, however, hadn’t got the memo, for if they weren’t mingling with their tight group of pre-made friends, they were on their phones or waiting for whatever they’d ordered from the cafe, not interacting with a soul. Pearl figured that her own experience would mimic that - she’d get her coffee and silently kill time before her first class.

It seemed that wasn’t to be the case at all.

After ordering her long black, Pearl stared at her receipt, obsessively memorising her order number until it was called out, wanting to get her coffee and go as quickly as possible. But then her dreams of a quick exit were dashed when someone with a voice that could only be described as goose-like felt that now was the right time to sidle up to her and strike up a conversation.

“Gee, your receipt must be way more interesting than mine.”

Pearl looked up and did her best to smile at the large-nosed, chipped tooth redhead who had just started talking to her. “Yeah. It’s fascinating.”

“I’m Jinkx, Jinkx Monsoon,” they said, their shirt sleeves riding up and revealing the single tattoo on their wrist as they extended their hand. The last time Pearl had shaken someone’s hand in a casual conversation she’d been meeting her uptight, stiff-upper-lipped, homophobic uncle Remus for the first time. Jinkx, with their wild red hair and ragged thrift-store wardrobe, was the very antithesis of that detestable uncle.

A little weirded out, but not wanting to be rude, Pearl took the extended hand and shook it. “Pearl.”

“You doing the acting program?” Jinkx asked, tipping their head in curiosity.

“Uh, yeah. Guessing you are too?”

“Yeah! Got my next class in an hour.”

So this was another classmate. Well, Jinkx certainly looked like a theatre kid, that was for sure - no other breed could wear a sweater that large or a skirt that long without shame. “Same, actually.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic! I’m kind of excited, y’know? Meeting a whole new bunch of people, learning new skills… It’ll be fun, right?”

You sound like a promotional brochure. “Yeah, it’s gonna be great.”

“And this is, like, a really small school, so it’ll be super easy to meet people.”

Jinkx carried on waxing lyrical about the greatest qualities of the Ginsberg University of Performing Arts for the entire duration of their short acquaintance. By the time Pearl got her coffee, it was like she’d just been through orientation week again - listening to someone promote the school while she waited for a long black from the hole in the wall cafe wasn’t an event she’d expected to repeat.

“Listen, it was nice meeting you, but I gotta go-”

“Class doesn’t start for ages! You could come hang out with me and my friends if you wanted?”

Pearl took a moment to picture Jinkx’s friends in her head - hippies, weirdos, and nutjobs. No thanks. “I, uh, got somewhere to be. Uh, course adviser.”

Dashing off before Jinkx could enquire any further, Pearl strolled back out into the open air, hot coffee in hand, and peace of mind restored. Course adviser her ass.

***

Ginsberg campus wasn’t exactly huge - there was the hub, two big theatres, a few workshops and sewing rooms, and… that was about it. There was the hall of residence too, where the kids who were too rich to live at home but too poor to flat went to stay, but Pearl wasn’t sure if that counted as part of campus. It’s not like it mattered, anyway.

Killing time for an hour in such a small place was not exactly easy, as Pearl soon discovered. Long blacks didn’t last forever, and neither did one’s Instagram feed, so Pearl soon found herself with half an hour to spare and nothing to do. Three options presented themselves to her - one: sit around where she was and do nothing, two: go back to the hub and dare to interact with Jinkx again, and three: just go to class ridiculously early.

Option number three sounded like her best bet, especially since she didn’t actually know which theatre she had to go to for class. She’d hoped it’d take her at least twenty minutes to find the right building, but alas, it was not to be, for the first door she poked her head through lead to an empty theatre with none other than Violet Chachki sitting in the middle of the dusty floor.

Looks like she’d found the right theatre.

“Oh, Pearl. Hi.”

“You got bored too?”

“What do you think?”

“Whatever.”

Pearl made her way over to the tiered seats overlooking the flat black floor known as a stage, the material it was made out of so non-descript that Pearl couldn’t name it even if there was a gun to her head. Good thing there wasn’t one, because otherwise there’d be brains all over the place.

“The other theatre has a proper stage, y’know.”

“Huh?”

“The other theatre, there’s two of them.” Violet looked up at her through heavy makeup, still seated in the middle of the stage. Pearl would’ve thought she’d want to sit in the seats to save her skirt - that floor looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since last semester. “We got the shit one.”

“A shitty theatre for shitty actors. Sounds great,” Pearl remarked, lifting her legs and resting her feet on the chair in front of her. Violet gave a little huff of response before returning to her phone. Did the damn thing ever turn off? But then again, who was Pearl to talk?

About twenty minutes later, the rest of the class started to arrive, and Pearl had never felt more underdressed in her life. Everybody seemed to have their own unique, individual style, so well put together in a so quirky it was cool kind of way. Even Violet, in her black and white tribute to Cher Horowitz, didn’t look out of place - at least her outfit showcased her identity. Did a band t-shirt and jeans really count as a personality?

Jinkx was there, of course, followed by two goons who couldn’t be more different in height, and their face lit up like a… a… a thing that lights up, at the sight of their new acquaintance.

“Oh hey, Pearl!” they said with a smile, before jogging up the stairs either side of the seats and plonking down beside her, their two friends following behind them. One was tall, blonde, skinny and gawky as hell, wearing denim dungarees with trousers that were way too short, odd, colourful socks, and platform sneakers that lit up whenever she took a step. The other was her polar opposite - short, dark-skinned, black hair in tiny little braids, and an outfit reminiscent of Violet’s but a tad more… yellow. Did everyone in California just worship the fashions of Clueless or something? “I thought I’d see you here.”

“That’s because I told you we’re in the same class,” Pearl replied, her solemn monotone a stark contrast to Jinkx’s goose honk of a voice.

“Well, duh! Anyway, this is Jaidynn-” the short one gave a cheery wave “-and this is Milk.”

“…Milk?”

The aforementioned dairy product could only grin, a wonky expression that matched her overall presentation. “Don’t wear it out.”

“Wasn’t planning on it…”

“So, you from here?” Jaidynn asked, her tone as friendly as her smile. She seemed the most normal out of the bunch, which Pearl could only thank her lucky stars for. If everyone was going to show up looking like Jinkx and… Milk… then Pearl needed at least someone to hold onto. She would’ve gone for Violet in any other situation, but given that Violet, was, well, Violet, there was very little chance of that happening.

“Uh, no. I just moved here. From New York.”

Jaidynn nodded, her braids bouncing with her. “Damn, girl, that’s a big move! Think it was worth it?”

Debatable. “Yeah, totally worth it.”

“It’s really great here. I mean, LA does take a bit of getting used to, but hey, we all managed it!”

Milk shot her a sideways glance. “We were all born here.”

“Still got used to it, didn’t we?” Jaidynn asked, glancing up at her (much) taller friend. “We were just babies when we did, that’s all!”

“You’re such a dingus.”

‘Dingus’… Who the hell said ‘dingus’ in earnest anymore? Still, coming from someone with a name like Milk, Pearl couldn’t be surprised. The three stooges went about trying to engage Pearl in conversation, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be invested in anything they were saying. Did that make her a bitch? Probably, but that hardly came as a shock.

Maybe going to a performing arts college hadn’t been such a good idea after all… Oh well. It was too late now. She’d already paid for it, may as well get her money’s worth.

Eventually, the three stooges got the message and just went to chatting amongst themselves, and, with nothing but droning static buzzing through her vacant mind, she found herself listening in on what they were saying. Funny - when they wanted her to listen, she didn’t, and when they didn’t want her to listen, she did.

“You’d think Max would be here by now,” Jinkx remarked, fiddling with one of the many feathers hanging from the end of their pendant. “She left the hall at the same time we did.”

Jaidynn shrugged. “Let the girl live a little. She’s never been late to anything before in her life, this is a big step for her.”

Pearl couldn’t tell if they were being jokey friendship mean, or just regular, nasty mean. Milk only made it more ambiguous. “Jaidynn, she’s taller than me. I don’t think she can take bigger steps.”

It took another group of students entering the sparse theatre to draw Pearl’s attention away from the possible bullying. Yet another giantess, this one so skinny you could snap her like a twig, and the massive pile of straggly blonde hair atop her head only accentuated her height. Next came what looked like the winner of the annual Dolly Parton lookalike contest, all decked out in pink plaid and denim, with another blonde hanging onto her arm who was all red lipstick, taxidermy hats, and horrendously dated patterned maxi dresses. Following them was a shorter, rounder woman, with big red hair pulled into an updo and an outfit that would better suit a pastors wife than a youthful performing arts student.

Judging by the fact that there was no cry of recognition from the three stooges, the mysterious Max was yet to make her appearance.

Last to enter was an older woman, marked immediately as a teacher by the pile of papers she carried in her skinny, cardigan clad arms. A mess of obviously dyed red curls sat on her head, and her makeup made her look just a little bit crazy - razor-thin eyebrows, big eyelashes, lipstick that made her top lip look just that little bit too wide. At the sight of Violet on the floor, the woman greeted her with a peculiar smile.

“Now, what’re you doing on the floor there, missy?”

Violet looked at her with an incredulous stare before hopping to her feet and walking back to the seats with the rest of the students. All eight of them, nine in total, plus Violet. Was this a really small class, or was everyone else just late?

All eyes were on their assumed teacher. “Well, welcome to our acting course everybody, one of the finest in the state.” Her voice had a strange lilt to it, southern but Spanish at the same time. “I think we’ve got everyone here…”

Pearl glanced around the tiny class as the woman tried to navigate her pile of documents, struggling with the one-handed job. Taxidermy-maxi dress caught Pearl’s eye and grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but notice how her arm was lovingly slung around Dolly Parton’s shoulder.

“Looks like we’re just missing one…”

Blonde Amy Winehouse’s eyes went wide - surely this couldn’t be everyone? Pearl had to mirror that thought - ten students was not many, even for a class of this nature. Pearl had joined high school clubs with more numbers.

“Alright, ladies and… uh, ladies, my name’s Miss Brown, but you can call me Tammie.” There went that peculiar smile again. Pearl supposed it was meant to be comforting, but it had quite the opposite effect. “Now, we can get into the fun stuff in a quick tick, but I just gotta call the roll first, alright? Violet Chachki?”

“Here.” (Said with characteristic enthusiasm.)

“Jaidynn Diore?”

“Yup!” (Much too happy to be here.)

“Daniel Donnigan?”

“It’s, uh, Milk, thanks.” (Trans? NB? More like none of Pearl’s business.)

“Oopsie! Just mark that down… Ginger Eads?”

“Present.” (Southern, no doubt about it.)

“Alaska Honard?”

“Hiiiieee!” (Nails down a chalkboard.)

“Pearl Liaison?”

“Sup.” (Did that make her sound lame?)

“Maxine Malanaphy?”

“…”

“Maxine? Have we got a Maxine in here?”

“…”

“Alright, guess we’ll move on then. Trix-”

Just as the name was called, the door burst open, cutting off poor Miss Brown with a bang. All eyes went to the giantess standing in the door (was there just something in the Californian water that made everyone taller?), looking like a new-born deer caught in the headlights, her wide, watery eyes glancing around the room, and her alabaster cheeks flushed like a cherry and only getting redder.

“I’m guessing you’re our missing Maxine?”

“Yes… I’m so, so sorry…” She’d clearly ran here, because she could barely get her words out for how puffed she was, chest heaving as she panted.

Everybody was staring Maxine down for her lateness, for arriving so conspicuously, or maybe just because she looked like a character plucked straight out of a Tim Burton movie. But she’d caught Pearl’s attention for a completely different reason, a reason that, quite frankly, shocked her more than almost anything else in her uneventful life.

She knew that voice. She knew that face. She knew this girl.

“It would be a shame if you woke up. I’d miss you. But then again, we wouldn’t be parted forever.”

“Wouldn’t we?”

“You’ll fall asleep again, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll meet again.”

Maxine was literally the girl of her dreams.

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versuswhitescar · 4 years

Text

Malam Manor

We all grow up with that once upon a time, crap. When you're little, you believe it. Who believes it as an adult? I mean, really? We have smartphones, rumbas, and clap on lights. No one meets a 17-year-old vampire who supposed to be 52. But I have, and I found his tapes by accident. Now I'm living a filliping ounce upon a time that Anne Rice would drool over. If I don't find the f-ing cave his sister is trapped in, I'm going to be enjoying a lot less sunlight for damn sure.

I know if I could figure out the details, I'll find the cave. And the murderer and maybe be spared, or I fail, and I'm the next Elena Gilbert. I sure hope not.

I'm just a damn tutor who needs money for her master's degree. Why did I even think that posting a flyer online was a good idea? Hell, my only tinder date turned out to be a 300 lb guy catfishing for a date to his sister's wedding. I stupidly, no innocently thought I'd get some pimply high school sophomore struggling through R and J and Shakespeare word salad.

Man, was I wrong? Mr. Cain Haywater answered my ad. Normal name for an average guy, right? Well, who the hell names their kid after the first murder in the Bible, but I'm getting off track. My ancient 98 jeep with more rust than metal is not going up the hill to the "Malam Manor." Later I Google it and turns out the word is Latin for bad. I should have asked Siri sooner. Too late, Cain Haywater a ward of the state. Because he's 17 and wicked rich is paying me 50 bucks an hour to help write his family's history.

This house is unusual in ways I can't even begin to describe. Its windows seem to follow you like eyes while I rev up the circle drive. The brick looks like it's from out of the Hogwarts rejection pile. The height makes it at least three floors, and there's a damn covered entry that carriages pulled under in the 19th century. Besides the semi-creepy outsides, even though it looks well maintained, I'm coming here close to 9 pm. Ounce, the sun is down on the hottest July night in history. I should have done a business major instead of English lit. Follow your bliss, my mom said. What does she know she's a nail tech for the last 12 years. She probably has brain damage from the polish fumes.

I can't imagine anyone hears my lame knock at the gigantic door. But I swear to God it seems like a cat or something opened the door. I thought maybe the heat melted my brain, but it looked like a fuzzy ken doll. It darted behind a curtain. Before I could investigate Cain, hold my breath beautiful, Haywater stands ten feet in front of me in his large foyer in black jeans, skin-tight grey shirt with a badass blue tattoo that seems to have a deep center that radiates over his forearm. I'm shook in so many ways I can barely speak "Nyx, Nyx Jackson?" My name never sounded so smooth coming out of any humans mouth ever. That was when my brain should have clicked over to reality that he wasn't human. He hadn't been human since 1989.

Sadly only 2 hours into my best tutoring gig ever, I discovered Cain Haywater was indeed a real vampire. And his beloved twin sister Danielle, Dani, as he referred to her, was just as dead only traped in a watery caved transformed into a rusalka for the last 34 years. I was Cains's last chance at finding her cave and the wort boyfriend a girl could ask for. Jefferson Granton. A 200-year-old vampire that he needed to kill. My life wasn't fair and only made worse by the fact that I'm sure I'm going to fail, and my last meal was crappy ramen.

It was my stomach and too much curiosity that made me start playing with the vintage tape recorder Cain had on the black walnut desk. He heard my growling belly and while he searched for food. I pressed play. Big mistake, I'm not sure where he went to kill the food, but I listened to almost one side of a cassette tape. The quick spark notes, once he came back with cheese, apples, and fancy crackers to catch me, went fast.

Back in May of 1986, he and his twin sister were graduating from Xaiver highschool. Somehow she latched on to an older college guy that wandered into town on a semester off to find himself. Jefferson Granton was mesmerizing, according to Cain, tall blond lovely to look at and even more interesting to listen to. He swept naive Danni off her feet on a cross country trip. He had a long term plan. One he had been cooking up for at least 100 years when Cain's family made a fortune in lumber and now stocks.

Jeffy boy started life as Jacarde Gulomar in the Brittany region of France. He accepted the gift of eternal life from a Norse vampire who wanted a mate. Jeff never entirely made his fortune and became a bad luck symbol for the covens all over Europe. Eyes on the new country to the west, he hopped a ship and arrived to wonder the grandness of the US just after the civil war. Comming upon early decedents of the Haywater clan. William Percy Haywater knew the deal equipped each member of the family with a hawthorn stake, holy water, and a warning against a freshly minted newly named Jefferson Granton.

No one fell for him until Danni, with all her beauty and openness, fell in love, and became a target for her trust fund. By the time the twins were 17, their parents were dead at the fate of a drunk driver, and a deaf Aunt looks after them. Danni fell under Jefferson's spell forgetting all caution to follow to the whispering cave. Now oddly in the middle of the mind-melting story, a flash caught my eye, and I met the grandfather like ken doll Cain shared his mansion with.

Pere was a domavoy who kept Cain and Malan safe as much as he could. Cain respects and adored him, so I was polite. Over the next three weeks, I moved in search their land every day when Cain joins me and feasts on Pere's cooking skills. His little face sparkled at each new dish he made for me after decades of blood bags. On steamy Saturday, July 31st, I finally found, or more fell into the mouth of the cave. Much of Cain's memory was erased on the night he watched Jefferson murder Danni while he hogtied in the corner of the damp cave. Only to meet a fate worse than Danni by forcefully being turned and compelled to kill and drain his Aunt of all her blood. Jefferson helps smooth it all over with some compulsion and tricks, but Cain secured his wealth in the next few days only to vanish. He picked a small fishing village in Maine, where he met Gabriel 100-year-old vampire who taught him to live and gave him advice on how to avenge Danni. Gabriel's plan centered on Cain coming home as his namesake's son Cain Haywater II. The mansion and his tie to Danni or Cain's greatest strength. It was clear why Jefferson failed to control them.

The night I stumbled into the cave, I wore my Danni look-alike costume Pere helped me pull together. I looked like a backup dancer on a Wham video. It was. It was to trick Jefferson, but oddly I caught the attention of another creepy creature a leshii in the woods. I thought it was Cain because the voice fit, and I felt drawn to the being. Only when it had led me halfway across the land did I catch a glimpse of its eyes. Pure white scalaris was not a hint of iris or pupil. Taking off back towards the cave, I felt two forces moving me one I can now sense with Cain, and the other I was damn sure was Jefferson. He'd been down a rough road probably because, in life, he was a bit of a narcissist. Only to have that enhanced by his Vampire Life, he thought I was Danni, and he'd Follow Me to Hell to get that money. Once we made it to the rippling silver pond within the cave, I laid eyes on Daniella. My wham costume was a joke compared to her beauty.

She swept as close to us as possible, shouting silently in my brain to turn now. Cain stands between me and Jefferson stake in hand slowly I fell to the wash of a cool breeze flowing over us which I knew mixed with my warm body temp to engulf Cain it was in that moment I saw the vague outline of a man just like he left a speakeasy in 1926. He became more gas-like to almost solid, yet I could still see right through him. He is handsome except for that visible gunshot wound to his right Temple. Why was I surprised that we now have a ghost to add to the mix. Pere spoke of the cave as whispered he claimed someone took their life after the 1920 stock crash here he was with eyes for Danni.

The extraordinary power Cain had wasn't just his home or his connection to his twin. It was that he could feel loved. He survived and lived by keeping his Humanity. I saw beautiful sparkling Jefferson with his flowing blonde hair realize it too. Cains power made the cave hum Jefferson was cocky, and that was very clear. He charged expecting to deflect the steak easily, but with Danni's strength and God help me my feelings for Cain. He drove the stake straight and true into Jefferson's lean chest.

Before I can blink Cain without a blade from his boot and with incredible strength severed the head like clockwork Cain without a new Zippo lighter and flicked it on to Jeffy. Making a roaring vampire candle. Can quickly turn to glance behind making a connection with Danni. "find your bliss" I heard in my head, and I knew Cain heard it too. The 1920s gentleman back into Danni as they drifted further back into the cave. We're only water held the floor we stood still. "Nyx?" his velvet voice floated over me. I can only gape open mouth, watery eyes, and some snot beginning to flow. At that moment, my stomach rumbled loudly. He smiled a genuinely genuine smile with all the years that he waited. I knew without any doubt Cain Haywater would be in my future Tech probably my whole life, and I smiled too.

Let me know what you think and If you want more

#vampire #love #death #teen drama

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anastasiaskarsgard · 5 years

Text

His Queen

Part 1

Author note: I just had this idea and busted it out. Let me know if you want me to keep going and maybe refine and edit. This is to see if this story has any interest

Warning: cursing, mentions of death

Have you ever woken up and just knew something bad had happened. Every text, call or visitor, makes you brace yourself for the impending doom you feel in your soul. Bri had only felt this way one other day, and it had turned out to be the worst day of her life. The day Roman Godfrey had thrown her away without a second glance.

She couldn’t remember details, but last night she had woken up in a cold sweat crying. She knew she’d had a terrible dream, but couldn’t recall who it was even about. She stared off into space, trying to get a hold on what it could be. Her miraculous mind worked like a vault with information, no matter if she were conscious or not, so to say forgetting was unusual, was an understatement.

Growing frustrated with herself, she decided to push the feeling of dread to the back of her mind and make some breakfast. She couldn’t be late for class, considering this test would decide if she would receive her master's degree or not.

She walked over to her coffee maker, glancing at the pile of mail on the counter when her breath froze, and her heart stopped. Peeking out of the pile, was the unmistakeable G in the word Godfrey.

The face of Roman Godfrey flashed before her eyes and intimate memories they had shared. She felt tears, sliding down her face as she willed the memories away. She shut her eyes, concentrating on theoretical physics, finite mathematics, anything besides his damned face, but it was no use. His face was seared into her eyelids, and she cursed at the memory of his face.

She fought against falling into the black hole of memories of the most regrettable waste of time in her life, that she hardly overcame. But that’s what Roman Godfrey did. He destroyed everyone that got close.

She knew she should get ready but she could see him so clearly. Almost as if he stood before her, lost in his gorgeous green eyes. Before she sunk any further into the trap of his beauty, the doorbell rang and snapped her back to reality.

“Who in the world?” She muttered as she went to open the door. Peeking through the peephole, she could see two well-to-do older gentlemen, in obviously very expensive suits, looking less than thrilled, and very flustered.

“We are looking for Briana Tucker.” One of them called out.

She opened the door hesitantly. “Hi! I am her. What’s up? Excuse my pajamas.”

The men looked at each other uncomfortably and then finally the tallest one spoke “we are representatives of the Godfrey estate, and we need to speak with you on an urgent, pressing matter that cannot Wait. Would you mind getting dressed and coming with us?”

“I’ve got a test today so no, and whatever stunt Roman is trying to pull, you tell him he has to come apologize in person, and MAYBE I will only laugh in his face, instead of light him on fire and dance around him.”

The man looked at his partner uncomfortably, and she could tell there was something they weren’t saying. She knew Roman was a tyrant and hated not getting his way, so she couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. The shorter man drew in a big breath and looked her right in the eye.

“There’s no easy way to say this mam. Roman Godfrey is dead and he’s made you sole beneficiary.”

Bri looked back and forth between the men looking for any sign of them joking. She couldn’t process the words she’d just heard. Roman couldn’t be dead. He was an upir. They can’t die. She needed to see his body, she needed to assess him. What the fuck had he got himself into? Why did she care? She should hate him! She did hate him!

“I need to see him.” She stated bluntly.

“It was a very violent messy way to go, and I don’t think you’d want your last memory “ the taller lawyer started to say.

“I WANT... to. See. Him.” She stated exaggerating her emphasis of each word.

The men looked at each other panicky. “Ok well you’re coming with us to the white tower, and that’s where his body is being kept, so I’m sure we can arrange a peek if we get some things handled and the ball rolling on pressing matters at hand.”

“Great, give me 5 minutes, and I’ll be ready to go,” she said, closing the door and running to her room to get dressed.

“Thank God He’s not cremated.” She said out loud. He was going to pay for her to take this semester over tho since she was going to have to blow off the final today. Roman didn’t even die conveniently. Bastard. She was going to give him a piece of her mind.

She knew he wasn’t dead. This was all a mistake, and she was going to fix it. She’d help him come up with a valid reason he was alive, and it’d all been a false alarm. She was the scientific girl genius that had been a summer intern under Dr. Pryce after all. That’s how she’d met him and fallen desperately in love with him.

She couldn't accept he was dead. She didn’t want his vast fortune, cars, homes, lifestyle, problems... she just wanted to look into his beautiful green eyes and then slap the shit out of him.

She grabbed her purse and locked up. She wasn’t sure what she was walking into but dammit, she was thrilled to see him again.

——~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car ride to the airport was very awkward. The men didn’t want to get into the details of everything until she’d read some letter. She couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t have just brought the letter with them, instead of leaving it in Romans office, but Roman had his way of controlling every situation. Even when he was “dead”.

They bypassed commercial flights and were huddled thru to the private jets, and to her surprise, a sizable jet was all ready to go. It had the large Godfrey “G” on its tail and a full flight crew was waiting by the stairs for them.

“Roman has his own plane?” She asked.

The shorter man she now knew was Mueller chuckled and replied “YOU have 4 private jets and a helicopter.”

“Seems excessive.” She frowned.

The taller man who had introduced himself as Edwards scoffed at her, but quickly tried to play it off like a cough. “You’ll find many excesses when it comes to Roman.”

“Edwards!” Mueller scolded, giving him a stern look.

“Oh please, he’s dead for God sake! We don’t have to respect the spoiled brats memory! It’s no secret he was an asshole and treated everything and everyone like shit on his shoe, including her!” He said, pointing to Bri. “I never liked him, and I won’t pretend to start, just because he got-“

“Get your wits about you, man! This is not the place to discuss this, you are a professional. Act like it!” Mueller snapped.

Briana couldn’t help chuckling to herself. Oh Roman. Such a pain in the ass, she mused.

The flight was short, and just as they landed and got off the plane, they walked right across the tarmac to a waiting helicopter with the same “G” on its side.

“Is all this necessary? I hope this isn’t all for my benefit.” Bri said nervously as they boarded the helicopter.

“It is, and it isn’t. You see everything at Godfrey industries is on hold until you come and get it going, so time is quite literally money.” Mueller stated.

“When did he pass?” She asked.

“Coroner is saying about 1 am or so,” Edwards answered her

“So its only been nine hours?!?”

“Time is money my dear, people’s livelihoods depend on you now.”

“And literally peoples actual lives, with the work they do, and with Pryce being dead too-“

“WHAT!!??” Bri screamed unintentionally. “I’m sorry, Pryce is dead?”

“Yes.”

“So who is running everything? The board?”

“They’re all dead too.”

“What in the actual fuck? Is everyone dead? Am I in danger?”

Both men looked away uncomfortably.

“Well?” Bri asked impatiently.

“We are not sure if it’s all connected or just terrible luck. We’ll tell you everything in the tower after you read the letter.”

Bri looked out the window and could see the white tower off in the distance.

It seemed like only yesterday; she was the young girl wonder selected to work under the usually secretive, famous, controversial Dr. Pryce. She’d felt so honored and priveledged to work with him, she hadn’t even noticed Roman. Even after he made it impossible to ignore him with his antics, she’d still had no interest. Not till that day with the strange baby.

“Oh my God, who has the baby?” She asked the men, who fidgeted uncomfortably avoiding her gaze. “Well?”

“We don’t actually know the answer to that.” Edwards sighed.

“She may have burned up with Olivia and the other her daughter.”

Briana’s eyes shut as she tried to absorb yet another death. What was she walking into? She wasn’t supernatural, and the death toll was far outside her comfort zone, yet hell nor high water could stop her from seeing Roman. Although, that feeling of dread in her gut this morning, had evolved into impending doom by now.

~~~~~~<~~~~<~<~~~~~~~~~~<~~<~~<~

Previous summer

#bill skarsgard #roman godfrey #hemlock grove #after death #original character #after season 3 #godfrey industries #fan fic #fanfiction #my writing

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the-sappho-of-lesbos · 5 years

Text

Well my dad just went off at me for not having a barista license so that was fun. I swear to god he never listens to me. He just yells at me for not having a job and only doing university. :/

I’VE TOLD HIM I’m going to try and get job. Heck I’ve been applying all year and haven’t even managed to get an interview. I’ve explained to him in July when semester 2 starts up (and most jobs become available here) I’m going to go to a either a regular job agency or a job agency that helps disabled and mentally ill people get work. I’ve explained to him I have a fear of going into public (WHICH IS WHY I’M DOING MY DEGREE ONLINE BUT HE ACTS LIKE IM NOT EVEN IN SCHOOL BECAUSE IT IS ONLINE AND NOT ON CAMPUS!! It’s still a full time degree , god.) and see if I can get a grocery night stacker job or a night office cleaning job. I’ve said all this to him but he just doesn’t freaking listen to me and dumps all his problems onto me. He quit his job and now he just wants me to roll over like I did in high school, get a job and give him all my money. I helped pay for bills, excursions for my siblings, groceries and car rego when I was in high school. I was more then happy to help. But now I’m studying something I’m passionate about and I’m trying my best to achieve my dreams despite how god damn debilitating my mental illness are, yet he just wants to blame everything on me and act like I’m the one thats put them in this situation. My sister is in high school and has a part time job, much like I did. Has he ever asked her for money?? NO! Does he even now continue to ask me for money? YES!! He is so annoying. I don’t cost my family ANYTHING!! Anything I want to do or buy I do with money I have saved up. And I never even go anywhere. I can’t drive but I always catch public transport wherever I need to go. I never ask for anything. Yet its still all my fault. I mean heck, all the people I know in university don’t even work!! Their parents either give them money or they just get Youth Allowance from the government. And my YA got cut off last year because my mum medically retired. Yet he still acts like it is my fault.

He wants so much pity and sympathy for his issues but he never seems to want to give them to me. He makes fun of me for having anxiety, he makes fun of me for having OCD. He doesn’t believe I have depression and he doesn’t believe I have an eating disorder. YET he will always comment on how thin, sickly, pale and weak I am. He keeps telling me how I’m going to die young from not looking after my body, yet doesn’t believe I have an eating disorder. He get angry at me when I don’t leave the house for a week or go long periods of time without drinking water, not because he is worried about me, but because he tells me to do it and I explain why I can’t and then he yells at me for being stubborn and disrespecting him but not listening to him. Even though thats not it. I’m not disrespecting him for by being scared to leave the house. But unlike him at least I take my medication and go to therapy and am doing what I can to better myself. Doing university online isn’t ideal, I wish I didn’t have to do it, but it is all I can do right now with the cards I’ve been dealt. I’m doing the best I can. But he still acts like I’m just lazy and not doing anything. Am I in my Pjs most days? Yes. Do I sleep into noon lots of days because my anxiety keeps me up until 5:30 in the morning? Yes. Do I take lots of naps because my body is constantly tired due to me hardly eating enough and only eating like one type of thing. Yes. BUT I’m still doing a full time degree. I’m still trying to better myself and chase my dreams. I’m working to try and get a job that will be suitable to my illnesses. Heck, I even finished off a manuscript and submitted it! I have another one I’m working on in my uni break. I’m giving this everything I can. I’m helping my mum because he doesn’t want to. I’m really trying and I hate that all he can seem to do is berate me and shoot me down and treat me like I’m not good enough.

#tw rants #tw ocd #tw anxiety #tw depression #tw ed #tw #rants #rant #rambles #personal

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wintaer-bear · 5 years

Text

dancer!reader x dancer!jimin ----------------------------------------------------------

Jimin hates girls like you. Girls that look like they frolicked right out of the end of Pretty Woman without going through its whoresome beginning and were born for the sole purpose of upkeeping “what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” He can’t stand a damsel in distress and he especially can’t stand to play a contributing part, so when he sees a pretty little thing like yourself in a leather miniskirt and jacket to match leaned up on his 711, he can’t help but turn and walk the other way. Cigarettes and alcohol would have to wait yet another day to unleash their wrath upon him.

“Hey, wait!”

“Bus stop’s that way, princess.” He calls. The pink haired angel doesn’t even bother to turn back. Chances are, you’re someone else’s, and like hell was he going to get mixed up in that again. Jimin quite liked his life, although shitty and full of poor financial decisions, it was all his. He’d much rather cut off his left arm (not his right tho) before being scrutinized under a magnifying glass for helping one hot chick who waved him down at the local convenience store.

You wore a pretty jacket, tattered and grungy, but just one good look at you and Jimin could tell it was all designer - and the rich designer too, the one’s where the brandname was only on the inside lining rather than paraded on the outside like so alphabet vomit gone right. Your hair, he scoffed, was edgy, sure, but screamed high maintenance with it’s straight bangs and color. He guessed you went to your personalized stylist at least twice a month, maybe even weekly.

Jimin’s seen you before. Well, not you, exactly, but girls like you. Girls who winded up on the wrong side of town because mommy and daddy refused to get them a new nose for Christmas so now their looking for their next quick fix for a high or because the law gave them a slap on the wrist for bargaining with someone’s livelihood and now they have it out to use every poor man, woman, and child as a means to no end. Oh, yes, Jimin has seen you many times before, but most recently in the form of his just as rich ex named Bexs, which of course was short for Rebecca with two C’s because she’s proper like that.

“I wasn’t waiting for the bus,” you peep, jogging to keep up with Jimin’s pace.

“Good, because you missed it. Last one went out was ten minutes ago, guess you’re stuck in Poorville until morning miss.” Jimin emphasizes on the title and you let you slide.

“You would send me in the wrong direction for a bus that will never come?”

God, you even speak like them. You don’t conjugate your words and expel every syllable as if it were your last. Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Like you couldn’t afford a taxi to send you riding off into the sunset.” He says. “Besides if you knew it was the wrong direction, why’d you ask?”

“Jimin, right?”

The angel-boy pauses, dead in his tracks and takes a puff of fresh air. He does a small turn to meet his adversary eye to eye before regretting his next question. He hates to be at odds with a woman.

“I was waiting for you.”

Jimin’s mind goes blank, from the rosiness that has just become apparent on your cheeks or from the anxiety your words bring him, he’s unsure, but what he does know is that he’s really hates girls like you.

“We had dance together last semester in high school? Then went to Brighton together the year after?”

Brighton. If ever there was hell on earth it would be at Brighton University. Jimin had gotten accepted off a whim, probably some demographics and status quo and diversity bullshit kind of whim. He rode his way through the rich kid’s high school off a dance scholarship and carried it over to the U, but the University was sure to drop him first upon academic investigation from the state. Turns out you’re only worth as much as your department and grades when you’re a pseudo-athlete and Jimin’s average 2.0 GPA wasn’t cutting it.

“Sounds like me.”

“What happened to you? I came back from my trip abroad and couldn’t find you anywhere. I thought surely you’d -”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin cuts you off. “But who are you?” He feels bad, really, he does, but not as bad as you’re making him feel rubbing all the accomplishments he should be living right now like salt on his wounds. Dance was supposed to be his ticket out of this hellhole, so hearing you living it up didn’t exactly set well with him, especially considering you were from the same dance troop from the exact same high school. He couldn’t say you both had been given the same opportunities, because obviously, he did not, but it didn’t leave too much room for imagination to envision how far he could have gone given the chance. If only one person had believed in him.

“Jimin,” you grab his arms, worried. “It’s me, ____.”

Jimin takes a long hard look at you before erupting in a thunderous laugh. He laugh so hard you’re worried he’s bursted a blood vessel in his brain because his eyes look watery and his face is flushed.

Not only did Jimin remember you, he remembered you. Yeah, you were rich. Yeah, you were talented. But damn were you... regular. And as far as rich prep schools go, that’s even worse off than being poor. You were a late bloomer and your parents were athletes, so they didn’t believe in enhancing bodies by unnatural means, the concept of body dysmorphia nonexistent, so poor little you had to grow up ugly, flat chested, and curveless. You were never tall enough to get the main role. Never thin enough to get her understudy. You simply just were. Until now apparently, Ms. Travel-the-world-for-dance.

Jimin distinctively remembers being partnered up with you for each duet. The outcasts. The scholarship boy and plain Jane. No one talked to you, no one noticed you and no one resented that more than Jimin. The two of you were good. Damn good. Put in more practice than the leads, but never allowed to outshine them.

Now here you were 23 and armed with all the artillery to break a man’s heart. 23, and finally allowed to shine. Your awkward bug eyes had grown into round, almond shapes framed by the longest lashes he has ever seen in his life. Thank God, you didn’t listen to your dance instructor in high school and starve your body from all the necessary nutrients to make your body what it is today - an athlete’s build, strong, and sturdy. You didn’t look like you were going to break in half when he huffed and puffed in your direction.

It takes him a second to snap back into the moment. Unsure if he should return to you a smile or a glimpse of what he’s really feeling, a bit of uneasiness and jealousy. For the first time in Jimin’s life, he feels small. And it’s in front of you.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a dump like this?” He panics, but you don’t seem to notice if the immediate blush on your cheek is any indication.

“I - um,” you stutter. “I came to offer you a job.”

Jimin’s ear perk at the offer.

“My coach is retiring and,” you hesitate and Jimin’s beam intensifies.

“And you think I would be the man for the job?”

You silence is enough affirmation for Jimin. He gives you a final glare before bidding you farewell.

“Thanks but no thanks. If I wanted a hand out, I’d go back to Brighton and ask for a degree. I like my pain and suffering all things considered.”

He doesn’t know why he rejects it, rejects you. Maybe it’s the unresolved feelings he has for dance. The give and take that has always been a hell of a lot more giving that taking. Whatever the cause, Jimin refuses to spill his heart and soul into something... intangible.

“Reconsider,” you say, reaching your arm out before Jimin can turn away. “Please.”

He shakes off your hand. “Sorry Princess, this isn’t something you can buy.”

His words cut deep like knives, like he knows they will. The unrelenting pits of him telling him this is the only way of getting you to back off. You were partners after all. Jimin knows all of you, the little weakness and inferiority complex of not being good enough, but he’d never imagine you’d do this. Change yourself to fit a role. God you were so pretty before.

Girls like you aren’t supposed to be tender. You’re supposed to be bitchy and throw a fit when you don’t get your way. Jimin was immune to it, so why did he have a sinking feeling of a hundred dreadful butterflies in his stomach when he sees the first drops of saline escape your thick lashes. God, he hated girls like you.

#idek #jimin draft #draft

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