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ariesqueencobra · 6 months

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what we used to be | l

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet a new kid and your feelings for your best friend are said aloud.

Warnings: mentions of bullying, mentions of slut shaming, implications of violence, implications of strict parents

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Starting my first ever series for Eli! I always wanted to do a series following his story line in the show along with a female character so I did! I'm aware of other series being done like this by other writers on here, but this will be my own unique twist. There are similarities because it does follow the show's storyline but different because of my own interpretations!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

“If the limit never approaches anything, then the limit does not exist,” you listened to Eli as he helped you with your math homework. “But in this case, it does, so what is it?” he pointed at the problem on the sheet.

“Two?” you furrowed your brows, trying your best not to sound like you were guessing.

“C’mon, Y/N, you’re in Calculus for a reason,” he encouraged.

“Only because I passed Trig with an 89, they only let me in because of pity,” you frowned.

Calculus has been your enemy since the beginning of the semester. You really didn’t want to take the class in the first place but your parents had been adamant about you taking higher-level classes. You would’ve been fine filling up your schedule with more creative art classes like ceramics and photography, but that wasn’t the agreement.

Math and science classes were part of the agreement.

Thankfully, you had two smart best friends who helped you whenever you had trouble.

“My advice?” Demetri spoke up.

You and Eli glanced at him, a knowing look on both your faces.

To be honest, while you had two best friends, only one was good at helping you out.

Demetri on the other hand? He had a habit of giving unsolicited advice. But because you loved him, you tolerated and actually encouraged him to hear what he had to say.

“Rewatch Mean Girls,” he deadpanned.

You let out a chuckle. “What I’m hearing is, that you guys are agreeing to watch it for our next movie night,” you grinned.

Both boys groaned.

“I’m fine watching your sci-fi, superhero films, but a girl needs her rom coms and chick flicks,” you mused.

Being the only girl and having vastly different interests compared to the guys, there were moments where you felt outnumbered. Sometimes you have to plead for one movie night to be your pick.

“I’d be down for Mean Girls this Friday,” Eli shrugged.

You silently clapped your hands, face creeping up with heat when you and Eli made eye contact.

“Demitiri?” you turned your attention to your other best friend.

After a minute, he rolled his eyes, agreeing.

“This Friday, my place,” you grinned. “Both my parents will be having a date night, so we’ll have the place to ourselves,”.

“Are you sure your dad will allow that?” Demetri cocked a brow. “That man is scary and I don’t want to know what will happen when he sees his daughter home alone with two boys,” he shuddered.

“He won’t mind, he likes you guys,” you attempted to reassure. “Besides, we’re just watching a movie,”.

“We know that, but will he?” Demetri asked in a mix of sarcasm and sincerity.

“C’mon, my dad isn’t that scary,” you trailed.

“I-I don’t think he likes me very much,” Eli said quietly.

“He does,” you straightened up. “Don’t worry about my dad guys, you’ve known him for ten years,” you stated.

You watched as the boys avoided your gaze, the sound of the cafeteria surrounded you when they both fell silent. Leaning back in your seat, you wondered why they were bringing this up now.

Like he read your mind, Demetri spoke up, “I’m just pointing out an observation I’ve noticed for the last few years. The older we get, the more of a threat your dad thinks we are,” he explained. “Guess it’s the raging teenage hormones!” he gestured with his hands, joking at the end.

Eli’s lips spread out into a smirk.

Relaxing, you shook your head at the way your best friend acted, even though you found the joke to be funny.

For the next few minutes, Eli went on to explain limits to you. You were about to ask a question when a new presence stopped you.

“Hey, can I sit here?”

You all turned your attention to a kid with dark hair and brown eyes, a tray in his hand as he gestured at the empty seat next to Eli.

You were about to welcome him until Demitri beat you to it.

“Check back next semester as you can see we’re entirely booked,” he said sarcastically but the new kid didn’t catch it.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he was about to walk away.

“He’s kidding, you can sit,” you gestured to the empty seat. “I’m Y/N, that’s Demitri and Eli,” you introduced.

“Miguel,” he nodded.

Just then, Yasmine and her entourage walked passed, causing Miguel to go into a trance.

You frowned at his reaction. You hated that just cause they were pretty, it forgave all the terrible things they’ve done to your friends and you.

“You’re just torturing yourself,” Demetri warned. “They’re the rich girls”.

“Do you talk to them or…?” Miguel asked.

“Yeah, all the time,” Demetri feigned a smirk. “We hang out after school, make out,” he shrugged. “Eli is homecoming king, and gets laid more than anyone”.

You rolled your lips together, glancing at your lap.

“You pretty much signed away all hopes of losing your virginity before college the moment you sat at this table,” he frowned.

Comments like that reminded you that boys will be boys. In the sense that virginity is still frowned upon. The societal pressure to lose it before a certain age disgusted you.

What happened to not conforming to society's rules?

“Oh, great, Yasmine is looking at us,” Eli narrowed in on himself, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “Probably making fun of me”.

“I wouldn’t assume that,” you reassured. “She’s always going to have that nasty look on her face,” you grimaced.

Then you made eye contact with her.

She whispered something to Moon, causing both of them to burst out laughing.

You figured she was making fun of you again, calling you a slut or whatever. Dropping your gaze to your food, you checked your phone for the time.

“I gotta go, it was nice meeting you,” you smiled towards Miguel as you got up.

“What about your homework?” Eli asked.

“I got limits now,” you attempted to reassure but your composure fell when you accidentally looked Yasmine’s way. “Besides I have to get my sketch done before class,” you hoisted your bag over your shoulder.

Art was your passion. Since you could talk, you could draw. Your best friends might’ve been computer nerds, but you? You were an artistic geek.

Still, as talented as you were, Yasmine and Moon used that area of your life to make fun of you. Whether it was a silly doodle you drew during class or an actual piece you worked your ass off for class.

They tried to diminish your spirit with your art, but thankfully you haven’t lost it yet.

Shaking your head to brush the thoughts away, you gulped down the lump in your throat and managed to make your way down the hall to your art class twenty minutes early.

While you were gone from the lunchroom, the conversation at the table shifted, focusing on you.

“Do you like her or something?” Miguel asked Eli.

The awkward boy stilled at the newcomer’s question, opting to fidget with his fingers while staring at his tray. He didn’t think he was being obvious, the only other person who knew of his infatuation with you was Demetri.

“He’s been in love with her since they met in kindergarten, her too but they’re too scared to admit it,” Demetri answered for him. “I think they’ll get married before either of them admit they do like each other,”.

It was true.

You liked Eli and Eli liked you.

The moment you laid eyes on him on the playground, that was it for the two of you. But both of you are socially awkward, insecure people…neither of you had the guts to tell each other how you truly feel.

Leaving Demetri to stand and watch at the mutual pining unwind for the last ten years.

“I’m not in love with her,” Eli defended. “Besides, she wouldn’t ever like someone like me,” he folded in on himself.

“You won’t know if you never strike first,” Miguel tried to reason.

“Good luck with getting Eli to do that,” Demerit said.

Eli sighed, keeping his gaze down. As much as he wanted to argue, he knew deep down that his friend was right.

“Keep this door open,” your dad barked quickly followed by your mother scolding him.

The door had been half-way opened, or half-way closed, when he walked past. He decided it wasn’t to his standards so he made sure the door was wide, banging it against the adjacent wall.

“Sorry,” you said, not looking up from your notebook.

You were sitting in your room, Eli helping you study for your Clac quiz tomorrow. It was a routine for the two of you, hanging out after school and doing homework. Quality time well spent and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sometimes Demetri would join but he decided to play Dungeon Lord after school today. Part of you was happy to hear he wouldn’t be joining.

Especially when that meant you spent more time with Eli. Meaning there would be more brief moments where your shoulders or knees would brush. Which would send butterflies straight to your tummy.

“Miguel seems nice,” Eli shrugged, placing his pen down. “He mentioned something about karate, he wants all of us to join,” he smiled lightly.

“Really?” you smirked. “What did Demetri say to that?” you laughed, knowing he had some highlighted opinions about it.

“Wasn’t on board, but I don’t know,” he glanced down. “Maybe it could be fun,” he said.

“If you want to,” you passed him a smile. “It’d be nice to see you kick Kyler’s ass for once,” you sighed, glancing at the problem in your book.

You missed the way he frowned but he continued, “You should join too,”.

“Me?” your eyes widened and you glanced up to meet his gaze.

“Yeah,” he cracked a grin. One that was big and genuine, something that only happened in front of you or Demetri. “You’d be great at kicking ass too,” he reasoned.

“In my dreams,” you huffed out a laugh. “I can barely do a push-up,” you shook your head.

“Maybe just think about it,” he suggested.

“Okay, I will,” you nodded. “So, how am I doing?” you licked your lips.

You pushed your notebook between the two of you.

Both of you leaned in, your shoulders brushing against each other. Anytime you inhaled, you smelled him.

He smelled nice.

“You’re doing good, you just need to remember that an open circle means the limit exists but not in the function,” he pointed at the problem you got wrong.

“Stupid circles,” you huffed out a breath, running a hand over your hair. “Thanks again, Eli,” you pressed your lips into a soft smile.

“You’re going to do great, okay?” he nudged his elbow with yours.

“Okay,” you nodded, allowing yourself to believe.

You went over the material for a few minutes, your mind getting lost in all things limits and functions.

Unbestowent to you though, Eli was watching you.

He watched the way your nose would scrunch when you didn’t understand what you read the first time around. The way your lashes fluttered as you scanned the page. The way you would lick your lips in concentration. The way you would crack your knuckles when they got too stiff.

He was utterly in love with you.

Being friends for ten years, you’d reach that point without even dating. Even if it was just puppy love, he knew one thing for sure—he likes you, a lot.

He doubted himself when he thought about what Demetri said. And when he thought about the comment Kyler made earlier of him being a loser. He had come home crying, knowing he was never going to get a girlfriend because of the way he looked. But then his mind thought to Miguel.

Maybe he could be wrong, maybe he could get a girlfriend. Maybe it could be you.

Without second-guessing any further, he opened his mouth.

“Hey, Y/N?” he cleared his throat.

“Yeah?” you reached your gaze to his, your head resting in your palm.

“I like you,” he confessed, face going pale at the fact that he actually said that to you.

Your eyes went wide, face blank as you took in his words. You didn’t say anything for a few moments, just staring at your best friend.

“I-you know, never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he felt embarrassed, shaking his head as he went back to his homework.

“Wait!” you reached out and touched his arm. “I like you too,” you gulped, a smile creeping up on your face.

“Really?” he seemed taken aback.

You nodded enthusiastically.

The two of you gazed at each other for what felt like a few minutes until you bent over in giggles, still in disbelief.

“I’m glad you told me,” you reached for his hand on your desk, squeezing it.

“Me too,” he squeezed it back.

You felt your cheeks heat up before you turned back to your work.

The rest of the night was spent with the two of you doing work, holding hands.

The next day at school, Eli was sitting with Demetri and Miguel.

Having just told the news about you and him, he was feeling a little proud of himself that he actually did it.

And more relieved that you actually reciprocate his feelings.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Demetri raised a brow.

Eli smiled, his cheeks turning pink while Miguel laughed.

“I’m glad someone took my advice, now you see my Sensei is legit,” Miguel pointed out.

Eli nodded, a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna need more evidence to back it up,” Demerit crossed his arms over his chest. “This,” he gestured to Eli, “has been a work in progress for ten years, your words of encouragement just gave him enough push,” he scoffed.

About to respond, Eli was stopped by the smell of your perfume. He turned his head to the left just in time to greet you as you approached the table.

“Hi, guys,” you greeted, taking your seat next to Eli. “Hi, Eli,” your cheeks warmed up.

“Hi, Y/N,” his eyes beamed with admiration. “You look nice,” he blushed, glancing over the pretty green sundress you wore today, but his gaze circled back to your face.

“Thanks,” you glanced down, running a hand over the skirt. “It’s been in my closet for a while, I figured it’d be happy to see the light of day,” you shrugged, unaware he wasn’t talking about the dress.

“You should wear it more often,” Eli commented.

Demetri and Miguel sent each other a knowing look before Miguel decided to cut the awkward lovey-dovey talk.

“So, Y/N, did Eli tell you about joining my karate dojo?”

You focused your gaze on him, the warmth of your cheeks dissolving when your mind was pushed away from Eli. “Uh, yeah,” you smiled. “I thought about it, but I don’t know if I want to do something like that. I need my hands for my art, I don’t want them beaten and bruised,” you stifled a laugh.

Miguel nodded in understanding. “Thanks for thinking about it, Y/N,” he pressed his lips in a smile.

“No problem. Anyway, do you want to join us for movie night this Friday?” you extended your invitation to him. “You can pick the movie,” you offered.

“Sure, I’d like that,” he grinned.

“Awesome”.

Friday came around and you were all seated on your couch in the living room watching Spider-Man.

You actually enjoyed the pick, especially watching the nerdy boy become the hero. One who reminded you a lot of the boy sitting right next to you.

Miguel was on the recliner, Demetri on the other end of the couch, and Eli in the middle with you on the other side. Except, Eli was scooted closer to you, only a bowl of popcorn separating the two of you.

Your hands happened to brush a lot when you’d reach for the popcorn. Though, you didn’t mind.

You had gotten to the part where Peter Parker discovered his powers, a glass in your hand as you had come back from refilling your drink.

“That’s a cool painting,” Miguel noticed the piece of art framed by the TV.

It was an oceanscape of the beach.

“Y/N painted it,” Eli stated.

“No kidding,” Miguel said in amazement, standing up to study it. “You’re really talented, Y/N,” he smiled over to you.

“Thanks, that was my first one so my parents framed it,” you shyly said.

“You should see her sketchbook, it’s filled with the most awesome things,” Eli smiled.

You glanced at him, sending him a thankful look.

“Can I see?” Miguel’s eyes beamed. “My yaya loves paintings, I’d love to show her your work,” he said.

“Yeah, I’ll grab some that you could take pictures of,” you stood up, cheeks on fire.

It wasn’t often that you got praised for your art, mainly from your parents or your friends. So this was new. But you took the pleasure from it nonetheless.

Heading to your room, you grabbed a few of your favorite paintings before you went to your bag in search of your sketchbook, only you couldn’t find it.

As panic erupted, you thought back to the last time you saw it. You had it in art class and then you went to P.E. You could’ve sworn you had it then, but you guessed you were wrong.

“I can’t find my sketchbook,” you gulped, walking back to the living room.

“Maybe you left it in your locker or someone found it and took it to the lost and found,” Miguel offered, gesturing with his hands.

“Yeah, it’ll turn up,” Demetri reassured. “I don’t think anyone would have wanted to steal it,” he shrugged.

“We’ll help you find it on Monday,” Eli said, reaching for your hand.

“Thanks, guys,” you blew out your breath.

You were glad you had them and you really hoped your sketchbook turned up.

Part of you didn’t want to think about it, but you were worried about who had it if they did. And it only traced back to two girls.

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#eli moskowitz x reader #hawk x reader #eli moskowitz #eli moskowitz imagine #cobra kai

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saltygilmores · 10 months

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls 2/16, There’s The Rub, The Part Where Paris and Rory Are SuperMegaGay And All Is Right With The World Again, Part 6

Paris just saved Rory's hide from the wrath of Dean (okay, she still got plenty of wrath from Dean, unfortunately, but it could have been a lot worse) and this is why Paris is my favorite Boyfriend, not Jess.

You can read parts 1-5 and all previous episodes here.

Omg, my cynical, cold, black heart can't take this tenderness. I love them so much. Long live PariMore! (finally thought of a ship name! woot!)

One of the most serious crimes commited by one miss AmyShermanPalladino in writing a Year in the Life is not taking advantage of the freedom of Netflix and the much more progressive year of 2016 by having Paris get a divorce at the same time that Rory is lost and adrift in her life and finally put these two idiots together. But no. They still didn't find each other and live happily ever after and Rory is still shacking up with Logan even when it's clear that neither Paris or Rory actually like men.

By golly. This is 2002, they said. It can't be done, they said. And yet, PariMore proved us wrong. They went super duper ultra mega gay. Netflix and Chill gay. Slumber party gay. Super Gay Fanfiction!

"Sort of."

Staaaaaaaaahpppppp!! 😭 We interrupt Super Duper Gay Lesbian Slumber Party and cut to Lorelai and Emily having a night on the town after their spa day. They meet a handsome older gentleman at the bar who offers a dance to Emily. In a shocking turn of events that further proves this episode comes from some alternate dimension where all is right with the world with the exception of Dean Forrester, Lorleai happily becomes her mother's wingwoman after some small initial resistance. Are you ok, Lorelai? Do you feel feverish? You haven't nagged, cockblocked, offered unsolicited advice, or butted into anyone's business in like, a whole 30 minutes. This episode has such great Lorelai and Emily banter, like Emily telling Lorelai "You let me get 60/40'd" and "Hookers eat at bars." "Only if they can't get a table." Terrific! But the handsome gentleman gets a little too close, Emily feels guilty about dancing with him and that puts the kibosh on that and Emily blames Lorelai for making her feel like a cheap floozy. Geez Lorelai, I guess you can't win. You're insufferable when you're being a cockblocking menace to society, but then when you actually do relax a little bit and alllow people do as they please, you get the business. Emily wonders why she can't have what Rory and Lorelai have and I don't know if a deeply fucked up mother daughter relationship forged from a teen pregnancy where the 34 year old mother is still about 15 maturity wise is something you want to aspire to. Rory reading the check in forms at her therapist's office 5 years from now: Form: "Reason for appointment?" Rory: "Hmmm..." Lorelai to Emily at the hotel: Rory and I are best friends, Mom. Best friends first, and mother and daughter second! (Rory in her therapist's office: "Ah. There it is.")

There are so many times Lorelai is this - close to having a breakthrough, where she exhibits a fleeting moment of self awareness then poof, it is gone. She didn't pause to think about the implications behind admitting "I'm my daughter's friend before her mother." She will never learn or grow or change. Oh well, that's our Lorelai!

Listen, stop the feuding, you both get a trophy for Sucking At Parenting. Is there any hope for Rory's spawn to break this generational curse? It would be interesting if Rory's future child turned out to be a boy, because like, I have to wonder what creative and different ways she could manage to fuck up a son? (as with everything I'm sure this exists as a work of fanfiction somewhere). Lorelai thinks spending a whole weekend with her mother was too intense and they should have started with something smaller to patch their relationship and grow closer. What is her idea? No, not therapy. Petty theft. They steal the robes from their hotel room. Yay, mother and daughter bonding and not healing any trauma whatsoever!

No, never. Only if it's a box of cornstarch, a boat, or another woman's husband. Emily enjoys the robe stealing caper, some sarcastic quips are exchanged, and the desperate, aching, deep seated emotional trauma being suffered by both parties is once again shoved down deep deep inside to fester like an infected wound.

She's totally fine you guys. We cut to Rory and Lorelai at the diner the next day where Rory is giving Lorelai the run down of the previous events, presumably minus the super duper mega gay sexual tension between herself and Paris. Lorelai remarks that Paris looked nauseous and tired when she woke up in the morning, which Rory attributes to a sugar overload, but we know better. We know how dehydrating all-night Blockbuster & Chill lesbian makeout slumber parties can be.

Oh right, Rory committed the felony of spending one evening with someone other than Dean so now she "owes" him her time. She is talking about it with a level of excitement in her voice akin to someone who was just asked to scrub a toilet. Of course, there could not be a mention of Dean without a deeply troubling response from Lorelai. They go together like peanut butter and jelly. Surely it will be something like, “Aw honey, he just yelled at you because he loves you” or something.

Eh, close enough.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! It gets worse! There's only a minute left in the episode! How does she do it, folks? She is truly breathtaking. Before we get there, let's enjoy some Literati bliss. Rory is catching on that the whole Food Delivery thing may have been a ruse from Jess to get all up in her bizzzness and almost pries the truth out of Luke, but Jess diverts Luke away from the scene. Jess and Rory then enjoy an incredibly rare, blissful moment together, free of interruptions, alone at the counter. Or so they think.

Sorry I almost called you a naive woodland fairy when I thought you still didn't get that Luke never actually told Jess to bring to food your house and USA here cooked up the whole scheme on his own. It's clearly Jess who's the naive one if he thinks you're actually going to pay for your food! Ha ha!

WAAAAATTT???!!! #AlternateDimensionEpisode #EpisodeFromOuterSpace #TheOneWhereTheGilmoresPayForTheirFood #IsAmyShermanPalladinoOK?

SOMEONE (two someones) are not happy about this budding, adorable relationship, one so stinking cute that you'd have to be sick to try to destroy it. Like someone who would try to stop a bunny and a puppy from cuddling. Gee, wonder who I'm talking about?

Just normal Butthead Business, staring into windows while people are trying to eat. We already know from prior Window-Peeping episodes this doesn't bother Lorelai in the least. Lorelai smiles sweetly at her ShnookyUkkums Dean as if 30 seconds ago she wasn't hearing a story from her daughter about his anger issues for the 400th time. He's also talking in his usual miserable serial killer monotone about "Spending the day with Rory" like he'd rather be sticking his arm into heavy machinery than spend time with her, and again I have to wonder why he is even bothering with her, other than the fact that she's an easy victim and that no other humanoid woman besides Lorelai would ever give this soggy cornflake the time of the day. L: Rory told me everything that happened last night. She feels terrible about it. You shouldn't feel bad. It was a "Freaky unfortunate thing that happens." She continues in her soft, flirty, gentle Talking to Dean voice, "It had nothing to do with Jess coming over, trust me, she did not want him there!" Um. Again, a very weird thing to say about Some Kid to the guy your daughter is dating? Thanks to one of my followers who pointed out that Rory never said this on camera which means Lorelai has now resorted to flat out lying to Dean in order to sabotage her daughter's friendship (and it's still only a friendship) with Jess.

Look alive Butthead. She's salivating. I think she's about to start humping your leg right there in front of Luke's Diner. Don't make me turn the garden hose on you Lorelai. Dean isn't listening or aware he's about to be humped. He's distracted. There's something he's incredibly concerned about. Rory and Jess....they're talking. To each other. In public. Now, Gilmore Girls knows how to do creepy. We've got plenty of stories of people stalking, eavesdropping, hiding in bushes, leaving excessive amounts of messages, Dean existing, yada yada. But this is easily one of the creepiest things to ever happen on this show. It seriously gives me the chilly willies. The eeby jeebies. The eepy creepies. They look like two villains who have joined evil forces to devestate....Lorelai's own freaking daughter.

Picture ID: Lorelai and Dean watching Rory and Jess have an innocent conversation creepily through a window, cementing their status as the villains in this wholesome drama known as Gilmore Girls. *deep shudder*

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 2 #theres the rub #anti dean forester #rory gilmore #emily gilmore #jess mariano #milo ventimiglia #paris geller #PariMore #The DALA #Dean and Lorelai Affair #Lorelai's ShnookyUkkums #Lorelai is the Villain #literati #dala

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fitrahgolden · 4 months

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Hold My Hand, I'll Walk With You: A Weary Memory Prequel

[NOTE: This is a short prequel to my previous story, Weary Memory. You don’t need to have read it (but you should know that in this AU the timeline of their parents’ deaths is very different from canon). This is simply a very fluffy “when Kate met Anthony” story.

Title is from “Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men, lyrics by Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir and Ragnar Þórhallsson.]

Kate knew she should get back to socialising. She’d been having a genuinely good time at her first house party since moving to Oxford a few weeks ago. She mingled. She danced. She got loads of unsolicited advice from older students.

She'd taken a break from the nonstop conversations and stationed herself next to the chocolate fountain because, well, she wasn't expecting a chocolate fountain at a university party, and now the delicious setup was too good to abandon.

She was deciding between pineapple, strawberry, and angel food cake when a voice beside her broke through the homogenised hum of the party.

“I’d go with the pineapple,” he said, his tone suggesting he thought he was really helping her out.

Kate looked up and observed the stranger through narrow eyes before plucking a strawberry from the tray. She made a show of holding the fruit underneath the flowing chocolate, then stepped aside and waved a hand towards the space in front of the buffet she’d just vacated.

“Be my guest,” she said with a supercilious smile before taking a bite. She hadn’t meant to be this bold, keeping eye contact with a handsome man while eating a chocolate covered strawberry. Perhaps she was pulling it off, if the way he looked back at her was any indication. At least she managed not to roll her eyes back and moan like a proper seductress.

He looked away from her to pay attention to the spread, and Kate took the opportunity to shake herself out of whatever had moved her to be so brazen. She sipped the dregs of her drink and avoided watching him eat, but looked back at him just in time to see him lick some chocolate off of his thumb. Oh, give me a break.

“Can I help you with anything? Get you another drink?”

Kate shook her head, placing her glass down. “No, I’m good for now.”

He nodded, apparently losing none of the confidence he seemed to have a bit too much of. “Are you here with anyone?”

“One of my housemates.” Kate looked beyond him to quickly survey the room. “Well, she's here somewhere. She knows someone who knows…um, whose ever flat this is.”

“Bert Fife and Caleb Cho,” the man provided helpfully.

“Ah. I take it that you actually know them?”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but yes. You, uh… You danced with Caleb earlier, actually.”

“Ha, did I really?”

“Yeah.” He pointed out the man in question across the room.

“Oh, him. Right. What a slag. I'll dance with anyone. Names are optional.”

“I wasn't–I mean…” He suddenly looked sheepish. “I just happened to notice you before. And now, I guess. You're very…noticeable.” The loss of some of his swagger was kind of adorable to witness.

“Am I?”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Which makes me think this must be your first year. Or maybe you're a transfer, a Cambridge escapee? I haven't seen you around.”

Kate could not have stopped the laugh that bubbled out of her if she tried. “You haven't seen me around? That's hardly surprising in a sea of thousands of students, is it?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“No. No, I suppose it's not.” A hint of a wince pulled at his lips.

“Would you like to try a different line? Perhaps one better suited for the environment?” Kate asked encouragingly.

“Oh, think I'm trying to chat you up, do you?” His casual tone was betrayed by the blush creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears.

Kate’s own confidence shook a bit. Could I really be misreading this? “Surely, you can understand why I'd think that.”

Anthony took an eager step towards her. “Oh, absolutely. Mostly because I am, but it doesn't seem to be going too well.”

“No, but not too poorly, either.” She touched his shoulder. He looked at her hand and back at her.

“Oh? Care to help me out at all?”

Kate dropped her hand, and picked up her empty glass for something to fiddle with. “You could just ask me my name. It's not terribly creative, but you’ll find I'm a fan of practicality over flair.”

“Ah. Very helpful, indeed.”

There were several beats where they said nothing, just looked at each other.

Kate bobbed her head in confusion. “Well?”

“I can't very well ask immediately after you tell me to, now can I?” His smile was sly.

With a roll of her eyes, Kate asked, “What's your name, then?”

“Wait– Are you chatting me up?”

“Possibly.” Kate shrugged, trying her damndest to remain breezy.

“I'm Anthony.”

“Anthony?” she asked, with a hard “th.”

He shook his head.

“Anthony,” he enunciated. “With a ‘ta.’“

The way Anthony exaggerated the consonant sound drew Kate's attention to his mouth and the way his tongue peeked out just a little from between his teeth. I wonder if that's a move. He has lines, so surely he also has moves. I bet that “with a ‘ta'” nonsense is the only reason he pronounces it that way.

Kate realised too late her gaze was lingering on his mouth, looking up only once Anthony started smirking. And I totally fell for it, damn him.

Anthony with a “ta” put a hand on the wall behind Kate, and his forearm brushed against her shoulder as he leaned forward. “Would you like me to demonstrate again? Up close this time?”

Kate rolled her eyes. Definitely a move. “No, thanks. I'm a quick study, Anthony.” She noted it must work both ways, judging by how Anthony's eyes darted down to her lips. “Sounds quite posh, pronounced the proper way. Suits you.”

“Why doesn't that sound like a compliment?”

Kate tilted her head to one side, and Anthony seemed to reflexively tilt his head the same way as his eyes stayed trained on hers. “Perhaps because it isn't.”

“Well, if your name isn't the epitome of humbleness, I'll be very disappointed.”

“Kate,” she said simply. “Unassuming enough for you?”

He didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were roaming her face. Once his gaze fell back to hers, he said, “I think it's beautiful. Suits you.”

Kate looked down at her feet, unsure how to respond to that.

“Did I just lose points?” The question was laced with genuine concern.

“No.” Kate shook her head and looked back up at Anthony. “No, that was…sweet. I'll reward you by telling you you were right.”

“I love hearing that.”

“I'm not even a little bit surprised.”

“What specifically am I right about, though?”

“I am a first year.”

“What are you going to study?”

“Fine art.”

Anthony lit up. “Oh, yeah? My brother’s in London at the Royal College of Art. He’s brilliant.”

“Oh, cool.” Please don’t try to set me up with you brother. “And what about you?”

“Creative writing.”

“Ooh, you’re a writer.”

“Eh, at this point calling myself a writer would be an insult to writers, I think. But, someday soon, I hope. My family owns a publishing company, so I’ll have a huge audience anticipating my failure.”

Kate furrowed her brows. “Not your family, surely.”

“No, no. My parents are…stiflingly supportive. I mean everyone else at the company. They’re certain I wouldn’t have a prayer without having my family to publish my work.”

Kate said nothing, but he must have read her face.

“You think they’re right,” he said, smiling.

Kate raised her hands, “Look, I don’t know you. You could be brilliant. But nepotism is alive and well, is all.”

Anthony nodded. “No, I understand. I can’t deny I’m in a very privileged position.”

“At least you’re aware. The bar is low, but that’s not nothing.”

Their conversation moved along easily, at a fast clip. Kate eventually felt comfortable enough to let Anthony get her another drink. About an hour later, they were still talking, side by side against a wall in the corner, their arms brushing.

“Hey,” Anthony whispered as he turned to look at Kate.

“Yes?”

“Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

A surprised laugh escaped her without her permission. Anthony seemed unfazed. He just continued to search her eyes with his, waiting.

“Yeah,” Kate whispered. The room might have been too loud for Anthony to even hear her. “That would be alright.”

She leaned toward him and he met her in the middle. It was soft and tentative. Certainly softer than Kate thought he would kiss her, because she had definitely been thinking about it for the better part of their conversation, and hoped he had been to.

After the first careful meeting, Anthony put a hand up to Kate's jaw, slaying his fingers over her cheek and throat, but applying no pressure, not until his thumb pressed down just beneath her bottom lip, and Kate opened her mouth in response. It was too loud to hear their sighs and moans, so they relied on the accompanying vibrations for feedback. Presumably feeling the need to breathe, Anthony started to back away. Kate let him go, but not before nipping his bottom lip.

“...Kit,” he groaned.

Kate tutted, and their noses brushed as she shook her head. “And things were going so well. Already calling me the wrong name?”

“Never.” Anthony looked dazed. “No one calls you that?”

“No,” she laughed, bemused. “Why would they?”

“I don't know. It just…” He looked down at her lips and made a lazy path back up to her eyes. “...feels right.”

“Because your last Kate was called Kit?” It was a joke, but it sounded a bit too mean to her ears when she heard it come out of her mouth. Anthony didn't seem offended, though. Maybe there was a last Kate. His gaze was piercing when he responded.

“As far as I'm concerned, no other Kate exists.”

Oh.

“I have to give it to you, being renamed after one kiss, that's a new one for me,” Kate said, trying to regain her footing.

“Me, too.” He absentmindedly twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, threatening to throw her right back off balance. “Can I keep calling you that?”

“I think…” Kate started, but cleared her throat when her voice sounded annoyingly breathless. “Whether I want you to keep calling me anything at all remains to be seen.”

“That's fair. I think you like it, though.” He was obviously quite pleased with himself.

“I…” Kate tried her best to muster a glare. “It remains to be seen,” she repeated weakly.

Anthony’s smile was warm. “May I take you somewhere?”

Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “Um… Where were you thinking?”

“The White Rabbit, have you heard of it? It’s close.”

While Kate thought about it, Anthony quickly added, “Or I could just drop you off at yours, and we could talk more on the way.”

“Let me see your licence.” Kate held her hand out as Anthony dutifully dug for his wallet. She exaggeratedly scrutinised the card. “Alright, Anthony…Bridgerton. I’d love some real food. I'm just gonna take a picture of you to send to my housemates.”

Anthony backed up so Kate could take a picture, but he kept making faces, and she couldn’t stop laughing.

“Stop posing!” Kate commanded. “Think of this as a passport photo.

“My passport photo is amazing, actually.”

“Ugh, shut up.” Kate sent the photo she deemed most appropriate to her housemates’ text thread.

>> Leaving the party with this bloke, Anthony Bridgerton. DO wait up.

Kate looked up from her phone to see Anthony looking at her, seemingly impressed.

“What?”

“I need to remember to tell my sisters to pick up the same habit.”

Kate nodded vigorously. “Please do. So, a brother and at least two sisters. How many siblings do you have?”

“Seven.”

“Fuck off.” Kate covered her mouth as Anthony barked out a laugh.“I mean, no disrespect to your parents, but…damn.”

—

Anthony was thankful that the pub wasn’t too busy. He led Kate to a booth and had to suppress a grin when Kate pulled him down to sit on her side. They didn’t move from their seats until it was closing time.

“Let me take you home,” he said after he closed out their tab and they started walking towards the door.

Kate hesitantly took his hand, squeezing when he did.

“OK.”

—

It seemed unbelievable that they had more to talk about on the drive to her house, but they did. Along the way, Anthony inched his hand onto Kate’s thigh, smiling smugly to himself when she squirmed a little and rested her hand on top of his. Again, the time passed too quickly, and before he knew it, she was pointing out her house and he was pulling up to the curb.

“Can I have your number?” Kate asked as the car came to a stop, surprising him.

He laughed as he ran a finger under his bottom lip. “Damn, Kit. You beat me to it.”

“Is that a yes, then?” He’d say yes to anything if she smiled at him like that. He was sure of it.

“Yes, please.”

When Kate passed Anthony her phone, he chuckled when he saw she filled in his name as “Anthony with a ‘ta.’” Once they’d shared numbers, they sat in silence, looking at each other like idiots. Finally, Kate sighed.

“I’m gonna go.” There was no conviction in her voice. In fact, it almost sounded like a question.

“OK.”

“Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for letting me take you.”

More silence. The mood in the car was odd, but not uncomfortably so. Anthony just didn’t want the night to end yet, so she was going to have to make the first move.

And she did, but it was not the move he was expecting.

She leaned across the centre console, threw her arms around him, and kissed him.

It was hard to keep up with everything as it happened. Anthony slid his seat backward, too slow for Kate who was already clambering into his lap. He could feel her undoing the buttons of his shirt while he was preoccupied with pulling out the elastic that was holding most of her hair back. Anthony threaded his fingers through her tresses until he reached the nape of her neck. He gripped it tightly as his tongue slid across her lips and into her mouth. Kate whined, grinding down on him as she sucked on his tongue. He slid his other hand along the outside of her thigh, her skirt having almost completely ridden up to her waist, then he pulled back to gasp in some air.

“Can I come inside?” he asked before bringing their lips back together.

She sighed back at him. “No.”

He kissed her jaw, her neck, her shoulder.

“Can I take you to mine instead? I don’t have housemates.”

“Good to know, but not tonight.”

The sound he made was somewhere between a chuckle and a groan as he matched her grinding with his own.

“Tell me what I can do, then, Kit. Please,” he whispered into her hair.

She pulled back. They were both panting as she seemed to think about it. “You can call me Kit.” Her eyes sparkled playfully as she bit into her swollen lip.

“Good.” Both of his hands found her arse, and he kneaded it through the soft cotton material that covered it. “Anything else?”

“Text me,” she almost moaned.

He smiled as their foreheads rested against each other. “OK, I can do that.”

Kate brought both hands to Anthony’s face and brushed a finger across his lips, concentrating, perhaps debating something. “I really am going to go.” She looked up from his lips to his eyes.

“OK.” Anthony pulled her in for a kiss goodbye. She put a hand against his chest, as if it was a necessary measure to stop herself from falling back into him. After one last kiss to her temple, he let his arms fall to his sides. “Goodnight, Kit.”

Kate climbed out of his lap with as much grace as someone of her stature could manage in such a cramped space. She took a few moments to sort her clothes out before turning towards him.

“Goodnight, Anthony.”

With that, she was out of his chair and in a few steps, she was at her front door, keys in hand.

Anthony watched from his car. Turn around. Turn around.

Kate opened the door and disappeared. She hadn't turned around. He smiled to himself.

Next time.

—

“This isn't a text.”

Anthony clinched his jaw as he held the phone against his ear. Kate’s voice was heavy and warm. He imagined her still in bed despite the late hour, like he was, and found himself very interested in what her bedroom might look like. Jesus Christ. A couple of words from her, and my cock is already twitching.

“Want me to hang up?” he asked.

“You wouldn't,” she haughtily challenged.

“I'd certainly hate to. Good morning, Kit.” Kit. He had no idea where that name came from last night, when he’d put his lips on Kate’s for the first time, but it felt good to say it. He’d chanted it over and over again when he got home last night and promptly finished what they’d started in his car.

“Good morning, Anthony with a ‘ta.’”

He could hear her smiling. This woman would be the death of him. Of that, he was certain.

“How did you sleep?” Don’t leave out any details.

“Not great.”

Anthony frowned. “No?”

“It's not a big deal. I'm used to it.”

There was something there, he could tell. “I'm sorry.”

“Thanks. Are you desperately trying to resist making a joke about helping me sleep?”

“It’s a bit early in the day for me to be desperate.” Tell that to your dick. “And Kit?”

“Yeah?”

“It wouldn't be a joke.” He was rewarded with a soft gasp. Anthony had gotten the impression that Kate was not often left speechless. “Let's go out tonight. Are you free?”

“You're serious?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“We just met yesterday.”

“Yes, I was there. And?”

“You really want to see me again so soon?”

What? He sighed, running his hand over his face in contemplation. “My gut tells me you aren't fishing for compliments–”

“I'm not!”

“Well, frankly,” he laughed, “that would be more believable than you actually being surprised that I want to go out with you. Last night was amazing. For me, anyway.”

“Me, too.”

Oh, thank fuck.

“Then I'll ask again. Can I see you tonight?”

“You can see me tonight.”

A knot in his stomach loosened. He'd never been this keen to go out with someone before. His brothers would have a field day with this.

—

Kate and Anthony settled on a walk through the botanical gardens then a film at the Ultimate Picture Palace. The theatre was relatively empty, and halfway through a movie they had both already seen, Anthony, who had been lightly running his fingers up and down Kate's neck, whispered into her ear.

“Would it be terribly cliché of me to kiss the fuck out of you right now?”

“Yes,” Kate hissed, trying not to laugh, a laugh that died as soon Anthony lightly grasped her chin and angled it towards him.

“Can I do it anyway?”

Kate swallowed and nodded.

“Stay quiet, OK, Kit?”

Somehow, she did. They both did.

—

“Where to next?” Kate asked as they settled back into Anthony’s car.

“Oh, um…” Anthony was surprised, as it had felt like the night was winding down. “Am I taking you home?”

“You could…” Kate shrugged, “but if I remember correctly, which may not be the case as you were pulling down the neckline of my shirt with your teeth at the time, you said live alone.”

“I do,” Anthony confirmed, his voice strained.

“Granted, it’s been about twenty-four hours, but are you still interested in taking me to yours?”

“Very.” He’d answered so quickly, he surprised himself.

“Good.”

—

“I knew your place would be posh,” Kate teased as she took off her shoes and Anthony closed the door behind them.

He turned her around and pulled her so they were chest to chest. “Would you like a tour?”

She felt his hands sliding down her back and over her hips. “Yeah, I’d love one,” she said, unable to stop her giggle.

Anthony kissed his way along her jaw up to her ear before gruffly saying, “Then I’ll give you one tomorrow.”

Then his lips and teeth and tongue were mingling with hers as he pushed her backwards, walking her further into his flat. It didn’t take long before Kate was pressed up against a door. Her hands drifted down to Anthony’s belt, but before she could undo it, he grasped her wrists.

“Not yet, Kit,” he said in a rough whisper before bringing her wrists to his lips and kissing each one. He flashed her a roguish smirk as he sank to his knees before her. His expression changed to something tender and reverent. “Can I?” he asked, running a hand slowly up the inside of her leg.

Kate released a shuddering breath and nodded. “Yes.”

Anthony’s motions were fluid as he pushed her dress up, pulled her knickers down, and lifted a leg of hers onto his shoulder.

Soon, Kate was scrambling to hold on to the wall, the doorjamb, something, anything for support. With the hand that wasn’t teasing her clit, Anthony found and held on to one of Kate’s, intertwining their fingers and eventually guiding her hand into his hair. Kate obediently curled her fingers and held on. The moan that came from Anthony vibrated through her, to great effect.

“Use both hands if you need to,” he said before closing his mouth over her again.

She nodded vigorously as she combed her other hand into his hair, pulling when a manoeuvre of his surprised her in the best way possible, and she choked out a sob. When her climax hit her, she leaned over, and Anthony slayed a hand across her chest to hold her up as he rode her orgasm out with her, keeping up his attentions until Kate had to push him away, suddenly too sensitive to handle it. Kate wasn't a virgin, and a couple of guys had gone down on her in the past. But it had never been anything like that. Perhaps this was a perk of Anthony being three years older than her. Maybe it was a more significant age gap than she initially thought.

Anthony stood back up slowly, kissing her torso over her clothes until he was completely upright. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck.

“Can you walk?”

Even though his tone was sweet, Kate wanted to roll her eyes. But frankly, no, she couldn’t walk. “Mm-mm.” She shook her head lazily. “I live against this door now.”

Anthony chuckled–the smug bastard– as he took a step back and placed his hands firmly on her hips.

“Jump.”

“What?”

“I’ll carry you. Jump.”

Feeling just a little bit silly, Kate jumped, and gasped when Anthony slid his hands under her bum and pulled her up so her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct. Her arms went around his neck.

“Good girl.”

Anthony opened the door he had taken her up against, revealing his bedroom. Not that Kate was taking in much of her surroundings. She was still blissed out when he laid her down on his bed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, sat beside her on the mattress, tracing his fingers across her collarbones.

“Yeah. Why are you still dressed?”

He laughed and stood up. He held her gaze as he undressed.

He’s beautiful.

Once he was naked, he crawled onto the bed and encouraged Kate to sit up so he could pull her dress over her head, leaving just her bra, which she quickly got rid of with an air of confidence that she didn’t quite feel.

At first, they just looked at each other, letting their eyes wander. Then Anthony leaned towards the nightstand beside Kate and grabbed a condom out of the drawer. He tossed it onto the bed before taking Kate’s face in his hands and kissing her soundly.

“Come here,” he whispered.

Anthony pulled Kate up to her knees and guided her until she was straddling him. He kissed her again before reaching for the condom. Kate lightly grabbed his wrist.

“Can I put it on?”

Anthony smiled at her as he tore the packet open and handed it to her. Kate reached below herself and started stroking him. They were panting in time with her hand and Anthony vigorously shook his head. “Fuck, you’ve got to stop, baby. I’m ready.”

Kate rolled the condom on and sunk down onto him. As soon as she was fully seated, Anthony started moving. She cradled his head in her arms, muttering in Tamil as occasional expletives fell from Anthony’s mouth. Suddenly, he pushed her onto her back. He slammed into her faster and harder as he pinned her arms above her head.

“Is this OK?” he gritted out between his teeth.

Kate nodded.

“Kit?”

“Yes, fuck!”

Holding her wrists in one hand, Anthony used the other between her legs, moving it relentlessly until she was crying out again, turning into putty beneath him. About a minute later, he followed suit, groaning, cursing, repeating her name–well, his name for her.

“Kit, Kit, Kit.”

—

Anthony was startled awake by the sound of clattering coming from his kitchen. A second clang was accompanied by a harsh, “Aiyoh!”

After donning some underwear and a pair of tracksuit bottoms, Anthony set off to find Kate. She was at his stove, wearing her bra and some gym shorts of his, cinched to within an inch of their life just above her hips. It was perhaps the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Whatever mess she had made of the pots and pans had been cleaned up, the kettle was on, and Kate was leaning over a frying pan.

“I feel like I should be making you breakfast the first time you stay at my flat.”

The first time. He probably shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t want to scare her off. But if his phrasing bothered her, Kate was good at hiding it. She looked up and smiled at him.

“Well, consider yourself in my debt, then.”

“Gladly.” Anthony wrapped an arm around her waist and murmured into her ear. “How soon can I make it up to you?” Her hair was gathered at the top of her head, and he nuzzled her neck as his hands wandered until she took a step away from him.

“Don’t distract me, Bridgerton. The tea is already going to be shitty. I can't even approximate proper chai since all you have is peppercorns and stale cinnamon sticks.”

“Hey, how many twenty year olds do you know who have any whole spices at all?”

“Loads. I’m Indian.”

“Point taken. What are you making?”

“Hotcakes. I make amazing hotcakes. At least, I do when–”she smacked his hand away from her arse “–I don’t have a sex pest at my back.”

“Sorry,” Anthony laughed.

“No, you aren’t.”

“You’re right.”

“I usually am. You’ll learn.”

Anthony bit back a grin at the implication that he’d see her again. He grabbed one of the hotcakes off the plate and took a bite. Kate’s giant eyes got even bigger when she noticed.

“Wait, you need jam!”

Anthony took another bite to spite her. “No, I don’t. These are delicious, Kit.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Thanks. I actually prefer them to meetha pooda.” She paused and shook her head with a click of her tongue. “Itu aciṅkam,” she grumbled. “My mother would be so disappointed to hear that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He kissed her temple.

“No need. She died seven years ago.” She immediately winced, as if she hadn’t meant to say that. Over the past two nights, Kate hadn’t given any details about her parents whenever they talked about their families.

“Oh, shit. Kit, I'm so sorry.” Anthony pulled her to him, and he felt her relax a bit in his arms. It didn’t last long, though. She quickly stepped away from him.

“Thanks,” she muttered as she turned her attention back to the stove, and rubbed her cheek in a huff.

Anthony couldn’t think of anything to say, and Kate didn’t seem to need him to say anything anyway, so he just leaned against the counter as she finished making breakfast, every offer to help being turned down.

Her mood had lightened by the time they sat down to eat. While Anthony was doing the washing up, Kate went back into his bedroom. She came out shortly after, dressed and ready to go.

Anthony usurped her before she could put her shoes on and pulled her towards the couch.

“I can’t stay,” she whined, but she straddled his lap all the same.

“Why not?” Anthony rubbed her back as her arms went around his neck.

“Because if I don’t want my first year to be my only year, I need to study.”

“I’ll help you study,” he lied. Unsurprisingly, Kate wasn’t buying it.

“Conflict of interest. I think you're heavily invested in me not being productive.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smirked as he kissed her.

Kate sighed, leaning into him. “Anthony.”

“Fine.” He leaned back against the cushions, but kept a grip on her hips. “At least let me drive you back to your house.”

Kate shook her head. “I looked it up. It’s a long walk, but it's a nice morning for it.”

Anthony arched an eyebrow at her. “You know you’re too sore for a long walk.”

“Arrogant twat.”

“Please, Kit.” He squeezed her waist.

She tried to glare at him before breaking into a grin.

“OK.”

—

This time, when Anthony watched from his car as she walked to her front door, Kate turned around.

Damn. I'm in trouble.

He could not wait.

—

[NOTE: Please read Weary Memory if you’d like an actual story with this version of Kate and Anthony.]

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404-writing-error · 2 months

Text

My Parents Said I Could Be Anything

One of the first phrases I heard when I was younger was "You can be anything you want to be when you grow up"

And I always thought it was bullshit that I had to grow up to be whatever I wanted

I guess it had something to do with getting a job, starting a life, but I didn't get it, after all I was still a child

And I never understood why all the adults who tried to explain the phrase looked so sad

At first I wanted to be an archaeologist; I was way into dinosaurs as a kid and all I knew was that those people dug up stuff that's been gone for a while

I imagined finding skeletons too big to be human, pots too shattered to be forgotten, children's toys too loved to not be put on display for others to see

And now I just dig holes in my own history, each one filled with an artifact I forgot I discovered

Then I found out about the planets and the stars in-between them

How they burned and exploded and made art in the sky that led people home

How a whole day on Earth is 23 hours, 56 minutes, and approximately 4 seconds; I learned that in 3rd grade

I wanted to be an astronaut

Wanted to find my way home with Polaris guiding me, wanted to see the world the way the stars do

But now I burn like I'm about to undergo a supernova, but my light can only guide you for 8 minutes and 17 seconds so be quick, sailor

When I got older I wanted to be an artist and a writer at the same time

Wanted to balance them out by making art of my characters and writing about the art I had made

It was a good system until I started getting unsolicited advice from adults that barely knew me

"Don't be a starving artist" they said, "That's a hard business to get into" they said, "Maybe pick a backup option if it doesn't work out" they said

It's the simplest phrases that can discourage a young mind; slaying the creativity from imagination like a dragon who's just trying to feed her kids with the village sheep

I put my pen and paper down for years until I decided to make art for me, to write for me

I have to make at least one of these wants come true for my inner child

In my junior year of highschool I took a psychology class because I thought the subject was fun

Did you know that it's meant to study behavior and mental processes? Not just the mind but the reasons behind every wrinkle and cortex

I sat through 45 minute classes on the edge of my seat like I was riding a rollercoaster, even if the teacher didn't make it as exciting or fast-paced as one

I still have the notes from both of his classes and I hope one day he hears this poem

I'm majoring in psychology, I want to be a psychologist of some kind but I still have time to work that out

Haven't you heard that most people who pursue psychology do it to figure out what's wrong with themselves?

Now I have to make a decision I was told was reserved for grown-ups

But how can I only choose one piece of me?

I still collect dinosaurs and hold them close on bad days

I still look up at the stars like the gods are guiding me home in their constellations

I still make art and write for people who may never know me

I still skim the DSM-5 like it's a box of "Get Well Soon!" cards from people who don't know this isn't curable

And in between the downward spirals and indecision, I think of the first lie I was told:

"You can be anything you want to be, when you grow up."

8 notes · View notes

neonponders · 2 years

Text

Inspired by this gif set of baby Dacre ~

Harringrove Dads

• • •

Steve has a sixth sense for when his boys are fighting. While he unconsciously counts dollars from his wallet for the ice cream vendor, he peeks over at Billy standing toe to toe with their son, Indie.

The theme park around them splashes the situation with ironically cheerful music, adrenaline screaming, and mechanical white noise. Steve finishes paying for the three sorbet pops and pockets his wallet before coming to stand in between his husband and the much younger, spinning image of Billy.

“Gentlemen? What’s going on?”

Indie sighed like a puppy: full chested and very much like his daddy as matching dark lashes blinked over striking blue eyes. “I don’t want to go on Haunted Mansion.”

Billy countered, “The line for Splash Mountain is too long and Haunted Mansion is inside. Plus they added water works to the waiting area. You’re overheating and need to cool off.”

Steve knelt beside their boy and unwrapped one of the sorbet pops. “I’ve gotta agree with daddy on this one. We can do Splash Mountain during the parade. The line will be shorter since half the park will be watching the parade.”

“But I wanna see the parade!”

“The Splash Mountain line is outside. We will be able to see it,” Steve navigated, telling himself it wasn’t a lie since technically the parade did pass by the waiting area. Sort of.

Steve’s finger tips raked through his son’s dark tresses. The tips faded to blond like his daddy’s, but the bulk of it was brown like his own. He slotted a hair clip over his fringe with practiced ease. Indie didn’t even notice.

He had the naturally rouged cheeks of his daddy, but this was something else. Summer heat and humidity had infused their son’s face within an hour of arriving at the park. Steve handed the other two pops to Billy while he poured their water bottle over a towel designed to stay cold for days like this. Steve tied it like an ascot around Indie’s neck while the latter grumpily tasted his sorbet.

Steve considered their options and realized that another ride very similar to Haunted Mansion existed. “We could do the Little Mermaid ride instead. It’s on the other side of the park, so the line will be short.”

Indie gasped, dark cloud completely gone from his face despite his tone warning otherwise. “Okay...”

Without further ado, Billy scooped him up, clutching him tight against his body so the kid wouldn’t spike his body temperature just by walking. Steve poured the rest of the water bottle over his head and shook like a dog, eliciting annoyed giggles from his boys and solidly dispelling the tension.

Steve’s hand slid over his husband’s shoulder blade, silently thanking him for his patience. Indie was a lot for both of them, but things were a little harder for Billy. Neither of them could’ve guessed that the surrogacy process would reap the results of a kid that grew into the spitting image of Billy, but here they were.

Billy was careful. So, so careful from the moment he realized that their baby’s eyes weren’t changing colors. They would stay blue, and not just any blue. His blue.

Steve knows Billy would love the kid regardless of what they looked like, but having a walking, talking mirror of himself was a challenge Billy hadn’t been ready to face. So many parents, with their unsolicited advice, had said that there was always one kid in the bunch who was sent by whatever god to be the personal challenge for a parent.

Steve hated advice. As far as he was concerned, it took a village, and Billy wasn’t going to deal with his demons alone, much less inflict them on a fresh soul.

So they walked through the shaded grotto that was the waiting area, and then hopped into the pearly pink clam shell that cruised through the animatronic retelling of The Little Mermaid. Indie made them ride it three times, until the crowded park finally discovered the other side of the map and made the line a nuisance.

Then they got Lunch, and Steve hoisted Indie onto his shoulders to watch the parade - at least the section with his favorite characters. Then they went on Splash Mountain, where Billy took off the cooling ascot so it wouldn’t get doused in swamp water. “We don’t want you smelling like Shrek for the rest of the day.”

They missed the fireworks. And they didn’t go on Haunted Mansion. Indie slept with his cheek dislodged on Billy’s shoulder while his daddy held a protective towel over his son’s head as they walked to the car.

“Do you think he’s afraid of the Mansion?” Steve asked, extracting the car keys from his backpack.

Billy smirked. “Probably. It’s the stretch room right at the beginning that messed him up last time. That and the creepy bride that tells us to bring our death certificate next time.”

“I don’t like the stretch room either,” Steve admitted.

Billy moved the towel just enough to kiss his son’s hair. Brown, floppy tresses like his poppy. “My claustrophobic boys. Maybe when he’s older, you can both get over that.”

#harringrove #Harringrove dads #ficlet #husbands <3 #indie harringrove

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thursdayinspace · 23 days

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5 THINGS TAG GAME

rules! list 5 topics you can talk about for at least an hour without any preparation. tag others to find out their topics.

I got tagged by @randomfoggytiger thank you! I get so excited when I'm tagged in stuff you have no idea, haha.

Coming up with five things is difficult. Um. Okay:

Star Trek. I have loved it since I used to sneak out of bed as a kid to peer through the crack in the living room door when my parents were watching TOS at night. Tbh I'm not caught up on all the new Trek, but it's been my plan to catch up for. Uh. Years.

X-Files!! I mean, I needed a while to find my way into actual fandom. But it has taken over my brain. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I don't claim to actually know all that much about it because I'm new to the meta game here, but I think I could talk for an hour. Also don't underestimate my ability to digress and fill an hour that way.

Writing and editing. OMG don't give me an opportunity, I will give you so much unsolicited advice you will block me everywhere and pretend we've never known each other. If you ever want to find out how truly annoying I can really be, ask me about writing.

The way art influences art. Intertextuality and all that stuff. One of my favorite things to discuss. Related to that the sense and (mostly) nonsense of a literary canon. Ever since I got into a rather heated argument about it with a teacher in 12th grade, it's become something of a passion project to discuss it with everyone who doesn't run away fast enough.

I absolutely cannot think of a fifth thing. But I guess 4) is really two things.

okay, who hasn't been tagged? ikd, no pressure tags for @actual-changeling @edierone @diplomaticprincess @backintimeforstuff @figureofdismay @the-redhead-in-a-dress @patrice-bergerons @muldxr and anyone who wants to!!

#this was fun!

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new-lorien-artist · 3 months

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hey there, not to provide interaction for a post i’m sure you wanted people to interact w/ — feel free to ignore if this is the case.

as a fic writer who fears dying from health problems or from my parents maybe killing me if they find out i’m queer (it’s a bit of an irrational fear but also not,,, anyways), i feel you w/ that post. not completely, but a lot.

first off — something that may help ease your anxieties about people online knowing what’s happened to you. ao3 has something called ‘next of kin’ that you can set up with a close friend if you happen to die. ao3 will give them access to your account in that case (don’t ask me how they determine if you’re dead or not — they do have a process, i just can’t remember it rn). i have a friend of mine on ao3 who’s set up as my next of kin. if she doesn’t hear from me in a long long time, because we talk often, she’ll email ao3 and ask them for this access to my account. i don’t want any of my works altered. i just want her to add a little note that says smth like ‘hey, check out the writer’s profile’ in the endnotes of all my fics, and i want her to put a short message in that ao3 profile that says something about the fact that i am dead now, but i loved my time in fandom, and the people i met through it.

maybe you can set this up too, if you want to. it eased some of my anxieties about being gone and no one online knowing — my tumblr friends do have my ao3, and check it sometimes, so i know they’d eventually find out. it’s not perfect but it’s helped me.

also as someone who also writes in fandoms that don’t get much traction i also know what you mean by that, kind of. it’s hard. you love creating but also feel responsibility for like, being the one to create. and it’s a weird place to be in but one that doesn’t an easy fix. i deal with it by spending time offline, but that’s only made me ignore the problem, not deal with it head on. i wish i could offer better advice but i can say that while i do love your blog, i care for your well-being more than anything you could ever create. and i know that internalising this sorta thing can be hard sometimes, and that’s fine — i’m just leaving it here.

as for the real life stuff, like schoolwork and graduation, i unfortunately don’t have much experience with that and so can’t offer much in the way of that. if you have support networks offline you’ll probably already be using them, you probably do all you can offline to try and stay happy. it sounds like you’re in a lot of pain — in many ways — and i guess i’d just say to, if you haven’t already though you probably have, try to alleviate as much of it as you can whilst still living the life you want. if you’re not sure what you want, although you may be, try and think of it. it can be horrifically hard when in pain, i know.

i don’t know. advice varies widely on the experiences of the giver and the circumstances of the receiver, so there is a good chance that most of this will not be what you need to hear. and i do apologise for that; i’m not trying to be a douche, i promise, and i’m not trying to make assumptions about you and i’m not usually the kind of person to into someone’s inbox unsolicited and talk about this.

i just know how awful it is to be in pain, physically and mentally, and i just wanted to say that i hope it gets better for you, i hope you’re able to move through the world as best as you can. pain is so unspeakably terrible. not knowing, or regret, is too. i know. i’m sending you a virtual… thing of… the things you like (i’m not someone w/ a lot of eloquent words). want the best for you bc you are a person ofc, but also because you’ve made my day brighter so many a time with the words or pictures you put out into the world.

i hope that you’re doing okay, or will be, is what i’m trying to say, i guess. :)

This was sent a while ago and I apologize for the late reply, but first off I'm really thankful for the kind words and the advice. I kept this in my inbox reading over again and again, and I hope this response feels just because this ask means a lot and I'm so so grateful for your words. It's definitely easing me a bit. I don't mind it at all that you sent this

I do have an AO3 though it's mostly used to bookmark some of my favorite fics (many that I've yet to give my proper due in comments to). It's nice that the site has that feature, so what I can do is translate some of my works and WIPs into fanfic and put those there, and possibly the next of kin feature may be of use

I have a lot more illustrative works than written that are in the plans, which I think I'll just put into a Google Drive or something and share that, so any other artists in the fandom can take a look at them and draw them out. A ton of the ideas I have are very conceptual and abstract (they deal with a lot of headcanons, interpretations from the books, and relationships between the characters the way I see them), and I'm not sure how much of them will translate to others to get the idea across, so I'm working on gathering as much reference material and notes as I can if it's really important. I'm not about about credit, but I think just tagging this blog when using an incomplete WIP will suffice

As for the responsibility for a fandom stuff, I came to a conclusion a few years ago to just enjoy the fandom while it lasts and be more celebratory of the people I'm surrounded by and being able to share a mutual love for the piece of media that brought us together in the first place. My opinion then was that fandom, however small it is, shouldn't be a burden even though it weighed my heart to see something that has given so much to me feel like it was crumbling away. Rather, the friends you make, the days spent creating and enjoying and arguing and dreaming with people you look forward to talk to every day, even if you might be miles apart and will never see face to face, they're central to fandom and are what make creative works so much more amazing and beautiful and loving. I made so so many friends in the fandom from rps to group chats to discord servers, and even some irl, and have let them know on multiple occasions how much they matter to me, and have learned how much they cared about me as well, and that eased my heart at the time. If I had all the time in the world, I would reread their fanfics over and over and look over the small details they knitted into the stories and tell them how much I love their works, and how happy I am to have met them

Note this was my opinion a few years ago, and a lot has changed (many of the same people I used to talk to, I haven't seen since, both irl and online, and these days I don't know most people in the fandom anymore and have very little time to socialize), I ran the whole 13yearsoflorien celebration in hopes to make a community revival and for people to make friends here (which was an incredibly draining process but im thankful it's been done and that @/thedumpsterwizard could help me with it) and ofc my offline life is very tied up with school, so things have been a bit harrowing lately. Needless to say, I think the opinion I formed years ago still rings true, and I'd like to reconsider those words again. I don't know if those same words are helpful to you, but I hope the burden you feel on fandom creativity eases.

Again, I'm so so thankful for this ask, I apologize if I've made you worry about sending this ask whether it had unsolicited advice or felt rude. I appreciate you reaching out, and though it's true advice may vary wildly between the sender and receiver, I think for this I'm sending my gratitude that a lot of this felt helpful and touching, and for your kindness as well. I'm sending my deepest condolences for your situation and health fears, and the physical and mental and emotional strain it all puts on you. I'm glad you take the offline time to ease yourself, and that you have a friend you speak to frequently and who you trust with your work. I know I spent a greater part of this message responding to your words, but I hope what I say here eases you as well, and I reach out in hopes you find this answer and find some relief from it. I wish for the both of us to see better and kinder days and that we will make it through all this soon, and that our fears will stay just fears and won't get the better of us. And that our health will be good too

Please take care, and thank you again for this message

#you ask i answer #ernest talks #i hope this reply finds you well anon #thank you and i wish well to you too <3

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van-eazy · 5 months

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What a lot of young folk don’t understand, in a very beautiful attempt at inclusion and love, is that obesity isn’t really about food or weight. It’s never about “oh my parents were fat and thus so am I” or “being poor in America/England/insert nation made me this way.” Obesity has a root cause, and it’s not something out of your control, however it’s also not because you’re lazy or bad or a failure. Often it’s depression or anxiety, which is not an invitation to get on pills, it’s an invitation to seek out what part of your life sucks so hard that a symptom of your dissatisfaction in life is weight gain. It could be something temporary like grief for a lost loved one or it could be a lifetime of unloving family and isolation from community….

There is absolutely no reason to shame anyone for their weight or treat them with any lack of respect. But we do a great disservice pretending it’s natural, normal, or healthy. One simply cannot be healthy at just any weight, period. Even more bizarre is the embracing of people who purposely gain weight (imagine how many starving kids in any country could eat from those extra 4000 calories a day taken for “gainers.”)

Obese people owe it to nobody to lose weight, but we owe it to coming generations to embrace and love fitness and health, not just for the idea of being hot, but for the endless benefits of fitness and health.

The way to help people struggling with obesity is to love them unconditionally for their true self, and never ever make comments, jokes, snide remarks, helpful suggestions, or even the friendliest of help… unless they ask for it! Only when a person comes to you for advice or even just loving support while they try to make a change in their life should you offer your help. Nobody wants unsolicited advice, least of which your friends who just want your love and support.

I would wager a guess the true cause of obesity for a lot of our gay brothers is isolation, loneliness, lack of community, and a feeling of pointlessness in life. Being lifelong medicated by the pharmaceutical industry isn’t a proper fix, and it won’t make things better.

Choosing to treat your body and soul better is not a light choice to make, and it’s even harder to tell your best friends that you’re trying.

Right now we’re about to hit that point when New Year’s resolutions flop, and the old patterns return. If a change in lifestyle just won’t stick, the last thing I want you to do is feel like you’re just not made for this, or like you’re permanently stuck. Perhaps it has nothing to do with your ability to stick to a plan, or to have self control or determination. Maybe there’s something blocking that healthier self, a great barrier that only self-introspection and love can move.

Your body is a reflection of your inner self and your outer health, and if your head needs a bit of proper healing, no amount of boot camp fitness or low carb diets will do it. The change *must* be internal first for the external to reflect such a change.

But remember, it’s not enough to figure out what caused you to be this way, bad parents, trauma, etc, nobody cares, we’ve all got it. Yes, you have to discover it, but I’m willing to bet you already know what went wrong in your life cos you’ve probably played it over a million times in your head, thinking about how much better things would be if only things had been different.

It’s not enough to find out what traumatized you, you have to next forgive, forget, and move on. And if you haven’t forgotten then you haven’t forgiven.

You don’t need to hire anyone or pay someone to listen to you. You don’t need to talk to your friends or family, you need to talk to yourself. Our entire lives are nonstop interaction with the outside world but for most of human history we spent a lot of time on the inside, with our inner self.

A person who is healthy on the inside will wear it on the outside. If you are ready emotionally to lose weight, check out my video below which has great tips from someone who has been through it more than once.

And if you’re spiritually not ready and you know it but you just don’t know where to start, I’ve got great book recommendations for people of any faith or no faith and my DMs and anon is always open.

youtube

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knifefightscene · 5 months

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Hi, I’m not really sure if this will help or if it will be just some annoying unsolicited advice but I just wanted to say I spent pretty much my whole “youth” feeling suicidal and just like anything could break me at any moment, even with finishing school and moving out of my parents house and getting my own job it still just felt interminable. But as I’ve grown into my mid 20s I have honestly felt a massive change. I know it always sounds like such bs whenever people blame mental illness on being young (and not to say that it isn’t) but when I think about how I woke up every day in my teens and early 20s just teetering on the edge it’s hard to believe that I don’t feel like that anymore but I don’t. I really believe there is something to say about how your brain changes as you ~fully develop~ or whatever. And of course I don’t know everything about your situation and this is all my personal experience but I guess all this is to say that I felt like things would never change for me but they did and I hope things turn around for you too

Idk i feel like things do get better but I’m so more afraid of losing it like i avoid being happy bc being miserable feels safer. Its morbid to admit. I’m afraid that things are gonna be better and still the dread doesn’t leave me kinda.

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foggyparadisecandy · 6 months

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On Making a List for Living

As I've been moving ahead, cleaning up my shit inside my head, I made a list of things that fill me with joy and happiness.

Mostly to keep me busy and moving forward AND to help me improve my self-image.

NGL, at first, it was a struggle to start doing them. I was just so lost and depressed, living in the void that was left behind from my ex, yes, but also, the deeper void left behind by my parents dysfunctional shit they put inside my head.

But ... I made my list. I set my goals.

And each day, it gets easier and easier. And I'm honestly starting to feel better about myself - my present self and my wounded child.

The other day, I posted a one month summary of my progress and ... yeah ... I was surprised to see that I'm honestly crushing it. I felt like I was still moving in quicksand.

Maybe I set my goals too low? lol

Also true: I have to work it aggressively still.

I will catch myself being mean-spirited towards myself. I pause and course-correct when I do. Learning to be kind to yourself is ... surpisingly hard for many of us.

And I struggle with over-stepping boundaries. Boy is this a problem for me.

I've spent my life getting outside validation. So I have a burning desire to offer advice and help and guidance but ... I'm doing my best to correct this too.

It's grueling. I fall into agony trying to figure out ... is this kind? is it welcome? is it useful? is it necessary? Usually the answers are: maybe, not unless asked for, maybe, no.

With my ex in particular, it's so hard. Because ... I legitimately am impressed by her and can see her own growth. I believe in her more now than I ever did. She's going to be fine - I know that.

But *sad lol* ... I have this desire to nurture her and care for her. And give her advice and express concerns if I see them.

It's so ... frustrating. But I'm doing my best to learn about boundaries, set them for myself, and respect others. I ... want her to know how much I care for her and am there for her ... but I don't want to fall into unhealthy habits or make her think I feel I am there to "fix" her.

I struggle with "how do I show someone I care for them and accept them?" My go to method is "helping" them. But unsolicited helping and accepting are two completely different directions.

So ... what's the fucking answer? Ugh. It would be nice to know how "normal" people think. I guess the answer is ... just showing up. Showing that I'm interested. Showing that I appreciate her for who she is. I accept her. I understand her.

And ... honestly ... I do understand her a hell of a lot better these days than before. I have ... deeper empathy for her and her own struggles as I've learned to look inwards at my struggles.

I can see the progress she has made. She is inspiring in so many ways. Makes me want to fix my own shit even faster lol.

None of it is easy. But it's getting easier.

So yes ... I encourage anyone who is looking to become more secure and self-confident, happy with themselves, to make a list, work the list, check in with yourself and assess progress, and give it time.

The anxiety in my mind is slowly quieting and I'm feeling better about my life and who I am. I find I no longer need the external validation as much.

The odd thing is ... now that I'm feeling better about myself, I also feel like I see others in a more realistic, full light.

It's so ... bizarre to say it but ... I like her better these days than I did before. I feel like I was objectifying her before. Yes ... I knew she was a living breathing person but ... I had her on a pedestal. It wasn't realistic or healthy for either of us.

So it's funny to recognize that my "like" for her has grown while my insane love has diminished.

And my "like" for my friends is also growing. I'm seeing the world in new lights.

I have a good friend on Discord who has been out of touch. It makes my anxious mind go brrrrrrrrr even though she said she was going to be super busy. I heard her ... but ... my anxiety kicks in and plagues me with so much nonsense and doubts and feelings of "I'm a fuck up."

Obviously I am still a work in progress. I take deep breaths, I walk through my Pride Journal to build self-confidence, I remember that people can and will speak up when they are ready, and other people's choices are not in my control.

I am me regardless of whether or not other people accept or reject me.

It's probably so obvious to most of you.

It's a silly thing to have to say ... even sillier to have to learn that you lived a life without understanding that basic concept.

Oh well. Learning and growing. Fast as I can.

#catharsis #self love #self care #on topic

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femmefatalevibe · 1 year

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Hi! Quick question, is it wrong to want people (peers etc, roommates etc) to communicate with me if I had done something wrong to hurt them? I notice at times I am so ignorant of how I may come off and for example when doing a review of a classmates poem in class I said something like oh to me your poem sounded like a situation ship and I further explained. My classmate seemed offended didn’t look at me while i spoke and it was weird because the whole time other people had their own opinions and he was talking with me before class. I just notice people switch up on me and I feel bad and I try to understand what I’ve done to gain them ignoring me in person (walking by me when they see me and looking the other way when I greet them) or just glaring at me. I am careful of how I come off because my intent isn’t to hurt anyone, I’m blunt at times and humorous. But never in a belittling way. But I’m noticing these patterns and it’s exhausting. There’s no communication, I only get ghosted or ignored or whatever. Then I get in my head and try to do better but I’m not sure what to do better if I’m never told what I’ve done. So it’s just continued guessing games on my part where I’m confused.

Hi love! You're correct that if someone has a problem with you, it is their job to communicate the issue to you. Otherwise, their opinion of you is not your problem/none of your business.

It seems like the issue you're dealing with is that you often give people unsolicited advice or commentary, and it rubs them the wrong way. The truth is, unless someone asks you directly for your opinion or perspective, it is best to keep these feelings to yourself. You do not need to psychoanalyze other people's lives to be wanted. Most people want to feel heard but not have others' opinions on their life choices. It's a little-known fact to people whose parents didn't teach them this and others don't want to point it out to offend you or make themselves feel even more uncomfortable. Unfortunately, their solution to this issue results in the problematic dynamic and pattern you've stated above.

Being present, showing interest, validating others' feelings, and asking non-invasive follow-up questions to communicate that you're actively listening to the other person is enough to cultivate a connection and make them feel seen/heard. Here's a nice resource to help with overcoming the urge to give unsolicited advice: https://psychcentral.com/blog/imperfect/2020/02/its-time-to-stop-giving-unsolicited-advice#Why-do-we-give-unsolicited-advice?.

Hope this helps xx

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wetheoriginals · 2 years

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I think also that Tom does genuinely seek out parental figures in entertainment. Like the GQ interview said he latched onto anyone who he could consider a mentor. So I guess it’s like a mutual thing. Tom seeks the protection of older men, and these older men seek to establish themselves as dominant/fatherly like.

well i think the only one who he genuinely reached out to for guidance is rdj, all the other dudes just seem to give him unsolicited advice bc since they're older they think they know more and they infantilize him yadda yadda yadda

if he had it his way i'm sure tom would like jake to view him as an equal instead of his younger brother.

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bexrisa · 11 months

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hi everyone!! i definitely didn't mean to be so late with an intro, but thank you guys for the welcomes and welcome backs! this is nicole, also known as the writer behind sooyoung too ^^

miss risa is inspired heavily by a combination of serena van der woodsen (gossip girl) and nurse christine chapel (star trek strange new worlds) and she is a bright, enigmatic, can't tell her no because she'll do it anyway kind of gal. she's a smidge older than some of the muses here, but don't worry ! she won't give too much unsolicited advice - she's definitely not in a position to.

risa has wanted to be a singer since she could talk, and unfortunately for her, an older sibling of hers wanted to be an idol first, so guess who got overlooked! (risa's fine, we just pack it deep down and ignore it, it's all good) so she decided to pursue a nursing degree from ewha as soon as possible to satisfy the light requirement her parents set about needing a 'meaningful degree', and since finishing that program is currently pursuing her master's in music composition at snu!

she has no job, but she kinda goes all over the place and has a ridiculously wide social circle, so there are certainly opportunities abound for our muses to meet and form a connection!

i'll hopefully have some starter/plot ideas up soon, but in the meantime, i would love to brainstorm with anyone!!

#ooc;

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gentil-minou · 1 year

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Hello! I’ve loved your ml psychology analyses, and I was wondering if you’d being to answer a question of mine! I’ve been thinking on whether or not I want to study psychology and be a counselor, as I love to figure out how people (fictional characters for the most part lol) end up the way they do, and what is influencing their choices. I also really like to help other people who are struggling and try to give them as much support as possible because I’ve also struggled in the past, and I thought that maybe analysis and Listening skills would indicate that I might like the career, but I’m still unsure. Sorry for the rambling, but I guess I was just wondering what made you want to work in mental health and did you find your initial idea of what psychology is vs what you learned in school to be jarring? Sorry to bug, but I thought hearing what someone who’s work I look up fo would think!

ahhhh i always love questions like this because this field is, in my humble and completely unbiased opinion, one of the most important out there, and so i just love when folks are interested! especially because it's such a rewarding career even with all its difficulty!

Read more cause i rambled too much what a shock hfdjsd

my own path towards becoming a therapist is a bit of a weird one because i didn't actually take any psych classes until I was getting my masters in it shjdjkdfs (I was originally in STEM sciences).

becoming a therapist kind of happened by fortuitous happenstance: i was a teacher and found i had an especially great talent for getting kids to open up and talk about themselves and their worries. i'm also very neurodivergent and have my own complicated healing history, and once i got better i realized i really didn't want kids to go through what i went through growing up. it feels a bit selfish but in the best way, because by helping kids out i can make up for the time i spent suffering. it makes me feel good, i guess if that makes sense djkfhds

anyways, my rambling aside i think there are a couple main takeaways that i hope people going into this field can be prepared for so!

practice!!!!!!!!!!! like seriously this is one field where i think the best practice is by doing.

therapy is kinda like dating, in that sometimes you won't click with your client and they might ask to see someone else. it might not be anything personal or it might be, maybe wrong gender or ethnicity or orientation, or they just don't like your vibes. it will be okay, and it doesn't mean anything about you. when that happens i usually focus on the clients i have clicked really well with and remind myself that the client who is leaving is looking to get the best support possible, and it helps

dont trust the movies, it's way more complicated than just asking how someone feels. a lot of times people don't know how they're feeling. kinda got to work your way up to it, and first learn what feelings are

get comfortable with silence. i hate it, i suck at it. but sometimes you gotta make it reallyyyyy awkward before it can get better and the client cant open up

you will have to explain things so sometimes it will feel a lot like teaching. but it's not always so bad

so many fucking acronyms. be prepared

don't be your friends/family's therapist. don't offer unsolicited advice, unless they are open or interested. once you recognize the signs and can diagnose people it becomes waaaaay too easy. it's not always welcome, and sometimes we have to be okay with that

people won't always have the same values or opinions as you, and sometimes it might be triggering. i have a number of clients i wouldn't like or want to be around outside of work, and that's okay. remember to check in with yourself and let yourself have feelings. rely on your empathy and understanding to remind you that the person is what matters, not their beliefs/values. and what your job is

if you work with kids (both young and teens) you will have to work with parents. it might not be fun, but you gotta

you are human, you are born with emotions. you WILL be affected by the things people say and are going through. it isn't easy. the most important thing for anyone in this field is to get their own therapist and really make sure you stay on top of your self-care. think of it like how on airplanes you have to put an oxygen mask on yourself before you can help others; you have to help yourself before you help others.

depending on what you might specialize in (for me it's depression and anxiety) there is a significant chance you might lose a client in the worst way. it will suck and you will grieve, and it will be okay but not really. it's the reality of the field and one that's hard to accept, but i hope folks realize that

nothing beats the feeling of a client you've been seeing for a while start to unconsciously do the things you practiced in session. actually the one thing that beats it is when the client realizes they've gotten better and have made progress. it's the best feeling in the world

kinda related to the last one but it's not uncommon for someone who has made loadsssss of progress to end up experiencing something minor or major that spirals them down. they will feel bad and upset and disappointed, and that's normal. just remember that life is a series of hurdles and it's important to get back up.

this goes the same for therapists!!!! you will make mistakes! and it will be okay! you might say or do something that you think back on and go ah shit i really shouldnt have done that. and that's okay, just get back up and try again

I realize this is becoming very long and may not be as specific, but i feel like this is what i learned that was most valuable over my years in this field. if you have any specific questions i'm happy to go into more details (though my education was a bit unorthodox soooo)

#also i think it might be worth saying that this field is one of the best for people who are entering it 'late'#like the more experience you have with other jobs/careers it actually helps #and its never too late to get a degree and enter a new field!!!!!#some of my colleagues started their degrees in their 50s and it only helped them more !#anyways fkhgskjg #asked and answered #Anonymous #bushy rambles #mental health #therapy

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