#which isn’t an issue mind you I used to get up at 3:30AM for shits and giggles

[mediocre--writing]

Hey! I just read a couple of your drabbles and I LOVE THEM!💙💙

So if you don't mind, could you please do a Harringrove drabble/ficlet based on either of the two (or a mix of both, if you can) Twenty One Pilots songs "Tear in My Heart" and/or "Smithereens"?

Because, for me, Tear in My Heart is very Billy and Smithereens is very Steve👉👈

Thank you!!💜

Ok so love this and you have an amazing mind, just so you know.

This is like a 2 in 1 fic post so :))))

So smithereens and steve work so well together, like

“I go step to a dude much bigger than me/ for you I know that I would get messed up, weigh 153/ For you I would get beat to smithereens”

Like this is just Steve's personality. He got into a fight every season and barely ever wins without intervention. And like i could see him just being so overcome with emotions that he just does what he knows, which is self destruct.

Like with his fight with Jonathan, he almost accepts that Nancy was too good for him and thinks that he might as well take other people with him.

Then with Tommy in the parking lot, it’s not really a fight, but it shows that he has a conscience and fixes his mistakes.

Then with his fight with Billy, he only tries to protect the kids, even if he’s losing miserably.

I could 100% see steve having snuck into billy’s room during the night once (before he really knew about neil), not to do anything nefarious, but just that he had a really bad nightmare, because there was a small power outage, and billy is really good at helping him sleep afterwards.

And let's just say that Billy's alarm clock (which is always set for 5:30am, half an hour before Neil wakes up just to give him peace of mind) doesn’t go off because of the power outage.

And Neil comes to wake up Billy for school because he hasn’t woken up yet, and sees Billy spooning Steve and both boys are snoring and pressing bare chest to bareback, and so deep asleep that Neil lets them sleep, letting them wake up on their own.

And they do. Billy wakes up around 8am, feeling insanely well rested. He smiles and squeezes Steve before turning to sit up from his bed to look at his alarm clock, that’s blinking on and off and reads 3:18am, but the sun’s up and… the house is quiet.

Billy feels the dread settle deep in his chest, and swears he could cry if he were .000000001% more worried.

He hears the creaking of work boots walking around the house and knows, just from the tension lingering in the air, that it’s just an angry Neil pacing in the kitchen/ dining room and waiting for Billy to wake up.

He doesn’t know whether to wake Steve up and tell him to escape out of the window and run or just let him lay there anyway, it’s obvious that Neil already saw.

He let’s Steve sleep and throws a shirt on and slowly walks out of the room into the pits of hell, seeing Neil turn to him with an angry face a brighter shade of red than a firetruck.

As slurs are screamed and Billy is thrown into the walls and has family tchotchkes launched at his face, Steve wakes up after a particularly painful shove makes the wall shake, pushing a single picture frame fall off the wall on the other side.

Steve shoots up after that loud bang and hears a wail and muffled yelling before something else hits the wall. He grabs his shirt and puts it on as he walks out the bedroom door, seeing glass shattered on the hardwood leading to the family room, but what he sees around the corner is so much worse.

Billy’s bleeding in about twenty different spots, body curled in a ball in the corner of the kitchen, Neil standing over him, but turning to Steve with a grin.

Steve feels his blood boil as dots connect and loose ends are tied up, making the connection between Billy's bad nights and the new bruises he’ll sport under his shirt. The way he tries to hide it when he flinches at loud, authoritative men who are bigger than him. Why he told Steve to never call his house and why he is the way he is.

So Steve doesn’t think for another second before launching himself at Neil, slamming him into the floor, but that’s about as much as he wins that fight, because Neil is slamming him back and beating him the same way he did his son.

And billy, let’s admit it, is probably much stronger and a better fighter than his dad, but it’s so hard to fight back against an abuser that has controlled your life for so long. Even when you know you could win and that they deserve it, neil hargrove is still his dad and he could never get it into his head to hit him back.

But Steve was trying too hard to take him down because he was doing the wrong thing and losing terribly, never having won a fight once in his damn life.

Billy’s sitting up against the wall, ribs in excruciating pain and vision blurry, but he sees Steve getting up and kicking Neil once before backing up, and Billy sees his camaro keys in the dish by the front door.

So he stands up as fast as he can, ignoring the dizziness as if that would make it go away, grabs steve’s arm and shoots to the door, grabbing the camaro keys and shooting outside

He takes the driver’s seat, despite his dizzying head, just knew that he’d have to drive for a few miles then they could reevaluate, and Steve was clumsily getting into the passenger side.

Billy had only just started the car when Neil came rushing out the door, screaming threats and slurs as if that would make them stop their escape.

The camaro backed out of the driveway and shot down cherry lane in record time, going to the center of town, the least likely place Neil would cause a scene.

It isn’t until Billy puts the car in park that he can bear to look at steve.

He’s got a bloody nose and his shirt sleeve is torn off, hair disheveled from both sleep and the fight.

But billy looks so much worse.

He’s still hunched to the left from his ribs, he’s got tons of cuts along his arms, legs, and face from, what steve suspects, the broken glass on the floor. He’s also got this wild-animal-look in his eyes. One that screams, I escaped alive, but at what cost?

“Bill-”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Why-- I’m sorry are you asking me why I attacked your dad when he was kicking you while you were, literally, on the floor?”

“Ye--no, I-- but you got hurt, why’d you do that?”

“Billy, what did you expect me to do?” a shrug is all he gets in response--”If you saw my dad doing that to me, can you honestly expect yourself to stand there and watch it happen, or walk away and let it happen?”

Billy turns to face the grocery store--Melvad’s-- that they were parked in front of.

“It’s all weaving together in my head. All the bruises, the jumpiness, how you like to control things, it all makes sense, but what doesn’t make sense is why you wouldn’t just tell me, Bill,”

“And what exactly would you have been able to do about it, huh? You gonna take care of the situation or some shit, Steve? Trust me, I’m used to it and--”

“But you shouldn’t have to be ‘used to it,’ Bill, that’s abuse, and you don’t deserve that shit, not ever,”

Their conversation is halted by a tap on the glass by Steve's window, and the boys turn to see Joyce Byers looking more motherly than ever.

Steve rolled the window down.

“The hell happened to you boys?” she asked but corrected herself with a shake of her head, “Doesn’t matter, just come in to clean up, we’ve got bandages and antiseptic, free of charge,”

Billy wiped away the tears he didn’t know had formed and nodded to her, “We’ll be out in a minute, Mrs. Byers.”

“Joyce, please,” she demanded softly.

“Joyce, of course,” Billy offered a subdued smile.

She walked off and Steve rolled the window back up.

“Thank you,” Billy spoke quietly after a moment. “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you worse,”

“Billy, for you I would get beat to smithereens,”

“Well of course you would, you weigh like 100 pounds, not like you could put up much of a fight,”

“Hey! I gave him a black eye, thank you very much!”

“Oh, well, my bad, baby, then maybe you weigh 150, huh?”

Steve grumbled from the passenger seat, “153,”

Billy chuckled and grabbed Steve's hand over the console, locking eyes and smiling at each other, enjoying their small moment.

“We should probably get in there before Joyce comes out herself?” Steve sighed as he moved to take his hand out of Billy's.

“One more minute, please,”

Steve just tightened his grip on Billy's hand and moved towards the center of the car to rest his head on Billy's shoulder, Billy's head falling onto his.

-

Billy and Tear In My Heart thooooooooo

Like it fits him so well, again this is amazing.

I also see billy as a resident hater of america and it’s fucking government becuase, well, they have a history between his myriad of speeding tickets and, oh what was it, oh yes, the tentacle monster that impaled and possessed him.

And in California, there’s no cold weather where he lives, so there’s not exactly potholes to avoid.

The first time he drives into the cooler states and has to avoid potholes, he decides that his car deserves a vacation after this.

But the potholes become the biggest issue after he and Steve start dating.

He’s absolutely enamoured by this boy, because who wouldn’t be. He respects Billy's limits and can hold his own in arguments, and they fit together like missing pieces of a puzzle.

Steve has changed Billy, not that he’d admit it, but he’s softer now and all of his sharp edges have been baby-proofed. They’re still there and dangerous, but they’re more difficult to be stabbed by.

All the cracks in his heart have been filled with gold, like Kintsugi (a Japanese technique of repairing broken pottery with gold).

And Billy can complain and complain about Steve's clinginess, about his intrusion into his life, and his persistence to stay, but deep inside Billy's never felt more loved or cared for in his life.

But these damn potholes might just make him lose it.

Because billy is anything but a bad driver, he can control the car even when it’s going 45 over the speed limit, but now that steve falls asleep after their movie dates or when they’re coming back from barbeques with the party, Joyce, and Hopper, he’s driving the speed limit.

Which is just appalling.

But some of these potholes are so deep you could dive into them and not hit the bottom.

Like what the fuck, Indiana?

And, one time, Max is with them after a barbeque when Steve falls asleep and Billy slows the car down to what feels like snail speed, but is just the speed limit.

“Why are we going so slow?” Max asked as she leaned forward from the backseat to whisper to billy.

“Steve’s sleepin’,” he said, as if it was the obvious reason.

“You’re whipped,”

“Shut up, Shitbird,”

Max leans back into her seat with a grin on her face at the absolute mush her big, tough brother has turned into for Steve Harrington.

#harringrove #stranger things #steve x billy #billy x steve #mw harringrove #mediocre—writing #twenty one pilots #billy hargrove #steve harrington

[bluesfortheredj]

Slip of the tongue.

A/N: “Oh bloody hell, now she’s writing for someone else.”

The freezing air around you turns your breath to a thick white cloud quickly; you purposely open your mouth into an O shape and puff out short, sharp breaths as you listen to the sound of your phone dialling against your ear. It’s 2:15am and you’ve just emerged from a relatively quiet yet long wait in a&e, and after sending a reassuring message to your anxious parents you’re now waiting for Rufus to answer his phone so he can come and pick you up.

“What are you doing up so late on a week night?” he questions when he finally picks up.

“Having a really fun time,” you reply exasperatedly, “listen, I wouldn’t normally ask, but can you come and pick me up from St. George’s?”

“What the-? Why are you at the hospital?”

You exhale again as you close your eyes to try and stop yourself from crying, “can you just… can you please pick me up?”

He can hear your voice breaking and agrees straight away before hanging up and jumping in the car to make the 20 minute journey to you. He pulls up just in time to save you from the drunk you’d encountered inside right as he was about to make a beeline for you, and there’s a heavy silence as you shut the passenger door and pull your seatbelt around your exhausted body. It takes a few minutes for either of you to do anything and the only action he makes is to turn the radio down in preparation to talk but fails to make any conversation until you purposely turn the volume back up again after a couple of minutes of silence.

“So… go to a&e often?”

“I try not to make a habit of it…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, mostly,” you yawn.

He hums at your answer but worries about trying to push you for a coherent explanation for your trip and instead concentrates on the road ahead instead of exploring the issue further, but he gives your thigh a comforting squeeze to let you know he’s there for you. You’re thankful for the silence to be honest, and all you want to do is get a cup of tea and go to sleep. Rufus eyes you when he parks up outside his place and watches as you get out of the car first, waiting for him at the top of the path as you shiver against the cold. He soon catches up to you and lets you in to the very welcoming warmth of his house, then he disappears into the kitchen as you settle onto the sofa, and just as you’re about to close your eyes he hands you a much appreciated cup of tea as if he’d read your mind.

“I know almost everything about you, remember?” he replies to your slightly quizzical look at him, “how are you feeling now?”

“Better than I was a few hours ago, that’s for sure,” you sigh as he takes a seat next to you and waits for more, “I’ll explain in the morning if that’s alright… I’m just completely shattered right now.”

“Of course, of course. Up you go then,” he says, nodding towards the hallway.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you frown with a shake of your head, “I’ll take the sofa, it’s absolutely fine.”

“Nah, how long were you up the hospital for?”

“About five hours.”

“Then you’re definitely taking the bed. Go on, up those stairs; that’s an order. You know where everything is, take something to sleep in and anything else you want.”

“Thank you,” you reply meekly.

When you get up to the bedroom you head for the chest of drawers and open up the top one to find a few pairs of shorts and some old tops that he uses to sleep in, then you pull out the first ones your hands land on and lazily get changed into them; thankful to finally be able to take your damn bra off. You roll your eyes at the sight of two glasses on the bedside table with old water filling them both half way, and just as you reach for them to take them downstairs there’s a quiet knock at your door.

“Yeah?” you ask, picking up the glasses.

The door opens a little and Rufus’ kind face appears in the gap along with a fresh glass of water, “shit, I was hoping to sneak them out before you noticed them.”

“Just a minute too late there,” you smile.

“Well I’ll do you a swap then; a fresh glass for those two old ones.”

“Sounds like a fair trade to me,” you agree.

The two of you swap glasses then he gives you a nod before exiting the room and shutting the door behind him, then you slip under the covers on his bed and turn the light off as you attempt to get some sleep after your unexpectedly eventful evening. The minutes tick by but your body doesn’t relax any more than it had since you stepped through the front door, and you find yourself moving into every position possible to try and drift off; tossing from one side to the other, spreading your legs out, curling them back up, tucking your arms underneath the pillow, starfishing in the middle of the bed, just anything you could possibly think of to try and help in falling asleep but nothing seems to work and soon enough it’s 3:30am. You let out a long sigh as you decide on going downstairs to see if Rufus is still awake, and you take great care in tiptoeing down each step carefully so as not to wake him in case he was already asleep. When you reach the living room door you make out his outline laying along the sofa in the dark and quickly turn on your heels to make your way back upstairs, but he sits up as soon as you’re facing away and quietly calls out to you.

“What are you doing up?”

“I’m so sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, no, I couldn’t get to sleep.”

“Neither can I,” you huff.

“Do you want to come and sit with me?” he offers, lifting up the blanket and switching a lamp on.

“Maybe you could come up to bed… if you wanted…”

“I… yeah, absolutely,” he nods.

He throws the blanket in a heap at the end of the sofa, turns the lamp off, then follows you upstairs to his room where you both get into bed in a sleepy yet comfortable silence, and he lays an arm out to the side as an invite to move a little closer. You take advantage of the invitation and rest your head on his shoulder while you drape an arm across his torso, then he curls his arm around your body until his hand comes to a natural rest on your hip.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers into the darkness.

“Better now.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry for bothering you so late,” you apologise as your finger tips gently stroke over the skin of his shoulder.

“You’re never a bother, even at half 2 in the morning,” he replies before kissing your head.

“I love you,” you sigh before actually thinking about those three little words.

Your body tenses up slightly but all he does is tighten his grip around you, and the silence you’re met with is truly deafening. He kisses your hair once again then somehow you both manage to fall asleep even though you desperately want to roll off the side of that bed and disappear into the abyss after letting slip such a stupid statement. Your relationship was a strange one; the lines had been blurred a few times before, always a little more than friends but not quite a couple, and just like tonight you were always there for one another. The three words that hung in the air above you both stay there all night and you even end up dreaming about Rufus despite the fact that you were quite literally stuck together all night. When you eventually wake your legs are a tangled mess while Rufus is happily using your chest as a pillow, and you know you can’t get out of this without waking him first, so you mumble something about going to the loo then make your escape while he’s still groggy and half asleep, then you make the most of having a quiet moment to yourself once you get downstairs to make a cup of tea.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you whisper to yourself as the kettle boils, “now I really know the meaning of that fucking song. Nothing more stupid than saying you love someone who clearly doesn’t love you back.”

You carry on muttering about how utterly foolish you’d been as you pour out the water into your cup but then hear a stirring upstairs and a sudden fear washes over you at the thought of having to face Rufus after saying you loved him which makes you bolt for the door; just about remembering to pick up your bag, coat, and shoes as you tumble out into the cold. The front door unintentionally slams behind you thanks to a strong gust of wind and you have to hop on the spot as you pull your boots on, which you then realise isn’t a great look with a pair of Rufus’ shorts, but you pull your coat on and hurry down the street to get as far away as possible.

“(Y/N)!” his voice calls out behind you, “where are you going?”

Slinging your bag around your body you pick up speed and keep your head down as you try to ignore his calls but it all backfires when he breaks into a run, a very rare moment for Rufus, and quickly appears in front of you to block your path in a very undignified manner when you walk straight into him and notice that he’s just in a pair of pants and some socks.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?!” you gasp, looking around to see if anyone was watching, “get back inside before someone sees you!”

“Only if you come as well,” he says as his teeth chatter slightly and he folds his arms across his chest.

“Ru, seriously, just get back in the house.”

“Are you coming?”

“I’ve got to go home,” you reply with a shake of your head.

“Then I’m coming too.”

“Not like that!”

“Yep,” he nods stubbornly.

You look up at his face and recognise a slight playful tug of a smile on his lips, but you equally knew how serious he was about following you home in just his underwear, and you let out a defeated sigh as you turn around. The two of you walk back to his in silence and as soon as you get indoors he grabs the blanket from the sofa and wraps it around himself before taking a seat and patting the space next to him as an invite for you. You hang your coat and bag back up in the hall then slip your boots off and trudge slowly into the lounge where you then stick to the opposite end of the couch and look down at your lap as your fingers fiddle with the hem of the shorts.

“I’m bloody freezing,” Rufus eventually states as he shivers beneath the blanket.

“That’s what happens when you run outside wearing just your undies in December…”

“Which was completely your fault.”

“I didn’t ask you to do it, so it’s certainly not my fault.”

“It was necessary though.”

“Really?” you scoff.

“It was. Now can I get a hug to help warm me up?”

You lift your gaze from your lap and reluctantly turn towards him with a slightly hesitant expression as you assess the situation. He sits there with his hair tied back in a messy knot and an expectant smile on his face as he holds out the blanket, exposing his barely covered body, and you roll your eyes as you once again give in to his usual cheeky charm. With a sigh you shuffle sideways then turn your body towards him and slip your arms around his torso underneath the blanket where he then close it around you both, cocooning the two of you inside the soft fluffy tent. Silence once again falls over you both but it’s not in any way uncomfortable as you both settle into the sofa in a cosy embrace.

“Do you know, I’ve never actually told anyone I love them,” he says quietly out of the blue, “apart from family of course, and maybe a girlfriend when I was in secondary school because I was young and dumb, and didn’t realise the true meaning of the words…”

You can both feel and hear his heart rate quickening beneath your cheek.

“But, uh, I think that’s because I’ve been waiting to say it to the right person. The thing is though, I think I messed up already, because she said it to me last night and I didn’t say it back even though it was so close to falling from the tip of my tongue. I think I was a bit taken aback by it all, because I genuinely thought I’d be the first one to say it. Well, the only one to say it actually.”

You stay quiet; words fail you, and you’re pretty sure that if someone asked you what your name was right now you wouldn’t be able to answer them. You’re just really thankful that he can’t see your face due to being tucked underneath his chin, and you try to steady your breathing while you wait for him to continue.

“Are you just going to leave me to ramble on until my mouth dries out?”

A short laugh escapes you before you nod in response.

“Right, fine,” he huffs playfully, “well what I’m trying to say is I love you, okay? Always have done, always will do, and I never want to let you go because I don’t know what happened to you last night but fuck me did you scare the living daylights out of me with that phone call. I want to keep you safe, I wanna be with you all the fricking time which is really inconvenient because you’ve got your career and I’ve got mine, but fuck, I just want you all to myself. I don’t want to share you with anyone else, and I’ve wasted so much time not telling you this-”

He’s so caught up in what pouring his heart out to you that he doesn’t even register the fact you’ve now sat up, and you gently cut off his speech with a soft kiss to his lips.

“Did you do that just to shut me up?” he questions with a single raised eyebrow when you pull away.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Could you do it again?”

You tut and roll your eyes as if it’s a chore, “if I really have to.”

#rufus taylor x reader #rufus taylor imagine #rufus taylor fanfic #rufus taylor fluff #rufus taylor

[starlight-drive-in]

Catching Feelings Ch. 2 Seven/MC College AU

Awhile ago I was requested by @navarr0landia write a continuation of my College AU I started during Saeyoung week this year (which I was low key looking for the extra push to do anyway so thanks!) 

So here it is! Part 2 of what I am now calling Catching Feelings: 

AO3 Link  (Check here for warning/tags)

BEEP BEEP BEEP

The shrill sound of MC's alarm pierces through her slumber bringing her to consciousness, much to her dismay.

"Ughhh." She groans as the full weight of her headache is realized as soon as she moves to tap the snooze button on her phone. She groans again, smothering her face into the pillow desperate to sink back into sleep. There are no hangovers in dreamland.

Of course exactly 10 minutes later - BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

This time MC doesn't mess around with the snooze button, it's too early and her head hurts way too much for this right now, her morning class is just not going to happen. She grasps desperately at sleep again.

She's not sure how much later it is but begins to hear Mei rustle around the room, getting ready for class and then the light turns on. MC groans again and pulls and blankets up over her head in protest.

"How are you feeling there, Sunshine?" Her roommate asks.

"Mmmm" MC groans miserably in response. "Why did I let you take me to a party on a weeknight?"

Her roommate laughs quietly. "You should be thanking me."

"For what?!" MC asks incredulously.

"You seriously don't remember? Maaaaybe you should check your phone that's been going off for the past hour." Mei says before the bathroom door clicks closed.

Why? MC thinks in response pulling her phone off her nightstand and under her little blanket tent.  It's not like anyone ever texts…me? She thinks as she sees seven new messages from "Saeyoung (Crazy Cat Guy)"

"Oh, shit." She mutters as memories from the night before - as well as a healthy dose of embarrassment - flood in. Parts of the night are definitely blurry in her mind. She remembers the bathroom and Seven/Saeyoung with the cat. And his eyes. Oh my god, his eyes, and that smile. Her heart clenches at the thought of him. This isn’t good, It’s been less than 24 hours and she’s already in deep.

Bits and pieces of their conversation float through her head but she can’t seem to grasp the entirety of it. Ugh. Why did she have so many of those... whatever they weres? What did she say to him? She desperately hopes nothing too bad. It couldn't have been anything too bad if he was texting her right? Unless it was that bad and he was telling her how weird she was. Calm down MC, calm down. Just unlock your phone and read the messages, you can do it.  

She takes a deep breath and bites her lip, entering her lock code. Her screen brightens, making her headache more apparent, but revealing the messages to her.

Saeyoung (9:09am): PSHHT This is ground control to Astronaut MC, do you read me?

Saeyoung (9:25am): PSHHT I repeat. MC, do you read me?

Saeyoung (10:07am): lolol I really hope you don't have a morning class

Saeyoung (10:11am): How are you feeling, Little Kitty?

Saeyoung (10:15am): >.< Was that weird? Sorry that was probably weird

Saeyoung (10:20am): Please let Seveny know you are still alive when you can

Saeyoung (10:30am): I‘m in class now but Secret Agent 707 might have to go on a rescue mission afterward if he doesn't hear back from you ^^’

MC’s face heats up a few degrees as she reads the messages He’s worried about me! Her heart leaps again as she thinks over how to respond to him as quickly as possible.

--

Seven bobs his leg up and down nervously as he sits in his back corner seat of the Comp Sci lab, not hearing anything his teacher is saying about compilation errors. He unlocks his phone for the third time in less than a minute and stares at the notification bar. Was he too forward? Too weird? She didn't seem to mind is weirdness too much last night but maybe that was because she was drunk? Or maybe something’s actually wrong, what if she had alcohol poisoning? Was she hurt, or was she just ignoring him? He didn't like either of those options frankly.

“Luciel?” He hears his teacher's voice pierces through his mind’s paranoid circling.

“Can you tell me why this code isn’t compiling correctly? Tell me where the error is.” His teacher looks at him pointedly, obviously trying to catch him off guard.

“Uhhhh” He stalls, scanning the code on the board. “You have a syntax error on line 23.”

His teacher - Mr. Vanderwood, seems a little disappointed he can’t reprimand him, “That's cor-”

“And 47.” Seven adds.

“Wait, what?” Mr. Vanderwood says incredulously scanning the code himself. “You’re right… uhh thanks, I guess”

“No probs Ms. Vanderwood.” Seven replies casually.

“It’s Mr. Vanderwood, Luciel.”

“Right, right, won't happen again Vandy!” the class collectively giggles at the interaction that's quite common amongst the two

“LUCIEL!”

“Ah hahaha sorry!” Seven cowers, shutting up.

His teacher stares at him a moment longer before continuing, “The next type of error you may have is a runtime error, a runtime error occurs when….” - and just like that Seven has checked out and is back to his phone again, and he has two new messages! He fumbles a bit in his excitement but manages to get his phone unlocked.

MC (Q-T-π): Hey! Sorry for making you worry! I just woke up.

MC (Q-T-π): And if it wasn't weird I’d be worried it wasn't you I was talking to, but that doesn’t mean I didn't like it. :)

She doesn't hate him! She thanked him! Thank God. He impulsively grasps the cross around his neck in victory. She used a smile emoji! Does that mean he made her smile? Oh, he really hopes so!

He looks rapidly around the room. Realizing Vanderwood is busy helping someone else he quickly types out a reply.

Saeyoung: She lives! :D Seven can breathe again. How do you feel?

--

MC seats herself up in bed and manages to get at least her feet off the bed before she's alerted to another message, her stomach responds with a small flourish of butterflies. Wow, he's fast. She thinks, smiling and reading his reply.

--

Seven watches his screen faithfully for her next message.

MC (Q-T-π): Honestly? I feel like death D:

MC (Q-T-π): But talking to you is definitely helping this headache go away.

He can’t help but crack a wide smile.

Saeyoung: Glad to be of assistance!

He can’t just let the conversation die like this though. He has to think of a way to continue it, and that's when an idea hits him.

Saeyoung: I have something else that may help!

MC (Q-T-π): Oh yea, What's that?

Saeyoung: Seven’s magic hangover (and other ailments) cure-aaaaall… Ddddddrumroll plz

MC (Q-T-π): Dum-dum-da-da-da-dum-dum!

Saeyoung: Seven Star Energy Drink!

MC (Q-T-π): You have your own energy drink? :O!

Saeyoung: Uhhhh well, haha

Saeyoung: not officially

Saeyoung: BUT

Saeyoung: I’m sure it will help clear up that nasty hangover! And that’s not all!

Saeyoung: It would be hand-delivered by yours truly :)

He sends the last message and waits with bated breath for a reply.

--

The bathroom door opens and Mei steps out all ready for class and starts getting her things together. MC stares at her phone screen. He wants to come over? She bites her lip and thinks for a minute. She hasn’t even had a shower yet. She groans loudly and throws her head back onto her pillow in defeat, resulting in a powerful reminder of the headache she needs to get rid of.

Mei eyes her peculiar display. “Alright, tell Mei what’s wrong.”

“Seven wants to come over” MC groans.

“So?? That’s great. Shouldn’t you be excited?”

“He wants to bring me something to help my hangover.”

“Aww, and here we all thought he was just crazy. That’s so sweet! I’m still not seeing the issue though unless you don’t actually like him and that was just the drink talking last night?”

“No, no that’s” MC stutters. “That’s not it. It’s just… I look like garbage.” MC replies sitting up again so Mei can see her face, still covered in smudged makeup from the night before.

“Hmm” Mei considers. “High-quality garbage though, like rich people garbage. Ya know?”

“Thanks,” MC replies sarcastically.

“What I mean is, you just gotta clean yourself up a bit and you’ll be fine. Like a million dollar sofa with a stain on it.” Mei says tossing her a bag of makeup wipes, a brush, her foundation and a tube of mascara.

MC wipes her face down, using about 3 wipes to get everything off, and then starts her “low effort” look by pulling her hair into a messy bun with a few loose locks on each side.

Mei ruffles around in MC’s dresser “Annnd you probably want to change.”

MC looks down and realizes she’s still wearing what she borrowed from Mei the night before.  

"How many beige sweaters do you have, Girl?" Mei tosses her a particularly oversized one and a pair of black leggings.

"They're comfy!" MC defends, finally rising herself from her bed to change. "Oh shit. I forgot to answer him!" She adds a second later, frantically pulling her sweater over her head.

"You left that poor boy on read? He probably thinks you hate him now." Mei teases.

"Nooooo!" MC whines fishing her phone out of her covers.

--

Saeyoung leaves class and drives the short distance back to the RFA house, glancing at his phone more frequently than he should. It's been fifteen minutes, she's probably not going to answer. He shouldn't have invited himself over like that.

He walks in the door, no one seems to be home at the moment. He continues up the stairs.

MC (Q-T-π): That would actually be very nice of you, but fair warning I look like a hot mess :/

A sense of relief falls over him, and then excitement and then… nervousness? It's been a while since he's felt that particular emotion.

Saeyoung: I'm sure you look beautiful! :)

Saeyoung: I'll head over as soon and I can get everything together!

MC (Q-T-π): Can't wait :)

He reads her message as he enters his room, flinging his black and yellow backpack onto the small couch and whoops loudly with enthusiasm, jumping up and down in excitement.

"What the fuck?!" Saeran's voice rings out from the other side of the room as he whips around in his desk chair to give his brother one of his trademark glares.

It would seem Seven forgot to check the room for other occupants when he entered. "Oops sorry bro!"

"Yeah, whatever." He says, writing off his brother's little show as one of his typical little displays and going back to his work.

Saeyoung yanks his t-shirt off over his head, and walks over to the shared closet and begins flipping through shirts.  

“Great job with inviting people to the party last night, by the way. A lot of people came out!”

Saeran smirks. “Amazing how many people are willing to go over to a random house because a stranger told them there would be free alcohol.”

“Tell me about it, Jaehee’s totaling the amount now but we should have quite a pretty good amount to donate this time!”

“That’s good, I’ll ask her about it later.” Saeran answers, writing himself a reminder on a post-it and sticking it to his computer screen.

Seven check his teeth in the closet mirror, “We missed you though, where were you last night?” He attempts to pry, knowing his brother is a pretty private person but he hoping maybe he’ll tell him anyway.

“Out” Saeran deadpans, revealing nothing.

“Hmm, ok I won’t bug you about but just be careful ok? I’ve been hearing about some weird cult stuff going on around campus.”

Saeran scoffs. “Cults? Seriously? Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.”

“Hey, can I borrow this shirt?” Seven asks, holding up a short sleeve, white button-down of Saeran’s. Obviously forgetting his former train of thought.

Saeran tsks in response “Ah, I see you didn’t do your laundry again.”

“I was busy!” Pleeaaasee?” Seven begs.

“Ugh, sure fine whatever, if it even fits you.”

“Thanks! You’re my favorite twin!” Seven shrugs into the shirt it’s a little tight, but manageable.

“That statement makes absolutely no sense, but ok. What are you getting all dressed up for anyway? I haven't seen you make an effort like this since the RFA Christmas Ball.”

“The Defender of Justice, the Mighty Seven-Zero-Seven must deliver much-needed medicine to a pretty lady who has fallen ill!” Seven says dramatically, earning an eye roll from his brother before heading over to the mirror to style his hair the best he can without product. It's still a mess but at least it looks a little neater. He sprays a little cologne on his neck and then checks his breath. “Oof, that’s not gonna work,” He says to himself before looking over at Saeran. “Hey, you got any mints?”

“I always have mints,” Saeran replies tossing him a tin from the generous supply in his desk.

“Bless you, dear brother.” Seven dumps a few in his mouth and cronches on them, making Saeran cringe.

“You’re supposed to let them dissolve ya know.” Saeran grimaces.

“Yea, yea no time gotta go!” Seven turns his backpack upside down and dumps his books and laptop onto the couch before shoving new stuff into his backpack in its place, flinging it onto his back and heading out the door.

Saeran simply rolls his eyes “And don’t fuck up my shirt!” he shouts as he listens to his brother’s footsteps descend the staircase and go out the front door.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger fanfiction #sevenxmc #seven/mc #mystic messenger au #saeyoung choi #mc #707xmc #Luciel Choi #saeyoungxmc #my writing #catching feelings

[mrjonesmrjones]

Expectations

It’s one of the few things we as humans have in common.  We all have certain things we want to work out our way.  Sometimes its small things like hoping a movie or an album lives up to our pre-conceived expectations.  But we all also have much bigger hopes and dreams than that.  We all expect to someday work our dream job or for the person we love to love us back.  These are the expectations that are built up in our minds and something our bodies try to keep up with.

Obviously, we fall short of these expectations many times.  You may not get the job you have always wanted or the person you care about most does not reciprocate that same care.  And I guess when so many things fall short of your expectations; you stay up until 3:30am writing about what it means to have expectations.

Expectations can be raised or lowered, but they shouldn’t be.  They should be changed.  Our situations change, so why not change what we expect to get?  I’ve been on this weight loss journey (or whatever the fuck you wanna call it) for over a year.   I’ve probably felt better than I have in 10 years, yet my head is still all over the place.  All the self-loathing and pessimism that I had for years still remains.  I was probably pretty naïve that me losing weight would fix all those issues.  But that’s what my expectations were.  And now here I sit wondering when I’m gonna feel “normal” again, because to me it’s been many years of successes, but also let downs.  But I’m the type of person to dwell on the mistakes and not celebrate the little victories.  So I guess I’m writing this as a coping mechanism (behavior therapist coming out here) to make me feel better.  To show that maybe any expectations at all are not helping me.  With no expectations at all, how can I let myself down?  I’ve been trying to figure my life out for the past 5 years and I’ve had so many ups and downs.  

I’m not good at this writing shit, but I’m doing it for me.  My brain gets so filled with people’s (clients) BS that I’ve learned to put my stuff on hold until they’re okay.  I pride myself on being there for people.  THAT’S an expectation I have for myself.  And other people’s success are something that help me keep moving.  But sometimes I have to remember that I need to focus on me sometimes, which I am not good at (hence this whole writing escapade).  I’m someone who struggles with enjoying the good in life.  Maybe that’s because I usually dwell on the shortcomings of it all.

My expectations for me are a mystery.  I don’t know how I feel about myself sometimes.  And the worst part is, is that I should feel good about so many things… but I don’t.  I spend most of my time putting on a brave face and trying to be who I want to be, even though I know I fall short of this in my head.   Things are getting better (I like to think).  I continue to try and help other people, hell it’s my job.  It’s a nice distraction from me most of the time.  And this isn’t a pity party for me.  I just sometimes have to write what’s going on in my brain.  Cause my problems and issues are mine, and things will work out eventually, or so I hope.  I’ve kinda lost track of why I started writing this, but it feels good to vent a little bit.  I think I wrote this due to the monotony of my life these past few years.  But things change eventually; I just have to buy in most of the time.

If you’ve read this far, thanks!  I don’t really write like this very often so enjoy this I guess.  I know it’s chipper subject matter!  I’m usually just too lazy to write, but every now and then I get the urge to so maybe I’ll do another down the road.  Who knows?!  See ya around! - NJ

[panda-noosh]

Bad At Love {P3}{Photographer!Keith x Prodigy!Reader}

Words: 5633

  Summary: Keith Kogane was known for being the good-boy-gone-bad. You were known for being the emotionless prodigy that only ever showed up to school to stop her foster parents from getting arrested. Whenever you two are put together on a school project after briefly meeting during detention, you find your world tipping upside down as you realise that there’s more to life than science and logic.

Pairing: Photographer!Keith x Prodigy!Reader

Notes: p1 – p2 - p4 - p5 - p6 - FINAL ; so… we finally got some angst. But I swear this story won’t be overly-angsty. It’s actually more of a fluff story than anything else, so don’t fear.

   Chapter 3

   “You really should smile more.”

   His voice comes out of nowhere, startling you just enough to make you look up from the volume you are reading. A thick, leather bound book that you borrowed from the library only days before – the library of the school you were currently sat in.

    You had never before seen Keith step foot in the school library – especially not before school hours. It was rare that he was even in the building on time, so the fact that he had pulled himself out of bed nearly an hour earlier to come trotting into the library was a shock to you.

    You narrow your eyes when they meet his. He has a bounce in his step as he approaches you, his camera raised and his backpack flung carelessly to the side of the door. The librarian doesn’t miss her chance to shoot Keith a dirty look, clearly not enjoying the bad-boys presence.

    “What are you doing here so early?” you ask.

    Keith sits down on the green, plush chair that is pulled up beside your own. You look over his shoulder as he does so, catching only a small glimpse of his camera screen – a picture of you is pulled up on it. You have your head down, absorbed in the large book which is sat in your lap. Your head is resting on your hand whilst your other holds the book steady on your knobbly knees.

    You blush at the sight of the picture, narrowing your eyes.

    “I got dragged out of bed early so my parents could go shopping,” Keith replies, clearly unaware to your knowledge of the sneaky picture he had taken of you. “And I knew you liked coming to the library, so I thought I’d come and find you.”

    “How sweet of you,” you reply. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go back to reading.”

   “Well, this is no way to treat your visitor,” Keith mumbles. “What are you reading?”

    “A book you’ve most likely never heard of.”

   Keith rolls his eyes, leaning his weight onto the arm rest to get a look at the scribbled mess of words that you are currently reading. He takes a moment, his eyes widening whenever he sees the complexity of the language used, how small the print is and how thick the book is.

    “No pictures,” he mutters, and it’s not a question. It’s a statement that is littered with mild disbelief, and you can’t help but chuckle at the sound of his voice.

   “No. No pictures,” you confirm.

   Keith hollows out his cheeks and pulls back, leaning against the other arm rest so he can get a good look at you as you flip through the pages. “I read Harry Potter once when I was, like, 7 and that’s about as far as I’ve gone with reading.”

    “That explains a lot.”

   He pouts, nudging your foot slightly with his own. You smile over at him, the gesture unusual to you and you aren’t exactly sure where it came from but the way Keith replies with a cheeky smile of his own makes it seem like the right thing to do.

    You still couldn’t pin point what he was doing here this early on a Wednesday. The snow this morning had forced you out of the house earlier than usual due to Ann-Marie’s anxiety that the roads would only grow worse as time went on. She would never even dream of letting you have the day off, meaning you were being shipped out of the house at 7:15am and you had arrived at the school gates by 7:30am. It was a little earlier than usual, but you were early most days anyway.

   Keith, on the other hand, was quite the opposite.

   Some days, he just simply didn’t show up, so seeing him now, huddled up beside you with a grin on his face even though the sun had barely risen and his sleepiness had barely been shaken – it was weird and you weren’t sure what would have prompted him to put himself through such a sudden schedule change.

   “You’re staring at me,” Keith says. It’s only then that you realise you are, in fact, staring at him, though that statement alone doesn’t make you turn away.

   You simply nod towards his camera, searching for anything else to say to him other than admit that you were wondering why he was here in the first place.

    “I saw that picture you took of me,” you say. Keith immediately frowns, clenching his camera firmly in his hand. “It’s a crime to take pictures of people without their permission.”

    Keith shuffles up in his green plush chair, rolling his eyes as a way to soften the embarrassment he was no doubt feeling right now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

    “Oh come on, Kogane!” you nearly exclaim. “I didn’t expect you to be the type of to play stupid.”

    “I’m not playing stupid!” he objects. “I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t take pictures of people-“

    “Did your finger slip or something?”

    “Y/N, there is absolutely zero pictures of you on my camera. I can guarantee you that much. You’re not exactly photogenic.”

    You raise a brow, taking his comment as a joke. Judging by the way Keith tilts his head as he speaks, avoids your eye contact and keeps his grip tightening on his camera, it’s clear that he’s lying. Spending years learning human emotions, Keith wasn’t about to be let off easily.

    He catches your sceptic eye and immediately shakes his head, raising a hand in your direction. “Drop it, okay? I’ve had a hard enough time actually getting out of bed at the crack of dawn – don’t make the day worse.”

    You chuckle slightly, keeping your gaze locked on him. It was weird how easily flustered the boy got at such a simple call out – one he still insisted on denying even as the bell rang to signal the start of the day. You had spent months truly believing that Keith was nothing more than a sleezy, woman-using high school kid who didn’t know right from wrong – that was what the rumours had led you to believe, and yet here he was, flustered by a simple statement made by someone whose social abilities were far less superior compared to his own.

    The two of you stalk out of the library together, you trudging behind him and continually commenting on how, “I can pose next time if you want.” Keith had decided to ignore you, giving you a small, “Oh ha ha,” before he was putting his headphones in his ear and waving goodbye to you from halfway down the hallway.

    You walk into maths class with a smile on your face that day, an expression which has even the teacher, Mr Boyle, doing a double take. You ignore him, setting up refuge in the back of the classroom, feeling bubbly and excitable on the inside.

   What a way to begin the day.

       Apparently, sitting on your own at lunch had become a reflex after six years.

  You hadn’t even thought twice as you got your food for lunch and sat yourself down at your usual spot – a small, circular table at the back of the cafeteria that was rarely sat at by anyone other than you. The odd time, a first year would sit there to wait on their friend from the food line, but they would scatter as soon as the seniors started jeering at them for sitting at the ‘loner table.’

    You would then happily take their place, simply glad to have your table back.

    It was only whenever a grumbling, clearly frustrated Keith started making his way towards you that you realised your mistake – you were meant to be sitting next to him today.

    With a mouthful of chicken, you say, “Oh shit, sorry.”

   Keith doesn’t even reply. Instead, he slams his tray of food down in front of you and sits down, immediately resting his head in his hands and tugging on the black hair that his fingers are wound through.

    You swallow the chicken in your mouth slowly, keeping your eyes locked on the bothered guy in front of you. He looked more exhausted than he did this morning – you hadn’t seen him since then due to your lack of classes together. His hair was a ragged mess and his jacket had a fresh new hole in the sleeve. His eyes were smaller, his lips chapped.

    “Everything okay?” you hesitantly ask.

   Keith looks up at you through the gaps in his fingers before promptly going back to tugging at the strands of hair that fall limp against his forehead. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

    It doesn’t take a psychology record to know he’s lying.

   “I mean, it’s not,” you say, using your good-old-fashioned blunt method. Keith looks up at you again, narrowing his eyes as if to dare you to continue.

   You do.

   “Judging by the way you’re tugging on your hair and the way you stormed over here with particularly heavy footsteps, I’ve come to the scientific conclusion that you-“

    “There is no scientific conclusion,” Keith scoffs, letting his hands drop. “I just – I had a bad day. That’s all you need to know.”

   “Correct,” you mutter, placing a leaf of cabbage in your mouth. “I don’t need to know much more than that, but I’d like it if you indulged. Maybe I could help you.”

    Keith smiles softly at you. “I’m afraid having an IQ of 160 isn’t enough to help me with this one. Thanks, though.”

    You frown. What problem couldn’t be solved with science and math and common logic? You had yet to come across one.

     “I don’t mean to be – uh – nosy or anything, but what exactly is the issue?”

   Keith takes a moment to reply. He has his arms folded over his chest, his eyes cast to the table in front of him where his untouched salmon sits. You find yourself leaning slowly across the table, trying to catch his eyes with your own but he seems to be doing everything in his power to avoid the eye contact you find yourself wanting so desperately.

    You had never before felt what it felt like to care for somebodies wellbeing – somebody outside of your foster families. But sitting here in front of Keith, inspecting the distress on his face, this is what it must feel like to actually care about somebodies feelings.

   It was awful.

   It made you feel weird, like you had an obligation to do something that was completely out of your control. You hated things that were out of your control.

    Nevertheless, you can’t push the feelings away and you know there’s no point in trying. So you succumb to them, waiting patiently for Keith to reply to your question.

    But he doesn’t. He simply inhales deeply, leans forward and begins to dig into the salmon on his tray, leaving you half-speechless in front of him.

    “Is it really that bad?” you find yourself asking.

   Keith looks up at you finally, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head slightly as he holds a forkful of salmon between his teeth.

    “Did I say something wrong?”

    “Lesson one for Keith’s social classes,” Keith says, his words slurred by the salmon. “You don’t ask somebody how bad their problems are.”

    Your mouth shoots into a thin line, an embarrassed pink colour grazing your cheeks at the realisation that your lessons with Keith hadn’t even started yet and you were already messing them up.

    You stay silent after that, choosing to finish off the chicken wrap you had ordered before you messed up anything else and maybe made your friends day even worse. That was the last thing you wanted to do, and yet the question of why he was in a mood was still itching at the back of your brain. Having spent years being able to solve any question which popped into your head, you felt a bit weak being unable to do so now, because the answer was all down to Keith and he wasn’t willing to give it to you.

    Keith finishes his salmon before you’ve finished your wrap, even though you had started before him. Your appetite had shrunk with the curiosity coursing through your veins, and you had spent nearly the entirety of lunch time simply staring at Keith, trying to see what was wrong with him through silent inspection. Whether he noticed your gaze or not, you didn’t care.

    He sighed when he finished, leaning back in his chair and wiping his hands on the napkin that sat on his tray. “I should get going. I have some pictures to take for the schools website and I need to get them done before my next class.”

    You’re standing up before you know why, your wrap still in your hand. “I’ll go with you.”

   Keith raises a brow, looking up at you as he stays seated. “Are you allowed to go into sunlight without combusting into flames?”

    “Ha ha. Funny guy.” You stuff the finishing pieces of your wrap into your mouth, turn to Keith and say, “Let’s go,” through a mouthful of food, uncaring about how unflattering you look.

    You didn’t know that as soon as you turned around, Keith smiled.

    You knew you were never particularly good in social situations, but you thought that you could at least stand in the garden of your own school without feeling like the most stuck-out person within a half mile radius.

    You hovered behind Keith as he took the pictures, and judging by the way nobody seemed to pay attention to the sprawled out kid on the grass, Keith did this often. Some of them even went as far as to say hello to Keith as if they saw him here on a daily basis. A few tried to say hello to you, but you simply nodded with your usual, monotone look on your face and hoped the conversation wouldn’t grow further than it needed to.

    Keith lay in the grass on his stomach, camera pointed at the flower pots which lined the walls of the school. Benches were in the background, kids sitting on them and laughing as they ate the food they weren’t even meant to bring out of the cafeteria. Keith managed to capture the scene perfectly.

    You took a seat in the grass beside him, folding your legs over one another as you made a job of picking at the grass.

    “So you do this every lunch time?” you question.

   Keith grunts as he rolls over onto his side to get a better look at the picture he had just taken. “Most days. I find the cosy atmosphere of this place really inspiring.”

   You nod. “I mean, cosy atmospheres are usually created in small, dimly lit places. This is far from small, and it’s outdoors so there’s even more added space that the brain picks up on, even if you don’t realise it. Also, the amount of people in this place would make it seem more claustrophobic than cosy, so I have to-“

    “What do you do when you get home after school?” Keith cuts you off. You look down at him, eyes narrowed with one brow raised in mild confusion at his question.

    “Why are you asking?”

    Keith shrugs, going back to his task. “I was just wondering. Like, do you sit and watch TV with your parents? Does your mum cook for you? Is dinner already on the table when you get in?”

    “Dinner is usually on the table a few hours after I get home,” you reply. “During those few hours, I go upstairs and get changed, organise my school bag for the next day and play some music to myself. Oh, and I don’t have parents.”

   Keith immediately stiffens in the grass, his camera suddenly shaking slightly as his grip tightens around it. You continue to play with the grass, not entirely bothered about having an entire conversation on your history with the parents you never knew, or the history of the foster houses you had been jumping between for the entirety of your seventeen years on the planet.

     You can see Keith shooting you a small glance out of the corner of his eye, careful not to turn his head fully in fear of you catching him. There’s a concerned aura to him all of a sudden, as if he expects you to burst into tears at the mention of your parents – you find the mere suggestion absurd. You weren’t going to cry over people you didn’t know. That wasn’t how you worked.

    “I still don’t know why you entirely care, Keith,” you continue. “Your life has to be a whole lot more exciting than mine.”

    “I only asked so you’d stop spewing facts at me.”

   You frown. “Oh, right. Was that not socially correct?”

    Keith shrugs. “I don’t care so much about you being socially correct. You were proving me wrong. Nobody likes being proved wrong.”

    A soft laugh immediately escaped your mouth, getting wisped away by the wind which is sauntering around you and Keith both. The grass the two of you are sat on is soaked by the snow that had melted from earlier that morning, meaning your trousers and Keith’s shirt were bound to be damp for the rest of the day, but you found yourself not caring. There was something about watching Keith up close – this close – that made you want to stay like this, just to admire the way he did things.

    “Tell me more about your home life,” Keith asks, suddenly. Your eyes flick up to look at the back of his head, the only thing you can see as he presses his eye into his camera. He sounds almost timid as he asks you, clearly not knowing whether or not said question would be the thing to break the emotionless persona you had put on since the day he met you.

    And there was a side to your home life that you didn’t like discussing – mainly the side that made people feel bad for you. You hated sympathy. Guilt from other people over something they barely knew anything about, because you barely knew anything about it. Until you were eighteen, them records were shut off to you. The only information you could really spill was from the records you had stolen when you were five and memorised – anything new that had come up since then was hidden away neatly, in a hiding space so tight that only certain members on your foster team knew where they were.

    Either way, you find yourself feeling comfortable enough with your first real friend to tell him. You tell him about your parents, and how they couldn’t handle a child prodigy on their own. You had put them through hell from what you had gathered of the records – building things from scratch and making other children cry by telling them the science behind why the tooth fairy wasn’t real and making even adults cringe by explaining step-by-step how babies were made when you were only at the age of six.

    You explained your foster mother – Ann-Marie – and your foster brother – Patrick – and how you had only lived with them for two months but they had done more for you than any other foster family you had been shipped to. You explain to him that you had only ever been with three foster families before – nobody else was allowed to take you, because according to the government, you were prized goods. If the person taking you wasn’t tip-top and an overall perfect human being, they wouldn’t risk letting you out of the centres you had been trapped in your whole life.

    Which was why you were forever grateful towards Ann-Marie, for being that perfect person. She had dragged you out of centres that you used to get abused in, centres that held people who couldn’t care less about your mental well-being – most of them only left you alone because they knew you were smart enough to find some way to tell the police if they did anything bad to you or anything bad to anybody else in front of you.

    Keith is silent once you stop speaking and you find yourself messing with the grass even more vigorously once the information is out in the open. It doesn’t seem right to have put so much sad information on him all at once, but it was out there now and there was nothing more you could do except hope Keith didn’t expel you from his life completely.

      “But it’s all okay now,” you add on, just to soften the blow. “I’m good now. All good and stuff. Dandy.”

    “That’s really fucking sad, Y/N,” Keith comments, finally looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

   You shrug. “I mean, I didn’t really. No, I did, but, like, I don’t remember it well enough to – to care.” Why were you getting flustered?

   Keith sits up, placing his camera in his lap. “No, I get it, but it must suck knowing the reason behind your parents leaving you was because . . . Well, because of that.”

    “I like to think of it as their loss, but my non-existent ego can’t do that.”

    Keith closes his eyes, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips as your words, again, are used to defuse any tension he may have been feeling due to the information you had just laid out for him.

    He shocks you whenever he sits down properly, folding his legs over one another and you’re even more shocked whenever he leans forward and takes your hand in his. The gesture is only small, but the feel of human skin on your own is enough to make your body flare up in a heat you didn’t think possible during mid-November. And yet here you were, cheeks firey red and your arms suddenly erupting into goosebumps and suddenly you’re almost sure you’ll never be able to breathe again.

    “I’m serious,” Keith says, opening his eyes to meet yours. You narrow your own.

   “You’ve become sincere.”

    “You’re spoiling the moment.”

   “I didn’t think we were having a-“

    “Just sh and let me talk!” Keith hisses, kicking your ankle with his toes. You nod silently, pursing your lips as you continue to gaze into his eyes. “What I was saying was – I’m serious about what I said, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and those two people you referred to as your parents aren’t your real parents if they treated you in that way and gave up so easily.”

    “Actually, going by biological history-“

    “I know at the park I made it sound like I wanted you to change when I told you I would help you become more socially adjusted, and I didn’t realise how bad it sounded until I got home. But I just want you to know that, even though I’ve only known you for a short period of time, I like you a lot and I don’t want you changing yourself because of me. Being an introvert isn’t a setback and you shouldn’t need to change it if you don’t want to.”

    You blink, desperately trying to cypher through the words he just said for any sign of sarcasm or any sign that this is all a joke and he’s actually planning on saying “Sike!” before kicking dirt up into your face and running off.

    But no matter how hard you try and no matter how much you investigate his demeanour in this moment, there seems to be absolutely zero menace in the words he had just spoken. He was being genuine.

    For once in your life, somebody was being genuinely nice to you, and it wasn’t just because you were intelligent, and it wasn’t just because you were the new foster kid on the block – he was being nice to you because he felt like you deserved it, and nothing had warmed your heart up quite in the same way.

    You aren’t sure how showing affection and gratitude works, so you try your hardest to swing a guess. You clench your fingers around his own, gently squeezing his hand and giving him a small smile of your own, but it doesn’t seem like enough. Nothing could possibly feel like enough.

    “Thank you,” you say, finally. “Thank you for – uh – reassuring me and being a – a good friend to me. I really appreciate it.”

    Keith smiles back, pulling his hand into his lap. He takes a second longer to gaze at your blushed face before the bell goes off, signalling next class. The two of you clamber up, rubbing the wet patches off of your clothing before you swiftly say your goodbyes and head to your separate classes.

   Suddenly, biology and ICT can’t come quick enough.

   “Alright everyone!” Miss Shaw exclaims from the front of the classroom, her round hips and small torso becoming very prominent in the tight beige dress she was wearing. She had slid her cardigan off mid-lesson, revealing a nice pair of toned arms that you didn’t realise she had. Her body proportions continued to surprise you as the years went on. “The rest of todays lesson will be spent planning out your research projects, and every lesson up until the due date will be spent in the same way. This is mainly for the partners who can’t get to each others houses to work. You can spend your class time wisely, and I hope you’re spending your breaks wisely as well. This needs to be tip-top people! Now, go sit beside your partners and get to work.”

    You pull your hood off of your head and straighten up in your seat as you watch Keith trudge up the steps to the row of desks you’re sitting on. He had put on his bad-boy persona once again, his hood pulled up on over his black hair and a scowl permanently etched on his features that softens whenever his eyes meet yours. You give him a warm wave that he repays by simply raising his hand in the air.

   And then he’s sitting next to you.

   “I trust you know everything we’re doing for the project already?” is the first thing he says, barely turning his head to look at you.

   You grin. “Just call me your personal computer.”

   Keith pouts, straightening up in his seat to get a better look at the map of ideas you had been working on throughout the entire lesson – you had basically created a textbook of facts on every animal classification, and even branching off to go into greater detail, that you could remember – and it was most of them.

   Keith shook his head in awe, tracing his fingers over the ink. “I still feel bad for only being the photographer.”

    You nudge his elbow with your own. “Is that why you were so huffy earlier on?”

   Keith freezes, and you silently curse yourself. Not even two seconds in and you’d already said something that you weren’t meant to. You hadn’t know, when the words came into your head, that they were bad, but going off of the way Keith suddenly begins to nibble on his bottom lip and the way he leans back in his seat tells you that they were, in fact, inappropriate to say.

    “I thought you forgot about that,” he replies, softly. “You should forget about that.”

   His hesitance to tell you what’s wrong makes you even more uneasy. Of course, it made perfect sense for him to have secrets. Although you were never the type of person to hide things from people, finding no shame in anything you did, Keith wasn’t like you. He had healthy EQ levels, and that meant it was perfectly normal for him to thing of things he had done as shameful or unrepeatable.

   You slump back in your seat, taking a highlighter off of the desk so you can doodle on your knuckles. “Sorry. My tongue went before my head again.”

   “No it didn’t,” Keith scoffs. “You’re curious. I get it.”

    “I’m curious but you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. It’s none of my business what goes on outside of our friendship.”

    Keith inhales deeply. “We both know that’s bullshit.”

   You raise a brow, not looking up from the highlighter-yellow squiggle you had just traced down your knuckles. “We do?”

   “I do, because you shouldn’t have to open up to me in the way you did outside and me not do the same. It’s not fair.”

    “I opened up because I feel comfortable talking about what I spoke about. If you don’t, I completely understand.”

    And you did understand. You understood more than he would ever know – understood the science behind secrets and the feeling of pressure people often felt whenever they were faced with this kind of situation.

   But just because you understood, didn’t mean you felt any differently. You still wanted to know, wanted to be somebody Keith could go to whenever he needed to talk to somebody, but right now it seemed like you two weren’t particularly on that level.

   And again, you understood, because you had been through this so many times with so many different people. They were all okay with your knowledge until it went against them in ways you couldn’t control. You had numbed yourself to the disappointment of being the only one in a friendship who trusted the other person.

    Of course, you had hoped Keith was different. He had lasted the longest and he was definitely one of the only people you felt genuinely attached to, but if he didn’t feel the same way then there was nothing you could do to force him. If he wanted to hold some things back from you, then that was okay with you. It was only a matter of time before things crumpled and you went back to being the lonely-smart-girl that everybody spoke about.

    At least you were prepared.

   But until then, you would make the most out of your time with Keith and you would bask in the feeling of feeling things for the first time in a long time, because that was what you did – you made the most of things until your unexplainable brain ripped the joy out of your grip and made you feel numb all over again.

   Keith’s POV

   She was thinking.

   I could see it in the way her eyes twinkled and the way her hands worked with turning the highlighter over and over in her hand on a continuous loop. I could see it in the way she stuck her tongue out from between her lips every once in a while, or she looked towards the board and squinted, even though there was nothing written on it.

   She was trying to distract herself from whatever she was thinking of, but I had an idea that forgetting things wasn’t as easy to her as it was to everybody else.

   I found her so intriguing when I first met her in that detention hall. A smart girl, quiet and well mannered who knew the basics of everything, and yet there she was – slumped over in a chair for an after-hours detention. It seemed like the most unlikely of things, and I had become mildly hostile. I didn’t believe it to be true – she must have been a bitch.

   But she hadn’t been. God, she was far from it and it hurt me to think that I was hurting her with my lack of skills in opening up to people.

   She did it so well. She told me about her parents so monotone and easy and she simply shrugged it off whenever I comforted her on it – she just didn’t care, and maybe that was a bad place to be in. Maybe not caring was a bad mindset to lock yourself in, but it was one I craved in this moment.

   Things were getting harder. He was getting worse. She had disappeared all together and there was really nothing I could do about it. The phone calls were beginning to come through even when I was at school and I could no longer just ignore them – I would have to excuse myself from class to go and read his angry texts and I would reply back in low-caps and pretend to be calm when in reality I had a panic constantly clawing at my chest and making my heart race and my bones ache.

   And the one person I wanted to tell was her. Y/N. Sat beside me now, acting like she didn’t have a care in the world because perhaps she didn’t have a care in the world. Her mind was occupied with scientific explanations to the meaning behind every little thing and math equations and synonyms for words that weren’t even in the English language.

    Perhaps that was the reason I liked her so much – liked her more than I really should. She was intriguing and nice and care free, but at the same time she was this walking pile of surprises that I struggled to get out of my head whenever she wasn’t with me. She gave me comfort even if she didn’t mean to, because there was just something about the way she spoke to me – treated me like how I used to be treated – that comforted me.

    She put me in my place if I needed to be put in my place, and that was why I actually felt under control whenever she was with me, even if my life was crumbling around me.

#voltron #voltron fic #voltron fanfic #keith x reader #keith kogane x reader #keith fic #Bad At Love #voltron headcanon #voltron scenario #voltron au #voltron legendary defenders #takashi shirogane #shiro voltron #lance mcclain #lance voltron #keith kogane #keith voltron #pidge gunderson #pidge voltron #hunk garrett #hunk voltron

[gashinamoon]

Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon week 15: Choose

Words: 1190

Tags: Fluff, Humour, Domesticity 

Week 15 submission for the OHFAT hosted by @thebookjumper!

Notes: Another dialogue fic... (sorry?) Please let me know what you think when you're done! :)

Read on AO3 

“Could you please take this seriously?!”

“I am taking this seriously!”

“No, you aren't. We’ve been sitting here for three hours and you haven't made one sensible suggestion.”

“I have! You wrote down Leela, which I suggested. It's not my fault you changed your mind and crossed it out.”

“I only changed my mind when I found out yet again that you'd suggested we name our child after a character from a sci-fi movie!”

“Okay, one, Leela was a character in the TV show Doctor Who, and two, what's so wrong with naming our child after a strong female character from a science fiction? She's my daughter, she’ll love her name and hearing all about where it comes from one day.”

“She's also my daughter, Felicity, and I want her name to be special.”

“Almost every single name I've suggested so far has been special and you haven't liked any of them.”

“Again, I go back to not wanting to name our daughter after-”

“Yeah, yeah, you've said it already. But since you won't listen to any of my suggestions, let's hear some of yours that are so special!”

…

“Well?”

“I actually don't have any yet.”

“Sorry?”

“I said I don't have any yet.”

“Yeah, I thought that's what you said only I figured you couldn't possibly have actually said that given how many times you've shit on every single one of my suggestions.”

“Felicity, we already have a dog named Princess Leia and a fish named after Zoe from Firewatch or whatever that show is called.”

“It's Firefly actually.”

“Whatever. My point is, is that you already named our pets after your favourite characters. Don't you want our daughter to have a name that meanssomething?”

“Those names do mean something! The names we lovingly gave to our pets are the names of women that I grew up watching, women who inspired me to fight for my life and be proud of my freakishly high IQ when everyone else around me was telling me to dumb myself down so that I wouldn't get picked on or bullied for being too smart.”

“Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that they don't mean anything. To you, they mean something. But not to me! I had no idea who those women even were before you told me about them.”

“It's not my fault you have no taste in TV and movies…”

“We have had what feels like this exact argument around 500 times since you found out you were pregnant, you know that right?”

“I know. And I'm sorry I can't come up with anything. I just had no idea how hard it was going to be to pick a name! At this rate, she’ll be here before we’ve even decided and I really don't want to be one of those moms who calls their baby “baby” for like 6 weeks because her parents were too incompetent to give her a name on time.”

“I'm not sure incompetent is the right word…”

“Two people have nine months more or less to come up with a name and can't? Life changing inventions were created in less time, Oliver. I think incompetent is exactly the right word.”

“At least she has a middle name!”

“Her middle name is just your mom’s name. We didn't even have to think about that. It doesn't count.”

“I think it counts. I think it counts enough for us to leave this decision for another day and just get some sleep anyway.”

“Oliver, I'm 8 and a half months pregnant. I'm not sure how many ‘another days’ we have left.”

“Maybe we’ll just know as soon as we meet her?”

“You want to leave this up to fate? And just hope a name springs to mind when she’s born? I'm sorry, Oliver, but I am not a woman of fate. I am a woman of science and meticulous planning. You should know that by now.”

“I do, I know, I was just hoping you'd go along with my suggestion considering it's 3 in the morning and we both have to be up at 7. Which by the way, you wouldn't have to be if you'd actually take your maternity leave at some point around now…”

“Ah, another argument we've have what feels like 500 times! I told you, I will take a break from work when I'm literally about to give birth. As in, maybe a few hours before. That's my choice. And you're just going to have to put up with it because there's too much that I have to get done before she's born for me to leave now. Plus, I love my job, you know I do. I'm not staying there until the last because I have to. I'm staying because I wantto.”

“I know. I just would feel better if you maybe worked less between now and when the baby is born.”

“No, Oliver, what you want is me staying in this apartment with my feet up eating fruit and taking naps between now and when the baby is born. I already compromised by promising not to stay as late down in the bunker with you and the team and that's the only compromise I'm willing to make right now.”

“Felicity, last night we got home at 1:30am because you refused to leave even when I told you we could handle it.”

“Forgive me for wanting to make sure the father of my child and her future aunts and uncles, blood related or otherwise, actually made it home safe.”

“You can't just promise to compromise and then change your mind whenever you feel like it, though!”

“And you can't just keep giving me choices and being mad when I don't choose the one you were hoping I would, you know? That's not how it works.”

…

“Fine. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologise. It's just how you are.”

“Hey!”

“I'm kidding. That was a joke.”

“I'm not the only one who is difficult sometimes, you know?”

“God, I know. I sometimes wonder how we’ve even been together this long with how irritating we both can be to each other sometimes. And I know I've been so much worse ever since I got pregnant. Which I know isn't entirely my fault…”

“I think we both share the blame there.”

“That's true.”

…

“I’m serious though… how do you think we've managed to stay together all these years even though we drive each other crazy?”

“Probably because no matter how crazy you drive me, it's never enough for me to forget that I love you more than I've ever loved anyone?”

…

“Okay, that was cute.”

“Thanks. I meant it.”

“I know.”

…

“Promise me we won't ever end up like our parents, Oliver. Promise me that no matter what, no matter how hard things get, we’ll stay this much in love so that our daughter doesn't have to grow up like we did. With divorces and lies and you know, moderate to major trust and abandonment issues.”

“Felicity, I promise you. No matter what. Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

“Then that's all that matters.”

If you want to be tagged in my fics/chapter updates, feel free to let me know! :)

(Also, let me know if there’s anything you don’t want to be tagged in! i.e. fics that aren’t strictly Olicity/Arrow, I’m more than happy to remove tags!)

@geniewithwifi @scu11y22  @dandeelies @ghostfoxlovely @bellemmie @keytoflowers2509 @relativelyobsessedfangirl @oliverfel4 @hope-for-olicity @lemonlime799 @pleasantfanandstudent @thebookjumper @almondblossomme @olicityhiatusficathon @broken-canary @green-arrows-of-karamel @youngfolksoldsoul @lovethishealthylife @wherethereissmoak @flowerandsunshine @deyanirasilvaurtubia @chachurka @ontheolicityship @olicityloveolicity @jaspertown @rhlizzy @olicitylovemaking @geemarie

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[theknittingwizard-blog]

Some unusual facts about mice

I’ve caught 5 mice in my bathroom in the last month and have learned some interesting facts about the little creatures that I thought you might find intriguing, my dear @thenoodlesqueen @thedisappointedidealist12 and @unsurprisinglycannibalshark  

Our story begins with our hero, my landlord, whose kenning shall be FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER heretofore. FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER was a good and just landlord. He did not waste his time with trifles like replacing the 12-year-old mattresses or the suspiciously stained couch or the broken vertical blinds or the strange smells coming from the food disposal. No, instead FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER chose a more pressing problem to address: removing and replacing the entire microwave oven with a new one because part of the handle had broken off. FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER only wanted the best for his tenants, my roommate whom we shall call ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART SOCIAL WORK MAJOR, and myself (the one bitching on tumblr at 1am about how fucking hard it is being a white first-world college student living in an off-campus apartment her parents are paying for) whom we shall aptly call FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT. 

Now that we have introduced our cast of characters, I shall begin the epic. (ARMA VIRUMQUE CANO and all that lovely other muse-invoking shit.) 

FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER arrived at his feudal lands (my shitty apartment complex) bright and early one Saturday morning at about 9am. FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was somewhat perturbed to be awakened from her melatonin-tablet-induced slumber by the serene sounds of FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER violently blasting the apartment walls with his mighty powerwasher, but she eventually dragged her lazy ass out of bed and had a healthy breakfast of reheated pizza (using the aforementioned new microwave) while watching Sherlock on Netflix. She didn’t really need to sleep in anyway, FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER was on an important mission to beautify the apartment, after all. When it came time for FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER to powerwash the inside of FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT’s patio (if you don’t mind defining “patio” as a 10 by 5 foot rectangular area surrounded by a mouldering fence and completely shaded by the second floor’s “patio” so that the vile sun never touches the impeccable concrete), FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER knocked on FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT’s door and marched out onto her patio, opened the sliding door, and powerwashed the absolute shit out of that patio so thoroughly that mysterious puddles were later found on FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT’s floor. (Remember that he opened the sliding door. This will become a crucial plot point later on in our epic tale.) 

A week went by and all was well in the feudal lands. Until one fateful day when FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was sitting on her toilet doing what one typically does while sitting on a toilet. She squinted her sans-glasses eyes at a strange creature scurrying towards her. Was it an… oddly grey roach? Some type of fuzzy...HOLYFUCKINGFUCKETYFUCKTHATSAFUCKINGMOUSEMOTHERFUCKINGFLYINGFUCKERY. 

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT did not remain on the toilet for very long after this epiphany and proceeded to freak the actual fUcK out as foolish college students are wont to do. She barricaded that fucking bathroom door and then she had to go to class. When FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was released from the corrupt higher education drudgery commonly known as “class,” she journeyed straight to HEB (aka Texas wal-mart) and bought a fuckton of snaptraps and glue traps and “mouse attractant gel,” which the label said was better than peanut butter for scientific fucking reasons. (She also bought some Oreos and milk, but that is not relevant to our epic tale.) 

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT laid her traps all over the bathroom floor and then shut the door and curled up in bed to read fanfiction while she waited for her nemesis to meet his demise. Her efforts were rewarded at 12:30am when terrified squeaking began emanating from the bathroom. What then followed was an argument between ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART SOCIAL WORK MAJOR and FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT wherein ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART SOCIAL WORK MAJOR refused to lend FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT her hammer to violently bludgeon the mouse out of its terrified, squeaking misery. This argument ended with FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT dropping the glue trap with the completely helpless, spread-eagled-on-the-glue-trap mouse into the big trash can by the curb outside where the mouse probably slowly starved to death or was finally, mercifully squished eight hours later when the garbage was picked up the next morning. 

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT felt utterly victorious, despite the mouse’s inhumane and deplorable fate. She had caught the mouse! Her troubles were no more! But this was not to be. 

A week later when FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT came back from Easter break, a pungent mouse carcass greeted her in a glue trap in her bathroom. Three days after that she heard a trap snap at 1:30am (while on the toilet again) and got to experience the joy of smashing a helpless mouse to death with a brick in the wee hours of the morning. And again at 9:30am the same day! Woe to FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT. Who would help her in her time of need? FUCKING WHO??? The Doctor? Sherlock? The Winchesters? No! Someone mightier than even the tumblr fandom trifecta!! You know his name!! 

Our FUCKING hero received a text (you see my obligatory Sherlock comparison now, ofc) from FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT imploring him to help her. Since FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER was not a high-functioning sociopath or a Time Lord or otherwise occupied trying to help his brother un-unleash the latest unstoppable supernatural force, he pledged to “definitely take care of it” that weekend. FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT informed him that she and her roommate would both be gone that weekend (she was going to visit her family or some other foolish venture) but expressed her undying gratitude to FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER. 

Come Sunday night, FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT had just driven down from Dallas. It was 9pm. She just couldn’t wait to relax now that the mice had been dealt wi— FUCKING LIVE MOUSE STUCK TO A GLUE TRAP GETTING GLUE ALL OVER THE FUCKING FLOOR WHERE IS MY GODDAMN BRICK. 

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was so confused. Hadn’t FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER “definitely taken care of” the mice? It seemed not. These mice must be far greater foes than the Daleks or Moriarty or God’s friggin sister. FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT texted FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER. Then she went to bed. Dejected. 

A few days later, FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER deigned to text her again. There was a buyer for the apartment! Praise be to Castiel in his coat on that stained-glass window (seriously, that was fucking stupid, Cas, you can’t be GOD) But you know who CAN?! FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER who hath commanded FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT to “remove the mice traps” [sic] since “we know for a fact this is not a recurring issue, thank you for your cooperation! :)” 

Whaaaaaat? But- but I caught a- NO. 

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was fucking confused. She’s a foolish college student, what the fuck does she know? There aren’t anymore MICE. Here is what actually happened: The Gospel According to FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER, thanks be to God – I mean Cas – I mean TO FEARLESS FUCKING MOUSESLAYER 

The “one small mouse” obviously got in when FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER was powerwashing the patio and opened that pesky ol’ sliding door (I told you it was an important plot point). Because you know mice! When they hear a loud noise, they don’t run away from it or freeze from fear, nooooooo, they run towaaaaaards the loud, scary noise and iiiiiiinto the strange, unfamiliar environment of FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT’s apartment where they have DEFINITELY never been before. And THEN when this “one small mouse” definitely entered through the patio while water was being blasted against the walls outside, there just HAPPENED to be a hole chewed into the cabinet under FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT’s bathroom sink. “How fucking convenient!” thought the one small mouse. “What a perfect place to have my little babies!” 

"Whaaaat?” you might be thinking “but why would the mouse—” SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THE INNER MACHINATIONS OF THE RODENT MIND LIKE FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER DOES. 

But it’s okaaaaay because all the mice are totally and completely and indisputably GONE now. You see, FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER checked the hole on Saturday and now “there are no more left inside the hole” But… but FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT found a mouse in the bathroom on Sunday so even if FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER didn’t see any on Saturday – WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! (Does it mildly annoy anyone else that that was a Sherlock quote from ASiP in 2010 but now it’s primarily associated with the fucking orange overlord? No? Just me, FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT all alone with my foolish college opinions? Okay…) 

"But FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER,” FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT implored, “I think there are still mice. Look, I have a picture of a mouse from Sunday—” 

"NO, FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT, THE MICE TRAPS [sic] MUST NOT BE VISIBLE FOR THE INSPECTION SINCE WE KNOW FOR A FACT THIS IS NOT A RECURRING ISSUE. REMOVE THEM.” 

"But isn’t that deceptive because the buyer kinda has the right to know the property has a mouse prob–” 

"HAD A MOUSE PROBLEM. IT’S ALL RESOLVED NOW. THERE ARE NO MICE. DON’T TALK OUT LOUD, YOU LOWER THE IQ OF THE ENTIRE STREET.” 

"That doesn’t even make s-” 

"NO FUCKING MICE!!” 

So you see, my friends, I, FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT, had some simple misconceptions about mice. Let us correct them:  1) mice run toward loud noises, not away from them. 2) mice only have 4 babies to a litter (Wikipedia is fucking wrong) 3) if the bait is gone from your mousetrap, it was probably just a bug 4) that isn’t mouse shit on your kitchen mat, those are chocolate fucking sprinkles And the most important, 5) the best way to resolve issues with your intransigent landlord is to type a wayyyy overly detailed fucking tumblr post at (it is now 2:52am, I did tell you I was foolish) and burden the internet with your whiny, privileged, and overall un-fucking-wanted opinions because you’re moving out of this apartment in a week and will be back to university fucking housing in the fall and you really, REALLY could not give a single fuck anymore unless an actual mouse crawled over your blanket and up your shirt to your hand and bit the thumb you’ve been using to type all this FUCKING WHINING BITCHING BULLSHIT but that’s okay, that won’t happen, because there AREN’T ANY FUCKING MICE! MICE DON’T EVEN EXIST, THEY’RE JUST COMMUNIST PROPAGANDA!!! 

Dear ACTUAL God.

#I had way too much fucking fun with that

[cafecitowriter]

36 Part 3 (Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader)

A/N: Well here it is! This part was a lot longer than I was expecting it to be but I’m super excited for everyone to read it :) If you have any feedback or more requests, please let me know! :) I will try to get through more writing but with school picking up I make no promises, except to do my best :)

Part 1  Part 2 

Masterlist

After you had left, Lin looked at the time to see that it was barely 6:30am. Not knowing what else to do, he hopped in the shower to try and clear his foggy mind. A few hours ago he was certain that he had ruined everything. He had wanted to call you immediately and apologize, knowing that it would be more effective than running out after you and trying to find you by sheer will. It was then that he had noticed that you had left your phone behind, and there was no way to contact you. Lin panicked, and he prayed with everything he had that you wouldn’t get hurt. Well, more hurt than what he had already caused.

He mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner what he was doing. Of course this musical was incredibly important to him, and Alex and Tommy were getting on his case now more than ever to finish writing, but he had let you slip through his fingers as a result. He had neglected you, and you had blamed yourself. He couldn’t help but remember your last words to him before you left.

“Well then please forgive me for wanting to be enough for my husband.”

In his eyes, you were more than enough. God you were everything. But his ignorance had made you believe that you weren’t as incredible as he knew you were.

…

You were pacing the floor in anticipation. Lin was watching from the couch.

“You know I think just one more hour of this and you’ll create a rut in the floor worthy of a Looney Tunes cartoon,” Lin mused.

“Lin this isn’t funny,” you sighed.

“Cariña, everything will be alright-” he started.

“What if it isn’t? If I don’t do well enough on these exams, then no matter how good I did in my practical I won’t be able to be a doctor!” You covered your face with your hands and all but screamed in frustration.

Lin got up from the couch and pulled you into his arms.

“I just wanna help people, Lin,” you muttered into his shoulder. “I’m so close but what if it doesn’t happen?”

“Hey, stop that. We both know you did fantastic. You know why? Because you worked your ass off and you learned everything, and even when you thought you knew it, you reviewed it. Hell, you even made some of those concepts simple enough for me to understand! You got this.”

You smiled into his shoulder and were about to reply when your phone went off. You quickly looked at it, then at Lin.

“The grades are posted. Oh my god the grades are posted. Oh my god this is it. Oh my god. Oh my god what do I do?”

Lin smiled softly at you. “Well, go ahead, look at them.”

You took a deep breath and gripped Lin’s hand as you used your other to open up your grades.

“Oh my god,” you whispered almost inaudibly.

“What?”

Lin looked like he was ready to burst with the anticipation.

“I did it. I get to be a doctor!,” you grinned.

“Yes! Yes I knew it!”

He began peppering your face with kisses and you laughed when he picked you up and spun you around. You took advantage of this new position and wrapped your legs around his waist, giggling as he kissed you gently over and over.

“Cariña, this calls for a celebration,” he stated as he began carrying you over to the bedroom.

You two celebrated all night.

…

He didn’t even want to think about when the last time you two had made love was. Too long, but again, he only had himself to blame. As he got out of the shower, he tried to think about how he had let it all get so bad.

…

“Tommy, I know the songs aren’t coming as fast as you want them to, but I just need more time.”

“I know Lin, but we’re at a point where we’re gonna need new material to rehearse soon.”

“Just give me more time,” he pleaded.

“Lin, I hate to be the bad guy, but we’re running out of time,” Tommy deadpanned.

…

Lin got dressed for the day, and he couldn’t help but long for the nights that he held you until you both fell asleep. It seemed like ages since you two had gone to bed together, and he wasn’t even thinking in the sexual sense anymore.

…

“You know if you keep staring at me like this, I’m gonna have to do something about it,” you teased him as you slipped on your pyjamas.

“You know depending on what it is I might be completely up for this punishment,” he smirked at you from where he was laying on the bed.

The next thing he knew, you had thrown your shirt at his face, causing him to laugh.

“If I didn’t have to work in five hours I would show you just what I would do to you,” you replied as you laid in bed beside him.

You smiled as he wrapped his arms around you to pull you close to him.

“Raincheck?”

“Definitely,” you murmured as you rested your head on his chest.

“For now you’ll just have to settle for this.”

“That’s more than enough.”

…

Lin froze as an idea hit him. He ran to the piano and started writing.

Forty-five minutes later he had tears in his eyes, smiling as he played the song the whole way through. It was perfect. He made sure to save the demo he had created, and took the liberty to attempt a very rough draft of sheet music - in case they liked it, and in case they wanted to start using it today. Lin then realized that it was time to head to rehearsal. Gently putting the papers in his bag along with his laptop, he made sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, and walked to the subway. There was a new spring in his step as he walked into the rehearsal hall. Lac, Tommy, and of course Scott, the stage manager, had all beat him there.

“Lin, how- shit you look like a mess,” Alex greeted him as he looked up upon his arrival.

“I know, but that doesn’t matter,” Lin promised. When the three men looked at him dubiously, Lin sighed.

“Okay, maybe it does, but it’s too much to explain. Anyway, I figured out what the issue is! - With Eliza I mean - You were right Tommy, she was missing something. This is what she was missing.”

Lin pulled out his laptop and set it down on the table. After he handed the copy of sheet music to Lac so he could take a look at what he had in mind, he clicked play. He carefully studied the three men as they listened to the demo. They had remained with neutral faces until the very end, where they all broke out into grins.

“Lin this is fantastic!” Lac praised him.

“He’s right. This is exactly what we needed,” Tommy agreed.

“You’ve really outdone yourself now,” Scott smiled.

Lin let out a relieved breath, smiling.

“Wait, is this why you look like you haven’t slept all night?” Tommy inquired.

Lin’s breath hitched but he was saved from having to answer with the arrival of Jasmine, Renée, and Pippa.

“Moooorning boys!” Renée greeted surprisingly cheerfully and musically for 9:30 in the morning.

“Good moooorning!” Jasmine harmonized.

“Morning to youuuu,” Pippa added her own vocals.

“I love it when they do that shit,” Oak said as he walked in, still half asleep and clutching his coffee like a lifeline.

The girls laughed.

“Our pleasure to be of service to you,” Jasmine winked.

Anthony walked in next, immediately finding his place next to Jasmine. Daveed and Leslie followed, Daveed looking about as awake as Oak.

It was then that Lin noticed Pippa was looking at him closely, as though she were analyzing him, and he came to the realization of where you had went the night before. With the commotion of more people arriving, they gave each other a knowing look and distanced themselves from the crowd.

“Thank you, for taking care of her last night,” Lin said gently.

Pippa nodded. “Have you talked?”

“I- no. She had to go into work. But I swear I’ll make things right tonight.”

“Good. Because I care about you Lin, but Y/N and I have been best friends since we were six, and I swear if you hurt her like that again-”

“I won’t,” he cut her off firmly.

“Good,” Pippa smiled. “And you know, despite the overprotective sister thing, I am rooting for you two.”

“Thanks Pippa,” Lin replied earnestly. “Oh! Also here’s something you might like,” he said as he grabbed the sheet music where Lac had left it on the table.

Pippa’s eyes lit up as Lin handed the papers to her.

“What is this?” She asked with curiosity.

“I wrote a song for Eliza,” he said with the most excitement she had heard from him since their first greeting this morning.

She looked through it and her smile slowly turned into a grin.

“Well played, Mr. Miranda.”

…

You groaned as you trudged your way up to your apartment. Twelve hour shifts were the worst. They were long, and today you just couldn’t catch a break. You were on your feet for nearly your entire shift, save the ten minutes you got to sit and eat a granola bar. Walking down the hall to your door, you wanted nothing more than to fall into bed, but you knew that you still had to talk things out with Lin. You didn’t even know what you could say anymore, but you hoped the words would come when the time came, which would be any minute now.

You opened the door and smiled as you smelt fresh cooking. You could hear a salsa song being played in the kitchen and you grinned widely, entering as quietly as possible. Leaving your bag and shoes by the doorway, you then walked toward the kitchen. The sight before you made your heart skip a beat. Lin was dancing around the kitchen while cooking, swaying his hips to the music. You watched him adoringly as he cooked intently. You hadn’t seen him like this is months.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” You mused.

Lin nearly tripped over himself as he spun around to look to where you were standing at the entrance to kitchen, leaning against the wall. You giggled as he tried to compose himself.

“Y/N, cariña, you’re home,” he smiled, though he looked slightly flustered at being caught dancing around, though it was definitely not the first time it had happened.

“You are too,” you noted, though your voice was gentle.

“Of course. God, of course. And I made dinner!” He beamed, looking proud of himself.

You grinned and made your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Lin was taken aback, not expecting the sudden display of affection, but it was only a moment before he had wrapped his arms around you. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, just needing to be close to him again. You felt him place a kiss on your head, and you sighed contently, allowing your eyes to close. Pulling back after a few moments like that, you looked into his eyes, those beautiful eyes that had made you lose your breath when you first saw him.

You felt Lin lean in for a kiss, and you hesitated for a moment before you pulled away.

“Lin, wait. I- We need to talk first.”

“I - fuck, sorry, I know, I just - I got carried away and-”

“Shhhh,” you silenced him by cupping his face in your hands. “I understand. And it’s not because I don’t want to, god I want to… It’s because if I kiss you right now, I’m not going to want to stop,” you admitted.

Lin relaxed and nodded.

“Me too,” he said quietly.

He pulled away to take dinner off the stove and then looked at you when he was certain that everything was done and nothing would be left to burn.

“Before we talk,” he started, “can I show you something?”

You nodded, and then followed him to the piano. He pulled up a stool and motioned for you to sit. You did so that you were facing Lin, looking at his profile as he took a seat on the piano bench. He took a deep breath before playing the opening notes.

“Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now. Look around, look around.”

You recognized the words that your husband was singing. Those were sung by Eliza in the other song he had written months earlier. He said that to himself more times than you could remember. One day you jokingly said to him that it was a miracle he hadn’t put it in one of his musicals yet. When he played The Schuyler Sisters for you a month and a half later, you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at him taking your suggestion seriously.

However, the melody was slower this time, and there was vulnerability to it. You listened to him play a few bars and the sing the dialogue before singing the next “Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now.”

“Will you relish being a poor man’s wife? Unable to provide for your life.

I relish being your wife. Look around, look around.”

This little segment caught you off-guard. You swallowed hard as he began to sing the rest of the song, becoming emotional as he did so. The lyrics were gentle and vulnerable, but firm enough to make it seem like a point was trying to be made. Like Eliza was trying to get Alexander to understand something. Like Lin was trying to get you to understand something. He looked up briefly while singing about their soon-to-be-born son, and your heart ached.

…

“Oh my god I want one,” you said excitedly as you saw what was most likely the cutest baby ever pass by you and Lin in a stroller.

“Cariña, you say that every time you see a baby.”

“Not just babies, puppies and kitties too. So I mean, basically babies, but you get the point.”

You grinned as Lin rolled his eyes playfully.

“Yeah yeah. Either way, when we have our own baby, they will be the cutest baby ever.”

You looked at Lin hopefully.

“You really want kids with me?”

“God, of course, cariña.”

“Good. And the world better watch out because our kid will be the best.”

“Damn right,” he said before kissing you gently.

…

“I don’t pretend to know the challenges you’re facing, the worlds you keep erasing and creating in your mind.”

You really didn’t. Try as you might, you had lost touch with your husband’s world weeks ago.

“But I’m not afraid. I know who I married. So long as you come home at the end of the day, that would be enough.”

…

“Lin, where are you?” You asked your husband over the phone.

“I just had to take a walk after rehearsal to get some inspiration. And it wasn’t what I was expecting, but I think I almost got the final lyrics for You’ll Be Back down!”

“That’s incredible, Lin”

He managed to notice how your voice faltered ever so slightly.

“Cariña, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just thought you would be home for dinner tonight.”

“I-shit. Look, just let me finish writing this piece and I swear I’ll be home soon. Te amo.”

“Te amo.”

As you hung up, you sighed and started to pack away the food, so you could save it for later. A part of you wanted to wait, but you knew that it would be hours before he would come home, even if he said the word ‘soon’. You had only hoped that he would’ve remembered your plans, but hey, you couldn’t control when inspiration struck.

…

“We don’t need a legacy, we don’t need money.”

…

“What about our legacy?”

“I - our..?”

“Yes, Lin. Our legacy. I… We always talked about starting a family and well…”

…

“If I could grant you piece of mind, if you could let me inside your heart. Oh let me be a part of the narrative, in the story they will write someday. Let this moment be the first chapter, where you decide to stay.”

…

“Don’t.”

“No. No, you don’t get to cop out here.”

“Just wait until the musical is done, okay?”

“We’re talking about this now. Please.”

“And how do you think we’re gonna be able to take care of a kid with how our lives are right now?”

“Well maybe if you cared enough about me to spend more than-”

“This again? I can’t believe you. How can you be so selfish?”

…

“And I could be enough.”

…

“Well then please forgive me for wanting to be enough for my husband.”

…

“And we could be enough. That would be enough.”

At the end of the song, both you and Lin had tears streaming down your faces. He looked at you apprehensively and you sniffled.

“Lin… It’s beautiful… But… This- it’s Eliza singing to Alexander, yes?”

He nodded.

“I don’t understand… Is this what you want me to say to you?”

“No! God no. It’s what I’m saying to you. Cariña, come here.”

You moved to sit beside him on the piano bench and he held your hands tightly in his.

“Words cannot express how sorry I am for how I’ve been acting lately, nor can they excuse them. These words I just sang to you is what I wish you would understand. You are everything, and I am the one who doesn’t deserve you. Through everything you have been there, supporting me, forcing me to take breaks, even when I wouldn’t listen. You never made fun of the idea of writing a hip-hop/rap musical about a founding father. Hell, you’re the reason why most of these songs got written, because you have given me so much inspiration, and dedication and you paved the path when I felt lost. Somewhere along that path though, I lost you. I neglected you and pushed you away and words can’t describe how terrible that is, and how much I regret it. Nor can I ever reiterate how you are more than enough for me, more than you know. When my ambition began to take over me you reigned me in. You are truly the Eliza to my Alexander. This song is my love letter to you in this musical. This is what I want you to always remember - that I’m the one who’s helpless and will always be working toward being the best husband I can be to you, and because just as Eliza deserved to have a voice, you do too.”

You gave Lin a loving smile and hugged him closely to you. He held you tightly and stroked your hair.

“Te amo, Lin.”

You heard him let out a soft squeaky laugh and you held him tighter to you.

“Te amo, cariña.”

#lin manuel x reader #lin manuel miranda #hamilton fanfic #hamilton x reader #36 #fic update #fluff #angst #Andie writes stuff

[asuitcaseofmemories]

Bad Luck Happens in... 65s if You’re Me.

I’m going to tell you a little a story. To be frank, it’ll probably definitely be long because it’s a nightmare and nightmares are never short. Only this isn’t just a nightmare, this is a true story; my true story of traveling from NY to Hefei after my home leave.

The date was June 26th... or 27th, because when you’re time traveling, details like that get hazy. My lovely friend dropped me off at the tiny Elmira airport and I had no issues checking in. I did internally begin losing my shit when the couple next to me was asked if they’d be willing to give up their seats due to them overbooking the flight by two. *Cue the anxiety* .... I mean we’ve all seen the dragging video by now. Save me.

We boarded in Elmira on time, I skipped the coffee and went for the complimentary red wine, because HELP, and because wine. The flight was uneventful, which was great. My friend and I spent our layover walking around the terminal, which I was thankful for because I was still losing it a little... and also because of the wine. If you can’t tell my travel anxiety is through the roof bad.

Our flight was boarded (from Detroit to Shanghai) with no issues, and the attendants graciously were loading me up on champagne. We left on time, and more champagne and food arrived. Did I say more champagne? I tried to sleep but the turbulence was pretty bad the last part of the flight... so I only slept 2.5 hours. (Side note: being hangry and a lack of sleep are two states you don’t want to see me in). Apparently attendance make it their duty to get you drunk if you can’t sleep, which is something I agree with on a spiritual level.

Upon landing we were told that the gate we were supposed to use was “not available” so we had to wait a bit. They decided to have us exit the plane on the tarmac and take the shuttle to the building. Which was great except the down pouring rain pelting us in between the two. I looked like a worthless drunk soggy noodle. I should’ve taken that as an omen, but I didn’t.

We arrived at customs and it was a strange scene as there was a huge line for foreigners and virtually no locals (opposite of what I’ve previously experienced). So it took a bit longer than usual, but we had no hiccups going through. The custom worker was actually the nicest custom worker I’d ever met and I think we could actually be friends now.

We then picked up our luggage to recheck it. Our bags were the last off the plane, despite having Sky Priority (meaning ours should come off first)-No biggie. When we went to recheck our bags, all hell broke loose.

I was told by a frantic worker after she weighed my first bag (I had two), that I’m only allowed to take 20kg on the plane.... mind you combined my bags were 48kg. I asked several questions about what people do in that situation, why I’ve never had this happen on previous flights, why there wasn’t a disclaimer sent when booking the flight, etc. The worker was not answering any of my questions, or offering alternate solutions. I think she just doesn’t like drunk soggy noodles.

I think the Holy Spirit inhabited my body at this moment, because my patience was  non-existent at this point. After about 15 mins of “what am I going to do” ... and thinking of alternate solutions like staying in Shanghai and booking a train the next day to get home... throwing out a bag- fuck that... she FINALLY says that I can pay a fee. BITCH YOU START WITH THAT. Why you wasting my time fucking asshole bitch nice lady???

This bitch lady gave me a piece of paper that I was intended to show at another counter to pay my fee. She had no idea how much it was at DID NOT tell me how to get to this next person. She also took my boarding pass and said they’d print a new one. She said “Next” when I asked for clarification, ugh no you didn’t. Thankfully my friend who was having the same issue, but was given better directions on how to get there by the kind lady waiting on her.

We were told we had to go to the 3rd floor, so we followed domestic departure signs for awhile... awhile... until we literally came to a dead end. WTF.... so we backtracked to our original spot, and we saw this other way,, so we followed that, and got to the 2F but still couldn’t get to 3F. I’m not kidding all the escalators were barricaded closed.

Clearly being two blonde idiots, looking lost as shit, this young man who spoke English asked if we are looking for the 3F too... hallelujah, we say yes.... he had just asked too, so we followed him to this elevator (which we would’ve never found because it was hid like the entrance of Narnia). UGH, this airport is stupid.

Oh but that’s not all. We get to the 3rd floor, go to the counter we were directed to go to and they say, oh no, you have to go over thereeeee. So we go there and we pay. Thankfully they took Visa (FYI- they don’t take US credit cards ANYWHERE in China so this is a miracle), and I paid my fine of $67USD. We asked about the reprinted tickets and she told us “oh no, you have to go in THAT line over there....” I’m thinking we should be going in the Sky Priority line as that’s what we always use, but she insisted it was the long line *Cue internal screaming*. So we waited and waited for our turn and they told us oh nooooo you go to the Sky Priority line, they have your tickets. Well I’d had about enough of this nonsense, so I nicely talked to the sympathetic woman who printed our boarding passes there. Thank you sweet angel!

Oh, but the story is just getting started. We went through security and they were double checking our carry ons... okay. Well they took child scissors from my friend’s bag then sent us on our way. We FINALLY head to gate 201. I look at the sign and see something in red. OMG. They changed our Gate to 9.... even though they JUST printed our passes... okay. We hustled over to Gate 9. It said we were in the right place YES. We went for a bathroom break, returned and they’d changed it to Gate 3... no big deal it was close but that’s annoying as hell.

We went to Gate 3 where we waited for an eternity. It got to the departure time and it didn’t say delayed and I was thinking... “did we miss the announcement?“ So I asked and the worker stated we would now depart at 11:30pm (original time was 10:15pm). A few moments later they declared the flight was delayed and that “the boarding time would be announced later.”

Well at this time I began to panic as we were supposed to have a driver pick us up at the airport at 11:30pm and I didn’t have anyway to call him and say we would be late. I don’t have a working phone number (in China or US), so I also do not have service to message Corey and let him know. So I had to buy internet for an hour just to Facetime him to figure out the ride situation. He assured me the driver would wait, and I was glad he knew we would be late.

So I went to get water and literally this airport is shut down almost completely. I saw this guy looking at a vending machine confused and two chicks giggling at him as he walked away. Stupid me tried two times to get a drink out of that thing, and it ate my money. God damn it. We finally found a place open so I got some water dinner (2 chocolate bars if I’m going to be completely honest here) and tried to chill out. We get back to terminal 3 and WHAT they changed our gate AGAIN to 202. At this point I’m externally about to scream, as this nice Chinese man asked if we were also going to Hefei. We said yes. He told us that he asked what was going on and the plane we were taking wouldn’t be there until about 11:30pm... so at this point we knew it would be awhile, but at least we knew something!

We thanked him for the info and ventured our asses back to Gate 202 area, and finally about 12:15am they announced we were boarding. The whole gate let out a cheer. I’m pretty sure I yelled “FUCK YEAH”, but 6 one way a half dozen the other right? We boarded and no sooner do they said that they had no idea when we would be leaving but they’d “update soon.” Well, the are lying liar heads. In an hour they repeated the same announcement. Since they are lying liar heads, and I was exhausted of their lies, I briefly passed out. I awoke at 2am when they finally said we were leaving. YAHOO!

I tried to finally get shut eye... mind you we’ve traveled over a day so far and I’ve only slept 2.5 hours (1.5 according to fit bit). Well the turbulence was so bad they the attendant woke me up and made me put my seat up... So that was a no go.

We finally arrived in Hefei, and and played the baggage game all over again. Our poor driver had been waiting since 11:30pm (it’s now 3:30am)... and helped us pack our bags into the car. He’s the real MVP in this story.

We safely arrived at the hotel at 4:17am.... Where we ended our travel fun with a broken trolley to haul our luggage upstairs. The concierge asked me where I was coming from and I said NY, and he asked “Is that why you’re wearing slippers.” ... they were flip flops haha.

It is tough feeling out of control and having such a language barrier with those who know what’s happening. Looking back, this is all hilarious and truthfully just a string of bad luck and weather. I was thankful to have someone with me to laugh with and keep me sane. We also met a few people along the way who were kind when we needed it most.

I’ll keep these memories to look back on when I think I’m having a “bad day.” I’m thankful I won’t be making that journey for another 6 months. Needless to say I slept 13 hours straight when I got home. I DID NOT MOVE my position at all or wake up once.

#travel #nightmare #ha #funny #true #worldtraveler #travel blog #china #Hefei #chinaeastern #rude #nice #bad luck #laowai #flying #airport #problems

[shkid]

Condensing posts:

he got a job, i had a panic attack

So last night I ended up going out. We had our last ever university class, and a bunch of us went out for food. I was ready to hit the library, to prep for a meeting with my dissertation advisor today, but a couple of folks were making me feel bad for wanting to leave. So I stayed and had a couple of drinks. I wasn’t feeling great, but was drinking vodka blackcurrant, because I didn't want anything fizzy. Gradually people left, and one friend started trying to manipulate people to stay out. Fair enough, she had gone to a great deal of effort for having a night out, and the people who said they were gonna stay out ended up bailing early. I kinda felt for her, because there’s nothing worse than having to go home when you’ve got a good buzz going on, and no-one else is feeling it. I promised her one last drink. One last drink turned into a few (inevitably), multiple keys, and missing our last trains. We walked home, talking over each other, and smoking. My mouth was so dry and I already knew that the next morning wasn’t going to be good. She left mine just after 2am, and I went to bed. I slept maybe 45 minutes before getting up with such a thirst. I sipped a pint of water, and was trying to force myself to sleep, but of course I was still wired. honestly must have got up to the toilet about 7 times. My stomach was absolute agony. kept falling asleep for 5 minutes at a time, and then waking up needing a drink, or checking my phone etc. I watched the sunrise which was cool. I had drafted out an email to my supervisor at about 6:30am saying that I wouldn't make it in. I was dry heaving, but there was nothing in my stomach to throw up. Felt like shit for a couple more hours and then eventually got about 45minutes from 9:15am-10:00am. I felt like a new woman. So i got my bag packed and headed into town. Getting off the train I started to feel sluggish, and anxious. I bought a sports drink to try replenish electrolytes but was moving as if I was wading through gravy. Stepped foot in my faculty’s building and my heart was racing. My fitbit said my heart rate was >120. I was sweating, dizzy and nauseas so went to the bathroom. splashed some cold water on my face and rubbed up my cheeks. I looked transparent, and needed to get some colour in my cheeks. I walked with gravy legs to my advisor’s office and she greeted me by saying “how are you?”. I just said “I’m so sorry, I can't do this. I’m not well. can we reschedule?”. I think she was pissed. she said “how long have you been feeling ill? you should have just emailed me to cancel. You look very peaky, I think you need to go home to bed. Maybe go to your doctor”.

I sat outside in the rain and watched my heart rate come down, and my breathing regulate. I emailed her to say I was feeling better and that I think it’s just anxiety. The only other experience I have of that feeling, was the one time I had a panic attack in school (and that was 4 or 5 years ago now)! I reckon it maybe was a panic attack, but probably my baseline anxiety wasn’t helped by the coke comedown, hangover, and dehydration. i’m kinda mortified. She emailed me back and suggested that with her “year tutor hat on” she wanted me to seek support from counselling or my GP for strategies to help. I came home and have just dozed all day. My high-achieving brother on the other hand, got a permanent teaching contract at the school he’s been doing his probationary work at. I’m delighted for him, but feel like it highlights the complete worthlessness I feel about myself. lol.

shkid

what’s the harm in talking about self-harm?

Today I talked to a friend in great depth about my past with self-harm. I’ve only known her for four years(!) Took me long enough. In my 8+ (omg) years, I’ve barely mentioned it to my nearest and dearest. I still have close friends and family who have absolutely. no. idea.

This is a good sign. I’m writing a paper about NSSI and discovering so much about myself, as well as the kids I’m advocating for! Learning to break down the stigma in my own head. We NEED to start talking about NSSI, even if it’s difficult. It needs to become less of a taboo. Too many kids are suffering in silence! If I could speak to my 16 year old self, I’d tell her to believe the people who say that it’ll get better. Learning to forgive myself, and trying to practise self-compassion.

shkid

Sack her, employ a new one

So today was only the second time I met with a student counsellor and it was fantastic. Well actually it was very difficult throughout the actual session but I left feeling so much better. I really struggled to talk today, but I think I've maybe identified what my issue is. I've always known that I'm a bit hard on myself and whilst this can serve a purpose, I think it's become somewhat debilitating. I've always been "a bit depressed" and it's likely because I am literally my own worst enemy. Or at least, my worst enemy lives inside my head as my self critic. I was able at one point throughout the session to be mindful of this and correct something that I said; "I'm no good at talking". Sylvia helped me acknowledge that I couldn't be so bad at it because I had seeked out help and had gone to the session despite knowing I was going to find it difficult. I said to Sylvia "I wish I could just sack her, and employ a new one!" My self-critic is very good at what she does. But I wish she could tone it down a bit. Since the session I've caught myself saying demoralising things to myself, that I would never say to anyone else! A quick google, and the self critic describes me perfectly - often engages in self destructive behaviours! That's me. Whether consciously or subconsciously I've always been one to put myself in destructive situations. Questioning intimate relationships and worthiness of these. Me. To a tee. Sylvia asked me to think of what ugly thing's inside of me that stops me from being able to be kind to myself. The first word that came into my head was "worthless" and no matter how I tried to think of something else, it hung about there. Eventually I said it out loud. And I started to well up as the word came out my mouth. Sylvia was aghast and said she felt sad inside. So did I. I always THINK that I'm worthless, it's just I never acknowledge properly how wrong that thought is!! Thoughts are not facts. When it's just in my head I allow it to be true. That I'm not worth loving. That I'm not worth friendships, a career, a life. But out loud that's ridiculous - Sylvia had me explore things that I could be proud of and take ownership for. I struggled to think of any examples to start with, but have managed to come up with a couple since.

shkid

i’m so irritable

every little thing is bothering me. Today I slept in, which was the first thing that pissed me off today. Fitting that I woke up already hating myself and with reason to. That’s a new record.

had to skip any sort of human routine, and rush to get a train to a class I didn't even want to go to. sat in the class and my group had literally done nothing for the group task. I suggested what we could write for each question, and when it came to the presenting back to the class bit, my friend, (although today feels like a ‘friend’) looked over at me and then to the back of the class where another friend was sitting and raised her eyebrows to give a knowing look of “oh look, C____ isn't going to present today, like every other week” (or maybe I’m just paranoid), so i fucking did present. as a massive fuck you to her and all the others in my group. then once I was done, I kinda juts looked down at my book and started welling up because I was so upset and angry at how my friend had acted with me all morning.

after class, I walked to the library with said friend, and she was all “oh sorry I’m going for lunch with ____, I mean, you can come if you want?” which I took to be an invite to decline her invite. so i went to the library for all of 23 minutes before leaving because I was upset and couldn't focus.

Come home, and think about trying to make a start on some assignment work, but my fucking flatmate (who I really dislike at the best of times), had moved my laptop and work sheets from the dining room table, and spread out her own work. this is annoying for a few reasons. 1) she whinged about wanting a desk in her room for so long that I gave her my desk from my room - so she has a bloody desk in her room and I don't. 2) I spend nearly all my time in my own room, but today was a day where I actually wanted to be able to used the dining room table to try and start on some work. 3) It’s the only fucking table in the flat that I can work at, unless I invited myself to use my old one in her room?!?!

So frustrated. So unmotivated. Still sad. Still lonely.

(but having a check-in with a counsellor tomorrow which is much needed and hopefully will be a good opportunity for me to be able to talk to someone rather than vent to a fucking blog that no-one reads anyway)

shkid

I was having a bad day, and then it started raining

And when I say raining, I mean a torrential hail pellets driving into your face downpour. And my jacket isn't waterproof, and my jeans were clean on this morning but are now soaked. I'm getting really pissed off. I have so much uni work to do and yet can't mentally focus to do it. I was sat in class today, completely not focused. No drive at all. I am REPULSED by my body and yet won't do anything about it. I have no motivation to exercise and find it hard enough to do some simple body weight exercises in my room. I use food as an emotional crutch but then feel even worse after I binge, than I did before. It's a constant Catch 22. I want to cry but my body doesn't allow it. I well up and feel emotional, and yet I can't produce enough tears to actually cry. I don't want to be around people and conversation requires so much effort and I get so irritated at irrational things, and yet I get so down about being lonely. More than anything, I want to self injure but I can't. I can't ruin my chances of being able to swim soon, or upset my boyfriend when he sees my thighs next. I've already "accidentally" burnt my arm on the oven too many times. It's so fucking difficult.

[sukunussy]

i've been thinking a lot about actually using this for some personal writings because i feel like writing it all down might be helpful. i don't know if i believe in journalling or blogging or whatever but i'm sick of just venting to my friends about the same shit over and over and over again so i guess i might as well give it a shot. 

my sleep schedule has been wrecked for weeks. i thought i'd fixed it a few nights ago, but then i stayed up and... yeah, just a mess. so i for some reason only slept 5:30am-8:30am yesterday and then stayed up because i didn't feel tired and kinda didn't wanna sleep through the day; i thought i could power through. so, i stay up, rot in my room for a while because i couldn't make myself go to the kitchen to make myself anything to eat. i just. my stomach was growling, i was hungry, i hadn't had coffee in two days so i was feeling it — but somehow i still just stayed at my desk or in bed til my mom took pity on me and brought me a sandwich. (for context, i'd been telling my fam this whole summer that i needed help eating regular meals because my school crisis mode just fucks with my appetite and i always sleep through breakfast. they haven't really been great about it.)

i got tired at like 6pm yesterday and was lying in bed for a long while just idly scrolling trying to actually sleep. i don't remember when i actually fell asleep, but i woke up at some point to put my computer away and then woke up for good at like 1am, i think? i wanted to go back to sleep initially but then woke up too much to do it so i've been up. decided to start watching good omens, finally, which is the best thing i've taken out of the past two days.

so, i haven't really slept, and i'm awake at like 8:30am when my mom comes into my room. my mom uses my bathroom exclusively even though my room is like a 3 minute walk from her room (which is literally right next to a bathroom) because she's grossed out by the other bathroom for no good reason. there's literally no reason. anyway, she gives me a lot of shit for trying to ask her to knock or wait for me to say "come in" when she comes back to my room, but it's a matter of space and boundaries. she's been overinvolved in my life and invaded my personal space a lot because i was an only child in an abusive household where my dad made it hard for my mom to have friends and alienated her from her family.

anyway, my mom just strolls in looking like she absolutely just woke up and goes into my bathroom. mutters a "good morning" because she's surprised she saw me up and 'attem so early. i was watching good omens, y'know, chill as hell. and i've had this talk with my mom about using the bathroom before — she can use it but don't like sneakily come back to use the bathroom and then expect that i want to sit and chat for an hour. it's my room, it's my time, we don't get along very well and i honestly come back her to just... vegetate. i don't wanna be dealing with her constantly.

naturally, my mom gets out of the bathroom and comes over to me. this entire time i've had the episode paused because i get so on edge when she's in my room like i literally can't focus on anything else until she's gone. she comes over, and i'm like on my side in bed, and starts petting me even though i'm trying not to make eye contact because i want her to leave. i just want her gone, i wanna watch the show and not deal with it. she didn't even knock to come in, knowing that i've been getting up weirdly early the past few days. and she starts trying to ask me what's wrong, but i really don't want to talk about it and i tell her as much.

finally, i tell her i'm mad about her just coming in here and then proceeding to linger exactly how i told her i didn't want her to. and coming over to do the whole physical affection thing when everything in my face and body language was clear about me not wanting any of it. it's been a really long time since i've felt comforted by my mom's physical affection. there are moments when i want a hug but as a rule it makes me feel more uncomfortable than anything. that's a more complicated issue tat i could go on about but back to the narrative. she settles on just saying "there's something wrong with you," and then leaves.

but we're not done!

she comes back this time to try to pry out why i'm mad and it just devolves into our typical fights. i'm mad this summer because i got a grant to plan a research trip abroad and my whole family basically fought me every step of the way because i wanted to go to cuba. i'm cuban, i wanted to go to see if i could do a cuban opera for my senior thesis; of course, cuba is a communist country with an unstable regime/economy, so i'm aware that my going would come with some risks. i knew this!! it wasn't going to be some silly vacation for the 'gram!!! but my family being so like aggressively against the trip plus depression plus summer slump meant the trip didn't happen. i missed my flight, ghosted my airbnb, lost $400, didn't make any plans. this happened at the beginning of june. of course i'm still upset by this. i still don't even really wanna talk about it.

i know i could've still gone if i really set my mind to it. i could've planned. i was just wiped out from the semester and i needed the support from somewhere, anywhere, and i didn't have it. it would've been my first time abroad; it's the first thing i've applied for and gotten while i've been in college, the grant i got. i built it up in my head and for there not even to be the slightest acknowledgement that this is a cool thing that you're doing to fend for yourself and hone your craft and reconnect to a heritage that you're simultaneously entrenched and removed in — no, nothing. just my mom saying "when you leave, i'll say goodbye to you like it's the last time i'll ever see you," and my grandma ganging up on me because a friend of a friend was on her whatsapp telling her that cuba has low supplies of toilet paper.

so i'm feeling really fucked up about this. at least i'm still writing this summer. writing is an outlet i always turn to but never know how to manage in a healthy or productive way. (like how i'm writing this having been up all night instead of getting breakfast.)

we have this stupid fight where my mom just doesn't listen to me — i mention a smaller, addressable issue and she zooms out to her failed marriage, her health problems — oh, wait. i forgot the best part. when she walked in to ask me why i was mad, she actually guilt tripped me at first. "your grandmother is getting ready to go to the doctor's office. have you heard about her test results? [medical stuff] she could die any day now of heart failure. you should go say hi before she leaves." like deadass!!!! really!!! this is how she swings in while i am pointedly not speaking to her.

that was what set me off. i called her out for the guilt tripping because, if she's going to stand there and force a conversation, that's what i had to say. so, i cry, she cries and blubbers — at this point i'm so numb to her reactions that it really just frustrates me when she gets like that, sue me. my patience is just... gone with her. all the patience i have goes toward trying not to raise my voice because then at least i know i have the high ground when she starts raising her voice at me. which. i hate! i really don't do well with yelling! who does?

this fight happens. she leaves sobbing that she's a fuck up, because every fight ends up being about her even when it starts about me. even when i was just trying to get her to understand that her forcing herself into my life and into my space isn't something i'll ever respond well to.

leaves me alone for about... 20 minutes. i start writing this post. since i've started, i shit you not, she's come in three times. first, to plead at my door to let her use my bathroom (she left her hairdryer in there and wants to wash up). after ignoring her for a minute as she gets louder, i just decide to let her in because i don't want her to unlock my door with her key or to stand there crying as if i can't hear her. then she tries to talk to me multiple times while she's in my bathroom doing... whatever she was doing. mind you, i was literally just typing away and not paying attention.

she's called me twice and informed me that she also sent a text message saying she'll help me (now) plan a trip to cuba because she doesn't want me to blame her for this forever. she also just came by to tell me, again, about a random doctor's appointment.

at this point, home just feels unsafe to me. i don't have a quiet place for myself. i've lived alone at school for two years and it's like i'm living in a glass box here where my mom could walk in and watch me at any second. i don't want to talk to her. i don't want to talk to my grandparents, who are dealing with health issues and other family issues and consider me locking myself up in my room as some kind of phase i guess? or a tantrum? no matter the different ways in which i cry for help. i don't want to talk to my dad, because he plays nice for five minutes and then reminds me that he's a fucking raging conservative bigot and that he'll never actually accept me for who i am. i don't even know what home is anymore. it's definitely not school, but it's not here, either.

i just needed to get this out. i'm gonna try to eat and get out of bed and go to a cafe in a bit. gotta shower before i leave the house, it's been a few days. maybe i'll update later.

#personal #andy speaks

[datingadviceonreddit]

EASIER SAID THAN DONE. Ugh, I feel like shit. I feel like I cried out my eyes enough to finally go back to my stone cold don't care persona but it's not the case at all. My heart hurts. It's been years since I really liked someone & it's pretty rare for me to since for the most part I am an emotionally detached person. I'm still outgoing, friendly & shit but as a defense mechanism I suppress negative feelings or block any type of attachment. The rare time I do it's with someone that doesn't want the same as me SMH.TL DR (why are these put at the end? It makes more sense to put it on the top lol): Say fuck it & communicate what's on your mind if it concerns you. Even if you're too scared you'll scare them off, just communicate. Learn how to let go & not care if they'll stop talking to you, end it, etc. You'll save yourself a whole lot of pain from caught feelings, doubt & confusion in the long run. I know this is sounds like common sense but sometimes we put ourselves in denial or are too scared to. I just want to remind people, sometimes we just need that constant reminder/support/encouragement/affirmation. Shout out to Pm_Me_Your_Fave_Joke for his very useful advice. Read their post, it's good.​​Warning: this is going to be a long post.I only told one of my friends about what's going on. Not too much into detail since it's hard for me to be vulnerable. Which is exactly the reason I'm typing this post & getting too much into detail but trying not to at the same time since dude told me he installed Reddit recently. I doubt he would follow this subreddit & he doesn't go on his phone that much so I'm kinda sure I'm in the clear lol.I found writing/typing is a good outlet for me since it gives me time to reflect on situations, how I could've improved, what I could've done better, etc. It's been years since I wrote in a journal due to a breach of trust with an ex. I'll start writing in a journal again so I can put literally every detail (for the most part I got hella good memory, it's curse & not at the same time) & reflect on it. Useful ones I might post here but heads up my grammar sucks & I suck at writing.​I have this friend that I developed feelings for but never expressed them because he told me wanted casual dating. I was in denial thinking maybe over time he'll change his mind & want a serious relationship. In his defense I developed a crush on him before he told me he wanted casual dating. When we hung out the first time I thought we did as friends, as we were talking I developed a crush on him. I would like to emphasized cuz I feel it's important & makes a big difference; not a crush on looks (he's not even my type but physical attraction did come afterwards), a crush on his personality, opinions, demeanor, etc. I didn't & wasn't planning on telling him at all, at the end of us hanging out he kissed me & I fucking fell head over heels. ANYWAYS, we continued to date/talk. His texting sucks, mine does too but since I started liking him I prioritized his messages. We started dating during the holiday season so it was hard to see each other a lot. We have great chemistry, our personalities are almost the same. It's so easy to talk to him, there's never an awkward silence, we can talk about anything.He's a very affectionate person & I'm only affectionate with people I like so there was that imbalance that was really fucking with my head. I spent the months in silence trying to pull back my emotions/feelings while trying to figure out if he even likes me. His phone communication is spotty so it was fucking with me too. Add sex, cuddling & holding hands & you got a cocktail of confusion, doubt & total bliss. When I brought up the communication to his attention he agreed (he's been told in the past & it added to his past break ups) & we started talking on the phone more but it still wasn't consistent or enough. I was in a 6 year relationship, we had a kid together & lived together but a little before or after the first year my feelings went away. I stayed due to our son, family pressure (both sides) & financial reasons. The point I'm getting at is that I'm needy. I'm used to having that companionship & constant communication even though I had no feelings (I told him I loved him when I didn't. It's a long story. I was a shitty manipulative person in that relationship). It's not right for me to expect the same from him or anyone unless if we're living together. I need to get used to not having that constant communication & company.A few weeks ago his life started getting more hectic so he wasn't responding or go days without communication. We had four opportunities to see each other that didn't pan out. One was intentional on my part cuz I'm stupid & followed advice from online articles (not Reddit). What's sad is that after I intentionally didn't go, later that night I caved in & asked if he was still available. He said no so I quickly ended that conversation to avoid any further embarrassment, god I disappoint myself sometimes 😖 2/3 of the other times it's up in the air, he says shit but who knows.The past few weeks I've been really caught in my feelings. I've been smoking an unhealthy amount of cigarettes & drinking too much. It's been close to everyday drinking. I fucking drank from 10:30AM on Friday to 2AM Saturday & practically smoked a whole pack, #notGoals. I was really shocked I didn't wake up with a hangover for school the following morning considering I went to sleep at 4AM to wake up at 8.A few days ago I couldn't take it anymore & called him to discuss it. Fuuuuck it was so nerve racking, it is so hard for me to talk about my issues. Luckily he's very good at verbal communication & is sensitive so it helped me a lot with attempting. Even after we talked it out I still don't know if he fully understood everything I was telling him. There was a few times where he kept misinterpreting what I was telling him or he was missing my point. This is why I like doing these things in person instead of over the phone. I feel like with over the phone shit could be misinterpreted, getting distracted, body language & facial expressions missed & I feel like the brain kinda isn't fully paying attention since the other person isn't directly in front of you. I don't want to talk it out again so fuck it, I'll deal with it & I kinda already forgot what parts really confused me (exactly my point).After stumbling over my words for what felt like an eternity, I practically blurted out hella fast something along the lines of 'I really like you a lot as a friend and more but it doesn't seem like you're interested do you want to back peddle into being friends?". I told him that his lack of communication & us not seeing each other for a while was bothering me but since we're not in a relationship & only dating I didn't know how to approach that. This is where I felt like he wasn't understanding what I was getting at. I kept asking him how he feels about me but he kept referring to liking me as a person & personality wise. On top of that, the way he was wording it or the way I was receiving it, I felt like he viewed us as friends while I thought we were dating... But it's like I'm pretty positive we were dating?! I don't date but I have an idea of what it is based off what friends tell me. Plus, he was the one that mentioned casual dating in the first place!! I wanted to know if he ever liked me more than a friend. One time when we were hanging out at his place talking, he was cleaning dishes & I was chillin on his couch, out of nowhere, not even close to what we were even talking about, he literally said "you know I really like you a lot right?" I was literally stuck like a deer in headlights & said "oh, I wasn't sure if you did or not" *double face palm* Anyways, we were on the phone so I can't hear crystal clear but I heard him say 'commit to the relationship' but he can't cuz of all the shit that's going on in his life & he doesn't know how long it'll take. Idk why I didn't ask for clarification, this is one of my issues is that I don't speak up. Idk if he said he doesn't want to commit or if he does want to commit. At the same time he said no so IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER (WTF BRAIN!).He explained that his work & shit that happened within the last year's been holding him up & he's hella busy cuz of it. He also felt the need to tell me what he's been up to for the past few weeks we haven't seen each other. Not to get into details but what he told me makes sense based off our previous hang out & our talks. He even told me about his female friend that stayed with him for a few days & how she's a 'gold star' in the lesbian world. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (liiiike okaaay..?) Last/2 week(s) ago we were on the phone & he mentioned her sleeping over at his for a couple of days. When he told me I didn't push it, question or get upset. It's normal for people to have straight friends of the opposite gender & not have sex (even if they were to sleep in the same bed). After we were done with that, we caught up, talked about bs. At the end of the call he asked if I got all the answers I wanted. I guess I did...?!? I mean yes, he did answer my questions but for whatever reason I still feel confused. Idk maybe it's just my feelings clouding my brain, it'll go away over time. Not part of phone convo: After everything, it's like yeah I understand his reasonings but it's like I don't care, I can help, I can try to help him manager his time better, help him grow. I want to help him, I like him. Wasn't meant to be. *sigh*We agreed to just be friends & 'continue to see each other'. He was the one that asked if we'll still continue to see each other, I automatically assumed yes in my head since that's what friends do? It's not like we're 'Facebook friends', I would assume we would hang out occasionally since we're only like 30 miles away from each other (we live in a metro area) & I already go to his city once a week for career stuff. For him, idk if he meant as FWD or as friends only. I'm constantly not voicing my thoughts. I seriously need to get my shit together. I'll find out if/when we hang out again.​So yeah, this is where I'm at. Fellow Redditors, do yourself a favor & learn from me. Voice your concerns. It sucks to put yourself in denial, constantly doubting yourself, constantly confused trying to read in between the lines, hold it in & be let down (lack of a better phrase). It is not his fault at all. I need to be better with communication & learn how to voice my thoughts even though I know it probably won't be in my favor. The beat goes on. It really fucking hurts right now but it'll get better with time. Smile now cry later type of shit. (if you got it, I fucking love you)I'm not sure whether or not I'll continue to date. I haven't dated for 1 1/2 years due to not being interested & working on myself. This happened on accident, I originally thought we were just going to be friends. I have exchanged numbers with most guys that approached me in person for the past few weeks. I thought talking to other guys would take my mind off dude but it wasn't the case at all. If anything it got me even more irritated since these men text back so much faster than him & myself. None of them interest me so meh. Idk if I want to get on a dating app, I refuse to use apps. I don't even have any type of social media other than Reddit, which kinda doesn't count since most of us are anonymous.Current mood: "In the rain" by The Dramatics (love me some oldies aaaand it's Sunday!). It's been raining here lately & it kinda sucks it hasn't rained yet today.If you made it this far you deserve a cookie. I'm using the post as an outlet since it's hard for communicate my feelings irl.Yall have a good Sunday & good luck with dating! Bieeee! via /r/dating_advice

#dating #dating advice #reddit

[darkot]

You know what’s something that I think about a lot? That if there was a zombie apocalypse, artists would be the first ones left behind.

You’ve got doctors who can treat wounds and keep you healthy. You’ve got police officers and hunters who can defend you and get you food. There are mechanics who can keep your vehicles running. Fishermen can bring fish to the table. Farmers can grow crops.

What the fuck is an artist going to be able to contribute in a zombie apocalypse?

The Walking Dead put it nicely. “Art isn’t about survival. It’s transcendence. Being more than animals. Rising above.” That really stuck with me. While you can interpret many things from that quote, one thing that I derived from it is that, art is only useful in a peaceful society. In this age we live in, art serves to educate and entertain. It gives us reprieve from the mundanity of daily, modern life. It paves the way for more profound thought--for societal change. But when there is a lack of society, what place is there for it? Who will value that skill, and the life of the person in possession of it, over somebody who knows how to scavenge, shoot, or heal? You could argue that an academic artist could act the part of an architect. They could oversee the construction of buildings to keep people safe. But even then, they would not be valued until the re-establishment of society began.

An artists’ vision today helps the blind see and the numb feel. They help shape a more civilized civilization, by lessening our ignorance, so that the world produces less bad people.

An artists’ vision in this hypothetical zombie world would help rebuild society. They could create plans for houses and cities to keep us safe, and keep the bad people (and zombies) out.

In both scenarios, artists help defend us from monsters. The difference being that one monster wants you to hate and hurt, while the other monster wants to eat your face.

It can be argued that artists are simultaneously the most valuable and most easily disposable members of society. The world needs them. But they are the first to be sacrificed.

...

So, that’s a little insight into the weird shit my introverted brain thinks of.

I have been thinking too much lately though, as I always do. As much as I try to work on getting out of my own head, I somehow only end up digging deeper and deeper into it.

Er.. I should probably clarify that all that zombie apocalypse stuff isn’t what I’ve been thinking so deeply on. I mean yes, I thought about it, but that’s not what is really on my mind primarily.

I just.. I’m having trouble moving forward. it’s frightening. I have no trouble admitting that I’m terrified of what’s to come, because the further I go ahead, the more responsibility I take.

I’ve spent all these years hurting and healing.. Now that I’m fully recovered, I’m at a loss as to how to proceed. I’m having trouble believing in myself, and that’s holding me back from becoming who I need to become.

I have a test coming up and.. I don’t know. I’m paralyzed with fear, for some reason. Subconsciously, I’m playing out how it’s going to go over and over, and.. I just can’t have faith in myself to do well. Which is weird, because I’ve only gotten graded at above 90% for all of my assignments in this course. I know the material, so I’m fairly certain that this is just about not wanting things to change as I move on from where I’m at now.

Ughh.. fell asleep halfway through writing this.

Anyways, Overwatch season 3 ended yesterday. I ended the season at 3070, with a season high of 3348. I completed my original goal of making it to diamond near the beginning of the season, where I started off in platinum. However, my goal shifted to getting to master when I saw the very real possibility of that happening. I made it more than halfway there--accumulating 348/500 of the points necessary to rank up. But alas, t’was not meant to be this season. I’m okay with that now, upon reflection, and once I realized that I met my original goal. However, along the way it was extremely frustrating. Just in the past week, I ran into a troll on my team who just kept throwing themselves off the map the entire game, a blatant aimbotter on the other team, and had internet issues that d/c’d me from two games. Between all of those things, I lost about 200 SR (I was already down to 3100-ish at this point. I started climbing again, but these were the last nails in the coffin marked “you are not getting master this season.”)

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this. Well, that may go without saying, since I do a lot of thinking about everything. But.. I don’t know. Overwatch is an amazing game. I love it to death. It is by far the best FPS that I have ever played. However, I can’t help but feel like I’m developing a useless skill here. More useless than art in a zombie apocalypse.

I had made a silent vow to myself that I was going to slow down on playing the game once I hit diamond, but I didn’t follow through with that. I really want to make it to master. I honestly believe that I play at a master level, when going back and analyzing my game play, and I’ve shown definite potential to climb to that rank in this season. 

As much as I enjoy playing this game, the grind is a real bitch. It’s got me thinking about what really matters, and as much as I’d like this achievement.. in the grand scheme of things, it really doesn’t do me any good. I told myself that I’d NEVER get into professional gaming (not that this is professional gaming, but it’s getting into that far more serious realm), because the time commitment is too large for the amount of earnings, and it is too repetitive of a thing for me to stay interested in it. I’d have to constantly sink hundreds upon hundreds of hours into a game “gittin’ gud” at it, in order to keep my skills sharp and better than my competition. If there is any game I’d be willing to do that for, it is Overwatch (or maybe Smash Bros.), because of its immense depth and variety of characters. But even with Overwatch, I would get bored of that so insanely quickly. I’ve played less than 100 hours this season, and I got burnt out at a point or two. 

To put things in perspective, who are the real “losers” in this situation? The pros, who get to play this game all day and be the best, but only make a moderate amount? Or the devs who don’t get to play their own game very much, and aren’t the best at it, but make infinitely more money? A pro can say to a dev that he’s better at the game than him, but the dev can say to the pro that he can’t hear him from the third floor of his mansion.

That’s more or less how I’m looking at things at this point. I could lifelessly devote all of my time to this game and become one of the best players of it. I could have that achievement of saying that I’m in the top 10,000 players in the Americas. But, my time would be much better spent honing a skill for my career. I could make a game of my own and be further off than if I made it to the top of the leaderboards in this game.

I’m still going to play it because of how much I enjoy it. But I don’t think I’ll continue to take it quite as seriously. I had started connecting part of my self worth onto wether I made it to master or not. I wanted to prove to myself that I could get there if I really tried. I have more important things to take care of, though. 

An artist that I follow made a post on here of them hitting master, and saying that they were glad that they could put down this, as they put it, “time vampire.” And it’s true. That would essentially be what I’d do if I made it there. I’d have gotten that achievement under my belt, and wouldn’t devote nearly as much of my time to the game after that. If I get to master next season playing semi-casually, then cool. If not, that’s fine too. I’ve already made it to the highest rank that I can get to, where I can’t fall out of it. I'll always be diamond, but I could lose my master title very easily. Just takes one bad game after making it there to lose it, and a few more to get you far enough away from it that you really have to fight for it again.

At the very least, master or not, I have absolutely ZERO intention of trying to reach grandmaster. Fuck. That. As much as I think I’d enjoy that level of play, where everyone is coordinated and knows what they’re doing, the grind to get there would literally drive me insane (plus, I don’t think my own gameplay is at a grandmaster level to be honest). If I ever go back on that and start making my way to GM, I want someone to take a screenshot of this, print it out, roll the paper up, and slap me in the face with it.

There’s more to talk about. I started playing Fire Emblem: Heroes the other day. Watched Stranger Things finally. The Dragons of Ashfall release comes out for AQ3D tomorrow. But, I don’t feel like typing all of that up right now. Maybe tomorrow.

I’m really not sure what to do right now, though. It’s 3:30am. I guess I’ll try going back to sleep, but since I woke up not too long ago, I don’t know if I’ll be able to?

OH GOD, WHAT IF I CAN NEVER SLEEP AGAIN!?

Guess we’ll find out, haha.

#personal #ramble ramble ramble #masterfully artistic zombies or something like that? #I don't know man