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pugh-bug · 6 months ago

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No.42 Chapter 3

Art Donaldson x reader slow burn friends to lovers

Sorry for the wait! The day I set aside to get loads done on this I ended up having to visit a family member in hospital, he’s much much better now. Anyway oversharing. I hope you enjoy this chapter! I loved writing it. Let me know if you wanna be added to my tag list 💕

Part 1

Part 2

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You woke up on Saturday morning to a missed text from Art.

7:58am - text from Art

Sorry if I woke you when I left. Gone to play hard court today hope you slept alright on that couch.

The sudden realisation that you were not in fact in your bed hit you almost as hard as the loose spring in your back. You groaned, reaching for some leftover pizza. None left. You groaned again.

9:26am - text to Art

Did you eat all your pizza?

To your surprise the boy replied immediately, showcasing his ability to read your mind.

9:27am - text from Art

Afraid so :) Look in the fridge if you’re so hungry

The fridge, despite the tightness of your apartment, had never looked so far away. You’d rather wait the nine hours for Art to return and pass food to you through a funnel. He could create some sort of feeding tube, perhaps he could fashion it out of one of the dozen tennis ball containers Patrick left lying around. You hadn’t seen the floor in years.

It took you almost thirty minutes to peel your lifeless body off the sofa and trudge the eight metres to the fridge. Before all of your fingers had grasped the cold metal you caught it. The smell.

The month you and Patrick were flat hunting had been a difficult one, full of stress and disappointments. A week before you found the flat you now called home, Art had found crying outside your favourite pancake place. You didn’t know if Patrick had texted him, giving him a heads up of your less than stellar mood and where to find you, or if he had simply ran into you by accident but one minute he was there.

The two of you had shared your favourite, strawberry and kiwi pancakes with whipped cream, despite having never spent time alone together previously and it hadn’t been awkward. Any awkwardness had come from your inability to keep your emotions to yourself and not a mess for all to see. Art hadn’t minded in fact, unbeknownst to you, he’d greatly enjoyed your company and had had a shitty day himself before your talk.

10:02am - text to Art

Did I ever mention I love you living here??

Sitting proudly in the fridge, in between Patrick’s abandoned pasta and your pathetic amount of cheese, was a plate of strawberry and kiwi pancakes. You looked at the pile of washing up and noticed essence of strawberry still dripping from the chopping board next to a whisk and bowl.

‘God damn…’ you actually moaned aloud at the first bite. Not only were they delicious but they’d been made especially for you for no reason. No one had ever made you breakfast before, unless you counted the time Patrick threw a box of muffins at your head to wake you up for school. It often didn’t take a great amount of effort to impress you, something maybe a therapist needed to hear about, but you felt justified being impressed with Art for this. They were truly wonderful.

10:20am - text from Art

Come thank me in person if you want, Liam is taking another break

You couldn’t help but smile at his little dig at Liam, whether intentional or not it told you everything you needed to know: Art was the better player. Art was always the better player, he usually wiped the floor with anyone who wasn’t Patrick.

It was only a twenty minute walk to Stanford and although you were ashamed to admit it … you had nothing better to do on a Saturday morning. You decided to pack your laptop, so you could kid yourself that this was a productive thing and not just an excuse to watch Art sweat. The damn thing wouldn’t even get opened and you knew it.

It was a hot day, even for Summer it was unforgiving. You pulled at your tank top, attempting to negate any sweat stains by leaving a gap between your wet skin and the thin fabric. No such luck, the car window reflection of yourself showed you the harsh reality. How did Art do it? How did he look sexy whilst sweating? You felt like a drowned dog, heaving and panting in the back of a muggy car trying to see past the drops of sweat in your lashes.

You reached Stanford earlier than you expected and to your great satisfaction, saw no Art present. That gave you ample time to tidy yourself up in the toilets before meeting him. The college had crisp air con, much better than the pathetic excuse for a fan you and Patrick would crowd round on hot days.

Art didn’t text you directions because he didn’t need to. He knew you’d visited Patrick enough times to know your way around all the tennis courts, hard or otherwise. It didn’t take you long to find the right one.

‘Fuck!’

You scanned the indoor courts for the source of the outburst. Art, third court from the left and he was not happy. For a moment you teetered on your feet, unsure if it was better to wait a bit before interfering with their clearly tense match. Before you could make a decision however-

‘Y/N!’

Liam spotted you, putting his racket down immediately to wave you over. He’d once gotten drunk and told Patrick how much he liked you but that it had been so long ago that you’d almost forgotten and his new girlfriend was a tennis star. On the ‘up and up’ as Patrick’s dad would say.

Although Liam’s hug was intense, sweaty and pretty uncomfortable you were too focused on Art to cringe. He was rubbing his face with his hands, looking more pained than you’d ever seen him. You didn’t know why. He’d been playing well before you arrived.

Noticing the object of your frown, Liam suddenly grinned even wider. ‘He just lost the third set.’ Art took a large swig of water, not noticing the way you stared in awe at the angle of his jaw and the wet curls on his forehead. He was too focused on the racket he was clutching fiercely enough to force the veins of his forearm to pull your attention.

‘I know it’s not over yet,’ Liam panted slightly, clearly Art had still run him ragged. ‘But this never happens - never.’ In the years they’d played together, Liam had never beaten Art. Not in singles or doubles. Not on hard court. Not on clay or grass. Never. You were not convinced, however, that poor Liam had never won a set before so you voiced your opinion without thinking.

‘Art, you can still win. It’s fine!’

Art shot you a glare. It didn’t last long but it burned you a little, the intensity of it. He wanted so badly for you to be right, for it to not matter to him. ‘It’s just a game’ well it wasn’t to Art. It was his entire future and if he lost - if he lost ever - it was him throwing that future away.

‘You’ll win the fourth.’ You smiled, reassuringly. That lifted Art a little and bruised his partner.

‘I thought we were stopping for a bit since Y/N’s here.’ Art watched your face for a reaction, daring you to decide for the three of them. Without removing your eyes from Art you smiled. ‘No, no. I’ll watch.’

You watched them play for another hour and a half. Art just won the fourth set, by the narrowest of margins but that gave him the confidence boost he badly needed to destroy Liam in the fifth. Th-wack! Smash. Th-wack! Slice. Th-wack! Topspin. You were honestly confused why Liam bothered serving. If it had been you - well - let’s just say the floor would have made a more than sufficient bed. It was certainly making a sufficient seat for you to watch Liam get massacred. God was Art good.

‘You win…’ Liam was dripping, his white shirt almost see-through. ‘I need a sec…’ So did you. It was practically a workout just watching them. You clapped as Art walked over to you, looking very satisfied with his win. ‘You happy now?’

‘Very.’

As Liam rung out his shirt, Art gestured to the court with his racket. ‘You and me. One game.’ His eyes were full of amusement.

‘Ha.’

You’d die.

‘One set?’ He smirked, desperate for you to humour him. Not today. ‘Absolutely not.’ You laughed, standing up.

‘Actually, I’d love lunch right now,’ Liam’s suggestion was a necessity. ‘After a shower.’ And so was his afterthought. They both needed one desperately. Art’s hair didn’t even look blonde anymore.

‘Yeah you two go, I’ll wait then we can get food. I’m not super hungry but I can always eat.’

Liam was already rushing to the showers, practically leaving a pool of loser evidence behind him but Art heard. He looked like he was waiting for something from you and for a moment, in your haze, you wondered what. Oh!

‘The pancakes,’

‘Hm.’

‘De-licious.’

‘Good.’

You could tell he was happier with your compliment than he was letting on. The truth was Art craved praise, mostly for tennis but for anything he accomplished. It didn’t matter if he’d made a three tier cake, organised a trip or won every set in a match he wanted to know he’d done good.

‘Seriously, how did you even find the recipe?’ The two of you walked together out of the hall. ‘I’ve been asking the staff for years, pretty sure they hate me now actually.’

‘I have my ways.’ He grinned. ‘Now, I’m gonna go shower-‘

‘Good, you stink.’

‘Fuck off.’

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn

#art donaldson slow burn #art donaldson friends to lovers #art donaldson fan fic #challengers art donaldson x reader #challengers art donaldson #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson x reader #no.42 #Mike faist #challengers #slow burn #art donaldson fanfiction #x reader

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klausysworld · 2 years ago

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hello love I wanted to ask you for an image with yandere klaus mikaelson, where he enters y/n's room at night and leaves her gifts and watches her sleep, while gently caressing her face, and enters her mind and is surprised that she Is having a dream about him

Dream of kisses

Klaus had been going to see her nightly for weeks, months.

Always needing to see her, check she’s okay and to leave her a little token of his love.

Flowers were a constant, always decorating her room and he always noticed how she kept them growing-like his love for her.

She was a part of the Mystic Falls gang and they’ve had many interactions, it was so easy to fall for her. She was never so rude to him like the others, didn’t look at him as though he were scum of the earth or leave as soon as he entered the room.

He found himself inching towards her as often as possible, seeing how close he could get to her before she seemed uncomfortable.

But then he noticed she was kind to everyone. Was he not special to her?

A stupid idea obviously, she would be as in love with him as he is her.

That’s why she frames the anonymous poetry he leaves for her each week. Words elegantly written about her beauty both inside and out.

It quickly escalated to leaving her earrings and bracelets, necklaces and rings. One ring so closely replicated an engagement ring, and so happened to only fit on her ring finger.

She always deserved the best and he made sure she had it.

In need of some new summer clothing? Fabulous because Klaus just so happened to have accidentally bought a whole wardrobe in her size.

Is it chilly? Not an issue, have a new coat.

And his heart only grew more when he saw her wearing it, when she walked around in the little shorts and frilly top he chose for her, the sandals and necklace to go with it.

He sometimes topped up her hair products and always had her food fully stocked. She shouldn’t have to lift a finger. He went as far to clean and tidy her house in the night, he didn’t want her to have to stress now did he? No no a princess shouldn’t have to clean her own kitchen, not when she has him.

And yet when he made advances on her, she never seemed to pick up on them, was she entirely oblivious to all his effort to make her life easier? Did she not want to marry him, a lifetime of him taking care of her and loving her?

His hope was beginning to chip away.

But yet again he sat next to her on her bed, hand on her face as he caressed her soft skin gently. His eyes studied her closely, loving how calm she made him as she breathed against his hand. His fingers brushed over her lips, her tongue darting out to wet them and catching his finger pads. His eyes darkened over as she hummed softly to herself.

His head tilted as her mouth twitched into a small smile, her hand holding the duvet close to her.

His head moved to place the back of it to her forehead

“Lets have a look hm?” He murmured before diving into her dreams.

He waited for the haze to wear off.

His eyes squinting to see what was happening, he could see a ballroom, there were many people there all in extraordinary outfits and dancing perfectly.

Then he spotted her, now normally he would go and pretend to be apart of the dream and ask to cut in but then he saw he was already apart of this dream.

He was already holding her hand, her other in the crook of his neck as he lead her through the music. Her cheeks resembled a red a rose as he whispered whatever he was saying to her and her smile had grown as she leaned closer, her chest against him as she listened intently to his every word. He watched as his lips skimmed over the shell of her ear and she shuddered, pushing against him.

He pulled out of her head, his mind buzzing as her lips had parted in her sleep a small moan leaving her lips. He hoped his dream self had kissed her-or better yet she kissed him.

He smoothed down her hair as he leant forward to press his lips to the corner of her mouth, delighted with her response as she moved her face to capture his mouth with hers. He grunted int surprise but kissed her all the same, unable to help himself as she panted into his mouth. Her lips were so soft, her tongue so gentle as it timidly danced with his.

After a long few minutes he pulled away, seeing her chest rise and fall unevenly and her back arched. He kissed her lips once more and then the top of her head before taking a few steps back, his face flushed and mouth hung open as he struggled to think of anything other than her.

He quickly put the new charms for her bracket on the band before hurrying on home, his pants tented and mind fuzzy.

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genericpuff · 9 months ago

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Hey puff you have a day job right? How do you keep the motivation/discipline to create comics regularly and be an active blogger?

I've mentioned this a few times before and generally try to be as transparent as possible as I can when it comes to my real life circumstances and how they affect - and allow - my comic production schedule, because when it comes right down to it, I'm in a very privileged position that allows me certain luxuries that other comic creators simply don't have. And I don't really like the idea of someone seeing what I do and like... thinking that's a bar they have to meet because it often comes with a complete misinterpretation of what circumstances I'm in that may vary extremely from their own. Y'all are seeing a tip of a very large iceberg, y'know?

I do have a day job, I work as a tattoo artist, however my schedule is very much my own to control and while that comes with a lot of pressure to find my own work, it also allows for me to have flexibility with my other projects. That said, I'm only able to be that flexible because when I'm making money, I'm making really decent money (and with far less hours than I would need to make my living if I was working in retail still) and when I'm not, I've got a partner who makes a more consistent living that may have a much smaller hourly than what I get hourly for tattooing, but is still a decent hourly compared to minimum wage that he's able to handle bills while I get back on my feet (and there have been tons of times where our situations have been reversed, where I've been making good money and he's been needing extra help; it's honestly kind of some cosmic prank, the two of us can never seem to be doing financially well at the same time lmao)

Right now, we're just starting to come out of a slow winter season, so I've had more time than ever to sink into my personal projects. It does get stressful at times having such inconsistent payouts through the ebbs and flows of tattooing, but I try to be at peace with those slow seasons because it allows me to work on my passion projects. Especially when I've got not one, not two, but three separate tattoo expos (so far) to do this summer, which is gonna be (hopefully) three separate 30 hour weekends of straight tattooing haha And while I say hopefully (because yay good money and good publicity!) it's also gonna be extremely stressful and exhausting so I'm trying not to take the slower season for granted, because I know I'll be wishing for it again when I'm in the midst of it. And that's not even including all the other events I have booked this year that are purely for vendoring (so unrelated to tattooing) that are also gonna be crazy.

That said, the past couple years have felt particularly hard, but I know it's because we're unfortunately in the midst of a massive economic recession that has seen people spending less on luxury things - and that includes tattoos. But my comics and other personal projects give me a great outlet for my ideas and thoughts, and while projects like Rekindled are unfortunately not something I feel comfortable monetizing, they are ultimately projects that bring me a lot of joy and I think that's the best I can ask for nowadays while I wait in the hopes that things get better soon in the real world.

As for getting that motivation/discipline, I don't really have one solid answer. The reality is just that I've been doing this for a long, long time, so not drawing comics feels like not doing any other established good habit. What you may feel wondering how I manage to work so long on a single comic project with such hefty updates is undoubtedly pretty close to what I feel wondering how the fuck people manage to go to the gym LOL It's taken a lot of routine building and repetition and it's as natural as breathing to me at this point, I just feel gross when I've gone a day without drawing comics in some form. That routine has helped me get better and faster at creating as well. When I started my first long-form comic series, I started out just drawing a page a day - often taking 3-4 weeks to complete a chapter - and by the time it was done 7 years later, I was putting out a chapter a week. And then that turned into 60-90 panels of full color art a week... nah, I don't recommend anyone do that on their own like I did, I can't even do that anymore and looking back I'm in shock how I was able to pull that off, and not in an amazed "why can't I do that anymore, I used to be so awesome!" way, but more in a "oh god why did I do that to myself, no wonder I'm burnt out" way.

And honestly that's kind of the reality of it, while I'm putting out consistent updates of Rekindled that are in full color and are - in my opinion - some of the best work I've put out in the last few years, I'm also struggling to rebuild habits with my original project because I've simply fallen out of practice. I'm one person responsible for all the work I've put out, and yet when it comes to looking at the projects I still have sitting on the backburner, I still feel a sort of internalized version of Person A looking at Person B and asking "how the hell do you do it???" just like you're asking me now lol I'm working on it though and trying to get back to it little by little, day by day. On rare occasions I actually get something productive done and make progress LOL

That said, none of it has come without consequences. I've spent the majority of my artistic journey working on the same project which I feel has severely stunted my outreach and set me back in my growth; after all, we only ever see and judge the merit of webcomic projects based on the 1% of people who got lucky and achieved some semblance of fame and recognition out of it, you never see the people who have spent years still picking away at the same project from the bottom with little to show for it besides the work that's going unseen. I've also already got way more back and hip pain than one should have by their late 20's and that's definitely a consequence of spending so many hours every single day working on comics. As much as I've built some great habits that have made my comics and art better, I've also ended up with some very bad ones that a lot of people don't see because all they see is the results from the good ones. So that's something that I hope I can at least warn people about, even as a reminder to stand up and stretch every now and then and get their proper amount of sleep LMAO

And then when it comes to the blogging... I'm an AuDHD person with a lot to say and I can type at 137/wpm. So that's all there is to that ♡( ◡‿◡ )

#ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore rekindled #lore rekindled ama

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miryum · 1 year ago

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Okay okay okay I feel like a genius and I know this is a lot and I’m so so sorry I just think it’s make a really compelling story!

Princess!reader is betrothed to Arthur. Neighbouring kingdoms with palaces very close together (this is important I promise). She’s like six months younger than him and it’s been set up since she was born. So she arrives at the palace, looking absolutely stunning, and she’s terrified. To his credit Arthur is very nice, very sweet. He shows her around, introduces her to people, makes sure she’s comfortable, etc..

But how could she possibly be looking at him when the middle brother is the same young boy she would secretly meet over the summer, the first boy she ever liked, kissed, and danced with around the forest before they both grew up? The boy she always thought she’d marry? The boy who is now sneaking into her chambers to kiss her absolutely breathless.

The same boy she still loves…

@bright-shiningstar I am SO SORRY that this didn't come out sooner, but every single time I looked at this request it literally made me squeal out loud, so I had to make sure it was perfect!! I think I rewrote it at least five times, so I hope you like the finished product! Thank you so much for requesting!

Buddies in the F1 world: @hey-kae @vinvantae

Warnings: Some swearing, probably some grammatical errors

Day 0

“Y/n, do you remember the Leclerc’s?” Your parents had sat you down after dinner.

“Yes, has the agreement gone through?” Your parents had spent most of your life drafting a treaty with the Leclerc’s, offering your hand in marriage as a staple. Prince Lorenzo was married to a young queen of a neighbouring kingdom, joining the two realms. Prince Charles was deemed too old for you. So that left the youngest. Now that you were old enough, the treaty was solidified.

“We got confirmation today,” your mother said, smiling proudly. She was so pleased to see her eldest daughter married off. “Prince Arthur is officially your fiancé!”

Your younger sister leaned into your side, trying to be a rock of comfort. You weren’t completely angry about being forced into marriage (the few times you had visited the Leclerc patriarch and matriarch, they had been kind and enchanting to you. You had no reason to think that their sons would be any different.) but you were petrified. You would be moving away from your family and home. You didn’t know what lay in front of you.

“And you’re leaving tomorrow…” your mother tied the strings of your distress.

“What?” Your sister, Megan, cried out. She latched onto you, pulling you close. “That’s not fair! Why can’t she stay for another week?”

“Because the wedding is in a week,” your father explained. “The Leclerc’s have it all set up. Luckily, they’re kind enough to give you a week to acclimate yourself to their family. Chin up, darling,” he said to you. “This is a joyous occasion.”

“I mean, I would’ve preferred the middle son,” your mother whispered. “More status and closer in line for the throne, but the youngest is acceptable.” Your father rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you retire for the night?” your father prompted you. “You need to look your best tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon!” Your sister dragged you away from your parents. “I thought I would get more time with you.” She hummed sadly.

“Megan, it’ll be alright. I’ll make sure you’re invited to the wedding.” You felt odd reassuring her, wondering if it should be the other way around.

“Oh, that’s right,” Megan groaned. “You’ll be Princess Y/n Leclerc in a week. That doesn’t sound right at all.”

“Why don’t we have a sleepover, hm?” You needed to distract Megan with something else, otherwise her worries would double your anxiety and stress. “Just like old times.”

“Yes!” Megan squealed and ran ahead of you. Her slippers padded down the hall. “I’ll grab my pillow!”

You grasped at this moment of silence to try and calm your racing heart. Unbeknownst to your parents and sister, the marriage to Prince Arthur wasn’t the biggest of your concerns. Your breathing was uneven and you palmed your eyes, getting rid of any semblance of tears.

Were you ready to see Charles again?

***

You couldn’t breathe. Tears and snot obscured your face and clogged your airways. The rational part of you that would’ve been saying, someone would realise you were missing and come find you, was drowned in your fears of, oh my gosh I’m going to die alone and have to spend my few remaining days eating tree bark!

You weren’t sure how you had run this far, but you were sure it was to be your doom. If only you had stopped by the stables to grab your pony, Newt. If only you hadn’t strayed from the path. If only you had turned around once the sun started to set.

Internally chastising yourself, you sat down at the base of a tree. You knew that yelling would be no use and you should probably conserve your energy. You wished that you had paid more attention to those survival lessons the knights had taught you.

“Um, excuse me?”

Your head shot up at the sound. “Who’s there?” you called out, jumping to your feet.

“My name is Charles,” the young voice explained. You couldn’t see the owner. “Are you alright? I heard someone crying.”

“Where are you?” you demanded to know.

A boy, a couple years older than you, maybe seven or eight, stepped out from behind a tree. “Hi,” he said, smiling. He wanted to show he wasn’t a threat. “Can I help you? You seem lost.”

“Yes, I am!” You couldn’t help a new onslaught of tears. “I was walking and I guess I took a wrong turn? Are your parents somewhere around here? It’s almost dark and I need to get back.”

“My parents are at home.” Charles prompted, “but I can walk you home?”

“I don’t want you to get lost, too.” You shook your head. “Can I come with you back to your village? I’m sure there’s transportation I could find.”

“Oh, no.” Charles shrugged, causally leaving out the part that he was a prince, and if he wanted, could snap his fingers and order a ride home for you. “It’s alright. I know this forest like the back or my hand. Where do you live?”

“Uh…” You wiped your nose on your dress. “I live at the L/n castle.”

“That’s not far away at all!” Charles smiled and you grinned back, already infected by his charms. “Did you know this forest is actually the border of Enza and Haas? I don’t live that far away, either. Do you know about the Leclerc’s?”

“Yeah, my- the King and Queen,” you corrected yourself quickly. “They’re friends with them.” You weren’t sure why your five-year-old self wasn’t telling this new friend that you were royalty. Maybe you didn’t want to scare him away?

“My family’s house is right next to their palace,” Charles said.

“We’re practically neighbours!” You stood up and beamed.

“Can I walk you home, neighbour?” Charles giggled at his joke. You nodded and grasped his hand in the trusting way only children can.

It turned out that the Enza palace and the Haas castle weren’t far away from each other. Once the pair of new friends realised this, they made plans to meet up more often. At the Haas gates, you made sure Charles would be safe and get home quickly. He reassured you that he had explored the forest for hours and would never get lost. He promised to meet you the next day at the clearing where you had met so you knew he wasn’t being mauled to death by a pack of wolves.

Little did you know that a great friendship and a great love was suddenly born.

Day 1

“Y/n. Y/n.” Megan placed a hand on your bouncing leg. “You're practically shaking the whole carriage. I know you’re nervous, and this is an awful thing to say, but maybe try to hide it?”

“Sweetheart, what I believe your sister is saying, is ‘calm down’.” Your father held a piece of parchment and peered over it at you. “This is nothing to worry about.”

“Your father and I had the exact same disposition when we were your age,” your mother smiled softly at you. “I know the uncertainty you’re feeling, but trust me, it will get better.”

No it won’t, mom! You wanted to scream at her, how will it get better if the boy I used to love is living in the same palace as me?!

“I’m sure it will,” you said. A minute or so passed with Megan trying to fill the space with meaningless conversation.

“Wait, wait!” The carriage passed a grove of trees that looked eerily familiar. “Stop! Stop the horses!” Your cries turned frantic and banged on the side of the carriage. Sticking your head out the window, you repeated your demand. The driver yanked on the reins and before it came to a complete stop, you jumped out.

“Y/n! Where are you going?” Megan shuffled to get out after you, tripping on her dress.

“Y/n, get back here!” Your mother cursed, yelling towards Megan, “get her back here, Megan! We’ll be late!”

You wanted to rip off your dress. It was scratching at your body and snagged on branches and twigs as you ran. You needed to make sure it was still there. Then you would go back to your family. But you just had to be sure.

“Y/n!” Megan groaned in frustration as her high-heel got caught on a tree root. She tugged on it and cried out, “You cannot simply leave!”

“Please, just give me a moment!” you called back. The forest easily came back to you. It felt like a force was pulling you towards the clearing.

“Do you wanna play hide and seek?” You sat on the grass, watching a nine-year-old Charles throw a ball up into the air and catch it. And then throw it back up. And catch it.

“Really?” Charles groaned. “That’s such a baby thing to do.”

“Hey!” You kicked him in the ribs. He yelled out and squirmed away. “First off, I am not a baby! And second, you’re not being very entertaining right now. I’m trying to think of things to do.” Other than having to sneak away from the castle, a hard thing about being friends with Charles was the age gap. He was entering a stage in life where he was determined to be cool and stoic and you sometimes wondered if he regretted his friendship with a little girl.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, offering a pitiful apology.

“Well, if you’re not going to talk to me, then I’ll just go back home.” You stood and slowly shuffled over to Newt, who was tied up by Charles’ horse, Scuderia.

“Y/n, wait.” Charles suddenly appeared behind you and grabbed your arm. “I’m sorry, really. It’s rude of me to ignore you. We can play hide-and-seek.”

“No, you’re right,” you conceded. “It’s a little too childish. Wanna just talk?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m cool with that.” Charles couldn’t help the smile that overcame him. He didn’t know much about Y/n L/n’s personal life, but he definitely knew that you were one of his best friends.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing?!” Megan plucked a twig out of her hair.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, collapsing to the ground. The tree stood in front of you and the clearing still looked picturesque. It was where you had met with Charles all those times all those years ago. You wondered if you initials were still there or if the tree had scabbed over them. You didn’t want to check.

“What do you mean? Y/n, you can’t back out now. Mother will not allow it. Think of the Enzan royal family. This will ruin our relationship with them.” Megan crouched down next to you, sweeping your hair out of your face. You silently wondered how she matured so quickly.

“Megan, it would be better if this was a faceless prince that I had no connection to.”

“Is it not?”

“No, I-” You sighed. “Nevermind. Let’s go. I’m sorry.”

After a tense carriage ride that consisted of your mother berating you for running off and you apologising profusely but not giving any explanation of why, the Enza palace came into view.

“Stand tall, good posture, don’t speak unless spoken to, and let your father and I handle the political aspects,” your mother reminded you. She swept your hair back into place and ran her fingers along the creases of your dress. She huffed at the dirt stains courtesy of the forest floor. “It’ll have to do. Now, come along.” A footman sprung open the carriage door and your father stepped down to victorious trumpets. He helped your mother down and the footman offered his hand to Megan who took it graciously. You refused the footman’s hand, jumping down on your own.

“Y/n, you look dejected,” Megan whispered to you.

“And that’s because I am.” You clutched your dress and Megan huffed, wrestling your hand away. You understood her gestures and held out your arm. Megan took it and led you closer to the Enza royal family.

“Look up,” your mother whispered. “At least look at your husband.” But it wasn’t your husband that drew your eyes. There, on the steps, was Charles Leclerc, or Charlie.

“Do you like anyone, chérie?” Charles felt odd asking this. Wasn’t it always the girls who had to be obsessed with crushes and who-liked-who? Why was he bringing this up?

“Uh… why do you ask?” You were eleven and it was weird to discuss this with a fourteen-year-old boy.

You weren’t sure how your feelings for Charles started. You guessed that because he was the only boy even remotely close to your age that you saw, it was bound to happen.

“I don’t know,” Charles mumbled. “My older brother’s seeing someone and my younger one is now obsessed with girls. I wanted to know if you’re also caught up in this lovey-dovey stuff.”

“Is it bad if I am?” You were afraid that Charles would ridicule and tease you for being swept up in the romance that was apparently ruining the continent. Even your sister gushed about a stable boy that she was infatuated with.

“No, chérie,” Charles said slowly. “I just need to know if there’s another guy I need to compete with.”

You laughed and said, “Don’t worry, Charlie. You’ll always be my number one.”

“Good,” Charles tried to hide his smile. The butterflies in his stomach made it harder. Charlie. You called him Charlie. It was like you were trying to intoxicate him in this new thing called love.

***

When Charles heard your name for the first time in three years, he froze. And to hear it directed at his younger brother, no less.

But when he saw you, time stopped.

You hadn’t changed much over the three years, albeit your hair was a styled different and the way you carried yourself had stiffened. He desperately wanted to run up to you and kiss you until you both saw stars. He wanted to fold you in his arms and never let you go. He had lost you once and he wasn’t going to let that happen again. At least with you marrying his brother he would be able to see you. If he couldn’t touch you, seeing you would be enough. It would be torture, having you just within reach but unable to hold you, but it would be worse to not see you at all.

It had been torture all these years.

He cursed Arthur for being the youngest. If Charles had been born just after his youngest brother, he could’ve had you for himself. He cursed his heart. It wasn’t fair to fall for someone he could never have. He wondered if his parents would try to marry him off too. He wondered if he could marry someone while you were in his home. For certain, he could never love anyone as much as he loved you. Would he stay single his entire life, watching you and his brother grow old together? Would he marry someone in a loveless marriage? Or could something else happen that changed it all….?

And then you looked at him.

Sparks ignited in his body. Then you looked at his brother. His heart was cleaved in two. Right. You weren’t there for him. He had to remember that or he would torture himself into oblivion. He already was torturing himself. Charles didn’t know if it would be better to avoid you or indulge himself in your presence.

His father started talking to your father and Charles noticed Arthur stepping forward to greet you. Your mother pinched your side and Charles’ jaw clenched. From your stories, he didn’t like your mother, but this only solidified his opinion.

Charles felt Lorenzo’s stare on him- the only person who knew about his rendezvous with you. Charles plastered on a smile and stayed stock-still.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he heard Arthur say to you.

“You as well.” Your voice was just as he remembered, if not more formal. You never spoke that way to him. Your words were always filled with laughter- not diplomacy.

“May I give you and your sister a tour of our home?” Arthur proposed.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Megan detached yourself from your arm so you could walk with Arthur, your sister trailing behind. You brushed past him, holding your gaze forward. It would only pain you more to see him.

“Charles, you need to talk to her,” Lorenzo whispered harshly to him. “It won’t do anyone good to have you sadly avoiding her. Arthur can’t have his wife and his brother looking lovelorn without knowing the cause.”

“Arthur can never know,” Charles growled. “It would make things worse.”

“He doesn’t need to know if you and Princess Y/n work things out before the wedding,” Lorenzo persisted.

Charles took a breath and finally said, “I’ll think about it, alright?”

Day 3

Arthur had spent yesterday showing you around the Leclerc palace and luckily, it was of similar design to the Haas castle. Megan had left with a tearful goodbye, promising to visit a day before the wedding to help you prepare. Your mother left you with a kiss on the cheek and your father had hugged you tightly.

You had spent the third day in your new room, handmaidens helping you unpack and commission new dresses for you. The Steward and Housekeeper had sat you down, giving you an overview of what the wedding would entail and the customs of Enzan marriages and politics. Of course, you already knew most of it as your mother had begun drilling it into you at an early age.

You had collapsed into bed after they had gone, too tired to join the Leclerc’s for dinner or even change out of your dress. Yet you still couldn’t find purchase in sleep. It just wouldn’t come.

It was late at night when a knock resounded on your door. You slowly peeled yourself off the bed- which didn’t feel at all like your own- and said, “Come in.”

“Hi,” Charles softly said.

“Oh. Hi.” You straightened up and bowed your head in a form of a curtsy.

“Don’t- don’t do that.” Charles shook his head. “I was never your superior.”

You stood silently for a while, the awkwardness resounding. It seemed like a chasm was between you two.

“I’ve missed you,” Charles admitted carefully.

“I missed you too,” you said. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“Yeah,” Charles chuckled uncomfortably and you joined him. “And to see you with my brother, no less.” Your laughter stopped immediately and you looked at the ground. “Right,” Charles swallowed harshly. He couldn’t seem to unstick that lump in his throat. “Sorry. I’m sorry. For it all. I should’ve never ended-”

“I forgave you a long time ago, Charlie,” you admitted. A wave of relief passed over his face and it looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. In one sudden movement, you tumbled forward and engulfed the boy in a hug. Charles swept his arms around you, reciprocating immediately. It felt nice to have you in his arms again. It felt like home. He pressed you closer to him, inhaling. Charles placed a soft kiss to your hairline, mumbling about all the times he missed you.

“Charles? Can you promise me something?” you asked.

“Anything.”

“Can you promise to never leave me alone again?” Your voice sounded so small and for the third time today, you unintentionally broke his heart.

“I’m sorry, chérie. I never meant to leave you alone in the first place. But yes, I promise to always stay by your side from now on.”

“Even though I’m betrothed to-”

“Don’t talk about that, please.” Charles shook his head.

“Okay,” you conceded. “But what will we do? Charlie, I still love-”

Charles cut you off with an Earth-shattering kiss. His hands circled around your lower back, gripping you even closer- if that was possible. You circled your hands around his neck, running them over his shoulders and down his torso. Every dip and curve was like you remembered. His kiss was just like you remembered.

“Charles?” The newly eighteen-year-old hummed in response and you glanced over at his figure. He was laying on a soft pitch of grass that was illuminated by a stream of sunlight that broke through the trees. His eyes were closed and a small smile graced his lips, showcasing one of his dimples. He had obviously been working out, and he had nicely grown into his body. He was wearing a loose tunic that highlighted his arms. The curve of his muscles made your heart jump a little quicker. You loved these moments with him alone, and you would be damned if your title of royalty got in the way. “Have you ever thought about growing up?”

“Sure I have,” Charles said. “What about it?”

Your brows settled into a frown. “My parents have started talking to me about marriage.”

“Already?” Charles opened one eye to find you already looking at him. Your hands were clasped over your stomach and fiddled together with anxiety. “You have a few more years.”

“Yes, but they want to lock down a husband before it’s too late,” you explained. “Apparently, I’m already betrothed. I just don’t know to whom.”

“You’re already married?!” Charles sat up on an elbow, looking incredulously at you.

“No,” you scoffed. “It’s synonymous with being engaged.”

“Geez,” Charles exhaled and laid back down. “I didn’t realise I was pining after a practically married woman.”

“Excuse me?!”

Charles smirked. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner, chérie. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one in this relationship.”

“Charlie.” The nickname made his facade drop and his heart rate rise. Was it all a big mistake? Did he just throw away this coveted friendship that he had worked so hard to cultivate? “Are you serious?”

“As serious as death,” Charles whispered.

“Death?” You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape. “Couldn’t you choose another word? Death sounds so cruel.”

“What other word would you like me to use to express my love for you?” Charles joined in your laughter, and once again, you relished in the sound.

“I don’t care.” You rolled onto your side and Charles copied your actions, taking your hand in his. His fingers tapped over yours as if planning out the wedding dance. “Just so long as I can say it back.”

It was all you could imagine for a first kiss.

You gasped, pulling back from the boy you loved. “Charlie, I can’t do this. I- I’m about to marry your brother, for goodness sake! I can’t be kissing you and- and-”

“I know, chérie, I know,” Charles stepped back and he instantly missed your touch. “But I love you too. And I can’t bear seeing you so close, but knowing I can’t feel and love you. It hurts. It hurts being away from you.”

“Charlie… we can’t.” It pained you to say it, but it was true. You weren’t about to be the type of person who cheated on their husband with their brother. Even if it was for love, you still had morals.

“You’re not married yet,” Charles tried to smile. “Let me come to your room at night. Just to talk to you. Just to be around you. We’re still best friends, are we not?”

You chuckled sadly. “You always find a way to bend the rules, huh, Charlie?”

“For you, I’d do anything.”

Day 4

“I wish we could have met under better circumstances,” Arthur admitted. “You’re an incredibly nice girl and I have a feeling we would’ve made good friends. I mean, we’ll still make good friends, but what I’m trying to say-”

You let out a light laugh. “I get it, Arthur. I think we’ll make good friends too.”

“How are you adjusting?” your fiancé asked. “Are you comfortable? How’s your room? We can repaint it, or redecorate if you wish?”

“Arthur!” You chuckled at the boy’s concern. “Everything is perfectly fine! Thank you. You’re making this transition much easier.”

“Well, I want to make sure my future wife enjoys herself,” Arthur shrugs. You stilled at his words. “And I wanted to introduce you to some of my friends. Maybe they could become your friends too?”

“Sure,” you agreed. Arthur proceeded to lead you around the palace, presenting you to a series of guards, dukes and duchess, butlers and maids. You met Earl Carlos, Duke Pierre, Baron Daniel, Knight Max, Lady Carla, and attendees such as Lily, Lewis and his daughter, Lando, Sara, and Esteban. They all seemed extremely accommodating and pleased to meet you. Everyone promised to help you through your time in Enza and to be loyal to their new princess. Arthur hovered a hand over your lower back the entire time, and as much as you appreciated the gesture, it didn’t feel the same as Charles’ touch.

“Arthur?” Like you had summoned him, Charles appeared behind you. “Mother and Father are requesting your presence in the throne room. It’s about finalising the formalities for… your wedding.”

“Yes, of course,” Arthur nodded. “Can you keep Princess Y/n company, Charles?”

“Anything, brother.” Charles clapped Arthur on the shoulder. “Did I ever congratulate the two of you?”

Arthur’s brow twitched and you wondered if he could also see the buried sadness in Charles’ eyes. “No, but I’ll gladly take it now.”

“Well, congratulations. You’re lucky Maman and Papa found you a good one.”

“Yes, I am.” Arthur pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to your cheek before rushing off to his parents. Agonous jealousy was splayed on Charles face the moment Arthur turned away.

“I don’t know how many times I can say this in four days, but I’ve missed you,” Charles said, a sweet, awkward smile on his face as he shoved his hands in his pockets, stepping towards you. “Whenever I’m away from you I miss you.”

“And I don’t know how I’m going to stay away from you if you keep proclaiming your love for me.” You reached out and touched his forearm.

“Then don’t stay away.” Charles wrapped you in a hug and you felt yourself giving in. “I can talk to my parents and I’m sure if we just explain the situation, they’ll understand. We could get married and be together. Arthur could marry a princess from Wolff or whoever he wanted! Y/n, we could-”

“Charlie, my love, what of my parents?” you asked. “They signed an agreement about me and Arthur. Not me and you. As much as I love the situation you’re describing, as much as I love the possibility of being with you, it’s impossible. Unless you can convince my parents otherwise, which is impossible, it’s not going to happen.”

Charles hummed, slowly separating himself from you in fear of someone seeing your embrace. “Then the least I can do is try.”

You tied up Newt, silently counting down the minutes until Charles arrived. The seconds ticked by and you sat down at the base of the tree that had your initials carved into it next to Charles’. You traced Charles’ initials with your finger, still in the euphoria of love. It was only a couple weeks ago that you and Charles had confessed your love for each other and he couldn’t seem to stop saying it whenever he had the chance. It became greeting, conversation starter, and goodbye.

But for some reason, Charles seemed to be late today. As time ticked by, a light mist coated the air. Normally, he was early, even getting to the clearing before you, but you tried not to worry. He probably had some duties to attend to, like you had had a couple weeks ago. You had apologised profusely to Charles, but he had forgiven you with the price of a kiss.

Newt started to get restless after twenty minutes and the mist turned into drizzle. You, now eighteen, fished out an apple to calm him down. It was another fifteen minutes before Scuderia showed up, Charles practically standing in the saddle, rain dripping down his body. “Charles!” You stood up, waving him towards you. Instead of the brilliant grin that usually graced his face whenever he saw you, a frown was burrowed into his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“Chérie,” Charles didn’t even bother to tie Scuderia up before bundling you in his arms and peppering kisses to your forehead, temples, cheeks, and nose. He twirled you around so his arms were crossed in front of you, cradling you, and started kissing your neck, collarbone, and earlobes.

“Charlie,” you laughed lightly. “What are you doing?”

“My chérie, mon amour, I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to end like this.”

“Charles,” you spun around in his arms, taking his face in your hands. You gently caressed his cheek in an attempt to calm him down. “You’re scaring me. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I love you, you know that, right?” Charles assured you. You nodded along. “Then you have to believe me when I say it pains me that I can’t meet you here anymore.”

“What?” Your heart dropped and your stomach twisted. “Why?”

“My mom and dad are getting suspicious, chérie. I think they know I’m meeting a girl out in the forest,” Charles tried to explain it to you but you just became more confused with every word. “I’ve already turned down one marriage proposal and they’ll get frustrated if I turn down another.”

“You’ve done what?” You stepped back from him and Charles’ hands reached out, trying to keep you close to him. You backed up, away from him, until you could feel Newt at your back. “You never told me about that.”

“I didn’t think it was important,” Charles argued. “But what I’m trying to say is that I think it’s best if we take a pause on the meetings for now. My parents are already breathing down my neck and it doesn’t help that you’re betrothed. Lorenzo found out about you and I’m worried what will happen if someone else does too.”

“Charlie, you turned down a marriage proposal?” You couldn’t wrap your mind around it. “You could’ve had a wife by now? And who cares if Lorenzo knows about me?! I almost- it feels like you’re embarrassed about me?” It came out like a question. You tangled a hand in Newt’s mane, hoping for some sort of stability. “You never cared about my betrothal before this. Why now?” Charles swallowed and you could see a war debating in his mind. “Answer me, Charles,” you demanded. “What happened that made you bring this up?”

Charles took a deep breath and said, “you’re the princess of Haas, aren’t you? It all makes sense. Your betrothal, your outfits, your manner of speaking. I thought you were just a duchess or countess, but no. You’re the princess.”

You weren’t sure how to answer. How did you find out? seemed too accusatory. I thought you knew? was too deflective. What does it matter? was too aggressive. You settled on saying, “yes. And you’re Prince Charles Leclerc. I’ve kind of always known.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charles whispered.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “It never really came up. Some part of me thought you knew- thought you had connected the dots and just accepted it. I didn’t intentionally hide it from you. I’m sorry.”

“Y/n,” Charles started. “I can’t hang out with you anymore.” The beginning of tears pricked at the back of your eyes and your face grew hot. You opened your mouth to say something, but Charles beat you to it. “It’s not proper for us to visit each other outside of the court. If people found out they could…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I’m sorry, my chérie.”

You couldn’t meet his eye, instead focusing on a patch of wilted flowers. “Okay,” is all you could say. “Goodbye, Charles.” Newt’s mane was slick with rain as you climbed on. Your horse seemed to sense your urgency and quickly wove through the trees, leaving Charles behind. You wiped at your eyes, letting Newt take full control. You regretted it when a branch snagged on your arm and you cried out, a line of blood starting to appear. When you returned to the Haas castle, Megan didn’t question it when you collapsed on your bed, instead opting to help you change out of your rain-soaked dress before curling up with you under the covers.

Little did you know, Charles was still sitting in that clearing, silently crying. Scuderia bumped his nose against Charles, but the prince just pushed him away.

Day 6

“So, what’re you going to do about it?” Megan asked.

“Absolutely nothing,” you admitted. “There’s nothing I can do. The treaty has been signed, the preparations are underway, and Arthur…” You sighed before continuing, “he’s really nice. I could envision a future with him.”

“But what about Prince Charles?” Megan sat on your bed, the night before the wedding. You had given in and told her everything. “Can you envision a future with him?”

“I want a future with him.”

A deeper voice whispered, “I want a future with you too.” Charles stood at your door, and peeking out behind him was Arthur.

“Shit,” Megan muttered.

“What are you doing here?” You stood up, eyes flickering to Charles before sheepishly locking eyes with Arthur. “Prince Arthur… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“No, no,” the boy reassured you, his small, anxious smile seeming almost… hopeful. “You’re a wonderful girl and an even better friend, but you’re not who I would’ve chosen to marry. No offence,” he quickly added. “We just don’t click. We don’t have that same spark that you and Charles do. And, well, I kind of have my sights set on someone else. Charles explained it all to me.”

You laughed. “Guess we really are the perfect pair, huh? Both pining after other people.”

“And you after my brother?” Arthur joked, gasping dramatically. “How unfaithfully devious of you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“What does this mean, then?” Megan asked for you. “We can’t just swap Charles out for Arthur at the wedding.”

Arthur grinned and said, “Why not?” He slung an arm around Charles, clapping him on the chest. “Guess you’re getting married, big brother.”

Charles laughed loudly before turning to look at you. “Y/n L/n, will you marry me tomorrow?”

Your lips separated in half shock and half elation. “I- I… yes! Though I admit, I expected something a bit more extravagant.”

“Chérie, I’m just upholding my promise.” Charles opened his arms cheekily and even though you were confused by his words, you fell into them, happy to be able to hold him in the presence of others.

“Hmm?”

“You don’t remember?” He lifted an eyebrow, throwing you his signature smirk.

You tossed a ball to Charles who threw it back. “Anything new in your life?” he asked.

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.”

After a minute of silence Charles said, “Let’s make a deal.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“If, in ten years, we still have the same, boring lives,” You scoffed at his words. “then we get married and make our lives un-boring, together.”

After a moment’s deliberation, it didn’t seem like a bad deal to an eight-year-old. “Okay,” you readily agreed. “But I doubt my life will be boring in ten years.”

“Sure…” Charles snickered at you. “I’ll let you believe that.”

“How can you not remember my completely legitimate marriage proposal?” Charles scoffed quietly, leaning down to bump his forehead against yours.

“Well, pardon me for not remembering something you said thirteen years ago,” you tapped him on the chest.

“How could you not remember a proposal?” Charles asked.

“I would like to know the answer to that as well,” Megan spoke up.

“Well, does it matter as long as I say ‘yes’?”

“No, I guess not,” Charles beamed as he bent down to kiss you.

Day 7

Charles kissed you again, but this time it was in front of an altar, before a crowd, and with you wearing white.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t took much convincing for your parents to understand the situation. Apparently, Charles had stayed true to his word and contacted your parents, explaining everything. Your father was just relieved you were still marrying someone and your mother had always preferred Charles anyway. King and Queen Leclerc, after hearing of the years of meetings you and Charles had shared, were more than thrilled. They were eager for you to join their family and a marriage of love always went better than a marriage of politics.

The wedding was already planned, the chefs already prepping, and the priest already booked. All they needed was to switch out Arthur’s name for Charles’.

“May I present Prince and Princess Leclerc of Enza!” The priest announced to thunderous applause.

“Hello, chérie,” Charles whispered and his nose bumped against yours. “Or should I say, Princess Leclerc?”

“I like that name best,” you grinned.

“I do too,” Charles admitted.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #monarchy au #monarchy #royalty #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #lorenzo leclerce #pascale leclerc #herve leclerc #f1 #formula 1

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hannahssimblr · 7 months ago

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“I have to say, this is an impressive body of work.”

I shift in my seat, “By impressive do you mean that it’s good, or that there’s a lot of it?”

This gets a laugh. “Both,” says the man, Paul, flicking through a sketchbook with tattooed hands, fingers stained from nicotine. I notice things like this now. Hands. I notice their lines and their bones, all their interesting details, and perhaps Paul himself could gauge this now as he pours over my figure studies where there are pages upon pages of hands, old and young, my friends, my sisters at the piano, an old woman clutching at a handrail on the train, and my own, a hundred times in different ways, blisters, plasters, hangnails and bruises from the rugby pitch.

The woman, Ida, shuffles through a stack of watercolour paintings I did last summer, mostly seascapes, the beach and the rushes, the whitewashed houses and rusted iron of the Wexford coast. Just looking at them I can recall the grit of sand under my bare feet as I warmed them on the deck of our holiday home behind my portable easel. In three months I’ll return again for one last summer, and after that I expect I’ll miss it there.

“And you said you didn’t do a portfolio preparation year?” She says, peering over the rim of her glasses.

“No, I’m still at school.”

“Highly unusual for a sixth year,” her eyebrows climb up her forehead, “You've clearly dedicated a lot of time to this.”

I shrug, “Yeah, I like making art, I don’t know.”

It’s difficult to tell what this woman is thinking. Everything about her is harsh, dramatic, from the sharp fringe that sits straight and neat above her brows to the slash of her mouth, thin lips, pointy chin, hard eyes, but I have to assume for the sake of my own self esteem that she doesn’t positively loathe my portfolio. She spends some time looking through my work, slowly, methodically, sometimes leaning closer to frown at something, maybe some proportion that’s off, bad composition, a clumsy attempt at ambient occlusion that doesn’t hit the mark…

“It’s beautiful,” she says simply, and I exhale.

“Oh look, a familiar face,” Paul holds a portrait to Ida, “That’s the girl that we were interviewing a few people before this, what was her name again?”

“Michelle,” I say, “My girlfriend.”

Paul nods, “Michelle, right! Good likeness,” and places the notebook back onto the table. Leaning back in his chair, he cracks his knuckles, “Look, Jude, there’s no two ways about it here, your work is outstanding. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a portfolio that hits every mark, every requirement and goes beyond, I mean,” he lets out a puff of air and gestures to the table, “this is nuts. And for a sixth year? Come on. This stuff would blow some of our third and fourth year college students out of the water.”

I feel like I could melt off the chair with relief, but try to suppress my utter delight so that they don’t think I’m too hungry for validation.

“Cool.”

“It’s the sensitivity,” Ida adds, “Your observation skills, your sense of weight, movement, knowledge of anatomy. It’s rare to see this kind of work from a secondary school student. Your efforts are just… so impressive.”

“And look, we know it depends on your Leaving Cert points, and yeah, that’ll be a contributing factor when it comes to acceptance, but, like,” Paul looks over the table again, tossing his hands up conclusively, “as far as I’m concerned, we’ll see you in September.”

Ida’s mouth curls into a smile, “We hope. If you choose us.”

If I choose them? Am I dreaming? How have I become the kind of person who is coveted by an art school? Surely not. Surely soon I’ll wake up and discover that this whole interview has been a product of my dreams. Too much time spent stressing out over art, the requirements, the brief... Almost certainly I’ve fallen asleep somewhere and none of this is real.

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m glad you liked my stuff.”

“Blown away,” says Paul, and he leaps to his feet to shake my hand like I’ve just won a prize, “all we need is a pass in the Leaving Cert, you can surely manage it.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I do.”

They’re smiling at me as I gather up my work, and still smiling as I give them one last sheepish wave from the door, and I realise I am still smiling too as I face the hallway of waiting students, staring at me with portfolios rested against their knees. I probably shouldn’t look too overjoyed, it might knock their confidence, so I try to look very bored instead as I pass by, though I may explode from the inside out.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #he's back baby #looking cuter than ever #I love hipster era Jude so much??#and c'mon #y'all know what's coming this summer #anyone recognise Ida?

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thedensworld · 1 year ago

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Lover | Kim Mingyu

Officially Dated!

Lover Series🖤🌼

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x Fashion Editor!Reader (ft. Joshua)

Genre: Romance, Angst, Humour, Series

________________________________________

A memory from last week continued to linger in Kim Mingyu's mind. Well, he might have forgotten some details after consuming three and a half bottles of soju, which was his limit. But the fact that he woke up in a hotel room that wasn't his own, shirtless, with you soundly asleep on his arm, was etched into his memory. There was a glimmer of hope when he woke up that morning, finding you beside him, though your baby blue shirt you still wore in your sleep had him slightly disappointed. He had wished for something significant to have happened, a step towards reconciling with you. However, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret that he had hoped for anything other than a genuine, sober reconnection – the kind he truly wanted.

But that was best forgotten for now.

Let's shift our focus to the pivotal moment when you finally mustered the courage to confess your feelings for him. That night stood out as a beacon of light in Mingyu's otherwise busy week. Amidst his hectic work schedule and mounting stress, your presence added a layer of complexity to his thoughts. He wouldn't necessarily say that you were the cause of his stress, but you certainly had him contemplating more than ever before. Since the day you two reconnected after all those years apart, he had found it nearly impossible to stop thinking about you and the emotions that had never truly ceased since their inception. The truth was, he hadn't dated anyone since he met you. And he struggled to pinpoint the reason behind it. Why had he become so irrevocably attached to you?

Your confession from that night continued to play on a loop in his mind. He could vividly recall the excitement that had surged through his veins upon hearing your words, "I also have that feeling, Mingyu. The one you feel.." In that moment, he felt as if he were soaring, carried away to the stars. He had been waiting for that very moment for what felt like an eternity – and it had taken merely three bottles of soju and a dose of honesty for you to reveal your feelings. Mingyu wondered why he had waited so long to hear those words.

In moments of introspection, he pondered this question. Lost in thought, he hardly noticed when his hairstylist posed a question to him. Tonight, he was set to meet you once again. An excitement brewed within him, fueled by the anticipation of encountering you. He knew you would be occupied with the fashion show, but your affirmative response to his text asking, "Are you attending the after party?" provided enough hope to keep his optimism alive throughout the event.

Y/n: Yeah, gotta gain all those blood, sweat, and tears that have already been spent...

He had chosen to wear one of Mrs. Gia's summer/spring collection from the previous year to the fashion show. His attire exuded a natural charm, and his confidence radiated effortlessly. As he entered the venue, the flashing of cameras and the attention from the media greeted him. Among the throng of unfamiliar faces, he was relieved to spot his friend Yugyeom from GOT7. At least, he had a companion to help him navigate his desire to see you.

Wandering his gaze around the venue wasn't a novel practice for Mingyu; he had been doing so since the moment he reconnected with you. Learning about the meticulous preparation that went into orchestrating a fashion show had made him appreciate the efforts of those working behind the scenes even more. While most people focused on the guests and models — besides the clothes, Mingyu had learned to notice the intricate web of creativity that interconnected various elements – concept, visuals, and production – to create a mesmerizing show.

Amidst this thought process, Kim Mingyu's attention was captivated by your presence at the front of the house. Clad in all black, a headset covering your ears, you seemed to effortlessly command the chaos. Your lips moved in sync with your directions, conveyed through the microphone of your headphones. A smile formed on Mingyu's lips as he watched you assume your position, poised and ready to guide the show he was about to witness.

Ironically, the show itself was a blur for Mingyu that night. He found himself captivated not by the runway, but by your charismatic presence as you orchestrated the entire event. Instead of the nervousness he had anticipated, he observed you relishing in your role, moving to the rhythm of the music while directing your team through the microphone. In the midst of all this, you radiated an ethereal glow that drew his gaze.

The after party was a lively affair, and it became even more enjoyable the moment you stepped into the venue, accompanied by your colleagues. Yugyeom playfully nudged Mingyu, having noticed his intent stare.

"Why the fixed gaze on Director Y/n?" Yugyeom's question caught Mingyu off guard, revealing that his friend was acquainted with you.

Yugyeom went on to explain that he had worked with you on several occasions during his time in Paris. By chance, his manager had been your college classmate. Mingyu inquired about your personality, and Yugyeom's response left him satisfied. You were described as intriguing and captivating, possessing a youthful maturity that had enabled you to ascend to such a significant position at a young age.

"Why the sudden interest, Kim Mingyu? Do you have a crush on her? Need a wingman?" Yugyeom's playful tone evoked laughter from Mingyu. Little did he know that Yugyeom's jest was closer to the truth than he realized.

If only Kim Mingyu could reveal to Yugyeom that you felt the same way about him.

"Congratulations!" Mingyu's simple words were met with a warm smile from you, acknowledging his sentiment. In a playful jest, you graciously nodded as if you had just single-handedly averted a war – the type of nod that subtly exuded your awesomeness. The clink of your liquor-filled glasses echoed the sentiment, a cheerful toast to the moment.

Seated on barstools next to each other, you and Mingyu turned your attention to the bustling crowd. With a mirrored movement, you both faced the scene. "Do you recognize anyone aside from Kim Yugyeom?" you inquired, gesturing towards the throng.

Mingyu nodded confidently. "Almost everyone," he replied, his gaze shifting to meet yours.

"Quite the network you've built," you remarked, acknowledging his impressive ability to connect with a wide array of people within the industry. Mingyu returned your compliment with an appreciative smile. Curious to hear your side, he posed the same question to you.

Your head shook slowly in response. "I recall having worked with a few of them, but I doubt they remember me. I'm not exactly memorable," you said with a light laugh.

Mingyu's lips curled playfully, and he nudged your side. "Are you sure about that?" he asked, his tone suggesting otherwise.

With a mockingly skeptical glance, you eyed him up and down before rolling your eyes, followed by a soft chuckle. "What I mean is, I tend to stay in the background. No one really pays us much attention – not that we're seeking it. I just believe that those working behind the scenes deserve more recognition than they get, although we do get paid," you added with a laugh.

As you spoke, the cadence of your words, the passion in your eyes as you shared your thoughts and opinions, succeeded in captivating Mingyu's attention. Your intelligence and charisma never failed to divert his gaze. Your conversation was engaging, your brilliance shining through, and he found himself distracted by your presence. Mingyu was aware that it wasn't the most opportune time for such thoughts, but he couldn't help but wish to hold you close, to kiss you in that very moment. Swiftly snapping out of his reverie, he redirected his focus to your words.

"Wanna leave this place?" Mingyu suddenly interjected, interrupting your conversation. The gentle touch of his hand landing on yours halted your words, your eyes locking onto his gaze. You took a moment to contemplate his proposal, your gaze momentarily flickering to your colleagues on the opposite side of the venue. Signaling him to wait, you quickly sent a text to your personal assistant before nodding and rising from the barstool.

Guiding your steps, Mingyu led you towards the exit. A signal to his manager, a halted taxi, and he gestured for you to get in first. An unusual sense of comfort and trust settled within you – a sense you rarely experienced with strangers, and certainly not this quickly. While your relationship had been progressing positively since last week, it wasn't typical for you to be so at ease and trusting with someone. Mingyu mentioned a location unfamiliar to you, leveraging your trust to lead you wherever he had in mind.

"Is it far?" you inquired as you settled into the cab, observing him. He nodded in response.

"I have my car with me," you noted nonchalantly, prompting a facepalm from Mingyu, who was stifling his laughter. Chuckling along with him, you wondered why you had opted for a cab when you had your own vehicle.

"It's fine. We were drinking anyway," Mingyu replied, attempting to rationalize your decision.

Silence settled between you two momentarily before he softly uttered, "You must be tired," while patting his shoulder, implying that you could lean on him for support. Shaking your head, you offered a smile, but he insisted, tapping his shoulder more firmly until you relented, leaning into the spot he indicated.

"Rest. I'll wake you when we arrive."

Unexpectedly, it was the depth of rest you experienced, and you were roused by a gentle tap on your arm. The motionless cab indicated that you had reached your destination. Blinking in confusion, you surveyed your surroundings, greeted by the sight of a beach, its entrance adorned with the words 'Blue's Sanpo.'

You and Mingyu had arrived in Sanpo, a location three hours away from where you had started. A mixture of confusion and amusement colored your expression, which elicited a shrug from Mingyu. Taking your hand in his, he guided you forward. It seemed that neither of you had anticipated the spontaneity of this moment. The attire you both wore was sufficient to shield you from the evening sea breeze. Mingyu kicked off his expensive shoes, and you followed suit, sprinting towards the water with the exuberance of a child. Mingyu's eyes gleamed with adoration as he watched you, his smile widening when your gaze met his, your expression is a testament to your approval of his choice.

Side by side on the sandy shore, you and Mingyu turned your attention to the local fishermen, immersed in their labor on the sea. The ethereal beauty of their boat's lights created a captivating spectacle, adorning the waters like jewels. The ambiance was picturesque, a canvas painted by the lights dancing on the waves, announcing the arrival of fall.

"Y/n," Mingyu's voice broke the gentle rhythm of the night.

You shifted your focus to him, responding to his beckon. This night was reminiscent of a movie scene, an intimate tableau of the two of you sitting in companionable silence on the beach. Words were unnecessary as you reveled in the tranquility of the moment, relishing each other's mere presence. Anticipation hung in the air, and you could feel the warmth of his breath in the small gap between you. Gradually, he inched closer, a silent question on his lips. "May I?" he whispered.

His inquiry caught your breath, leaving you in contemplation. After a beat, you nodded, giving him permission. Without delay, he bridged the gap between you two, closing the distance. The kiss that followed was deliberate and tender, an embrace of intimacy. The backdrop of crashing waves and the chirping of crickets contributed to the symphony of the night. Every touch of his hand against your skin, every sweep of his lips against yours, resonated deeply. The sea air, laden with a hint of chill, only heightened the sensory experience.

The kiss came to an end, both of you withdrawing as you took a deep, shared breath. Opening your eyes, you found Mingyu gazing at you, his eyes filled with depth and unspoken emotions. A chuckle bubbled forth from both of you, as though you were momentarily transported back to a different reality, where such intimate exchanges were a thing of whimsy. His arm extended towards your shoulder, urging you to draw closer, an unspoken need that your body instinctively answered. Leaning into him, you rested naturally against his side, your attention still focused on the captivating tableau before you.

And then, his voice, soft and tremulous, broke the silence. "Please, be my girlfriend," his words hung in the air, a question and a plea, simultaneously vulnerable and filled with earnest desire.

Pledis Entertainment's Announcement: Seventeen's Mingyu Reveals Non-Celebrity Girlfriend

On December 29th, Pledis Entertainment released an official statement disclosing that Kim Mingyu, a member of the global boy group Seventeen, is currently in a relationship with a non-celebrity. The news was met with a mix of surprise and support from fans. At the same time, Mingyu took to Weverse to share his sentiments with Carats, Seventeen's dedicated fanbase. Here is the message:

"Hello, Carats! This is Seventeen's Mingyu.

I want to take a moment to express my gratitude for your unwavering support and love throughout all our ups and downs.

Though I haven't had the chance to greet each and every one of you properly, please know that I always hold good thoughts for all of us.

I'm so thankful to Carat for loving and supporting both Seventeen and me.

Moving forward, I promise to work even harder on creating music and delivering great performances.

Thanks to your positive energy, I've been fortunate to encounter only good people.

I hope that Carat can experience the same positivity.

My wish is for us to continue sharing positivity and love only.

Always with love, Carat 💎"

#mingyu imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu #mingyu au #mingyu fluff #mingyu imagine #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu recs #mingyu #mingyu ff

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coffeegnomee · 5 months ago

Text

Training my brain to learn that caring about something does not mean someone will die and it will all be lost.

Cw - death, OCD, mcyt death, dsmp and lifesteal, triggers

This is, obviously, something super personal. But sharing about it is what scares me, so I’m going to do it anyway and prove to my brain that it’s okay to care.

If you end up reading it, know you just read my heart. I hope it helps you process whatever you’re dealing with <3.

I looked up OCD tonight because my brain constantly cycles through the same thoughts and worries about Lifesteal like Non Stop. Like I know I’m ADHD but this isn’t just a fixation on this server, but like debilitating spirals of thought. And all focused around analyzing if it’s all going to fall apart or not.

They say ocd is a “limbic system impairment that occurs when someone experiences a traumatic physical or emotional event while their chronic stress load is already high.”

And that freaking resonated. They say exposure therapy can rewire the brain so let’s go explore what’s the event that’s keeping me spiraling.

My chronic stress load was extremely high that summer two years ago. And then Technoblade died. The longer it’s been the more I really sit with the fact that that was traumatic.

On top of the stress personally, now my favorite YouTuber, my comfort character on dsmp, the freaking anchor of that server, was just gone. Gone.

Dreamsmp came in a time of some pretty heavy depression. Obviously the pandemic was still occurring so that’s a chronic stress load itself (I found it January 16th 2021, so like, three days before the disc finale, but almost a year into covid) and watching through all the streams I was able to completely escape.

For the first time in months I was laughing. Like deep belly laughs. Full body. Actual joy. The neural rewiring my brain those first months was insane. It was pure serotonin.

I became motivated to work again, having something fun in the background. I looked forward to cherishing the lore, keeping those streams to the side for the evenings when I could really immerse myself into the story.

There’s a two-fold trigger that sends me into a spiral around loosing the thing that makes me happy. Unfortunately at the time, the things causing the chronic stress in my life stemmed from the things that used to bring me fulfillment and joy and purpose. They were being taken away, by my own choice, and from my health (more on that later).

So in the void of having my real-life anchors to bring fulfillment, dreamsmp was the thing keeping this whole body going. Truly a hanging on by a thread moment.

But even then, it’s not just about "loosing the thing that makes me happy" that causes these obsessive thoughts.

It’s the irrational connection that because the lore changed and the dynamic of the server stalled, that THAT therefore somehow that lead to Techno dying. (yes. An irrational and non related thought. I just realized with writing that that I have truly merged both those events so closely that when the first happens, I cannot let go of the idea of the second. I’m sitting here expecting someone to irl die.)

Huh. That’s interesting.

It’s like, I read this from some random instagram post years ago. This woman’s husband died on a sunny day and then years later sunny days fill her with dread as if the weather was signaling that she would come home to the death of a loved on.

That’s what’s going on in my noggin.

Because it’s Quackity’s lore that changed the fabric of the dreamsmp. It didn’t have to, but it did. It came at the perfect storm when everyone was super burnt out and needed to run away from the insanity of both the fans and the haters and the sudden massive fame.

He decided to do pre-recorded movies. On my live-stream smp. The very fabric of lore was changed.

And because of the larger production, it took longer, and the other members of the server seemed to not know where to take their personal lore; everyone was waiting for that damn casino to open. And since all the lore ended up happening in pre-recordings we never again experienced that magic of live stream entertainment and improv and dumb bits. Everything was sanitized. For their own sanity, sure. But at the expense of the survival of the server. (Also Techno wasn’t available because of the chemo, so truly nothing was happening on any end of the server)

That perfect storm, loosing interest in the server and the lore being fundamentally changed, set the stage for the traumatic moment of loosing a member. That's my two-fold trigger.

And his death sealed the deal. I’ve never held it against them for not wanting to continue after. Season 2 was impossible the moment that happened.

My chronic stress had exploded so far that my thyroid was fucked and I’m diagnosed with Hashimoto’s, an autoimmune disease that keeps me fatigued more often than not. Besides that, my other main chronic stress was a realization that the Future I had always expected myself to take, the Plan that I had set out, I was suddenly extremely Not Sure I wanted to do anymore.

But I had confidently told my friends and family for over 8 years that this is what I wanted (all this during college and after. I was already 26 at this time) (yes I’m old) (yes life is still crazy when you’re old) (but you start understanding yourself better). It was in this understanding of myself that I realized my direction needed to change.

Suddenly my whole identity I had built for myself was swept out from under me.

At that. same. dang. time. That same week. That’s when the news broke. Literally broke me to pieces.

And I hadn’t told anyone I was obsessed with Minecraft lore. Like bro. I’m out of college for a few years. Get a life. (But man. My eyes just light up when I think about this method of story telling. It’s just goated)

My mom sort of knew. She didn’t understand but at least I could tell her someone died and she had some sort of connection that I had been following this kid for over a year now.

But no one else. The sorrow and pain of loss is just so much worse when you can’t explain why you cared about someone so much. It’s not like my parent died. Or sibling. It was a kid I had never met in person but I resonated with so much.

And I remember distinctly thinking “It’s not worth not sharing the things you care about with other people”. Burned into my brain that day.

But time heals all wounds. Until something triggers it.

I spent the next year just following Foolish, that ray of sunshine who was involved enough to have become my comfort streamer, but not too involved that it was painful to watch because of the memories.

It was a crazy fun year. Best comfort streamer. But people change, I change, and I missed Minecraft lore. You can only watch so much valorant before it’s just the same game.

Foolish found out he was on QSMP (I think it actually was before, I think he knew about the server before it was announced) and he started looking at Minecraft content and Minecraft builds again. For the first time in over a year. It was such a random day.

But we watched Sandiction and… Rekrap2.

Both of them stole my heart and I went, maybe it’s time to return to mcyt. See what’s been brewing.

And before I knew it I was on a month-long binge of Lifesteal content and just so absolutely lost as to what order everything came out in or what season everything was from. Shoutout them being allergic to click baiting “Lifesteal” or adding season tags to the description. It’s such a mess on Youtube lol.

Soon enough I found Baconnwaffles1. Not 0. 1. Somehow found his second channel first.

The videos caught my eye. I knew they were streams and I was trying to find the vods, but as you know Bacon doesn’t have a vods channel and his streams delete after 14 days.

But then finally the fated video crossed my path: “This is PrinceZam and he just betrayed his teammates”

Oh my goddess what in the world is going on in this server.

I needed to know.

So began the true binge. Found Zam’s vods, watched season 4. And I discovered something amazing.

I have genuinely never resonated more with a character than I resonated with Zam season 4.

Every internal debate of Zam resonated with my own dilemmas. People pleasing and understanding what you value came to a head, and only one could win. But truly your values are the only real option because every moment of people pleasing will rub against your soul like hot coals.

Remember those chronic stressors? The life I didn’t know if I wanted anymore?

As Zam walked between conversations with friends, teammates, and enemies, I recognized similar conversations in my life.

I could describe the situation one way, and the person would agree and give advice. But then I realized I could describe the situation in a different light and then maybe they wouldn’t agree anymore. So I didn’t know what advice to take.

And then chat was so funny. The day before the wormhole they started giving too many opinions, the same opinions they had been giving for weeks, and in a flash I was like, omg he’s going to spiral again guys why are you like this.

And then he was like, OMG chat, YOU’RE the problem! There’s too many of you and I’m trying to make everyone happy.

If I tell you I jumped up, screamed, giggled, and floundered around like a crazy person it wouldn’t even come close to what happened. I was so proud of Zam for realizing his emotions were being swayed by the barest opposition. From that third person point of view, I could so clearly see what was going wrong and I was cheering him on to realizing what he truly wanted.

I did, and still do, see so many of the decision making problems that Zam has, within myself. As a piece of media, and him being a character, it’s the craziest most relatable story I have ever seen. I’ve never resonated with a character more.

Then we reached season 5.

The first season I truly watched as it came out. I had gotten too obsessed with this Minecraft world. I wanted more. I loved these kids and their storytelling.

But it was the first season when people started leaving the server on good terms.

Oh no. This sounds too familiar. People are loosing interest in the server I love. What’s next, a change in the fabric of how lore is created?

Then there was a change in the fabric of how the lore was created.

We saw the new members approach the server with a recording-mindset. Who weaponized the lore against the old server members. Pretending they cared about the yapping but then revealing that in itself was a complete and total lie used to get you into the perfect position to either spoil the whole riddle or shoot you with an arrow canon.

And then. Not. Care. At. All. Zero remorse.

I don’t know why the betrayals by Jumper hurt so badly. But it hurt. A lot. (I was triggered that’s why) My emotional reaction was out of proportion to reality.

It’s not like it wasn’t a Lifesteal move, people had gotten into position to betray in the past, and would continue to do so in the future with Leo and Clown betraying Minute.

But it was that “I have no remorse over the hours we spent as a team, not a single thread of care to you or to the yapping lore of this server”. It’s one thing to be betrayed by an enemy. Quite another to be betrayed by a friend.

So here I began. Triggered by something that wasn’t world ending. Quackity’s take on lore didn’t kill the server. Neither did Jumper’s. It was probably going to be fine.

But like. My brain is not agreeing. So I’m pushing back on it.

Here’s what I’m finding.

This is a fun tidbit - when Mapic said “streams are delayed” when he was in the hospital before the finale I could not convince myself that he didn’t had cancer and wasn’t going to die. Bro. Tell me you’re triggered without telling me you’re triggered. (In case you didn’t see, it was just a concussion)

I’m so hyper aware of everything that could indicate I’m going to loose someone I care about again.

The pattern recognition is going out of control.

And I keep trying to calm my brain down and catalogue all the reasons I know and believe Lifesteal will be perfectly fine for probably a while. Like how they have meetings all the time to discuss what went down on the server. They’re talking all the time to work out interpersonal problems and lore problems so that everyone is happy and feels heard. And they’re watching movies together. Meeting up and strengthening relationships. Changing admins as necessary.

And I say it again.

And again.

Every time something throws the smallest pebble at stability I walk my brain back through all the indicators that everything will be fine.

Jumper:

Jumper loves being on the server. She’s said it. She’s so excited about it. She did have a plan. She didn’t tell us the plan as it went, but she does stream. She’s getting comfortable with the idea of streaming, she’ll learn to trust chat over time. She’ll learn how to loose gracefully on this server at some point. Probably. hopefully. And since I don’t know when that will be I’ll just have to wait until season 6 and see what happens. It’s out of my control. She’s fine. It’ll be fine.

Pentar:

Pentar is fine. He doesn’t understand why chat would tell him he’s the most likely to betray even though every video he betrays. Why is he doing that that’s so weird. But he’s a great teammate and everyone likes having him around. I don’t like how he laughs at Zam, but like I can give him the benefit of the doubt that he just doesn’t take anything seriously and laughs in the face of anything serious. I’ll have to wait and see until next time to see how I feel about what he does on the server. Real life can’t be repeated over and over so just let it go. It’ll be fine.

Minute:

Minute is just so happy to be in Lifesteal. He loves it so much. You can tell by how he speaks every time there’s a group moment. He’s going to be admin next season. He loves this server. He may be overly attached to the Rules and have black and white thinking and he sometimes wields that for his own gain and I hate when he does that can he just have fun and take things less seriously? But I think he’ll get it. He’s competent. And he loves the server. He wouldn’t destroy it even on accident because someone would call him out before that happens. It’s going to be fine.

Ash:

Ash can be mean and also not care about the good that our side is doing and just wave them away saying they’re just evil. He does’t get it. But also he’s quite the actor. He puts on a lore face when he logs on, you can see it in season 4 with the wormhole. You can see it when he logs on for the justice league returns and he’s so committed to being good and fighting evil and as Zam is killing Mid in the background and he’s all shocked as if he was not the one who goaded Zam into killing her moments before. It’s a character. Even when it feels like it shouldn’t be. He does take random events in stride, pulling up the meditation guidance video when they all got killed. He’s stressed out by it, but also takes it with some levity. He’ll be fine. He just chose a questionable character to act this season and didn’t know how to balance his position as admin separate from his need to win. But he’ll be fine.

Can you see how this is exhausting? This is my brain on the daily.

Every day I find myself working through each person one after another as something small comes up to threaten the balance, or reinforce the good.

This is when I noticed this wasn’t simple excitement about the lore, thinking and guessing about what might happen. It was the same thoughts over and over and over. And I couldn’t stop a line of thought until I mentioned all the things. That’s what made me look up ocd.

But back to it, I’m actually so much more okay with Ash because it’s been a couple seasons with him. I’m starting to see his tells. So I can just let the rough parts slide away.

And that’s really what I just have to accept. That I can’t self soothe my way into being okay. Resisting acknowledging what I’m afraid of is just making me spiral more.

We’ve seen people choose to leave after stressful seasons. We know some people become aware that they aren’t cut out for Lifesteal. Or they just don’t want to be. Some of these members might decide that. And Lifesteal has continued despite members leaving.

OMg can I please stop cataloging how it will be fine?

I have to sit with the reality and realize nothing bad DID happen, NOT that nothing bad MIGHT happen.

(This is unironically so counterintuitive to my brain. What do you mean I have to just accept that nothing bad happened, what if something bad does happen!) (But that’s what anxiety looks like. That’s not a good)

How do you convince yourself that you can’t predict the future? Asking for a friend.

I think it goes back to caring. I don’t think I’m allowed to care about any of this. That it’s silly, or dumb, or immature.

It was, in fact, in caring itself that the loss of Techno was so painful.

So I don’t allow myself to care. To get too invested. Any time I see that I’m caring I push up on the walls of my trenches and shove that shit out. Only analytical thoughts in here. Measurable, quote-filled analyses.

But caring does not therefore mean there will be a loss.

So. Okay. Pivot. What am I really afraid of?

I’m afraid the server will end. That something will make Zam give up and leave.

Wow. I thought that was going to be a long ass paragraph but it really is just that. I know I’ll stop watching lifesteal if Zam is gone. Unless someone new comes in that has his same spark and dedication. Unlikely.

So that threat is the worst.

And I’ve seen his interest wax and wane. I know he can disappear for a month.

But I also know he can come back. And he’s been a lot more mature and healthy and confident in being the streamer of Lifesteal. In how much he loves the server.

Which is where pb&j being such a threat to the fabric of how lore is done is so scary, because that changes Zam’s care. But then again. It really didn’t. He just pivots.

One of the most healing things has been watching the old members leave and continue to make content. And seeing how they choose to make their exit. They honored the server and the time they were there, in Rek’s case uplifting Lifesteal.net, in Parrot’s in completely reediting all his footage into a cohesive story.

And then they still make content together. All the members make content with each other outside of Lifesteal. (And those that left the internet forever, that was okay too)

So that’s nice. Some bad things came to pass, and they've shown their response to it. Also Zam taking a break didn’t change how the lore was created, so that wouldn’t be a trigger.

The trigger from that fear would be if he did leave, my brain would go into high gear looking for who was going to die. And I would have a new post to write lol.

The trigger that is still tilting me is that pb&j changed how the lore was made, and my brain went *danger* *danger* This is something that happened last time and you know how that turned out! Start looking for who is going to die!

And it stopped me from seeing how this is not the same situation. The pattern for a death that I think I’m seeing, is not a pattern.

And sitting with how nothing DID go wrong, that fear did not come to pass, is exposure therapy.

Because nothing went catastrophically wrong with the season 5 finale. I just keep closing my eyes, sitting in the problematic lore, and not accepting what actually happened at the end of the season, and freaking out that disaster is coming.

So what happened?

Season 5, you tried to kill my server.

But The server resisted. (Hahahah undertale reference!)

Clown came back. Ro came back. Branzy betrayed everyone for Clown. Bacon and Zam sat in vc the entire finale fight. Mapicc fought until he couldn’t.

Spepticle gave his account then fought for it back. Pangi gave his account. Spoke gave his account. Red did the blessings/curses as Zam wanted. 4C said he was glad to give Minute the presidency because he knew Minute wanted peace and he knew peace was not an option in Lifesteal. Actually the quietest of goats. Didn’t realize he thought that deeply about the server.

And it meant so much that Clownpierce, who hasn’t been meaningfully involved since the season 3 finale, came back and fought for his server. He made Lifesteal season 2. It’s always been his domain and he fought for its soul.

That’s the season 5 finale.

The Players fought for Lifesteal. The server resisted destruction.

This chapter is closed. This season got it’s ending. And it’s “not like last time” like my brain keeps thinking.

The season might have ended with a lot of unknowns for how it will affect season 6. Will these old members still care? Will pb&j be a menace still?

But what happened was a moment where everyone came together to care about the server. And that means the anxiety was unfounded. If something happens like this again, I have an example where everything didn’t fall apart to counter my fear that it will.

See you around!

If you actually read to the end you’re amazing. Hopefully this is something you can do in your life to help understand what is the cause of your pain and anxiety. I wasn’t going to post it initially, but working it out as a post I could theoretically show to other people helped make it way more real than trying to work it out in my head, talking to myself. I had to write it in such a way that someone else would understand. Even if I didn’t post it.

I’ll probably have many more days of writing when I notice a new trigger. Exposure therapy isn’t a one and done. (I probably won’t post any of those.)

But my body feels so much more relaxed now. Something has shifted in my head as a result of writing this all down.

Good luck!

#lifesteal smp #dream smp #technoblade #OCD #mental health

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captawesomesauce · 3 months ago

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Thoughts at 1040pm...

Oh so many thoughts!!....

We have been really productive this week. From getting the car washed and cleaning it out, to redoing the garage and taking a bunch of stuff downstairs and stowing it there!

Today we got our passes to the nature center renewed too, and mailed some letters, and put the new tags on the car!

Of course, we've done all of this while I've been dealing with just the worst stomach issue. Seriously just been awful - even by my standards!

Doc said to try konsyl, so we'll see if that helps... I took my first one tonight and it's so funny how differently W and I approached it. She was sucking on it... I just chewed like twice and bam gone. I don't know what's right or wrong lol.. but man it has a weird flavor... like apple citrus.

We'll see if it helps!

W is really happy how productive we've been. We've even gone for a few walks, and I hope tomorrow we'll go to the new duck pond. It's nice to get out now that the heatwave has sort of broken.

Hopefully all of you LA friends aren't doing too bad .. @tmarrr and @killsandthrills, I know it's been real hot by y'all!

W was wracking her brain trying to figure something out, work related. For 2 weeks it's been weighing on her, and really it was a logistical thing more than anything.

The other night she mentions it to me and the answer just came to me in a second and she's kinda happy and mad at the same time about that. LOL

I keep telling her not to stress about stuff, give it some time and then we'll work on it together :)

But yeah... she's still going ARRGHH!!! because I figured it out in a heartbeat lol.

Happy news this week - We've got some king crab legs and giant shrimp that i'm going to cook later this week.

Tonight I made breaded garlic pork loin chops that w loved.

We've been going through all of the Olympic sports and I think I've corrupted the poor girl. She LOVES summer because of gymnastics... that's her thing... but she never really explored the rest, so we've been going through them and well... let's just say @pandoranora2019 would be mad at us because soooooo many of them are just recess games!!!! LOL Let's see who can throw a rock the farthest! Watch me climb this wall real fast!!!! Wanna see me do a trick on my skateboard?!?!?! Dude... dude... let's be twinsies and hold hands and touch our toes as we dive from the really high board!!!!!!!

Oy.

The offroad bikes was cool to watch, shooting is boring as hell, we still don't understand the bike pursuit races... like wtf man... just GO!!!! Steeplechase is... interesting. Little kids watching horses race across the countryside go "I can do that!!!" Synchronized swimming just seems like wet cheerleader/dance squad lol.

It's just... a thing. It's recess.

Bring on the winter death games!!!!!!!

#thoughts #what are your favorite summer olympic sports?

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curseoftheeel · 3 months ago

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OH YEAH! Mixing it up a bit with this page's quote, focusing on the giant Connie fish chasing the fleeing Frank Seahorse through the school. They are definitely wrecking up the place for sure. Hello everyone and I hope your weekend has been off to a good start! This week has been the most productive one of the last few months which is nice, it feels like the gloom is nearly gone. I've just got to adjust to the new way of things.

So the long story short was I had a really difficult summer. My car died and I spent all of June fighting with a dealership and my bank on who could be the worst in a stressful period (the answer was both of them won). On top of having a new big expense every month and almost completely draining my savings, I went on a fantastic weekend business trip, only to get sick as a dog afterwards. That was my July, and now my summer break is ending with school beginning next week. I'm actually glad to be going back to my awesome students, I just wish my summer hadn't been so stressful. I am definitely feeling better now, but money and health worries made it hard to feel okay enough to draw anything, so my art table gathered depression dust.

Normally I wouldn't share this stuff, but I was very cryptic about what was going on the past few months so I felt I should at least inform everyone of what was going on. It wasn't anything super life threatening so I felt like I shouldn't make a big deal out of it, but that's what was happening. Thank you to everyone who was wishing me luck during that time, I really appreciate.

Anyhow, thank you everyone for reading and supporting not only myself but this webcomic! I'll have more updates for you soon, and make sure to check out my Patreon, where I upload early pages and the stages for my comics. If you're a comic artist and you like to learn from other's process, mine is on display here:

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offical-dystopiantale · 2 months ago

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Errrm.... guess who's back (kinda)

Helllooo everyone! I'm sorry for (again) disappearing. I've talked before about how I've been very stressed about writing and I'm in an odd place with that now. The Tldr is that I WANT to write, but I need to be go easy with myself and not expect me to spit out an entire 12 page chapter in three days. Idk if that means anything for all of you, but for me it means my work flow is changing. So chapters will probably be a month, if not two months, apart. I'll try my best to post sooner than that, but I want to avoid getting so burned out again. I have a bit more free time now, and summers are always kinda hard and low energy for me... so now that that's over I should be able to be more productive writing wise!

With that said, I WILL be working on the next chapter and posting it before the end of October if all things go well. There will be some differences though, so I don't get burned out again...

Firstly, im not doing covers for every chapter anymore. As much as I love doing them, as I approve with my art and learn more about drawing backgrounds, art takes me longer now than it used to. And I just... don't have time for the write a chapter and then make a cover and still work on my other projects I have in the works. I will still post a piece of art with each chapter however, and maybe a full piece when I get the inspiration to do so... but it may be primarily sketches from now on. I apologize for any disappointment that may cause.

And second! If you're in my discord server, you may remember a fun little thing called character Friday. I'm going to be bringing those back, except they will be after a new chapter is posted instead of every other week. This is to again help me avoid burnout, and I think it will be more interesting for all you<3 I am also thinking of streaming myself drawing the drawings I make for each chapter, so if you're interested in that, check out the discord server!

Im excited to get back into this story, and I hope you all too!

#undertale #undertale au #dystopiantale

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silkling · 7 months ago

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Not to be that person, but you've been quiet and haven't posted anything here or ao3 for some time now, is everything alright?

Hi! Don't worry, you're not being "that person"! I'm sorry to have worried you! I've just been really busy with university! This semester has been especially busy for me! But the good news is that I am working on some updates! "Of Finding Family" is my current project, and I'm struggling with how to make the thing I want to happen actually happen. But! I have the outline of the rest of the story mapped out, it's just figuring out the fiddly bits of how to get from point A to point B, so to speak. After "Of Finding Family", I'm hoping that the inspiration from that will carry me to "Watermarked by Your Ancestry"! I hit a major roadblock with that project just after I last updated and have been struggling since, but my hope is that the success of finishing "Of Finding Family" will give me the boost I need to get over that particular hurdle.

As for Tumblr....yeah. I stopped posting my fics here because they never get much engagement. Now don't get me wrong, I don't write just for the engagement of the audience, but that interaction with readers is what motivates me to actually post, y'know? Sure, I daydream the ideas and write them for fun mostly for myself, but when I post them it's a lot of work to take it from messy daydream brain-vomited onto a page, to the actual finished product. And the interaction and feedback from my audience is what makes me want to put in that extra effort. I get a lot more of that on Ao3 (And I promise, even if I don't respond to most comments out of me just straight up overthinking myself into stress, every single one makes me super happy)

To that effect, I've honestly been considering just. Shifting the focus of my Tumblr. Maybe using it to post general TF thoughts, headcanons, blot bunnies, theories, fic updates....that sort of thing. But idk. Just a thing for me to consider.

Also, more good news I've joined this year's Reverse Mini Bang, and if this year is anything like last year's Big Bang, I'll probably overshoot the minimun word requirement again. So, that's one more big(ish) project you can look forward to! (Even if the posting period is a bit of a ways off)

All in all, I have a handful of projects planned! I will do my best to update "Of Finding Family" soon, but I can't promise anything. At the very least, I'll have a lot more free time as summer hits, so at least there's that.

And finally...I want to say thank you. Real life's been keeping me busy, but I felt like I had to respond to your message. It's honestly super touching to know that people like me and what I do enough to notice that I disappeared for a little. So...thank you. :D

#silkling rambles #silkling ask response

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helenaheissner · 8 months ago

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Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 14

Hello, lovelies! Hope y'all are doing well :)

Don't forget you can read three chapters ahead on this story, twenty chapters ahead on "A Dream of Summer Rain", and two chapters ahead on "Magical Girl Exorcist Squad", by becoming a paid subscriber on my Substack or my Patreon!

***

Zeke

12 months earlier

I squatted in the Pits, putting the finishing touches on our minibot, Gurren, in preparation for our fight with Team Bottle Rocket in twenty minutes. I was so zoned in on getting all the screws extra tight that I almost missed my phone blaring out a Kendrick Lamar song. I groaned when I saw the caller ID. “Hi, Mom,” I said, attempting to keep the stress and frustration out of my voice. It was better to get whatever ‘conversation’ this was out of the way now- if I tried to put it off and ignore her, she’d just be even more cantankerous about it when we actually got around to it.

“Hellllo, Ezeekielll,” she slurred, her words blending together at the borders of the syllables. Oh, good. “How are you this evening?”

“Uh, a little busy to be honest, Mom,” I said.

“Busy? Busy with what? It’s not like you have a job.”

I breathed in a sharp sigh through my nose. “I do have a job, Mom. It’s just seasonal.”

“Those obnoxious shows you go on don’t count as a-”

“Mom, was there a specific reason you called?” I asked, focusing on keeping the screws tight. “Like I said, I’m a little busy.”

“Too busy to talk to your dear ol’ mum,” she said, her accent starting to slip out. She’d been training herself not to have one ever since she’d moved to the States back when she was a teenager, but sometimes it still flared up. Usually when she’d indulged in one too many Screwdrivers. “That’s a problem, you know- you’ll never get a girlfriend if you hate your own mother.”

“I don’t hate you, Mom,” I said monotone.

“Love the exact phrasing there, Ezekiel. Very gentlemanly.”

The screwdriver, my screwdriver, a literal one, slipped out of my hands. And as I reached down for it, I noticed my breathing- sharp, fast, all inhale and holding my breath, only exhaling when I absolutely needed to. “Thank you, Mother, I try.”

“Don’t you get sarcastic with me, young man- that’s hardly a trait that will do you any favors with the ladies either.”

I reached for the screwdriver on the ground, but my hand trembled when I tried to grip it. It slipped out of my grasp and hit the floor once again. “Look, Mom, my match starts in a few minutes, I really need to finish these repairs on Dai Guren-”

“Oh God, I forgot you gave that stupid thing a name. How asinine.”

Cold, soggy shame dripped off of me, and I let myself inhale and exhale through my mouth.

And of course she kept going: “And that’s another thing- why is it just you doing this? Don’t you have teammates for this nonsense? They don’t appreciate you. If they did, they wouldn’t force you to do all the work-”

“They don’t force me to do all the work, Mom!” I snapped. “And I’m doing these repairs because I’m good at them. They had to go handle other stuff for the match. It’s not actually that complicated, but you refuse to understand!”

A few moments of deafening silence poured out from the other end of the line. “This is clearly not going to be a productive conversation. I think I’m done with you for the evening. I’ll call you back when you’re in a more reasonable headspace.”

“Mom-”

She ended the call before I could get another word out.

It wasn’t quiet in the pits- people were using saws to carve up metal, flames were welding parts together, drills were digging into machinery. All the high-pitched screeches coalesced into a singular plaintive wail.

A tear fell off my chin and shattered on the ground. I tore off my work gloves and wiped my eyes, hoping nobody would see me. I wasn’t much of a crier. No reason to ruin that reputation now, when I had other things to focus on. The bot was ready for the fight, and that was what I had to focus on, not the hollow pit in my chest rapidly filling with anger and resentment and freaking exhaustion-

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

My fingers parted across my visage. I hadn’t even realized my face was buried in my hands. I looked through the gaps to find Calloway there, standing across the narrow middle walkway that ran down the white room. He was standing there in jeans and a black hoodie drawn up over his head, but he pulled it back and shaked out his shaggy brown hair. His eyes always looked… Harsh, angry, aggressive. But not now, not at this moment. Now they looked… Softer. Concerned. And… Genuine, in their concern. I’d gotten pretty good at spotting the difference between genuine concern and artificial; having parents like mine forces you to learn as fast as possible. But right now, here, he…

“I… Just a difficult phone call with my mom,” I said, pulling my hands away from my face entirely, directing my gaze at the floor.

Calloway stepped forward and gave me a hug. I flinched- the guy really had no sense of personal space, but honestly… I needed it, then, so I hugged him back. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

I mumbled, “I guess I just…”

“What?” Calloway asked.

“It’s nothing, it’s…”

“What?” Calloway said, pulling out of the hug and looking me directly in the face, furrowing his brow.

“I’m… Just surprised that you care,” I said.

He gulped and took a step backward, along with a slight bite to his lower lip that ended as soon as it began. “I, uh… Yeah, yeah that’s fair.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“No, you did,” he said, turning his head so he didn’t have to look me in the eyes anymore. “It’s fine. Really, it is. I just… I really must come off like I’m a lot, all the time, huh?”

“I… What do you want me to say here, dude?” I said, taking a step towards him.

He took another step back. “Just the truth. Just… How you really feel.”

I drew in another deep breath. “Yes. You… You do.”

He gulped again. “That… That explains a buncha stuff. I kinda figured people knew I… But I guess they wouldn’t. Fair enough.”

“Look, Calloway-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a playful wave of his hand, plastering a bogus smile onto his face. “Just means I sell the heel routine well. That’s not a bad thing. And this isn’t really about me- I was asking you what’s wrong. Um… Do you… Do you wanna talk about it?”

My phone alarm hollered inside my pants’ pocket. Ten minutes till the fight. They’d be starting the introductory monologues soon. “I dunno if I have time right now, but… I appreciate it. I really, sincerely do. Maybe… Maybe next time?”

“Next time I catch you crying, tough guy?” he said, the smile edging just a little closer to genuine.

I forced out a little chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so. For now… Can I just get another hug?”

He nodded rapidly. “Of course.”

Then he went in for it and wrapped his arms around my back. And it felt… Good. Supportive. Strong, but not aggressive.

Maybe there was more to Keith Calloway than I thought.

***

NOW

I sprayed some breath spray into my mouth while I paced up and down the hallway of my apartment, my hands wringing together as I tried to keep my mind clear and focused.

I liked Kate. That much was hard to deny. She was bright and funny and passionate, just radiated warmth and empathy, and I felt like I could let my guard down around her in a way I couldn’t around other people. Including Faith.

But I liked Faith. I had for a while now. She was chill and focused and creative, a freaking dancing ray of light that always brightened up my day, who I desperately wanted to protect and take care of.

And they were both incredibly pretty.

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit what is wrong with me? Just like my jackass of a father, can’t keep it in my pants, can’t be happy with what I have, like a real man is supposed to.

But that didn’t matter. I was going on a date with Katie tonight. I was moving on from Faith, because that was the right thing to do, because she didn’t like me back, because she didn’t swing that way and just wasn’t physically attracted to me. And Kate… She made it really easy to want to move on, and she seemed to really want to be with me, for some unfathomable reason. Holding her in my arms made me feel like the strongest person in the world; the way she’d just slid up to me and put herself there like it was the most natural fit possible… It felt really good. I felt really good around her.

My phone buzzed, and I saw from the caller ID that it was my mom.

My finger loomed over the ‘accept call’ button for a solid minute before the phone simply stopped ringing altogether. Then it immediately started ringing again, because my mom was physically incapable of taking no for an answer.

A spark of anger caught in my chest, burning my insides and sending proverbial smoke out of my ears. Goddammit, I was twenty-three years old, financially self-sufficient, and living in my own place. She did NOT get to keep pulling this crap. She hadn’t reached out to me in months and now, when I had something legitimately important to do, she decided it was the perfect time to interrupt. Couldn’t even be bothered to text first, asking if now was a good time.

I thought about a year ago, and the mess I’d become when my mom called before that match, and Kate, back before I’d known she was Kate, before she’d known she was Kate, before she and I could even call ourselves friends, let alone whatever we were now, had held me and comforted me. Didn’t have to be asked, just offered and did her best to make good on that offer. That was when it had started to dawn on me that underneath it all, she really was a kind person with a big heart.

It was also when it really started to dawn on me that my mom was an absolute bitch. Maybe she wasn’t as unbearable as my dad, but it would be a truly Herculean feat to be anywhere near as unpleasant as that selfish asshole.

I hit ‘ignore.’

I breathed out, slowly and carefully, leaning against the wall. I was emphatically not going to cry right now, because I didn’t want Kate to feel like she had to take care of me tonight. I wanted to take care of her, to show her that yes, she really was the cute, sweet, wonderful girl she was trying to be.

The tumblers of our lock shifted as the front door opened. Faith stepped through, a sad smile on her face. “Heyo,” she said. “Your hot date is downstairs waiting for you. Show her a good time tonight, yeah?”

“Of course,” I nodded, double checking my pockets to make sure I had my phone and wallet. Good to go. “You gonna be okay by yourself tonight?”

She gave an errant wave of her hand and said, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I can get caught up on my soaps.”

“You watch soap operas?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, old ones from the 1960s, mostly,” she said. “They’re really funny when you’re stoned.”

“Fair enough,” I said. I gave her a quick hug, which she happily accepted. “Don’t wait up for me!”

“Will do!” she said as I made my way out the door.

I headed down the stairs and out front, where Kate’s pickup truck sat in the thin driveway that led into the parking garage below my building. I did a double-take when I saw her, leaning against the front of her truck. She wore a red dress that covered her chest wholesale, but beneath, what looked like boobs protruded from the dress in question. Falsies, presumably- Faith must have loaned her old ones out. Still, it couldn’t be denied that they looked real good on Kate, bringing the whole look together. Her dress had a slit going up the side, showing off her long, smooth legs well up her thick thighs. Bright red lipstick was painted across her mouth, and my whole body was screaming at me to cup her face in my hands and shove my tongue down her throat. So, of course, in my infinite intelligence and articulation, all I managed to choke out was, “Whoa.”

She smiled the kind of smile you want to protect with every fiber of your being. “Like what you see?” Her voice was high and breathy, each syllable enunciated slowly and carefully. She’d only been out for a few days and she’d already come so far. It was astonishing. It was… She was…

“Absolutely beautiful,” I said, unable to blink.

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at me.

Then a car pulled up behind her and honked at us- I recognized one of my neighbors behind the wheel, an older, heavyset woman named Nina.

“C’mon, let’s get going,” Kate said. She gestured me into the truck and then we pulled out of the driveway. “So, where are we going?” she asked.

“Uh, Indian place on Lincoln Boulevard. It’s over by my old college,” I said, trying not to stare at her too much and venture into the dubious territory of ‘creepy weirdo.’

“Sounds good, I love Indian food,” she smiled again.

Kiss her, you idiot, my brain hollered. Wait, no, she’s driving. Bad idea. But kiss her before the end of the night! “How’d the appointment go?”

“Fantastic! I’ll be able to start hormones hopefully by the end of the week!”

“That’s fantastic!” I said. “How’d the other one go?”

She spat out a petulant sigh. “Less good. My sponsor is…”

“Is?”

“Let’s be charitable and go with ‘pragmatic,’” she said, her voice dropping low. She grunted with frustration and her eyes peeled wide as she heard her own words.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said, trying my best to sound reassuring. “I don’t mind if you use your… Other voice.” I managed to stop myself from saying ‘boy voice’ or ‘normal voice.’ Thank God.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s… It’s not that I don’t want you to hear it, it’s that I don’t like hearing it.”

“That’s fair,” I said.

“But yeah, if I want to keep Gaines as my sponsor, I may or may not have to lean into this whole trans thing as part of my ‘brand.’ Ugh, I hate that word. Gag me.”

“Is that a request?” I smirked.

She blushed redder than the Red Comet. “What if it is?”

“Then I’d be happy to accommodate.” What the hell, when did I get this bold?! It must have been my dick talking for me. Made sense- I’d spent… Several years not listening to it. How long had it been since I’d last had sex, anyway? Two years? Three?

Getting ahead of yourself, Underhill. “Do you think you’re gonna stick with Gaines?” I asked.

“Don’t see what choice I have,” she replied as she turned onto Lincoln and started driving west. “I don’t exactly have the capital to self-fund. How do you and Faith raise money, anyway?”

“Uh, a couple ways. Grant from our old college, a loan from Faith’s parents, and the money she and I raise doing temporary engineering jobs during the off-season. Usually like…, four, five months full time work with one of the aerospace companies in the city, then we spend the rest of the year working on the fun stuff.”

“I should probably look into something like that,” Kate said. “I don’t dislike working for my parents, but I’m never gonna make the kind of money I need to keep going in the ‘bot battle circuit working twenty hours a week at an indie retail outlet.”

“I have some contacts at a few places that I can send your way,” I offered. “Might be able to help you get a foot in the door, do some interviews.”

“That… Would be amazing,” she beamed. “You’d really do that for me?”

“‘Course I would,” I said. I want you to keep smiling that smile. “I just… Want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” she said. “For… Everything.”

“No problem, Katie,” I said.

She giggled. God, her laugh was adorable. So, I said that out loud.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“You have a cute laugh,” I said simply.

“It’s not cute… I’m not…”

“If you’re about to say you’re not cute, just know that there’s nothing cuter than a cute girl insisting she’s not cute.”

“... Dammit. You’re right.”

“Gotcha,” I said, snapping my fingers.

We carried on like that until we got to the restaurant, where, to my astonishment, we were seated immediately. I ordered a lamb vindaloo with a side of garlic naan, and she ordered butter chicken with onion naan. We split an order of vegetable samosas as well, and we were seated by the window looking out into the street. A pair of candles sat between us on our glass table, casting a bit of glow in the darkened dining area.

“So, you went to that school over there, then?” Kate asked. “LMU?”

“Yeah, all four years.”

“How’d you wind up there?” she asked.

“Uh, well, I applied to UCLA and didn’t get in,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Which is true of, uh, most of the school, actually.”

“They couldn’t get into UCLA?” Kate chuckled.

“Or USC. Or Harvey Mudd. Or Cal Poly.”

“Ahhh, gotcha. You said you grew up around here, right?”

“For a given value,” I said. “I was raised in Riverside.”

“Inland Empire, I see,” she said. “That place as horrifying as David Lynch makes it look?”

I chuckled. “Only when it’s on fire.”

“So, like, all Summer?”

“Pfft, basically.”

“It’s funny, you know, we grew up in the same neck of the woods but never met till we started doing what we do,” Kate said, resting her chin on her hands while her elbows were propped up on the table. “I know that Venice and Riverside aren’t actually that close together-”

“Especially with the traffic in this town making it a longer trek,” I said.

“Still,” she said. “It’s cool, knowing that someone like you was relatively close this whole time.”

Her eyes…

“Zeke?” she asked. “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

“You went quiet and started staring at me,” she said, raising her head, putting her hands flat on the table, concern exuding from her frown. “Did I lay it on too thick?”

I shook my head. “Not at all.” I reached for her hand. “Honestly, I’m worried about doing the same, so why don’t we just be ourselves tonight, and see how that works for us?”

“I’d like that,” she smiled again. That smile…

The server, a middle-aged Indian man with pot-belly and an impressive beard, brought our samosas and a few different sauces over and set them between us. And with him came, very unexpectedly, some familiar faces.

“Zeke?” Olivia asked. She was flanked by her new teammates, Tom, a medium-height black man in his late twenties with a shaved head and massive hands, and Winston, a white boy with a wild mane of brown hair who looked like he was still in college. And standing next to them were Team Forest Fire and Team Sparky-Sparky-Boom. Forest Fire was three guys all in their thirties, each of them shredded and rocking full beards. Their captain, Lance Masterson, was a behemoth of a white man with a shaved head and some burn marks on his arms and neck; his teammates were Jake George, a tall black man with long dreads and nose ring, and Evan Hernandez, a shorter Mexican-American man built like a powerlifter. Team Spark-Sparky-Boom, meanwhile, was two people, a husband and wife team called David and Eileen Portman. David was comfortably in his early forties, hair more salt than pepper, clean shaven and thin as a rail; Eileen looked like she was in her late thirties, and was shorter and thicker, with long brown hair beginning to spark with silver.

A low-pitched groan escaped my throat, and I was surprised at how loud it was, only to look over and see that Kate was making roughly the same mouth-noise.

“H-h-hey,” I eventually choked out. “How y’all doing?”

“Not bad,” Masterson said.

“Not bad at all!” Hernandez said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Kate.

She blushed, then looked down at her food.

“So, this must be Kate,” Olivia said.

“Um, how do you know about-”

“Faith told me.”

“Faith told you what?” I said, my eyes narrow.

“Oh, just that you’d finally found a girl for you… Wait a sec. Wait wait wait a second. Calloway? Is that you under all that makeup?”

My eyes bulged with panic, and I saw Kate’s lips trembling and her hands wringing together. Oh, this was bad- she wasn’t ready to come out to everyone at work yet, she’d said as much to me in the car ride. She’d been planning to come out in two weeks when she had her next fight, with the same kind of surprise announcement that Faith had been afforded.

And now… Now she was having to come out to her work rivals by accident. For the third time in two weeks.

Goddammit.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice dropping low. Then, in her higher, breathier voice, she said, “Yes. It’s me. My preferred name is Kate, pronouns are she/her.”

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, so you’re a trans too?” Mrs. Portman said.

I died inside a little bit.

“I, uh, yeah. I’m a trans woman,” Kate said.

“Wow, two of you in the tournament this year, huh? What are the odds?” Mrs. Portman said. “And this isn’t a publicity stunt?”

“Dear, hush, that’s rude,” Mr. Portman said, playfully swatting his wife on the arm, blissfully unaware of the psychic damage he and his wife had just inflicted on Kate.

“No,” Kate said, eyes dropping low, fingers drumming nervously on the table. Oooohhhh dear. “I’m just… I’m a woman.”

“Hey, listen, it’s nice to see you all, but Kate and I were just trying to have a nice, quiet dinner,” I said. “Alone. As in just the two of us-”

“That’s fine, broseph,” Masterson said, “We can all take that big table outside, leave you two to your date.”

“I’d appreciate that a lot,” I nodded, putting a metric ton of emphasis behind each syllable.

“As would I,” Kate said. Practically squeaked. Must… Protect… At all costs.

“No problem, brosephine,” Masterson said. “You look great, bee-tea-dubs.”

They all cleared out and headed for the massive rectangular longtable outside… Except Olivia, who remained standing exactly where she was in front of us with her brow creased and her hands on her hips and her jaw slack.

“Uh, Olivia, you coming with?” Tom asked while standing in the doorway, with an ‘aw shit here we go again’ expression on his face.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Olivia said.

Tom sighed and let the door close as he stepped outside. You tried, Tom. You tried.

“Can, uh, I help you with something?” I said, trying not to get too distressed by Kate’s thousand-yard stare. Given that she’d only a few days prior called out and challenged Olivia in front of a screaming crowd while on camera and then immediately proceeded to have a massive panic attack… I didn’t like what this was almost certainly doing to her brain.

“I just… When Faith said you’d found someone, this wasn’t what I expected,” Olivia said. “Does she… She knows who Kate really is, right?”

“Yeah, she does,” I said, creasing my own brow, “Why do you ask?”

“I just… I really just… Calloway? Seriously?! Calloway?!” Olivia said. “Of all freaking people, you choose Calloway over Faith?!”

“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Kate said.

“R-right. Sorry, I… You look nice,” Olivia said.

“Thanks,” Kate said. “Just, uh, quick question: why do you care?”

“Because I care about Faith,” Olivia said.

“Right, sure you do,” Kate said. “You care so much about the girl you brutally dumped in the most vulnerable moment of her life. Right. Definitely. Absolutely.”

“Also, why would Faith care?” I said, attempting to navigate the conversation away from Kate’s (admittedly accurate) criticism of Olivia. “She and Kate have patched things up- they’re friends now.”

“Really?” Olivia said.

“Yes, really,” Kate said. “She and I hung out literally all day today. She helped me pick out this dress, helped me with my voice. She and I are fine. And she’s fine with this.”

“Oh, honey,” Olivia said. “You don’t… Really believe that. Do you?”

Kate blinked, and her eyes went low again.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means-”

“Don’t,” Kate said, slamming her hand against the table.

Olivia took a step back. “Right. Sorry. It’s… Look, Zeke, I know you and I were never super close, but I gotta ask- is Faith really completely on board with all this?”

“Yes! Why wouldn’t she be?” Did someone slip me a crazy-pill? What the hell was going on?!

“I just… Can’t believe you would choose Ke… Kate over Faith,” Olivia said.

“It’s not a choice,” I said, grabbing Kate’s hand and squeezing it tightly, a fire lighting inside my head. “I like Kate. She’s a beautiful woman, inside and out.”

“Phrasing,” Kate said in a thirsty whisper, eyebrows raised.

“Babe, not now,” I said.

“Babe?” she said with a bright smile.

“Babe? Wow,” Olivia said. “This is… A lot to accept, tbh.”

“And why, exactly, do you get a say?” I said.

“I-”

“That was a rhetorical question,” I said. “You don’t. At all.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll back off,” Olivia said, holding up her hands, palms flat. “I just… Can’t help but think you’re making a mistake. You and Faith would be cute together, that’s all I’m saying.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I growled.

“You would be,” Kate whispered.

“What?” I said. Seriously, WHAT?!

“Backing away now,” Olivia said. “I’m sorry for saying anything- you’re right, it’s really none of my business. But, uh, Calloway? I still remember what you said last Friday. I’ll see you in the battle box.”

And with that, she walked away. My head spun with confusion and anger at the implications of what she said, the insinuations, the freaking hubris. And on top of it all, Kate looked ready to cry again.

Our waiter finally came over with our food on a tray and set it down, but looked at us with a worried expression. “Would you two like this to go, by any chance?”

“Yes, please,” Kate and I said simultaneously.

We waited till the food was put in takeaway boxes, and we made a hasty departure. I was pretty sure I heard Mrs. Portman shouting something at us as we walked out the front door, but I wasn’t sure what. “Where should we take all this?” Kate asked.

“I have one idea, if you’re up for it,” I said, with a grin I hoped would be the first step to salvaging this evening.

We headed for Dockweiler Beach, only a few miles from the restaurant, basically deserted in the waning hours of the evening before it was closed to the public. Waves lapped against the sand in a steady, drawling rhythm, and the rich, relaxing scent of seawater filled the air. We sat on a blanket Kate kept in her truck, eating our food while watching the tide crashing into the shore and the setting sun casting an orange-gold glow over everything. Kate had tied her hair back while we ate, but loose strands kept blowing about from the seabreeze and colliding with her face.

I reached over and brushed a strand back, and she smiled at me. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m, uh, sorry about what happened.”

“Don’t be, it isn’t your fault,” she said. “Honestly, you handled it really well. Way better than I would have in your position.”

“And what position is that?”

“The guy’s. You’re… You’re a really good guy, Zeke Underhill,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

I laughed in spite of myself. “That’s nice of you to say. I… I’m not really used to hearing it,” I admitted, slumping my shoulders.

“I find that hard to believe. You’re such a gentleman.”

“I… The thing is,” I started. Oh boy, I was about to admit this to her. This was big. I rarely talked about this. Not even with Faith. “... My parents… Are not the types to give out praise often, and a lot of it had to do with them thinking I wasn’t living up to their expectations of what a man was supposed to be. My Mom… Well, she’s English, she’s got all these old-fashioned, old-world ideas about men and women. She sent me to my room when I cried at a movie once when I was seven. My dad wasn’t much better- kind of a rough and tumble man’s man type. When I didn’t make my high school’s basketball team in ninth grade, he reamed me out for half an hour straight. Never mind the fact that I was short and fat back then. Which they both reminded me of constantly.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry,” Kate said, putting down her food and placing her hand on my shoulder. I gave it a squeeze. She continued, “My parents have always been so chill and supportive. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to… To grow up with that instead of what I had.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Honestly, I’m mostly over it at this point. I moved out for college when I was eighteen and never looked back. The only thing that really still gets to me is how hypocritical they were about everything. My dad… He’s a total pig, cheats on my mom constantly, and Mom just drinks to forget it every time the proof is thrown in her face. They’re both so full of shit, but I still… I still have this fear sometimes, that they’re right, that I’m not good enough, that there’s something I’m doing wrong, that…”

“That?”

“... That I’ll be a cheater like my dad, constantly balancing multiple girls, stringing along someone I’m supposed to be committed to. I think… I think that’s what bugged me about what Olivia was insinuating, like I was somehow being disloyal to Faith. Which is ridiculous, because… I… And she doesn’t even… And I’m not-”

“Not what?” Kate said, wrapping her arms around me.

“I’m not with her. I probably won’t ever be with her,” I said.

“... You really like her, don’t you?”

“... I’m not sure you want me to answer that question, Katie.”

“You already have,” she said. “It’s kinda obvious.”

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kate said, nuzzling my shoulder. “You’re allowed to like more than one person at the same time. And you’ve liked her for a while, I’m not surprised I’m…”

“You’re what?”

“... Second prize.”

“You’re not,” I said, turning around and putting my hands on her cheeks. “Listen to me, Kate Calloway. I recognize we’ve only just started really getting to know each other, but in that time, you’ve shown yourself to be… Amazing. Caring. Funny and thoughtful. Beautiful. I… I don’t know if I deserve you, but I’d like… To keep seeing you like this. To get to know you better, and to hold your hand while you go on this journey.”

Tears streamed out her eyes, and she bit her lower lip before saying, “Would you… Would you still say that if Faith liked you back?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed. “Faith is gay.”

“...”

I blinked. “Faith is gay, right?”

“I…,” Kate stammered, pulling out of my hands. “I’ve said too much.”

I blinked one long, sustained blink as the gears turned in my head. Faith… Wasn’t gay? And she… It… This made it seem like…

Like she…

No.

Just, just… No.

There was a beautiful girl who I liked in front of me, and I wasn’t gonna let her slip away. “You’re fine. And even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“You… You really mean that?”

“She’s not here with me right now, on this beach, sharing this meal, this evening,” I said. “Life moves forward, not back. If Faith really liked me, she should have said something. You, though, you said something. You made the first move, and… God, I’ve had to do that myself so many times, only for it to fall apart. Do you have any idea how good it makes me feel, that you like me enough to be the one to push things forward? How special that makes me feel? Because it’s amazing… You make me feel… Amazing, Kate.”

She looked at me with those big blue eyes, shining in the multicolored light of dusk as the sun set over the horizon, her red lips spread wide, hope and astonishment and joy radiating out of every inch of her. She gulped, and then she grabbed my lapel and said, “I’m gonna push things forward again now. Is that okay?”

I didn’t answer. I just went for it, pressing her lips against mine, melting into her as we made out on the beach while the sun finished setting. My heart was alight with ecstasy, my lust burning at maximum temperature. I didn’t know for sure if I liked her more than I liked Faith. I just knew that in that moment, there was nobody I’d rather be with, nobody I’d rather be kissing, nobody I’d rather be getting to know.

For just one moment, everything was crystal clear.

“You really had to ask?” I said as I pressed my forehead against hers, reveling in her aftertaste.

She smiled. Oh, Lord, that smile. “I just had to make sure.”

We carried on like that for a while longer, her hands touching mine, my lips touching hers, our bodies interlocking.

#original fiction #serial fiction #trans woman #trans protagonist #web novel #wlw #bisexual #polycule #polyamory #love triangle #enemies to friends to lovers #first date #romcom #romance

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faithfromanewperspective · 1 year ago

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the western sydney work ethic, mental health, burnout, inequality and ableism

inspired by ashton irwin on artist friendly with joel madden and 17902 sustainable urban development at the university of technology sydney

I’ve teased the idea of writing this post for a while now, and now I’m sitting in my borrowed bed in Sydney with the graphs and maps from my course still at the back of my eyelids and still processing the Vibes of catching up with my childhood friends and wondering if it’s too early to go to bed if the sun’s still up—it’s time to let it out. Because I found a bunch of seemingly unrelated things and put them together in a way that helped me process my upbringing and the way it’s positioned me as I go through life even now.

For background of this post, the Greater Sydney metropolis has a very stark rich/poor divide, where a large strip from the west going to the south of the city have been left behind in a variety of ways. In my uni course I see the maps on income, education level, job overqualification, crime, violence… they’re nice and set out, and they validate what I already intuitively knew—just like everyone who grew up in the area I’m going to refer to vaguely as Western Sydney. These graphs put words to something I’ve lived when I was too young to process it, something I hear the impacts of in 5 seconds of summer’s songs like I’ve never seen in any other art ever.

I know many people relate too and I don’t want to say you have to be from Western Sydney to get it. There are plenty of other places with similar trends, but this strip of suburbs, half a city, is where I grew up and the case study I’m going to use for the phenomenon I’m going to describe in this post.

Having spent the last decade and a bit in a more conservative, more sheltered area of suburban Brisbane, where people take it slow and at least attempt to have fun without getting completely wasted; where people have high expectations for their lives and livelihoods they never quite meet and where they’re the kind of emotionally aware that you hear all about how stressful that experience is: this was the backdrop of my teens and young adult years to this point. It’s where I learned about mental health and neurodivergence and ableism and where I really explored what faith and spirituality is to me. It’s where I never quite felt comfortable when people were too polite, where I poured all the belief they had in me as a gifted kid plonked into that environment I wasn’t native to into the delusion that I could deconstruct the unequal education system of their own creation if I only worked harder than anyone had ever worked before. Then they would finally listen. It’s where I tried and tried to get help for my mental health and wasn’t listened to either, not when I presented so well and was simply unable to unmask until I was unable to mask at all. Where the slightest bit of hope caused me to forget everything that was hurting me, making it a struggle to work through even to this day. where I wondered if I was some superhuman for the fact that I can work my ass off without even realising it’s hard work, a smile on my face and arms open for connection as always (the mark of health they say) while being desperately unwell, hurting, thinking I had it good compared to some of the people I’d see crumple under the pressure, I should be kind to them (not understanding why I found them so, so relatable).

I am not a freak of nature, or superhuman, though I am neurodivergent and twice-exceptional. I am the product of my upbringing and my ancestors. I carry generations of culture from hectares of foreign lands my ancestors made their homes on (ethically questionably in some cases I do acknowledge) and became part of the ecosystem of. It is, like most difference, a gift and a curse. Something that makes certain measures of ableism not apply to me, but creates others in their place. I’ll get into this more later.

in the strip of suburbs united by demographics we call Western Sydney, farmers from the notoriously difficult land of the Murray-Darling and immigrants from everywhere on the planet, some Indigenous but few Indigenous to Australia, make up classrooms, neighbourhoods, workplaces. Think I Am Australian by The Seekers, but just the verses, as a snapshot of some of the stories representative of the people. Interwoven in the landscape. We celebrated Harmony Day on the 21st of March in my primary school. Everyone had a different cultural background. We heard different languages spoken on the street. There were stereotypes. There were scared people trying to find their tribe, build a life in Australia, away from the larger scale farms, get their kids a good education to do a trade or go to university. Fear and angst and hurt coexisting with an appreciation of the juxtaposition of others you’d never head admitted out loud. But the second verse of the Australian national anthem was written just for us, or might as well have been. Beneath our radiant southern cross, we’ll toil with hearts and hands… google the lyrics, you’ll get it, you’ll see why I wish the rest of Australia did too: for those who’ve come across the seas, we’ve boundless plains to share, with courage let us all combine to advance Australia fair…

No one with the power to acknowledge this I interact with these days remembers the second verse. Except 5 Seconds Of Summer, in their ridiculous little promo videos, who I’d bet the rubble that’s left of my parents’ old house as the new owners turn it into a mansion because Gentrification, have no idea of what a meaningful gesture that is.

I can feel the wounds of being torn from the good parts of that experience closing over. And so it’s time to give the often forgotten stories on an often forgotten piece of land that made me and also these four wonderful humans who we are today, the credit it deserves. Start by telling our stories.

One thing I love about Artist Friendly is it cuts straight to it. Joel Madden is just incredible like that—in a world coming out of the 2010s pop decade of dancing while the room is on fire (bloodhound, 5sos) put your rose coloured glasses on and party on (Katy Perry’s chained to the rhythm) (these I would consider more analytical quotes of the era, one whose vibe was ‘forget all the pain in the world, let’s party and sing about how horny we are’ which for all my cynicism I did find fun)—he kept up his punk edge, kept investing in new musicians, searching for and investing in what’s real. He also really loves Australia, and when you put our underdog-supporting attitude next to Good Charlotte’s songs you understand why. Anyway, the episode pretty much opens by him asking Ashton about his background, and relating from the perspective of working-class-emotionally-unavailable/immature-parents-who-showed-their-love-through-provision-and-really-did-try-to-be-there-but-had-none-of-the-resources. I like the positive take. It’s high time we stop being classist and ableist towards the people who’ve met our needs as much as they were able, but it still wasn’t enough. Who taught us how to take opportunities, work to prove our worth, and through it all couldn’t even afford therapy.

I used to think my family was rich because we lived in Australia and my parents had gone to university. Never mind the fact that I was born when they were barely older than I am now. Never mind the mould in the walls or sneaky Tuesday night washing of the school uniforms in the summer when we got sweaty and there weren’t any spares or the mismatched bargain bin clothes we wore or the bedroom I shared with my sisters. I knew the people I compared us to. And now I do really believe if I’d grown up a bit less frugal or even a few k’s out of the area I did I wouldn’t be who I am. I wouldn’t have the perspectives I have, nor would this podcast episode have me feeling so seen. Like, yes I lived a bit further into the city than these guys, close to the train line without any farmland where the house values shot up seemingly overnight and meant the area I grew up in is experiencing a very weird disparity as two cities collide within it today. But we grew up in the same era in western sydney, we grew up loved and knowing that was a privilege and we grew up knowing from a very young age we had to spend our whole lives working hard if we wanted life to be manageable and we better be polite and better not ask for too much.

yet we also grew up with hurt. From the trauma we inherited from our caregivers as we encountered the attitudes and fears with which they faces the world. From what we saw our peers go through much too young to be able to draw boundaries with the empathy we felt too much of and understood nothing of. From broken family relationships that were all too common. From religion that hurting people used to cause or at least stagnate hurt instead of healing.

when I was burning out and struggling as an unrecognised neurodivergent I used to wonder why my father would place such value on the Protestant work ethic when Jesus died exactly so we wouldn’t have to strive. And I acknowledge that the PWE is harmful to many disabled folk or literally anyone who has experienced the demands of life and had their stress invalidated for it. Including myself. But never having the expectation of a life of ease and luxury? I do appreciate that. It’s given me a whole different metric for how I view life, one none of my friends except those who are from those years of my life understand. No one in Brisbane or my online international friends seem to get it. But I’m sure when you see yourself in this post, that some of you will (we might be the largely unheard minority but I’m sure we exist. Joel Madden is proof of that). It’s given me a differently calibrated emotional pain scale in many ways. Different standards for when the warning lights come on (and I’m very perceptive of angst and disappointment and always see them in others to be worse than they are because of it). And when I look at everything this band has accomplished, I know it’s the same for them.

I have spent a lot of time these last years advocating for neurodivergent acceptance. I’ve done so in a way that made sense of the decade previous, of existing in a world of inequality I’ve always been so sensitive to and of expectations that I took on as opportunities (because what else have I been trained to do)? And yet so much of it is about funding and resources. And when there isn’t that? You make room for my favourite thing ever: grassroots, unofficial but beautifully organic loving neurodivergent affirmation. Plenty of rural folks, my grandparents included, hate labels, prefer focusing on strengths and equipping young people based on those than accommodating difficulties. They’re often seen as conservative, bigoted, ableist, and some of them are. But they bring with them an important lesson about how to live with the realities of the economy that they struggle in too, too much to support someone else. They don’t have the same impossible expectations of their neurodivergent progeny and protegees and community members that many who hold in their heads an idea of perfection they hope to bring to their families do (the kind of things sometimes only a diagnosis can free someone from, and nothing from the memory and shame of) and that—that is an important attitude for all of us to have.

Some people are unconventionally neurodivergent affirming while knowing none of the terms, or maybe trying to hold off using them because of the same economic and confidence reasons I’ve tried to unpack. Some rely on simple kindnesses and explanations that centre around possibility, and go nowhere near deficit. Some people know intuitively or through hard life lessons themselves (usually the latter) the value of stripping all but essentials from the functionality of everyday life. Not making it any harder than it is.

Of course you can drum on the tables in math class. My son is a musician, I get how it is.

Liz Hemmings is the only valid neurodivergence parent—I’ll say no more, it is how it is

Sometimes when we advocate for things we have to be aware that the way the dominant in-power often wealthy culture has figured it out isn’t always the best way to do things. Environmentalism is a prime example of this. This is why we need brown environmentalism and to decolonise and listen to our Indigenous stewards and share power.

You can take a lot of lessons from a place that’s as culturally diverse as Western Sydney. And you can see how a work ethic is facilitated, rather than gatekept. You can see why Ash, when asked by Joel if he’s scared of every getting back to that life (ref to poverty) his attitude is actually one of gratitude and almost reverence for the place that shaped him, that brought the band together and everything that came from that point forwards. That shaped their attitude and birthed the grit that got them through being on tour with one direction and I don’t think he said it but in Ash’s case I bet the empathy he has for the fans and the way he just wants to connect and create a fun experience but also one where we’re deeply seen by moving songs is because he knows what it’s like for so many people. You can’t not if you grew up like we did. You can see why Luke at any chance will say ‘we’re from Sydney Australia’. It has a way of sticking to you, the rich culture that’s a patchwork of orphaned cultures, the way everyday life is like one of those adventures you emerge from with strong bonds usually only found in fantasy novels. You can see that the band is proof that those bonds exist in real life.

after a decade and a bit pretending I know what leisure is and how to have fun without Bad Angst I’m glad that this proof is still in my life. I’ve still got close friends from primary school and few can boast that (we might not quite be Calum and Michael in that regard, but they still have other friends from primary who they’ve kept in touch with despite geographical separation as I have).

Now I’ve acknowledged this and traced the strings that are much easier to see when my own life is mirrored in a podcast episode, maybe I can find the good among the cultural dysphoria in the circles I do have in Brisbane, and do value still for what they are even if they’re not quite the same. Now that I can see how a world of too many opportunities and not enough freedom can burn someone out who came from this background, with the type of brain that flourishes on being a latchkey kid and sketchy hangouts with deep conversations and questionable substances but crumples under expectation and too much choice and politeness, I can put my life back together in a way that validates who I am and where I come from, rather than what those around me tell me should be good for me.

as, I can tell by this interview, these guys have. I want to be able to talk about suffering without people acting like it shouldn’t be something we can comfortably say out loud, as Ashton does here and through music. My art isn’t quite the same, but the purpose behind it is so, so similar. I relate a lot to the importance he places on spirituality, even if I’ve tried to do something with Christianity that it, in the mainstream at least, isn’t built for and probably can only partially do on its own. Maybe the epitome of humility is being able to learn from other religions and see them as gifts from God even as, and I include Christianity here as well, anything can be dangerous if used in a way that it wasn’t meant for: anything with power to heal has power or hurt too. I’ve got so much respect for how Ash does it. I think this episode really cemented for me that, and I feel like it’s something we as a fandom don’t talk about enough because of their characterisation (and fair enough, if you’re famous you don’t want people dissecting every part of you, and I’m not going to do that just give a generalised compliment): these guys are so incredibly resilient and intelligent and invested in creating healing and they’re really fucking good at it. They might present themselves as goofs with one braincell that create bops and fan over other celebrities as if they themselves aren’t famous too, but so much of that is humility and them baring themselves in ways that are sustainable and really emotionally mature (for the most part) to be relatable to us as fans and invest in making that connection genuine. They’re not pretending, because they understand how it is to be human.

and you don’t get there by being some sort of Untouchable Philosophical Genius Figure. you get there because you’ve lived in community and you’ve survived hard things because of other people who’ve done similar and created authentic art too. You get there often because you have to: because putting on a fake show and doing stuff for likes and popularity was never going to work and will only screw you up in the long run and you’re worldly enough to see that from a young age and learn from your own intuition and empathy and experiences. You get there because you lived your whole life being resourceful and being street smart and doing what it takes to make good decisions and invest in yourself (who else do you have who’s worth more than that) and your future. Doing what it takes to make sure you’re alive to learn how to do better at things you’re behind in that might keep food on the table in the future, because there’s none of that oh-it-won’t-happen-to-me attitude. That part is very sustainable which I love. I also really really relate to it and have found it something I would get complimented on when I was younger, too young to be so mature. But I never attributed it to myself. I knew somehow, abstractly, I was disabled and nearing my limit and everything I do I did so I could survive. It’s the western Sydney work ethic.

and yet this often beautiful phenomenon has its ugly side. If you know you’re neurodivergent even without the words—more often than not the only people you see who you relate to are those who didn’t make it, who fell off the horse of functionality and into things like addiction and other things that exacerbate the inability to empower yourself. You figure that when you’re honest with yourself you’ll be dead by 25. Sometimes you give up on trying to prevent that and wonder if it’s even worth it to attempt to keep going: is your life really worth that effort?? What I’ve described is a combination of the experiences of many people I know, aspects of it are mine, and aspects mirror things I know these guys have mentioned about themselves (I’m going to leave it at that vague level of detail). You wonder why people believe in you, is it only because any other option is unmentionable? But what if you let them down like you know (fear) you will? And burnout is the epitome of this: the need to let go of trying. And without a decent amount of privilege it’s impossible to return from.

I’ve been there and scrounged at straws of privilege I do have, pretending I’m doing my job to the level that others expect while letting go of every expectation I have on myself. Still problem solving outside every box on how to get back on my feet because I know nothing else, radically accepting that I might not and whittling down all my needs in life to the most essential, that I might still survive even at my limited and diminishing capacity. While always relating to those our society sees as failures. I’ve borrowed from other cultures that aren’t my own to have a stubborn sense of worth while trying to keep afloat in a society and economy that says it’s conditional. My spirituality comes in here, as do my problem-solving skills: again, maybe this culture fears burnout more than anything, but maybe it has half a toolkit on how to get out of it. Only half. I have to pair it with what I learn from others too.

and even through that, I’m immensely privileged to have savant skills and a generally able body. Just like when you make it big as a musician you’re privileged by that. Against a backdrop of I’m-nothing-special. I’ve always struggled with questions of my felt worth, because I’m so conscious of my privilege and ability that sometimes I get the two muddled (though I know my ability doesn’t define my worth in things I do poorly at, and my persistence technically doesn’t either but I’ll be damned if I don’t try and try and actually find doing badly more validating of how I see myself than when I do well, so I chase it again and again, my dad is the same, it’s what makes us so adventurous). I understand the consciousness of things that are going well not lasting, and pouring creativity for new ventures into things like selling candles. Instead of letting achievements make me believe I’m someone more important than I am, using them as ways of giving myself space to do whatever’s next, dial off the pressure a little bit.

I understand appreciating others’ sensitivity and the social capital they bring everywhere rather than their material wealth or achievement and when Ash praised Calum for that and said it made him look bad I felt that. Both the experience of being that counter-cultural person who doesn’t give a shit about money but values connection so, so much more (and from all I’ve written, you can see why, can’t you) to still never being able to be as good a person as I see the need for in the world.

I understand missing family and constantly grieving that, as I weigh up the city of my childhood with the friends and culture I love versus the city of my youth with my feathered family who are my children and who I hate to miss birthdays of and the like, same goes for my sisters and parents and grandparents, the way Ashton, the only band member with younger siblings, hates missing all their milestones too. I feel privileged that Brisbane and Sydney are so close to each other and nothing in my life is as far as Los Angeles. I understand the nostalgia for Sydney. This whole post is proof of it.

I understand the unbreakable bonds between people who make this kind of art together. I understand putting disagreements on the back burner and realising the connection through writing is so much bigger and the connection can overcome whatever is going wrong. Heck, I feel privileged to understand and relate to how such brilliant brains work (nature: neurodivergence I won’t go any further into as well as nurture) as well as the environment that made them what they are.

all my life I’ve longed for that kind of community and connection I’ve seen largely in fiction, sometimes between people in real life. And I think having written this analysis (it’s taken me til my bedtime or later) I do have all the ingredients there. All the ability to make it, both in the practical way I relate to and am there for my friends and whatever I do in my silver bridges tag. In the neighbourhoods I eventually design that foster communities with all the good parts I’ve described but without the inequality and minimal poverty and hurt and violence. To everyone who’s shown me these things in myself that are so worth working for and I know I’m not savantly immediately good at, I am so so incredibly grateful. the city as a whole. My family and friends. The celebrities I grew up nearby and those who invest in people like them. People like me. May I keep investing in people: people like you. because what is humility but knowing there’s always something to learn, and what will bring all of us forward but learning it and putting it into practice in love and empathy that drives a grit that no amount of striving for striving’s sake can manufacture?

#western sydney #western sydney work ethic #neurodivergence #burnout #personal mental health tag #ashton irwin #artist friendly interview #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #5sos #community #urban design #growing up poor #I did a big analysis and I will do this again #5sos5 city #silver bridges #neurodivergent liberation

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