#I wrote this about burnout

[rinkiyakimummy]

I was golden and I was shining like a star until one day I burnt out and only the ashes of past glory remained. The shooting star became the falling star. 

Day by day I slowly climbed up the pedestal I was building for myself. So high and mighty that one misstep would make my fall to the ground, shattering all my bones. A pedestal so high, that I couldn’t visualise myself  anywhere else and the expectations I set for myself were stricter than any that others set for me. I made it look like everything came easy to me and hard work was something I hadn’t even heard of, except the sweat from my toil and the tears of my sorrow soaked my pillow more often than I would like to admit. My entire identity became my image, which felt like an elaborate lie I wanted to keep up. It was too late to admit I was not as impressive as others thought, it was too late to admit I was not as impressive as I wanted to be. Everyday I set bigger expectations for myself , until they were so heavy it seemed as though the slightest fumble would crush me under their mighty weight.  Eventually the world saw me as the golden one who’d make no mistake and never falter. In fact, there was no room to falter. Perfection was the only choice. Perfection is exhausting because perfection is the opposite of humanity. To be human is to err, and to not allow yourself to make mistakes is a sin. I climbed my pedestal so high, I couldn’t see the ground anymore, all I knew was that I couldn’t leave it, I couldn’t let myself  fail, that is until I couldn’t reach my expectations anymore. 

Disappointing others hurts for sure, but disappointing myself was a twisting stab in the heart. I struggled each day to stay who I assumed everyone else thought I was. I put my blood, sweat and tears into maintaining an illusion of something that didn’t even matter. It took time but I learnt to be less harsh to myself. To be as kind to myself, as I try to be to others. To let myself fail once in a while, and make mistakes. To be human, to learn, to improve without judging myself. I think in a way I still am on the pedestal I placed myself on, but it doesn’t seem as scary to fall now. It’s not bone shattering or heartbreaking, it’s at best a scrape on the knee. Maybe it’ll leave a scar of the memory of failure, but failure isn’t an all consuming end, it’s just a lesson. Maybe I’ll never be good enough, because nothing is ever enough but I can definitely be good and that is enough for me. 

Maybe this time, I want to shine like the moon, bright yet perseverant. Go through phases of darkness and light, but always continue. I want to glow gently and never burn out. 

[rudnitskaia]

yay a week until my 29th bday ✨🔥😎🔥✨

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Smooth Operator

Fandom: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Word Count: 6112

Relationships: Bell OC/Frank Woods, Alex Mason/OC

Characters: Frank Woods, Alex Mason, Jodie Hall, Sarah Mason

Summary: This is an AU based off of the biker skin of Frank's from the Demon Dog bundle. It is probably my favourite skin and wanted to write something based off of it - however, the ideas I had didn't settle in the 'canon' world I have planned for Jodie, my Bell OC, so decided to do an AU instead. Essentially, he's a bit of a flirt and Jodie is just trying to work XD but it ends well!

Tagging: @alypink (I think I remember saying I'd tag you when I posted this- sorry if not ;u;)

The diner was a common stop for those who were on a lengthy journey, whether that be roadtrips or days out. Everyone who entered those double doors were patrons who had been on the road for too long and were in need of something to fuel the rest of their journey. 

The two men rode into the car park, having been riding the dips and occasional twists of the road for a little longer than anticipated and though Frank could have continued riding for longer, he agreed with Alex that a quick break wouldn’t hurt. 

The parking was easy, as they rolled their bikes into smaller bays near the front of the diner, pulling their helmets off and leaving them on the seats. Frank ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling away the flatness that the helmet had caused. His eyes moved over to his friend, who was already walking to the entrance. Pulling down the red neckerchief to rest under his chin, Frank said, “we’re only stoppin’ for a coffee.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya,” Alex waved over his shoulder, knowing full well that he was not only stopping for a coffee, but for a catch up with his favourite girl, Sarah. They’d met at that same diner months prior, on a different outing, and the two had been on a couple of dates. Frank knew he’d most likely end up getting caught there, watching the two chat away, being young and in love. He was happy for the guy, the girl seemed really sweet, but he wanted a coffee and then to get back on the road. 

Once the two were inside, he caught Alex scanning the space for the young woman in the corner of his eye and he couldn’t help the shake of his head. It seemed Sarah wasn’t out front yet. 

“Strange,” Alex commented, “she’s supposed to be working.” 

“You sound like a stalker,” Frank uttered, moving over to a booth in the corner - it was far enough away from the judgemental eyes of others, though he couldn’t give two shits about what other people thought, he just didn’t like people.

“I’d like to think I sound concerned,” Alex retorted, slumping into the seat opposite Frank, who was sitting in the seating that connected to the wall. He was watching everything, eyes narrow and hawk-like. 

It wasn’t long before a young woman came to stand at their table, a smile on her features that most definitely did not reach her eyes. It was forced and strained, like she had already decided that she hated the interaction before she’d even had it. She was a new face and the crisp new uniform made clear that she was a new waitress. It was a pale yellow pinafore that stopped just before the knees, accented with a  wide white rounded collar, short sleeves with a peaked trim and an apron. From the pockets of the apron, this woman pulled a small pad of paper and a pencil, holding them ready for an order. Even her tone signalled that she pulled no pleasure from the job, “what do you want?” 

Frank liked her immediately. 

He leant back into the seat, relaxed, as an enamoured smile grew on his lips, eyes lighting up a little. Alex spotted this, fighting the urge to kick Frank’s foot under the table and destabilise his current position, if only to torment the other in the face of his apparent attraction. Rather than reply himself, Alex let his friend do it, instead opting to peer over his shoulder and give the room a once-over again, still looking for Sarah. 

“Two coffees,” Frank answered, “are you new around here?” 

“Two coffees,” she echoed, scribbling it down on the pad, as she puffed a stray strand of hair that had fallen from her updo, “will you want sugar and milk?” 

Her eyes moved from the pad to look at Frank and it seemed to him that she didn’t care for his question. Honestly, she hadn’t really wanted to come over to serve them, if only because she had certain expectations influenced by their attire; they looked like they had ridden straight out of a biker gang and from what she had heard they were not the most civil of people. It’s why she was being so abrasive. 

“Sure,” he said, his elbow now resting on the table and his knuckles just resting at his temple as he leaned, his eyes steadily watching how she moved. She was beautiful, in a way that seemed effortless for her, from her reddened lips, the long lashes, the slight creases of dimples at the corners of her mouth when she spoke. Even as she stood, hip cocked out to one side as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, all he could think about was how attractive she was. 

What caught him the most, though, were her eyes. They were a dark brown, with small flecks of honey, and when they were on him he felt a warmth rush over him. They were soft, kind, with a slight sense of tiredness clinging to the hue. He didn’t want her to look away. 

Maybe he could understand Alex a little more; though Frank thought that he only wanted the fun of the chase. 

“Would you like the same?” she now moved her eyes from him and that warmth left, now shared with Alex who hummed in response to her. He hadn’t fully caught the question, but offered her an easy smile before he realised what had been asked. She seemed a little softer on the other, as she let out a little sigh and waited patiently. Alex replied, “neither for me.” 

“Alright,” she hummed, offering that tight smile from before, “do either of you want anything from the menu?” 

“What do you recommend?” Frank asked, turning his body so that he was now fully engaged with speaking with her. 

“If I’m honest, the only thing that’s good here are the waffles.” She admitted, then looked him up and down, “but you don’t seem like the waffle kind of guy.” 

“You’d be right,” Frank admitted, laughing slightly, “I’ll stick with the coffee.” 

The smile she wore relaxed a little and she offered it to Frank somewhat apologetically; she hadn’t really meant to be so blunt. When she turned to Alex, he offered that he was also fine with only the coffee. With the order taken, she stepped back and tapped her pencil to the pad a couple times, before she turned on her heel and left.

As she walked away, Frank watched after her, a mischievous look in his eye as though he’d made a decision about something. Alex knew his friend well, knew that he’d decided he was going to leave with that woman’s number, which caused him to laugh, “that’s not goin’ to happen, Frank.” 

“What do you know?” His response was quick, accentuated with the slight furrow of his brows as he tugged on the neckerchief around his neck. 

“I know that you’re goin’ to get rejected by that woman over there,” Alex jutted his thumb out in her direction, as they both peered over at her again. 

She was now settled behind the counter, working away at brewing their coffee. To her right, the doors that lead into the kitchen opened and Sarah appeared. The smaller woman was chipper, but in the way that a person was using it to hide the tiredness that wracked their body and though some might find the compensation a little annoying, the new waitress seemed to relax once this bright presence joined her at her side. 

“Sorry for leavin’ you to deal with the floor for that long,” Sarah chirped, giving the woman’s arm a quick reassuring squeeze, “who’ve we got in then, Jodie?” 

Jodie kept her attention on the coffee pot, but answered Sarah’s question, “there’s a family on table eight, they weren’t ready to order when I greeted them, so you might want to try them next. Table thirteen has a couple, their order is in the kitchen.” 

Once the coffee was finished brewing, she grabbed the pot as well as two empty mugs, “then this is for the two guys at table 20, over in the corner.” Using her head to indicate the direction, Jodie added, “I think one of them is going to try to flirt.” 

“Oh dear,” Sarah followed her, then spotted Alex and, by extension, Frank, “oh dear.” 

A warm, mirthful smile formed on her lips as a giggle bubbled in her throat. Sarah leant toward Jodie, who naturally ducked her head closer as she anticipated her friend’s whispering, “that’s the guy I was tellin’ you about, you know, the one that…” 

“Oh?” Jodie moved away to look at Sarah’s face, brows furrowed as she silently questioned her meaning. The smaller woman raised an eyebrow as she bit her lip, impishly. Jodie then remembered a conversation they had a bit back, about a little visit Sarah had received and what they had gotten up to, “Sarah!” 

“Isn’t he handsome?” Sarah responded, leaning on the countertop and sighing dreamily, before she snapped out of it to add with a shrug, “Frank’s not too bad lookin’, either, sweetheart, he seems like he’d be your type.” 

“My type,” Jodie scoffed, “my type is not… that.” She had gestured in the men’s general direction, eyes casting over them as she then caught herself focusing on the man in question. From there, she couldn’t see how one would think he was anything like the kind of person she would go for. He looked like a delinquent, someone who made mischief for the sake of it. No, she couldn’t find him attractive. 

“Oh, come on, Jodie,” Sarah heaved dramatically, “if he’s flirtin’ with you there ain’t no harm in flirtin’ back. It’s how Alex and I started datin’.” 

Jodie chuckled, “you can have them. Save me the pain because I’m not flirting.” 

“I think I’ll let you keep ‘em,” Sarah said, nudging the other’s shoulder with her own as her tone lilted teasingly, “just have fun with it, you’ll be fine.” 

“Sarah, I’m not going to flirt-” 

“I’m headin’ over to table eight, honey,” she grinned as she moved away before Jodie could protest further, then offered a slight wave over towards Alex and Frank. Alex waved back, then ducked his head to hide the smile on his face. Jodie watched this interaction, remaining standing behind the counter with the pot of coffee and mugs in hand, wishing that Sarah could have left her with the family. 

She looked over to the men once again and at the same time Frank turned to look at her. He was mid conversation with his friend, but his words were then enveloped by the smile on his face. In response to him, she scrunched up her nose, refusing to give in to his charm. So what if he was flirting, or smiling at her? She didn’t care. Jodie was just there to serve coffee and earn money.

At the table, Jodie placed the mugs down first, then the coffee pot. As she did these things, she felt his eyes watching her as steadily as they had when she’d first spoken with them. He spoke, voice erring with a gruffness that Jodie felt could only suit him, “what do we call you, doll?” 

“Not that,” she replied, hotly, as she gently slid over one of the mugs to Alex. She had decided that he wasn’t so bad, given that he was dating her friend; if he was good enough for Sarah, Jodie felt like she could cut him some slack. She received a smile in return as thanks. 

“Well I can’t call you nothin’, can I?” he replied. 

“You could,” she replied, sliding his mug to him sharply. Frank caught it quickly, then shot her a mischievous grin. 

“I’ll just have to stick with doll then, won’t I?” 

Her eyes locked with his momentarily and she pursed her lips. Now that Sarah had pointed it out, Jodie hated to admit that he was, unfortunately, attractive. His eyes were sharp, icy blue and the devilish glint in them had her heart in the beginning motions of a flutter. It could have been the slight edge to his tone, daring her to protest against him. It could have been the way his tongue flickered over his bottom lip before he started talking to her, drawing her eyes down to them, captured- 

 No. Jodie was not paid to flirt. She was paid to serve coffee and tea and shitty diner food. She was not going to flirt with him. 

“Enjoy your coffee,” she said, sharply, then offered Alex a little smile, “if you need anything, shout Sarah.” 

Before Frank had time to counter, she was walking away and Alex laughed out loud. He had poured himself a mug, the steam momentarily obscuring his vision of Frank, but he could imagine the look on his face. When he finally checked if his assumption was right, he was surprised by the fact that Frank was so obviously watching her ass. A kick from Alex snapped Frank from his current task of watching her swinging hips, so that he could then watch his friend silently laugh at him, “time to give up, buddy.” 

With a slight grimace, Frank side-eyed Alex, a look of disdain on his features. There was a slight shake of his head, then he checked the tabletop for the milk and sugar he’d asked for; the table was vacant of these things. 

“Seems like I have one more chance,” Frank uttered, “then and only then will I take the loss.” 

Alex rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue, as he then followed the image of his friend’s retreating form. He shook his head, though there was a fond mirth to the crease of his eyes that formed when he found himself grinning. As he rested an arm over the back of the booth’s seating, he caught the eye of Sarah, who in turn was grinning from ear to ear at the sight of Frank at the counter. She waved her hand giddily to Alex, jutting her thumb in their direction before she dramatically put her hand to her chest in shock. Alex shrugged in response, before he turned back to finish his coffee. 

At the counter, Jodie was spritzing the surface with cleaner, then sweeping in large circles to clean the countertop. Really, this was to make herself look busy, as she had seen movement in the corner of her eye. Frank had come to lean against the counter, one arm resting on the surface as his free hand hooked into his pocket. He cleared his throat, the ghost of a smirk on his face. 

“What do you want?” She asked, heaving a sigh and resting the knuckles of her hands on her hips, still holding a cloth in one hand. 

“So cold,” he said, “ya like this with all your customers?” 

“Not all of them,” she replied, returning to cleaning, “just some.” 

“I feel honoured,” he chuckled. 

“Don’t,” she pursed her lips, before she added, “if you came over here just for a chat, I’ll have to disappoint-”

“Actually, I came over because you forgot the extras.” He admitted, pointing to the milk and sugar that had been set aside by the coffee machine. Her eyes followed the guidance, then she sucked air in quickly between her teeth. 

Apologetically, she gathered them, then offered them to him by sliding them across the counter to him, “sorry about that. Is there anything else you’d like?” 

Hovering in place, his eyes reluctantly dropped from her face and down to the milk, offered in a little pot, and sugar packets. Then he looked back up at her; there was that same impish glint in his eyes, the subtle uplift of the corner of his mouth as he wrapped his knuckles on the counter’s surface. He wondered whether he should take his last shot, even if he risked being rejected by the beautiful woman. 

“Yeah, actually,” he decided, watching her features for any furtive tell that he had the go ahead to ask. The slight quirk of her brows, thrown up in an urge for him to continue had him adding, “I really would like to put a pretty name to a pretty face, doll. Maybe even a number.” 

Jodie slapped the cloth in her hand down on the counter, looking up at the other with a slight twitch to the corner of her eyes, as they narrowed on him coolly. Honestly, he was charming, handsome, anyone would have swooned already, but Jodie had come too far to let herself collapse in the face of his allure. She was too prideful. So, she countered, heaving the words through and past her teeth as her eyes dropped down to his lips again. They flickered away, down to her hands, to anywhere other than him. Her tone was clipped, “if I had a dollar for every time a man like you asked me for my number, I wouldn’t have to work here.” 

“JODIE.” A gruff voice from the kitchen shouted, the tones howling and grieved with annoyance. There was a look on her face that signalled she’d prefer to do anything than go back there and face whoever was yelling, but when her name was called again, harsher this time, she shouted back, “yes! I heard you.” 

Turning on her heel, she called out to Sarah, “will you watch the floor?” 

“I got’cha, girl,” Sarah hollered in her southern tones, though she was watching after the double doors once Jodie had disappeared through them. Moving between the tables, Sarah then came to stand beside Frank, nudging his arm slightly, “her plate’s pretty full.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“She’s also ain’t used to pretty guys flirtin’ with her,” Sarah chuckled, “you got her all flustered.” 

“Right…” Frank became acutely aware that there were raised voices coming from the back, too muffled to really understand what was being said. He asked, “that a manager yellin’ or somethin’ back there?” 

“Oh, that guy?” Sarah began walking back to Frank’s booth with him, eyes watching the other patrons to make sure no one wanted her attention, before she came to stand beside Alex. He was still seated, but soon snuck his hand around her upper legs, hand resting on her hip. Both of the men signalled they were listening to her, Alex quickly catching up with what they were talking about. 

“Oh, he’s an asshole,” Sarah mentioned, “always yellin’. He just likes to feel special, you know? He takes out any stress on us girls, though.”

“Really?” Alex questioned, looking up at the woman with a slight surprise on his face, as this was the first time he was hearing about the problem. 

“Yeah, I worked here long enough to tell him where he can put his attitude,” she leant forward a little bit, “but Jodie ain’t been here too long, so he thinks he can get away with it. Tell you what, I never seen a waitress get called back there as much as her… I feel sorry for her most of the time and there ain’t nothin’ I can do about it.” 

Frank let his eyes rest on Alex for a moment, lips pursed in a contemplative look, as Alex seemed to share the same thought; neither of them liked what they were hearing. 

There was a clatter that drew the attention of everyone in the diner, as the double doors from the kitchen flung open in a fury. Jodie, who held a coat folded over her arm, a bag over her right shoulder and car keys handing on her fingers, was storming through the diner and out into the car park. Whatever had been discussed had bought an early end to her shift and left her features set in a furious storm. 

“Oh dear,” Sarah grumbled, as Alex rubbed circles on her hip, “he’s gone and done it again…” 

“Need me to have a word?” Frank uttered, bitterly, watching as Jodie got into her car and drove away. 

“He’s not the kinda guy that’s gonna change,” she huffed. 

Catching Frank’s gaze, Alex’s jaw was set, tense, “we can be persuasive.” 

A slight tap to his shoulder and she was gently chiding him, “you stop that. I ain’t havin’ any of that here, got it?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Sarah, do I pay you to stand around and do nothing?” That same voice from the back was now at the counter, near the till, and it belonged to a short, portly, balding man who was sweating buckets. He wiped his brow, before he gestured aggressively for her to move away from the men and get back to work. 

Alex’s arm was no longer around her, as he had started to rise up from his seat; Frank made no move to stop him. Sarah, however, was urging him to sit back down and only when she made sure he was looking at her, a nod of her head to say that she was fine, did Alex do just that. But not before he sent the manager a very hard, cold stare. 

________

From that point on, the diner felt tense, strange. Half an hour had passed and Frank decided it was time to leave, though Alex waited behind for his partner. He’d mentioned that he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone, that he wanted to make sure she got home safely; Frank had scoffed, commenting something along the lines of ‘ever the gentleman’ in a good natured jab. 

 So, after saying bye, Frank had headed from the diner, from the shitty manager and his friends by himself, traversing the road alone. It stretched for miles and eventually there was a small blot of colour on the oncoming horizon of what seemed to be a broken down vehicle. For a moment, Frank felt sorry for the poor bastard who’d got stuck at the side of the road, but had no intention of stopping. It was their problem, after all, not his. 

His mind remained unwavering, at least until he was close enough to recognise the vehicle. There was smoke whispering from the open bonnet, hands waving it away before the body they were attached to moved into view. He almost smirked, but forced that away as he identified the woman as Jodie. Her face was contorted into a sharpened grimace, brows so tightly knitted together that it looked like an oncoming headache. 

A concerned feeling pooled in his gut and Frank faltered in his intention to ride by. By the time he was at her position at the roadside, he was slowly coming to a stop. Once he had, he remained seated, though leant back slightly as his gloved hands dropped from the handles of the Harley-Davidson and into his lap. After a split second, he was quick to pull his red-lensed goggle up and onto his spiked helmet and tug his red neckerchief under his chin. 

“You alright there, doll?” He settled on asking, watching her steadily.

Jodie had halted in her pacing, as a hand raked through her hair, which was now set free from its earlier updo. Her fingers massaged circles into her scalp, bidding the headache that niggled at the edges of her mind to go away. It wasn’t. 

She snapped, “are you stalking me?” 

“Not at all,” he replied, then gestured to her car, “I can take a look.” 

Hovering at the side of her dead car, Jodie set him with a dubious glance. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to take him up on his offer, but given their earlier interactions, part of her wondered what the conditions were. When he made no move to get up, to force her to accept his offer, she slowly nodded her head; only then did he kick out the stand on his bike, leave his belongings on the seat and move towards her. 

“This happened before?” He asked, as he came to stand beside her. As he looked down, he noticed that her eyes were a little reddened, as was the tip of her nose. He didn’t mention it, even if he was curious to know whether his assumptions were correct. She seemed like the kind of person too prideful to admit she had been crying - he was the same. Not that he’d ever cried… or so Frank would have everyone think. 

“Uh,” Jodie distractedly scratched at her brow, before screwing her eyes closed in an effort to formulate a sentence, “yeah. There was an issue with the timing belt, so I took it to a mechanic, he said he’d fixed the issue but, clearly…” 

Her hand halfheartedly waved towards the vehicle and Frank nodded along, before he leant over the engine to start his inspection. In all honesty, Jodie wondered if the mechanic had replaced the timing belt with another faulty one, or if she really was just that unlucky to have broken down again. It might not even be the same issue, but given the awful sound and screeching the car had made before coming to an abrupt halt, she believed she was facing another timing belt issue. Which was just great, that was another expense she couldn’t afford. 

A heavy sigh passed her lips, as she moved away to let Frank do whatever he wanted. Look as he might, he wasn’t going to be able to fix anything. Jodie was certain of it. Still, she supposed it was nice of him to stop by and try. It was more than what some other people had done when she’d tried to flag them down. 

“Sounds like he screwed you over,” Frank commented lightly, as he continued to inspect. He was being thorough, making sure that every inch was checked over, just in case there were multiple issues. 

As he did this, he asked, “are you good?” 

“What?” Jodie asked, eyes moving to him from her dazed state. She had been hovering just behind him, eyes not really focused on anything in particular, ears humming with a ringing pitch as a headache began to form in the forefront of her head. She had even sniffled a couple of times, still recovering from the few frustrated tears she had shed once she realised her situation at the side of the road. 

“Are you good?” He repeated, stopping in his movements to shoot her a brief look over his shoulder. He tried his best to seem less abrupt with his tone, but he wasn’t too sure if he achieved that. He did notice that her hardened stare softened when she recognised what he’d said, a slight flicker of gentle shock passing her eyes. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked in return, arms folding over her chest as her eyes darted down to her feet. Using the tip of her white trainers, she rolled a stone over and over on the same spot, until she got bored of doing so and kicked it away. 

Frank’s voice was a little muffled as he had returned his attention to the engine, but his words still reached her, “ain’t none of my business, but your boss could learn how to treat a woman properly.” 

“Oh…” She grew a little tense, “yeah. I suppose he could.” 

“There ain’t no supposin’.” Frank leant his hands on the lip of the car, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He cocked his head to one side, releasing tension in the muscles, before he decided to straighten up. He continued, “does he speak like that to you often?” 

There was a moment that Jodie just found herself watching him, their eyes interlocked in a silent conversation, and she wasn’t entirely sure whether revealing the truth to him was the right thing to do. After all, he was a stranger to her and why would a stranger want to know anything about her, no less about her boss’ attitude towards her. 

She broke eye contact first, turning her body an angle away from him. Her eyes settled on the road, the vast long, stretching road which was vacant of any oncoming traffic. There were not even specs on the horizon. Jodie focused on this road while she contemplated saying something, admitting that she really hated the way she was spoken to, like she was nothing but shit that her boss had stepped in. 

He was a stranger… 

A sigh passed her lips, then she was turning back to him, arms moving to hang at her sides before she offered, “he does.” 

Frank was now half leaning against the car, his arms over his chest, hands grabbing at his upper arms. His lips were pursed, piercing blue eyes settled on a spot on the ground, just in front of where Jodie stood. He nodded once, as though he had decided on something, then spoke again, “just you?” 

“No, Sarah, too.” Jodie said, “but she handles it.”

“So I’ve heard,” he muttered, but still, it left a bitter taste on his tongue. Part of him wished Sarah had let Mason knock some sense into the guy. 

“If Sarah asked you to-”

“She hasn’t asked me to do anything,” he interjected. 

Jodie went quiet. 

“Your timing belt is fucked, by the way,” he added. 

“What?” She was at his side in an instant, head ducked down to take a sweeping look at her engine; she wasn’t entirely sure what she would be looking for, but look she did. It gave her something to do as her thoughts began to race through her head. 

Jodie’s brows furrowed together tightly in a scrutinising frown as he pointed to the timing belt, which was not looking like it should. A groan left her and her hands came to rest against her features; her sight was darkened by her palms and it was a nice reprieve from the glaring sun of the day. Now if only there was a way she didn’t have to stand around in the heat, sweat growing slick on the back of her neck. 

“I can’t believe this,” she grumbled.  

Frank moved to close the bonnet of the car with a thud, hearing it click back into place satisfyingly and he was then stood by her, a little closer than originally intended, and her shoulder gently brushed against his chest. Upon feeling him so close, her hands shot down from hiding her face and she was peering up at him. 

She wanted to cry, to kick her car, to slam her fist into the nearest thing, as her frustration built up in her chest; instead, all she did was force a restful look on her face, fight against the emotion, and bit her lip in tense thought. 

He watched her carefully, one brow raised; it seemed that his decision from earlier needed to be voiced now. 

“Get on, I’m taking you to town.” He said this as he walked away, a gloved hand tapping her arm to spark her attention to him and by extension his ride. He arrived at his bike by the time she was spinning on her heel, giving him a look of incredulity. 

“Wait, what? Who says?” She demanded. 

He chuckled, plucking his helmet from the seat, holding it just out in front of him as he checked it over, “I do.” 

“You didn’t even ask.” She huffed, exasperated, hands gesturing out to his motorbike. He took the opportunity to place his helmet in her outstretched hand, which she took for fear of it clattering to the floor and becoming damaged. 

“Do you want me to ask?”

Jodie held the helmet close to her chest, unsure of whether she should say yes, or no, or nothing at all. All the while, he was mounting the bike, adjusting his position and kicking up the stand. 

“It would have been nice.” 

“Alright,” he started the bike, the sound of it deep rumbling resonating in Jodie’s body, “will you get on? I’m taking you to town.” 

“That’s not what I-”

He shot her a charming smile, as he interjected, “if you think I’m leavin’ you at the side of the road for some nut to pick you up, think again, doll.”

A sigh left her, head ducked down to hide the slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips - the smile had struck a chord in her heart and she thought back to what Sarah had said. Yeah, maybe he was her type… dammit. 

Jodie pulled the helmet on, stepping up to the bike as she fastened the straps. Then, she was settling into the seat behind him, as she then internally panicked about where to put her hands. Did she wrap her arms around him? Or grab his jacket? Were there handles on the sides of the seat? 

“You need to hold on,” he commented, “don’t wanna lose you.” 

“Uh, ok,” she held onto his jacket. 

Before he set off, Frank tugged his neckerchief back over his lower face, hiding a mischievous smirk that started to grow on his lips. 

Holding on to me like that ain’t gonna do, he thought to himself, as he checked the road and pulled out. In an instant, he was hiking up the speed and the jolt of it caused Jodie to slip backwards. Instinctively, her arms wrapped around his body, clinging tightly as her body was now flush against his back. 

With their closeness, Jodie could feel the vibration of his chuckle in his chest and felt a slight pat on her hands from one of his own. Over the sound of the roaring engine, the rush of the wind, she said, “you did that on purpose.” 

“I told you to hold on, didn’t I?” 

But, yes, Frank most definitely did that on purpose. 

The ride was relatively smooth, though there were occasions where their speed would increase or Frank would take a turn a little sharp and his self-indulgent grin would grow whenever he felt the woman cling to him that little bit tighter. Every so often, he would catch Jodie resting her head against his shoulder and he would sneak glances at her through the side mirrors. As they arrived at the town, Frank felt his heart dropping a little, not wanting to quite let things be over yet. But, they had to, as the mechanic’s workshop came into view. 

The bike slowed to a stop and Frank held it steady as Jodie climbed off. He kept his gaze on her as she removed his helmet and she held it in her hands for a little longer than was necessary. She seemed to be thinking about something and he enjoyed how her lips pursed gently in her thought. 

“There anythin’ else I can do?” he asked. 

“Yeah, actually,” the ghost of a smile appeared on her features. As she offered his helmet back, she added, “just wait here.” 

Frank did exactly that after he took his helmet back, placing it on his head that then cocked to the side as he watched her walk away, a slight urgency to her steps. Moments later, she was rushing back out to him with a small, neatly folded slip of paper in her hand. With a very sheepish look, she offered it out to him, eyes unable to meet his own. 

“What’s this?” he asked, unable to hide the teasing lilt to his tone as he took the paper between his index and middle fingers. Crossing her arms in response, she murmured, “open it up and you’ll find out.” 

He did and written in very neat, slightly cursive handwriting was a full name and a number. Frank read it once, then twice, then peered up at her, noticing the slight red to the tips of her ears and cheeks. Was she flustered? 

“Well Miss Hall,” he started, tucking that paper away in his breast pocket for safe keeping, which he patted twice. His tone then became graced with concern, “will you be alright?” 

With a nod of her head, she offered, “I think I’ve got it from here.” 

The two idly waved goodbye and Jodie remained stood as she watched Frank leave. The roar of the bike slowly faded down in decibels until she could no longer hear it and she let herself smile widely. 

“You still need me, darlin’?” Came the cutting voice of the mechanic, who snapped her from her thoughts. 

She turned to face him, moving towards the workshop as she said, “yeah, coming!” 

Her mind, though, was still occupied with Frank and she was left feeling like a giddy schoolgirl.

[little-ajax-56793]

Still thinking about when I submitted a short story about a depressed person getting inspiration from a dream to a contest and when i lost their feedback was that the dream scene was too long. Like girl the dream scene is the story the rest is set dressing

[1o1percentmilk]

i want to tell u guys abt my weredog oc... hes like if patrick bateman sucked and wasnt a nepo baby and worked a middling dead end office job..i give all of my trauma and worries and fears to him about fitting in and not getting to have an impact and yet not having the personal strength to make things better,

[lupismaris]

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[glambots]

How many requests do you have left? Just curious.

Not including fic requests? 25. With fics, 34.

[char-writes]

Don't want to jinx anything but I'm feeling hopeful that my months' long writer's burnout is finally coming to a close

[lunasonoma]

my friends i have become enraptured by the sandman and it has reawakened my need to write good fanfiction

[fey-changeling]

I wrote this as part of my dissertation and I wanted to share it because it was the only thing in it I was genuinely proud of, and it doesn't deserve to rot away in a document forever. It's inspired by a performance called APPARITION, APPARITION by Florence Peake and Eve Stainton.

676 words. Contains allusions to climate change, environmental disasters, apocalypse

Elegy for the ghosts of a green Earth

The two of them sat in a green corner of the world, where you could forget for a moment that a slow apocalypse had begun. Even the most intimate touches seemed casual, and the childish act of drawing on each other seemed like an intimacy beyond any other. They bit their lip in concentration, as if the spirals they drew across her stomach were a masterpiece unlike any other. An echo of ancient battle paint, with as much care, but no finesse, no design. Shieldmaidens fighting for the earth.

They said the future is a smoking ruin, a wreck of our own making. What’s the point of carrying on? we had little left to lose. They mourned it as if it was a tragic accident not a murder they continued to commit. Our world was dying and it seemed nobody with the power to stop it cared at all. All those girls – those children – who were measuring their words and their tones instead of screaming do you want to leave us with nothing?! shouldn’t have had to bear the weight of such agony. It is not for children to be forced to change the future.

People left marks on each other, not always the marks intended, as footprints left in the sand, as scars were left on the landscape. Every broken twig spoke of your presence. The colourful lines on their bodies marked interactions, and each one was different, made them different but the same. When they were together the marks drawn onto their bodies lined up, and they were a single being.

How much did it take to be so raw, to bear so much to the world and not crumple and fall and hide away the soft, vulnerable core? There is such strength in the softness, such softness in the strength. They reached for each other’s hands just so their fingers could brush, fleeting contact. Their joy was mortal in the face of all that would fall. They were there for her, and she was there for them. They were a unit, even when apart it was Them-and-Her, She-and-They. The distance was nothing, bridged by focus and intangible connection. The familiarity seemed as though it should have been private, but they had chosen to share it with the world. They were unashamed of their affection. Such honesty was startling, easy confidence in themselves, in each other. They made it seem the simplest thing to declare themselves and all between them to the world. A world that demanded and reviled honesty, and world that wanted the truth but couldn’t handle it. They made themselves a statement, a protest, explored desolation through each other’s bodies.

What could be given when there was nothing left to give? What could be taken when there was nothing left to take? How can you give back what was taken, take back what was given? It was not possible to start anew. History can be rewritten but it would not change the truth. Just as it repeats just a little to the left, in a slightly different key, the same mistakes were made again. As the world burned, melted, collapsed, exploded the truth was the press of her thigh against theirs. Their hand in her hair. Is this a defeat? all we have left to hold onto is each other. There was stillness and nothing moved but everything continued, holding its breath to witness it. They (She-and-They, Them-and-Her) held everything in holding each other. Nothing is forever, smudged the lines and curves drawn on their bodies, nothing is forever.

Bury them together, let them grow entwined, no matter what parts them. Bury them together and let them heal the earth. For they were the ghosts of the Earth, of everyone that cared. They were the desolate future, they were the flooded burnt frozen ruins, they were the life that takes hold once everything is gone.  

Burn us off the face of the earth and from the ashes grow again.

[phantom-does-a-thing]

god I kind of wanted to write tonight but I feel so unmotivated and upset about my writing and ive been playing roblox for three hours and its midnight and i'm tired and everything is going wrong.

[kinnbig]

👀 forbidden epilogue?

🫣🫣 if i explained the forbidden epilogue then it wouldn’t be forbidden anymore!

[caffeinated-bibliophile]

Ya'll.

The absolute lack of panic I'm feeling about NaNo this year, despite deciding to participate just before 11PM on November 1st and having no plan and barely a seed of an idea...

It's amazing.

I feel excited because there are so many different directions I could take this tiny idea.

It's been years since I felt this way about writing 🥲

[sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe]

Hey heretics, I've definitely not only been posting poems as I write them for the past three weeks.

So strange, conceptually, that my main output has become something I dislike bringing up in conversation. You tell people you write books for a living, their eyes glaze over and they ask you the two requisite question required for the conversation moving on. Hell, best case scenario they go back to whatever they were talking about before and you can leave!

A real life human being asks what you do professional, say 'Poet,' and feel the ambient hostility raise by six degrees. It not even specific anger, there's just this weird agreed-upon contracts that poets are somehow less artistically valuable? People say 'poetry' with the same vitriol as 'self-published novel.' Which bodes well.

I'm starting to fear the jokes aren't landing, because we've veered a little too close to genuine passive dismissiveness of the arts, so, pretend I'm jangling keys and don't pay attention to the smoke & sirens combo move behind me, this freeway accident isn't going to start itself.

All of which to say, art is going to fumble over itself way more than is ever going to feel comfortable. And you're just going to have to ignore it and keep going. Make more art and only take the time to tear it off your skin if it gets close to your throat. Never let anyone kneecap you and especially not yourself. That bitch hasn't earned it.

[rosesradio]

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[freckleslikestars]

The kids I teach think I’m magic because I have a puzzle ring that falls apart when I take it off but stays together when I wear it. It’s just very sweet.