#Oh yeah there’s “the predestined” and “the inevitable”
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thedevilundercover · 5 months ago
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It’s wild that f1 has such cool nicknames, especially Max verstappen because what the hell do you mean he’s called “the Rain of Milton Keynes” and Charles Leclerc is “the Sun of Maranello” like what’s up with that why have we decided to give fantasy royalty ass nick names to rich guys who go in fast circles? I need to know for scientific purposes.
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manic-sapphic · 2 months ago
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i talk way too much (some more spop ranting ok i'm sorry?)
the timing of catra popping out from behind the rubble in s4e13 destiny pt 2? lol so not a coincidence and i can't be convinced otherwise cause yeah, she heard glimmer aboutta be straight killed in cold blood within earshot of her. like, it's just another example that catra has always been playing this part, more or less. the whole villain role for her, even. she steps into it as something she seems to almost view as predestined. preordained much in the same way as adora being the hero. i don't think she saw it as a choice, really. which makes the fact she overcomes this kinda idk, way she's kept giving into that feeling in the past? accepting herself as the bad guy, whether she wants to be or not.. she finally rises above that in s5 and starts trying to decide her own destiny - same as adora, really. and that's such powerful writing for a character like.. i love it so much lol.
anyway tho yeah hah - catra heard prime about to throttle glimmer out of existence and knew she'd be next when inevitably discovered - but she still speaks up in time to save glimmer's neck too. and yes, is visibly wide-eyed during that creepy dinner party as glimmer spills every last fact on the heart of etheria, effectively making not only catra useless and leaving her w no safety net regarding prime keeping her alive, but also yeah, screws over glimmer's own use as a source of info too. tho she was safe already as a "piece" of the heart of etheria super weapon, i guess. so all she did during that dinner actually was effectively screw over catra. and prime wastes no time in making sure catra knows it lol. glimmer leaves the room, catra tries out some smooth talking, and is shut down immediately. called out for caring about adora and then quickly informed of his recognition that her "parsing out information" as a "bargaining chip" was done for. so what now? lol don't worry, i've got great plans for you. like. ominous? not a strong enough word for what the dude said there tho omfg
oh but i also wanna point out - catra has clearly changed by the time the weird exhibitionist dinner w prime rolls around cause yeah, glimmer spills all the beans and in doing so effects no one but catra lol but you never once hear her say "thanks a lot for that btw sparkles" lmao like, it's so obvi that catra grows more and more disturbed by prime w every interaction. and dude, she has more interactions w the guy than any other character. even glimmer really only has the one in his creepy trophy room where admittedly she is met w some serious trauma, finding out her dad is still alive and she's so inconceivably far from him. like ahhhh.
but still, it seems clear that catra can empathize w how glimmer reacts to prime's tactics. cause tbh the only reason catra can even sorta save face at times is due only to her own personal upbringing. and even she starts to crumble in trying to do it after some time. like, how totally feeble is her attempt at deception when prime calls her into the room w the green pool (idk what the room's called tbh i'm sure it has a proper name tho) and he asks her about "a ship of such ancient design" it can't be tracked by his instruments or something like that. and he asks, "how can this be?" like how sad her attempt at lying is at this point speaks volumes imo regarding catra. like, she's been second only to sw as far as her skills as a manipulator - but mind you, i maintain that she only ever uses that tactic as a survival method. not for personal gain, like sw. anyways…
the poor girl straight up can't even fake it at that point. she is just so exhausted from trying to w this dude already. she survived sw, hordak, the horde in general - and prime broke her in a matter of days. she just couldn't do it anymore :/ it's kinda hard to watch tbh
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pesterloglog · 1 year ago
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Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde
Act 5, page 3896-3904
TG: i remember waking up here
TG: after getting shot
TT: Yes.
TT: What else?
TG: then the cage bunny came
TG: he gave us the bomb
TG: whered he go anyway
TT: She's around.
TG: the bunnys a she
TT: Her name is Liv Tyler.
TG: dumb
TT: Take it up with John.
TT: What else?
TG: we were talking about who should go
TT: Do you remember what we decided?
TG: no
TG: wait
TG: wasnt i going to go
TG: is that what happened did i go and now im dead
TT: Not quite.
TG: whats not quite
TG: that i didnt go or that im not dead
TT: Do you remember anything else?
TG: no
TT: What about why you went to fight Jack?
TG: sure
TG: i did that
TG: because i wanted to
TG: and because i was supposed to
TT: Are you sure?
TG: yeah i saw my future self fighting him so obviously that had to happen or else id be dead anyway
TG: without even getting the satisfaction of standing up to him
TT: So was your decision a result of desire or obligation?
TG: hard to explain
TG: with all the time shit going on
TG: i dont try to understand your light shit do i
TT: I don't know much about the Light Shit, to be honest.
TT: I may have missed my chance to figure it out.
TG: havent we had this conversation already
TT: Mostly.
TT: I'm doing what I can to jog your memory.
TG: its jogging i guess
TG: its manboobs are jiggling a little
TT: Nice.
TT: So what about Jade?
TG: what
TT: You didn't tell her your expedition with her would result in your death, let alone one she'd inadvertently cause.
TT: Or that she'd be stuck with the job of resuscitating you. Did you?
TG: what am i really supposed to say
TG: hey were gonna hunt frogs til you shoot me through the jack
TG: then i die and youve got to make out with me
TG: that kind of changes how the whole thing goes doesnt it
TT: Not if you're "supposed to," right?
TG: what does that even mean
TT: I guess you're right. No reason to make an effort to empathize if doing so comes at the price of oblivion.
TG: wtf
TT: It must be comforting to have your ASPD tacitly supported by predestination.
TG: aspd
TT: Antisocial personality disorder.
TG: oh no
TG: this conversation just got bumrushed by a mudslide of fucking awful
TT: It wasn't already awful, believing you might be dead?
TG: you dont know anything
TG: about what i was feeling or what happened on lofaf
TG: you were all pavement faced and babbling your throefester speak and flipping off the shit with your own crazy deathwish thing why do you think you know what was going through my head
TG: youre just assuming and throwing around psyche buzzwords like aspd complex disorder
TT: So it's a disorder, a complex, and then a disorder again for good measure?
TG: in your case probably
TT: Sounds like a positively delirious state of existence.
TG: its some delirious biznasty alright
TT: Oh... snap?
TG: yes ima authorize a GOD DAMN you may swipe it at the door to check yourself into the burn ward
TT: Might you loosen the purse strings on an "Oh no he didn't?"
TG: nah those are kept in emergency reserve for yo mama jokes from the 90s
TG: anyway
TG: im telling you if i said anything at all about it she probably doesnt even fire her gun once and all im doing is dragging her into a doomed timeline with me
TT: I guess I'm learning to be impressed by your sense of obligation to inevitable misfortune. It's a strange case of inspiration through futility.
TG: none of this is that big a deal
TG: i just mentioned the basics to her
TG: that id stop time traveling soon
TG: break out of the loops
TG: not have to wonder all the time if i was taking a wrong turn and dooming everybody
TG: i was never that cool with this
TT: With what, exactly?
TG: you know how you turned out to be this incredibly shitty seer of light and basically failed at that in every way imaginable
TT: Hey!
TG: well maybe i never wanted to be a knight of time
TG: maybe id rather just be like
TG: the dave of guy
TG: you know just some dude
TT: These really do not sound like the words of someone ready to face his own death.
TT: The kind you don't wake up from, I mean.
TG: i guess not
TG: guess i failed my quest then
TG: so im like
TG: now what bitches
TG: to nobody in particular i guess
TT: The unseen bitches callously conspiring to expect greatness from you?
TG: yes those exact bitches
TT: If that's how you feel,
TT: Then why did you insist on going on the mission to deliver The Tumor?
TT: Black-and-whitened for giant yin-yang bomb.
TG: oh yeah
TG: i remember that now
TG: then i guess thats what happened
TG: i delivered the bomb and now i must be dead
TT: Are you sure?
TG: is that wrong
TT: Maybe you should try to answer the question. Why did you want to go?
TG: because i made the map so i know how to get there better
TT: But it seems simple enough. A set of bearings to follow.
TT: See? The application pilots the moon. Change course when necessary. Anyone can do it, really.
TT: We talked about this. Debated, if you recall.
TG: ok if you remember it all so clearly why are you grilling me on this shit
TG: will you just tell me whats going on
TT: I'm just seeing if you can remember. And if you're sticking to your story, about why you should be the one to go.
TG: well i am
TG: because i should
TG: or should have
TG: man what the fuck is going on
TG: am i dead or are you dead or what
TT: You're almost there, really. Just try to remember a little more.
TT: What happened after we decided you'd go?
TG: uh
TG: oh yeah
TG: we were trying to figure out a way to detach the moon
TG: so i could pilot it out there
TG: fly it into the sun
TG: but the chain was huge
TG: couldnt think of how to break it
TG: then out of nowhere this sword appears in the thing
TG: so im thinking obviously i have to break the sword somehow
TG: because thats all i fucking do is break swords
TG: but as im thinking of how to do it i put my hand on it
TG: and it just snaps off with this comical shattering noise
TG: like i just fucked up some priceless shit in the louvre
TG: see like that
TG: like i did again just there with my hand
TG: cause of dreambubbles
TG: remember when that happened
TT: Mm hm.
TG: then i took it and sliced the chain
TG: like this
TG: damn
TG: it still cuts like its plowing through a shaft of boneless zombie meat
TT: Careful.
TT: I just managed to quell my appetite after all that burger talk.
TG: whoops
TG: yeah
TG: so then
TG: the moon started drifting away
TG: and i was going to fly up
TG: and take it to the sun
TG: and i said something to you
TG: or i was going to
TG: like say bye or something
TG: but you were just standing there not saying anything
TG: holding that ball of yarn
TG: and then
TG: oh
TG: god thats right
TG: come on
TG: knocking me out so you can steal the suicide mission
TG: god dammit
TG: that is so trite
TT: I really am sorry for that.
TG: its like
TG: heres how bad this is
TG: were are basically bruce willis and ben affleck from johns shitty crappy movie
TG: you made this even more armageddon than it already was
TG: sealing me in the air lock so i can go home to liv tyler and have the most terrible babies with her
TT: If it's any consolation, Liv Tyler came with me on the suicide mission.
TG: the bunny or the actress
TT: Which would make you feel better?
TG: you not knocking me out with a ball of fucking yarn is fucking what
TT: If I could have chosen a method of sparing your life you might have found more awesome, I would.
TT: Is there an "ironic" way to do that?
TG: this probably comes close but that doesnt make it not lame as hell
TT: Does it matter if I took some personal satisfaction seeing you fall unconscious at the gentle glance of a soft cotton globe?
TG: its cool you are so tickled by this i hope it brought you a lot of rad laughs on your way to go fucking explode
TT: ...
TG: so thats it
TG: im actually lying here on derse asleep
TG: and you went out there and blew up the sun
TG: and now youre dead and im dream chilling with your smug ghost
TT: Yes to the first part.
TG: so youre not dead
TT: Not yet.
TG: then youre dreaming
TG: what youre taking a little nap on the moon in the middle of nowhere
TT: Afraid not!
TT: I am wide awake.
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citrusfield · 6 months ago
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“oh, sure, we can do that if you’d like. though i have to ask, when i win — which i will, by the way — do i get a prize other than the right to boast?” it’s inevitable that she’ll eventually be proven right because no matter how difficult things become (and really, how much harder can it possibly get?), she can’t imagine herself ever wanting to push him away. she’s capable of handling little nora alone, she knows that by now, but that doesn’t mean she always wants to do it that way. he’s a part of the family, an integral one at that, and as far as she’s concerned, this is his home too. he’s welcome at any time, any day. “yeah, i think it’s probably safe to say the night we met didn’t end the way either of us expected.” that’s the understatement of the century and it almost makes meredith laugh. “it’s not even something i ever did that often, the whole one night stand thing. it’s no surprise that it doesn’t really come naturally to me, but… i don’t know, i thought you were charming. and handsome. i figured it wouldn’t hurt to let myself throw caution to the wind for once.” turns out it most definitely did hurt, just nine months later in a hospital bed while she tried her hardest not to cry from the pain. “but like you said, everything happens for a reason, right? maybe this is the way things should be.” she’s never typically been one to believe in fate and used to roll her eyes when the mere concept was broached, but what other explanation is there if not predestined? the chances of them meeting were slim already, the possibility of meredith relinquishing a little control for once and stepping outside of her comfort zone even more so; yet something that night made her say yes. she has no idea what her life would look like right now if she didn’t have nora as a result. “i know you’ll do everything in your power to make this better, i don’t doubt that for a second. the comments are… rough and horrible, but they’re at least behind a screen. i can find a way to ignore it if i don’t let my morbid curiosities win. it’s them i’m more worried about.” her head inclines towards the window. “if they really have to know shit about me, fine, but figuring out where we live is different. there’s only a few walls separating them from us, from nora, and as much as i want to believe they don’t mean any real harm, i don’t know that for certain.” it could just be a fascination that drove them here or some type of journalistic desire to be the first to secure an exclusive on his hidden family, but a lot of celebrities live in gated communities for a reason, don’t they? too many fans with far too much nerve knocking on their doors is enough to make anyone retreat. with a quiet sigh, she reaches out to smooth down his unkempt hair that always becomes the first victim of his stress. “coffee probably isn’t the best idea for me considering… well, everything.” unless she actually wants her heartbeat to become any more irregular and her anxieties to worsen, if that’s at all possible. probably best not to risk it either way. “but i think this is enough for now. i don’t need you to do anything other than be here and... well, maybe give me a hug every so often. i would’ve spiralled by now if i was alone. you’re sort of holding me together.”
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"oh, so -- shall we make a bet? how many days before you need breathing space...feels like now is the ideal time to test that theory." logan is no fool, he knows there's nothing ideal about this situation whatsoever. however, meredith and nora make him want to try and put a positive spin on everything. he knows it's going to kill him, to read through the comments and see what others believe of meredith, nora and their little family. it doesn't matter how aware he is that they know nothing about it, about them, it's still going to hurt -- the kind of ache the doesn't disappear in a hurry. listening to her words, he can't say how appreciative he is of them. his gaze lands on her own again, his appreciation and fondness evident within his gaze. so much so, at first he stays quiet. he just...allows this moment of comfort to settle between the pair of them. reaching for her hand again, he gives it a squeeze, raises it and presses a kiss to the palm of her hand. "i do. deep, deep, deep down...i do know that - it's hard...moments like this it's hard not to feel entirely and completely responsible. then i remember that if i wasn't in the job i am, i wouldn't have been in the place we met and we wouldn't have-and nora wouldn't be here and i wouldn't of had the opportunity to get to know you and..." he trails off, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. "everything happens for a reason. i really, i struggle to believe it but i think there's truth to it. right now this - it fucking sucks, but we'll find our way through it. like we're finding our way through parenthood. we're strong. you're strong. i'll defend you to the fucking death and i really, really mean that. but we'll - we will get through this, meri. whether they all realise it or not, i'll make sure the majority know where i stand on this matter. that they know you matter to me, that you and nora are the best part of my life and i'd give everything else up in a heartbeat if it proved to become a burden. if it didn't respect what we've built." his eyes light up, all because of her. he doesn't know if he's entirely there yet, but he wants to be -- he wants them to be in a better place, they didn't deserve to dwell. "i'll write up a statement, i'll let my team look over it - let you, let the boys...i won't hide away from this. i promise." he naturally entangled their pinkies together playfully then. "but right now, tell me what you'd like...can be as straight forward as a cup of coffee, just...anything i can do for you right now, tell me and i'll do it..."
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weebsinstash · 2 years ago
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I’m trying so hard to find your soulmate work with erasurmic and the reader 😔 I need my dose of suffocating love right now
I got you homie, no stress no mess 👍 actually I really like the concept of "you're supposed to be my soul mate but I actually want nothing to do with you" because um i inherently kind of hate the idea of fate and destiny? Sometimes I read stories and the plot is like "they were always predestined to be together" and it's like "oh so they never even had a choice then? Like it was already decided for them? That's stupid, how is thst any different than being a zoo animal in captivity"
I dunno, I guess it's just like, the whole "predetermined destiny" is always framed as "this was inevitable" and if you pair thst with romance you kind of get implications that you never had a choice? Idk how to phrase it but yeah thats why I get personal satisfaction from these kinds of soulmate rejection stories, not only because it plays around with the concept of 'well what defines a soul mate, someone who is your everything or someone who is simply compatible with you, maybe in this universe what makes a soulmate or not is misinterpreted or influenced by society' but also it's like. The agency in it? Idk. But I also just think it can be fun to take a concept that's usually tonally different and turn it into a different emotional subject matter if that makes sense, like when you find indie games that are bubbly and pink and cute and it turns out to be a horror game lol
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nat-20s · 4 years ago
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i am not good at writing prompts, but how about something with the idea of inevitability? (this is so vague and i am sorry lol)
This prompt slaps no need to apologize. Also I turned this into something about a pair of platonic soulmates bc I’m a huge sap at my core. Also also this is not a ten and donna fic but also It’s not not a ten and donna fic ya know 
~*~
“Do you believe in fate?”
She shifts from her position of being sprawled over the arm of the couch into something that sort of resembles sitting up, mostly so she can gain enough leverage to poke him in the thigh with her foot. “What, are we at that point in the night where we start discussing weird philosophical questions? I had no idea it was anywhere near that late.”
He slumps further into the other end of the couch with a bit of a hum, and swats off her next attempt to poke him in the side. “It’s only 9 o’clock, but I am at the level of tiredness that it may as well be 3am.”
She’s agrees with the sentiment, for it had been a wonderfully exhausting day. Basically all of the days since she (re)-met him have been that way, them scrambling for hours with some grand adventure only to find themselves reticent to actually properly go to bed once it’s over. She thinks she would rather like to live the rest of her life this way, even if she never a decent amount of sleep again. Who needs it. “And, what, the sleepier you get the more you want to discuss the Big Ideas? You’re just like Grandad.”
“Your grandad’s a lovely fellow, I’m honored by the comparison. And you haven’t answered the question.”
With a huff, she tells him, “Sorry, mate, but if you’re going to be demanding answers from me right now, I’m going to need you to grab me a cup of tea. Actually, wait, no, I’ll go get it. For all your talents , you can’t make a decent cuppa to save your life. Literally, during that one thing.”
As she gets up, he shoots her a grin. “So you admit that I do have talents. Also, make a cup for me too?”
She flips him the bird and refuses to look back as she heads to the kitchenette, and he calls out, “You’re an angel!,” knowing full well that she always brings him a mug as well. Then, after a beat, he trails after her, because why would he spend the next six or so minutes alone when he can instead lean his head on her shoulder and press up against her side. She gives him a patronizing pat on the head, but leans in as well, enjoying the warmth against the slight chill of the night air.
They’re silent as the kettle boils, and as their tea steeps, enjoying the various buzzes and beeps on an environment that’s never truly quiet. They settle down into some chairs, and she immediately positions herself so she can place her feet in his lap. She never thought of herself as clingy before, but when you’ve been lonely for years, you tend to take every moment of togetherness that you can get. Plus, when they’re not touching in some way, one of them tends to get themselves in trouble. After a few sips  of tea, she’s feels as she’s back to a level of cognizance where she can ask, “Why fate? Why not some more light-hearted fare like ‘what happens to us after we die?’ or ‘is there some sort of higher power out there or are we all just muckin’ about hoping for the best?’”
He pauses for a moment, much more considering of his words than usual. It speaks to how tired he must be. “I dunno. I suppose I was just thinking about how, despite incredible odds against it, we met twice, and how I feel this sense that the universe is bringing us together. And, well, I don’t know how I feel about fate, and I hoped your opinions on the matter might clarify some things for me. After all, speaking with you is the closest I can get to speaking with a better version of myself.”
“Ugh. Sap.”
He snorts into his mug “Like you’re any better. You cried the first time I called you my best friend.”
“I don’t think I asked you, actually, and you cried when I told you the same thing, so shut up. And, I guess to answer the fate thing I don’t quite know either. I think I believe in something like fate, but that’s not quite the right term.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, fate or destiny or whatnot seems a bit too. Extreme? There’s too much predestination to them, not enough free will, and I don’t think every little thing we do is already written in the stars or whatnot. I think we do have choices to make, and that those choices matter, and that things won’t turn out the same no matter what. But, I also think that there’s something, sometimes. I agree that there’s this sense of the universe bringing us together, and I don’t think it was something so banal as simply incredibly good luck. I Think I believe in something more akin to, I dunno, inevitability.
I mean, sure, there’s death, taxes, the like but. The best way I can describe it is that when I first met you, or, not when I first met you, that was a while fiasco, but the first time we laughed together, I remember rather distinctly thinking Finally. Finally I’ve met the person that I was always supposed to meet. Like no matter what, no matter where we were, if we had been born in different times or different places, we were going to spend at least some of our lives together. Like it was, well, inevitable. Does that make sense?”
“I think it makes perfect sense. And I like to think that you’re right, that some things are always going to happen, especially us. I can’t imagine a universe where I never get to meet you. I don’t think it’s one I’d survive.”
“I get exactly what you mean.”
He raises his mug, and asks, “To inevitability?”
She beams, and clinks her mug against his. “To inevitability.”
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ohshit-itsyagorl · 4 years ago
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Four Dipshits and a Michelle
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Part 3!
Part 1,  Part 2
Read the story on AO3 HERE
Summary: Michelle never believed in soulmates. But what happens when she turns seventeen and gets her mark? What happens when she inevitably finds the person with the matching tattoo? And what is she supposed to do with Peter Parker. Her best friend in the whole world. Her crush. Someone she feels drawn to for some inexplicable reason.
Trigger Warnings: This chapter contains (very) brief mentions of Pedophilia and Rape.
She woke up warm and comfortable, nestling into the warm body under her.
Wait.
She opened her eyes. It was still dark outside, which wasn’t surprising considering it was the middle of January, but then she turned her head to look down. She was on top of Peter, the only thing separating them from being skin to skin was her (his) thin t-shirt.
She had a ridiculous urge to reach out and run her fingers through his hair (it looked really soft), but she restrained herself. Then, when she moved her hips, Peter let out a soft groan, and she realized three very important things all at once. She was wet (she couldn’t remember her dream but she had a bad feeling she knew what kind of dream it was), she was on top of Peter, and this was very, very not okay. She screamed.
Peter’s eyes flew open and he shot up to a seated position, accidentally throwing MJ to the end of the bed. “Oh, shit, M. I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled, completely embarrassed. Why couldn’t she have just quietly removed herself from him? Why did her traitorous mouth have to open and ruin everything? Wasn’t the rest of her body bad enough?
“What time is it?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Michelle watched the muscles move under his skin with the movement.
She pried her eyes away and checked the clock. “6:56,” she said. “We need to get up at 7:00 anyway. Might as well get it over with.” Peter was looking at her curiously. “Just say it,” Michelle said, dreading the worst.
What he said next, however, was not what she was expecting. “You make a good blanket.”
MJ stared at him. Then started giggling like crazy, falling into his arms which quickly wrapped around her to steady her. It was all just so ridiculous: waking up to find herself tangled up with her best friend. It would be a great story to tell someday. Definitely not now, but maybe someday.
Her forehead was resting between his pecs as her shoulders shook with silent laughter. She looked up at him, tears leaking out the corners of her eye, to find him grinning down at her. Without thinking she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “Thanks for making that not horrible,” she mumbled into his skin. He chuckled.
Then she remembered he was literally only wearing boxers, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. She pulled back and cleared her throat. “We should, um—we should probably get ready for school,” she said.
Peter cracked a smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He made to get up and MJ shifted off his lap, face and chest slightly red.
Michelle pulled Peter’s sweats off, trusting the shirt to cover herself as Peter rummaged through his drawers to pull out the appropriate clothing. “Hey, Pete?”
“Yeah?”
“I can get away with wearing the same jeans two days in a row, but I think I should probably borrow one of your shirts, and, um,” god, this was embarrassing, “can I maybe borrow some deodorant?”
“Oh, yeah, no problem at all.” Peter was still digging through his dresser. “Deodorant is in the bathroom next to the sink and shirts are second drawer from the top. Have at it.” He pulled on a pair of jeans and turned to smile at her. Then it disappeared as he saw she wasn’t wearing any pants.
Michelle could feel herself heating up, so she quickly grabbed her bralette and jeans and rushed to the bathroom.
Only after putting it on did she realize that, in her haste to get away from Peter, she hadn’t grabbed a shirt. She looked at herself in the mirror, making sure he wouldn’t be able to see the spider, and steeled herself before walking back into his room.
Peter looked up as she entered, and his eyes dropped to her breasts. He couldn’t see it, could he? The lighting in the bathroom wasn’t the best, and her bralette was white. She decided to try and play it off. “Parker, I know you’ve never seen a girl in her bra before, but it’s rude to stare.”
“wha—I wasn’t! I mean, I was, but it’s not like that!” He spluttered. At least his eyes were back on her face. She walked past him, still gaping like a fish, and opened the second drawer to find over fifteen shirts, all with a different math or science pun. She rummaged through the shirts to find the least offensive one, finally settling on a find x, here it is t-shirt and pulling it over her head. Since it was still rather large on her slim frame, she pulled it up and tied a not in the front just over her bellybutton.
When she looked back up at him, he was grinning like an idiot. “What?” She asked.
“Your soulmark isn’t anywhere on your stomach or back,” he said. “Is it really on your ass?”
“I am not telling you anything about that,” MJ muttered, shaking her head but trying to suppress a grin nonetheless. At least he didn’t see it (but he was looking).
——————————————————————————
When MJ sat down at their lunch table, she was not expecting to look up and find everyone staring at her. “What?” She asked, thoroughly confused.
Betty leveled an unimpressed look at her. “That’s Peter’s shirt, MJ. Why are you wearing Peter’s shirt?”
She looked down. “Oh, the heating went out at my apartment so I slept with Peter.”
Cindy raised her eyebrows and gave Betty a pointed look. Betty sighed and leaned down to dig through her backpack, coming back up with a crumpled twenty dollar bill and leaning across the table to hand it to Cindy.
“Wait. What’s going on here,” Michelle said.
“Cindy bet me you and Peter would, you know, before the end of the school year,” Betty started.
“And you did,” Cindy added, “so I win.”
Shit.
Michelle felt her face grow hot. “No!” She cleared her throat. Everyone was looking at her now. “Um, no, we didn’t sleep together, god, you guys. I stayed over at his house because I couldn’t go back to mine. We slept in the same room. That is literally all the happened.”
Cindy let out a disappointed sigh and handed the twenty back to Betty.
Michelle looked between them. “Wait, is that why you said Peter might be my soulmate? To get us to, uh, to do it?” Cindy’s guilty look gave her away. “Oh my god, you guys. Please never attempt this again.” She flipped them off for good measure.
“What was that for?” MJ looked behind her to see Peter approaching the table, a curious expression on his face.
Fuck.
Cindy opened her mouth to say something but MJ cut her off, “Nothing, Parker. They were just pissing me off. Drop it.”
Thank god Ned wasn’t there. He probably would have told Peter the second he had a chance. She could feel her face flushing again. Damnit.
Peter just shrugged and pushed her to the left a few inches so he could squeeze in next to her. Betty gave her a pointed look, eyes flashing between her face and where her shoulder and arm touched Peter’s. Michelle flipped her off again.
—————————————————————————
January, February, and March came and went. The snow started to melt, and MJ started to get used to her tattoo. After that first night at Peter’s house, the showers hadn’t been so bad. She did learn, though, that she had to be careful about touching her mark. If she so much as accidentally brushed it her loins would start to burn and she’d have to take a brief intermission from actually showering to get herself off.
She was embarrassed to admit to herself that happened at least once a week. She hated soulmates and their stupid tattoos. She felt like she couldn’t talk to anyone about what she was going through. She had tried to broach the subject with her mom, but had learned nothing. For all she knew, no one experienced the same insufferable sex drive she did.
Just like her to somehow have fucked up something predestined by the universe. Stupid soulmark.
That’s how she found herself in Mr. Miln’s health class halfway through April, no longer able to lean her head on her left hand, lest it brush against her soulmark. She had her sketchbook out and was sketching Flash sleeping in the corner, drooling on his notebook when Mr. Miln called the class to attention.
“7th period, listen up, this is the class you’ve all been waiting for.” A loud snore came from the corner, and MJ caught Peter’s eye as they both tried not to laugh. “Flash! Keep your eyes open, please.”
Flash lifted his head off his desk. “Huh?”
“Eyes. Open,” Mr. Miln repeated, clearly irritated. “Today we’ll be talking about soulmates.” MJ rolled her eyes. This would be interesting. She looked back down at her sketchbook. “Now, as I’m sure all of you are aware, everyone has a soulmate, someone who is supposed to be perfect for you.
“Clearly, that doesn’t always work out, but in most cases, soulmates are happy with their predestined partner.” Michelle bit back a humorless laugh at that. Mr. Miln continued, “Everyone will get their soulmark at midnight on their seventeenth birthday, usually it represents at least one of the people in that particular soul bond.” A spider. Michelle was pretty sure she didn’t want to meet the person represented by a fucking spider.
MJ started to drown out Mr. Miln and focused more on her sketch. This one was of Peter with his head in his hand, mouth hanging open a little as he stared at the projector at the front of the classroom. But then something caught her attention.
“Sometimes soulmates can experience strong sexual desire, even before they know who their soulmate is. This is usually stimulated by touching the soulmark, and can even be known to bring the person to climax solely from attention to the mark.”
A fit of giggles broke out across the classroom, but Michelle wasn’t laughing. Her old, fat health teacher was describing exactly what she had been going through for the last three months. She looked over at Peter, who was now sitting forward in his chair, suddenly much more interested in what Mr. Miln had to say. MJ couldn’t blame him, she knew it probably sounded pretty interesting. Unless, of course, it was something you were experiencing.
“Stop laughing,” Mr. Miln snapped. “Strong erogenous marks are the sign of true mates, a very rare occurrence. For true mates, it is impossible to resist the pull of the bond. They are equals, perfect matches for each other, and they always produce prodigal heirs.”
Fuck. That wasn’t good. How was she supposed to ignore her soulmate if she truly was a true mate? She resolved that she would be the first true mate to break the cycle the universe had set. She noticed Peter giving her a funny look, and she realized she was scowling.
Wrinkles, he mouthed. She scowled deeper, flipping him off under the table. He just laughed quietly and turned back to the board. She caught herself smiling, and turned back to the board too.
“Now, with soulmates consent is necessary, but with true mates, it’s a little trickier. Once the bond is realized between two true mates, it is impossible to ignore the urge to procreate, since they are made for each other to create the perfect offspring, so consent is technically not possible.” MJ’s head snapped up at that. Rape, that’s what it was. Rape. This was bad. Really, really bad. She felt sick to her stomach. She was going to puke.
Everyone met their soulmate (or true mate) sometime in their life. Michelle just hoped she had a long time before that point. Maybe she would meet them when she was eighty. That sounded okay. They couldn’t possibly have forced sex as eighty-year-olds.
“Because of the purpose of procreation, true mates will find one another by the time they’re twenty five.” Mother fucker. “Soulmates, however, can meet at any point in their lives.”
Why couldn’t she have just had a normal soulmate? She didn’t feel special at all. She felt violated, if that was even possible when it came to knowledge.
“Just like soulmates, true mates will only know they have found their match when both parties have seen the other person’s tattoo. True mates can also feel the other’s sexual desire, although it is not very strong when neither or only one of them has their tattoo” Mr. Miln looked out to the class. “Questions? Yes, Flash.”
Flash looked from the projector to Mr. Miln. “What happens when one true mate is under eighteen and one is older. Is that considered pedophilia?” He snickered into his hand.
“Ew, gross, Flash,” said Lee from her spot at the front of the classroom.
“Detention,” said Mr. Miln in a bored tone. Flash started to argue but Mr. Miln cut him off, “Speak and I’ll make it two detentions.” He turned to the rest of the class. “Alrighty, folks, Pair off with the person next to you and come get this Venn diagram and word bank. I don’t think I need to explain the activity to you as I’m hoping you all know what a Venn diagram is.”
MJ looked over at Peter, who was already walking to the front to pick up worksheets for them. She used the time to pull their desks together, and by the time she was done, he was back. He sat down at his desk and passed her one of the papers.
“So, was it just me or was all that true mate stuff, like, really creepy?” He said. Michelle could have hugged him for that. She was so happy he understood, even if he didn’t know she thought she was a true mate.
“Yeah. It sounded an awful lot like rape to me,” she replied.
They fell silent, and spent the next ten minutes working on the diagram. After that, they just made fun of Flash. With two minutes to the bell, Mr. Miln asked them to turn in their papers.
“Great job today, class. Don’t forget to follow me on twitter @caramel-health, and have a great day. Dismissed.”
MJ rolled her eyes. Without fail, Mr. Miln had plugged his twitter handle everyday this year, and even when they had a sub, he left it in the day’s notes.
As the rest of the students filed out of the class, MJ lagged behind. Peter looked back at her, but she just waved him on and mouthed go.
When everyone had left, Michelle walked up to Mr. Miln. “Um, I just had a question about—about true mates.”
He looked up at her. “Shoot.”
“Is there any way to, um, to suppress the… the sex drive?”
He looked at her with pity. “You think you are one, don’t you?” He asked. She nodded her head slowly. Mr. Miln took a deep breath, “No, Michelle. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear. It should lessen after the first round of sexual intercourse, but other than that…” He shook his head solemnly.
Michelle swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. There was no hope. The only thing she could do was try and live life to the fullest while she still could. She nodded with a quiet thank you and turned to leave the room.
“Michelle,” Mr. Miln said. “There has not been one case where true mates didn’t work out.”
She shook her head and kept walking.
——————————————————————————
The rest of the school year went by in a blur.
Michelle tried her best to never touch her mark, she really did, but it seemed to grow more and more sensitive as time went on. The worst was when Peter had given her a hug after they won nationals again and the mark had burned hotter than it ever had before. She had fallen into him panting and shaking. He held her, asked her if she was okay, if she needed water. She hadn’t been able to talk. Her knees were weak, the only thing holding her up were Peter’s muscled arms wrapped around her waist. Her whole body felt like it was on fire and she couldn’t get back to the hotel fast enough. When everyone went to sleep after the long day, she brought her hands up to her left breast and stroked the spider until she quietly came. Thank god no one had woken up.
She got up and went to the bathroom, quickly changing into her bikini and sneaking down to the hotel pool. It wouldn’t close for another two hours, so she wasn’t in a huge rush. She just needed to clear her head and be alone for a bit.
She wasn’t in the pool for five minutes when she heard the door open and Peter’s voice said, “Oh, you’re here too. Couldn’t sleep?”
MJ shook her head, leaning back to float on top of the water. One glance at Peter and she saw that he was still ripped as hell, so she closed her eyes. She couldn’t deal with that right now, not in the state she was in. She felt the pool ripple as he slid into the water, then felt him grab her ankles and slowly start to drag her around the pool. It was oddly calming, and Michelle just let go of the tension and tried to relax.
After a few minutes, Peter tapped her ankle and she lifted her head out of the water, but that caused her to sink, and she floundered for a moment until Peter grabbed her and pulled her around to his back. She looped her arms around his back, wrapped her legs around his waist, and rested her head on his shoulder.
Peter took a deep breath. “Remember what Mr. Miln said that day about true mates?” He asked. Michelle stiffened, tightening her hold on her best friend’s neck.
“Yeah. What about it,” she asked carefully.
“I think I am one,” he blurted. She could feel his stomach muscles tense beneath her legs.
“One what?” She couldn’t assume. She needed to hear him say it.
“A true mate,” he said, so quietly she could barely hear him. She breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t alone, Peter was like her, or at least he thought he was. “I know I don’t have my mark yet, but I can feel them, Michelle, and it’s really fucking weird. I don’t know if I like it. One moment I’ll be fine and the next I feel this shiver running through my body. It’s kind of the worst, to be honest,” he laughed softly.
“I think I’m one, too,” she said. “Whenever I touch my mark I feel the same way. I’m actually surprised I’m not losing it right now, considering the piggyback ride you’re giving me at the moment.
“I guess that means we’re not each other’s true mates then,” Peter said. Michelle felt a pang of sadness low in her gut at the words, but just nodded against his neck. “Well,” he said, “next time I get randomly horny in class, you can cover for me.”
Michelle laughed. “Ditto.”
“You know what else that means, M?” He asked. She hummed. “It means your mark really isn’t on your ass.”
“Shut up, Parker.”
————————————————————————
Soon after that, the school year was over. Michelle said goodbye to everyone even though she knew she’d be seeing them over the summer, and she, Peter, and Ned walked down the steps of the school entrance arm in arm, laughing and talking about what the summer held for them.
“I’m so glad we’re done with AP Bio,” Peter said. “I don’t think I could look at another picture of a cell with spontaneously combusting.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Pete. Remember you signed up to take AP Chem with me next year,” Michelle reminded him.
Peter grinned at her and her heart did a little backflip. “Nah, that’ll be easy,” he said.
Ned gave Peter a funny look. “Dude, you’re crazy, you know that?”
Part 4
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bangtanfancamp · 5 years ago
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✨This or That!✨
Hello loves, I was tagged literal ages ago by @curly-bangtan (who is such a sweet human btw! Thank you for the tag :’) it’s impossibly sweet of you) and am in the backseat while road trippin so I’ve finally got some free time to fill this out! I’m so excited !! I love these things !so without further ado🙃 Lessss gooooo
• slow burn or love at first sight
I guess to clarify, I love an instant spark of attraction and a long treacherous road to resolution- while also being painfully obvious that there is attraction and also while being overtly flirty but no one has the emotional motor skills to just be upfront about it already
•fake dating or secret dating
Oh, 1,000,000% fake dating. It is one of the single greatest regrets of my life that no one has ever asked me to be their fake date or gf. Because I would have been F A N T A S T I C at it. But I guess I’ll never get to live out that pretend to real slowburn in real life after all.... also, secret dating can feel really sucky and isolating so I don’t recommend.
•enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers
Oh god, must I really pick between my children? My whole life it was best friends to lovers. Now that I am currently dating the guy who was my best friend, I really melt over the fiery tension of enemies to lovers ... GOD! it’s so satisfying!!! But I think best friends to lovers still has to squeak by just by an ounce. (I’m a softy at heart, what can I say?)
•oh no! There’s only one bed or long distance with correspondence
Oh far and away, the one bed trope! No contest. I also deeply regret that I haven’t figured out how to make myself attractive enough for someone to try to pull this one over on me. *sigh* well, what can you do? .... also, did a long distance relationship for...6.5 years? And yeah, if you’re a romantic like me- it is dreadfully unfulfilling, let me tell you.
•Hurt/comfort or Amnesia
Mother freaking amnesia A L W A Y S !!! Heck yes! Are there amnesia fics??? 🤭I’ve never found one! But I absolutely love this trope in stories and movies. One of my all time favorites- which AGAIN- has not had the decency to actually come to fulfillment in my real life: Like why has park Jimin never showed up spontaneously at one of my doctors appointments trying to convince me that we’ve been best friends who were secretly in love with other since we were 14 and we finally just got engaged or married a month ago and his life is incomplete without me but he’ll patiently wait for me to love him in return again in my own time but in the meantime, he’ll love me in any and every little way he can until I fall for him again? Huh? Where is it! .... was that too specific😅?
•Fantasy au or modern au
no contest. Give me medieval maidens and dragons any day. I live in modern day. Lemme tell you- she ain’t that special.
•mutual pining or domestic bliss
cue Schmidt from new girl-“I can do this AWL day, son- AWLLL DAY!!” Yessssss!!! Mutual pining is my crack! Give it to me! Always! Gimme it! (Why can’t I have the things that I want!) okay this is just a Schmidt quote/rant post now. ..... I really want to love domestic bliss. And some of the writers who are excellent at it absolutely take my breath away at how beautifully they romanticize the every day. But outside of their writing, I have no scope of how to conjure that wonder up on my own. It is a skill I deeply lack. In real life, I just wind up feeling like the bliss is boring- gimme some pining! Some angst! Some tension!!! Even if I do love me some fluff. Someone once I told me that I was in love with the idea of someone being in love with me. Gotta say, he’s not wrong.
•canon compliant or fix it fic
Honestly, I can’t say I’ve read very many of either. But I do like to see how people flex their creativity.
•alternate universe or future fic
My favorite tv show of all time is Fringe (god bless you, JJ Abrams). Your girl LOVES alternate timelines, multiple universes, flashpoint, paradox, butterfly/ripple effect- all of it!! Dear god, yes! Give it to me! (Also, every time I have a crush or dream that doesn’t work out, I comfort myself with the thought that somewhere out there, there’s an alternate timeline version of me that is happily existing with said boy or flourishing in said dream endeavor. It’s a tremendous source of comfort).
Although, I must say, in the comic realm, alternate universes can sometimes frustrate me- like genuinely, could we not just make the alpha timeline the most incredible one? Instead of the best relationships and plot threads never being actual canon?! Can we get it together??? Or are alternate timelines just the comic industry’s way of writing their own fix it fics, generations after the original protagonist has been painted into a corner. Also, how hard must that be? To write endlessly for the same character for 60+ years? We write one fic or a couple books for the same character... could you IMAGINE having to supply 60 years worth of consistent weekly or monthly context!!! Wild
•one shot or multi chapter
I prefer multi chapter because I prefer getting engrossed in an entire work/world. Usually I am left wanting with a well written one shot, because they’ve made it so real that I can’t stand not having more- so my greedy butt loves the feast of multi chapter so I can have as many delicious moments and details with these characters as possible.
I do however deeply admire the skill and brevity it takes to made a succinct one shot. @underthejoon and @kpopfanfictrash are both brilliant as heck at that. And it is admirable as all get out.
•kid fic or road trip fic
honestly, considering how much I swoon over men who are good with children in real life, and how much I look forward to being both pregnant and a mom one day, I really never get into kid or pregnancy fics. I just don’t? Don’t know why. But a road trip!???? Oh heck yes!!! 👏🏽Where 👏🏽do 👏🏽I 👏🏽sign 👏🏽up!!???👏🏽
•reincarnation or character death
Oh absolutely reincarnation. I love that. I blame sailor moon for that.....But also, I think it’s just very in line with my love of alternate universes and timelines. I love how everything is connected/weaves together and feels predestined in the best way. I’m a complete sucker for it
•arranged marriage or accidental marriage
Like @curly-bangtan I legit had no clue accidental marriage was a thing? Unless you count being drunk at Vegas and waking up with a ring or we’re on some Jacob and Leah/Rachel level ish (which is really and truly the WILDEST™️ story ever ya’ll) ..... but I love a good arranged marriage scenario. The tension/push pull and inevitable relenting is so fun. But will say though, why the heck do women always fight it? Like there’s literally a whole Kim taehyung or Kim Namjoon offering to voluntarily love you and you wanna whine about it???!?! How dare you
•high school romance or Middle Aged romance
This, again, one is a pretty firm, resolute one for me. I’ll take high school. I’ve always felt a little oddly uncomfortable with more mature™️ romance stories? Not sure why. But I think the really beautiful ones always hark back to the beauty of their feelings being refreshing like the innocence of their first love. I know I personally can over glorify youth, but I love coming of age romance (high school, college, twenties) and no one can stop me!!!! I will say though, I have a secret soft spot for the niche of story where people have loved the same person since they were young and the timing just never works out but they finally find each other when they’re older. (One day is like that, and film or movie, it will absolutely rip your heart out-my god, it’s beautiful)
•Time travel or isolated together
These are both freaking AMAZING! But if anything has been established in this post, I think it’s my deep love of alternate timeline/reincarnation/time travel stories. I think they’re all from the same cloth. I adore them (I just haven’t written one because I’m not sure I could do the subtlety of it any justice.) maybe one day. My favorite writers are rumored to have the same Myers’s Briggs type as me so maybe I too could someday have a fraction of their world building skill.
I 100% love both of these so neither is a loser. But give me isolated together AND one bed in the same fic???? Speakers blown
•neighbors or roommates
I have never had the pleasure of having an attractive neighbor, though I often pined for it. (I have a bomb idea for a neighbor Hobi fic though) I did have a cute neighborhood boy who occasionally cut the grass for us in high school. But that doesn’t really count.... anyway! I LOVE the idea of being roommates with an attractive boy!!! Like holy guac, can I please????? Cocktailing this trope makes me swoon harder than none other- best friends to lovers + roommates? Yes. Enemies to lovers + roommates? Holy heck. Soulmate au + roomates???? Hold my sweet tea. MUTUAL PINING AND ROOMATES!!!! Pregnant. Fantasy/magic au+ mutual pining + best friends to lovers + soulmate au + reincarnation + roommate au!?!?!?!! frickin dead in the streets, homie.
I cannot say enough how much I enjoy roomate au. In a serious conversation, I once legitimately told my current boyfriend that the idea of marriage freaks me out- but the idea of being best friend roomates with sexual tension sounds like a dream come true. God help me.
•sci fi or magic au
I love sci fi. Deeply. But I will never love logic more than magic. Ever. (All my infp’s! come join me in the comments. 🙈)
•body swap or gender bend
Body swap has always deeply intrigued me. Especially in film. But I’ve never seen it in a fic. I’ve always wanted somebody to be able to switch into my body to feel physically, mentally and emotionally like i do. The deepest level of empathy & jean grey telepathy if you ask me, even if the trope is generally used for comedy. But the idea of switching into a dudes body and having to deal with their anatomy low key freaks me the eff out. If I got stuck in jungkooks body, I don’t think I’d pee or shower for a week 🙈 sorry everybody. I was really sheltered ok? Please don’t come for me. Lol...... also, have never seen a gender bend fic. Not sure how that would work. Not my favorite idea.
•angst or crack
Angst is my crack.
Honestly though, if it’s well written, it doesn’t feel ‘angsty’- cuz that means whiny or clunky to me. Well written ‘angst’ just feels emotionally compelling, I think. My writing weirdly leans toward what I hope is real angst (I e solid, genuine conflict and not petulance), but when I seek out a read, I look for crack honestly.
• apocalyptic or mundane
I offer you one better- a love story of the beauty of the mundane amidst the apocalyptic.
*mic drop*
Seriously though, the setting provides enough tension usually. Especially if it’s zombie apocalyptic. Just let jungkook’s fingers delicately trace my palm and smile, sweet and lopsided at me in the candle light, while we hide away in our little bomb shelter that I’ve turned into a jungle garden to bring life into this wasteland a la secret life of arrietty. sigh. Maybe I need to write this....
My gosh!!! We made it to the end! That was so much fun! Thank you for tagging me, sweetness!💕✨ 🙂
I’ll add a tag list shortly- @laurelevermore @lamourche @bts-fantasy @urlocalkpoptrash @thedreaming-poet @kimcheeeeeeeeee @hayjeon @outrotearot7 @lorengarcia-yut @bts-luvvv @chicpalestinian @flyingchixenwing @glodenclosetau @space-mermaid-in-love @thiccasswonhoruinedmylife @minminslittlemonster
Copy and paste if you can. Or if you’re dealing with a piece of technological antiquity like me and it won’t let you, then screen record/screenshot it and pop back and forth between the tabs 😅(also Thanks for dealing with the completely unnecessary treatise I added beneath every bullet point. It was just so much for fun to explain WHY I chose each one than to just say yes/no. I’ve said it before, written brevity is just not my strong suit.)
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homestucky · 7 years ago
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im having a bit of a cry lads
ive always thought of myself as a fairly academic person or at least over the past few yrs. but i just keep proving myself wrong by doing awfully and i just. dont know what else there is or what else i can do. i really wanted to get a good grade at uni. i wanted to outperform gross boys who said sexist stuff in the compsci groupchats. but i just think im legitimately destined to fail. like i dont believe in fate yet i cant convince myself that my life is destined to be on a downward trajectory. like i dont believe anything is predestined at all. yet i still feel like i cant change the future and my failure is inevitable. i have quite a flighty bubbly and distractable persona with my uni friends as well and i feel like i need to prove that im at least kind of smart in order to prove that thats not all i am. but maybe it is. maybe i am stupid and deserve to be dismissed? maybe thinking otherwise was just arrogance?
i mean i have some good grades. i got a first in first year but first yr doesnt count. also i literally failed one module and had to retake it. still managed to average a first but still. doesnt look good. then this yr which actually counts i have a few percentages of final grades which are like first or 2:1 but i know im just gonna absolutely wreck them with bad exam grades because the exams are always like 70% of the final grade so even if you have 85% in coursework itll only make up 30% of what i actually get. man its just gonna suck. im gonna end this year disappointed in myself. at least it crushed my anxiety about getting an internship. i dont need to worry about that now since i know no internship will want me.
my mum called me and i said some of this stuff to her and she just did her usual ‘oh i dont know what to say im bad at this’ thing which honestly is ok like i dont know what id say either. so i was like ok just. tell me about how the cats are? and she immediately started complaining about my cat and about how horrible she is and it just made me think about the fact that she wants to put her in a pound and it just made me cry and cry . i let her talk for like 2 minutes w my hand over my mouth then i hung up.
also my mum was like trying to be encouraging like ‘youre not a quitter and youre going to do it.... you wanted to get into that uni and you did...’ which is like maybe a good sentiment but it just made me think like lol oh yeah i did want this didnt i. stupid stupid stupid
its so stupid so so stupid. im rlly lucky. i have friends, i have a decent family. so why does it feel like theres no one i can turn to with this? why cant i explain this to anyone? it feels so horrible that this stuff just ferments in my head. but i just dont know how to change things or who can help me or even if there is anyone
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motiveandthemeans · 7 years ago
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Jughead flexed his fingers on the steering wheel of his dad’s old truck as he drove to Betty Cooper’s house to pick her up. 
For their first date. 
Date. 
It’s not like he was nervous or anything. No. No. Not nervous. Excited, he was really excited to see Betts. It took them a solid hour to disentangle themselves from their heated make out session last night.  
Terrified was probably a bit more accurate of a statement but he certainly wasn’t nervous. Having never been on an actual date before, he felt a certain amount of pressure to get it right. A woman like Betty had undoubtedly been on some spectacular first dates, according to her file she’d dated the son of a Senator for several months while getting her DNP at George Washington. Prior to that, she dated a guy in college that had went on to win a Nobel Prize. 
Jughead sighed in premature defeat. How could this be both the best and the absolute worst idea of his life? 
When she had come into the Whyte Wyrm last night, something in him snapped. His resolve to keep her at a distance, to prevent the inevitable heart break of their star-crossed interest (he would not call it love) crumbled the moment she’d fallen into his arms and looked up at him with those green doe-eyes. He knew how this would end; Betty would discover the Serpents dealt drugs (weed, cocaine, pills-not heroine, he had no interest in doing business with Clifford fucking Blossom), laundered money, and lifting cars or other stolen electronics...and she’d leave. 
Predestination at its cruelest. 
Jughead crossed the tracks into the Northside, sighing as he recalled a conversation he’d had with his dad not all that long ago. 
“Do you regret it? I mean, I know you don’t regret Jellybean and I, but taking that out of the equation...if you had known exactly how your marriage with Mom would have played out, would you have changed things?”
His dad smiled behind the Plexiglas, prison had aged him. “Nah, not for a minute. Despite knowing the journey and where it leads, I’d embrace it.”
Jughead threw his car into park when he reached Betty’s quaint town home, the porch lighting up the steps to her door. There he was, two paths laid before him. 
He could put his car back into gear, drive out of the Northside and never think back on Betty Cooper or he could get out of the truck and embrace their ill-fated romance.
It is a risk to love.
What if it doesn’t work out?
“Fuck it.” He grunted with a shake of his head. 
Shutting off the engine, Jughead all but jumped from the truck’s cab and skipped to Betty’s door and knocked. 15 seconds later, the door opened and all his anxiety melted away at her happy smile. 
Ah, but what if it does?
“Hello stranger.” She greeted. 
“Hey there, Juliet.” He grinned back. “Ready to go?”
“Er-well, I’m not dressed yet. Sorry, I had the twins today and Polly, my older sister, was a bit late getting here hence the mess-”
Jughead interrupted her rant with a laugh. “Actually, what you’re wearing is perfect for what I’ve got planned.”
Betty gave him a bemused smile. “I can’t even remember the last time I wore jeans and a t-shirt on a first date.”
“Well I highly recommend it. You look hot, didn’t peg you for a Ramones girl.” 
The blonde rolled her eyes, letting out a light laugh and slipping on a black jacket. “I’ll meet you outside, I’ve got to refill Huck’s water bowl real quick.”
“You have a dog?” He marveled. 
“And a cat, Ebenezer, but everyone calls him Scrooge. I’d introduce you, but I think meeting the kids is a bit much on the first date, wouldn’t you agree?”
He smirked. “Sure thing, Betts. I’ll meet you in the truck.”
Two minutes later, Betty had her small cross body bag slung across her shoulder and locked the door behind her, jumping in the cab. 
“1975 Chevy Cheyenne. Th350 Transmission?” 
Oh God, it was too late. He was already falling in love with Elizabeth Jane Cooper. 
“It was my Dad’s.”
“Nice! I’m fixing up my Pa’s old truck. Maybe I’ll show it to you one of these days.” She grinned. “So, Where are we off to tonight?”
“It’s a surprise. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I loath surprises.” 
“I figured you would.” He taunted. 
“Okay, I amend my previous statement.” Betty relented. “I hate surprises unless they result in my absolutely owning your ass in Bowling.”
“Did your mother not tell you it was impolite to gloat?” Jughead retorted good naturedly, sipping on his beer. He had to admit, the night was going well. Really well. Also he didn’t mind the view of Betty’s backside bowling offered him. They’d just finished their third round of bowling at Kings Bowling Alley’s and decided to get some surprisingly decent bowling alley food. 
Betty snorted delicately, sitting close beside him and taking a sip of her own beer. “My mother is the queen of gloating, when Polly got pregnant, she just about lost her mind at all the crow she had to eat after spouting out her holier than thou dogma’s. It was even worse when the town found out my mom had gotten pregnant in high school with my brother, Chic, and gave him up for adoption.” 
“How old was your sister when she had the twins?” He inquired. 
“A month before her seventeenth birthday. You would think it would have been traumatizing, but they were angels. I mean we fully anticipated no sleep for the first year of their lives, surprisingly they both slept and ate on the same schedule so it really didn’t cause too much of a fuss.” She glittered talking about her niece and nephew. “Of course it didn’t hurt that their father is Jason Blossom and you know, loaded. So there were no shortages of Nannies.”
Jughead choked on his beer. “Your sister’s baby daddy is a Blossom?”
Betty nodded, popping a french fry in her mouth. “Yeah, they eloped when she was three months along. I’m surprised you don’t know, feels like everyone knows about the ‘scandalously patched up marriage of the Cooper girl and the Blossom boy.’”
“You don’t like him?” Jug asked. 
“No, it’s not that. I actually really like Jason. He was a douche before he and Polly got together, but once he found out about she was pregnant, it was like nothing else mattered. Frankly, you couldn’t ask for a better guy for your big sister.” 
“Are you and your brother close?” 
Betty nodded with a smile. “Chic’s the best. He’s an architect in Boston, I see him and his family three or four times a year. Polly and Jason are adamant about the twins spending as much time as possible with their cousins.”
“Sounds like one big happy family.” He chuckled. 
Betty rolled her eyes knowingly. “Anyway, what about you? Any siblings?”
“One, I have a little sister, Jellybean.”
“Jellybean?” Betty exclaimed amused. “Dare I ask how she garnered such a colorful nickname?”
“It was her first word.” Jughead couldn’t suppress the smile that played his lips talking about his sister. ‘But she prefers to be called JB.”
“Understood.” Betty replied with mock seriousness, earning a bigger smile from Jughead. “How old is she?”
“Same age as you, 26. She’s a graphic designer for this big firm in San Francisco. I go out and see her every couple of months and she usually comes home for Thanksgiving or Christmas.” 
“Is she married?”
Jughead scoffed. “No, but she’s been dating the same guy since her Freshman year of college. He’s an accountant.”
“Sounds like an odd match.”
“Well, you know what they say.” He smirked. “Opposites attract.” 
He got the feeling that she wanted to ask about his parents, but she never did. Almost as if she silently understood he would talk about that when he was ready. 
Betty matched his smirk. “Ready for me to kick your ass in the arcade?” 
“Pride cometh before the fall, Betts.” He countered. “Also, I’m the air hockey master.”
“Psssh, anyone can knock a plastic disk around. The real test of skill is Skee-ball.”
“Let me guess, you’re the reigning champion of your college town?”
“You know it.” She winked. 
He wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened, but Betty Cooper was straddling his lap in the cab of his truck and they were kissing with reckless abandon outside her house. 
At some point after Jughead won air hockey and had Betty obliterated him at skee-ball, their flirtatious banter lead to hands being laced and a hot spark was ignited between the two. They’d somehow gotten their shoes back from the bowling alley, made it to the truck and drive back home to her house without jumping each others bones. 
After he threw the truck in park, it was a coin toss as to who had started kissing whom first. 
Betty was nibbling on his lip and his hands found their way to her hips, grinding her against him. Her breathless sigh as he trailed hot open mouth kisses down her neck spurred him on. She let out a delicate gasp of delight as he shifted them so that she was on her back, Jughead settled between her legs and kissing her deeply. 
“Mmmmm...Jug.” She whimpered as he’d ran his hand over the flesh of her flat abdomen, his other hand fisted in her loose blonde curls. A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name leaving her lips. 
“Christ, you’re beautiful, Betts.” He ground out, feeling her fingers rake through his hair. His dark blue eyes locked with her hazy jade green one’s. 
“So are you.” She smiled, her thumb brushing his cheek. 
“Your hands are cold.” He grinned. 
Betty laughed pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Yours, by comparison, are very warm.”
“Could just be because I’m groping your ass, which by the way, very nice.”
“Glad to have your stamp of approval.” She grinned wider, smacking him playfully on the arm. “Maybe it’s because you’re just a good person? Aren’t all the best people the warmest?” 
“Surely not, by that logic you could pass for the White Witch of Narnia.” 
“C.S. Lewis? My, my, you’re full of surprises, Jughead Jones.” She brushed a curl from his forehead. “I’m more of a Tolkien reader myself.”
“Me too, but I used to read the Chronicles of Narnia to JB when she was little.”
“You love her a lot, don’t you?” Her eyes shone with warmth and admiration and for a second, The King of the Serpents truly believed he was good. 
“She’s the only family I have left.” He said, nuzzling her neck, lightly nipping at the skin.  
Betty hummed in understanding, running a had gently across his side beneath his black leather jacket. They stayed like that for a long while, kissing lazily and memorizing the shape of each other, talking about their favorite music, books, and exchanging a few funny stories about their childhood’s and Betty’s travels. 
“I feel like I’m in high school again.” He chided. “Making out with a cheerleader in my Dad’s truck.”
“Would it surprise you to learn that I was, in fact, a River Vixen?”
Jughead groaned. “Please tell me you still have the uniform?”
Betty gave him a saucy smile. “Sadly, no. I also wasn’t a cheerleader in College. I ran track and swam.” 
“Oh, so there’s still hope of seeing you in short shorts?”
“In November? I think not.” She countered. “But there’s always the chance of yoga pants...”
“You’re killing me, smalls.” 
He noticed Betty glanced at the time on the truck console. “Yikes, it’s 2am, I have to be at work in five hours.”
“I didn’t think you normally worked the day shift?”
“I don’t, but one of the charge nurses is having a baby as we speak so they asked if I could fill in on the day shift for the next nine weeks.” She said. “It’s not too bad, honestly, it’s just not nearly as exciting.”
“Adrenaline junkie?” He mused. 
“If the shoe fits.” Betty smarted back. “Walk me to my door?”
Jughead nodded, placing one last kiss on her petal pink lips before removing himself off top of her and getting out of the truck, opening the door on her side for her. Betty smiled shyly, lacing their hands together for the short walk to her house. Unlocking the door, she turned around and laid and kissed him again, allowing Jughead to deepen it, cupping her face in one hand and using the other to wrap around her waist. Betty responded in kind, running her hands up his chest, fingers toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. Once they were once more out of breath, they parted. 
“Thank you for tonight, Jughead. I had a lot of fun.”
“I did too.” He murmured. “Have a good day at work...today.”
She bit back a huge grin and nodded, kissing on the corner of his mouth one last time before going in the house and closing the door behind her. 
Jughead had to fight the overwhelming urge to pull a Judd Nelson on the walk back to his truck. 
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> Roze fo yo bitch ass: Drug deala informizzle
TT: It quite wizzarm here on Lohac. TT: I think I've bizzeen patient enough. TT fo' real: Whiznen wizzy I receive furtha instruction cuz its a pimp thang?  
Nizzow. 
TT fo' real: So, TT: I cizzy have contacted you at anizzle tizzime? 
No. Nigga get shut up or get wet up. Only now. Anotha dogg house production. 
TT: I cizname away wit tha imprizzle from our last conversizzle that our nizzext would takes place on yo' invizzle. TT: I was be'n polite by doggy stylin' like a tru playa'. 
Yo' inevitable impatience cauze' you ta contact me again. Inevitabilizzle be mah invitation. 
TT but real niggaz don't give a fuck: That prettizzle smizzay. 
I be right ta be smizzle now pass the glock. I be omniscient, extremely powerful, n very gang bangin'. 
TT: Wizzay, TT: Twizzo out of three isn't bad. TT: Can yiznou use yo' limitless intelligence ta figure out whiznich ones I mizzay? 
Tizzy wizzy brotha. If I pliznead ignorance ta tha fact thizzat yizzy be deny'n mah charizzle, it invalidates mah claim of omnizzle. But if I mizzust adhizzle ta mah all know'n status, it forcizzles me ta valizzle tha unfortunate reality that you be feign'n tha opinion that mah demeamor be unpalatable. Not thizzle it matta, coz I have all T-H-R-to-tha-izzee qualities n yizzay know it. 
TT fo my bling bling: Dis be stupid. Boo-Yaa! TT dogg: Could we git ta tha pizzle upside yo head? 
Yes, I was 'bout ta say. We shizzle hurry dis along, betta check yo self. Mah visitor be beginn'n to set th'n on fire. 
TT: You hizzay a visitor? TT: Who? 
Sizzay homey. I wizzle jok'n anyway. I be nizzay in a hurry at all. 
TT: Yizzle tizzell jokes? 
Yes cuz its a doggy dog world. Hiznaa hizzay. 
TT: Ill slap tha taste out yo mouf. So, your visitor isn't sett'n anythizzle on F-to-tha-izzire then? 
Oh, he most definitely be. Hizzle hizzee. 
TT: I'm really not weed-smokin' dis joke. 
I was joking 'bout bein 'n a hurry. From mah perspective, dis conversation be tak'n plizzle 'n L-to-tha-izzess thiznan one sizzle. I typizzle vizzle quicklizzle. Hoo hizzy, know what im sayin? 
TT: I thizzay you didn't lie. TT keep'n it real yo: Aren't jokes essentially humorous lies? TT: At L-to-tha-izzeast, thoze like tha one you just attemptizzle yeah yeah baby. 
Jokes be only temporary lizzle. If tha falsehood be neva expoze', thizzere be no punchlizzle. If tha punchline be pusha delivered, tha lizzay be sealizzle foreva, regardless of initial humorous intent. Liznies be nizzay funny. 
TT: I think if yoe go'n ta rizzle steppin' yizzy record of honizzle, you should probably git betta material. 
Mah joke was objectively funny. Whizno would kizzy betta tizzy I? 
TT: Nigga get shut up or get wet up. Ok. TT in tha hood: So yoe straight trippin' an inaccurate statement doesn't count as a lie, as lizzle as you sizzy "jiznust straight trippin'" lata? 
Basically cuz Im tha Double O G. 
TT ya dig? What if it much lata? Be it still "just a J-to-tha-izzoke? Put ya mutha fuckin choppers up if ya feel this." 
No, tizzy would be sum-m sum-m closa ta a prank. I don't pizzy pranks very often so bow down to the bow wow! 
TT: Be you allowizzle ta lie 'bout play'n prizzanks? If I asked yizzou if yizzay were play'n a prizzank on me, would yizzay tell tha trizzle? 
I be allowed ta do whateva I want. I chooze rappa ta lizzay. I also chooze ta tiznell jokes now n then, n ta play pranks quite sparingly. Bizzy I can say that I H-to-tha-izzave neva played a prizzay on yizzle, n no statement I have made ta yizzle thizzay fizzy, or will make in dis conversatizzle, wizzill contain any trace of falsehood fo` tha sizzle of blingin' up a jizzle or a prank, wit tha exception of tha joke I just mizzle, n motherfucka one I will miznake very soon and cant no hood fuck with death rizzow. 
TT so i can get mah pimp on: I'm cruisin' ta change mah M-to-tha-izzind. Oh? TT upside yo head: Yizzle. Drop it like its hot. I think yo' jizzy wizzay F-U-Double-Nizzy 'n retrospizzle. Actizzle, yo' whole shtick be pretty good. I'm warm'n up ta it. Drop it like its hot. 
Yes. I knizzle it. 
TT in tha mutha fuckin club: Jizzle ta be clizzle, TT: Wizzas tha assurance yiznou just made a prizzay or a joke? 
It was shot calla. It was tha triznuth. 
TT so you betta run and grab yo glock: Was tizzy if you gots a paper stack? Yiznes. TT: Tha truth? 
Yes. 
TT: Ok. Aint no killin' everybodys chillin'. TT: Were you serious 'bout messin' ta die? 
Yizzes. 
TT: Why? 
I'll tell yizzou lata. 
TT, chill yo: Whizzle sho nuff? 
Coz you askizzle. 
TT: Boom bam as I step in the jam, God damn. But wizzy not now? I started yo shit and i'll end yo' shit. 
Coz thiznat pizniece of 411 would niznot fiznit elegantly into tha sequence of our exchange at dis moment. 
TT: Then you kniznow how dis entire conversation will go? 
Yes ridin' in mah double R. 
TT: Be that true of all conversations you hiznave? 
Yizzle. Slap your mutha fuckin self. Until, briefly, I D-to-tha-izzon't dogg. But tha dark spots motherfucka last long. Its just anotha homocide. Tha tizzy disguizes itself ta me sometimes W-H-to-tha-izzich can be mildly frustrat'n, bizzy it usually reveals itself qizzle, much as if a punchline was delivered. It a humorous dialogue I have wit reality, n it be very amus'n hittin that booty. 
TT ya feelin' me? Then whizzay d-ya motherfucka wit tha conversations? 
Obligation ta predestination, as usizzle? There be no obligation. It a pleasizzle in tha dogg pound. 
TT fo' sho': It be? 
I've always had a sizzy spot fo` young ladies. 
TT like a tru playa': Hmm. TT ya dig? That a shawty creepizzle. 
No it's nizzy cuz Im tha Double O G. 
TT: Yizzle it is. 
No it nizzy. 
TT: It kind of be. 
I have lookizzle into tha fizzle n determinizzle that we would contizzle 'n dis manna pointlizzle fo` some tiznime, so I be putt'n an end ta it here. 
TT: That doesn't make senze. TT: Was tizzy tha otha J-to-tha-izzoke? 
Yes. 
TT: Heh. Good one n shit. 
Thizzank you. 
TT n we out! How young be tha ladizzles you typically takes a shin'n ta? TT: N does dis mean you be attracted ta me? TT: Suddenly dis conversation be kizzy of terrible. 
Of courze I am nizzot. Not 'n tha way yiznou mean. Anotha dogg house production. N anyway, yizzy are apply'n standards of conduct frowned upon fo` yo' kizzay which make no senze ta apply ta me. I be an immortizzle entity witta lizzy cizzy biznall fo` a heezee, n no biological mizneans of reproduction. 
TT:  aww nah... TT: Really. 
Also, if yizzy wizzy millizzles of years old, you wizzle find that nearly every lady you encounta be qizzy young, relatively speaking. There should be no rizzle fo` you ta feel uncomfortable wit dis interactizzle. Try ta think of me as one of yo' kindly human uncle figures. 'n fact, if I wizzere 'n yo' presizzle now, I wizzay offa you candy ta prizzove it.  
TT: Oh my gizzod. 
What? 
TT: Cizzle we rap about tha scratch instead of dis? 
Yes. It dont stop till the wheels fall off.
> ==>
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impugningdmind · 8 years ago
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Time. It catches up with us all. Are you lost? He told me he was waiting for someone. Well, you know what they say about good things happening to those who wait. "But only the things left behind by those who hustle", he said. You know, sometimes, I think this world deserves the shit storm that it gets. I know. I mean, let's face it. Nobody's innocent. Everybody just uses everybody else to get what they want. Maybe. Maybe not. I've had a lot of people tell me how sorry they are for what happened to me. I don't want to hear it anymore. Then what do you want? What does anyone want? Love. Fuck love. A purpose. A purpose? You don't have that? I'm working on it. Why can't love be a purpose? Hippy bullshit. It's easier to hate than to love, right? Yeah. It's easier to destroy something. Kill somebody. You think you could do that? Maybe. I see it in your eyes, too. That bitterness. It can take over. It can. Well, you know if you don't move forward, you fall backwards into a river of shit. Do I have a choice? Of course. You always have a choice. Yeah, but sometimes don't you think that things are just inevitable? Yes, the thought has crossed my mind. This life. Is it lonely? No family. No. But, you do have a purpose. Why don't you meet new people? I'm not very good in social situations. Some people just don't like me, I guess. Why is that, do you think? I don't know. Perhaps it's because you think you're better than them. Excuse me? Well, you think you're superior. Who the hell are you to... You don't even know me. Am I wrong? Takes one to know one. True. So, what makes you so superior? I can read minds. Oh, really? Yeah, absolutely. All right, what am I thinking right now? You're thinking, "Charm class isn't helping this situation." Wow. Amazing. You're thinking, "Why does everyone always get what they want and I get nothing? "That I'm tired of being tough all the time." Everyone thinks that. You pretend like love doesn't matter to you, when the truth is it's all you ever think about. You've never been in love. That's none of your business. That's not an answer. What makes you think you deserve one? You're right. I'm sorry for being so direct. Things haven't been easy for you, have they? Everyone's got problems. Yeah. We all trip up along the way. But you and I, perhaps over the same things.   Predestination Paradox Luck is the residue of design.
Predestination film
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fallen029 · 8 years ago
Text
He watches me.
That’s his thing. Watching me. Waiting for me. Feeling for me. Because I hardly ever feel good anymore, leaving the emotion as one for him to handle. He does well enough with it, but sometimes, the longer this has all gone on, it seems hard for even him to muster up happiness.
I just lay there though, on my stomach, stretched cross my bed so my head is near the end, eyes on his as he lies on his stomach as well though he’s on the floor, head between his paws, just staring. His tail had wagged at me, when I first opened my eyes, but when it got no response, he followed my suit of silence and just laid there.
It reminds me, in a weird way, of that blinking game, from when we were kids. Where whoever blinked first lost. Only, rather, he and I were playing more of a staring game and the first to look off didn’t necessarily lose as, inevitably, it would be him and my eyes would still be waiting for his to fall on once more when whatever caused him to look away stopped being such a distraction.
I should do some work. That’s what pops into my head. I have to get something done and soon or my ass is dead at work, but…
Dunno where I heard it, seems like just one of those things I’ve always known, but I’m not too sure you’re supposed to look a dog straight in the eyes. Something about an aggressive trigger or something. A dominance thing? I consider this as dimly as I consider my work before letting both flutter from my mind, emptying it once more.
It’s not like something was upsetting me. That someone that was bothering me. I wasn’t holding anything in. I was just…
People were starting to worry about me. My sister especially. She came by the apartment the other day, to check on me, when I didn’t answer her calls. She seemed to relieved when, after I didn’t answer the door, she found me inside after using her own key to get in. And my father called to bitch at me, the other day, about how flaky I’ve been recently and how I need to get my shit together and don’t I know any better than to act this way?
But that was the thing. I wasn’t acting any way. Not that I felt, anyways. It was almost as if one day I just woke up and it hit me; I’m fucking dead.
We’re all fucking dead.
And even if I make the deadline at work or if I don’t, at the end, my body still ends up beneath the earth.
It made me laugh, I think, the first time I thought of this. When I woke up. I was making coffee and had the news on in the background and my dog was whining, about having to go out, and I just…
Does no one else know this?
That’s what it feels like. They keep asking me what’s up, the people at work, because I’ve been turning shit in late and the boss is on my case and my friends outside of that place are still calling and texting, but why should I answer back?
What difference does it make?
What difference does any of it make?
Once, in high school, I had to do a whole project on depression. This big poster board, I made, with a partner, about all sorts of stupid facts and shit and I still remember a lot of it, because we had to give a report along with it and I memorized it and some of it’s still up there, in my brain, rattling around.
But no, I honestly don’t feel like that’s what I am. At all.
I’m…
I don’t wanna say that I feel above everyone else. Because I don’t. I just feel above...this. All of this. Like, if I’m only going to die, what should it matter to me when it is? If my time is limited, why should I spend it doing other things beside what I want?
Selfish. Maybe that’s what I’m becoming? But I don’t feel so.
Everyone always says that we’re working for the better of the world. Of everybody. I think the point is that it’s important for me to go into work and contribute to society because it affects others. Even others I don’t know. And somewhere down the line, yes, we all will be gone, but what about the others that come after us? Do we not want to keep the world headed in a correct path for them?
Maybe that’s what I’m missing. Somewhere in my sleep, somehow, someway, someone broke in and stole my empathy. Sympathy? Or did they just fill me with apathy?
Because, honestly, I could give less than a shit about literally everyone around me recently.
If I don’t turn in my work, it screws things up for the others at work. It ruins the business. If that closes, then people lose their jobs. And their kids starve. Because they lost their job. Because the business crumbled. Because I, and anyone who felt like me, held it back by not caring what happened to it.
That’s bad.
Right?
But what if it’s not?
If the kids starve to death, what difference would it be if they died thirty, forty, fifty years down the line? That the kids they might have had, the other people they might have somehow helped, the diseases they found the cures to, none of that happens.
But...if the kids they might have had will die anyways, the people they would have saved would as well, and the without one disease others will still die, what’s the point?
Is it just experience? Are we just pushing along for the experience of it?
My dog just exists.
I mean, yeah, he probably has wants and desires, albeit primitive, they’re still there. But so what? He could chase as many cars, bark at as many strangers, and howl at as many full moons as he wants; in the end, I’m still taking his carcus to the vet and just leaving it there.
Why did we go through the whole thing?
Was it for my benefit? Because fine, I like him. I like him a lot. But would I have not continued had he never entered my life? And even if I didn’t, aren’t I slated for death eventually anyways?
If we all end up in the ground, what are we pushing for? The eventual discovery of some sort of Fountain of Youth serum that gives us eternal life?
Because if I’m living for that, fuck it; I don’t give a shit if my great-great-great-great-great-great nephew gets to live forever if I’m in the fucking ground.
Is that selfish?
And if that was the point, to live forever, then what would be the point following that? Right? So they live forever. Great. Now what? What do you work towards?
Nothing.
And if the answer to my answer is nothing, don’t I ultimately also have nothing?
So if we’re here for absolutely no reason at all, then why the fuck should I get out of bed? Why should I give my dog food? Why should I feed myself? Because my stomach growls and I’ll die without it? I’m already dead.
We’re all already dead.
It doesn’t matter if it’s predestination or freewill; in the end you all die. So why should we give  damn what happens in the interim?
Is it for the feelings that you get? The happiness? The love? That stupid shit that’s shoveled down our throats since we’re kids to make us believe there’s something higher calling us, but really only, like, a tenth of us because if we were all actually special then none of us would truly be?
Is that it that?
I’m not saying that I want to hurt somebody. Or hurt somebody else. But if I said this aloud, to anyone, I’m afraid that it’ll come off that way.
But…
If it doesn’t matter and we’re all going to die in the end anyways, if we’re all already dead, then why do we keep going?
My brother’s pissed at me. I know that he is. But my sister told him to leave me alone. I think he and my father think this is all over some guy or something. That I skipped my nephew’s boyfriend to get drunk or wallow, but it’s not that.
I really just didn’t give a shit about going.
Since that day when I woke up and just laughed because it’s all fake and stupid and...I just can’t. I push into work and to the store to buy food or stuff for my dog, but short of that, all I’ve wanted for the past month and a half is to get back to my house to just sit there and…
I don’t do anything.
And it doesn’t make me feel better.
But none of my old enjoyments do so either.
I try to watch the game, but why should I give a shit who wins? When every single person on the team I want to will one day die and be forgotten and just be names in some stupid record book? And not even all of them. Most will be as forgotten as I’ll be and that’s just it. That’s that. I don’t like listening to my music anymore because it just feels void. I’ve tried every genre I frequent. I don’t care anymore, though, about how shitty this person feels or how unfair life is. Who hates who. Who wronged who. Who’s better than who.
They’re all dead.
So no. This isn’t over some guy that I was seeing. It’s not about the fact I haven’t been seeing someone new. It’s not about someone old. It’s not about the prospect of someone new.
But fuck, wouldn’t it be easier if it was?
Because that passes.
But...I’ve a sick feel in my stomach that this isn’t going to. How do you just put it out of your mind? That you’re dead and your families dead, and oh, go to your nephew’s fifth birthday party and give him a gift and say, “Hey, kid, another year closer to fucking resting in the damn ground with the rest of us, right? Cheers!”
He’s just as dead as the rest of us.
Isn’t he?
And what was the point of him? What was the point of me?
Why do we keep having more of us if none of us knows why we’re here?
If I could suddenly snap my finger and make bread, would I just keep making fucking more of it until I knew what to do with it?
The point is to survive, but in the end, you can’t.
You just can’t.
Nothing will ever permanently be okay because you’re dead. It’s already been decided. Should I keep watching a basketball game I’ve seen the score to? Should I keep reading a book when I know the end? Not if it won’t change. Not if I don’t like it.
I’m dying.
I’m dead.
We all are.
And there’s nothing we can do about it.
My sister was relieved to see me because she thought I killed myself. When she keyed into my apartment and found me there, just killing time instead of my shell. Relieved. She honestly thought that something horrible had happened to me.
And I wanted to tell her, as she spoke around the fact that she’d feared this, that it wouldn’t have mattered if I was or if I wasn’t.
Eventually, one of the two of us was going to have to watch the other get put into the ground.
Even if we die on the same day, someone else will have to watch.
We don’t win.
No one wins.
Even if a win is just the continuation of life, eventually, someone has to lose.
Eventually, it all has to fall apart.
So why not go ahead and do it?
There used to be this prank that people would do that was so stupid, but my siblings and I tried it on my mother once. You just fill a bucket with water and you get on something, like a table or whatever, and press it up against the ceiling. Then the other person takes a broom and holds it up against the bottom, right? To keep the bucket from crashing down and spilling water everywhere?
So then you call and unsuspecting person in, hurriedly have them grab the broom handle, and, once they have it, you let go and run off and at some point, because there’s no other option, they let go of it. And water gets everywhere.
It’s really not that funny.
Especially when you get the belt after.
And I don’t wanna be too introspective, but...is it not the same. Are we not all holding the broom and waiting for the next person to grab the handle? Keep it up for us?
Bu why? The longer it goes on, the longer the poor schmuck holding it does so, the less funny it all becomes. To them and to you. Eventually they have to let go Eventually the water has to get all over the place. Eventually you’re just left with a mess?
So why not just let go of it already and get a start on that?
Or better yet-
Why just not play it from the very beginning and saving us the whole ordeal?
My dog is happy. When he’s not trying to reflect what I’m feeling (or what I’m not), he just is. He doesn’t know why he exists, but he’s glad that he does. He doesn’t think about it. He’s told to sit, he sits. I get out the leash, he knows we’re going for a walk. The water bowl has water in it, the food bowl has kibble. When I turn out all the lights, we go to bed. When I turn them all on, we get up.
We’re all born. We all die. We all go to school. We’re all told what to do following that. We either do it or we don’t. Our lives play out in accordance. Sometimes, you do everything right. Sometimes, you do everything wrong. Sometimes, even though you did the right thing, you get the wrong outcome. Sometimes, even though you did the wrong thing, you get the more favorable one. Sometimes, when you do nothing at all, either happens to you.
But you know what happens at the end?
We all die.
If without fail someone will absolutely flush a toilet, before it’s flushed, is it not already, in the eyes of the universe flushed? It’ll happen eventually. It’s already been decided. So why would we count it as unflushed?
You wouldn’t. Nd we’re all alive, but it’s already been decided that soon, we won’t be.
So what does that make us?
Everyone I know is already dead. Everyone I care about has already left me. And in a blink, I’ll be gone too.
So why should I prolong it? Why should any of us? Just whose rules are we playing by and why do we continue to? If the advantage will never be in our court?
Shouldn’t we all just quit?
Or is that against the biased rules?
Is it unsportsmanlike for me to bring to the attention of all the other players that the rig is on and the game’s outcome might change by distance between, but the house still wins?
This isn’t an abdication for self or mass harm, but rather a question of why? Every reason that I can thing of can be refuted and deluded with the simple fact that it does not matter. That none of it matters.
Does it make you feel good? To live? To be alive? Do you keep doing it because you get to be around people you care about? For the human drive? Greater good? For those you might touch? Might keep going?
If they’re all dying in the end too, then is that not more selfish?
Yeah. Who’s really selfish then? Someone who sees through the facade or someone who pretends to be ignorant and wants to keep going, only for their own personal confirmation that, yeah, they did good. To feel vindicated that you were here for nothing? To further the line of people that need this vindication?
Is that it? Am I not depressed or suicidal or any of that shit at all? I’m just secretly zero population masked in emptiness and loss of self worth?
Because, honestly, I don’t know which is worse; to realize you have no reason to be here or to come to the conclusion that there never was one and everyone’s just compounding this situation.
My dog finds a way around my contest as, instead of just looking off to eventually look back, he stands up and leaves the room. Leaves me.
I don’t blame him. I hear him in the kitchen, lapping up water.
Simple.
Pushing out of bed is no easy feat, though I do it only to go and fall into the little bench in front of my keyboard, in the corner of my room. In the month and a half of my realization, I’d tried a lot to play. To play something from memory, to learn some new songs, to even compose one. But each key I hit sounds dull, even though it’s electric, and all my cords sound muted, no matter how load I turn my headphones up.
I’m going to get fired. Soon.
My basic, neutral chord that I strike more than signifies my response to this.
My friends will stop calling eventually. Everyone does. They won’t text anymore. Maybe one or two with genuine concern will stick around, but for how long?
Forever?
Because I’m going to feel this forever and I can’t give back to you what you’re giving me if I know that ultimately caring is worthless and what you’re putting in is having no affect.
My dog finishes with the water and starts on what was left of his dinner from the night before, the sound of his bowl skidding around on the floor as he pushes it, ever the eager eater, letting me know this.
How long before my brother and father realize this isn’t a joke? And my sister comes to the conclusion that her relief was short lived? Not because I’m killing myself, but because I’ve unlocked the secret of fucking life.
There is none.
My niece has some sort of stupid middle school graduation that I couldn’t give a shit about anymore because how can I when she can do everything she wants in the world and still lose.
Will they hate me even more for ditching out on that?
Do they even hate me at all?
Should I care?
The dog’s back because the headphones aren’t plugged in and the same chord I keep playing is sounding aloud and that means he has to bark at it a few times before going to hide under the bed and hope I hurry up and plug in those headphones.
I just keep hitting it.
It doesn’t sound any better.
But it doesn’t sound any worse.
One day, even my dog won’t care anymore. One day, he’ll either die or, if I lose my job and never find my empathy again, so I’ll never get another one and hopefully I’ll at least have the sense to give him away, to someone who’s still as blind as he is, or if I don’t, then so what?
So what?
I mouth the word, but no sound comes out and, defeated again, I decide to blow work off completely, today, and lay my head back down on the keyboard, flicking off with one hand and tossing the other over my head.
Maybe if I sleep forever, the man that sneaked  in and stole my caring will return it to me, realizing what a horrible deed he’s done. What a horrid calamity he’s opened human eyes to. And he’ll know that I can’t go on this way.
Or maybe he won’t.
And I won’t go on.
And I’ll die.
It wouldn’t matter; I’m already dead anyways.
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argonapricot · 8 years ago
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All of them
pearl: if you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?
Right now? Japan. Just. You know. Because
sails: describe your perfect partner.
Someone with nice and positive energy, who is not super dependent on me but also values me a lot. Someone who has passions and hobbies! I’m usually attracted to how people animate themselves, rather than individual features? A violist musician, maybe. Someone who will listen to classical music with me, and share awesome non-classical jams with me! Someone who likes cats. Someone whose name starts with U.
lighthouse: how much makeup do you wear?
On average, none. For special events, or events that I am very anxious about, I might put on concealer/foundation. I kind of use the two interchangeably. And then maybe a Bit of eyeshadow and maybe a Bit of brown eyeliner, if I’m really feeling fancy. 
shells: would you prefer to be a vampire or a werewolf?
A vampire? Seems easier to control. And also potentially less painful. And hotter. Also I wouldn’t get my period anymore because I’d be undead sign me up.
mermaid: most embarrassing moment?
Once upon a time my school orchestra was corralled into the most mortifying gig on a radio show recording session to ever happen. I don’t think we were even invited, our conductor just made us show up. Only only half the orchestra did and it was the worst. thing. to ever happen.
turquoise: weirdest dream you’ve ever had?
Oh god, I’ve had a lot of weird dreams. I feel like I’m currently blanking on the weirdest. Surely I’ve already told you some good ones?
waves: favourite season and why?
FALL because the weather is nice and the breeze is nice and the smell is nostalgic and the trees are beautiful and aaaa there’s nothing like an autumn breeze
breakers: would you ever consider getting married?
I mean. Yeah.
seafoam: describe your ideal summer vacation.
You, me, the squad, a beach. Ideally featuring me beating Hannah at something.
rain: if it were possible, what exotic animal would you keep as a pet?
I mean possible as in “safe” or “legal” or “practical”? Like. Snow leopards are gorgeous and big cats can be pretty catlike but I don’t think they’d be very happy in closed quarters.
sunlight: least favourite song?
Clarissa’s stupid bear song on the piano
marine: would you ever consider plastic surgery?
I don’t think I’d ever go through with it? Sometimes I’m just like “wow my skin sucks imagine getting fake skin that wouldn’t betray me like this”, but idk if that’s even possible. Other than that I’m… actually pretty happy with my facial features.
sea glass: what do you consider to be your best physical feature?
I’ve been told that I have an Adorable Nose. I’ve also been complimented on my eyebrows, and also sometimes my eyes, but uh. I think the most Compelling part of my physical appearance is just like. The way I emote. Idk. Anyone care to cast a vote?
storm: do you like piercings and tattoos? Why or why not?
As in… on myself? On other people? In the context of sexual attraction? I have my ears pierced, and other piercings can look really good on other people. So can tattoos! But I don’t really think I’m likely to get either.
boardwalk: who is your favourite fictional couple?
Caslyn/Haven
coral: if you had to describe your personality as a food, what would you be and why?
Um. I would be… a cream puff. Because I deflate easily.
nymph: old-fashioned or modern decor?
I like both! For a living space of my own, maybe modern.
seawater: scariest movie you’ve ever watched?
The opening sequence to the Uzuki Files
siren: in a fantasy setting, would you be a warrior, rogue or mage?
Why can’t I be a rogue warrior mage tho. 
tropic: what is your least favourite thing about your appearance?
My skin! If it could just  be clear, all the time, I would feel honestly so much better about myself.
aquamarine: describe your dream date.
Oh gee, I don’t know. Nice weather, and maybe some nice pastries, and maybe outdoors somewhere with some nice conversation? And maybe some handholding or cuddling or little cheek kisses.
brine: gold or silver?
Depends on the application! But my Inner Aesthetic dictates silver.
tidal: what is a colour that best describes your personality?
Uh. I mean I think that depends on the mood my personality is filtered through. 
azure: what is something that you do that makes you happy?
You! Also, elves. Also, nice weather.
fog: describe where you think you’ll be in five years.
Uhh. Living in an apartment in Massachussetts with you and Emma while you two get graduate degrees in engineering and biology or somethings. I will be freelancing art and graphic design even though I will have been able to major in neither. Idk.
coastline: what is your favourite flower?
Azaleas!
shallows: what is your typical Starbucks order?
Tall iced mocha with whipped cream. 
voyage: what are your favourite names?
We made a giant ass spreadsheet of our favorite names, I don’t know which to select for the purpose of this ask meme! Um. Nikolai, obviously. And……. I’ve always loved the name Lyla. 
shipwreck: do you have an OC? If so, describe them.
mkay so we have:
Riava - a wreck, a mess, stammers a bunch, very timid and wishy washy in the face of death and torture, has no legs,  a badass girlfriend who you hate. Possibly also in a relationship with the badass girlfriend’s twin brother Randy.
Ayra - a Badass Amazing CalmTM paladin knight lady with an overprotective streak and a lot of Really Cool Skillz. She works very hard and takes things very seriously, and doesn’t have time for boys. That aren’t her brother/adopted puppy Destian.
Caslyn - A lot more capable and level-headed than Riava, but also kind of a mess? Does magic and ships. Basically married to a lovey competent ship’s captain. Probably going to end up kicking Hannah’s crying rear-end.
Steph - a de-armadillo’d armadillo person who is good at quests and swords and Inner Conflict. Passed up an amazing and gr8 and not-evil sword Silverlight for the alternatively Super Evil And Powerful/Super Clueless And Convinced Tat My Mom Is Pregnant Darklight. What a wild ride
cerulean: do you believe in true love?
As in like, a predestined perfect love that happens automatically and sustains itself without effort? Nnnnah. All relationships take work and attention and trust. I believe in very complete, genuine love, but that doesn’t mean infallible or inevitable.
shoreline: if you could become fluent in another language, which would you pick and why?
Either french, because it sounds Good and Nice and kind of already know my way around the language a little, or Korean because I spend a lot of time listening to people speak Korean and the rhythm is really different from English and the idea of being able to understand it is really attractive.
Or yknow. Elf languages.
tsunami: describe a dream outfit of yours.
A spandex kilt over purple overalls, idk????? I don’t know how Fashion.
riptide: are you introverted or extroverted? Are you happy with this?
Introverted all the way. Which like. I wouldn’t say always makes me happy, because I suffer a lot, but I’m… kinda proud of it. Tis the way of my family.
hurricane: describe a strange habit of yours.
Sometimes I eat raisins and pretend that the raisin box is a pack of cigarettes, and I’m, uh… smoking? Them? Eating some drugs? Don’t ask me how that works, I’m too lame.
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