#but it's not necessary at all for the monday deadline and it's really hard to make all these updates without messing with the other drawings

[cuntrytaylor]

i think i might collapse from stress

[willkatfanfromasia]

Hey guys! This is my collab with the awesome @nspwriteups - modern, corporate AU! KunxVT

Sudden Sparks✨✨

It was just another day at the Chola corp. household.

They were a successful family run MNC with interests in a wide range of sectors like agriculture, industries, hospitality etc

Kriti's dad Sundar, the CEO, was feeling his age of late and really looked forward to that retirement mansion in the Seychelles-and she agrees. Her mom Vani was the perfect chaebol wife, keeping up social connections and coordinating the multiple companies.

Kriti and her dad’s best friend Anirudh – the chief legal advisor- have been running the show for the last few years.

She was truly appa’s pride, surpassing him in all aspects. It grieved him greatly that his great-grandfather, the founder, had willed the ownership only to sons in order of age.

Her hothead big bro Aditya made their dad age rapidly, as he was a mess through his teens and 20s- oscillating between therapy and overdrinking. His stubbornly insisted on marrying a regular girl Nandini- who oddly resembled his own ex. Huh! Like father like son

Girls like that just won’t fit in our circle, they all thought. Kriti and her great aunt Seema all disapproved and tried to bribe her away. But the young couple stood firm even through separation. Sundar gently explained his doubts to his son, who cockily returned with a DNA test proving his concern false.

Aditya became the chief of mergers and acquisitions, knowing a good takeover when he sees one. Nandini proved to be just as capable as herself (although she’d never say it aloud), smartly planning the legal aspects of her husband’s activities. Nothing gave the couple more joy than sleuthing and negotiating hard bargains, even with the most hostile businesspeople.

However, it is her darling boy Arun who is the all time favourite. Everyone from the janitor to the executive board loves him.

He started off as a cute intern, now he’s their PR face. Journalists flock to just see him smile. He’s been seeing Vinita, the junior at R&D in an office romance that’s the company’s worst kept secret. She rolled her eyes at her fastidious little brother. He was first very stiff with Vinita, the niece of their South zone president, because everyone wanted to get the two heirs together. He slowly fell for her, but tried very hard to hide it – much to kriti’s amusement. The longer than necessary waiting by the coffee machine, the abnormally frequent dropping of papers ( only for the other to come running for ‘help’) fooled no one, she chucked.

She laid back in the plush orange recliner in her living room. Her apartment was well decorated although she lived alone. Her brother and Anni lived in the floor above with their daughter, Kriti jr. Yes Kriti’s ego was greatly flattered by her namesake niece and she became nicer to her sister in law due to it.

Her brother lived in a cottage next door, with a large courtyard and her parents lived in a mansion next door to their company HQ

They had their usual Friday night entertainments. All except Kriti. She’d have occasional movie nights with Vinita and her other mates, poojas with seema paati and family birthday dinners.

She was happy to be the hustler for her family. She loved being swept by complex problems and solving them. She took pride in being their ‘brains’, not once regretting her cold demeanor or workaholic attitude.

Lately though, seeing her brothers' relationships left a pang in her stomach. Cousin Sandeep too was seeing Pooja, their coordinator for offshore branches.

Kriti blankly stared at the ceiling she’d seen a million times before. Smooth peach walls, a bronze ceiling fan and wall moulding on all sides. Her laptop glared, asking her to get back to work before the Monday noon deadline. Uncle Anirudh won’t like me slacking, she sighed and sat up. The IT girl of Chola corp can’t disappoint!

She began reading through the document sent by the budget team, noting where to edit or add comments. It was pretty linear, except this time some reps of their rival was out scouting start ups and releasing bad predictions for Chola’s next quarterly.

Enthusiastic footsteps and tinkling of metal made kriti exhale and go “gosh! Again?’.

Friday nights usually meant the same for her, her older brother and nandini would usual drop off her niece as they went off on their mandatory dates. There’s no way those 2 randy creatures have been together for 2 decades now, she groaned.

Kriti was soft, everyone knew most of her

evenings were spent working and she had a huge weakness for her niece.

She would often play sitter for Kriti jr. and Timmy (Arun and vinita's dog). She was just grateful Arun didn't make her babysit Airavat, the rescue elephant he adopted!

This time though, work was getting tight. She had to sort out Chola corp 's finances while also figuring who was spreading bad predictions for their stock.

Her train of thoughts was disrupted by the doorbell ringing. She knew who the visitors were and put on the best fake smile she could when she opened the door to see her brother and sister in law with a five year old girl in Nandini's arms. "I was hoping you forgot about your Friday routine" She said in mock annoyance. "Well actually I did ask my best friend to babysit Kriti jr here since I know how much of a busybody you are" Adithya told her, pinching his daughter's cheek as he spoke while Kriti frowned. A best friend of Adithya's that she hasn't met yet? Now that's odd. "We asked him to come here so you can have an extra hand to take care of her" Nandini joined in, kissing her daughter's forehead and handing her over to Kriti who was still wondering about this mysterious "friend" who is apparently a familiar face to everyone but one she hasn't heard about at all.

"He can be trusted Kriti. Why else would I entrust the safety of my beloved sister and daughter to him?" Adithya said after seeing a look of uncertainty on Kriti's face.

After Adithya and Nandini left them, Kriti turned to her niece sitting on the couch, "So my dear sugarplum, what will we do now?" Kriti jr ran to the showcase and took out board game from the drawer. They played the game for a while, watched Tom and Jerry on the tv. Kriti looked over at the clock. It's been half an hour since she started babysitting. Where was this so called trusted friend who was supposed to give them company? She contemplated on calling up Adithya and give him a piece of her mind but then she didn't wanted to interrupt theie date night. "Best friend…Trusted indeed" She muttered "He's going to ghost me for sure"

"Ugh! Why can't I stick to one decision? Now I'll have to host a stranger" she inwardly groaned

Kriti jr looked up at her aunt "Why are you angry Aunty?" She squeaked

"How do you know I am angry?" Kriti enquired

"Because Amma says you murmur when you are upset. So I know you are angry" the little girl said as a matter of fact. Kriti laughed, how well Nandini knows her.

"I am not angry Kanne, I'm just irritated" Kriti sighed, glancing at the clock again. He looked at her niece again when she felt a tug on her kurti. "I am hungry" Kriti jr said with puppy eyes.

"Okay, let's go have dinner" Both girls made their way to the kitchen and was deciding whether to make dinner or order out when the doorbell rang again. "Yay, Kamsa Mama is here!" Saying this Kriti jr sped out of the kitchen, leaving behind a perplexed Kriti behind.

Kamsa who?

The glee in the child's eyes made her irrationally jealous

She heard her niece calling out "It's open, Mama. Come, come" and went to investigate, stopping midway to see a young man twirling her niece, laughing with her. The guy was tall, looked the same age as her and was casually dressed in denim jeans and sweatshirt. She only had a few seconds to admire his curly hair and sparkling eyes before those same eyes met with hers. He set down Kriti jr, looking at her with curiosity and suddenly Kriti felt consious of how she was looking - Not expecting him to show up, she was dressed in an old kurti with three-fourth leggings and her hair in a bun, with a few strands already escaping here and there. My God! What a first impression I am giving this guy. She thought. But then again, why am I stressing on how I look? Not like he's here to flirt with me.

The newly arrived person, walked over to her and extended his hand, still smiling wholeheartedly "So you must be this little mischief queen's godmother. Adi and Nandu can't stop talking about you" He said "Hi, I'm Vaishakh "

"Hi, I'm Kriti"

"Do you know the word Kriti means creation, a work of art?" He asked suddenly

"Yes" Kriti replied, wondering where this was going

"Art is beauty. So I don't think I have to tell you how beautiful you are, Miss Kriti" He said with a grin .

Kriti is no stranger to compliments but she would be lying if she said that pickup line wasn't good. Either he was buttering her up for coming in late or he was a natural flirt.

"Thank you" She said, not letting him give the impression that he had won her over "And if I'm not wrong, people with the name Vaishakh has a good and nice disposition"

He grinned wider "So you like giving out compliments as well. Good for you. We are going to get along just fine" He winked at her and walked towards the kitchen, with a gleeful Kriti jr following him.

Kriti let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in "This is going to be a long night" She wondered as she shut the door.

Anni- sister in law

@nashibirne @nspwriteups @vibishalakshman @thelekhikawrites @dr-scribbler @kovaipaavai @budugu @dosai-maavu @matka-kulfi @curiousgalacticsoul @harinishivaa @chiyaanvikram @celestesinsight @inveter @deepti1011 @itszhunotz @babayagahunt @thegleamingmoon @maisadalawa @ragkee @inlovewithfictionalbeings @happysharkdragon @gowrimenonop-1 @ramcharanobsessed @nature-writes29 @voidsteffy @whippersnappersbookworm @hollogramhallucination @thereader-radhika @sowlspace @rang-lo @nirmohi-premika @love-ps1ff @canonless5

[steamishot]

weekend work

it’s the busiest month of the year - i’m doing work on the weekend so that i’m not bothered by emails coming in and i can actually focus on meeting deadlines. this busy month was specifically tough this year due to all the changes in series (voluntary, GSR, and housestaff specifically). 

the anticipatory anxiety that i experience is always worse than the actual event. the red eye was more than fine. the subway was more than fine. meeting with a group of work friends was more than fine. being alone in my apartment is more than fine. i’m now having some anxiety about my therapy session on monday, as it will be my first time doing a video call for individual therapy. i always hid behind texting or phone calls. i’m “prepping” myself by finding negative things that i want to bring up which is most likely not helpful.

B officially asked me to be her bridesmaid. we are texting a lot more often, and working to be on better terms. i’ve let go of any hard feelings.

the newlyweds R&T are planning a move to NYC in two months! yay for having more friends in the area. we’ll be meeting matt’s friend H for dinner tonight and couple A&H will be visiting sometime next week so i’ll most likely meet with them too.

update: i had my first therapy video call with joel, an old white man from florida. i found it easier to talk to a male; he was really calm, and made me more introspective. he even poked some fun at me because my worries can be a bit ridiculous. he recommended i read a book called the worry trick, which i ordered immediately after the session. since i was young, i’ve always liked a sense of harmony and peace, which often means i stay complacent or i shut myself out from new stimuli or challenges. however, the new stimuli and challenges are usually what makes life more interesting and fulfilling, and i am robbing myself of that. there’s a lot more i want to explore in therapy and am excited for our session next week. 

regarding anxiety, he gave me an analogy of being in the woods and seeing a bear. will i stay calm in this scenario, or will i start a scene, run away and have the bear chase after me? we are often faced with uncomfortable challenges. we can choose to see the challenge as it is, or intensify the situation and make it worse than it needs to be. another analogy was having a headache. when we have a headache, will we take the necessary actions (rest, drink water, go for a walk), or will we start freaking out believing that it’s a brain tumor and make the situation worse? 

after completing my degree, my life in nyc has become lackluster, and i understand my dread. my remote work offers some purpose and pays the bills, but it is overall quite boring and doesn’t offer excitement. i immediately wanted to run back home to the comfort of family and friends. there’s nothing wrong with this, but i think i can learn to grow to be independent as well. i’d like to move back not on a whim and worry (of like omg, what do i do with myself now), but rather, a feeling of contentment and readiness. 

it’s a weird transition, kind of like i don’t want to start anything new (including new friendships) because i know i’ll be leaving in the next half year or so. but i still have to continue to look forward to things, meet new people, and continue living life in general with the understanding that i am still here NOW. that being said, the next things i’m interested are: running club, more hot yoga, checking out more coffee shops, possibly pursuing a CPA, and cherishing the time we have left with our current friends. 

[rotationalsymmetry]

For me — a kid in the “honors” classes at a magnet high school — 1 and 2 weren’t at all a problem, it was all 3. But 3 was bad.

it wasn’t just that there was a lot of homework. It’s that there was literally more work than I was capable of doing. There would often be more homework assigned on Monday and due on Tuesday than I could actually do in 24 hours, if I wanted to eat and sleep. And there would be the same amount assigned Tuesday and due Wednesday. And homework where we had a few days to do it on top of that. And long term projects like reports that we were somehow expected to do on top of that. There were no field trips. Field trips would mean cutting into the class time of a different class, and teachers were jealous of their time. Everyone acted like they were the only ones assigning homework. I had an English teacher who told us that when he assigned us a short story, we were supposed to read the story, read it again, go on a walk and think about it, and read it again. I have no idea what he was high on, but frequently I couldn’t find time to read the stories once.

I was so organized over the two week long winter break in my junior year of high school. I had a schedule drawn up, broke down my homework for each class into chunks with deadlines so I would know if I was on track. I gave myself no weekend days off, only Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Year’s Day and gave myself a three day buffer at the end. (After being exhausted like I had never been exhausted in my life the last week of classes.) I gave myself regular breaks, gave myself meals and time to shower, and I might have stopped work for the day as early as 9 pm, probably the equivalent of twelve hour days. I ended up working through my buffer, and even so there were a bunch of history flash cards that I meant to get done that I didn’t get to. And then classes started again.

At one point my uncle, who was either in or had recently graduated from a PhD program, suggested I take one day off a week. That sounded completely unworkable, so I ignored him, but I did give myself one full hour of free time before bed every day, and I did give myself all of Friday afternoon and evening after class.

(it is…also the case that pretty often my parents would invite me to do something recreational over the weekend, and I’d say yes without thinking about it too hard. For whatever reason some part of me figured carving out time from studying because I wanted to was unacceptable, but family time was allowed. And I did at least have variety in what I was doing for school: it wasn’t just book learning, there was also music and sports practice.)

I checked out a book from the library called Yoga for Busy People. My mother said something dismissive about the idea that I was “busy”.

As an adult, and someone who approves of labor rights, I think people deserve a standard 8 hour workday, a standard 40 hour work day, two days a week off, and frequent holidays or vacation time. I did, strictly speaking, get a great deal of vacation time. I sure as fuck wasn’t working 40 hours a week. I was working (does some mental math) yeah, about 12 hour days Monday-Thursday, 8 hours Fridays, and maybe another 8 hours each Saturday and Sunday? (That’s a guess. I don’t really know. I didn’t track my time. It could well have been 12 hour days on the weekend some of the time too.) So … about 72 hour workweeks? And feeling absolutely miserable because I still wasn’t getting it all done and nobody once suggested to me that might be anything other than a personal failure to work hard enough?

That sounds insane writing it all out like that.

And it could have been worse. I did actually remember stuff well, so I didn’t really have to study on top of assigned work. I didn’t have any responsibility for chores, which is not generally the case for working adults. The commute was not long and was probably necessary decompression time, as I was not able to do schoolwork while I was in transit. And there was some time when I was supposed to be doing schoolwork but was lost in daydreams, but I’m not sure that should matter because nobody is 100% effective during extended workdays. It’s normal for people at office jobs to not actually be working every minute that they’re supposedly at work, even aside from official breaks.

But that was only half of the nightmare. The other half was: I was sort of under the impression that school was supposed to prepare you for the adult world, especially the working world. I figured since I did well in school, that would transfer over to having an easy time getting work. And then I decided I didn’t want to go to college (and I mean, seventy two hour work weeks, of course I didn’t want to sign up for more of that) and I thought this “getting a job” thing would be pretty easy, I mean everyone can get a job, even people who did terribly in school, right?

it turns out the skillset for getting hired, when you have no credentials beyond a high school degree, is very different from the skillset for getting good grades in school. And I was terrible at getting hired. And, at least for retail (and canvassing, don’t get me started on canvassing), terrible at staying hired, because customer service means interacting with people, which I am bad at. And people don’t really like training people they’ve just hired for their shitty minimum wage customer service job, so you also have to figure out what you’re supposed to do without being explicitly told, and figure it out fast, which I am spectacularly terrible at. So I went from working my ass off for no pay but at least getting some sort of symbolic/status reward for it, to failing at things that I hadn’t realized it was possible for someone who was genuinely trying to fail at. It was not a comfortable experience for my ego.

And I still. Have not. Figured out. How to organize my time and reliably consistently get done the things I think I should get done. Without immanent deadline pressure or someone else who is going to be disappointed if I don’t get the thing done. Because the way I learned to get things done was to respond to deadline pressure and fear of facing the disapproval of others. I am 40 years old.

I think a lot of the skepticism and derision toward the idea of "gifted kid burnout" stems from the fact that a lot of folks have no idea what the gifted track in most high schools actually looks like; they've got this mental image, possibly informed by popular media depictions, of "gifted kids" as a privileged group of students who get to go on extra field trips, monopolise the teachers' attention in class, and constantly be told how special they are, but who are otherwise treated identically to all the other kids.

In practice, the gifted track in most high schools – most North American high schools, at any rate – has the same problem as any other educational program: the need to adhere to published metrics. These programs exist for the benefit of students only insofar as those benefits can empirically be measured, which leads to several common outcomes:

Students on the gifted track being afforded fewer choices regarding elective classes – often to the extent of having no choices at all – in order to stream the highest-performing students into the subjects that are most valuable in terms of boosting institutional metrics.

Students on the gifted tracking receiving restricted access to educational resources such as tutoring because it's perceived as a waste of funding. In many cases, gifted students are not only denied access to tutoring, but expected to serve as volunteer tutors and teaching assistants themselves, effectively becoming a source of unpaid educational labour for the schools they attend.

Students on the gifted track being assigned considerably more homework, often literally doubling their workload in an environment where homework loads are already routinely high enough that kids have difficulty finding time to eat and sleep, simply because you get more measurable academic performance data that way.

The upshot is that the gifted track is often less about fun perks and constant praise, and more about receiving less freedom, fewer resources, and heavier workloads than one's peers, getting strong-armed into providing unpaid labour to the school on top of it, and constantly being told one should be grateful for it – and that's without touching on the fact that the unspoken secondary purpose of many gifted programs is to serve as a quarantine for all the neurodivergent kids the school couldn't find an excuse to institutionalise or expel.

Like, shit, there's a reason kids on the gifted track exhibit elevated rates of alcoholism and substance abuse compared to general student populations. That doesn't arise in a vacuum!

(To be clear, I'm not saying that people graduating from high school and immediately having an existential crisis upon realising they're not special after all isn't a thing that happens, but in my experience that's more usually something that happens to the kids who were on the football team, and reframing it as a nerd culture thing is really weird.)

[majimemegoro]

meet kadokura. bored obsessive rich arms dealer and military contractor who also has ties with organized crime; sometime serial killer. friends with sagawa and andre richardson. drinker of absinthe. black monday affiliate. stalker. REALLY likes guns. 

this is mostly for @skygayzer whos writing kadokura into something, but i guess i might as well post it. please be warned that this is a horrible horrible man

appearance/mannerisms

average height or below, but taller than sato. does work out pretty regularly, im imagining like kickboxing or something, but hes nowhere near as fit or starved as he was in his mercenary days. basically an impressive body for a businessman and no better than that. good shoulders, fairly thin, no six pack in sight.

hes handsome and charming. a little bit lined up, especially smile lines and around his eyes. the vibes are like.... a 35-year-old, but whos been a lil toasted. a lil scorched and dried up.

smiles easily and often, expressive face and body.

Jaw Line Of The Ages

in the later timeline, probably does have a bit of grey hair but dyes it. hair slightly wavy but he keeps it pretty short

well dressed but not flashy. hes a businessman, you got your white shirt, your boring dark grey two-piece suit or whatever, some kinda tie, idk

he often fidgets with his arms and legs or stuff he has in his pockets (gun, screwdriver, cigarettes). but is also capable of sitting perfectly still and being or pretending to be relaxed. a bit of an oral fixation and will chew on objects or eat hard candy occasionally

basic life stuff/habits

lets start with the root issue: hes a total nihilist. he doesnt believe that anything matters and hes just out to have a good time as long as he can.

all of this does make him miserable on a fundamental level but hes Very skilled at pushing those feelings away and distracting himself with work and pleasure.

no fear of death, little self-preservation instinct. but also excited by competence so if hes like attacked or whatever hes not gonna just lie down and die.

lives in sapporo, i think he probably grew up there too. has a mansion outside the city. also has apartments in tokyo and osaka bc hes there often for work. also has a property in the county outside tokyo, in the forest, where he can Deal With Stuff Quietly (like probelmatic people etc.). fun fact thats where [y0 spoilers] nishiki brought kiryu in the car. that was the driveway to kadokura’s Dirty Tricks House

hes pretty good at operating on little sleep, but actually keeps a fairly regular and sane sleeping schedule. say 6-7 hours a night except when hes doing insane thing or working late for some deadline or important deal. may use substnces to supplement sleep where necessary.

drinks alcohol on the regular but in moderation. certified Absinthe EnjoyerTM but likes other stuff too, not too picky. does sometimes get insanely intoxicated but its usually on purpose. overall he has control over his drinking habits though they arent exactly healthy

does smoke, but not a huge amount. like once or twice a day, sometimes less.

at least in the yakuza (but some of his legit business partners too) people mostly know whats up with him but no one makes a big deal about it bc hes influential and important. sometimes you just gotta turn a blind eye to the fact that your arms supplier is a serial killer on the side. power structures be like that.

in general hes surprisingly easygoing, like he will laugh along if someone who knows him calls him a twisted cycle path or whatever.

that said, he can be sensitive about little things, like if someone teases him regarding some minor aspect of his appearance, or doesnt respect his reputation. BLACKLISTED.

work

hes like... in charge of a weapons manufacturing company and involved with arms trade stuff idk

what does he actualy do??? uhhhhhh he goes to meetings and talks on the phone and sometimes attends conferences and shows. travels a lot. schmoozes. i guess hes supposedly involved in development a little too, always happy to get his grubby little hands on prototype weapons

his business is legit but he has tons of ties to organized crime soooo idk. hes invested in having an appearance as an upright businessman though so he tries not to screw anyone over too obviously. surprisingly reliable partner..... most of the time.

also a surprisingly good boss. despite his bad traits, hes reasonable and accommodating to his employees (both in his company and the staff at his house). would never hurt or kill any of them. generous with pay and bonuses.

has no nishida figure, because he dismisses any personal assistant when they seem to start caring too much about him. spreads the work out so he never relies too much on just one person (that’s a recipe for disaster)

relationships

ties with both the tojo clan and omi alliance. espeicllay strong ties with the hokkaido yakuza and Kitakata bc thats where hes based but yknow. hokkaidos small fry.

also close ties with jingweon mafia

international arms dealer so sells to govts and stuff like that too

friends with sagawa

beef with nishiki’s parents & especially his dad

personally headhunted sato kiyoshi into becoming an assassin

beef with nishitani, idk why really

collects skilled killers

spare time/hobbies

really likes guns and shooting so will go to public or private shooting ranges when he gets the chance, to watch people at work and scope out talent or just keep an eye on who the good marksmen are. also has his own private shooting range which has a huge one-way mirror so he can watch without being seen.

he likes going to parties & clubbing etc., when hes in the mood, which is often but not all the time. doesnt like tripping out or doing any psychedelic drugs but otherwise is up to try pretty much anything.

will go to hostess clubs and stuff but not interested in dating or flings

why does he go then ??? not sure, maybe he gets a thrill out of acting normal with the girls but thinking about killing them idk. generally would not kill a hostess though—too much fuss.

honestly prefers to spend most of his time at home alone, but i guess he doesnt have a lot of spare time. will cook and learn languages.

insanely good at learning languages. probably at least fluent in english, mandarin, korean, swahili, vietnamese and french. speaks english with british pronunciation lol

probably cant handle the tones in cantonese loser lol

cooks mostly fancy western stuff like steaks or whatever

there have been periods where he had someone locked in his basement to torment when he felt like it. hasnt done that for awhile probably but the facilities are still there.

mostly only does recreational serial killing when hes in an extreme state of stress and doesnt have anything better to distract him.

what is better to distratct him? Stalking and fixating on an interesting person of course! Likes to sponsor/corrupt people he thinks have the potential to be excellent assassins.

fighting

hes not like a world class fighter or anything, but he is practised and brutal where necessary. soldier’s training rather than fancier martial arts.

really good marksman with a handgun. also good with machine guns. not a great sniper, but competent enough.

i think he uses one of those big brutal looking assisted-open knifes.

backstory

what was his childhood like? how did he end up so rich and powerful?? we just dont know and good luck getting him to talk about it. he wont even tell ME.

but during the mid-late 1960s at least he was a mercenary and did war crimes in the congo. probably involved in a few other conflicts closer to home but idk the details. i only put him in the congo because he worked with Roland and Van Owen tbh

I dont know if he was already rich at that point & was just mercing for fun & experience or if he hadnt yet had material succes. It Is A Mystery.

kadokura might actually be a fake name.

anway if you read all this thanks i guess! kadokura is OPEN-SOURCE to my comrades and if you ever want to name drop him in anything or straight up use him as a character, you can do that, including if you want to contradict any of the stuff i wrote here. he contains multitudes. just tag me or whatever so i can see !!! also lemme know if you have an OC who seems like they would interact with him and i can try to at least do a name-drop somewhere >:)

oh yea and ifyou want to ur allowed to kill him too, he deserves it <3

[the-molecularbio-kitten]

Things I Feel Like Suggesting for People Similar to Me (Or: How I managed to get my ass off academic probation while getting depressed yet again)

Alright y’all, I just saw yet another graphics thing talking about how the creator got and maintained a 4.0, and that’s great! Their methods work for them, and likely will work for other people! As someone with adhd and bipolar disorder who seems to get depressed every semester without fail, some (most) of those things don’t work for me, and likely won’t work for other folks like me!

So here’s how I managed to get off academic probation this past semester. Huge disclaimer, I started off the semester feeling okay, so if you’re starting off not at a good place, this might not work for you. (I also tried to keep this short and sweet, because my eyes sorta glazed over the second slide of the graphic I saw, but it got long, so I’m sorry)

1). Write down on a piece of paper all the dates and deadlines for tests/quizzes/assignments

If you’re like me, physically writing things down is better than putting it somewhere on an electronic planner, or even a regular planner (I’m sure you’re familiar with the “out of sight out of mind”, a very real thing i and others struggle with). Put that piece of paper somewhere you will see it regularly. Also, I suggest writing the assignments and such in different colors. If it’s one color I personally find I am not willing to look at it. Make it fun, add stickers and shit if necessary.

2). If you have books you need to read, or textbooks, try to keep them always open to the pages you need to read next

Especially when I get depressed, it is SO HARD to even bother opening my damn books. Like, if I can manage to open the pages, that’s it, that’s my One Big Task for the day. Cut that step out and keep your shit open. Even ebooks and such, keep that shit open on your computer if you can.

3). Stay in touch with your profs, be honest and open about your situation

Seriously, I would have definitely failed my classes if I didn’t email my professors and tell them I was struggling mentally. I know, I KNOW this is so hard to do, it’s taken me literally YEARS to be comfortable opening up to people about my struggles, but I guarantee you, 90% of the time profs will be understanding and willing to work with you IF you tell them right away. They can’t help you if you email the day before the final that you’re struggling. You gotta advocate for yourself, and like I said, most of the time profs WILL work with you

4). Make it fun!

Make doing your assignments and readings fun. Especially when you fall behind, you gotta make it fun to convince your brain to Do The Shit. What I tried was make like a “board game”, with each assignment being a square, and I advance a playing piece further as I complete the task. Make a game board for each class, and make sure you add squares for breaks and snacks and whatever. If it’s a lot, make game boards with the tasks broken up into days, so one game board you do on say Monday and has 4 tasks, the next board on Tuesday with another 4 tasks etc. Make that game board pretty too, but don’t spend too much time on it, you’re trying to get yourself to do the things, not procrastinate more. I also might suggest if you like puzzles, have a small child’s puzzle, like 25 pieces, and if you have 10 tasks, assign each task to a puzzle piece. Complete the puzzle up to the ten pieces, then add each of the ten pieces as you finish your tasks. For me, my need to finish a simple puzzle outweighs (sometimes) my avoidance in doing the thing. Especially if I set the Rule that the puzzle is ONLY for completing assignments, well then I can’t just complete the puzzle without first doing the associated task, because that is Breaking the Rules.

5). Take breaks when needed (be honest with yourself)

Seriously, don’t push yourself if you really can not do the thing. You’re just gonna make it worse for yourself. “But so-and-so can push through their procrastination and—“ okay, but is so-and-so YOU? No, they’re not. Do what YOU can do, and screw anyone else who says you gotta do something a certain way. Be honest with yourself, really know your limits. Yes sometimes you gotta power through the crap, but sometimes you just gotta know when it’s too much. Drop classes if you need to, there’s no shame in that, I’ve literally dropped 15 classes already (it sucks yes, but at least I am still in college, versus if I failed them I would’ve been kicked out).

6). Ultimately, if you pass you pass

Something important I realized/learned this semester, a passing grade is a passing grade. My psychiatrist even told me that her own grades don’t matter anymore because she passed and got through and became a doctor. As she said, literally no one cares about grades once you graduate. So if you can only get a C grade in a class, that is A-Okay. The only thing that matters is you pass and eventually graduate, so take it easy on yourself.

Anyway, as I said, hopefully this will help someone else for whom those helpful student graphics don’t work or apply to.

[defstolemyheart]

hasty - hwang hyunjin (m)

tags: smut, explicit sexual scenes/descriptions, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) note: crossposted from instagram on February 9. I actually have a song included for the title slide on instagram, but I can’t put videos up here I guess :< this is my first smut here dhsjdhasj idk how to feel about that ahahha oh and I recommend listening to Too Fast by Sonder while reading! word count: 2.7k Tonight he wanted to savor you. Slowly.

--

Impatience.

That was his brand. 

Most people around him knew well how Hyunjin prefers to have things done without delay - be it studying, assignments or work. He would always try to be two steps ahead, even better if he could wrap them up long before the due time was up. 

He always got his notes and readings done even before anyone else started and finished his papers at least a week before the deadline, allowing himself time to review them as he saw fit. He would never fail to check the stocks for the cafe every shift, making calculations that proved to be useful to expect what they might or might not need.

Hyunjin found comfort in his system. Found peace within his rushings.

If he let things sit for too long… he would lose his mind.

There was a reason he rarely visited the campus coffee shop. Not only because of their weak excuse of double shot iced americano, the bumbling barista was far too slow for his own good. Hyunjin would always end up tapping his shoes in contempt for a cup of coffee that was far too weak for his system, dampening his mood and driving his patience to run thinner for the rest of the day.

Even his friends were not spared of any bit of patience, no matter how close or long they have been with him. Hyunjin could not count the many instances where he would go inside the movie theater right on the five minutes dot before the movie began, not caring if Jisung or Felix would come running with an apology drawn in smiles, because he was far too anxious to be late for himself than having to care if his friends would be mad at him for leaving them behind (they never got mad, which Hyunjin was thankful for).

And his night life was like that too.

Friday night outings with his best friends meant putting on clothes that left nothing for others imaginations and heading to poorly lit clubs to chase highs with people seeking cheap thrills and momentary bliss. It meant exchanging hungry gazes to people who looked interested enough to touch with intent, who was willing to be pressed against the wall, or brought to an empty toilet stall for heated kisses and searing touches that never lingered. 

That was sex for Hyunjin. Not too short to be unpleasurable, yet never too long to leave attachments. Just enough. Any longer than necessary and his skin would prickle; uncomfortable and disgusted.

Until he met you.

Eyes meeting yours under the scattering crimson light at Minho’s frat house party one Saturday night, he could not miss how you were practically undressing him with just your gaze. 

Impatient.

Highly impatient.

It was intriguing, deeply amusing, meeting you.

Someone who kissed without wasting a breath, always so pliant and eager from the very first touch. 

Someone who made a quick work for him, tugging on his hand to touch your already soaking slit under the skin tight black sequin mini dress that made your skin glow so beautifully, even under the dim lights of the frat house bathroom.

Someone who was not shy to ask him to do it faster, harder, to have him leave litters of bruises on the soft expanse of their skin as their hips met his thrusts, and coyly walked away from him once you were both spent.

As if nothing happened.

Names were not exchanged, and he never found it to be necessary before. Because before that, once was always enough.

Yet Hyunjin spent the rest of that night wishing he had taken more time with you, and it was a jarring thought for him. Then he spent his Sunday trying to remember the taste of your lips and the tight slickness of your core- he wished the day would pass faster, wished to find you again as soon as he could.

Come Monday, by the grace of the universe, his wish came true. It arrived in the form of you striding across the quad, a soft smile on your lips yet the hunger in your eyes was not amiss by him.

You didn’t say a word as you pulled him to the library, leading him to the emergency staircase in the back of the building that nobody ever visited. He smiled as you pushed him to sit on the steps as you straddled his laps and captured his lips between yours like you have been starved for months.

With each quick flick of your wrist as you stroke his length, and rapid sinking of your heat around him, Hyunjin felt fire running under his skin.

It was as if he had found his match.

Someone whose patience ran much thinner than him- an absolute rarity. 

And with each quick and searing encounters between you and him after that, he found himself hooked to you, unable and unwilling to let go. 

With both of you preferring to move with the same speed, it was comforting for the both of you to stay together. No time was ever wasted, no touch ever more than necessary.

It was perfect.

Yet the longer he stayed with you, he found something in him changing- a thought growing..

He wondered if he could push your buttons, as slow as he possibly could.

The thought was fleeting at first, but it stayed, and festered, and surprised him.

Because he never desired slowness, never one to waste time, yet... the thought of having you under him, screaming, panting or crying simply because he was taking too much of his sweet time? It made his blood rush with excitement.

He let the thought simmer in the back of his mind. Letting his brain work its storms of ideas, even as he catered to your wishes of fleeting pleasures- of quick pumps of his fingers or hard, unrelenting thrusts of his hips.

He smiled as he planted chaste kisses on your skin after another quick fuck session, thinking of the right moment for the grand scheme in his mind. 

For the first time in his life, he found himself patiently waiting for the perfect chance.

--

No longer finding the need to fuck random strangers every other weekend, Hyunjin’s Friday nights were now reserved for movie nights with you in his apartment. It was for snuggling close to each other with a large bowl of microwave popcorn on your lap and a cold can of sparkling juice in his hand, with the both of you choosing movies without a second thought.

You called it movie nights, but most times the popcorn would be left to stale on the coffee table and whatever movie was up on the screen ignored as you ride him hard on the couch, or have him fuck you to screaming from behind. Then after all the highs, you would turn sleepy, and clingy, and rush him to carry him over to his bed where you would lay fast asleep.

Hyunjin watched the screen mindlessly, not really paying attention to the storyline because you were in his mind. He tried his best to suppress the smirk about to grow on his lips as he sensed you shifting restlessly next to him.

It always started that way: you shifting around the couch, then suddenly straddling his lap and pulled his lips between yours and begging for him to fuck you already, and he would always welcome it.

Not tonight. He rolled his lips under his teeth, feeling an amused laugh bubbling yet contained his chest.

As expected, you moved; caging his hips with your legs, one hand firm on his shoulder, another clutching on his sweater clad arm. He ran his gaze quickly on your figure; from your messy hair, to your lust clouded eyes, wet parted lips, to the skin peeking from the collar of his way-to-big of a hoodie on you, down to the hem of it, resting on your thighs. He was pretty sure you had nothing underneath. You never did.

The epitome of lust, wrapped as an adorable figure drowning in his clothes.

Abso-fucking-lutely alluring.

Hyunjin tugged the hand you have on his arm gently, bringing it close to his lips. He placed tender kisses on each of its knuckles, and caught the way your skin shivered with each touch. He continued on, planting barely there touches with his lips all over the back of your hand, feeling your eyes widening at his ministrations.

“What are you doing?” you asked, breath catching in your throat.

Hyunjin hummed, pressing his lips on your slowly heated skin one more time before looking up to meet your confused eyes. “Nothing.”

Your brows knitted together, definitely unconvinced of his words. “Weird.”

He just smiled, letting your hand go to snake his own behind your neck, pulling you down for a kiss. It was open-mouthed, wet, and searing, as it had always been. Hyunjin could hear your breath hitching with each licks of his tongue on your soft palate, with the caress of his fingers on your nape, encouraging you to deepen the kiss.

You slid down, chest heaving and rubbing against his. Even through both of your clothes, he could feel your nipples hardening, perhaps anticipating for him to twist them the way he usually would. It pulled a chuckle from Hyunjin, whose other hand now toyed with the hem of your hoodie, feeling the skin of your thigh tensing from the touch.

Your hips rutted against his crotch, seeking to alleviate the growing pressure and Hyunjin very nearly gave in to your ministrations, close to pulling his cock out of his sweatpants and fuck you right there and then, but no-

Not tonight.

Just as he guessed, you weren’t wearing underneath the hoodie. His hot palm slid on the skin of your side easily, bunching the hoodie up slightly and made you shiver as the slightly chilly air of the room hit you. He snaked his arm around your naked waist, though his lips did not leave yours, teeth nipping on them just the way you like it. 

You pulled away for a short take of breath and Hyunjin used the chance to flip your back onto the sofa, making you squeal in surprise before he leaned back in to capture your lips, this time in a slow, languid kiss, and he could taste the shock of it on your tongue.

Because he never kissed you like this.

You kissed him back, though urging him to quicken his pace but Hyunjin did not relent. He kept nibbling gently, licking softly, and whimpers began to fall from your lips. It made Hyunjin’s skin prickle, but not in discomfort.

It made him want more.

He left your lips, making you whine and he knew then that your patience had begun to run thin. Apparent from the glaze of lust on your eyes, from the twitching of your thighs and the writhing of your hips.

“Hyunjin-” you panted, fingers clutching on the hem of his hoodie. “Fuck me-”

Hyunjin shook his head, earning him more of your whines. He dipped down, lips ghosting over your ear. “Not now.”

“Please, Hyunjin-” you took one of his hands and let it brush over your slit- soaked and a mess, wanting nothing more than his cock filling you in quickly. “I need you.”

He chewed on his lip, bruising even more than it already was. “I know, but will you let me do something first?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the sound so clear to his ears. “What?”

“Let me take my time.” he pressed his lips softly on your cheek, feeling the slight dampness that rolled from your eyes in frustrations. “Please.”

He expected you to say no. Knowing you, he actually held no expectation that you would allow more time than necessary for this sort of intimacy. But then he felt your head moving, nodding, and that was it for him.

His lips made trails of wet kisses from your ears to your collarbone, sucking lightly on the sensitive patch of skin you have near your sternum. He shifted, sliding down further down your figure. His hands pressed on your legs, urging you to allow him space between your thighs.

Goosebumps formed across your skin as his lips found it once more, kissing the inner side of your left thigh and he slowly made his way back up, leaving barely there marks as he moved slowly. 

You writhed as he closed in to your heat, and nearly screamed as he ignored it, moving further up to kiss around your waist. Your fingers tried to find purchase on something, anything, to relieve the tension, and they ended up on your own breasts, cupping and kneading them roughly over the hoodie.

Hyunjin heard your stifled moans and struggled to keep his own in his throat as he saw you pulling on your hardened buds over his hoodie, frustration clear on your twisted expression. His sweatpants felt taut and constricting, and once more, he fought over his desires to bend you over and mindlessly fuck you. 

Tonight he wanted to savor you. Slowly.

He slid his hand between the hoodie and your skin, making you gasp and have your hands pulling away from your breast to cover your mouth because his touch felt like seething fire on your already heated skin. Hyunjin lifted the cloth just enough to reveal your chest, hungry eyes marvelling the softness of your skin.

Hyunjin dipped down, curious tongue finding your nipple. He relished the slight taste of salt on the skin, teeth pulling on the bud and drawing the most desperate sound from your chest- one he had never heard before.

Fuck.

Desire thrummed in his veins, prickling harder on his skin. His other hand trailed down between your legs, finding the slick opening of your core, twitching and begging so pitifully to be filled.

Hyunjin slipped a finger in so painfully slowly, his lids fluttering close as he tried to concentrate on feeling your velvety heat around him. Your legs fell open further besides him as he slid in a second digit, dragging in and out of you in a lengthy, excruciating pace that he knew was not enough for you. He captured your nipple with his lips again, giving it a thorough suck just as he crooked his finger on the soft spot behind your clit, causing you to scream, back arching so prettily off the couch.

More of those delicious desperate sounds escaped your lips as he pulled his fingers out, and Hyunjin could feel his own arousal screaming underneath his skin, coiling tight in his stomach. 

You choked out a sob when he left your skin and suddenly licked a thick stripe starting from your swollen, throbbing clit, down to your aching entrance. He didn’t stop, tongue continuously flicking over the sensitized bud and occasionally dipping into your core, teasing you further, making your thighs shake from the tension. His fingers found comfort back in your slick heat, scissoring you open tenuously as his tongue delved alongside them. 

Begs spilled from your throat, sounding raw with tears, and he could feel it- the neediness growing incessantly in your nerves, so apparent by the way your velvet walls twitch violently around his fingers. He pressed deeper, dragged slower and more of your cries filled the room.

Hyunjin swallowed thickly. Hearing how you would be under prolonged, lingering pleasure, he regretted not thinking of this sooner.

His plush lips pressed on your clit, suckling on it sweetly as he continued pumping in and out of you leisurely. His actions drew out more of your moans, slowly turning into muffled grunts as you bite onto the sleeves of his hoodie just to hold on to the last remnant of sanity.

Hyunjin was not sure if he could ever go back to quick fucks and fast highs with you now. Not when seeing you under him like this made him feel so good, so damned accomplished.

“Hyunjin-” he smiled at the desperation in your voice. “Please? Fuck me?”

He took his time pulling his digits out of your drenched cunt, enthralled by the sound of your whine, He brought his fingers to his mouth and savored your sweet taste again before coming on top of you, arms caging your head. He could see himself reflected in your glossy, despairing eyes, and it made his heart swoon and his skin prickle again, lustful.

“Don’t be too hasty baby.” he kissed you softly, breath ghosting over your trembling lips. 

“We’re just getting started.”

[3pirouette]

Fic: Five, Four, Three, Two... One (1/1)

Title: Five, Four, Three, Two… One By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3  Anyone else please ask first :)

Sequel to Six Dates, Times, and Places 

Story Summary: Steve nodded, looking away over the horizon. “I’m still sorry about it.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky moved his hand back to his lap, lacing his flesh fingers with his vibranium ones. “You got me out eventually. You stopped me when it counted.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, “Not every time.”

“Enough times.” Bucky was adamant, his voice sharp and brokering no arguments. – Six Dates, Times, and Places

There were five more dates. This is the story of the very last, and maybe most important, one. Angst, Canon-compliant death. 

A/N: Yes, in theory there are four other stories to be told. But to me, this is the most important one. It makes a lot of the MCU make sense, and is a headcanon of mine. No promises on if I’ll ever revisit the other dates, this is the only one I ever really planned on telling.

For Steggy Week Day 7: Free Choice

~*~

Steve and Peggy made a plan in 1948. Somewhere between arranging the wedding and securing him a new public identity, they set down ground rules regarding the last five dates, times, and places. They would do whatever they could, in reason, to get Bucky out.

Steve would do whatever he could, reason be damned, to make sure Peggy stayed alive.

It hurt his head to think of how it all worked. He wished for someone to talk to about it, to try to help explain this cyclical loop to him, to explain to him how he’d already done this and Bucky knew about it, yet it was still his unknown future.

What he really wanted to know, above all else, was if he could actually change anything or if every choice he made was already pre-destined. Was he just a chess piece playing out a game that had long since been played already or could his move affect or change the outcome?

He had to believe what he did made a difference.

It was too depressing not to.

He once asked Pym his thoughts on the matter, disguising it as a hypothetical question based on a Sci-Fi movie he’d seen, but the man was too theoretical, too unable to break it down for someone who wasn’t a scientist for his opinion to be helpful or reassuring.

He’d asked Howard once in the beginning. Howard took it almost too seriously, reminding him so much of Tony as he talked about all the things that could go wrong, the paradoxes, the potential for catastrophe. By the end of the night, Howard was drunk and staring at him dangerously, and ended the night by telling Steve he shouldn’t have come back.

They’d never talked about it again, but Steve noticed Howard started to keep his distance from them. It was a slow process as he distanced himself. Year by year, he saw them less and less. Peggy thought it was Howard being Howard, pulling away from the good things in his life and burying himself in his work.

Steve was fairly sure it was him.

Even then, though, Steve thought it might be for the best.

It had always rubbed him just a little wrong in the 21st century that Tony had seemed indifferent about Peggy, that he didn’t know her well when she had helped Howard build SHIELD. Steve couldn’t understand then how Tony had managed to avoid being around Peggy so often, how her influence hadn’t been felt by him at all.

He knew that Tony hadn’t met Peggy’s husband, had barely known Peggy for all those years. He didn’t know about Steve and Peggy’s relationship during the war for all Howard had bragged about Steve to his son, and Peggy’s death hadn’t phased him in the slightest.

Steve found out as the years ticked on, and as Howard and Peggy drifted apart, that it made sense.

While it was possible Tony had known Steve all along, and hadn’t realized it had been him or had played along, the easier thing to do, especially since Steve knew how it all ended, was to stay as far away from the boy as possible.

Which ended up being easy once Peggy found out Howard was working on the side for the pentagon, trying to recreate Erskine’s serum yet again. She stopped speaking to him all together unless it was necessary for work, and the yelling between the two when the topic came up was unfathomable.

And through it all, Steve kept his little scrap of paper, even with the dates memorized.

In 1956 they sent the kids with the Jarvis’s to the mountains for a week and Steve didn’t leave Peggy’s side for a minute until it was over and they were left watching Bucky slip through their fingers.

In ’65, Steve tried everything he could think of to keep Peggy away from New York City, but when the President called, she couldn’t say no and Steve still couldn’t pull Bucky from the clutches of Hydra.

With the kids grown and out of the house, Steve and Peggy had taken the opportunity in 1972 to try to figure out how to turn the tables on him by prepping months ahead for the assault they expected in the swank DC hotel Shield liked to put Peggy up in when she had to be in town. They had blueprints and had tapped into surveillance and thought they were prepared, but he still managed to slip away in the night.

In 1986, their son had taken up the mantle. Strong like his father, Steve and Peggy brought him into the family secret, and Steve gave their firstborn the job of helping him protect Peggy while they were at an unavoidable State Dinner. Steve and Peggy were both proud, and yet still saddened when the paper was right, yet again, and Bucky slipped away into the night.

Steve generally didn’t ask much of her when it came to where she went or who she saw, especially for work. Peggy didn’t argue with him when it came to the dates on the paper.

Asking her to stay away from the Pentagon for the last date was easier than he’d anticipated.

For this last one, though, it wasn’t just about Peggy.

There was one date left, and it might be the most important date of them all: December 16, 1991.

Despite having their differences, Steve couldn’t at least try. He begged Howard to get out of town. He told him as much as he could, but didn’t reveal the exact time or place that he knew to be the man’s downfall. Just the day. “As far as you can. Take Maria, take Tony, please.”

Howard wanted to push back, especially with how estranged they’d become, but he knew better than to try to defy Steve’s knowledge of the future. “She’s been mentioning going on a vacation, anyway. Bermuda, Bahamas, someplace like that. I’ll have Jarvis arrange it.”

Steve thought he was in the clear. Peggy was staying home, Howard was going to be out of the country, and no one was going to be on a back road just outside of DC in the middle of the night on December 16.

He was going to fix this one. If changing nothing else mattered, this one thing did.

He was nervous all day, fidgeting about the house and checking doors and window locks until Peggy had to stop him and physically make him sit down. It was cold, and a Monday, and it left Steve with little to do but think about the hours ticking by until the very last deadline. They had leftovers from Sunday dinner, then worked on what still needed to be bought or ordered for Christmas for the kids and grandkids, and ended the evening in front of the television, nestled together under a blanket, sidearms within easy reach. They watched MacGyver then flipped between the football game and Murphy Brown. She had a glass of chardonnay and he finished off the red she said was too dry.

Steve had almost, almost thought they’d managed to somehow escape the fate of the last date on the paper as he clicked over to the evening news.

Until the phone rang.

Mister Jarvis’ voice echoed through the phone, tinny and distant.

Steve felt the grief well up in him.

If he hadn’t known it yet, though he was sure he’d become sure of it decades ago, this was the moment that proved it: none of this could be changed. It was always, always meant to be exactly the way it was.

“What… what was he doing there?” Steve choaked out as Peggy wrapped around him. “He was supposed to be on vacation. On the plane by then.”

Jarvis’s voice wobbled on the line. “He pushed back the flight. He was to deliver something to the Pentagon, then head to the airfield.

It welled within him and he rushed through their home to the bathroom, retching the little in his stomach out.

December 16, 1991: Howard was dead. Maria was dead. Tony was left alone.

It had been as much his fault as anything that Tony hadn’t known his father as well as he could have, and now he was gone.

He felt like he was watching Tony die all over again.

He’d failed him.

Peggy hung back in the doorway, eyes full of tears. “He told me he canceled it.”

Steve looked up at her, confused, and swiped at his mouth with his hand.

“Department of Defense contract meeting.” She stepped into the room and sat by him, her hand on his shoulder as he crumpled against the wall across from the toilet. “We were supposed to video conference with DOD contractors from all over the world, that’s why it was so late at night. He told me he’d cancelled it.” She swallowed hard and tried to sniff away her tears. “It’s the only reason I can imagine he was going there.”

“What… what could be so important?” Steve asked, eyes welling.

“He’d fixed it,” Peggy whispered, snuggling into Steve’s side. “He had a viable version of the serum.”

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, swiping at his eyes. “If they knew—”

Peggy kissed his head fiercely. “Of course, they knew. That’s why they sent the Winter Soldier. The always know.” She sighed, her own tears falling. “I was supposed to be in that car, not Maria. He just couldn’t stay away from the office for one day.”

His voice was still hurting, still confused. “They’ve never programmed him to go after anyone else before.”

“Maybe you did save me by keeping me home. Or maybe this day wasn’t me, darling,” she whispered, trying to comfort him, comfort herself. “Maybe it was the serum itself and they were collateral damage. Maybe it was Howard.”

“It is my fault.” Steve shook his head and looked at her. “I knew the date, the date Howard died, and how. I knew it, Peg. I should have…”

Peggy pressed her finger to his lips. “How long ago was it that Barnes gave those to you, hum?” She let her hand caress over his cheek and behind his neck. “We’ve tried, for so long, to try to change the outcome. To bring Barnes back. But it has never worked.”

Steve slumped further, resting his head on her shoulder. He felt a tear drip from her cheek to his, and he wiped it away harshly before tucking them closer together. The tile was cold, but it assured him that he wasn’t completely numb.

“I think we’ve both known, all along, that this whole thing was always supposed to go one way,” she whispered softly, her voice thick with tears as she ran her fingers through his hair. “You’ve never shied away from helping anyone in your life,” she softly spoke against his temple. “You tried. That’s all Barnes ever asked.”

“No,” Steve bit out, voice low and thick. “I saved you. But I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save Howard. I couldn’t save Tony…”

Peggy sat up tall, pushing Steve away from her until he could look her in the eyes. “Now, you listen to me. You didn’t kill Howard. Hydra did. You didn’t kill Tony. He sacrificed himself because of that man, Thanos. You did everything you could to save not only the ones you love, but millions of other people.” She grabbed him by his wet cheeks, her own tears still spilling over. “The tragedy is that this was how it has always been, and was always meant to be, not that you didn’t try hard enough. If you could have changed the world with just your will alone James would be joining us for Christmas dinner and things with Howard and Tony would have gone much, much differently.”

Steve’s eyes flickered over her face for a moment before he reached up, taking one of her hands in his and kissing the palm fervently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her skin, eyes closed. “I’m sorry that you lost a friend because of me. I’m sorry that you lost all these years together.”

Peggy nodded, sniffing away a fresh set of tears. She swallowed hard before speaking. “Howard made his choice, and I made mine. And I don’t regret a day.” She pulled him back to her, hugging him closely. “Not a single moment, my love.”

“I’ve made my peace with it long ago, Steve,” she whispered after a long moment. “I didn’t see what you saw, I don’t know what you know, but the world had to burn to bring you back to me. To give us our family. We have all lost so much, and from what you’ve said, Tony’s losses have only begun. Maybe this has all happened before and it is destined to happen again, I don’t know.” She kissed his cheek, holding tight. “But tomorrow? Tomorrow the little slip of paper in your sock drawer no longer holds any power over us.”

Steve held her tight on the bathroom floor, tears trickling quietly for both of them as the clock in their bedroom ticked by the seconds in the silence. “I don’t know how to help Tony.”

“We’ll figure something,” she whispered. “There may be no help for him, Steve. To become the man that will sacrifice his life for the universe, he may have to go through everything just the same.”

“I wish…” He sighed, unable to finish.

“I know,” she replied softly. “Me, too.”

[5-secondsofcolor]

Much Ado About Nothing || A.I

Prompt: office!Ashton, ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.’

Length: 1.4k word

Warning: reference to body image issues. Swearing(?)

Event Masterlist

A/N: I want to close this out by saying a thank you and to @h0tsos and @maluminspace who put this all together! I love you both.

———

“You’re still here?,” standing in the doorway, Beatrice is unsure if she’s bothering Ashton a moment. His smile beacons her in. Letting her know the distraction is appreciated.

“Yeah I’ve got this deadline and I don’t think my coworker would appreciate me missing it.”

“No. Something tells me she really needs you to finish,” she jokes.

“Want to check out what I’ve got so far?”

With that she commits to entering the makeshift office he makes himself when he visits Messina headquarters. His visits becoming more and more frequent even as a freelance hire for them. She didn’t think he’s stay as long as he did. Especially with the start of a rocky professional relationship.

It’s insane to her to remember the days when she was up to her throat with his bullshit. His lack of email responses giving her heartburn as she tried to pin down the odd graphic designer they’d hired. It took a few visits over a before there was an understanding of peace and even more before there was an understanding of friendship.

Her emails were care. Her way to show support for the one employee far away. The one who she could never offer a cup of coffee to or a quick walking break. Meanwhile his silence was as necessary to him as air. He needed his space for work and for self care that he held ever sacred.

She sits in the chair closest to his, looking over the endless sketches he’s produced since settling into his seat. Picking out one in particular, “This one’s amazing. I like that you incorporated more colors. It catches the eye really well.”

Ashton's eye is caught by her arm instead, a small trio of leaves tattooed there first caught his attention the night they met. A simple outline of an olive brand, it felt ironic on someone who seemed to always be fighting. He reaches out, expecting her to recoil but instead she lends him her hand, holding the poster in the other as she feels his fingers trace the tattoo.

“I still don’t understand how you pick a color pallet.” She mulls over the balance in his work. His talent, however late and stressful to her, was the one thing she could never argue against.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do,” as usual it’s nearly impossible to tell how serious he is. Instead she puts down the sheet, picking up his notes scribbled onto sketching papers. “Honestly, I let the colors tell a story. Can I color these in?”

“Sure?” With that Ashton grabs a few green markers off the desk, she can feel the cold marker as he slowly adds colors into the outlines. She’s too focused on his notes, seeing the progression of his sketches until he begins to reach a final illustration for the magazine and accompanying video.

“Don’t you have anyone to get home to?”

“No. Not much has changed in a while,” She admits. “I try sometimes but other times it’s just insecurity taking me out.”

His brows furrow in confusion, “What do you mean?”

He looks up a moment, his face much closer than she expected. From this angle, she can’t help but see how long his eyelashes are, the light freckles settling on his nose, the steep shape of his Cupid’s bow. They are silent as he looks on, still confused. She exhales heavily realizing she needs to spell it out for him.

“It hasn’t always been the easiest to be confident in my body. Of course now, it’s better. I just wear the clothes I like and I learned to say fuck it but that wasn’t the easiest.”

“Is that why you got an olive branch?”

“Yeah actually. It’s a little olive branch to my body,” she’s taken aback by his understanding. It feels silly saying it out loud, to admit she’s hated her most basic self, and that she’s learning to make peace. Some of her time spent wishing it didn’t feel so necessary yet she stares at the proof she needs a reminder.

“Took more work than I’d like to admit to get to neutral ground.” She admits. “Why am I telling you this?”

“Because you care very little what I think. Which is good.” He says pulling out a second marker. It’s blue this time, he layers it on her skin with green before picking up a black black marker again and connecting the branch further down to a freckle on her forearm. The liberty he takes on his sketch only growing her tattoo.

He takes in what she said. He doesn’t argue or try to tell her she’s wrong. He won’t try to explain how he sees her. Instead he sits in silence a moment, absorbing her reality and understanding what she said. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

“Can I ask you something?” something in her tone tells him she’s serious. This isn’t a guise to be smart with him or a stupid rebutal.

He answers with a short nod, too focused on filling in the leaves he’s added.

“Do you ever think you’ll stay? If Leon offered you a perminant position here?”

“Maybe. I like working with you and Nova too. I loved the first few articles you put out and was sad I just kinda had to hope we crossed paths again after we met at those conferences. I don’t know. I love being my own business. Working as I please but I do miss having office mates and the job protection this provides,” he says as he inspects the last of his work on her arm, running a thumb over his final addition before capping his pen. “When you have your own company, you’ll understand, a lot of them just use you to get on top.”

The smirk is immediate. She can’t help but till her eyes at him as he dramatically feigns heartache.

“I’m sure it’s not hard to get on top of you,” the joke lightens the odd mood, shaking off some of the seriousness that’s befallen them. It halfway works as she gives him a quick one over glance before she walks out of the conference room. He can’t help but watch the easy sway of her hips as she walks away, only turning his attention back to his work once she turns the corner into her own office.

She stares down at her little leaf, expecting him to have drawn something inappropriate. Instead there’s now a full olive branch to stare at. She packs her bag with a smile plastered on her face, enamored with the way he’s filled in all the leaves with blues and greens and extended the branch further, and for a moment she thinks, maybe there will be peace. With a sigh, she collects the last of her things from her office for the weekend.

“Have a nice night.” He shouts when she finally walks past the door again.

“I’ll see you Monday.” she shouts back. She watches the elevator numbers change slowly. Counting up to her floor slowly but she’s gone by the time the doors open.

In another circumstantial, maybe they’d have gotten along but Beatrice adjust. They get along. For now. That’s all she needed anyways and Tuesday, he’s gone just the same.

____

Beatrice comes back into the office on Monday, her weekend gone all too quickly. First order of business stays the same— check on Leon’s weekly update, usually a drag, today there’s a thing of sadness as she thinks about the end. Leon gave the same goodbye to all visitors ‘Our warmest goodbye and best wishes to our visitors Ashton and Luke.’

The subject line alone brings her joy “Leon’s Monday Update. Delivered 7:23 AM” She skims the opening, well aware of everything at the company. Her eye’s don’t stop until she sees, “Thank you for welcoming our visitors Luke and Ashton. As you know we’re pushing for a revitalized marketing strategy and in bringing them in, we’ve learned a lot and will continue to learn a lot. I’m very pleased to say our partnership will continue. As both Luke and Ashton have agreed to stay on board as advisors.

It has been a great time having them collaborating with our lovely marketing team. So much so that we’ve decided to extend their stay through the end of the month to explore additional projects.

Best wishes,

Leon”

Before Beatrice can get a word out, finishing processing what his email says, Nova’s response comes through, “Thank you for the update, Leon. We’re over the moon to have them here for the rest of the month. We’ll confirm that an office is set aside for the remainder of their stay. Thank you.”

Beatrice slowly puts her head down on her desk. Unsure why there’s a twinge of excitement in her heart with the extension of their stay.

[writingithink]

You asked for it!!! Prompt number 5 and Tentoo/Rose 😂💖

Alright so this somehow got out of hand, just a little.

[Send me a prompt and a Doctor (9-11) x Rose pairing!]

Aerial View Necessary Rated: T Pairing: Tentoo x Rose Wordcount: 3,360

Read it on AO3

It had taken quite a few months for them to get here, months in which she thought she was going to go absolutely insane, but they finally did it. She and the Doctor had a house of their own. With doors, and carpets, and all of the other domestic things a house on Earth came with.

Oddly enough, it was the Doctor who had first suggested it.

They had only been staying at the mansion for five days - not even a full week. Just five days since saving the multiverse, since Bad Wolf Bay (again), since he had been essentially created. Things had been … awkward. After so long apart they had to get used to each other again, but that was compounded by all of the changes that came with his metacrisis - some of which delighted him, while others had him throwing fits.

So when he had stormed into her room on their fifth day together on parallel Earth, Rose had assumed that he was having another tantrum, like the one the evening before when he found out that he could no longer eat an entire tin of biscuits without getting a stomach ache (she had been equal parts annoyed with and sad for him). She was barely awake, had just managed to pull herself up onto her elbows when he collapsed on the bed next to her.

“Let’s get out of here. Our own place. What do you say?” He looked quite manic for 8 in the morning.

“What?” she had asked, still groggy but quickly waking. “Where’d this come from?”

“I, Rose Tyler, absolutely refuse to live with your mother.”

For all of the new little quirks and biological changes, he really wasn’t all that different. Once she’d gotten ready for the day, cuppa in hand, Rose had taken a seat at the kitchen island, laptop already out from the day before, and started looking up flats online. It wasn’t long before the Doctor was there, looking over her shoulder and somehow managing to get jam in her hair.

“No, no, no,” he started, “not a flat. Too small. Too many other humans right on top of us. Or below us. Or to the side. You know what, never mind, forget that bit. We need a house.”

“Really? You? A house?”

Years may have passed, but his horror at the prospect of a mortgage while orbiting a black hole wasn’t the kind of thing she was ever going to forget.

“Yup. Not like this one, but a good size. The TARDIS will need her own room. Oh! And I think I would fancy a garden. Not just a small one, but a proper yard. We could have a pool! Do those come with houses, or do you have to get them separately?” the Doctor babbled, leaning over her in order to begin making his own searches, fingers typing on the keyboard at a ridiculous speed that the machine was having difficulty keeping up with.

Then her mum came in.

“What are you two up to now?” she’d asked.

Before Rose could think of a way to ease her mother into this new development, the Doctor had taken the matter completely out of her hands.

“Getting a house. What do they mean ‘request a viewing’? Aren’t I viewing it now? They’ve got 23 pictures.”

It had all gone downhill from there. Her mum had had plenty of opinions, and went from enthusiastically trying to do the house hunting for them to harsh disapproval of the whole thing seemingly from moment to moment throughout the entire process. And the Doctor’s combination of unending enthusiasm and complete ignorance made it all … well, it was never boring, that’s for sure.

Also, he turned out to be very picky, which shouldn’t have surprised her.

Their realtor hated them.

But now it was over, and here they were in their own house. Their own home.

It was two stories, with four bedrooms (“One for us, one for the TARDIS, one to use for, you know … whatever. Office? Workshop? And then an extra, just in case, you know … because what if we need it?”) and three bathrooms. The sitting room was cozy, and the kitchen was spacious, and there wasn’t a separate dining area (“What do we need a dining room for? When have we ever had people over for dinner?”). They had a finished basement (which the Doctor had more ideas for than it had space, but Rose figured he would have to figure that out for himself) and an attached garage, as well as a shed out back (“It will be perfect, you know, for projects that are too big for the house … well, not too big, the shed is quite small, but you know, too, er, combustible.”). It also had a pool, but not a hot tub - she had had to convince him that they could easily buy one when he almost told the realtor no (again). And their garden was huge. 

Rose didn’t know what to even do with it, she’d never had a garden before. Well, the last few years at the mansion she did technically have one - but that was different. It was her parents garden (well, grounds would be more accurate) and it was tended to by gardeners. In the excitement of moving in, she let the issue of lawncare slip her mind. 

Neither her nor the Doctor had many things - despite years living in a parallel world, Rose had been so focused on her work with the Dimension Canon, and so sure she would be returning to her proper universe that she had never really put down roots. So they had to buy absolutely everything for the house, which was daunting. Thankfully one of the new quirks he had gotten from Donna was a love for shopping. Unfortunately, he did not get any common sense about what a house needed, and it became clear that this was an activity he was never allowed to do alone (in the end, Rose had had to send back 4 (out of 6) couches, 17 (out of 21) toasters, 3 (out of 5) mixers, various other kitchen gadgets (total number unknown, but now they at least had enough cupboard space for actual food), and a host of giant inflatable Christmas decorations that ‘had been on sale’). 

It wasn’t until they had been at their new house for about two months that the issue of their garden came up again. And only because they had received a written warning in the post about their grass being too long.

“Who are they to decide? Isn’t it our garden?” the Doctor complained. “I like our grass! It’s very … grassy. And green! Well, mostly.”

They were standing outside on their front porch, looking at their grassy, mostly green grass. It was pretty tall. And starting to go to seed, reminding Rose of the wheat-like plants on Serin III - those were green, too. They had green bread. 

“You’re gonna have to mow it,” she told him, patting his arm apologetically.

“Me? Why me?”

“Because you’re the one who wanted a big garden.”

“Maybe I also want a big fence. So that nosy city people who get paid to judge my grass can’t see it. That will show them. Or, or, we can get rid of all the grass! Put flowers and trees and things instead. Then see what these people have to say.”

“Or you could mow the grass,” Rose said, before giving him a kiss on the cheek and heading back inside. They had to be in at Torchwood soon and she still wasn’t done getting ready.

The rest of the week passed by in a blur of alien ‘incidents’, way too much paperwork, and the Doctor’s unending attempts to get out of either of them doing work the moment he got bored of it. Once the weekend arrived, she was exhausted and he was adorably and delightfully insistent on making her forget about any and all stress or responsibilities.

Monday morning saw another letter regarding their grass. This time with a deadline, and a fine promised if they didn’t have it taken care of by the end of the week.

“We don’t even have a mower!” the Doctor complained, crumpling up the piece of paper and throwing it across the sitting room.

“We’ll just have to get one. We can go after work. I’ll tell dad that we need to leave early.”

“Mmm I suppose, if it gets us out early,” he conceded, still pouting.

So they left work early and went to the hardware store, where the Doctor made no less than three scenes while complaining about the primitive technology, comparing gardening tools from different times and planets, and attempting to test drive a riding mower in the store (the lack of petrol in the floor model having easily been circumvented with a few applications of his sonic screwdriver). Obviously they ended up buying the one that he tampered with. And of course they were asked never to return.

“It said on the sign that you offer free delivery?” were the Doctor’s parting words before Rose dragged him away from the counter, telling the quietly furious manager that she would send someone to pick it up for them.

“Well that was rude of them,” he began as soon as they got into the car, “I was only trying to-”

“Nope. No. You should know better by now. We’ve been through this. Just … quiet,” Rose sighed. She wasn’t angry, but she didn’t know what exactly she was feeling - some mix of frustration, disappointment, and exhaustion. Despite the fact that he now only had one heart, she never forgot that he was an alien. Usually she loved all of his alien-ness. 

Just not so much when it clashed with their attempt at living a very human life. But they wouldn’t be stuck planet-bound forever. In a few years their TARDIS would be ready for flight, and then they would once again have all of time and space at their disposal. A whole new universe to explore.

Rose just didn’t know how they were both going to manage to stay sane until they got that far.

Surprisingly, he followed her instructions and the ride home passed in complete silence. It wasn’t until she pulled into the garage that he spoke, and even then it was a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

She turned to him, frowning, worried that she was being too hard on him. It really hadn’t been very long since he’d been stranded here with her. No functioning TARDIS, stuck on the slow path in a universe he didn’t belong in and a body that felt foreign to him. 

“It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not. You were right. I do know better. It’s just- I just- it’s all so linear, all the time! And so stationery! If I’d ridden a mower through a shop before, it wouldn’t have mattered. We’d have ran off, back to the TARDIS, onto the next adventure. But now there’s consequences, and licenses, and passports, and credit cards, and rude letters about our grass! And I did know better, but I did it anyway because, because- what if we get boring, Rose? What if we become the kind of people who just go to work, and watch telly, and eat beans on toast, and trim our grass and that’s all?” he asked, both hands now fisted in his very disheveled hair and a look of pure panic on his face.

“Listen,” Rose said, leaning over the center console to place both of her hands lightly against the side of his head, thumbs rubbing his temples in a way she knew soothed him. “We are never going to be boring, whether or not you vandalize shops. Our job is defending the Earth from alien threats … and sometimes the other way around. And I’m sorry we went to get a mower to begin with. I don’t care. If you want our grass to get as tall as it can, I don’t care. We can just pay the fine. Okay?”

The Doctor’s hands had moved from his hair into hers and then he snogged her to within an inch of her life, stopping only when he kneed the console and hit his head on the roof of the car when he tried to get closer. The windows had all fogged up. 

They were awoken the next day with a call from her mum - they had made the tabloids, again. Contrite, the Doctor made her a lovely breakfast but she didn’t have time to eat it after having to spend nearly an hour on the phone with Jackie screeching in her ear.

When lunch came around, Rose felt tired and irritable and hungry but instead of going to the canteen she marched into Pete’s office.

“I need some time off,” she announced, cutting off whatever her dad had been about to say in greeting. “Me and the Doctor both. A vacation. Right away. I’ve got plenty saved up.”

“Does this have something to do with the ‘mower incident’?” he asked, raising both eyebrows and sitting back down behind his desk.

“No. Yes? I don’t know! We just- we need a break.”

Despite the spontaneity of it all, Pete had lunch brought up and they were able to schedule three weeks of vacation time, starting the next day. When Rose went up to the Doctor’s lab to tell him, he was nowhere to be found. The floor’s lab manager said that he had disappeared over an hour ago, no one knew where. This wasn’t exactly new behavior, so she shrugged it off and went to finish up her day of writing up reports. He was waiting for her in the carpark at the end of the day, as usual, a huge grin lighting up his face the moment he saw her.

“Did Pete tell you the news?” she asked, a little disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to be the one to tell him.

“News? What news?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Oh. You seemed so happy, I figured he musta told you.”

“No. No one told me anything. I’m always happy to see you. But what is this news?” he asked, somehow managing to still be nearly bouncing even as they got into the car.

“We’re on vacation. Starting now.”

“What?! Really?! Where are we going? What would you like to do?”

“Hmm … well, we’ve got three weeks. We can go wherever we want. Could be outta the country in a couple hours,” she informed him with a tongue touched grin. 

“Rose Tyler, have I told you how absolutely brilliant you are?”

“Hmmm … ‘m not sure,” she teased.

“You are. Absolutely, astonishingly, brilliant. Are we off to the Zeppelin right now?” he asked, looking out the window as if this wasn’t the same route they took every day.

“No, we have to go home first to pack.”

“Ah. Right, wizard! And we can figure out where to first! Europe? Asia? The Americas? Zeppelin travel is so slow, maybe explore parallel Europe this time?”

During the drive home, the Doctor barely stopped for breath. It was the most excited she had seen him since they’d gotten to this universe. He was so happy, it almost made her heart hurt. 

When they pulled into the driveway she immediately noticed that the grass had been trimmed … well, part of it, at least. A small bit.

“When’d you do this?” Rose asked, not bothering to pull into the garage.

“Oh! I took a long lunch. What do you think?” he asked, bounding into the garden and only walking in the mowed bits.

“Well, I mean, you missed some,” she laughed.

“No, no, come here.”

He took her hand and led her on a winding and loopy path that went in an arch from one side of their front yard, to their backyard, and then to the other side of the front.

“Well it’s definitely not a maze … does it say something?” she asked once they were back in the driveway.

“You’re right, it does! 10 points to Gryffindor! Perhaps an aerial view is necessary.” Still holding her hand, the Doctor headed inside, no doubt with a plan to get onto the roof.

“Oh, that reminds me, Doctor … this universe does still have Harry Potter, but …” she hesitated as they reached the stairs.

“But what?” he asked, turning toward her with wide eyes.

“The names of the houses are different.”

“What?!” he screeched. “Months! We’ve been here months, and you don’t tell me this until now?! What are they?! No! Don’t tell me. No spoilers. Ohhh I’m going to have to reread everything, aren’t I? Every book. Who knows how many things are different?” The Doctor dropped her hand in order to ruffle his hair, as the other one was still holding onto the rail. 

“Did you still want to go to the roof?” she asked, hesitating only a little. He tended to have a flair for the dramatic, but sometimes he was genuinely upset. It was just, occasionally, a little hard to tell which was which.

“Right, yes, roof. Roof, then packing, then books, then vacation,” he listed, taking her hand again and almost running up the stairs. “We can spend a day at the beach somewhere. You love beaches. You can go swimming, and I can start rereading. Or is it just reading?”

Soon enough they managed to get onto the roof from the balcony that came off their bedroom (one of the Doctor’s ‘must haves’ in a house). Looking down, spelled out in the garden in messy cursive was, ‘I love you Rose’.

“Oh,” she breathed, covering her mouth with her hand and fighting the tears that were suddenly gathering in her eyes. 

“What do you think?” he asked, after they had both been silent for too long.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, pulling him into a kiss. They wobbled unsteadily for a moment before the Doctor slowly guided them both downward until they were sitting, less in danger of falling.

“I love you, too,” Rose told him, when they finally paused to breathe.

His answering smile was so bright, it put the sun to shame.

They eventually got off of the roof, but it was hours before they left the house. Once they finally boarded a Zeppelin, the Doctor was disappointed to realize they had forgotten to pick up books. And three weeks later, when they got back from Europe, there was a pile of mail right inside their front door - much of which were fines and late fees regarding their grassy, now not-so-green grass.

Rose paid them.

The Doctor built a perception filter.

Letters stopped coming, and it worked so well that not even Jackie ever said a word about how untended it was. The whole thing slipped Rose’s mind in the months that followed, until one evening at sunset the Doctor took her up onto the roof again.

Colors streaked across the sky, and the first couple of stars were beginning to peak out as the sun disappeared under the horizon.

“Those are still there because of you,” he whispered in her ear, nuzzling into her neck before placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Mmm … I did have a little bit of help,” she said, brushing a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, satisfied when the Doctor sighed against her.

“Just a little?”

“Yeah,” Rose giggled, “from Mickey. Remember him?”

At the Doctors indignant squawk, she fully burst out laughing.

“I had a lot of help from you,” she told him, no longer teasing.

“Thought so,” he muttered, mollified. They were quiet for a few moments before he said, “And now here we are.”

“Yeah.”

“Rose?” he asked, sitting up. Her neck and shoulder were suddenly chilled with the absence of his body heat. When she looked over at him, he seemed nervous.

“What is it?”

“I- well- uhm …” the Doctor floundered for a moment before saying, “What do you think of the garden?”

Incredibly confused, Rose Tyler looked down and was surprised to once again find words trimmed into the grass.

‘Marry me?’

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - the ghost

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

whatever gifs I’m going to use on this one, I hope the creators are okay with that

word count: 2044

warnings: none

“Have you seen the new IT guy yet?”

“The uh- what?” Ric was trying to consume a chocolate bar without taking his eyes or hands off the paper he was grading. Y/N sighed patiently – or, rather, to gain some patience. Every time she felt like yelling at Saltzman she took a deep breath and travelled down the memory lane back to the times when he was just a history teacher at school. Back when they were all teens with awkwardly round faces and acne, trying really hard to impress each other, and survive ‘animal attacks’ that just started happening in the town. She recalled thinking the new teacher was actually a vampire. The sheer stupidity of her, while Stefan Salvatore was literally sitting next to her.

Back then, Ric was still youthful, energetic, even handsome, as some girls claimed. Y/N always perceived him as a parent figure, the uncle you may bump into in a bar you go to with your mates to pretend you’re old enough. To think that this grumpy, scruffy grandpa thirty-hundred years old used to be that energetic, bopping teacher they could all trust…

“I’m saying, have-you-met-Mal-yet?”

“Huh?” Ric looked up to her, and his hand inserted the bar into his mouth quickly, so that he could start chewing.

“Are you doing okay, mister Saltzman?”

Y/N called him that when she was trying to be ironic.

“We got a new IT guy? Where the hell is he? I’ve been struggling with this thing for ages”, Alaric pointed at his laptop, safely shut, after it had vomited a siren-like crackling earlier that morning. God only knows what kind of websites Ric has been visiting.

“He’s been in for like, couple of days”.

“Yeah, that’s when the password changed, I saw that”, Saltzman frowned, “that note on the first floor, on the notice board, said that there was a treasure map or crap like this. The whole place has been running on mobile since Monday. Is he toying with us? Who hired him?”

“It’s ‘revenant94’.

“What?”

“The password”.

Y/N settled her coffee mug on the desk and stretched her back, checking the room for people simultaneously. They were alone in the teacher’s space; Y/N liked sneaking in here for lunch breaks or when she just felt overwhelmed, to socialize, bizarrely.

“Anyway, I’ve met him the other day. And he’s weird”.

There it is. The magical spot to hit, to light that hunting spark in Alaric Saltzman’s light green eyes. He has always been an adventurer first and everything else second. Vampire hunting was just a necessary measure in the dire conditions given to him at the point of his life.

“Bad-weird?”

“Weird-weird”, she still wasn’t sure they were completely safe chatting about this in here. She got up and closed the door gently. Then Y/N started pacing lazily between the unevenly placed desks, standing checkers to chess, in a mysterious pattern.

“He looks too good, and he acts too friendly. He is…” she tried to find the word, it was on the tip of her tongue, and yet, it escaped.

“Weird”.

“Your notoriously inaccurate gut feeling once placed an innocent man among monsters”, Ric reminded her.

She recalled that. That one time she was completely sure her neighbor Bruce killed her father, for reasons she wouldn’t be able to awaken anymore. In reality, they still didn’t know who did it, but it wasn’t Bruce as the man was away from the town the night it happened.

“Don ‘t you allow that maybe you think he’s weird because he’s cute? Sometimes you say weird when you mean adorable. Or angry. Or upset. You just generally like labeling people freaks”.

“Okay, you’re not taking it seriously”.

Ric threw himself back in the chair and sighed noisily. He studied the ceiling for some time.

“In our life, Y/N, we have every right to be paranoid about good things. After everything that’s happened every nice thing comes across as a warning. That’s a normal reaction. But if you think he’s off, I’ll check on him, sure. I mean, I will meet him inevitably, right?”

They looked at each other. Y/N shrugged.

 ______________________________________________________________

Ric wasn’t able to get ahold of Mal for the whole of next week, in fact, and it was strange how for the first seven days of Mal’s working Y/N was the only person who’s been talking to him. The guy even complained once that he felt like a ghost, which sparkled the whole new package of fiery theories in her. Then, the next day, she saw Mal chat with the English major student. In a rather flirtatious way, mind you; but it at least proved he was real.

Alaric was left a little puzzled after Mal had fixed his barely breathing laptop; but mostly annoyed.

‘How fast is this guy talking? Does he ever breathe or something?’

To her question, whether he was able to place Mal among any species of supernatural creatures, Saltzman replied something along the lines of yeah, a sickeningly energetic young man with ego, which in his language usually meant abnormal, but not alarming. Y/N was more than sure that Ric gave up on life and just tried to get away from the IT guy as far as possible. What happened to the previous one anyway? Some people said he’d left. Others claimed he just disappeared after Friday’s party at the Craze, a new bar opened almost on the border with Mystic Falls. Nobody really cared. Mal managed to charm just about everybody – that is, when people finally started seeing him – except a few very exhausted individuals who refused to enjoy life.

The feeling Y/N was getting about Mal was inexplicable, good, too good, in fact. She was torn between enthusiastic and careful; one feels that way when a person calls you in the middle of the night and tells you that you have won a billion dollars. How come you don’t remember buying the lottery ticket?

The fact that he had a girlfriend wasn’t all that important – Y/N craved companionship, not romance; her friends were enough but they were all carrying weight of, well, ten years of fighting this damn town. Mal didn’t have all that. He blasted music in the basement where he had built himself a mancave using old boxes and discarded cupboards from the science floors. He always smiled. He was smart. He didn’t take any shit from anybody. And for some uneven reason, he treated Y/N like she was his partner in crime. Maybe that was the most suspicious thing. Y/N always wanted an older brother, and all male figures she chose to act in that character, pushed back.

 _____________________________________________________________

Damon weighed the glass in his hand lazily.

“Caroline’s been livid with you about the dance party?”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her knee. Ever since Caroline graduated, she’s been delegating her tasks to Y/N, who apparently had nothing better to do than organize two celebrations every month. No wonder she completely forgot about the selection of music for that one party that was supposed to happen at the end of the month, vaguely described as a nostalgia flick. Many times Y/N got ready to say, hey, Caroline. I have my own shit to do. If you want these events, come back to the college, get a job and do it yourself. I have tons of crying young adults every day whimpering over their dead dogs and burnt deadlines, and frankly, I deserve four holidays a year.

But she never said it, somehow.

“I am turning into a pusharound”, she realized, as she stood up, walking to the Damon’s sacred alcohol table. She took a glass which burst in a welcoming ringing, and poured herself a little of smelly golden liquid.

“I thought you liked organizing things. Whatever happened to ‘I’ll make them all dance to Stevie Nicks until their butts fall off?”

“It faded, Damon, it went down into my shit storm of a work. I am drained. I’ve been feeling completely lost for the last six months”.

The vampire’s sharp eyebrows made a gracious swing. Every time Damon did his trademark face of an Italian statue Y/N couldn’t help but remember the years when she’d been helplessly in love with him. She and her knee-length socks, and lots of jewellery, and bravery of a suicidal teenager, she thought that was enough to win his love. The disappointment was bitter.

“Why’s that?”

“Eh”, she brushed it off, relaxing deep in the sofa, outstretching her feet, “autumn was nasty, you know that kind of seasonal decline, and then, no snow in winter, and bang, it’s cold spring, and you gotta not eat again because nervous… and it felt like it’s been two days since Matt died, but when I look at the clock, it’s already mid May, and I can’t believe it. I feel like I haven’t processed his death properly, and it’s tugging on me. But I don’t really know what to do at this point. Everybody’s moved on”.

Damon drowned his face into his glass with that preoccupied look he wore when he couldn’t cope with what he started. Sometimes, he could only listen. That was the least he could do for the girl. Listen to her babbling away, and remember that it could have been much worse, she could have been much further away from him.

“Thank God I have my buddy now and I even almost figured out what to do with this shit faced party. No more parties after this one… I’ll tell her I won’t organize stuff people don’t appreciate, I mean…”

“What buddy?” Damon intervened passively.

Y/N jumped up, balancing the glass in her hand, and decided it would be best to down it until she poured it all on Damon’s couch, and he tore all her hair out. She gulped whiskey in two breaths, trying to clench her teeth so that she doesn’t puke it all back. As soon as the drink flows down and reaches whatever cells there are, it will soothe her, and clear her head. She sat on her legs, piercing Damon with a concerned look.

“There’s this new IT guy at Whitmore. He’s too cool to be true, and everybody loves him, except for Ric, and I’m sure you’ll absolutely hate him, too”.

“Why’s that?”

“He’s very chatty and charming, like a complete psychopath. He’s got dead eyes but he’s incredibly funny, and we listen to the same music. He’s always up for anything. He’s too…”

The look on Salvatore’s face said he understood exactly the type of person this guy was. Damon met many a folk like that; take Kol, that idiotic creature that was draining life of every party of people. Or early version of Jeremy, depressed yet too loud, craving attention. Or even Forbes herself; now she’s a friend, but back in the times, she was unbearable. Damon still had vague nightmares in which Caroline was trying to get him to go on a picnic in her usual commanding squeaky voice.

“So, steer his energy in doing this dance for you. And go easy on yourself, little one”.

When Damon called her that, Y/N felt like she was sixteen again, laying at the den of a tiger, if tigers dug caves or, like, very complicated dungeons, with skulls of their enemies scattered and the suggestive fires blazing along the walls. She shivered internally, asking herself, how she had managed to finally escape Damon’s glamor. She remembered being completely heartbroken, and then suddenly, she wasn’t. Good for her.

“Yeah, I’ll get him to help me. But I would be stoked if you could examine him. Ric couldn’t take him, the guy’s too colorful. I have a weird feeling about him”.

“What kind?”

She was tired of shrugging with confusion.

“Just do it. You’ll see. There’s something wrong about him”.

“Do you always hang out with people you deem suspicious?” Damon sounded painfully familiar. Ric and him, they became almost like a married couple over the years. Same old narrative, sung in slightly different tempos.

“Okay”, he gave up. “I’ll come to your nostalgia flick dance thing, and I’ll take a look at him. Will that make you happy?”

She looked at the alcohol sanctuary again.

[sometimesrosy]

Is it ok to not write everyday? Saturday I had family over (situation isn’t critical here), sunday I was feeling sick and with a lot of headaches, monday I had too much work and when I got home I just didn’t feel like writing. Yesterday I actually wrote, more than 3000 words. But today I left work later and went shopping. Had dinner while watching a tv show, took a shower. 10pm, didn’t feel like writing as my back really hurt & I was tired. I felt guilty for not writing as I had time. Is it ok?

PS. I’m really enjoying writing this story and I haven’t felt like it was this easy to write for a long time. I’ve been struggling to write, so now that I’m doing it and having fun and doing it daily, most of the time, I don’t want to burnout nor force myself to write when I don’t feel like it. I think that if I don’t particularly want to and force myself, I’ll stop enjoying writing it eventually

+++

Yes it’s okay not to write everyday-- or not write as much everyday.

As a writer, if you don’t have a deadline or assignment, whether for school or work or publication, then writing is 100% voluntary. You might feel a compulsion to write, but it’s still a choice.

And I believe that if people are looking to have a writing career, then they should actively CHOOSE to write. And to be aware how hard it is, how tricky, how little the rewards often are, and decide for themselves whether or not they are willing to sacrifice what they must in order to write. Because make no doubt about it, writing is something you have to sacrifice for. Even if it’s just your time and energy, that’s a sacrifice. And if you feel that you don’t want to sacrifice your time and energy to write, then maybe writing is not what you want to do as more than a fun pastime whenever the mood hits you. 

You can write without having a career in it, you know? You can enjoy it privately, or in fanfiction, or just for fun, with no grander goals than this one story, or whatever story you’re in the mood for. I mean I’ve been writing poetry for decades, and it never stopped me that I didn’t write regularly or publish much beyond that one year when I did a chapbook. I still find value in writing poetry, no matter what comes of it.

AND if you DO choose writing as a career or calling (because sometimes it’s more a calling than a career-- it’s hard to make a living, even when you succeed,) then you have to be aware that you’re in it for the long run. That means that you do not want to binge write every day, forever for the rest of your life. It is not sustainable.

Please remember that you are not only a writer, but also a person. You’re going to need time to be a person. To be with family. To work. To enjoy yourself. To be social. To get exercise. To be sick sometimes, or maybe all of the time if, like me, you have a chronic illness. 

As a writer, you need to take your life into consideration when you plan to write. Build writing into your life, don’t make it your life. Because in order to write well you do actually need to live. Whatever that means to you. 

Every writer has different needs. Some writers MUST write every day, to one degree or another. I think I might be one of them. But that doesn’t mean I write in my novel every day. There’s novelling, there’s journal writing, there’s poetry, there’s blog writing, there’s letter writing, there’s fanfic writing, there’s essay writing, there’s also social media writing. I’ve seen some instagram posts get very elaborate and be more like journals or essays. Do beware of twitter writing though. While it feeds the writing jones, it doesn’t seem to be very focused. Although, idk. Maybe it works for you to keep the fires burning.

But even when someone does prefer to write every day, sometimes there are going to be times when that’s not feasible, due to outside constraints or health or maybe a loss of inspiration or desire to write, even. It happens. 

I have a theory that writing is not JUST putting words on the page. A lot of the time, as writers, we really need a fallow period, where we DON’T put words on the page. Where we accept that there’s a silence in the words, a kind of wintering over, where we have to retreat from productive writing and instead focus inward on ideas, on feelings, on HOLDING onto those ideas and letting them grow underground, to bring them to bloom later, when it’s time to write.

Sometimes that “writers block” isn’t a writer’s block, but just a signal from our subconscious that we need to take a break and maybe slow down the relentless progress of words so that the ideas can grow and deepen into something more substantial. 

As I’m ghostwriting now, at a VERY fast pace, I do believe that writingwritingwriting without stopping to think leads to a shallower story. They can be FUN stories, but if you don’t stop to think about how it all fits together and maybe what it all means, then how can it really go deep? Sure you can push through to get that bingewriting wordcount... but does that mean you’re doing good writing? 

So basically I’m saying not only is it OKAY to take a writing break, I’m saying that in some ways it may be NECESSARY. Even when I do bingewrite, I find I need to take a break after it... so like for nanowrimo or ghostwriting, I need downtime to rest and recuperate. If I’m not writing slowly (for me 1k a day) where I’m building rest time INTO my writing day, I need to take a break, sometimes days, sometimes weeks, sometimes MONTHS.

One caveat is that if you do take a long break from writing, it can often be very difficult to get back into writing again. You lose your writing muscles. 

You might want to build some steps into your work habit that aren’t writing but share creative impulses, in order to either not lose your writing muscles or to work them up again after a break. Some of the non-novelling habits I mentioned before might help. Journal writing, poetry writing, writing about writing. But also note taking and research. Read books on writing or genre or storytelling. Watch shows that inspire your story. Read books to think about how other writers do it. Make maps and family trees and sketches of your characters or settings. Put your brain back in the story, even if you’re not writing. I like to start pinterest boards for all my novels/novellas. Sure it can feel like procrastination, but sometimes when I’m uninspired and not IN my story, I can go to the board and look at it and remember. Also it’s a good place to save research on, say, solo sailing, or how long it takes to get from the earth to mars at light speed or what the pacific north west coast looks like. 

tl:dr yes it’s okay to take a break. you need to find a work habit and a writing schedule that is workable for YOU and you should build breaks into that,but don’t let it get away from you so that you stop writing all together.

[naryrising]

I mean this not to offend you, but are you really a volunteer for ao3? I do volunteer work and things like "I have a fic to finish" or "I'm too excited for a date" aren't really reasons anyone there would accept. Unless I'm actually sick they expect me to still put the work in and show up. I get that things aren't easy and that you have to put your health first but I'm a bit... baffled? Is that really how it goes?

Yes, I’m really a volunteer - I’m the co-chair of the technical support committee.  And yes, “I have a fic to finish” is totally a valid reason to not work on volunteer work for a day.  The time commitment expected of volunteers varies from committee to committee, but for Support, we ask for about 10 hours per week for regular staff, and about 20 hours a week for chairs.  How people choose to divide that up is up to them, and we don’t track hours precisely because we assume people are grown-ups and can manage their time appropriately, and because answering tickets might be done in little bursts that are hard to track (if you do 5 min of work at a time between other things).  So if I have (for instance) a fic to finish for an exchange, I might choose to do my necessary work in 6 hours each on Saturday and Sunday, and then 3 hours in the evening Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, leaving my Thursday and Friday evenings free to work on writing.  That would absolutely be a legit choice if I wanted to.  Or I might say, hey I have a lot of other responsibilities this week (because a fic exchange is also a responsibility) and I’m going to do a bit less work but I’ll make it up next week.  Also fine.   

Obviously sometimes there are tasks that literally can’t wait - the folks who are in charge of the servers sometimes need to get up out of bed in order to get them up if they fall over.  If there’s a bug that’s causing major issues in the site’s functioning, the coders will work hard to fix it as soon as they can. Someone will tweet about it to let people know there’s an issue as soon as they can (sometimes from the grocery store or while sitting in their car, if it can’t wait until the folks with twitter access get home.)  Legal requirements might have firm deadlines that need to be met and we’ll all put in extra hours to make sure that happens.  And sometimes there are extremely urgent requests for help that we need to answer as soon as we can.  But this is fanfic, not brain surgery.  In most cases it’s okay if someone waits an extra day or two for a reply to their question about whether they can sort bookmarks by length, or if it takes a little longer for a news post to be translated into Italian.  It’s okay if a new improvement to the site takes a few extra months to be developed and tested before being rolled out, not least because we try really hard to not push out features that aren’t totally ready yet (and we don’t have shareholders breathing down our necks to compel us to finish things before they’re really ready, either).  

Because we’re all volunteers, as I believe I noted, and we want people to stick around and not burn out and become miserable, it’s expected that people will take the time off they need to stay happy and healthy.  As someone who manages a team of volunteers, I would 100% tell my staff members to take a night off and go on a date or write a fic if that’s what they feel like doing on a given night - although I also wouldn’t expect them to ask my permission, because I’m not their boss.  Sure, if someone is not pulling their weight - if they never actually do the work they’re expected to do - that would become an issue, but nobody can work constantly without a break, and everyone is expected to manage their time in a way that works for them.  

[tessisawriter]

What Real Support Looks Like, Part 5 (Mat Barzal)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to continue this series—your support means the world to me! In honor of Tito (FINALLY) signing his contract, he is featured in Parts 6 and 7. 🧡💙

I also updated the playlist.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Warnings: Two swear words, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

The minute Gemma reached the door, Annie bombarded her with questions. “Why did you talk to him? What did you even talk to him about?”

“I just thanked him for bringing you here,” Gemma said, deliberately leaving out the four-day deadline she set for herself and hoping Annie would drop this line of questioning.

Annie looked skeptical, but it was like she read Gemma’s mind because she said, “Okay, whatever you say,” and let it go.

Gemma turned to Lauren and Sydney and realized that she hadn’t properly introduced Annie to them. Mat made her forget everything, including her manners.

“I’m sorry, please forgive me for being so rude. Annie, this is Lauren Eberle,” she gestured to the dark blonde on the left, “and Sydney Esiason,” she pointed to the light blonde on the right. “Lauren and Sydney, this is Annie Ryan, my best friend who I met at TCD.”

“We’ve met before,” Lauren said while reaching out her hand to shake Annie’s, “over FaceTime, anyway.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you!” Annie said, “It’s so nice to meet you, I mean in person.”

Lauren giggled. “It’s nice to meet you too, officially.”

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about, Annie,” Sydney said while greeting her.

“All good things, I hope,” Annie joked, looking at Gemma.

“Definitely,” Sydney laughed. “You can leave your bags here in the foyer for the time being; let’s go introduce you to the other women.”

“Good idea,” Gemma agreed. She was so excited for Annie to meet everyone, especially Paige.

Sydney and Lauren led Annie and Gemma to the backyard, where all of the women were waiting expectantly.

“Everyone, this is Annie Ryan, my best friend from Ireland. We meet at TCD while I was studying abroad. Annie, this is Grace, Kristy, Megan, and Paige.”

“It’s so nice to meet you all,” Annie said. “I feel like I know you already, Gem talks about you so much.”

“We could say the same about you,” Paige replied, “We finally get to meet the famous Annie!”

Annie smiled and averted her eyes, which Gemma knew was a telltale sign that she was embarrassed by all of the attention she was receiving.

“Come, there’s a seat here for you!” Paige said, pointing to the empty chair next to her. Annie smiled at her, grateful, and was about to sit down when Jack started to cry. Gemma was startled; she had forgotten the baby was even there.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry I didn’t see the baby before!” Annie said, “I was in the airport and on a plane for a long time.” She turned to face Sydney and asked: “Could I by any chance use your shower? I generally wouldn’t ask, but I don’t want to get the baby sick, and I feel gross anyway.”

“Of course,” Sydney said, “and the baby’s name is Jack.”

“Hi, Jack,” Annie waved at Casey and Kristy’s son, and Jack waved back at her. She then turned to Gemma and said, “I’ll be back in 15 minutes.”

“No problem,” Gemma said, and Sydney led Annie into the house to show her where the shower was. Jack began to cry again while Gemma settled back in her original seat.

“Ugh, I was hoping Jack was going to hang on today,” Kristy lamented, “But it’s 4 o’clock, the witching hour. What do you say, Jackie,” she leaned her head down towards her son’s, “Should I text Daddy and have him take you home for an afternoon nap?”

Jack kept crying. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” Kristy answered for him, picked up her phone, and took Jack over to one of the cabanas, presumably to tell Casey to come over and pick up their son.

While Kristy was texting, Paige said, “I hate to bring this up, but we’ve all been wondering: what’s the deal with the four-day thing?”

Gemma sighed; she knew she was going to have to explain this sooner or later. “After going back to Mat’s apartment this morning, I realized that, as much as I don’t want to, I still have feelings for him. But I can’t just ignore what he said and did last night, though. It’s just…” Gemma paused to collect her thoughts, “My feelings are all over the place right now, and I can’t make a sound decision on our relationship right now, so I texted Mat that I need a few days to think things over. I told him not to contact me, and I’ll tell him what I’ve decided to do on Monday, hence the four days.”

“So you didn’t break up with him?” Paige asked. “Are you on a break or something?”

“God no,” she responded immediately, “I mean, we’re not on a break, uh…” Gemma paused. Did this mean she was still technically Mat’s girlfriend? She didn’t know how to feel about that. Gemma didn’t voice any of these thoughts, only continuing, “I did break up with him, but I didn’t shut the door completely to reconciliation.”

“Are you thinking about getting back together with him?” Kristy, who had just returned with a still-fussy Jack, asked. All of the other women looked at Gemma expectantly, but she didn’t know how to answer the question. A few hours ago, she would’ve said absolutely not, but now…

“I don’t know,” Gemma went with the truth.

“We were talking while you were outside,” Grace spoke, “And we all want you to know that even if you decide to break up with Mat on Monday, you won’t lose us. It doesn’t matter who you are or are not dating: you’re our friend, and we’ll always be there for you.” The other women murmured in agreement.

Gemma felt tears of gratitude building up behind her eyes, but she pushed them back and smiled. “You all are the best.”

Paige got up out of her seat, walked over to Gemma, and hugged her. “Love you, Gem,” she said.

“Love you, too,” Gemma murmured in response.

Jack started to cry again. “Jackie, Daddy will be here real soon, please calm down,” Kristy begged her son.

“What’s wrong with Jack?” Gemma turned around at the sound of Annie’s Irish accent. She stood right behind Gemma, her hair still wet but donning fresh clothes. Sydney was standing next to her.

“He just needs an afternoon nap. I called Casey to come get him,” Kristy replied while Jack started wailing and wriggling around in her arms.

“I don’t generally do this with people I just met, but I think I can calm him down, if you’ll allow me,” Annie said.

“I don’t generally do this with people I just met, either, but go ahead,” Kristy smiled, beckoning her to come over. Annie walked over, took Jack into her arms, and walked back to her chair next to Paige, settling down.

“Hello, little one, my name is Annie, and I’m going to sing to you if that’s all right?” Annie murmured. At the sound of her voice, Jack looked up at her.

“On the wings of the wind o’er the dark rolling sea…” As soon as Gemma heard the opening line, she knew Annie was singing the Connemara Cradle Song, a popular Irish children’s ballad, especially in the west. When she had gone to study abroad, Gemma hadn’t expected to feel such a strong connection to another country, but Ireland had become a second home to her. Hearing the song made Gemma realize how much she missed it there.

As she listened to Annie’s beautiful voice, Gemma noticed that Jack’s cries, which had lessened when she began to sing, ceased entirely. Kristy’s eyes widened. When Jack was cranky, it was generally only a nap that would soothe him, but Annie had made the impossible possible. Megan raised her eyebrows, and Lauren smiled.

“Lean your head over and hear the wind blow.” Annie finished singing, and Gemma leaned over to find Jack sound asleep in her arms.

Kristy was smiling like a maniac, but the smile vanished when she heard what could only be her husband, Casey come out of the house and into the backyard. Gemma loved Casey; he was one of the nicest guys she knew, and he was so outgoing. His tendency to talk a lot, though, was not helpful at the moment. Kristy waved her arms to convey that he needed to be quiet, and the chattering stopped. Gemma turned around and saw Casey and Marty, Sydney’s fiancé, tiptoeing towards them.

Kristy quietly stood up and walked over to them, and after some hushed whispering, Casey and Kristy walked back to Annie and their son. Casey’s blue eyes were full of amazement.

“I’ll take him,” Kristy whispered to Annie, and she handed Jack back to his mother. Kristy walked over to the cabana again.

“So you’re Annie, then,” Casey said, favoring her and Gemma with one of his electric smiles. “I’m Casey.”

“I know,” Annie said quickly, then cleared her throat and clarified, “I mean, I know everyone on the team by heart now. It’s hard enough to keep up with Gem as it is, but if I don’t know who she’s referring to…”

Casey laughed. “She’s a real New Yorker,” he said, patting Gemma on the shoulder. “Thank you for calming Jack down; I honestly don’t know how you did it.”

“No thanks necessary: I love kids,” Annie said, modest as always. “I just sang him a song that my mam used to sing to me when I was little.”

“What’s it called?” Casey asked. “I think Kristy and I will have to sing it to him every night from now on.”

Annie laughed. “The Connemara Cradle Song,” she said.

“Kristy, we have to learn that one,” Casey said to his wife, who chuckled and agreed in response.

“I have to take Jack home before he wakes up again. Nice to meet you, Annie, and hang in there Gem, I’m really sorry about everything,” he said.

“Thanks, Zeeker, but you have nothing to apologize for,” Gemma replied.

“Uh…” Casey seemed unsure of whether he should proceed, but he ended up talking anyway: “I was with them at the bar that night. He was so wasted and I knew it was your birthday: I should’ve made him go home. I’m really, really sorry.”

“Zeeker,” Gemma said, “It’s still not your fault. This is all on Mat.”

Casey sighed. “Whatever you decide to do, I support you. Hell, the whole team supports you, Gem: no one’s going to blame you if you don’t take him back, and no one will judge you if you do. Make the decision that feels right for you.”

“Thanks, Zeeker,” Gemma replied, getting out of her seat to hug him.

“Of course,” he said. After a moment, he realized he had to leave, so after hugging both Gemma and Annie once more, he took Jack, who was now in his stroller, to his car.

“What time is it?” Gemma asked Lauren.

“It’s…oh my God, it’s 5PM. We should get ready to go.”

“Good idea,” Gemma said. “Are you showering here or at your house?”

“The house. I’m too lazy to deal with my hair right now,” Lauren said.

Gemma laughed. “That is such a mood, and I’m totally here for it. Annie,” she turned to her friend, “Lauren and her husband, Jordan, are letting us both stay at their house until you move into your apartment and I decide what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure it’s easy enough to check into a hotel around here,” Annie said to Lauren.

“I’m positive: in fact, I insist,” Lauren replied, “Gem is like a sister to me, you’re a great girl, and honestly, I think it would be good for both of you to stay together.”

“I can’t thank you enough for your generosity,” Annie said.

“No thanks necessary,” Lauren replied, parroting Annie’s earlier words back to her.

Annie smiled in response.

“Okay, I’m going to get your bags and load them in the car. Marty, would you mind helping me put Annie’s bags in Gemma’s car?”

“Not at all,” Marty replied, walking over to Gemma. “Like Zeeker said, hang in there, Gem. We’re all rooting for you.”

“Thanks, Marty,” Gemma said, hugging him before he, Sydney, and Lauren went into the house to collect Annie’s bags.

Gemma turned to the remaining women. “Girls, I don’t know what to say. Thank you for coming: it means the world to me.”

“We’ll always be there for you, Gem,” Paige said. “Group hug?”

Gemma laughed. “All right, group hug!”

All of the women surrounded Gemma and squished her in a group hug. Gemma was truly grateful to each and every one of them: their love and support was keeping her going right now.

“Let’s go out to the car,” Gemma said to Annie, and they walked through the screen door and into the Esiason-Martin residence.

“Fuck, this place is like four times the size of my family’s home in Cork,” Annie said.

“There are lots of big houses out here on the Island,” Gemma replied, “So get used to it.”

Gemma and Annie walked through the house and out the front door to see Lauren and Sydney loading the last of Annie’s bags into the trunk of Gemma’s car.

Gemma walked over to Sydney and hugged her without warning.

“Thank you for putting this together, Syd,” Gemma said. “You’re truly the best friend I could ask for.”

“Aw, thanks Gem,” Sydney replied, “I just hated seeing you down. Did you have fun today?”

“Yes, I did,” Gemma said.

“All right, the bags are packed, let’s go,” Lauren said. “Do you want me to drive?”

“Yes, please,” Gemma replied before turning to Annie. “Do you mind sitting in the back?”

“Sure, no problem,” Annie said, and she opened the back door to Gemma’s car and slid inside before shutting the door.

“I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night: if you need anything, call me,” Sydney said.

“I will,” Gemma said, hugging Sydney one more time before getting into the passenger seat of her car.

As Lauren pulled out of the driveway and started driving back to her house, Gemma realized that despite everything, she couldn’t get Mat out of her mind. Just this morning, she was fully prepared to dump him and never look back, but now, she had no idea what she was going to do on Monday. Gemma had been raised to look at the silver lining, though, and she knew Annie, Lauren, Sydney, and all of her other friends would support her no matter what she decided. For that, she was truly thankful.

@averytiredlawstudent @star-adorned @theforevermorereject

[derrickdent]

BBHMM, OR HOW TO DEAL WITH THE DEADBEAT CLIENT

You’re a fucking freelancin’ badass, with a semi-steady flow of work, and you’re living the dream of doing **insert best/fave thing here** , and getting the money from your biggest fans. Can’t be better, right? Well, one of things you were probably not informed about is what happens when the dream sometimes becomes a financial nightmare. 30 day waits for payment. Invoices and reminders. Anxiety waiting for that check. Clients that don’t seem to care that you’re eating peanut butter for breakfast, lunch, and dinner while your payday is delayed in a death spiral of perpetuity. Getting stiffed sucks, and you gotta keep the lights on. How can you keep this bullshit at a minimum? I’m not a financial expert, but I’ve eaten a fair amount of shit trying to get money from clients that have a sense of urgency about everything except paying me. There’s a ton of info about this online, but hopefully my lewd voice in the choir is helpful. (Samuel L. Jackson voice) LET’S GET YOU YOUR MONEY, MUTHAFUCKA. FROM THE BEGINNING

Make sure that you get everything down in writing. Have a statement of work or a contract that states your scope of work, your fee, deadlines, usage restrictions, deliverables, and any notes about late fees, payment timetables, and billable expenses. (Example of a statement of work).

Make sure that a client knows that you can’t begin work without acknowledging these terms. They should return a signed copy of this document, or acknowledge its terms via email. Sometimes there’s a rush situation and you may be pressured to dive in. It’s still a clients responsibility to make sure everything is taken care of on paper, to protect you and to ensure that they are also in the best position to get the best from you. 

If they “politely” ignore the contract, then reiterate the terms in a follow up email, with a polite call to action (ex: “Hi! I’m just making sure that we’re on the same page about what the scope of this project is all about. I going to be [**rates, usage, time, deliverables, expected expenses, payment expectations here**]. Is that correct?). It’s important to get this down on the front end. Depending on your state, this counts as a legally binding statement.

NOTE: Try to get an upfront deposit if you can. 30-50% is normal, and this is also a test of whether the client will be good for it after all is said and done. This is also an incentive to put your best foot forward. Some clients will balk at this, but if the early “what is your rate?” convo suggests this is a possibility, go for it. This also depends on the industry. This is almost impossible with editorial, and though I’ve heard mixed stories in publishing, it’s hard to get an advance or deposit unless you’re doing a full book. Large corporations often have a convoluted accounts payable system that pretty much guarantees money will be slower than human evolution. The best results I’ve had are with small, dynamic businesses and individual clients. Once they confirm the terms, then you can begin scheduling and first steps in a project. FAST FORWARD TO PROJECT COMPLETION

INVOICE IMMEDIATELY. Seriously. Do NOT delay this. Most clients are not going to remind you to send one after you’ve finished a project, and you are ultimately responsible for this. (example invoice). Include the basics: your business name your contact info and address the client’s info and address an invoice number total due  

Don’t forget an invoice number- accounts payable folks have a hard time placing your invoice in their system without one, and you don’t want to delay things because of a technicality. You can use a simple numbering convention: I use my initials and a double digit combo (ex: DD01). Also, if you haven’t gotten an EIN, get one from the IRS. WHEN YOU APPLY, ONLY GO TO THE .GOV IRS LINK. SCAMS ARE A-PLENTY AND I WANT YOU TO AVOID TEARS THO. An EIN is great, because it can be very compromising to keep putting your SSN out there, and in some cases an EIN can get you paid faster. You should itemize your work in the invoice, similarly to how you would find items on a receipt (ex: 1- Illustration for “client and application”, **brief description** = $THIS AMOUNT.00) Write amounts in dollars and cents. Instead of “$3000”, write “$3000.00”. Again, this helps your client or client’s accountants process your payment a touch faster, and saved time counts. Include a line with a total of your billable expenses. These are items that you HAD TO purchase to finish your work. Make sure you keep your receipts, and make a PDF slideshow with scans of those items for transparency’s sake. Send that PDF with your invoice. Finally, include a line that is the grand total of EVERYTHING. Put that total in BOLD PRINT just to make sure that it’s clear what the client owes. If necessary, you can include direct deposit info. This includes your routing and account number. This way, you give the client another way to pay you, and you can fight off the delay of waiting for a paper check. Even though it’s assumed in many places, make it clear that payment is due NOW. From the moment you send the final invoice out, the onus is on the client to pay up. They should confirm receipt of this, but if they’re slow after a day or two, give them a quick email reminder. NOTE: If you have a client’s phone number, keep it handy. This will come in handy later. FAST FORWARD TO A FEW WEEKS LATER AND YOU HAVEN’T BEEN PAID YET

Either way, you’re waiting (and hopefully pursuing other work!) for money that you need. The timeframe for a reminder varies. Some people will drop a friendly note after 15 days. I tend to be a bit generous, and will wait until 10 days before the invoice is late. The email is friendly, and assumes good faith. Something like: “Hi! I just wanted to touch base about the payment for this invoice. Is there any progress on this? Is there anything I can do to assist with this? Please note that you will be 30 days late on (date here). If so, then a (late fee percentage) will be added to the final amount due.” The key is to emphasize some kind of fiscal penalty. People don’t like to spend more money, so you’ll, at the very least, get a response to let you know that things are being processed. You may also get redirected to an accounting department. If you get a number or an email to them, HOLD ON TO THIS INFO. Hopefully, at this point, the client gets the push to make good on payment. FAST FORWARD TO 30 DAYS AND NO PAYMENT

At this point, you are apprehensive because no one wants to wait to be able to pay bills, eat pizza, and enjoy their own Netflix account. The dynamic changes now, because this is the day that the client has to pay you before it’s late. Tomorrow is late. In some states, you have legal recourse to pursue payment (In NYC, the default timetable for freelance payment is 30 days). You should email your client reminding them that payment is due today. If you have their number, call them as well to reinforce this message, but emails are important now. Each email you send is a recorded effort to receive payment, and they are timestamped for posterity. Note that a client may have already sent a payment out, but the check is transit. Also, calling/emailing an accounts payable department will reveal that a payment has been made and it will be in your bank account in a few business days. Get confirmation of this before you continue. AFTER THE INVOICE IS 30 DAYS LATE

Clients need the benefit of the doubt, but it’s their responsibility to pay you now. After 30 days, you have “permission” to increase the frequency of your correspondence. During the first 10 days of being late, I will email and call every other business day (Monday, Wednesday, Friday was my model, but it may differ for you).  Afterwards, I will check in once a day. This may seem excessive, but persistence goes a long way. You may get an exasperated response, but don’t stop until you get a confirmation of payment or a layout and timeline of the payment. If you have a contact within a company, use them as your ally within an organization. It’s easier to get things moving with someone on the inside, and pressure on them will translate to pressure elsewhere to get you to stop asking for your money. Be professional, but direct. They owe you, and any further delay will result in additional fees, and possible collection action (including legal action to collect). If you have a number for accounts payable, hammer them hard. They will be probably be your last line of communication, and you’ll need to get an email to reach them again, an employee name to refer to, and a timeline for payment. 

SIDEBAR>>> NYC CREATIVE PROS AND THE FIFA ACT

If you live in NYC, you have an additional resource: the city government. The NYC Department of Consumer Affairs (DCA), and The Office of Labor Policy and Standards (OLPS) have a complaint form that you should fill out as soon as the client is over 30 days late. The Freelance Isn’t Free Act (FIFA, passed in 2017) is very clear that what your client is doing is ILLEGAL, and the city will assist you in gathering materials to make a case for nonpayment. Fill the complaint form out, be very specific about your client and any related contacts. Note, they are not legal representation as much as they’re navigators who will help you find legal counsel and resources needed to file a claim in court. Remember when I said to get everything in writing? That’s important. It may be a bit of work, but find every email thread related to your freelance gig. If you’re doing this on your mobile, open the thread. Go to the first message. Find where the “print” option is. You’ll be taken to a preview window. Look for the “download” button. This is really easy with Gmail. You can basically save the entire thread as an organized PDF, with messages in chronological order

Do this with every gig-related email attached to the overdue payment. Save these PDFs to a folder. Create sub folders that can put this correspondence in context, like chapters (ex: one folder is “Beginning of Job”, another “Job in Progress”, another “Invoice/Payment Requests”). This will make it easier to navigate everything. Include the PDF folder (zipped) with your complaint folder. OLPS will take a sec to get back to you, since you’re not the only person in NYC that gets stiffed. After about 5 biz days, give them a call. This can help you get ahead of the pack. You will receive a call from an OLPS office case manager who will confirm your info. They will ask if you’ve been paid. If yes, then you can thank them and call everything off. If not, they will send a certified letter (WITH AN OFFICIAL ASS LETTERHEAD) to your client, reminding them that they’re late. They have 20 days to respond to this- if they don’t, then they will basically be on the hook to go to court for a nonpayment case. You’ll have to either get a lawyer to rep you, or you can rep yourself, but the client is on the hook to prove they don’t owe you. Since you already have a record of your interactions, this will be very difficult for them. It should be noted that clients tend to get reallll antsy when the government says that they owe money. They’ll probably contact you directly. Keep up with these responses. Each email builds out the timeline of your case, and is fodder for the cannon. At this point, they usually pay up. DISCLOSURE: I’ve never had to go to court, so you may need to look elsewhere for advice. This may be a good place to start. SPEAKING OF DOCUMENTATION- I forgot to add that you should record your calls when speaking to clients that are late. ACR is a free app that allows you to record your calls. Make sure recording is legal in your state, and always let clients know that the call is being recorded. You can borrow the “for quality control purposes” line if you’d like. Sometimes people will try to circumvent documentation by using the phone. Don’t let them weasel out of that. LASTLY, this is specifically related to NY. The parts about documenting your correspondence are universal, though. Wherever you are, a vital part of making a civil case is piling on the material against a deadbeat. Be vigilant and persistent. I would suggest looking into whether there is a state govt. entity that you can go to about civil cases, and also look up if there are any local volunteer/low cost lawyers in your area. 

The FIFA Act has been a gamechanger in giving freelancers more power to get what is owed to them, and my hope is that other cities follow suit, or organize to get similar legislation for this purpose. SIDEBAR AGAIN>>> LAWYERS

Another way to get a client to pay up faster is to lawyer up earlier. After 30 days, you should see what your options are. If you can afford it, you can consult with a lawyer and get a pro opinion about your case. They may be able to send a stern letter to your deadbeat client (WITH AN OFFICIAL ASS LETTERHEAD) prompting them to pay or else. Like with a government agency, people don’t like surprises from legal. They will probably pay up quick, but if they stick it out, then you can file a claim and take them to civil court. This will be costly for you and your client, so nonpayment usually gets resolved before this happens. If not, know that if a court rules in your favor, the client will have to pay you and cover your legal fees. My experience with lawyers is limited, and I would suggest looking elsewhere for particulars. Also, keep in mind how much you’re owed. A $300 case may not be worth as much squeeze as a $3000 or $30000 one. If it’s a low ball sum you’re owed. You may have an easier time calling it a loss and moving on. 

EDIT: I’ve been told that contingency fee lawyers are out there that don’t collect fees until after an event (like you winning or losing a judgment for example), but they’re kinda like unicorns for freelancers and tend to take on bigger cases. It doesn’t hurt to see if any are out there anyway!

NEW!>>> COLLECTION AGENCIES

So, you may want to seek help through a collection agency. They have the time and resources to call, mail, and chase money when you’re trying to focus on good clients that pay on time and are depending on your A game.

The good news is that most are contingency fee based. That is, they won’t collect anything from you until they get the money from your client.

The down side? They can take anywhere between 18-40% of what your client’s debt is. Note that I didn’t say WHAT THEY COLLECT. If your client owes $100, and the contingency based fee is $30, an agency will take $30 even if they only get $60.

Also, based on a lawyer friend’s input, if your collection agency is legally shady, you may be indirectly on the line if your deadbeat client decides to sue said agency. Also your payment, connected to the collection agency and your client’s legal battle, will be held in indefinite limbo. 

So do your homework and weigh your options before taking this route.

FAST FORWARD TO 60 DAYS Fortunately, I haven’t had to do this, but you can start pursuing legal action to get your money. Check on state laws to make sure this is the case, as well as the particulars about filing a claim. By this time, you should hopefully have a lawyer or some legal counsel at your disposal. If you don’t, then look up the laws of your state and local area to see where you stand if you have to rep yourself. Remember that as long as you have written acknowledgment of your terms of work and written acknowledgment of your invoice, things should lean in your favor. THE END

HOPEFULLY this has been helpful. The best parts of freelance (independence, flexibility, control, and self-prescribed wages) are often at odds with the pitfalls (feast-or-famine dynamics, wearing of all of the hats, taking all of the risks). It can feel like robbery when you put your blood, sweat, and tears into a project only to have an empty bank account as thanks. Some of this info is boilerplate, and some is from direct experience. If any of this relates to you, and you were able to get closer to your hard earned scrill because of this, I can die happy(er).

GOD SPEED AND GET PAID, GODDAMMIT!

ADDENDUM: One of the things that I didn’t emphasize enough is that doing this will be emotionally draining. Unless you are a robot or a stone cold Type A business beast, it will strain you. Make sure that you’re taking care of yourself mentally.

If you have a partner or family, make sure to take the help and support they provide and don’t turn your money issues into a personal issue with them.

  Also, doing this requires energy. It will feel like a part time job, and even if there are late fees that factor into what you get paid, this will largely be unpaid labor. 

Persistence is key, but I’m not going to pretend that it’s not hard or that you won’t have other obligations that make keeping up the effort difficult. I’m lucky in that my girlfriend and I have a relatively low-expense lifestyle, and no dependents, and we’re both fairly flexible because we both freelance full time, and that we had a bit of financial padding saved to weather the storm. Mileage will certainly vary.

Edit: Tumblr is weird about making links visible, so I put them in bold body font for you to find them easier.

[hisband]

   MURDOC & SYMPTOMS OF ADHD.

   ADHD is defined as a chronic condition marked by persistent inattention, hyperactivity, and sometimes impulsivity. ADHD begins in childhood and often goes unrecognized into adulthood. this is especially true in the past, and murdoc, being a child raised in the late 60s and early 70s, definitely got filed into the Unrecognized Neurodivergence category. already looked down upon by his teachers for belonging to a notorious, deeply disliked family, murdoc’s behaviour also earned him labels such as “slacker” and “troublemaker.” 

   in ri/se of the ogre, it’s mentioned he did things like cutting classes, distracting his classmates with “endless quacking noises” and making “pointless malicious jokes.” while i do think some of that behaviour may have A) been blown out of proportion by his teachers because they didn’t like him and B) was likely the result of his negligent household, i think he also acted out because... well, he couldn’t help himself, didn’t understand he was being disruptive and was never taught how to control those impulses. impulses that he still has, though they manifest in different ways, such as... 

becoming easily distracted by low-priority activities or external events that others tend to ignore. anyone who knows murdoc at all knows how difficult it is for him to keep his thoughts in a straight line unless he’s in a professional setting ( and even then, he has a tendency to go off on tangents from time to time ). though he’s excellent at setting goals for himself and taking the necessary steps to achieve them, other things tend to catch his eye along with the way. murdoc is very observant, which is both a blessing & a curse depending on the circumstances.

having so many simultaneous thoughts that it’s difficult to follow just one. see above. murdoc has a lot going on in his head at once, and because of that, he struggles to articulate himself when he’s speaking unless he’s had time to plan out his responses ( being a celebrity, he was likely coached how to do this properly ). this may give off the impression that he’s a bit of a ditz, which couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth. talking out loud can just... be hard for him.

difficulty paying attention or focusing, such as when reading or listening to others. yes, he can be incredibly watchful... if the situation is of the utmost importance or if he feels like he has something to gain. but when he’s trying to focus on something he really doesn’t care about or that won’t benefit him in some way, you’ve lost him.

frequently daydreaming or “zoning out” without realizing it, even in the middle of a conversation. linked to the point above. also ties into point #2 in regards to murdoc thinking about too much at once.

struggling to complete tasks, even ones that seem simple. like i said before, murdoc often has a hard time motivating himself to do things he has minimal interest in. believe it or not, he isn’t trying to be a lazy asshole; his brain chemicals just don’t work the way they’re supposed to. the brain uses electrical impulses to carry messages from one neuron to the next - messages that help us notice things, pay attention and take action. in the brain of someone with adhd, the brain doesn’t always release Enough of those chemicals. when something interesting or exciting comes along for someone with ADHD, however, then our brains releases a larger amount, which helps us get started and stay glued to the task ( which is why murdoc is such an efficient musician / songwriter a decent chunk of the time ). people with ADHD don’t have voluntarily control of the release - we can’t tell ourselves to get started on a task and make it happen unless we’re really into it, or if we fear something bad will happen if we don’t deal with things right on the spot.

a tendency to overlook details, leading to errors or incomplete work. murdoc doesn’t Always exhibit this symptom because he’s such a perfectionist - at least when it comes to subjects he feels genuine passion for, like music and live performances - but when it comes to things he’s less sure about or can’t really bring himself to get invested in, he gets... sloppy.

poor listening skills; for example, having a hard time remembering conversations and following directions. pretty self-explanatory. his drug & alcohol abuse ( both past and present ) really don’t help with his lapses in memory. he’s a lot better at navigating around new locations than he is remembering something someone said to him earlier that day, however. all the travelling he does has helped him get better at figuring out where he needs to go and not panicking when he gets lost.

quickly getting bored and seeking out new, stimulating experiences. another self-explanatory one. this symptom occasionally overlaps with the risk-taking of murdoc’s BPD ( which i plan to discuss in more depth in future posts ). because of the overlap of his BPD & his ADHD, murdoc experiences a special form of inattention as part of dissociative states when he feels emotionally stressed, particularly in response to feelings of rejection, failure, and loneliness. his inattentive ADHD symptoms are particularly prominent in situations that lack external stimulation ( i.e. during boring, routine, or familiar tasks ). it should be noted that those with BPD have a tendency to resort to self-harm in order to alleviate tension; those with ADHD are more likely to regulate emotional symptoms through things like extreme sports, novelty seeking, sexual activity, and aggression. as someone who suffers from both disorders, murdoc’s got a lot on his plate.

poor organizational skills (home, office, desk, or car is extremely messy and cluttered). it depends on the situation and circumstances. when it comes to matters that are important to gor*llaz, murdoc watches over them like a hawk and ensures that everything is in the correct place & order... most of the time, so long as he’s somewhat sober. when it comes to his personal belongings, though? absolute disaster in the earlier phases. his organizational skills don’t start getting better until around phase 4, in which he copes with the loss of control over his life by becoming extremely anal about how everything around him is presented.

tendency to procrastinate. unless the goal in question is extremely time-sensitive & important, yeah - and even Then murdoc will still sometimes leave shit to the last minute. he frequently forgets the thing he means to do before he starts doing something else. when he’s so distracted by outside stimuli, as well as internal thoughts, it can be hard for him to even make it to the starting line. and once he finally does get started, he may become sidetracked by something else more interesting... and so his original task gets delayed even further. do you see where i’m going with this?

trouble starting and finishing projects. thanks to his ADHD-fuelled boredom, murdoc tends to have a lot going on for himself at once. the problem is, he sometimes has trouble finishing his side projects because new ones pop up and replace them. this is why it’s important for murdoc to have a a Primary Project or Goal to worry about - because without one, he’d be aimless.

time blindness. ties in with issues such as chronic lateness & forgetting appointments / deadlines. murdoc, like most people with ADHD, has a distorted sense of time. waiting in line can feel like hours and what feels like fifteen minutes of fun activity can really be forty-five.  if murdoc forgets the purpose of his task, he’ll be uninspired to finish it. those with ADHD have two times: “now and not now.” for example, if a work project is due next week, we figure we’ll have plenty of time to do it - and the next thing we know it’s monday. that sort of thing. this distortion of time leads us to believing we have more time to complete tasks than what we actually do.

constantly losing or misplacing things (keys, wallet, phone, documents, bills). this is why murdoc needs to watch closely where he sets things down. if he’s not paying enough attention, his brain won’t lay down a memory of the event - it’ll feel like it never happened. this can make him a real pain in the ass to live with at times, because more often than not the object he lost will be in plain sight and he’ll be tearing the place apart trying to find it.

   but murdoc’s most prominent ADHD symptom of all would be his impulsivity. said impulsivity makes it difficult for him to inhibit his behaviours, comments, and responses. he tends to act without thinking, or react without considering the consequences. he has a habit of interrupting others, blurting out the first thing that pops into his head ( no matter how tasteless or inappropriate ), and rushing through tasks without reading the figurative or literal instruction manual. murdoc’s lack of impulse control makes staying patient extremely difficult for him. for better or for worse - usually the latter - he tends to jump into risky situations that cause him more harm than good in the end. this poor self-control has led to addictive tendencies, as well as difficulty behaving in socially appropriate ways. said difficulties include:

being easily flustered and stressed out.

irritability or short, often explosive, temper.

low self-esteem and sense of insecurity or underachievement.

trouble staying motivated.

hypersensitivity to criticism.

talking excessively, usually about a million things at once.

trouble sitting still. constant fidgeting.

   there’s a million other things i Could say about murdoc as a character with ADHD and would Like to say but. i think this covered all of the bases. more later, yes.