#i do have a 5.5 hour shift today

[catfishofoldin99colours]

mmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMM I think I was accidentally making the back of this project Bigger as I worked it up

So now I think I have to frog it and redo it

But I have less than a fortnight to finish it

Can I do it

[butchlifeguard]

who up traveling they octopath

[ID: 2 images. the first is a whisper post of a cowboy sitting sadly with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in one of his hands. the caption is "is it really possible for a emo girl and a country boy to be in a relationship?" the second is a traditionally sketched redraw of alfyn from octopath traveler in the same pose. the text has been cut out from the original photo and overlaid. end ID.]

[niennanir]

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders. 

[the-firebird69]

These people are starting to get killed everywhere again and in the speeding up all over the world it is a huge huge day. There are a lot of morlok deaths.

It was a lot for our each hour and we shall say it is upwards of 0.8% of your entire warlock population today only and that was a total I know it was only by those who are pulled out and killed for being the wrong race mostly it's your people do it to you who are normal.

The percentage morlock versus the general population is minority more like and 7.3%, Max morlock at 9% Plus 13.5% on the islands, pseudo empire 5.5% and 1.9% miscellaneous morlock. And it's a new Total 37.2% total. But usually we're saying the total without pseudo empire but that's where it is it's still doesn't seem to be that low because you guys were higher than that but I didn't see that much higher Tuesday told in total it was 55% Plus the pseudo empire 10%? The clones are not included. So true comparison will be 65% - 37.2% equal the drop of 22.8% and that's over the past year and a half that is very fast and now it's starting to drop a half a percent a day roughly which is fast. The pseudo empire was almost cut in half on the Trump's lost probably about 60% of their people and PGA lost about 35% and the rest I haven't lost that much. that's a pretty steep drop

-tonight there are several things happening that are pretty big that will affect these numbers and they will go down there are several wars going on and they are very good size and they are pretty widespread one of them is the war over small shifts which is just begun. But it is turned up now and it's very high and there's a lot of destruction from this war there are a lot of people getting killed by comparison this war is three times the daily loss of the pseudo empire bunker war and it is going to get worse it's probably 0.35% a day add in the pseudo empire bunker war that is probably 0.4% a day so we anticipate as I said the war over the tunnels to increase to a fever pitch to almost 1% today morlock losses across the board these diamonds are for small ships they fight like assholes over them.

-another battle aside from the two above is over Mars and the secrets it holds and it is huge they think that there is a laser base there and a huge one and Giants are in there and more it's becoming a nightmare for them and they are at it right now there are about 3 billion warlock ships heading there and 2.5 billion pseudo empire already there and pseudo empire didn't send that many and they told us to say that because they lost against a small Force and this 3 billion we can prize around 3/4 of the force that was hovering between Earth and Venus and 1.75. of which Trump still has 0.25% and they're going to try and take it over shortly I forget if they don't that the pseudo empire will and the battle has begun off of Mars and they're fighting vigorously the more likely can win they're taking heavy losses and they're losing and they're firing like madness and they don't hit much and it's a problem and they are discharging the weapons very quickly but not recharging quickly and it's a nightmare we can see that the numbers are going down for them rapidly they're losing ships and fairly soon they will be out and they only have about six or seven billion left and that's the warlock for real because they surrounded Trump's ships and took them over they had three billion and the ships they surrounded we're not ready and they said too bad now they're sending two billion ships to Mars right now and one billion ships to the cluster and it should be interesting the ships that would be built where our first class and they are in route they're going to be there any moment in about 5 minutes so going to publish

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera we are listening and attentively and very interested yes

You have no right to publish this yet I will approve it to the fact that he's asking yes or no

Bja

[steamishot]

3 year anniversary 😵‍💫

i had totally forgotten until today, but it had just passed my 3 year anniversary of living in NYC on 9/11. that's crazy. this is now 3/4 of the time i spent in college lol. i guess i'm a junior now.

we (mostly i) drove to boston last thursday. it was about a 5.5-6 hour drive due to the traffic. my laptop was on in the backseat with the mouse jiggler on. matt had just got off 9 days of working straight and was ded. the first night, we had AYCE shabu which was recommended by matt's coworker. it was just OK and our stomachs didn't feel too well the day after. we checked into the hyatt in cambridge (thanks chase points again), and was very close to MIT. there was a sign welcoming MIT parents because it was the back to school era. the hotel was situated across from the charles river, and we got to creepily watch smart looking people run along this river from our room. we opted to park our car 0.8 miles away in a different lot to save money ($40 vs $95 for two nights).

on friday, we met my reddit friend K in her condo in cambridge. i remember her to be meek and softspoken when she was in NYC for a short period, but she was quite the opposite in cambridge. now i understood it as her being overwhelmed in nyc because of all the stimulation, which caused her to shut down a little. anyway, her voice was a little louder than i remember haha, and her presence was a bit intense that i became quite shy. i got to meet her two cats and her bf M, who ended up hanging out with us for the majority of the time.

because K and M are both very intellectual (hello cambridge), matt really enjoyed conversing with them. M kind of embodies an altruistic jewish man with SF tech culture. M has an open library project, is anti-consumerist, and often wears a purple shirt with his name and QR code to his website. he keeps a public spreadsheet of his goals since 2015 and told us he's done 80K pushups. we walked around cambridge, went to an ice cream shop, linen shop, and a tea shop. then we chilled a bit at her condo where he made us some tea. got yummy udon at the nearby lesley university, and then went to a brewery afterwards. it was a long hangout, lol!

right after this hangout, i felt really self-conscious. i was the least accomplished one and honestly felt like the dumbest one in the group. they're (more so her) quick on their feet, decisive/opinionated, and can churn out thoughtful intelligent responses in seconds. her condo had a tiny TV, but many books and board games. she texted me after the hangout saying it was so nice meeting us and she appreciates me for going to visit her. i was dealing with my own feelings of unworthiness, and feeling like i don't quite fit in. i also usually don't see the intellectual side of matt often because he's totally drained from work and doesn't want to do more thinking outside of work. he had more of the spotlight because they were interested in his career. i felt like i didn't have much to share.

i felt self-conscious for a whole day afterwards, and felt weird responding to her texts, even though we chat so often (over text, reddit, and IG). i kinda wondered if we would even be friends organically if we didn't already have such deep chats via the internet. i finally got over that mental hump of not being worthy enough, and began chatting with her like normal again. instead of feeling unworthy, i tried to shift my perspective to feel lucky and inspired to have such intelligent company who i can learn things from.

matt and i also got to stay in the machimoodus getaway cabin in connecticut for the first time for two nights. i'm keeping a google sheet of the number of countries and states i've been to. so far, it's 18 countries and 18 US states. i didn't count the ones that were just layovers/pass throughs. we got into a frustrating argument in the car ride there, which i understand is all based on emotions. he's pretty much ded after the longer work week + one whole day of socializing with new people, which made him highly anxious and easily stressed because he had not had any alone/quiet time for a while. so, he gets highly anxious when i'm driving (stop!, slow down!) and i in turn get upset and react negatively to his anxiety because it triggers my anxiety. i get super annoyed at back-seat driving, especially when i'm the better (and more conscious) driver between the two of us.

i know that this was something that was discussed in my therapy session, where i don't have to fix his anxieties, and at the very least, don't need to take it personally. it's a work in progress for the both of us.

the getaway: it's the most secluded glamping site that we've been to. it's semi-luxurious, and not nearly as luxurious as autocamp. autocamp provides very nice dinnerware, a hairdryer, a TV, fast internet, etc. both autocamp and undercanvas had a community area where you can purchase food/drinks and hangout. getaway was much more isolated, and their store is self-service. no hairdryer and the dinnerware is a little cheap. the cabin is actually very tiny and thoughtfully designed (to stow away luggages and shoes). i really enjoyed the giant glass window and the windows throughout the cabin to feel at one with nature. since we had a 4 night package and also wanted to go glamping during the fall foliage season, we booked another two nights in october. K&M may join us (but not sure, as M does not like to spend money).

CT: so beautiful and lush, went to the nearby cat cafe where we were the only asians and they displayed an "antiracism" sign on the door (which i'm guessing that means that racism is prevalent in that area), checked out boho farms and got a pumpkin spice candle, went to the local grocery market twice, and did a short hike at machimoodus state park.

work: my new boss (director) officially announced my promotion yesterday in an email and included what duties will be shifted to my previous manager and my colleague. it's definitely weird to give my old manager work to do? so i'm trying to do as much as i can. there's a lot on my plate right now as i'm taking over compliance management and resolving previous payroll issues, all while still doing majority of the work for the VCP and housestaff populations. i do feel happier though, like that i'm actually looking forward to doing this type of work. it's very introverted and a bit more challenging so i'm excited to give a good impression in my first few months.

[beingdreeyore]

We had an incident at work today. So much drama. It's been the longest day. People died.

It's funny though. I see myself as a difficult person. A hard person. Abrasive. Difficult to get to know. Difficult to keep. My standards drive everyone away. Well, except the men I'm dating who refuse to meet those standards. Those men I keep around because apparently collecting red flags is a hobby of mine...

But when shit goes down, I know I'm a good person to have. I'm loyal. I'm good in a crisis. I care about what's right. I will wage war against those who have done wrong. I never learned how to sit by when I see things occurring that I think aren't just.

So I don't get why, when someone working their second day as a psychiatry registrar was irreversibly traumatised, when I told them to go home and I'd cover them and their patient load, people said kind things about me.

Helping others in crisis should be the bare minimum. The very bare fucking minimum that we can do for each other. And yet when I called him to ask if anyone had offered to take the on-call shift he would have to do once his normal day ended, he sounded surprised. Like why would anyone?

When I said to him "it's not okay this is happening to you" he got emotional. Because management hadn't checked in. His consultant hadn't checked in. He thought, on day two, that he was already failing because something that no human should ever have to experience had left him vulnerable. And surely if this went beyond the normal experience in the role someone would check in. Right? RIGHT?!

So I got angry, in that arrogant way that I do, and told him that me working his shift this evening wasn't up for discussion and that if management had a problem with that he was to tell them to call me directly.

I burn bridges. I know that. I know better. But I do it. Because the hospital system is brutal and broken. Because it's not okay to let other humans suffer like that.

The thing though, is that when other registrars messaged me about it, presumably because he'd told them, I didn't reply. I don't want compliments on how "kind" or "sweet" I am. What I want is for all of us to do better. To be better. To demand better. Why did I have to be the one saying he was in no state to work tonight? Where was management when I was having that discussion with him? Some of the members of management are doctors. Fucking career psychiatrists. Where were they when he was being interviewed by the police or talking to patient families on day two in psychiatry and without a senior in the room?

I'm so angry. I'm angry at the system that is broken. I'm angry at the consultant who refused to support his registrar. I'm angry at the management team that refused to do anything that might equate to work. And I'm angry that any human should have to experience what that registrar did without a support network to catch them.

Adding 5.5 hours to my day so that he isn't traumatised for life isn't an act of kindness. It's the bare minimum. And it should be the expectation. This is fucking psychiatry for god's sake. If we refuse to protect each other from severe emotional trauma then what the fuck are we doing here and how can we expect other disciplines to do better???

[fuck-customers]

I am ANNOYED rn (and ✨ so I can find it later)

There's 5 managers at my store, that I've met anyway, 3 women and 2 men. One of the women is the head manager, the first one I talked to, very nice. The other two women and one man are also pretty nice and chill. The second guy was the second manager I met, the one there when I did my training. I haven't seen him since, until yesterday, Black Friday. When he told me, right at the start of my shift, that I was staying an hour later than I was scheduled. I only had a 5.5 hr shift, so I said okay, but I thought it was a lil weird. I've been asked to come in/stay late before, by the other managers, but they always ask and it feels like I can say no. I have said no a couple times and it was fine!

Anyway, today I was scheduled til 8, then this manager tells me I'm staying til 9. I do NOT want to stay that late, I'm already tired, didn't get enough sleep, I'm going to be working a week in a row (2 different jobs), have to drive about 45 minutes to an hour home. I said I can't, ended up agreeing to 8:30. The head manager had already left, and my favorite older/more experienced coworker left before I had a chance to ask her if she knew anything about this. I'm going to talk to one of the other managers soon if I can, ask them if he's allowed to just change my schedule on me like that.

(He said I was supposed to be told yesterday about the change, but I wasn't and that's still very short notice. Somebody please tell me this is sketchy at least)

[oreoambitions]

Parts 1-3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 5.5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Ao3 Kara has been away for too long. This is what she thinks to herself as she hovers over the edge of National City's furthest flung suburb, her eyes on the horizon, her hands doing a rather unsuperherolike fidget of their own accord. She was only supposed to be gone for a couple of hours. A couple of days maybe. Long enough to cool down, to get her anger under control, to make sure that Lena would never have to see her like... that. Only a couple of days has become a couple of weeks and now Kara doesn't know how to come home. "Rao," she whispers. Immediately she feels foolish - as if Rao has answered her these past weeks - but in her solitude she's grown used to speaking in prayer, and so she finishes the thought anyway. "Where am I supposed to be right now? What am I supposed to be doing?" Probably her life is in shambles. Probably she's been fired from CatCo and there are a stack of unpaid bills cluttering up the mailbox of an apartment that probably doesn't belong to her anymore. That's going to be a mess to sort out and there's no getting around it. And then there are the personal relationships she's abruptly abandoned for a month and a half without explanation. Alex will be worried sick, and angry, and rightfully so. What will J'onn say? Nia? Clark? And then there's Lena. Kara's hand moves to the thin red thread would tightly around her wrist. Ever so gently, careful not to wear it thinner still, she brushes her fingers over it. She'll have to talk to Lena. Soon. Today. The thought makes her stomach twist and seize and roil with feelings she has hardly begun to name, let alone master, but Rao, if she stays away until she's mastered them all she's starting to think she might stay away for a lifetime. But at least the anger is under control. That's the most important thing, because the truth is there is no returning to National City, no returning to Lena, without facing Sam. It's doubly true now that Sam has taken up the cape to protect the city that Kara has come to think of as her own. She has to admit, however begrudgingly, that Sam has done a good job. The city below is peaceful in that loud, chaotic way that cities have about them in the late afternoon: a dog shouts out on 4th street; someone's car won't start on Tulare; highschool students pour out of a bus downtown full of the laughter and the posturing of youth. All is well. Certainly things are better than Kara has any right to expect them to be, and that's on Sam. Sam, who made headlines when she stepped in to make it clear that Supergirl's absence would not be taken advantage of. Sam, who said she'd never wear the cape because she was afraid of what it would mean for Ruby. Sam, who should have rightly been on Argo right now claiming her birthright and her heritage. Sam, who had an obligation to protect Lena and chose to bind her irrevocably to Kara in a marriage of obligation instead. Perhaps the anger is not so under control after all, but up here there's no one to see Kara's eyes flash or her fist clench, no one to hear her heartrate pick up or the sharp breath she forces out between her teeth. Up here it's okay. It's only down there she has to worry about control. But first before control, before the appearance of reconciliation, before Kara figures out how to get Sam on board with the plan she's hatched for finding Lena a way out of this mess, first before anything, Kara is going to have to talk to Alex. Hell hath no fury like an older sister abruptly abandoned and left to fret and worry for nothing, and the longer Kara puts this off the worse it's going to be. She takes a deep breath and wishes, not for the first time, that life came with a rewind.

There isn't really any such thing as taking the long way when you're a Kryptonian under Earth's yellow sun, but Kara makes an effort. She loops around the city twice, trying not to think about how uncomfortable it will be if she runs into Sam out here doing a similar patrol. She hovers over the L-Corp building long enough to determine that Lena is, in fact, not at work on a Saturday — probably Jess's doing, for which she’s grateful. Then she drifts gently to Alex's neighborhood, to her street, to the fire escape, to the back window always unlatched when Kara is on patrol just in case Supergirl should need to stop by unseen. Kara, of course, is not so much on patrol as officially missing, so she hesitates there on the fire escape before reaching out to tug gently gently gently on the window. It's almost a surprise when it slides open. Alex is home but the shower is running and Kara, feeling an odd sort of nervousness wash over her, slips through the window quietly. Maybe it would have been better to come through the front door, or to call ahead, or maybe it would be better to announce herself now, but now she's here trembling in Alex's kitchen and she's let herself in this way a hundred times and it's always been okay. Only this time it's different, and all Kara can think about is how angry Alex is going to be when she sees her and- The bathroom door flies open and Alex comes barreling out into the kitchen in a towel, dripping wet, the shower still running behind her. They stand there for a moment, Kara rubbing the edge of her cape between her fingers, Alex stock still as though she's seen a ghost. "Kara," she breaths. And then, "Shit, I'm sorry. Let me-" She reaches for the cupboard, then the fridge, then steps back. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," Kara says. She draws in a deep breath to spit out the explanation she's rehearsed a hundred times: I'm sorry but I was losing control and you have to understand that Sam and Lena were together the whole time and I was jealous, so jealous, but I was mostly so angry that Lena trusted her and then she put her into this awful position with the vows, and it put me in an awful position too, and I just couldn't stay and I- But Alex is nodding. "Let me just put a shirt on, okay? Don't- Just don't go anywhere. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Two seconds." She starts down the hall and then turns back, her fingers up for emphasis. "Two seconds." It's more like forty seconds and the shower is still running and Kara is too uncomfortable to fetch anything from the fridge. All her rehearsed words have died in her throat and she's left standing there teasing a thread out of the edge of the cape and feeling like somehow this is all wrong. Kara’s imagined this encounter a thousand times but never like this, and to compound it all, something in this place has shifted. Maybe it's just the time Kara's been away but something here feels... different. Forty seconds isn't long enough to put a finger on it and Alex is back in the kitchen in a t-shirt and boxers and demanding a hug before Kara can quite track what's changed. There's an almost physical relief when Alex collides with her and for a few seconds all else is forgotten. "Are you mad at me?" she whispers into Alex's hair. "Yeah," Alex whispers back. "But it can wait." And then, as she pulls away, "Cocoa?" Alex doesn't wait for an answer. She's busy at the stove in an instant, milk out on the counter, hot chocolate mix out of a glass bottle measured by the heaping quarter cup, and Kara's offers of assistance are shooed away with a gesture so reminiscent of Eliza that she might have giggled if she hadn't been feeling slightly sick. She settles into a chair at the kitchen table instead. The cape has found its way between her fingers again; that loose thread is becoming more prominent by the minute. Then the shower shuts off and Kara glances up at Alex. "Is someone else here? I'm so sorry, am I interrupting? I can go if-" Alex silences her with a hand. "It's fine. You're not interrupting. It's just... it's my girlfriend." "Girlfriend?" The guilt sickens Kara a little further. She's been gone too long. She's missed too much. "Actually," Alex says, stirring the hot chocolate mix into the milk on the stove, "I was meaning to talk to you about it before everything happened with the wedding. It wasn't official but we'd been intimate - sorry, TMI, I know - and I thought it might be going some place. But then with everything happening it never felt like the right time, and now..." "Well who is she?" This explains, at least, what feels different about the apartment. And it seems obvious now that Kara knows what she's looking for: an extra pair of shoes by the front door, a jacket over the back of the couch that doesn't belong to Alex. But it's familiar. A jacket Kara's seen before, now that she's thinking about it. "Do I know her?" "Yeah. Actually, we should probably talk about-" Sam steps into the kitchen slowly, so softly that human ears might not have picked up her approach. She's wearing one of Alex's long sleeved tees pulled down too far over her hands, an anxious gesture Kara has seen mirrored in Lena a thousand times, and it sends an instant flash of something awful through her chest. "Hi Kara," Sam says softly. The rage hits Kara before her mind can catch up. Alex and Sam were intimate before the wedding. Alex and Sam were intimate before the wedding. Alex and Sam were- Which means- The kitchen table cracks under Kara's fingers but the words don't come. What is she supposed to say? Hi Alex, I really missed you, by the way your girlfriend is possibly cheating on you with my wife who, funny story, is only actually married to me because your girlfriend manipulated her into a binding religious marriage, potentially in order to free herself up so that she could be official with you. Any chance she's mentioned any of that? No? What comes out of her mouth is: "How dare you." Sam crosses her arms, those sleeves still pulled down around her fingers, takes another step into the kitchen. "I think I know what this looks like," she says. "And it's not. It's not what you think." Kara doesn't know what she thinks. Something about Sam's anxiety and the confusion on Alex's face is sounding an alarm, and it’s an alarm that sounds an awful lot like doubt, but the anger is louder. Anger, in Kara's recent experience, is always louder. And now it's building behind her eyes, and she knows it shows because Sam starts to move between her and Alex and somehow that makes it all worse because now it's the shame that's louder and Kara can hardly hear her own thoughts over all that noise. "I have to go," she chokes out. "I'm sorry. Alex, I-" I'll call, she wants to say. "I'm sorry," she says instead. She can smell the milk burning on the stove as she leaves, can hear Alex calling after her, demanding Sam go after her, demanding she come back. "Let her go," Sam murmurs. Kara passes out of earshot. Well, not really. But she's got enough distance that she can put it out of her head. Enough distance that she can, if she chooses, listen to nothing but the wind, and her shame, and the hammering of her own heart.

[ditttiii]

Enchanted To Meet You || 5.5 || JK’s Interlude.

Banner by: @thebannershop​

◈ Summary: No one ever told you that you had a soulmate or—soulmates, for that matter. Humans don't have soulmates, but shapeshifters do. What are you supposed to do when the seven members of the worlds biggest boy band turn out to be your soulmates—only for you to realise that they aren't even human

BTS is on a hiatus and ARMY thinks they are completing their mandatory military service. You believe that too, at least you did until you realised that you had adopted them and that one way or another they were gonna live with you—as Hybrids because apparently, you all are soulmates. 

◈ (Hybrid AU // Soulmate AU) (Fluff // humour // smut // angst  // eventually NSFW) (NC-18) (Ot7 x Reader) (slow burn)

◈  series master-list

◈ Word Count: 2051

◈ Warnings: Maybe one curse word? PG-13 (sfw)

You're the debt that brought me back to my life 너는 내 삶에 다시 뜬 햇빚 The Second Coming of My Dreams as a Child 어린 시절 내 꿈들의 재림 I don't know what this feeling is 모르겠어 이 감정이 뭔지 Is this a deceitful dream? 혹시 여기도 꿈 속인건지

Jungkook hates quite a few things in his life at the moment—hates having to hide from his soulmate, hates that he has to pretend like he was just a rabbit and not a living, breathing human too, however more than anything else he hates himself. 

God, he despises himself now more than ever. He had hurt you, made you cry, made you fear your own home. He was supposed to be someone you felt safe with, and yet he almost gave you a heart attack today.

Jungkook at the moment feels like a fraud, a sham as he gazes at you—looks at your peaceful, sleeping face. Small, warm puffs of breath hits his head and he feels his fur move under the soft force. 

‘Tingles’, He thinks.

He feels your warm presence cocoon him as his body heat mingles with yours. Here, curled beside your sleeping figure like this, he can't help but curse himself. His self-loathing at an all-time high, as he thinks back to what had happened a few hours ago. 

He knew it was a possibility, knew that it could happen.

The chance of you coming home suddenly and catching him in his human form wasn't an improbable one.

Jungkook, though, couldn't stand it anymore. It wasn't like he would have died if he hadn't shifted, but being a rabbit all the time wasn't the most comfortable feeling ever either. 

His bones ached, and his muscles were sore because of the prolonged shifted state. 

He also wasn't used to being in his animal form for an extended duration of time. He'd usually shift back after a few hours, and so this wasn't a problem he had been aware of before. 

The feeling of staying shifted for days on end had him feeling claustrophobic. It was the kind of claustrophobia he thinks he would experience if he was locked inside a too tiny box with his limbs wrapped awkwardly and uncomfortably close to his body. 

Suffice to say it wasn't the most comfortable state of being. 

His plan was to make use of the few minutes while you were out shopping to shift back to his human form and just stretch. He hadn't planned on staying like that for longer than maybe ten minutes. But when he had shifted-back the relief—oh god, the relief was almost intoxicating.

It's potency so concentrated, he had ended up groaning out loud as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

The numbing, constant aching of his bones and muscles, more than anything else, had left him feeling exhausted for the last few days. The pins and needles feeling when he had shifted back was enough to send him tumbling down onto the floor, as his unsteady feet refused to hold his weight. 

Jungkook had been practising boxing with his trainer before all of this had happened. He also had a black belt in Taekwondo—the very principle of which was to harness an indomitable spirit. He was fit, active, athletic and buff. Staying shifted for extended periods into a form so much smaller than his human one, was borderline torturous at times. 

Jungkook simply did not know how he was supposed to hold back. 

He had many qualities that he was admired for, but iron like self-restraint wasn't exactly one of them. Maybe, more like the lack, thereof the aforementioned, self-restraint would be more appropriate. 

Jungkook wasn't born talented. Not like the rest of the band members. As a student, he wasn't really the brightest pea in the pod either, his math skills are still nothing to boast about. 

What most people saw was the end product, the final result that would come out after Jungkook would spend hours, days—months, perfecting it. He had said it before, but in reality, he wasn't as perfect as his stage persona portrayed him to be. While BTS's Jungkook was perfection personified, with his precise dance timings and on-point vocal notes, Jeon Jeongukk struggled.

When Jeongukk had first joined BTS, he had been more of a dancer than he was a singer. He had never, ever had the assumption or even the hope, that he would be chosen as the main vocalist. When he was rejected during the auditions for Superstar K, the talent show, Jeongkook was heartbroken.

It wasn't something he had ever talked in-depth about to ARMY, but his confidence in his vocal skills had taken a hit that day. He had chosen his then idol, IU Noona's song, and had sung it for weeks, perfected every single note until the feel of that vibration, the beat of that rhythm had synced to his very pulse. 

But he was rejected, cast out before his audition could even be broadcasted. 

He till date can't fully understand why bighit, let alone seven fucking agencies, had thought he was worth their time. Maybe it was fate playing its card and bringing him together with his soulmates, or it was just a coincidence—he didn't know why and probably never would. 

He knows that it wasn't exactly a necessity for all of his soulmates to be idols, you clearly weren't. He knew precisely how lucky he was, and was therefore so utterly thankful that he could share his passion and love with all of his soulmates. 

Yes, All of his soulmates, you included.

Jungkook isn't a snooper, not really. Sure, he has always been curious by nature, and his maknae persona only fuelled that image, thus overtime making him seem more like the baby in the group—but no he wasn't a snooper. 

He knows how much he values his personal space and, so would never deliberately try to breach upon someone else's but you—god you, made him do things he would never choose to do before. 

He hadn't wanted to, or well maybe he did want to, but he definitely didn't mean to. It wasn't like he had been planning to check your laptop folders. 

No, because when just stretching hadn't quite fully loosened his body, he had thought he'd do a quick dance routine and get the blood flowing. How was he supposed to know that he would find BTS songs, their songs, his songs on there?

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he still was. Their fandom was pretty big, and the chances of a college girl listening to their music were pretty high. You were part of the demographic that they aimed and catered most towards, so it was to be expected, but it still caught him by surprise. 

Dressed in one of your loose hoodies and a pair of loose pyjamas, he looks at the screen. 

His breath still hitched in his throat as his eyes widened, glossy, doe-like large and oh so so curious.

His grip on the back of your chair slips, as he stumbles before getting a hold, and slowly sinks down onto the empty seat. Thinks about how you have probably spent hours pouring over your medical texts in the same exact chair, and that makes him feel closer to you. 

He has been curled around you, has slept with his face literally pushed into your cleavage, but somehow the simple act of sharing a space that you spent a lot of your time in, sends his heart racing as a small smile overtakes his lips and he bites them to stop it from spreading entirely.

He fails, of course, he does. 

He clicks on the folder titled 'BTS' and watches a list of sub-folders pop up on his screen. His heartbeat rises—thuds and beats strong enough that he feels it in his ears, in the back of his throat, in the wrist that touches the table as he glides the mouse across the surface. 

His palms feel sweaty, and he feels this anxious feeling pool somewhere deep in his stomach, as his gut squeezes. It feels like his conscience is telling him something. That he shouldn't be doing this. This feels like something dangerous, but something he desires. The folder the screen displays the apple to his Adam. 

You? his forbidden fruit.

His breaths grow shorter, as he unconsciously tries to be as quiet as he can be and leans forward to look at the vast array of songs you had. As his eyes rake over the meticulously named albums with their years after them written in brackets, he almost chuckles. 

He isn't surprised to see that you were anal about categorizing your songs too. From what he had observed of you in the last few days, he would be more surprised if you weren't.

His finger glides over the scroll wheel of the mouse, as he reads the titles of the songs. Every single song they had released was on there—Official and covers. 

Every. Single. One.

Whether you were just a really dedicated ARMY or it was because of the soulmate bond, he didn't know, but it doesn't matter to him what the reason was. 

Because there they were, he and his hyungs splayed all over your computer screen. Their photoshoots all lined meticulously year after year, their random pictures that you had probably picked up from twitter or weverse grouped by year and then there were screenshots. 

Screenshots of tweets, weverse, certain parts of interviews of theirs, that you had ever liked were all there. It was fascinating, surreal, insane to be able to see himself and the hyungs through your eyes, the eyes of their soulmate. 

Somewhere, between finding you in that shelter, to now living with you, he had stopped thinking of you as human, as someone different. 

Yes, you weren't quite the same as he was, but he didn't care anymore. Because you loved him, you cried for him, you laughed with him and more than anything else you completed him. Filled his aching, longing soul with love until it overflowed and he felt full, content—sated. His thirst for your presence quenched, for once in all his life. 

However, the realisation that he had found his last soulmate hadn't fully sunk in yet. He couldn't even imagine what the others must be feeling right now, he was sleeping curled around you and, yet all he wanted to be was closer, it was this all-consuming feeling that kept pulling him under, dunking him in its depths. 

The crazy part was he didn't even mind it anymore, he would drown in the deepest depths if he could feel your hand pulling him closer in there, your lips locking with his as you breathe air into him, save him, make him yours.

Kami, he wanted you to make him yours, mate him, mark him.

He knew it wouldn't happen anytime soon, you didn't even know they were your soulmates. Sure, you liked them as artists, but what teenage or college girl didn't have a favourite band? They could very well just be a passing fascination for you at this point, a fleeting interest, a secret guilty pleasure before you move on with your life. 

Wasn't that how fame usually worked? It was eager, intense, loud until it suddenly wasn't and one was left with a gaping hole in their heart, that they aren't ever able to fill after. 

Jungkook didn't want that, he didn't want that for his hyungs either. It was something he had figured out years ago. He wasn't about to let this fickle, fleeting fame catch him in its lusty claws. 

He would give this life his all, pour literal sweat, blood and tears into it, but once his extended contract ends, he will step back. 

He will bow down low as the curtains close for the stage of 'The Golden Maknae' and, the path paves for Jeon Jeongkook. The boy who had come from Busan with a heart full of hopes and dreams and had ended up achieving and getting more than he had ever even imagined or hoped for. 

He would be thankful to his fans, to his company, to his Hyungs, to this industry, for taking care of him and letting him fly under their warm protection, but he would be done. As the curtains fall close, the mask will slip, and he'll turn, and you will be there. 

You with your bright grin and glimmering eyes would look on at him proudly, and he'd kiss you, hold you and know that he didn't want fame because he had you. 

And you were all he had wanted for as long as he can remember. 

After all, you are the cause of his euphoria, a home with you his utopia. 

Filling in the plot, adding it the finer details. 

Since the taglist is pretty long now and I can’t continue to keep them all in my comments, I will be putting the taglist up here from next chapters onwards. Tumblr is glitchy and some of you might not be notified so I am sorry about that. However, if you are a regular reader and have left me feedback time and time again, whether it was a comment or an ask with your thoughts on this story, I’ll tag you down in the comments since I know you definitely do read the work and appreciate it and I am so grateful for your support.

Thank you for reading  💖

[gotyouanyway]

only got 5.5 hours of sleep after yesterday and today i have to get groceries and cook and attend zoom class and go to this work party and do my entire presentation because i work 8h shifts tuesday and wednesday and said i’d be ready to practice by thursday afternoon

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #11

Orion Amari x MC

 A/N: Okay, now this is a long one, I hope you don’t mind. I had split this up into three parts to make things shorter but I just hated the way it turned out so much. So now you just have to endure an almost 5.5 k attempt of mine to describe feelings. Oh God. Sorry in advance. If anyone is interested in what the song the Weird Sisters are playing sounds like, I image it being something like Don’t Cry from Guns ‘n’ Roses. I actually like to think they sound a lot like them.

Thanks for the heads up @kc-needs-coffee

Warning: Use of alcohol (my characters do like a good drink, don’t they)  

 Word Count: ~ 5.400 (don’t hit me please)

______________________________________________________________ 

Chapter 11: Let Me Take You Dancing

The days leading up to the concert had gotten colder still. Everything was covered in a thick layer of rime, sparkling in the light of the pale November sun. Even the Black Lake had frozen over for the first time in years. The students daring enough to go for a round of ice skating soon told hushed stories of giant tentacles pushing against the ice from beneath the water, knocking heedless students off their feet.  

Not particularly eager to get back out into the freezing cold, Lizzie and Charlie had dallied at Hagrid’s perfectly cosy hut far too long. As they were racing back towards the castle, the sun was already hanging low in the sky, their breaths forming in misty clouds in front of their faces.

They found the hallways completely deserted. Almost everyone besides those who had to stay behind at school had already gone to the village. Lizzie risked a quick glance at the giant clockwork above the castle gate while they were hurrying past it. The concert was due to start in less than an hour.

Sure enough, when she skittered into the Hufflepuff Common Room it was empty besides a handful of first years playing a game of cards. Lizzie continued towards her dormitory and found it devoid of her friends. Only the floor, covered in clothes pulled from various drawers, bore witness of the four girls having gotten ready to go out before.

Lizzie waded through the colourful assortment, picking up the odd piece of clothing belonging to her. She found what she had been looking for displayed on her bed. As always, Andre had delivered the outfit he’d made for her just in time. Lizzie ran her hand over the soft fabrics, her eyes lingering on the black heeled boots resting neatly beside the trunk in front of her bed.

She sighed as she picked the precariously high heels up for closer inspection and grimaced at the thought of squeezing into them. She had told Andre she was not used to heels that high when he had suggested wearing some to her in the first place. But apparently, Lizzie’s ability to walk without support was a worthy sacrifice to see the picture he’d had in mind come to life.

After a quick shower to get some warmth back into her body, Lizzie twisted her hair into a ponytail and got changed. She observed herself in the floor length mirror next to the entrance door. Although she severely lacked stability while doing anything more than standing, she had to admit Andre had once again outdone himself.

After she had stalwartly refused to make her appearance in a short dress in the middle of winter, he had opted for an off-white shirt made of a floaty material Lizzie wasn’t familiar with. It reminded her of silk, but it had a thicker feel to it. It fit her body in all the right places while the loose sleeves allowed her to move freely. The boat neckline ran deeper than what she would have normally worn, exposing a fair bit of her shoulders. Thankfully, it lacked any glitzy details that would have distracted from its impeccable fit. It’s simpleness complemented the black leggings made of soft faux leather that clung tightly to her legs. Combined with the boots Andre had given her, they greatly elongated her legs, making her appear much taller than she actually was.

Lizzie picked out some silver earrings and a matching necklace while contemplating the thick black cardigan still lying on her bed. Making up her mind, she dug into her drawer until she had found what she had been looking for. Holding her old Weird Sisters jacket up in triumph, she dusted it off before shrugging it on.

Andre would probably hate it, but Myron, the lead singer of the band, had given a jacket like hers to a handful of friends back in the early days of the band. If she didn’t wear it now, she wouldn’t know when.

Posing in front of the mirror, she presented herself to Mouse, who was eyeing her lazily from the bed she had made herself out of Skye’s favourite hoodie.

“How do I look?” she asked her four-legged companion.

Mouse seemed to examine her for a moment before she let go off the string she had been chewing on, opening her mouth into the widest yawn Lizzie had ever seen. She shook her head and started kneading the sweater with her outstretched claws.

“Don’t get all enthusiastic on me,” Lizzie muttered. She walked over to the cat to give her scratch behind the ears when her heel caught on one of the dresses on the floor. With a little shriek, Lizzie toppled, gripping the post of Skye’s bed for dear life.

As attractive as those boots made her feel, there was no way she would get into Hogsmeade without breaking both her legs first.

Decidedly more careful she grabbed her coat and walked out of her Common Room, her heels clicking loudly on the stone floor. Charlie, Andre and his date, a pale blond girl with a bored look on her face, were already waiting for her.

Lizzie opened her mouth to thank Andre for his effort, but before she could utter a single word, he pointed his finger at her, looking completely horrified.

“What, in the name of all that is fashionable, is this?”

Andre rushed over and tugged at her ponytail painfully. “I explicitly told you not to do that.”

With an exasperate sigh he got his wand out. He muttered “Evanesco” and the hairband holding Lizzies hair out of her face vanished, her brown curls falling down over her shoulders. He observed the result contentedly. “Now you look fabulous.”

Lizzie shot Andre a glum look. Since she had cut her hair the front bits constantly fell into her face, a sensation she had grown to hate. Out of habit, her hand went to her head to swipe it back when Andre pointed his wand at her face.

“Do not touch it,” he warned her, accentuating every word with a flick of his wand.

Lizzie glanced at Charlie for support, who hadn’t bothered changing at all. He gave her the tiniest shrug. Andre bossing her around showed just how nervous he was.

“May I change my shoes, though?” she dared to ask timidly. Moral support or not, she couldn’t fathom walking all the way to the village in those death traps. The concert would long be over by the time they arrived.

Andre was having none of it, though. “No, you may not.”

She made a face. “Why not? They hurt. Charlie is even wearing the same clothes as before,” she complained.

“Because Charlie is basically a troll.”

Despite herself and her increasingly numb toes, Lizzie had to giggle at this swipe at her friend.

“And besides, you are friends with Skye Parkin; you should be used to pain.”

Both Charlie and Lizzie were laughing at this point, while Andre’s date resorted to smiling politely, not sure what exactly was going on.

As the four of them finally set off, Lizzie linked arms with Charlie for support, letting Andre and Claire get ahead of them. When they were out of earshot, she quickly pointed her wand at her feet. Her heels vanished, turning her boots into infinitely more comfortable flats. She winced as the blood came rushing back into her toes.

Charlie shot her a lopsided grin. “I wondered how long you would last in those.”

He picked up his pace now that Lizzie was able to keep up with him. They would need to hurry to get to The Three Broomsticks in time.

“Come on, they won’t wait for us and I fancy something to drink. We’re going to be just in time to be fashionably late.”

 *

Orion couldn’t remember when he had last felt so out of focus.

The main room of The Three Broomsticks was packed to the brim with people laughing, chatting or swaying to the sound of the music. The constant buzz of noise and the little amount of space unnerved him. His eyes were restlessly sweeping over the crowd while he repeatedly loosened and tightened his grip on the glass in his hands.

He was no stranger to social gatherings of course. Lizzie was an avid supporter of the Hufflepuff pre- and post-match parties; after she had convinced Skye to attend several times, it hadn’t taken long before the rest of the team had followed suit. While Orion preferred to focus on his inner balance before a match, he had come to enjoy socialising with the people of his House after returning from the pitch.

But this was something else. The parties in their Common Room consisted mainly of Hufflepuffs and the odd student from another House who had snuck in. Today, it seemed like almost the entire school had crammed themselves into the tiny pub.

Orion shifted against the wall he was leaning against. No, he really couldn’t say he was enjoying himself. He was thoroughly regretting giving in to Skye’s prodding and coming here in the first place.

Skye herself was standing a bit to the side with Penny, her eyes fixed on the Ravenclaws sat at a table a few feet to their right.

Judging from the angry waving of Skye’s hands, Orion guessed she was complaining about Rath, who looked about as comfortable as he was, breathing the same air as her. He was not intent on joining their conversation. His energy was unsettled enough without the negativity Skye was emitting.

Next to him, McNully was observing the same table out of the corner of his eyes. Ever since the girls had sat down, his friend just wouldn’t quit talking.

His ceaseless chattering was accentuated by wide, dramatic gestures. He was obviously trying to catch the attention of the table’s occupants. Orion wished he would just pluck up the courage to get over there and start a conversation with someone who would actually listen to him. He, for one, surely wasn’t.

Orion felt the trace of a headache building inside his throbbing temples. He absolutely hadn’t imagined coming here to be as exasperating.

The other girls in their company weren’t exactly inviting to converse with either. Tonks had left them to find her friend Tulip as soon as they had arrived; he could spot the two of them hanging about the bar, surreptitiously glancing at the huge barrel with butterbeer behind the counter. Orion made a mental note to not drink anything from it anymore.

Rowan just sat quietly at their own table, her drink clutched in her hands, shooting him a timid glance now and again. Orion probably should have made an effort to go and talk to her to ease her awkwardness, but he wasn’t in the mood for hollow chatter. How could he lift someone’s anxiousness while fighting the same sentiments himself?

It was a shame Lizzie wasn’t here yet. He found himself watching the entrance from time to time, looking forward to her finally showing up. Contrary to most of the group gathered around him, he felt like she was the only one he could actually have an agreeable conversation with. Usually, McNully would have been the exception, but his nervous jabbering was increasingly grinding on Orion’s nerves.

He decided to end his torment prematurely; bending down towards his friend, who was just elaborating on the different noise levels of a rock concert and a professional Quidditch match, Orion inclined his head towards the Ravenclaws whose attention McNully was so desperately trying to catch.

“It seems you have quite the admirer,” he shouted into McNully’s ear with a smirk. He was nodding into the direction of a certain redhead, who had been looking towards them way too often for it to be coincidental.

Much to his amusement, McNully paled visibly. His hand went to his head, unconsciously checking his hair. He had made sure it was meticulously styled for the occasion. “Are you sure?”

Orion hummed in confirmation. “Absolutely. She has been looking at you for some time now. Why don’t you get over and say hello?”

McNully nestled with his tie. “I don’t know, mate. According to my statistics- “

“Forget the statistics; they are only numbers representing the odds. And sometimes, the universe is set to defy chance,” he interrupted him.

Without giving his friend a chance to back out, he raised his glass towards the girls at the table, drawing their attention. Smiling broadly, the girl in question raised her own drink in response. She exchanged some words with her friends, before leaving her table and heading over to them.

Orion had left McNully had little choice but to play along. He clapped him on the back as his now silenced friend gulped visibly, once again checking his hair. Leaving them to their own, he pushed through the crowd towards the bar. Although he had to move deeper into the mass of people, he was thankful for a moment to himself.      

He had just settled at a corner of the counter, when he spotted Lizzie sitting at a table at the far end of the room. Apparently, she and her friends had arrived while he had been busy getting McNully set up.

She was deeply engaged in conversation with Charlie Weasley and his brother Bill. To his surprise, she had decided to wear her hair open for a change. Her brown curls draped around her slender shoulders, contrasting nicely with the white shirt she was wearing. As if unfamiliar with the feel of her hair loose around her face, she raised her hand to her head ever so often, combing through it with her fingers.

Orion watched lost in thought as Lizzie threw her head back in laughter at some joke Charlie had probably made. He felt his mood sinking again. So much for a chance at a decent conversation.

As if sensing someone looking at her, Lizzie turned her head, her eyes scanning the room and meeting his after a moment. A radiant smile spread on her face as she discovered him at the bar all by himself. She exchanged a few quick words with the Weasley brothers, then grabbed her drink and left her friends to themselves.

Orion’s spirits immediately lifted, he felt his mouth curve into a smile as he saw her approaching. She was weaving through the dense mass of students gracefully, but just as she was about to pass the last row of people in front of the bar, she suddenly got caught on someone’s foot, stumbling the rest of the way.

Orion quickly reached out to catch her from falling, but the impact send her tumbling into him instead.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Lizzie straightened herself up, her face burning red.

“Don’t worry, you know I’m good at catching things,” Orion heard himself answer. He cringed inwardly at the horrendous joke he’d just made. What on Earth had that been about?

Luckily, Lizzie didn’t seem to have noticed. She looked around the room for other familiar faces. “This place is packed! I’d have never thought so many people would come. Where are the others?”

Before he could reply though, Penny came rushing towards them out of nowhere, virtually jumping on Lizzie’s back in excitement.

“Lizzie, there you are! What took you so long?!” she shouted to be heard over the music.

The band was playing a song with a considerably picked up pace by now. “Come on, let’s get dancing!”

Lizzie had just enough time to give him an apologetic shrug before the blond girl whisked her away and onto the dancefloor.

 *

By the time the next three songs were over, Lizzie was breathless from jumping around with Penny and singing along to the music at the top of their lungs.

“Now it is time for your feet to catch a break, my friends,” Myron Wagtail, lead singer of the Weird Sisters, breathed into his microphone with his raspy voice. “This next song is for our sweethearts.”

As the dancefloor emptied of enthusiastic dancers and couples began to fill their places, Penny and Lizzie started making their way back to the bar. Lizzie’s throat was sore from singing, begging for a sip of water.

When they had almost reached Orion, Lizzie caught sight of someone making their way towards them. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realised it was Everett. He was smiling confidently, his intense gaze fixed on her.

Her mind racing, Lizzie set her eyes onto Orion. Without thinking on it any further, she stepped forward and grabbed his arm, dragging off him off his stool and back to the dancefloor.

She saw him raising his eyebrows at her in confusion. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Shamelessly using my knight in shining armour a second time, I’d say.”

Upon seeing her already taken, Everett was backing up again, chagrin written all over his face.

It was only now that she got aware of Orion still standing in front of her, both of them now surrounded by couples swaying to the sound of the music. Lizzie felt the heat rising to her face; she clearly hadn’t thought as far ahead.

To her surprise, however, Orion extended his arm, offering her his hand. Confused, she took it and he pulled her closer to him, his other hand coming to rest on her waist.

“If you dragged me here for whatever reason, we could as well go with the flow,” he smirked. Lizzie blushed even further, unable to think of a witty remark. She decided to just let it go and do as Orion had suggested. Concentrate on the song; go with the flow. She felt herself relax.

Orion was an excellent dancer, she’d have to give him that. He was leading her through the music confidently, making sure they weren’t colliding with other couples strewn across the dancefloor. Even now, the crowd was much thicker than she had anticipated.

Noticing the confused sideway glances some of their peers shot them, she chuckled. She stepped closer to Orion, standing on her tiptoes so she could shout into his ear over the music. “Seems like we’re attracting quite the attention,” she laughed lightly.

He only smirked as he slowly spun her around. Her fingertips tingled as their hands reconnected and despite herself, she felt her smile grow even wider. She tried to relax her already hurting cheeks, but she was simply enjoying herself too much.

Trying to distract herself from the tension she felt surging through her body from where Orion’s hand rested on her waist, Lizzie tossed her head in a futile attempt to get her unruly hair out of her face. Without giving it another thought, Orion lifted his hand, carefully tucking away the rogue strand that had been bugging her. The back of his hand accidentally brushed her cheek and Lizzie instinctively leaned into his touch, her heartbeat picking up pace. The thought of resting her head on his chest crossed her mind for a split second. Bewilderment mixed into the buzz she felt coursing through her veins. What was wrong with her?

“I’m surprised you chose to wear your hair like that,” Orion commented absentmindedly, apparently unaware of the indefinable mix of emotions he had just inflicted on her. “I thought you hated having it in your face.”

Eager to set her mind to something else, she concentrated on her answer. “It wasn’t exactly my choice. Andre forced this mess on me, and I’m rather annoyed by it.”

Orion furrowed his brow. “You should not let others dictate your appearance, especially if you don’t feel like yourself.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before the corner of his mouth quirked up into a small smile, something sparking at the back of his dark eyes. “But for what it’s worth, I think you look beautiful.”

Lizzie felt her cheeks blush dark red, while her heart suddenly seemed to skip several beats. Totally dumbfounded by his unexpected compliment, her mind raced for something even remotely clever to answer without looking like he had caught her unaware. Which he completely had. Her throat went even drier than before, while she still struggled for an answer.

She was spared further embarrassment, by Myron breathing a dreamy “Thank you” up on stage before the music picked up again. Still smiling, Orion let go off her hand as the rest of the crowd came flooding back on the dancefloor.

Suddenly surrounded by people again, Lizzie’s attention was thankfully diverted from the awkwardness of the situation. Dark eyes sparkling with amusement, Orion gave her a small wink before retreating back to his seat at the bar.

 *

Although Lizzie tried her best to immerse herself in the pounding rhythm of the music, there was no way she could concentrate anymore. Tapping Penny on the shoulder, she screamed into her ear that she needed to get a breather. Her friend immediately made to accompany her, but Lizzie signalled her to stay. She wanted a moment to herself.

She desperately needed to sort her racing thoughts. Penny was usually a formidable person to ask for advice, but Lizzie preferred to get her mind in order on her own.

As soon as Penny’s attention had turned from her, it was all Lizzie could do not to run for the exit of The Three Broomsticks. She shut the door firmly behind her, cutting off the noise of the music and the dense crowd.

The cold air hit her heated body like a torrent of icy water. She contemplated slipping inside again to get her coat but ultimately decided against it. The quietness of the sleepy wizard village was a stark contrast to the raging concert going on inside the pub and Lizzie could feel her head clearing already.

Shivering, she wrapped her thin jacket tighter around her body and sat down on a wooden bench to the side of the building. The music reaching her ears from here was muffled, but she could still make out the familiar tunes.

Humming along to the melody under her breath, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cold stone wall behind her. Now, sitting outside in the crisp air of the winter evening, the whole situation from before seemed completely surreal. A dipping feeling was building inside her stomach, reminding her of the nerves she usually felt right before a Quidditch match.

If it wasn’t for the tingling she could still feel in her fingertips from when Orion had touched her, she almost would have believed it had been a fever dream. The sensation was spreading rapidly into every part of her body the more she thought about it. How rough his hand had felt, calloused from the many years he had dedicated to playing Quidditch; his hold had been gentle though, prompting her to follow his movements without even a second thought.

Lizzie covered her eyes with both her hands. Her thoughts were running wild and she tried in vain to reign them in by taking slow and deliberate breaths. It was a technique Orion had taught her way back in her first season, when she had been a nervous wreck before her first match.

She let out a small cry of frustration as she realised how Orion had entered her mind again without being invited.

“You cold, snowflake?”

The sound of the familiar voice startled Lizzie from her thoughts with force. Jolting upright, she almost slid off the cold wood of the bench, only catching herself at the last moment.

“Don’t you dare scare me like that ever again,” she huffed, scrambling back into a more dignified position than lying half on the frozen ground.

Charlie only raised an eyebrow, a badly contained grin showing on his freckled face. Much to her relief, her black coat was hanging over his arm, while his other hand juggled two steaming mugs of mulled cider.

Lizzie shuffled over to made room for him on the bench. She took her coat off Charlie and shrugged it on, only now realising how cold she had actually been. As he handed her one of the warm mugs, she gratefully wrapped both her hands around it. The stinging in her palms as the blood came rushing back into them made her grimace, but it also helped clear her head properly.

“How did you know I was out here?” she asked her red-haired friend who had slumped down beside her.

Charlie took a moment to blow against his cider before taking a tentative sip, instantly wincing as he found it still too hot to drink. “How could I not? You practically fled the room after dancing with Amari; you almost knocked me out in fact.”

Startled, Lizzie blinked at Charlie. She hadn’t even noticed him.

She blew against her own cup before raising it to her lips. The sweet cider almost burned the tip of her tongue, but the warmth it spread from her stomach felt divine against the bitter cold.

Lizzie sighed, her breath forming as a cloud before her face.

“So you saw us dancing?”

“Are you kidding?” Charlie tried for another sip, more successful this time. “I think pretty much everyone saw. I mean, both of you have been on the Quidditch team for years now; people know you. I bet it’s quite the buzz already.” His laugh died in his throat when he saw her miserable expression.

Lizzie hung her head, her fears confirmed. Of course the people around them would have seen them, but she had hoped for the crowd having been too thick for anyone else to notice.

Her mind briefly flickered to Rowan. It was the first time since arriving at Hogsmeade she thought about what she had promised to her friend. This was certainly not what she had thought would happen, when she had dragged Orion onto the dancefloor just to get rid of Everett.

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping on their warming drinks, Charlie allowing his friend to process the information he’d just given her.

“So, do you have a thing for him?” Charlie eventually asked her cautiously. When he saw her wince uncomfortably, he added a teasing “Do I need to be jealous of Orion Amari, of all people?” in a futile attempt to lift the mood.

Lizzie didn’t feel like bantering though. To drive her point home, she gave Charlie a pointed look, eyebrows quirked up, until he stopped laughing at her plight. Contemplating his original question, shook her head thoughtfully.

“I’ve no idea; I don’t know what happened in there.” She started drumming her fingertips against the rapidly cooling glass. “I never even thought of him other than a friend,” she mumbled more to herself, if anything.

Charlie silently watched her. He couldn’t recall a time when he had seen his otherwise confident friend as thoroughly rattled as in this moment.

“I don’t know if it helps, but the two of you would make quite the couple. The sparks flying between you could have been breathed by a Hungarian Horn Tail, from what I’ve seen.”

Judging by Lizzie’s unmoving expression, he feared he had chosen entirely the wrong way to cheer her up once again. But to his relief, a trace of the Lizzie he knew glinted in her eyes a moment later.

She playfully shoved at him, the cider in his hands almost slopping out of the mug and over his hands.

“What do you even know, Weasley?” She rolled her eyes at him, but wasn’t quick enough to hide the smile spreading on her face.

“Not much, I guess. Remember, according to Andre, I’m secretly a ginger troll.” He made a funny face what was probably supposed to be his personification of a troll. Beaming at successfully making her giggle, Charlie got up off the bench and offered Lizzie his hand. Accepting it, he pulled her up into a standing position.

His face grew serious, eyes flicking towards the fogged windows of The Three Broomsticks for a moment.

“Speaking of Andre, I’d better go see how he’s doing. I left him in a pretty state when I went after you.”

Lizzie tilted her head in confusion. “Why?”

Charlie sighed. “He got dumped pretty much as soon as we got here,” he elaborated. “Turned out his sweetheart was just after a pretty dress made especially for her. Andre found her snogging a guy from her year when he got back with drinks for them.

Despite her messy state of mind, Lizzie’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you serious?”

She slammed her mug down onto the windowsill of the pub, turning all her confusion into righteous outrage at the foul treatment of her friend.

“Where is that sneaky twat? I’m going to punch that smug little face of hers!”

Hurriedly getting rid of his own mug, it was all Charlie could do to restrain the furious girl.

“Woah, calm down, that’s helping no one!”

“But she can’t just go and treat someone as lovely as Andre like that!” Lizzie tried to wiggle past Charlie, who looped his arms around her until her sudden flare of temper seemed to wear off.

Not entirely sure if it was a good idea, Charlie carefully let go off her, relieved she didn’t immediately use her regained freedom to storm back into the building and start a bar fight.

“I agree, sunshine; but hear me out: I can get you out of detention for a lot of things with my prefect bonus. Hitting another girl probably isn’t one of them though.”

Just to be sure, he put his hands on Lizzie’s shoulder and turned her around, marching her a few steps away from the entrance door.

“Tell you what, I’m going to go get Andre and then we’ll just head back to the castle together, alright? No hitting, no violence.”

Lizzie was still grumbling indignantly under her breath, but agreed after a moment.  

As soon as Charlie had vanished inside however, Lizzie turned on her heels, marching along the main road at full speed. She hoped to be well out of sight before Charlie had located Andre and convinced him to leave .

She knew he would be furious with her for returning to the castle alone, and rightly so. The light was completely gone by now and the road back to the castle led through a stretch of forest for a good part. Although well lit, it was an unspoken agreement that neither of them was to go alone.

But she was in no mood for company. Neither did she want to comfort a heartbroken Andre, nor did she have a mind for Charlie’s jokes trying to cheer them up. She needed to get herself under control before seeing her friends. Seeing Rowan.

Seeing Orion.

She picked up her pace, walking as fast as she could without actually breaking into a run, her breath soon becoming heavier.

What a fine mess she’d manoeuvred herself into. Try as she might, she couldn’t deny the fluttery feeling still rising in her stomach even now when she thought back on dancing with Orion, how good his hand had felt on her waist and how badly she had wanted to rake her fingers through his long, jet black hair.

Lizzie forced her mind to stop with all the willpower she had to muster.

No. This was Orion Amari she was thinking about in an absolute inappropriate manner. Her friend, her teammate and her team captain. The guy her best friend wanted Lizzie to set her up with.

She came to an abrupt halt next one of the wrought-iron lampposts lighting the way and kicked a heap of frozen leaves out of pure frustration. It didn’t soothe her agitation in the slightest. Suddenly feeling deflated, she leaned her forehead against the cold metal post and closed her eyes to shut out everything but her own thoughts.

She would not do this to Rowan.  

She just couldn’t. Rowan was her friend. Lizzie had promised her to help.

A sudden cold drop on her neck made her shiver inadvertently, quickly followed by another and another. Lizzie opened her eyes again and lifted her face to the dark sky. Despite her inner turmoil, she felt a wondrous smile steal on her face as she gazed up into the darkness, all sorrow forgotten.

It had finally started snowing.

[sickviking-fr]

This is a long one, fellows. Buckle the fuck up.

Y'all know I only started this job two weeks ago and was all excited but it all went to shit day one. Well I got an offer from Walmart to start at a dollar more and I took it.

So last night was my last night at this grocery chain and I guess the universe knew it. The manager was happy for me so that was good, he'd been super nice and supportive for the few days since I gave him my resignation so I came in deciding I was going to give my all and do the best I could. I shot down four energy drinks because I knew it was going to only be me and one other on the shift and I was determined.

Those energy drinks took an hour to kick in but once they had I was WIRED and Manager appreciated it. About half an hour into the shift, Manager pulls me and the other guy (we will call him Jack for no reason) to the side, clearly high on caffeine himself, to give us the low down. He gives us a huge list of stuff to do and says he's sorry, its ordering night and he's all alone so he can't help us. And like, I get it, shit is the opposite of streamlined and efficient here, as you all know from my bitching, he's got a lot of work ahead of him. Jack and I have to do the work of 6 people and Manager has to do the work of three.

"Time is our enemy tonight, guys, we don't have a minute to spare standing around talking. lets get to it!" he finishes his speech.

Me, being out of my gourd on energy drinks, yell "NO BOSS! WE CAN'T ALLOW TIME TO BE THE ENEMY! LETS GO BOYS, WE'RE MAKING TIME OUR BITCH TONIGHT!" Manager punches me in the shoulder and says "Heck yeah, thats the attitude I wanna hear, why the fuck are you leaving me?!" and with that he's gone.

Now. When I said that, Time looked over at God and said "Hold my flower. No, hold my fucking flower! Who is making who their bitch? We'll see about that!" And God sayeth unto Time "Kick his ass babe, I got yo flower."

So my first task was to stock Gatorade and the energy drinks which I did in record time, taking only a half hour to do about two hours of work, working three pallets and condensing them down to one AND wrapping it up so Manager can swing by with the forklift and haul it off no questions asked. I'm feeling invincible. Next, me and Jack have to go stock water. He's exhausted, was up all day and feeling sluggish so not a whole lot of help tbh. Thats okay I'm running on four energy drinks and the high of imagining the boss begging me to stay, I've got this!

There's several pallets of various types of water container on the floor to be organized and stocked, and I'm on it like a fly on dogshit. In only fifteen minutes I put up a full pallet worth of gallons (Probably about 60-70 gallon jugs) before Time makes her move.

I don't know where Jack is, I'd sent him to move another pallet a while ago and he's not back yet. I move on to the 2.5 gallon jugs with spigots (Different brand but this same jug tbh) get about twenty up, only have four or five more that can fit on the shelf. Both hands are full of these heavy ass jugs, I lift one up onto the shelf and the spigot comes off. It just pops the fuck off. I drop the second in surprise and its spigot pops off. There's water pouring everywhere, I'm now soaked and panicking trying to gather up these jugs and get them turned in a way so they aren't pouring water everywhere and I am swearing profusely this whole time.

The wooden shelf is soaked, I'm treading water and Jack comes around the corner to see if I'm okay, sees me juggling water and starts laughing his ass off. We double team taking down all the water I just put up so I can mop the floor and the shelf. It takes the two of us over half an hour to dry everything and get the water back on the shelf.

Jack starts in on the 2 gallon bottles while I finish cleaning up. As I come back from throwing the broken containers in Claims, I see Manager has arrived with a fresh 5.5 foot high pallet of these 2 gallon waters (Its also vital to note that these come wrapped in plastic in packs of 6, which we are separating to sell individually), both are laughing, Jack is facing away from me doubled over with laughter.

"All I hear" He says "Is suddenly 'SHIT...SHIT SHIT! FUCK-SHIT FUCK!' and then just 'squeak squeak squeak'. His shoes sounded like Spongebobs boots!!" And at this point I realize my shoes are squeaking in the water but their shoes are not (I still do not know why...) As soon as Manager hears my squeaking shoes coming towards them, he also becomes consumed by giggles. Ha-ha, okay y'all shut up so we can carry on. I'm still trying to be impressive here! But I guess we are opening the water packs too slowly for Manager because he takes his special plastic cutting cutter and starts slicing open packs so we can just grab the jugs and throw them up.

EXCEPT HE'S NOT PAYING FUCKING ATTENTION! He cuts this one pack thats on the edge of the stack, three of the waters immediately start to fall over dragging the whole pack with it and now six, two gallon jugs come crashing onto my foot and also suddenly I'm wet again. Manager doesn't realize it hit my foot, but I shout and he says "Don't worry, its plastic they wont break." This phrase gets repeated ad nauseum the rest of the night to mock him.

"Well that would be great except they all fucking exploded!" he just looked at me stupid, then started swearing too. My foots fine, thanks for asking. Actually its not, my ankle is killing me as I'm writing this but whatever.

All six jugs broke open at the bottom seam and are now spewing fresh spring water onto my newly mopped floor, under the pallet and soaking into my shoes. Again. I'm running around trying to gather as much of these jugs as I can as fast as I can and get them to the sink. Again. Meanwhile my shoes are squeaking anew. Again. Jack cannot stay standing, what between laughing at Manager for busting open six gallons, repeating "It'S pLaStIc! iT wOnT bReAk!" and laughing at my squeaking footsteps running all around the two of them.

Manager has us leave the spilled water and stock, then when we are done he moves the pallet and sends the janitor over with the zamboni to clean up the water while sending us to fill up a display of cases of 24 bottled water other-where. Jack is now awake and still melting into fits of giggles every few minutes, and with his newfound energy he's tossing the cases up onto the display and then punching them into place instead of just putting them there. Toss a case, punch-punch-punch, flex, repeat. (Did I mention Jack is 18? What is it with teen boys constantly wanting to show off? Like bro who are you showing off to? Its literally just me and Manager here.) I keep telling him to knock it off but eventually, you guessed it, he pops a couple bottles.

Its already the four hour mark by the time we clean up all the water and get the rest of the packs all on the display. Smooth sailing from here on out, yeah? We're done with water, everything that needs to be on a shelf is on a shelf. It has to be easy from here. We think so anyway. It can't possibly get worse, we've still got shit to do! Innocently, we go to lunch and I chug down another energy drink. Okay so we are done stocking, its now time to face the shelves(AKA make them look nice). Manager sends me and Jack to the opposite ends of one isle, Jack arranging pickles and vinegar and I'm freshening up condiments. Suddenly I hear Jack yelling and cursing.

For several days, theres been a mystery bottle of vinegar by the Huntz that no one knows where it came from but also no one has bothered messing with. We've just been nudging it to look nice lined up with everything else and if someone buys it good if not, well it seems happy there. Its kinda shaped like this but plastic and not quite a gallon. It's filled full to the lid.

Jack decides to remove it today. He grabs it, lifts it about three inches, and the neck comes off. Just comes the fuck off. Its a perfectly clean separation at that seam where the neck connects to the body. The entire contents are now soaking into Jacks clothes from mid-chest to his shoes and puddled all over the floor. I rush over to see that he's okay and then go to get the mop for him. I can smell the vinegar from four isles away. It takes nearly another thirty minutes for him to get that properly cleaned up and then he has to take a break to change into his spare shirt because the smell is giving him a headache.

By the time he comes back, I've finished that isle and moved on to the cereal + juice isle and the store is now open. I tell him that he must have felt left out that Manager and I both made bigger messes than him with the water so he had to one-up us. This seems to make him feel better. Jack starts working juice while I'm tidying up the snacks and gummy candies. An older couple come up to me to ask about Rice Krispy Treats. I don't know where they are other than the ones I'm holding so I go to ask Jack. Poor Jack. I call out to him as he's kneeling in front of orange juice with both arms shoulder deep in the shelf and as he looks at me, for some fucking reason he squeezes his arms together in a hugging motion around maybe 8 jugs of juice.

Several fall into his lap and a customer must have gotten thirsty yesterday because someone took the cap off one jug and just left it there. Jack is now soaked chin to toes in orange juice. There is a looooot of swearing as I run over to check on him and then run off to get the mop and bucket from the back.

At some point the janitor had taken the mop from where we left it by vinegar and used it to mop up milk that the Dairy folks had spilled (so the bad luck wasn't just towards our crew, Time was taking her frustrations out on everyone). Anyway, the bucket is full of maybe four gallons of milk water and also the vinegar from earlier so it stinks but I don't have time to put fresh water in it because there are customers in the store now and the juice is a major slip hazard.

I'm pushing the bucket through the isles and I run over a drain like I do every day and thousands before me have done, except the drain cover decides TODAY IS THE DAY, NOW IS MY TIME. It kamikaze pops off and the bucket wheel goes straight in the hole, tipping the bucket over and spilling four gallons of stanky milk water every-fucking-where. Also, apparently this POS building wasn't built so that the floor sloped towards drains so the water is just flowing further and further out in every direction. Now I'm panicking trying to push as much of this water into the drain asap so I can get the bucket over to Jack so he can mop up the OJ. And I see the older couple are still waiting, toe tapping and pointing at their watches as soon as they see me. And then get all pissy that we didn't have any smaller packs of Rice Krispy Treats in yet.

Jack fucks off to the bathroom to dry as much as he can of himself while I do my best to hunt down the Janitor to send him and the Zamboni down juice, vinegar and the main pathway where the vinegar-milk-water spilled and is still stinking up the joint. Jack didn't come back for probably 40 minutes, I was honestly surprised he came back at all, I didn't think he was going to.

Manager has no idea any of this shit has happened because he's been darting off everywhere like a squirrel on coke doing his own thing. He's got the rest of those 2 gallon bottles from earlier on the fork lift and has us follow him to the frozen section. He wants us to add what's left to a display over there where we are selling the full 6-pack cases. He drops off the pallet and is gone before we can say anything. Jack, understandably, is beside himself pissed and starts literally throwing the water up onto the display and then punching them into position. Like, he's full force punching these things like gym equipment and chanting "It'S! pLaStIc! iT! wOnT! bReAk!". And of course, he pops two bottles. We still have 2 more hours of our shift left, plus 2 hours of mandatory overtime.

THANKFULLY, once we cleaned up that water the rest of the shift was uneventful, but it took forever because we were exhausted physically and mentally and pissed

[kindest-way-to-say]

okay so. i’m just gonna rant. about some pain i’ve been experiencing for a while. like, we’re getting into it

if anyone would like to put in their two cents, feel free. im kinda just yelling about my problems into a void, but im definitely not gonna stop people who might know what this is from giving me advice.

idk. my brains shutting down a bit.

TDLR: my left arm has been in constant pain for three days. it’s probably nerves or something. i’m very addled rn. i hate the world i want to sleep for a millennia. i also have had similar, smaller pain issues over a course of 4 months. i hate it here. i would very much like this to not be a thing, please.

so this story starts the mid may. my last month of school. i’m suffering through just to end this bullshit. but i notice that p much every time i have to do some slightly more than normal walking, some random body part of mine will just be in this sort of dull pain.

and i just kinda go. huh. okay. ow. and brush it off. this continues. it’s pretty minor, (like barely a 1/10 on a scale) but enough for me to be mildly annoyed by it on occasion.

go to two weeks before my school lets out for summer.

i get appendicitis and have surgery for it. i’m fine. that situation went better than expected, i was just not the most comfortable.

appendicitis pain traditionally presents in the lower right quadrant of the abdomen. right next to a shit ton of nerves. and the pain i’m going through starts to affect my leg. can’t really walk without alarms going on.

it gets better. i’m not like. comfortable, but i’m just taking ibuprofen a few times a day and managing decently. 3.5/10 pain level average.

but then, as i start going out and living life as a teenager in the summer (hanging out with one person semi-regularly, and doing weird family lunches), i start to notice that most times i leave the house, i’ll come back home with some pretty decent pain in assorted parts of my body.

like my back will hurt, which i just blame on my shit posture. but then it’ll be a weird muscle connected to my ankle or some shit when i am very well known for hating any and all sports except for hockey. which i don’t play.

so i’m not doing things to pull muscles, but i’m feeling twinges of pain kind of a lot. which sucks.

but i brush it off, now consciously keeping an eye on it and taking ibuprofen when needed.

pain levels steadily rise over time, but it’s still at about a 4/10 for the most part. there’s the occasional spike to a 6, but that’s not frequent.

keep going on to mid-july. every time i leave the house, i’m feeling dull ache/twinges in multiple places and my knees feel really fucking off a lot of the time. almost like if your knees were crooked or something?? idk.

but it’s still 5.5 on the worst day. so i just kinda hesitantly mention this to my mom. who’s used to me complaining anyway, but i make it clear that it’s been going on for a while, and it feels like somethings wrong.

and she says “oh yeah we can think about seeing a doctor.”

and i just. okay! cool. fun. rad. sick. vague pain. that’s my favorite activity. i love everything about this.

but i just grit my teeth and bear it. still doing the ibuprofen thing when my ignore it and distract yourself strategy doesn’t work.

now, end of july. trucking along. i’m at least in mind discomfort pretty much all the time. sucks. hate it. i’m concerned.

go to the 31. i pull a crazy all-nighter because i have chemical imbalances in my brain and shit just happens. i stay up for like 44 hours. wild. i sit at my desk for a while, drawing and i notice “wow my left shoulder doesn’t feel that great. huh. i have been sitting here for a while.”

so i go do something else but it doesn’t feel fantastic. almost like a buzzing in parts of my back and my upper arm. on my left arm. i am right handed. don’t know what that’s about.

go to sleep sunday night, i wake up to it just being worse. (also i have some weird circulation problems because of genetics. just random shit. no pain whatsoever. just funky.)

like wtf that’s a 4 right as i’m waking up. what the actual fuck. don’t like that.

but i was raised catholic so none of us talk to each other. so i just joke about my body organizing a shitty coup d’état to a friend and chalk it up to a fucked up muscle. but it’s like kind of moving?? a bit?? weird as fuck. don’t like it. still dull pain, but certainly something that pops up into my conscious mind like 10 times a day.

i didn’t do anything would result in a pulled muscle (trust me. my school is really intense about theatre and show choir. hard core choreography in everything that i practice 3 times a week during school+whatever play/musical) so i’m really just making excuses to soothe my brain and i know it. full denial.

i took ibuprofen the first and second day. can still tell it’s happening, but it sucks less.

yesterday i play a shit ton of guitar, and i can feel my upper arm cramping up and shit (which. oW. 5.7/10. WHAT THE HELL.) even though there is no strain on my left arm except for pressing my fingertips into some strings. no shoulder shit going on.

so i try to stretch out. no help.

and then the adhd medication instead of sleeping medication debacle happens and i don’t go to bed even though i actively tried to multiple times. i write a poem instead.

hurts mildly the whole time. it starts kind of limiting the functions of my arm. which. what the actual fuck. stiff, a bit seized up in especially bad pain moments.

i get focused on writing a poem and shit i only 20 minutes to get ready to leave for my appointment.

i forgot to take any ibuprofen, and it was already reaching 5.85 levels from sitting in my room.

in the car and in the orthodontist office, my left arm is completely fucking useless to me. half of my brain at all times is focused on like “oW OW OW OW OW” because it’s reached a point where i can’t really ignore it. it’s just there now. moving it isn’t great, it sitting in place isn’t fun either.

i’m at 6.5 levels. from the round trip of like 20-ish minutes, it’s raised that much. a lot of internal dialogue about it.

on the way to the orthodontist, i’m talking to my mom about it. she, sounding kind of annoyed, asks “what, do you want to see a doctor?”. i say “honestly? yes. it’s been 3 days nonstop. steady rise. there’s something genuinely wrong. i’m concerned about it.”

it feels like someone is poking around inside my arm with electricity or some shit. whole arm. shifting localizations and slight fluctuation in pain level. rapid escalation even just today.

i explain what it feels like in less wordy terms. and she says “that’s sounds like it could be nerve-related.”

it’s been three days. i’m exhausted. this has already taken a pretty significant mental toll, let alone discomfort level.

i have a high pain tolerance. i only started actively complaining about appendicitis pain the night before it exploded. that shit festers longer than overnight. i had been i pain for half the week before i said shit. and i just kinda sucked it up until i felt like i couldn’t walk without needing hella support.

but it’s really fucking getting to me. shit ton of weird tension, buzzing. just. constant painful buzz moving around.

i express this. “it’s a non-stop pain bad enough to be something i am fully aware of at any given second. if i stare off, im probably thinking about my arm.” and she kinda dismisses it.

it’s been like an hour, and i’ve gone up to 6.8 levels multiple times. based on patterns, it’s not just gonna stop any time soon, and i’m really good at working around weird problems like this.

like i said. pain every time i go out.

i’m good at hiding when i’m not 100%, but this is beyond me. it’s like someone’s just stabbing me with tacs over and over again. on my entire left arm and on the rare occasion, part of my leg.

i’m so genuinely uncomfortable, and i would this to not be a thing anymore.

[mithliya]

My evil boss scheduled me from 11-4:30 today bc she knows I have class at 5 so, I will eat breakfast, drive to work (she thinks it takes me thirty minutes to drive to work, so she thinks I leave the house around 10:30 at the latest) then go to class immediately afterwords.... I will have no lunch break bc the shift is less than 6 hours (5.5 hours) so I have to eat breakfast and then starve until after class ends around 6:30

why would she do that??? damn that sounds so unnecessarily cruel. at least ur eating breakfast... try getting snacks so u can eat on ur way to class too! it’s hard to focus on an empty stomach

[lostinfic]

5.5 New York, Fall

I forgot to add Hardy’s POV to chapter 5, and I couldn’t change it while I was traveling. So here it is, sorry about that. The chapter will be edited on Ao3.

Prologue  |  Chap. 1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |  Whole NY chapter on Ao3

*

Hardy felt like a stalker— no, stalkers must enjoy doing this, and he did not. Checking Hannah’s Instagram for her ship’s itinerary, and now scouting the Manhattan docks, looking for her, like a lonely sailor, it made him cringe.

He shifted his weight and huffed with impatience. Another batch of passengers came out of the cruise terminal, and he scanned their faces.

He paced the sidewalk, reminding himself he’d been in worse situations than waiting for a woman he fancied.

She didn’t know he was here, and if they met, she would never believe it was a coincidence. Still, he’d brought his camera along to pretend he was working, maybe on documenting the negative impact of the cruise industry— way to insult her work again.

Hope fluttered in his chest at the sight of every blond head, so he stayed despite the fear of humiliation.

He walked the length of the dock four times. Eight ships had docked today and more were coming by the looks of it. Tourists streamed out of the cruise terminal, too many to check all their faces.

He glanced at his watch and cursed. He had an interview in half an hour in Lincoln Square. He was here to talk about the people he’d photographed, he reminded himself, a second chance at helping them. He wasn’t here to chase after a woman, no matter how adventurous and beautiful.

He gave the port a last longing look.

Probably for the best. Surely, if she was coming to New York at the same time as him on purpose, she would have said something.

*

Hardy was never entirely comfortable during interviews. He didn’t trust his words and tone to come across well on paper. His photographs were always more eloquent than him.

At the end of the interview, as he shook the journalist’s hand, dissatisfaction reared its ugly head. He should have insisted on practical solutions rather than on problems, and he shouldn’t have let him ask so much about his personal life. Hardy had no interest in justifying his choices, he got the work done, did his part for global justice, that’s what mattered.

He mulled this over as he joined the Manhattan foot traffic. He had to do better next time, insist on the situation in Indonesia.

He walked in no particular direction, bound to come across a subway station eventually.

A London accent halted his brainwork. Against his better judgment, he looked around to find the source, but it wasn’t her.

He was now in the middle of Central Park and had no idea how he’d gotten here. He breathed in deeply the scent of soggy earth and tree sap. Tempted to steal a moment of contemplation, he sat on one of the dark green benches and just watched the world move around him.

In his mind, Ella Fitzgerald sang Autumn in New York, and the leaves around him took on the colors of brass instruments. He lifted his camera to capture it while humming the tune to himself. He couldn’t remember the exact song lyrics, only the air. Something about spain and canyons of steal... A metal plaque on the back of the bench— “To Anita, with all my love”— jogged his memory.

Autumn in New York brings the promise of new love. He scoffed. He was done here.

Hardy returned to the conference center. A blue-haired volunteer stood up as soon as she saw him enter. On the first day, she’d said she was a fan of his work, which Hardy found hard to believe.

“Lots of visitors to your retrospective today, Mr. Hardy,” she said. “Lots of messages too.”

She pushed the guestbook under Hardy’s nose. He didn’t usually look at this, but he gave it a cursory glance out of politeness.

His heart skipped a beat. He put on his glasses and looked closer at the message.

Amazed and shaken to my core.

Hannah Baxter

She’d come here.

[fuck-customers]

Fuck coworkers

I work for the loss prevention equivalent at Malfart. Fun part about this department, we get to choose our own breaks, with two rules. Unless someone called in or we have a gap in the schedule, make sure at least one person is watching the door at all times, and two, take your lunch before the sixth hour of your shift. Our store has a group chat for us to share when we want our breaks so we can all plan around for the day.

Good, now that’s out of the way, on fridays I’m scheduled with this one dude. He opens with two other people, meaning, in short, that he’s able to evenly space out his breaks through the day (what I mean is that he’s able to take a break every two hours with no weird spacing between them). My Friday shifts do require some weird spacing between breaks, but otherwise I’m good.

Problem is, he spaces his breaks out weird, and takes his lunch at 5.5 hours into his shift, causing me to work over half my shift without a single break. I got tired of that and today tried to beat him in the group chat because the most logical timing of my breaks is identical to when he chooses his. When I sent in my breaks, he sent me a direct message asking me to change them, then when I said no, he sent his identical break schedule to his, and my supervisor asked me to change my break schedule because he comes in before me.

I know it’s hard to explain without getting into the nitty gritty and giving tmi about my schedule, but I really hope at least one person understands this struggle cause it’s pissing me off and I’m about to talk to my manager about this shit