#instead of pressuring myself to meet expectations that I may never meet

[cumikering]

Toxic Phillip Graves x reader

3.4k | angst, suggestive The commander with plenty of years ahead of you never saw you like you saw him, not even close

Next to the large window of the coffee shop, you sat with your book. You sipped your latte – the latte your cousin raved about endlessly the past month that tasted closer to milk. She wasn’t a coffee drinker evidently.

“’Scuse me, miss. Would you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up at the owner of the smooth, southern voice. The man wore an easy smile – too easy, like he knew he looked good. Your eyes wandered past him, to the many empty tables before meeting his blue ones again.

“Sorry, I’m Phillip. I couldn’t help noticing your read.” He held out his copy of the exact same book. This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper.

You gave him a polite smile. “Go ahead.”

“Not my usual read, but it resonates with me.” He sat and placed his cup of tea on the table before cracking his book open where his steel bookmark lay. “He shouldn’t have led her on,” he commented.

“But her story wouldn’t have started otherwise.”

He smiled. “That’s true.”

Phillip ordered you another drink as you discussed your common interest in literature. Before you could finish the tea, the alarm on his phone went off.

“It was such a pleasure meeting you, miss, but I’ve got a plane to catch.” He placed his bookmark back in his copy.

It was then that you noticed the scar across his right cheek. As if the cause had the full intention of ripping him off the Earth – like a personal vendetta, but divine intervention let it bolt past, catching the cuff of his ear instead.

“Would it be alright to call you sometime? Maybe we can meet again when I find myself in town.”

You put your number in his phone, not expecting anything to come out of it. Not from a chance meeting with a charming man more than a few years older than you.

But days later, Phillip asked if you’d finished the book. You spoke on the phone for half an hour, listening to his analysis of the characters. He was sharp, brilliant, eloquent. It showed that he was well-read and took pride in it.

He was initially vague about his job, saying he travelled a lot. You didn’t think it mattered at all what he did. He was an online friend who was into the same things as you were. A month later when he told you he was the CEO of a private military company, you weren’t surprised at all. It was plain in the way he carried himself, his poise and decisiveness. The way he filled a room to the brim even when he didn’t try to.

Over the months, he mailed you books to read and discuss once a week. Then twice, and thrice and the calls grew more frequent, longer, later. Quieter, deeper.

He became more than a name on your screen, more than a voice at the other end of the line at nightfall. Your conversations bled into the daylight. You felt less like a secret, more like a part of his life. Like an affirmation that, maybe, you were not the only one in the liminal space.

Thinking of you, sweetheart.

Always love hearing from my woman during the day.

Your man is having some good lunch. Wish you were here to share it with.

You make me feel like I may be close to some, but never close enough.

I’ll show you how much you mean to me when we meet again.

“You promise?” you asked one day.

“I make guarantees,” he affirmed without missing a beat. “I’ll have the last week of this month off.  Why don’t you fly here? I’ll take care of your flights and hotel.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve never done this before… Flown to meet anyone.”

“No pressure, darlin’. You mean a lot to me, you know that? Don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to.”

You booked your flights and hotel. You weren’t going to be a freeloader even that you knew it would have meant nothing to him judging by the suit he showed up at the airport in. You wanted to cry when you saw him and his boyish smile, carrying a large bouquet of roses and a sign of your name. You ran into his open arms.

“What are you doing dressed up like that?” you asked with a chuckle when you pulled away.

He kissed the top of your head. “Taking my darlin’ out on a dinner date.”

He helped with your suitcase to his grey SUV and waited for you to get ready in your room before taking you to a skyscraping French restaurant. Sat next to the floor-to-ceiling window, you couldn’t take your eyes off the view, the shadows of the city dainty against the gold seeping into deep purple.

“Gorgeous, huh?” He placed his hand on yours, making your turn to him. “I knew you’d like it. We can come back whenever you want.”

“I love it, Phil.” You beamed. “Thank you so much.”

“Anything for my darlin’.” He took your hand to his lips before raising his champagne flute. “To us.”

You clinked yours against his.

At your door, he asked if he could kiss you. You nodded, not meeting his blue eyes as you bit down a smile. He called you when he was in bed, and when you both refused to hang up, you wondered what kept you from staying at his instead.

Phillip spent the next two days taking you around the city and walking you to your room at the end of the night with a kiss, which lasted longer each time.

Darling, I need to take care of something on base. Would it be fine if you’re on your own for the day? His text read the next morning.

Instead of brunch with him, you wondered around the city on your own, reveling in the tall buildings and how friendly the people were. With a sweet Southern drawl, the older women called you honey, darling and everything else Phillip had called you. It made you miss him more.

As you enjoyed your dinner, your phone buzzed with his call. It didn’t take him long to pull up at the restaurant and give you a peck in front of his SUV. You’d seen photos of him in his full gear, but seeing him in his combat uniform in real life made your cheeks heat up as you held onto his biceps. With vivid eyes and a smirk like that, he was dangerously handsome.

His touch seared when he pushed you against the wall of his entryway, fingers grasping your jaw, as he licked and nipped.

“You kiss better than last night,” he mumbled against you.

You paused at the comment, but he didn’t relent. He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands roamed. He carried you to his kitchen, setting you on the counter, icy against the backs of your thighs.

His mouth trailed down the side of your neck, sucking harder at the base than you’re used to, but it hurt so good. You shuddered as a small gasp escaped you. He pulled away with a satisfied smile before setting you down on your feet, turning to open his French door fridge.

You took in his kitchen, All-black, with spotless marble countertops and seamless cabinets.

“What would you like, darlin’?”

“J- Just water, please.”

You were breathless with your cheeks warm when he led you to his living room which looked equally as lavish with the large TV in front of his plush leather couch. When he pulled you onto his lap, you let out a small squeak, making him chuckle.

“You’re always so adorable.” He kissed your cheek.

He put on some football on as he held you close, his hot, wide palm on your mid-thigh, exposed from him pushing your dress up. Every so often, he’d give it a squeeze as he sipped his beer, making your breath hitch.

“Darlin’, it’s getting late. Let’s get you back.” He patted your thigh. “Unless you want to stay? You can pick any room you want.”

He gave you a quick tour of his place, and you picked the room next to his. He gave you toiletries and his clothes for the night, and told you to come to his room when you were ready for bed. You opened his door to him on his bed in sweats, a book on his lap. He motioned for you to sit next to him, and you did, leaning onto his bare chest. You read with him, his arm around you, thumb rubbing your arm occasionally.

“Phil?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I just- Well-“ Confidence eluded you as fast as it graced and your heart raced. “Nevermind.”

He laid his book down and turned towards you. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

You felt small having to ask, embarrassed that it was even something that bothered you. But when you looked into his eyes, welcoming with that warm smile, you thought maybe it was alright. It was Phillip after all.

“I wanted to know… What are we?”

He kissed your forehead. “Whatever you want us to be. I’d love to be your man if you let me.”

You smiled, relieved as you nodded.

“Anything for my woman.”

Phillip wasn’t in his room when you woke in his bed the following morning. You figured he was in his office, and he was, with the door open.

He looked up from his computer with a smile. He’d put a t-shirt on, his light brown hair tousled now. You noted he didn’t have his usual cup of coffee with him.

“Good morning, darlin’. Sorry I didn’t mean to leave the bed so early, but I’ve got reports to send.”

“That’s okay.”

“I hope you slept well. Feel free to use the kitchen. I’ll join you when I’m done in a bit.”

You went to his kitchen, the counters lustrous in the morning light. Next to the fridge, something glinted. It was a bottle cap of his favourite beer from the night before, a foreign brand you’d never seen. You put the cap into your sweats pocket - a keepsake of your first visit to his. You made coffee for the both of you, and when you were scouring the cabinets for some sugar-

“Sorry, sweetheart, who are you?”

You gasped, turning to the kitchen entrance where the voice came from. It was a middle-aged woman, carrying grocery bags. She blinked, her smile polite but confused.

“Uhh, Phil?” You looked straight at her with wide eyes, at a loss for words.

“What is it, darlin’?” he replied from a distance.

“Phillip Graves?” the woman called out, voice thundering.

In a second, he rounded the corner.

“Mum. Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.” He took the bags from her hands, placing them on the counter before giving her a hug. “This, uh- this is a friend.” He gestured to you.

“Hi, Mrs. Graves.”

“Good morning, sugar.” She nodded at you, her eyes warmer as she unpacked the bags. “I stopped by to drop off some fruits. I was at the farmer’s market.” Her eyes flicked to you, a playful smile on her lips. “He never has anything in his house other than beer, does he?”

You let out a small laugh, and he had an amused smile as he shook his head.

“I’m still in the middle of something. I’ll finish up real quick.” He left again.

“He’s married to his job,” she commented as she opened the fridge, stocking it with the colourful produce she brought.

“Um, do you know where the sugar is by any chance?”

She turned to you and glanced at the two mugs on the counter. “If he hasn’t had his coffee yet by now, that’s probably because he’s out of sugar.” She smiled. “And you know how much of a sweet-tooth he is.”

You did.

She continued lining the fridge with apples. “He really does run on coffee. He never learnt to cook, that boy. Lucky he’s got you taking care of him.”

Your heart swelled. Did he tell her about you already?

“All done now,” she said, closing the fridge. “Tell him I say bye, will you?”

“Okay.”

She gave you a squeeze and pinched your cheek. “I’ll see you again soon, sugar.”

You beamed as you walked her to the door. She didn’t hate you, and it made you irrationally happy.

“Phil?” You stood at the door to his office. “Your mom just left, told me to tell you bye.”

He beckoned you to come in, and he pulled you to sit on his lap, his hand squeezing your thigh.

“You know why I said you’re a friend, don’t you? I promise I’ll tell her soon.” He gave you an easy smile. “It’s like introducing vegetables to a kid. You gotta do it in small doses.”

“That’s okay, I understand.“ It didn’t bother you seeing how warm she was towards you. Still, you held on to his words.

“Okay, I’m almost done now. I’ll drive you to your hotel to get ready and we’ll go out for lunch.”

As well as the day went, you went ahead of yourself, like you often did when things felt too good. It dawned on you this was a little dream, a fleeting paradise in your ordinary life. Like a ticking bomb, it was going to detonate into a million pieces, and you’ll wake up with nothing but little mice, a pumpkin, a tattered dress and the sweetest memory.

The demon lingered in the backroom of your mind, pounding relentlessly at the door, begging to be set free. You felt like you’d gone too deep, like you shouldn’t even have started with all this.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm, darlin’?” Phillip asked when you entered his house, tossing his keys into the entryway bowl.

You couldn’t even fake a smile.

“Did I do something to upset you?” He rubbed your arms and led you to the couch.

He turned your body to him, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t drown the riot in your head.

“Please. If it’s my fault, let me fix it.”

“How is this going to work?” Your eyes flicked to his, continuing in a smaller voice. “We don’t live close at all.”

“Got me worried there,” he exhaled, pulling you to his chest. “You can move here, of course.”

“It’s not that easy, is it?”

“I know it’s not. If I’m honest, I don’t have an answer for that yet.” He sighed as he caressed your hair. Silence lingered before he continued, “You know what my drill sergeant used to say? You can’t fly when you keep worrying about falling out of the sky.”

“You told me.” A smile flickered on your lips.

“We’re just a two-hour flight away from each other. As long as you still want this, don’t think too much of what’s going to come. It will work itself out.” He tilted your face to him by the chin. “We’ll work it all out.”

Perhaps he was right. You just needed to focus on what’s right in front of you. When you asked if you could extend your stay for a few more days, he gave you a peck on the lips.

He held you wordlessly for a long time until he got a call for an emergency meeting. He told you not to wait up if he wasn’t done in an hour. You hadn’t planned on staying the night, but you still had your toiletries from the other day. You got ready for bed and rescheduled your return flight, extending the timer on the proverbial bomb, even just for two more days. You wanted to float in this dream a little longer.

It was past 2 in the morning when your door creaked open. You turned, the dim light from the hallway bleeding into the dark.

“Why are you still up?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“I should ask you the same thing.”

He turned the bedside lamp on and sat on the bed, holding your hand.

“I’ve been thinking. You’re really special to me, darlin’. I want to work this out. I promise we’ll find a way, okay?”

You choked out a sob. His words like balm to your burning chest. You sat up and wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re so emotional. It’s adorable.” He let out a small laugh as he stroked your back. “I love you.”

When your tears stopped flowing, he laid you down, caging you between his forearms as he kissed you. Your arm wrapped around his neck, a hand cupping his lightly stubbled jaw. You fell into the kiss, into the sensation of his perfect lips. His hand wandered, pinching, squeezing, rubbing, his lips unrelenting, ever intensifying.

You squirmed under him. “Phil, that’s- you’re being a bit rough.”

He pulled away. “My ex liked it this way.”

You appreciated his passion, but the comment didn’t sit right. He stilled for a second before lying beside you in silence. You didn’t know how long you lay there, but in the dark, your eyes blinked open at the click of the door.

Your heart drained, hollow, hanging by a thread like it was going to float away out of your gaping chest any second. What you thought was going to be a comforting night turned unkind, instead leaving you feeling less than. You let out an uneven breath, pulling the comforter closer around you, willing it to drown the ache.

The next morning, Phillip was quiet, not even meeting your eyes as he told you to get ready. It was jarring, when for days it was as if he couldn’t keep his hands off you, but that day felt like he didn’t even want you anywhere near him.

Perhaps he had a lot in mind, maybe something about his meeting the night before – you knew it happened sometimes, but this time, the stillness made you nervous. Rejected, unwanted, out of place. Something was brutally wrong and it hung heavy in the air, it made you hard to breathe.

He finally broke the silence when he pulled up at the hotel lobby. “This isn’t working out.”

You turned to him, not believing your ears. “What?”

“This is a mistake,” he declared.

“But… Last night, we just- You said you loved me.“

“Why are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It’s not.”

The harsh tone sent chills down your spine. He’d never used that voice on you.

“I thought you liked sex, sweetheart. Why’d you wear those cute outfits otherwise?” His smirk turned to a frown. “Also, you laugh too loud. It’s off putting.”

You froze in your seat, like you wanted to scream but your voice a prisoner in your throat. Your stomach churned, bitter, singeing.

“You didn’t think this was real, did you? Don’t worry, it’s not like I don’t want to see you again. We’ll get coffee when I visit, okay?”

Your lips quivered as you blinked your tears away, but you were not going to let yourself cry.

“Oh, come on! Don’t start crying now. You’re making me look like the bad guy.” He threw his hands up in exasperation.

Was he not? When he told you all those things, some of the kindest words anyone had ever said to you. When the gold he gave you was brass at heart.

“Fuck you, Graves.” You got out of the car, slamming the door shut. Your tears stained your cheeks as you walked away.

It was the last time you saw or heard from him until two months later.

Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m attached now. We’re visiting next month. Want to meet up?

You regretted not blocking his number. You wiped away the tear that slipped.

Three years later, the universe sprinkled chaos and stirred its pot. You met another Phillip. Your cousin asked if it was the Graves variety. You said no, with a smile brighter than you ever remembered smiling.

This one held your hand and brought you home to meet his mum. This one didn’t bring up his exes when you didn’t ask. This one laughed harder when you cackled.

This one didn’t have to lie about his intentions, because a few years later, his promise of forever came without you even having to ask.

Thanks @shadofireshinobi for making me write this <3

@tiredmetalenthusiast @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

[elbarkla]

Check it out everyone, 3 years of art progress! And I wrote a guide for beginners! 😊

Hi! I’m Laura, age 31. I’ve always drawn occasionally, but never really stuck with it. Frankly it stressed me out. I’d draw for a month, then cry a bunch, then quit for a couple more years. But this time I turned it into a habit somehow. I’ve been drawing near-daily since Feb ‘21 and my life is better for it. Art’s a huge part of me now; it affects how I spend my time, how I express myself, and how I see the world. I feel like a happier, more complete human being.

So here’s what worked for me. This is a guide for hobbyists (I don’t have commercial ambitions) and it may or may not work for you. But I hope you can learn something from it regardless. Without further ado, my thesis:

 ~ Laura’s Steps for Drawing A Lot and Hopefully Getting Better ~

 1 – Manage Your Health 

Know what’s bad for your art? Depression! Glad I got around to treating mine. But for real, if you lack self-confidence you might want to check your mental health. It isn’t the sole factor but it can rapidly overtake the others. Every day I see a post like “how do I improve, every time I try to draw I’m overwhelmed with thoughts I’m bad at everything and a burden to the people around me”. That’s relatable but not a healthy way to see yourself. Low self-esteem can be treated. Please consider talking to someone - you’re a wonderful, lovable person and deserve a happy life.

Also, try to get plenty of sleep and eat regular meals; it helps with everything. Exercise is worth a shot too. Going for walks is good for your mind and body. Yes it’s boring, but boredom gives you space to imagine things.

 #2 – Make It Fun

You’re taking this too seriously. Yes, you. It’s just a hobby. Take the pressure off. Have fun.

What does that mean? It means you need to make art approachable. It has to be a comfort hobby you’re naturally drawn to. That means killing all thoughts of what you SHOULD do. If it makes you want to draw, go for it. Anime characters? Pretty ladies? Fanart? Furries? Doodles from imagination? Zentangles? Pencils? Digital? Do it. If drawing the “right way” burns you out, draw things the wrong way instead. You know who draws a lot? Children. You know who doesn’t draw super well? Children. Have that mindset. Draw like a child. Don’t compare yourself to others; just enjoy the process of creating something. You had that ability once and I know you can reacquire it.

 Intimidated by an empty sketchbook? Don’t wanna ruin a white page? That’s OK; find something you don’t mind ruining. Grab a half-used notebook and a ballpoint pen. You EXPECT those to look horrendous. If you can have fun filling that notebook, you can have fun drawing regularly, and if you draw regularly you can slowly improve your art. It happened to me. I went from rarely drawing to wanting to do it every day. I still sketch in ballpoint now; it’s fun and comfortable.

Also, if drawing’s NOT fun? That’s OK too! There’s loads of ways to express creativity; go do do one of those. For me it was The Sims 3, then knitting, then drawing. Find something accessible and build your confidence up. The world needs bonsai trees and Minecraft castles just as much as drawings. <3

#3 – Seek Instruction

You’ve made drawing a habit, congratulations! You’ve probably learned heaps already; it’s natural to work out techniques as you go. But deducing art wisdom from scratch isn’t super efficient. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel when you can learn so much from others.

You can do a paid course (great way to meet people), but you don’t have to. All the information’s free on the internet! Teachers will cover the same things in different ways or from different perspectives. There’s no exclusive knowledge; the more you study, the more overlap you’ll notice. It all comes together for a more complete understanding of fundamental concepts.

Here’s some of my favourite resources (currently all available free online)(except the Winslow one which was taken down, boo):

  r/artfundamentals, ie. drawabox.com . A great starter course on how to hold a pen, draw lines, build forms and so on. You can follow structured lessons or just practice whatever you need to.

How to Draw: Drawing and Sketching Objects and Environments from Your Imagination, by Scott Robertson. This book’s the gold standard on perspective and great for technical thinkers. It gets VERY advanced but there’s basic stuff to learn from as well. If the textbook intimidates you, try this excellent video playlist by Dan Beardshaw. He walks you through the same concepts in a simple approachable manner. Vital information if you want your work to look 3D.

anything by Andrew Loomis. He’s an icon for a reason; the Loomis head is a standard art tool to this day. I also enjoy the anachronistic career advice (“all advertisers will pay for a well-drawn head” or whatever it was). Here’s the ones I’ve read and enjoyed:

Fun with a Pencil

Figure Drawing for All It’s Worth

Drawing The Head and Hands

Creative Illustration (my current fave, great for composition)

Classic Human Anatomy in Motion, by Valerie L. Winslow. Hot take – people who say “learn anatomy” to beginners are idiots. SO MANY fundamentals come before anatomy if you wanna draw good-looking characters. You’ll get better results studying proportion, form, gesture, shapes and composition first. But if/when you want to learn bones and muscles, this is the book for you! It’s probably overkill, but I loved the breakdown of facial muscles and how they create expression. Top-tier reaction image material.

Proko!! Fabulous Youtube channel. Not only is Stan a great teacher, he invites on other artists too. Just go to his search bar and plug in a keyword; you’ll always find something helpful. I recommend his channel if you want to draw humans (loads of gesture, forms, proportion, anatomy etc.), but there’s a video or two on everything. Some of my other favourite videos:

Mind-Blowing Realistic Shading Tricks. Simple effective intro to light and shadow, I still go back and learn from it.

How to Draw Dynamic Shapes – FORCE Series Part 3. So compelling I bought the book afterwards. Blew my mind, instantly improved all my shapes and in turn my composition and gesture.

Painting Skin Tones and How Light Affects Color. Marco Bucci’s a genius with colours, he explains value and saturation in such fascinating ways.

Digital Shape Carving with Scott Flanders – good companion to the shading video above, teaches dramatic silhouettes and cel-shading within a really interesting workflow.

Google. Any question. Throw it in. Someone’s made a video or reddit post about it. You’d be surprised! I swear, the number of times I’ve typed “composition tips” or “digital watercolour clip studio paint” or “how draw horse head”.

Remember, take it easy. Don’t burn yourself out. Back off if you feel the tears creeping in. Study should supplement your drawings, not replace them. If in doubt, revert to step 2 – “bad” art is better than no art.

4– Study Life

If you did step 3 you’re way ahead of me on this one. USE REFERENCES. Draw things from photos (or real life if possible). Fill your brain with visual information. Here’s a thread I made for sharing references of humans.

What if you prefer to draw from imagination? That’s fine – try a hybrid approach. Doodle whatever comes to you, then look up references and try again. For example I’ll doodle a bear, then draw from photos of bears, then doodle new bears using the things I learned. It’s fun and also a good way to test your knowledge. You may also enjoy combining different references; eg drawing animal fusions, combining poses with an outfits etc. It gets easier to do the more you practice.

Between art pieces I keep a balance between drawing from imagination, drawing from reference, following art lessons, and studying other artists. Speaking of which –

5 – Study Art

Ever heard “Don’t draw anime until you’ve learned anatomy?” or “Learn the rules before you break them?” I strongly disagree with both of those statements. Fundamentals are great but there’s never a point you stop learning them, and studying life won’t teach you how to stylise. That’s why you also need to learn from your favourite artworks. This gets easier/more efficient as you build your broader art skills, but you can learn styles at any point of your art journey (see – step 2). In fact, it makes study more enjoyable, since stylised art can look better and feel more “you”. You already know what you want to create– why not start now?

Let’s take anime as an example. That’s a huge genre with loads of variation. So, what’s your personal taste? Round and cute, or sharp and serious? Choose your favourite shows and study how they do it. Observe their lines, shapes and proportions. Then try it yourself. Make fanart. Not only is replication good art practice in general, it’ll teach you a bunch of new tricks. For original work, pull from loads of sources, the more diverse the better. Work in your love for Silver Age comics or medieval tapestries or German expressionism. The more places you learn from, the more unique and personal your style will be. Your art becomes a visual scrapbook of all the artists you love. I think that’s beautiful. <3

 6 – Find Community

Art friends! Best thing ever. You can bond over your shared obsession, commiserate over tough parts, and learn about art together. A lot of my drawings are in-jokes exchanged with my BFF. I’ve known them from childhood (lucky) but apparently adults can make friends too. Fandom spaces are great for this; many Discord channels have a dedicated artists’ zone. You can also try r/sketchdaily or challenges like Mermay/Inktober if you want a sense of community.

If you don’t have art friends (yet), that’s OK; parasocial works too! I like watching “Draw With Me” content on Youtube. It’s great to put on while you’re creating, especially when you don’t have the energy for something educational. Not only is it inspiring, you can learn tips and tricks along the way. And of course, you can never go wrong with Bob Ross.

 7 – Be Interesting

The very first step was to manage your health. In a way, we’ve looped back to the beginning.  Because no matter what you do, art begins and ends with who you are. You can practice fundamentals 12 hours a day but if you never live your life, you’ll never make interesting art. No one cares for artists whose only character trait is how hard they grind. So go be the most vibrant version of yourself. Take up weird hobbies. Make weird friends. Seek new experiences. Question the beliefs you grew up with. Read books for a while instead of drawing. Develop your principles. Embrace what makes you different. Survive the worst year of your life somehow. Learn what makes you thrive. Your art won’t be for everyone. But it WILL mean the world to some. And to me, that’s the whole point of doing this. Good luck, fellow artist. The world is your adventure yet to come. I believe in you. <3

[megumi-fm]

20th - 25th Dec || 145 to 150 of 150dop

this is a late post because I was away from home for the holidays and I didn't really have the time or good enough internet to update you guys, but here we are!!! thank you to everyone who tagged me in cute games during this time (i will be doing them only next year tho hehe) and especially to @chaotic-diaries-of-yours-truely and @winryrockbellwannabe who sent in really comforting asks during this time <3 you guys are my favourites. (I will answer them soon I promise! I've just been swamped 😭)

🎧 Son O-Gong by Seventeen

📋 Tasks

🩺 Radiomics Projects ↳ BCR: draft next year timeline ↳ GBR: download source code and learn mechanism 📝 English Proficiency Test ↳ results are out!!! I did really well, yay!!!

🎨 Personal

I went to my hometown (it's not so much my hometown as it is my native place) and got to meet a lot of family friends and relatives!! It was a lot of fun!! I had a great time!! 📺 Shows this week ↳ My Love Mix-Up JP ✅ ↳ Cherry Magic TH 🔽 (can I just say that I love this adaptation wayyy more than I expected. I really like that it is not trying to be a replica of the JP version and instead focusing on the same themes in a different light) ↳ Last Twilight 🔽 ↳ I also kind of started Trillion Game (meguro ren the man you are)

and we're finally done!! this was my first challenge after setting up my studyblr and I am so happy that I made so many wonderful friends on here who have been checking in on me and supporting me through the course of these 150 days. Even if you're just sharing these posts or liking them, it has really motivated me to do better and keep going. And you guys, who have also been working hard to meet your goals, y'all inspire me day in and day out, I really wouldn't be here if it wasn't for this wonderful studyblr community <3

I initially started this series in july and it was only supposed to be for 100 days, but now, after several days skipped in between, and the 100 days updated to 150, and constantly changing goals, we're finally here. At the end. And despite all the modifications, I've only really met 50% of the goals I set for myself. But that being said, i'm proud of myself for making it through. I tend to struggle with consistency a lot, but I'm happy that I still tried my best to be regular with posting. I'm also happy that I was kind to myself through the duration of these 150 days- that I didn't get too rigid with the structure and I let myself have off days or club several days in a post together. At the end of the day, it wasn't supposed to feel too pressurizing or like a chore, and I think I succeeded in that. I also learnt a lot about planning, and I've also in general come to accept the truth that goal setting is a dynamic process and goals and due dates will change over time and that is okay. So yeah. I felt really challenged throughout this series, but that being said, I'm never doing this again 😭. May next year bring new challenges hehe

37 - 42/final42 // the end.

[monotonous-minutia]

Work rant. May delete later. Don't feel pressured to read.

I'm ticked off.

As some of you probably know by now, at my job we work with kids who can get physically aggressive towards staff. Pretty much everyone who works here has been hit, kicked, pushed, or bitten, sometimes all of the above. People always ask me how can I handle working here and the weird thing is after a while you just get used to it. We get a ton of training and on the job practice so after a bit you just know what to do and work with it motion by motion.

Even so, it can still be scary and overwhelming.

Now my issue is my boss (who I no longer appreciate or trust for a really involved reason) today got scratched by a kid. She was telling him to put his phone away, he didn't want to and started yelling, she went to radio for backup (we all have walkies on us at all times), he reached for her radio to stop her, and accidentally scratched her with his fingernails, which I know were too long because I talked about it to him earlier.

Obviously that's not fun. I'm sorry it happened to her. But he wasn't trying to hurt her and she kind of acted like he was aggressing towards her maliciously and called a code red so like half the building came running to help her. Immediately after she removed herself from the situation, she grabbed her stuff and went home early.

I don't want to engage in trauma Olympics but the reason this irks me is because a few months ago I was alone in a room with a kid who punched me in the head six times, knocked me over, and started kicking and hitting me while I was lying on the ground. I had to radio for help three times before people started showing up and between my calls I heard them talking like "I can be there if no one else can" or "someone switch out with me and this kid" instead of rushing to my aid when I'm getting pounded by a kid half a head taller than me.

When people finally showed up to help I crawled out of her range and ran to my office to sit down and have a full-on nervous breakdown. Several people checked in on me which was nice and my favorite coworker (the one who left) sat with me for a while and talked me through it. But no one told me I could go home. I had group half an hour later and another one after that and then a meeting. No one said they would cover for me and that I could go take care of myself. I had bruises and a headache that lasted two days. (For all I know I had a concussion but I'm never going to the hospital again so who knows.)

Thing is my boss is a little out of touch I think because she's not in group and with the kids on the front lines constantly working with their escalations. And when she is involved she always has a big reaction. Big reactions are fine, we all still have them. But I've been getting in a lot of trouble for being "disregulated" (there was literally an intervention and other things I won't get into but are the reason I no longer trust my boss because of the way she handled it). So it seems really hypocritical of her to have big reactions and leave work early when a kid scratches her but I'm expected to suck it up when a kid beats the crap out of me. I can't cry at work or express frustrations without people using it against me to say I'm doing a terrible job.

I love the work I do in spite of the risks because I want to help these kids. I used to feel like my coworkers are so supportive and understanding. But now I feel like I can't be myself or ask for help. I'm constantly walking on eggshells waiting for someone to point out all the things I'm doing wrong. And the one person I trusted isn't there anymore. So I go every day into this high stress job with no outlet and no ability to admit when I'm overwhelmed. I suck up my tears and smile and say it's just another day and then go home and kick the wall.

I'm currently looking into different jobs and figuring out what my best options are. I hate leaving the kids and this work but it's so unhealthy for me to be there constantly worried that one more mistake is going to be the end of me.

[prismatica-the-strange]

Death By Anyone's Hand But His Would Taste As Sweet | I Don't Know You, But I Would Love to Meet You

Warnings: 18+, death, franchise typical violence, I still haven't watched much Clone Wars

Anakin and Freida's first meeting

We Should Be Friends by Josh Ramsey | Picrew | Dividers @saradika-graphics

He doesn't know why both he and Obi-Wan were pulled off the frontlines to escort some spoiled princess to Coruscant. Doesn't she already have a private guard for things like this?

Hell, he's never even heard of this planet before.

"Try not to look so cross, Anakin," Obi-wan chides, "We're not here to scare the girl further, she's already been through quite the ordeal."

"I'm sorry, master," He huffs, "I just think my talents would be better used elsewhere."

"I'm sure you do."

He follows the older Jedi off their ship, where they're met by a man with pale blue hair tied back in a short braid and wearing a light-colored tunic.

"Welcome to Jein'ta, Master Kenobi," He greets and Anakin has to be careful to not roll his eyes too obviously at being ignored, "My name is El'Tar Baltwin. If you would follow me?"

He leads them down a pathway and a sudden pressure hits him, and by the look on his face, Obi-Wan feels it too.

"She's strong," His master comments and El'Tar sighs with a heavy nod.

"Yes, that," He says, "You get used to the feeling after a while."

They wait in the foyer of a decently-sized house while their host goes to collect their charge.

He catches the tail end of an argument when he wanders closer to the stairs.

"... don't want to leave. Father please!"

"You have a duty to your people to control this... thing and keep them safe!" He snaps back, "You will go with them, and that's the last I'll hear of it!"

El'Tar looks flustered and annoyed when he comes back, "My daughter will join us in a moment."

A few minutes pass and the pressure changes. The aura proceeding her is suffocating, yet his chest has never felt lighter.

All eyes are on her as she steps out from the stairwell, solemn look on her face. Her pale pink hair is gilded with golden stars and pearls, and the silk skirts of her pastel gown drag the ground at her feet.

"This is my Daughter, Freida," Her father introduces her.

"That's all a bit much to travel in, don't you think?" He blurts out and she finally raises her face to look at him. The timidness in her red-slitted eyes catches him off guard, having expected a bratty retort.

"It's best for our people if we act as though nothing is amiss," Her father answers for her, "She is one of our most-loved priestesses, this is what she shall wear."

"Your Eminence," Obi-Wan smiles at her with a slight bow that Anakin mimics, "I would like to assure you, as long as you are in the care of my padawan and myself, you will have nothing to fear."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi. I put my trust in you," She does her best to return the smile, her voice soft. She glances at him for the briefest second, the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks, "Both of you."

"My dear, I think it's best you leave as soon as possible."

She feels as though she may cry with the way her father is rushing her to leave all she's ever known like some kind of pariah. But instead, she holds her head high as she follows the Jedi to their ship.

Her friends and neighbors greet her as if it were simply another day and the pain inside her grows.

She stops in her tracks just before stepping into the ship and turns around, taking in her homeworld for the last time for Maker knows how long.

"You coming?" He asks and her shoulders shudder as she tries to hold back tears.

"A moment, please," The way her throat tightens adds a sharpness she didn't intend and he rolls his eyes again. Brat.

"My dear, it's time to go," Obi-Wan tries, much softer than he, and she nods, letting him lead her inside.

"Gentle, Anakin," He says once they start taking off, "This is all new to her, and she's scared."

She's silent for most of the trip and when he turns back to glance at her, her face is blank, devoid of any emotion.

Just as he's about to say something the ship shudders and an alarm on the controls begins to blare.

"What was that?"

"I don't know," He snaps, flicking a switch to turn on a display, "Damnit- There's a ship behind us. I think they're scoundrels."

The rip lurches again.

"Hold onto something!"

He tries his best to get away, but they end up crashing on a nearby frozen moon.

"Your eminence," Obi-wan kneels beside her as Anakin assesses the damage, "Are you alright?"

She's shaken up, but otherwise, "I-I'm fine."

The ship is damaged, and Anakin argues that he can go by himself to a nearby village to get the parts they need, but Obi-wan insists he stay with Freida and the ship.

So he sits across from Freida, arms crossed, miffed because he's been put on babysitting duty.

"So why did your father decide to send you to train with the Jedi now?" He asks after an hour or so.

She looks at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, "I..."

He straightens in his seat when her face falls and her brow furrow, the whole atmosphere becoming heavy.

"I didn't-" She freezes mid sentence, eyes narrowing, "There's someone outside..."

It takes a moment, but he feels it too, the presence of various people lurking outside the ship.

"Stay in here," He says, "I'll take care of it."

"But-"

He turns back to her to see her worried face.

"It'll be alright."

He's busy dealing with blasterfire and scoundrels when he hears Frei, "W-wait!"

He spins around to see one of the pirates with his arm around her throat and a blaster pressed against her temple.

"Pu that Saber away, pretty boy, golden girl's comin with me."

"Let her go."

The man laughs, "And why would I do that? She's going to fetch me a small fortune in the slave tra-"

His voice cuts off and he looks confused. Panic quickly overtakes his features when he realizes he can't breathe and Anakin watches him let her go to claw at his throat before he flies back against a tree.

He quickly pulls her to his side, "I told you to stay in the ship!"

"I did!" She snaps, "He came in and grabbed me! What was I supposed to-"

A laser bolt hits the side of the ship and they both turn to see a barely standing marauder pointing a blaster in their direction, but before either can do anything, a large cat-like creature lands on him, ripping him in two.

Anakin doesn't hesitate to pull her behind him, but she stops him when he goes to activate his lightsaber, moving to stand between him and the creature.

"It's okay," She says softly, more to the beast than him as she raises her hands to show she's not a threat, "It's alright. Everything is fine."

Memories flash in her head. Pain. So much pain and fear. And being crammed in a cage.

"I'm so sorry," She whispers, "But it's okay, now. We won't hurt you."

It's defensive stance slacks slightly and it cocks it's head at her.

Anakin is beyond confused, wondering if this was a skill she taught herself with the force, or if she was just odd.

He shifts behind her when she steps closer and the creature immediately looks at him, back arching with a growl.

"Nono," She tries, reaching out to sooth it with the force, "It's okay, he's not a threat."

He takes action when he sees it rear back, thinking it's going to attack.

"Wait stop!"

He quickly runs it through with his lightsaber, tensing at the strained noise Freida lets out when her connection with it is suddenly severed.

He turns to find her frozen with tears in her eyes, her face contorted in horror.

"Your eminence-"

She falls to her knees in the snow, lips trembling.

"What have you done?" She cries.

"I just saved your life!" He scoffs.

She looks up to glare at him before getting back to her feet.

"It wasn't going to hurt me!"

"And how do you know that, princess?"

"It was just scared and confused!" She yells through tears, hitting his chest, "It was taken from its home by poachers and tortured! You would be too! I was calming it!"

He looks at her with wide eyes, not sure what to say when her anger turns to pain, "You didn't have to kill it."

His anger and annoyance soften when she collapses against his chest as she weeps.

She shivers when a particular hard gust of wind kicks up the snow around then and he lifts her in his arms with little protest.

He settles them in the ship with her on his lap, and he thinks there be more to her mood than a dead beast as she continues to sob into his chest.

He does his best to calm her but as his warm hands rub her back it works a little too well when she soon falls asleep in his arms.

He dares not move once he feels her tail wrap around his calf, not wanting to disturb her.

As the night goes on a blizzard howls to life and he knows Obi-wan likely won't be back until morning.

"Anakin, what do you think you're doing?"

He groans and clings tighter to his pillow.

"Anakin!"

"Sleeping!" He snaps at his master.

"Well yes, I can see that," Obi-wan scoffs, "Is there any particular reason to need to be holding the priestess to do so?"

"What?" He opens his eyes to look at him in confusion when the thing in his arms moves.

Freida nuzzle into his neck, claws digging into his robes as she purrs contentedly in her sleep.

"I! Th-this isn't- I don't know how this..."

She yawns, back arching as she stretches and kneads against his chest, "What’s with all the yelling?"

She blinks the sleep from her eyes and looks at both of them for a moment before she jumps away, her cheeks turning deep purple.

"Would either of you care to explain the bodies I found outside?"

"Well, Master, about that...

[autisticlee]

I cant bond with people by talking to them anymore...I realized the only way I bonded with people was either by sharing special interests and only talking about that (and losing that friend when one of us lost interest), by trauma bonding and only talking about our traumatic lives back and forth, or because we went to school together and saw each other every day.

I don't see anyone regularly anymore. i'm too burnt out to have a set special interest to get completely absorbed in, to know enough about to talk about it, and don't even know how to talk about interests anymore. and trauma bonding is so exhausting and I do not want to do that anymore. I do keep finding myself accidentally falling into the habit of it when i dont know what else to say, and then i feel like im stuck there, I ruined it already.

for years online my method of making friends was meet because of special interest and bond over that, get to know each other through trauma bonding and bond over that, ir a combo of both shared interest snd trauma bonding. twe trauma bond daily and/or talk about the shared interest. then after a while we either stop being friends because they expect me to be their therapist and get mad that i'm still sharing MY trauma and "dismissing" theirs, or one of us loses interest in the shared interest and the conversations fall apart until we stop talking because we have nothing else in common.

I don't know HOW TO TALK TO PEOPLE NORMALLY. i've seen and met so many people who had beat friends for their whole life and they have barelt anything in common and I just dont understand how they do it lmao.

I truly don't know how to talk to people and it's too exhausting to keep trying. I know you're supposed to do small talk because it's important to them. but I can't even do that right and don't enjoy it at all. but then what after that? I don't know! I never feel any connection to people during or after small talk. I don't know when you're allowed to stop the small talk to info dump your interests. but also people don't like the info dumping....but I don't know about anything else besides my narrow set of interests that are never the same interests as anyone around me.

I don't know how to share things about myself without it accidentally becoming trauma dumping. becasue there's not much to me outside of the trauma and "negative" stuff. I panic and syart oversharing when I think they are getting bored of me because they're barely responding and not suggesting other topics, but I don't know about other topics. i'm uncomfortable asking them potentially invasive questions about themselves. I dont know whats appropriate or how many I can ask before they think i'm being invasive and nosy and get uncomfortable by it. I rather let them talk about what they're comfortable sharing naturally instead of pressuring them to tell me everything. (ive has may experiences with people getting hostile because I tried to get to know them by asking questions) I dont know how to be entertaining and not bore them. I don't know how to respond to 1-5 word responses. I don't know what to do if they stop responding. (most times i've come to find it means they don't want to tall and get annoyed when I keep trying) I domt know how to carry conversations about things I don't know about or care about. I don't know all the cool tiktok trends and stuff or celebrities or movies or tv and don't get their references. I don't live a "normal" life so I can't relate to most people.

the only interesting things to me are my interests that no one else ever cares about. I don't like asking people a bunch of invasive questions about them to "get to know them" because I prefer things to naturally come out over time when they want it to. I prefer to naturally learn things about them as we hang out and they are comfortable sharing. I rather DO things than talk and try to carry a conversation. I can't do back and forth conversation. it's either one sided where I just listen to them and usually be their therapist, where they talk about stuff I don't know or understand and have to pretend I understand to make them happy, or I have to carry the conversation and end up oversharing because I cant carry the conversation any other way. sometimes i'll get the autistic back and forth where I say a thing about me, they respond a related thing about them, and so on. thats easiest to do.

but even that lately has been exhausting and unenjoyable. especially if we run out of things to tell about ourselves/our interests and have nothing to talk about anymore. but also the fact that i've done it SO MUCH over the years that i'm bored and tired of telling every new person I meet the same exact things, having the same exact conversation over and over and over with different people. having to keep telling people the same things about myself and ask the same questions about them. its exhausting and boring. I know that's "how it works" but I dont have the energy for it. i'm tired and bored of it. that's why lately I feel it's easier to try to convince people I already know to be my friend again.....even if that's bot working out for me at all. I can at least skip the "get to know each other" phase for the most part

I think I just want bonds where we can do things together that we enjoy. quietly. comfortably. no pressure to converse and be socially acceptable. a bond we feel naturally and don't need to fight for it. I think I need an irl friend more than online ones right now. because I can only chat with online ones and I don't really want or need someone to chat with right now! I don't want to say words! I wrote this blog to say words and talk to my therapist! I don't have many words to say and I want soneome who is ok with that, but still wants to be around me! I need someone to do things with! to hang out, not talk. an irl person to share regular activities with instead of having endless conversation. but those are even harder to get and I cannot figure it out despite how hard i've been trying! because it always required the small talk and conversation that ends up dying very quickly because I cant do it 😭

I also know I can't expect people to meet my needs and do the interaction the way I need them to go. I have to do what's expected of me and meet them in the middle instead of them meeting me. i've tried asking people to meet me in the middle and explained my needs and stuff, but that has lead me to being alone. so I cant expect or demand it. but I don't have the ability to give them what they want anymore 😭 "finding the right people" isn't something that just happens. it's not easy. see all the above to know why. I need them to find me, but know they won't. but I don't have the energy and ability to look and keep trial and erroring people for years and years straight...I'm out of options. no choices. don't know what do.

does this make sense?? words are hard

[zkes]

ACADEMIC PRESSURE AND STRESS: Welcome to High School

Academic pressure is a serious issue among high school students that affect their well-being.

Also known as academic stress, this is derived from the desire for perfection, parental pressure, demands of school works, assignment, exams, reporting, quizzes, and the desire to achieve academic goals.

High expectations from parents, teachers, and peers make students insecure, anxious and pressured which impact their mental health. Oftentimes, these pressures are compounded by other issues cause suffering to teenagers which include personal relationships, family problems, and health issues, among others. When left unattended, academic pressure can lead students to nervous breakdowns, panic attacks, burnouts, and depression.

They expect highly from me, "push yourself". I often find myself in a situation where I aim for the high expectations and destroy my mental health. If the first thing my parents ask me after a day in school is “how was your day?” instead of “how did you do on your math test?”, I feel like they place more importance on my grades over anything else. I believe I'm worthless if I do not meet my parent's academic (over)expectations.

I know that success is often measured in terms of the highest scores on the most difficult subjects and a number of extracurricular activities. "Anything better than failing". Despite of my hard work and effort, I'm plagued by the guilt that I'm "not good enough" or "have not done enough," I gave everything, my sweat and my energy I sacrifice my sleep and I couldn't eat at the right time for academic works. They said na “tayo ang gumagawa ng grades natin and nag eencode lang sila.” that words can't convinced me kasi hindi ako mag sasacrifice ng ganito for that undeserving grades, nasaamin nga ba ang mali?

Being bullied affect everything about me; how I see myself, my friends, school, and my future. Depression, low self-esteem that may last a lifetime, shyness, physical illnesses, and threatened or attempted self-harm. I experienced to miss school, I saw marks drop or even leave school because I have been bullied. Only when students learn to respect and accept each other will bullying become reduced?

Being backstabbed by those I thought were people that I could get along with. I stayed true and positive, yet unaware of how I became a topic of inconsiderate, untrue, and self-centered people. The kind of people that are two-faced being "good" yet talk bad whenever you're not around. People that will make someone you never met hate you. People that will even talk literally about how you fold your sleeves. I thank my friends as they are the ones that had believed and supported me throughout my Senior High Journey. My friends that will face and correct me whenever I did something wrong. My friends that became my helping hand on my problems, and celebrated with me on my success.

Through this journey I learned that, Don’t pressure yourself too much. This is one of the reason nowadays students experience they always pressuring themselves to be a better students but they didn’t know sometimes they forget to have a time for themselves to enjoy their teenage life. To lessen your stress and pressure that you experiencing, just enjoy every time you’re learning new things. Get some friends that can help you when you’re experiencing difficulties in your studies. And always seek help from Him.

[mabelpodcast]

ive been achieving my 'dreams' and doing things that make everyone around me happy and are supposed to make me happy but I'm still not happy. will i ever be happy?

Your answer is in two parts.

First: achievement doesn't always bring the emotions we expect. Meeting a goal can often lead to a feeling of dissatisfaction, especially if we place enormous pressure on ourselves ("once I finish this piece of art, I'm finally going to be proud of myself!"). Success is a process, not a place we can walk to. And sometimes the disconnect between what we expect to feel and what we actually end up feeling can be disappointing, frustrating, or even panic-inducing.

That

being

said.

If you don't feel any pleasure whatsoever at your achievements, if it's not just a case of "I thought I'd feel better than this" but instead an endless sense of dissociation and emptiness, if achieving your dreams causes you more stress and misery than even the smallest amount of pride and joy, then these are not your dreams. If you are measuring yourself against other people's milestones, no wonder you don't feel other people's sense of accomplishment. Your first step is to find out what matters to you. Your goals may not be other people's goals. Don't let a prescriptivist society rob you of your own happiness. An example from my own life: everyone I know, and most of my family, told me I had to get a college degree to be successful. But college was frankly horrible, and dropping out was one of the best things I could have done for myself. I have never once regretted it. You can always find your own way through the world. Give yourself the space to envision what that might be.

[leafstrippytrip]

Life, according to a 17 yr old boy.

Personally, I could never find myself to fit in to any religion. Christianity, Buddism, Islam. I could never picture myself faithfully, and more importantly, truthfully believing in such ideologies. But, I do believe that religion gives faith to the unfaithful and hope to the hopeless which is a magic in itself. The ability to conjure connections and string bonds from nothing still amazes me today, no matter how many times I try to digest it.

Atheist Thoughts

Absurdism

- The idea if life being absurd in general, and that life in itself is a black hole. Diving into such a hole searching for meaning will only scratch and hurt you.

Yeahhhh, this was Camus’s whole shtick wasn’t it? “Man is the only creature who refuses to accept what he is.” In a day of modern society, the Kafkaesque-ness of life and the mundanity of days, we are given direct goals and expectations to reach.

However, even stripped of these distractions and the confounding environment of modern society, man still strives to surpass. Surpass the other animals, surpass the previous generation. This pressure to succeed is amplified if your family are immigrants or have deep financial trouble. As the youngest myself and probably for many others of you, we have felt a deep debt to repay and a high expectation to justify our right to exist and our parents hard struggle to get us in this newfound country. In a more global sense, what a man slaves a lifetime away to only partly unveil a discovery or concept may turn into only tertiary level education 300 years later. That is the prime example of adaptation and the strength of humanity yet its biggest pressure. However, this poses a question we all ask time to time. Why not accept? Why not accept a bad grade or that you’re never going to succeed. And even if you do reach the top, you realize that nothing is waiting for you at the top. So you work and you work and you work. But for what? We are only temporarily motivated to work for little goals here and there. A leadership role here, an award there. Once you pay off your debts, succeed in every sense, you exhale a sigh of tiredness, for there is nothing to meet you at the top. But, maybe it’s better to not get too philosophical here (how ironic). After all, it’s the accomplishment of little goals and tasks and not the meaning that makes us happy. We continue everyday for achievement, not because of the bigger picture. And once we reset ourselves back at the bottom of the mountain, we’ll all happily roll our boulders back up.

Camus proposes that there are a few solutions to this conundrum of life. Suicide is not one as your freedom will be revoked, and you’re giving into the absurdism of life. Instead, we must do what man is designed to do. Revolt. Rebel against life and accept that the search for meaning is in itself meaningless. Absurd. Humanly impossible. Thus, to live absurdly is to accept that there is no greater meaning above the mountain top. Fate doesn’t guide your path since the path is fucked up since the beginning. Embrace the imperfections of life and accept the absurd.

However, my thoughts on the matter are that:

This idea of fulfilling expectations and acceptance reminds me of when m

Camus’s ideas directly conflict with extentialism

[sillybillycanadian]

TW: depression, sui ideation, the big sad, etc etc

I hate schoolwork. It’s petty, it’s silly, it’s beneath me, but I am so fed up with it. I am 20 years old and I haven’t graduated high school. There are so many good messages on here about not needing to meet any artificial timetable. That we can do things in our own time. But holy crap guys I’ve been stagnating for so long. I’ve been fighting an uphill battle with this part of high school for three years now.

I started homeschooling halfway through Grade 10. I have self-guided courses that I can do on my own time which still earn me credits to go towards my high school diploma. When I started, I was working at a pace that (if maintained) would have let me graduate a year early. I was masking ADHD, anxiety, and depression so all of that slowly leaked out. I was procrastinating, oversleeping some days then under-sleeping others. I developed an unhealthy habit of eating when I felt bored and like I needed a distraction. Some life things happened like my mom getting cancer (she’s alive and well, but her neutral state of “healthy” will never be the same) and my dad kicking out the three of us (mom, brother, and me) for a while because my dad and brother had a fight.

Those nights were the closest I got to killing myself. We had nothing but the clothes on our backs and some cash we were able to use for a hotel. He did this to his immunocompromised wife during the height of the pandemic. He didn’t care. Even when we were let back in the house (because we threatened to involve the police) he didn’t speak to us for days. I was hardly eating. A family friend talked to all of us over Zoom and referred to my dad’s doings as a “hiccup”. I want to be a forgiving person. I like to think that everyone deserves a second chance. But I can’t say honestly that I’ve forgiven my father. I don’t think I’ve even forgiven the family friend for calling it a “hiccup”. He probably didn’t even know the whole situation, but it stung so bad. And I hugged my father that day. As if it was fine. As if he doesn’t still scare me and I lose the air in my lungs when he stands behind me.

Ever since then my life has been derailed. In the summer of 2020 I started treatment for depression and anxiety. The summer I should have graduated. Some time in 2021 I was diagnosed with ADHD twice because the first person to do it never kept proper records and then left the hospital she was working at. So it was as if my diagnosis never happened. So 6 months after the first time, the second diagnosis finally happened. I’m on medication for it now. I thought it was helping, but I’ve been so useless again for months now and with no changes in meds to explain it. I also might have undiagnosed autism, which really stings because I was neglected when I was younger and the excuse was that my brother needed the attention since he’s autistic. Anyway. I don’t have the energy to shower regularly. I hate needing to make food for myself. I literally have two courses left then I’m done high school for good. 5 basic-ass assignments then it’s over. But instead I watch YouTube and try to make stupid music on my laptop to get a tiny hit of dopamine. I search “help” and sort by latest on Tumblr to see if there is anyone I can comfort or cheer up. Is it actually altruism? Or am I just so starved for attention and validation and companionship that I try to please anyone I can? Do I try to help others because I may as well since I’m the only person I can’t come through for?

With all of this, I have friends who are pressuring me to move out very very quickly. They know how much living at home is making me hurt and ache so I know they’re coming from a good place. But I can hardly take care of my own health and hygiene, how they hell do they expect I can take care of a home and hold a job?

That’s why I don’t just hate schoolwork. I definitely do, but that’s not all of it. I hate schoolwork because it’s a testament to just how stuck I am in life. In this one place. Writing a few sentences to an essay each day if I’m lucky. I hate it. I just hate it so much.

One of those friends. We like each other. So so much. We want a future together. Her and I. But she is one of the ones trying to rush me. I know we both want me to be in a good place before starting a relationship. But she also doesn’t want to be in limbo forever while I work out my issues. So it’s like an ultimatum. At this rate I need to move out in the next month or two or I’m gonna lose her for good, it seems. That’s as far as one of our mutual friends of the group knows. So now I have another point of pressure to get my act together before things crash and burn even more. But it had the opposite effect because I feel lost and stuck and like I can’t do anything.

This is just to vent. Cause idk what else to do than rant and maybe just maybe I’ll stop being a piece of trash. God. I hate myself so much rn. I’m such a stupid worthless prick. Dammit.

[peachesncrem-3]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

I’m looking at the muddy sky, dirty and gray, smelling clear as a crystal bell, but dull as a vocal point. I can feel its mourning dawning on me, and only for a moment I can feel my head intertwining its fingers with the fog, the clouds. Just a matter of seconds, I feel freer than the free. I look away from the sky and down at the crashing waves of the river below me, the bridge I stand on. I can feel my knees struggling to steady myself on the rail, the want to sustain myself was as prominent as the fish in the seas. 

But, my desire to just let myself fall was pulling me like a fish to water, I raised my arms slightly up, horizontally, I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with the sharp cutting cold air, my eyes crying from the emotional pain, of both winds, and I. 

I twisted myself to face the bridge and I fell backwards, and as I’m falling, as my hair is pressured by the winds against my face, my skin, I gasped. I didn’t expect that falling would feel like this, I thought I’d feel gone, like my soul would separate from my body. But, as I was, instead of feeling like that, I could feel my soul trying to cling onto my body, trying to come back to me. 

And I never felt the same again.

“Gail… Gail.” 

I look up from the floor, and make eye contact with Mister Von. He had his arms gently crossed but his husky figure contracted his muscles and made the veins tighten in his hands. I looked up again. “Yes?” I say ignorantly, as if I wasn’t zoning out whilst staring at my raggedy shoes. “You got your head in the clouds, what’re you thinking about?” Mister Von asked, leaning against his copper brown desk behind him. 

I slowly shook my head and cleared my throat. “Nothing- nothing. Sorry. Just…” I pause for a moment, what was I thinking about? “Just…?” He asked. I shrugged my shoulders, and looked down. “Don’t think of this as detention, because you didn’t do anything wrong. I just needed to talk to you about… Well, here.” He turned around and took a piece of paper from his desk and put it on mine. I looked down to see that it was my previous assignment from yesterday. 

I looked up confused. “What?” I asked. He leaned in and pointed at the last question, he read, “If you could say one thing you desire the most in your life what would it be and why… You wrote, and I quote, May My Bones Break Brief So I Can Be Lighter Than a Leaf.” My answer sent pins and needles through my eyes and around the inside of my skull, around my brain and down my body, with hot flushes. I slowly looked up at him, “Most people would’ve said their dream career, or to be with their crush, maybe even meet a celebrity both alive and dead. I mean, most answers were what I saw, but yours was not what I was expecting it to be.” He explained, taking back the paper and placing it on his desk as it was before. I swallowed the spit that was resting in the back of my throat. “Is that something that you truly want? It’s incredible I’ll say, but… What are you meaning when you wrote that?” I didn’t know how to answer him, I thought that what I wrote down would go unnoticed, but it didn’t. 

“What… What did you expect I’d write Mister Von?” I asked, and he pondered. “I thought you’d write something blunt, like for the weather to never change, to let it be always cloudy and gray like how you always address when I asked how you feel about the weather on the days that are.” 

I leaned back and rested it against my chair, I looked outside through the glass windows and saw the rain that accumulated since the first cloud I saw this morning. He’s right. But… “I guess I chose the greater of two evils.” 

“What does that mean?” He mumbled, I stood up and took my backpack off the floor and said, “Nothing, I just- I was thinking of something else when I wrote it, do I still get the extra credit?” I asked, and for a moment he just stood there before hesitantly nodding his head. “Then there shouldn’t be a problem.” I gently spoke before I started to walk away. 

“Miss Glassstone.” I turned to his call, “You write beautifully.” I smiled slightly and gently nodded my head to gesture my thanks to him before opening his door and walking out of my English class. I stepped into the clear and empty halls, I looked left then right and turned left. I pulled out my flip phone and read that it was three seventeen pee-em. I exhaled through my mouth and headed for the girls bathroom, walking into the empty and echo-chiming room. 

My shoes lightly scraped against the marble floors as I put my backpack on the counter, I leaned in closer in the mirror and pressed my fingers against the gray flesh under my hazel eyes and dragged them down to see the lower part of my eye balls. I released the pressure and my pale olive skin bounced back to its normal form again, just leaving a pink print in the shape of my fingers. My dull brown hair sticking to my humid and flushed face. I wet my lips and cleared my throat again.

I started humming creep by radiohead before taking out my ipod and actually playing it. I left my ipod on the counter next to my backpack and walked to the last stall, the song bouncing and dancing throughout the room. I lifted my sweater up a little to unbutton my low-rise jeans, I pulled them down and sat on the toilet. In all honesty, I’m a little grateful that mister von held me back just so I could pee peacefully without the disruption of other conceited girls crowding the mirror and stalls.

I stared at the bathroom floor as the song continued, I tapped my fingers against my thigh as I thought about my father’s car light being broken, I wondered if it was a hit and run, and whoever would show up at the doorstep asking for money we didn’t have. It makes me feel stupid for trying to hide bottles of liquor around the house, he’s lived there before I was born, knows the place up and down, left and right. My attempts are futile, and unethical. His roaring voice ringing in my ears from last night, intertwining with my dog’s barking behind the glass door. The bass of the electric guitar in the song dropped as I remembered him pushing me against the kitchen wall, making dishes fall from the counter. I would’ve slipped if it weren’t for his tight hold pressing me against the wall, head first.

I shake my head and rub my eyes, I take some toilet paper and wipe myself before standing back up, I flush the toilet before buttoning and zipping up my jeans. I walked out of the stall and came back to my stuff. I looked down at my ipod before hearing the door open behind me, I immediately pause the song and shove it in my pocket. I turn on the faucet and run my hands under the water paying no mind to whoever came in.

“Hey.” 

I slowly looked up from my hands and at the mirror to see a girl behind me, leaning against the wall, her hair was manually curled and had copper brown hair that shined her caramel complexion, her gray eyes bored into mine. “Hey.” I said back.

“What’s that song called?” She asked me. I turned off the water and pulled paper towels out and dried off my hands. “Creep.” I answered gently. She looked up and down and asked, “Who’s it by?” Her lips curl into a  coquettish smile. “Radiohead.” 

She hummed and frowned her lips, sort of an upside down smile. “You got a pen?” I looked at her and hesitantly I turned around and unzipped my backpack, I felt around and pulled out a blue one. “That’ll do.” She spoke before taking it out of my grasp, I hadn’t realized she walked closer behind me when I looked for one. She began to write on her right palm, she was a lefty. 

“You got detention too?” She asked while handing me back my pen. I shook my head, “Not really.” I answered, I closed it before putting it back. “Well- I do, the bitch Miss Stevens gave me it for being late to class, and what’s stupendous is that she always spends like a good 5 minutes talking about how she spent her morning, like… What’s there to miss?” She explained while she walked down to the last stall, but instead of going in she opened the window. I walked away from the mirror and counter and leaned against the wall, standing across from her.

She pulled out a pack of eagles’ cigarettes from her pocket, pulling out one with her teeth, in her left hand was her lighter. Igniting it she inhales before blowing out the smoke into the open window, the soft wind blows it away and makes her curls fall against her jaw. She kind of radiates… This citrus tone, like oranges or tangerines, sour and sweet. With her cigarette between her index and middle finger she looks at me and jerks her head, gesturing me to walk up to her. 

I return her coquettish smile before leaning on the window sill in front of her. I could see the song title written on her palm before looking into her gray eyes that were now bright. She offered the ignited cigarette and I softly took it and put it between my lips. “You’re so.. Sullen, but like… coated in a meek way though.” I looked into her eyes with my own before blowing out the smoke out the window, I shrugged my shoulders. I gave her back her cigarette. 

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Gail.” 

“...Clementine.”

I smiled, “See you some other time?” She asked, I nodded. She flicked the cigarette and closed the window. I walked back to the counters as she went into the stall. I took my backpack and left the bathroom. I stepped into the empty halls again only to run into Mister Von again. “Gail, you haven’t left yet?” He asked, we both continued walking. I shook my head. 

“I was making a phone call.” I lied, he stopped, and I stopped too. He raised his right arm and looked at his watch, “Quite the phone call, you phone your dad?” I shake my head, he then reaches down and my breath hitches, I look down and he picks cigarette ash off my sweater, pins and needles overwhelm my brain again as he rubs it in his fingertips. “Not what I’d call a phone call, would I?” I wet my lips before shaking my head, “Tch, tch, tch.” 

 “Look, I’ll let it slide this time, but that doesn’t mean I will again, okay?” I nod my head, relief engulfs me in an awesome wave. We both continue walking. “How long have you been smoking?” He asks, “Not long.” I answer. 

“Do you?” I asked, his head turned to mine. “Here and there, maybe a couple every week.” I nod my head. I would ask why I don’t ever smell it on him, but that would be weird. 

“Tea.” 

What? I look up from my shoes. “Tea helps dilute the scent. I smoke during my lunch break, and I drink tea after.” He looked ahead but I still looked at the left side of his face, stubble complimenting his jaw. He looked back at me. “Okay. I’ll remember that.” He slightly smiled, only one corner of his mouth curling. “Good.” We stepped outside, closing the double doors behind us. I could feel the cold and muddy air. “Do you have a scarf?” He asked, I shook my head. He pulled his own out of his bag, “Here, take this one.” He offered. 

I looked down as he held his black scarf in his right hand, I took it gratefully and smiled. “Thanks, Mister Von.” I said before wrapping it around my neck. I could smell a green tea and the smell of his cologne intertwine with each-other. It feels like a part of me yearns to hug him, I could feel it pulling me forward, emotionally. 

I flutter my eyes and mentally shake my head as we walk down the concrete stairs. “You can give it back to me on Friday.” I nod my head, brushing my fingers against the fabric. “No worries.” 

I turned left and he kept walking straight ahead where the parking lot was, and I walked home. The wind flew against my face and rest assured my neck was covered nicely, I continued down the sidewalk and some other people did the same headed towards home too. 

I turned and waited for cars to slow down, and as I did this I heard my phone go off in my pocket, I reached in and took it out, opening it I read, Dad. I answer.

“Hello?” 

“Hey- hey, don’t worry about the dishes, they’re clean. I cleaned up the kitchen too, nice eh? Look, I won’t be here tonight but I’m leaving 10 dollars on the counter so you can get some dinner while I’m out.” 

I hear his rugged voice explain, although I was relieved about the kitchen, I didn’t just simply forget about the night before. “Okay.” 

I hang up the phone and put it back in my pocket. By now the cars had stopped and I stepped onto the street and walked across to get to my house. I can already see my father’s car gone. Relief washes over me like a tsunami against California. I can be by myself for the rest of the day and even have my dog inside of the house. I can already see him trying to run to me but his leash prevents him from doing so. “Roger!” I call him, my walking speeds up. 

The doberman boy jumps on two feet, I feel around his neck and unclip him from the leash, immediately he whines in contentment and licks my face. I laugh and scruff the top of his head and give him a long kiss on it. I sit on my knees and he sniffs around my neck, a new scent mixing with mine. “Curious are you?” I ask playfully, he licks my forehead, the cut that I had from the previous night. 

I wince a little but I pet his head in remorse, last night was probably crazy for him as well, I still can remember the panic in his bark. He wines again. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay…” I mumble, not only trying to convince him but myself as well.

I stand back up and lead him back inside. I turn on the living room light and he jumps on the couch. I continue walking down and into the kitchen, putting my backpack on the table. I see the 10 dollars on the counter, but also with a 5. Tip money I guess. I take my phone out of my pocket and place it next to the money and yawn, I open the fridge and just stare at some old condiments and beer. I close the fridge door and turn around and walk out of the kitchen.

I turn and start walking up the stairs to my room. I’m thinking about sleeping through the day, I’ve just been so tired and I couldn’t sleep after that scene between me and my father. I could hear Roger follow soon after, I smile gratefully and walk into my room. He immediately jumps into my bed and I follow him soon after, kicking off my shoes I face-plant my pillow. I roll onto my back as Roger rests his head on my stomach. 

I rested my palm on his head, “I’m so tired Roger.” His ear twitches hearing my voice. I stare at my dull gray ceiling, and take a deep breath in and exhale. As I turn my head I feel something scratchy against my neck, I furrow my eyes in uncomfortable confusion and start taking off Mister Von’s scarf, flipping it over I see a tag that had not only his full name, but his address as well. Callan Von, 122 Baroque Street. This scarf could be of importance to him if he left his address on it. 

I scrunch it in my hands and turn on my left side, smelling in his scent, men’s cologne and green tea. Rodger adjusts his head to rest it on my calf. The cologne reminds me of my father, but the green tea reminds me of him, the weird mixture engulfs my brain with weird emotions, such as fervor and yearning for something fraternal . I exhale the scent I inhaled and close my eyes. 

I jumped to the sound of Roger’s bark, I opened my eyes seeing colorful dots in my vision and realized how dark it got. I repeatedly blink my eyes in a fast manner before turning around and look out the window to see that it got extremely dark out. I rub my eyes while hearing the sound of Roger’s wine as he scratches my bedroom door. I hadn’t known I even closed it. I try to stand up but I stumble in my steps and just collide into the door, wincing I just twist the door knob and open it.

In a haze I flip the light switch and look down to see that Mister Von’s scarf had twisted itself around my ankle. I bend down and unravel it, I drop it on my vanity. I enter the dim hallways and Roger just walks down the stairs faster than me. I exhale through my mouth and yawn. 

I’m not sleeping tonight. 

I continue walking down the stairs and through the window of the front door I see that my father still hasn’t returned,  I turn to enter the kitchen. I could still see the money, and where I left my phone. I take it and open it and see that it was… Five Ae-Em. Jesus! 

I can’t believe I slept that long, I turn to see Roger eating out of his bowl and I turn to the money that was put on the counter. It’s too late to eat dinner, that I know. Still, I take it anyway, and with my phone, I go back into the living room and fall onto the couch. I open my phone and see only one missed call from my father. I press the call button and bring it up to my right ear. I hear the vague ringing going on and on, until it’s picked up by the anonymous woman recorded. 

“At the tone, please record your message.” 

Instead I just close it and toss it on the table in front of me. I sigh and rub my face, not sure why I even tried. It’s like my father and I are everywhere all at once, but he’s not in the same place that I am at the time he is. It is as confusing as it looks and sounds like. I put my head in my palms and inhale, and shakily exhale as the knot in my throat tightens, I can feel my eyes sting and reddened and my hands shake as the emptiness makes the quiet louder around me. 

I swallow the knot in my throat and open my eyes, lifting my head. I see Roger walk into the living room, I look at him and he looks at me. “Who have I wronged for people to hurt me this badly?” I whisper.

I spent that morning on the shower floor, under the hot water bathing in it until it turned cold by the hour, staring at the white, at my pale feet. Hugging myself and resting my chin on my knees, hearing again and again Roger scratching my door. Then, I just got ready for school. That’s all of my mornings. Every night. Every day. Every moment I live my life is either quiet, or loud.

“C’mon Roger.” I call as I open the front door, he follows as I walk out. He walks onto the front lawn and lays down where the flowers are, he’s laid there so many times there’s an indent into the grass in his shape. I step onto the sidewalk and turn left. 

I wrap Mister Von’s scarf around my neck as I pass down the many houses on my street. I can see families helping each other put up fake spider webs and blow up serial killers, and hanging skeletons by the neck over their rooftop. I’d get excited for Halloween too if I had money. Or if I was a little girl again. 

As I continue walking I start to hear my phone vibrate, as I stop to go through my bag to answer whoever’s calling me I fall to the ground with a strong push, slamming my knees onto the concrete along with my palms, my phone falls out of my bag. With a quiet wince I look up to see whoever the fuck just pushed me. “What the hell!” I exclaim.

The man just kept walking as if pushing me to the ground was as sinless as telling a white lie. I looked back down and picked up my phone only for the vibration to end. It was my father who tried calling back. I sighed and rubbed my palms against my pants to get rid of the scrapes. I stand back up and put my phone into my pocket. 

As I look ahead I could see the man that pushed me down wrapping something around his neck which reminds me to touch my own until I realize that nothing was around it. The bastard took my scarf.

“Hey!” I cry as I speed up, he doesn’t turn his head and keeps walking until I come into his view. “That’s my scarf.” I tell the rugged man. “Not anymore it isn’t.” He simply says. “What the hell is your problem?” He stops mid-walk and looks down at me. “It’s mine now.” What the hell? I didn’t know what else to say but I reached into my pocket and took out 10 dollars from what my father gave me last night. “Buy yourself a scarf and give mine back please.” I offer, my left arm raised to hand him the money I’m hoping he’ll take. I really don’t want to explain to Mister Von that I let some stranger take it off me.

“It’ll cost more for a good one.” I scoff and reach to just pull it off of him in desperation but to his avail he pushes me again, I land on my back with a cry as I reach under it feeling that I landed on broken cement. He continues walking, focusing on the pain on my back. I won't try to protest again. I look around and realize that no one was even here to witness my situation with this stranger. I looked around on the ground and realized that not only did he take my scarf, but even took the money out of my hand.

“Damn it!” I exclaim and rest my face in both my palms. The pain on my back subsided only leaving the throbbing. If I didn’t try to take it back I would’ve still had the money for food today. How am I going to explain to Mister Von that his scarf got stolen, and to my dad about the money I didn’t even spend. 

I spent the rest of that walk to school burdening myself with self-shame, I should’ve just left it alone. I mean, what was I, of all people, going to do? Ask for it back? When that man went through the trouble of pushing me down twice for it. And even got money out of it. I follow the crowd into school, merging in with the others and going through them to find my locker. 

I walk up the stairs to the second floor and turn left, right at my locker. Approaching it I take my bag off shoulders slowly, quietly wincing as I could feel twinges shoot up my back. I open my locker and open my bag to take out whatever books I shoved in there yesterday and just put them in it instead. Leaving out Algebra, and my algebra journal. “Well hello, Gail.” I looked up to my left to see it was Clementine again. 

I smile a little. “Hey, Clementine.” 

She walks up to me with a grin. “Wish I was carrying a math textbook right now, I have gym first period, totally blows my every Wednesday too. I don’t like math, but I'm good at it.” She said, leaning against the locker. “I don’t like it very much either, but I’m not that good at it.” I admit, closing my locker. She shrugs her shoulders. “Math like that isn’t going to matter to you in about 5 years, unless you want to be a mathematician or something like that.” I look into those warm eyes of hers and jokingly scoff. 

Then I look back up and I feel that with this warm feeling I get whenever she’s around that I could trust her with miniscule things, for now. “Can I show you something? I just need to ask you for a favor.” Her smile subtly calms down and nods. “Sure, what is it?” I cock my head to the left where the bathroom is headed and we walk into it. Although a group of girls were crowding the mirror I led her to the last stall, with some odd looks. 

But, it’s a common thing, it wasn’t something I was worried about. She shuts the door behind her and I put my books down on the floor. God forbid I put it on the toilet seat. I look into her eyes before opening my mouth to speak, but she says “Are you okay Gail?” She asks, tilting her head to the right. 

I nod my head, “I just need you to look at my back, I… Fell while walking to school.” I explain while turning around. She slowly puts her fingers under my cotton white shirt and lifts it up, she reacts with her teeth and I could feel her face scrunch. “That was a pretty hard fall Gail, it’s pretty bad.” My back twitches in pain as I feel her fingers touch the wound. “Sorry, sorry.”

“What does it look like?” I ask. “It’s a big red scrap, it might even just bruise.” I shake my head and roll my shirt back down and turn around. “I’ll clean it when I get back home, thanks for helping me out.” 

“What happened?” She asks, leaning against the door. “I was… I was getting ready, and I slipped on my shoelace, and fell on the cement steps in front of my house.” I explained. Shaking her head she says, “Well, you’re not going to reach very well back there, why don’t you come to my house and I’ll help you clean it up properly?” She offers. “Yes, please.”  I answer fast, I hope that it didn’t seem desperate, or too quick. It’s been so long since I’ve… Not been in a dark and quiet home. “Give me your hand.” I tell her, I reach into my pocket for a pen. She gives me her right hand, and I could see a very faint word from yesterday. 

I wrote my phone number.

 She smiles, we look into each other’s eyes, pausing for a few seconds, although it felt like many, it was only 3 before the bell rang and made us jump. She turns around and opens the stall door while I pick my books up off the floor and we walk out and follow the small crowd of girls exiting the bathroom.

During lunch I spent whatever money I had left on a sandwich and a cookie from a vending machine, in 11th grade there are only 17 students, and most go out to eat, so like everyday I spent my lunch below a large window that faces the dull gray sky, every now and then you see leaves fly by. I put my bag down below my stool and put my food in front of me. I took out my phone to see if I could text my father. 

I text, Will you be home soon?

Closing my phone I set it aside before unwrapping my sandwich, resting my chin on my left palm I take a bite watching everyone else sit at their tables, hearing the clasps and collisions of their trays hitting against the tables every now and then, even the banging of the edge of their trays against the plastic of a garbage can. 

I look back down and pick up my phone, seeing he texted back. I open my phone and read, Not tonight, kiddo. Maybe tomorrow. 

Where does he go these days? I hate being alone, my home just feels like this hard thick knot in my throat that I have to swallow to keep these tears at bay, like this makeshift gauge. I can feel my eyes sting a little, so I began to text him. When will you be back? 

“Hey.” I look up from my phone to see a tall, lean and pale boy, his hair dyed a jet black and his nails painted the same color, he carried a tray with his right hand while he carries this ragged old bag on his left arm. “Hello.” I say.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” I shake my head. Sitting down he adds, “It’s the emptiest table.” I nod my head swallowing my bite. “You’re right, are you new?” I asked, he looked up from his tray and shook his head, his black hair covered his cornflower blue eyes. “It’s just, I wanted to switch classes, I’m in 12th grade, but 11th grade has the only creative writing class so I transferred to that one.” 

“Mister Von’s class?” I asked. He nods his head. “Well, I have that class at the end of the day.” 

“Me too.” I smiled a little, “Do you- do you like to write?” I asked. He nods his head. “What’s your name?” He asked me. “I’m Gail.” 

“Like the nightingale?” 

I shake my head, “No, it’s with an I.” I explained. “Oh, well my name is Ravin.” 

“Ravin?... Like  the Raven?” He exhales a small laugh and shakes his head, “No… It’s with an I.” I smile, and he smiles too. I look under the table to count all the rips in his jeans, and sit back up and say, “A bit cold isn’t it?” He tilts his head to the right with a little smirk. “Nothing I can’t handle, Gail.” I imagine a butterfly appearing in my stomach, like warping itself out from its original state of its cocoon and flying around, exploring. 

We parted ways for our own classes. I didn’t see Clementine for the rest of that day, and I spent my last class with Mister Von in the shadows, although Ravin was late, I’d occasionally exchange looks from him from time to time.  I was nervous about how Mister Von would  react to his scarf being missing, I should have been more careful with it, and because I was feeling this way I didn’t make eye contact with him. Instead, I just spent my time looking at the pattern of the wood on my desk, making weird and odd faces and shapes. And when he’d pass papers, I could feel him spend an extra second on putting the paper on my desk than everyone else's. I know he wanted me to look at him, but I couldn’t bring myself to. 

The bell rings and it pulls my head from the clouds, I lift up my pen and realize that all I was doing was creating an ink stand in the middle of my sentence. I sighed and folded the piece of paper and put it in my bag, hanging it on my shoulder. I hear, “C’mon Gail.” I look up to see Ravin gesturing for me to come out of the hallway. I begin to walk out until I hear, “Gail, can I talk to you?” I stop in my tracks. I slowly turn around and nod, looking back at Ravin he nods and starts walking. I turn back to Mister Von. “Yes?” 

“Let’s talk.” He simply replies, curling his fingers up and down. I walk up to his desk. “What’s goin’ on? You had your head down this whole class.” I shrug my shoulders. “You wanna talk bout’ anything bothering you?” His voice makes my skin bumpy and my heart skip. I look up as he slicks back the black curls from his face. Just looking into his dark brown eyes makes me just spill out like a cup of spilled milk. “I- I lost your scarf, Mister Von.” 

He leans in from his laid back position. “What happened?” He asked me. “This man, this morning he pushed me down and just took it off me, I tried to bribe him with some money but he took that too.” 

“Are you alright, Gail? Are you hurt?” I shake my head, “Not really, but your scarf, it’s gone.” He huffs, “Oh, Gail. I hope you know that I’m not mad at you, or upset. It’s just a scarf, I’ll get a new one, I’ll get you a new one too.” 

I look up from his desk and into his eyes again, he smiles and nods, telling me he means it. I smiled, “Really?” 

“Really. That wasn’t in your control, it wasn’t your fault.” He explains, standing up, he walks around his desk and in front of me. “If something happens like that again, don’t hold it against yourself, just talk to me about it, alright?” I nod my head, “Good.”

Although I felt this odd urge to hug him, I kept myself at bay, because that itself would be odd. But, he pulls me into one instead. Although it felt nice to have his arms around me, it was short lived when I winced, making him stop. “Are you alright?” 

I quickly nod my head. “Sorry- sorry, I just have a… scrape on my back.” I told him. “Oh, I see.”

In the distance, at the doorway I see Ravin. I start walking away before saying, “Bye, Mister Von.” 

“Bye, Miss Glassstone.” 

I walk with Ravin down the now empty halls, “I waited because I thought I’d ask for your number.” He tells me. We slow down and I stop. “Sure.” I mumble, I reach down and take his left palm into my own, taking a pen from my pocket, he looks down at me as I write my number on his head. “There.” I say before closing the pen, I look up and he smiles. “Cool, thanks Gail. I’ll call you when you get home?” 

“Well, I might not be home after this but you could call me around 7?” and he nods. “Sure, I won’t forget.” 

Ravin went his way to where he lives, and I went towards mine, although I did get a call from Clementine when I saw my house in the distance. “Hey, Gail. You’re still coming right?” 

“Yea, yeah sure.”

“I can pick you up, what’s your address?” 

I cleared my throat and hesitated, I didn’t want her to see where I lived, what my home looked like. I didn’t know what else to tell her either. “Uhm, you know what, I’ll just meet you at this stop, it’s…”

I looked up at the sign in front of me. “Bere Street.” 

“Okay, I’m getting in my car now, I’ll be there in like… 5.” 

I close my phone and turn to see a bench. I walk up to it and sit down, leaning my back against it. Before putting my phone in my pocket I felt my phone vibrate, I opened it back up to see my father finally replied to me. I read, Whenever I want to. 

I shake my head, I reply, I need money for food. 

I close my phone and put it in my pocket. I look up and to my right I see a car slow down in front of me, it was a small pink one. I can see Clementine roll down her window, and she exclaims, “What’s a girl like you doing all by herself?” I scoff and start walking around the car and open the door, sitting down in the passenger seat. “Just waiting for her white knight.” I answer sarcastically. She laughs while I close the door. “It might just be your lucky day.” 

She starts driving again. Her car smells like somewhat of a beachy side glass of lemonade, it smells good. Very neat, classy. Her steering wheel is customized with this pink cheetah pattern. “My house isn’t far from here, I use this street as a shortcut actually.” She explains before turning right. “Me too.” 

“I have a first aid kit in my bathroom sink, I don’t use it often, well, I don’t get injured often.” 

“Well…” I begin to say, I thought I’d just say I don’t get myself injured too often either, but as I remember what my father did the other night, and what that stranger did to my back, I kind of caught myself. “Nevermind.” I said instead. I feel my phone vibrate and I take it out of my pocket so I can read my father’s reply. Figure something out, I read. I just stare at my phone, not knowing what to say to that, how to even react, am I surprised? No. No, I’m not. I could feel this hunger in my stomach churn itself into nausea. 

“Everything alright?” I look up to Clemintine who looks at me for a second before looking back at the road. I nod my head, “Yeah, yeah.” I shake my head before closing my phone. I pull my back off the floor and put my phone in one of the pockets. The car slows down and I look at her home in front of us. It was really nice, a nice suburban home, she had a garage too, and the bushes in front of her porch were trimmed regularly. “It’s really beautiful.” I comment. “My mom’s a lawyer, and my dad’s a welder.” We step out of her car, “They’re not here, during the weekdays they work until 9.” She explains as we walk up the steps to her door. “Do you miss them?” She shakes her head before taking a key from under the doormat. “On the weekends they make up for it I guess, I mean, I like being alone, lot’s of freedom.” 

She opens the door and I follow her in. It was spacious and her interior was painted with this pale blue that brought light to her wooden floors, her living room was carpeted too. It was really nice, leather couches and everything. “Just follow me into the upstairs bathroom.” 

I put my bag down on the ottoman next to the front door and followed her up the stairs. The stairs don’t creek. We walked into this bright hallway, it was spacious too. We passed many doors until we walked into her bedroom. “I didn’t have a chance to make my bed this morning, I was late because I forgot to replace the batteries in my stupid alarm.” She explains, I shake my head. “No worries, it’s okay.” I reassure her. I mean, she had this queen size bed with two nightstands beside it, her laptop on her own desk and a closet with two doors. Her walls were painted a subtle pink shade that complimented the blue carpet under her bed. 

It was really pretty. An unmade bed was the last thing I noticed. “Here, take off your shirt.” She suggests while walking out of her bathroom with a bottle of peroxide, ointment and a big bandaid. “Thanks for helping me out.” I say before taking off my shirt. I sit on her bed while she sits behind me. “Like I said, your white night to the rescue.” She jokes. I giggle. 

She moved my hair to the right and I could feel her finger tips against the large scrap, it was cool. They move to the opposite side of my back, and I turn my head a little. “You know, you have a bruise right here… and here.” I closed my eyes, it was really nice having someone gently rub their fingers against your skin. Especially if you don’t get it often, it deprives you. “I uhm, I tripped over my dog, Roger. It was a couple days ago, really.” 

“Ahh, okay. Roger did a number on you.” I nod my head, I could hear a bottle shake a little before she pressed a damp cloth against the scrape, I cried out feeling it sting. “Oh shit, sorry. It’s- you know, cleaning it.” I shake my head. “It’s okay, it’s fine. Just, maybe a warning.” I suggest, I feel her nod. “Yeah, yeah okay.” 

I felt another cold sensation on my back but it didn’t sting this time, my guess was the ointment. “You eat, right?”

“What?” 

“I dunno, I mean, you’re really skinny. Which isn’t a bad thing or anything, I mean, you bruise easily and-”

“Yeah, I- I eat… I guess.” 

“Well, we could order pizza or something after this.” 

“Sure, that’d be great.” 

Eventually she finished, she put a large bandaid on my back and I took my shirt off my lap until I saw that a few holes had torn through the fabric. “Shit.” I mumble. “What happened?”  “Look.” I pass my shirt to her and turn around, sitting back down so I could face her. She laughs. “Well, well. I could lend you one of mine, what size are you?” She asks before standing up and walking to her closet. “Uhhh…” I look on the back of the shirt. “Medium.”

She scoffs and shakes her head, “Yeah right- here.” She tosses a light brown shirt with some gems on it. “It’ll look cute on you.” 

I put it on as I can kind of feel it cling to my waist, “It’s supposed to crop above the pant line to show your low rise jeans. Show your figure.” She explained it to me. “Thanks, Clem.” I say while shoving my old shirt into my bag. 

[thattransgirl89]

By Diana Tourjée

Owen’s girlfriend never expected to see transgender porn on his phone. No one knew he’d been hiding his attraction to trans women since middle school. Despite the discretion, deep down, Owen optimistically hoped his fear was unfounded; “I always figured she'd find out and be so accepting that I’d feel like I never should have hidden it,” he said. He was wrong.

Instead, Owen's girlfriend was devastated, the 22 year old recalled. At first, she cried and interrogated him: Was he gay? Was she just a prop for him to look straight? Why did he hide this from her? Then, she got mean. Over the course of a month, Owen said she used his sexuality as a weapon against him. According to Owen, she pitilessly mocked him, remarking on how disappointed he must be that she doesn’t have a dick. He obviously “wanted to be a bottom,” he recalled her saying; to “get a good fucking.” Sometimes, when they were intimate, Owen said that she would climb on top of him and mockingly simulate fucking him in the ass.

She ended the relationship in March. Though she didn’t say, Owen knows why: “What did my attraction to trans women have to do with my attraction to her, a cis woman?”

Owen lives in Upstate New York, and was taught to respect trans people from an early age, he said. But the shame he received from his girlfriend made him question himself. “I immediately tried to change, [after] six plus years of loving myself,” he said. “I unfollowed all the trans girls on Instagram and Twitter.” He stopped watching trans porn, too.

But abstinence was ineffective. “It just made me desire trans women more,” Owen said. “I couldn't go back.”

He’d love to have a healthy, public relationship with a trans woman. But it feels unlikely. He doesn’t really know where to meet trans women, and if his next girlfriend is a cis woman, he expects to keep this secret from her. The trauma of being shamed by his ex has marked him with paranoia. If found out again, he’s afraid he’d be ostracized completely, “scarlet letter style.”

Owen is one of countless men who are attracted to trans women but are too afraid to say so publicly. I’ve reported on this for years, but the coverage rarely draws these men out of hiding. In July, though, an interview I conducted with four straight guys inspired many such men to speak up, across the internet, onto countless social media timelines, and in emails to me. Their reasons for hiding may seem obvious, a blend of homophobia and a fear of being stripped of their masculinity.

But there is another source of pressure to conceal trans-amorous desire that may be even more powerful, yet has long gone unspoken. I have seen it myself many times over since I first transitioned—and I saw it again quite recently, wrapped up in many of the notes men wrote after reading my article. They had all been impaired by the same, devastating rejection by cis women in their lives.

Owen’s story is the most typical example of this rejection, and perhaps the most damaging, but the stigma against trans amory is much more complex than that story alone.The rejection doesn’t always come in the form of transphobia. Sometimes, it’s a matter of misguided advocacy.

Allie, a 31-year-old cisgender woman in London, was in an open relationship when she learned her boyfriend was attracted to trans women. At first, she wasn’t upset. Allie has many trans friends, and considers herself an ally. But her commitment to that alliance began to disrupt her understanding of her partner’s sexuality. Allie began to worry that her partner was a fetishist, dehumanizing trans women as sexual objects—what’s known in the LGBTQ community as a “chaser.”

That’s shorthand for “tranny chaser,” a term referring to men who secretly fuck trans women, and fetishize us as pornographic fantasy objects: chicks with dicks self-created for male consumption. This is how we’re typically treated by men, and have been for decades. Understandably, many trans people reject empathy for them. We’re forced to endure expansive social assault every day, while they literally hide from it. Trans culture is defined by resilience, theirs is defined by fear and a pattern of sexual discretion that at best breeds mutual loneliness, and at worst violence.

“I was really concerned that having a specific attraction to trans femininity meant essentially disqualifying trans women from total womanhood,” Allie said. “An attitude I saw on the internet a lot was that anyone who was specifically attracted to transness or trans people was a chaser, and that chasers are gross and horrible and objectifying.”

Rather than outright, angry rejection, Allie told me that her failure to her partner was more quiet, spread over time. “This little internal conflict I was having was actually on a path to destroying my relationship,” she said.

This is the danger in stereotyping all trans amorous men as chasers. Many are just discovering their sexuality, or finally want to be honest about who they are. They may well be living with severe anxiety or depression due to their reasonable fear. So the outright rejection of all men expressly interested in trans women ultimately alienates whatever number of trans amorous men are capable of, or actively are trying to overcome that fear. The men in this article are not chasers. They’re an example of people who desire an authentic, fulfilling connection with trans women; rejecting them has only caused harm.

Allie finally realized the unfairness of her position. “Like a lot of imperfect people who want to improve the world, I am imbued with a sense of moral outrage that sometimes inadvertently motivates me to speak over the people I'd want to advocate for.” People like the trans woman that her partner is currently dating: “If she feels loved for who she is in every way, including for her transness, and doesn’t mind that my partner likes that about her—then how the fuck is it my business?”

Although well-meaning, Allie said she now realizes that her thinking was flawed and based in the idea that anyone who loves trans women is abnormal—an idea nearly as harmful as thinking that trans women themselves are abnormal.

“They're two sides of a coin,” Allie said, “the total value of which is that transfeminine people have desire for them negated completely.”

Whatever the motivation behind the rejection, it’s clear that the shaming can have deeply harmful, lasting, and violent effects—for both men, and for trans women.

For Lucas, a 40-year-old man from Brazil, the consequence has been a lifetime of depression. He’s been attracted to, and dated, trans women since he was a teenager, but, neither friends nor family knew or know about it, he said. In 2011, he began experiencing depression, which he attributes to “a long time hiding and not having anyone to speak about my attraction and involvement with trans women.” At that point, though, it was manageable.

Then, in 2013, Lucas fell in love with a trans woman named Natasha. “At the time we met, she was in prostitution, and I was a client,” he said. “We became friends and went to the movies, bars—just regular things every couple does.” It was the happiest time of his life.

After a year of dating Natasha, Lucas was tired of hiding, and felt it necessary to finally share this increasingly important part of his life with another woman he loved: his sister. Like Owen with his girlfriend, Lucas optimistically hoped that his sister would accept him. Instead, she went into a rage. She said she couldn’t understand why he was “doing this to her and to the family,” he recalled. She threatened him, promising that his “life would be ruined” and that his whole family would turn their backs on him if he didn’t end his relationship with Natasha. He believed her. “I thought I was the worst person in the world because of what my sister said.”

Horrified at the thought that his sister’s promise of ruin would come to pass, Lucas set fire to his life. In the days and weeks that followed, he slowly removed himself from Natasha’s life. But Natasha, he says, was obviously the one, and pushing her away tore him apart. He began thinking about suicide, and has continued contemplating it ever since. “I could not carry on,” he said. “[My sister’s] words marked me for life.” His sister never mentioned it again. “I regret the day I spoke to her about it.”

Today, Lucas has a son, and fears that openly dating a trans woman would negatively impact his son’s life. He says he’s shared his attraction to trans women three times in his life and has received a negative reaction every time. “So it just feels like you are alone, and will have to deal with it yourself for the rest of your life.”

Lucas used to be a relatively healthy, happy, handsome man in love. While his sister has spent six years forgetting what she said, he has struggled with the desire to end his life. “I take medicine to get out of bed, and to go to sleep,” he said. “I really wish the world was different. I feel like I am an actor living a soap opera in which I hate my character, and what he represents.”

[godsbutterfly]

“Happiness Comes From God: A Mom’s New Year Reading Plan.” By Karen Stubbs.

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.

We are all needy people. We look all around us to find people or things to fill our needs. We look to our finances to buy us things to make us happy, our husbands to make us feel valued (or special), a career advancement to make us feel important, and our children to make us feel loved.

But these things will never completely fill the void inside of us because God did not create them to fill us; only He can do that.

In order for me to find true happiness in life I need to acknowledge a few things:

I am a needy person.

Even though I try to fill the void in my life with material things or relationships, they will never fill that void.

I need God and must ask Him to meet me where I am and to fill me with His fullness.

Once I come to grips with these truths, I am ready to tackle the problem of my neediness and constant discontentment issues. But I must be honest with myself first.

After you declare your empty state to God, ask Him to fill your void. Ask God to quench your thirst to be valued, listened to, and acknowledged by your loved ones. God may use your husband to fill a need in your life, but realize that God is the ultimate giver, not your husband.

In viewing the world this way, you will take so much pressure off of your loved ones and begin to accept them as they are instead of placing unrealistic expectations on them all of the time.

Pray this today:

I acknowledge today that I am a needy person. Father, I ask that you will meet me where I am, and fill my every need. My natural tendency is to look to my husband or my children to meet my needs, but God, I am realizing I should not do that. I must look to You. Give me discipline to reprogram my mind to follow after You and to look to You for my happiness.

[steelbvtterfly]

Greetings mobile-bound friends and compatriots! Thank you for stopping in, here’s what you need to know (this list is abridged from the main pages for brevity’s sake).

Rules

1. No smut. Fade to black will be employed as needed, but I expect that to be rare.

2. I will never ever make you write something you aren’t comfortable with. If there’s something you want me to stay away from in threads, let me know and I will. If a thread is angling towards something that makes you uncomfortable, let me know and I can change it. If I even just write a reply and you don’t know what to do with it, let me know and we can work it out!

3. This is a multiverse blog! All threads happening in a given verse have the same verse tag but all ships are happening in separate versions of each verse unless discussed beforehand. Aeira also may not necessarily live in the same place in all versions of a given verse.

4. Mild ‘godmodding’ is permissible as long as you aren’t speaking for my muse or filling in her thoughts - if you aren’t sure, just ask!

5. All of my icons are found in various places and edited for hair color when needed by me.

Mun Info

Hi! I’m Tass, 30s, she/they, and I’m in the Central time zone in the US. I’ve been RPing since 2010, on various platforms. I’m terrible at picking icons. I love new friends so feel free to come say hello!

Muse Info

Aeira was born on April 15th in California, her parents’ first child. As such, there was a certain amount of pressure placed on her to be the Good Daughter, especially after her sister came along and she had someone to Set the Example for.

As she grew up, she found that her inclination wasn’t to follow in the footsteps of her mother down a path of softness and alternative medicine. Instead, she found herself drawn to the city, and to the rush of fighting. As you might imagine, this didn’t go over so well with her mother

In main verse, she is 23 years old, cis female, straight-ish, and single (by choice but not necessarily by desire).

side note: aeira is 'mostly fandomless', but takes a brief dip into the world of Old Gods of Appalachia when she's about 18.

Writing Resources

important ooc posts open starters memes plot wishlist desires tag (includes wanted opposite FCs) writing tag (just threads!)

Verse Info                

Main:    {&silent screams and wildest dreams}

Aeira lives in a relatively small town, in a house that doubles as her practice for the alternative folk medicine that she learned from her mother at a young age. After trekking from one side of the country to the other mostly on foot (and all that came with it) she finally settled down on the east coast. She will help anyone who comes to her, whether that’s with her strength or her softness, and her home is always a safe place to rest.

Travel:    {&miserable and magical}

This verse covers the time from when Aeira runs away at 16 until she reaches the east coast of the US when she's almost 18. Interactions can take place at any point in her travels, both before and after the biggest event that had the greatest impact on her (but you'll learn more about that in threads) and can be of any number of different sorts! She meets all kinds of people in her travels, so there's room for just about anyone.

Uni:    {&americana exotica}

In this verse, Aeira didn't run away at 16, instead finishing her schooling and going on to become a kinesiology major at a college on the east coast (literally the opposite end of the country from where she'd grown up) with intention of applying it in some kind of physical therapy career down the road. Thread can fall at any point in her time at school, and all forms of connections to her are welcomed!

The Old Guard / Immortality:    {&wolves in the shadows}

In this verse, Aeira is an immortal in the style of The Old Guard (because I'm trash and I can't help myself). She dies in the midst of the trauma she endures in the Rocky Mountains during her travels, but comes back. Whether she finds more people like her or just has to learn to cope with potentially being mostly alone for the rest of eternity depends on how interactions play out. The possibilities are endless.

Grisha:    {&what trouble might you make ~ ravka}

Aeira’s basic Grisha plotline, wherein after a childhood spent moving around quite a lot, Aeira runs away from home as a teenager, ultimately finding herself in Ketterdam and then, with some outside help, in Ravka. Crossing the fold doesn’t exactly… go to plan. She survives, but only just, and bears the scars of the endeavor afterwards.

    {&even songbirds must be survivors ~ privateer}

After escaping experimentation in Shu Han, Aeira does whatever it takes to get out of reach. Whether by skill or by luck, she got far away from there, far enough that she didn’t stop for any real length of time until she’d made it to Ketterdam. The urge to run, the need to get away, hadn’t yet faded, and so she attempted to stow away on a ship there… Attempted being the operative word. Ultimately she managed to land herself at least a short term place on the Volkvolny, which later became far less short term.

     {&brave and clever and strong ~ ketterdam}

Ostensibly Aeira’s in Ketterdam this time for the university, but anyone who knows her will tell you she can’t keep herself out of trouble that long. This is the only verse where she has the room to press the boundaries of what her Grisha abilities - technically a Durast, she quickly bleeds into Alkemi, then figures out tailoring after that, and once she’s gotten that far, little to nothing can stop her from testing the limits even further.

Faerie:    {&shimmering beautiful}

In this verse, Aeira is a changeling child, glamoured to look human, a replacement in exchange for a human baby. For most of her life, she has no idea what she really is. As a teenager, she learns the truth and ventures back into the world she was born into to find the girl whose place she took, bringing her back to the family she was meant to be with all along. And since she's never fit in around them, Aeira sees no reason to stay after doing so - she goes back to learn as much as she can about what she really is. By present day, she's learned enough that she's comfortable coming and going, visiting the human world as often as she can.

Mer:    {&in the shallows}

In this verse, Aeira is a mer, but she’s not part of a pod. At one time, this wasn’t the case, but after a series of events chipped away at the family, the numbers dwindled until Aeira was the last one left. Rather than seek out a new pod to join, she’s opted to stay on her own, exploring wherever she likes. Key points about the mers in my mythos: mers have a lot of impact on the weather of the coastal areas, especially those who are the leaders of pods; mers can change into something resembling a human if they are outside of contact with water, but the process isn’t pleasant; physical touch is a big deal for mers. 

And I think that about covers it! Thanks for coming to my TED talk  read this info, I really appreciate it! Hope to see you around!

[duchess-marie]

who is Mr. right?

Have you ever thought of who could be out there waiting for you?

I’ve read a lot of love stories, and stand-alone books romance genre and watch a lot of chic flicks to last me a lifetime but none of them compared to reality. Of course, whenever someone or my friends open up to me about their partners and now celebrating how long they have been together, there is this dull heartache inside that I couldn’t help to also want one for myself.

As I enter my early 20s and am still single in my 2nd semester of freshman college, there is this peer pressure of wanting to find Mr. Right while still in college. Why? I don’t know if it’s because the real world sucks after college? it’s because I don’t know what the fuck I’m about to do once I graduated instead of just focusing on my career? Or maybe the ache of having someone in my life could change me? It’s just that ever since I got into UPLB (University of the Philippines Los Baños) all I could think about is finishing up college, don’t fail, focussing on my studies, don’t FAIL, and lastly NOT DISAPPOINT YOUR DAD.

Now that’s where this topic of finding who the f is Mr. right, the main problem, the one, and only my dad. You see my dad hated the thought of us “dating” at this age, especially since he never had a son, he’s fucking strict about it and even made a rule of “no boyfriends till you graduated”, literally all girldads would feel this way because of thought their daughters are growing up. I’ve rebelled out in my time as a teenager when it comes to the dating game, but mostly it was just for the hell of the experience considering how fucking sad that I never had an “18″ by 1D person.

For instance, I’m a hopeless fucking romantic, I have high standards for a guy, I have expectations of what is to come, and have a very hard time being in a committed relationship. You see I’m in love with the idea of being in love. That phrase, I’ve read in every romance genre book I’ve read, even imagined myself that I’m that woman playing in my head whenever I read specifically the ones that have sex scenes haha.

Who is Mr. Right? When will you come into my life? How many prayers would I have to do and say to the lord, “Lord, pa-jowa ka naman? yung decent, matalino, pogi, mabait, may takot sa dyos, and someone who would treat me like his princess.” Yes, princess first as his “future” girlfriend then queen when the time comes.

Whoever you are maybe someday I’ll meet you hopefully before graduating college that is.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Worth the Risk | Bodhi Rook x Reader (1/2)

Words: 1970

A/N: Ey, guess who's back with the rare posting again. This was in my draft for a while, along with many others, but I finally got something done.

Summary: Childhood friends separated at a young age, never having a chance to say goodbye. They had gone on different paths of life, but the Force had brought them together years later, only to miss the opportunity to either say goodbye or stay. The Force works in mysterious ways, and if was meant to be, then they may meet again for the third and possibly final time.

Continuation to [Run Away With Me]

-

Bodhi’s friends watched as he flitted around the U-Wing, busying himself with tasks that were unnecessary and repetitive. Chirrut seemed to have already known why he was acting odd, but he would simply say to give it time. Jyn made sure to include him with meet ups with the other Rebels and there were times where he accepted the offer, though he’d end up keeping to himself. Over time, he had been opening himself to others and talking more again. Still, there was something that he had not been telling anyone. It was no secret to the Rogue One crew that he’d always pause and stare up at the stars longingly.

He had been cleaning up his cargo ship for the second time that day when he heard a knock at the ramp. He turned and saw Cassian leaning against the ship with his arms crossed. The captain’s eyes roamed around the ship before landing on the pilot.

“We’ve got a mission,” he said.

Bodhi nodded. “When do we start?”

“In forty-eight hours. The details will be sent to your datapad tonight. Make the necessary preparations before meeting here.”

“Alright.” When Cassian didn’t move to leave, Bodhi walked up to him and cleared his throat. “Is there anything else?”

“We need you to focus on this, Bodhi,” he said, “No more staring at the stars until the mission is done.”

“I know that-”

“We almost got caught because of your distractions!” Cassian snapped.

Bodhi sighed, taking off his goggles and tossing them on the side. He slumped down on a bench and Cassian moved forward to join him.

“I thought I lost them. (Y/n). We had lost contact for years and now that I know that they’re actually out there…”

Cassian patted his back. “The Rebellion keeps tabs on their allies. We know how to contact them when we need them and they are free to come back any time.”

“Why did they leave?” Bodhi asked quietly. “They could have stayed. You know, I ran into their parents once when I was still an Imperial cargo pilot. I had stopped at a planet for fuel when I saw them at the local market. They were like family to me and helped me when I had to take care of my mother. When I saw that (Y/n) wasn’t with them, I asked. They said that they hadn’t heard from them for a while, but there were always credits flowing in to keep them going and even buy a house. It was the only way they knew that (Y/n) was alive. Still, I never thought I would ever see them again.”

He raised his head as Cassian stood up. “You’ll see them again,” he said firmly with a faint smile before heading out.

For others, Cassian didn’t seem to be the type of person for warm words of encouragement or sentiment, but for those who knew him well knew the truth. When it mattered, he was always there for his team. So if Cassian Andor said that Bodhi would see (Y/n) again, he believed it.

-

It had been almost two weeks since Cassian and Jyn began working undercover to trace back black market exchanges with Imperial associates. Bodhi had also been doing his part as a stranded tradesman who had a nasty encounter and was forced to be grounded until he could fix his ship. He lingered near the docks and watched who came and went and what they were carrying.

Bodhi had come back from the local farmer’s market when he saw a familiar ship landing two spaces away from his cargo ship. A tall rusty red droid walked off the ramp first, followed by a hooded figure. A man waited at the end of the ramp and immediately greeted them. He took out a datapad and began walking with them towards the nearest tavern as the ramp raised. Bodhi quickly dropped off his things and followed them at a distance.

Night had fallen by the time their meeting was over. The man left first, subtly looking over his shoulder before heading out. You and Desa lingered, finishing up your drink as you discussed the offer.

“Is he still watching?” you muttered at Desa into your cup.

“Yes.”

“What do you think we should do? This is important information. Giving it will help the Rebellion, but it will paint a big target on our heads and we’ll stray further from being neutral.”

“I’ll follow whatever decision you choose, (Y/n).”

You sighed, setting down your cup. “Of course you’d say that. Let’s head back.”

You left the ramp down as you Desa took stock on your current inventory. While you were noting down your rations, Desa made her way over to the ramp where Bodhi stood with wide eyes. She gestured for him to come in and waited to close the ramp behind him.

“(Y/n),” Bodhi said softly. “I…” He trailed off when you didn’t budge. Desa made her way over to you and took over your task, giving you no excuse to avoid him.

“Here on rebel business?” you asked, finally turning to face him.

He nodded. “What about you?”

“Needed to stop by for some supplies and then meet with a potential client.” You paused to take in his face. “How’ve you been?”

“Pretty well. Honestly, hoping to run into you again.”

“Why?”

“You’re my best friend… were. And also, for an explanation on why you always left without saying goodbye.”

“The first time wasn’t my fault,” you pointed out. “The last time was all me.”

“Is it foolish to hope that that was also the last time that you’ll do that?”

He stepped closer, heating radiating off his body and warming you. When was the last time you allowed someone this close to you? All you were used to now was the cold steel of your ship and Desa’s metal hand when she’d steady or reassure you. Seeing him this close in such a long time, you could see he was older. The stubble and moustache, the faint lines forming near his eyes and his mouth. From laughing, you hoped. But his eyes were still the bright eyes that you’ve known him to have. But he was no longer the Bodhi you used to know, you reminded yourself.

“And for what reason would I completely side with the Rebellion?” you asked, side-stepping him towards the chairs behind the cockpit. You sat down with a sigh, leaning back and propping your feet on the chair across.

“It’s not like you’re with the Empire,” he countered. “Especially not after what they did to our home. To your parents.”

Your head snapped up. “What do you even know about my parents.”

“I met them while I was still under the Empire. They told me everything.”

“Then you know why I’m doing this. This whole line of business to get us by.”

“Smuggling refugees was never a part of it, though, was it?” You remained silent, staring at the metal wall with your arms crossed.

“When Galen Erso sent me on a mission to deliver a message to Saw Guerrera, I felt like I could finally take a hold of my fate. I was no longer just a pawn being played in this war. The people of the Rebellion… they chose to rebel, to fight back against the Empire. Just ordinary people that saw the injustice happening in the galaxy and decided to do something about it. If that’s not what you are doing, then what is it?”

You couldn’t keep a neutral expression up, not around Bodhi. Not after giving his little speech with passion in his eyes, the same way that he used to have when he talked about flying to reach the stars. That was all so long ago.

You dropped your feet and curled them under your chair. Bodhi took it as a silent invitation to take a seat. “Is there a place for me… in the Rebellion? It all seems… I don’t know. This is war, and having attachments would only hurt you in the end.”

Bodhi sighed, scooting at the edge of his chair to gently lift your head up, his fingertips burning your skin. “Love and hope is what’s keeping the spark from burning out against the darkness that the Empire is spreading. We’re so close to ending this. I can feel it.”

After leaving the Rogue One crew, you wondered what would have happened if you had stayed. It felt that there were loose ends to tie before you could make a decision like that. Besides, at the time, you felt like you could do more by being out there on your own terms instead of following orders. You could always feed them information if it was important enough without completely joining them.

“Why are you so against joining us?” Bodhi finally asked.

There was a muffled sound coming from Bodhi’s hip that drew your attention away. You pulled away from him and nodded over to his communicator. He pulled his lips into a thin line before answering it, moving over to another corner of your ship. You heard Desa, who had been giving the two of you space, come over and lay a cold metal hand on your shoulder.

“Your heart has already made a decision, but your mind is trying to fight it,” she said.

You placed your hand over hers and sighed. “We’ll give them the information, then we leave,” you said quietly.

“(Y/n)-”

“My family has had a target on their backs for a long time and I’m not going to have them a target again. They’ve finally settled someplace. I don’t want them to pick up all of their things and go on a run again because of me. They just can’t keep doing that anymore.” You rubbed your temples in frustration at the thought of what you were about to do. Again.

Bodhi finished up his status report with Cassian before turning to the ramp. The mission was being wrapped up and he needed to start up the ship as soon as possible. But first, he needed to know where you stand.

“(Y/n), I have to go,” he said slowly, adjusting the goggles on his head.

“Oh,” you said, your throat tightening as you walked over. You grabbed your datapad and scrolled through until you found your recent client. “Before you go,” you paused to clear your throat and push down the anxiety threatening to spill out, “There’s a man that came to me to retrieve specific weaponry similar to the models on Imperial vehicles. Not sure if it relates to what you guys are looking for, but I thought it’d be worth investigating.”

He grabbed the datapad and scanned through the information. “Send this to me and I’ll bring it up with the crew,” he said, handing it back. When you reached forward to grab it, he laid his other hand on yours. “So, this is it? At least I could say goodbye, right?”

He looked at you with those round eyes that were always filled with passion and longing to fly and reach the stars. Yet now, they seemed to be longing to reach something else. Your heart was torn. As soon as he walks out of your ship, what if this would really be the last time you ever see him again? Was it a risk to let him into your life again and let him get this far? Would it be selfish of you to join him? All this time, everything you did was for your family.

“Be safe out there, Bodhi,” you said softly, slowly pulling your hand away, the warmth leaving with him.

His brows furrowed, then he shook his head. “You, too, (Y/n).”