#it's november!!! you know what that means!!!! ....school work hell

[breezy-cheezy]

Wow, October's over already?? Ok here's not-whumptober art LMAO

Cute lil Sanji from my read-through of One Piece that I redrew and colored :> (it's my discord PFP now) It's also getting heckin cold where I live so I felt this was appropriate to share, whew...

[heeliumhaze-elle]

close friends

「synopsis」 — after running into her extremely toxic ex at jake's birthday party last year, y/n seemed to disappear off the face of the planet. the only traces of her were her instagram story posts during her month-long trip to the states at the start of the new year. but other than that, no one had seen or heard from her since that night in november. the boys have speculated that it was because of the run-in with k all those months ago; however, when something y/n posts on her 'close friends' story begins to circulate through their group, they grow increasingly suspicious and angry over their speculations. ... except something about all of this doesn't sit right with heeseung. 「warnings」 — mc suffers from depression & struggles with thoughts of suicide, the boys are kinda petty assholes imo, cursing. please dm me if i missed anything! 「word count」 — 4923 words 「author's note」 — lowercase intended. only slightly proofread. no real plot, rushed ending - like seriously i didn't know how to end it so i just did... this is my first story, so i'm really nervous, lol. this is all fictional. the way the idols are portrayed in this story does not reflect how i view them by any means. 「dedication」 — this story is dedicated to my friend ani - may you always remember that you are never alone, not anymore.

"can you fucking believe her?" asked sunghoon, staring at the screenshot on jungwon's phone.

jake and jay agreed, peering over sunghoon's shoulder to get a better look at the photo. sunoo, who sat opposite the 02z, let out a tired sigh while ni-ki, who sat on the tabletop between jake and sunoo, massaged his temples. meanwhile, jungwon looked at his hyungs uneasily. heeseung wondered if he regretted asking if y/n was okay.

heeseung kept his gaze fixed on his friends as they continued to skim through the now-infamous screenshot.

"literally though, like what the fuck are we then?" ni-ki asked. "how dare she."

"god, no! and then to re-add us to her 'close friends' as if nothing happened," jay added. "like jungwon wouldn't have said anything to us."

"right?" sunoo said, rolling his eyes as he read through the post. "as if he wasn't going to tell us! like hello? he's our best friend!"

"it's like it was about us," jake said. "i'm not here to play these games. if she has a fucking problem with us, she needs to just fucking say so. we're not in high school anymore!"

"... well, except ni-ki," muttered sunoo.

jungwon let out a nervous sigh. "guys, i didn't mean to start anything-."

"no!" jay interrupted. "jake's right. we're all old enough. she needs to use her fucking words. she has a problem with us, just fucking say so. don't fucking act like we're all 'good' when it's clearly about us."

"because what the hell did we ever do to her?" sunghoon demanded.

all the while, jungwon's phone was making its rounds to each of the boys. and soon, the phone was in heeseung's hands. he was finally able to read the screenshot that started this entire uproar.

... and he was gutted.

"my sleep schedule is so fucked as of lately. all i do is lay in bed for 85-90% of my day. i can't keep pretending i'm jet-lagged from my trip to the states. i desperately crave to get out of the house to do things with other people, but i literally have no friends here — outside the ones that i made at work. even when i try to do things on my own, it's just so mentally taxing that i end up sleeping for 24+ hours after attempting to make myself feel better. it's a lot, i guess.

"... if i wasn't so afraid of death and dying, then maybe-."

heeseung felt his heart drop. he forced himself to stop reading; he couldn't continue, knowing that's where y/n's mind went.

how long had y/n been feeling this way? was there truth in what the other boys were saying? was this post about them?

shaking his head, heeseung refocused his attention on his friends. they all sat around him, angered by the post that y/n had made just the day before. the only person - save for himself - who wasn't mad about what y/n posted was jungwon. but heeseung couldn't tell if that was because he was still able to view her close friends story on instagram or if jungwon was genuinely worried about y/n.

even if the post was about them, heeseung told himself that that was the least of their concerns. the only thing that mattered to him (and he was surprised that his friends didn't seem to think similarly on the subject) was how y/n felt.

as the others went on to bash y/n for posting that and not being upfront with them about her feelings, heeseung handed jungwon back his phone.

"like honestly, i thought we were friends. what is her problem?" sunghoon circled back.

heeseung stood from his seat at the park table, white-knuckled fists suddenly clenched at his side. he startled the others with how abruptly he got up, but he didn't seem to care. "are you all fucking hearing yourself right now?"

"did you not just see what she posted yesterday?" jay asked.

ni-ki looked up at his hyung and added, "and she's so messy for re-adding us to her close friends list. if it wasn't for jungwon hyung, we wouldn't have ever seen this. so i bet she thinks she got away with talking shit about us like that."

"that's exactly what she was thinking!" jake chimed in.

heeseung didn't stay to hear what his insensitive friends had to say next. he simply told the five of them to "fuck off" and bid jungwon goodbye before storming off from the scene. as he neared his car, he reached for his phone from his back pocket; he wanted to text y/n. he needed to! however, upon closer inspection, he realized that his phone was out of battery. and of course, today was the day his car's charging cable broke!

groaning to himself, heeseung let himself into his vehicle and just drove. with his phone dead, there was no way for him to reach y/n to give her the heads-up that he'd be arriving anytime soon... but he also figured - given what he had read only minutes and minutes ago - that she would be home regardless.

his thoughts drifted back to y/n. he kept wondering how long she had been feeling that way. he wondered if she felt lonely because while she was locked away in her apartment, the rest of them were still going to each other's houses and planning group excursions... excursions, heeseung came to realize, that y/n wasn't invited to.

fuck! he thought as he came to a red light. if that post truly was about him and the rest of the guys, was it not deserved? he thought back to all the times that they went out without inviting y/n and he wondered if her fomo eventually got so bad she thought that they had silently kicked her out of the friend group. no... there's no way she thought that! right? y/n had a lot more sense than to think that a few outings without her meant that they no longer wanted to be her friend. right?!

the light stayed red as heeseung's mind swirled with several different thoughts. there was more to the post. heeseung knew that. granted, he didn't read it as thoroughly as his friends had, but he had skimmed through it quickly enough. the others were so hung up on the fact that y/n said she didn't have any friends; heeseung also guessed they were angry over the little bits of text that followed her dark thoughts. but... was she wrong to say all those things? the other seemed to think so. so much so that they completely ignored the blatant cry for help that was the entirety of y/n's post.

when the light finally turned green, heeseung couldn't stop thinking about the first line of the last paragraph. "...if i wasn't so afraid of death and dying, then maybe all of this would be so much easier."

in the three years that heeseung had gotten to know y/n, he had to admit that he was very aware of how dangerously dark her thoughts could be. there were moments when he wouldn't hear from her for weeks at a time. he remembered how y/n would lament on the droves of friends she had lost in the years prior because they hated when she would fall into her slump. after all, she wouldn't text anyone for days at a time; he recalled how when she recalled those memories, it somehow always ended with the friends telling her that she was selfish or that she wasn't trying hard enough to get better.

heeseung quickly parked his car in the guest space of y/n's apartment complex. from his spot, he could see the curtains of her bedroom window weren't drawn, but the window was cracked opened ever-so-slightly. he found himself devising a plan b in case y/n didn't come to the door and it involved somehow shimmying up to the second floor and busting through her window.

without another moment to lose, he rapidly bashed his pointer finger against the doorbell. at least if she was sleeping, he was certain that this'd wake her up!

not even a minute had gone by when y/n flung her apartment door open. heeseung took in the sight of her. her hair, a tangled, matted mess. if he had to guess, he assumed her knots were much worse at the back of her head. he noted that the fullness of her cheeks had vanished. she looked so gaunt compared to the last time he saw her; he wondered when the last time she ate was... or at least when the last time she ate anything of sustenance was.

y/n looked at heeseung with tired eyes. she frowned for a moment, only to replace it with a sad smile.

"have you come to air your grievances with me in person?" she said in a strained whisper.

if heeseung had been gutted before, he had no idea what this new feeling was. whatever it was though, it shattered whatever was left of him. he had known y/n to have horrible episodes of hopelessness and defeat, but this was too much for him to bear. he couldn't even begin to imagine how she was feeling. she was a shell of herself.

"... what are you talking about?" he asked gently.

"i just thought..." y/n let out a deep, long sigh. she looked down at her hello kitty house slippers, not finishing her thought aloud. she tightly wrapped her arms around herself as she stroked her right upper arm slowly.

instinctively, heeseung removed his coat and draped it over y/n. her bloodshot, tired eyes looked up at him once more. he wanted to hold her. to make her feel his warmth. to make her feel his love. he just wanted her to see she wasn't alone anymore.

"you just thought what?" he asked as y/n ushered him inside.

she shut the door behind her and wordlessly led him to the small couch in her living room. heeseung saw the nest she had created for herself with her blankets, pillows, and plushies in the dark space. the only source of light came from her muted television, which was currently airing reruns of old cartoons from the 1990s and the early 2000s. there were torn-up bags of chips (some empty and some half-full), unfinished, open bottles of soju and cans of beer, and a plethora of takeout boxes scattered around her little nest across her tiny coffee table. trash and dirty laundry lined the floor around her couch.

"sorry about the mess. i haven't had visitors in over six months now..."

six months. the last time anyone had seen y/n had been over seven months ago. sure, they had seen her posting all about her trip back to the states a month ago, but no one had physically been in her presence in over half a year. heeseung wanted to kick himself. why hadn't he visited sooner?

"no... please don't apologize-."

"i'm embarrassed," she whispered, trying to make space on the couch by tossing all of her used bedding to the floor.

heeseung stopped her in time, insisting that it was fine. after all, he had been the one to show up unannounced.

"what were you talking about before, y/n?" heeseung tried holding her gaze, but she quickly averted her eyes to her slippers once more. "what grievances are you talking about?"

every sigh that escaped y/n's lips was a dagger to heeseung's heart. he watched as she struggled to find the words to say. sensing her panic, heeseung guided her into her cocoon of blankets - making some room for himself as well. the two of them sat side-by-side in silence. he could wait all day for her to reply, especially if it meant not leaving her alone in this state.

"your friends," y/n reached for her phone from the recesses of her blankets, "they all texted me these paragraphs about something that i posted privately yesterday."

WHAT?!

heeseung could feel his blood boiling. "how do you mean?"

PARAGRAPHS?!

y/n unlocked her phone and handed the device to the man beside her. just as soon as he got a hold of her phone, she quickly retracted her hand and brought it to her eyes, rubbing away at them.

heeseung first watched as y/n began to curl up into a ball, then he directed his attention to her phone. upon first glance at her message app, he noticed that there were three circles pinned to the top: two group chats - one called "ohana 👑" and the other "the tortured poets department 🖊️" - and a silly selfie of him and y/n with the nickname "evan lee 💜" plastered just below it. a blush danced upon his cheeks at the sight of it all.

however, the warmth in his cheeks lasted for only a millisecond as his eyes fell just below their text thread; it appeared that ni-ki, jay, sunghoon, jake, and sunoo all sent messages to y/n in the time that it took for heeseung to arrive. heeseung tapped at the most recent of the texts, sunoo's. he repeated the process with jake's, sunghoon's, jay's, and finally, ni-ki's texts. with each scroll through of texts from his friends, he found himself getting angrier and angrier at them. especially after reading y/n's responses to each of them.

it was hard to tell tone over text, but heeseung knew his friends well. each message to y/n was crafted uniquely and in the sender's own words, but the gist of what they were saying was all the same.

they each started their message by telling y/n that they had been with jungwon the day before and how he had asked them if she was okay. they all state that they didn't know what he could possibly be talking about until jungwon mentioned that it was in reference to her instagram story - a story he failed to mention was only for close friends.

jay and sunoo went on to say that they didn't mind that they couldn't see her story; y/n was allowed to pick and choose who she wanted to see those stories. jake, ni-ki, and sunghoon - on the other hand - took major offense into not being able to see her story, considering "everything" they had been through "together with k". they all mentioned how deeply hurt they were by the fact that y/n said she had not friends. ni-ki had gone as far as to say, "i thought that me and the hyungs were your friends. but i guess not, huh?"

they then followed up their emotions with the same statements they were exclaiming at the park, about how if y/n had something to say about them to just outright say it and not dabble in this "high school bullshit and make everyone play this stupid game where they have to figure out what the hell it is they did wrong" (as jake put it in his text). in sunoo's message, he claimed that he was only reaching out to y/n because he wanted to be upfront with her and couldn't think of a single thing he might have done to offend her. jay and sunghoon continued to stress the fact that their text wasn't meant to be read as an attack, but they "wanted to be adults about the situation instead of resorting to petty, childish drama" because they too couldn't think of anything to warrant such a post from y/n. ni-ki drew from the fact that he and the rest of the boys were hurting over this and how it was "shady and cringy" to post a story like that on her social media account; he accused her of just wanting attention because he "didn't do anything wrong" so for her to post that with the implication that he had irritate the maknae to no end.

just like that, each of them wrapped up their lengthy chunks of text to y/n with such vitriol that heeseung couldn't believe that these were his friends. he knew they were coming from a place of hurt, but he was surprised that they didn't see y/n's post for what it truly was: a cry for help.

instead, they turned her raw emotions into their hurt egos. they decided to take bits and pieces of y/n's story and mold it into this narrative where she attempted to assassinate their characters. it went from being a post about how utterly depressed and pathetic she felt to being a post about them.

and heeseung was livid.

with all of them.

when had they become so self-important? if they were truly y/n's friends like they had so furiously claimed to be, why hadn't any of them asked if she was okay? even jungwon failed to ask her, opting instead to ask his hyungs and ni-ki - which, arguably got everyone in this mess in the first place.

heeseung felt his mind drift back to y/n's reply to each of the boys' texts. while he didn't read every single one, he did read the only one that got a text back, y/n's text to ni-ki. it was a long, heartfelt apology from y/n; heeseung could see how this whole mess was tearing her up inside just from her words to ni-ki alone. but he got even madder when he got to her parting words, only to see that ni-ki had replied with, "k. thanks for reaching out. i just need time for myself if i'm being honest. bye."

before he could say anything, heeseung was brought back to reality when he caught y/n silently sobbing into her hands from the corner of his eye.

"i'm sorry!" she whispered. over and over again. each time more broken than the last.

heeseung gently pulled her closer to his chestm cradling her to him as he rubbed his thumb against her back in an effort to comfort her. "you have nothing to be sorry for..."

"i hurt everyone's feelings-!"

"fuck them," heeseung growled, holding her tighter. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry that they let their egos get in the way of being decent human beings. i'm sorry that you've felt so alone for the last few months. i'm sorry that i haven't shown up for you in the way that you needed someone to be there."

y/n cried harder. "i... i... i... i didn't... i didn't mean..." her hiccups were affecting the rhythm of her speech. "i didn't mean that... that we weren't friends! i just... i just felt-."

"shhhh," he soothed as she shuddered under his embrace. "we haven't been very good friends to you as of lately, anyway. they're like my brothers and i love them, but those messages alone... we haven't been decent friends to you. i can understand how easy it is to feel like you're this lonely, little island, especially when the rest of us are still going out and making no effort to see how you're doing.

"i saw their messages to you. in ni-ki's case specifically, i scrolled up a little too far and saw that you've spent the last half of these past few months messaging him little things like tiktoks and memes only for him to like them or reply to you with one word. have you been reaching out to the rest of the boys?"

he felt her nod against his chest.

oh... so he was the only one to not have heard from her. the green-eyed monster crept into his thoughts momentarily, only for him to realize that the others' text threads were probably just as dry as ni-ki's.

"i'm really sorry that i didn't reach out to you sooner," heeseung sighed. "i really don't know what i was thinking. i'm sorry that you've felt so alone."

once y/n had calmed down enough to stop her hiccups, she excused herself to grab a glass of water. she asked heeseung if he wanted anything while she was up, but he declined - instead offering to get the glass for her. she appreciated the gesture but went to get the water herself.

this moment alone left heeseung in his thoughts again. he didn't want her to have to recount anything to him if she didn't want to, but he still needed to know. in her text to ni-ki, she said that she hadn't meant to keep jungwon on her list of close friends. that what she posted hadn't meant to be for the people she had met in south korea; it was for her friends back home - as a way to vent out the frustrations she hadn't known how to put into words for her korean audience. these frustrations, from what heeseung could gather, were things she wasn't ready to tell him or the others.

but the others had practically forced it out of her in her apologies to them...

... and ni-ki had the gall to tell her that he needed time and space from her. the rest left her on read - as if only turning their read receipts on for this moment alone.

heeseung could feel himself getting worked up all over again. gripping tightly at the fabric of his jeans, he sat up straighter when he heard y/n coming back to the darkened living room.

"i'm sorry," y/n whispered as she neared him.

heeseung stared up at her helplessly as she sat beside him. "no, there's nothing to be-."

"i meant to take all of you off my 'close friends' list. it wasn't because i didn't think we were friends; there are just some things from my past that i'm not ready to talk about with you guys yet-."

"and you don't have to! i'm sorry that the rest of them think that you owe us that..."

"i mean... they thought it was about them; they just wanted to clear things up and let how they were feeling be known," y/n said with a sigh, pulling heeseung's coat closer to her chest. "i offended them. i respect them from being upfront about their feelings-."

"IT'S FUCKING BULLSHIT!" heeseung stood up to face y/n. "WHY ARE THEY ALLOWED TO EXPRESS THEIR EMOTIONS LIKE THAT AND YOU'RE NOT?"

regret washed over heeseung as he noticed y/n's sullen eyes widen. she bit her quivering lips and heeseung wanted to punch himself in the face.

"sorry," he muttered. "i didn't mean to blow up like that. i just..."

heeseung knelt before y/n.

"no, it's okay," she said, avoiding his gaze.

"it's not... and what the guys did isn't okay either. yeah, they confronted you because they thought it was about them and they want to clear the air, but there's a way to go about that. and for ni-ki to go off on your like that only to leave you with that 'i need space' bullshit of a text-."

"he's just a kid."

"i get that, but i have no idea where the boys get off with being so... i don't know... vain? for lack of a better word. their reactions just feel so... guilty. as if they had done something-."

"i was being extremely vague in my post."

heeseung took y/n's shaking hands, finally holding her gaze as she looked at him. she seemed shocked by the physical interaction; he wondered how long it had been since she had touched another person outside their hug minutes ago.

"exactly! if it wasn't about them, but they somehow found a way to relate to it? i don't know... again, i think they're acting out of guilt," heeseung caressed the back of her hands with his thumb.

y/n gave heeseung a sad smile. "i get their side. with the way i worded everything, i can see how they relate what i wrote with the way everyone handled everything between k and me a few years ago."

heeseung felt y/n rip her hands away from his as she buried her face into her hands. sitting back on the couch, he pulled her into another hug; she didn't seem to be crying again, but he couldn't be too sure anymore. y/n hadn't mentioned her past relationship with k since their nasty breakup, but he remembered how unbothered she had been upon seeing him seven months ago at jake's birthday party. he also remembered how angered y/n had been - despite being unbothered at k's initial presence - because he attempted to approach her while she was alone at the open bar, grabbing refills for heeseung, sunghoon, and herself.

"... did the post have anything to do with k?" heeseung asked. he felt her go stiff at the mention of her ex-boyfriend before shaking her head against his chest and letting out a small sniffle. "okay, then? so the boys had nothing to worry about. it's just this huge misunderstanding. if they want to hold it against you, fuck 'em."

"i still really hurt their feelings."

"you apologized. did they?"

y/n pushed heeseung away to hug her legs to her chest. she shook her head. "but... a selfish part of me really feels like i'm owed one."

"it's not selfish - especially after you cleared it up with them. they jumped conclusions and said extremely hurtful things to you. if they truly did no wrong - which who knows, maybe they didn't do anything wrong! - i don't know... maybe they shouldn't have been so defensive. i don't know! maybe it's just me... but their behavior is downright embarrassing!"

with another sigh, y/n leaned against heeseung, who instantly wrapped his arm around her; it felt just like before, like no time had passed between the two of them. like there wasn't this mix of guilt, hopelessness, and despair in the air between them.

"embarrassing?"

"how else would your describe it when you make someone else's trauma and hurting about you?" heeseung asked, giving y/n's shoulder a tight squeeze. "y/n, i know you. i know you're not going to hold this another the boys, but i think their reaction to all of this is downright stupid. you talked about some pretty serious stuff in your post, but they pushed past that to complain that you might have posted about them. that doesn't sit right with me-."

"it's not that deep, hee-."

"except it is, y/n! this is exactly what happened with k hyung after you two broke up and more recently after jake's party. specifically after jake's party, you posted something privately about how hard things have been on your end and how it was affecting your mental health; someone shared it with him and he confronted you-."

"k apologized-."

"but then he immediately turned the conversation into 'i'm sorry, but also you hurt me!' and then you two only focused on his feelings!" heeseung thought back to that time. "i just... i feel like the boys took whatever was posted in the wrong direction. and even then, it wasn't even aimed in their direction to begin with! there are worse things to be done and that have been done than taking someone off your story then putting them back on..."

y/n pressed herself closer to heeseung as he continued.

"and honestly... whatever was actually said in your story was so much bigger than their feelings being hurt, y/n. because we both know that wasn't what it was about."

"hee..."

"look, i know... i know that you never meant for any of us to see it, but we did. and instead of seeing it for what it was, most of them made it about themselves. and i'm sorry for that. i'm sorry that we haven't been good friends to you lately - to the point where you felt like we weren't your friends to begin with. they're allowed to be hurt over it if they truly think that it's about them, but they can't just ambush you like that and then close the discussion when you clear the air and open it up for them. honestly, with the way all of this was handled, i wouldn't be surprised if you still stood by that statement! it's almost like... at every turn, you're reprimanded in some way for posting about your feelings. someone always has to take it out of context and make it about themselves.

"you literally told every single one of them that it had nothing to do with them and they have the audacity to sit there and say that they need time away from you? again, that doesn't sit right with me! why are you made to be the problem in every situation you're stuck to struggle with!"

there was still so much more heeseung had wanted to say, but the sounds of y/n's violent sobs had stopped him. she began to wail into his chest again and she squeezed him closer to her. heeseung felt his heart breaking as he looked down at one of his best friends. she wept loudly, screaming incoherent phrases into him while heeseung held her tightly.

"i'm sorry," heeseung whispered into her hair, pulling her onto his lap. "i'm sorry that i wasn't there for you before... i'm sorry that it's taken me so long to see how much you've been hurting. i'm sorry for everything. but i'm here now."

[jessicaloons]

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince:

Chapter 1

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Miss Americana

May 2019:

"And you’re sure you can handle it? I mean working here and college?" Peter Hastings was a nice, middle aged man, looking for a new nanny for his 6 year old son, Gabriel.

"I’ll wake him up at 7:15. Make breakfast and get him ready for school, drop him off at 8:30 and go to my classes. At 3 I’ll pick him up. Help him with his homework. Soccer on Monday and Wednesday. Piano lesson on Tuesday. Prepare dinner. Make him bed ready and then you’ll take over. Monday till Thursday. Fridays I’ll pick him up at 12. We’re going to the park, museum, zoo whatever. Have lunch and I’ll bring him home by 4, where you take over. And if you need a babysitter on the weekends, you’ll call me." Rachel repeated the schedule Mr. Hastings had presented her with, hoping he would hire her.

"Impressive. Well your report looks great, I understand why you’ve got a scholarship for the MCPHS. I’d say you’ve got the job." Mr. Hastings smiled at the girl.

"Thank you, Sir! Really!"

"Gabriel liked you, you have strong ambitions. I think you’re perfect. Now let’s talk money, shall we?" he clapped his hands and Rachel nodded.

With a full scholarship and a well paid job that still gave her enough time for her studies, she could start saving up money to get the hell out of Woburn, after graduating from college with her nursing degree hopefully.

"I know this was not what you applied for, but I’ll ask anyways, if you say no, you’ll still keep your job starting in fall!" her new boss said and she looked up "My current nanny, well she left, family emergency, so I would need someone from now on, during the summer until you’ll take over at the end of August. I know, you just graduated and probably already planned your summer, but I thought I ask anyways. Again, feel free to say no, the job is yours regardless. It’s only one more month of school and then it’s… well a full day job, I’m off for the entire August, but before that I’m loaded with events here and there…"

"I’ll do it." Rachel said immediately, every reason to leave Woburn earlier was a good reason.

"Yeah? You sure? I mean like I said, you don’t have to!" Mr. Hastings said but the girl shook her head.

"No it’s fine. Really. I have nothing planned. And like this I can get used to Boston."

"You can stay here. Our old nanny has her own studio in the backyard. That way you don’t have to drive every morning from Woburn to here."

"Are you sure? It’s no problem for me to drive!"

"With traffic in the morning you’ll be in the car for an hour or longer. That’s ridiculous. Come on I’ll show you the studio. You could even stay there when you start college. Thinking back to my college times? The dorms weren’t the nicest place to stay." he laughed and got up, leading the young girl outside through the kitchen.

"I mean. I haven’t seen my dorm yet… but from what I’ve heard, yeah, not the nicest place to stay indeed."

The studio was clean and modern. A kitchenette, a table with two chairs. Sofa, TV and a bed. A little bathroom. It was definitely more quiet and private than any dorm at her college.

"Are you sure it’s okay?" the girl asked.

"100%. It’s yours if you want it. Free of charge. You just have to keep it clean yourself. And if you want to bring friends over, just give me a little heads up."

Free of charge. The money she would safe. Only paying the tuition fee. The rest of her scholarship could go into her savings as well. She could leave home earlier than planned. It couldn’t get better than this.

"I guess I’m moving in then."

November 2021:

Rachel always dreaded driving home. The rare occasions over the past 2 years where she had driven home were all proof why it was better to stay away. But something in her father’s voice when he asked her if she would come home for his birthday gave her the chills. When she parked her car in the driveway of her rundown childhood home, she felt the pit in her stomach grow. Calming down her nerves she opened up the door, walking inside. The house smelt rancid. A mix of liquor, smoke and bleach.

"Dad?" the girl walked inside the dark living room when suddenly the light got switched on. She flinched looking at the man sitting in the armchair facing her.

"If it’s not Miss Americana fresh off of college." Tony.

"Where’s my dad?" her voice not as strong as she hoped.

"Come." he got up and dragged her outside with him.

"Stop. Tony! Let go of me!" Rachel tried to get away from him.

"Get in the car. You can do it on your own or I’ll make you." his jaw clenched.

The girl got inside. Shaking.

"Where’s my dad?" she repeated.

"Your dad… he pissed off a lot of people… he was a capo once… but his drinking? Mamma Mia… he became useless the day your mother died… fallen from capo to soldato… and now? A shame really…" he sneered.

"What did he do?" Rachel asked with a shaking voice.

"Oh bella, you know I can’t tell you. Otherwise I’d have to kill you. And I really don’t want to kill such a pretty girl." he laughed and the girl swallowed hard "Just know that he owes a lot of people a lot of money…"

They drove to Winchester and the girl knew immediately where they were going.

"When was the last time you were here? When your mother died?" he asked, although he didn’t sound one bit empathetic "A long time ago… then again, it’s never a good sign if you have to go to Winchester… our family parties are usually held somewhere else…"

The driveway up the hill to the dark manor made Rachel’s insides churn.

"Get out." Tony parked the car and she did as told, following him inside.

"Oh Rachel! Mia bellissima ragazza! Look at you! What a beautiful, beautiful young lady! You should look for a girl like her, Anthony, not the skanks you’re going for." Rosaria Romano pulled Rachel in her arms, before kissing her cheeks "The last time I saw you was before you left for college and now look at you! You’re skinny! Don’t they feed you well at college? All the money they take and then not feeding their students? Che cavolo! You’re staying for dinner! Anthony, tell your father I’m feeding this sweet girl first, before he can talk to her!"

"Mamma! She’s not here to eat!" Tony grabbed the girls arm, but he shrugged away under the cold, hard gaze of his mother. He rolled his eyes, walking away, cursing in Italian.

"Now come, mia ragazza, you can help me with dinner." Rosaria lead her into the kitchen where already a handful of women were cooking away "Here, put that on. We don’t want your beautiful outfit to get stained with pomodori!"

The next hour Rachel cooked together with the ladies, told them about college and how her life was going. She knew all too well that she couldn’t tell them everything. Giving away too much was dangerous, so she lied mostly.

"And what about the boys at college? Someone special there for you?" nonna Viola asked right as Tony came back.

"She’s coming with me now." he grabbed Rachel’s arm, pulling her with him. A muscle ticked at his jaw. His hold on her arm made her whimper in pain.

"Anthony! You hurt her! Stop! Don’t make me swing my mattarello at you!" nonna Viola raised her rolling pin and Anthony let go of the girls arm "There you go, stupido!"

"Come." he glared at the girl who took off the apron, handing it Rosaria.

"When the men have finished whatever their having to talk about now, we’re finishing our conversation, Rachel." she smiled and Rachel nodded.

As she followed Tony down a long, dark hallway the bad feeling she had, since hearing her father’s voice on the phone earlier that day, only intensified.

When they stopped in front of a big oak door Tony pushed Rachel hard against it, caving her in. His nose rubbing down her cheek. His breath reeked of smoke and liquor.

"You won’t like what’s happening next and let me tell you, I understand you. But then again… mhhh look at you." he whispered in her ear, making the girl shudder "My mother wasn’t that wrong, I should go for a girl like you…"

"Anthony?" Don Vito’s cold voice rang out through the door.

"We’re here, papa!" Tony said with a sadistic grin.

"Bring her in then. We have a lot to do."

January 2022:

"Miss Lombardi? Miss Lombardi!" the screeching voice of Professor Cullers made Rachel flinch "Ah great. You are with us again… well, do you know the answer, to Miss Edwards question?"

"I- umm… I don’t. No." the girl looked at her professor "Sorry."

"Maybe stop daydreaming then and start listening to what I’m teaching you."

"Yes, ma’am." she nodded.

The rest of the class Rachel kept writing down everything Professor Cullers said, listening carefully and when the bell rang she was one of the last to leave.

"What’s going on with you?" Stuart asked, waiting at the door for her.

"What do you mean?" they walked side by side to their next course.

"You’re absent. Pretty often. For weeks now…"

"It’s nothing. I’m fine. I promise." Rachel faked a smile and Stuart sighed.

"Ok, cut the crap. What’s going on? Since you left for your father’s birthday a couple of weeks ago, you’re acting strange… what happened at home Rachel?" he looked at her and she took a deep breath, shaking her head.

Stuart was the only friend she made in college, he didn’t talk much, but there was a sense of understanding between the two after she accidentally overheard a conversation between him and a stranger behind the cafeteria one day. Rachel since knew that their backstory was similar and that he broke off all ties to his old life. He would understand her, if she told him what happened. But then again, she knew that she might endanger him if she told him too much.

"How hard was it? Leaving everything behind? Cutting off all ties to your family?" she asked instead and Stuart contemplated his answer for a moment.

"It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. But I had to do it, so I powered through…"

"But I mean… how did you do it? Where did you get your new identity from? What happened to your old one?" the blonde girl pressed.

"I know a guy who knows a guy… but it costs a lot… also, starting a new life somewhere new isn’t for free either."

Rachel thought for a second, all the money she saved from her scholarship so far, because she only had to pay for the tuition fee and work materials. All the money she saved from working for Peter, which she barely had touched. It was a nice little sum and should keep her afloat for a while.

"Why are you asking me all this? What happened?" Stuart asked again and Rachel sighed "You can tell me, Rach. Nothing you can say will scare me away… I know how you grew up… I know how it is… so come on, tell me."

"I need to leave. Like for real… I always planned on moving to Boston after college, but they won’t let me… I only have time after graduation and then my old life will catch up with me again… I will be pulled into this mess that my life is if I don’t run away." Rachel almost whispered and her friend looked at her wide eyed "They wanted me to leave college immediately but I managed to convince them that a nurse with a degree and all qualifications is more helpful, more useful for them, so they agreed, but as soon as I graduate they will take me back to Woburn or rather Winchester… I can’t go back, Stuart…"

"And you shouldn’t have to go back, but Rach this is a dangerous thing to do? Killing off your old self, start a new life… it’s going to cost you more than just money…" Stuart said and Rachel nodded.

"I’m willing to do whatever it takes…" the young girl said determined.

"Then I’ll help you. But it won’t be easy…"

"Everything is better than staying here…"

"I need to make a few calls, then we’ll see." Stuart smiled at her.

"Thanks Stu. You’re a good friend." Rachel squeezed his hand.

"I’m currently your only friend… so that’s that."

"True…"

April 2022:

"Rachel? There’s a letter for you!"

"Thanks, Peter!" the girl took the letter from the counter, while stirring the pasta sauce "Waterman and Krieger? What is that?" she asked when she saw the sender of the letter.

"They’re a law firm. Inheritance law if I’m not mistaken." Peter looked up from his newspaper.

"Inheritance law?" Rachel ripped the envelope open, unfolding the letter. She went silent, staring at the letter, the pasta sauce bubbling.

"Rach? Hey? Rach?" Peter grabbed the sauce pan and shoved it off the stove top "What happened?" he looked at the girl worriedly.

"My- umm… my mom… she left me some money…" Rachel said slowly, looking at Peter "They write that mom set up a trust fund for me before her death. I have access to the money when I turn 21. Which is in three months."

"Oh wow…" Peter squeezed her shoulder "Do you need a moment? I can finish up dinner and I’ll send Gabe to get you when it’s ready?"

"Is that okay?" the brunette asked and he nodded "Thank you."

Back in her studio she looked at the letter and saw that there was also another smaller envelope inside. She knew the handwriting immediately.

My sweet Rachel,

when you read this letter it means I am no longer around to gift you with my last treasure.

Every money I earned from winning beauty pageants and later from working and that wasn’t needed, I put aside for you.

I know you’re a smart girl and every college would offer you a full scholarship, but just to make sure that if not, we have the money.

I never told your dad about this money, I was too afraid that he would use it. Your father is a great man and I love him dearly. But he’s surrounded himself with the wrong people, they poisoned his mind. And over time he had to drink more and more to forget what he had to do daily for Don Vito.

Please don’t tell him about the money. Keep it to yourself. It’s enough for a fresh start, if you know what I mean.

I’m sorry, that I couldn’t be by your side for longer. That I couldn’t give you the home that you deserved.

Promise me to live a good life. Go live your dreams. But please never forget that I love you, my little Miss Americana.

Love always,

Mom

Rachel leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. When her mother died, she felt lost, didn’t know how to move forward, didn’t know how to continue with her life. Her father lost himself in alcohol, maybe even drugs. He disappeared for days, just to be laid down on the front porch by some of the men he worked with and for Rachel to get him inside, making sure he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. She knew what he was doing. She knew who he worked for. From the day she was born she was part of a world she never wanted to be in, as she later realised. Movies and pop culture didn’t do this life justice. It wasn’t glorious or mysterious. It was scary and dark. Where other kids her age went to school and made new friends Rachel always had to stick to the kids from the family. To make sure she wouldn’t spill anything about her father’s work. Her mother had to fight hard with her husband to allow her to take Rachel to beauty pageants, after the little girl watched her mother getting dolled up for numerous pageants herself and wanting to be just like her when she was older. Rachel was talented, just like her mother. Her beauty apparent from a young age and it didn’t take long for her to win her first pageant. She loved competing in pageants. But what she loved even more was the time she spent with her mother. She was always so carefree and happy at the contests, a stark contrast to her usually quiet and almost depressed personality at home. She was always trying to not show Rachel how sad and worried she really was, but unfortunately it didn’t work out and Rachel had asked her more than once what was going on and why she was so sad.

"It’s nothing, my little Miss Americana, grown up stuff, nothing to worry about for you, my pretty girl." she had always said, followed by a kiss on Rachel’s forehead and a "I love you, my Rachel."

But with every year she got older she figured out more and more why her mother was so sad. And why the only times she was happy, careless and free, was when they went to pageants together. Because for a short while she could forget in what danger she was living with her daughter. What her husband did for a living. And the fear of the day where she, or worse Rachel, would have to pay the price of her husband’s job.

Ultimately she paid the price. After Rachel won the Miss Teen USA pageant in September 2016, and she had floated on cloud 9, her mother decided she deserved a treat and on the way home from Boston, where the pageant was held, she stopped at a little diner.

Rachel remembered how her mother ordered a strawberry milkshake and fries, she herself got a chocolate milkshake and fries and as soon as their food had arrived her mother looked around, a big grin on her lips before she nodded.

"No one’s watching… go!" she chimed and began dipping her fries into her milkshake.

Rachel laughed but did the same. Her father was always grossed out when his wife and daughter did that, laughing at them for their craziness, saying they better watch out or the food police would arrest them.

They were so happy that evening, her mother saying a million times how proud she was of her and what amazing and exciting times were ahead now for Rachel. But that happiness was gone in an instant when 2 men entered the dinner and her mother’s face turned to stone. She stopped laughing and looked at her daughter, shaking her head. To not draw any attention to them she silently held up her hand when the waitress looked over to them, signalling for her to come over. Paying in silence Rachel’s mother took her by the hand, guiding her outside, back into the car where she locked to doors immediately, starting the engine. She remembered how her mother called her father, telling him that two of Volkov’s men were at the diner. But before she could say anything she looked into the rear view mirror, her face turning pale when she told her husband that they were being followed. It didn’t take long for her mother to speed down the main road leading into Woburn, faster than ever before in her entire life. On speaker Rachel’s father telling her that their men were already on the way. But it was too late. She felt her mother grab onto her hand, clutching it tightly in her own, when the car was hit with something and soared through the air. She closed her eyes, holding onto the grab handle, listening to the sounds around her, when a searing pain shot through her left thigh. The pain was mind numbing and she tried her best to not focus on it. She tried to listen to the sounds around her but after a short while she only heard her own blood rushing into her ears. Then she felt her mother squeezing her hand and she opened her eyes, her first look was on the bright digital watch in the dashboard, then her mother squeezed her hand again and Rachel turned her head a little, looking at her.

"I’m so sorry, my beautiful Rachel. I love you so much." her final words as Rachel later had to find out.

After that night her father was never the same again. After that night Rachel was never the same again. She had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days, the doctors all confident that with the right care the wound on her right thigh, caused by an open break of her femur, would heal without leaving a big scar, so she could still compete in beauty pageants. But to her it didn’t matter. Without her mother she didn’t plan on continuing. And because of her not responding to any of the calls, mails or letters from the Miss Teen USA committee, regarding her upcoming tour through the United States, they stripped her off her title 6 weeks later, appointing her runner up, Caitlyn Summers, as new Miss Teen USA 2016.

Rachel absentmindedly rubbed her thigh, feeling the scarred skin through the thin fabric of her leggings. A reminder of the night that changed her life forever. That destroyed her life forever. She had to blink away tears, wiping her cheeks when Gabe knocked on the door, making her flinch.

"Rach! Dinner is ready!" his happy voice sounded through the door and the young girl cleared her throat.

"I’m coming in a minute Gabe!" she replied and listened to the sound of his steps on the gravel.

Rachel got up and looked into the mirror, wiping away the last remaining tears. It had been a while since she thought back to that night. The memories still too hurtful and real. After a minute of composure she followed Gabe back into the main house trying her best to not show the emotional turmoil she was feeling.

When Rachel went to bed that night she felt exhausted, drained, but also determined. Determined to escape her life in Woburn. Or Winchester. Escape her family. Live a happy life, just like her mother wanted her to. She would honour her mother’s last wish, give her all to do so. No matter what.

Chapter 1 - and that’s it. First chapter done. I tried something new this time, writing this story from a third-person perspective and also switching between Miss Americana/The Heartbreak Prince centred chapters. I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! 🩷💜

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

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Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

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[yourbestprincess]

HIIII! I was wondering if u could write a michael afton x fem reader smutt where they're coworkers as security guards and they kinda hate each other but somehow end up f-ing at work? Kind of like enemies to lovers :D thank uuu

YES OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS CONCEPT SO MUCH 🙏

WARNINGS- Smut 🫶, Fem!reader/Dom!Michael afton, lap sitting, kissing, p in v, creampies, Mike being super possessive, enemies to loves trope 🙏, Mikey falling for you, vulgar language (you should know that by now), slut shaming, daddy kink..,SLIGHT humiliation IF you squint. Enjoy!!! :3

BEEP! BEEP!

You flinch out of your sleep. The alarm clock on your cutesy nightstand said 11:00pm.

“Stupid ass alarm..” you mutter to yourself, barely awake. You dread going to work most days. It’s not the job itself, the jobs great, kinda. It’s a fun adrenaline rush, but what you hate the most, is Michael. Michael Afton. You had known the guy since high school. You always thought he was the cutest and most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on, but man, was he a jerk. He was so rude to you, especially.

Why me…

You think about the times back in 83’ where he would bully the hell out of you. At some point in the midst of him treating you like a dog, you begun to treat him equally. The bulling never stopped, even if you wanted it to. Michael was always so nice to everyone else, but he would say the meanest things to you, and you didn’t even deserve it. Poor thing.

It was a terrible miracle to work with Michael. You got to be around him all the time and he was almost warming up to you. The bulling was never as bad as it was in high school, but you still dreamed of being adored by him.

You move yourself gently to the edge of your pretty pink bed and slide off, putting your slippers on so your feet don’t get cold on the wood floor. You grab your black skirt and black t-shirt, then lastly slide the security vest over it. You put your black converse on, pretty pink ribbon as laces. You gain the willpower to move yourself to the bathroom. You brush your teeth and put light makeup on so that you don’t look half-dead.

After readying yourself, you grab your purse and keys. You go out to your car, already freezing from the coldness of November. You blast the heat in your car as you drive off to go to the best worst office.

I hope I’m here first. You think to yourself. I need to be here before Michael. You were usually there early anyway. 11:30, on the dot.

You quickly walk up to the front door and shakily get out the key for the door.

“Mrs. Early bird, huh.”

You turn around before putting the key in the lock. It was Michael. He was there early, for once.

“Yeah? what about it.” You say back, reluctance in your voice because you don’t feel like getting bullied tonight.

“Didn’t know you got here so early.” He roughly grabs your arm and turns you towards him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

The sudden jerk of your body sent shock flowing through you. “o-oh, yeah. m’ sorry mike.” You said, blush burning at your nose and cheeks.

“Lemme unlock it cause you can’t seem to be able to do such a simple thing, princess.” Michael scoffs to himself.

Did he just call me princess? You turn even more red from the sudden ‘kindness’

After he unlocks the door, both of you get inside and rush to the office.

Michael looks down, into your eyes. “Okay dork,” his British accent is faded, but still there. “I’m working on the left today, so you take the right. I’m trusting you on that side.” He mustered out.

“Oh, um, okay, I guess.” You look back up at him.

“Mike, I just got one question.” You spoke.

He rolls his eyes at your statement . “And that is?”

“Why are you still so mean t’ me? I don’t think I deserve it.” The red, still flushed over your nose and cheeks as you speak.

“I- I um, I don’t really know. I don’t think I know how to stop.” Michael says, completely phased by the question.

“You knew how I felt about you in high school. Why did you push me away? Why did you resort to making us enemies?” You speak as you check down the hall with the built in light.

Fuck. You think to yourself. I said too much.

“I gotta go check on the…uh, whatever. I’ll be back.” Michael walks away with watery eyes, maybe you did say too much, or maybe you said it wrong? The feeling of messing up more with Michael makes you feel like you’re sinking.

You sit in the chair that Michael usually sits in. It was comfy and had a big cushion in the back. You tuck your knees into your oversized t-shirt and pick at your nails, waiting for him.

“MIIIKE! hurry up! It’s 11:50!” You yell across the pizzeria, hoping he would come soon, considering the time.

Did he leave me here all by myself..?

You hear fast footsteps outside the left door, holding something in his hands.

“I’m sorry.” He comes up to you, pries your hand open, and let’s you grab onto what he was holding… a plush version of Chicas’ cupcake.

“My da- I mean, the owner won’t care if you take this.” He said softly.

His dad?

You smile warmly, “Thanks Mike.”

He looks into your dark brown puppy eyes, “listen, I’m sorry about the past. I was and still am an asshole, I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs, “All I’ve ever wanted to do was to treat you good. I couldn’t stand you being with anyone else that wasn’t me.” He covers his face with his hands.

“It’s okay Mike. I forgive you. Y’know It was always obvious how much I liked you in high school.” You say, flustered.

“I- really? You did? I didn’t kn-“ before he can finish his sentence, you move grab his face gently and pull him in to look in your deep gaze.

“Can I…can I kiss you?” He says shyly, the bully in him leaving rather quickly.

You nod as Michael pulls you closer. Both of you indulge in the kiss, taking as much time that feels right.

You pull back, “Mikey…you feel so..good.” He picks you up, off the chair and sits down in your spot. He motions you to come sit on his lap, and you do.

“I’m so sorry, princess. Just wanna treat you so good. I need to make you feel so good, baby.” He slurs out.

“Please..” you whine, grinding yourself against him. At this point, his jeans will have a wet mark on them because of you.

Michael unbuttons and then unzips his pants, letting you rub his clothed hard and veiny cock.

You began to be impatient, so you take matters into your own hands and slide down his boxers. His cock springs out.

“Mike..how are you going to fit-“ your words being silenced by his lips again.

He lifts you up closer to his shaft and moves your soaked lacy pink panties to the side so that he can get access to your pretty pink pussy.

“Like this, baby.” He says as he shoves his length inside of you, making you whine like a bitch in heat.

“AH- fuck! Michael! Too much…t’ much…” your words become slurred by the pleasure of Michaels lengthy pushing on your g-spot repeatedly.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Atta girl, just like that baby.” Michael growls and whimpers from you bouncing on him over and over again.

“Mikey…feel so good in me, ugh can’t take it~ feels so good!” You whine out as you get pounded by him.

“Sweetheart, I’m sososo sorry. I needed to fuck your tight pussy so fucking bad baby.” Michael yells out. He picks you up and makes you bend over the desk.

He chuckles, “Better check those cameras while i fucking pound you, pretty girl.”

You turn the cams on, looking for any missing animatronics.

“looks clear for now..”

“Good job, princess. You’re doing so good for me, baby.” He giggles, “I bet you fucking love this don’t you. God your just such a slut for my cock aren’t you sweetheart?” He says pridefully. His words cause you to whine out.

“Oh cmon baby, just cause I don’t treat you like shit anymore doesn’t mean I don’t get to tease you, and both us know you fuckin’ love it.”

“Mikey…t” much…it hurts! Slow down!!” You whimper

“Oh yeah? I know you can take me. That’s what good girls do, baby. They take it like a good fuckin’ slut. Now, don’t you love?” He says as he picks up the pace, slamming into your walls.

“Oh fu- Daddy..~” you moan out, getting close to your orgasm, white heat flowing over you, taking over your body.

“Say that again.” Michael demands.

“Wh-“ you barely say before Michael thrusts deeply and painfully into you.

“I said fuckin’ say it, I didn’t studder now did I princess? You better say it before I don’t let you cum all over my cock.” He growls.

You whine and yelp, but you know you need to cum now, there’s no reason to fight it now.

“Fuck~ daddy… I need t’ cum so bad daddy! Please mikey, m’ so close…” you cry out. Your pussy grips him tightly, practically begging to cum.

“Holy- yesss, that’s fucking it. Good girl. Cum for daddy, just like that baby. Fuck yourself dumb on daddy cock.” The white heat fills up both of you as you go dumb by being fucked this hard.

“Mikey! I’m cumming, pleasepleaseplease-“ you helplessly cry out, Poor baby.

“Fuck! Me too, sweetheart, where do you want it?” Michael groans.

“Inside, please…”

“You want me to…fuck…breed you?”

“Yes! please daddy! I- ’m cumming!!” He continues to thrust into you sloppily, forcing his cum inside of you.

“Oh- oh my god- you feel so…so good.” Michael falls into your back, having his still-hard cock inside of you. His breath trickles down by the crook of your neck as your catch your breath.

“Oh shit! Check outside the doors!” Michael pulls out of you and looks outside of the left door.

“Fuck! Bonnie!” He slams the door down.

“Maybe next time we do this at my house, hm?” He says leaning against the door.

TO BE CONTINUED-

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You’re the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 5

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

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NOVEMBER 23RD 2020

Incoming text from Josh Fatu: good morning, can’t wait to see u tonite ❤️

Airielle stared at the text message with a smile on her face. Even though she was happy she was also extremely nervous, this would be her first date in 3 years since…Airielle quickly shook her head trying to get rid of those thoughts. She jumped when Yasmine burst through the door carrying shopping bags. Airielle rolled her eyes as Yasmine passed her a Victoria’s Secret bag. 

“Just something sexy to wear.” Airielle laughed and thanked her. “You nervous? It’s been a while since you been on a date.” Yasmine paused “Even though I still think those other two should count but whatever.” She shrugged. 

“Yeah im freaking the fuck out honestly.” Yasmine reached over and grabbed Airielle’s hands, giving them a squeeze. 

“Just remember, you are not defined by what happened to you. You are the light that refused to surrender.” Airielle smiled softly and looked away from Yasmine. “I know I give you shit about getting back in the dating scene,” Yasmine grabbed Airielle’s cheeks to make her look back at her. “But I just want you to know how proud of you I am. Just have fun and be free.” Airielle pulled Yasmine to her in a tight hug. 

“Yo bro.” Josh looked over at the door when Jon came strolling through. 

“I know this ya house, but I could’ve been naked.” Jon shrugged and plopped his body down on the bed. 

“You ready for tonight? I can’t believe she actually agreed to go out with you.” Josh sucked his teeth and glared over at his twin. 

“What the hell that's supposed to mean?” 

“You ugly as fuck uce” Jon laughed then held his hand up, trying to shield his face and body from Josh’s hits. “Aight, Aight Damn.” 

“If I'm ugly, you ugly. We twins jackass.” 

“I hope you got my girl some roses.” Trin said as she came into the room and sat on the bed next to Jon. Josh nodded and scrubbed his hand over his face. If there was an emotion beyond nervousness, that's what he was. Trinity noticed and placed her hand on his shoulder. 

“This gon be my first- first date since high school man, The last time I was this nervous was with the boy’s mom.” Jon and Trinity winced at the fact he wouldn’t say his ex-wife’s name. “And I was fifteen, i’m thirty-fucking five, why am I so nervous?” 

“Cause you like her uce. And technically yall already went on y’alls first date.” Trinity nodded her head in agreement. “Just be yourself man, she gon fall in love with you.” 

Airielle looked at the clock and cursed. Josh was supposed to be at her place in 30 minutes and she still didn’t decide which dress to wear. She let out a sigh of relief when Yasmine came into her room holding her IPad, on facetime with their other cousin Ashley. 

“As the family fashion expert. We need your help.” Yasmine flipped the camera and showed Ashley all of the dress, shoes and jewelry options they had. 

“Bitch are those my earrings!” Yasmine rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. 

“Focus Ashley-” 

“I’ve been looking for them everywhere hoe!” Airielle giggled and took the IPAD from Yasmine, turning the camera to herself. 

“I need your opinion Ash, I’m stuck.” Ashley rolled her eyes and nodded. 

“Fine,” She muttered. “Show me again.”  

AIRIELLEJONES

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Yasmine had just finished curling the last piece of Airielle’s hair when there was a knock at the front door. Airielle felt like she had to throw up. She was about to run into the bathroom when Yasmine stopped her and pushed her towards the door. 

“No running. Go enjoy yourself.” Airielle nodded and took a deep breath before opening the door. 

“Damn,” Josh said lowly, licking his lips as he shamelessly raked his eyes over her body. “I mean,” he cleared his throat. “You look beautiful.” He felt his cheeks heat up as he passed her the bouquet of white, red and pink roses. 

Airielle took them. “These are so pretty.” She said as she lifted them to her nose to smell them. 

“I mean, beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.” They both stared at each other before bursting out into laughter. 

“That was so corny,” She said as she shut her apartment door and started walking towards the elevator. He chuckled as he followed her. 

“Yeah aint gon’ lie. That wasn’t my best work.” 

Josh had just pulled up in front of the restaurant and Airielle was about to get out of the car when Josh stopped her. 

“Whoa, whatchu’ doin?” Airielle froze with one of her hands on the handle of the car door. She turned her head and frowned at him. “Opening the door?” She said as more of question and Josh chuckled. 

“Nah, don’t touch that.” He said getting out and rushing over so he could open the door for her. “I got you.” He said as he held out his hand for her to grab. She rolled her eyes with a smile and grabbed his hand, letting him help her out of the car. She smiled wider when he didn’t let go of her hand as they started walking towards the restaurant. He only let go of her hand to hand the valet his keys and a twenty dollar tip. 

“Wow, this place is nice.” She said as the host led them to their table. She smiled at Josh as he pulled out her chair for her. 

“Yeah, Jon recommended it. Said he takes Trin here all the time.”  They sat there in silence. Glancing at each other over their menus, sending secret smiles to each other. 

“So i’ve been told.”Airielle started off, breaking the silence between them. “We technically already had our first date.” Josh nodded with a chuckle. 

“I mean, technically yeah. So what this’ll be our.” He stopped to count on his fingers making her scoff. “Third date.” 

“You did not just count to three on your fingers.” He shrugged with a laugh as the waiter came over to take their orders. Once he walked away Airielle turned her attention back to Josh. “Ok, so tell me something about you that I don’t know.” 

“Damn,” Josh said as he blew out a breath of air. “I can play the piano.” 

“Oh wow foreal?” She asked, eyebrows raised in shock and he nodded. 

“Yeah, me and my brothers. My momma kept us busy so we weren’t tearing up her house. It was so much shit she put us in man, uh- karate, soccer, baseball. Man, any sport that you could think of my mom had me and my brothers there. No your turn.” 

She placed her chin on her palm and smiled at him. “I used to dance and cheer competitively. My parents' garage is literally full of medals and trophies.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him when he started to smirk. “That’s kinda hot.” 

“I was a kid Josh.” She chuckled and threw a piece of her dinner roll at him when he shrugged. 

The rest of their date went amazing. They never ran out of stuff to talk about. They didn’t even realize they were the last two people in the restaurant until the waiter came over to tell them. 

On the ride back to her apartment, they stopped to grab some ice cream. Neither one of them wanted the night to end. After he parked in her complex’s garage they walked slowly to her apartment, holding hands. 

“This was like the best date I've ever been on.” She said, turning towards him as they stopped in front of her door. Her statement made him feel good. 

“Yeah? Me too.” He said with a wide smile. Airielle was about to turn to walk into her apartment when Josh stopped her by grabbing her hand. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked and Airielle nodded immediately. She honestly thought she would have to make the first move. He grinned before pulling her closer to him and wrapping his arms around her waist. He hesitated before leaning head forward and capturing her lips in a soft, tender kiss. They stood there, lost in eachother only breaking apart at the sound of a loud squeal and a loud clanging sound, like something had dropped coming from inside Airielle’s apartment. 

“Sorry.” They both chuckled at Yasmine’s muffled voice. He gave her another kiss before telling her that he would text her when he got home. After he walked away, Yasmine ripped open the door and yanked Airielle inside. 

“Bitch tell me everything.” 

Happy Thanksgiving (if you celebrate it.)

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

[the-al-chemist]

Not Mine Is The Glory

For Day 2 of @thethreebroomsticksfic’s Weasley Week, the focus is all on ickle Ronniekins. As Ron struggles with jealousy and insecurity, maybe a talk with a family member can help set him straight.

Warnings: none, really. A little hurt comfort.

November 1994

Since the start of term, all that anyone seemed to talk about was the Triwizard Tournament. And now, the day before the first challenge, everyone was talking more than ever.

Everyone except Ron.

Ron couldn’t have cared less about the tournament, not anymore. He just wished that it was over with already, so that everybody would move on and he wouldn’t have to hear about it.

He kept himself to himself for most of the morning, eating his breakfast in a sullen silence and barely uttering a word during his lessons. At lunchtime, the only reason he didn’t seek further solitude in the library was the protest of his groaning stomach. It was fortunate that he decided to pay attention to his appetite, however, for as he was halfway through his sandwiches, an owl flew into the Great Hall and dropped a letter on his plate.

A little confused, Ron opened the letter, which read:

Come to the Quidditch stands after your lessons finish for the day. And try to be subtle about it, please.

Though the letter wasn’t signed, the handwriting was familiar somehow. Frowning, Ron peered around the Great Hall to see who might have sent him the message, but no one was looking his way. Of course they weren’t. No one ever did.

No one was looking at him when he left his last lesson of the day and headed straight for the currently disused Quidditch pitch, wondering as he walked whether he was making a mistake in following the nameless instructions. What if the letter had been sent by Fred and George, hoping to make him the butt of yet another of their practical jokes?

This concern grew in Ron’s mind when he saw a stockily built wizard with red hair on the edge of the pitch, leaning against the stands. But though this wizard looked like both Fred and George, it became clear as Ron grew closer that this was neither of them.

It was Charlie.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Ron asked his second oldest brother, who half-smiled at the question.

“Great to see you, too,” he said, before laughing good-naturedly and giving Ron a handshake that turned into a hug. “How’s it going, mate? Alright?”

It was not going alright at all, but Ron wasn’t ready to admit that, not even to Charlie. He nodded and made a humming noise before frowning again.

“Seriously, why are you here? I thought you were back in Romania.”

Charlie hesitated for just a moment before answering Ron’s question. “I’m here for the Triwizard Tournament. First challenge is tomorrow afternoon.”

“I know,” Ron muttered darkly. “So, you’re coming to watch it, too?”

“Er, sort of,” said Charlie, with a shrug. “Yeah, I guess I’ll be watching it in between.”

“In between what?”

“Working.”

“Working? But why would you be working here during…” Ron’s voice tailed off, and his eyes widened. “No!” he half-gasped. “No. There’s no way they’d let a bloody dragon loose in the school.”

But even as he heard himself say the words, Ron doubted them. The look on Charlie’s face only served to confirm his suspicions.

“Dragons? That’s the first task? Dragons?”

“I didn’t say that,” Charlie said slowly.

“So…”

“I didn’t say that. You guessed.”

Ron blinked twice, hard. “What?”

“You guessed, so no one’s cheating. Right?” asked Charlie. The look in his eyes was pointed. Slowly, Ron nodded his head. “That means that if you tell your mate Harry that I was here, and he guesses, that’s not cheating either.”

It might not have been cheating, but Ron still couldn’t tell Harry anything. He stayed quiet, hoping that Charlie would change the subject. He didn’t.

“How is Harry getting along, anyway?”

“I dunno,” replied Ron, after a short but awkward pause. He avoided looking at Charlie as he explained, “We aren’t really talking at the moment.”

“You’re not?” Charlie sounded more surprised than he did judgemental. “Did you have an argument or something?”

“Not really, we just… I’m just tired of it.” Ron sighed angrily and kicked up a patch of mud with the toe of his shoe. “He’s already this prodigy at Quidditch, and he’s not bad at school either, and now he’s School Champion as well.”

Charlie raised one red eyebrow. “You didn’t really want to be the school champion, did you?”

“I’d have liked to have the chance, at least. But I didn’t get to try, because Harry didn’t tell me he’d figured out how to get past Dumbledore’s age line. I mean, he’s supposed to be my best friend, but he entered the tournament and didn’t even tell me about it!”

Ron had been bottling up his feelings ever since the champions had been announced. Now that he was letting them out, he couldn’t stop.

“After all we’ve been through together for the last few years, I would’ve thought that he’d have wanted to do this together, too. Or maybe even let me have a chance at being the one who gets to have the glory for once, but no.” Ron shook his head. “It’s like he likes the fact that I’m always in his shadow, or something. I dunno.”

A few moments passed before Charlie said anything. When he did, his response came as a surprise to Ron.

“I do,” he said sincerely, before almost laughing at the look on Ron’s face. “Come on, Ron. Of course I know. What do you think it was like going to school two years after Bill? You weren’t here while he was getting twelve O.W.L.s and being the Head Boy. You didn’t see the girls tripping over themselves to get him to notice them. I did. So, I get it.” He leaned back against the stands again. “But, you know, being overshadowed has its perks. There’s less pressure, fewer expectations of you. You get more freedom. Merlin, I wouldn’t swap places with Bill for the world. Would you really want to swap places with Harry? Really?”

The obvious answer to Charlie’s question was ‘yes’, but Ron knew that answer wasn’t entirely truthful. Charlie seemed to know it, too, because he continued:

“It’s tough, being so close to the one who gets the glory, but that gives you something. Strength or… I don’t know what it is exactly, but from my experience people who always get the attention need that. They need people like us, even if it’s only to keep them grounded sometimes.” Charlie gave Ron a sympathetic half-smile. “I bet he really misses you.”

“I miss him, too,” Ron admitted. He swallowed hard. “I dunno what to do.”

“You know what I’d do?” asked Charlie. Ron shook his head, and Charlie’s gaze drifted towards the direction of the Forbidden Forest. “I’d do whatever it took to not lose my best friend.”

There was a stubborn finality to his tone that made it clear that he didn’t expect an argument. But Ron was stubborn, too.

“Why do you care so much?” he asked his brother, who shrugged.

“Real dragons aren’t like the ones you read about in stories, Ron. You met Hagrid’s Ridgeback, you know what I mean. And that was just a juvy. These ones, the one’s Harry will be facing, they’re the real deal. They’re dangerous. Your mate deserves to know what he’s up against.” Charlie’s expression became less grave as he added under his breath, “Also, there’s a small but very scary woman who won’t forgive me if anything happens to him.”

That didn’t surprise Ron one bit.

“Yeah, mum’ll lose it if Harry gets hurt,” he agreed. “Hermione too.” An idea struck him. “That’s it! Hermione!”

“What about her?”

“She’s still talking to Harry, and me too, sort of. I can tell her what you’ve told me—”

“I didn’t tell you anything.”

“— and she’s bound to help Harry. If anyone can come up with a way to get him to beat a dragon, it’s her.” Ron glanced over his shoulder at the castle. It was almost dinner time, and if he ran, he might just manage to intercept Hermione on her way from the library to the Great Hall. “Thanks, Charlie. Good seeing you.”

And, barely noticing his brother’s wave goodbye, Ron returned to the castle, where he found Hermione just leaving the Great Hall.

“Hermione,” he said, taking hold of her arm and pulling her into a corner to speak without anyone over-hearing them. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

“Can it wait?” asked Hermione impatiently. “I promised that I’d help Harry with… something.”

That ‘something’ could only be the challenge the following day. Ron didn’t let go of her arm.

“Dragons,” he whispered.

“What?”

“That's what the challenge is tomorrow. I saw Charlie by the Quidditch pitch, he said he’s here working. It’s dragons.”

Ron was not sure how he had expected Hermione to react to this revelation, but he certainly had not been expecting her to tut and roll her eyes, nor to tell him: “Yes, I know.”

“Wait, what? You know? But how—”

“Hagrid saw the dragons this weekend. Harry and I have been preparing for them ever since,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. She softened slightly, and looked almost apologetic. “Look, Ron, I really do have to go and help Harry. It’s just that the task is tomorrow, and… well, it’s dragons.”

An hour ago, Ron would have been annoyed at the fact that Hermione was leaving him so abruptly to help Harry with the challenge. An hour ago, he might have been annoyed that the two of them had figured it out without his help. But now, he only felt relief that Harry had Hermione on his side.

He let go of Hermione’s arm and nodded. “Fine. Go and help him, then.”

“Thank you,” said Hermione. Her large front teeth grazed her lower lip. “Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“You will come and watch the challenge tomorrow, won’t you?”

Ron didn’t really want to watch the challenge. He wanted nothing to do with it. But, he could see how anxious Hermione looked. She wanted him to come for her sake as much as Harry’s, he was sure of it.

“Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll come and watch it with you.”

Somewhat awkwardly, Hermione hugged him. And as she did, Ron couldn’t help but feel glad that yet again, Harry was the one getting to have the glory.

[d1ety]

⤑   chase sui wonders,  27,  cis woman,  she/her   𓇢𓆸  my my, if it isn't  merula lin, my favorite  vampire  in town.  you know,  though people say they can be rather  quarrelsome  and  insatiable,  i know they’re really  enterprising  and  self-reliant.  but hey, what do i know?  i’ve only known them for  six months. if you need to get in touch, you can probably find them at their work as a  front desk clerk  at  the bobcat inn. 

notable statistics :

full name — merula beatrice lin.

nickname(s) — mer.

age — eternally twenty seven yrs old.

gender & pronouns — cis woman, she/her.

sexuality — lesbian.

appearance : 5ft 5in with raven locks that hit lower back, a scattered mess of some pin-straight and others wavy, merula has, as her grandmother would say, let herself go. perhaps it is accounted for by the lack of humanity that is now evident upon her skin, obvious with the way her cheeks hardly flush at the winter's first cold night. a pale grey her skin has descended into, with the smattering of life-long marks and moles across her body reminding her that she was once, in fact, human.

cont'd :

species — fledgling vampire.

birthdate — november 7th, 1996.

hometown — boston, massachusetts, usa.

sun sign — scorpio.

occupation — front desk clerk at the bobcat inn.

personality : merula could only be described by the scientific stages of grief. her entire life has since been uprooted, and she now has to grapple with this newfound immortality and the challenges it poses for her life. always a person with a plan and a very specific outlook for her life, she was never one who could take such big changes in her stride. this is arguably the worst possible outcome, and for that, she is resentful, doing her best to unintentionally project that same flavor of despair upon anyone within her immediate vicinity.

background information :

content warning(s) : brief mentions of violence, descriptions of wounds/blood, animal death (rat).

merula's childhood was nothing out of the ordinary. two parents, an older brother, and she, all under one roof.

a family full of type a's — planners down to the millisecond, all with a specific vision for how the rest of their lives were going to go. merula was no different.

past high school, she eventually went off to attend barnard college, majoring in astronomy in hopes of becoming a cosmologist. from that came graduate school. at the age of twenty six, she was finally free from the reins of academia.

to keep it short, merula got the degrees, but as many post-graduates, she quickly devolved into the mindset in which she questions her passions, the very fiber of her being — is this really me? she continually asked herself, intellectualizing via journal entries and endless therapy appointments that would end in silence.

posing that issue to many of her peers, a number of them mentioned traveling as a means of finding oneself. solo traveling, backpacking, all those things that upper middle class twenty somethings do when they need a change of scenery. she figured why the hell not and began a cross-country road trip, taking time within each state - lodging with whatever accommodations she could find and taking up the next dog sitter or au pair position that'd hire her.

colorado was her first state on this side of the country, an appetizer to the west before she dove head-first into the coastal regions.

a lucky temporary lease, a dingy studio atop a dive bar, she took what she could get, really. it was affordable enough, and she didn't have to waste all her daylight manning the motel's front desk.

THE BITE ! a graveyard shift — one she wasn't even supposed to be working — paired with her irrational fear of uber drivers, merula decided to walk home. wrong place, wrong time, the shortcut she usually took after nights out proved to be prime hunting grounds for a nameless vamp. drained nearly to the brink of death, she virtually blacked out, finding herself propped up against the side of a dumpster with last night's uniform covered in the blood that cascaded from the lesions in her neck, and an insatiable thirst that nearly made her claw out of her skin. three alley rats and she was enough to make it upstairs to the studio. that was three months ago.

here she is now, living it day by day. this shit sucks.

general wcs i would love : tbd.

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls: Season 3/Ep 7: They Shoot Gilmores Don't They (Henceforth known as Dance Marathon Episode)

Original Air Date: Nov 12th 2002 This is tied with Lorelai Graduation's Day as my favorite episode, so let us begin.

"Charity". All proceeds go into Taylor Doose's pocket. We'll be getting into that shortly (again).

Heh heh. Lorelai tells a ridiculous story about how she didn't win the trophy at the previous DM. Luke declines her invitation to be her dance partner.

Thank you Luke.

THANK YOU LUKE. Allow me to put this into further perspective. *clears throat* *gets up on Bridge Rage soapbox* SO ABOUT THAT BRIDGE...

From the season 7 episode Knit, People, Knit, original air date 11/26/2006. Dance Marathon aired in November 2002. If fundraising had already been ongoing for 8 years by 2002, that means bridge repair began in 1994 and was ongoing in 2006. Therefore, one can deduce it will take a minimum of 12 years for Taylor Doose to replace a few planks of wood on a tiny bridge. Despite there being visible evidence that said bridge is still not repaired after 12 years, Luke is the only person who ever dares to question this. I'm not sure if the last plank of wood was finally paid for in KPK, I can only stick around in Seasons 6 & 7 for a few minutes at a time or I start to break out in hives and no intrepid scientist has invented a Later Seasons Gilmore Girls Vaccine yet. I get my screengrabs and get the hell out. Taylor: We're not raising money to restore the bridge. Luke: We're not? Taylor: No, we have that money, our Tennesee Williams Lookalike Contest put us over the top. This is for a tarp to cover the bridge. We can't start repair on the bridge now at the start of snow and rain season. The work will be ruined and we'll be back at square one. We need a tarp! Luke: Taylor you are asking me to donate free coffee to hundreds of people so you can raise money for a tarp! You know what, this episode is about a dance marathon and Shane Campbell's untimely demise, not political corruption in small town america and Taylor Doose's obsession with a Broken Bridge and how he's funneling town funds into his offshore bank account so he can use the money to take vacations to Maui and then tell the IRS they're just "business trips" for the Small Town Grocery Store Owners Convention. Carry on.

Lorelai managed to snag a dance partner named Stanley Appleman but she quickly loses him after his wife sees a picture of Lorelai and Mrs.A deems Lorelai too sexy to dance with her husband.

Now when has a Gilmore ever slept with someone else's husband? Where would she get such a crazy idea? Pshaw.

I was about to blast past whatever Newspaper Nonsense was about to take place next but then I noticed the background of this shot. Madelyn and Louise my slutty queens! Since Shane's demise is imminnent, going forth they will carry the slutty torch in her honor.

Jamie is about as tittilating as mayonaise on toast. Jamie will henceforth be named Mayonaise. Jaym-onaise?

Rory is right there, Paris. She’s right there. Urrgh. Why must we pretend Paris Geller is straight? Mayonaise was too busy with dullard business at Princeton for the last 3 months to contact Paris, but now he has some free time so he thought’d he come hang around at a high school with a bunch of minors.

Paris Geller's fragile remnants of heterosexuality are shaking in their boots looking at this face. I’m trying to forget that it only gets worse from here and Paris' next love interest is Asher Fleming 🤢You know what it’s fine it’s fine Jaymonaise can stick around it’s fine

SECURITY!

I thought about this weird and clunky "go find a pirate to sit on" long and hard until I think I figured out what the hell she's trying to say.: "Pirates sometimes have hooks for hands, so if you sit on a pirate's hand maybe the hook will go up your ass." That is WILD. She can't say "let go of my fucking hand you knob" on The WB, so "find a pirate to sit on" it is. Paris would say "Let go of my fucking hand you knob" on my gritty unrated realistic Gilmore Girls spinoff with a lot of swearing called The Hollow. And then immediately turn to Rory and make out with her.

Paris is hesitant to go on another date with Mayonaise, so Rory plays wingman and declares that Paris is free to go on a date, Mayonaise says we're going on a date, then Mayonaise steals her books and runs away with them, leaving Paris bewildered with the smell of "only vague consent" lingering in the air.

Dean's one brain cell is either deep in thought or he's about to soil his diaper. I'm very sorry. I'm glad someone in the Gilmore household decided Dean doesn't deserve a plate to eat from. He can eat his pizza on a napkin on top of a limp throw pillow balanced on one knee like the animal he is. What's with this show and wooden bowls full of walnuts?

According to Lane, Dean is deathly allergic to walnuts. *scooches bowl closer to the couch*

Can you even ask any other kind of question?

Can we go back to doing this, as well as going back to feeding him walnut-laced cookies? D: When did you hang up on me? R: When we first met. D:You should have said something. R: But you would have known that I was calling and therefore I liked you. D: But I liked you too! R:I know that now. D: You could have known that then... Hey, can you two shut the god damn hell up? Both of you stay the hell away from phones and answering machines for the next 15 years. Thanks.

Better declare your love quickly before he gets sucked up by the Male Gilmore Girls Character California Wormhole.

Good boy. #CaptionsFail

Dean came prepared with a pillow shield so Lorelai can't grope for his junk.

You're just a boy, you know nothing. But I'll make you a man, Dean. Just toss that pillow aside.

[zodiactalks]

These Zodiac Signs Demand Too Much of Themselves

Work, school, relationships, family life, friendships, hobbies, and more; nowadays, it seems like there's far too much to do and too little time to do it all.

The only consolation is that this is a trend exhibited across the board. We all feel like there's too much pressure and that we should be doing more to improve our situation...Or do we?

While it's true that we all feel a certain level of pressure to fulfill all of our obligations, the truth is that some people just pressure themselves more than others.

Call them perfectionists or highly-driven personalities; the following zodiac signs will run themselves into the ground in an attempt to excel at anything they do.

Virgo

August 23 - September

Virgos can be quite the perfectionists and are well known for putting too much on their plates.

They think highly of themselves and their abilities, which translates into the habit –both good and bad– of trying to do too many things at the same time.

For Virgo, being average is unnacceptable, and it shows with their insistence to try and do everything perfectly without any kind of outside assistance.

Cancer

June 21 - July 22

Cancers aren't known for being perfectionists, but they're known for having a hard time relaxing and just cruising by.

While they're okay with not being the expert in a subject, they still enjoy being the best around, which means their competitive spirit might shine through in the worst moments.

A Cancer will always try their best to be as well-informed and educated as possible on the subjects they care about, and if the opportunity arises to turn that knowledge into a competition, they'll be all over that.

Capricorn

December 22 - January 19

Known for their love of luxury and comfortable lifestyles, Capricorns aren't afraid of getting their hands dirty to get those things.

While working to fulfill one's dreams and expectations is always an admirable trait, Capricorns tend to take it to the next level and will actively work to the point of exhaustion just to get what they want.

We all want to achieve our goals, but Capricorns will go to hell and back to get theirs, even if no one asked them to.

Scorpio

October 23 - November 21

Driven and ambitious, Scorpios are the kind of person who will work relentlessly to get what they want and, more often than not, they will achieve it.

The problem with Scorpios, however, lies in the fact that they don't always know what they want.

Oh, they know what they want at the moment, but they're a naturally envious sign, which means "what they want" often depends on what other people have.

Because of this, Scorpios have a hard time being satisfied, and that leads them to demand more and more of themselves.

How's one supposed to stop and enjoy what they've achieved when you measure your success based not on your goals but on other people's?

Leo

July 23 - August 22

The king of the pride holds themselves to incredibly high standards, in part because that's just who they are and in part because they know some people look up to them.

Driven by their need to impress and to be the very best, they'll work as hard as they have to work to maintain the illusion; and it is an illusion, for no matter how much they like to pretend otherwise, Leos are but mere mortals who need as much rest as everyone else.

Their drive is commendable, but Leos could benefit from letting others see their more human side.

Aquarius

January 20 - February 18

Renowned for their creativity and out-of-the-box thinking, Aquarians are nevertheless trapped by this very talent.

They know they're supposed to be the creative ones, so they'll try their hardest to fit into people's expectations, even if they're feeling completely drained at the moment.

Aquarians will snatch victory from the jaws of success if it means appearing a little bit more creative, a trait that doesn't win them any fans amongst friends and co-workers.

While this drive to be the best and the most creative can be commendable, Aquarians need to understand that sometimes "good enough" is seriously good enough.

[bloodiegawz]

Mika McKey (they/them)

Twisted from: The Blotlings (Epic Mickey)

Nicknames: Trickster McKey (Rook), Shrimpy (Floyd), Minion- and other variants (Grim), Jerboa (Leona), Prefect (A lot of people)

House: Ramshackle/Scryingwell (Housewarden)

Class: Freshman, 1-A

Age: ???

Birthday: November 15 (Scorpio)

Height: 169 cm

Dominant hand: Left

Homeland: Wasteland

Club: Science Club

Best subject: Alchemy

Hobbies: Painting/portraiture, "experimenting", being a part-time menace

Favorite food: Cream puffs

Least favorite food: Hot dogs

Talent: Vocal impressions

Signature spell/Unique magic: N/A

Other: Is in possession of a mysterious paintbrush, whose magic only seems to work in Mika's hands. The brush has the ability to create objects or beings out of paint, as well as dissolve material using thinner. Mika doesn't know how to use it very well but feels it's important, so they keep it tucked in their coat.

Personality: Mika is, first and foremost, compassionate. They're kind and immediately accepting of others. Usually, they'll try to bond with others through a shared interest. If someone is outwardly prickly, they're quite oblivious unless that person is blatantly rude. They try their best to be patient and give the benefit of the doubt. If they feel someone is upset or hurt, their first instinct will be to help.

They're very good at problem-solving. Although slow, if they put their mind to it, they're often "correct" or successful the first time around. However, they don't have a very good sense of self-preservation, and will throw themselves into situations before thinking. They are more cautious if something else is already bothering them.

Although they would like to get back to their home in Wasteland, Mika is very curious about others and the new world they're in, and are determined to explore and learn about every aspect of it. This often puts them in dangerous situations, wanting to be up-close and personal to whatever or whoever they're studying.

They love adventure, dares, and thrills, and will pull obnoxiously stupid stunts just for the fun of it. No matter if or how they get hurt. If you ask them really nicely, they might stop, but you'd have to be incredibly good at persuasion. Sometimes they get into fights with other students, but it's never in bad taste (at least on their end)- usually, it's just because they wanted to test their strength or settle an argument.

Despite their good-hearted nature, occasionally, Mika is shown to have a jealous and overprotective streak. They don't appear to notice it at first, which can lead to them starting arguments or fights that they never really wanted to be in. They're quick to apologize for scaring or hurting anyone afterwards.

--/--

- Their favorite color changes every few hours.

- They often consult the Ramshackle ghosts to keep up with any dorm traditions.

- Sometimes they eat paint just for the hell of it. This has not been proven to have any negative effects on them no matter what anyone says.

- Crowley gave them the brush as a means to defend themselves when the overblots began picking up. He will not say where he got it from. Apparently it is not supposed to be in this school.

- They do care about and trust Crowley a lot, if only for his "kindness". They don't really pick up on how sketchy or unhelpful he actually is.

- They've tried to create living beings using the paintbrush. It works... kind of. These turn into dark purple sludge monsters, but they're very proud of them and really hate having to get rid of them afterward.

- Rook's biggest enabler in Science Club. They will do anything with him.

- Good at escape rooms, if you're willing to do one with them, but not very fast. It will be anxiety-inducing.

- Pretty good at sports and will hop into the Basketball or Spelldrive Clubs every once in a while to play a match.

- Very popular with the campus nurses. They are an anomaly to the medical world.

- Will drink anything you give them with zero hesitation. Doesn't matter if it was yours.

- Their handwriting is simultaneously very nice and impossible to read.

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Chapter 27

So... I'm pretty unsure about this piece... I didn't want it to be too sad but then again the subject is quite serious... I have to say I was having a hard time trying to imagine the feelings and emotions of an eight-year-old in that very situation... I hope you like it nonetheless, and please do let me know what you think in the comments...

21st November 1995, part 1

Middlewick House

The night had been hell. It hadn't been before 5am that Camilla had finally fallen into an unsteady sleep, tortured by all different sorts of nightmares until Andrew woke her again at about 7am. Andrew… She couldn't express her immense gratitude that, after everything that had happened and gone wrong between them, it hadn’t even taken him half an hour to get into his car and straight to them, his ex-wife and her illegitimate child, to speak the truth in all its cruelty, apparently, at least as he told her, more or less by his new partner Rosemary’s command. “She thought you might need someone to look after you…”, he’d grumbled while manoeuvring that poor little picture of misery that she had turned into, onto her bed, which was obviously amongst the only few pieces of furniture that hadn’t been dismantled yet. He had then gotten two glasses and a whole bottle of Whiskey for both of them, sat down next to her, put his arm around her and let her cry, until there hadn’t been a single tear left anymore. “Alright Milla.”, he had finally started, clearing his throat. “I’ll stay here with you until everything is fixed. But Rose will come over tomorrow as well. I want her by my side.” “Of course.”, Camilla sobbed, gulping a few sips of the Whiskey. She liked Rose and she didn’t mind her coming over at all, but somehow it bothered her to hear that he actually wanted a woman “by his side”; in all of the 20 years of their meanwhile divorced marriage, he’d never wanted her “by his side” the way he demanded Rose now. “I’ll meet our lawyer tomorrow.”, he then went on. “We need a plan as soon as possible. Have you heard anything from Charles yet?” Camilla shook her head. “I unplugged the telephone immediately, after…”, she explained and looked so desperately that it almost broke his heart. “Sure. Don’t worry, I’ll contact him.”, he promised. “It’s important that we’re all working together now. Thea will stay home tomorrow and you’ll tell her the truth. She needs to hear it from you. You can go on a walk or ride together and take all the time you need. But when you return I will be here and reassure her that I’m still and will always be her daddy. That’ll be important for her to know.” Camilla had almost cuddled up to him as if they were still married; she couldn’t believe how wonderful and supportive he was of both her and her daughter, but maybe it was due to the Whiskey. “Why are you doing all of this, Andrew?”, she asked, her eyes filled with tears again. Andrew looked at her in amusement, casually shrugging his shoulders. “Because you will always be a part of my life. A part of my heart will always belong to you and everything we had. We might not have worked out as husband and wife, but we’ve always been good parents to all our three children. Milla - I love Thea like my own flesh and blood. I brought her to life-” “You did…” “-and I will not allow anyone to hurt her or put her at risk in one way or another, no matter if it’s the press or the bloody Princess of Wales.” Camilla had started crying again while she’d been listening to him, but these were actually tears of joy, pride and relief that, despite everything, Andrew was still being such an amazing daddy for her little darling daughter. God only knew how she was supposed to explain to her that he wasn’t her biological father tomorrow… it’d surely break her heart. "I know you'll find the right words.", Andrew said. "You always have. You're an exceptional mother, Camilla."

"What do you mean, I'm not going to school today?", Thea asked and looked at her mother in irritation. She was maximum confused. Why on earth shouldn't she go to school today? It was an ordinary Tuesday. Of course she was going to school, unless something really serious had happened… "Well, darling, the two of us need to… talk about a few things.", Camilla murmured, nervously stirring in her breakfast tea. Thea frowned her forehead. "Mummy, I've got quite an important maths lesson today… The exam date is next week! I can hardly miss it!" "I know, darling, and I wouldn't do that if it wasn't for a really important cause… Please, just trust me, darling." Her mother's almost begging voice and the desperate expression on her face made Thea's little heart ache. She loved Mummy, she knew that she only ever wanted what was best for her and that this had to be a really serious thing if it bothered her that much. "Okay, Mummy… What are we going to do?", she asked. "I mean, where are we going?" "Where would you like to go?", Camilla countered, hoping for her daughter to name a place of two where she'd feel comfortable, happy and relaxed enough to record that sort of news… "What about a picnic in my tree house?", she suggested, referring to the really impressive and beautiful tree house which had been lovingly built up by Andrew and Tom a couple of years ago. "We won't have it for much longer anyway." Of course they couldn't move the tree to their new home so Thea was totally right when suggesting that they'd take every chance to spend a bit of time in it as long as they could… "Alright then. Let's wrap up warmly and meet up there in half an hour!", Camilla agreed and Thea nodded approvingly.

"Okay, Mummy, cutting to the chase: what's the matter?", Thea asked easily, looking at her mother in happy and curious expectations. They'd sat down on a blanket on the floor in her tree house, cuddled up tightly and covered in another, particularly soft blanket, each of them holding a good, hot cup of tea in their hands. Camilla nervously cleared her throat. "Well, darling… remember when Tigger had her puppies last summer?", she began a little uncertain, referring to Charles' beloved Jack Russell Terrier who had, indeed, had puppies last year, and Thea nodded enthusiastically. It had been a joy when Tigger had her puppies last year, they'd gone over to Highgrove every day and watched the little ones grow until they were old enough to be gifted to some of Sir's friends, they had kept one, too, Freddy was his name, and he was an absolute sweetheart. "And… um, darling, have you ever wondered how… the babies were… let's say put into Tigger's tummy?", she asked further and had to really pull herself together. Having to have this talk right here, right now, just felt so unbelievably ridiculous. Thea casually grabbed a macaron from the hamper Camilla had prepared, eating it with relish. "She must have been mated by a male dog?!", she replied, looking at her mother in confusion. "Y-yes, exactly…", Camilla responded, equally shocked and surprised that her daughter was already that familiar with this sort of vocabulary. "And, um, do you know what that… means?", she asked further and Thea rolled her eyes. "A tiny cell from a male body joins with a tiny cell from a female’s body.", she explained casually, almost precociously and Camilla almost choked herself with a macaron. "That's… right, darling, that's just… how things work.", she confirmed and helped herself to a glass of champagne. It was only just 10am but specific situations called for special measures. "And, do you know that it works just like that for humans, too, darling?", she tried to build the bridge to the actual point of their conversation, and Thea frowned her forehead. "But humans have sex to make babies.", she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, casually grabbing another macaron, while Camilla almost spilled her champagne in shock. "W-what do you know about… sex?", she asked anxiously. She was her innocent little baby, she wasn't allowed to know about these things yet…

"Laura says it's a very private, grown-up cuddle.", Thea bubbled. "Oh does she?", Camilla wanted to know and couldn't help feeling very proud of her oldest daughter for having described it so beautifully. A very private grown-up cuddle… brilliant! She herself would never have come up with that! She absolutely had to tell and thank Laura for having explained it all to her little sister so clearly and carefully, or maybe rather not - it'd probably make her feel embarrassed… anyway. "She says that's what grown-ups do when they're very much in love. And that sometimes they get a baby… afterwards.", Thea added, and Camilla pulled her into her arms. "Yes, darling. That's true. And, um, you know… Mummy and Sir are very much in love, as well…" "So you have made that sex thing, too?" Once more, Camilla almost choked herself. "Yes, we, um… might have.", she replied, unusually shy, blushing in shame. "And now you're getting a baby?", Thea asked and, for a moment, Camilla didn't know whether she'd rather scream or laugh. Goodness. What a ridiculous thought! But of course reasonable from her daughter's point of view. "No, darling, no, no, no.", she chuckled, pressing her daughter against her chest. "At least not… now. But, you know, darling, a couple of years ago… I did have a baby after I'd had a… very private grown-up cuddle with Sir… In fact, it was almost exactly nine years ago. And nine months later… a little girl came into this world, and made it so much brighter and filled it with nothing but joy and love… and the little girl was named Theodora." Camilla hadn't been able to hold back her tears anymore as she had finally told her daughter the truth, pressing her against herself, desperately hoping she wasn't going to hate her for the rest of her life. Thea twisted around in her mother's arms, looking at her in a mixture of disbelief and excitement. "So - you're saying that Sir is actually my father, aren't you, Mummy?", her little sweetheart asked so cutely and attentively that it almost overwhelmed her. Camilla nodded, tears running down her face. "Yes, darling. He is.", she confirmed, sobbing heartbreakingly. "But why are you crying then, Mummy?", Thea wanted to know and lovingly wiped away her mother's tears. "It's okay. You and Sir are in love and I'm very fond of Sir, too. I think he loved me, too. Is he also Tom and Laura's father? But - wait, what's with Daddy?" Her clever little girl had so many, reasonable questions and, of course, Camilla was going to try and answer them all as best as she could. "No, darling, Sir's not Tom and Laura's father, that'd be Daddy, and Daddy will always be your Daddy as well. He loves you so much and this will not change anything between you two.", Camilla assured her. "He'll tell you himself as soon as we're back at the house, he's actually here, you know…" Thea's eyes widened in excitement. "Daddy's here?", she asked enthusiastically and Camilla nodded verifying. "He is, darling. And he can't wait to see you - wanna go and say hello to him?" "Yes, please!", Thea exclaimed cheerfully, and off she went…

[hullomoon]

hullomoon's 2023 works: part two

it’s the end of the year, which means it’s time for a work round-up! i had a pretty busy year so i didn't post as much, but i also know i did more longer works. so it probably balances out in the end. if you haven’t yet, check out my 2019 roundup, 2020 roundup, 2021 roundup, and 2022 roundup! all works are ordered in chronological posting order.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

it might not be okay (but a hug can help) | Stranger Things | The Byers & Eleven | 1.3k

The first day of school is rough for the Byers

[podfic] you're the reason i'm hanging on | Stranger Things | Robin/Nancy, Robin & Steve | 01:55:25

Max picks at the hem of her sleeve. “Did you see the clock?” It occurs to her, distantly, that Max is seeking comfort as much as she’s offering it. Robin feels something stir in her chest, and she thinks she should say something. Do something. She thinks she would normally know what. Now, she just doesn’t. or, the obligatory Robin gets Vecna'd fic

[podfic] Erre Con Erre | Pokemon | Emmet & Ingo | 01:31

Los gemelos están cansados y recuerdan una rima de su infancia.

[podfic] and they'll never tear us apart | Check, Please! | Jack/Bitty | 0:43:56

Bitty's got a secret long distance boyfriend. It affects the Haus-mates, frogs, and said long-distance-(Canadian-hockey-robot)-boyfriend in different ways.

we're a team | Stranger Things | Steve & Robin | 463

The Fourth of July is right around the corner and trauma has a way of rearing its ugly head

[podfic] come lie with me and let silence treat us kindly | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 0:24:00

Eddie learns that sometimes Steve will just lie down on the floor and simply exist while the world around him continues. The Party know that, call it "floor time", and generally leave him be until Steve is ready to be back. Eddie doesn't mind, because it offers him even more opportunities to just look at him. To watch him. That is, until Eddie himself is in dire need of just lying down and letting the floor work its apparent magic. It's a good thing, he finds, that Steve understands him without as many words and is very ready to just take care of him. Eddie might be a little bit in love, actually. Or: In which they lie on the floor and take care of each other, falling in love somewhere along the way between music and silence.

you've got a friend | Stranger Things | Steve & Robin | 1.1k

It takes a while for Robin and Steve to realize they've developed a fear of needles

[podfic] pinkie swear | Stranger Things | Steve & Robin | 09:48

Traffic is miserable. Robin passes out during the first traffic jam. Steve puts on Tears for Fears last album and hopes she doesn’t wake up and give him shit. Doesn’t think about the “Break for Emergency” Spotify playlist they all share. Or his yearly plans to get the hell out of Chicago for the Fourth of July. Completely ignores the mess that is late October through November. He weaves through traffic —Robin doesn’t even move when he’s cut off and he lays on his horn. or, forty years of steve & robin’s friendship

[podfic] coming home to you | Schitt's Creek | Stevie & David | 0:11:49

There’s a room in the cottage that’s always ready for her, whenever she needs it. It’s not a guest room. David and Patrick were very clear on that. The third bedroom is the guest room. But this, this is her room. There’s Rose Apothecary products in the bathroom, even though she’d still use the drugstore brand if left to her own devices. There’s the old, battered quilt on the foot of the bed that David said didn’t go with the decor, but left it there for her anyway because he knew how much she loved it. There’s even a Sarah McLachan poster on the wall. There’s a room in the cottage that’s always ready for her, and that’s why she’s definitely not crying on this airplane.

it's hot when you're going through hell | Stranger Things | Chrissy/Nancy | Explicit | 2.2k

Every college-aged woman in Hawkins knows: if you have a problem with an ex, you went to Nancy Wheeler

[fearsate]

⊹₊⟡⋆ [ ella purnell ] + [ she/her ] ⊹₊⟡⋆ blasting [ the tradition by halsey ] through their airpods is [ genevieve "viv" vanderbilt ] . oh , you don’t know them ? they’re the [ twenty-nine ] year old [ heiress ] who just went viral for [ getting divorced after 72 days ] . yup , the one that drives a [ ferrari roma spider in black ] . i hear they’re pretty [ alluring ] , but others have claimed that they’re quite [ narrow-minded ] . that makes sense , considering they’re often labeled as [ the defrosting ice queen ] .

basics:

full name: Genevieve Louise Vanderbilt

nicknames: Viv

gender: Cis-female

pronouns: She/Her

sexuality: Biseuxal

aesthetics: Cherry flavored lip-gloss, skinny dipping under a starry sky, collecting antique paintings, live as only you can, blasting music while driving around the city at 3am, half opened jewelry boxes, half heaven half hell, perfume clinging to silk sheets, the clinking of champagne flutes

age: Twenty-Nine

date of birth: November 20, 1995

zodiac sign: Scorpio

residence: Currently resides alone in a mansion within the comforts of the rich in Beverly Park in Los Angeles, California

occupation: Heiress

character trope: The Defrosting Ice Queen

appearance:

faceclaim: Ella Purnell

voice claim: Ella Purnell

height: 5'5"

weight: 134lbs

eyes: Brown

hair: Brown

piercings: Earlobes

other distinguishing features: Other than Cel's long, light brown hair, she has no distinctive attributes upon recognizing her

scars: A small scar by her right eye from falling on her head

personality:

positive traits: Busy, Business-like, competitive, complex, deceptive, experimental, modern, proud, questioning, stern, stylish, unpredictable

neutral traits: Busy, Business-like, competitive, complex, deceptive, experimental, modern, proud, questioning, stern, stylish, unpredictable

negative traits: Arrogant, careless, deceitful, greedy, impatient, jealous, mean, quick-tempered, ruthless, selfish, sneaky, vengeful

family:

mother: Louise Vanderbilt (neé Walsh)

father: Jack Vanderbilt

siblings: None

birth order: First, Only child

status: Divorced, Single

children: None

pets: Salem, a black cat with light green eyes

other random stuff:

first love: Her ex-wife

usual mood: Content

defining moments: The death of her parents

· Born to an American father and a British mother, Genevieve, or Viv, Vanderbilt was meant for greatness. At least, that’s what her parents believed. Completely and entirely loaded with money from both sides of the family, it was no struggle for Viv to live a grand life. Her parents spent a lot of money donating to children’s hospitals and research that makes them look swell; their daughter knew the truth. They were hard and they were mean. They expected everything from Viv. Perfect grades, perfect look, perfect views and perfect, well, everything. She hated it but she didn’t want to disappoint.

· So, there was a persona that she portrayed when enduring Catholic school. Her anger and her aggressive was put towards a facade of bitchiness. She had her group of popular friends, often picked on the "little guy" of the school. In truth, she did not care what happened to other's. She was a Rich Bitch and she knew she was untouchable thanks to her money and status among the community. Though, she never forgot her purpose.

· She never, really, had a real job. She was rich. Her parents gave her a plethora of money, but she still went to college. She pursued journalism but never did anything with the degree. Her life revolved around going to galas, premieres and everything else a rich woman who has a presence in rich scene. Instagram popped off, she enjoyed Tweeting. Somewhat, she became an influencer in her spare time but it was never a full-time job.

· She was twenty-five when her parents died in a car accident while visiting the States. That's when things truly change. She received their money, officially became an heiress and didn't need to work a day in her life. Even if she wasn't too close to her parents, it changed her life entirely. The Ice Queen started to melt.

· At the age of twenty-eight, she got married to her first love. However, it was within 72 days they got divorced. Proposal, engagement, wedding and honeymoon all took place yet their "love" did not last. The news was out quick. It was all over the place and, in truth, she was embarrassed. She hated it. Rumors about the marriage were all over every social media platform, on terrible magazines - everywhere. She felt as if she could not get away from it. Perhaps it was some sort of karma for being a bitch and, unfortunately for the terrible persona, she was becoming a little too humbled.

· Beverly Park is where she lives her life. However, the karma can't seem to disappear, as rich kids have started to be killed off and, truthfully, she wonders if she'll soon be next.

[meraki-yao]

An exchange student from Canada saw me crying and gave me a tissue. We talked. He's really nice. I'm sane now.

This is going to be a full vent. This is my full story on this situation. Only read if you want to and if you're okay with it. Also warning, this is long as fuck, I really trauma dumped here.

tw: suicidal thoughts, self-harm

Backstory: High School

I was labelled as a jack of all trades, master of none. I'm naturally a more art/social science/emotion/humanities person, but I took STEM subjects in high school (Physics, Chemistry, Information & Technology/ Computer, and Calculus & Algebra), partly because these subjects had objective, standard answers, which supposedly makes getting marks in exams easier, partly because I felt like I had to as my parents are both PhD in engineering, and at that point I still thought I had to be "my parents' daughter".

So throughout high school, all my external achievements were humanities/arts related while my studies were STEM orientated. But I struggled a lot with my STEM subjects (except for Computer because a lot of that is just stuff you would know if you use one a lot), and I mean, a lot. As in failing quizzes, fucking up assignments. Thank God I had really kind teachers who cared more about my mental health than my grades and were willing to help and accommodate my needs. But there were many times when I straight up broke down during a lesson and ran off to the social worker's. I skipped several lessons because I just couldn't go to class and try to listen when voices in my head were all yelling at how much of a useless piece of shit I was. I would spend three hours on a single question, and still get it wrong. It always felt like no matter what I did, I would go nowhere. And it didn't help that when I asked for help from my parents, their response would always first be "How can you not know something so simple". By senior year I gave up and started asking my friends and the internet.

On the contrary, I thrived in my language classes and liberal studies class. Even if I initially sucked due to the change in the system, I asked, I studied, I worked and I improved. I got somewhere. Effort paid off in a fair ratio. I never needed to ask my parents anything about that. I never needed to ask anyone other than my teacher. I loved doing my homework in those subjects. My writings were printed out as examples for the whole class. It was great.

Backstory: College Selection

By the time college choices rolled around I had no idea what to choose. At the same time, my mother was also suggesting I go to mainland Chinese universities for my undergrad, and I didn't want that. Going to the States or the UK wasn't affordable for my family, so I opted to stay local, to the dismay of my whole extended family.

So in the mess of all of this and no parental support because they are Chinese stereotypes who think the only courses worth studying are doctor and lawyer, my school's career counsellor suggested Bachelor of Arts and Studies to me (here's their website) a new personalized interdisciplinary degree in HKU. And I was so happy. It felt right. It felt like putting a on tailored dress. And despite my parents' protest, I put that as my first choice.

College entrance exams came and went. Overall I did pretty well. Got top scores in Chinese, English, Liberal Studies, and Computer. Got average for Chemistry, Math and Physic despite spending most of my study leave on these subjects. Just passed Calculus.

So the way the local system works (it's called JUPAS if you wanna look it up) is that by the end of November, you need to submit your 20 university programme choices, but after the public exam result is released, you're assigned 24 hours to change your choices.

And this is where everything started going to hell for me.

My parents, who in the first round of selection, compromised and let me put what I wanted, looked at my marks, and my choices, and vetoed everything. They said I'm not gonna get a job with an interdisciplinary degree, there's no career path for psychology, that the arts and science degree was created because the art, social science and science faculty didn't have that many people.

A different advisor, one who didn't know me personally suggested my current programme: biomedical engineering, which basically combines medicine with engineering. They said it's a lucrative career since health service is in demand, and with my basis in STEM subject I would do well, and that it's easier to go from a science subject to humanities if I want to do something different in post-grad than vice versa. By this time I had 2 hours left before confirmation.

If we were to completely ignore me as an individual, they're right. This would be the logical choice.

But at that point, I already knew it felt wrong. But unfortunately for me, all I could say is it felt wrong, which isn't a strong rebuttal.

With no "logical" rebuttal, two yelling parents and a fucked up head, sobbing, I changed my first choice to this programme. I cut my arm with a cutter over the myriad of scars I gave myself over the years. I told my best friend who was asking if I was ok, that I'll give it a go, and if it doesn't work I'll find a way out. I told the rest of my close friends that my undergrad will be me paying a debt to my parents, and I'd figure out my own dream in the future.

I shouldn't have caved in.

Back Story: University

University started. Immediately it felt wrong. Save for my elective (HKU has this really cool thing called Common Core, look it up if you're interested but essentially it's compulsory electives) I felt so detached from my engineering courses. I couldn't explain, just an inherent feeling that I don't belong here.

It didn't help that it was at this time that I realized I straight-up don't like biology.

Managed through year 1 first semester with average grades. Semester 2 I didn't have any courses directly related to the programme save for a probability & stats course that I fucked my way through. The rest of my grades were pretty good, even got two A- s. The feeling that I didn't belong persisted but popped up a little less.

Now: Breaking

Year 2 came, and from the moment in August when I had to sign up for courses, the feeling of wrongness came back in full force, amplified, even. It felt all-consuming.

This is from my diary:

"I don't wanna be here. I don't want this degree. I don't want this career God I don't want it. It's doesn't fit. I don't fit in this space. This isn't mind. It feels like dysmorphia. It feels like tar, black and toxic and vicious, sticking to my skin, trying to mould my body into something I'm not, to seep into my skin and dye my blood a dull shade of grey. I wanna fucking run away. I wanna fucking die. I don't fucking know what to do."

You guys kind of know the rest, because that's when I met you guys and started feeling safer here than anywhere else, and vented here. But for reference

September

October

November

December

January, January, Fuck you January

I skipped class. I got antidepressants. I binge ate and became overweight. Failed three classes. Parents didn't find out anything until the grades came out. Then they lost their mind.

Now: Not Enough

They blamed me for not trying hard enough.

They said oh failures happen, you have to learn from your mistakes and try again.

I have to set up a proper routine. Dedicate all my time and energy to staying physically healthy and studying. Spent my "free time" thinking. I even got berated for listening to music with headphones on.

Dad asked me why did I fail biochemistry. I said it was hard, the pace was fast, and I don't like the subject. He said there's no point in not liking it.

Mom said I needed to get rid of the idea that this degree is against me and accept it, that I shouldn't dwell on what-ifs from the past, and all the reasons they convinced me to choose this still stands, that learning is a fun and interesting thing that I should take joy in, that I won't be able to handle being a psychiatrist, that I used to be such a star student what the fuck happened to me, that each path has their own difficulties and I'm already on this road so why won't I just keeping going for the next two years, that if I quit and start over I'll be older than my cohort and my friends will all graduate before me and why won't I just follow the normal path dammit

SO EVERYTHING IS MY FUCKING FAULT HUH??

I don't fucking know anymore.

Now: The present

The reason I was crying earlier, was that I went to have a meeting with an academic advisor to ask about the possibility of transferring to a different programme.

There are two ways.

One, apply for an internal transfer by June. But that requires exceptional grades, and I don't have that.

Two, quit university and re-apply with my college entrance exam results. But then none of the credits I earned in the past two years will be transferred. All will expire. I went through shit for nothing except to confirm my mistake is a mistake.

I might figure something out when I'm not crying my brains out but right now neither option sounds like an option to me.

I could barely ask anything intelligent afterwards because I was trying so hard to stop myself from breaking down immediately.

Now: How I feel

I'm not supposed to feel like this. This is not normal. This is not how my university life is supposed to go. It cannot be normal to want to die every day.

The moment I realised this was fundamentally wrong was when I looked at my high school friends' social media, and saw them living their best lives: dating, joining the committee of societies, getting awards and scholarships, jobs and internships, travelling, going to parties, everything a young person should be doing. My best friend is chasing her dreams to became an actress at NYU TISHC, already getting paids acting jobs at year 1, going to prominent events, maintaining a 3.9 GPA, goes out partying all while maintaining a long distance relationship with her athletes boyfriend who is the best of the best in Asian youth, handsome, and just a great guy in general.

I'm supposed to be on the same level as them.

I'm from an elite class of an elite school in an elite city. I've been on city radio four times and city-wide broadcast television once. I was on four department/society committees, two of which I was chairlady. I wrote and directed my own play. My name was followed by seven internal awards when it was my turn to get my diploma during the graduation ceremony. I aced my classes. My drawing and writing had been in my school's anthology and yearbook. I genuinely enjoyed learning.

I'm not supposed to be this.

I'm not supposed to be this depressed, overweight person who can't get out of bed and skips classes and fails courses. I'm not supposed to be this stagnant, I was always moving. I was always giving it my 100%. I'm not supposed to not make any friends and want to stay in my bed all the time. I'm not supposed to be insomniac, or sick, or depressed, or overweight.

I was always fighting.

I don't have any energy in me anymore to fight.

I'm not supposed to turn out like this. This isn't who I want to be/ I hate whoever I am now. This isn't right.

But I'm fucking stuck, I don't know what's the truth, I don't know how valid "I don't like this" is.

A lot of people tell me to just ignore what my parents say but it's really not that simple. I only realized they can hurt me despite loving me and it's not my fault last year. And even then it's hard to stay firm on this belief. Because truthfully, I don't know what's right, I only know what feels wrong.

Fuck this. I want to fast forward until the day I figure shit out. I want to live here on Tumblr.

Fuck everything.

[purplesurveys]

1896

20 random people... Don't look at the questions beforehand! :D

Nina

Celeste

Hans

Lui

Kaye

Angela

Mom

Reena

Gabie

Kuya

Pau

Jo

Lei

Andi

Leigh

Marie

Dad

Dev

Sam

Pia

Ok, here we go...

How did you meet #4?: College org. I was an applicant at the time, they were already a member, and they seemed very friendly to all the newbies so I stuck around them. In time we became close and even got in the same friend group, which we're both still part of today.

How much does #9 mean to you?: She's a co-worker so while I wouldn't, like, die for her per se or can say that she's 'everything' to me, I'd look out for her nonetheless.

Describe #14 in 2 words.: Extremely intelligent.

What is your best memory with #5?: I loved when she came over to watch YTC Busan live with us! That was also such a random mix of friends to end up happening, so I was anxious they'd all be opposites – but it got really fun.

Do you know all of #2's secrets?: I know none of them seeing as we're only workmates and I like my boundaries.

When is the next time you're going to see #7?: In an hour or two, I'm guessing. She went out for a bit for errands.

When's the last time you saw #17?: 2 AM, Friday – dropped him off at the airport. From there, I won't be seeing him again until November.

How do you think #13 feels about you?: After trying to teach me one of her party card games last Sunday, I bet she now thinks I can get ditzy as all hell hahaha. But apart from that I don't know what else she thinks of me! We rarely see each other and are always shy when we do, lol.

Are #11 and #12 anything like each other?: Quite the contrary; they're a good example of how two people cannot be any more different.

Describe the relationship between #14 and #19.: They have a nonexistent relationship, but if we're gonna be extremely loose about degrees of separation – Hans went to the same school as Andi (#14); they both also were schoolmates with Gab, who used to date Sam (#19).

Is #10 single?: No. Has been engaged for a while now, too.

If you could tell #8 one thing right now, what would it be?: Let's go out soon and maybe we can try a new hobby together, too.

What is the funniest thing you've ever seen #16 do?: I haven't had many funny encounters with her tbh as she's kind of shy and doesn't really want to put herself out there – that, and we've always worked from home.

Can I name coolest instead? There was a time when my teammates and I each needed to make 10-slider decks about any topic (meant to be an exercise on public speaking); and she had what I thought was the most unique and personally relatable presentation – she covered her favorite lesbian media. Music, movies...and there's a bunch in there that I was able to relate to...just cause of my past, I guess. Haha. It felt pretty bittersweet, and I gave her some of my recs too.

How did you meet #15?: School. I can't remember when we got close, though. Maybe in high school if I had to guess – we stay friends these days, too, as she's with Andi.

What would you do if #4 died?: I'd be shocked to say the least. I'm imagining that'd bring the college friend group back together again.

What's the weirdest thing you've ever seen #3 do?: He had a brief stint as a camp...something (guide? counselor? idk terms) in the US a few years ago, so when he came back the first thing he did to me was share a bunch of camp songs he picked up from his time there. After he taught me, he proceeded to sing them all to entire time hahaha.

Are you friends with any of #19's friends?: Not with most of them. We only have a few mutual friends, all linked to Angela/Hans.

Who is #7 to you?: My mom.

What is one thing #13 is really good at?: I'm gonna go with biology and chemistry as she's literally a licensed pharmacist.

What would happen if #1 and #3 hated each other?: That would crush me, tbh. Hans is family at this point, and it'd be sad if he and my sister actively disliked one another.

Is #11 anything like #18?: I guess. Very surface-level similarities, but yeah. They're both leaders, their personalities are both pretty nonchalant...that's what I can think of now.

How much trust do you have in #12?: Lots, in the grand scheme of things. Jo is reliable and trustworthy.

If you fell off a bridge, who would you trust to catch you, #4 or #6? Why?: Angela, 100%. We're exponentially so much closer.

Who do you like the most?: It's a tie between my dad and Angela.

Who do you hate the most?: I didn't put in anyone I dislike.

How did you meet #1?: I would guess she was introduced as my little sister when I was 2.

What would you do if you never met #14?: I probably never would've gotten back into wrestling.

Would you date #20?: Hypothetically, in another universe – sure, why not? She's pretty and so so so SO ridiculously kind and has just such a warm personality.

Have you ever seen #8 cry?: Just once. We cried together at the time, but they were happy tears.

Would #5 and #13 make a good couple?: I've never thought of that. But I don't think so.

Describe #9.: I don't know her much outside of work, but from what I've seen she's hardworking; has a sensitive side in that she doesn't really like getting scolded; and she's a million times friendlier than I am – she gets along with everyone which makes her such an important part of the team. You gotta have an extrovert in PR, and she's that.

Do you like #16?: Yes.

Do you think #4 is attractive?: Personally not my type.

When's the last time you talked to #19?: Around two weeks ago.

Would you date #10?: Hard pass, that's my cousin.

What's the best thing about #15?: She has this innocent and pure aura around her that I adore very much. Like she can never get mad at anything and anyone.

Best thing about #7?: She's very resilient.

Have you ever kissed #11?: Nope.

Have you ever slapped #18?: I've never slapped any one person on the list.

When's the next time you're going to see #12?: I have no idea, our group rarely makes plans to see each other anymore. The last time I saw her was mid-2023 and we didn't even get to meet up after to talk about our Yoongi concert experiences like we planned.

Is #16 pretty?: Yes!

What was your first impression of #4?: Kind, approachable, helpful, reliable, older than me.

Is #13 your BFF?: No.

Have you seen #15 in the last month?: I haven't seen her in years actually lol. Andi and I hang out all the time and I always check in if Leigh will be tagging along...and she just doesn't.

Have you been to #20's house?: I have not. We're not that close.

Last time you saw #14?: April! We watched a wrestling gig. I'll be seeing them again later this month for trivia night – they added me to their team because two of the topics will be Friends and BTS, haha.

Next time you'll see #10?: Tomorrow, I'm guessing! We'll be coming over tomorrow and I think he'll by home.

Are you really close to #1?: Not heart-to-heart talk levels because we're a dysfunctional family and can't bear baring our souls to one another LOL – but it's a close-friend type of close for sure.

Would you give #20 a hug?: Sure. I'm sure I hugged her a few times when we saw each other 2 weeks ago at our surprise engagement party for Angela and Hans.

Tell me a secret about #5.: I don't know her enough to know her secrets.

Describe the relationship between #14 and #3: They were schoolmates in grade school until Andi moved.

What's your relationship with #5?: She's one of the school friendships I've been able to retain all these years. We're not best friends but we check in on one another from time to time.

Have you ever danced with #18?: I have not.

How do you know #13?: She's my closest cousin on my dad's side.

Does #2 have a boyfriend/girlfriend?: I don't think so. She had a dating phase early in the year, but I haven't heard much updates from her since.

Have you ever wanted to punch #6 in the face?: Maybe just once, heh.

Has #11 ever met your mother?: Nope.

Have you traveled anywhere with #12?: Nah. We could've, for Yoongi's tour! But I ended up in Thailand, she in Singapore.

If you gave #7 $100, what would they spend it on?: Probably on groceries.

Best memory of #2?: One of our events where we both ended up fairly tipsy.

What is one thing you most want #14 to know?: That I always feel bad for being the occasional terrible replier, but I hope they know that I always love it when they message and send me the most random questions or rants.

What's the last thing you did with #15?: I honestly have no clue. She's the one I've seen the least often.

When did you meet #8?: We first met around six years ago, when Angela brought us together for some drinks. We never talked again until 2021 when it was Angela (again) who put the three of us in the same chat since we all liked BTS. We got super close from there.

What do you wish for #17?: Good health is #1. It's something I find myself thinking about more often now; and for him not to feel lonely and sad when he's away.

[occasionaltirades]

Excerpts and Summaries of “From the Heart of Hell: Manuscripts of a Sonderkommando Prisoner“

Dear reader, I write these words in the moments of my greatest despair. I do not know, I do not believe that I will live to read these lines again, ‘after the storm’… It may be that this, these very lines I am writing, will be the only witnesses to what was my life. But I will be happy if my writings reach you, free citizen of the world. Perhaps a spark of my inner fire will ignite in you, and you will fulfill at least a part of our life’s desire: you shall avenge, avenge our deaths!

_______

Four years ago, I read an article. It was titled, “Becoming Anne Frank”, by Dara Horn, and appeared in the November 2018 issue of the Smithsonian Magazine, which is a fantastic publication that I highly recommend. You can find it in any library and subscriptions are very affordable. The older issues and articles (including the aforementioned) are also typically available online. Most people are familiar with Anne Frank and her diary, which was published by her surviving father and has been translated into 70 languages and sold more than 30 million copies. However, this post will not be about Anne Frank, because this article piqued my interest with the following paragraph:

The line most often quoted from Frank’s diary— “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart”—is often called “inspiring,” by which we mean that it flatters us. It makes us feel forgiven for those lapses of our civilization that allow for piles of murdered girls—and if those words came from a murdered girl, well, then, we must be absolved, because they must be true.

It posits that part of the popularity of the book is that it predates the time when Anne’s family was presumably sold out, and by people who probably received a reward of approximately $1.40 per Jew. It continues:

Readers know that the author was a victim of genocide, but that does not mean they are reading a work about genocide. If that were her subject, it is unlikely that those writings would have been universally embraced.

The article mentions other writers, but the one that has compelled me is Zalmen Gradowski. He was a writer that they correctly bet I had never heard of, and whose work I was luckily able to obtain, but only by ordering it from the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum, paying for postage from Poland, and hoping it wouldn’t get lost in a lengthy transit. A far cry from a trip to a bookstore or library, where you could hopefully still easily procure a copy of one of the books that many of us may be familiar with from our time in school. In addition to the quotations at the top, Gradowski wrote the following:

This is the real reason why I write – that my condemned life may attain some meaning, that my hellish days and hopeless tomorrows may find some purpose in the future.

Having read these words, I wished to share with you some of what he wrote so that they may reach more people. So that his words may be immortalized in more minds. So that you too can bear some witness to what he says is, “merely a small part of the hell of Birkenau-Auschwitz. It is for you to imagine the reality[…]” “[so] that you will be able to form an image of how the children of our people perished.”

First, let me warn you that the following will not be pleasant. Zalmen Gradowski was forced to work in the Sonderkommando, made to escort prisoners and process bodies. He did not survive, dying in a courageous but unsuccessful prisoner revolt. He wrote on what he could and buried his writings in cans in the camp. His writings were retrieved by a surviving friend, but were damaged, and there are gaps in the text where parts were lost or unreadable. As such, most of what follows will be direct quotations, but may include some guessed words on the part of the compiler or myself. In some places [--] will denote a gap in the text. In parts where I have chosen to skip forward, the ellipses will also be in brackets. This is another reason I wished to post this; the book can be as physically difficult to read as it is emotionally, and I want people to be able to experience at least some of it. For both his sake, and for all our sake in this new year. If you’re interested in that Smithsonian article, here is a link:

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/becoming-anne-frank-180970542/

___________________ Zalmen spent just shy of two years in the Auschwitz-Birkenau camp. He and his family had been considering emigrating to Palestine before war broke out, but after the outbreak of war, Poland was quickly occupied and he, his wife, parents, and two brothers and three sisters were all trapped. During the initial occupation, Zalmen did what he could to help his fellow Jews as the head of the medical and health department of the ghetto's Judenrat ("self-administrating" groups coercively formed by the Nazis to administer the closed-off Jewish populations). He continued to try and help as a member of a health group when they were initially moved to a transit camp where they were held without electricity or heating, and epidemics naturally raged. On December 8, 1942, they were moved to Birkenau where the SS carried out a selection wherein his wife, his mother, sisters, as well as his father and a brother-in-law were immediately murdered. Due to his physical condition, he was selected as a member of the Sonderkommando on December 9, in order to replace the 400 Sonderkommando that had been murdered that same day in the gas chamber of Crematorium I. Being a member of this group allowed him (and others) some ability to smuggle goods such as food to other prisoners, and to bribe guards with personal effects left behind by those murdered in order to lessen the suffering of those guarded. It is, however, also the reason he bore witness to so much hell and was able to record it for us. He worried that the world would not believe what was happening in camps like Auschwitz. That it would be dismissed as "horror propaganda" (which is precisely what the German state claimed it to be). He provides the following reason for his writing:

I write so that at least a tiny fraction of the truth may reach the world[...] This is the only goal; this is the sole purpose of my life. I live here with the thought, with the hope that my writings may reach you, and that at least a part of what I and all of us still alive here strive for, the final will of the murdered sisters and brothers of my people, may be realized in this life. ___________________ Come here to me, you free citizen of the world, who have had the good fortune not to know the rule of the cruel [--] two legged beasts, and I will tell you by what sophisticated, sadistic methods they have murdered millions of human beings from the defenceless, suffering Jewish people, protected by none. [...] If you do not return from your journey, it will be because your human heart was too weak to bear the strain of the gruesome, bestial deeds which your eyes beheld. [...] For you will have fled the world of men to seek comfort among the wildest, most savage beasts, rather than live among cultured demons.

From a section on transport to the concentration camp:

See, my friend, how they march in line as if turned to stone. No weeping, not a cry from a child is heard. Do you know why? Because all weeping by a child is stifled by a blow, both to the mother and the child. Such was the order given by the young wild animals [(Nazi guards)], such was their will. Their bestial instincts have been given free rein, and they are looking only for victims to sate their murderous souls, thirsting for warm Jewish blood. This mass of human beings must comply with their dreadful orders, since their lives are in their hands and their bodies could at any moment be corpses lying in red rivers of blood, with no one to bring them to eternal rest. See, my friend, how the mothers hug their children to stifle their weeping. They tuck their little heads under their shawls, so that the sobbing of the baby, freezing to death, will not be heard.

Here you see a woman standing with a baby in her arms. Her husband is standing next to her. They are staring out at the world passing by them, and instinctively keep glancing down at their lovely little baby. They are plagued by deep anxiety. They are still young, full of life, and the world they see through the windows is calling to them. They have someone to live for, someone to be there for, someone to work and labour for. They have just brought their first child into the world, and thereby woven themselves into the web of eternity, become partners in the building and development of the world. And at their very first steps in the world, they have been stopped and told to leave, to depart from the place they had begun to build their nest.

It is not themselves that they are thinking about. [...] For them, the child is the greatest happiness, the greatest comfort, the shared ideal of their lives. But for those cruel criminals, it is a useless plaything, without value or the right to exist.

After the train from the transport camp has begun moving. Remember that the camps were claimed to be "work camps":

The sound of the whistle rouses the people from their rigid immobility. The train has wrenched itself from [--] of death and is moving on. Mothers kiss their children, women their husbands. Tears of joy are flowing. Everyone has revived and drawn new breath. Hope for new life begins to form. [...] The belief is strengthening that all the rumours are false, all the terrible prophesies are baseless, built upon a single incident, dreadful in itself but not of a mass character.

The adults, who are suffering no less than the children, console themselves with the thought that the authorities will surely provide them with food and water at the next station. They will not deport a people intended as a labour force and let them die of hunger and thirst.

We get off the train. Now, my friend, see what happens. See who has come to welcome us. Soldiers in helmets, with large whips in their hands and big angry dogs at their sides. These are the open arms waiting to receive us [--]. No one understands why there is such a heavy guard. Why such a threatening reception? Why? What are we, that armed forces and wild dogs are needed to deal with us. We have come here to work, calm and peaceful people. So why all these precautions? Wait, and you will understand.

After being sorted into groups, apparently by age, sex, and prior occupation for the pretense of work. Zalmen himself was selected as one of the able-bodied:

The stronger ones, the small group supposedly selected as the best labour force, comfort themselves that transporting the women and children, and the weak and old men, in trucks is a mark of [humanitarian] feeling. Perhaps the authorities wish to spare them the burden of a march on foot after such an exhausting journey.

[...] They came with their wives and children, fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, and now they are all alone, without anyone. [...] They were together everywhere. Left the ghetto together, marched from the camp together, travelled on the locked train together. And now, at their final destination, when they have at least reached the dreadful and frightening point of culmination, they have been separated.

After arriving and being tattooed with an identification number:

From that moment on, you have lost your identity. You are no longer the man who once existed. Today you are a meaningless, worthless, walking number. [--] A hundred such numbers are created and taken to their new homes. [...] We stumble across the clayey ground and reach our new graves in fear and exhaustion. We have scarcely the time to look at our new home and breathe its air, when we are clubbed over the heads. Split skulls and battered faces are pouring with blood. Such is the welcome extended to the new arrivals. We are confused and shocked. [...] They explain briefly that this is the [bouquet] welcoming them to life in the camp.

Who knows how those vile criminals, to whatever species they belong, are now treating his weak, sick mother and dear, beloved sister? Who knows in what grave his father and brother have fallen, and how they are being treated? All stand helpless, anxious, despairing, alone, suffering and broken.

In a heavily damaged passage, Zalmen describes the daily march to work, and every man's eyes looking to the barbed wire of the women's camp. Searching for a relative, wife, sister, child. That maybe a ray of hope still glimmers. "You cannot make yourself believe that they have gone forever."

Outside our block too, a dead number is lying. We approach and have a look. Only this morning he was at work and now he lies motionless. No one cares. No one even sighs. Poor man, if you were with your parents now, their child, what commotion would surround you! Your mother would be lying beside you, weeping and sobbing. Your father would be pacing back and forth, unable to sit still, crying like a baby. Your brothers and sisters would be sitting around you, weeping bitterly and grieving for you. Your friends and [--] would come, and each would [--] the house would be full of sorrow [--] carried away by the terrible misfortune. [--] brothers and sisters [--] like stones in the camp. And when a stone sinks [--] no great misfortune. Grief has [--] them [--].

Zalmen writes about how some individuals still carried out the weekly prayers and songs of praise for God, and the struggle many felt on the topic of faith. As with everything else, he wrote much more, but here is an excerpt regarding the disillusioned bitterly watching the ever-faithful pray and sing, while in their daily lives they watched one tragedy and atrocity after the other:

[They] could inspire no feeling of gratitude, nor move us to sing praises to the Creator of the Universe who had allowed a barbarian nation to murder and annihilate millions of innocent people, men, women and children whose only crime was having been born Jewish; for recognizing the omnipotence of that same G-d to whom they now prayed for having brought monotheism to humanity. And because of this they have now become victims. And they should keep singing his praises? What for? To sing a song of praise before this sea of their own blood? To pray to him who refuses to hear the cries and screams of innocent children?

A recurring theme, but one for which there are no "succinct" passages is that of the despair of separation. The breaking up of families and not knowing the fate of loved ones. The despair of mothers who would have gladly died in their children's stead, but knowing that "the devil wants her too, along with her child, as a sacrifice". It is difficult to convey the sorrow in these pages. Gradowski saw the mass graves, the bodies, and the cremations. The hell of the Sonderkommando was bearing witness to it and knowing the fate that awaited them. It did afford them some capacity to help ease the suffering of fellow prisoners, but also meant quite literally processing the murdered. In a series of chapters close to the end, Zalmen describes the work they were forced to do. Watching as truckloads of women and children were brought to the gas chambers of Auschwitz-Birkenau. They were stripped and forced to stand naked, waiting for "gates of hell to open and give them free passage to the grave.". He describes girls reunited with their mothers kissing and rejoicing at their reunion despite the knowledge that they will soon be leading them to death. He describes the pain of seeing all these people, full of life, who will "in a few hours, be frozen in death. Their mouths will be silent forever. The sparkling eyes, the bewitching charm, will stare fixedly in one direction - searching through dead eternity".

He laments how this multitude will soon be bodies lying in the mud. Their teeth ripped out for metals, rings and jewelry removed. The pale bodies who were just moments earlier their kin will be dragged across the cement and thrown "like a foul carcass" onto elevators to the crematoria. Within minutes hundreds of lives are reduced to ash. Soon, all of these lives will be confined to wheelbarrows, destined to be dumped into unmarked graves.

No trace will be left of those who stand here now; all these people who once filled entire cities, who once had a place in the world, will be effaced, torn out by the roots as if they had never been born.

Sickeningly, he mentions that on this occasion, representatives of the Nazi party had come for the day's "celebration". High-ranking officers whose faces they had never seen in the 16 months he'd been imprisoned coming to watch these women marched into the gas chambers. At this point in 1944, Germany was losing their war. Somehow this slaughter of innocents was supposed to convince them that this was the real battle, and that this extermination was what mattered as their soldiers fell on all fronts.

Further groups are herded into the gas chambers, more than two thousand people, and he describes how soldiers coldly and calmly dumped the poison in through "eyes" at the top of the chamber and walked away "Proud, brave and content, having accomplished the great task for their nation, their fatherland. They have come one step closer to victory".

Finally, Zalmen describes how, after the gas had been administered, they were to open the doors of these great tombs, from which would blow a "wave of atrocious death". The only sound was a barely audible trickling of fluids flowing from bodies. In a "vast, naked sea", body parts protruded, and heads appeared as if floating in this abyss. They are to pull apart these bodies, that are "twisted into each other like a ball of yarn, as if the devil has deliberately played a diabolical game with them before their death and set them in this pose".

Two frozen eyes stare at you, as if to ask: what will you do with me, brother? More than once you recognize an acquaintance with whom you had spent time before he entered the grave.

At the end, he describes the burning.

The hellish fire extends its flames like open arms and snatched up the corpses like precious treasure. The hair catches fire first. The skin swells up in blisters that burst within a few seconds. The hands and feet start to writhe-the veins tighten and move the limbs. Now the entire corpse ignites, the skin has burst, the fat flows, and you hear the sizzle of burning fire.[...] The head burns the longest. Small blue flames flicker in its sockets-the eyes are consumed with the brain deep down and in the mouth the tongue still burns. The entire process lasts twenty minutes - and a body, a world is reduced to ashes.

In one final letter in September of 1944, Zalmen Gradowski described the location of some of the ash pits, and how much had been dumped into the river. He told the finder where to find his other writings. He died less than one month later, probably on October 7, 1944, in a Sonderkommando revolt after almost two years in the camps. Auschwitz-Birkenau would be liberated by the Red Army three and a half months later, on January 27, 1945.

One message that rings through everything is of the barbarism to which people will resort, looking to blame others for a problem. Complex explanations for ills are ignored entirely in favor of a scapegoat. Further, to paraphrase Gradowski, the greater the civilization, the greater its barbarism. It was an organized, efficient society which gave rise to this atrocity, and it is within organized and "civilized" societies that we see an ever-increasing number of people downplaying or denying them. Societies wherein we have more and more people subscribing brazenly to the ideology of the perpetrators. Please, read and learn as much as you can. Humans are uniquely able to learn, almost directly, from those who came before us. Take in their memory and their lessons and carry them into the future.