#thinking about on my first year on here and remembering mostly how unnecessarily nasty people on here over simple shit

[saturngalore]

it’s kinda funny how the people that had the most followers or already get enough notes on their content were oddly yet strongly anti-reblog during that whole debacle. a lot of nasty people shamed other simblrs especially who hardly get any notes of their well deserved content because “they shouldn’t want attention” in order to run a simblr…i really hope karma bites y’all in the ass one day hopefully next year 😇

[lannee]

even my phone misses your call (by the way) - part 1

jo yeong x koo seo ryeong fanfic

AO3: link

_

It’s only 9:30 and the Prime Minister is already on the verge to implode.

If she has to endure another unnecessarily stupid conversation with the men existed within 10m of her seat, she might truly lose it. So she shuts them up, and walks towards the door. She can hear it vividly in the air, through the look in their eyes, “What a cocky brat, leaving again in the middle of an important meeting, with so many elite people twice her age”. As if she actually cares, as if she has the time to ponder over whatever nasty things they think of her.

She gave up doing that years ago. Koo Seo Ryeong did not crawl her way out of a fish market and become the youngest female Prime Minister of Corea to put up with some 60 year old men’s bullshit. So of course she leaves, whispering death threats to Secretary Kim for not doing his job properly and forcing her to attend another useless meeting that can just be a goddamn report on her table.

Back to the office, she walks straight to her private balcony after taking out a pack of cigarettes she secretly keeps in the room. Seo Ryeong is not a regular smoker, not silly enough to sustain an addictive habit that can damage her impeccable skin. But here she is, stressed out of her mind, holding the lighter so very close she can almost feel the nicotine coming in like waves. Then out of nowhere, she thinks of him.

She thinks of 20 year old Jo Yeong, to be exact. Standing in front of her under the heavy July rain while carefully taking the cigarette out of her soft lips. Jo Yeong with his navy umbrella. Always managed to find her at her worst, always be there next to her without saying anything because words were usually wasted when you talked to Koo Seo Ryeong.

God, he really ruins cigarettes for her. She throws the whole pack into the trash bin along with the one on her lips.

She hates him so much, it almost makes her want to see him just to say that to his face.

But they do not do things like that anymore.

_

When Yeong passed the entrance exam of Corea National University, Seo Ryeong was books deep into her Master degree in Political Science and International Relations. He instantly became popular in the campus for being the King’s closest friend, with rumors about him floating around every lecture that she attended. She studied with Lee Gon for years and never met him or his friends outside, but whenever they talked he always mentioned Yeong’s name and stories about what they did together in the palace.

She listened tentatively to everything he said not because she had a huge crush on him and wanted to be his Queen, as every jealous fangirl in the campus always thought of her, but because she needed to know every deep dark secret of the King of Corea. She knew it would tremendously help her career as a politician in the future. That was the reason why she followed him around like an innocent puppy, the pretty girl with a lovely figure who came from the dirty market and scored the highest grade on the insanely difficult entrance exam. She beat out Gon fair and square, sometimes late at night she even dreamed about taking the throne of his to herself. If people knew about her thoughts, they would laugh at her and spit on her face but frankly, she thought if she wanted it enough, she could be the Queen of Corea. With or without Gon by her side.

When Gon introduced Yeong to her for the first time, she could not read his face at all. She was used to be so good at knowing people after the first meeting, but Yeong stirred her curiosity and she felt strangely intrigued by him. Maybe it was because he did not talk much, he had an incredibly calm expression and most of the times he only looked at Gon. He acted like a well-trained bodyguard around the King, which she found quite hilarious. Gon already had an army walking around him every step, and with Yeong by his side it felt even impossible to her how she could still hang out with them so casually. She and Gon both knew they worked perfectly together as a team. Even when they had zero interest in each other romantically, she earned her place to be by his side and let’s be honest, he would never pass any group project without her insights and intelligence. It took Yeong a while to understand this, he was always careful and silent when she was around. She could feel him trying to crack her facade, as if he was able to see through her 10 year plan of becoming the Prime Minister of Corea.

He did not trust her, and it annoyed her how she cared about that more than she thought.

-

It started out with Seo Ryeong simply wanting to earn Yeong’s approval. She tried to ask him personal questions, which he only gave out vague answers that did not satisfy her at all. They even went together to a few field trips exclusively for the university’s top students, and girls followed him around all day hopelessly asking for his phone number. Sometimes he intentionally tried to find Seo Ryeong and asked her to go out for a walk in order to escape their horny fellow students. Everybody seemed to be intimidated whenever they saw her. She made fun of him every single time, “How desperate you are to come to me for help”. Gon never went with them on those trips due to security reasons, obviously. It surprised her how much she enjoyed having Yeong all for herself. He bought her food after their walk and one time somehow they ended up drinking beer together in Gyeongju. He told her about his family, mostly to subdue the awkwardness between them, and even asked her about things she never cared to share with anyone. They were both not a fan of getting deep and personal, their stories ended quickly and strangely left her longing for more. She did not know how to talk to him without sounding premeditated. Only with him did she feel like maybe she was not good enough. Maybe she needed to live life differently, to drop the act and let him see all of her calculations.

That was when she unknowingly started flirting with him a bit. She tried that with Gon years ago until they both realized the true intention of being in each other’s life. Then she did it with Yeong because there seemed to be no other way to get closer to him, she was kind of impatient and definitely not herself. She started drinking a lot around that time because of all the essays she had to write, relationships with important people she had to maintain while staying alert around Yeong and waiting for him to be under her control.

A week before she submitted her final thesis, she did the most stupidly cliche thing ever, and that was drunk calling Jo Yeong while she was out drinking alone. She was fed up with reading and writing and living alone in the city. Most nights she could not sleep peacefully and had no idea when the last time she ate a proper meal. So she drove to the closest bar she could find and drank half a bottle of expensive whiskey which would cost a lot of the money that she made working part time. She counted in her head how many days were left before she could stop with the pretentious studying and actually start working on her long overdue plans. Five glasses led to nine, then some guys came over offering to buy her drinks. She remembered being sober enough to drop mean words and scare most of them away. One guy stuck around for so long and was shamelessly insistent about bringing her home, she had to pull the boyfriend-coming-here-very-soon card. She knew she was completely intoxicated when she pressed his name on her phone. There was no way she would come out of the bar safely if she didn’t call someone she could trust.

“Noona, it’s 2 AM. What’s going on?”, he picked up after a few seconds and said boringly. Like he was about to fall asleep but she appeared out of nowhere and prevented that from happening.

She chuckled, regretting whatever she was doing in the back of her mind, “I don’t know, why don’t you come here and find out?”

“And where are you exactly?”, he signed.

She told him the address, and imagined him wondering why he even answered her call. She was so drunk, the thought of him not coming at all actually scared her. The guy next to Seo Ryeong kept on persuading her to go with him, to leave her fictitious boyfriend behind and stop acting hard to get. She laughed in disgust without batting an eye and continued drinking. The funny thing was none of the guys dared to touch her for too long, she guessed she had that kind of power. Time passed slowly and she was convinced Yeong did not care enough to drive all the way here from the palace to deal with someone he never really trusted. So when he called out her name from behind, she almost fell from the stool where she was sitting. Then everything suddenly happened too quick, too fast.

Yeong held her upright, one hand caressing her face, the other tugging her messy hair behind her ears. He asked for the bill and paid for it. She leaned her head on his chest during the whole card transaction, when he had to sign the bill his arms surrounded her. He was wearing a black linen shirt and dark jeans. Did he always smell this good? She buried her face in his neck absentmindedly and inhaled his scent. She could feel Yeong stopped abruptly in the middle of asking the bartender about something related to her drunken state. He wanted to know if she was alone the whole time, and she kind of imagined him not wanting any guy near her. Then he carried her out the front door, the early summer heat was suffocating and she told him she wanted to lie down somewhere. He quickly put her on the passenger seat of his car and she tugged on his shirt to pull him closer while he was trying to secure the seatbelt.

Seo Ryeong woke up in the morning with the worst headache ever. Her room smelled faintly of vomit. She panicked for exactly 10 seconds while everything from the night before flashing through her mind. She did not remember anything at all after entering Yeong’s car. She still wore the same clothes from last night, covered by her warm blanket. Her room seemed pretty clean, maybe he helped her to the bathroom before she made a mess of herself... For the first time in her life, she wanted to end her existence right there. While trying to grab the phone she saw a bottle of hangover cure on her bedside table. There was a text from him, sent 2 hours ago, “Drink it, cook some soup, text me when you’re awake.”

Could a heart ever get swollen? Because it felt like hers kind of did. She prayed to all the Gods above she did not say anything stupid to him during the drive home.

.

.

.

it’s been awhile since i wrote a fanfic. i didn’t know i needed to write a fanfic for these 2 incredible characters until i read this by @rain-hat​ - thank you for inspiring me dear. writing this is fun because i kind of know they’ll never be canon lmao. so i just went wild with my imagination. i’ll post part 2 maybe this weekend after the new episodes come out. hopefully there will be some scenes of them together. i literally only watch Eun Chae and Do Hwan’s scenes and skip the rest of this drama. please tell me i’m not the only one! 

title is from From the dining table - my fav song by Harry <3

hope you enjoy this!

[mithranqueersmusings]

Before This Dance Is Through II

Chapter: 2/16

Rating: T

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo was just about to get into bed when a notification rang out from his phone, it was charging on the other side of the room because that was the only way he could get himself out of bed in the morning. It was almost 2 o'clock in the morning which meant the text could only be from one person.

        you up???

This was far from the first of these texts that Ringo had received from John, they were almost a weekly occurrence by this point but more often than not Ringo had already fallen asleep.

        was just about to go to bed. why?

        do you have work tomorrow????

        not until 12         do you?

        fuck off

John was a writer, a poet more than anything, which meant that he was always working which really meant that he was never working. Ringo was a drum teacher, had been for almost 7 years at this point, which wasn't as exciting as it sounded; he mostly worked for rich families who had a child who was trying to do something edgy or was brought into schools for one of those strange activity days. Drumming was Ringo's passion and while he was glad that he was able to earn money doing something he loved, he dearly wished he was able to drum for himself rather than spending several hours a week just trying to get a kid to hold the sticks correctly.

        i was about to take a little ride down the helter skelter         care to join me ;)

Ringo stared down at his phone for a moment. It had been over a week since John had dragged him out to that strip club, and while he'd like to say that he'd forgotten about the whole thing it was far from the truth. The sight of Spike dancing on that stage had plagued his memory almost every night since, leading to more than one occasion of late-night indulgence. Ringo had felt guilty touching himself thinking about the other man, but he couldn't pinpoint the reason; he supposed it must've been the guilt he'd felt when watching him dance, and the shame that followed from having to run away into the bathroom like a scared, little kid. His thumbs were frozen in place hovering above his phone screen while his mind was racing. The sensible part of his brain told him to just go to bed, if he indulged this desire tonight it would make the last time more than a one-off and he wasn't sure he was prepared to accept that. Yet the deeper part of his mind, the one he often tried to ignore, urged him to go back just for the opportunity to see Spike again - after all, the current wank material he was providing was getting a little stale.

        have you fallen asleep you twat

        no no im still here

        well do you wanna come or not?? i can pick you up

        are you sober?

        mostly

        mostly?

        fuck sake         ARE YOU COMING OR NOT

        fine         but ill drive

        whatever makes you happy

As much as he wouldn't like to admit it, Ringo spent a ridiculous amount of time - by his standards - choosing what to wear. Even though he knew the club was dangerously dark, and even though what he wore shouldn't really matter, that voice in the back of his mind told him to look nice for him. For the stripper he'd seen for about 5 minutes, the stripper whose real name he didn't even know, who probably didn't even remember Ringo in the slightest. He'd tried his best to not read too far into the obsession his brain seemed to have with Spike - trying to separate himself from his thoughts as though they were two separate beings had been a vital step in this - but as he stood in front of his mirror comparing two near identical jumpers, he supposed he wasn't going to be able to ignore it for much longer. His heart even felt heavy at the thought that Spike might be working tonight; he couldn't tell if it was just a strange fixation that his desperation had conjured up but the only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted to see him again.

Ringo arrived at John's place later than he would've liked but when the front door was opened to revealed a very ruffled, very drunk man, Ringo figured John wouldn't have noticed how long he'd been.

"Mostly sober?" Ringo scoffed at the sight of him, his cheeks rosy and a satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"You're not my mum and you're not the police, so fuck off." John was leaning against the door-frame, Ringo supposed partly for support and partly to look cool.

It was a common occurrence for John to get like this, far more common than Ringo would've liked. John drank a lot, at first Ringo figured it was just something everyone did when they got old enough to drink with almost no consequences, then as it continued he tried to explain it away as just something artists did. Years had passed since Ringo had first noticed it and nothing had really changed, it had gotten worse if anything, but there was nothing he really felt he could do. He debated whether he should cancel the plan altogether, to insist that John stayed home and got some sleep, but things were never really that simple. He was almost certain that if he refused to drive them, John would only find another way. He'd tried multiple things over the years: dragging him along to AA meetings, swearing to give up alcohol alongside him, even refusing to hang out with him if he'd been drinking, but nothing seemed to work. John had been through a lot, still was going through a lot, so Ringo figured the best thing he could do was simply to be there for John, it was both the most and least he could do.

Before they headed out Ringo at least managed to convince John to eat some leftover Chinese food he had in the fridge in an attempt to soak up the alcohol somewhat - and to ensure he'd had at least one semi-decent meal that day. They then slid into Ringo's car, it was a little beaten up but it served its purpose, and drove off to the place Ringo was almost certain would be the death of him. It was a Saturday so unsurprisingly the club was a great deal busier than it had been last time, there were several small groups of people smoking outside, some of them clearly workers and how they weren't risking getting frostbite Ringo didn't know. Any hopes of John sobering up a little on the journey there were dashed when he immediately hurried over to the bar as soon as they walked in the door. Ringo tried to stick to his side as best he could, his nervousness from the first time felt like it had tripled with how busy the place was now, so he aimed to keep in John's gravitational pull as much as possible. The music seemed louder but Ringo was certain that was just his imagination. They had to elbow their way to the front of the bar just to get noticed, luckily John had no qualms doing it, which resulted in a few glares from the other customers.

With their drinks in hand they couldn't sit - or hide as Ringo saw it - at the bar like they had done last time, instead they moved further into the club in search for a place to sit. There was a booth near the bathroom that was empty, for obvious reasons, which Ringo pulled them towards desperately. Maybe this was a bad idea. What was he really expecting after all? At most he'd catch another glimpse of Spike, almost have a heart-attack then have to run home less than ten minutes later. Anxiety began nibbling away at his mind, it had a nasty habit of doing that, and the claustrophobic atmosphere wasn't helping. John seemed right at home, as he did almost anywhere, craning his neck between people in search for someone.

"Looking for your Paulie?" Ringo asked in an eager attempt to calm his nerves.

"He's hardly mine." John chuckled, not turning to look at Ringo but continuing his search "Might not even be working tonight."

"Don't you have like his schedule or something?" Ringo sipped his drink.

"That'd be making things a little too official. Not really my style." John sat back in his seat with a small huff, clearly he didn't find what he was looking for.

From where they were sitting they had a fairly obstructed view of the stage but from what little Ringo could gather he wasn't too interested: a muscular man dressed as a policeman was gradually getting undressed while making crude use of a prop baton.

"Any sign of your guy?" John shouted to be heard over the music and it made Ringo jump.

Ringo paused for a moment looking into John's eyes, he considered playing dumb but decided there was no use "Afraid not. Maybe he's not working tonight either."

"That'd be some rotten luck." John clicked his tongue in his mouth "Let's check the back."

"The back?" Ringo raised an eyebrow "That sounds unbelievably dodgy."

"It's not! Well..." John broke his sentence with a laugh "It's just where they do the more 'alternative' stuff, you know?"

"No I don't know, but I suppose I'm gonna find out." Ringo chuckled rather weakly.

John raised his glass in the air a little and Ringo clinked his own against it, they downed the remainder of their drinks and slammed the glasses down on the table unnecessarily hard. John then led them around the edge of the stage, they managed to get another drink at the second bar before they headed down a suspiciously narrow set of stairs which led to an even darker corridor. They then passed through a squeaky door into a small room, barely lit excluding a spotlight focused on a stage at the other end. There were several people scattered across the limited space, a few resting against a makeshift bar which consisted of planks of wood connected to the walls and the rest sat to face the stage.

And there he was. Spike was sat on a stool onstage with an acoustic guitar in his lap and absolutely nothing else. It wasn't a sight Ringo had been prepared for, as much as the erotic gyrating and tear-away clothing had been a shock to his system this was completely different.

Ringo stopped in his tracks when he computed the sight: his pale, lean body curled up around the guitar that he was playing beautifully. His hair wasn't coiffed this time, rather it fell down across his sharp face in waves with faint curls. John turned around when he'd noticed Ringo's absence beside him, a sly grin curled on his face as he grabbed Ringo's arm and pulled him down to the front where they sat.

"What did I tell you?" John whispered "Sexy art."

Spike didn't seem to notice them despite how close they were, he seemed completely immersed in the music he was playing. Ringo hadn't recognised the song at first, perhaps he'd been to busy focusing on other things, but now he could tell it was 'Heaven' by Talking Heads; he made a happy note in his mind that it seemed like the two of them had a somewhat similar music taste, although he couldn't really admit that such a thing shouldn't matter. Looking around at the other customers, it looked like they were mostly taking refuge from the chaos of the main room, many of them resting their heads against the bar for some comfort and the others bordering on unconscious.

Somehow this occasion made Ringo feel even more nervous, even though their previous encounter had been extremely closer and inherently sexual, it was more personal therefore way more uncomfortable. He could hear his voice now, another piece of the puzzle he was shamefully building in his mind, and it was beautiful. It was a little husky but still gentle, an accent poking through in places. Ringo could get a better look at his face now: the dark eyelashes, the hints of hair between his two eyebrows and sharp canine teeth protruding from his open mouth. His eyes focused on the slender fingers playing the guitar strings, veins showing underneath the skin. Ringo felt like he was watching something very private, as if Spike was completely unaware of everyone's presence and could see nothing but his guitar. A quick way to Ringo's heart was through music and it was looking like Spike had bought a first-class ticket.

Ringo hadn't even noticed that the song had ended at first, not until John began clapping and cheering loudly in his ear. Spike seemed similarly out of it, the sudden sound of John snapping his attention away from the music and he gave a small smile in response. They seemed like completely different people: the strutting, confident man from a week ago and the soft, vulnerable one in front of them now. Sparse claps followed shortly after John's, the lack of energy caused by alcohol wearing off was very evident.

"You're pretty good." John almost shouted, Ringo wasn't sure if it was because he was drunk or he still hadn't adjusted from the other room.

"Thanks." Spike replied, his fingers still wrapped around the neck of the guitar "Any requests?"

Ringo had thought his singing voice was beautiful, but the way he spoke somehow had even more of an effect on him. The accent was thicker now and judging by how such a small amount of words could excite him so much, Ringo knew he was in trouble.

"I dunno... What do you think Ringo?" John nudged his friend beside him, embarrassingly emphasising his name which just about managed to shake Ringo from the daze he was falling into.

"Oh, er-" Ringo stammered for a second, Spike looking right at him wasn't helping his nerves in the slightest "Know any Bob Dylan?"

Spike laughed at this and for a moment Ringo cursed himself but before he could chastise himself too harshly, Spike smiled again and spoke "He's one of my favourites."

John nudged Ringo again but he wasn't paying enough attention to him to get embarrassed. He was far too focused on how Spike's fingers began to play the guitar once more, the way his lips moved over his teeth and how his bare feet tapped against the footrest of the stool as he began singing 'Just Like a Woman'. Once again he seemed to disappear into the music which Ringo was very grateful for, for if his eyes began to wander and met his unfaltering gaze he was certain he wouldn't be able to take it. For the majority of the song Ringo had completely forgotten his surroundings, the faint pulse of the loud music from upstairs or the drooling men strewn about the room, he'd even forgotten that Spike was naked while he played. John seemed similarly impressed, although he was considerably more inebriated than Ringo was, and he could see John passing him a few sideways glances during the song.

When the song ended John enthusiastically applauded once more, Ringo followed suit with a slight delay as he found his mind shutting off everything around him. Spike looked down at the two of them with a smile, shuffled in the stool then stood up.

"Well that's all from me." He spoke "Thanks for listening." The words were directed purely at John and Ringo, while there were others who appeared to be barely listening in the back nobody else seemed to be paying much attention.

"Wait!" John called out, startling both Spike and Ringo "Are you done for the night?"

Spike chuckled softly "No, they're gonna close this room in a little bit though, so you might wanna clear out."

"Will you give my friend a private dance?" John asked and now it was Ringo's turn to nudge him.

"Not dressed like this I can't." Spike gestured with his free hand to his nakedness, his guitar was the only thing upholding his modesty.

Ringo was glaring at John now, who only gave him a quick glance before returning his attention back to Spike "How about we come find you upstairs in a few minutes?"

"Fine by me." Spike replied and turned his gaze to Ringo "But your friend doesn't seem too keen."

He didn't give either of them time to protest, which was probably for the best because Ringo was having trouble articulating any coherent thoughts, as he turned his back and walked off the stage. Ringo fought the urge to not look at his arse as he left, and failed entirely. John giggled at the sight which broke Ringo's absentmindedness. The nudge evolved into a harder shove which only intensified John's laughter.

"I hate you." Ringo hissed but he couldn't stop the laughter from breaking through.

"What did I do?" John held his hands up helplessly and Ringo gave him another shove which rocked the chair sideways.

A bouncer walked into the room at the moment, calling for everyone to head back upstairs; Ringo envied the unconscious drunkards that were unable to return to the main room. John's laughter didn't subside the entire time they made their way up the stairs, only being silenced when he took a sip of his newly ordered drink. The room had thinned out a little, Ringo supposed the closing of downstairs only signalled that most people were going to start heading home now, but there were clearly many people who were aiming to stay as long as they possibly could. They managed to get two seats at the bar which allowed Ringo to look amongst the crowd nervously for any sight of Spike.

"What are you so worried about?" John asked, leaning his elbow on the counter.

"Honestly I don't know." Ringo chuckled "It's a bit pathetic, huh?"

"You said it, not me." John grinned "No, no it's just strange. I know you're not the world's biggest slut but you're no prude either."

"I don't think it's a prude thing." Ringo suggested.

"Then what?" John pried, he ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

"It's just him." Ringo lowered his voice a little.

"Well shit. Ringo's in love with a stripper." John matched Ringo's volume but enunciated the words enough that he may as well have been shouting.

"Shut up." Ringo shook his head "You're one to talk."

"Don't bring Paulie into this, that's a strictly professional relationship." John pointed his finger in Ringo's face which made him laugh. "This isn't about me anyway, it's about you. I'm not leaving here until you get that dance."

"You might be waiting a while then." Ringo said a little sadly.

"Nope, I refuse. You'll thank me later, I swear to it." John had moved his hand to Ringo's shoulder now.

"I'm just scared." Ringo mumbled.

"Of what? Ringo, these people have put up with the weirdest, creepiest fucks you can imagine. He'll probably be over the moon that you don't look like you belong on a register." John shook Ringo lightly, forcing him to look up at him.

Ringo let out a huff "Fine, if it'll shut you up."

"Sure if that's the line you wanna go with." John chuckled "You want it Ringo, stop denying yourself the pleasure. Be more like me."

"I dunno if I wanna take it that far." Ringo looked out amongst the room again and caught sight of a familiar face.

John followed Ringo's line of sight and beamed when he spotted Spike "Come on then, time to pop your cherry."

"Please don't put it like that." Ringo rolled his eyes as John pulled him up from his seat.

It wasn't really nervousness he was feeling, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was. Ringo knew that he if he didn't want to this then he didn't have to, it would've been as simple as that, but he did want to. It was probably exactly how much he wanted it that scared him. Like the feeling that happens right before getting up on stage or before revealing good news to a loved one: excitement so intense it can turn into sickness. And Ringo was excited; he was very, very excited.

[loveraids]

advice for incoming freshmen

hey guys! here’s a list of some tips i made for incoming freshmen. i thought i’d share some advice/knowledge i’ve accumulated over the years too. everything’s under the cut. if you have any questions/concerns, feel free to message me! ☀️ (tw: long post)

1. one of the biggest fears many people have entering high school is not making friends. however, there are MANY opportunities where you can make friends! besides being friendly with who you sit with in class, try joining a sport, club, extra curricular, etc. i’m not saying making friends is the easiest thing in the world- i still struggle with it today. but don’t put yourself down if you’re not immediately friends with everyone in the school in the first week- it’ll take some time to develop. remember that everyone else is just as scared as you are, and they aren’t gonna come out of their shells until you do as well.

2. depending on your school, they may start throwing college shit at u on day one (although unlikely). no matter what, don’t stress right now!! the college process really doesn’t begin until the weeks leading up to the summer of junior year. you have time!! it’s ok to not know what you want to do. college has an “undecided” major for a reason.

3. V O L U N T E E R. i cannot stress this enough. it has soso many benefits and freshman year will most likely be the most time-free year you have. find a position at your local zoo, library, camp, hospital, etc. it’s a great resume booster and can aid you in the college application process (additionally, if you have an honors society that requires volunteer hours, you’ll need them anyways). also, you get to help people !

4. freshman year is going to teach you what real high school work is. you may struggle, and it’s ok! i was one of the “bright” kids that had their grades drop once i entered high school, and yeah, it did a lot to my self esteem. but throughout the years i picked myself up- i embraced help from my peers/teachers, i figured out what method of studying works best (pro tip: studying for math? look over the basic rules and do thousands of practice problems. science that isn’t math based? quizlet and khan academy. history? quizlet.), i learned that it’s OK to get a grade under a 90/A-. it’s going to seem tough at first, but just remember that you’re adjusting to a completely new environment and work ethic. you will get through it!! please shoot me an ask if you ever need help i’ll always answer. (edit: also do ur homework!!! it could be the difference between a B+ and an A-.)

5. imagine the crustiest person in your grade right now. now imagine them trying to hit on a kid that’s four years younger than you. gross, right? that’s exactly what a senior hitting on a freshman is like!! do not do that shit!!! there is NO reason why a senior should be trying to hook up with you when they’re 17-18 and you’re 14-15. that shit is NASTY. do NOT date seniors (even juniors are sketchy).

6. high school is where you will probably encounter alcohol/drugs/sex/etc at some point. do not be pressured!! if you don’t wanna smoke or drink then don’t do it (if you’re with the type of people who pressure, you better run). ive personally never had an experience where i was pressured, and people were usually respectful, but i can’t speak the same for everyone else. wanna get fucked up and party with your friends? be careful! i’m not promoting underage drinking but lets be honest a lot of kids do it. no sense in trying to pretend like that isn’t the real world. if you’re invited to some party by someone you KNOW has a bad rep, then don’t go!! you’ll have more opportunities.

7. if you’re worried about SATs/college admissions exams, you have a year. kids in my school are kinda crazy and were studying freshman year which made NO sense to me. end of sophomore year/beginning of junior year is usually adequate (plus- the main rule with SATs/ACTs is that you should take the test NO MORE than three times- that’s three chances!! i personally did well on my SAT, so if u have any questions feel free to ask me.

8. back to the point of pressure - if you’re going to a gifted and talented program/school, you will most likely feel academic pressure. with so many bright and smart peers, your standards will end up being much higher than the general population. i’m speaking from experience.

9. student government is usually a popularity contest. if you don’t win, don’t beat yourself up. if you do, congrats!

10. take pictures! save holiday cards! make memories!! i sincerely regret not taking photos (with me in them!!) during my freshman and sophomore years. there are a lot of great memories that i didn’t record because i was too embarrassed to get in front of a camera. i’ve learned that i’d rather cringe at a photo i look bad in in the privacy of my own phone, rather than not have a picture at all.

11. start developing good studying habits right away. what motivated me was getting cute/colorful pens, highlighters, erasers, post-its, etc., and making my notes look really pretty. i have my own personal post-it collection now. if you find ways to make studying even remotely fun/interesting, it will be extremely beneficial in the long run. i remember the summer before my junior year, i was excited to go back literally because i wanted to use my new pens.

12. this is a future piece of advice, but i would say there’s a 99% chance that you will be friends with mostly different people by senior year. you might have a core few, or a bestie, but myself and many others know that there are people who we were best friends with freshman year that don’t say hi to us in the halls senior year.

13. listen, there are gonna be some snake ass bitches. there’s no avoiding it. just don’t pay attention to them!! they get off on thinking they’re better than you. the best way to no longer deal with someone you don’t like is to just not associate with them. i’m obviously over simplifying these situations, but its usually not that deep. if it’s to the point where it’s causing you a great amount of stress, then it may be something you need to talk to a guidance counselor about.

14. please. do. not. run. and scream. in. the. halls. who do u think u are?? it’s 8 AM i don’t want to hear your screeching voice as you run into 7 people!!!!!

15. the freshmen are usually the joke of the school. you’ll hear you guys referred to as gremlins in some way, shape, or form. just deal with it, you’ll understand when you’re no longer freshmen (unless someone’s being unnecessarily mean!!).

16. make friends with your teachers!!!!!!!!! stay after class to have a little conversation with them. email them after school. bring them gifts on major holidays. IT WILL PAY OFF. letters of recommendation? done! need a teacher to sign off on something? done! minorly messed up in class? they’ll let it go bc they like you! this will also probably result in an increase in your character/participation grades.

17. make a travel pack that you keep in your bag - a few small bills,  pads/tampons (for those who need), pen, pencil, bobby pins, nail file, hair elastic, gum/mints, small perfume, band-aids, charger, etc.

18. thrift books sells books for really cheap!! also, ALWAYS check other places before ordering from normal bookstores (i’m looking at u barnes & noble)- they’re most likely cheaper.

19. i’m not gonna be one of those people who is like “school is the best!! it can be great for anyone if you just try!!” bc that shit aint true. it might suck ass for some of you. just know that high school isn’t your life. some people act like your life ends after high school. we’re 14-18 years old and still have so much to learn and see. if you set up a countdown to the end of high school your first day of freshman year, so be it.

20. your teachers are people too. they’re not there for you to use and abuse. they have families, problems, LIVES. they also have 3289472 students besides yourself, and assuming they should put you above the rest will only end up in disappointment.

21. social media is not all that matters. esp in this day and age, people will definitely be using snapchat and instagram (and hey! tumblr too). but don’t think you need social media to fit in. one of the most popular girls in my school literally made her instagram just the other day. to reiterate: it’s not that deep!!

22. you’re gonna change a lot (which is ok!!). freshman year i only wore hot topic and watched supernatural & doctor who. now, i just watch cooking vids and fawn over shawn mendes. it’s ok to change!! even just though freshman year you’ll change. i know i got like. super gay

23. if you find yourself having free time (or having study hall), do your homework!!! once you get home you’ll probably get distracted/lazy. what i used to do was go to my local library after school and get all my homework done so that i wouldn’t leave my school mindset and not wanna do anything. even if you don’t get everything done, you’ll thank yourself later.

24. there’s a difference between “forming your own opinion” on someone and completely ignoring their reputation/what your friends say. i can’t tell you how many people have gotten burned by the SAME guy in my school because none of them even kept in mind the warnings they had heard about him. it’s ok to give people a chance, but remember that most people’s reputations hold some truth (but not everyone!).

25. this seems pretty obvious but like. be nice. don’t talk mad shit about people you don’t know. rumors fly FAST in high school. what’s even worse is when they’re not true. fact check your shit if you ARE gonna gossip.

26. ok last point (for now). everything is gonna be new. there’s no getting around it. you WILL feel out of place. you’ll most likely be anxious. but everything will end up ok (cheesy, i know). the first week of high school is one the scariest weeks you’ll have in high school. things need time to settle. you’ll make friends, you’ll find things you like, you’ll be happy!! enter high school with a growth mindset. it may not seem like it, but your attitude WILL impact how things turn out.

overall, you guys will be fine. good luck to all of you !! if you have any questions or need advice on a specific thing, please feel free to send me an ask!! i’m always here. love u bbies

[tavrosian-disaster]

Looking Back At Anime I Enjoyed As A Middle Schooler

Hoo boy, I’ve been re-watching some old anime in my spare time and I’ve come to see a lot of bad stuff in anime I used to love. Time for me to look and whine about things in anime that I used to enjoy. There’s a lot of stuff I didn’t quite understand or realize were bad as a kid and then there’s just stuff I looked over.

So let’s see how my old favorites have fared. (Why am I even doing this?)

Soul Eater

Wonderful; Still love the characters, still love the plot, still love the animation style. However, something I used to look past: the absolutely unnecessary nudity. Sure, it’s kind of censored and never explicit, but it doesn’t need to be, it’s bad enough. Can we please have less random naked underaged girls? Seriously, in nearly EVERY EPISODE there is some scene involving an UNDERAGED GIRL seen partially naked and/or portrayed in an overly sexual manner. And don’t even get me started on Blair. I know she’s not underaged, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting that she is naked 99% of the time and also a little too comfortable flaunting herself off to an underaged boy.

Angel Beats

Yeah, I still cried. A little less engaging than I remember it and a little mediocre too, but it’s still enjoyable and I still love the premise and the characters are fun. Music is lovely, as always. Nothing really negative though! Pretty solid!

Sailor Moon

Yes, I watched the old English dub as a kid, and while I realize it messes a lot with the more mature and serious tones and even censors thing unnecessarily, I will admit, I kind of enjoy the voices. I’ve seen it in Japanese and the story is much better told through it. Regardless, the show is just as fun as I remember, albeit, the fillers got really annoying after a while and I just wanted to get back to the plot. Ignoring this fillers though, the show was still great and very nostalgic and lord, I really do love the art style and aesthetic of the show, still to this day!

D. Gray Man

Man, I don’t know what to say, this show is still REALLY FREAKING GOOD. My opinion has not changed on it, though the ending feels a little weird and wonky to me, but this might just be because the mange was on hiatus before it could finish. Still an okay ending though. I love the characters so much and I just love the story and action and I just LOVE THIS SHOW!

Black Butler

Ugh... I don’t know what to say, I’m really conflicted on this show, which is sad, because I still have nostalgic feelings for it, but, it really does have it’s fair share of flaws. Quite a few.

Right off the bat, yeah, the oddly sexual parts are disturbing, but in it’s setting, it fits well enough to not be too bad. However a lot of it is still bothering to me. Now, while I am not sure about the rumor that Black Butler was originally intended to be a pedophiliac yaoi (there’s never been any real reliable sources and most of the quoted sources are vague and could easily be misinterpreted) but regardless, there are still scenes that clearly aim to please fans who ship Ciel and Sebastian, which, being a pedophiliac ship, is just bad. It’s bad.

I still love the characters and I love the gothic themes and aesthetic. I really do love this show. But... I can’t help but see it in a dirty light now. It’s upsetting to me.

Shugo Chara!

HEY LOOK IT’S MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE MAGICAL GIRL SHOW! (It’s still problematic as heck though.),   

This show was my first anime that I got into in middle school and also the first manga (excluding the Zelda manga). This show is actually where I got my blue spade motif from (Miki was my favorite chara.)

Shugo Chara is still extremely fun and full of wonderful characters and great lessons about life and how to stay true to your heart and become be your very best self! It’s cheesy, but in a very fun manner and it’s a fresh take on Magical Girls! Mostly because the issues are very down to Earth, which sounds weird, but it makes it more fun. Also, I love that there are magical boys in this too, that is practically NONEXISTENT in anime. Albeit, very repetitive and full of fillers. THe manga is much more condensed. Not to mention the later seasons are just... awful. Season 1 is the best, Season 2 is fun and okay, but from there? Don’t bother.

Issues? The main ship, Amu/Ikuto is kiiiiiinda a nasty ship, looking back on it. Ikuto is 17 and Amu is 12. Ikuto is far too friendly with Amu right from the beginning and it is honestly, very gross and pedophiliac.

I didn’t really think this was weird as a kid. After all, it’s just a 5 year age difference, the same as parents. Know that I’m older, I realize that there is a BIG difference being a couple being 20/25 and 12/17. It’s not right and it’s gross.

THIS ship is what I find really icky about this show and it’s a shame that it’s so prominent in it. 

Oh, and there’s a one sided relationship thingy where Utau has a weird crush on Ikuto, her big brother. It’s played off as her being overly protective and loving of her brother, but... nah, miss me with that shit.

Durarara!

Still a great show. Weird, kind of philosophical, and above all, oddly intriguing. It’s just as good as I remember, if not somewhat less engaging. But that just may be because the narrative is one better enjoyed the first time around. Nothing bad here though, solid work!

InuYasha

Reeeeeeeally contrived plot that drags out waaaaaaay too much, but still enjoyable regardless. Gets very repetitive, and this even applies to the later episodes that I skipped way back when. However, I still love the characters and it’s a fun show and very nostalgic. Has some of the typical anime issues involving sexual content; “pervy” scenes that involve a guy making gross remarks to a girl and/or accidentally seeing a girl partially nude and getting blamed and hit for being a perv. I suppose you could argue that much of it is due to the brutish nature of the many feudal Japan enemies, but there are plenty of scenes that can’t be defended by this.

Oh, it’s also a very fun show to playfully make fun of with friends while eating junk food and binge watching, lol.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Yooooooo this show is still wildly as heeeeeeeck man!

I love this show, love it’s characters and love it’s twist on the magical girl genre. I was really expecting to see some gross theme I missed before or find it boring, but it was just as fun as I remember.

A nice bonus, too, is it’s length. It’s a perfectly paced show, not too long like many other anime.

Still a dang solid show!

Lucky Star!

Nostalgic, buuuuuuuut...

BORING. Opening heckin’ RULES and is damn CATCHY. But that’s it.

Next.

Fruits Basket

Eh, kind of the same as Lucky Star.

It’s... boring. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s still a funny show, but the romance is a lot more lackluster than I remember.

Also, there’s more weird incest stuff (mostly one-sided crushes, but, still...) and a couple of pedophiliac things every once in a while.

Overall, it’s just... kind of boring now. Meh.

Ouran High School Host Club

OH OH OH OH!

BUT ON THE OTHER HAND! THIS SHOW!

LORD HOWDY, guess how much I love this show!

It’s absolutely hilarious, has lots of genuinely cute and almost romantic scenes and a whole cast of fun characters! It’s got some issues, but it’s still a piece with some takes that I haven’t seen in anime without usually being annoying.

There’s the issue of the twins fake “forbidden, incestuous love” routine, but, while I’m 99.99% certain it’s made to be fanservice, the show and the twins themselves also make fun of the very people who enjoy that kind of stuff.

I really like the gender positivity that this show presents, even if it does kind of stick to typical gender roles. Haruhi is pretty obviously comfortable being seen as both a guy and a girl and her attitude about gender is refreshing for a romance anime such as this. She’s not a typical romance protagonist and I like that. And there are characters such as her dad who enjoys cross-dressing and, while relatively stereotypical, are not presented in a joking manner and the characters respect them and treat them as normal human beings.

It’s just a really fun show and I don’t think I’ve seen another show quite like it! It’s definitely the one anime I’ve re-watched the most, as it is also short, only 12 episodes, and doesn’t drag on.

Fullmetal Alchemist/Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Oh come on, why am I even doing a look back on this, it still heckin’ rocks and it’s the best shit I’ve ever seen, full stop.

Don’t even ask me questions, thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.

[theeurekaproject]

Sub Noctem

Lyra woke up to laser lights.

She rubbed her head and looked at the blood trickling down onto her hands. She didn't entirely remember how she'd gotten here or what happened to her, but she didn't really need to. She didn't exactly have a home to go back to, anyway.

She stood up and reached in her pocket for a mirror. Her wallet was missing, not that there was anything in it to begin with. Small as they were, she knew better than to leave her night's earnings anywhere as obvious as a wallet.

The mirror on her compact had long since broken, but she couldn't afford a new one. It was the first thing she'd ever bought with her own money, a whopping five credits and fifty three cents earned over the course of four days of double shifts. In hindsight, spending that much money on something as stupid as a compact seemed thoughtless, but she'd been young then. It was probably about a decade ago, so Lyra was five, maybe six?

Through the cracks in the mirror, she could see that her bright pink, bubblegum-colored hair was somehow even messier than it usually was, and one side of her face was covered in deep violet bruises she didn't remember getting. Somebody probably beat her up and took her wallet, she reasoned. Part of her wondered why they didn't just kill her if they were going to mug her and dump her in an alley, but maybe the robber didn't want to get their hands dirty unnecessarily. Besides, they probably knew they'd never get prosecuted. Even if Lyra somehow worked up the courage to waltz into a police station, they'd never believe a Cantator, anyway.

She tried in vain to smooth the tangles on her head. The blood from the laceration she'd somehow sustained had dried in her hair, making it even worse. She remembered buying a comb at some point, but some other girl had immediately stolen it, and she never bothered trying to recover it. It was best not to pick a fight if one could help it down here.

Abandoning the hope of making herself look decent, she tucked the compact mirror back into her purse. Pretty girls got the best tips, but with the bruises and the cuts and the acne she already had, fixing her hair probably wouldn't help much anyway. If she had makeup, she might have been able to make herself look better, but she couldn't afford that, either.

She set off to work, not entirely knowing what time it was. Judging by the amount of teenage girls on street corners, it was probably late at night. Keeping track of time was difficult when the sunlight couldn't shine through the buildings to reach here, and she had no idea how long she'd slept for.

She entered through the back door of the building, not wanting to deal with the crowd outside. "You're late," one of the dancers snarled, leaning against the wall by the door.

"You think I don't know that?" Lyra asked.

"Well, if you knew that, why didn't you get here faster? It's been like an hour since you were supposed to be here. Viola's going to be pissed."

"Viola's probably too drunk to notice."

The dancer sighed. "I'd like to argue with you, but you're probably right. At least, I hope you are, for your sake."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine."

It was true that Viola could be nasty when she wanted to be. Still, Lyra had dealt with far worse before—Viola wasn't anywhere near as formidable as a threat as she thought she was. She was one of those people who went mad with power when given the slightest hint of authority, and who exercised her drug-fueled stim rage on her underlings just for the hell of it. But when it came down to it, Viola was nothing more than a 30-year-old woman who looked and acted like a 60-year-old because of her history of violence and substance abuse, and there was nothing she could really do but yell at Lyra and steal her tips, which happened on a daily basis anyway.

Lyra washed her hands quickly—not like it would help; it was filthy everywhere, and she was sure the water had just as many germs as the surroundings—and put on an apron. It was probably supposed to look sexier than it did, but because Lyra was so short, it hung around her knees instead of high up on her thighs. Then she put on the rest of the overly cutesy, cheaply made, poorly designed ensemble—uncomfortable heels with no arch support, a choker with the same lacy details as the apron, thin satiny gloves that wouldn't protect against anything, and bows for her scraggly hair. Because even the cleaning staff had to be eye candy.

"You look ridiculous," said Alicaria. Alicaria wasn't the name on her birth certificate—like many others here, she probably didn't even have a birth certificate—but she was an alicaria, so that's what they called her. It worked well that way; Sufflava for the girl with platinum blonde hair, Saltatrix for the prima ballerina, Sambuca for the harp player. Lyra had gotten her name from when Cithara was ill for two months and she'd made extra tips by playing the abandoned lyre. Cantatores didn't get names. They were defined by their caste and their job, because that's the only thing they were good for, and Lyra was no exception.

"I look better than you," she retorted. Alicaria was dressed in a ridiculous ensemble designed to show off her curves, but she didn't really have anything to show other than protruding ribs and a hunger-swollen stomach.

"Give it two more years and you'll be in my position," Alicaria said. "Hell, maybe even less than that. Just wait until Aria kicks the bucket."

"What happened to Aria?" Lyra asked.

"Pregnant. The last kid nearly killed her—she woulda died if it weren't for that charity doctor woman who cut open her organs to get the baby out. And God knows we aren't going to get charity doctors down here anymore, not since Alestra passed all those regulations on which castes can go where."

Lyra laughed. "Let's hope Acidalia's better." "Acidalia? Please," Alicaria scoffed. "I doubt she'll make it a month before she's dead."

Lyra knitted her eyebrows. "What makes you say that?"

"Did you hear the news? Last night, some aristocrat got fed up and tried to kill her in the middle of some party. Cassiopeia was her name, I think? The girl from the Generalis family. It was a whole big thing."

"An assassination attempt?" Lyra's eyes widened. "Wow. I would not want to be in that Generalis girl's position right now."

"More like you don't want to be in Acidalia's position. Half the court wants her dead, apparently."

"Why?" Lyra asked. She was well aware that any sort of criticism of the Imperial family was liable to lead to death for treason. Even though the laws were always different for the upper class, she felt like trying to murder the Imperatrix Ceasarina was one of those things that was always frowned upon, regardless of social status.

"Beats the hell out of me. Apparently she's a Martian bastard child, but that's just a rumor. And you know, she supposedly has a rocky relationship with Alestra. Anyway," Alicaria said, "I'm just a Cantator. What do I know?"

"More than me," Lyra replied. "I don't even watch the news. They never play it in here."

"Yeah, guys like to watch sports mostly." Alicaria rolled her eyes. "Drives me mad. I'll be sitting there flirting with some guy and all he cares about is which idiot, doped-up transhuminist cyborg beats the other idiot, doped-up transhumanist cyborg… oh, shit."

"What? Oh, Viola." Lyra sighed. "I should go."

"No, not Viola. Look." Alicaria pointed at a pair of young men who had mistakenly waltzed right into the back entrance. "Who the hell are they?" "I don't know, some soldiers on shore leave?" Alicaria shook her head. "Nah, they're immunes. Look at them. They ain't the type of draft dodgers who show up in here on the regular. They've got money."

"What's an immune?" Lyra asked, but Aricaria was already hanging off one of the soldier's arms, looking at him like a predator eyeing its prey.

"So," she asked, her voice a husky vibrato, "come here often?" The soldier boy laughed and puffed out his chest to show his shiny pins and badges. Lyra had no idea what they were for, but they sure looked important.

"Not really," he said. "What's a pretty girl like you doing down here?"

"Mmmm, wouldn't you like to know." She twirled a piece of bleach-blonde hair around her finger and giggled as if she'd just heard the funniest thing in the world. "What's your name, handsome?" "Well, officially AX-C240, but my friends call me Ace," he said cockily.

AX unit? Lyra thought. They were specialists, the type of people who got invited to classy parties and hung out with aristocrats—the sons of the rich and famous. Alicaria was right—these people had money, and they looked like the exact type of dumb upper-crusts who paid more than was necessary because they didn't know what was the normal rate. And there were two of them. She'd never so much as touched a boy before, but she desperately needed cash, and—

"Stop it, Ace," the other boy said, interrupting Lyra's train of thought. For some strange reason, she felt almost relieved. "She's a meretrix, she's just trying to get your money."

Alicaria pouted. "Well, you don't have to say it like that."

"Well, I'm right, aren't I?" the boy asked. "Neither of us have credits to spare right now, anyway."

"Like hell you don't," Alicaria snapped. "You're part of one of the highest ranked sectors in the entire army and you're wearing ceremonial gear to boot. You look like the goddam Imperatrix herself."

Suddenly the boy's face went white. "What? Who told you that?"

"Jeez, nobody. Relax," Alicaria said huffily. "You people are always so paranoid. Either spend some money or get out."

The boy breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, okay. We won't be using your services, you can leave now."

"Whatever." Alicaria stomped away, her mismatched stilettos clacking against the grimy hardwood floor.

Lyra turned back to the two men. "Who are you looking for?" "Are you trying to sell us something?" Ace asked suspiciously.

"No, I'm the maid slash underage eye candy for creepy dudes." Lyra gestured to her apron. "Just trying to be helpful."

"Well, you don't look very much like 'eye candy,' no offense," he said. "Did you know your nose has been bleeding for this entire conversation?"

Lyra lifted a hand to her nose. It was bloody. "Huh."

"What happened to you?" the other soldier asked. "You look like you got jumped."

Lyra shrugged. "I probably did get jumped." The soldiers looked at each other, surprised. They definitely seemed like the type of exploitable young idiots who didn't know how things worked down here—anyone who came to the Undergound without knowing the incredibly high crime rate was setting themselves up for failure.

"You look awful," the soldier said. "Do you want a bandage or something? The name's T, by the way." "Lyra," Lyra said, "but that's not my real name. I don't really have one." T shrugged. "Neither do I." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny medkit, which expanded open into a full kit like a pop-up book when he touched the red cross on the front.

"Latex or non-latex?"

"Don't care," Lyra replied indifferently, but inside she was pleasantly surprised. She'd never had somebody pause to help her before, let alone ask her preferred type of bandage. T handed her a pink one in the same color as her hair, which she plastered on her bleeding cheek.

"Thanks," she said, smiling at him—a genuine smile, not a please-give-me-your-money smile. "Who are you looking for anyway?"

"Her name's Cassandra," Ace said. A lightbulb went off in Lyra's head.

"What's her caste?"

Ace paused momentarily, racking his brain for something. "A Scientia, I think? Her daughter used to be an astrophysicist student, I know that much. But then Cass got caught committing some type of crime and they went on the run, and now they're down here someplace."

"I think I know her!" Lyra exclaimed.

T snorted. "Trust me, you'd know if you knew Cassandra." "I think I do. She's kind of popular around these parts," Lyra explained. "I've never met her personally, but I know a little about her. She's supposedly nicer than most lenae and has a terrifying cat."

"A well known lena cat lady," T chuckled. "She was always bad at keeping a low profile, wasn't she?"

Ace nodded. "She's so attention-seeking. Do you know where she is?"

Lyra thought for a moment. "I think she might live near the lustris across the street? I always assumed she was the procuress, but apparently that's not true." "Nah," Ace said. "She just likes to make up stories. You want to come with us?" T sighed. "Ace, we can't just—"

"She's bleeding, T," Ace argued, his voice sounding more whiny than Lyra expected from such a pompous-looking soldier.

T frowned. "Fine. But only because you're hurt and Cass has a bigger medkit than I do. And we're in such deep shit that I doubt Cassandra would object to us bringing along a random praeministra."

Lyra sighed. "I mean, I do have work. But I'm also late, and the more I can avoid Viola—my supervisor—the better." "Who's Viola?" Ace asked.

"She works for my Magister," Lyra said. "She's not dangerous or anything, but she's kind of a jerk."

"And who's your Magister?" "The guy who owns me," Lyra said.

The soldiers looked at each other, alarmed.

"Not owns me like a slave," she added quickly. "I mean, he didn't buy me—well I guess he did, kinda. I'm just in a lot of debt to him—well, actually, my mother is in a lot of debt to him, but she's probably either dead or worse, so it's my problem now."

"That doesn't seem fair," Ace said.

Lyra smiled sadly. "Life isn't fair. You just have to make do with the cards you're dealt."

"Maybe we can deal you another, better card," Ace offered, holding out a hand. "Actually, that's probably a bad analogy. I don't know how card games work."

"It works well enough for me," Lyra laughed, taking his hand. "You know, I want to go with you, but I don't think I can. I have a job… and as shitty as it is, it's a job. Those are hard to come by, especially for Cantatores. And I need money, badly. I can't just walk away from this to follow two guys I just met." T and Ace looked at each other. They shared a moment of understanding that Lyra was not privy to, then turned to face her again.

"I can offer you a lot more money than you're making now," T said, his voice quieter. "And a comfortable place to sleep, and three hot meals a day."

Lyra suddenly had a realization. "You're trying to rope me into some human trafficking ring, or a cult, or an organ harvesting operation, aren't you? Because that's exactly what this sounds like."

T rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess it kind of looks like that. It's not, though."

"And I should believe you why?" Lyra asked, crossing her arms.

"I mean, there really isn't a reason. You don't have to come with us," Ace said. "I just… feel bad. No offense, but you look like garbage."

Lyra didn't think she looked that bad, all things considered… but then again, these two were clearly wealthy—not even middle-class, could-afford-their-own-apartment wealthy, but really wealthy—and they probably had different standards for how people were supposed to look. And they were being nice to her. That was new.

"Your nose is still bleeding," T added, offering her thick bundle of gauze.

Lyra looked at him, then looked at the doorway to the inside of the bar. Truthfully, she wanted to take this chance, but there was just such a high risk of it being something deadly. If she followed these soldiers, as nice as they were, there was a high chance she'd never return.

But what did she have to come back to, anyway?

She had no future down here. In all honesty, she would never work off that debt—she'd be in her sixties before it was gone, and that's assuming she made it past twenty, which most girls didn't. Aria probably wouldn't make it past 18 if Alicaria was right, and she usually was. And what would Lyra do then? She wouldn't be indebted, but she'd still have no money to speak of and no job lined up, so she'd just keep working here… and nothing would change, debt or no debt. She'd be broke forever, reliant on people born into money to give her scraps of charity off their great table. This might be the one opportunity she had to break that cycle.

"Okay," she decided. "Let's go, but quickly."

"You sure changed your tune," T said, surprised.

"Ever come to the realization that the whole system is a kind of screwed up cycle and you're stuck in it?" Lyra asked.

"Funnily enough," he said, "I have."

Lyra assumed he was talking about the military complex—she didn't entirely know what that was, but it seemed like a newsworthy buzzword that soldiers would talk about—but there was something in his tone that suggested otherwise. She looked more closely at him, trying to understand what he meant. Then she noticed that his almost-orange skin and brown, Martian eyes were incredibly familiar. He reminded her of somebody she'd seen before.

There were plenty of half-Martians in the army, and most Eleutherian soldiers were supposed to look alike. She was probably just thinking of some other man. Still, for some reason the resemblance was almost reassuring.

Lyra took the apron off and hung it back up on the nail that served as a hook. She wanted to say something cool about leaving the system or breaking out of their programming, then she realized that it would make her sound like a protagonist from a crappy cyberpunk movie, and she probably wasn't cool enough to pull it off.

Instead, she held the gauze tighter to her nose and left the bloodstains sitting there on the floor, reveling in the fact that for once she didn't have to clean it up. Maybe she was going straight into an organ harvesting ring or a murderous cult, but maybe this small victory, this ability to just walk away from this place, was worth it.

[rueur]

Morning Pages #47 (16.04.2017) (26.04.2017)

Sunday 16th April - 10:57 a.m.

It’s quiet and my love is fast asleep. He had a hard night last night, found himself in an expectedly troubled state of mind, triggered by reminders of a turbulent past. I saw that it was tough on him, and worried about him in his red-eyed silence, but thankfully the night was salvaged by good music and quite a bit of alcohol. Perhaps a burger and some chips also played a role here, though it was not as meaty a role as was held by the drinks.

I wasn’t entirely myself last night either, because our company consisted of people that he had history with, and that I had only ever heard of in passing. Meeting them was a big deal for me, even though it wasn’t a night of much significance for him.

Wednesday 26th April - 3:03 p.m.

Ten days exactly has passed and I’m right back here at Evan’s, well most of me is. We had a cycling accident on the 21st, last Friday. I was the only one who got hurt, thankfully, because it was really mostly my fault. There was a roadworks sign in the bike lane somewhere in Reservoir, and Evan saw it and started to slow down. He was in front of me. I saw it too, checked behind myself to see if there were cars coming, saw there was one, and tried slowing down too, but not fast enough. It was raining a lot as well, and so when I inevitably hit the back of him, I fell and skidded on my face. I busted my lip and chin, chipped my two front teeth, and grazed my knee quite badly. Living has been a bit of a struggle since, but hopefully it’ll all be clearing up soon. My teeth are incredibly sensitive right now, and eating is a bit of a struggle. I just had pancakes for breakfast with Evan and it took twice as long for me to get through them than it otherwise would’ve. And my face is still badly scabbed, on my upper lip and on my chin. It’s getting less painful by the day but it’s still rather torturous. I had a nasty fever on Sunday morning, after getting all my dental work done on Saturday. I was nauseous for three or so hours, from 7 a.m. till about 10 a.m., and Evan stayed with me the entire time. He watched me puke. He made sure that I kept eating, because I was half-starving myself since the accident happened. It’s been an ordeal, and I’ve been fighting back a depression, I think. It seems easier when he’s around. He stayed with me from Friday till Monday afternoon. I was then alone from Monday night till Tuesday night, and most of Tuesday was difficult. I barely slept on Monday night.

I am mourning my perfect teeth, because I did have perfect teeth. And I never took them for granted either. I brushed vigorously twice a day or so, and I regarded anything happening to my teeth as one of my worst fears. And now it’s happened. Mundell asked if maybe that was a good thing, that I experienced one of my worst fears. I can understand how facing one of my worst fears can make me a better person, a stronger person through the experience. I also feel like maybe I bring this all upon myself. I ask the world to deal me a hard hand so that I can see what it’s all like: so that I can experience everything and say that I’ve lived a life well-lived, well-full of it all.

Last night, Evan was talking to me about the future, but in very bleak terms. He was talking about the ends of our lives, in relation to the ends of our past lives. He’s convinced that we might’ve died four days apart, because we were born four days apart in this one. But he also said that he believed we were able to fall in love so quickly because we were simply continuing from where we had left off, when our souls were connected to other bodies. We found each other again and said to ourselves that it was time to get right back to it, time to get right back to being with one another. I thought that was an interesting idea, the fact that the energy between us could be strong enough to transcend the physical form, but it definitely explains how we were so in sync from the get-go.

I know it’s been a while since I’ve written here, and I feel a little iffy about writing again today knowing that I probably won’t be maintaining this as a daily thing. Uni’s just been so demanding, and I’m too tired, especially now. I just felt like this would be a little therapeutic too, and lord knows I need that right now. Thankfully, I haven’t lost the entire ‘stream of consciousness’ side of this, because I have been typing rather quickly, I’ve noticed. It’s 3:17 p.m., and I’m already maybe halfway through my second page. Granted, I did have a little entry from ten days ago that I haven’t the heart to delete, because I still remember that moment. It was so quiet and still, and dark. I was behind Evan’s couch, just kneeling on the floor, typing and being very aware of the sound of my typing. I didn’t want to wake him. I love him quite a lot, it seems.

I let him read my entries from the 14th and the 22nd of January, after the night we met and our first date respectively. I couldn’t believe I’d let him do that. He also knows the URL of this blog, which I feel may or may not influence the way I write from here on out, but he promised me that he wouldn’t abuse that knowledge and that he wouldn’t read any entries I didn’t want him reading. I believe that he won’t. I really do. So I don’t think I’ll change the  URL. But there are things that I haven’t told him about Ikaros, and these are things that I don’t think he has any interest in knowing anyway. I just feel like if he were to read them, he may feel hurt I didn’t tell him, even though they are of no relevance. Ikaros is entirely in the past. He messaged me yesterday, mostly because I’d made a post on Facebook about my cycling accident, but he also said something unnecessarily cryptic that pissed me off. He wants me to be thinking about him, I think. He said that a while back, I asked him a question which he happily answered, but he’d recently been thinking about that question again and feels like the question I asked had a second hidden question whose answer was given through the answer he had given me for the first question: an implied answer, in the subtext of that conversation. He said it was the kind of thing we’d need to talk about in person, but I don’t really care about it enough to be curious. I’m just a little mad that he even attempted to make me curious about it. I’m mad that he wants me to be wasting my time thinking about dead scenarios, ghosts of conversations that we’ve had, like I have the mental energy to waste on that.

I’m going to take a break, return to this when I feel the time is right, which will be very soon I think. And if not, then I’ll just wrap it up here. I want to be writing creatively, but my mind is too full and I’m too plagued with all the bullshit that’s been happening lately. I’m worrying about too much and I know I shouldn’t be, but I am. And as soon as I can write away all those inhibitions, I’m not going to attempt any more poignant, elegant works. I just want to be raw and unrefined for a while, because I feel like I’ve earned that right with all this focus on propriety that school inspires within me. It’s exhausting.

I’m back. Evan is cutting Daniel’s hair right now, and we were just playing Uncharted 2 before he turned up. I’m very self-conscious about my face right now, because I know it’s still looking rather hideous, because of the injuries. My scabs in particular are giving me a lot of grief, not just because it’s gotten insanely difficult washing my face, alongside the rest of my body too because of this bloody knee. My graze was healing up pretty well until I had a shower last night and now it’s gone back to feeling pretty stiff. It’s very hard, and I’m hesitant to wash it again because of what happened last time. Thankfully, because of the ANZAC Day Holiday on Tuesday, I haven’t had to go to school this week either. I feel like I’ll have to go in tomorrow though, for my journalism class only hopefully. I could easily skip it though, and back it up with a medical certificate, but I just don’t want to waste my last sick day for that subject in Week 8 knowing that I’ll have to make that 9 a.m. start four times over until the end of the semester. Goodness, a month left of this semester and then exams. And I’ll have one more semester till my graduation, if I don’t go for my honours. Should I go for my honours? I’ve been on the fence about it since January, really. I don’t know if I should bother with that last year of my a bachelor’s degree with honours, when I can just get my bachelor’s degree and have it over with. I still don’t know if my bachelor’s degree is going to be worth anything anyway, I mean it’s currently worth -$30,000 or so, just because of my bloody student fees. Lord knows if I’ll ever break even on that in my field. But honestly, I couldn’t see myself studying anything else, even though I’ve gotten so into my geography/environmental studies subjects. I wouldn’t ever see myself as a landscape management major in the environments degree, but I could potentially see myself double-majoring in creative writing and geography. I don’t know if I have the credit points to apply for a double major now, in the final year of my degree. I have done a surprising amount of geography subjects, so maybe? The School of Geography have been sending me a whole bunch of emails but I feel like they’ve all been automatically sent to students who achieved high marks in subjects regardless of their course structure. I feel like I can definitely do a few more geography subjects around my creative writing subjects. My creative writing subjects don’t even feel vital enough to form a major, if I can be candid. It all feels like such a bludge. Add the disappointment and limitations of Writing Journalism to all of that, and I feel like all my interests have been failed to be taught at this university. Nobody learns how to write creatively. You just do it. I’ve attempted to learn how to write creatively and it’s resulted in me feeling alienated from even my own writing. It’s been an intense process, having to consider my passion as a discipline. Sometimes I feel like this may not even be worthwhile by the end of it. Sometimes I feel like I’ll have more luck and more job satisfaction if I were to pursue the opportunities presented to me by my geography subjects. Who knows at this point. But I think I’ll regret it if I don’t at least see if I can apply for a double major. I just don’t know how I’d go about it.

These pages have already worked their magic on me, it seems, even after I’ve failed to do them for so long. Here I am, writing about something that’s unknowingly been plaguing me for quite some time. I have to get this sorted. I just don’t know how. But that shouldn’t stop me, I know it shouldn’t. I have to get this sorted.