#ill have a job to get me through grad school

[simple-and-cozy-life]

I've been so stressed from the changes happening in my life that I forgot that, even though this is going to suck, God is going to get me through this transitional time. Eventually, I will have the stability that I need and I will have a family.

Life will persist and so must I.

[areweevercameraready]

a little snippet...

A/N: so....i actually have...... maybe 100,000k words unpublished with the boys in human au.,.... and since the human au infodump, i've been wondering if i should post things from the spinoff au. i asked a friend and she suggested i post at least a bit since there Were Folks who enjoyed these characters. im hugging everyone who has been keeping up :') thank you and i love you and you don't know how much this means to me, that people like my work.

i do plan on updating more than beliefs, though as you can probably tell, updates are pretty slow. i've had big weird life changes over the past three or so years, which is kinda sad, since i used to be able to update chivalry literally once a week :'D but thank you all for sticking with me through it!! i'm hoping, once i'm done writing my thesis, i can get back to updating MTB more often. i've had the whole thing plotted in my head for a while and you all deserve to see more of macbeth, along with where he was during like. all of chivalry.

heads up that this is NOT going on AO3 — it's a bit far from the actual fandom space so I'm really hesitant to put it up there. it'll only be here! somewhat related, but i might spruce up this blog layout. the banner image is kind of old/i don't like the anatomy, and same with the icon. and i just took a look at the blog and went "wow the text is smaller than i remember it being..." so that's a sign that it's Too Small! time for a change probably.

Words: 7,615

WARNINGS: descriptions of anxiety disorder, descriptions of past child abuse, suicidal/depressive thoughts, someone's ankle breaks (don't run in heels, kids!), alcohol and drunkenness

if i forgot anything, please let me know! this is only one chapter of a longer thing (i'm still on the fence about posting all of it but frankly, if i do revamp this blog, i straight fuckin might. i don't plan on publishing these novels for market consumption, but i would be happy to know if folks out there enjoyed them :') )

enjoy the snippet! <3

Eric Yuan hadn't considered himself lovable in a long, long time.

The anxiety disorder was just scraping the surface. There was the legal battle he'd gone into against his parents for custody over Gavin. He was so responsible it was irresponsible, sleeping odd hours, sometimes none at all, and living off of the cheapest coffee he could find to keep himself awake. There was the lack of time, the long hours of work to pay for the apartment and his and Gavin's lives, between working at the bar and at the restaurant, trying to pull together something to keep them afloat. He survived off of lunch and, when tips were good, the occasional dinner. 

Gavin had noticed, of course, but he was nice enough to not say anything. Eric tried to be as honest as he could about how sometimes they couldn't get new games or new things, how he would have to stay late at night at work. If Eric was thankful for anything, it was how understanding Gavin was. That kid rolled with as many punches as were thrown and while Eric knew he shouldn't have to, knew that his brother deserved a better upbringing than the shit that their parents and now the world were putting them through, he also recognized that this was the best he could do. 

He tried to hide himself in work, two jobs that provided enough money to keep them going. Honestly, if he’d talked with his managers and budgeted hours differently, he could get by with just the bartending job. But the days without work were spent taking Gavin to school, watching Gavin at home, laying on the couch and staring at the ceiling. He had to have something to bury himself in so he wouldn’t be stuck with his thoughts, the ones that promised danger, contempt, building paranoia and anxiety until he choked on his own breath. Thoughts that promised a kinder world. On the other side.

If he killed himself, Gavin would go right back to their parents, and Eric had to stay alive if only to prevent that. That was….that was the only reason. 

Sometimes, he wondered if Gavin knew, because on nights like that the kid always managed to find his way into Eric's bed. He'd crawl in and snuggle between Eric's arms and tell him he had a nightmare. Eric never knew how honest he was being, but he never turned the offer down.

He had to keep alive. So he did. 

And like, man worked a lot. Often, too much. How the fuck was he supposed to keep up with the world around him if he barely used his social media, didn't watch any of the new content put out in recent years, didn't engage with new platforms. Well, he had a Twitter, but that was just to look at funny memes. Those were his favorite development in recent years. Twitter also helped keep up with the news somewhat, but he didn’t exactly pay attention to that. Also, cat videos, those were important to him. 

Yeah, he was fairly disconnected, but what else was new and what could you do.

Eric Yuan's life flipped when he was opening the bar at 4 p.m. on a Wednesday. He wasn't an owner or manager, but he was a shift lead. The most dependable shift lead, if you asked his manager, and while he often told Eric that he was pretty reliable, it wasn’t as though Eric processed that kind of praise. He did know that he got the most done, and was the most efficient, because he could take that kind of metric comparison. But, like. Most reliable? He didn’t know how true that was. Eric liked to take the opening shifts, helped get home at a reasonable enough hour to see Gavin to sleep and for him to sleep enough to take the lunch shifts at his other job. 

The opening shift consisted of a few things. Making sure dishes were racked for the night, that the trash was all arranged and the bins were out in the alley, that bottles that looked like they were going to go empty had restocks close by. It was slow and quiet, for shift leads, but it was perfect for Eric. He liked to turn on some music and walk around, working efficient and quick enough usually to have a few minutes of quiet before the bartenders started showing up. 

The alley behind his bar was more like a driveway than anything, wide enough just for one car. Most of the time, the neighboring businesses would just put their bins back here during work hours. 

While opening on this day, though, Eric noticed a man running. He'd turned the sharp corner near the bar and hurried partway down the block, panting as if he'd been running a while. Eric actually pulled his own bins back as the man passed him. Then promptly tripped. What idiot runs in heels, anyway?

The man tried to get back up, but a few steps proved his ankle injured enough for him to collapse again. And that's when he looked up, frantically looking around for help, and his eyes locked with Eric's. 

Eric waved, ever so slightly. And, well. He's always been the type to help someone who needed it. He didn't know what the man was running from, but it seemed that time was of the essence. He jogged over and picked the man up easily, making sure he didn't grab the man's dreadlocks accidentally beneath his arm, and hurried him into the bar. At least the dude was pretty light, and he let Eric pick him up, wrapping his arms around Eric’s shoulders. 

The first and only real thing Eric noticed was that he smelt a little floral. Must have been perfume or something. The man wasn’t wearing clothes that Eric would have called casual, especially with the heels. A fall like that must have hurt his ankle.

"Thank you," the man whispered, and Eric noticed how gentle his voice was, how lofty and warm. "Close the door, please, they can't see me."

Eric didn't know who the fuck "They" was, but Eric kicked the door closed on his way in. Just as he did, too, he heard the sound of footsteps at the end of the alley. Eric helped the man hide behind the bar, out of view of the door, and shushed him quietly as a knock sounded on the door. 

He wiped his hands on his apron, stepping back towards the door. He paused before opening it only to prepare his face, so he could open it with the deadliest glare. And there were. People. There. Were many people. Many with cameras. All looking fairly out of breath. 

How did that guy outrun a whole ass crowd? 

The man who had knocked was haggard, taller than Eric but with an obviously lankier build, wheezing as he asked, “Have you seen anyone come up this road?”

He sounded kinda desperate. Eric shook his head slowly, cogs working in his head as he put together a cover story. “No, I’ve just been trying to open up shop. I took the bins out,” he gestured to the trash bins, set alongside the wall. “But I didn’t see anyone then. If someone was out there, they could have run past while I was stocking.”

The man nodded, either willing to accept that lie or too frantic to look too deep into it. Eric watched with sharp eyes as he and the group looked up and down the street. He didn’t think this concerned him, though, and he wanted to check back in on the absolute rando’ he’d just let into the bar. So he nudged the guy’s hand. 

“I think the candy shop over there’s open, around that corner.” Eric pointed to the end of the alley. “If someone ran past, they could have seen them. Other than that though, I don’t have anything, and I’ve gotta get back to opening.”

Just a few well-placed white lies. The man at the door nodded and motioned the group to leave without another word. Eric let the door slam behind them. 

Well. Then. He exhaled slow, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, then turned to the bar counter. 

The way the bar was arranged was such that there was a peninsula counter, sticking out of the wall with seats arranged on all sides. On one side, too, was a small stage. Often, they would just play music. Sometimes they had performers, live musicians, and every Thursday was comedy night for local comedians. In June, they have a small drag show every Friday, and in December, they have a run of charity shows. There are still fliers and decorations up from the last one; Eric should take them down while he’s opening. 

The man who he’d snuck in slowly peeks his head around the counter. There was something awfully familiar about him, like Eric had definitely seen this dude before, but he isn’t attuned to the daily gossip. Maybe it was just because the man was pretty as could be, eyes a warm brown that lingered around Eric before darting back at the door. His brows were perfectly shaped. Eric could see a little heart on his cheek, too, and silver decorations in his dreadlocks. Very, very pretty.

The man scan the area, see Eric going around to take the chairs out from where they’ve been stacked in the corner. And he asks, in a voice almost more delicate than Eric could have imagined, “Are they gone?”

“Yeah,” Eric said, setting down the barstools as he went around the bar’s lounge area. “They stalkers or something?”

As soon as Eric said the people chasing him were gone, the man sighed, standing up all the way and cracking his neck. He scooted to the sink behind the counter to wash his hands, which was fair. It wasn’t like the bar ground was the cleanest, even just before opening. 

Someone like this dude, this put together and manicured and astoundingly beautiful, shouldn’t have had to put his hands on the bar’s fuckin’ ground.

“Basically stalkers. Paparazzi,” the man sighed. 

“Paparazzi?” Eric asked, looking back at the man.

Was this dude fucking famous? Eric couldn’t recognize him. Damn, he was that far removed from things, that he couldn’t recognize an entire celebrity.

The man must have realized now that Eric hadn’t known who he was, because his grin turned sheepish as he wiped his hands on a towel. “Yep! I’m, uh. Songbird? That’s my stage name. And my YouTube channel.” 

That name rang, like, literally no bells in Eric’s head. Figures, though. He rarely watched Youtube. 

They stood in relative silence for a few beats before the man tried again. “Cadence? Cadence Beaulieu?” 

“Oh,” Eric said, and it must have been obvious how he didn’t know who the fuck this Cadence dude was, because Cadence laughed a little in his face. 

“You’re cute,” Cadence said, limping out around the bar, holding onto the bar’s side. “I don’t get that much anymore.” 

“Cool.” Eric instinctually hurried over, holding Cadence’s arm and waist as he helped him onto one of the bar’s seats, but his head was reeling from the idea of a famous celebrity calling him cute. Like? That didn’t just happen. Did it? This guy was fucking famous? 

What the fuck was he supposed to say? How do you talk to famous people? Eric helped him settle into the seat before asking, “Do you want water or something?”

“No, I’m good,” Cadence smiled at him.

Eric was going to loose his mind, he got called cute by a famous dude and now he’s looking at the famous dude and realizing how cute the famous guy was. He hadn’t paid attention to that earlier, too preoccupied with getting the guys at the door to leave, but now that he was actually looking at this guy—his anxiety was about to start kicking in, hard, he could tell. What if he made an ass of himself in front of the famous dude? The incredibly pretty famous dude. 

“Cool,” Eric looked down, at the bar, and whistled a little. “If you want, you can, uh, stay here for a bit, until your car comes?”

He figured the famous dude isn’t driving around himself. 

Cadence nodded. “If that’s okay,” he murmured, taking out his phone. “I can stay outta your way, then.”

Slowly, Eric nodded, too. He had to get the extra drinks ready. Finish opening up. And. He couldn’t really. Process? What was happening. He just thought he was helping someone up off the street, having tripped, and….Wait.

“Wait, how’s your ankle?” he tried to swallow his anxiety, looking back at Cadence, who seemed to be idling on his phone. 

Cadence looked back up at him, then at his ankle. He was wearing strappy heels, flowy pants, a tight shirt, and an old oversized jacket, and none of these looked like clothes that were good to be running around in. Especially those heels. Eric didn’t know much about heels but he figured they might be an inch? And that was probably enough to fucking break a leg. Rude to stare, though. So he just. Averted his eyes back to the glasses he was stacking for later.

This guy was so fucking pretty. Eric was holding him earlier. He’d carried him—Eric had deadlift carried a whole ass celebrity. 

“Probably sprained,” Cadence said with a sigh. “When I get home, I can ice it. I don’t think it’s fully broken, though, I could put a little weight on it.”

Now, they had ice in the box. Eric grabbed one of the spare bags for their limes and filled one with ice, part of their protocol for when drunkards would hurt themselves. He wrapped it in one of the clean towels and, once the Grey Goose was restocked, brought it over to Cadence. Who took it. Gratefully. It seemed. 

“Thanks,” Cadence gave him a smile, which like. Eric still didn’t really know how to feel about this. 

“No problem,” he said. “Sorry, uh. For, uh, being quiet. And not knowing who you were.”

Because like, that felt like something he should apologize for, you know? If Cadence is used to people recognizing him on the streets and some level of respect because of it, then maybe Eric treating him like a regular person (maybe even ignoring him, since he’s just sitting in the corner) might be rude? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the fucking etiquette for talking to famous people, this isn’t a problem he’s ever had!

“It’s okay, no, don’t even worry,” Cadence giggled—that sound, that fucking sound was so soft, what the hell?—and waved his hand dismissively. 

“Okay,” Eric nodded. And he didn’t have much to. Like. Add? 

So he turned around and went back to restocking the bar. And he didn’t say anything about how he could feel Cadence watching him. He didn’t say anything, but he could feel Cadence’s eyes on his back every so often, when he’d look up from his phone. 

Maybe he was tweeting something about him. Eric didn’t know much about social media so if he did get tweeted about, he definitely wasn’t going to be able to find it. Or maybe he was texting his famous friends about the weirdo bartender who’s just ignoring him as he lifts the crates out of the storage room and cracks them open. 

There’s no way this dude would be bullying him over shit like this for no reason, right? 

Regardless, Eric wasn’t about to start a conversation and ask. He just knew that the guy was staring at him. For what felt like an hour. Realistically, only like, half an hour. But for fucking forever, man.

At some point, though, it had to end. After about twenty minutes, Cadence stood up, wobbling a little on his hurt ankle. Eric, who’d been restocking the limes, looked up, then stood up. 

“Your car here?” he asked. 

“Yep,” Cadence smiled a little at him. “When does this place open, anyway?”

“Uh,” Eric frowned, checking the clock on the wall. “In ten.”

Where the fuck are his bartenders, anyway? They’re supposed to get here at around now. Fuckers. 

Cadence nodded, though, noting the time. “Glad this all happened before hours, then. Wouldn’t want it to get too crazy in here for you,” he looked at the clock on the wall, then back at Eric, with a small smile that made Eric’s already quick-beating heart skip a beat thinking of how his eyes creased with gentle happiness. 

“Uh. Yeah,” Eric tried to smile, too, but something told him it looked a little more like a grimace. 

Cadence waved, Eric waved. Then Cadence left. And the door closed behind him.

And that was the that. On that. 

Eric was fairly zoned out for the whole shift. He was mixing drinks on autopilot, not so much as handling customers. Some drunkard got rowdy, Eric wasted no time to tell them to fuck off. His patience was zilch. 

He got home and Gavin’s already put himself to bed, tucked in and in his PJ’s, though Eric heard him get up when he closed the front door. Eric picked him up, tucked him back in again, and kissed him on the head. Poor kid hated being alone late at night, especially when he had to put himself to bed. Eric laid on the bed with him, one foot off to hold himself steady, and made sure Gavin was all the way asleep before he stood up to change his own clothes. 

Only once he was sure Gavin’s not getting out of bed again does he check his phone, too. 

“Cadence Beaulieu” had over four million followers on Twitter, over fifteen million subscribers on Youtube, and an Instagram account that makes Eric blush almost inappropriately. And this is the guy who was. In his bar. Talking to him. Eric picked this man up earlier and didn’t even notice that the heart on his face was made up of three moles. It looked like a tattoo almost, but no, apparently. 

He spent almost too much time binging Cadence’s content before he managed to pass out to the sound of one of his beauty tutorials. Interesting, that this is the guy he met. This is the guy who he picked up, carried into his bar, hid in the corner.

Interesting. 

But not every day is so interesting. So Eric goes back to work and expects nothing to change. He tries to put this rare celebrity encounter behind him. Tries not to think of how much of an idiot he must have been, seeming to just fade into the background and ignore what could have been a real moment had he asked more questions, became something more memorable perhaps. He could have asked Cadence how he was doing, at least. How his day had been. Anything, really. 

Instead, Eric just has the memory of the prettiest man on the planet sitting in the corner of the bar, of his bar. Alone together. A stranger, sure, and maybe Eric understood somewhere that that was part of why the anxiety was so strong? But c’mon. Man was pretty. Nice, too. 

Damn. This is why he’s single, he joked bitterly to himself. Lonely, the joke in his head twisted. He didn’t have the gall to actually talk to anyone, what was he supposed to do.

He had been cleaning out glasses at the bar, late one night. He’d picked up a later shift, after Gavin had already gone to sleep. Usually, Eric liked to be home while the kid slept, but sometimes the scheduling didn’t work out like that and he’d need to pick up extra hours for other bartenders who had to tap out. He was a very strong cover, apparently. And on the spectrum of “thank god that lucky ass thing happened,” this was right below Cadence’s accident. 

About two weeks after Eric meets a whole ass celebrity, two men sit down at the bar during one of the live musical performances. It was Eric’s time working behind the bar, and he saw the one with the eyepatch wave him over. Which, like. Okay, sure, he was getting there. But customer service and you never know how many drinks they’ve had before they walk in at one in the morning and you definitely don’t want to get mad at the dude giving you the tip and maybe this dude’s never been to a bar, who the fuck wears soft cashmere at a bar, and his buddy there was in a bowtie and suspenders like this was some kind of book club and not remarkably past midnight on a Thursday. 

Like, okay, nerds, maybe they’ve just never been to this kinda bar. Sure. Fine.

“What can I get started for you boys,” Eric said, slinging his washcloth over his shoulder on his approach. 

“Two cosmopolitans, please,” the one with the eyepatch said, giving Eric a smile that read polite. 

Eric looked at the one with curly hair and glasses, who nodded in confirmation. “One shot in both? You got any vodka preferences?” he asked, taking out the house vodka and two tumblers. 

Before the eyepatch’ed one could reply, the one with glasses butted in, saying, “One with one shot, a double in the other, please. And if you have Ketel One, that would be grand.”

“A double shot? Marlowe!”

“What, it’s been a good day! I think I deserve a double shot. And you know two shots isn’t enough to do much.” This Marlowe guy sounded pretty cocky, if you were to ask Eric, but no one ever asks the bartender. So he didn’t say anything about it. 

He tuned out of the argument there, as soft as it turned. Much less of an argument, more aggressive flirting, and that was something that was easy for him to zone out of until he set the two cocktails down. “Double shot,” he said, setting the double in front of Marlowe. “And a single. If you boys need anything else, my name’s Eric and I’ll be at the bar all night.” 

“Eric,” the one with the eyepatch smiled, and it was kind of pretty in that controlled, poised way that some models do. “Thank you. If we need anything, I’ll-I’ll call.”

“Thank you, Eric,” Marlowe said, raising his glass and taking a long sip. 

Eric just nodded and went around, checking on others. Earlier, he’d seen some dude try to roofie a girl, and had taken the drink back. She had left with a friend she trusted, and he’d kicked the guy out pretty forcefully, but the moment still left quite the imprint. He was always on edge whenever that happened, hoping to prevent it from happening again. 

He did a few rounds before he ended up in front of Marlowe and his friend again, maybe half an hour later. This friend was on his phone, typing something out, while Marlowe flagged Eric down, with an empty glass before him. 

“Hello, Eric,” Marlowe raised the glass. “Would you be a dime and make me a Long Island Iced Tea?” 

Okay. This dude had to be a heavier drinker, if he was going to be calling out drinks by name. And it wasn’t necessarily Eric’s job to know how much someone could drink, especially strangers. The guy didn’t, like….he didn’t look drunk just yet. You know? So Eric nodded. 

“Sure thing. You got any preferences?” he asked, taking the cup back and pulling out a tall glass. 

Now that seemed to be the right question, or at least one the man hadn’t thought of. Marlowe reached up, cupping his chin in thought, and spared a few glances at his friend still typing. Hopefully this wasn’t, like, for the friend. Eric would have to watch for that. But after a bit of time, Marlowe nods. “Yes. Ketel One again for the vodka.” 

“Sure.” They had Ketel One under the vodka cabinet, but people rarely ordered it. It was one of their premium vodka’s and house vodka was Smirnoff. 

“Do you have Patrón for tequila?” 

“Yeah, I’m….pretty sure,” Eric, before he could be made to swallow his words, took a stride to the tequila cabinet and checked. “Yep, I’ve got Patrón for you.” 

“Excellent. I don’t know enough about the other three alcohols to have preferences, but if you could tell me what you put in, I’d love to start learning.”

An….interesting request. But Eric knew the house drinks like the back of his hand (and he might not be able to hold his liquor like the best of them, but he’d still tried all of the standard drinks. For posterity.) so he pulled out the Bacardi first. “This’ the rum. In house, we use Bacardi. Pretty light for a rum, but it does have a better taste than Captain Morgan. A lot better to mix with,” he explained. 

Marlowe had turned himself toward the counter, watching Eric pour in the Bacardi first, then the Ketel One, then the Patrón. Then, he put those three down. The triple sec was all out on the shelf, since they were common enough and the bar stocked a small enough range to have the whole selection out for viewing. Eric pulled down a bottle of Bols to add, then Henrick’s gin from the shelf below. They were running out behind the bar anyways. “Bols is the triple sec,” Eric said as he poured. “It’s really good for mixing with multiple alcohols. Sometimes a drink’ll play nice with other alcohols and sometimes it’ll only play nice with, like. Coke.”

“That makes sense. The consistencies are very different,” Marlowe hummed. 

Sounded like this dude was the analytical type. Which might explain why he had some of his preferences on hand. If you don’t go to bars often, you’re going to be scared of the unknown. Eric was almost proud of the guy for that, if this was him trying new things. 

He just hoped Marlowe wouldn’t throw up in the bathroom or something. That would fuckin’ suck. Always a situation when the patrons didn’t know their own limits.

“Henrick’s is the gin, and it’s just a easy gin to use,” he said with a shrug. “And then we just….”

He pulled out the cola spritzer, topped the glass off with cola, and put the slice of lemon in. And then he slid it over to Marlowe, who took the drink in one hand with a fascinated look. Dude even pushed his glasses up. 

“Interesting. I’m excited to try it,” Marlowe said, glancing back up to Eric with a smile. 

And before Eric could even warn him about how strong of a gut punch it was about to be, Marlowe picked up the glass and took a swig about a third of the cup. “Woah, buddy,” Eric couldn’t stop himself from jumping at that. “You alright?”

“Marlowe, what the fuck are you doing?” dude’s friend finally looked up from his phone to see Marlowe slam the glass down and cough into his arm. 

“Holy shit,” Marlowe said, fixing his glasses with a smile that seemed a little too wide to be sober. “That’s quite strong, but very, very good. Thank you, Eric!” 

His glasses were still crooked. Eric almost leaned forward to fix them, before the guy’s friend got to it first, and that was all for the better. It’s not like Eric knew these people, after all. 

Marlowe took out his phone and Eric took the chance to lean towards his companion. “He asked for a pretty strong drink,” Eric warned. “If you need a hand taking care of him, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve held a dude’s hair back in the bathroom.”

His friend must have been surprised at the suggestion, but it can’t have been an uncommon thing considering how quickly he got over the possibility. “Thank you, that’s very k-very kind. He’s not usually one to drink a lot,” the friend sighed, then nodded to Eric. “Thank you for your service tonight, Eric. My name is Phillip.”

Phillip, alright. “Good to meet you, Phillip,” Eric said, and he went back around the bar to do rounds.

It was another hour and half before the bar closed, though. Eric wasn’t technically the shift lead for closing, but he was on the shift. When it got close enough to three, he turned on Semisonic’s song “Closing Time.” Most of the people had left by then, quick to leave on their rides or to new bars. 

But still sitting at the bar were the two people Eric had pegged as nerds earlier, Marlowe and Phillip. After Marlowe finished the Long Island Iced Tea, Eric had poured a water, but the man still ordered a margarita on top of it. And now it looked like he was paying for it, given how he was literally leaning on Phillip’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist. Phillip didn’t look all too pleased, however. 

“David is going to be worried si-worried si-sick when we get home.” Eric could hear Phillip chide Marlowe as he got close.

“It’s-It’s all dandy. I love David,” Marlowe hiccupped into Phillip’s shoulder, then leaned around and pressed his face into the base of his neck. “I love YOU, Prince.”

Phillip tutted, reaching back to run his hand through Marlowe’s curled hair. “I love you-love you too, you idiot.”

Cute. Really gay, and cute. Eric put away the cups he’d just washed and approached the pair, noting how they’d slowly but surely become the last people at the bar. 

“Hey,” he said, waving slightly. “Phillip, right?”

“Mhm. Eric,” Phillip greeted. “Sorry to still be here. I can see you’re closing up.”

“Eh. Marlowe’s falling asleep on you, I get it. Do you two have a ride home?” 

At that, Phillip winced. And Eric could have guessed the follow up, honestly. “Actually, Marlowe was supposed to be the driver,” Phillip confessed, patting Marlowe’s hand. “I think he overshot how much he could drink, though. As per usual.”

“I only had three drinks!” Marlowe interrupted, all too proud of himself for having three drinks that had the alcoholic consistency of a freight train. 

Phillip and Eric both seemed to be on the same page, though, because neither acknowledged him. Save for a few gentle pats from Phillip as Marlowe buried himself more in Phillip’s back. 

“Okay. Do you need to call someone?” Eric asked. 

Phillip rubbed the back of his neck, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I know someone who’ll be awake who can come help, but….well. Marlowe’s car is still in the parking lot. It has a parking limit in the morning, which will quickly become an issue.”

Fuckin’ city parking. Eric had definitely gotten a ticket or two before, parking his motorcycle in the wrong place. He usually just walked to work, though, since he was two blocks away. So he didn’t have a vehicle to worry about….

A drunk man and a man with a cane could get picked up real easy this late at night by some unfavorable people. Maybe that worry was what made Eric offer. Maybe it was because Phillip and Marlowe had been fairly kind to him throughout the night. It could also have had something to do with how nice Phillip seemed to be taking it now, how calm he was handling the situation. And maybe, too, how Phillip himself didn’t ask. 

There was something nice about being able to offer help, rather than having it asked of him always. 

“If you want, I can drive you home,” Eric suggested. “I’ll catch an Uber back to my house from yours.”

Phillip blinked, and Marlowe giggled. Eric didn’t know what was so funny. He thought it was probably pretty shady to offer. He knew he wouldn’t let just any stranger drive his bike, after all. But he’d gotten to the point where he could do a solid vibe check just by looking and interacting with someone, and these two seemed nice. He could see himself accepting this kind offer, under similar circumstances, from either of them. 

Still, kinda scary to think he’d be driving someone else’s car to their own house. He wouldn’t know where it was, Phillip would have to direct him. But Phillip legally couldn’t drive, not with the one eye gone, and Marlowe definitely couldn’t drive if he tried. Which he shouldn’t. 

“That would be so-so lovely, thank you,” Phillip said. 

Getting clearance to drive some drunk patrons home was a breeze, knowing it was Eric “workaholic glad you’re getting out early” Yuan. Soon enough, he had his arm looped around Marlowe’s waist, helping him up as Phillip led them to the car, which was parked about half a block away. Phillip also used a cane, which would have been a pretty difficult thing to work around if he needed to carry Marlowe himself. All the more reason Eric was glad to help them home. 

They walked up to a nice sedan, likely a newer model judging by the built in navigation. Phillip helped Eric lay Marlowe in the back seat as he mumbled something about a pony, and Phillip himself climbed into the shotgun. The car wasn’t that hard to drive, now that Eric looked around at the controls. Same as any. The break was a little more tense than he was used to, but once he got it onto the road, he could manage. 

Phillip, in shotgun, turned on a jazzy, late night radio station. And directed Eric gently towards their home, probably. Neither of them made conversation much but, to some extent, it didn’t seem like it was necessary. And that was kind of nice, to Eric. He didn’t always like conversing, especially with patrons and folks who didn’t know him. Which accounted for most people. But Phillip’s presence was nice, calming almost, which was rich for a guy who Eric had just met. He was tense, like he usually was, but for a stranger? In this kind of precarious circumstance?

It’s when the drive took them onto a small, two-lane road at the edges of the city and beginnings of the forest that Eric starts to worry. Was Marlowe actually a heavy-weight? Maybe he was pretending to be drunk back there so they could mug him? Take his kindness for granted and leave him in a ditch? He didn’t think he looked like he was worth mugging, but like….maybe. Was that a necessary cane or was it a weapon?

“It’s this-this house here,” Phillip said, pointing to a gravel driveway, and Eric swallowed despite the dryness of his mouth. 

“Sure,” he murmured, pulling onto the gravel. 

As he did, the house’s porch light turned on, front door thrown open as someone else jogged out. Eric stopped, threw the car into park immediately, but Phillip didn’t seem too phased by the newcomer. Instead, he turned to Eric and held out a one hundred dollar bill. “Thank you so much for all your help this evening,” he said with a smile.

Eric looked at the bill, then up at Phillip. He hadn’t really expected to be tipped for this, in all honesty. But it made sense. You know, if he’s going to drive you home, tip him. He’s done over the top enough. But a hundred fucking dollars? This dude just whipped a hundred dollars out on a tip? How loaded were these gay dudes, and then they didn’t have someone to drive them home?

“That’s a hundred dollars,” he said, unthinking. 

He blushed a little, stuttering on words to add on and say he didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but Phillip just laughed. His laugh was breezy, like leaves in the wind. “Yes, it’s a hundred dollars. I think it’s-it’s warranted, considering you drove me and my idiot home,” Phillip put the bill on Eric’s lap and undid his seatbelt. “It’s a hundred dollars plus something-something extra.”

Eric looked down at the bill, picked it up, and there was. A whole ass phone number written on the side. With the “Phillip & Marlowe” written on the side. 

Before he can ask what the fuck is happening and if he’s been dreaming this whole time, the backseat door opens. “Davy,” Marlowe’s voice is so slurred it’s almost incomprehensible, but the person who’d come out of the house, this “Davy,” unbuckles Marlowe swiftly. 

“Jesus, Marl’, how much did you drink?” Davy grumbles, pulling Marlowe out by his arms. 

Instead of setting him on the ground, though, Davy just wrapped them around his shoulders and then slowly, steadily, lifted Marlowe into his arms. Marlowe let him, swinging his own legs up to make it easier for Davy to catch them. Once he had some semblance of a grip, Marlowe leaned forward and pressed his face against Davy’s, kissing him rough enough for Phillip to laugh at, Eric to stare confusedly at. 

“He gets like this, when he’s-when he’s drunk,” Phillip leaned over to explain, though it does nothing to clear up Eric’s questions. 

At this point? He’s a lot more willing to walk home. Just get out of the car and walk. 

“Alright, y’ sap,” Davy grumbles, pulling Marlowe off of himself and nestling him into more of a hold. 

Eric was still sitting in the driver seat, just watching through the passenger window as Phillip opens his own door and climbs out. Davy leans his head towards Phillip, who pats his shoulder warmly and looks down at Eric. 

All three of them are looking at him now. 

The odd one out. 

And, like, fair. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing here, either. 

“Uh,” he said. “I can just, uh. I can call myself an Uber now.”

“Who the fuck’re you?” Davy asked, almost at exactly the same time.

Eric put his hands up and slowly climbed out of the car. This Davy person didn’t really look mad—Phillip leaned over, whispering something to him, and Davy nodded along. And Eric didn’t know what the fuck that was about really, but he didn’t feel in the mood to test anything. Not at three in the morning, in someone else’s driveway. He had to get back home. 

“I can just….” Eric gestured to the road again, taking a few steps back. 

Davy shook his head. “No fuckin’ way, dude,” he was much more abrasive than the other two, and something in the sturdiness of his tone got Eric to shut up. “I’ll drive you.”

On literally any other day, Eric would probably have started running right then and there. His palms were sweaty still, from gripping the steering wheel tighter than ever and from the mounting panic of driving someone else’s car to a house he didn’t know. In a car with a bunch of strangers. 

But, to be frank, Eric was just starting to believe this wasn’t real. 

He was probably just tired. He didn’t usually work shifts this late, and this was a whirlwind of a night already, and he’d already swallowed whatever panic arose earlier, which usually left him without the energy to worry about semi-tense situations. It was a kinda numb feeling. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He dies and Gavin goes back with their parents? Bit too late in the night for Eric to care about something as trivial as dying. 

So he nodded slowly to Davy’s suggestion. “That would be nice,” he said. 

Davy grinned. He lifted Marlowe a little and said, “I’ll put this one to bed and come back out, ‘ight?” 

Eric just nodded again, which must have been good enough for Davy, because he just turned around and marched himself back into the house. Phillip stayed outside, though, leaning on his cane with both of his hands. Eric shuffled around the car, now feeling a little more awkward, and Phillip gave him a small shrug as if to say he sympathized.

“I’m sure this is-this is strange,” Phillip added on. 

It sure as fuck was. But Eric was like, almost too out of it to properly acknowledge that. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “This’ gonna be one hell of a dream to wake up from.”

Phillip chuckled at that one, laugh light like air. He leaned over and rested a hand on Eric’s shoulder—Eric flinched, hands reaching up into a defensive stance, and Phillip pulled back quick. 

It was. A little out of his comfort zone. 

Just a little. He didn’t like people touching him, especially people he didn’t know, because for the longest time he’d been used to sudden motions as a threat. And while he used to take it, Eric had long since trained himself to fight over flight. So it did take self-control to not just deck this dude.

He turned back around to Phillip, shoulders hiked enough for his neck to stiffen just a bit, and he tried to lower his own hands. They were shaking, much to his chagrin, so he stuffed them into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Sorry,” he fumbled over his words. “Sorry, I, uh. I’m kinda...it’s late, and I don’t really like, uh. People touching me.”

“No need to apologize, that-that was on me,” Phillip responded. “No need at all. I should-I should have known better, but I’m ti-I guess I’m tired my-myself. I’m very sorry for touching.”

Eric smoothed himself out slowly, as best he could, and Phillip rested himself against the side of the car. He glanced over, watching Phillip as the man looked up at the tree line. In the moonlight, Eric could see him smile, ever so slightly. He looked weirdly regal, with how prim he was, even after being at a dive bar for three hours. His hair was still brushed to the side like it’d been gelled, though Eric had seen him run his hand through it a few times. And although it was dark, he could still make out the freckles that dotted Phillip’s face, like stars in their own right.

He turned away, looking at his feet, and hoped Phillip didn’t feel too badly. It wasn’t his fault Eric was a nervous fuckin’ wreck. But he didn’t say anything. Getting a little too tired to hold proper conversation.

They both look up as the front door opens and closes again, as that Davy guy jogs out. He’d changed out of his clothes into other pajama looking clothes, or maybe he’d just thrown on a jacket. 

“Alright, nerd’s been sung a lullaby and is all tucked into bed.” He clapped his hands, rubbing them together slowly. “You gonna be able to get yourself in bed okay, Princey?”

“Oh, I’ll be okay. Just-Just sad my favorite artist won’t be there to kiss me goodnight,” Phillip said, and Eric did a double take at how flippantly the flirt was doled out.

Wasn’t Phillip dating that Marlowe guy? Eric glanced between Davy and Phillip as Davy scoffed and grabbed Phillip by the shoulder of his sweater, yanking him close and kissing him for a second. Were they like, all dating? Was that what was happening here? 

Eric was more confused than anything else. He knew of polyamory. He’d just never seen it. Then again, he didn’t know about a lot in the queer community. Once, one of the queens who came in for drag night called him “gnc as hell” and he had to get an explanation from one of the girls sitting at the bar. Polyamory, though, was a new kind of fear for him. That was just more people to disappoint. 

He looked back at the car and climbed into the passenger seat while Davy pulled back from Phillip and mussed up his hair. Eric very intentionally ignored eye contact while Davy climbed into the driver’s seat and rolled down Eric’s window, though he did wave at Phillip while Davy pulled away.

“Drive safely, David!” Phillip called out, waving a hand. 

“Be back in a sec, baby!” David must have been his name proper, because he blew Phillip a kiss through the window and then rolled it back up. 

Eric just kept sitting. Quietly. He almost wanted to pull his knees up, but this was someone else’s car and he didn’t really want to put his shoes on the leather seats. He put his hands on his knees, though, and tensed his knuckles a little. 

Whereas the ride to the house was quiet in a calm manner, Eric felt a lot more tense now. He didn’t know this David. And this David dude seemed a lot less poised than Phillip or Marlowe, given how he just turned off the radio and mumbled music lyrics, off-key and without any actual tune. And Eric could recognize that only because, at some point, David was singing some Shinedown song he knew. “State of My Head?” Probably. 

Would David be mad? If this was a polyamory situation, would it be like encroaching on territory to have driven Phillip and Marlowe home? Eric didn’t know. He didn’t want it to seem like that; he just didn’t want them to have to call an Uber and get a ticket. Shit was expensive. 

At the first red light off the one-lane road, David glanced at him, and Eric caught the sight of a birthmark near his neck. It looked faded but it was still a recognizable shade of red. Eric looked away almost immediately, so David wouldn’t notice him staring. He must not have been too successful, though, because David chose that moment to start a conversation.

[ceriisetheflower]

Self Care (M)

omega!renjun

wc: 4.8k

synopsis: renjun decides to take on his first heat the best way he knows how, as luxuriously as possible.

cw: smut...a lot of it. in immense detail. sex toys, pornography, multiple orgasms, unrealistic amounts of cum, stomach bulge, male squirting/watersports (depending on what you consider squirt to be lmao), overstimulation, cum eating, dildo sucking, mentions of fictional heat related illnesses, america-centric world building, a bitch with no friends attempting friendly dialogue.

a/n: well here it is! first full fic. believe it or not this was meant to be no longer than 1k, then i realized i get kinda pissed when fics don't include enough context for elements in the fic so i'd be a hypocrite if i didn't paint a likely unnecessarily vivid picture. feedback is much appreciated!

we love u very dearly junnie B💛

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

The sound of the dryer finishing its freshly washed load of delicates interrupted his fifth run through of his checklist. “Ok, let’s see….lube? Check. Waterproof blankets? Check. Three hour long Alpha on Alpha porn playlist? Check.” Renjun finally sighed with relief. It’s not everyday he obsesses over the amount of lube he has in his arsenal (he restocks his eight oz bottle of sliquid sassy every eight weeks on the dot), but it’s a special occasion. The special occasion.

He rebukes the term “late-bloomer”, despite the average age for an omega’s first heat occurring around eighteen. Renjun has always justified his lack of mating cycles with his ever present practicality. “You were absolutely ridiculous for a week straight until your heat broke.” He recalls to Donghyuck during their semi-regularly scheduled facetime catch-up they’ve adopted post grad school.

“I had so much going on freshman year, it would’ve made no sense for me to have to deal with a heat. Twenty-four is a way better age anyways, my prefrontal cortex is like eighty-five percent done, I can actually handle my brain being scrambled eggs for five days”. He says passively, ignoring the unimpressed look coming from the boy on the other side of the phone.

He unfortunately remembers the horrors of hearing Donghyuck’s first heat through their paper mache dorm room walls when they were eighteen, and the next heat three months later, and the next eighteen heats he endured as Donghyuck’s roommate. He’s convinced the boy has had enough heats for the both of them, especially considering Renjun was held solely responsible for ensuring his dear friend didn’t die of hunger or dehydration through them. It's a thankless job, but someone had to do it.

“Right, so I guess twenty-four is also the age where you’re finally gonna finish growing huh? Prime time to finally reach big boy height.” Donghyuck quips back, taking a break from grading assignments to goad the blonde boy giving him a deadpan stare through the phone.

“Bitch you’re literally 5’6 1/2 what are you talking about?” Renjun retorts, “it’s no way you’re calling me short when you just complained about how you cant find shoe lifts in canada.” Donghyuck widens his eyes in shock. “Talking about shoe lifts when you just begged me to ask Doyoung if he could hem those jeans 6 inches shorter is crazy work Renjun.” 

They continue their childlike bickering over their similarly petite frames for an unreasonable amount of time, before Donghyuck remembers the real reason for today’s meeting. “Ok but seriously, how are you feeling about this whole thing? I know it’s kinda a lot at once, be honest with me?” Donghyuck starts. He woke up two days ago to Renjun’s frenzied calls, knowing his friend was well aware that waking hours for him in Atlanta were still Donghyuck’s “dead to the world” hours in Vancouver, he was for certain there was an actual emergency.

Renjun had woken up with a pounding headache, abdominal cramps, and the unsettlingly wet mouth feel that comes right before vomiting. He knew what that meant, but refused to actually confront what was happening until Donghyuck got a look at him and convinced him to go to the omega urgent care. Donghyuck sat on the phone with him while he waited for the doctor, cheered as Renjun got the confirmation he was in pre-heat (much to Renjun’s dismay), and helped him pick the best painkillers to aid his cramps and headache. It was the best he could do from another country, fighting the urge to book a flight to go support his best friend in what’s easily the most important event in an omega's life. His husband only barely managed to convince him it was unnecessary and that they could just send him a nice care package in the mail on expedited shipping, Mark was always the level headed one in the relationship.

Renjun sighed before he could answer. “To keep it one-hundred percent real with you, I’m terrified. Like am I gonna be okay? What if I fuck up somehow and I end up never being able to have kids or something insane? Anything could happen?” Renjun said, ever the worrywort and full of trepidation about new experiences. Donghyuck scoffed, rolling his eyes at the catastrophization of the world’s most natural activity. “Friend, how could you possibly fuck up jerking off? You’ve had a solid twelve years of experience for this, relax!” Renjun shut his eyes and huffed in annoyance, “Obviously that’s not what I’m worried about idiot. I’m worried that I won’t be able to actually satisfy myself through the whole thing, and you know what happens if I can’t be fully satisfied.” Donghyuck sighs in acknowledgement.

Continuous Heating Syndrome, colloquially known as a heat frenzy, is a rare but unfortunate side effect of a heat that goes unsatiated. Nonstop migraines, vomiting, loss of motor function, seizures, or shit...even worse. Donghyuck has heard horror stories of omegas having perfectly normal heats that turn into three week stints at the hospital after they couldn’t break. Scary shit. Rare for all omegas, but increasingly likely for an unmated omega without consistent access to a knot, a category which Renjun unfortunately falls into. “Look at it this way” Donghyuck starts, “It’s not like you have no options at all. You don’t necessarily have to do this alone.” Renjun grimaces. He knows exactly where Donghyuck is going with this, and he’s not even remotely here for it.

 “I’m not calling the heat hotline.” Renjun was scared, not desperate. He had no reason to hire a random Alpha who needed extra money to come fuck him for five days straight, he could figure something else out for sure. “Oh girl please!” Donghyuck exclaims, “That’s literally exactly what you need right now! They’re super strict about testing so you won’t have to worry about that, plus it’s covered by your insurance? What is the issue?” Renjun rolls his eyes, ‘The issue is that you think i’m supposed to just randomly fuck the first alpha who doesn’t look like he snuck on the planet just to stop myself from going into a coma, I have options bitch!” 

Donghyuck scoffs, “Sure you do. Is now the time when Jen and Jae finally jump through the screen of their newest edging scene to keep you company through your heat? Porn only takes you so far, friend.” Renjun hates that Donghyuck knows him well enough to know he’s been anxiously scouring his favorite alpha pornstars’ onlyfans to find some semblance of relief through his rapidly approaching week of agony. “I have toys! So many toys! I don’t need an alpha at all, I have like six different vibrating cocks to choose from” Renjun grumbled. He was a fully self sufficient twenty-four year old omega who doesn’t need an alpha! Or so he continues to force himself to believe.

“If you’re gonna be stubborn about it, the least you can do is be safe.” Donghyuck says, his worried expression softening the defensive stance Renjun has adopted. “You do have someone nearby right? Just in case you need someone to check in on you in person?” “Of course, Yangyang and Chenle are in the building down the street, if I need a restock on anything or if I start overheating and dying I can call them.” Renjun replies, in an attempt to calm his friend from his concerns. “You’re not gonna die girl. Especially since I found the perfect thing to help you out!” Donghyuck beams, giving Renjun his signature “I’ve done something I know you won’t like but I’m smart enough to know it’s what you need" look.

“Is it a dick? Don’t buy me a dick Hyuck I swear to god.” Renjun says, “Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time? Dick shopping instead of feeling sorry for me? I can't believe this.” “If it makes you feel better it’s not a dick, you have so many other ones another would be excessive, even for me. You’re gonna love it though! All those fears of heat frenzy are gonna go right out the window!” Renjun eyes the brunette through the screen suspiciously, Donghyuck’s odd enthusiasm has been the catalyst to multiple cautionary tales Renjun is saving for his grandkids. Now might be the worst time to let his guard down. “I swear to god, if it’s something weird i’m sending it back and getting a restraining order.” Donghyuck giggles in nefarious delight, “It’ll be at your doorstep in two days!” Renjun groans in horror.

Renjun is shaken from his daydream riddled with Donghyuck’s alarming cackles by the sound of the doorbell being rang for the fourth time. “Oh! Coming, coming, so sorry!” He yells out, rushing to the front door to see his instacart delivery driver struggling to hold Renjun’s last minute groceries. The poor guy takes a deep breath and tries not to look nearly as phased as he is by Renjun’s sweet bergamot scent. “I-I wasn’t able to find the caramel pecan cookies, so I got you an extra box of kitchen sink cookies, I hope that’s ok?” The man stutters, clearly fighting the urge to comment on what smells like the sweetest omega he’d ever met. “Oh no worries! Thank you so much, they always go out of stock pretty quick.” Renjun replies, now increasingly aware of the alpha’s growing nervousness and intensified teakwood scent.

He hurries to grab the groceries from the boy and set them on his kitchen counter. “Here you go!” Renjun says, handing over his nice ten percent tip for the guy’s troubles. “T-T-Thank you!” he replies, after making a horribly obvious attempt at trying to inhale as much of Renjun’s residual scent on the ten dollar bill. Renjun awkwardly waves him goodbye, and closes the door of his apartment asking whichever deity that watches over him why he couldn’t have already been mated to avoid having to endure that. The plights of a single omega, he thinks to himself, now rapidly moving towards his kitchen to take final inventory. 

His heat is scheduled to begin sometime tonight, made clear by his overwhelming scent and his unbearable body temperature. He’s already considered turning his air conditioner up higher, but realizing that his poor plants would hate to live in a house that’s fifty-five degrees for a week straight, he suffers in a scantily clad haze. He’s stocked up with seven cases of water, four boxes of cookies, six frozen pizzas, and three family sized bags of chicken nuggets. His poor air-fryer will be working overtime this week, Renjun is fully prepared to only have twenty minutes of energy between heat spikes to keep himself semi-sufficiently nourished. He grabs an armful of waters and sports drinks he’d picked up earlier that week to carry them to his room. He placed them next to the other small snacks he’d put in his mini fridge conveniently sitting next to his nest, there was no way he’d be able to make it to the kitchen after the first few rounds and immediate hydration was a non-negotiable.

Renjun took a moment to be proud of himself. He was a single omega preparing for the most intense and important event of his life. All those incredibly awkward sex-ed lessons he endured in middle school, and the trauma-inducing nights spent handing Donghyuck and Mark bottles of gatorade and fruit snacks while trying to avoid  seeing any genitals had finally led up to this moment. Renjun was fully prepared. Renjun was gonna be okay. 

His doorbell rings again. This time unexpectedly. He opens the door to find another delivery man, this time an omega, Renjun can tell by the soft lavender scent. “Order for Renjun Huang?’ The man asks. Renjun grimaces at the horrifically American butchering of his name, giving a pleasant but unsure smile. “Yes! That’s me” Renjun replies, taking a look at the ominously large box the man is holding. "Great, sign here please” He grumbles, trying to make quick work of what Renjun can only presume is his last delivery of the day. Renjun makes quick work of scribbling his signature on the dotted line, before mumbling a quick thank you and grabbing the box. It’s oddly heavy, which wouldn’t be too concerning, until he took a closer look at the label and read ‘From: Mark and Donghyuck ♡,” in Donghyuck’s messy half cursive half print handwriting.

“Oh dear god” Renjun thinks, now the weight of the box is a genuine cause for concern. He heaves the box to his counter and takes a deep breath before cutting it open. Much to his surprise, it’s all normal nice things. He pulls out a box of the maple cookies Renjun became obsessed with when Mark brought them back a box after returning to campus from his thanksgiving break in Vancouver, the ones Renjun was pissed to find out aren’t available in Atlanta. He sees a stuffed bear and stuffed cheetah wrapped in plastic, Renjun pulls them out to admire the resemblance to his dear friends before he realizes they were both scented like Hyuck and Mark. Renjun could just cry. He felt so loved and cherished by his best friend, how loving and thoughtful Donghyuck always was despite being a smug piece of shit ninety percent of the time. He’s been wanting nothing more than to experience one of their “cuddle puddles”, that while Renjun would always protest, he secretly loved. He pulls out a lovely soft yellow blanket with pretty little ruffles on the ends, perfect to go in his nest for added comfort. Wrapped in the blanket is a little note: 

 “You’re gonna have a great time Junnie! Don’t overthink things, just relax and enjoy the ride! We love you so very much! - Hyuckie and Markie”

Renjun is tearing up, his friends love him so much, he’s gonna be okay! Then he sees another box at the bottom, hidden by the blanket and other gifts before it. He shimmies the black box out of the larger brown one and places it on the counter, now able to get a full look at what the picture on the box is displaying. The tears instantly dry. The feelings of love and admiration are replaced with immediate annoyance.

In a scary showcase of friendship telepathy, his phone rings, lighting up with the picture Donghyuck took of his flared nostrils freshman year. Renjun sighs, then answers the phone. “Why would you buy me a fuck machine?” Renjun stares into the phone, hoping to look as menacing as he can in a hello kitty headband holding his blonde strands from his face. “I see you got our present.” Donghyuck replies, shit eating grin so intense his lips were threatening to split apart. “I told you I had just the thing in mind for your heat girlie!” Renjun huffs with the full intent to call Donghyuck everything but a child of god, but he’s getting hotter and the throbbing between his legs is getting more intense. Tonight he chooses peace. “In seven days you’ll begin to cough” he says, and hangs up the phone to let out a loud exasperated grunt. 

Now the real preparation begins. Renjun walks over to his dryer and pulls out his satin robe he’d freshly washed for the occasion. He makes his way over to his bathroom to begin the most intense shower he’s had since his last failed date with an alpha he met on Wolfr. “Nice dick, horrendous vibes.” Renjun shudders at the memory. “Maybe that’s just how guys from Connecticut are? Connecticut is barely a real place, who cares.” He pauses his internal monologue for a moment to place a vanilla scented shower steamer in the corner of the tub. He lights himself a few overpriced indie candles he got from a small business bazaar in the city, and starts easing himself out of his tiny shorts.

He takes his time pulling the silky fabric of his briefs, gently coaxing his dick out of the fabric. He shudders at the cold air hitting his half-hard cock, sending shivers up his spine and another light stream of slick out of his tip. “Fuck,” He moans softly, entirely too aroused for his own good. He pulls his shirt over his head, shuddering again when the air hits his puffy swollen nipples. He takes the time to get a full look at himself in the full size mirror. “Fuck I’m hot. No wonder that Alpha almost popped his knot earlier,” Renjun smiles to himself confidently.

He makes his way into the shower, taking a deep breath of the warm vanilla scent circling him, meshing wonderfly with his own light citrusy aroma. The hot water of the shower electrifies Renjun’s body, he takes a moment to soak in the amazing feeling of the heat comforting his aching limbs. He starts with his favorite lemon and honey scented body wash to begin carefully massaging his arms and chest with the warm and fruity bubbles.

The sensation of the lather was already driving him crazy, absolutely loving the way his hands gilded seamlessly over his hips and ass. Renjun wasn’t normally the type to be so turned on by his own body, he guesses it’s just the excess hormones making any sight of bare skin immensely arousing. He snaps out of his hormone induced stupor to remember that he has a whole shower routine to get through, so he gives his soft chest a final squeeze, then moves back under the welcoming stream of the water to rinse himself clean. He grabs his body scrub and locks in for the remainder of his shower. 

Renjun emerges in a cloud of sugary citrus air, intoxicating even to himself. He wraps himself in his gold satin robe, and makes his way to his vanity for his finishing touches. Renjun digs through his copious amounts of products to find the expensive body oil he’s been saving for this very occasion. He strips off his robe, and starts massaging the oil into his skin, starting at his legs. Every dip his fingers make into his skin brings him closer to ecstasy. Closer to what he knows is gonna be the most intense feeling of his life. He’s just barely finished rubbing himself down when he starts leaking a new stream of slick from his puckered asshole.

“Oh shit, that must mean it’s about to be time huh?” He figures, moving to wrap his robe around him yet again to avoid his neighbors getting a free show through his open blinds. He draws the curtains, dims the lights, and connects his television to his laptop for an optimized viewing experience. He already has his nightly entertainment pulled up, three hours of Jen and Jae’s best material. Nothing that riles Renjun up more than seeing an alpha take a eleven inch dick like he was made for it.

He settles into the spot he carefully carved into his nest, when he lays his eyes on the pretty yellow blanket Donghyuck sent him in his care package. Then he thinks about what else was present in the care package. He pauses for a second, thinking about how he actually hadn’t even taken the fuck machine out of the box. “Well obviously I didn’t take it out the box, I’m not giving Hyuck the satisfaction of knowing I used a toy he gave me,” Renjun thinks to himself. Then again, it’s not as if Hyuck has to know Renjun used it. Then again, it’s not as if using it could be a bad idea, Renjun considers.

He drags himself out of bed to collect the box from the kitchen counter, setting it down on his bed as he begins to actually open the machine. He definitely recognizes the machine, it’s pretty famous among omega content creators due to its lightweight build and convenient suction cup base to accommodate any dildo the user pleases. He looks over at the extended assortment of toys he’s curated for tonight’s events:  a vibrating fleshlight for his cock and three different dildos in ascending length and thickness for his differing stages of need. Renjun felt his hole flutter with excitement as another gush of slick slid down his thighs.

He thinks about it for a moment, considering how much nicer it'd be if he didn’t have to be responsible for thrusting his toys in and out of his slicked hole. He decides to use the suction cup base of the fuck machine to attach it to the headboard of his bed, checking the height of his placement to ensure it would be the perfect height for him to comfortably get backshots from the toy. If he’s desperate enough for it he, reasons, first choosing to hold off from letting Donghyuck be right about something for as long as possible. With the machine firmly secured, Renjun settles back into his comfy spot in the nest. He takes off his robe, presses play on his laptop, and reaches for his fresh bottle of lube to start massaging his warm cock. 

He’s 10 minutes into watching Jae eat Jen’s ass when Renjun finally has his first orgasm. His little heaves and moans fill the room as he milks himself of his well deserved release. “Ooh…ahh…ahh...fuck!” He shouts, pulling himself further into overstimulation as his vision starts to haze over. He’s laying in a puddle of hot slick, constantly pumping out more and more as he keeps toying with his cock. He’s using his other hand to pump his fingers furiously in his asshole, loving the searing sensation of his hole stretching over his digits. “Mmm fuck...fuck, ooh make him cum Jae” he moans, picturing himself as the pornstars’ third wheel in their bedroom.

He realizes his hands aren’t gonna cut it though, he releases his cock from his vice grip and winces as he pulls his fingers from his ass to grab his fleshlight and the smallest dildo from the pile. “Oh shit,” he hisses, feeling that same intoxicating stretch to the next degree as he tries to slip the seven inch toy deep inside. He needs another large squirt of lube to get the job done, a sign he hasn’t completely gone into heat quite yet, letting his semi-delirious brain know he still has some semblance of self-control.

He pours another squirt of lube directly into the fleshlight, giving it a few pumps with his fingers, and then using those same fingers to pump his cock, before squeezing his drained but solid dick into the tight slippery hole.  He’s fully entranced in the sensations of his body now, leaking so much slick his toy keeps slipping out of his hole. The throbbing between his legs is reaching an ungodly peak, rushing his second orgasm into him like a train. “Ahhhh FUCK,” he screams, feeling the pulse of his prostate send him into overdrive. His cum and slick is pooling at the base of his dick, overflowing the fleshlight and adding to the lewd sounds deafening his ears.

He makes a move to turn up the vibrations on the toy, barely getting a chance to move his hand from the button before the pulse of his third release shakes him to the core. Renjun is completely lost at this point, barely aware of anything around him other than his seemingly never ending fountain of cum and the hypnotic sights and sounds of his favorite muscle bottom getting dicked within an inch of his life. God he wishes that was him taking alpha meat. Then he remembers it totally can be him. He grabs the biggest dick he owns, neglecting any more prep that the fifteen minutes of intense pounding hasn’t provided, and sticks the heavy dildo to the waiting base of the fuck machine.

He positions himself comfortably in front of the plastic cock, taking a moment to admire his mess on his satin sheets. “S-Shit…ohhh fuck,” he hisses as he shoves the toy into his ass. He barely gives himself a moment to adjust before he reaches for the remote to start the lowest thrusting pattern, desperate for the feeling of his hole getting stretched to its limits. Renjun lets out a low groan while the toy picks up speed. He clicks it up to the second level and jolts as the tip of the cock starts hitting his prostate. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh,” he groans, spilling more slick onto his sheets and sliding into his fourth orgasm, leaving his mind completely broken. He sets his fleshlight to its highest vibration and suction level, and shakes himself into another release.

If he had any ability to think critically he would be concerned for the amount of fluid leaking into his mattress, considering he’d completely forgotten to lay down the waterproof blankets he was so intent would save him a massive cleaning bill, especially since the cock in his ass causes another surge of slick to shoot from his hole. Nearing delirium, Renjun decides the dual stimulation still isn’t enough. He wants even more, he needs even more.

The smell of his slick and cum is intoxicating, leaving his brain just as fried as the underpaid alpha that nearly sprung a leak at his door earlier. He grabs the smaller dildo that he used to work his ass open at the start of his playtime, and gave it a slow lick from the balls to the tip. Tasting himself on the toy made his next orgasm even harder, sucking the head of the dildo like it was an actual alpha. Throating the cock to it’s hilt like Jae himself was fucking his throat. Renjun was officially in heat, too spent to think, and too horny to care. 

With the last bit of his reflexes he has left, he manages to switch the fuck machine to it’s highest setting, and prepares himself for the ride of his life. “Ohhhhh Shit! Oh Shit! Fuckkkkkk,” he stutters, forming the last coherent phrases he’ll be saying for a while. His head is absolutely pounding, reality is bending, and all he knows is fact are the loud moans he and Jen are churning out along with the surge of energy rushing through his ass and cock. “Ahh oh my god, oh my god,” he screams, ushering himself into otherworldly realms of pleasure.

His cock is being milked to extremes he didn’t know were possible, the pumping motions of the fleshlight sending streams of cum all over his balls and thighs from where the toy could no longer hold his load. He groans as the cock in his ass pounds into his prostate, sending him further into the orgasmic spiral he has no intention of leaving. He’s coming down from his tenth orgasm when he finally decided to give his dick a break, pulling the toy milking him for the last two hours off his cock and throwing it to the side, in the interest of laying face down ass up, fully submitting to the plastic cock he’s worshiping with every fiber of his being.

He can barely make any sounds other than small gurgles when he starts craving his own musk again, grabbing the fleshlight and sticking his tongue as deep as he can into the sopping wet hole, basking in the scent of his pleasure. He slurps up his essence as he feels his ass getting tighter, the dildo seemingly rutting rougher and rougher to break through his grip. He slides himself back even further on the toy, taking all eleven inches impossibly deep, crying out at the feeling of his stomach bulging from the cock mixing up his guts. Renjun is lost in the vortex of his heat, unable to do anything but scream in pleasure in between licking his fleshlight like it’s a real asshole, when he feels it.

His eyes go wide, his ass locks up around the plastic knot completely, the overwhelming pleasure forcing his body to mate with the cock rearranging him. The toy stops moving in and out, too suffocated by Renjuns slick walls to complete a full cycle of motion, instead sending deep thuds of pressure directly on his prostate. His eyes start rolling back as his body starts convulsing, unable to control his movements. His loud moans turn to deafening screams when a long stream of clear liquid shoots from his cock. He cries out in pleasure as he lets out endless gushes of liquid, soaking through whatever parts of his mattress weren’t already sticky with slick. His voice starts to taper off into quieter whines, soon after, Renjun’s vision goes black. 

Renjun wakes up thirty minutes later, slightly less attached to the toy. Its batteries must’ve died sometime between him squirting and passing out, but Renjun has little recollection of anything that occurred once his first heat spike hit. He hears the faint sound of his pornstars giving each other aftercare from what must’ve been a similarly intense scene in the background, figuring he should follow in Jen’s footsteps and have a bottle of water.

He rolls over in his nest, taking in the absolutely ruined state of his bed, along with the extremely satisfied feeling in his body. “Woah,” he thinks, “I gotta get Hyuck a Waffle House gift card or something.”

[punksocks]

House Synastry Observations:

-I feel like you just have planet energy, like show up through your personality but you come into house energy as you go through stages in life:

-1st house synastry: As you’re coming onto your own; establishing your identity; learning the most about yourself

-2nd house synastry: As you’re getting into finances; at your first job; finding the first ways to earn and spend money; sometimes hookups; getting into creature comforts and finding out what helps you relax (I personally met a lot of Sagittarius placements when I was first finding other artists to create with)

-3rd house synastry: As you go through early education; in early neighborhoods as well; this can also be the rising sign of one of your siblings (my sibling right after me has this as his rising sign)

-4th house synastry: Your childhood years; childhood friends; Can easily be one of your parents’ placements (my mom’s sun and my dad’s moon but my Uranus)

-5th house synastry: As you learn to have fun; when you explore socializing and creating for the heck of it; friends that you go on your first daytime adventures with; casual hookups; the years when you’re just learning about the world; maybe when/if you have kids

-6th house synastry: As you tighten up your daily routine; as you get healthy/fight chronic illnesses; as you figure out the work place and how to get along with colleagues

-7th house synastry: as you date seriously; while you’re looking for love; while you’re looking for any sort of partnership to balance out your life (friends, business partners, etc)

-8th house synastry: while you’re exploring the taboo; while you’re exploring your s*xuality; hookups (again)! (I’ve hooked up with more Geminis than clinically recommended lol)

-9th house synastry: while pursuing higher education (in college/grad school); while getting into church/synagogue/religion at an institution; while traveling and meeting people from other cultural backgrounds

-10th house synastry: while coming into your own in your career; while investing in your public image (influencers, public speaking,relating to the public in general); while managing your own business (now that I’m coming into my career I’m meeting a lot of people with placements in my 10th house)

-11th house synastry: While building up/investing in your community; while volunteering; while online in community groups/forums; while on social media in general

-12th house synastry: While being introspective and investigating yourself; while creating; while exploring spirituality and the esoteric (tarot, astrology, etc)

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 5

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 2,478

A/N: I'm back!! It's been a doozy of a few weeks; lots of grad school homework, illnesses, my brother's wedding. And to top it off had a nice little health scare.

But I've been craving getting back to this story. This chapter is a little shorter but keeps the story moving! Hope you enjoy

“So what exactly did you do before you quit?” Dean asks casually as you head back to the house. 

“Data marketing.” Dean turns towards you with a raised brow. “I look at how and what people spend their money on and make recommendations for how to sell products.” It was the easiest way to explain your job. You’ve tried a few times over the years, and you almost always left people confused, including your mother, who even after seven years still didn’t understand what you did on a daily basis. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” He smirks. “Do you enjoy what you do?” You smile as the town passes outside the windshield.

“I do.” You hum. “For me it’s like a puzzle.” Your hands get animated. “You have all these pieces of information and you have to put them together to figure out how to best market a product. It’s fun. It’s like being a detective except no one dies.” This gets a hearty laugh out of Dean as you come to a stop light.

“A detective?” Dean chuckles with a wide grin as the light turns green. 

“What can I say, I love a good mystery and I have a weak stomach.” You shrug. It was true. You loved a good murder mystery but if you were watching a movie, it was usually through your fingers. Even clearly fake blood churns your stomach. 

Dean pouts out his lower lip as he rolls his head side to side, considering your response.

“Fair enough.” He concedes. 

“What about you?” You ask in return. “You’ve been a mechanic since you were sixteen?” You recall him mentioning it earlier. He nods. 

“I started part-time in high school to make some extra cash. I was saving up for an old car that I wanted to buy and figured taking a mechanic job would be a good place to learn how to fix it up once I got it.”

You look around the cab of the pickup; it doesn’t look like what you would consider a “classic” car, just a regular truck, probably a decade or so old if you had you guess. Dean catches your wandering eye. 

“This is not the car.” He scoffs, almost offended you would think that. “This is my work car. My baby is at a special garage where she’s protected from sun damage, dust, anything else that could damage her.” He begins listing off concerns on each finger on his hand that’s not currently on the steering wheel. 

“Your baby?” You gape at the mention of the presumed pet name. “I’m confused, are we still talking about a car?” His carefree laughter fills the truck.

“Yes, she’s a car, but I built her from the ground up. She’s the most important thing to me.” He speaks with admiration, and your brows fold in at the center, listening to disbelief as the man next to you speaks about a car like a normal person would a child, or a spouse. Definitely not a car.  

“Has Lisa tried renting her on Hertz yet?” You laugh along with him, but you only hear the sound of your voice echoing through the cab. You glance towards him, his smile gone.

“Shit, Dean, I’m sorry.” You sputter, throwing your hands out towards him. “I shouldn’t have said that.” You quickly backpedal, your words almost tripping over each other as you realize what you’ve said.

What a dumb thing to say. You’re literally making fun of his divorce. Smooth, Y/N. If Dean weren’t sitting next to you, you would give yourself a rightful smack to the forehead. 

“No, no, it’s okay.” He tries to assure you, but the lightness in his voice is gone. A silence settles over the truck as you squeeze your eyes shut and turn towards your window. AKA away from Dean. 

Shit. Why the hell did I say that? You mentally berate yourself again. Just as the two of you were finally getting to a good spot. 

“It was a good joke.” Dean chimes in. “Seriously, relax.” You open your eyes and peek over your shoulder to find Dean glancing between you and the road, his lips slightly turned upwards.

“Truly, it’s fine.” You huff out a deep breath. You don’t totally believe him, but at least he wasn’t holding it against you. 

“I swear I didn’t mean it like that.” Your voice drips with sincerity, your body flashing hot with embarrassment. Dean just purses his lips.

“Can I ask you something?” His tone is serious. Oh god. You just look at him and he glances from the road to you. “Are you going to be super awkward now?” 

You huff out a laugh, your heart still pounding hard in your chest as the tightness starts to dissipate. Dean chuckles next to you as the tension is left behind you like the town in the rearview mirror.

Ten minutes later, you’re back at the house, the hood of your car propped open as Dean leans inside, working on removing the corroded battery as you watch a few steps behind him, keeping your distance so as to not hover. 

“You seem to be up early today?” He shoots you a glace over his shoulder as he pops the battery out of its place. He straightens up, giving his lower back a stretch before leaning his prominent figure down and placing the ruined battery on the ground and grabbing the fresh one next to it. 

That was true. The last week or so you had been sleeping in. Especially since you weren’t getting rudely awakened by Dean anymore. But, of course the morning you had plans, this morning, your car decided to crap out. 

“I was actually planning to hike Mount Carmel.” You had been researching some of the local hiking trails around, wanting to get out into nature and get in a workout, and Mount Carmel seemed easy enough that you didn’t have to worry about an injury since you’d be going alone. And a lot of the trail reviews mentioned that the area was safe for solo hiking. You weren’t trying to become a cold case on your vacation. 

“Figured it could be a nice way to start the morning.” You shrug as Dean’s gaze catches yours as he reaches into his toolbox for something.

“Maybe do some meditating once I got to the top. But like everything else with this trip, nothing has gone according to plan.” You take a deep breath and your hands slap against your thighs. 

“Meditating?” His whole face scrunches as he rests the new car battery on the edge of the car as he turns to face you. 

“Yes, meditating.” You challenge back. “It’s good for you.” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Isn’t meditating just breathing?” He asks with a slight shake of his head, like he’s trying to work it out for himself.

“Technically yes, but it’s about focusing on your body. Quieting your mind and honing in on the world around you.” Dean rolls his eyes with a scoff and he turns back towards the car.

“You sound like Lisa. She was into yoga and all the crap.” His voice is partially obscured as he leans in towards the engine. 

You fold your lips in, wondering if you should say what just popped into your mind. 

Fuck it. You seemed to be getting along. And it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve a few jabs after the nonsense he had pulled with you the first half of your vacation. 

“It’s really good for anger, you know.” Dean shoots you a look over his shoulder, and you bite down a smirk at his gaze. 

Well god damn if the sun wasn’t hitting him just right as he stared you down. Not to mention the view you were getting as he leaned over the car. 

You had to wonder exactly what went wrong in their marriage for Lisa to leave a man this good-looking. It’s not like people didn’t marry just for looks alone sometimes. But obviously there were some deep-seeded issues considering how bitter their divorce seemed to be, 

“I’m not angry,” He huffs, his bottom lip pouting out. 

“Suurrreee,” You breathe out under your breath as you cross your arms and lean against a nearby tree as he continues to work.

A few minutes later, Dean wipes his hands on his jeans and shuts the hood of your car.

“All set.” He turns towards you with a grin, and you can’t help but match it as you push off the tree and straighten up.

“So how much do I owe you?” You rock back on your heels, your hands resting on your lower back. You were hoping it wasn’t going to be crazy expensive. You really knew nothing when it came to cars, just that you were always left with a nice dent in your credit card bill whenever you had to take it into a shop.

“It’s on the house.” He smiles at you easily. 

“Dean.” Your shoulders drop at his offer. “C’mon, you don’t need to do that.” You start to argue, then a sour thought hits you and you frown. 

“Are you just doing this because you feel bad that I don’t have a job?” Pity. That’s why he was helping you. And that's why you didn't want to tell him about your situation in the first place.

Dean’s smile doesn’t falter as he shakes his head.

“No this is not because I feel bad for you. Consider this my gesture of a fresh start.” He holds his hand out to you, and you can’t stop as your cheeks dimple with your smile as you take it. 

His cool fingers wrap around yours and you tighten your grip on him, not wanting to think you were some fragile little girl who didn’t know how to shake a hand. He just raises his eyebrows before you drop your hold. 

“Pleasure doing business with ya.” You want to wink at him like he did you at the shop, but like you said, no one in real life besides Dean apparently, can actually pull off a wink, so instead you just continue to smile bright.

Dean wants to laugh when you grip his hand extra tight, like you’re trying to prove something, but he just returns your smile instead. 

“By the way,” he starts as he drops your hand, leaning against your bumper as he crosses his arms and ankles. His brows furrow as your tongue briefly peeks out onto your lips, and his own mouth pops open, before he realizes he was in the middle of a sentence. “This time of year Mount Carmel is probably pretty icy. Temps have been below freezing since the month started. If you’re going to hike, you should probably go with someone.”

You roll your eyes with a huff and cross your arms.

“Yeah me and all my friends can go.” You scoff with raised eyebrows. Dean just returns the gesture as he rolls his own eyes. 

“Are you sure you didn’t get fired for being a smart ass?” He shoots back, and your mouth drops open. 

“Huh.” You nod, your tongue pressed against your inner cheek giving you a weird lump that Dean grimaces at.

“Guess I deserve that for the Lisa joke earlier.” You conceded. Dean just gives you a nod to the side, but peppered with a smile, so you know, no hard feelings.

“Guess you did.” Dean smirks as he pushes off the car. 

“By the way, there’s some local hiking groups, maybe you can give them a look to see if they’re doing anything. But if you’re still hellbent on taking a hike, I’m off Thursday, and I’ve hiked it a few times if you still can’t find anyone.” 

The words fall out of his mouth before he even realizes what he was saying. 

What the fuck. 

He had not intended to offer to be your hiking buddy. Hell, he hadn’t hiked those trails since the early years of his marriage, back when he would do anything to make Lisa happy, even if he thought it was stupid. Who wanted to waste their day going for an hours-long walk? Apparently you and his soon-to-be ex wife. 

Your eyebrows raise.

“Seriously?” You ask with skepticism. He doesn’t blame you. 

No going back now.

“Uh, yeah if you want. I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything.” He gives a laugh, but cringes internally. 

Who the fuck says that? Really, what the fuck was he doing. 

You narrow your eyes.

“Sounds like something a serial killer would say.” Your face is serious, but your eyes give you away. A laugh escapes before he can stop it. He definitely wasn’t wrong about you being a smartass. And he likes that he can seemingly read you, whether you mean to show your emotions or not. He wasn’t sure. Yet. 

“Fair enough.” He claps his hands together. “But I gotta be gettin’ back to the shop.” He points his thumb over his shoulder, like his motley crew were waiting behind him. “Someone’s gotta keep those boys in line.

You laugh with raised eyebrows. For some reason, it feels more like you’re laughing at him, and not with him. He feels heat rush up his neck. 

Truly. What the fuck is wrong with me right now. 

“Uhh, but if you have any more car issues, feel free to give me a call. Like you know, I’m right down the street.” He starts to turn, but your voice stops him.

“And how am I supposed to call you if I don’t have your number?” He turns back to you, happy to see you still smiling. Something about it warms the cool morning.

“Right.” He reaches into his back pocket and whips out his phone. “What’s your number?” He pops open a blank text message. When you don’t respond, he looks up. Your smile has turned cheeky, and you look like you have something smart on the tip of your tongue. He decides to beat you to it.

“If you give me a fake number, I kinda know where you live.” He gives you a pointed look before your whole body shakes with the most carefree laugh he’s heard so far. 

“Once more, sounds like something a serial killer would say.” You continue through your giggles. 

“Just give me the damn number.” He huffs and you relent, giving him your number as he types it into the phone.

Dean Winchester. Is all the message says when he sends it, and a moment later you pull your own phone from your pocket, holding up the notification to him triumphantly. 

“I’ll see ya later.” He gives you a low wave before he hops into his truck and heads back to the auto shop for the day.

Keep Reading

NEXT TIME:

“I can’t believe you consider this fun,” he huffs behind you, watching every step he takes. 

“No one forced you to come.” You remind him with an easy breath. Not that you’re trying to taunt him while he seemed to be struggling as he staggered behind you, but it was just another reminder that he truly seemed to hate hiking. 

“You know you could walk on a flat road. I mean, really, what the hells the difference? There’s plenty of trees on the road by my place.”

[Grumpy Dean is back ^-^]

Forever Tag List

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213 @kaydallas21

[karmaisakhaleesi]

Astronomy chap. 1 Neteyam Sully x human!fem!reader

master list-

It's astronomy, we're two worlds apart

1.3k+ word count

warnings- anxiety/panic attacks, death, illness, lmk if i missed any!

comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this!

Neteyam x human!fem!reader

---

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you walk down the steps of the cargo ship. You feel the start of a migraine when the mask tightens around your head. The only barrier between life and death at the hands of asphyxia. You shudder at the thought and take in the base, concrete buildings along with bulldozers, and in the distance, the lush greenery of a forest makes you all the more homesick. But you grin and bear it, your Mother's words echoing through you, "Live your life, I'll be fine. It's not like there's much for me to do here anyway."

The memory was bittersweet, having been right after her diagnosis. You shook your head, shoving it away, you promised you wouldn't cry. Just yet.

A woman interrupted you briefly introducing herself and guided you inside. You quickly followed, the sound of air escaping as the doors closed behind you.

"So Miss, Augustine, how do you feel?"

The blonde woman, whose name you had briefly forgotten asked. You felt a flush creep up my cheeks, "Um, well, it's a lot different than back home. But I should be fine!" I fumbled over my words fiddling with the strap of my backpack.

"Good, well I'll leave you to it, remember, dinners at 1900 hours!" she said leaving briskly, the sound of her shoes echoing against the linoleum floors.

You glance at the small room that greeted you. Nothing but a small grey cot and matching desk cramped into the small room. Your bag hits the bed with a thud, "Whelp, time to regret my life choices for the next ten hours," you sigh.

___

"Are you insane?!? Have you lost it?!? She's nothing but a child!" a male voice shouted from behind the office door.

You flinched, and he sounded pissed. You sucked in a deep breath knocking on the door.

"We have had this discussion several times might I remind you, Doctor Moran. And we will not have it again. You know why she is here, are we clear?"

"You've gone mad!"

You flinched again as the door flew open and a man with a mess of gray hair regarded you with a look of pure disdain. He then stormed past you nearly knocking you down.

"Miss Augustine, it's nice to see you. Please, come in," the general greeted.

She shuffled some papers off her desk and into a drawer. Giving you a tight-lipped smile she gestured for you to take a seat. You tentatively sat down in the brown leather swivel chair, the only thing of color in the small gray room you noted.

Your hands clenched the arms of the chair, bracing yourself for the words about to leave her mouth.

"Now I see here that you have all of the required degrees and specifications for the job I've offered you," she paused to pull a paper off of her desk.

"Graduated Harvard summa cum laude, in undergrad. Top of your class in grad school, and completed your Ph.D. thesis on Pandoran ecology to earn your doctorate degree all at or before the age of fifteen. Quite an impressive resume, if I say so myself."

You frown, eyes finding the floor a much more interesting subject than your many degrees and accomplishments.

General Ardmore gives you another tight-lipped smile before she pulls a pen out and hands it out to you. She then pushes a paper towards you, "Now let's cut to the chase, shall we?"

You sigh and nod your head in affirmation, hand shaking, pen tip hovering on the stark white paper.

"You sign this and your Mother's cured. Well as long as you hold up your end of the deal, Miss Augustine," she gives yet another smile, but you can see that it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

You quickly sign, biting your lip to hold back the tears you can feel burning to be let go.

"Yes, understood ma'am."

"Good! Now that that's been taken care of, let's get you ready to ship out!"

She spins her chair around to stand, her shoes echoing through the hall as you stand to follow.

___

You glance wearily at the helicopter before someone tosses your bag into a seat, you glance over at a woman with sunglasses gives you a curt smile through her mask, and walks to the pilot seat. You carefully sit down next to your bag and strap the seatbelt as tight as you can, also seatbelting your bag. Just so that it won't fall out, you think to yourself as you hear the chopper blades start whirring defeating you.

You feel a tap on your shoulder as the General gives you a thumbs up, a bit of warning in her eyes. You nod soundlessly as you take off, gasping at the feeling.

---

Your feet touch solid ground after what feels like forever and you carefully undo your and your bag's seatbelts. You clutch your bag tightly to your chest, scared you'll lose it. A man greets you and shakes your hand, "Dr. Spellman! It's a pleasure to meet you!"

You return the handshake and nod, too nervous to speak.

You follow him into the facility and the familiar whoosh of air signals the doors closing behind you. You quickly take off your mask and take a deep breath.

"So, how was your, um, trip?" Dr. Spellman asks, wringing his hands as he guides you to your room.

"It was, uneventful," you reply setting your bag down in a similarly grey room, desk, bed, and all.

"Well, that's good," he replies.

You glance up at him, he seems, nervous. Or scared, maybe a mix of both. You knew things had changed since your Aunt Grace left for Pandora, mostly for the worst. You were surprised they had even let you come, well not to the base, but to the old facility. You had figured they would refuse, but with the omission of your role with the military, they reluctantly agreed.

"You seem, nervous," Dr. Spellman sputtered in the middle of his explanation, denying your accusation, but his face flushed a deep red.

"Well, yes, just a bit," he paused eyes widening as he quickly shut a door, whisper shouting at something you couldn't see.

A flurry of hushed voices in a language you somewhat recognized followed. You frowned turning to Spellman opening your mouth before the opened interrupting you mid-sentence.

You gasped as a group of, Na'vi and one human pushed open the door. The human looked to be around your age, long messy blonde hair obscured his face and blue markings covered his body. You flinched as their confused looks turned to hisses of defense, which caused you to stumble back and trip over a small box.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for impact, only to feel a warm hand enclosed around your arm. You blinked slowly and looked on to see a deep blue hand enclosed around yours keeping you from falling face-first onto the floor. Heat crept up your face as the hand dropped your arm as if it were on fire.

"Okay, everybody," Dr. Spellman interrupted, "Please calm down, I will explain in two seconds!"

He sighed exasperatedly, pointing to you, "This is Dr. Augustine, Dr. Grace Augustine's niece."

"And they are Neteyam, Lo'ak, Kiri, Tuktirey, and Miles," he paused looking towards them warily.

They returned the wariness.

"Your my mother's niece?" the older girl interrupted.

You give her a nervous smile, feeling an anxiety attack coming on, "Yes, I'm y/n Augustine. My mom is your mother's sister, Selene Augustine."

You can feel your throat tightening and vision blurring as the girl, Kiri you believe? Questions you excitedly. You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, and that's when the world goes black.

___

i hope you like chapter 1! chapter 2 should be out soon!

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@phantomalex14

[prettyinpurplelights]

IV.

“I cannot believe we actually made it.” Mia gripped your hand excitedly, her acrylic nails digging painfully into your skin.

“Girl, hold my hand any tighter and you’ll crush my bones. I won’t have a hand to collect my diploma with.” You giggled softly, prying her fingers off the back of your hand so you could lace your fingers together instead, her sweaty palm pressing against yours.

“Sorry.” She replied and you squeezed her hand in response. “I’m just so nervous, can you believe after all our hard work, we’re finally here?”

“I know.” You sighed, looking out into the audience of family members and friends that were filling into the giant cathedral to watch and support their loved ones on one of the most important days of their lives. You and Mia had finally come to the end of your degrees, and today would encapsulate the last four years of all nighters and countless assignments. You were graduating with a Master’s degree in fashion design and marketing, Mia in medical neuroscience with psychology. As well as saying goodbye to your university, you were both parting ways with the city too, leaving Marseille for Paris early the following morning. During your final year, your main project was to put on your own fashion show, making the pieces as well as being responsible for promoting and marketing the event. You didn’t sleep for several weeks, but it had all been worth it because the show was a huge success, landing you the highest grade in your cohort as well as a job waiting for you at Louis Vuitton, whom having interned for them the summer before, and after your show being such a hit, offered you a place at their headquarters in Paris. Mia had also secured a fellowship in one of the biggest hospitals in the country, working with their research department on new treatments and cures and finding the causes for all sorts of illnesses to do with the brain that she had tried to explain to you but had gone completely over your head. All you understood was that it was incredibly competitive and very hard to get into, so you were extremely proud of her, and very excited to start this new chapter of your young adult lives together. You had already leased an apartment to share, and moved almost all your stuff over during the summer break. It was now a matter of starting to unpack and make it more of a home when you both returned to Paris for the last time in less than 24 hours.

“Ouuu I see Elliot!” Mia squealed, waving her hand that wasn’t holding yours excitedly. “He’s with our parents, come on, let's go and say hi before grad starts.” She stood up, dragging you down the small steps where the choir would usually be during mass, instead, today, it was where the graduates were to be seated during the graduation ceremony. She pulled you through the aisle, mumbling a few excuse me’s as you weaved through the sea of people talking to each other, the atmosphere electrified with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming ceremony.

“Mommy, Daddy!” Mia's smile grew wider as she hugged her parents tightly. Her parents had moved to London when she was 14, her dad’s hotel business was expanding and he’d started to branch out into the rest of Europe. Mia was supposed to have gone with them but she didn’t want to move to England, and after a lot of bargaining, she’d managed to agree with her parents that she’d live with her grandmother instead, hence how you became friends, she had moved to Bondy late into the school year and the only spare seat in your form tutor was next to you and the rest was history. Unfortunately, Mia’s grandmother had passed away just before she was due to start university, and since she was officially an adult, her parents let her stay in France. She’d fly out to see them regularly but it had been a while since she last saw them, and they’re very busy people so you knew she was very pleased to have them here and you’re glad they could show up for her.

You hugged your own parents, your dad clicking at his camera repeatedly, making sure he had enough photos to commemorate this occasion.

“Dad, I don’t even think I’m in the frame in the one you just took.” You laughed at him, as he squinted behind the lens.

“Close enough! I’m so proud of you, my sweet baby girl.” He leant over to kiss your cheek before walking off, muttering about finding someone to take a group photograph.

“You know I don’t think he made such a fuss when I was graduating.” Elliot appeared by your side, his hand reaching up to grab your cap, to remove it so he could ruffle your hair. You ducked under his arm, knowing exactly what he was trying to do and pushed him away from you.

“Don’t you dare El, I was up at 6 this morning doing my hair, you’re not messing it up!” You scowled. “And besides, we both know I’m mum and dad’s favourite.” You added. A smug smile spread across your face as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. “At least I’m the smart one, all you do is play with pretty fabric all day.” Elliot had graduated with a degree in sports science the year before, ending up at PSG, working as part of their medical staff. From what he had told you, he was really enjoying himself, and it probably helped that it was the same team Kylian played for, those two together, you were sure they were putting the other PSG players and staff members through hell.

“You know without people like Y/N, the rest of us would have nothing to wear, you’d be naked right now.” Mia slid up to Elliot, her arm wrapping around his waist as his went over her shoulder and squeezed it.

“I know you wouldn’t complain about that.” He replied.

“Mmmm, probably not.” She looked up at him, pursing her lips as he reached down to kiss her.

“Ew, the both of you. Please, I’m literally standing right here.”

They both laughed, pulling away just as your dad returned, some poor 20-something looking boy in his stead, holding the camera.

“Where’s Marco? Is he not coming?” Elliot asked, craning his head around to see if he could spot your boyfriend.

“Um…he’s in Tokyo. We broke up.”

Ex-boyfriend.

“Oh shit, sorry sis. What hap-“

“Group photo everyone, quick together!” Your dad interrupted his sentence, and you were thankful for his extraness in that moment, not wanting to answer any questions about your break-up. Your dad ushered you, your mum, Elliot, Mia and her parents into a huddle. It took a couple of minutes to organise everybody, your dad was kind of a perfectionist; it’s probably where Elliot got it from. You were stood between Mia and your mum, your brother behind the both of you. You turned to face him and from the look in your eyes and the way your lip turned downward slightly, he knew what you were going to ask, the issue of Marco long forgotten. Someone else was on your mind now.

“He’s going to be here Y/N. He might be a bit late, but he’ll be here.”

“He didn’t come down with you?”

“I had to pick Mum and Dad up so we got a later flight, he said he’d make it down himself. He wouldn’t miss this. I’m sure he’s on his way.”

You nodded, as you turned back to the boy holding the camera, mustering up the biggest smile you could, trying to ignore the way your heart felt so heavy in your chest and the sudden way your gown started to feel stuffy and uncomfortable. You and Kylian weren’t on bad terms, in fact, you were great. It had been almost three years since you’d decided to take a step back from him, and focus on yourself and who you were outside loving him. Not to say you stopped loving him, you don’t think that was something you’d ever be able to do, but you’d reached a point where he wasn’t all you thought about and it didn’t dictate everything you did and consume your entire being. You’d even managed to date someone this year, your first official boyfriend, Marco, for about 10 months, until he had to move to Japan for a student exchange transfer and you’d mutually decided to end things while you were on a good note because long distance for a whole year was not worth it; you’d remained friends though. You liked him a lot, but you didn’t love him, which was one of the reasons why he’d also agreed, howbeit reluctantly, to break up before his transfer, he’d told you he loved you 2 months prior and you were still yet to say it back. He had wanted to stay for you, but you encouraged him to go, not wanting to hold him back, especially when his feelings were so strong for you and yours were…well, not as strong. You didn’t want to disappoint him if you still couldn’t commit several months down the line and he’d thrown his future away for you.

“Graduates please make your way to your assigned seats, the ceremony will begin in 5 minutes.”

You and Mia hugged your families one more time before making your way back towards the stage. Your phone buzzed in your hand as you sat down, bringing it up to your face.

“Kylian?” Mia asked, her inquisitive nature causing her to lean over your shoulder and read the text on your phone.

“Ouuuu Marcoooo.” She sang teasingly as sat back and unlocked her own phone.

Hey, I know we’re not together anymore, but you’re still my friend so I wanted to wish you luck today! ♥️ proud of you always

Thank you Marco 🥺 I really appreciate it. How’s Japan treating you?

It’s amazing. The culture is just wow. And the sushi DEFINITELY tastes better here. You’d love it.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type out a reply when he sent another message.

I miss you.

You heard Mia wince audibly next to you, obviously reading the conversation between you and Marco.

“Get your big ass head out of my business.” You bumped your shoulder against hers as you sent Marco a quick reply about the ceremony starting so you had to go, not at all in the mood to unpack what that “I miss you” meant.

“Shame. I liked Marco. He was good for you.”

“Mmmm.”

“At least he congratulated you, better than that idiot your brother calls a best friend.”

“Ky’s our best friend too. And I thought you were on his side? Team KyY/N?”

“That was two years ago Y/N. He couldn’t even be bothered to send you a message about not coming.”

“El said he’d be here.”

“You think so?”

“I told him about today personally. He promised me he’d be here. For the both of us.”

“Oh we both know which one of us he’s coming for. And honestly I couldn’t give a fuck if he shows up for me, no offence. But for you? I’m skinning him alive the second we get to Paris.”

“He’ll be here.” You whispered to no one, almost as though you were trying to convince yourself. He had given you his word he wouldn’t miss today when you’d called him a few months ago about it. Initially you thought it might be weird, speaking to him on the phone, since you’d only been texting recently, but the thing about you and Kylian is no matter how much time you spent apart, you never fail to fall right back into your usual stead of things.

You hadn’t seen him since your birthday at the end of January, where there’d been a sort of awkward moment when you’d introduced him to Marco, who then had been your official boyfriend for a couple of weeks. He had just gotten back together with Renee, they had been together since your little confrontation at the airport two years back when you’d told him to focus on her. They had been on and off since they’d started dating, from what you’ve seen in the media, Kylian never really talked to you about her. From what you’d read over the course of the years, they’d broken up a couple of times, not that you cared or were keeping count.

******

He picked up after 3 rings, his face filling the screen when he answered. You gave him a little wave and a smile spread across his features, his dimples greeting you.

“Y/N. Hey.”

“Hi!” You replied, your voice chirpier than you’d expected it to be.

“You okay? Did something happen?”

He must’ve noticed the way you anxiously chewed at your bottom lip, your telltale sign something was wrong or you were nervous. In a similar way, he would squeeze his eyebrows together and his nose would twitch involuntarily when he was feeling the same. The harder he scrunched his eyebrows, the less nervous he was, the increased frequency of frown lines strewn across his forehead meant he was more likely to be angry instead. You knew each other’s tics and tells, probably better than you knew your own. By logic you and Kylian should’ve worked, you complemented and contrasted each other in the most perfect ways, but for some reason, the universe didn’t seem to agree and rather preferred to have the two of you in constant awkward situations and miscommunications leading to petty arguments. It was a quite cruel joke to be honest.

“Um, no, everything’s fine, I’m good. I was just wondering what you were doing August 1st.”

“Hmmm, the league starts again the week after that I’m sure, so just training.”

“Or nothing, if that’s what you need me to be doing.” He added and you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered a little bit his words.

“Well Mia and I are finally graduating on the 1st. My parents and Elliot will be there. I was wondering if you wanted to come-“

“I’ll be there.”

“Really?” He laughed at your response.

“Gummy, you’ve wanted to be a fashion designer for as long as I’ve known you. I remember when you took it upon yourself to be mine and El’s stylists in middle school, I don’t even know why I let you do that, you used to put me in the most ridiculous outfits.”

“All you wanted to wear to school was your football kit.” You rolled your eyes. “I was trying to broaden your horizon a little bit.”

“Even then, you had talent, I can’t even imagine what you’re able to do now.”

“Well not to brag, but I am on track to finish top of my class.”

“Didn’t expect anything less from my girl.” He smiled genuinely and heat rose rapidly to your cheeks as you looked away from him for a moment.

“Of course I want to be there for you. But are you sure you’re 100% about it? Not to brag, but I am kind of a hotshot on the football scene right now.” He mocked, using your words against you playfully.

“Oh shut up!”

He laughed again, before continuing.

“I’m serious though Y/N, I know you like to stay out of the limelight and stuff, I don’t want to ruin that for you or steal attention away. This isn’t a private party like your birthday.”

“I want you there Ky, I want everyone I love there. I’ll be okay.” You nodded. Just then, you heard your boyfriend call out from your bedroom, his voice growing louder as he neared you in the kitchen.

“You ready babe?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressed a kiss against your cheek when he noticed you were on the phone.

“Oh hey man!” He waved at the screen. “How are you doing Kylian!”

“Hey…Marco. I’m good.” The smile on Kylian’s face dropped briefly as he greeted your boyfriend with a slight grimace. You quirked your eyebrow, wondering what the hell that was about but now it was his turn to break eye contact, looking everywhere but at you and Marco.

“How’s Renee?”

“Ummm she’s good. We’re…good.”

“Still can’t believe this guy is dating the biggest supermodel in the world, very fitting.”

You scowled, turning to face Marco, his comment grating on you a little bit.

“As opposed to you dating what?” You questioned, daring him to say some more bullshit.

“The hottest, smartest, kindest girl in the world of course.”

“Hmmm, better be.”

“How did you deal with her quick temper all your life Kylian?” Marco asked, and you elbowed his rib in response.

“You see what I mean?” He laughed, walking away from you. Kylian didn’t even bat an eye, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world at that moment.

“So anyways-“ You started but Kylian interrupted you, the words tumbling out of his mouth faster than you could register them.

“I gotta go. But I’ll be there August 1st. You have my word.”

“Oh, okay, yeah sure. Say hi to Renee for me.” You had barely managed to get out before he ended the FaceTime abruptly.

******

That was the last time you’d spoken, save the occasional text, but not once had he mentioned he wouldn’t be able to make it to your graduation. So by the time the ceremony was done and you had collected your diploma and walked down the aisle to cheers from your family, received more congratulations and took even more pictures and said your goodbyes to your family, to say you were simply pissed off was a great understandment. Some fool had even thought it would be funny to do Kylian’s infamous goal celebration in front of the cameras before collecting his diploma which amused everyone in the cathedral but vexed you even more. Kylian had always been there for you, he’s always tried his best to be present when you needed him, this was one of very few times he hadn’t shown up for you. But it hurt still, this was probably the most important thing you’d needed him for, and he’d not even bothered to shoot you a text he would be a no show.

“I know for sure he got on that plane Y/N.” Elliot had tried to reassure you earlier when you’d walked him and your parents to the Uber they had booked to take them back to the airport.

“Well that means fuck all to me. He’s not here.”

“Gosh he’s such an idiot. I’m going to skin him alive when I see him.”

“Funny your girlfriend said the same thing.” You laughed, but not really feeling humoured in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it El, I don’t know why I expected any different from him.”

“I know he has the funniest way of showing it, but he cares about you Y/N. And he loves you.” You ignored his comment, giving him one last hug before he slid into the front seat of the cab.

“I love you El.”

“Love you too sis. Always. You and Mia have fun tonight alright? And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You nodded, saying goodbye to your parents once more before the car pulled away. Mia appeared at your side, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“Mia?”

“Mmhm?” She replied.

“Let’s get absolutely fucking wasted tonight.”

———

“Why the fuck did you listen to me when I said we should get wasted last night.” You groaned, flopping onto the couch, your suitcases abandoned by the door. You’d finally arrived at your apartment in Paris, a little before midday, exhausted and terribly hungover.

“You looked like you needed it.” Mia sat by your side, laying your head on her chest and rubbing your shoulders.

“You’re so lucky you recover quickly, I still feel like I’ve been hit by a monster truck.”

“I’m gonna go out and do some food shopping, I’ll bring you something. Get some rest.”

You’d practically gone straight from the bar to the train station. You, Mia and your group of university friends had gone out to celebrate graduating, and also spend one last night together before you all split and went your different ways. It had been a great night, but you’re definitely regretting it now, as you were sure the others were too. You hadn’t even had a chance to shower as you and Mia had to pack the last of your stuff and hand in your old keys to the landlord before 7am since the train to Paris Lyon was leaving Marseille St. Charles around 8.

You decided to take a long shower while Mia was gone, you usually felt much better after a good soak. You’re glad to have your little travel toiletries bag because you had absolutely no idea where anything was; the apartment was filled with countless unopened cardboard boxes. You had about two weeks before your new job started so you and Mia could hopefully unpack and decorate in that time.

Definitely starting tomorrow. There was absolutely no way you’d be putting together furniture and organising your wardrobe today, you planned to stay in bed as long as you could instead.

You had just stepped out of the shower when you heard the doorbell ring, probably Mia who had forgotten her keys. You wrapped your towel around you, securing it as you opened the door.

“Did you not take your key-“ You looked up, your sentence breaking down half way through when you realised it wasn’t Mia in front of you. You rolled your eyes, moving to close the door in his face but he was quick, his foot reaching out to block the door from locking.

“Y/N, hear me out, please.”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you have to say Kylian, take your foot out of the way before I crush it.”

“I have boba?”

You paused for a second, still refusing to look at him.

“What flavour.”

“Mango milk tea with passion fruit pearls. I brought croissants too, from the best bakery in Paris. Very expensive. Very tasty.”

You opened the door wider, letting him walk through, cursing him for knowing you so well. He set the items on the little bit of space he could find on the kitchen worktop that wasn’t covered in boxes before turning to look at you.

His eyes scanned your body, starting at your legs, stopping when his eyes met yours. You felt stuck to the spot, your blood turning to lead as your eyes remained fixed on his, his mouth slightly ajar, your heart pounding fast. You forgot you were angry at him for a minute, flashbacks of the last time he’d seen you like this flickering across your mind instead as you suddenly remembered you were wearing next to nothing. Your hands came up to cover your chest and legs, breaking the both of you out of your hypnotic state.

“Umm…I’ll be back. Gonna put something on.” You muttered.

“Yeah…umm…sure, I’ll wait here.”

You raced to your room as quickly as you could, ignoring the funny feeling in your stomach and the way your heart was racing like it was running out of time. You rummaged through the boxes, trying to find one that had some clothes in it. After a couple of minutes of sifting through books and shoes and everything else, you managed to find a bag at the bottom of one of the boxes with your gym clothing.

You pulled the shorts and a t-shirt over your head, rolling your eyes when you realised which top you were wearing. You walked back into the room with your arms crossed, trying your best to look angry as you faced Kylian, a smile spreading across his face when he noticed your top.

“Wipe that smug grin off your face, I could only find my gym stuff and it was the only top in there.”

“You work out with my name on your back?” He held out the boba to you, his eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Shut up. These jerseys are surprisingly very breathable.” You snatched the plastic cup out of his grasp, piercing the film lid with the straw and taking a sip.

“Well yeah, we do run around in them for 90 minutes so we’d hope they’re breathable. Remind me to get you a new one from this season though, that one’s a bit outdated.”

“This one’s just fine. Thank you for the boba.” You raised the cup at him before stretching your hand out, pointing to the open door that led to the hallway. “You can go now.”

“Y/N-“

“Kylian I don’t want to hear it. You think what, by bringing my favourite drink and cracking jokes everything’s okay?”

“No, of course not. I tried to call you last night.“

“And I didn’t answer for a fucking reason. Did it cross your mind maybe I didn’t want to talk to you after you stood me and Mia up?”

“Listen-“

“There’s not an excuse you can give me that’s valid Kylian. You promised me you’d be there. I kept looking out for you, the whole ceremony, even after it was over, we lingered around the venue for so long my parents and Elliot almost missed their flight back home. Of course I didn’t tell them why I wanted to wait around, they still think you’re the best thing that’s happened to them besides their own kids.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I got on the plane to come to you, I swear-“

“So you were in Marseille yesterday?”

“Yes, I was on my way to-“

“Funny you were in Marseille yesterday.”

“Y/N-“

“Because I was in Marseille yesterday, and this morning too actually, up until about hmmm, 4 hours ago? But I didn’t see you. At all.”

“Y/N-“

“You’re so-“

“Y/N STOP TALKING!” He suddenly yelled, your sentence cut off midway by his outburst. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many frown lines across his forehead before, he must be really pissed. That makes two of you.

“Don’t raise your voice at me.”

“Well I don’t have a choice if that’s the only way to get you to fucking listen.”

“I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say.”

“You know what? You always do this. You always assume you know what I’m going to say, or how I feel so you just cut me off before I get a chance to even explain myself.”

“Because I know you’re going to come out with some bullshit Kylian! Always you and your empty fucking promises, I’m so over it. But sure, prove me wrong. Go on, explain yourself then.”

You raised your arms as if to say he has the floor to speak. He clenched his jaw, his lips in a tight line as the both of you stared at each other, a million and one emotions swirling around you. Anger, pain, disappointment, sadness. If looks could kill, the both of you would be simultaneously 6 feet under.

“I swear I didn’t mean to miss your graduation Y/N, I really wanted to be there. I literally got to the airport and I, I bumped into Renee. I swear it was unplanned, I had no idea she was going to be there, and we just started talking and she had a lot she wanted to say to me, and honestly I didn’t realise how long we were together for, I swear it wasn’t my intention to miss your ceremony.”

“So what was so important that you had to talk about there in that moment, for such a long time-“

“She wanted to get back together.”

“You broke up?” This was news to you, as far as you were concerned, Kylian was still dating her, you hadn’t seen anything in the tabloids about them breaking up.

“Yeah. A couple of months ago.”

“So you’re back together now? For what, the 5th time?”

“It’s complicated Y/N. I love her.”

A sharp but fleeting pain travelled across your chest and it took everything in you not to physically keel over. It was laughable, how easy it was for one person to completely lose feelings they claim to have had and fall in love with someone else, while the other couldn’t even utter the words to another, whether they meant it or not. Because the pent up feelings were still there, choking you, gripping your heart tight and rendering you useless, incapable of loving anyone else, but him. You felt like dying, maybe it would hurt less than living in this sick and twisted reality, this constant loop of being reminded he’s never going to love you the way you love him.

“Yeah, Kylian, I can tell. Because she clearly means more to you than I do. I told you about this weeks in advance, you gave me your word yet when something better comes along you’re quick to just brush me under the rug like you always do.”

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention. I didn’t even know how to talk to you when I realised I’d missed the ceremony, I didn’t think you’d want me there-“

“Of course I’d want you there, you fucking idiot, you’re my best friend. Why else would I ask you personally to come?

“I knew you’d at least be with your family, Mia, Marco.” He said Marco’s name with such disdain you almost laughed at the audacity he had to seem irked by the mere mention of your ex-boyfriend when he had a girlfriend of his own.

“Marco is in Japan. We broke up. For good.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“Why would you? You don’t talk to me about Renee, I don’t talk to you about Marco. Some kind of unspoken rule right?”

There was a silence between you before he spoke.

“I’m sorry. I know you loved him.” For someone who’d been in your life for almost two decades, perhaps Kylian really didn’t know you as well as you thought he did. Or maybe you were so good at pretending you’d managed to convince everyone but yourself you’d been in love with Marco.

“Anyways Ky, I think you’ve done all your explaining. You can leave.”

He rounded the kitchen island, stepping closer to you so he could take your hand that wasn’t holding the drink, gripping it softly in his.

“Y/N, I really am sorry. Please, l don’t want us to start your move to Paris on a bad note. You have no idea how happy I am that you're finally here to stay. Let me take you out tomorrow. Just me and you, a celebratory dinner. On me. Heck I’ll even take you shopping, any store you like, I’ll carry all the bags and not complain one bit.”

A soft giggle left your lips and you cursed yourself for letting him get away with his shit so easily.

“Please, I’m sorry gummy. It won’t happen again. Let me make it up to you.”

“You better bring your shiniest Amex card tomorrow when you pick me up.”

“It’s a date.” He smiled, and you tried not to think too deeply into what he’d just said.

Just then, you heard the front door close, Mia appearing in the doorway with several shopping bags, singing to herself. She noticed you and Kylian stood in the middle of the kitchen, your hand in his and she rolled her eyes, knowing you had definitely let him off easy. Luckily for you, she wasn’t about to do that. She smiled sweetly, before reaching into one of the bags and pulling out an orange. It happened so quickly, you didn’t not anticipate the orange leaving Mia’s hand with such force, heading straight for Kylian’s head. He managed to duck at the last second, the fruit finding the wall behind him instead of his skull.

“Mia what the hell?!” He shouted.

“Fucking dickhead. You’re lucky that wasn’t a knife.”

/———-/

Part 4 finally 😭😭 just two more parts to go! Sorry it took so long please forgive me 🤞🏿 and it may seem like it’s going round in circles but they gotta do this stupid arguing and not talking about their feelings 5 times before they finally get their shit together so we’re getting close to the happy ending, very soon though it’s deffo going to get very messy before it gets better 😵‍💫 I hope y’all like it <3 (also it’s half 3 in the morning and I haven’t edited this entirely so I’m super sorry for any mistakes 🙏🏿)

Also I know the French don’t do graduations (shame if you ask me, I loved my grad) but I had to have one to fit the story 🤭

And I’m sorry for making y’all wait, im back at work and it’s hard to find the time to write (I had a bit of writers block) and also I find it hard to write super short pieces so it does take me a while to write so I’m super grateful to y’all for being so kind and patient 🥺🫶🏿

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[cypressmoons]

afterthought (genshin men)

trying something different with this one :> not assigning the mmc to any character, so feel free to imagine whoever you want! let me know what you think of this format :)

word count: 1k

masterlist ♡ inbox

you’re so attracted to him it physically hurts.

there are definitely better things to do with your time, with your energy, and you know it. yet every moment you’re awake and every thought after you fall asleep, your head is filled with nothing but him.

it’s funny, really, how much he consumed your entire being.

you feel so stupid, letting the presence of a man (or a lack thereof) dictate your emotions for the day. leaving your apartment feels even more of an insurmountable task now that you know the chances of you running into him is low, but never zero. after two straight days of practically summoning him out of thin air in places you least expected to see him at, you have made it your life’s mission to look your best whenever you go outside, even if it requires sacrificing 40 minutes of sleep to perfect your eyeliner.

sometimes you question your sanity and how close you are to losing your mind completely.

surely it’s not normal for your heart rate to spike every time you see a little green dot indicating his online presence in the messages app, right? or to consciously look for him every time you walk through the campus, to pin his little box during zoom calls, or check his instagram profile so much that the algorithm has started to put his name on the forefront of your list whenever he posts a story? you honestly think you might have an illness. on some days it physically makes you sick, the emotions too strong and overwhelming for your body to take.

as time passes, your infatuation with him slowly turns into resentment. don’t get it wrong – you’re still more attracted to him than you’ve ever been with any other man, but the utter impossibility of it all is making it extremely frustrating for you. it’s not even just the fact that you’re too scared to ask him out. it’s everything he does, he says, the way he probably knows the effect he has on you and is enjoying it immensely.

men are simple creatures, and you haven’t exactly done a fantastic job at hiding your subtle reactions to his every move.

and nothing gets on your nerves more than knowing you’ve given him exactly what he wants.

of course, all this resentment can probably just be dismissed as your brain working overtime yet again to put more meaning into the most meaningless scenarios. you wish you could think this hard and critically about all the academic articles you’re supposed to read. men are simple creatures, yes, and he probably doesn’t even mean to do any of this to you, all his supposed teasing behaviour a mere reflection of his already inflated ego.

you’re tired. and no matter what you do, you cannot accept anything less than perfect from your grades this semester, if you want a chance at going to grad school at all. which is exactly why you’re landed in this all-too-small gap between a rock and a hard place. you’re sure you would’ve gotten down on your knees to beg your brain to stop, had it been physically possible to do so. you’ve tried everything: packing your schedule to the brim, overworking yourself to the point of near exhaustion, trying to think of things that give you the ick about him, or even downing more drinks than usual, alone and sad in your little box of an apartment.

you want to laugh at yourself. come on, you’re not the main character of a romcom, no laugh track is going to play and no audience is going to sympathize with you. when your professor called the great depression a “self-induced downward spiral”, you felt like that term is a more accurate depiction of your life than a massive economic crisis.

and it’s funny, because you don’t even know what you want out of this endless pining. whereas in past crushes you were always successful in imaging you and him, happy in a relationship and doing all sorts of corny couple shit in your nightly scenario factory before you fall asleep, you can’t seem to picture you with him. sure, you wanted to touch him and feel him and probably get railed by him sometimes, all you feel is cringe when you try to picture the same fluffy domestic activities you’re all too familiar with.

you don’t even know if you want to date him, really. perhaps it comes from your own place of insecurity, from having never been the object of someone else’s desires and always an afterthought in others’ minds. you see the tiktoks of girls crying about being a “late bloomer”, and the swarm of comments from people feeling the same or empty words of comfort. something along the lines of “you just haven’t met the right person yet!” or “honestly good for you men are trash anyway”.

sure, the statements might have an ounce of truth in them, but don’t they know just how much it hurts to never be at the forefront of someone’s thoughts? for your name to only be uttered in sentences like “…oh and there’s Y/N”, only as a sudden reminder that you existed when everyone else has already had their share of fun and entertainment. you’ve retreated, hidden yourself from the judgmental eyes of others, a learned response to protect yourself. but now it seems you’ve just dug a hole for yourself to crawl into.

maybe that’s why you can’t imagine yourself with him. he’s so cool, so smart, and so goddamn good looking that you know it’s only a matter of time before someone better comes along and he, like everyone before him, will fall for them instead.

but oh, how much you longed to be the one for someone.

even as you’re saying to yourself, “i’m breaking up with him”, in the mirror like you’ve actually been in a relationship with him, you can’t help but feel a little empty inside. like having to donate your favourite childhood toy. you frantically open up a blank document and your fingers work fast across the keyboard, trying to capture as many details from your “relationship” as you possibly could before they all fade from your memory. what are you doing this for? you do not know. all you know is that you’ve invested so much energy and so many brain cells on him, you can’t let everything go down the drain so easily. is it just a pathetic way to console yourself and continue being in denial? probably. but, what else is there for you to do?

it's not like you can just go up to him and ask him out. what a hilarious thought.

because look, as much as you’ve imagined better and cheesier scenarios, the fact remains you’re nothing but an afterthought to him.

[feminisedlad]

How might one get into "reading for a living" because that's a dream job

it is not a dream job, its called publishing and i make less than 40k a year LOL.

to be less arch, im an editor, and i work in editorial which is the 'flashy' department (lmao), but it's a pretty stressful job. obviously it's one i enjoy because no one would stay in the industry unless they got some reward for it. but still. i say 'reading books' is my job but thats probably only like 40% of it. a lot of my day to day work involves nagging people for deadlines, having meetings abt whether XYZ feature will cost extra, researching marketing trends, etc. YMMV if you work as a book designer or some other dept, i know they have different rules. this isnt to bitch but i think publishing has REALLY good PR among english majors and these are things i wish someone had told me before i sunk money into a publishing degree. BTW: dont get a publishing degree. experience > MA in publishing

so like, i cant in good conscience recommend the industry -- its sort of like going to grad school except with worse pay (the phd candidate gets a stipend; the unpaid intern does not.) but if you already have prion disease and you want to go into publishing, heres what i got

publishing advice below:

first things first, you need book experience. you can get this through the obvious ways (working on ur college lit mag, unpaid internships, copyediting freelance work) but i feel like that prob goes without saying. so what ill say is: if none of those options work, you could always work at a bookstore. lots of the editors i work with actually got their start by saying in the interview, "i worked at barnes and noble and noticed that [category] sells well. i love noticing which books resonate with people" or what have you

i will say that i work in nonfiction publishing, which has some differences from like, editing queer YA fiction. one of those jobs is more competitive than the other. and the industry standards are pretty toxic (if your author misses his deadline and sends the manuscript at 6pm, tough shit, you have to work late to make sure the book doesn't miss its pub date. if you're not thinking about all your books constantly, you must not really care. etc.)

that said one of the best things i can recommend is looking into publishing jobs in different departments. most people are competing for editorial department jobs (things like acquiring and signing books, and being the main point of contact for an author.) but if your passion mostly lies in editing or making things pristine, managing editorial departments often hire production editors who still read through all the books, but their day to day work is more like proofreading, checking barcodes, and other printing related tasks.

theres also finance. finance publishing jobs are never anyones first choice, but on the plus side, you wont have to tell the author why his advance is late. thats the acquiring editor's job. and also lots of people pivot to editorial after they have some years doing finance, design, production, etc.

i will say there are way more remote publishing jobs now than ever. theyre all super competitive but you should apply anyway. if youre entry level, look for "editorial assistant" type roles. some of these actually pay really well: to give an example, harvard hires copyeditors and editorial assistants at a rate which is more than my yearly salary. i mean, its harvard. you gotta look around. but there are more options besides the big 5 publishers. academic publishing is its own field! work at your favorite journal/database! work at JSTOR or wiley!

i dont think theres anything else i would add, other than just random shit talking abt industry standards and quirks of the industry. i dont want to sound whiny because i realize im lucky to be working in my field -- but, i think people oversell publishing as one of "the only career options for english majors."

to be totally honest, most people could make double or triple my salary from being a project manager or corporate editor. so if you enjoy reading and editing, there are better options to you than trade publishing. if you enjoy the act of connecting with authors and making their vision a reality, you might enjoy publishing. or you might not. idk!

[littlemisstfc]

Why TFP Doesn't Work For Me Anymore:

Hello, Hola, こんにちは。

Welcome back to this side of the Hundred Acre Woods. I do miss the feeling of writing on Tumblr here, so from here on and for a New Years resolution, I’ll try to write a new post every other week with thoughts I’ve had since December 2022. A lot has happened since I’ve started grad school and I have a part time job now, so there will be periods of inactivity. Hopefully, my writing can reflect my current opinions right to the best of my abilities, and I hope that you all enjoy them.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Alright, let’s cut to the chase: I kind of think Transformers Prime isn’t good, to me at least. Let me make it very clear: just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean you should stop loving it. After all, the world would be boring if we all shared the same opinion. I’m letting you all right now: I will be dropping a lot of bombshells that will rub off some of you the wrong way. For that, I advise skipping out on this one. Anyways…Transformers Prime is objectively a good show. The animation is the show’s biggest strengths, characters like Ratchet, Knockout, and Dreadwing are fun and interesting, the humor is good, I appreciate its commitment to darker subject matter, and several episodes such as, “Thirst” and “Stronger, Faster” are perhaps one of the best pieces of Transformers media in general. But…at the same time, it’s kind of messy.

From a lack of commitment to storylines to characters that don't feel put together to having stuff that screams Unfortunate Implications to its ending, Transformers Prime is a show that I stray from the more I get older and I have exposure to more Transformers media. On one hand, I appreciate this show being the reason why I got back into Transformers and hell, it’s a part of my username after all aksksksksksjsjsjsjsjsjkakakasa. It also made an impact on Transformers through characters like Knockout appearing in other media. On the other hand, I felt like its godlike status doesn’t make it exempt from criticism. No media is truly perfect, and it’s about time I get into the nitty gritty of why I’m not fond of TFP. Even if you don’t agree with me, at least hear me out.

3, 2, 1, Pingu.

MY FINISH-

My main problem with Transformers Prime is the lack of commitment to furthering certain storylines as well as character growth. Sure, there is character growth from characters such as Arcee and storylines like Starscream trying to be the boss he wanted to be are quite entertaining. However, at the same time, its commitment to its own status quo made this show an entire chore to watch. It felt like a majority of characters are still the same ol by the end of the series, like it felt like what could’ve been sources of character growth are instead ignored in the next episode. The Bulkhead getting sick storyline is the best example of this issue. At one point in Season 2, Bulkhead got infected with toxic energon and it seemed like he would have to stay behind on base. On paper, it’s an interesting premise. It could give him a storyline of feeling insecure over no longer being the bruiser of the team, and learning to overcome these insecurities through ways such as recognizing his other strengths. At the same time, Miko deals with her anxiety over Bulkhead’s predicament and the episode, “Hurt” is the proof of the writing potential here. However, it ended up being resolved too quickly after Smokescreen entered the picture. Bulkhead ended up recovering from his illness rather quickly and his small feud with Smokescreen is over and the next episode, they’re kiking with each other.

Along with other storylines such as the Orion Pax arc, Starscream becoming a neutral at one point, and the Predacons arc, the entire show is like this. It also doesn’t help that characters like Breakdown and Airachnid are thrown to the side, mainly due to their voice actors being too expensive to hire. Meanwhile, other characters like Dreadwing were also killed off due to the show refusing to change the status quo for the sake of furthering the story. And why is this the problem? Well…this show is one of the most notorious examples of Troubled Production. 

In shorter words, the show experienced a lot of production trouble in the writing and budget department, which is mostly John Hasbro’s doing. The company meddled one too many times throughout the show’s entire run, especially with the casting and writing. Originally, the third season was supposed to be about pirates, but a new director was then hired and they basically said, “nope, fuck that,” and made the entire team rewrite the story from scratch. It’s gotten so bad that an ex crew member created an entire ass binder of everything that went wrong. Just, my god... 

The amount of production issues definitely reflected in the show itself. Its strict adherence to Status Quo Is God, having what seems to be a game changing storyline and doing nothing with it, is so frustrating, because the potential of the writing is there. It wants to say something, but couldn’t because the problem behind the curtain is too much to ignore.

"It's Knockout's fault." "Precisely, my-WHAT!?"

First things first, I hate Jack.

Next.

Most of the cast is fine. Ratchet and Knockout are the best characters of their respective character groups, Fowler is the best human character, Miko & Raf are precious, Bee, Arcee, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, and Smokescreen are enduring and likable, Shockwave, Starscream, Soundwave, and Breakdown are the scene stealers besides the best characters I mentioned. Unfortunately, due to the aforementioned production issues, these characters made me ask one question: who are they? Not only does the writing and story never commit to the biggest twists the shows set up, but it never explores any of the characters’ story arcs and motivations. We never learn anything about these people. True, characters like Miko and Ratchet do get character development. However, with characters like Arcee and Starscream, their pain are the only focus that is, “character growth.” Arcee is reduced to her trauma of losing her partners, and the show never allowed her time to grieve properly. In fact, it seems to condemn her for acting like any other person who has to deal with their loved ones’ killers. By the end, her grief and learning to cope with it is pushed aside and it feels like Cliffjumper and Tailgate’s deaths amount to nothing. To have the most prominent female Transformer reduced to her pain is no different from making a female character in TFA be tied to a man’s pain. It’s kind of disgusting of the show to be so dismissive of her storyline like that. Like…I’m sorry, but she deserves fucking better. And it’s no different with Starscream. Homeboy endured so much horrific shit for far longer than is comfortable, and for the show to just push his pain as, “karma” is fucking disgusting. True, he ain’t no saint and he only has himself to blame for his flaws and behavior. However, by having him be the countless target of abuse throughout the show, it only made me want to help him leave the Decepticons for good. He deserves better. It’s why I appreciate Earthspark existing, because it called out his Butt Monkey status and shows how it deeply affects him. And speaking of who is responsible for dishing out this abuse, it’s time to speak about the one half of two characters whom I don’t especially kiki with.

Megatron is just an irredeemable monster here. I love truly despicable and evil characters as much as the next guy, but with this guy, he just feels so off. The jarring disconnect between his backstory and how much of a despicable piece of shit he is results in a character that felt too evil, not to mention filled with the Unfortunate Implications of having a revolutionary with strokes of current social issues turn into a flat out bad guy turned up to 100. Before any of you say, “erm, actually IT HAPPENS IN REAL LIFE” to me, let me point this out: I’m approaching this as a person of color. The revolutionary Megatron characterization is a trope that is botched most of the time, because it doesn’t have the nuance and approach that is required to pull it off. If done well, we have Earthspark Megatron (so far). As a result, we have TFP Megatron. 

He’s just that: evil. It also doesn’t help that he has a half assed redemption arc in Predacons Rising. “I now know the true meaning of oppression.” BITCH, YOU FUCKING KILLED PEOPLE. This entire storyline doesn't make up for the utterly despicable shit he did throughout the series. With him still alive, it felt like he faced no consequences for his actions. Him dying and with his body on Earth, with the last face he saw being the one he brutalized the most, is an appropriate punishment! Yes, him being alive and dealing with the consequences of his actions is also a good punishment. However, with the sudden rush from point A to B, his resolve to self exile himself doesn’t feel earned. To me, he doesn’t seem like he’s truly sorry for his actions. Like…EWWW. Fuck out of here, he’ll never be Earthspark Megatron. 

Yes, it’s a joy to see Frank Welker back as Megatron. Yes, he has admittingly few moments of being a delicious evil bastard. Yes, I do understand why some would like the redemption arc. However, for me, he doesn’t work for me.

Now to the other half, we get to the other half of the characters I don’t kiki with. Good lord…this Optimus is just ehhh. Except for the few moments of the same warmth I associate with Optimus, he is just there. He doesn’t feel like a character; he feels like the start of the motivations of other characters. He’s the Deus Ex Machina when the situation gets too serious. We never got any moment to truly know about him as a person, his dynamic with the team feel like they’re more coworkers like a family, and the “Primes don’t party” logic only feels like an excuse to justify him being the Stoic and Serious Optimus characterization that plagues the 2010s. When you compare him to other Optimi, it feels like a jarring disconnect. TFA Optimus shows that you can have an Optimus with a personality and Bayverse Optimus shows that you can have a stoic Optimus with more to him than meets the eye. Plus, moments such as his conversation with Arcee after the entire fiasco with Starscream in Season 1 just feels like condescending compassion at best. Sure, he has well meaning intentions. However, as the bestie Tea-mew explains, it comes across as him invalidating Arcee’s trauma. Just because he is an older figure doesn’t make him correct all the time. She doesn’t owe anything to Starscream and Airachnid, she has every right to feel angry and disgusted at them both. Just god, it’s this moment that pretty much made me decide not to vibe with him anymore. Plus, with how Orion Pax is more interesting and had more development than Optimus ever did, that’s when the writers should’ve looked at the script twice. 

Yes, it’s a joy to see Peter Cullen as Optimus again. Yes, he has his fair share of charming moments. Yes, I understood that he has his own fair share of tragedies that made him the way he is. However, like Megatron, for me, he doesn’t work for me. Notice how I used the same wording here. For me, they both don’t work for me. They’re perhaps one of my least favorite versions of the characters, especially since other Transformers media showed that you can make them both interesting characters. Stoicism doesn’t justify blandness, and evilness doesn’t justify blandness. If you like them, that’s okay. I rather not bother with them both.

Welp, there goes my Twitter follower count.

There are other issues plaguing the series. As much of a fun and interesting character he is, Knockout is also a gay stereotype. I’ll talk about it more sometime in the future, but in shorter terms: this bit from the TFWiki on Knockout’s page is all you need to know.

“When asked at BotCon 2011, the Prime writers said that there is no designation for gay, or straight, for that matter, on Cybertron, where Transformers are created by the AllSpark, not through sexual reproductions. They also said that Knock Out is a knock out, and that the Nemesis is a very "don't ask, don't tell" place. And then they jokingly deflected the matter, claiming that Knock Out's mannerisms are not caused by any particular orientation, but are simply eccentricities caused by "a glitch in the AllSpark" the day he was created... which is unintentionally so insulting to gay people that it could create an awkward silence in the Void."

Okay, WHAT THE ACTUAL F-

Season 2 feels like a mish mash of things the writers were throwing at the board that day. While Season 3 hit the highs of Season 1, it's also a mish mash that is poorly constructed. We never really got closure on characters like Airachnid and Shockwave. Predacons Rising represents everything that affects Prime in the long run, except for a few gems throughout. Like I said, Prime is objectively a good show. However, compared to other Transformers shows, it’s an aesthetic, no substance type of show. If you wanna watch a show filled with a small cast of characters, set on Earth, deal with heavier subject matter, and have exciting moments, just go watch Beast Wars. This show feels like Transformers if it was written by a 12 year old edgelord. The show has a dark and brooding aesthetic, but the story really isn’t. It doesn’t have a lot to say about the premise of Transformers, as well as confusing violence and edginess for complex stories and characters. In fact, let me say this: TFP is too afraid to commit to change and it greatly suffers for it.

Conclusion: Once again…

I wanna make it clear again that just because I don’t like Transformers Prime doesn’t mean you should stop loving it. Don’t let my opinions influence yours. If you like, that’s great.

I felt bad about my current opinions about Prime as a whole because it does deserves its flowers and fanbase for what it does for Transformers as a whole. However, it’s also not a flawless masterpiece like everyone says it is.

I’m most likely never gonna rewatch it again cause it’s not my thing, and that’s okay. In case I do, I just watch clips of my favorite moments. The ultimate irony is that I have the initials of the show I don’t Kiki with anymore. I could change it, but it’s like the annoying younger sibling to me. I can’t really get rid of it aksksksk.

While I appreciate this show for getting me back into Transformers and for bringing characters like Knockout into mainline Transformers, it’s just not for me.

Anyways, Pingu.

[skyler10fic]

New Year’s Revelations: Ch. 1 - No Matter How Far Away You Roam

Summary:

Over Christmas and New Year's, Carol is moving back home to the LA area after years away in Houston. But she has a secret: she's been in love with her best friend and old college roommate, Daisy, for years. But Daisy has a secret of her own. :) From friends to getting snowed in with only one bed!

Read on Ao3

“Carol Danvers is coming home for Christmas this year,” Melinda casually remarked to her husband Phil, in strategic earshot of their grown daughter, Daisy, who was supposed to be on Christmas vacation but was still working on her laptop from her parents’ living room.

Daisy’s posture straightened, but she didn’t give any response. Her parents continued wrapping presents nearby.

“Yeah,” Phil confirmed, “I heard from her aunt that she’s got a job lined up back here—in Pasadena, actually. So she’ll be near Daisy.”

They paused. Daisy hadn’t typed a single keystroke since Carol’s name was mentioned, but she was still pretending not to hear.

“That will be nice for her family,” Melinda remarked, “and for her friends to have her closer. Daisy, you should get together with her while you’re off work.”

“Remember?” Phil hinted, “We all took off work to spend time together for the holidays?”

Daisy shut her laptop and called them out on their suspiciously flawed logic. “If you want to spend time together, wouldn’t me hanging out with Carol kinda defeat the purpose?”

Melinda kept wrapping. “She could come over here, then.”

“Ugh, Moooom,” Daisy whined like a teenager, “Carol hasn’t texted me in months. If she wanted to hang out, don’t you think she would have told me herself? She probably wants to make her own life with her super-cool rocket scientisty people, not hang out with us dorks.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.” Melinda scoffed. “Her aunt Wendy said your name comes up a lot.” But the accompanying pointed expression told Daisy that’s all the information her mother was willing to reveal.

Phil glanced up to catch Daisy’s face turning pink in a tell-tale blush. Daisy’s crush on Carol Danvers was still in full force. From casual friends in high school to best friends and eventual housemates in college, Daisy had been very bad at hiding her feelings for Carol from her parents. But between Daisy’s flings with boys who could never measure up and Carol’s humility to the point of missing what was clear as day to everyone else, Carol had somehow remained oblivious. She had gone far away to grad school and worked for a big space program, while Daisy had gotten a high-pressure cybersecurity job that took her to conferences around the world. They had gone years with only texts, occasional video calls, and quick dinners when they happened to be in the same place at the same time, and recently, those had all dwindled as they grew apart.

Daisy secretly wondered if any of the girls in Carol’s social media photos were dating her. If Carol had found someone who deserved her. If Daisy would have to sit through Carol’s wedding to someone else, nothing more than an “old college buddy” at a table in the back of a reception hall, just someone she used to know. The prospect of finding out this information face to face made Daisy ill just thinking about it. But then, not knowing was tearing her up inside too.

“You know she’d love that new pub with the karaoke and pinball and the old plane memorabilia,” Phil suggested, a knowledgable collector himself. He had always liked Carol from the moment she took an interest in his rare antique spy gear and airplane curios.

He was right. And Daisy knew Carol would probably text with a vague offer to get together anyway once she was bored of her family.

“Okay, I’ll see when she’s getting back and what her schedule looks like,” Daisy relented. “She’ll probably be busy, but at least I tried.”

Phil and Melinda remained unconvinced by Daisy’s pessimism. Even if Carol didn’t return Daisy’s specific feelings, they could tell from Carol’s aunt’s phrasing that Daisy being in the city was a significant factor in Carol’s decision to accept this new job. Third-hand is a tricky business for interpreting subtext, but what was clear was that Carol missed Daisy. Best to let poor Daisy hear it for herself, though, and not let her misunderstand or get her hopes up if the time-enduring crush wasn’t mutual.

“I’m sure she’ll be excited to hear from you,” Melinda ended the conversation as she finished her last gift wrapping. She neatly stacked her gifts under the tree, and Phil followed not long after, leaving Daisy to her choice: to continue working away at problems someone else in the office should be handling while she was home for the holidays … or sign off and text Carol.

She opted for the latter but went for the safest option of a group chat with their college friends who had also stayed in the L.A. area.

Daisy: My parents just told me the news!! Carol, are you really moving back?

Daisy paced the living room as she waited. Then the texts started to come in, making her heart skip a beat at the notification and then sink as she saw it was just their friends replying with their excitement and questions. Maybe a group chat wasn’t the best choice after all.

Eventually, Carol did reply with a big yes, that she’d only just officially accepted the offer yesterday, and answers to whens and wheres and whys and hows and what she’d be doing at her new job, only a few blocks away from Daisy’s company. Then someone came up with an idea: to welcome Carol back with a New Year’s ski trip to the mountains. The meteorologists said that while no white Christmas was on the horizon, a long look at the rest of the year might see fresh snow at the mountain resorts soon after, making for ideal skiing and snowboarding conditions. Fitz used his wealthy stepdad’s connections to book a big luxury cabin at a steep discount, and suddenly the conversation was on the New Year’s reunion trip and tales of ski incidents past.

Daisy texted Carol individually: I’m glad you’re coming home.

Carol responded simply: Me too :)

Daisy told her about the aviation-themed pub and they set a night for just the two of them to catch up the soonest they could get away from family: Dec. 26.

Daisy wondered if she was the only one in the world adding an extra day to all the countdowns. Her anticipation wasn’t for Santa Claus but for a visit from someone else far more special.

—------

Christmas with the Danvers/Lawson extended family was over, and no one had left the table in anger or shouted at each other this year. Carol should be feeling relieved. As she tied back her honey-blonde ponytail, she chastised herself for not being more grateful. The job offer was a dream realized, with a salary that would help her pay off her student loans in a few years. She’d be working in a city she knew, just half an hour (with no traffic, that is) from the suburbs she’d grown up in. She already had a few prospective apartments to check out, and now her friends from college all knew she’d be coming back.

Taking a moment to think about it as she applied her mascara, the stomachache wasn’t heaviness from disappointment that the surprise had been ruined, nor was she frustrated with her aunt for telling the whole town within a few hours. This familiar feeling was the pure anxiety that heightened every time Daisy crossed her mind.

She grabbed her keys and set all her stubbornness on driving to this themed pub for a very normal and casual dinner with Daisy. Just two old friends meeting up. Something they had done a thousand times with just the two of them, hanging out and catching up on each other’s lives. Still, Carol tried to focus on the road instead of her nerves at seeing Daisy again.

Carol had fallen for Daisy slowly but with equal parts grief and longing. There was one problem: Daisy was straight. At least, as far as Carol knew. Daisy had only ever dated guys. Well, one in high school and a few dates in college. Though Daisy hadn’t ever said explicitly that she was straight, Carol would know, of all people… surely? They weren’t as close anymore, but in all their time together, Daisy had never talked about crushes on girls or gone on a date with one. So Carol figured it was safe to assume her feelings were eternally unrequited, though Daisy had always been a vocal, proud, exceptional ally. Again, Carol should be grateful.

Her worst fear was accidentally crossing the line from best friends to flirting and pushing Daisy away. Her nightmares consisted of Daisy’s repulsed and pitying face if she found out the truth about the feelings Carol had been hiding all these years. Despite all of life’s griefs and heartaches, Daisy had been so open and trusting, so physically affectionate and quick to smile. Daisy made her feel like the only person in the room, the most special girl in the world. Carol had spent years trying to reciprocate without getting too attached or letting her heart run away with her. It wasn’t fair to Daisy, or to herself, to ruin that with her terrible secret.

Some days, Carol hated that she couldn’t just turn off her feelings by distance or time. So she drifted away. It would have been easy to blame on Daisy’s all-consuming career or Carol’s all-consuming graduate studies and work, but the cold, hard truth was that having to mourn what could never be while playing the supportive, chill, unattached best friend was harder and harder to do as their peers and friends got married, bought houses together, and started families. Carol knew one day it could be Daisy falling for Mr. Right, getting engaged, bragging about her hunky husband, celebrating a pregnancy announcement… And Carol would have to be thrilled. Which was easier to pretend to do through text. Though no Prince Charming had shown up on Daisy’s social media posts, it was only a matter of time before she became a walking Hallmark Christmas movie plot with a handsome love interest to lure her away from the intensity of the high-tech corporate rat race.

Carol had rehearsed this so often, she practically had the script written. She couldn’t play the Best Friend role, but she also couldn’t hurt Daisy, so it had been best to fade to a background character in Daisy’s life.

She took a deep breath and headed into the pub, leather jacket and scarf wrapped tightly around her to protect from the cold and any harsh realities that might be waiting for her inside.

—--------------

The pub was decorated for the holidays—all of the wintery ones, from Hanukkah to Christmas to Kwanzaa to Yule. There were kitschy knick-knacks and banners and table centerpieces from the world’s cultures among various movie references, Santa Mickey Mouses, and a giant inflatable Frosty the Snowman. The visual busyness stood out particularly on this quiet night for the pub. It was too early for the nightlife crowd, and most of the regulars were at home with family or on vacations away.

So Daisy sat in a booth anxiously waiting for Carol, heart leaping every time the door opened. Eventually, Carol appeared and waved, and Daisy couldn’t help but light up like a Christmas tree. The room felt warmer as Carol approached, and as Carol took in the sight of her, Carol seemed to glow too.

“Hi,” Daisy finally said when Carol was close enough.

“Hi.” Carol exhaled and sat down. The silence between them was broken by the waitress coming to take their drink order. Enticed by the special holiday cider on tap, they took a chance on something new and different.

“It’s been a while,” Daisy hinted, masking a bittersweet tone with a light smile. “Tell me about your life. What have you been up to?”

But Carol could still see right through Daisy’s facade, just like old times.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Carol sighed. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself. I…”

“Things get busy!” Daisy interrupted. “It’s okay.”

“No, no,” Carol rushed out and then paused. She couldn’t tell Daisy the real reason, but lying to her felt so wrong. “I was just jealous, I guess. You have an amazing life, and I don’t want to get in the way of that or mess anything up by coming back…”

Daisy snorted. “What are you talking about? You are the one with the impressive degree and stories about all these new places and people. I thought you just didn’t think we were cool enough for you—”

“Oh c’mon,” Carol interrupted back. “You know I’m still a total nerd and you’re…” Carol stopped herself and gestured to Daisy’s whole body with a wave of her hand. “You know.”

Daisy brushed off the implied compliment and leaned in, relaxing into the conversation. “No, you’re not getting in the way, ever. It’s not hearing from you that is the hard part.”

“I’m sorry.” Carol’s puppy dog eyes were all that Daisy needed to melt fully into forgiveness, at least for the moment. She couldn’t be mad when Carol was so sincere. Daisy’s hand found Carol’s on the table and squeezed, but then pulled away as the waitress returned with their hard ciders. She took their food orders (shepherd’s pie for both of them) and disappeared into the kitchen once more.

Carol sipped on her cider in its tall glass etched with a snowflake and the brand name. “Mmm, that’s really good.”

Daisy almost forgot to drink her own, fully wrapped up in witnessing Carol’s reaction. Shaking herself out of her trance, Daisy took a sip of her own and agreed. Carol filled Daisy in on the details of the job and the plan for the move, and Daisy reciprocated with details about her own daily life here since they’d last talked. Their shepherd’s pies came, and they settled into their old familiar banter and gossip and teasing.

“You know what?” Carol said between final bites of her meal. “I’ve been to five weddings this year, but only one required heels. I was a bridesmaid for my cousin and she was NOT open to negotiation on that. Super formal.”

“Okay, I definitely have to see pictures of that.” Daisy laughed. “So many people getting married! You know Jemma and Fitz finally set a date for next fall.”

“Yeah, but she put a hard no on Halloween weekend?”

“Yes!” Daisy laughed. “Fitz’s friends would definitely have used that to prank them somehow. Anyway. How about you? Any special ladies in your life?”

The lighthearted tone between them faded, but they both pretended it hadn’t. Carol set down her fork and looked away, missing the glimmer of hope and fear in Daisy’s eyes.

“Nah, way too busy, you know how it goes.” Carol shrugged casually and met Daisy’s glance. “I mean, if I can’t even text you back, I definitely don’t have time for a girlfriend, and I knew I was moving away from there anyway after graduation…” Carol trailed off just as it started to sound like a list of excuses.

“Yeah, me too,” Daisy agreed. “With the job, way too crazy.”

Things fell silent again as the waitress came back for their dishes and offered another round of cider, but they refused. She left them with their check instead.

“I’ve got it,” Daisy offered, taking the check before Carol had a chance. “Consider it a Christmas gift. Or a welcome home present. Whichever you want.”

“Thanks. I should probably get going,” Carol said, but her voice and expression said the opposite.

“Tomorrow is family game night. Want to come and be my partner, make it an even four?”

“Yeah, okay.” Carol nodded and added, “Just like old times.”

Daisy’s phone buzzed. As she glanced down at it, Carol’s gaze followed. Daisy rolled her eyes at the name and number on the screen before she dismissed the call. “Work. Sorry, I should call them back. But tomorrow at 6. There will be chili!” Daisy grinned, knowing how much Carol loved Phil’s famous chili.

Carol sat processing the evening after Daisy left, but one final detail in particular. Daisy’s phone background was, unmistakably, a Christmas tree in bi Pride flag colors with the same indigo blue, purple, and pink in snowflakes around it and rainbow-flag-wrapped gifts under the tree.

It could be a coincidence. Perhaps Daisy just liked the colors. But Carol had taken her to plenty of Pride events in college and knew she knew enough to get the symbolism of those particular colors. Why hadn’t Daisy told her?

Unless. Oh. Of course. Daisy didn’t want Carol to think that by coming out, it meant that Daisy felt that way about her. Carol resolved to pretend she hadn’t seen it. If Daisy felt comfortable coming out to her, she would. And if it was all a big misunderstanding, just a festive graphic, no harm done in avoiding assumptions.

Still, that night in bed, a part of her, the part that dealt in dreams where her rational mind was helpless to stop it, dared to send her into a sleepworld where Daisy had run into her arms at the pub and kissed her like in the movies. In the dream, there was no waitress or staff or food, just the two of them and the tables at an unrealistically convenient height.

When she woke up in the morning, the harsh winter light was all the colder for the loss of the fantasy that clearly wasn’t meant to be.

—--------------------

“You’ve got…” Daisy reached up reflexively and wiped away a bit of hot cocoa and whipped cream from just above Carol’s upper lip. Phil and Melinda watched on in amusement but said nothing.

Carol blushed. “Your turn.”

It took Daisy a second to get her head back in the game.

Chili had been delicious but that was hours ago, and now they had moved on from Pictionary to charades to late-night hot cocoa and a final game involving strategic moves and countermoves: the epic battlefield of Scrabble.

It felt like every word Daisy could think of was entirely inappropriate or could be twisted to be dirty. She was far too distracted by Carol’s presence: her laugh, her genuine interest in Phil and Melinda’s lives, the way she fit right in here at family game night. Needless to say, Daisy’s score was significantly less competitive than normal. Phil won, with Carol in a close second. They all agreed to a rematch now that Carol was back.

“Where she belongs,” Daisy finished. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but there it was.

“Aww,” Phil smiled warmly at Carol.

“Thanks,” Carol replied in happiness. “I swear this with just the four of us feels more like family sometimes than my loud, big family with all my cousins and nephews and everyone.” She rolled her eyes, recounting the dysfunctional chaos of the past week.

“You always have a place here,” Melinda affirmed with a simple nod.

“Getting late,” Phil hinted to Melinda, “Why don’t we clean up here and let the girls say goodnight.”

With that, Daisy walked Carol to the door. They both lingered, wanting what they were convinced the other didn’t.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Carol asked finally.

“Oh, were we supposed to…?”

“No, no,” Carol rushed out. “I guess that was my way of asking if you wanted to hang out again tomorrow. Or another time. Whenever.”

Daisy tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. “I would, but we’re going to see my grandparents tomorrow. I’ll text you, though. If you promise to text back.” She teased Carol with the last bit, her tongue peaking out of her smile.

“Yes, touché,” Carol laughed. “I promise. I’m never gonna leave you hanging like that again.”

“Good.” Daisy opened the door, as if she’d been waiting for those magic words to allow Carol to go.

“Goodnight.” Carol had to pull herself away like taffy, literally attracted to Daisy here in the low lighting of the entryway as if drawn in by a goodnight-kiss magnet.

Little did she know, Daisy felt it too, but responded in the opposite way: she drew Carol in for a hug.

“I’m really glad you’re back. Not just for Christmas, but for real.” Daisy let go and Carol backed away, out onto the stoop.

“Me too.” Carol smiled and turned to walk away. She noted when she reached her old truck that Daisy was still watching from the open front door, letting in the chill but refusing to take her eyes off Carol until Carol had waved and driven away into the night.

“I love you,” Daisy whispered to the fading taillights of Carol’s truck.

Inside the truck, Carol skipped Joni Mitchell’s “River” and turned up “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” too loud in an attempt to drown out her aching heart.

---------------

Read chapter two on Ao3

[tacroyy]

first week of school. also want to add that ill try to do content warnings better for these! haven’t done a good job of that at all. mentions of racial and ableist slurs, discussion of stressed kids, food insecurity, institutional neglect and harm, general discussion of trauma

ok, thursday and friday weren’t bad other than me being beyond exhausted. i truly couldn’t have functioned without my adhd meds. the seventh graders are fucking amazing and we had The Best discussion, totally out of the blue, about prejudicial language, specifically the n-word and the r-word (both are problems at our school 🙃). i basically don’t have classroom management over them rn (or at least am not bothering to Exert It) bc their other teachers are Overreacting and being Too Intense bc it’s the start of the year so since they already know me it’s all steam blowing off in my class but honestly that’s fine. they don’t have to be non-feral until next week bc i just want them to Relax right now. the sixth graders just got lockers and are Going Through It emotionally so there’s a lot of “breathe, try again” and “nobody is doing tardies right now” bc some of them literally haven’t developed their fine motor skills enough yet and our locks and lockers are, no lie!!!!!, forty years old and Cranky. so that’s a lot of unregulated stress to channel off. i think i say this twice a week but i Do Not Understand how ANYONE teaches elementary school. makes No sense to me. beginning of sixth grade is often too young for me, really; so many of them haven’t developed that, like, independent rationality yet, and it’s A Lot when there are So Many of them.

the ideal way to end this first week would have been to have like a half day for prep so we could meet w teachers, contact parents/guardians, do sped referrals, seating chart upheavals, etc. there’s a lot of “ah, okay, here’s what This batch needs” even 3 or 4 days in, and it would just be so lovely and useful and productive and overall good for everyone to have that. for example i overheard a convo that made it clear that a family hadn’t signed their kid up for free lunch this year and so the kid didn’t get lunch so i had to run around and tell the right people (teachers don’t have access to that info) and make sure they got fed and all but it took my whole prep, and im obviously delighted to do that, but then i didn’t have any prep time and did my last three classes on the fly. not that this kind of thing doesn’t happen most days. it’s just that more prep time is imo the number one thing we need as a profession. i cant begin to express how much it would help everyone.

plus there are, as always, the kids that i just want to have a four hour productive meeting about every single day, where we hash out an Actual Plan. with a social worker, a reading specialist, a developmental psychologist, a pediatrician, a therapist, a sped expert, a speech therapist, an occupational therapist, a case manager, a para AND an ea and a secretary for notes. instead it’s me and the counselor who has a 250 kid caseload for ten minutes in the hall.

ive had a dream for a while, since grad school actually, of studying the affect of referred trauma on kids’ peers and school faculty and staff, especially peers and faculty and staff who also have trauma. the amount of shit that slides off of me now because you Have to grow the most perfectly balanced shield of “i will Act on this and Not ignore it” and “i must Remain Calm” and “I’ve just heard the Worst Thing Ever and have to teach for another four hours”. what does it do to you long term? what about the ones who get inured? and the ones who don’t? how can we actually help people handle this well? i know there’s So much stuff out there about secondary/vicarious trauma, and trauma informed education, and i want to be able to know if it’s at all useful or if it’s too tainted to use, like i now expect from basically all educational academia. to be clear i have already done a lot of work in this area but not for a while, and i wanted to reframe the fundamentals.

so glad we have a three day weekend now.

[thotsfortherapy]

TY for sharing about your roommate. It's a tough world and building community helps us navigate it together.

so true !!! I'm glad my venting was able to help 😭 i don't remember what my last update on the situation was since tumblr's search system is hella broken but essentially what ended up happening was after I sent my giant text message calling them out for their behaviour, they basically went MIA from the house and continued avoiding me like the plague. they drifted to a different friend group (who I am also friends with) and proceeded to treat them the exact same way they treated me. they then got dropped by these friends, and then during the summer met a random 28 year old at pride and went on a roadtrip with them and then never came back. and also quit their job as the head manager of my friend's work and left the place in shambles (literally got paid for the entire summer to set up this program and then did not do anything to set it up to the point where it literally could not open part of the first semester lol).

they also blocked everyone on everything including our landlord but still pays rent every month and all their shit is still at our house. over christmas break they came back and grabbed a lot of their stuff but hid from everyone in the house (they arrived very early in the morning and only left once everyone was not in the house lol, the only reason we know they were there is cause their room was rearranged and one of the housemates heard them whispering to someone over the phone through the vents...) also them arriving super early means they must've made their parents drive them at like. 3-4am 😭 just so they could avoid running into us 😭 like bro

but tbh all of this is very best case scenario for me because I am besties with everyone they treated terribly and we are doing our grad trip together... tbh the entire fiasco was a bonding experience for everyone and I genuinely love my friend group

as for the housemate... honestly I feel bad for them because they are clearly not well.. at this point it's been long enough that I can get over my initial feelings of righteous anger and hurt and see that they are just very mentally ill. apparently they are taking a year long mental health break from school and I fully agree with that decision because damn girl wtf. does not excuse the behaviour or make up for the hurt they caused but I am very grateful they were able to recognize they were not okay when they did...

when I'm in a joking mood I like to tell people I drove them out of town with one text message... when I'm in a serious mood I tell people that our conflict was a catalyst but they were already on a downwards spiral and if I were not the one who triggered their breakdown something else would have.

ultimately I am glad I called them out and defended my people and my peace. I hope they are able to find that for themselves one day too :)

[officialbabayaga]

heyyy i saw your tags on the college post about taking seven years to finish undergrad and i was wondering if you could talk about how you got from there to law school? i’m still struggling to finish my last year of undergrad and as someone who’s always conceptualized myself as academically successful and has watched all my friends do this seemingly with ease it’s been a rough time, and i’ve been worried i won’t be able to get into grad schools given that i’m gonna graduate in more than four years. anyway if this isn’t something you want to talk about that is so valid and know that just by mentioning it i’m feeling less alone so thank you!

Oh no worries I’m happy to talk about it! I feel like “nontraditional” academic journeys are never really acknowledged enough, to be honest. What I want you to know right from the start is that I got really lucky with the opportunities that I was given, but I also put the work in to follow through.

I’ll skim over the gory details but I did… terribly in undergrad. It wasn’t because I couldn’t intellectually keep up with my classes, mental illness was eating my brain and I just couldn’t function at the level I needed to. BUT I finally graduated with a 2.7 GPA, and was lucky enough to have made a good enough impression at a summer internship that they hired me full time immediately after I graduated. That was a HUGE hurdle, especially because my bachelor’s is in biology, and jobs with a bio degree but no graduate school are really hard to come by.

Now what helped me the most was that I “paid my dues.” I worked my way up from a research assistant to, eventually, a senior research associate after 4 years of incredibly hard work. Even though my undergrad transcript was a pile of shit, I showed through my career that I could do really good work. I did overtime and took on extra projects so I could get my research published and I did everything I could to go to conferences and (unfortunately) network as much as possible.

(digression - my favorite professor once said that networking seems pointless at the time, because you’re not going to see the payoff for another 5 years. that helped put it in perspective for me. basically my networking tips are to just be NICE and HELPFUL when you meet people, especially in a professional context but literally if you just live your life that way and actually talk to people at boring events you’re basically good to go)

graduate schools don’t only take your undergraduate performance into account. Even with my shitty grades, I had put the work in for 4 years at a job that allowed me to really expand my CV. this was a lot of effort, but it was also a LOT of luck. it’s hard to find jobs that actually allow you to move up the ladder but it’s so worth it when you find one. even if it seems thankless and awful at the time, DON’T just give up and settle somewhere that will never promote you or give you opportunities to progress. show through a few years after undergrad that you can work hard and succeed, even if it was professionally and not academically.

Also, since I knew my grades sucked, I wanted to tip the scales even more in my favor. For about 4 months I spent every weekend slamming a vietnamese iced coffee to simulate a panic attack and take khan academy full lsat practice tests. This may not be an advisable way to study, but I have an anxiety disorder and I knew I’d be a fucking mess for the actual test so I made myself get used to it before it actually happened.

a killer admissions essay and really good letters of recommendation are so helpful, too. I didn’t have any professors I could ask for letters, so I got my lab director and the ceo of the company I worked for to write two for me, because we were on really good terms.

and I think that’s about it? it was a big mix of luck and hard work, and for me, the end result was getting accepted to law school 5 days after i applied :) but i was rejected from one school and waitlisted for another so it’s important to remember that the places you’re applying to could have extremely different criteria for what they’re looking for in students.

I wish you the best of luck!! It can be so tough but if you haven’t shown your best work in undergrad, you’re never out of chances to prove that you’ve grown enough to get back into academia. also in my experience, generally, law students who have real-world job experience do better than the ones who are coming straight from undergrad! because it IS a job, and learning professionalism and self-direction before getting into it makes a whole lot of difference.

[compo67]

Hi Cal! How are you doing?

Oh, anon. This is so kind of you to ask. <3

I am on the verge of okay. My father is leaving for Chile in a few days, so I will be getting a long, much-needed break from caregiving. I will be able to focus on myself and school, I won't have to drive so much, and I'll be able to stay at his place when I need alone time away from my own household.

But I will also be worried about him. If he needs something, I can't just hop into my car and drive over. And he can't just hop on a plane and fly back. I will have to just... learn how to let go a little.

More under the cut. TLDR; it's been a struggle these past few weeks.

My depression has been a lot to deal with. I'm sleeping too much and my moods are kind of all over the place. I'm also going through writer's and artists' block. Everything I try to write or draw comes out wrong. It's super frustrating and even more depressing. So I'm back to finding little pleasure in things that usually bring me joy. I have been working hard at my mental health through therapy, group therapy, and taking all my meds. Maybe with a break from caregiving, things will pick up.

I'm taking 3 classes this semester, but the school bundles it into one class--with sections in thirds. One section takes six weeks, another six, and another four. I'm in it for the long haul--I won't graduate until mid-May. I am not thrilled to be in this program (Human Resources Management), but I am very grateful that I get to go to school (it's good for my mental health) and it's way cheaper than grad school. But then again, I miss grad school a lot. I just couldn't afford it anymore. My plan is to find a good part-time job in HR, make some money, save some, and then, once I'm settled, go back to grad school and finish the second half of that degree. I really miss academic reading and writing.

And yet, I still don't want to go into the field of academia. :P

I wish I had a mentor. There's a mentor program at the local HR association near me, I'm just unsure if I should take part in it.

Chronic illness wise, I'm all right. I'm getting regular monthly infusions that have been helping my RA. My joints are loosey goosey like always, but my pain has come down from a 7-8 to a 5-6 most days. I'm so grateful for the relief. Part of that is from PT, edibles, acupuncture, a new muscle relaxer, and rest.

I'm trying to focus on going back to work. It's just kinda overwhelming to think about going back to a very structured routine, where right now I have a very flexible routine. Then I get into self-doubt, anxiety, etc. etc.

So. Overall? I think I'd average it out to: I'm okay. I'm hanging on. I wish I could write and draw more, so I could post more, but I am also trying to take the advice of many readers: rest and recharge.

I just have to trust that this will all work out in the end.

Thank you, anon. It was so cathartic to write this out. :)

[paaopalpoerepr33]

Sad thing is, I felt soooo proud of myself in the time I was off meds. Meds were always hard, I suffered two ADRs, most tranquilized me into stupor. When I got off meds it was hell, but also in that time after, I worked, I supported myself and my ex gf, I went back to school, I graduated, I went to grad school. I started writing, I started reading again. I did all this while being insane, and I thought it meant I was getting better. But I wasn’t. You can’t measure your health like that. You can’t. I’m more important than the work I’ve done, the jobs, the school. The money, being able to say I make my own and am not having to ask from my family my friends or strangers. I used to live at my parents home with no job and no school. Drugged, miserable. It’s scary. But idk I’m hoping this time around will be different. Maybe I’ll be okay. I need help. I can’t keep expecting myself to do it on my own and there’s no support system in the world I can build that can accommodate this level of illness. I’m so proud I’ve made it this far though. I’m so proud of myself for working so hard to take care of myself. I’m so thankful to everyone who has been supporting me all this time while I struggled through all of it. I can’t continue to put myself under so much like this though. It’s negligent, it’s honestly abusive at this point I’m just torturing myself to prove I can survive.