#//this truly is just the experience of being drunk in a club bathroom and becoming immediate besties with the girl complimenting your makeup

[mehreya]

regret

↬ wc: 3.9k

↬ pairing: bokuto kotarou x fem!reader

↬ genre: angst, fluff, soulmate au 

↬ summary: you’ve always viewed the concept of soulmates negatively, or even indifferently, but bokuto kotarou quickly changes your mind.

-- send an ask to @/seraee to be on my gen taglist or fill out my form in navi!!

As life progresses, regret, you learn, is the absolute bane of your existence.

You are born in 20th century Japan, near the end of the Shōwa period, and you grow up during the Heisei period. The soulmate legend has become increasingly well-known by then; but you are raised in such times where people, although they know of the soulmate legend, refuse to believe it, or to accept it.

Your grandmother is the one to recount the soulmate tale to you, not your mother. Your mother, a few years after she’s had you, leaves you in the hands of your grandmother, too scared to be trapped in motherhood, too scared to end up like her own mother; trapped in a loveless marriage, forced to be a mother at the age of 20. Your father stays with you and your grandmother, but when you turn eight, he passes away; taken away by weary thoughts and the liquor he so loves.

You are thus left alone with your grandmother, who, though she does her best to support you, is not enough. You have to take on three other jobs at the age of fifteen just to make sure you can pay for your high school education. The idea of taking on even more jobs just to be able to afford university tires you immensely, and you decide you cannot go to university. You just can’t.

Why do you have to work so hard to go to university anyway, when you can just pick up a few years later, when you have enough money? At that point, you are convinced that because of your bad luck, you won’t be meeting your soulmate anytime soon. You’re not even sure if you want to meet him; all your friends are planning to leave to Tokyo to engage in wild partying and one night stands; none of them want to be tied down by something as fickle as love. No one wants to be like their Shōwa mothers.

You decide you do not want to be like your mother; someone who abandoned you. But you don’t want to end up like your grandmother either. Caught between a rock and a hard place, you ultimately decide if you meet your soulmate, you will try, but until then, you want to live your life the way you want to. You want to go with your friends to Tokyo and party and be free, and just not worry about financial, emotional or other materialistic problems.

So with a kiss to your grandmother’s cheek and a last look at the house you grew up in but never loved, you leave for Tokyo the minute you turn eighteen.

Tokyo is bright lights and loud noises; a rush of color and sound and everything in between. Your friends seem to enjoy it; glad they are free from the restrictions of the old village you lived in. You try to enjoy it as well, and for the first few weeks, you really do. You relish in the feeling of letting loose in clubs, dancing to your heart’s content, throwing back shots, meeting new people. It is a rush of excitement and exhilaration, and you are completely drunk on the feeling.

Three years pass just like this, full of wild nights and random strangers and drunk parties. And then one day, a realization hits you. You wake up like normal, in some unfamiliar person’s bed, your garments thrown to the side haphazardly. Feeling the urge to vomit, you slide out of bed carefully, but one look back at the man, and you know he’s out cold. You hurry to the bathroom and vomit out last night’s contents, sighing as you wash your face with cool water after you’re done.

Slipping out of the bathroom quietly, you take in your surroundings and realize you are in a penthouse. You get dressed as quickly and quietly as you can and swipe as much cash as you can carry from the rich man’s wallet, which lay near your clothes. You’re just about to head out when light peeking in from behind curtains covering the floor-length window catches your eye.

Padding over to the window, wanting to see what the view is like from the highest floor of a building, you pull open the curtains and quickly step in front of the window, closing the curtains behind you. A soft gasp leaves your mouth as you take in the sight in front of you.

The sky is a beautiful pale blue covered by white wisps of clouds, intertwining around emerging rays of sunlight peeking through. It looks so beautiful; just like the sunrises your grandma used to show you. She used to bring you up to the hilltop and used to braid your hair at the top and sing you a lullaby as you watched the sunrise with her.

This is the first time you’ve thought about your grandma in years, and tears gather at the corner of your eyes at your thoughtlessness. Is your grandma doing well? Is she taking care of herself? Is she even alive?

You twist out from behind the curtains hurriedly, gathering your belongings and practically running to the elevator, barely holding in sobs as you do so. You must have looked very strange to the people in the elevator with you, but you cannot bring yourself to care.

The second you hear the ding that signals the elevator doors are opening, you rush out, scurrying to the nearest sheltered curb you can find. And you sit down, bury your head in your hands, and you sob.

A few weeks later finds you on the train back to your home town. You’re nervous; it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your grandmother. The remorse and the regret had piled up for years, and you’d just pushed them away, but now; now, you decide it’s been too long. Too long since you visited the woman who practically raised you, too long since you talked to the one who’d loved you and cared for you when your own parents hadn’t.

And thus, you’re resolute in your decision, even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to run away. The slowing down of the train, and the hoot of the train horn alerts you to the fact that you’ve arrived at your destination. Somewhat hesitantly, you step off the train and breathe in the familiar air. Though it didn’t truly feel like home, it felt good to be back.

You grab a cab, anticipation thrumming through your veins. Reaching home, you swing open the rusty white screen door and step inside gently.

“Obaa-san?”  You call out softly, taking off your shoes and putting them beside the door. She calls out your name, surprised. Her voice is a feeble croak, and sounds incredibly weary, as if she might collapse any minute. Heart clenching in worry and fear, you follow the direction of her voice to her bedroom door.

Swinging it open gently, you freeze as you see the weakened figure of your ailing grandmother. Her skin is incredibly pale, and she is barely breathing, so faintly you didn’t even realize she was until you looked closely. She beckons you closer, and you step forward weakly, tears blurring the edges of your vision. “Obaa-san.” You breathe out softly, regret clogging up your throat.

“Child,” she takes a shuddering, wheezing breath, and then closes her eyes completely, too weakened to even attempt anything other than talking.

“I’m glad you’re home.” You’re crying now, but she can barely move her arms to comfort you, and that makes you cry harder.

“There, there. My time has come, (Name). My last and only wish for you,” she wheezes, and the lines on her face slowly go slack. “Is I wish you would go to college, and end up being someone successful. I hope for you to live a happy, successful life.” Her voice fades in the end, and she goes completely still. You cry out for her, but she doesn’t respond, and you spend the rest of the day mourning by her side, lamenting the fact that you were too late.

To honour your grandmother’s last wish, you enrol in Tokyo University as soon as you can. The first two years of college pass by surprisingly easy, the cash you’d accumulated from your nights out, along with the money your grandma had left you, pays well for your tuition. You still haven’t aged a bit; no grey hairs visible. That changes in your third year of college though; in the first semester of your third year of college, you meet your supposed other half.

“(Name), you are to be partnered with Bokuto Koutarou for this assignment.” Your English professor intones monotonously, before clearing his throat and reading out the next pair, leaving no room for further instructions or debate.

Having never heard that name before, you glance around the lecture hall curiously, hoping your partner will come to you instead of you having to go to him. A flash of black and white catches your eye, and you see a black-and-white haired boy walking toward you, a cheerful smile on his face. His eyes are rather unique, you note, brilliant gold with a black slit for the pupil. He kind of reminds you of an owl, at first glance, and the cautious walls you always have up are lowered slightly.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He greets cheerfully, one hand reaching out for yours in a high five, to which you comply, slightly unnerved when he slaps your palm and then pumps it up and down excitedly. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou, but you can call me Bo!” He grins cheerfully, and since you usually tend to keep to yourself, the excited greeting from someone you don’t even know makes your heart warm a little.

You greet him back quietly, smiling a little as you tell him your name. He grabs a nearby chair and sits down next to you, practically bouncing in his seat. “SO,” he begins loudly, and you lean away a little, not wanting your eardrums to be blown out. “What theme are ya thinking about?” He asks, leaning toward you a little.

“I was thinking…since it’s Romeo and Juliet, we could do the easiest and most central theme, love?” You say a little uncertainly. Though you have little to no experience on the subject, aside from your grandmother, it is one of the most obvious themes of the play, and you’re sure you can make something up. The assignment basically entails analysing a theme and relating to it, then displaying it to the audience; nowhere does it say it has to be truthful.

“Sure!” He agrees cheerfully, head bobbing up and down eagerly. “Great.” you smile back. The bell is going to go in a few minutes, and you realize you still haven’t packed up your things. “Do you mind going and signing us up?”

“I gotcha!” He stands up abruptly, almost knocking into someone behind him, who just stares at him a little disgruntled, and walks away.

Before he can start walking off though, you need to set a time and place for your meeting to discuss more on the assignment. “Um, Bo-san?”

He turns around, eyes sparkling, “Just Bo is fine!” He says with a thumbs up.

“Right…Bo-kun?” you say slowly. “Man, you’re just like Akaashi!” He pouts a little. You perk up, Akaashi and you are somewhat good acquaintances; did he by any chance, know Bokuto too?

“You know Akaashi-kun?” You ask curiously. “Yeah!” He says, pointing to himself proudly, “Me and Akaashi are roommates!”

“Ah…Then, to discuss the project, we could meet up at your place?” You trust Akaashi to an extent and Bokuto seems nice enough, so you figure there’s no harm. Besides, it’s much better than your cramped little apartment. Bokuto agrees, as you expected, and then the bell rings, and you say your goodbyes.

You stare at the door in front of you, re-checking the number plate and the address Bokuto had scribbled down and shoved into your hand hastily, when you’d reminded him that you didn’t know where you lived.

You knock twice, and the door swings open to reveal an excited Bokuto. “Hey, hey! So, how long do you think this will take? Do you think it’s gonna take long? Please tell me it doesn’t take long!” You’re bombarded with questions as Bokuto hovers in front of you. Someone nudges him out of the way, and then you are met with Akaashi’s face, “Bokuto-san, please give our guest some space.” He says with a sigh.

“Oh!” Bokuto makes a face in understanding, “You’re right, Akaashi!” Akaashi shakes his head, and then looks toward you, bowing his head a little in greeting. You greet him back before stepping into their apartment, arranging your shoes by the door neatly. Akaashi murmurs something to Bokuto quietly, and you look away respectfully. You only look back when there’s a shuffling sound to see Akaashi leaving.

He notices you looking, and says politely, “Well, I’ll be off then.” There must have been a confused expression on your face, because he shifts a little uncomfortably before explaining he’s off to see his girlfriend. Oh. You didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. He nods to you one last time, and then leaves after directing a stern look toward Bokuto.

“C’mon then! Let’s do this quickly!” Bokuto pumps his fist in the air excitedly. “May I ask why you’re in such a hurry, Bo-kun?”

“Ah, I wanna go play volleyball! Volleyballll!” He exclaims as he bounces down onto the sofa. “Oh, you enjoy volleyball?” You follow him, taking out your binder and notes from your bag. “Yeah!” He leans toward you eagerly, so close you can smell the peppermint on his breath. You shift away subtly, but you don’t think he would have noticed either way.

Bokuto bounces on the sofa impatiently as you begin the discussion. “Um, so… love…where do you think it can be observed in the play, and what form does it come in?” Bokuto stares at you blankly as he pauses, “Huh?” Facepalming, you sigh. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

Your meetings with Bokuto don’t go too bad surprisingly; once you bait him with the promise of playing volleyball with him (a trick you learned from Akaashi), he pays a little more attention, and takes down notes dutifully as you discuss (although analysing his writing is a task in and of itself, you’re glad he’s being productive). Hesitant acquaintanceship slowly leads to friendship as the months progress.

Akaashi can only watch silently as he sees you open yourself up a little and as he watched Bokuto wait in anticipation for your visit each day. He thinks the both of you are a little too oblivious; but then again, he doesn’t know you too well. Being kindred souls, both you and Akaashi liked to sit quietly in each other’s presence, but with Bokuto’s loud and excitable nature, he sees you open up a little. Akaashi can only hope that whatever is forming between you and Bokuto leads to something good.

You’re standing in front of your mirror one day, combing through your hair when a strand comes away in your hands. You’re about to throw it away mindlessly when you notice it’s not (h/c); no, it’s grey.The tell-tale sign one has met their soulmate is when they start aging, and that’s signified when their hair turns grey.

You sink down onto your bed slowly, processing the fact that one of the people you met this past few months was your soulmate. Well, you’ve only really interacted with two people, Kasamatsu…no, you’re sure it’s not him; you’re sure you would have felt something. Then…it’s probably Bokuto, you realize.

You’d decided you would try for your soulmate; try for love when you met him. But now that you know it’s Bokuto...you can’t do that to him. You can’t do that to Bokuto, who’s always so excited about everything; who’s always ready to help you; who always makes you feel like you’re better than who you really are. Bokuto deserves better. Better than you, who’s been with so many other while he’s been faithfully waiting. He deserves so much better, you think.

You have never regretted your life decisions more than you did at that moment. Regrets, you realize, are the absolute bane of your existence.

The same day, you have a meeting with Bokuto to wrap up some final ends of your project. The door to their apartment is open, and you let yourself in, the weight of your realization a few moments prior is heavy as you greet Akaashi.

He smiles at you softly in greeting; you and Akaashi had gotten closer as a result of Bokuto’s extrovertedness.

Bokuto bounds toward you excitedly, pointing toward his hair, which, now that you notice, looks more cleanly done than it was before, “(NAME), HEY, HEY, HEY!” He greets you as you laugh, “Hi Bo, what’s up?”

“Akaashi redyed my hair today, and guess what!”

“What?” you humour him, humming as you go through the motion of taking off your cardigan. “There was a grey hair in between my black ones!”

You freeze, unable to respond. How coincidental that on the same day you discover Bokuto is your soulmate; he finds out he has one too. You don’t notice Akaashi watching you observantly from his post right before the hallway you and Bokuto are in.

You’ve never been great at lying; you know this. You also know that if you run like you so want to, you will give yourself away. So you decide to try to keep a straight face, now painfully aware of Akaashi’s gaze boring a hole into the side of your head.

Bokuto is grinning proudly, both hands on his hips, eyebrows cocked, golden eyes sparkling. “Akaashi and I were making a list,” he chatters, not noticing as your straight face falls. “And (Name),” he turns a bit bashful now, pink visible on his cheeks as his eyes find yours, “We think you’re my soulmate!!” He’s grinning widely at you, albeit a bit more reserved than usual.

He’s clearly nervous. You play with your sleeves anxiously, deciding to let him down gently. You want Bokuto to lead a better life, and you’re sure he can find it with someone, anyone that isn’t you. You open your mouth to tell him no, but something won’t let you. Maybe it’s the way Akaashi’s eyes are drilling into yours from behind Bokuto, telling you not to do what he thinks you’re going to do; telling you not to let him go. Maybe it’s the way Bokuto’s face falls as you keep silent; the way his whole body seems to droop, the way the light that had been shimmering in his eyes dims.

And maybe it’s the crestfallen expression on his face; that’s how you know you can’t do this to Bokuto. You could never break his heart like that. You just hope that when he knows of your past; you just hope he won’t be hurt. You’ve lived with the weight of your life decisions for a while now; he is yet to find out. You regret not being there for your grandma; but you want to be there for him if he’ll let you.

“(Name)?” Bokuto’s quieter than usual voice snaps you out of your anxiety-ridden thoughts. “I-” You hesitate, but one look at his eyes, and you know you have to tell him, “I am your soulmate, Bokuto.”

He perks up almost immediately, throwing his fisted hands into the air triumphantly, “I knew it!”

“I-” You shuffle around anxiously, “But I need to, um, tell you something.”

Bokuto falters as he takes you in, finally realizing you have something important to say. “Sure.” he nods, glancing toward Akaashi, who slips into his bedroom, shutting the door quietly, but not before one warning look back at you. You and Akaashi are friends; but you know Bokuto will always come before you.

You turn your attention back to Bokuto, who’s looking at you confusedly. “So what’d ya want to tell me?” He asks, golden eyes softening as he looks at you, sleek silver eyebrows knitting together uncharacteristically gently.

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat, but you swallow it down, remembering the way Bokuto had looked a few minutes ago. He needs to know, and then he can decide whether or not he wants you.

You proceed to tell him the whole story, and his reactions are displayed on his face, clear for all to see. When you get to the part about your life in Tokyo, his lips quirk downward a little, and you wince.

“Bo, you – you deserve so much better.” You finish softly, eyes looking down. It’s quiet for a little while, Bokuto’s silence is unnerving and you wish the earth could swallow you.

“I don’t think so.” Bokuto’s voice makes you look up slowly, (e/c) pools hesitantly meeting his own golden ones, which are burning fiercely as they look at you. His arms are crossed and his face is pulled into an intense thinking expression.

When he notices you look up, he leans toward you with resolve. “You may have done all that, but that was before we met, before I was even born. What matters is that you picked yourself up, and you worked hard to come here and stay here.” You nod hesitantly, a little surprised; Bokuto’s acting very maturely, but then again, you suppose he always has been, a little bit. He just never showed it much.

“Besides,” Bokuto continues, a smile settling on his features, “You had that one moment, right? The moment where people realize they love someone. I had it.” He says unabashedly, “That’s how I know I don’t care about your past.” He says proudly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“So you don’t mind that I-”

“A little.” He admits, but he flashes a determined smile at you as he says his next words, “But if you’ve felt that moment, then I know you’re not going anywhere.” He says, and you search his golden orbs for any signs that he’s lying; but there’s none.

He loves you, you realize. He doesn’t care. The moment he’s talking about; you’ve felt it. You feel it every time you’re with him. You love him. The last realization has you throwing yourself across the sofa and into his arms. Bokuto catches you easily, strong arms winding around your frame as he laughs. You can feel his laughter as the rumbles in his chest, and you are hit with an overwhelming wave of affection.

“I’ve felt that moment too.” You mumble into his chest. He laughs again, and you imagine those golden eyes crinkling at the corners, and the whites of his teeth showing beneath a wide smile. “I love you.” You say quietly, but he hears, and his arms tighten around you.

Regret, you think, is the bane of your existence, but it’s also what pushed you to tell Bokuto the truth, so maybe it’s a little helpful after all.

(You and Bokuto get an 89 on your Romeo and Juliet project. The final version turned out much better than what you’d had before – Bokuto had a lot to do with that. When you find out your grade, he peppers your face with small, happy kisses, his hair tickling you as you chuckle gently, and weave your hands into his hair, smiling at him.)

#bokuto kotarou x reader #bokuto x reader #mknet #haikyuucreations #haikyuu x reader #fukurodani #bokuto fluff #soulmate au #haikyuu soulmate au #bokuto x you #bokuto koutarou #bokuto kotarou #raeyn writes #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu writings #bokuto #angst

[dancinginadaydream]

ANGSTY DRACO AND HARRY HEADCANONS ((TW))

so im writing this with caution. these are some *really* sad and possibly TRIGGERING headcanons for some. but they've been bouncing round my head for days (i fckn thrive on angst and sad shit) so i wanted to share.

triggering themes to be aware of before reading ARE:

alcohol abuse

drugs; cocaine misuse

eating disorders; anorexia

self-harm; cutting

suicidal ideations 

imprisonment 

hints at abuse

rough sex

if any of these topics trigger you, i urge you to use your own judgement and exercise caution. please do not read these headcanons if you fear they will trigger you and/or you cannot read things like this. i have given you all these warnings so they don't just appear out of the blue. I have added the keep reading option so that nobody sees them accidentally. The last thing I want is for people to be triggered by even having to scroll past and catching a glimpse of it. Please take care of your mental health! 

most of these are headcanons for draco because i just fckn love draco and think about his life more than any other characters. 

ive put a lot of thought into these. ofc i accept constructive criticism and would be happy for healthy debate if anyone disagrees with any of my hc's!  

DRACO MALFOY:

draco suffers from anorexia. as a slytherin, he desires control over situations (particularly his own). however, his entire life has essentially been mapped out for him and he has lost a lot of his control over his life. as a result of this, when he was around thirteen and had a little more control over his outward appearance, draco started to obsess over his body image. nothing was every quite right. he decided to take control over that and make it to his vision of perfect. so he didn't eat unless he absolutely had to, or he was in important company and his father told him he had to keep up appearances, and even then he would go for a jog and feel ultimately guilty for it afterwards. this ended up worsening during his sixth year of school. all draco wanted was to have some control and often it felt that the only control he truly had was his body image,

draco was imprisoned in azkaban for a year following the trials and the war. it doesn't sit right with me that the malfoys got it lightly, they still did wrong. but draco was only imprisoned for a few months to a year to set an example and to teach him a lesson. he then spent two years on probation/parole. of course he knew that he'd done wrong, he accepted the punishment and it nearly destroyed him,

following his imprisonment in azkaban, draco pretty much changed his entire perspective- he smeared the feared malfoy name according to his father. draco became an activist for muggles and muggleborns, supporting hermione in securing more rights for them. he had intense amounts of guilt for what happened and his imprisonment made him realise that. he had a lot of time to reflect on the man he knew he should become,

after azkaban, draco essentially looked like machine gun kelly. he got a nose piercing, he covered himself in tattoos (mainly to distract from the dark mark on his arm) and he tended to kick about in muggle clothes (like a baggy jumper, hoodies, skinny jeans, doc martens, converse etc). of course that would all settle down as his anger towards his father and family settled. it was an initial act of rebellion to what his family stood for that he didn't agree with,

despite trying to do good in the world and support hermione in her multitude of causes, draco was still haunted by the ideals he grew up with. so he turned to drug abuse, namely cocaine, to distract his mind and still feel a buzz instead of depression. the cocaine addiction also becomes part of his anorexia, leaving him without food because he feels he doesn't need it,

throughout school, draco was a self-harmer. he would cut his thighs to have some form of relief. the reasons for this were almost always depression, but were triggered by individual events such as; not getting a perfect score on an essay (fear of punishment from his father), the issues with his body image, the forceful nature of his parents, the rise of the dark lord, dealing with his sexuality (i see draco as exclusively gay, but tries to be heterosexual for his family's sake and that has a lot of issues within itself). the self-harm subsided after azkaban and when he'd discovered the effects of cocaine (which could be argued that his addiction to coke was in itself an act of self-harm).

basically, no one punishes draco more than himself for his role in the war

HARRY POTTER

harry's never had a normal, easy life. he's either been abused by his aunt and uncle, or he's been fighting the dark lord and his goonies for the entirety of his school career. so after the war, things are settled for him. he's famous, he's being handed things for free, he's got the job he wanted, but he's not happy. because most of his formative years he was constantly fighting to make the wizarding world a better place, the sudden calm and quiet post-war has caused him some major depression issues. this it not to say harry wasn't depressed and anxious before, it's merely been amplified post-war. after the war he experiences feelings of worthlessness and paranoia. he's both ready and not ready to fight again. the world isn't the same and he's not settling well into the new way of living, the calm. his feelings of worthlessness accumulate and harry's friends and family are essentially on suicide watch for a few years post-war. they're worried that harry is going to kill himself. not only is harry suffering with feelings of worthlessness, he has survivors guilt. so many people died in the war and he blames himself. he should have been the only death, in his opinion. he's stubborn so won't believe any of his friends when they say that it's not his fault they died. he's attempted suicide a few times when the survivor's guilt gets too much and due to this he cannot live alone, his friends always have someone with him,

harry becomes an alcoholic post-war. its his way of dealing with things. he rely's heavily on alcohol for the feeling of numbness. it started out, in his opinion, as harmless fun but he became reliant on it. it becomes a problem and on top of his  suicidal ideations, his friends are unbelievably worried. they eventually manage to get him into rehab and he becomes sober, but then he turns his self-depreciation onto something else,

sleeping with draco began as a way of releasing anger and sexual tension. they started sleeping with each other after meeting at a wizarding club - draco was coked out and harry was drunk (probably on something too). their sex started in club bathrooms, anywhere dirty and messy because they just didn't care. then when they eventually went somewhere with a bed (hotel room, one of their flats), the sex became angry and was extremely rough (choking, spanking, scratching, slapping, hair pulling). the type of sex they had was bordering destructive as a result of their pent up anger at the world and each other. but after both of them became sober from their addictions, they continued seeing each other and it blossomed into something special and caring. of course they still had rough sex, but they had plenty of aftercare instead of a rough fuck and go,

not entirely related to the headcanons, can be separated or go hand in hand, but transgender harry potter. imagine harry growing up known as "the girl who lived" and it caused a lot of dysphoria growing up in a world being reminded that he wasn't cisgendered. he came out and the majority of hogwarts was accepting (even draco, he may be a dick but not that much. he would stop bullying harry using she/her pronouns and then use he/him). imagine harry constantly being reminded that he was the girl who lived. after the war, they started coining him as the boy who lived, but there were still pockets of people who refused to accept him as trans.

basically, the reasons i have these headcanons is because i don't think draco or harry would be entirely okay afterwards. they suffered a lot of trauma in the years leading to, during, and post war. that would have massive effects on their mental health and there's no way they would continue being arrogant and cocky - internally at least. they could be that way externally as a result of their trauma, anger at the world, and the need to make people believe they haven't been affected as much.

#draco malfoy #harry potter #draco #malfoy #harry #potter #angst #drarry #wizarding world of harry potter #punk draco #suicidal harry potter

[lucyhq]

hiiiii loves, i’m aimee and this is my baby lucy !!! pls plot with me while i watch brooklyn nine nine for the 7th time. also this is long bc i ramble a lot, i apologize in advanced… love me?

chicago’s very own lucille “lucy” withers has been spotted on madison avenue driving a ferrari dino 206 gt , welcome ! your resemblance to lennon stella is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-first birthday bash  . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re taciturn , but also being benevolent might help you . i think being a scorpio explains that .  3 things that would paint  a  better picture of you would be half smoked cigarettes , middle of the night adventures , behaving recklessly .

trigger warning for: cancer, loss of a parent and eating disorder mentions.

THE BACKSTORY

lucille withers was born on october 31st to jenny and vincent withers. she was their third and final child, the only girl and they couldn’t have been more overjoyed.

they raised their children in chicago with vacation home by the beach in malibu where they spent most of their summers.

the withers family was quite wealthy – vincent being a big time corporate lawyer and jenny being a respectable editor for a fashion magazine. however, the three children were raised as normally as possible ( if you ignored their massive house and the fact that they were encouraged to participate in more sports and activities than they had time for ).

lucy grew up in dance classes, piano lessons, figure skating, she was a cheerleader in school and she spent a lot of time volunteering at animal shelters as her parents instilled in all their children the value of giving back to their community.

when lucy was six her mother became very ill, cancer cells attacking her brain on progressing quickly. they made her comfortable for as long as possible but just three days after lucy’s seventh birthday her mother passed away in the night.

things changed after that, her brothers were constantly getting into fights at school and lashing out, her father was rarely home any more always working and little lucy was doing everything in her power just to keep the peace. the seven year old made herself invisible to not cause any more problems at home.

things changed again a few years later once her brothers left for college and lucy entered high school.

their dad got married. he’d met a woman with two children of her own and vincent withers was smitten, combining their lives with these other people suddenly. he was paying more attention to this lady and her children than he ever had to lucy and her brothers, only her brothers weren’t there to truly experience any of it.

lucy felt like an intruder in her own home, her childhood home – where her mother walked the halls and played hide and seek with them. where her oldest brother punched a hole in the wall and they still hadn’t fixed it, just put a picture over it.

the young withers did the only thing she knew how to do, it had worked for her brothers after all, she became the problem child. they couldn’t ignore her if she was starting fights at school, smoking in the girl’s bathroom and coming home drunk on a tuesday.

all it did though was cause her new step mother to shriek about parenting and blame lucy’s mom. it caused lucy to become more isolated from her family and to lash out more. her dad couldn’t see her cry for help or how all she wanted was his attention.

she couldn’t even count how many times she’s heard “why can’t you be more like lydia.” ( her perfect step sister ).

it got to the point where she began to go on hunger strikes, refusing to sit and eat with her “family” and controlling the only thing she felt she could – food.

eventually they’d had enough and sent her off to boarding school in london. she spent two years there in an all girls prep school. but even they couldn’t control the young withers girl. they viewed her as a lost cause.

by the time she was a senior in high school, lucy withers had a terrible reputation and was back in the united states to stir up all the trouble she could manage. only when she came home it wasn’t to chicago but new york city, where her family had moved during her time away.

the only thing that kept her from completely going off the rails was her ever growing social media fan base, where she posted pictures on instragram of her rebellious lifestyle and impeccable style.

SOME FACTS ABOUT LUCY

with over four million instagram followers to her name, being in new york has aided her social media career, though lucy hasn’t shed her rebellious ways.

she cares so much about people and animals and all living things – she wants to help people. she has a massive heart and honestly, it’s her biggest weakness. if her social media career hadn’t taken off so fast she would have gone into nursing.

her big heart causes her to get hurt easily, she doesn’t like to show that she cares because then it sets herself up to be hurt. she pretends to not care about anything or anyone but when she’s at the nursing home or the animal shelter, you really get to see that soft side of her.

after fainting from mal-nutrition when she was sixteen and away at school, lucy now uses that because she knows it’s a sure way to have her father pay attention to her for a few hours. but also it  get’s her out of doing things she doesn’t want to do – lucy will starve herself. it makes people pay attention to her and she takes twisted joy in that.

despite her rebelliousness and how much of a hot mess she is, she takes her career very very seriously. she works herself sick, making sure she’s constantly uploading new content and always looks her best. she’s always looking for ways to stay on top of her game.

she volunteers at the nursing home twice a week, her soft side really comes out when she’s helping the seniors, making them laugh and smile.

lucy is allergic to cats, tomatoes and is lactose intolerant. she’s also vegetarian and tries really hard to eat vegan as much as possible ( when she does eat ).

her brothers have always been her best friends, she would do literally anything for them.

her favourite colour is yellow, her favourite flower is a sunflower, her favourite food is coffee, her favourite song is burning love by elvis presley and her favourite season is summer.

she hates snakes, pickles, when people cuss too much and people spend all their time complaining or talking about someone else negatively.

her bloodstream is 98% coffee

stops to pet all the dogs

is the most loyal friend you will ever meet once you win her over, would take a bullet for you

acts tough but is really very soft

hOT MESS

SOME WANTED CONNECTIONS

people that know her from chicago before she left for school.

her older brothers’ friends – we could make this fun or angsty ( maybe she hooked up with one of them and her brother still doesn’t know ), like it really could be good.

her brothers or step siblings !!

ex boyfriends, good, bad or one sided. give me them all. though bad terms would be fun and maybe they ended because of lucy’s inability to really open up and deal with her shit. he could have gotten sick of her attention seeking. being with lucy would be draining.

some good influences, someone needs to tell this mess to calm down and stop ruining her life all because of things she can’t control.

party buddies, someone she can drag out to the clubs on a tuesday night or is always down to get drunk or high with her.

someone she can just be real with, someone she can talk to openly and honestly, but also someone who does the same with her. they just talk and let each other get things off their chest without judgement or fear they’ll go telling someone else.

maybe a fellow volunteer at the nursing home ??

someone who picks up drunk lucy and makes sure this mess gets to her bed at the end of the night and doesn’t end up drowning in a ditch or something like that

and of course she needs best friends and a squad, don’t we all.

maybe a current boyfriend?

one night stands

a childhood best friend that knew lucy when she was a happy, loving child – was there when she tried to become invisible during her preteen years and then watched her fall apart in high school and progressively get to where she is now.

anything else you might have in mind i’m really open to all ideas tbh

just come love me and lucy

pretty please

#wealthyhq:intro #ooc.

[whyamistillwatchingtheseshows]

HI!! Are you still taking prompts for tharntype? I've just started watching the series and I just want them to be super super happy! so I was wondering if you could write something about Type and Techno being in a party drinking and so on and then Type telling his friend how much likes having sex with tharn or something like that. I really like your fics! thanks!

How about this? I kept imagining Type going through change. Growing and becoming aware of himself and being more open in the LGBT+ world...

Techno couldn’t believe it. Type was in a gay club. A gay club! “How did you ever convince him?” He asked Tharn. 

“It took months of work. Three nights spread out over a month because Type needed breathers in between to collect himself after each try,” Tharn explained. “The first night he wouldn’t come near the doors. The second night he held my hand really tightly, nearly crushing my fingers and that night we made it through the door, but when someone bumped into him we were turning around to leave. The third night we made it through, mainly because I glued him to me and we stayed on the dance floor. After the third try we’ve been able to occasionally come here since.” 

Techno still couldn’t believe it. Tharn felt proud because Type was learning. He was changing, he was growing passed a certain mind frame and mingling with people at the club. Not flirting, just mingling. Type was being somewhat of a familiar face to a few people and it made Tharn smile. On this particular night they managed to drag the rest of Type’s friends here and the liquid courage had Type screaming at the top of his lungs. Tharn turned to look at Techno but the boy disappeared, seemingly entranced by someone on the dance floor. He turned his attention to his boyfriend’s increasingly louder voice. 

“Yeah, I’m sleeping with him, what’s it to you?” He exclaimed to Team. “You shouldn’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.” Tharn shook his head at the irony of that statement. Drunk Type obviously didn’t get it. “The sex...” Type drawled, swaying on his feet. “It’s amazing. All. the. Time. We can’t keep our hands off each other. Have you ever been so sweaty from sex that your bodies stick together like glue?” Team’s eyes widened as his brain processed too much information. Tharn didn’t want to stop him. He was enjoying this too much. When Team saw Tharn, eyes begged him to save him. Type continued, “Also, I didn’t know the several uses of a tongue until him. A tongue on almost every part of your body is a truly wonderful experience.” 

“That’s it!” Team dragged him over to Tharn and shoved him into his arms. “He probably won’t remember that he said all of this. So remind him in the morning because when he finds out that I know about you two then he’ll probably want to punch me for some reason.” 

Tharn nodded. It’s true, Type very well could do exactly that. Tharn had been sitting on a stool when Team shoved Type at him. He slipped hands onto a waist and Type fell against him. Apparently, liquid courage turned into exhausted courage and his eyes were drooping closed. 

“Babe,” Tharn whispered in his ear. “Shall we go home? We can get stuck to each other, if you like.” 

Type scoffed. “You heard that?”

“A lot of people heard that, Type. You weren’t being quiet. Mostly you spoke in Team’s ear, but very loudly so others heard too.” 

Type made a grumpy face at him, head falling to a shoulder. He nuzzled into his boyfriend like a cat. “If you don't start walking with me to go home, I’m going to pick you up and carry you out of here.” Type didn’t budge. A smirk appeared on his face and Tharn realized he was going to have to follow through. “All right, fine.” Tharn threw him over a shoulder and weaseled his way through crowds to the exit. 

___

When they were home and through the door, Type was lazily stripping himself of his clothes. “I think you should shower and then we should sleep.” Tharn stopped him from taking off his boxers. He grabbed Type by the shoulders and turned him around and Tharn walked him to the bathroom. He was about to leave Type to it when his hand was grabbed. 

“Shower with me,” Type sheepishly smiled at him. Of course, Tharn couldn’t say no to that. Type finished stripping while Tharn turned on warm water. Apparently, his boyfriend was so anxious that Tharn didn’t get the chance to take off his clothes. Type pushed him in and water drenched him. When Type stepped in Tharn took his face in his hands. Courageous Type was back because he stuck out his tongue. Tharn blinked several times, but then shrugged. Tharn waited too long so an impatient Type licked Tharn’s lips into a kiss. Tharn shoved him against the wall as a hand traveled up a thigh. His clothes were getting heavy but he didn’t care. If Type wanted to glue himself to his boyfriend all night then Tharn would gladly let him.  

#tharntype #tharntype the series #fic requests

[peachyteabuck]

fashión (bucky barnes x reader)

Summary: At one of your best friend’s drag shows, Bucky catches your eye. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the dance pop blaring through the bar’s speakers, but for some reason you’re feeling a little more daring than usual.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 2,536

Trigger Warnings: Blowjobs, shitty flirting, people are drunk and do sex things

Notes/Other: This was done for @propertyofpoeandbucky ‘s mystery writing challenge!! My prompt was “You’re my best friend. How could I put anyone before you?” and has been bolded within the fic! Also, I feel like this is the total opposite of what I’ve written recent but when I got this prompt I knew this wip was perfect for it. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Dating has always been hard for you. Friends and family have always tried to set you up on dates - as has Tindr - but nothing seemed to stick. No one ever seemed to do the trick.

“C’mon, babe…” your friend coos to you. You’re in a dressing room at some fast-fashion establishment, the wide and tall mirror forcing you to stare back at yourself. The too-bright lights burn your eyes, the top radio hits from last year only depress you, and the smell of weed and regret radiating from your skin is making you want a sandwich. “Listen, I know you don’t want to do this-”

Your sigh cuts her off. “Then why are you making me?”

She steps over to you, readjusting the floral jacket before speaking. As you look in the mirror you realize actually kind of…like it. Which is weird. “Because I know better than you, you’re a shut-in, and every moment you’re not being ravished by a muscular hot dude physically kills me.”

God, her brazen personality always catches you off guard. That’s probably why she’s the performer and you just sit alone in the basement of your shared home - sewing and eating and writing all day.

In the end, you don’t buy the jacket. Lucy ends up taking you to her favorite thrift shop and you pick up a deep blue faux-fur coat and some velvet heels in the same shade. Boujie? Maybe. But it’s something you feel confident in, so you don’t grumble too much when you see the total.

You both get to the club early so she can get ready, focus on turning her face into the inside of an elementary schooler’s pencil case – one young enough to understand that there’s never such thing as too much stationary (or too much color) but young enough to constantly be losing caps. As she steps into the threshold of the famous bar, Lucy’s met with jeers from janitors and bartenders and sound techs alike – all people ecstatic to see their favorite person like a dog left alone during a long work day. As she greets them with the same overjoyed smiles, you slip past the jolly merriment to the dressing room in the back of the building – her outfit bag and make up suitcase in your hands, her shoes and wig in your hefty backpack. Despite the outfit you’d picked out earlier you’re donning the same outfit you’d been wearing since the techie days of middle school – black jeans, black t-shirt one size too big, and all black sneakers. All the better to blend in.

Three hours later Lucy has officially turned into Boudoir Z, her drag persona and the username for her long-abandoned Neopets account. The club is packed with people, almost as tight as her dress is with her pads, and some old Kesha song thumps the floor to its beat.

“Are you ready?” you ask, double checking her hands for any loose nails.

She grins as wide as she does right before every show, eyes bright and sparkling like a child on Christmas. “Hell yeah.”

As her intro song starts you scurry away to find your way to the bar, hoping to grab something strong before the show really starts. You don’t really like attending your friend’s (or anyone’s) drag shows, they’re loud and crowded and normally that’s your definition of Hell. Sometimes, though, you can muster up the energy. For whatever reason, today seems to be one of those days. Or nights.

Whatever. Time is an illusion.

The first few beats of the song are long, edited for artificial pauses to build excitement in the crowd. You know the version of Lady Gaga’s Applause well, so it throws your entire brain through a loop when someone pumps into you when you try and grab your rum and coke.

“Sorry,” the guy hisses, immediately moving to make sure he didn’t spill any of his wine cooler on you. You’re about to brush him off, thinking he’s just another guy trying to cop a feel while the main attraction distracts from any protective butches within eye shot. But when you notice he’s carefully avoiding your chest – and pulling away when he notices the lack of dampness on your sternum – you allow yourself to give him a half glance at the brick wall of a man in front of you.

God, you’re so ashamed you noticed that. You’re also ashamed to notice his thick thighs, massive arms, silver hand with black lining, his perfectly mused brown-black hair, and beautiful scruff.

“H-hi,” you stutter, deep exhale one close to dramatic women in movies when they think they’ve seen God. Good luck ladies, I’ve already found him – he’s in the shadiest gay bar in NYC. you think as he shyly smiles at you with cheeks you want to shove between your thighs and lips you want attached to your-

“I’m so sorry,” he tells you, checking again to make sure he didn’t turn your shirt into a bar tap. “I got distracted by-“

You sigh. Of course, he was looking at Lucy. “It’s fine, really, I promise.”

In a brief pause between songs, you two lock eyes. Grey-green ones meet your own and fuck, he’s so dreamy.

“I’m,” he seems hesitant to introduce himself. “Bucky. Name’s Bucky.”

You murmur your own name while looking him up and down again. Black combat boots perfectly shined, black jeans tight enough to rival your own, and black hoodie thick enough for winter in Upstate Main.

“Aren’t you hot?” you blurt, alcohol loosening your brain’s tight grip on your thoughts.

The man, Bucky, shrugs. “I run pretty cold.”

Another few moments of silence dialogue between you two - and judging by his set jaw and the hungry look in his eyes he’s thinking the same thing you are.

But, if you’re anything besides an introverted stylist, seamstress, and occasional therapist for the person up on the stage…it’s a tease.

You lean towards Bucky’s ear, music starting up again. “Wanna come join me close to the stage?”

He smiles, picking his drink back up. “Sure thing.”

Lucy, as always, is dressed to impress. Or scare small children.

Either way one perceives her, she’s killing it.

The large, sheer nightgown’s puffed sleeves make the look even more dramatic. The black contrasts extremely nicely with her large platinum blonde hair, and combined with her large, maroon lips and thick, pointed eyeliner - it’s a nice reminder that drag is both an art and something weird as hell. Watching your best friend to what they love and truly one of the best experiences of your life.

The pair of you are off stage left, Lucy on the other side grinding on some speakers. As some Nicki Minaj song plays, you can feel Bucky bounce to the beat behind you. He’s got a surprising amount of rhythm, and as your hips sync his body presses closer and closer to your own. It doesn’t take long, maybe half a chorus for it to turn into full-on grinding, your ass pressed into his crotch so hard you’re worried he’s going to be bruised when he wakes up tomorrow.

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, though, nipping at the outer shell of your ear with his lips pressed into the tender skin.

“You do this kind of thing often?” he asks, already deep voice now at a low growl.

You shake your head, moving to take another sip of your drink before answering. “Not really, but Lucy is my best friend so sometimes I get dragged,” you snort a little at your unintentional pun. “To shows and stuff.”

Bucky snickers a little. “That’s totally not what I was asking about, but you also don’t seem like the person who’d be friends with Boudoir Z.”

Your cheeks immediately heat hotter than the Equator as you attempt to backpedal. After a few seconds of stammering, though, the liquid courage surging through your veins comes to a head. “Can I suck your dick?”

You turn to face the man behind you, who seems just as surprised at your inquiry as you are. Still, with his eyebrows raised to his hairlines and his eyes wide, he agrees. “Fuck yeah, lead the way.”

The bathrooms here are surprisingly clean, even if the lock of the door doesn’t quite work. But, judging by the second Pink song of the night, you’ve got awhile before the masses become unoccupied and their bladders realize how much alcohol they’ve consumed.

He shoves you against the tiled wall, lips plush and a stark contrast to his scratchy beard. You want it between your thighs, you sigh into his mouth and a wave of heat rolls through your center. But that’ll have to wait for another time.

Locating his zipper as you kiss him is hard, but not impossible, and soon you’re able to free his cock from its painful confines. Bucky gasps at the rush of cold air, a sound that turns into a deep moan when you wrap an eager hand around him. Maybe some other time, some other night when you’re not fueled purely by endorphins, caffeine, and several glasses of bottom-shelf alcohol, you’d do some foreplay, maybe some dirty talk.

Now, though, your mouth waters at the sign of his hard length, and before Bucky can even get a good grip on your hair you’re spitting on him before taking him as far as your throat permits. He moans deep and guttural, jaw going slack and head leaning against the wall. One of his hands feels cool on your head and it’s nearly sobering, how the freezing material feels against the fire dancing across your skin. You’d question the (seemingly) nonhuman appendage, but the progressive soaking of your underwear and his cursing brings your focus to a pinpoint.

Every single one of his “oh fuck”s and “oh baby that feels so good”s drive you to take him harder, faster, and all too soon Bucky’s getting the message and fucking into your throat. Spit falls from your jaw to between your knees, some slick reminder of how gross this is. That only pushes you, though, to wrap a hand around his base with the other massaging his balls.

“Fuck I’m gonna come,” he moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as both hands wrap around him. “Gonna fucking come down your throat, fuck.”

Fuck yes he is, you think, shoving him back down your throat one last time before the grip on your scalp gets impossibly tight and his thrusts suddenly still and his lets out the deepest, most erotic noise you’ve ever heard in your entire fucking life. The salty taste of him rolls down your tongue and down your throat, his whole body tense as he shoots his load into your mouth.

The second he releases your hair you fall back against the sink, air you’re gulping tainted with the taste of Bucky’s cum. He seems stunned, a little out of it, but still offers to reciprocate. It’s then you realize that Patti LaBelle is playing, and if you’re remembering the song correctly, you’ve got thirty seconds to be backstage and ready to help your best friend get de-dragged.

“Fuck, I gotta go,” you hiss, splashing cold water on your face and trying to calm your ragged breaths. Just before you can open the bathroom door, though, Bucky stops you.

“Wait, just,” he huffs, digging in his pockets for something. Quickly he produces a phone, and he hands it you with the “new contact screen” on it. “Please, give me your number.”

It’s obvious he’s the stronger of both of you, so you slam your fingers on the cracked screen to string together your phone number. It seems the man’s satisfied, because he releases the ajar door from your grip and lets you flee backstage. Lucy comes off just in time for you to meet her, ready with make up wipes and chapstick. Instead of taking both from you, though, she brushes past you to grab at a bottle of water – a surefire sign she’s not done.

You begin to protest, knowing she’s too drunk to lip sync to choral music, let alone her traditional encore playlist. But she waves you off.

“I’m just going to meet some people at the bar take some pics,” Lucy downs the entire 32 ounces of water in record time, barely getting any lipstick on the mouth of the thing. “Don’t worry, just…I don’t know,” she rolls her eyes at her own inability to speak. “Go kill a Westboro Baptist Church member or something, alright? Just…” she hiccups and starts to lean to the right, but adjusts herself before you can do anything. You steady her with a hand on her shoulder, and she lowers her face to yours and juts her lower lip out to pout. “Just wait up for me, okay. I don’t think I can find my way home alone.”

Before you can respond she pushes past you and into the screaming crowd, her shouts and shrieks almost as loud. A quick scan of the dimly-lit bar reveals no Bucky, and without his number you’re stuck putting her reveals back together and unused the unused supplies.

At the end of the night you meet Lucy back where you left her – only this time in black leggings and a purple NARAL shirt shirt three-sizes too big. As she wipes away at the thick cosmetic mask with a dirty make up wipe, your eyes meet hers in the mirror.

“I saw you with some guy tonight,” a smirk paints her lips as heat paints your cheeks. “Did anything happen?”

You bite at your bottom lip, hoping she won’t press further. Luckily, she remains covert, just giving you a once over before speaking again.

“Are you gonna run off with him and abandon me to do all my drag shit by myself?” She asks. Lucy’s tone is playful, but you can tell there’s a hint of seriousness to it.

You shake your head, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear and tucking your hands into your jean pockets. “C’mon, you know I’d never do that. You’re my best friend. How could I put anyone before you?”

Lucy turns around and smiles, perfectly white teeth especially pearly surrounded by the smudged deep purple lipstick and thick, black eyeshadow, a misplaced lash, and what looks to be a twenty-dollar bill stuck behind her ear due to excess wig glue. “Good, because there’s no way I could do Boudoir Z without you.”

Silence settles over both of you as she wipes off the rest of her make up (and pulls out the cash stuck in her hair and to her neck). The only sounds are her throwing loose powders and eye shadow into her make up suitcase and, soon, your phone vibrating in your back pocket. On the screen flashes a text from an unknown number, Bucky you think, and then another right after.

wanna see you again

when are you free

You smile at the screen, giddy like a middle schooler being asked out by her crush. “Hey, Luce…” you wait until she’s facing you to continue. “When’s your next show?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #lanis2ndmysteriouswritingchallenge #like idk what came over me but... #im not ashamed and refuse to be #lukis writes stuff #i finished this in less than an afternoon #like i wrote 2k so quick wtf

[shybunnystudios]

chapter 01

word count: 1155

“Well then why can’t I go home without somebody?”

- Halsey

- Butter to my cup, wake up!

- Five more minutes… - I mumbled.

- No way miss, I’m not leaving without you but I also don’t wanna be late because of you. My first class is with Mrs Oh and I have self love, okay?

Park Jimin, my best friend ever since high school and room mate since we graduated and entered college. At the same time we have a lot in common we also can be opposites somehow, from our courses, Design for me and Tourism for him, to our sexual and love lives.

While I’m straight and demisexual he’s bi and demi romantic, I can count on my fingers how many people I had a thing and he lost the count after seventeen a few years ago, because he rarely gets attached to his hook ups, but I only feel sexually attracted to someone if there’s a emotional connection first. So much that for me to lose my virginity it costed a lot of Jimin’s efford at a club and a lot of money from my wallet used on soju so it could actually happen, I woke up at the guy’s apartment bathroom without a single memory of the previous night… a complete mess.

- Is there pudim left?

- You’re not gonna eat pudim as breakfast. Firstly because it won’t do good for your empty stomach, and also I already ate the last piece.

- I hate you. - I snorted while getting up from my bed to get ready.

- I love you too.

Class wasn’t truly boring but I couldn’t pay attention at all at the teacher’s explanation of the so said seminary we’d do together with another course next month, texting Jimin is the only way for me not to fall asleep, I can ask about the seminary to a colleague later. Ever since I answered Jungkook’s phone call two days ago Jimin won’t leave me alone about him, he can be more annoying than my mom about men sometimes.

Jimin has for sure way more love experiences than me, every lesson he learns I end up learning too because at the same time he just wants to see me happy with someone someday he also doesn’t want me to get hurt. He already can deal with break ups and cheaters very well, but know that because of my sub sexuality I wouldn't be able to process that with the same facility. So every time a possible suitor shows up he becomes FBI to find out everything about the guy for me, that’s why, by the way, I haven’t told him about Yoongi yet.

As I remember him, right after Jimin said bye through text claiming the so said Mrs Oh had lectured him about being on the phone, I decided to stalk Yoongi myself and to my surprise… nothing. No social media accounts, no news about him, absolutely nothing about the Min Yoongi who has saved me from a drunk harasser at the subway.

- Pst, Sun Hee! - my classmate interrupted my thoughts. I looked at her, raising my eyebrows to encourage her to continue. - Are you free this friday?

- It depends, why?

- It always depends for you, right? - she giggled, - It’s because our class representant talked to the representant of the course that will be doing the seminary with us and they thought it would be nice to throw a small party for all of us to get to know each other better. - I wrinkled my nose.

- Oh Moon Byul, you know how I am when it’s about parties and-

- Please, Sun Hee! It’s not gonna be anything crazy, we’ll just get together to eat some pizza and drink a little. Please, at least say you’ll think about it.

- Right. I’ll just think about it. I won’t promise anything.

When monings classes were over, me and Jimin went out to eat.

- You’re going.

- No, I’m not.

- Yes, you are!

- Jimin! Stop! - I regret a bit for screaming when I see a few people turning their attention to us at the snack shop.

- Girl, when was that last party? - the one I got drunk to lose my virginity, it’s been almost two years now, but I didn’t answer it out loud. - Someday you’ll have to face this fear, and it will do you good to go out for once, specially after that history assignment you spent three day in a roll writing last week.

Indeed, that assignment was hell. But I’m not convinced yet.

- Babe… want me to go with you? I promise I won’t leave your side at any minute.

- I don’t know if you can, it’s a reunion just for the courses that will participate the seminary of Midiatic Entertainment that I told you about.

- Ask your friend, tell her you’ll go only if I go too, you won’t be lying. - I laughed lightly. - But then you’ll have to actually go if she agrees.

- Oh God, fine. - while I was texting Moon Byul, I see a group of boys walking the same shop we were, among them was Jungkook. - Jimin! - I whisper shout at him and moved closer, leaving him confused and a bit scared. - There, white shirt, the boy in the bus I told you about.

- Where? - he turned his head abruptly at the boys’ direction, drawing attention from people.

I facepalm, ashamed.

- Wow friend, you’re so discrete, thank you so much. - I said sarcastically.

- Holy shit girl, he’s such a hottie! -he turned his head abruptly again at me and whisper shouted back, ignoring me completely. His facial expressions not a single bit held back.

I uncovered my face from my hand and noticed Jungkook’s gaze on us, still embarrassed I waved at him. He smiled at me and waved back, kept his eyes on me for a moment more before turning back to his friends who were talking about the menu. Jimin followed every move we made with his eyes and head, still astonished.

- Can you please stop doing that?!

- Girl you need to keep this man, for God’s sake! If you don’t, I will!

- If you keep being inconvenient like that it will ruin my chances, are you doing this on purpose?

- Okay, sorry, I’ll stop. - he tried to be serious, frozen in his chair with a nervous expression.

- … Relax!

- Okay, done. - he dropped his tense shoulders all at once, making me laugh for real this time.

- Moon Byul replied, she said you can go.

- Let’s go for it then.

- I’m not hooking up with anyone there, just saying. - I provoked.

- Oh! Come on! - I laughed at his frustration.

I love this knucklehead.

“Infatuation’s observation with a cause, but none of it is love”

(I HATE EVERYBODY)

BTS MASTERLIST

main masterlist

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys #fanfiction #fanfic #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #park jimin #love triangle #original character

[lavishedinjimin]

Taehyung (prompt) - The Dark Horse

#10 - “Can you pretend to be my boyfriend real quick?” #40 - “Sit on my lap”

Word count: 2.0k 

thank you so much to the anon who requested! 

masterlist, prompt list, request submissions

“Taehyung, can you come with me?” you nervously asked through the phone, biting your nails. It was 10 in the evening and one of your friends that you weren’t even close to invited you to this really unholy club. It was nothing like you’ve ever seen before. This time, there was more kissing and grinding bodies, more high people. The clubs you went to weren’t even this hyped. They were all chill and you preferred that more. People here were dressed very minimally, eyeliner smudged, and their hairs down. You could perfectly see that everyone was drunk as fuck. The music was literally pounding into your heart so loud that you were afraid that it would do something to it. 

You knew you had woken up Taehyung, his deep and sleepy voice echoed through the line. “What? Where are you?” You couldn’t lie, but hearing his voice like that made you shiver. It was a soft spot for you. Taehyung was your best friend. You met him at your first year of college and he was the kind soul who offered to show you around. He was sweet and kind, and a little bit mischievous which you liked. You both had the same course, which made it easier for you to get to know him.

Taehyung liked you, and you liked him too. But none of both sides ever admitted.

“I’m at The Dark Horse.”

“Y/N? What the fuck? Who are you with?” Taehyung immediately stood up from his bed, hurriedly finding appropriate clothes to wear. He grew nervous for you – because he didn’t expect a girl like you to go there. He couldn’t lie, but he went there a few times already. He didn’t drink excessively or grind into anyone, but he was there for the drinks. The drinks there were awfully better than any club. 

“I’m with Chaewon. She’s nowhere to be seen though!” The music was getting louder and louder so you decided to go and hide in the girl’s bathroom. After passing through the maze of sweaty bodies and into the restroom, you sighed in relief as you saw no one.

Taehyung, on the other side, was already finished dressing up in a black ripped jeans and a black button up shirt. He kept clenching at his jaw at the thought of what might happen to your frail little body in that club. He wanted to get to you as fast as he could. “I’m about to go. Y/n, stay where you are.” 

“Okay. I’m at the—” he ended the phone call before you can state where you are.

No girl should ever be alone at the Dark Horse—Taehyung thought. From his past experiences at that club, he had seen many women approached by men who were five times older than them and offered a dance. But, they didn’t protested, though. But in Y/n’s case, that girl doesn’t like to dance – not with a random dude, at least. Taehyung was trying to calm his nerves down as he started the engine in his car.

It was moments like these were Tae was always so protective of Y/n. He sees her like a little girl who you constantly need an eye on. Of course, Taehyung trusts her, and he knew that she needs space, but would he not do anything in this situation though? Obviously not.

He had arrived at the club, immediately trying to spot you in the crowd. He grunted in annoyance, not remembering how awfully crowded this place was. “Taehyung!” a girl’s voice yelled his name. He saw that it was Chaewon, with a guy hugging her back like a fucking koala. He stepped closer to her with furrowed brows. “Where’s Y/n?”

“Mmm, Tae, you should calm down.” Chaewon lifts one of her hands up to rub his shoulder, making him roll his eyes. “Relax for a bit, yeah?” she tried to sound seductive, but he wasn’t giving into her. “Answer my fucking question.”

“Whoah, whoah, dude. Sure, I’ll say it.” She tilts her glass at him, “I left Y/n somewhere. I left her somewhere so that a man can go and fuck her already. She’s such a normal and boring girl that she needs some spice in her life, you know? Oh, and she’s a virgin, so it’ll be a much more better experience for the dude to –” 

Taehyung, full of rage, gripped her jaw and made her face him. Her eyes grew wide as he saw how furious Tae has become. “Shut the hell up, you piece of shit.” He growled, “I know you’re drunk as fuck right now, but I want you to stay away from her.” “Sure, that aint a problem. She’s uninteresting anyways.” He sighed and closed his eyes, trying hard not to do anything to her. He just gave her a glance and turned his back, continuing his search for you. 

After a while of calming yourself down, you went out of the bathroom. You immediately spotted his luscious hair and you smiled in relief. “Tae!” He whipped his head in your direction, giving you his biggest smile. He walked towards you, passing through the crowd until he was directly in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat when he gripped your waist with his hands. His smile turned into a slight frown, “Why did you agree to join her?” 

You lowered your head, “Um, I don’t exactly know. She had no one to go with so I agreed to be her, well, companion.” 

 He caressed your cheek, looking into your eyes. “Don’t talk to her again. She left her ‘companion’ to be a prey for disgusting men. Let’s go to a quieter place.”

He led you into a room full of booths and a much bigger bar. It was at the back of the club and it was like a secret place that only a few people knew it existed, including you. “So how many times did you went to this place?” you asked, trying to get comfortable in the leather seat. Taehyung sat in front of you with his hands crossed, eyeing you up and down. He smirked to himself, thinking how chaste you looked, only wearing a fitted high waisted leather shorts and a white tucked in long sleeve shirt. He looked at you longingly as you tucked back a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“When we were in the first year of college, me and my friends would commonly go here. But I wouldn’t be drinking and dancing like crazy, though.” He laughed, “In fact, this place changed a lot. People back then weren’t this insane.” 

“Oh.” You looked down. “Im sorry.” He furrowed his brows, “Sorry? For what?” He held your hand across the table, looking at you. “There’s nothing to feel sorry about. Just don’t go to a club like this with a person you’re not even close with, okay?” You smiled and nodded your head. You suddenly stood up from the booth, “Do you want anything, Tae?”

“Like, a drink? No, no, I’m good—”

“Please, let me treat you. I promise I won’t get anything crazy.” You winked at him and he smirked back at you. You made your way to the bar, sitting on one of the stools.

“Good evening miss, what can I get you?” the bartender said as he smiled at you. “Sea breeze and white wine please.” 

“Coming right up.”

The both of you talked for a little while, laughing and remembering memories together while enjoying your drinks. It was a while that you hanged out together alone, because of all the schoolwork that needed to be done. You missed him. Something about him always made your insides to flutter. You didn’t know if it’s the way he smiles, his calming voice, his eyes, personality, probably everything. You didn’t know when you’d tell him how you really feel, but it’ll probably come at the right time.

Taehyung suddenly brought up the topic of Chaewon and what she said to him earlier. All those stuff about you being boring, uninteresting, and virgin didn’t even bother you. “Well, first of all, she was drunk –” “Right.” “But second, if you really look at it, I kind of do appear as boring or uninteres—”

“No, don’t say that. You know, Y/n, to me you aren’t.” he said wholeheartedly as he kept his gaze on you. “And who the fuck cares if you’re a virgin? You wait for the right person and not unlike her who just fucks whoever person she sees.” That sentence made you laugh silently. You thanked him for making you feel better. And to be honest, Chaewon’s words really don’t affect you. You knew who you truly are and you don’t settle on what a person thinks about you.

Suddenly, Taehyung’s eyes widen as he fixed his gaze over your shoulder, making you confused. “What’s wrong?” You asked, turning your head to the direction he’s staring at.

You saw her, Chaewon, trying to walk her way over to you with an evil smirk on her face. You looked back at Taehyung who had a worried look. You didn’t know where it came from, but you had an idea. “I have an idea.” 

You smirked cheekily at him. You motioned for him to move closer to you and you whispered something in his ear that made his eyes go wide. “Can you pretend to be my boyfriend real quick?”

Taehyung smirked at you, already knowing your plan. You weren’t that drunk, but you felt very good. The drink that you ordered gave you some kind of confidence, and Taehyung had that too. He bit his lip for a moment, noticing that Chaewon was slowly getting near. “Sit on my lap.”

His request made you gasp a little, but you obliged and you stood up, walking around the table to carefully sit sideways on his lap. You wrapped your right arm around his neck as he held your other hand. He giggled as he bounced his knees, your body bouncing as well. “So cute.” he whispered, pulling your hand up to his mouth as he placed a tender kiss to it. “Tae...” 

“What? I’m your temporary boyfriend now.” he whispered in your ear as he placed kisses on your jaw, trailing down to your neck. You bit down on your lip, prevented a moan to escape. 

You glanced over to Chaewon only to see that she had her mouth agape and her brows creased. She couldn’t believe the sight that she was seeing. 

Chaewon only went at the back of the club to follow Taehyung and to work her drunken magic at him but what she saw made her baffled. She didn’t expected that you’d be sitting on his lap, receiving kisses from him. She coughed, making her way back out -- completely annoyed. 

“I-it worked.” you breathlessly said to Taehyung, but he was still distracted in kissing you. You whimpered as he adjusted your body so you were straddling him. He looked up at you with big eyes, smiling. “I don’t want to stop.” 

He moved his hands down until it reaches your hips, gripping it firmly. “Let me be yours, please.” 

The warmness in his voice, paired with his lips sucking the skin on your neck once again made you moan quietly. You knew what he meant, and it made your heart to flutter. “Let me be yours completely. I really like you, Y/n.” 

You held a hold of his head, staring at his face. His eyes were full of love which were exactly what you needed from him. 

“I-I like you too, Tae. I really do.” 

He smiled at that, giggling. He pulled you even closer so that your lips were grazing against his. In a flash, he pulled your bottom lip with his teeth, tugging it for a moment then letting it go, snapping back to its original place. The movement turned you on but it made you shy, cheeks turning a shade of red. He chuckled, “Would you let me kiss you, jagi?” 

“Yes.” 

And with that, he pressed his mouth on yours. 

~

Hello! this is the part of my writings where i say how horrible it is :’)  jk luv urself luv myself 

enjoy this gif where tae originally says jazz but i see it as sex lmao sorry not sorry 

#bts #taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyungp #taehyung prompts #taehyung drabbles #taehyung oneshots #taehyung hot #taehyung cute #taehyung imagines #taehyung x reader smut

[marleythornes]

Not Your Average Frat Boy

@indie-dcrper

Marley felt like the air had left her chest. She was flushed, and it was making her hot. Blaine being sweet like this was not helping. Marley bit her lip as he kissed her cheek and she hummed happily. "The worst." She murmured her eyes slipping shut as she moved to kiss his lips gently. She wanted to stay like this with him forever. 

Blaine: Blaine always enjoyed a good party, was a great way to mingle with others and get to know new people. Also the alcohol helped. His friends told him to come by and he wasn't going to tonight as he needed to study but why not let loose a little and have some fun? He could study tomorrow anyways. So he found himself with a red solo cup in his hand, drinking whatever they poured into it and just enjoyed dancing around casually between the groups, he was a mingler and it showed. But soon enough he had finished his drink so he walked over to where there was more before he replaced his empty with a full cup, but as soon as he turned around he was bumped into and the contents tipped all over a girls shirt. Blaine's mouth dropped for a second before he put his cup down "Oh shit...I'm so sorry" he rushed out as he was going to turn to grab a towel or something but looking at her properly, she was a stunner and more of a natural beauty which he liked. He didn't have that thought for long before they were bumped into again and they were pushed together, Blaine wrapped his arm around her waist to stop her from falling "Hi yourself, you okay?" he leaned down to her ear so she could hear him as the music was loud. Marley: Marley swallowed thickly a blush tinting her cheeks. "I'm fine. The shirt will dry anyways." She replied shivering as he stayed close to speak in her ear. "I'm Marley by the way." She replied with a soft giggle. Blaine: Blaine tilted his head before he shrugged off his jacket he had on, putting it over her shoulders to at least keep her warm as the liquid dried up "I'm Blaine, I think I have seen you around and I wish I stopped you to chat" he smirked as he looked around them, it was getting busier by the second "C'mere" he said into her ear, he grabbed two more drinks for them before leading her to the back of the house, he knew it well enough and people didn't go down this way as it was just the spare bedrooms, bathroom and lounge which was usually blocked off. Marley: Marley smiled as she followed after him and hummed softly. "Do you know the host or something?" She teased. "You seem to know the house intimately." Blaine: Blaine looked over his shoulder as she spoke "I go to parties fairly often so I know this house pretty well, I also am friends with a few people who live here so I know this end of the house isn't used when parties are on" he replied before he opened one of the bedroom doors so they could actually talk "I'm still sorry for spilling my drink on you" he commented as he sat down on the bed, holding out the other drink for her. Marley: Marley smiled as she nodded and took the drink glancing at the contents before downing the whole cup. "Um, thanks for the jacket. I think I might actually wear it so my shirt can sit out to dry." She said and smiled slipping off the jacket. Blaine: Blaine nodded in agreement s she downed her drink, raising his cup before he followed suit and downed it. Arching his brow before chuckling "Well..." he lead off as he stood to join her "You are just gorgeous" he mumbled as he trailed his fingers down her side lightly. Marley: Marley smiled her eyes finding his again as she went onto her toes and kissed his lips experimentally. Blaine: When their eyes met, Blaine could tell what was happening and when her lips met his lightly, he looked at her for a second before pressing his lips to hers a little more firmly whilst his arms wrapped around her waist to pull her against his chest. Marley: Marley kissed him deeper as she hummed and moaned softly. "You are a good kisser." She murmured softly kissing him again. Blaine: Blaine smirked as he kissed her deeply, biting her lip gently "It's not the only thing I'm good at" he whispered before their lips met again, this time Blaine backed them onto the bed, his body covering hers as they kissed deeply. Marley: Marley moaned deeply as she let her arms wrap around him as she fell back with a squeal and giggle. She let her hands slide down his chest to toy with the hem of his shirt. Blaine: Blaine moulded his body to Marley's, rolling his hips a little before he moaned himself as her hands slid down his chest, sending tingles through his body before he lift up a little bit so he could start unbuttoning his shirt and also so he could look down at her. Marley: Marley smiled as she unbuttoned his shirt and looked up at him smirking. Blaine: Blaine watched as she unbuttoned his shirt for him, smiling down at her before shrugging out of it to reveal his bare chest before he worked on her shirt as she was going to take it off anyways. He leaned down and kissed her neck before pulling her shirt off and kissing her collarbone. Marley: Marley let out another soft moan. "Mm, Blaine. Fuck!" She gasped arching her back softly. Blaine: Grinning as he got the reaction he wanted, he grazed his teeth along her collarbone before licking then kissing it before moving to the other side. All the while he was unbuttoning her jeans. Marley: Marley felt herself start to pant gently. Her head fell back as she reached up to tease his nipples. Blaine: Blaine moaned when she teased him, he pulled her jeans down quickly before pressing his lips back to hers, needing her desperately by this point. Marley: Marley moaned as she kissed him deeply needing him inside of her. "Blaine, please, I want you so bad." She whimpered softly. Blaine: Blaine moaned in agreement before he unbuttoned and pulled his own pants down, "I need you too" he panted before grabbing a condom from his pants, quickly rolling it on and pressing inside her. Marley: Marley cried out as he entered her and she clenched down on him tightly as if her body were trying to pull him in deeper. Blaine: Blaine moaned loudly as she clenched around him, he gripped her hips tight as he began thrusting into her, going slow but getting faster. Marley: Marley was moaning loudly as she arched her back Blaine: Blaine thrusted harder into her, pressing his lips to hers as he moaned her name and many swear words. Marley: Marley whined as she felt the tension that had been building in her snap as she came. Blaine: Blaine let out a yell as she came around him, ripping his own orgasm out of him as he continued to thrust into her before he collapsed but trying not to put all his weight on her before catching his breath. Marley: Marley smiled pulling him down to hold him close after her orgasm. "B-Blaine, that felt so nice." She murmured.

Blaine: Blaine chuckled before kissing her neck gently "Mmm I bet, you're shaking" he mumbled against her skin

Marley: Marley smiled as she caught her breath. "It feels so nice though." She smiled. "I also feel very drunk." She giggled. "Are you drunk too?"

Blaine: Blaine nodded "It truly fucking does" he looked to her and chuckled "Maybe just a little bit" he kissed her softly before slowly pulling out and collapsing beside her.

Marley: Marley giggled softly gasping as he pulled out of her. She hummed moving to kiss him. "So, tell me about yourself." She murmured.

Blaine: Blaine kissed her gently, wrapping an arm around her before pulling back, sighing in content "What do you want to know exactly?"

Marley: Marley shrugged gently. "Something you dont tell people that often." She smiled looking into his eyes.

Blaine: Blaine hummed a little before he spoke "I can sing, which no one really knows"

Marley: "No way! I slept with future Justin Timberlake?!" She teased. "I would love to hear you sing sometime." She murmured genuinely. "That is an interesting face though, I give you that."

Blaine: Blaine laughed gently before shaking his head "I'm not that good, come now" he looked at her before shrugging a little "Alright your turn"

Marley: "Ooh! Turning the tables!" She giggled before biting her lip and humming in thought. "Hmm, ooh! Alright, up until the spring I thought I was going to have to do porn to be able to afford university. I found out last minute the student ahead of me for a full ride dropped out. But it was close." She said and shrugged. "Tag, you're it."

Blaine: Blaine raised his brow curiously as he leaned on his elbow to look down at her with a smirk "Porn huh? I bet that was an interesting thought for you" he joked before chuckling a little "Hmm...I started a fight club in high school because of my middle school experience'

Marley: Marley giggled. "Yeah, porn. Not my greatest achievement." She said and blushed brightly. "A fight club?!" She giggled excitedly. "That is amazing! And honestly, the though of you beating a punching bag is insanely sexy." She giggled.

Blaine: Blaine grinned "I mean it is college, it's all about finding yourself or whatever" he chuckled before nodding, biting his lip a little "You should come by my dorm room, I have a punching bag as I don't have to share a room"

Marley: Marley smiled brightly at him. "Is that an invitation for a second date? A first date?" She asked becoming confused.

Marley: as the alcohol fully set in.*

Blaine: Blaine laughed as he pulled her ontop of him "Is that what you want? A date" he teased

Marley: Marley bit her lip as she was on top of him and she hummed. "That sounds nice." She hummed. "Not that this wasn't nice!" She rushed to say.

Blaine: Blaine ran his hand along her spine lightly before laughing a little at her quick reassurance "Don't worry, I kind of got the idea you enjoyed yourself" Blaine teased before speaking "I've not been on a lot of dates"

Marley: Marley shivered at the gentleness of his touch. "I-I y-yeah..." she blushed. "Neither have I." She murmured.

Blaine: Blaine raised his brow before rolling ontop of her quickly "So is this another first them"

Marley: Marley blushed brightly as he rolled them over to be on top. Her cheeks burned as she bit her lip and hummed. "I have been out once. But I dont even think it was a date." She murmured.

Blaine: Blaine arched his brow curiously, the alcohol running through his system was still very much there, "Why do you think it wasn't?"

Marley: "Well, for one, he was an asshole. He tried to feel me up at the dinner table. We both paid, and he wouldn't give me his number aft wer r." She murmured and shrugged.

Blaine: Blaine nodded "Understandable, sounds like an asshole and acted like one too" he mumbled before watching her for a moment before kissing her cheek gently.

[pendingtitle-blog]

overnight

A collection of stories from the CBD 24/7 McDonalds as told by the workers on the battlefields of its busiest nights. The unsung heroes bringing you food at your lowest moments. All their stories and experiences told are true.

“Treat your men as you would your own beloved sons. And they will follow you into the deepest valley.” ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

11:00 PM. A Friday night. The horde begins to fill up the Melbourne CBD. A knot forms in your gut. Questions race through the mind: How will tonight transpire? Who will make this harder than it needs to be? What will the toilets end up like? What you do know for sure is the party is about to start. The horde will need to be fed. Sustenance in the form of trans fats and fried goodness. Take a deep breath and enter the barracks. The store is clean for now. Bins are freshly replaced, tables wiped down and the stations stocked up. McDonald’s is ready for it’s beating.

You walk through the kitchen, past the managers' office and into the change room. It’s almost time to clock on. Seven hours of punishment from the general party-going public. Seven hours of providing service with a smile, drained of all energy and enthusiasm. The Japanese warriors of old were recorded to have prepared for battle through specially prepared meals that they would consume leading to a rallying of the troops by yelling “GLORY, GLORY”; which would be met by calls from the generals replying “YES, YES”. The same principle applies in this time. Your special meal is a 50% discounted crew meal or a cigarette behind the store to activate the synapses allowing orders to get out faster. The rallying calls is a change room banter. You shoot the shit with the rest of the crew, hearing horror stories from the past to the soundtrack of your coworkers selected playlists echoing the small room. The guy to your left tells you a story all too common with the disorderly drunks fighting among each other. He’s been here a little longer than you so he’s seen the worst that a Friday overnight can offer.

“I think the worst I’ve seen was this obese woman who started a fight with this guy in the store,” he chuckles “she must have been at least 200kg and she thought this other customer had bumped into her on purpose so she just flew a punch at him,

“It sounded like she thought he was making fun of him for her weight which I’m guessing she was insecure about so it turned into a full brawl with at least five different people trying to hold her back,” he goes on “it ended up with the police being called to break the whole thing up”.

Another question forms in your mind. What in god’s name is driving us to do this? It’s not a complicated motivating factor. Why else would an 18 to 20 year old put themselves through this?

Money. This is what you signed up for.

“Because doing this gets you more money. Also, tons of babes come in and will give you their number if you’re lucky,” he grins.

Time ticks closer. The shift starts soon. One sleeve at a time, button up the front, one leg at a time, tighten the belt, slip your work boots on and tie the apron on. Out into the trenches. Finally, ask to start the shift.

“Yes, yes” the manager replies.

“He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces.”

- Sun Tzu, The Art of War

The greatest armies in history have always relied on coordination and careful execution to subdue powerful forces for victory. Nothing has changed in the present day. Armed with grills, beef, chicken, deep fryers and various other products. Rapid fire production is needed to keep the hunger back. A symbiotic relationship between the front counter and kitchen is needed to keep the peace. One without the other on a night like this would surely end in defeat. An army of eight against the never-ending patrons of Melbourne's ever-booming party scene. It should be noted: this isn’t the case all the time. One hour the store could be packed with order numbers being yelled at the top of your lungs and the customers responding with the ever original catchphrase:

“BINGO!”

The next it could be completely dead with the air being filled from the bleeps and blorps of kitchen. This will not be one of those nights.

Wave one begins. The families and oldies finishing off an old-fashioned night on the town with grease and salt. Children demand soft serves and chippies. The oldies wanting coffee at this hour because how else would one want to finish their night off. Police officers also load up on fuel for their all-nighter of a shift patrolling the patrons of the clubs that will eventually end up in the store.

This will be a litmus test for how the night travels. It’ll show you how busy you’ll end up being, which crew are not up to the task and how awful the bathrooms will end up being. It’s almost a given you get a crew member bewildered by the number of people storming the fort. Putting themselves in no good position to be useful and making a stressful situation even more stressful. Can you blame them though? No one can truly understand what an overnight is until you actually do it. It takes a lot of endurance to make it through a night like this. Even with the consistent sales being made, you ask,  

“Well this is busy, how worse could it get?”

Your fellow coworker replies with the smug grin of a veteran who’s seen it all,

“This is nothing.” A favourite phrase among many of the employees who have worked these shifts.

He continues, “You didn’t work the overnight of the Queens birthday public holiday. That was nasty. It was just me and the boss on the front with two others in the back. We were so backlogged with orders that we had someone from kitchen jumping up to front counter to help get rid of the backed up product while more orders were still coming in.”

The thought of this makes you uneasy and stressed. Nothing is worse than a packed house, nothing but noise resulting in orders being unheard and customers angered because they couldn’t hear. Order 116 being screamed into the void.

His account of events develop further with more horror, “This did not stop from 1 AM to 5 AM. Just constant flow of orders. It would get so bad that I would have to stop taking orders because it would only make it worse. But what resulted was disgruntled drunks now mad about not only not getting their orders quickly but now they weren’t getting served. It was a lose-lose situation for a while.”

A common occurrence on these shifts is that you gain a lot of new perspectives. You don’t have it as bad as you think you have it right now. A lot of this could be a lot worse.

“Thus the expert in battle moves the enemy, and is not moved by him”

- Sun Tzu, The Art of War

The halfway point occurs and it’s time for your break. Relieved of duty for half an hour to refuel and revitalise yourself. So far the crowds are exactly what you would expect. Drunk, disorderly and disappointing. But the team has held them back well with little to no disruptions. Successful execution as always. However, the constant flow and attention drawn onto appeasing the crowds made you forget one thing: The body needs to sleep. The constant attention to everything but yourself has distracted your body from the recovery and rest it needs. Sitting down for this half hour to eat and scroll through Facebook, the effects become immediately noticeable. Speech: impossible to understand. Motor functions: harder to use. Sanity: warped. Time begins to slow down and speed up meaning this war will never be finished. The 30-minute break turned into five. Time to end this.

You would never guess it during the day, but the dining area during 12 AM to 6 AM in a 24/7 McDonalds is something else. You begin to understand how wasteful of a species we are. A trash dump is one of the first words that come to mind. Paper bags, boxes, half eaten food, sauce spills, drink stains, melted ice cream, lost wallets and phones all strewn across the tables, floors and seats. Overflowing bins create a greasy stench. The homeless of the city sleep amongst this because it's better than sleeping on the streets. A quick glimpse at the toilets reveals a myriad of monstrosities ranging from faeces on the floor and walls, a flood of urine creating ‘stank’ air as a replacement for oxygen, dried up vomit containing half digested cheeseburgers and used tampons littered about. Six million years of human evolution has lead to this moment. Only you and the coworkers around you can turn this dumpsite into a restaurant that families come into during the day. The bags fill up one by one, ready to be compacted. Where is this waste going to end up? Another landfill? You’re not paid to think about this. You’re being paid to hide it from today’s customers.

Except they won’t let you give you the courtesy to that. The final rush of club goers come in at 4 AM to add more waste and more stress. This rush will be particularly nasty. Complete disregard for everything around them. Settling into the areas already clean. Encamping into spots until 6 AM. Leaving more waste than before to be collected. A strain on everyone’s resources stopping the entire crew from finishing what they need to finish. But that's what sets McDonalds’ overnight workers from the rest of the crop. Endurance of all this bullshit. The kitchen crew will still clean and prepare for the next people coming in. The front counter crew will still stock and clean the restaurant while getting orders out the best they can. The manager on shift will still do the bureaucratic work required to make sure the store continues to run on top of doing what they can to help kitchen and front with what’s needed. A formidable force in the hospitality industry. Unbeatable.

And just like that, the pain ends. The store is clean like nothing happened over the last 7 hours. Everyone is gone and the day is starting for everyone else. Except you. It’s time to rest soldier. The journey home begins.

“Who wishes to fight must first count the cost”

- Sun Tzu, The Art of War

The body knows it must rest now. Your eyelids are drawing heavier and you're drifting off into the realm of sleep. However, it doesn’t end there. Your dreams are invaded by the events of the past shift. Surreal nightmares that take away all control. Every worst-case scenario that the brain could create is presented in high definition terror. A customer has been waiting four hours for their order. The monitor is overwhelmed with products you don’t understand. You keep packing the orders wrong. The whole team despises you. Failure. Hate. Fear. All for your viewing.

You only had to do one. Now, what happens if you were to do it four to five days in a row? You’ve heard the stories told to you by the real troopers who put themselves through it again and again, living on a reverse sleep cycle.

One of the kitchen crew had told you their “sleep deprivation would build up so much that by the time I got to a day off I would sleep around 16 hours literally wasting it, making it become, instead, a cycle of sleep and work”. A beast that keeps on consuming time and energy the more you dive deeper into.

The sleep after one of these shifts is enough to make anyone feel like they’ve wasted a day. Sleeping until 4 pm just to eat dinner then go back to sleep. Time stolen because recovery was necessary. To someone who had to do multiples of these it then felt like “a void,” where they “would be back and forth between the same two places, doing the same things” entering into what felt “like I was in a dream and granted how little sleep I got maybe parts of it was”.

This is what you agree to and there’s no shame in it. You need money and this is the lengths you and the people around you will go to get it. The hospitality industry is known for its horror stories and granted the customers are significantly worse at this time; although, a small minority remain kind-hearted in these hours. The knot unties and now you have permission to rest easy until the next time.

[superleeleehipster]

“Confessions” Pt 2

Alright guys, next chapter. So this one’s a bit more on the angsty side, but again, they have a lot of crap to get through so it’s needed.

Enjoy loves!

Carol awoke to a slight nudging on her thigh, and she stretched slightly and sighed before realizing her head was leaning on something. Her eyes fluttered open and saw that she was leaning on Daryl’s broad shoulder, which was much more comfortable than she expected. He was very lightly nudging her thigh with his hand as he tried to wake her up, though his body was surprisingly relaxed in spite of her closeness. Trying not to give him the wrong impression, she shoved down the urge to quickly sit up, and instead, slowly lifted her head from his shoulder before rubbing her neck. She glanced over to see his face flushed and his neck red as he looked at her shyly through his bangs. She couldn’t help but smile at his cute bashfulness.

“Don’t even remember falling asleep,” she sighed, yawning.

“ S’ alright,” he murmured before grabbing a can of beans from his bag and handed it to her. “Lunch.”

Her brow furrowed. “How long did I sleep?”

“Few hours.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “A few hours?” 

How could that be? Her sleeping habits have never been great considering what she had to deal with even before the turn. Due to her situation before the turn, she was a very light sleeper, able to wake up at the slightest noises of Sophia’s feet on the bathroom floor, or Ed’s grand entrance back into their house after a night of drinking. It never really changed after that either, only getting five or six hours of sleep because she’d hear every single sound echoing through the prison walls. She didn’t really mind her tendencies for being a light sleeper because sometimes it was nice to hear the soft snoring and breathing of her community. It reminded her that everyone was okay, they were alive, they were prospering in this cruel world.

Of course there’s always an exception to everything, and Maggie and Glenn’s impressive amount of ‘coupling’ was the reason why she had asked for earplugs on one of Daryl’s runs.

But she had been suffering from insomnia ever since she was kicked out of the prison, all those months ago. Nearly every night, she’d wake up in the middle of a nightmare, usually from the memories of recent, traumatic experiences. Some nights she wouldn’t even want to close her eyes because she could immediately see Lizzie’s bloody head as it slumped to the ground, or Mika’s lifeless body as her sister clutched the knife. 

So why was she able to sleep so soundly just then?

“I’m sorry I slept that long,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

He shook his head. “Nah, ya needed it.”

“Do you want me to go on watch? Let you get some sleep?”

He shook his head. “Can’t sleep that much nowadays.” She frowned at that but he waved her off. “Ain’t nothin. Nothin’ really goin’ on around here anyway.”

She grabbed the can of beans and thanked him. “I’m guessing the herd’s not gone yet.”

He shook his head. “It’s thinned out, but we gotta stay here for the night.”

She nodded before smirking. “Not the worst place to be stuck in. We’ve got plenty of beds to choose from.”

He huffed and began to shove the beans in his mouth as if they were the cure. She leaned back onto the wall and began eating, but she couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face when she felt him lean against her shoulder again, just enough to be touching her. The tension between them had lessened considerably, and she allowed herself to enjoy the now comfortable silence between them as they continued to eat their meal. She was grateful for the progress they had made with their relationship but she knew he was still holding back from her. There was a deeper wall within himself that he still refused to let down, but she knew it wouldn’t work if she pushed him to talk about it. She had to wait till he was ready.

“Did I ever tell ya Merle was in a stripper pole contest?” Daryl said suddenly, jolting her out of her thoughts.

Her eyes widened and she smiled at him before following his gaze to the fire pole sticking out from the floor. Then she turned back to him. “No, but that doesn’t surprise me.”

Daryl chuckled. “Yeah. He uhh... got piss drunk one night while we was at a strip club with some o’ his friends. Wanted to join in on the lil’ stripper competition goin’ on for the customers who was there. He was the only one that did it o’ course cause he was drunk outta his goddamn mind, but it was fuckin’ hilarious to watch. Took off all his clothes n’ everythin’.”

“Oh god, why?” she said, laughing at the image of Merle’s drunkenly naked attempts at pole dancing. “Please tell me he kept his boxers on.”

“Ya mean his tighty whities? Yep,” he said with a smirk.

She burst out laughing and leaned onto her hand for support. “That’s so awful.”

He chuckled then. “He didn’t even remember the mornin’ after... wondered why he had so many $1 bills stuck inside his jeans.”

She snorted and had to carefully swallow her food to avoid choking. Then she bumped into his shoulder with a mischievous grin. “Why didn’t you go up there? I’m sure you would’ve gotten a lot more money.”

“Stop,” he said, though he couldn’t hold in the smirk as he tried to hide his blushing face.

Carol couldn’t help but smile at his adorable antics. She was so grateful that the awkward tension between them was continuing to vanish before her eyes, and all it took was for her reassurance that she wasn’t leaving him again. They were enjoying each other enough that if she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine herself back at the prison again, laughing with him at random memories or at someone who made a fool of themselves...

She began laughing again at a random thought. “Oh god, remember when Glenn got a hold of that bottle of wine from one of the runs back at the prison, and he wanted to prove to Maggie that he wasn’t a lightweight anymore?”

Daryl chuckled at first and was about to comment but he stopped himself, his smile slowly fading on his face as he was reminded that Glenn was no longer around. Soon, his demeanor sobered to the point of becoming tense, and he leaned against his elbows on his knees as he looked down towards his lap.

'God, why do I always fuck things up?’ she thought, cursing herself for ruining the fun mood.

She took a chance and placed her hand on his arm, relieved that he didn’t flinch away or tense up even more. Good, he still trusted her at least. She waited for a moment, rubbing small circles around his inner arm with her fingertips as she slowly felt the tension decline in his body.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I miss him too.”

Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say, for he shook off her hand and forced himself away from her and off the floor. She watched as he paced in front of her, the anger threatening to boil over, and she picked her shoelaces nervously, hoping he’d be able to calm down soon. She knew he was carrying a massive amount of guilt over Glenn’s death, but for him to reject her words spoke volumes at how much he was fighting it. He needed to release all of it before he got himself killed, but she didn’t know if he’d be able to. If he wasn’t able to willingly admit it to her, then whatever he was dealing with was very strong, and obviously tearing him up inside.

Every time he passed the bay window he’d look down, grimacing at the fact that there were still too many walkers down below to fight through. 

“We can’t,” she spoke softly, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “There’s too many of them. We have to wait.”

“We don’t got the time,” he growled.

“It’d be suicide, Daryl. Think about this...” she pleaded with him, sitting up on her knees.

He stopped pacing and leaned against the opposite wall, closing his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. She nodded instinctively at his actions, hoping that in a few minutes he'll be calmer and thinking more clearly.

His new, vengeful attitude had not gone unnoticed by her these past few weeks. It seemed like he was willing to do almost anything if it meant they would be one step closer to killing Negan. When Jesus told her about the raid at Oceanside, she was shocked that Daryl went along with Rick’s plan. But the Daryl she had been seeing lately wasn’t the one she truly knew and loved. This was one that had anger laced through his veins, wanting nothing more than to have Negan’s head on a spike. The one that refused to let anyone in the moment they hit a sore spot. This new Daryl scared her, not because she feared for her safety, but she was afraid this new change was permanent. This was why she was taking advantage of their isolation right now, not just because she missed how they were before, but to help him through his trauma. 

She didn’t want him to be consumed like she almost was.

The sound of an incoming vehicle got both of their attention, and Daryl crouched down as Carol grabbed her rifle from the wall. She looked through her scope and realized there were three vehicles heading down the road next to the fire station.

“Who?” he whispered.

After a moment she got a clearer picture, and her reaction gave him the answer. “Fuck!”

Daryl immediately went into action and grabbed his pack, pulling out his extra ammo as he grabbed his own, smaller rifle while keeping his crossbow at arm’s reach. But Carol kept looking at the cars and realized they weren’t slowing down, they were just passing by. They weren’t slowing at all in fact, and it made her wonder if this was one of their main roads they used from time to time. It would make sense since there were no supplies to grab in the station. Plus the only walkers within the building were on the ground floor due to the open garage door. It would make sense for them to drive on through without a care because they picked the town clean, so this could be a perfect place for another sneak attack later when they had more people and a plan together.

She turned towards Daryl and put her hands up. “Stop.”

He halted what he was doing but glared at her. “The fuck do ya mean stop?”

“They’re not stopping, they don’t know we’re here.”

“Exactly, give ‘em a surprise,” he said before beginning to ready his rifle.

“Daryl, no!” she persisted. “We’re severely outnumbered!”

“Do ya want those bastards walkin’ around n’ killin’ our family?!” he yelled.

“No, but I want us to be smart about it! Look, they’re heading towards the Sanctuary, not home!” she hissed. When he ignored her she continued. “I don’t want us to die trying to kill too many people without looking at the situation first.”

He shoved the clip into his rifle. “I’m tired of watchin’ everyone die cause we didn’t kill ‘em when we got the chance.”

He went to open the window but Carol was suddenly there in front of him with a good hold on his rifle. “Daryl please!”

He glared at her. “What the fuck happened to not standin’ back and doin’ nothin’?”

“I want to kill every single one of them as much as you do but-”

“No!” he barked, their faces inches from each other. “Ya don’t know a damn thing! Ya weren’t there to see ‘em die!”

“Daryl-”

“Ya weren’t there!” he repeated, his jaw clenched. “Ya ain’t the one who went after Dwight for killin’ Denise. Ya ain’t the one that forced Glenn ta chase after ya...” His voice was beginning to break. “Ya ain’t the one that got everyone captured n’ get yerself shot. Ya ain’t the one that acted out after Negan killed Abe, only to watch Glenn take the hit because ya couldn’t keep yer ass on the ground...”

Carol could feel his rifle shaking as his emotions getting the better of him. “It’s not yer fault.”

“It is!” he barked, choking through his emotions. “He got his head fuckin’ bashed in because o’ me, n’ I had to watch it happen! If I didn’t act out, Glenn woulda died n’ I wouldn’ta been fuckin’ thrown in a cage like some fuckin’ animal.”

Her eyes widened at his revelation. No one had told her he was imprisoned by Negan, only that Glenn and Abe were killed. How long was he there? How did he escape? What did they do to him? All those questions flashed through her mind but she knew this wasn’t the time. She could figure out the details later, but he needed her now more than ever.

"You didn’t deserve that,” she said, her grip on the rifle still strong.

“The fuck I didn’t,” he hissed, tears forming in his eyes. “Glenn didn’t deserve ta die like that. I did.”

“No!” she barked back. “Neither one of you deserved that. You’re not responsible for his death!”

He got right in her face then, anger radiating off of him, but she wasn’t afraid. She composed herself, getting ready to block the bottled up anguish he was about to unleash towards her. She could do this, for she had done it before.

“Ya think ya know it all don’t ya? Ya think ya can walk back into my life like nothin’ happened? Even after bein’ gone all this time, ya think ya still know everythin’? Ya don’t know shit! Ya left us, remember?” he growled. “Ya hightailed yer ass outta here cause ya couldn’t handle it. Ya jus’ love ta run from ya problems, don’t ya? Leavin’ us to fend for ourselves, disregardin’ how much it’d hurt me if ya did.” If he realized his slip up, he didn’t let on. “All ya could think ‘bout was yerself! What, ya thought that whatever the fuck happened to them girls at the prison made you special? Is that it? Ya thought the girls dyin’ on ya was worse than what anyone else went through?”

She winced and bit her tongue. She had to admit, that one stung. “It’s not your fault.”

He sneered at her attempts at absolving him and tried to yank the gun from her grasp. “Let go of the damn gun.”

“Why?” she barked, tears in her eyes. “So you can get killed in a firefight?” 

“So I can keep from anyone else from dyin’ because of me!”

“By sacrificing yourself?”

“I don’t fuckin’ care, as long as they’re all fuckin’ dead!”

“I care!” she barked, standing on her toes so that she could get close to his face. “I care Daryl. I don’t want you to die!” 

He stared back at her with wide eyes, almost like he was shocked at what she just said. He shook his head from her confession at first but she could tell his walls were starting to break down. 

“You’re the reason I came back Daryl,” she whispered. “I couldn’t sit back and let you die, not if I know I could’ve done something about it.”

He shut his eyes as the tears began to fall down his face, the rifle in their hands shaking almost violently from his nerves. So she slowly pulled the gun away from him and set it down on the floor before cupping his face. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is,” he whimpered, sobbing a few times.

“No,” she replied, calmly. “It’s not your fault.”

He choked back a sob. “It is.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”

“Don’t,” he said pitifully, his head lowering down. “I can’t...”

Soon she hugged his limp body to her, the Savior trucks long gone from view. “It’s not your fault, you hear me? I don’t fucking care what that bastard engrained in you, or what you keep telling yourself. You were not the one that swung the bat. You were not the one that lined everyone up and chose one to bash their head in in the first place. You were not the one that decided to kill Glenn when another had a natural reaction to his malice.” She lifted his chin just enough so that he could star into her eyes. “You did not kill Glenn, you hear me? It is Not. Your. Fault.”

He broke down in sobs then before dropping his head onto her shoulder. His legs began to give, so she helped him to the floor before holding his upper body in her arms as his grief began to overwhelm him. His hands clawed at her back almost desperately, trying to find the best hold as he threatened to tear her shirt open with his shaky hands.

“It’s okay, I gotcha Daryl,” she whispered softly in his ear. “It’ll be okay.”

She held him that way for a long time, carrying him through his intense grief that had threatened to destroy him. He no longer protested when she reminded him of his innocence every so often, and his body shook with strong emotions as he let go of his anguish in powerful sobs. She held him on the floor, letting him express his grief as he held onto her like he was afraid to fall off the ledge. Her stomach was in knots from her own grief. She knew he was hurting but she didn’t realize how bad until now, and she was grateful he was finally able to feel it. 

But her own pain was stirred up by his accusations, despite knowing the pain that caused them wasn’t about her. She knew he was only releasing all of the grief stuck in his body and she just so happened to be in the firing line. But his attacks struck a nerve within her, reminding her of her own demons that lay far beneath the surface.

But for now, she pushed her grief back down once more, pulling him in closer to her chest as his tears ran down her neck and shoulder.

#caryl #caryl fanfiction #caryl positivity #twd #carol peletier #daryl dixon

[high-fructose-lesbianism]

The 5 Best and 5 Worst songs from 2016’s Billboard Top 100 Singles

The 5 Best Singles

5. When We Were Young- Adele (#83)

Adele is always great. Lyrically, this isn’t necessarily one of Adele’s best efforts. Compared to some of her other songs, it can be a little clunky but saying that, it’s still fucking Adele. She’s a great songwriter, a better singer and always a breath of fresh air within the pop charts. 

4. I Hate U, I Love U- gnash ft. Olivia O’Brien (#38)

Apparently this is a bad song. I’m sorry for it being here. I will admit that once I learned what gnash looked like, I doubted his sincerity slightly more than when I was just going off the song. But gnash is the weaker part of the song and wholly secondary, the star here is Olivia O’Brien. She is a beautiful singer who manages to evoke emotion in her singing which I see increasingly rarely from these sort of upcoming female singers. I find that Olivia O’Brien seems to actually have an understanding of the lyrics she’s singing as opposed to either singing them slowly to sound sad or just doing unnecessary vocal runs. 

More and more I am finding emotional pop ballads come across flat for me. It’s something that I complain about with the 50′s charts and I find there’s a resurgence in this day and age. Increasingly more of these slow, indie ballads come off artificial or lacking any emotion at all. This one isn’t. Mostly due to the work of Olivia O’Brien, this is a song that not only sounds like the singers have a grasp of human emotion but it sounds personal. I am looking forward to hearing more from Olivia O’Brien because she has sincerity in her singing that I am finding increasingly scarce.

3. Ex’s and Oh’s- Elle King (#63)

This is a rechart from 2015 where it didn’t even make my shortlist but this year was worse so here it is, 3rd best song of the year. Admittedly it maybe should’ve made my shortlist in 2015. I do love me a maneater song.

More than that, I love some country music that sounds a little dirty and grungy. It’s all so clean and pretty usually. Both in subject matter and arrangement, this song is a bit grittier. It’s still definitely country-lite but the non-country influences here are rock as much as they are pop (and not at all rap) and these influences combine brilliantly to make a song about the promiscuity of Rob Schneider’s daughter.

2. Hello- Adele (#7)

Adele is better than you. She’s also better than every single indie upcoming artist who sings their songs at one quarter speed to evoke sadness. Adele doesn’t coast like that. Much as Adele’s voice is great technically, what makes her truly brilliant is her ability to inject every syllable of her lyrics with emotion. It is perhaps foolish to hope for sincerity coming from the pop charts but if songs that require sincerity are charting, I don’t think it’s too much too much to ask that they be sung by competent performers. Adele is so far beyond competent.

1. Sorry- Beyonce (#71)

The theme of my top list year seems to be a demand for sincerity and believability from the performers. Again, the pop charts are probably not the place to do this and I would make my life easier if I just enjoyed the work of Flo Rida or similar for whom sincerity is less of a problem. Sadly, I am pretentious. Luckily, Beyonce.

Lemonade is an amazing fucking album and “Sorry” is a great single to represent that album. This song is simultaneously intensely personal and yet remains relatable. In “Sorry”, Beyonce managed to walk the fine line of being a superstar and diva but also making music that speaks to her fans. It worked. This song is an inspiration, instead of Beyonce being so far removed from the average person’s life experiences, instead she comes across as an inspiration of what to do. When confronted with a cheating lover, Beyonce has given us not only a song to listen to during that hard time but an inspirational template of how to act.

This song is a bit of a slow burn, the first verse being rather discordant and impersonal and it just builds and builds in quality and personal details to the point that the last verse becomes the best individual verse of 2016.

The 5 Worst Singles

5. All In My Head (Flex)- Fifth Harmony ft. Fetty Wap (#93)

This is not a song I care about sincerity with. What I do care about is that this is a club song that you can’t dance to, nor is it a song about sex that you can fuck to. I just don’t see any occasion in which this song would work at.

Vocally, the members of Fifth Harmony are all over the place. Whoever is singing the second verse I find particularly grating. And then there’s Fetty Wap who I cannot make out a single word from. It really sounds like he stumbled in drunk and ruined their recording session but then they kept it in for some fucking reason (Presumably because he’s the only performer in this song who has any personality).

Lyrically, this song is repetitive. It only has the one verse and other than the brief, out of place interlude from Fetty Wap, that is the only thing to interrupt the bridge and chorus. The repetition of the verse makes one particular lyric stand out all the more-- “so tongue and cheek when we’re laying on roses.” What does that mean? That is not a sentence that makes sense and it drives me fucking mental. It sounded a lot like tongue-in-cheek which is confusing to begin with and they should’ve been aware of that when writing. Even now that I know it’s tongue and cheek, it’s a still a weak and borderline nonsensical lyric. I would’ve given it a pass if it was just one throw-away line in a verse but because the song repeats said verse, here we are. If you’re only gonna have one verse to your song, at least make all the lyrics half-decent. 

5. 7 Years- Lukas Graham (#12)

This song is insufferably arrogant. Saying that, I marked comparatively low because at least they were trying. Lukas Graham probably spent months perfecting this song and I respect their work ethic. Too bad that if anything “7 Years” is overwritten and overproduced. 

Again, my thing here is the sincerity. In this case I think the lack of it comes from how overwritten the lyrics are. Any seed of truth and raw emotion was left seven drafts behind. Now all we have is this obnoxious, soulless song that’s sung by a performer who not only hasn’t mastered how to apply emotion to his songs but also hasn’t mastered the basic art of singing. There is nothing redeeming about this song. It’s so arrogant and self-serving, not nearly as personal and emotional as they clearly think it is and the lead singer’s voice is insufferable. Lukas Graham can kindly fuck off back to Denmark.

3. Timmy Turner- Desiigner (#98)

Admittedly, “Timmy Turner” is acting as more of a poster child for the mumble-rap genre in general. I’m not a fan. It’s like the unholy mating of the inarticulation of crunk rap of 2004 and the lazy beats and general no-fun of the T-Pain-esque autotune 2008 era. 

These songs just sound lazy. Much as “7 Years” was overwritten, “Timmy Turner” could go through at least one more lyrical draft before they went into the recording studio. I don’t find the stream of consciousness style that these raps hold to be appealing, I find it lazy.

Of course, I’m sort of guessing that the lyrics are bad because I can understand so few of them. “Timmy Turner” and other mumble rap songs genuinely give me anxiety about the well-being of the performers both in the moment and in a long-term sort of way. The performers just sound so incredibly, dangerously intoxicated.

“Timmy Turner” had to become the poster child and 3rd worst song of the year because it most clearly expressed my overall problem with the mumble rap genre. Timmy Turner sounds like a party that’s not fun anymore. One of those parties where you’ve been there for hours and it’s now 4 in the morning and everyone’s gone from fun and lively drunk to sad/angry drunk and someone’s throwing up in the bathroom. That is what “Timmy Turner” sounds like, a party you regret not leaving hours sooner. The discussion and depiction of intoxication comes across as so bleak that I can’t see how anyone enjoys listening to this music.

2. Watch Me (Whip/ Nae Nae)- Silento (#88)

I will say, as bad as this year is, I find it reliving that this song is still second worst. As I said last year about “Watch Me”, this song is so bad it makes me miss Soulja Boy. That’s pretty much all I have to say on this issue.

1. Me Too- Meghan Trainor (#62)

On top of being obnoxious, this song is inexcusably lazy. Much as Rihanna’s Work is also a pretty lazy song, Rihanna’s been doing this 10 years now and is allowed to phone one in. This is only Meghan Trainor’s second album and fifth major single. You can’t afford to get this spectacularly lazy with your output so early in the game. For fuck’s sake, the beat sounds like noises you make with your mouth to amuse a child. None of Trainor’s vocal talent is on display and in place we have obvious rhymes and an instrumental chorus that’s more sad than it is catchy or danceable. Not only am I confused why this is a song, but why the fuck was this a single? Was this seriously one of the notable tracks on her new album? If singles are supposed to be advertisements for the album as a whole, this is a terrible one because the thought that this is one of the strongest songs from said album is terrifying. This song should’ve been like track 10 on a 12 track album, one of the filler tracks. Much as this song never should have been recorded, it sure as hell should never have been released as a single. This song is embarrassing and I hope Meghan Trainor and everyone else associated with it feel embarassed every day about its existence.

Other Observations on this List

Like 2016 in general, this top 100 was bad and made me sad

I’d like to take a moment of silence for some songs that should’ve been top 100 hits but weren’t

Lazarus- David Bowie (or any and all given songs from Black Star)

Formation- Beyonce (or any additional songs from Lemonade)

The Greatest- Sia ft. Kendrick Lamar (Sia’s better single of the year)

Either Equal Rights (ft. P!nk) or Finest Girl (Bin Laden Song) by The Lonely Island (because we’ve had viral comedy hits chart before and holy shit, “Finest Girl” is the funniest thing)

WTF (Where They From) ft. Pharrell Williams- Missy Elliott

Genghis Khan- Miike Snow (in a better year, this would’ve been a sleeper hit that became song of the summer)

As I sort of mentioned, mumble rap was the most defining genre of the year

If I had not already been through this, I would be worried about the direction pop music is going because I really don’t like the mumble rap. But like the terribleness that was 2008-era autotune rap, this too shall pass

Other than mumble rap, there was a lot of slow, emotional R&B or acoustic songs of which I did not buy the sincerity

Perfect is One Direction’s best single and that kind of bums me out because Zayn was my favourite member of One Direction and this was released after he left

I still can’t believe we’re letting The Chainsmokers have a career

I don’t like 21 Pilots. I don’t understand the appeal.

#mary dabbles in music criticism #long post

[ecotone99]

[RF] The Rain, the Train, James and His Pain

James' head lay rested sideways on the window, gazing out ahead with sleepy half-opened eyes, half drunk and still a bit giddy, as landscapes swept by in a dark black blur of motion, staring at his semi-opaque reflection created by the garish overhead lights of the carriage, half hearing the background rhythmic rattle over the rails, the crashing of rain into the cold glass, half paying attention to the feeling of relief that he was now out of the downpour and on his way home. The last train.

​

To get to the station, he'd had to trudge fast up a steep hill for ten minutes in the freezing cold. His clothes and hair were saturated, and he hated the feeling of being waterlogged. No sooner had he boarded the train, he stripped down, removing his coat, jumper, shoes and trousers, folding his jumper into a pillow to rest his head against the window and placing his sock-clad feet on the radiator below - a feature he was immediately grateful for. James imagined all of the water in his heated socks evaporating into the air, freeing him from the oppression of wetness.

​

It had been a well-deserved rough couple' nights out with his small group of friends, and tonight was the best. Being cooped up in his flat for the past two months, working weekdays at his accountancy job and studying for an open-access psychology course on the weekends, was making him lonely and killing him with boredom. Accountancy was good for paying the bills, but he hated it. His boss had been grilling him recently about the time-executions of certain projects, and he'd started taking anti-depressants to deal with the stress.

​

But these past couple' nights were different. He'd had a wild time and genuinely enjoyed himself. Within just two days, James had; taken MDMA in the evening before they hit the clubs, been playfully snogged by his friend Jane on the dancefloor, got into a mini fight with some posh dude in the smoker's garden, laughed his arse off, boogied madly like there was no tomorrow, had at least seven deep conversations about life, puked up in the girl's bathroom (after he mistakenly entered it), and, maybe most importantly, met a cute girl who gave him her number.

​

James had been lonely for a long time, and he was extremely excited by the prospect of getting to know someone and to introduce some intimacy into his life. He was a deep person who craved connection, and shallow one-nighters weren't really his thing. Plus, he was too tipsy and verging on a Mandy comedown.

​

After tomorrow's Bank Holiday, his small respite will be over and back to his drab routine. James pondered these things, looking over the events of the past few days, weeks and then months, trying to piece it all together.

​

He turned away from the window for a second and poked his head over the chair in front of him. As he suspected, the coach was empty. He was pretty sure the train was empty. He'd gotten quite a few last trains in his time, and there was usually only one or two people max. He was so tired and therefore grateful for the absence of company. All he wanted to do was get back to the warm comfort of his small flat, relinquish himself from his soggy clothes, hang them up and don his fluffy dressing gown, make himself a hot brew then get some long-coveted sleep watching something on Netflix. This got him thinking about the concept of cosiness. He was such a deep person that, even half-drunk and sleepy, he liked to think. After all, there was nobody else there, and he couldn't fall asleep in case he missed his stop. He couldn't even set an alarm on his phone to wake him, because it had run out of battery in the club. This meant that there was only him and his thoughts for half an hour.

​

In his life, James had experienced quite a few 'cosy' moments; moments where he felt safe, warm, relaxed, content, wholesome, like himself. Moments on Christmas, sat in front of the fireplace with his younger cousin, extending marshmallow-bearing sticks into the flickering red. "Lazy days", listening to music and making toasted cheese sandwiches. Moments with friends, eating junk food in bed, wrapped up like a caterpillar in duvet, watching movies. Moments of loving hugs from a warm uncle, and cathartic conversations about life and his relationship with his mother. Moments like these, sat alone on the train, reflecting on life and past experiences, away from the rest of the world - a moment of peace amidst the war of life; the eye of the storm.

​

And suddenly and unexpectedly, a stream of silent tears fell down his face.

​

James couldn't remember the last time he felt happy. It seems like fleeting moments in his dreams are all that is left of him and his past.

​

He'd pondered how he'd got to the isolated wasteland that is his life so many times it felt like going around in circles, but now something new had come into his life; his perspective had changed and subsequently been enhanced. Something he couldn't see before had peered from the hidden periphery into plain view. Before, when he constantly told himself he was lonely with a level of ironic distance, now he truly felt sad about it. It was a spontaneous wish of his mind that granted him the capacity to be gentle to himself for once in years, and with it came some mature hope of redemption with the arrival of the cute girl he met a couple of days ago.

​

He wasn't about to kid himself he would marry this woman, or that it would last, but it was something to hold on to for the time being. The thought that there could be a visitor inside the concrete-painted-over-with-cheap-cream four walls of his flat, that there would be someone to share the experiences of daily life with, was imminently and vividly coming into focus.

​

It was clear she was very into him, staring deeply into his eyes since the first day they met. Even before the drinking started, the lite conversation was bustling with potential, reciprocating many of the same problems, and finding in her a willingness to get close. After the second day, maybe it was fate, they found each other again in the club.

​

She said clubs aren't usually her thing and she doesn't go often. Her friends are more sociable and "into it" than her, but she doesn't mind a bit of fun every now and then. She was training to be a doctor, and was just as lonely as he was.

​

In a way, he felt like a fraud. There was her studying alone with her small band of friends, following the hero's path of becoming a doctor, and there he was, a lowly accountant. Offered a job at an early age due to his excellent grades in maths, he proceeded to specialise in mortgages for the next three years and work at a small firm for low pay. He was able to negotiate up his wages, but at the cost of his boss's patience. Even though he did the dog work. But what else had he done with his life really? He couldn't even drive yet. He had a reasonable excuse: he didn't need to drive because his office was only a 10-minute walk away from his flat, and he wasn't made of money, but he felt like people still looked down on him for it regardless.

​

He hadn't felt this way about any girl since secondary school, and in any case, this was a different sort of feeling than the bottomless obsession of those days. He wasn't about to carve her into his dreams, or cry about her to a million Owl City songs and dance with a broomstick pretending it was her. All he would do is have her in the back of his mind, and her number kept safely in his pocket.

​

Thinking about this, eyes still watery, pixelating the contents of the carriage, he reached for his wet trousers and plunged his hand into the soggy pocket. He pulled out the small paper note she had written her number on with a biro and tore it by accident in the process; but that didn't matter: the rain had washed away the ink.

submitted by /u/20-StarStrategy [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2CkwfUe

#Blogger #Story

[ellescharacters]

ALMA /   60s  / open occupation open fc difficulty to fit in a wanted ad: mid

former war correspondent

got shot at in her mid 30s. got pulled out from the field and became a regular reporter - was pissed af about it

would make you look like a fool on tv in front of millions of people. also sit outside your office every day for as long as it takes for you to talk to her/answer her questions

in her early 30s she met a war doctor while abroad and the two had a kid they gave up for adoption 

met her husband in her mid/late 30s. got married. had kids.

idk what happened to the husband yet but.....

she was EXCITED AF to be living alone and have all of her children out of the house. she was ready to enter her silver years ya know? she spent her whole life dedicating herself either to her job or her kids and she never had a chance to kind of stop and say “who is alma?”. so she was ready to re-discover herself. maybe start taking painting lessons. travel... go on a cruise! why not! and then for w/e reason her grandkids (early 20s) had to move in with her and fuck!!!!!!!!! she loves them so much but fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

honestly will only bring her to the site if ppl will play her grandkids 

open /  late 50s or early 60s  / scientist  jeff goldblum  difficulty to fit in a wanted ad:  mid

parents had a lot of money. parents lost all of their money.  

he’s chill and hardworking af and actually doesn’t mind taking a step back and hearing other people’s ideas etc etc.... but people can be so incompetent oh my gdo!!!!!!!! it drives him up the wall

he’s probably a computer scientist / programmer 

twice or trice divorced

kind.......... of a neglectful dad tbh 

honestly will likely only bring him if i can have a couple pre-establish connections like his kids, friends, enemies, etc

VENETIA / 30s

PERSONALITY TRAITS: Venetia hates the idea of being average/ordinary, and has always she come off as this interesting girl who has a bunch of life experience (and she does, in a way) but in the end, she really is just /a girl/. her whole life is pretty much her showing the world how she wants to be perceived even though she’s a total lie herself. she tells at least 5 lies every day to make herself seem more interesting. 

POSSIBLE OCCUPATION: designer, waitress, bartender, gossip reporter, actress, burlesque dancer, flight attendant, model

Wendy / late 20s or 30s

PERSONALITY TRAITS: wendy was raised by hippie parents which... my god, she doesn't hate them but she also can't stand to be around them. wendy is: hardworking, sociable, guarded, liar, lonely, romantic, deep down a good person she’s just so stuck and wants more out of her life

POSSIBLE OCCUPATION: secretary, hotel maid, gossip journalist 

Genevieve (martha’s sister?)/ late 20s or early 30s / 

PERSONALITY TRAITS: a+ friend, romantic, outgoing, optimist, determined, dedicated, a little obsessive especially when it comes to romantic relationships. seriously wants a relationship she’s 100% in love with the idea of love and being with someone forever and she’s not ashamed of this at all. 

POSSIBLE OCCUPATION: editorialist, pediatric surgeon, art restorer, curator, pharmacist, radio personality, engineer, baker, restaurant owner

JOSIE /  early/mid 20s  / probs waitress or cashier probably  freya mavor idk difficulty to fit in a wanted ad:   low-mid

sociable, romantic, adventurous, impulsive, privileged, naive, kind, fun, brave, self-centred.

rich kid who threw a fit and walked out and has been living as a “”poor”” person for at least 7 months now. she started dating a boy she met at work and moved in with him and they are v happy in their shitty little apartment............ and he doesn’t know she’s rich but when he finds out he’s going to feel extremely played and like the whole thing is just a game to her. it’ll be angsty. they’ll break up but ~love will win~...... but it’ll be hard.

she’s not a bad person she’s just very privileged and so... clueless and naive about how the world actually works? also young, which... just adds more fuel to the fire lmao

*MALENA / 28-36 / bartender probably kate mara or krysten ritter  difficulty to fit in a wanted ad:  mid 

walking shit-show and i love her for it... a lot dont tho and i don’t blame them

has gone grocery shopping wearing her pjs under some oversized coat at some point. drunk girl in the bathroom who compliments you and tries to (poorly) braid your hair. queen of unprompted defensiveness. vice-president of the casual self-deprecating jokes club. uncertified sucker for the underdog. board games & bar games afectionado. spends way too much time on the "diy" section of youtube. wine AND vodka aunt. creative curser. not an excellent cook but makes the best burgers you'll taste in your life - also pancakes, in under 8 minutes. walking library of quick/lazy meals. low-key vague personification of "I can't wait for my friends to start getting married bc the idea of getting trashed on champagne, hitting on everyone and making speeches while two people I love commit to a life of monogamy is a strong one". has -0 idea of what she's doing and no idea how she feels about it.  

has like 4 half-siblings and 2 step-siblings and doesn’t get along with any of them bc that’s malena 4 you.

(one of her step-siblings is actually her half-sister NOT her step-sister bc malena’s dad and her step/half-sister’s mom were banging each other while they were still married. she doesn’t know this yet but regardless it’s fine everything is FINE)

( listen... malena’s relationship with her step/half-sister is actually deeply tragic to me and i adore both of them dearly - the  step/half-sister has known the truth for a couple years now but kept it to herself because she’s that kind of person - she’s good to the core and she’s been carrying this secret all by herself. she’s been trying very hard to have a relationship with malena ... sadly malena isn’t being very helpful. )

malena worked as an assistant to a wedding planner for two years. didn’t hate it. nobody believes it and she doesn’t particularly care.

genuinely good, kind, and nonjudgmental people are people malena low-key admires and looks up to. if one of them becomes her friend, she’ll literally fight for them if it comes down to it. honestly malena’s self-preservation is very very high so when she does let someone in she’s 1000% ride or die for them. 

people have the tendency to just.... open up to her / talk to her and she doesn’t know why!!!!!!!!!!!! she doesn’t even ask them anything she’s not even nice !!!!!!!!!!!! stop this nonsense!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! bc then she starts low-key getting invested

she always feels the need to defend/prove herself. basically, she never learned how to express herself in a healthy/normal way. she misjudges people's intentions and words more often than she should, but she's always so worried about protecting herself that she can't help it. also she has pretty impulsive knee-jerk reactions when it comes to any kind of abuse/bullying.

malena isn't a commitment-phobe; she's a repressed hopeless romantic in denial and she's been that way all her life but she only started truly realising it a couple of years back. she low-key wants to be showered in love and be able to love someone like that in return, but she's cultivated an image of herself that's incompatible with this. she has always worn her individualism as a kind of weapon and she’s conditioned to associate backtracking with weakness, so, yeah, she's been struggling with living for herself as opposed to the image people have of her.

i'm sure she's still on good terms/friends with some of the people she's gotten involved with in the past because she really isn't a petty person in this regard. (pseudo-)exs on good terms, (pseudo-)exs on bad terms, messy relationships, flings, something else entirely... i'm open to all things. 

literally every relationship or pseudo relationship she’s been in has been a shit show. often comical. still a shit show.  (like that time she dated a guy who was in a long distance relationship and he literally forgot he had a gf. or that time she got involved with some sort of bruce wayne wannabe. or that time she dated a violinist - violinists have.. issues stay tf away from them. or that time she dated an indie movie director who was an absolute mess of a person. fun fucking times!!!!!!)

started sleeping with her boss and may or may not have feelings for him.......... and he just found out he has a kid from an ex ....... a 13 year old kid..........please kill her

*EVELYN /  late 30S or 40S  / actress probably amy adams or rose byrne if she’s not taken difficulty to fit in a wanted ad: mid-high

was adopted around age 10 by some rich couple who really only adopted so they could get extra brownie points within their circle of friends…… but they didn’t want to adopt a baby because that’s just too much work ya know? this doesn’t mean that evelyn wasn’t loved because she was - she is - and honestly her parents never demanded any more or less of her than they did of their other biological children. her brother(s) often joke that she’s actually the favourite child because she never had a rebellious phase and she’s always been extremely appreciative of her parents.

(she has a sister who is 5 years younger - they were put up in dif foster homes and... it’s complicated. evelyn could have fought for being closer to her sister but didn’t, primarily because she was told her sister had a better chance of getting adopted - especially if she was lone. they haven’t seen each other in over two decades if my math is correct)

took like, a bunch of extracurricular yet somehow never fucking learnt how to swim

very polite and politically correct, one of those people with perfect posture. pleasant to be around but doesn’t socialise or share a lot about herself and her life which can really make her seem either fake and/or stuck-up and/or too serious -  actually just very shy by nature.

she’s often misunderstood by people who don’t know her well, or by journalists who don’t actually take the time to sit down and talk to her.

some people probably think she bought her career but 1) her parents are rich, snobbish, and pretentious but they literally couldn’t care less about the entertainment industry tbh & 2) they’d never buy their children a career bc they believe that if you want something you work hard to get it  

her career is a mixture of amy adam’s and jessica chastain’s.

the parts she picks are all very carefully chosen (and lbh when she first started she could afford to do this bc it’s not like she had to worry about money even tho her parents weren’t exactly supporting her). she probably started being credited in movies while she was still at college, but they were very small parts. it took her a long time to break-out because did a lotttt of theater at first but the parts she picked were always those small/supporting roles you know will lead you to the big ones one day and that’s exactly what happened. for those who didn’t follow her career she seemingly just.... showed up out of nowhere and jumped straight into the spotlight but she was like 32 when this happened and already had several movies under her belt.

her fiancé cheated on her one time and it’s a whole ordeal bc everyone has a god damn opinion about it but it’s... complex. the cheating was obviously all his fault but there was a lot of miscommunication happening and now... now she’s the one not cooperating. it’s very angsty and there’s lots of ups and downs and very happy moments and extremely sad moments (and they might end up taking a break at some point) and everything is a thousand times worse when your life is splashed in the front page of magazines. they do love each other very much, and that kind of makes everything worse. i have a whole plot written for it lmao

*GAVIN / MID OR 30S / firefighter or cook or smth else open fc difficulty to fit in a wanted ad:   mid

As a kid Gavin had a massive attitude problem and serious unresolved issues, but once he was determined to get over them he never looked back.

He was never a genuinely bad person, it’s just that the environment in which he was raised, especially in his teens, gave him a very wrong idea of how a person, especially a boy from his social class, should go about in the world and conditioned him to act in a certain way. Even if he did help around the house a lot (honestly he was kind of a fiona gallagher in a way) he was raised (not by his family in particular but the community as a whole) with a very stereotypical notion of what boys are supposed to act like. I don’t think he ever thought too much of it, if it was right or wrong or just plain backyards thinking, it was just his reality.

He went through three decisive moments which essentially shaped his life. The first one was his mother’s death, he was around 7 and he processed it the way a young boy raised in the environment he was raised in would, plus he had a slightly older brother and it was easy to just follow his footsteps. Close as they were, their bonding was often over the wrong things or in the wrong way, and while they were already close as young children after their mother’s death they became even closer and that was also the time they started taking the art of being troublemakers to another level.

The second one was not going to college. He made it there, and on a scholarship (and he was a year younger than most of his peers and all because he got into high school a year earlier), but pretty much blew that and just walked away back home. For a while, particularly while he was trying to get his shit together, this was a part of his past that deeply disturbed him and he beat himself up about it constantly but eventually he reached the conclusion that stupid as his actions were they got him where he is, so he sort of feels like it just had to happen.

The third one was his eldest brother’s death. He died in a bar fight, or more accurately after it, and Gavin was there and he was involved. His brother’s passing really made him go off the deep end - extremely bad decisions were made during that time and a couple of those landed him in juvie. Even though that’s obviously not a good thing to have on your CV, or to just share with anyone let’s be honest, it truly the only time in his life where he seriously acted out, crashed, and then was able to evaluate himself, and angry as he was when he initially got there, being surrounded by people who had done worse things than him only made him realize that their situations and futures weren’t things he wanted for himself - they weren’t things he wanted to conform himself to.

Easier said (or thought) than done, however. He didn’t have any money of his own when he got out, nor did he have proper support, and on top of all of the things he had left on hold prior to going to juvie his half-sister also started getting herself into serious trouble. It’s not easy to get out of the place in which he was raised, either you’re lucky or risk it all or the circumstances just aren’t in your favor and no one is really rooting for you. He had some street debts to pay (both his and his brother’s), he had actual bills to help paying… it just wasn’t a good situation.

So he got a job and spent years just trying to do what he had to do to get people off his back (and it was around during this period that he started cooking at one of his jobs in a shitty joint). When he was 22/23 he nearly landed himself in jail because of his half-sister - at that point she was really young, she didn’t have a record and he didn’t want her to mess up her life so early on and potentially in such a permanent manner. Luckily he got away with community service (and his service included working with food). His half-sister apologized to him a lot, and she was thankful, but she didn’t really do anything to change her behavior. This whole affair was essentially his final drop; he was absolutely done with that whole environment and his situation, and he realised that he needed to go elsewhere, do or try something else, because if he stayed as much as he wanted to turn his life around it wasn’t going to happen.

Currently lives with a coworker but for a while he lived with an old acquaintance who used to be extremely close to his eldest brother (and by extremely close I mean, more than friends extremely close) and who was still up to his old tricks but he was very welcoming and didn’t bother Gavin in the least. Plus they had opposite schedules which Gavin found perfect because for most of the time he felt like the place was his alone (which was extremely important because it gave him time and space to develop and better himself as an individual).

He’s just a guy living his life not thinking too much about things or worrying about the future. He doesn’t trust easily though and he’s often suspicious of people’s intentions. 

PS: low-key really want a “we had a crappy blind date and ended up just having sex and it’s been about a month and i just got a text from u and wait what you’re pregnant??” plot for him

*ELEANOR / MID 30S / radio show host or uni professor, probs  both tbh   probably gemma arterton or olivia munn  if she’s not taken difficulty to fit in a wanted ad:   mid

"Sunday morning with a slight hangover in the gym with no makeup on.... not going to get off this treadmill but I am considering putting my sunglasses on." that’s the eleanor #mood

if hogwarts was real, she'd have been sorted into slytherin (which is obvs a v important detail).

she's the legal guardian of her niece and nephew. she had a twin sister who died she and her husband nominated her as legal guardian of the kids - she's still learning how to handle/process this. 

(she... never liked being a twin, she actually hated it and she and her twin lead every different lives, but now that her twin is gone it’s... it’s odd and she’s dealing with it the best she can. she feels guilty in a way even tho she obvs knows their death was not her fault in any way)

she’s force of nature; a very well presented cocktail of audacity, resourcefulness, energy, and confidence. she likes to think she's just staying in her lane doing her thing but she's def likes to know what's going on and if you ask for her opinion you're certainly going to get an honest answer ¯\_(ツ)_/.

honestly she totally is a "when life gives you lemons...." person: sociable, determined, headstrong, practical, outgoing, super confident, unapologetic... she can be kind of selfish and pig-headed sometimes, and she does have trouble backing away from challenges... those are two of her big flaws. she doesn't like to depend on anything or anyone and she's afraid of investing in things that will lead nowhere

when she was a teen she occasionally often made questionable life choices... altho lbh she still does, although not as often and probably not as questionable.

she's engaged (i don't know exactly how long it's been, but it hasn't been over four years), but she's definitely dated/seen other people in the past. her current relationship aside, she likely was never in any long-term/serious relationships, but if you have ideas feel free to share because honestly i live for pre-established character connections and #drama/angst.   

*VALENTINA / mid30S / idk  probably diane guerrero if she’s not taken difficulty to fit in a wanted ad:   mid

a bit of a shy child, her parents immigrated to wales when she was 6. struggled a lot but never once complained - she was young, but old and skewed enough to realize that if her parents were leaving so much behind it was out of necessity not desire.  

her younger sister was only one year old when the family moved to wales (so she grew up surrounded by english culture and fully embracing it - way too much, at times), her older brother, who got to spend his 9th anniversary in a small and damp house surrounded by no friends and family other than his parents and sisters, gave their parents a very hard time by becoming moody and picking fights.

unlike many middle children, valentina didn't suffer from middle child syndrome - she didn't have the time to, anyway. when she wasn't struggling with her social life and the english language, she spent her time devouring books, cautiously exploring the city, taking care of her sister, and making sure her brother stayed out of trouble (and, later on, making sure that her sister stayed out of trouble as well).

her father died when she was 15 - he'd been feeling ill for a couple months, but it was a shock all the same. valentina and her brother had been arguing a lot then (for a variety of, primarily mundane, reasons) and their father's passing only made it worse.

with her husband's death, valentina's mothes decided that she owned it to his memory to be a little braver - life is short after all - and about a year later she ended up meeting a guy who............. was not.............. a good person...................... but he was comfortable in life and she liked him and she thought he could help her give her children an education etc etc etc

it started with microaggressions and then not so micro ones and the next thing she knew her brother was getting smacked for lack of respect. it wasn't the first nor the last time it happened, and at one point or the other everyone got to experience what the palm of his hand felt like against their cheek or the feeling of his long fingers wrapping tightly around their arm - she got her first bruise for speaking spanish. 

her brother’s girlfriend at the time was an absolute angel who helping out and with the help of her family they managed to have him kicked out in Easter. valentina's brother's girlfriend and her family offering their own house as a place for them to stay for as long as they wish.    

anyway she goes to college and she’s ends up studying abroad for a while and on her first day back, she walks into her home and is greeted by a man she's never seen before - her sister popping up from the kitchen with a smile, casually and cheerfully explaining the situation. valentina knows, even before she puts her bag down, that this will end poorly. he sounds charming at first but she's met charming men like him before, and when she asks him to leave it's when he starts showing his true colours (she's not shocked in the least but she is, in a way, surprised that he put up such a poor fight and that it took so little time for him to snap). she ends up with a black eye and a bruised cheek, he ends up in the hospital. her sister promises her it was the last time.

her current job as a diplomat is one she loves - she had a good mentor too, which helped - but she never dreamed that she'd end up where she is today - she could never have, it was a dream that was so unfathomable it never even existed - and even though she has always worked hard she never even worked to have the life she has, not exactly. she never did anything with any goals in particular in mind. her only goals were always to make her parents proud and not to become a statistic.  

optional: she’s in an unofficial love/hate relationship with either a journalist or another diplomat from another country and it’s.... complicated and angsty af

FRANK /  30s  / late night show host open fc difficulty to fit in a wanted ad:   low

all i have so far for him is that he is a late night show host. think trevor noah. probably was a voice actor at some point (or still is)

don’t have a lot for him so if im bringing him onto the site i def need to fit him in a specific plot

Owen /  idk  / idk open fc 

there was never anything special about owen, and (although it often made him jealous that his brother was more outgoing and less anxious) - he was just a regular middle class boy and he never felt the strong desire to be any other way. 

when he was in junior year he got into a car accident with his brother - the two were arguing about something stupid and the car swerved off the lane. since then, owen lives with chronic back-pain and his demeanor has changed significantly. he’s less approachable and more grumpy, in addition, he dropped out of college because of his anxiety which is something he’s very ashamed off. 

"eliza” (might switch to  a male character) /  idk  / idk open fc

✈ eliza was brought up in lower-class family in a lower middle class neighborhood. her childhood wasn’t crappy, her parents weren’t abusive, and she always had clean clothes and food on the table (sometimes it was hard, and the family certainly didn’t splurge, but her basic necessities were almost always met). neither of her parents finished college - her father dropped out and her mother didn’t even make it to college because her family didn’t have enough money to put her through it.

✈ eliza’s father, brian, is a first generation immigrant, her mother, karen, was born and raised in colorado. the two went to the same high school and that’s where they met and dated for a solid year before breaking up. they reconnected later (when they were in their mid 20s) at a mall where eliza’s mother was waiting tables and her father worked as a security guard. the truth about eliza's parents is that they clung to one another: the don’t hate each other, but they don’t love each other either, they never did. they stayed together primarily out of fear and concern that nothing better would come along - because it was convenient. they’re both people who could have gotten much further in life than what they did and, in many aspects, this is one thing that has always deeply bothered eliza. they never tried, they never pushed themselves, they never did anything for things to go any other way than the way they did. their conformism and apathy are two things eliza has always detested, and a part of her still holds this against them.

✈ growing up, eliza was very aware that she didn’t look like most people around her. in both pre-school and middle-school she was the only multiracial child. throughout her early years and teenage-hood comments and questions about, primarily, her eyes and parents were heard often - some innocent and curious, others less so. she’s not a stranger to maliciousness, bullying, and the direct consequences of ignorance, and saying that none of it never effected her would be a lie. her different looks and lack of monetary means always made her feel like she was at a disadvantage and she often felt jealous of her classmates and friends - of both their looks and possessions. not feeling comfortable to discuss these thoughts and feelings with anyone, eliza got used to process them by herself. this is something she still does to this day - she’ll seldom ask for one’s advice or input, and if she does, it’s because she truly values it. slowly and steadily, she began to use her insecurities as both a shield and a weapon - as ways of motivating her to move forward in her life, change what she could and make peace with what she couldn’t.

✈ her parents were extremely proud when she was accepted to not one but three medical schools. she was glad but their pride didn't feel like much. she didn't do it for them or with their help, it was all by her for her (besides, her father's inability to get an education and honor his parents efforts to pursue a better life is something that has never sit well with eliza, so his opinion concerning her education isn't one she ever valued a lot). money was a real concern but eliza took care of that all by herself as well: her good grades granted her a partial scholarship and throughout her years as as student she kept a job or two (even in summers). it wasn't easy, but nothing ever came easy to eliza, she never relied on easy - she was focused and determined and she knew exactly what she had to do to get where she wanted to.

✈ while eliza has always felt like she's the only person in control of her life, she's also always been well aware that, as a child and teenager, she was never someone who could afford to dwell on options and choose whatever she fancied the most. she either took what came along and made the most of it, or had to stay objective and practical. choosing to study medicine was a combination of all of those. it was practical, she didn't dislike it, it gave her good career prospects, and it was also an homage to her paternal grandparents - her grandfather was a doctor before he immigrated and her grandmother always talked about she wanted to have become a 'brain doctor'. while eliza's grandfather died when she was very young, eliza's grandmother kept all of his notebooks and she took great pleasure in going through them with her granddaughter.

✈ eliza’s main motivation growing up (and, perhaps, even today) was to not turn out like her parents. she doesn’t even consider what they have an actual life because, as far as she’s concerned, they’re exiting and not actually living. it’s frustrating for her, it has always been, especially because their decisions didn’t just affect their own lives but also hers (ie: she could have gone to better schools, lived in a better house, tried different hobbies, etc etc etc). in addition, even though they never accomplished anything significant and are the epitome of conformism, they often feel entitled to have opinions and pass judgment that eliza simply doesn’t tolerate. for instance, they often question her parenting (even before her daughter was born they already questioned whether or not she'd make a good mother, and they still grind her gear about her "handing over" the majority custody to her ex) and they were very vocal about their disapproval of her marriage, and what eliza hates the most and has trouble living with is that almost everything they said happened. (there are times where she finds herself wondering if they were right, not about the obvious things, like that she married too fast, but the little ones, like that deep down she said yes because just like them, scared that nothing better - or nothing at all - will come along.)

✈ she was 27, a surgical resident, and already a mom when she got her right hand's fingers stuck in a car's door. she broke three and ended up with nerve damage that prevents her from making specific gestures with a steady hand. so that, was the end of that. the injury rarely impacts her daily life unless she's like, trying to eat with chopsticks or has to sew something up. she's gotten used to doing a lot of things with her non-dominant hand though. 

✈ while defensive and often assertive, eliza isn't someone who likes to argue. it exhausts her beyond words and makes her relive her teenage years and the necessity to always defend and stand up for herself. while she was brought up in a house where it was almost always quiet, she spent a large portion of her early years listening to other people - primarily neighbors - arguing day and night. in addition, at college she shared an apartment with five very loud people who were always squabbling among themselves or with their significant others, which deeply irritated her. when it comes to her home environment and her relationships, she likes them calm and honest. discussions are to be thoughtful and polite, but if you get her going (and especially if you raise your voice to her) it'll turn out poorly - she doesn't back down, it's stronger than her.  

[deleted] MOIRA /  late 40s  /  head of the foreign desk LUCY LIU IF SHE’S NOT TAKEN   difficulty to fit in a wanted ad:   mid

war correspondent

got shot at

not a war correspondent anymore just a regular reporter

pissed af about it

will make you look like a fool on tv in front of millions of people

will be sitting outside your office every day for as long as it takes for you to talk to her/answer her questions

years ago (like, 20 smth) she met a war doctor while abroad and the two had a kid they gave up for adoption

honestly will likely only bring him if i can have a couple pre-establish connections like his the child she gave up for adoption, her ex, a mutual dislike with like a colleague or a politician, etc

NEAL /  mid or late 30S / hockey or football player probably manish dayal if he’s not taken

neal was born to an average middle class family and has two younger sisters. his mom’s a canadian maths teacher and his dad was an english cardiac surgeon who passed away when he was around ten.

he has dual citizenship which is…….. nice

one of his sisters is married and they’re relatively close, the other one got involved in a lot of bad things when she was a teen and it seems that no matter how much help the family provides she can’t move past her issues. neal’s sisters haven’t been in touch with each other for a handful of years now. even though his eldest sister’s decision to cut ties with their younger sister bothered him greatly, he too ended up sort of doing the same thing a couple years down the road when she cleaned his apartment of any valuables. she stills calls asking for money occasionally, which is… complicated.

about two years ago his mom started dating a grandpa she met in aerobics class. he finds the whole thing really weird and vaguely disturbing but just rolls with it.

neal finds that it’s important to have aspirations and goals but it’s even more important to roll with whatever the universe throws at you. life’s weird and ends too soon, the world’s a mess; don’t overthink things, just make the most of your time while you’re here.

he’s definitely not afraid of confrontation but he has no interest in nor patient for it - life’s too short for it in his opinion. he’s that guy that really doesn’t want to get into a fight but then his friend starts it and he’s like “god damn it” and he sticks by their side

he’s not loyal to a fault tho.  

even though she’s a very carefree, jovial, and relaxed person, he started to feel the weight of having responsibilities at a very young age (essentially since his father got sick), so he does get weirdly/crazy responsible and all grown-up when it comes to family and work matters, and he can be a bit of a dad with his close friends at times.

that said, he cares… but selectively so, which leads to him acting a little bit like a dick sometimes. he just has a “live and let live” attitude, buckets of self-esteem, and has never been one to spend too much time being sad or mulling things over.

he’s not one to chase after people: if you tell him “no”, he’s not going to hear “win me over”, he’ll literally just be like “k, cheers” and move on.

he’s only been truly in love once and she ended things out of the blue because she couldn’t handle his schedule and exposure & was afraid of commitment. it was gr8!!!!!!!!! totally did not fucking gut him!!!!!!

he’s someone who would really like to settle down for real but at the same time he’s not actively pursuing a serious relationship. most of the girls neal’s gotten involved with… he liked them but he wasn’t in love with them. he doesn’t feign interest, nor does he pretend to feel more than he does, but he likes to have fun and he isn’t going to wait around until ~the one~ comes along to start having fun. he doesn’t play games, he’s very honest about his intentions so if it’s just flirting/sex, you’ll know it. if he feels something more, he’ll tell you. occasionally he’s not being as clear as he thinks he is and that had resulted in some pretty awkward situations.

optional: he got married to an old friend at some point, they had a daughter, and they divorced a year after they got married. the press made a huge deal out of it. it wasn’t. they parted ways amicably and are still very good friends. the reason why they divorced is simply: his wife could tell that while he loved her he didn’t love her as much as he was still hung up on someone else, and she refused to be in a marriage like that.

[foursprouthappiness-blog]

Here’s What Kind Of Best Friend You Are, Based On The Month You Were Born

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/heres-what-kind-of-best-friend-you-are-based-on-the-month-you-were-born/

Here’s What Kind Of Best Friend You Are, Based On The Month You Were Born

Allegra Messina

January

The “How Does She Do It All?” Friend

This girl parties like Serena van der Woodsen and plots like Blair Waldorf. She got her dream job straight out of college. When she is dating she is really dating, she has a few guys on rotation. However, when she is taken she is the perfect wifey. This girl can do no wrong. She is a goal getter and she has no time for nonsense. She can host the perfect dinner party and also get blackout drunk and kicked out of the bar in the same night—this actually happens quite often. She wants the most out of life, she works hard and plays harder. She is not one for choosing- she manages to juggle everything. (We have no idea how? But she does.)

January is the first month it is the symbol of ambition and change. The January BFF lives right now. It is not “someday” for her, her time is of the essence. While this girl is superwoman most of the time, she can also be a walking contradiction. At one moment she is your perfect partner in crime, the next she can be MIA for weeks. It’s not her fault she just prioritizes herself more than her friends because most goal-oriented people do. It is not because she doesn’t care. She is just unaware that her fleeting actions can sometimes be perceived as selfish instead of busy. We are all busy but we all still need each other.

February

Those Who Wander Are Not Always Lost Friend

This girl seems like she has her head in the clouds, but she knows exactly what she is doing. She is not one to brag she is quite humble. She is very well-rounded, some people may mistake that for being flighty. While she seems like she can be “all over the place” she is actually very decisive.

She is the mysterious friend that we can never figure out. No matter how many years of knowing her she can always still keep us guessing. There is something about the February friend that we can not exactly put our finger on. She is simply effortless in the best way possible. She is smart without trying too hard to be. She is loyal without labels. She is confident with silence. She is understated because she never feels like she needs to overcompensate.

March

“I Just Have A Lot Of Feelings” Friend

Artsy, dramatic, kind, naive, dreamer, you are a March baby. You have all this creativity, you have all this drive, but being focused is your downfall. It is not because you are not focused enough, it is the exact opposite actually. You are focusing on the wrong things. Your feelings can tend to override your logic. You focus way too much on what other people think of you. In reality, those people do not really matter. You are psyching yourself out for no reason. It’s not that your feelings are unjustified, but if you would learn to care less you could save yourself a lot of tears. People really do not think about you as much as you think they do. Do not let them have this unnecessary power over you.

The March bestie is the friend you have 5 missed calls from on your lunch break but also goes on an unexpected trip on a whim without telling anyone. It’s all or nothing with the March BFF. They live on feelings and thrive on instinct. They are the crazy best friend helping you stalk your ex and the girl you can cry to at 3 am at the same time. This girl is like an onion she has layers.

April

The Get Your Life Together Friend.

Nothing is more surprising than the April bestie. One minute they are laughing by your side the next they are as serious as Annalise Keating. This girl is a lot of fun, but do not let her good sense of humor fool you – she is no joke. She is very passionate about her principles and stays true to her beliefs. She does not compromise her values for anyone, however, she is still not judgemental. She is the perfect friend to ask for advice. April BFF does not tell you what you want to hear, but she does not slut-shame or judge you either.

April babies are very decisive. They do not tend to beat around the bush. They know what they want when they want it. This friend is not one to dwell on the past. They get up, they move on. The April BFF is your inspirational friend to kick your own butt! Their brutal honesty can scare you sometimes, but you know they are living truth of what is real.

May

The Never Give Up On You Friend

This girl is always on the other end of the phone listening to your endless guy drama. The May friend is always your first call, whether it be when you need a study buddy, a sushi lunch date, or just want to split a bottle of wine spur of the moment because it’s Wednesday. This friend is always motivated and understanding. Although even she has her limits with you. She can only tell you so many times that the fuckboy you are with is wrong for you. While she tells you are wrong, she never stops listening.

The May friend can be stubborn, but it comes from her heart, not her pride. Everything is always with good intention with the May friend. She is a strong, hard-working friend which is evident in every aspect of her life. Her never-give-up attitude makes her a success in the workplace and with her personal life. She is a strong believer in communication, she will always try to talk everything out.

June

The MIA Friend

This girl is the life of the party and she makes the most out of her time. She always takes photos, she always gets drunk, and she always disappears. She is the symbol of curiosity. She is enchanted by new experiences and wants to live her life to the fullest. She is always up for anything, but she is not known to be Miss Reliable. She is a dreamer, not a realist. While she is full of excitement, she can sometimes take on more than she can chew. The June friend has a diversified range of interests. As much as she would like to commit to everything, there are only so many hours in a day.

The June gal is a jack of many trades, she wears many hats and wears every type of masque. She is hard to read because she is constantly changing. Every day is a new adventure. Every day is a new identity. There is never a dull moment with the June BFF. She is your confidante and your escape all at the same time. She is as beautiful as she is complex. Remember nothing simple is worth it.

July

Psychic BFF

You are very intuitive but you like to keep that to yourself. You read people better than they could ever imagine. You can be secretive, but you are also very genuine. You do not scream for attention, which is why some people may confuse you for shy. You aren’t necessarily shy you are just not obnoxious. You like who you like. If you have nothing nice to say you don’t need to say anything at all.

You are friendly to all, yet you can have a dark sense of humor. Sarcasm is your go-to defense mechanism. Some people may not always get you, and that can be frustrating at times. While you are guilty of a temper tantrum every now and then most of the time you know better. Your peaceful nature is often confused with innocence, however, it is omniscient.

August

The Crying Cheerleader

You are fun, you are a hopeless romantic, you have a smile that lights any room (and you know it). You have the confidence of the head cheerleader, but you secretly have the self-esteem of the understudy in the drama club. You are funny but you are not laughing when the joke is on you. You can dish out, but sorry August girl you can not always take it.

You are the perfect plus one to any event. You are fearless. You are not afraid of trying new things and stepping out of your comfort zone. You are generous and caring. You are not afraid to speak your mind. However, you tend to masque your insecurity with your giant ego. The August BFF acts like the girl everyone wants, she puts herself on her own pedestal. As the great Britney Spears once said: “she’s so lucky, she’s a star, but she cries…”

While your confidence is overwhelming, there is a brooding artist in you that wants more than what is on the surface. This girl is in a constant battle with her pride and her heart. She acts the most together, she won’t let anyone know it but she cries in the bathroom alone. She has contradicting sides to her personality. Everyone depends on her, but she doesn’t know who to depend on. She is the first to offer help, but the last to take it.

September

Secret Mastermind

If January was Serena van der Woodsen, September is Blair Wardolf. The master planner/schemer. An incredible memory, you were a private investigator in another life. You love control; you need it. When one thing in your life is not working out, you do not accept it. Plausible deniability, as B would say. If your love life has just blown up on flames, you do not fret. You go to Paris, get your dream job, become the superwoman you always wanted to be. When something goes missing in your life, you fill the void instantly with something else or someone. Usually, you distract yourself with work, you do not dwell and mourn, you switch your focus. Everything is a game to you and you always win (but you already knew that).

Your “games” can come off as childish and stubborn. But truthfully you are self-aware and already know this. However, you are too set in your ways to change. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Why change when you are already perfect?

The September BFF is very careful and calculated. While her demeanor can be icy, she is truly sympathetic. She may have a closet full of skeletons, but she is not heartless. She keeps secrets, but she also keeps promises.

October

Golden Ticket Girl

This girl is cursed with a lucky charm. She never thinks too far ahead, because she has never had to. She is not a planner. She goes with the wind and trusts fate. If it is meant to be, it will be. She does not believe in forcing destiny. The October girl is always the girl that just seems to “get it” without even trying. She glides through life effortlessly with natural beach wavy hair. She may not always know what she wants, but she knows what she doesn’t want.

Many people mistake her hippie nature as being careless. The October girl is not careless at all- she is very passionate, she just chooses not to get stressed out. The real world can be a terrible place she enjoys her fantasy. She is living proof “if you believe it, it will happen.” Mind over matter is her mantra. The October girl is all about positive energy and letting the universe take its course.

November

The Frenemy.

Hard shell on the outside, soft and mushy on the inside. This girl puts up a front like no other. She walks in owning the place, but her confidence is walking on thin ice. She can’t breathe without other people’s approval. She has extremely high standards for herself and she is anything but lazy. However the higher she sets the bar, the greater her fall will be. The November girl works harder than anyone and she makes it known that her efforts do not go unnoticed. While she can be the best friend you have ever had, she will always remind you of every single little thing she has ever done for you. She is honest to the point of being hurtful. Humility is not her best quality. Patience is also not her virtue.

The scariest part of the November friend is how they are always right. It’s like they have a fifth sense or ESPN or something. They read other people better than they read themselves. Their social intuitiveness is impressive and intimidating. The November friend is intensely motivated. Their hopes and expectations are set so high, that any little discrepancy becomes a dark cloud around them. The November friend has an aggressive offense, with the most delicate defense. Their know-it-all attitude comes from insecurity, not arrogance. The brutal truth insults are their defense mechanism when they are disappointed. Truthfully their secret sensitivity is their saving grace, but they are always trying to hide this side of them.

The November friend is full of contradictions. They are easily the most high maintenance, but they are also the most empathetic. This girl can listen to your problems for months and never get bored. She is always intrigued, supportive, and honest. The November BFF is always trying to help even when it does not seem like it.

December

The One Everyone Loves

Hating you is like hating a puppy. You are always late and stealing our favorite heels like a little sister, but your smile is contagious. You always cheer us up- even when we are supposed to be mad at you. You are fun but still trustworthy. You hate commitment, yet we know we can still count on you. The December friend can flirt their way out of anything. They are always the first invited to the party. Girls want to be your best friend and guys want to date you and vice versa. However, the most refreshing part of the December BFF is how humble she is. She will always want attention, but she will never ask for it. She will not brag about anything, she doesn’t need to. The December friend is not insecure and she has nothing to prove to anyone. She knows who she is and she doesn’t care if you like her or not. Ironically that is what makes the December friend so attractive her “I do want I want, I am not sorry” attitude.

Sorry not sorry, the December friend has won us all over in a blink of an eye. Yet, by being the most wanted BFF she tends to overbook herself. 3 Parties in 1 night, “I can do it”, she says (but not really…) The December friend had fooled you until now, she is not perfect she is a flake. She makes promises she rarely keeps and she gets away with it every time. She is dangerous because you always forgive her.

#Happiness

[rooellensuwanai-blog]

Learning From You Part 3

However, what I did feel was a sense of awe.

I guess my parents were the progressive type when it came to housing after high school. Our family owns an extra apartment room a ten minute drive away from our actual house. It was supposed to be a side business for dad. Earning income from the rent that people pay to stay there for a couple nights. Though I didn’t understand why exactly we happened to own a second house when I was younger, about four or five, now I think that dad made a clever plan.

As soon as school ended, I was made to move into it so I can “take my own reins and get a feel for what it’s like to live on your own” before actually going away to college. I guess it’s sort of like my parent’s idea of a behind the wheels training session before I actually spread my wings and fly away. I know, I know. It seems like I made two contradicting statements. Earlier I said they were above averagely strict, and now I’m introducing the concept that I was sent to live alone? I have an explanation for that. I truly do. Quite simple, actually. I had an infallible facade as a model student and daughter. They also trusted me, because I caused minimal trouble while I was just a wee high school student. The only thing I’d do was steal a few of my mom’s chocolates without telling her, and those situations always wrapped up nicely with a dismayed “Not again”. Naturally, they thought of my whole living ten minutes away before college thing was a perfect idea.

For me, my new living situation was a perfect opportunity for me to completely unhinge and go ….wild. Drop my facade. Cheesy, I know, but I’m gonna say it: discover myself. Just think about it. No one. Not even my parents would find out if I got home at three am, completely drunk and high out of my mind. Which, I previously could never do under my parental supervision. I never had the guts for it. Or the willingness to risk everything for a little taste of adventure….and freedom.

It’s the middle of June. I graduated exactly a month ago from today. That fact still baffles me as I wake up every morning. This morning in particular though, that thought echos sonorously in my head not as a mere thought, but as a spontaneous realisation. In my muggy mind, the realisation triggered more sonorous echoes, pulsating through my brain. It was an irritating pulse, and every little thought seemed like a huge burden to squeeze out.

I groan as cheerful sunlight spills out through the curtains and illuminate the dark space behind my eyelids. The sound of my groan becomes amplified through my head, and reverberates intensely, bouncing back and forth between my skull and the crevasses of my brain.

Fuuuuuuuuuck me.

As I squint, I find myself sprawled out on the floor. Yet again, for the third time in just this week. The light increases my agony by tenfold, and I struggle to retreat back to the safety behind my eyelids. As I gather my dull senses, I slowly recollect fuzzy memories of last night.

The pitch dark. The flashing lights. The pulsing beat and so many bodies pressed up against mine. It was musky and….moist.

Glowing orbs illuminated me from a million different directions and I was soaring. I was soaring through space. My body moved as one with my people. So many hands brushing up against me.

Limbs tangling. I was now in a dimly lit bathroom stall. The pulse was still there. Though a bit distant. It was there, carving out a definite rhythm. Hands fumbled down my back. I clung. My nose caught the tinge of sweat. One of the people. That’s all I knew about this mass I clung to.

Hot breath on my neck. Hot breath on my cheek. Wet on my lips. Boiling hot on my neck.

I took a sharp intake of breath, as the cold air brushed it’s fingertips across my now bare back. The dress slowly lost its grip on my body…..now clammy hands were touching me directly. Warning bells flashed in my head. What was wrong? I giggled a bit. Only a bit  of my back was out!!

Hands roaming on my bum.

Wait.

Hands are roaming on my bum.

Wait.

Hands roaming on -- My arse is out.

My arse. Is. Out.

A sheer, overwhelming sense of panic overcame me. I felt suffocated and so….unsafe. You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you absolutely know for a fact that you done fucked up? That feeling where it feels like an octopus magically appeared from the dark crevasse of your belly, just ejected a gallon of ink in your stomach and promptly fleeted away, squirting all its inky darkness into the midst of you? I went through that by tenfolds when my delirious brain caught onto the inevitable turn of events that were going to follow in the next five minutes.

The next few moments were a blur. The boy who had now moved onto passionately (if what he was doing really counts as passion…) making out with my collar bones, had me tight in his grip. He was like an actual leech, draining the calmingly ecstatic high from me, replacing it with a sudden urge to claw his hands off of me, and also his eyeballs out of his face for good measure. My panic reflex lashed out, as I kicked and groaned and screamed for the wretched thing to get off of me. The rest was all a blur for me, honestly. I’m still not sure how I got out of that cramped bathroom stall, waded through the sweaty mass of people, and got back to the flat. All in one piece, with my virginity intact.

This rewind of events force my mind to shrink back. I feel as if my gut is getting flayed by the sheer cringe of that particular situation. Of course, I was glad that I didn’t end up having my first time in a dingy bathroom stall. At the same time I was dismayed at the sheer disgust I felt at being completely left up to someone else’s touch and disposal. It was so uncomfortable and disconcerting. I hated it. Especially when I had no flipping idea who the heck that someone was. Never again, in my waking days am I letting some mangy stranger take control over my body like that. Never again.

I could have done something I completely regretted…

My reason whispers to me, and I shrunk even tighter into a ball on the floor of my seemingly safe flat. I felt so disgusting. Disgusting, disgusted and disgust. My entire body felt foreign and contaminated to me and I got a sudden urge to scrub myself clean and forget all about last night.

Slowly, with great care, I hobbled up onto all fours, then on my two feet with the help of a nearby couch and teetered into the bathroom. I peered into the mirror. There, staring back at me were two mascara smudged brown eyes. My lipstick has long since worn off, and my hair was falling out in a frazzled disarray. I’ve got to admit, I was a mess. I looked like a goth rat, and I wasn’t liking it. That human in the looking glass didn’t look like me. I needed to wash her away.

I closed my eyes against the hot water seeping through my scalp, trickling on my face. It was a nice familiar feeling. One of which I’ve felt on a million occasions. I always relish this moment. This moment when I can feel the warmth engulf me in a comforting way. And it was great, too、because I’d come out nicely clean ! This occasion, though, I think I came clean both mentally and physically.

I’ve got to admit, I had this empty void in my heart these couple of weeks I spent partying constantly. It was like something wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on it. But I felt really empty. I didn’t feel like I was doing much, and it was true. I really wasn’t doing much. Eat, sleep, party, hangover, eat, sleep, slightly less hangover, sleep, party. It was an endless cycle of just that. The initial adrenaline rush of my first time in a proper drinking, drugging, grinding party was quite an experience for me. I felt freed and I felt so invincible. I’d hop across all the bars in the area, and migrate from one club to the next, using my before 10PM lady privileges. I’d run shrieking onto the road, as I ran barefoot swinging heels in one hand. Some girls even joined in, and the boys saw it as a daring hunt to catch us. It was like the night moulded itself into whatever I made it into, and no one, not even my friends, or most of all, my parents could change it. They have no idea what exactly I’ve been up to this whole month. That’s always made me giggle a bit. A giddy feeling, like you’ve just discovered for yourself a box of unexpected candy. But now, that just filled me with….I don’t know. More squid ink in the pit of my stomach.

….I guess I didn’t like it as much as I thought I would. Yeah, I’ve dislodged myself from my normal life. Just like I've always wanted to. But it really didn’t leave me with anything, did it. Except for maybe a nearly stolen virginity, and an uncanny realization that maybe I wasn’t even remotely appetized by the prospect of sex. Is that normal? I’d have to look into that later.

I scrubbed and scrubbed myself in the hotter than usual water. I take time to rinse my hair thoroughly, make sure all that excess grease from the hairspray was gone. Clumps of mascara flowed down my eyelids, and I thoroughly scrubbed my skin. I didn’t want any breakouts that I would surely regret in my sober days. I wanted to be all natural. Just me. I wanted to feel like myself again. I splashed on three different types of shower gel, all a slight variation of mint. It was cooling, then burning and the herbal smell filled the steamy space. I inhaled sharply, and let the strongly scented air sting the back of my nose.

Perfect.

When I finally emerged, I felt brand new. My hair damp and dripping, I cleared away a messy window on the foggy mirror and found myself again. I grinned, tilted my head this way and that. That crusty face was gone and nowhere to be seen. I looked a bit younger than I remembered too. Maybe it was the freshness. All that was left from the night before was my buzzing hangover that clouded over my brain like an angry horde of sluggish bees

Today was my one month mark as an independent young woman looking to start her new life on campus in a handful of weeks. I was going to start my second month on the right leg, and on a solid step no matter how I spent the previous month. A fresh start.

Personally, I think that anyone can have a fresh start whenever they decide that it is time for a new beginning. Growing up, that was how I operated. Each day was a new blank page for me. If I was having a bad day, I’ll take a delirious nap, then wake up, get hydrated, and start back up as a new and reborn human being again. It works, you know? That’s how I coped with my crippling perfectionism. It was always a problem I had. If everything didn’t turn out perfectly for me, I’d get so disappointed in myself. Lose interest in virtually everything I’d been investing my time in up until that point. It’s a really precarious situation when I fall into those slumps. If those slumps lasted for more than a week, I’d be completely behind on everything I’d ever tried to achieve. That was part of the overwhelming stress of being bound to an occupation such as a student.

I’d have to say though, my perfectionism was a big part of what got me through as a straight A, honor roll student throughout my years in grade school. As I grew up, I sort of just, embraced the fact that I procrastinate, and that sometimes I can’t get everything seamlessly finished in the nick of time. I’d deal with it by taking a hot shower just like this one, sleeping it off, drinking water, and feeling good about myself again. Nursing my self esteem back to health. So I can function as a day to day human being again.

I know that everyone must have these inner demons inside of them. It can’t be just me, feeling frustrated at myself sometimes. But when you’re alone with your thoughts and illogical, untamable beasts called feelings, sometimes, just sometimes, you feel like you're chained down. As if I’m bound to some invisible social construct. I never know what it is, but I know it’s there. And I just feel, as if it’s slowly suffocating me.

Mentally telling myself that from this second, it was going to be a fresh start for myself helped me get out of there. Also, the vague hope and belief that gaining independence would help me get out of it for good, chained me to sanity all my time as a child under my parent’s wings.

I walked out the front door in an orange sundress and sandals. Minimal makeup, hair still damp. The air still contained not, the dense humidity that accompanies the full rise of sunlight. I deliberately picked the color orange to wear for the day. Gentle promise for a bright future, but still powerful. I felt positively glowing. I have no idea how valid my own assumptions about appearances are, but at that moment, I felt beautiful. It’s a welcome feeling to have, especially after I realized how utterly worthless my recent endeavors to break my personal norms were. Especially after I felt slightly soiled under the work of that faceless somebody’s hands. And especially after I haven’t had a proper day of tranquility in the recent weeks.

My parents’ flat lies in a fairly large scale neighbourhood just on the edge of the city midtown. Not too much commotion, but just enough bustling to give it a nice, busy drone. It’s been a long time since I moved here that I actually took the time to enjoy the atmosphere. It’s peaceful. Nice and compact. From the flat, it’s a short walk up to a stately corner belonging to a grey and red modern home. This particular house tickles my fancy all the time, as it’s symmetric, orderly rectangular structure really brings a sense of satisfaction to me. Just around the bend are a variety of cafes and tiny boutiques that line the main street of my neighborhood. Cassa Avenue Historic Business District, they call it. I agree with their title. The number of petite shops on this street indicate lots of business, and yep, the buildings are all made up of positively ancient quirky works of boards and planks. They’re the sorts of rickety buildings that look as if it can topple over with a slightly hard whoosh of a wind. It’s a wonder they’ve been staying up for over a century now.

Inhale through my nose, exhale out. Inhale through my nose, exhale out. The air is anything but stagnant. Delicious to my frazzled nerves. It smells of cut grass and clipped blossoms. Good, wholesome smells of home drift from the bakeries and it makes me bubble inside. It’s a  different kind of excitement than the streaking shots of adrenaline I felt when I walked into a buzzing club. It’s the bubbly innocent sort, like something completely utterly new and just fabulous was waiting for me out there. It translates to a slight bound in my step. That haggard and wasted woman I saw in the mirror this morning I’ve successfully abandoned. I felt good about myself. It was a nice fresh start. I internally pat myself on the back. I got myself out of the ditch yet again. And I’m proud of that.

My feet semi automatically point towards the San Francisco Coffee Brewers & Co. I always like to refer to that cafe by their full name. I really don’t know why, and while most people call it just the Brewers, it just feels weird for me to say it. Doesn’t roll off my tongue as well as San Francisco Coffee Brewers & Co. Maybe it’s the small sense of control I feel. You know? My absolute freedom to say anything in however manner I like with no consequences, and the burst of satisfaction I feel when I end on the “Co.” Sure maybe it’s a waste of breath for the majority. But it isn’t for me. It’s a source of joy.

I lug open the heavy wooden door, and the welcome bell jingles lightly. Warm smells engulf me, this time of roasted coffee beans. Gentle cacophony of clinking mugs and grinding beans accompany the aroma. This place is set up in the traditional cafe style, with a counter featuring busy handed baristas, while the rest of the space is occupied by dozens of comfy chairs sprawled out around coffee tables, and secluded counter seats for the more solitary customers. It’s nice. The warm browns within the space really compliments the rays of low sunrise peaking in through the potted plants set up at the large windows.

This morning was busier than usual. A clump of tired morning goers lined the space all the way between the order counter and the door. I slid into place and started waiting. I’m a patient girl. Growing up, I’d always see adults who were supposedly more mature than us young ones constantly clucking at cars in front of them starting slightly slower after a fresh green light, or when the shopping line at the groceries seemingly “hadn’t moved in the last 30 seconds.” I’ve never gotten impatient at those little things, because I know that it’s virtually useless. It’s virtually useless to fret over those little things. What point is there to cut down on your lifespan by that sort of miniscule stress?

There’s always bigger things you could be spending your worry lines on. Or there always was, at least for me. I never got impatient over the small things in daily life. Rather, I got impatient on...my life. It seemed so slow as a student. It seemed like I’d never get out of that constant loop between schooling and sleep. But seeing the light at the end of the tunnel didn’t really mean it quelled my worries. It triggered me to be so uncertain about what lay ahead for me. As I lay awake on my bed late at night, those thoughts would plague me. What the fuck was I gonna do out of school? I’ll go to college, yeah, because that’s what you’re supposed to do by societal norms. But what matters is after that. What if I end up...jobless? Homeless? Futureless? What if I screw up? I had no flipping clue what I was supposed to do, after school. The more I thought about it, the harder it was to face it.

I always just thought, assumed, and even felt entitled to have the privilege of gracefully slipping into my adult career as if it were just a second skin. Wasn’t it that way for everyone? I was naive.

Now at this exact moment, my life is nearly sorted out for the time being. I’m going to a fairly prestigious school starting this fall.

It will turn out okay. I can start adulting.

I silently console myself, while a dark tinge of last nights events plague a corner of my mind.

….starting today. Starting now.

I add for good measure. Because everyone experiments and makes mistakes right? I experimented, and I figured out after a month gone by that that was not exactly what I’d always thought I’d wanted and needed.

As I stood, a breath of warmer air engulfed me from behind as the door swung open and the welcome bell let out it’s light hearted jingle again. I automatically shifted myself towards the front as much as I could, to provide space for the mystery person who’d just decided to burden themselves with a ten minute plus wait time for their morning coffee. Up ahead, at the counter, an older woman was arguing with a bambi eyed barista over a iced latte. I could faintly hear something about substituting the milk with soy milk….or something on that degree.

“It looks we’ll be here for a while,” the presence behind me spoke up, in an amused manner.

The sudden voice startled me, and I quickly whipped myself around to face the other person. These situations always give me anxiety. Honestly, it’s one of my biggest fears whenever I go out on my own. When someone speaks, my mind runs through a million repetitions of Were they speaking to me? Do I answer? What do I say? Wait were they even talking to me? Which typically results in my awkwardly laughing and agreeing with whatever they’re saying, regardless of whether the situation was humorous or whether agreeing with the person was an appropriate response in that point in time. This was one of those moments, as I whipped around and just said….

“Yes.” Of course, accompanied with a short bark that barely passes as a laugh. As always. Classic me.

Before I could recover from my own awkwardness, the person hit me with another dreaded question.

“Do I know you ?”

“Ummm…”  I look him up and down and stare at his face. I know, kinda rude but it’s socially acceptable when you’re trying to discern whether or not a supposed stranger has ever traversed through your life.

He has glasses. You know, the wired rectangular kind, that never fails to give off a nerdy aura. Though they did suit his overall gentle looking face. He had pouty lips, but not in the irritating way, like those Barbie™ Ken dolls. They just had a soft shape (I know kinda creepy, but I had no better imagery okay?) that naturally curves up into a gentle smile. That was the first thing i noticed about him, as I looked up into his face. Darker than usual brown eyes, rounded eyebrows, and dusty dark brown hair. Probably not effable, if he were ever put up to ye old Victoria’s standards. My good friend has constantly maintained high standards, all these years, ever since grade school.

“I think….” I begin as I rapidly search my mind for the familiar face. It’s truly irritating, really. When you have that nagging sensation where you know you’ve seen a certain face somewhere before. But you just can’t place it in the correct spot. It’s the most uncomfortable sort of frustration, as you know deep down that you already know the answer.

“I’ve played for you before, haven’t I?” the man offers.

My mind was suddenly freed from its endless game of match the face. Recollections from a few years ago flood back into my system. The light bulb goes off in my head as the lines connect, and I burst out “OOOOOooooohhhh!!”

I then realized just how obnoxious I must have sounded and cover my mouth.

“Sorry, um I mean. Yes! I do remember you. Mr. Mark, right?” I tried again, a bit more calmly this time.

“Yes, that’s me,” he gently laughs. “And you’re Lillian. ...I hope, otherwise this would turnout to be a very awkward hello.”

“It’s alright. I’m Lillian, no worries.” I smile up at him.

“That’s great ! I didn’t mess up and get the wrong person. How have you been? I haven’t seen you around since I accompanied piano for you at that performance. That was about….”

“I think it happened like 2 years ago,” I finished his thought. “Because it was my sophomore year when I played with you, I think.”

“Oh yes.Yes, I remember now.” Mr. Mark nodded. “It’s very nice to see you. Did you go by Lillian or Lilli, I forget. Have you graduated? What’s going on for you? Are you still playing your instrument?”

I open my mouth to answer his questions. But they jumbled in my brain, and it took me a moment to construct an intelligible answer.

All that came out was a very intelligent sounding “Uh,”

Mr. Mark shifted. “Whoops. Sorry. I pulled the classic adult move didn’t I?” He apologetically cocked his head. “Bombarding the young ones with too many questions. Very uncool.”

“No, no it’s fine! My friends call me Lilli, it really doesn’t matter. Yes, I’ve graduated a month ago. And as for my flute….” I think back to the silver instrument, lying within the confines of it’s leather case placed on the top shelf of my closet. I haven’t picked it up, let alone blown into it for at least an year now. “I haven’t been playing as much these days.” I quickly wrap up, pushing away the slight mist of dark guilt.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem as if he caught onto my apparent unease at the mention of my flute, and responded innocently enough, “Well that’s a shame. That first time I rehearsed with you, I immediately thought I never will or have come accross a better flute player.”

I cringe at the memory of the first rehearsal I ever had with Mr. Mark. I wasn’t exactly the best at keeping with the piano whenever I played solo, and that day was no exception. I started too early, lost my count and lost my cue, and when things seemed to be going smoothly I’d mess up the flowing sound with an unexpected falter in my fingers. I felt like crawling into a shell whenever we had to stop on account of me. The whole ordeal was agonizing for me, who’s always dealt poorly under performance stress, and probably more so for Mr. Mark, as he had to continuously playing back to the start for me numerous times, like a broken record.

I let out a very distressed “Noooo….” and rapidly shake my head back and forth. “I was average, at best. That first time we rehearsed together was the complete worst for me,” After a second’s discretion I quickly add, “and probably for you too. You had to deal with me messing up all the time.”

“Ahem.”

I quickly whip around, for the second time this morning. In what seemed like a few passing moments, we had drifted up to the order counter, pleasantly engaged in amicable conversation. The poor bambi eyed barista had been replaced by a plump older woman, who held an air of absolute authority despite being half my size and holding a welcoming smile on her face.

“What would you like today, dear?”

“Yes! Um I,” I stutter. I feel assaulted by an immensely awkward life or death decision, as I frantically scan the black menu boards for a welcome sounding drink. “I, I would like an iced black coffee please. Medium sized. Straight. I mean, with nothing in it, thanks.” I manage to let out, in the nick of time, just before the time spent sputtering spanned over socially acceptable standards.

“And for you, sir?” the lady expectantly turned towards Mr. Mark.

“Um actual--”

“I’ll take a small hot latte please.” I looked at him, dumbfounded. He had just naturally interrupted me. And just naturally placed his order. Like it was the most natural thing to do in the world.

What are you doing ????

I will him to hear me as I stare at his profile, completely calm as opposed to me, whose innards were twisting in confused turmoil.

“That will be 6 dollars and 25 cents.” The plump lady swiftly added up.

“Okay...let’s see….” Mr. Mark mumbles as he begins pulling out what looked suspiciously like a wallet.

What the fuck are you doing Mr. Mark nonono stop.

Alarm bells go off in my brain, as I let out, “No! I can’t let you do that!” Imaginary sirens start blaring up in there too, as I watch him shuffle through the wallet, in a casual manner.

R

“It’s okay, Lillian, I’ve got it for the both of us.”

“But. I’ve got it too! At least my part of it! I can pay, really…” My voice falters, and my will to fight for my dignity diminishes as well.

Oh, crap.

I reluctantly throw the white flag up, as I watch him hand over the exact amount, finalizing the deal.

“I don’t know what to say...I mean thank you! I really appreciate it but you really didn’t have to do that for me.” I quickly try to make the situation better for me. Oh, how I hated these unexpected occasions where people just spontaneously decided to be nice. I, for one, had no idea how to react, other than say a million thank-yous, and tying it off with the overused line, “I really appreciate it.”

“No worries. It’s my treat for this occasion. You don’t see ex-students around every day.” Mr. Mark yet again smiled one of his really gentle, wholesome smiles. The sort of smile where the eyes also smile, deepening the laugh lines, but where the mouth is just a slight upturning. The subtle kind, that wasn’t too in your face. It had a magical calming effect on most everybody. I remember he’d calmly smile like that at every occasion where I’d made a mistake during a rehearsal.

“Anyways though...I think I conveniently forgot about your mistaking multiple times during our first play through together.” he picked up the conversation again. “I just remember your final solo performance being a huge success.” He quirked an eyebrow, as he handed me my drink.

“Thank you !! For the coffee, I mean. And also thank you for that feedback, “ I added sheepishly. “I think it really was definitely better than our first run through.”

“It would be somewhat problematic, wouldn’t it, if you hadn’t improved at all.” He teased.

“That would be horrifying, yeah,” I quickly respond as I impale my drink with a straw. “if the final product resulting from like 5 weeks of continuous rehearsals just sounded like a dying duck. Yep, great finale. Fabulous job, Mr. Mark and Lilli.” I say monotonously, acting out the role of the fictional unimpressed audience.

My sarcasm earned a small laugh from Mr. Mark. I feel my self confidence for interaction with this man build up, as I feel somewhat proud for being capable of eliciting actual amusement from a former mentor. I felt a bit mature, as teenaged Lillian never could make smooth small talk with an authority figure aside from maybe her parents.

“I’ve been wondering though...why have you always called me ‘Mr. Mark’?” He asked with a somewhat more serious air.

I felt my triumph rapidly shrink, as various thoughts rapidly rushed through my mind, most of which being Oh no, did I offend him?? As we settled ourselves down into a set of comfortable arm chairs with drinks in hand, I tentatively started, “Um, well. I’ve been calling you Mr. Mark because...I wasn’t really sure how to pronounce your last name, and I didn’t want to be disrespectful or anything, you know?” My speech speeds up, as I catch Mr. Mark’s brow furrow for a split second. “I didn’t want to just address a mentor just by their first name, that’d be a bit awkward and a tad disrespectful, so I thought adding a ‘Mr.’ at the beginning would make the situation at least somewhat better. Like I thought it was better to do that instead of butchering your last name every time into a million pieces.” I watch him earnestly as he processed my explanation.

Right when I thought that I’d messed up for real, it took me by surprise when Mr. Mark suddenly began chuckling quietly. “That….” He said in between breaths. “that, is really funny and actually, quite smart of you.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just ended up dumbly saying, “Oh. Really?” I guess he took it in a positive way. My tension slowly receded as I listened to him go on in amusement.

“Yeah, really. Very effective way of avoiding uncomfortable situations. It’d have saved me so many irritated verbal corrections back in my school days.”

“Oh no, what happened?” I smiled, and asked out of curiosity at what my former mentor sitting in front of me, who’d always seemed so soundly confident, may have been like when he was more my age.

“Well. I think the worst occasion was when I was in college, studying piano under this really gruff Russian professor. A large, large man,” I couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his choice of expression. He carried on, acknowledging my little giggle, “I mean, not in an offensive way, really. He just had this big presence.” Mr. Mark demonstrates with his arms. “He had an even larger, very impressive beard. And virtually no one had the guts to go up and have a one on one, heart to heart conversation with him. Just a very intimidating man.”

I follow along, “Oh yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Right ??” He cocked his chin forward, emphasizing his point. “And I had the absolute blessing to go ask him a very urgent question. But I’d never really heard anyone say his name before. Even the other professors called him the ol’ gruff. The only thing I knew was that his name ended with something something - vich. You know? The stereotypical Russian ending for all names. So I just took this really wild guess. Totally butchered his name. He ended up coaching me for a whole ten minutes to say his name with complete accuracy, accents and everything! But I did nail the vich part. That was a plus.”

I start laughing a bit when I picture the mental image of a younger Mr. Mark quivering under the glare of a slightly more wild, rough version of Santa Claus with a heavy accent.

“I mean, I can’t really complain because my name isn’t exactly the most simplest name out there either.” Mr. Mark added on after taking a sip of his latte.

“How exactly do you pronounce your last name?” I ask, thinking that I might as well learn now.

“You do sort of a harsh ‘cuh’ sound, the ‘fa’, like as in the musical note, and then ‘relly’, like really without the a. Sort of confusing, isn’t it.” He explained.

“Cafarelli?” I begin somewhat uncertainly. Convinced by Mr. Mark’s encouraging nod, I tried again. “Cafarelli. Mr. Caffarelli !” It feels foreign in my mouth at first, but it slowly moulds itself on my tongue, and it rolls out effortlessly.

“That’s it, very nice job.” He gave me a small round of literal applause, which I found funny, seeing an adult actually trace a circle in the air with his clapping hands. “Everyone always makes it sound way more Italian than it needs to be. Like Cu-fa, REEEEELLI.” He rolled his eyes as he demonstrated his overemphasized Italian accent. “But feel free to call me just Mark from now on.”

Bewildered, I reflexively ask, “Wait, what?” I know I sounded a bit dumb, but it was just a foreign suggestion to me. “But I was a student...you know, I don’t want to be disrespectful?”

“Well, technically I was just your mentor, but that doesn’t matter now!” He flat out denied my argument. “You’re no longer a student under my mentorship wing anymore, don’t bother with all the different titles. Alright?” Mr. Mark gave me an encouraging smile.

“Alright Mr. - I mean!” I quickly fix myself, when he raises a questioning eyebrow. “Mark.” I smile weakly, and shrink back in my seat a bit. God that felt weird.

“Very nice,” he nodded approvingly.

We finished up the remainder of our drinks in amicable conversation. We stood from our table, slowly saying our farewells. You know, the usual things you might say to a distant relative you only see once a decade. “Nice seeing you, hope to see you soon, have a nice day, have a safe trip back home.” And of course, numerous more thank-yous for the unexpected free coffee that I’d gotten. The prolonged strings of parting greetings. The usual. But it felt….different, hearing it from Mark Caffarelli, my former piano accompanist, and music mentor. Or Mark, as I should be calling him under his discretion. I inwardly cringe a bit every time I think of Mr. Mark as just, plain Mark. I think he’ll just stay Mr. Mark in my mind for a while, even after today. As I parted with him outside the San Francisco Coffee Brewers & Co., I couldn’t help but look back at his slowly distancing figure. He was a tall man, who must’ve been very lanky in his younger years. I wonder how old he is right now? I ponder. Mr. Mark had an easy air, making me feel almost comfortable in his presence, though I’d never known him as well as my actual flute teacher from highschool. I could easily relate with him, which made for good conversation. Wholesome speech.

Wholesome. The entirety of the events that had taken place within the particular cafe left me feeling pleasant. Happy. Warm inside. I didn’t know what it was, but I left feeling glowier inside than I did when I arrived. Mark. I try again in my mind. A sort of giddy feeling bubbles up inside of me, and I smile to myself. Quickly, I cover it with my hand, trying to suppress the involuntary reaction. It felt like I’d been given a small amount of authority. Authority and….and certification to be on a first name basis with someone I’d respected and revered as a teenager. I felt like I had a bit of control. It even felt a bit, wrong too. Like I’d just dipped my bare finger into a pot of honey. That is reprimandable, not to mention completely unsanitary. But the licks of sweetness I got from it was irresistible. It gave me a certain high emotion. I don’t know what this is, but I like it.