#but i haven’t got anymore exams or project deadlines for a few months so

[ive-fallen-and-i-cannot-get-up]

sorry i was gone so long i had the most ridiculously busy december and january but it’s calmed down a bit now so here’s chrissy

#i had a bunch of exams #2 major project deadlines #and also for some reason everyone i know is born in winter #including me #but i haven’t got anymore exams or project deadlines for a few months so #anyway sorry i’ve been dead for so long lmao #i rewatched the expanse like 3 times #it was like life support #chrisjen avasarala #the expanse

[inkofamethyst]

November 28, 2022

TWO MORE WEEKS TWO MORE WEEKS (I suppose it’s more like three if you count finals, but I trust that I should be able to skirt myself out of two of them and my take-home final shouldn’t take all that much time and I can (probably) write an essay in two days easy-peasy.  It’s more like there’s only two more weeks of work work.)

As exciting as that would be, there’s so much that I have to complete in the next two weeks it’s almost insane.

I watched a tiktok the other day which was like “I take walks through the woods because they’re good for my mental health... not at all because I’m microdosing a flight response” and.. I try my very best not to take everything I hear on that clock app as truth but.. that one.. it’s either a really good joke, or I have some looking inward to do.  My response to feeling overwhelmed is, in fact, to briskly walk around campus by myself at night for an hour or so.  Hm.

I remember when I was first figuring out this whole grad application thing and freaking out about forming a potential project because I didn’t really know what I wanted to do, but I think the truth is that most applicants fake it and put down something, fully expecting to revise it in the future.  And that’s okay!  I’m totally making stuff up the whole time but that’s absolutely fine. [Edit: Actually, no, this sucks, I feel like an idiot and I hate that this one school is asking me to propose a whole project, like,,,, huh I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point]

Though, I was planning on submitting all of my apps today, and my transcripts have still not come in???  Like I need to upload them myself and there’s been a sending error or something and I’m kind of pressed because I told my recommenders that it’d be done today and for some reason that’s not happening and I’m a little peeved.

Today I’m thankful for tricolor Christmas pasta!  A few weeks ago I saw it at the store and it looked too cute to not buy and you know what?  I haven’t had shaped pasta in years but it’s fantastically festive and terribly cute.

I’m also thankful that I went out with some people after choir practice tonight.  Not to eat, just to hang.  I’ve been stressed all day about getting this application in and really just needed some chill time away from it.  It does mean that I have a lot to do tonight (exam, proposal draft, discussion board, and application essays all coming up hhhhh I’m only going to work on two of those tonight but still) before I can go to sleep but you know what?  So be it.

And I suppose I’m also thankful that I still have a buffer period of a few days for this transcript thing and that I should still be okay... yeah.  I will have to inform my recommenders of the delay, but at least I should still be able to get it in before the deadline.  I feel so anxious right now that I can’t even bring myself to eat... I hate this.  One thing I can look forward to though is that after my first round of apps are in, I can celebrate with a new episode of Welcome to Night Vale on the first (coincidentally also the day of my evo exam :/).

Lastly, I’m thankful that the email (at least, one of them, anyway (...I’m probably just not going to send the other ones and just risk it)) I’ve been procrastinating for a month or so and finally sent today got an immediate response with no fuss, no hassle.  It was amazing and much needed.

Wait hold on one more: I’m also thankful that I’m not continually feeling down anymore like I was a few weeks ago.  Sure I’m nervous about this first round of applications, but I don’t feel, just, dead.  I suppose this means I’m also also thankful that I’m doing better mental health-wise than I was at this point four years ago, though “My head hurts; I want to go to bed soon.” is too relatable of a sentiment for how I’m legitimately feeling at this point in time.

[alexiessan]

Never alone - Chapter Twenty One - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Monday came too quickly in Marinette’s opinion. She wished they were still on vacation back in Gotham, where she didn’t have to worry about anything. Not Hawkmoth, not school, not the pressure of the Baccalauréat at the end of the day, not her applications to universities. She had really liked it when all she could focus on was Damian, her family and herself.

As time passed, Marinette grew more and more anxious. She had gotten used to seeing Damian every day, to get kisses, hugs, and affection every day, and after spending most of their relationship apart, she didn’t want for him to go away. At the beginning of May, he would go back to Gotham to spend the last month of the school year in his school and pass the exams that would allow him to graduate.

Hawkmoth shouldn’t be a problem anymore by this time, too.

They haven’t talked about their future after high school yet, and that’s a conversation that they needed to have, but somehow, she wasn’t scared of the future. Knowing his identity, she could use Kaalki to visit him sometimes, and while being away from him made her heart ache, she knew they could handle it.

Her hand squeezed Damian’s a little harder as they were in front of the school, not wanting to go inside just yet despite the cold. Damian squeezed back and leaned in to kiss her forehead.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, touching his forehead with hers.

“Just thinking that May would come way too fast,” she admitted, not willing to lie to him.

Putting an arm around his waist, she pulled him closer to her and he followed willingly. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his neck once, twice, before kissing his lips.

He was the one to break the kiss, and the Eurasian girl followed him for another kiss, not willing to end their embrace just yet, but his chuckle made her open her eyes. Damian pulled her even closer to him, hugging her tightly and she reciprocated eagerly.

“I’ve given some thoughts about that, and we’ll talk about it, just not yet,” he said, kissing the crown of her head. “You don’t have to worry about it, though. Let’s just focus on the pest problem for now.”

She laughed at how he chose to call the Hawkmoth issue. It was fitting, she thought.

Detaching herself from him — not completely though, she loved being in his arms too much — she looked around, standing on her tiptoes sometimes to get a better view.

She saw Nino and Alya arriving, hand in hand, the reporter having one of her usual bright smiles on while the bespectacled boy looked like he swallowed something sour. The fashion designer felt a pang of sadness at the sight, knowing that it was probably one of the last time that she would see the couple together like this.

Averting her eyes, she looked around some more.

“Who are you looking for?” her boyfriend asked, his hand coming inside her scarf to settle on the back of her neck, stroking it sightly.

It made her want to bury herself into him and forget about school for today.

“I’m looking for Adrien.”

Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could guess the scowl on his face. The fingers on her neck slightly twitched, making her know his disliking of the aforementioned person.

“Worried about him?” he mumbled.

She sighed. “He’s in denial right now. And an Adrien in denial isn’t a good thing.”

She remembered when Chat Noir, before he realized that his behavior toward her as her superhero persona was not right, would be in denial every time she rejected him. So much so that she thought him delusional at the time, so it was worrisome to see him in that state of mind yet again.

And Damian knew that since she had told him a long time ago.

“I just hope that it won’t blow up in our faces,” she mumbled, giving up on finding him among the people arriving.

Taking Damian’s hand in hers, she tugged at it, and together, they made their way inside.

“Do you think he could turn against us?” he asked, frowning at the possibility.

Marinette sighed again, frowning. She was sighing a lot today.

“I want to say no. I want to say that he would never do that, that he would fight with us, but…” she bit her bottom lip, only stopping when Damian’s thumb stroked it to make her stop. “But, even though Gabriel Agreste is the worst father either, Adrien has so much hope that one day he would pay attention to him. That he would be a real father.” She looked at her soulmate, interlinking their fingers together. “That hope and his love for his mother doesn’t look good for us.”

She fell silent for a few seconds, before continuing. “But Chat Noir has been my partner for years. He always had my back. So, forgive me, but I have hope that he won’t, even if you don’t.”

He squeezed her hand in response. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And me having hope could get me hurt, I know,” she answered, smiling sadly.

They arrived in class just in time, and as Marinette took her seat next to Claude, the professor came in, not waiting for any of his students to settle to announce:

“For the next month, you’re going to work on a presentation about a hot topic,” he grinned at them, “it will be in a team of two, and no, you’re not choosing your partners.”

He took a box with little sheets of paper inside.

“When I call your names, come here and pick a paper. It will be your theme to choose your hot topic from.”

Marinette ended up on a team with Chloé while Damian, the lucky bastard, ended up with Claude.

Yet, somehow, for the rest of the day, she was in a better mood than in the morning.

She had shoved the whole Adrien issue aside, choosing to wait until she saw Chat Noir again on a patrol — hoping he would show up — to confront him about his reaction to Hawkmoth’s identity.

They were yet to confirm it, but they were ninety percent sure that Gabriel Agreste and Hawkmoth were one.

Chloe has been pleasant to talk to when she went to her about their projects, confirming that she was, indeed, doing what she could to be a better person. They had decided to meet later in the week to decide their topics and to be over with it as soon as possible so they wouldn’t get overwhelmed when the deadline was close.

Right now, the dark-haired girl thought as she pushed her finished homework aside on her desk, she just wanted some time with her boyfriend.

Joining him on her chair after seeing he was done with his work too, she didn’t hesitate and climbed on his laps, smirking at him.

He smirked in return before kissing her deeply, his hands roaming her body.

Quickly, they were both shirtless and would have gone farther if it weren’t for her trap door opening with a bang.

“Marinette, you won’t believe it!”

Alya froze when she saw the scene in front of her, and Marinette couldn’t blame her. They must have been a sight, Damian shirtless with the blue-eyed girl in her bra, sitting on his laps, and clearly red in the face.

It didn’t take a genius to understand what they were doing. Or, rather, what they were going to do.

Quickly covering themselves, they separated from each other. As the designer made her way to her best friend, the youngest Wayne placed a cushion on his laps, sending a glare to the unwelcome guest.

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked, though she already knew what happened when she saw the tears falling from the journalist’s eyes.

And just like that, she was crying a river.

“Nino and I broke up. He found his soulmate.”

Hugging her as she cried, she mouthed a “sorry” to Damian, knowing he must be as frustrated as her about the interruption.

He nodded, letting her know that while he was not happy about the situation, he understood. He didn’t say anything as Alya cried in her arms, and even offered her the blanket next to him when she brought her to the chair.

After a moment, the reporter finally stopped crying, and eyed Damian, frowning at him.

“Does he have to be here?” she asked rudely.

Both Damian and Marinette scowled at that, but the Eurasian girl was the first to react.

“Hey, now. You never made Nino leave when I had to talk to you and I never asked you to,” the designer scolded, crossing her arms in front of her.

Was it petty to throw Alya’s behavior when she was in a relationship in her face? Yeah, probably.

“Yeah, but I don’t want it to hear what I want to say.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at that.

“I know you enough by now. When something happens, you don’t want to talk about it right away,” she opened her arms. “But I’ll hug you.”

Alya didn’t say anything else about Damian, but she threw herself in the arms of her best friend.

Adrien was staring at his unfinished homework in front of him. He has been unable to concentrate at school the whole day.

Hell, he even came in late, for the first time in years.

He hoped that his father didn’t know about that, he didn’t want to be pulled out of school so close to the end of High School.

The conversation from the night before was replaying in his head again and again.

How could they believe that his father could be Hawkmoth? Ladybug has suspected him once before, but they had crossed him out of their list.

Why was she so willing to suspect him again? Was it because of her soulmate and his brother?

Had she always been so willing to toss him aside like that? To not take his feelings into consideration at all?

Adrien shook his head, trying to clear his head.

Not any of this was true.

He just wanted to put the blame on someone else.

He didn’t want his father to be the man that has been terrorizing Paris for years, now. It has nothing to do with Ladybug or the two vigilantes from Gotham.

Adrien was still bitter that Ladybug and he were not soulmates, his feelings for her remained, even if it has been a couple of years since she revealed to him that she had meant her soulmate.

He has been so envious of the guy who got to be her soulmate.

Did Robin even know how lucky he was?

But his bitterness was not good. It was scary even, how quick he was to put the blame on them for what was going wrong.

Them thinking that his father was Hawkmoth had nothing to do with him, he reasoned. They weren’t out to get him, to toss him away. They were just collecting all the facts, and those facts led to Gabriel Agreste.

His father.

He knew his father wasn’t the best father out there. He was cold, never present, and very strict. But he was still his father. He was the only family he had left.

What would happen if his father was really Hawkmoth?

He would end up all alone.

Adrien put his head in his hands, frustrated. He wanted to scream.

If his father was really Hawkmoth, and if he was doing all that for his mother, what would Adrien do?

He wanted to see his mother again. He really did. But at what price? The consequences of a wish could be great, saving a life could mean thousands of others could be lost.

His mother would never want that.

But, his mother…

Adrien, at this moment, couldn’t help but remember her. How her smile could brighten the room she was in. How her touch was so warm and comforting. How she would stay by his side when he was sick, stroking his hair and forehead as she sang him to sleep.

How, when she was still there, his father would let himself smile, sometimes.

He was so confused.

What was he supposed to do?

For a few seconds, his brain shut down. His eyes were unseeing and it was just silent. He couldn’t hear anything anymore.

Then, suddenly, he stood up.

“I don’t like that look, kid. What are you thinking about?”

Looking at Plagg, Adrien smiled, stroking him a little.

“I need to know. I need to know if Father is really who the others think he is.”

He couldn’t voice it yet.

“What…” he swallowed, “what do you think, Plagg?”

The Kwami sighed.

“I wouldn’t get my hope up, kid. Your father always disappoints you.”

The model nodded, toying with his ring. “Just… Just to be safe, I’ll let my miraculous here, alright? If… If he’s really… Well, I don’t want him to notice the miraculous.”

Plagg stared at him, nodding. “Be careful.”

The walk to his father’s office seemed to last en eternity for the young Agreste. Looking around, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of his home.

Has it always been this cold?

His fingers twitched, not used to be bare. He knew he was right to leave Plagg behind, but the Kwamii’s comfort would be welcome at the moment.

Finally, he arrived before the large door, his knocking resonated in the too empty house.

“Enter,” said the cold voice of his father.

There he was. Gabriel Agreste stood in front of his computer, barely glancing at his son.

“What is it, Adrien? I’m busy. Shouldn’t you be working on your homework? If you have so much free time on your hands, you should be practicing your piano.”

The blond boy could feel his heart beating in his ribcage. This moment, right now, could change his life forever.

Taking a deep breath, the green-eyed boy looked at his father, resolved.

“Father, are you Hawkmoth?” he asked, not beating around the bush.

Gabriel scowled. “I don’t know what you’re-”

The youngest in the room cut him. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, father. Now, please, for once in my life, tell me the truth.”

Gabriel’s face hardened, and Adrien feared for the worst. But then, the man turned around, hands behind his back.

“It’s time I show you something, Adrien.”

Tag List:

@bigpicklebananatree​ @animegirlweeb​ @crazylittlemunchkin​ @northernbluetongue​ @cutechip​ @justafanwarrior​ @iloontjeboontje​ @resignedcatservant @maribat-is-lifeblood​ @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff​ @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @mikantsume​ @dast218​ @amayakans​ @zestyzealot​ @lunarwolfspn​ @corabeth11​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @olynix​ @aestheticnpoetic​ @hot-neighbour-nextdoor​ @thehufflepuffranger-blog​ @k-poplunardreams​ @tis-i-beanbandit​ @bluesimani​ @laurcad123​ @notmycupoftea26​

#maribat #daminette #maridami #damian x marinette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc

[hit-sound-17]

Roasted Chestnuts (Seungcheol)

Member: Choi Seungcheol (S.Coups)

Prompt: Chestnuts

Summary: Y/N’s parents have always loved roasted chestnuts, and that is a fact Seungcheol takes advantage of to win an invitation to their annual Christmas party.

Pronouns: she/her

Trigger Warning(s): implied sex, cursing

Length: 1.8k words

Author’s Note: It’s long, so under the cut it goes! Enjoy.

“Y/N, honey! Welcome back home! Did you have a good day out with your friends?” Y/N’s mother called out to her from the living room, jolting her out of her dazed state. “Yeah, it was fun. I got a little cold from all the snow, so I came back quickly. What are you eating?” She slips off her boots swiftly, plopping down on the empty space next to her mother.

“Oh! This lovely young man stopped by our house today to give us some roasted chestnuts. He’s apparently new to the neighbourhood, and wanted to introduce himself.” Y/N cringes as bits of chestnut fly out of her mother’s mouth, making a mental note to mop the floor later. “Yeah? How did that go?” Her mother gives her a knowing look, grinning cheekily. “He’s handsome, maybe you should consider dating him or something.” Y/N rolls her eyes in exasperation, snorting in what her parents would call an “unladylike” fashion.

“You never know, honey. He’s going to be coming to our Christmas party anyway, we invited him since he mentioned he’s got no where to go. So play nice when you see him.” Y/N grunts out in agreement, “As long as he behaves. What’s his name?”

“Oh, his name? Choi Seungcheol.” Fuck.

-

There were not many things Y/N kept from her parents, but Choi Seungcheol was one of them. Armed with shiny white teeth and the cutest smile, Seungcheol was easily the most attractive guy Y/N had met in university. And he was very, very enticing - that much was obvious when Y/N went back with him to his place the night they met.

When she found Seungcheol in his kitchen, cooking up a storm for her, she knew he was a keeper. “Are you sure you don’t want anything for breakfast? You can take some of this to go.” Y/N shook her head furiously, pulling on her flats as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “I have to go, I’m pretty sure I was supposed to be at class... three hours ago.” Before she could leave, Seungcheol had already shoved a box into her hands, and he had picked up his keys. “I’ll drive you.”

Y/N wouldn’t say she was easy, no, not at all. But when it came to Seungcheol, she found herself giving in. Asking to see her again? Not a problem. Let’s go hang out, no sex? Sure, she was at home doing nothing anyway. So when he showed up to her dorm one night, cheeks red and a bouquet of flowers in his hands, Y/N was most definitely unable to resist.

And so it began, quiet, late nights in with Seungcheol; whether it was watching Netflix while cuddling on the couch, studying together, or cooking instant ramyeon together at three in the morning, Y/N found herself spending as much time with Seungcheol as she did with her friends.

“Are you sure you’re not dating Cheol, Y/N? I swear you see him more than you see us now.” One of Y/N’s friends threw a cheeky comment her way, and she was sure her face was a wonderful, deep shade of scarlet. “We haven’t exactly defined everything, you know? It’s kind of weird, but in a way, I guess we are.” Y/N’s friend rolled their eyes in response, snorting. “Just tell him to ask you out. We all know he has the balls to do it.”

Y/N most definitely denied choking on her drink later, when Seungcheol asked why her shirt had a large, brown stain on the front.

-

Y/N wasn’t sure exactly what drove them apart — perhaps it was simply one thing, or a combination of everything. It was about six months into their relationship — yes, Seungcheol finally grew a pair and asked Y/N to officially be his girlfriend — when things started falling apart.

Seungcheol’s deadlines started piling up, something that neither of them could control, since his graduation was nearing. He spent many nights hunched over his computer, chomping down on whatever takeout he could be bothered to get.

Y/N also began to get busy with exams, and with Seungcheol practically going missing, she threw herself into studying with her friends. “Surely Cheol would at least text you, Y/N. Once a day isn’t hard. It takes a few seconds for him to at least let you know he’s alive.” And it wasn’t like she wasn’t trying, either. She messaged him a few times, asking how he was, and how everything was going, if he needed any help or maybe, just maybe, needed her.

The replies were short, and few.

“I’m fine, Y/N.” “Don’t worry, Gyungwon said she’ll bring food over when we work on our project.” “Jihoon’s helping.” “I’m busy tonight.”

It took at least a month — Y/N wasn’t counting the dates past a certain point — but fueled by the lack of any proper communication from Seungcheol whatsoever, her friends egging her on, and the pressure of exams, Y/N took it upon herself to break up with Seungcheol.

-

Right after her mother dropped the bomb, Y/N had left the living room in a hurry, dashing back up to her room to do what she always did when she was in a terrible situation; faceplant on her bed and scream into her pillow.

There were only three days until she saw him again. Three days to prepare for what could be the most awkward re-meeting (second meeting? Y/N wasn’t sure what to call it) of her life.

-

Finally, Christmas day arrived, and Y/N, clad in an ugly bright red Christmas sweater — family tradition — was too busy helping prepare for the party to worry about Seungcheol. Guests were pouring in, the turkey was nowhere near done, and Y/N’s mother was running around, screaming like a headless chicken. No, a headless turkey. Well, at least the turkey in the oven wasn’t screaming.

The doorbell rang, and enthusiastic shout from her father told her that she was free to continue what she was working on in the kitchen. “Roasted chestnuts? You spoil us, Seungcheol. You’re a little early, so we’re not finished setting up yet.” Y/N’s father sounded sheepish, but Y/N wasn’t paying attention to their conversation anyway. The way the gravy bubbled almost resembled a swamp bog, and she was way too focused on it.

“Do you need any help? The food smells delicious, by the way, and I love the decorations.” Seungcheol’s gummy smile was etched onto his face, as he hung his coat on the nearby coat rack. “Yes please!” Y/N’s mother called from the living room, where she was still working on decorating. “Kitchen could use some assistance!”

With that, Seungcheol swiftly headed towards the kitchen, and as he poked his head through the door, greeting the figure (it was Y/N, but his brain was never really one of his strong suits), he watched as the figure turned around and almost dropped the pan she was holding. “S-seungcheol! You’re early, what are you doing here? Get out, I’m still cooking!”

“I was sent in to help, so what can I do?” Y/N groans, all but forgetting that her mother knew absolutely nothing about their past relationship and sent Seungcheol wherever he was needed most. “Help me skin those potatoes and boil them, they need to be mashed.”

And so, he got to work.

-

“That was amazing! How did you know how to make the perfect gravy for a roast turkey?” Y/N’s mother was all over Seungcheol, praising him for doing an amazing job. Y/N was sat in a corner, rolling her eyes and sipping on some mulled wine. Of course her mother liked Cheol, everyone does. Grumbling to herself, she turned and slipped away for some peace and quiet, no longer wanting to have to spend anymore time around him.

She retreated to the balcony upstairs, sighing as she slumped on the railing, forearms resting against it. “Of all the damn coincidences, it had to be this one, huh. And it’s got to be so fucking cold out as well.” Wrapping her free arm around herself, Y/N grunts as she shivers slightly.

“What coincidence?” Seungcheol’s gentle voice almost made her drop her wine glass, and she jolted, lower back pressed against the rail. “What? Hey, I didn’t see you there.” He does nothing but laugh softly, moving to stand next to her. “You know, when I moved here, I genuinely didn’t have the slightest idea you lived in this area. I happened to see you at the grocery store once, and when we drove back in the same direction, I realized you lived like what, five houses away from me?” Y/N shuffles away from him, slightly. “Y’know, some people would call that stalking, Seungcheol.”

“Yeah, I suppose they would.” He rakes a hand through his hair, turning to look at Y/N. “What happened to us, Y/N?” She groans, setting her cup down on a nearby table. “Do we have to talk about this?” “If we don’t talk about it now, I don’t think we ever will. Please?” He inches closer to her, and she mentally curses at herself for still being so damn easy when it comes to him. “Cheol, it was just bad timing. I was busy, you were busy, and we stopped spending time together. That’s all it was, we drifted apart.”

“That isn’t what it was. I was a bad boyfriend, and yes, maybe I had lots of work and studying that I needed to do, but you deserved more than just three words a day.” Seungcheol’s eyes glimmer as he reaches out to take his past lover’s hand in his. “It’s been maybe a year, but I still can’t stop thinking about you, and what I could have done to make it better, or what I should have done to make you stay.” Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat, and it’s as if she can no longer speak.

“I’m not asking you to date me again, or I don’t know, maybe I’d like that in the future. But for now, I’m hoping we can start again. Just friends, or maybe a little more than that. I missed you so, so, much.” It’s so painfully obvious, how badly Seungcheol wants this, and Y/N can’t help but feel the look on her face probably says the same thing.

He leans forward, ever so slightly, and it’s like something snaps between them. They’re no longer spaced apart, and Seungcheol’s hands make his way to Y/N’s face as they kiss desperately, as if nothing else matters. And when they finally do break apart, Seungcheol gives her a cheeky grin, saying, “So I’ll take that as a yes?”

Y/N’s smile is bashful as she leans into his embrace, laughing. “It’s a yes.”

Bonus Scene:

“Seungcheol, I still can’t believe you bribed my parents with roasted chestnuts, you know they like them.”

“Hey, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”

Thirteen Days of Shulia Masterlist

#seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #scoups #seungcheol #choi seungcheol

[draggingwriter]

Ay, Freelancing

Been doing some freelancing for more than a month now and it’s been a tiny roller-coaster ride. At the moment I have 2 clients from Upwork and I’m part of the writing roster of Yonipp.

Funny thing is, I’ve been recalled by my office so I’ll be returning to my job. So, I don’t how I’m going to handle all these writing jobs. I guess I’ll cross the bridge when I get there.

As I got into this new gig in my life, I got some few realizations. This freelancing wasn’t easy as I thought it will be. And I feel sorry to my sister whom I keep pushing to do it. I mean, talent and skill is one thing, but there are others more who have the same amount of talent and skill. So, your selling skills will be really tested in this endeavor. Once I got into this thing, it was one of the most nerve-wracking feeling ever. You may think I exaggerate, but I’ve been working in the corporate world for more than 10 years, so this is all new to me.

So, anyway, realizations.

Beginnings are hard. Do you remember when you created a new account in a social media platform (like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc.)? It’s something you kind of enjoy doing. Because after all you’re telling everyone online that you are this type or kind of person. It’s easy to write about your interests and description and wait for friends and even strangers to add or follow you. But I felt that it was quite different when I signed up in those freelancing sites. This is more than just jotting down your interests because this time you will need to show potential clients your capability.

And this is where it gets hard because just like applying for a job in the real world, waiting for a client to accept your bid or deal can leave you anxious. I had to submit numerous bids and deals hoping to God that at least one client will take me. I guess this is also a game of luck. Because there is a lot more who are in the same page as I am. And it really is up to the client if they like your bid or not. I learn not to get disheartened, though, if I wasn’t able to get that particular deal. Because, honestly, I cannot afford to sulk. Buuuuut, once a client hires you, it feels like an accomplishment. And from that point, the work begins.

I write slow. And one of the many reasons why it takes too long for me to finish my WIP. I thought because since I don’t give myself deadline for my writing project, I take my time with the writing process. Not to mention, I seemed to have either a short attention span or I get distracted easily. The routine is, after writing some few sentences, I do something else (whether a chore or something unimportant).

So, it has been extra challenging doing all the content writing jobs. Just last week I had three articles which overlapped. You can just imagine how hard I pushed myself to make my pacing a bit faster from what I used to. I did meet the deadline, thank God. But after that ordeal, I felt drained. There was a feeling of relief but at the end of all that, I don’t want to do some writing even for just a short time. Makes me wonder if I can program my mind to will my body so I can quicken up my pace. Because simply knowing that I had a deadline to beat, I’ve never typed or written anything that fast. But, I guess, I can improve this through practice.

It’s hard to write about something you don’t know. Okay, I guess this should be expected, right? When I signed up for this content writing thing, I knew at the back of my head that majority of the things I’m going to write are things that I haven’t given the time of the day. Like when I was asked to write about designing and developing a website. That was too technical for me. I can’t even program both my WordPress and Tumblr account into a more personalized blog site. You know, just settling for the free themes that they provided. When I had to do research about that topic, I really thought I was studying for an exam for an IT course. Hmm, come to think of it, I haven’t written anything that, you know, I’m familiar with.

I guess this is how it is. Regardless of the niche I identify myself with, it’s not always that I’m going to write something I’m really comfortable with. So I cannot really choose what to write especially at this point. And it’s challenging because I got so used to writing basically what’s on my mind, that getting out of that comfort zone was incredibly hard. When I first wrote for a wedding blog, I thought that was a struggle. But when I started to get assignments since last month, it made the wedding blog gig a walk in the park.

I’m not complaining if that’s the impression you’re getting. It’s just that this content writing gig is pushing me hard from my usual routine. Unless maybe I make a name for myself, then I guess I can write anything and get paid. That’s a bit too far in the future, I guess. So, for now, I must enjoy the learning process and take advantage of these new discoveries.

The agony of waiting for the next assignment or projects. So, since I know the rate I’m going with all the writing assignments, I know for a fact that I will not be able to work on so many projects. And that’s okay because I don’t want to be overwhelmed with so many projects. No sense to multi-task as well because as much as possible I don’t want to compromise quality of work. Anyway, a couple of clients is totally bearable.

However, I never realized how anxious and worried I can get every time I finished a project and wait for the next one. I always have this thought that maybe that the client is not satisfied with my work and doesn’t want me anymore. But the voice of reason will remind me that maybe there is just no available project at that moment. What do I do then? I go look for other clients to fill in the gaps. I actually cannot afford to be not working because I’m not earning that much yet. So, I’m hunting for potential clients because I need to survive.

When I haven’t heard anything from my first client, I really thought that I was being let go. It wasn’t until two weeks after that he replied with a new assignment. And my paranoid self, finally let a sigh of relief.

And this is one of the things that’s going to be hard in freelancing especially in the early stages. Not unless I build a reputation or get into a non-beginner level, I guess it will always be a long wait for me.

For now I’m in “freelancing limbo.” No projects yet from clients, but that’s okay because at the moment, I’m just starting with this new task in our office. And it’s insane. I don’t think I’ll be able to focus with so many things to do. But, I also don’t think I’m going to stop the freelancing for now. We’ll see.

Maybe, I’m going to regret this or maybe not. But one thing I know for sure is that, it was such an experience. (And I finally have a portfolio.)

Original post: https://readwritebabble.wordpress.com/2020/08/04/ay-freelancing/

#content writing #article writing #freelance #freelance writing #writing community #Writer struggles #aspiring writer

[passingideasofaredballoon]

August 11, 2021

This summer’s been weird. And anxiety inducing, and challenging in new (but also familiar) ways. No question.

We’re approaching a weird part of the summer where school is just around the corner. We’re almost there. That’s something of a relief - that eventually, people and structure that my life has been missing over the past few months will be returning. However, the idea of school and work comes with lots of equally anxiety inducing feelings that I’d like to write about. Because they’ve been filling my head up with gunk that doesn’t need to be floating around in there, and I’m lucky enough to have a 3 day quick vacation coming up too. I just feel the need to expel some of the weight hanging over my head so I can fully enjoy the time off. In times as messed up as this, compartmentalizing is hard. Actually, compartmentalizing is hard all the time. It just is. No question.

So I’ve had a hard time doing stuff this summer. It’s a fact. I loaded up my plate with what I thought would be helpful to take my mind off of my thoughts, and to be honest, most of it is still sitting on that plate. I think I only finished one thing - which makes my gut hurt to think about. Now I have about 2 weeks left to get that stuff done. I’ve removed the stuff that isn’t mandatory, but I’m still weighed down. On top of that, I’m working 4 days a week and my brain still feels like a dried up piece of cotton the size of a blueberry. And, I’ve comfortable saying I’ve had zero rest to figure that out. Family issues. The world’s on fire. A deep sense of impending doom and a constant perpetual feeling of dread. Half the time I feel like I’m going to die tomorrow. I’d like to talk about that at some point. Soon, hopefully. So there’s my holler. I’m in rough shape, dude. Rougher than you think.

Having this stuff weigh on me is a problem. Having it genuinely matter (like the fact that the History IA is literally due the first week of school) makes it worse. But enough about that. I’ve felt the anxiety of all my useful time slip away and hit the rock where you finally realize, “shit, there’s no time left” and you panic. That’s the worst of it.

But, I’m on the other side of that metaphorical hurdle now and I have to say that I’ve forgotten about the calm at the end of the storm. Where that panic turns from “shit, there’s no time left” to “shit! I guess there’s no time left 🤷‍♀️”. Now, I can say to myself that all I can do is try my best in the time I have left. The infinitely high expectations you’ve set for yourself are lowered to become tangible, genuine, accomplishable tasks. Maybe the reason you never started those projects is because you’d never be able to finish them until the deadline came anyway. It’s easier to do things when they feel possible. Now, the idea of doing them is still stressful, but smaller. Much much smaller.

There are times I forget that I’m a procrastinator. I take a seat in the “responsible, I plan ahead” chair because there have been times in my life when working in that way has worked for me. But that way of doing things isn’t always manageable for me, especially when my brain is feeling strange. Like now, where deadlines for IA’s still aren’t for months and I feel like I’m overdue simply because I missed the ‘deadline’ I set to start early! I’m not saying that being this type of student isn’t often beneficial, I just forget sometimes that I can accomplish stuff without being a perfect responsible student. It’s often easier to take a seat and settle into the laid-back, comfy, procrastinate-y chair. It’s the way I feel like I’m wired to do things, and sometimes it’s less stressful to let it happen that way.

But then there’s the whiny part of my brain that’s still making that angry grumbling noise. It goes like this: “hey, remember last summer where you worked a little bit every day, absorbed material like a sponge and didn’t take a single day off? You didn’t get tired then. What’s wrong with you now?”. You can say your excuses, but it doesn’t go away. You can say you’ve lost motivation. You can say that you’re too tired to work. You can say that you’re too sad. You can remind yourself that people aren’t robots, even if you (somehow) were a robot last summer. Correction: you can remind yourself that people can’t be robots all the time. And your brain still says this:

“Yeah, that makes sense. People can’t be robots all the time. Except you, actually. You’re better than that and you should be a robot. You were a robot last year! What’s wrong with you now?”

Sigh. Brains suck. In other ways, they don’t suck. I miss existing to witness those ways. If you don’t exist enough for your brain to do anything but worry, you start to think your brain is only good for worrying. But that’s another topic. For now, to keep it short - brains suck sometimes.

I’m here today to tell my brain the truth. That truth is this: I am not a robot. I’m sorry to admit it, but I’m very much not. I don’t want to sell myself short - I trust that I can work like a robot when I’m at my 100%. But I need my rest, and my friends, and good times, and some love in order to be at that level. Right now, I don’t have much of that so I’m accepting that my operating capacity is much lower than I feel like it should be. I tell myself I shouldn’t be affected by those things (and my parents tell me I shouldn’t be either, but that’s not something I’ll go into right now). I have to accept that I’m not that kind of person. I like that I feel stuff and that I’m affected by it. I don’t ever want to not be. If my brain wants a list of reasons why I was a robot last year and was not one this summer, fine. I’ll make it for my own piece of mind (I’ve even included it at the end of this post). But I’m tired of convincing myself that I should somehow have done everything better. So that’s it. I’m done. Grumpy brain is turned off. Take that.

And another thing I’d like to say is that we’re all weird right now. My co-workers, my friends, my family. As much as we pretend nothing can affect the way we do things - this strange time has been affecting everyone. It bothers me when people deny that.

You can only hope that things get better. I certainly do - I have a weird feeling that I could have rested and done everything right this summer, just to feel the exact way I do now. I’m a product of the circumstances, and right now, I don’t know if an uncertain future is going to give me what I need (another fear I have hanging over me). If my brain stays this way, how am I going to do anything? Rough shape, remember? I’m afraid of going into my final year of high school, fresh from a summer of weirdness and aversion to anything that feels hard. Tired. Right now, the idea of starting from this is weighing me down. I feel like I’m finally settling into how things are right now, but that doesn’t solve how afraid I am about the upcoming future.

If I liked you less, I’d ask you to tell me things would get better. I wish someone could promise me I’d go back to school and see friends and my cotton ball brain would expand and be filled with thoughts that aren’t foggy. It wouldn’t matter that I didn’t get any rest, or that my thoughts have gone straight downhill since grade 11 ended. I wish you’d tell me that I’d be fixed up in a second, that everything will be fantastic and easy and exactly what I needed. But I know that doesn’t make sense. I can’t ask that of you, and you don’t owe me any promises.

Instead, I think I’ll leave you with a promise from me. I wish I could make myself a promise, but you know I’m bad at that. So instead I’ll make you one in it’s place. It makes me feel better to know that I can try to make some good, even if I don’t know if I’ll feel good. So yes, I’m promising you this selfishly. Whatever happens in the fall, whatever comes, I promise to try to make everything better. My hope is that you’re doing better than me, but I’d you ever have a problem, any problem, I promise that I’ll try my best to fix it for you. If everything is absolutely, mind blowingly awful, I promise to make sure at least some times are good. Even if the world falls apart, I will literally make you a new one. Wandavision style. Or I’ll just figure out how to make that bubble protective as well as heated. I’m sorry if it’s cheesy, but it’s my promise. You can’t take it back. Fight me.

Reasons why I could be a robot last year and not this year. Yeah, I have reasons. Shut up brain:

- physics didn’t have deadlines, which meant I made every deadline for myself (this = instant gratification). I could finish projects because I could send them in to be graded immediately. This summer, I’m afraid of starting projects because once I do, it means they can never be finished until school starts for me to hand them in.

- Physics was new, and kind of exciting. I had a weird urge to prove myself after falling out in February of grade 10. I’ve done history, though. I know how to write an essay. I’ve got nothing to prove anymore. I want my time off.

- I wasn’t working 4 days a week

- I had genuine breaks and social contact. I went for walks with my friends at least 3 times a week. This summer I haven’t seen a friend since school ended.

- I wanted to finish physics before school because it was extra work. In contrast, everything I was supposed to do this summer was work I was doing early. It was stuff I was actually supposed to start in September anyway.

- I actually had a break last year. I had two months of remote learning with only 15ish minutes of work per day. I spent two months playing animal crossing and sleeping before I even started physics. I wasn’t fresh out of exams like I was this year.

Dude. Take a break. Dude. I need a break.

[robotsdotftw-blog]

So what do you do in the world’s most awkward summer? (between high school and college)

It’s been over two weeks since graduation so I feel semi-qualified to answer this question.

It’s the summer between being a high school senior and a college freshman, where I don’t really know what to call myself anymore? It’s kinda sad realizing that I won’t be there in the fall to shepherd my chosen underclassmen through their crises but from afar. And overall setting up myself to live somewhere else long-term. It’s finally sinking in that through all the myths and legends you get to read about, I’m going to be an everyday student at MIT. I don’t know anymore where to hype it up or down, especially since I spent the last six months with a fervor equivalent to any fandom phase (which sure doesn’t help with the whole Avengers binge I was just on, damn you Tony Stark for being inspirational).

I keep in “weekly correspondence” with a friend I met at ISEF, a freshman in Pennsylvania who was part of my delegation. (sidenote: my week in Phoenix for ISEF was the longest time I’d ever been far from home alone. And I’m going to see Spider-Man Far From Home this Tuesday so that’s all convenient and tangential.) I tried once to keep a diary with the belief that habit is a decent motivator. When I started logging build updates for my projects I was more motivated to wake up and log some kind of work done. 

Inertia: a body in motion tends to stay in motion unless acted upon by an equal and opposite force.

So my inertia is a lot of sleep and productivity in neglected hours. High school quite honestly burned me out, creatively and socially. I got the most done towards the end with self-imposed deadlines and freedom.

I graduated on June 13th, an early date this year, and spent a week being lazy and “recovering” so to speak. Technically, I spent the night before graduation panicking and assembling my graduation cap, which used one of those LED matrix panels to play gifs. I thought I fried the microcontroller by putting too much voltage through it (5V instead of 3V, but never again for that Teensy) but it was just that my code was bad. I will put up a video eventually on what it does and how I, an absolute novice, read through a lot of documentation and simplified things with some dumb understanding of where to plug in stuff. Future electrical/mechanical/whatever engineer in the making, folks! Always with the flashy end goal in sight, building the plane as I fly it.

I obviously wasn’t valedictorian or salutatorian or anything because I believed that a perfect GPA wasn’t as important as doing something beyond the classroom too. Yay for side projects. I balanced and made it out with only a few final B+’s (and some from junior year, but that was fine) and did something good and fun and novel. 

And then, one crazy night later, I spent a week sleeping until 4pm every day. Ah, the luxury. 

Figuring that this summer is my summer to catch up on all the movies and pop culture I missed during all these years I was busy studying, it’s now...

SUMMER OF NOSTALGIA

in which I decide to catch up on everything I missed, Captain America style.

First was getting a Nintendo Switch as a “sorry your friends abandoned you at the eleventh hours because they were jealous of you outdoing them in science competitions and college stuff” graduation gift. And Let’s Go Pikachu. I dumped a lot of hours into catching them all and I’m glad to have finally experienced a Pokemon game instead of just Pokemon Go on my phone.

ADORABLE

Continuing on the Avengers thread, I rented movies from the library and watched all 22 movies of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, including the Endgame re-release just last Friday. So here’s my current rating: Link

Naturally, in my Tony Stark admiration I 3D printed an arc reactor nightlight the night before the Endgame rerelease, where I saw it for the first time. And shoved said arc reactor down my shirt for photos. I’m thinking it’s going to be neat dorm lighting and a last-minute Halloween costume. #ProofThatTonyStarkHasAHeart

love you 3000. ☆ aka 3D printing an arc reactor nightlight before going to the endgame rerelease to cry over iron man for three hours. I think we should all keep a little Tony Stark desire to innovate in ourselves.

A post shared by Shayna (@skaiashayna) on Jun 28, 2019 at 1:00am PDT

On the less fun side of things, I’ve also been taking edX courses online to prepare for MIT’s Advanced Standing Exams (ASEs) to see if I can get some credit out of intro-level programming (6.0001) and biology (7.01x) classes after taking these exams during orientation. Still a good time sink and refresher of some things I haven’t seen since freshman year bio/sophomore year AP CompSci.

And now, it’s the night before I’m going to see Far From Home. Sure, I still need to clean up my room and pack for college and prep for being a space ambassador at the Apollo 50th celebrations in a few weeks (that’s a whole other explainer post), but for now I’m just being and enjoying. And that’s enough.

How am I going to change the world? Well, I’m just going to wait and see what hits me. For now, we chill, free of expectations.

#confessions of a part-time space queen #proof that tony stark has a heart

[tessalivesandbreathesbooks]

Love at Last

So here it is, as promised: my first fanfiction, Love at Last. I’ve never written anything in my life so I’m quite nervous to be posting this and letting you all see it, but I think it was about time I tried. I hope you all like it!

I want to thank @lovecakeandmore for her help and support (seriously, what would I be doing without you?? Not posting this, that I’m sure XD) and @feyresardothien and @sparkleywonderful for your kind words yesterday. Oh and @terlovesbooks because she’s amazing!

Love at Last is a high school AU whose characters belong to SJM’s world, not to me. You’ll find characters from both ACOTAR and ToG whose lives you’ll learn as the story progresses. Some characters might not make an appearance, such as Manon or Elide, mainly because I haven’t got as far in the real books yet and I know I’d not make a fair representation of these character’s personalities. They might appear in the future, I don’t know. The ships I’m supporting in my story are all canon: Feysand, Rowaelin, Nessian, Elucien and Morazriel.

Chapter 1

Feyre's POV

This lesson had to be the most boring one in the history of time. They were learning something about politics, but at this point of the day she couldn't care less. She's been quite distracted lately and it probably had something to do with the hot, blond guy sitting right in front of her.

Tamlin. Her boyfriend.

Feyre couldn't believe yet how lucky she was. They have been dating for a month now, ever since that party at his house. The day of the party Elain had helped her dressed and she had looked stunning: she had worn a slinky dark-red dress with plunging neckline and thigh high split that had left little to imagination. Tamlin had been mesmerized all night and when he had finally come to talk to her (he had taken his time, looking at her from afar, making her feel like a precious object of some unreachable realm), they hadn't stopped in all night. They had laughed and talked and laughed some more and when he finally accompanied her to her house, he had kissed her. The kiss had been sweet, but also breath-taking. Just perfect.

Feyre looked at her watch. 1:55 PM. Only five more minutes, only five minutes and we can go. The teacher was talking about something, but she had long ago disconnected. Today, for lunch, she had agreed to meet Nesta, Elain and Mor in the cafeteria and she knew Nesta was going to be mad if she arrived late. But then, Nesta was always mad for one thing or the other.

She looked up to find Tamlin watching her, with his head turned. She smiled, he smiled back. I'm so lucky.

The teacher cleared her throat.

"Ms. Archeron, we all know Mr. Spring is really handsome, but can you please stop ogling him for a minute?" Feyre was about to open her mouth to protest, but the teacher continued. "I have something I'm sure you'll all want to hear, mainly because 45% of your grade depends on it. As you all know, every year, we do a final exam with all the content of the subject. This year, however, I want to try something different. I want you all to work in groups of three and prepare a whole project whose content I'll randomly divide and select for each one of you."

Feyre looked around. Most of the students were already not-so-subtly talking and making plans as to who who is going to work with who. She looked up at Tamlin again only to see him looking right back at me with his brow arched. She nodded. Of course they were going to work together. And as a third person they could choose Lucien, perhaps?

"Before you make your plans, know I'm choosing who you're working with too." With that, the bickering stopped. The teacher looked around."In fact, the groups are already done and posted on the wall in front of my office. Please, go check them right after this class to know who you are going to work with. The deadline is May 27th and today is April 20th, so you have more than a month to do it. Please, don't give me rubbish, alright? You know I have low tolerance for stupidity."

The bell rang and the students started to talk to one another again. The teacher said something like "good luck" or "goodbye", but nobody really paid attention anymore. They were all too busy rushing to go see who their next partners were going to be.

Feyre got up slowly, not really caring, because if Tamlin wasn't her partner, she didn't really care who she was working with. Unless she had to work with ... but no, she wouldn't have such bad luck. She shook her head.

"Are you okay?" asked Tamlin, coming to her, planting a little to kiss her on the cheek.

"Perfect. Let's just go see those papers to get this over with."

He smiled. "Don't be mad, it's not as if being partners means anything."

She glared at him. "I'm not mad. I just don't understand why we can't choose who we're working with. This freaking project represents 45% of our marks, we should be able to decide. It's important." She started to collect my things, putting them back into her bag as neatly as possible. When she was done he took the bag away from her, swinged it over his shoulder and winked.

"Give me that. I'm not letting my girlfriend carry anything, she’s way too pretty for that.  And let's go to see the lucky bastard that gets to work with you."

When he took her bag she practically swooned. He was right, of course. Who cares who they were working with in a stupid project? They were together anyway. No matter what happened, he'd always be hers and she'd always be his.

They were talking and laughing and about to round the corner when suddenly Feyre’s worst nightmare came into view. Tamlin growled next to her.

"Why, isn't it Feyre darling and the most charming tool on Earth?" Rhysand, aka the biggest prick on the planet, looked straight at us and smirked.

"Shut up, Rhysand if you don't want to see your blood spilled on the floor."

"Always threatening, always angry ... don't you ever get bored? I would. But again, you can't compare my mind to yours I'm afraid."

At that, Tamlin jumped and he threw a punch Rhysand easily intercepted. Oh, how much she hated the prick. Tamlin leaned to throw another, but she put herself between them, stopping him.

"Enough!" She looked at Tamlin whose gaze was dark with a promise of pain and then back to Rhysand. "Just go."

Rhysand just looked at her, his violet eyes deep and intense, and shook his head. He sighed and smiled a sad smile. "This is definitely going to be an interesting experience."

Feyre was about to ask him what he meant by that, but Tamlin took hand and started walking, leaving Rhysand staring after us, his brow slightly arched. Tamlin muttered something like "leave the idiot alone" and kept walking and walking until they were out of earshot. Then he turned towards her and said, with a hatred and anger so deep it made my blood run cold, "Feyre, you are not to talk to him, am I clear?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said. You. Don't. Talk. To. Him. EVER." He grasped her by the arm. Feyre winced. "Do you understand, Feyre?"

"Tamlin, you are hurting me ... "

"I asked you a question!" He growled. The pressure on her arm increased and she was afraid. There were moments when Tamlin lost control of himself, when he became so angry he looked more like an animal than like a person ... but he had never taken it out on her. He had never treated her like that before ... he had never  look at her like that, with such deep possession. It was ... terrifying.

"I ... I understand. I won't talk to him. Please, let me go."

Tamlin looked at her for a few more minutes and then he nodded, easing the pressure on her arm. Tamlin closed his eyes and breathed in and out, slowly and deeply ... and then he hugged her. She stiffened.

"I'm sorry, I just ... I can't bear anything happening to you. And you know, Rhysand. He's ... unpredictable." And then he kissed her, a passionate kiss full of love and need. " I promise I won't let him hurt you." His hands went to her hair and he held her there while he kissed her again. She moaned and leaned in to deepen the kiss. They kissed and kissed, mouth against mouth, their breaths mingling into each other until they heard someone clearing his throat next to them. Tamlin growled in annoyance and looked up to find Lucien, rather flustered, looking at them.

"Hi, ehhh ... have you seen the papers? With the partners?" Lucien looked worried.

"Not yet Lucien, can't you see we're busy?" Tamlin leaned to kiss her again, shutting Lucien up, but then Lucien said, "I'm her partner."

Tamlin blinked and narrowed his gaze. "Good for you. But why do I care?"

Lucien gulped. "Because her other partner is Rhysand."

And then hell began.

#love at last #chapter one #feyre's pov #fanfiction