#it feels so much like junior year online just feeling stuck in my bedroom

[gloombby]

oh my god the years don't end and its a cycle forever

#about to be a new year and i still feel like im in 2019/2020 #it feels so much like junior year online just feeling stuck in my bedroom #and i dropped out of college and hang out with my friends everyday and its like... nothing changed #and i still do the things i used to and its not making progress and just AHHHHHH #i think this is how mae felt

[thenakedgingerwrites]

The Love Potion

I had accepted that I was gay around freshman year of high school but had never come out. Now a Junior in college, the only sexual experience I had with a man was letting a guy blow me drunkenly at a random house party. Luckily none of our friends overlapped and a word of the encounter was never uttered. However, it made me crave a man that much more. All that to say, I was a convincing straight guy. Most of my friends were guys, and my closest friends were all guys from my high school football team. Most of them stayed in town to go to the local university like myself, so we stayed close. There were pros and cons to that but the major con was losing the ability to experiment and find my true sexuality without the fear of being rejected by my previous 'life.' My risk aversion was subsiding though. Partly due to the blowjob I got a couple months ago, but mainly due to Ben.

After dorms, a few of my friends got a house together near campus. It was a 5 bedroom house and worked perfectly for us. That is until one of our buddies, for a few personal reasons, dropped out and moved back home with his parents. Luckily we were able to find a couple dudes via craigslist that needed a room for the rest of the year, Ben being one of them. There was another guy that was actually the better candidate between the two, but I had pushed that we give the room to Ben. My friends didn't put up too much of a fuss or pry as to why I think he was the right choice, which I'm grateful for. I don't know how they would have taken my rationale being he was incredibly hot. When I first met Ben that day he was wearing khaki shorts that hugged his thighs and huge bubble butt and a varsity T that molded around his rounded, muscular body. Ben was short, maybe 5'8" or so. Definitely the stocky-muscle type of guy, but had maybe been drinking a little more than he should and going to the gym less. What it created was a slightly curvy but still very attractive body, from what I could tell. His face was his best quality though. Everything about him was puppy dog. He had doughy eyes, pouty lips, and an adorable button nose. Short crew cut and the hint of a shoulder tattoo later, I was lusting for him hard. After he moved in, my fantasies didn't exactly come to fruition as I had imagined. The "bump into him after a shower and his towel falls" scenario didn't happen, and he unfortunately wasn't a guy that liked to get naked for the humor factor as some of my other friends were. He did drink a lot which was maybe a gateway opportunity, but our friend circles were different. I tried to make connections but due to my hidden motives, I would always second guess myself or get too nervous. He was becoming more and more a roommate, and less and less a sex toy. And then one day, during lunch with another one of our roommates, he shared that he was super superstitious. He believed in a natural medicines too. His mom was apparently Wiccan, and although he didn't latch on to the religious side of his mother's beliefs he did believe in 'herbal magic' as he called it. We made fun of him a bit and the three of us laughed it off. The cogs had begun to wirr in my mind though. I could use this, but how? A week of googling and research led me to the idea of a love potion. There were a few different recipes or 'spells' or whatever online, and the lust was clouding my judgement as to whether this was a sound idea or not. There was a moment of doubt during the week but after Ben came in from a run, sweaty and shirtless, his round pecs and keg-abs in perfect view, I was able to wave away any hesitation. It took another week for Ben and I to be the only guys in the house for the evening, and it was now or never. I knocked on his door. There was some rustling, but opened it shortly after. He was already in 'pajamas' which consisted of loose basketball shorts and a tight t-shirt with the words "All American" written on them. "Hey, Matt. What's up?" He asked, leaning on his door frame. I was nervous, but needed to be the perfect actor tonight. "I have a.. er.. well a really random question. And it's kind of stupid." He chuckled a bit. "Okay, shoot." "You mentioned your mom the other week, and it got me curious." "Oh god," he started, rolling his eyes, "I promise I'm not a crazy person." I quickly stopped him. "No, no! That's not what I meant. See, there's this girl in my finance course that I've been crushing on hard. We've talked a few times but I don't know if she's interested. I did some googling and it looks like there's this... Wiccan love potion.." Ben's eyebrows raised, he was curious and amused. "Go on..." I felt like he was just looking for the opportunity to call me the crazy one and laugh this all off, but I continued. "Well, I'm desperate and thought I'd give it a try but could use your help. I know it's stupid, but what's a little science experiment anyway?" I laughed it off, trying to pretend I didn't really believe it would work. Which I didn't, for the record. "Well I wholly believe in that stuff, man. Herbs can be a powerful thing. They can release all sorts of chemicals in your mind to mimic emotions like love, fear, happiness, yadda yadda. Did you get a recipe for it?" I mocked a bit, "Wait, you don't have a family secret there?" We both laughed. "I do actually, and I think I have all I need but wanted you to sanity check it. See if it seems bogus." He agreed, and we went up to my room. I closed the door behind us, while unnecessary it seemed more intimate for me and try my plan. So far it was working, but the real test was yet to come. I shared the ingredients and steps I found online, and he agreed with what it was saying. Rosemary brings out this feeling, and this herb reduces inhibitions, and blah blah crazy person talk. It could have actually been a turn off, but even if I didn't believe an ounce of what was coming out of Ben's mouth he sure did know a lot about this voodoo science. And that was impressive on it's own. We worked the next 20 minutes or so creating this 'love potion.' There were a few electric moments for me like when he would help me grind an herb down and our hands would touch, or he would read out the next step and layer in his own 'professional' opinion. At one point, when he was sitting on the ground with his knees up, his shorts slid up his thigh so much that I wondered if he was even wearing underwear. The thoughts were setting me ablaze inside. When it was finally done, he explained the last steps. "So, you basically just need to add a piece of your hair to some of this, and then somehow get her to drink it." "And then what?" "I guess just wait? I'm not really sure how this concoction will work, it could affect anyone differently." Now to setup my plan. "Now I just need to find a clever way to get her to drink some random, greenish liquid. And it won't even work anyway." "Don't question the juice man, this stuff has enough herbs to turn her on to a cactus." He seemed so serious. "I just wish there was a way to test it. Well, you believe it will work so strongly how about you drink a swig. If you try and kiss me after then I'll know it's legit." Ben just laughed. "If only you could be so lucky!" I pushed it, "No really. You can prove to me that it's real. The effect is only supposed to be temporary right?" Ben got a tad more serious. "Matt, I know it will work. You're the one doubting my skills man." "Okay, you're right. I don't think this can work. I hoped it would, but this shit would be in stores everywhere if it really did." I started to ham up my disappointment. "I don't think the FDA would let it get to there. Plus most people are huge skeptics like you, so no one would buy into it." I looked into his eyes to hold a stare for a beat. "You really do believe in this stuff don't you?" "I do. Well, not all of the Wiccan stuff, but herbs and spices are just science. No need to believe anything." I got some confidence up, acting of course, and wagered with him. "Okay fine, I'll test it out." "With who?" Ben asked, admittedly he actually looked confused. Adorable. "You." He furrowed his eyebrows. "That's not funny, Matt." "No, really. No offense, I don't think I'm going to suck your face after taking a swig of this but I'm willing to take that chance." He chuckled, "that's a risky bet." "I don't think we're eye-to-eye on the odds here Ben." I chuckled back to him. He sighed. "Okay, well don't blame me when you think I'm a total hottie." "Don't worry," I sarcastically retorted, "I won't." Ben took a tiny scoop of the liquid into a measuring cup and plucked out a hair from his head. "You want me to drink your hair?!" I feigned minor disgust. "It need's some DNA. I could put some earwax in there if you'd prefer." I stuck my tongue out and agreed that the hair would suffice. "On second thought..." Ben put the cup down and stood up. He reached into his shorts, to my excitement but composed an expression of confusion, and winced a bit. Removing his hand from his crotch region, he held onto a single pube. He grinned. "Seriously dude, fuck you! I'm not eating your pube. Now I know this is a crock of shit." I didn't know how far to push my aversion but was still afraid of being outed by not having a big enough reaction. "This potion is rooted in sexual urges, and so a hair more closely rooted to sexual connotations should be more potent. You're not scared now are you?" Ben teased. "Scared of choking to death on one of your smelly pubes? Yeah." He held the hair up to his nose and took an exaggerated inhale. "It's not smelly." "Ugh." I rolled my eyes and pretended to dry heave. "You better not tell a soul about this." He mimed his other hand zipping his lips. I sighed, "fine give me your damn pube water potion." "Let me remind you this was your idea." "yeah, yeah yeah..." He added the tiny dark blonde hair into the cup and swirled it around a bit then handed it to me. "Bon appetite," he cheerfully said as he handed me the cup. I took it down in one quick gulp and followed with a few swigs of water we had nearby. It tasted like old rainwater some leaves have been decaying in. "Did it taste romantic?" Ben asked. "It tasted like dead raccoon, but that probably just your pube." We both laughed at the situation. The next minute we sat silently waiting for something to happen. I asked when I would feel this magical urge to kiss him and he shrugged. Works different on every person he said again. "Well, I don't think I find you super sexy. Sorry to ruin your night Ben." "Oh shut up, it's only been a minute. Let's play a game. Simon says." "Seriously?" he lost me. "One of the effects of the potion is that you should be willing to be persuaded by me much easier. What's one thing you would never do, even if I asked you to?" "Ben, I'm not sucking your dick. Sorry bud." Again we both laughed. He continued. "I'm not thinking anything that extreme, but good to know. Me either. Try this, stand up." I got up while acting like I was being pulled up by some ghost. "Oh my god Ben, you're a voodoo god!" "I really am," he said, amused. "Now spin around." I did as was told, still hamming it up. "Jump. Touch your toes. Blink your eyes. Pinch yourself." He had me do routine, mundane tasks for a couple minutes. I stopped pretending a ghost was manipulating me at some point and just did as I was told, kind of forgetting what was going on. Then finally he told me to take off my pants. It snapped me back to consciousness. I pushed back against the command accusing him of just wanting to see my dick and called him a perv. He said, "no, no. Just your sweatpants, you goof." Somehow this made it much more palatable and the pants dropped immediately. I stood there in my t-shirt and boxer briefs staring at Ben for my next move. He stood up, walked over to my bed and plopped down face first. He told me to give him a back massage. I no longer really knew what was me and what was the potion, but I honestly didn't care. I got up on the bed and straddled him. After a few minutes of massaging his back he told me to take off his shirt. I did, then continued the massage. His skin was so smooth and soft under my hands. My own butt resting on his was starting to pool blood to my crotch. "Massage my ass" and I did. I shifted down lower and began to knead his huge bubble butt through his shorts. A minute of this and he told me to strip him completely. He helped a little by arching his back, but the shorts quickly peeled down off his legs revealing his succulent globes just asking for my hands. The massage continued and I enjoyed every second of it. His ass was so warm to my cool hands. It was lightly dusted in dark blond hair but not really hairy like some of the guys I'd see in the locker room. It was definitely the biggest though. As I kneaded his butt, I would get more daring with my movements. I would get closer to his crack but the move away. Timid. I began to turn my kneading movements into spreading ones, exposing his hole a little more each time. My thumbs would rub inward towards his hole when I spread his cheeks. It started subtle, I think, but at some point became very deliberately sexual. I had almost touched his little dark rosebud when he said, "Yep, you're gay for me right now." Startled, I jumped off him and stammered my protest. He rolled his head over and laughed. "It's okay dude, it's the potion. I won't tell anyone." I reiterated, "I"m not gay for you dude. I was just giving you a massage, that's not gay." He looked down, "Your boner begs to differ." I followed his eyes and saw my cock stretching against the elastic of my boxer briefs, slightly peeking above the band. I covered up my shame. "I"m not gay" I said again. "I know, Matt. But for the sake of our deal, I've gotta do this." I was about to ask “do what?” but he beat me to it. He turned over to reveal his semi-hard cock and balls, nestled in a light patch of dark blonde hair. "Suck my dick." I instantly remembered that when I drank the potion this is exactly what I said I wouldn't do. However at this point Ben seemed confident that the potion was in complete control and I could finally live out my fantasy without any repercussion. I didn't hesitate. I got back on the bed and shoved my face into his crotch. I hadn't sucked a cock before, and honestly hadn't even been this close to another dick in my life. Ben wasn't fully hard yet, but I could already tell he was bigger than me. Probably only about 6 or 7 inches long like me but much thicker. His balls were larger too. I wondered how I would fit it in my mouth if it kept growing but accepted the challenge. I used one hand to guide his member into my mouth. I only took a couple inches in to wet it with saliva. He tasted so good. Slightly salty but a pretty neutral flavor overall. For some reason I had imagined a cock would taste just like what cum smelled like. I was happy to see it was far less extreme. As I whetted him fully and began to pump him while I swirled my tongue around his head, Ben began to get audible. He started with just some sighs and moans, but quickly began to give me specific directions. "Jack me harder, lick my shaft, suck my balls, swirl your tongue, deep throat me." His hands began to guide my head as well. I gladly took the direction. He had gotten fully erect by now. I came up for air to admire his cock. I was right about it's size. It may even be a bit shorter than mine, but boy was it thick. Although it realistically couldn't have been as thick as a soda can, it looked like it without a direct comparison. "Don't stop Matt!" Ben looked down at me during my break and quickly got me back on task. I sucked and pumped him but I wanted a little more. I took a creative liberty and started to trail my mouth downward. I had seen in hundreds of porn clips guys eating out another guy's ass. I'd never had it done to me to validate if it felt as good as porn made it seem, but wanted to test it out on Ben. I don't think the thought would have crossed his mind, but once I began sucking on his taint and still moved south he got the hint and silently complied. Ben arched back and raised his legs and ass up into the air. I kept one hand firmly around his cock and jacked him off as my tongue made it's fast approach to Ben's virgin asshole. The taste was unique. He had clearly showered some point in the evening, but still I thought it would taste a little like, well, shit. I was delighted to discover it didn't. It almost tasted like a sweet cologne. There was a musky quality but also a sweet aroma. I mimicked all the actions I'd seen in porn. I licked his hole, spat on it, sucked on it. Ben seemed to like just the simple lick the most, and so I focused on that. It didn't take long into this new experience for him to reach climax. His breathing began to speed up and he breathed/growled, "I'm gonna cum." I had a conflict of interest. I had never seen another guy cum in real life, and wanted to watch him erupt all over himself for my viewing pleasure. I also had never tasted another man's cum before, and the thought of taking his explosion into my mouth was incredibly hot too. It was a split second decision, but I threw his hips back down to the bed and wrapped my lips around his cock. Ben tried to push my head off him and breathed a "no, you don't have.." but I swatted him away and brought him to the point of orgasm. He went past the moan decibel and actually yelled in pleasure as he erupted into the back of my throat. The warm, sticky liquid shot ribbon after ribbon against the back of my mouth. I attempted to swallow between bursts but turns out swallowing when there's a cock in your mouth is hard or at least it was for me, so some of his seed dripped out of my mouth and down his shaft. I milked every ounce out of him, and even squeezed his cock like a toothpaste tube to get the last few drops. Ben's intensely tense, and sweaty body turned to putty after a few shudders. I sucked on his cock for another minute or so as it waned in my mouth. Finally accepting that my fun was done for the night, I let it pop out of my mouth. Ben arched up on his elbows. "You have a nice dick." I said, smiling. He chuckled, "that's the potion talking, but thanks." The potion. I had forgotten. Ben read the look but mistook it for more of a panic. He leaned up and grabbed his shorts from the floor, quickly slipping them on. Grabbing his shirt he said, "I should go take a shower. I'm really sorry about this." I tried to stop him but he was out my door and down the stairs in a blink. I just laid there on my bed staring up at the ceiling. My first time sucking a cock was amazing, and of all people it was with Ben: my ultimate fantasy man. I heard the water turn on from the shower the floor below, and took the opportunity to finally pleasure myself. I imagined Ben in the shower and replayed the last hour in my head. I came with more force and volume than I had, maybe ever. I cleaned myself and my room up, and waited to walk down and approach Ben. I finally got the courage a couple hours later but when I approached his room I could tell the lights were off and turned back. I'm not sure if I'd ever get that chance again with Ben. One thing for sure though, I was 100% addicted to dick and needed more. I had lived 21 years without it and had all that time to make up for. How I was going to get it, would be another adventure.

#magic #mind control #cmnm #aware

[allsystemsarenotgo]

A friend and I were talking one day, and she shared this with me.

She was much like me, raised with a quarter between the knees, terrified of the things we were taught to avoid and trying to live reasonably noble lives. She wasn't allowed Birth Control for religious reasons (pro-life) as well as to prevent enablism. Her family was much more religious than mile, though I still went to church during my Sophomore, Junior, and Senior years of high school.

She married a guy 10 years older than herself, who was a long-time routine customer of her family's business. They married right after she graduated high school, long before she applied to higher education.

She is a nurse now. She has 3 kids, works long hours at a hospital, and her husband is a successful farmer as he always has been. She struggled at times, but she made it through.

She knows life would have been easier without the first child, but she was innocent and naiive and I think she realizes that she jumped in the deep end of the pool before learning how to swim.

I did the same thing.

All through high school I pledged to abstinence until marriage. I hated everything to do with sex. The topic, the drama, the action, the result. I wanted nothing to do with it.

But I also never dated through grade school at all. I never had a girlfriend. Plenty of crushes (M.S. above being one of them), but just as many denials. Because I didn't drink, smoke, do drugs, have FFA animals, or play athletics, I also wasn't a member of any social group. I was always the kid in the corner of the cafeteria scarfing food down in 5 minutes and sleeping the other 20, or asking to go to a teacher's classroom, where it was serene and quiet.

My freshman year of college, I even wrote an essay on abstinents for English class. That really didn't go over well in regards to having to read it out loud. There might as well have been fruit flying at me.

My dorm was set up such that we had 3 private bedrooms that shared a living space and bathroom. One of the roommates always had girls over, and he never tried to be quiet (or if he did, he failed...badly).

So those two things were my indoctrination to college life. Getting judged and leered at for writing an abstinence essay, and having to listen to a roommate multiple times a week.

Towards the very end of my freshman year, a girl from high school messaged me. We started talking, and she admitted that she had always had a crush on me and was too shy to ever say anything.

Error #1: For no good reason whatsoever, I agreed to formulate a relationship with this female

So when I moved home from the dorms, I hung out with the lass a few times, but my parents were moving out of the country and closer to my school, so I could live at home. That meant that this would now be a 1.5-hour-each-way medium-distance relationship.

So every 4th or 6th weekend during the remainder of that summer and into the fall semester, I would drive up and spend a day with her. Sometimes, I would drive her out of the country and into the city to give her a glimpse of escape (it was very impoverished where we grew up).

Error #2: Doing whatever made her happy

I really enjoyed the time that we spent together. She got me a purity necklace for Christmas that year. She said she understood that my preference meant something to me.

But then, something changed. She would start dropping enuindos and jokes and send me photos that I didn't ask for.

Error #3: Not standing up for myself

She said that I meant something to her, and asked me if she meant something to me. At the time, I did not comprehend that as a trap...but I wanted to make her happy, so I said "yes".

The next thing I know, she is booking a hotel for us for Valentine's day. Wherein, I learned a thing or two or five or ten that I really wasn't interested in learning in the first place.

-Provides Clorox to help scrub the thoughts from your mind-

After that, she wanted me to come see her more and more often. But I was tied up with school and life.

Mind you, we usually had a phone call every night, or at least every other night. Same time, right before bed. Sometimes we would fall asleep on the phone with eachother.

Error #4: Accepting anything as fact

Well one night, I called her, and she answered...but it was noisy in the background, like she was driving. But she never talked while driving, and wouldn't answer the phone with family in the car.

She said she was in a friend's car and they were going to the beach for the night, which was completely reasonable for the time of year and her group of friends. She cut the conversation short saying they had arrive, so we bid our greeting. But she didn't hang up, and something told me that I shouldn't either. So I didn't.

"Who was that?"

"Don't mind him. He was just calling to check on me. He's controlling like that."

"He sounds like a jerk"

"Enough about him. He won't do this."

-Provides more clorox-

And that's how I found out that her primal needs were more important than our "relationship".

Unfortunately, shortly after I broke up with her, I was sent a photo of her quite visibly pregnant. Fortunately, the timetable did not add up to Valentine's day (aside of the fact that it was physically/biologically 95% impossible).

That summer, I started a job at the student newspaper. Right off the bat, one of the graphic artists and I got along very well. We spent way too much time at work talking to eachother and goofing off, instead of working. Enough so that our boss took notice and things got tense for a bit with him. We still cranked out work no problem, but we were both too young to understand workplace policy and procedure when it comes to "dating but not dating", which is basically exactly what we were doing. We spent alot of time together. I would go to her dorm after class and we would watch movies and just goof off or do whatever. We enjoyed time together.

Error #1: So cliché. So, so cliché.

So Valentine's day rolls around, and she asks 'the question'.

So something in biology: There is a term called "Once an animal has the taste of blood, they will always hunt for it." Unfortunately, humans can sometimes be considered a sub-species of the animal kingdom.

Like the dumbass that I am, I accept to the terms and conditions.

And at the end of the night, she asks: "So are we officially dating now?"

"I...I guess?", I answered nervously.

Errors #2 to #457: Not escaping

And just like that, I was suckered into nearly 2.5 years of having a FWB while having to, very creatively at times, mask it as a legitimate relationship.

We enjoyed the time we spent together.

We enjoyed going places together.

My mum liked her, her parents liked me. (Dad was skeptical at best and thought I could do better)

The small issue: I struggled to communicate at times. I didn't know how to find my voice, so there were times that I would have to text her how I felt. Sometimes I would hide in a corner just so I could cry. (I later learned of my autism, and it all made sense and I learned how to resolve this)

The big issue: I was completely burned out on intimacy. After almost 2.5 years of emulating laboratory rabbits, I was done. My usefulness had expired.

The biggest issue: We were both suffering academically. We had no common interests at all anymore, and we had put eachother ahead of our own academics so much that we were both risking academic expulsion.

So we mutually agreed to break up.

She dropped out of university (and never went back or finished her schooling), and I changed majors twice before getting my Bachelor of Science.

My first relationship lasted from June 2009 to April 2010.

My second "relationship" lasted from February 2011 until May 2012 (Although we started spending time together in significant amounts starting August 2010)

I have not had a girlfriend since May 2012.

I had one friend in my senior year of college, who gave me some non-physical affection while also keeping me firmly locked in the friendzone. But quality time, by itself, only goes so far.

I have not had any physical affection since May 2012.

I have not spent quality time with a female since May 2013.

For most of that time, from May 2013 to August 2019, I really didn't mind it at all. I have been so tied up in working, hobbies, and life in general, that I completely ignored women.

But as my birthday loomed near in October 2019, it donned on me....I was on a crash course to being eternally lonely.

So I have tried online dating. I have gone on a few first dates, but no second dates.

Sometimes, I want to give up. The fight just doesn't seem worth the reward.

And honestly?

Sometimes I feel exactly like my friend's remarks at the top of this post. Sometimes I wish I would have been a little more rebellious, a little more care-free, a little more out-there.

But at the same time, ...

Sometimes I wish that neither relationship would have ever happened.

That I would have never learned the true definition of intimacy.

That I would have never done whatever it took to make the other person happy.

That I wouldn't have been such an easy push-over.

That I would have stuck to my initial pledge in life

That I would have spoke up more and defended myself.

All I am now, is damaged product.

I don't truly know how to love.

I don't truly know how to feel.

I don't truly know how to be myself.

I don't truly know how to be intimate.

I am human, I am male, so of course I have my moments. But I don't want that to be the reason for a relationship. I want it to be the least-important factor, or not a factor at all.

I want a relationship founded on trust, honesty, fortitude, common interests, personality, maybe even a little faith.

Not intimacy.

I just want to not be invisible, or to only have one attribute visible.

I want to be seen for all the other attributes.

I am not A-sexual. I still feel emotions and feelings. I just don't want to let them out of the locked box which contains them. Not without lots of context and preparedness.

[myspideysensesrtingling]

In My Way (2)

IN MY WAY: DECISIONS, DECISIONS, DECISIONS

Pairing: (eventual) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 1968

Warnings: none!

Notes: hellllloo! kind of set-up/filler but you know how it be. let me know if you like it! I am really liking this writing thing because it's fun but apologize because I am not good at it sooo...yeah. Anyway, enjoy!

Summary: The couple from New York, now identified as none other than Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, give you quite the decision to make.

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"Hi, Y/N," the man said as they both stood. He slipped off his glasses and stuck out his hand, finally introducing himself. "I'm Tony Stark." Tony Stark. The Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The pieces clicked together then and there. Tony Stark: the man whose technology you tried to study and understand on your own daily, whose advancements in the world of science left you in awe, and who just helped defeat Ultron, was sitting right in front of you. And he was here to talk to you.

“And I’m Pepper, Pepper Potts,” the woman added. “We’re so excited to meet you.” Of course, you knew that already. Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, was a genius, philanthropist, and role-model in her own right. Her role in the tech company left you in equal awe. And, like Mr. Stark, here she was sitting right in front of you. Here to talk to you.

A million emotions flashed across your face, from confusion causing your brows to furrow before transitioning to shock as your eyes widened further than you thought possible and eventually to excitement as Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, likely two of the smartest people on the planet, were here to talk to you.

"Hi." Your voice cracked, your face heated up, and your eyes shot to the ground. Hiding behind your wall of trying to be a perfect child, you did not think this was going well. Eventually bringing yourself to look back up, Tony and Pepper just had the same warm smile on their faces as they had a minute before. They each had their own nerves trying to surface; as much as you wanted to impress them, they wanted to impress you.

As Tony watched the young girl process this onslaught of information, he recognized the creases forming on her face. “You know, your expression actually looks kind of like Pepper’s when you’re thinking like that,” he told Charlotte, stopping all of her thinking as her heart swelled. To be compared to Pepper Potts was unlike anything she ever dreamed.

"Anyway, I've been talking to Miss Johnson here about why we’ve made this trip to come visit you, Y/N. We’ve heard some incredible things about you,” his voice tapered, already prouder of this kid than his father ever was of him.

“We--we have a program. It monitors exceptional students around the country looking for standouts,” Pepper explained when she noticed Tony seemed frozen. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him struggling with his words like this, but his genuine smile told her not to worry. “Normally we sponsor their education, but we had another idea for you.”

Any pieces that had clicked together a moment ago were falling back apart. Monitoring students? Hearing things about you? How? More importantly, why? The creases on your face deepened and you squinted ever so slightly as you tried to understand. You stole a glance at Miss Johnson, who beamed at the man speaking to you. What could the famous Tony Stark and Pepper Potts want with you?

“We had a couple ideas, actually,” Pepper continued. “First, and most importantly…” She peeked at Tony, who met her eyes before smiling down at you, practically glowing with hope despite all your nerves.

“We want to adopt you,” Tony said as the room fell silent. “We’re, um, looking to raise an older kid - we aren't sure about the whole baby thing yet." He rolled his eyes and drew a giggle from you - the ones at the home sure were so loud sometimes when you were trying to study. Relief flooded through Pepper; Tony’s humor was back.

"Second,” Tony continued, more confidently this time, “I'm looking to add someone to my team with the Avengers. Someone committed, determined, intelligent, driven, and with a great attitude to tie it all together," he hesitated, not wanting to already be the dad that pushed too hard. "If you’re up for it, I think that person could be you."

They knew each of these was a lot to drop on a 15-year-old girl alone; the force of them together, however, almost knocked you over. Two of the most powerful people in the world wanted to adopt you? They wanted you to be part of the Avengers? The Avengers, for goodness sakes! They must've made a mistake, you thought, feeling incredibly unqualified.

"I…I don't have any powers," you finally said, practically a whisper.

"Neither do I, kid," Mr. Stark reassured with a smirk as Pepper nodded in support. "Not everyone is born as a god or endures a procedure that makes them superhuman. But that doesn't keep them from being super. I'm not sure where you'd fit in - maybe in the lab, maybe on the battlefield - but I from what I've learned about you, you've got what it takes to be the best wherever you're needed."

"Wow, I'm not sure what to say," you eventually stammered. It was a great complement, sure, but you weren't sure you were really up to this great task they presented to you. This was the Avengers, after all. You were just a kid who lived in the same room all her life teaching herself on a computer. Even if I am "worthy" of this challenge, you thought, do I really deserve it? You weren't special. That said, this was such an incredible opportunity. Stark's lab, his technology, Pepper’s knowledge, all the resources and things you could learn, even if they didn't want you in the end - this was way too incredible to pass up. Pepper explained that they were prepared to take you today if you felt ready - the plane was a few minutes away at the airport and already on the runway.

"You'd start your junior year of high school at Midtown, a science school that our current baby Avenger, Peter, goes to," Mr. Stark added before looking at Mrs. Johnson who stared back with a look that dared him to explain the concept of a baby Avenger. "And of course by that I mean he's currently the youngest on the team. Until you join, at least." Miss Johnson, satisfied by the correction and excited by the possibility of a new future for you, began filling out paperwork to arrange the adoption should you decide to go. This other Avenger you had never heard of piqued your interest, but you had much more pressing issues on your mind. The direction of your future was completely in you own hands for the first time in your life.

The air stood still while you sat, tense, trying to wrap your head around your choices. Change was terrifying, but this? This was incredible. You hardly left the orphanage since being dropped off many years ago, but this was a dream come true. Imaginative at heart, you knew there was more in the world for you to explore outside of the orphanage's property lines. Coming to your senses, you breathed deeply and stretched up tall, eyes directly on Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts, both of whom looked back at you hopefully as they imagined again what their life could be like if you said the word.

"Mr. Stark? Ms. Potts?"

They both blew air out of their noses, chuckling with gentle smiles. "Please, call me Tony. And her, Pepper. But - you were saying?"

"I'd like to come with you. Today."

The words escaped your lips and the many pieces of the plan were immediately put in motion. With Tony's connections, he was able to expedite the adoption process. Miss Johnson ushered you around the building, helping collect your things from the bedroom and pack a backpack with a couple of items. They stopped into the classrooms for quick goodbyes to the teachers you had, all of whom were sad you'd be leaving but relieved you would have a better shot at achieving the potential they saw in you. When you finally stopped moving for a second, you were out on the front porch with Miss Johnson where the current era of your life began. Tony and Pepper waited at the end of the pathway that connected the door to the sidewalk, holding hands and leaning up against a black Cadillac. You stole one last look at the orphanage and Miss Johnson, who hugged you, waved, and scurried back inside, leaving you alone. Lifting your head high and taking a deep breath, you stepped down the stairs toward your new parents and your new life. Tony slipped into the front seat while you and Pepper climbed into the backseat of the car. The doors were quickly shut by a man who made his way back to the driver's seat and escorted them away from the only place you had ever known.

Seemingly only moments later, you arrived at the airport and drove straight up to the quinjet after the driver repeatedly showed identification to agents along the way. It was a small plane, lettered with "STARK INDUSTRIES" on both sides in large font shaped like the signature logo you knew well from your research online. The car door opened and you followed Tony's and Pepper’s lead, hopping out and trotting right behind them and on board. They had been quieter than you expected. This was partially planned, of course - the last thing they wanted to do was overwhelm you on day one. Tony and Pepper both felt confident you were up to the task as your files were outstanding and the child services agents he spoke to were astonished by you. In the plane, Tony took a seat by the window with Pepper across the aisle from him. You sat across from Tony but were instantly drawn to the window, your eyes filled with more curiosity and wonder than anyone Tony had ever seen. Pepper recognized the look immediately, of course, as the expression Tony made when he had a new idea. You weren't the slightest bit nervous as the plane took off despite it being your first time on a plane - instead, you were instantly mesmerized by the jet engines lifting you off the ground and carrying you across the country. Overcoming your feelings of under-qualification to even be in the same room as Tony and Pepper, you gathered up the confidence to pick Tony's brain the rest of the five-hour flight to New York. You covered all the mechanisms behind how the quinjet worked and all the extra technology he installed. He showed you designs on his laptop, which you quickly pulled into your lap and scanned thoroughly, learning more and more every second.

Tony beamed as your eyes danced around the screen, taking in every bit of information you could. You quickly set the laptop back on the small table between you and Tony and angled the screen so you could both see it, pointing at something with another detailed question about some component of the plane's engineering noted on the blueprint. While you tried to form your question, he glanced from the screen where you were pointing to her face. Your eyes shined the brightest he had seen so far and, though cliché, it was like he was watching you emerge from your shell. Pepper watched them both fondly; this was everything she and Tony dreamed of. Excitement radiated from you and Tony loved every second of it. Already feeling the reward that comes with raising a child and watching them grow, a weight on their shoulders they didn't know he carried lifted. Their eyes met briefly in between your questions and both sighed with relief. They had a happy family and were headed home. Each of them turned back to watch you, the incredible kid sitting in front of them, as they looked fondly at the outcome of their own life-changing decision to adopt you.

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#peter parker #fanfiction #myspideysensesrtingling #myspideysenses fanfic #maddie writes #spider-man #fanfic #peter parker fanfic #marvel #mcu #peter parker x reader #in my way #tony stark #pepper potts

[humansofoz]

May 7, 2019

“She turned her cant’s into cans and her dreams into plans”

Sarah Slater. 22. SUNY Oswego Senior.

HoOz- What was your greatest struggle at age 16?

Sarah- I think just the transition in high school. My high school was not a good one, so I didn’t feel prepared to go to college. I didn’t know anything about scholarships; I didn’t know anything about real life experiences. So just being prepared to be an adult. In my family I had to grow up at a really young age, so being at school wasn’t a priority because they weren’t teaching me anything that could help me. I would be like I’m doing my homework, I’ll do my classwork, and then I’m leaving at seventh period.

HoOz- What was the most valuable lesson you learned in high school?

Sarah- The most valuable lesson I learned in high school was that family is forever and friends aren’t forever. I made a lot of friends in high school. I thought that we were gonna ride the wave together and stuff. I was like “go home? Nah! I’m hanging out with my friends! I’m having a good time!” Life happens and things happen at home and stuff like that and then your friends sometimes just drop. You guys stop taking the same classes and they just drop. So just having my family’s support and having them help me find jobs and stuff like that while I was in high school was very important.

HoOz- Do you have any siblings?

Sarah- Girl, yes! I have two brothers and one sister.

HoOz- What is your relationship with your siblings like?

Sarah- I think my relationship with the two oldest is amazing. They’re fraternal twins, two year difference and we have a good relationship. For instance, if I fail a test, I’ll call them like oh my god I really failed! Because they’ve been through college already. Every time that I’m leaving a new form of life, like I’m leaving college and they’re entering their Master’s, or I’m entering my Master’s and they’re leaving their Master’s. So they have good skills to give me. Then we have the baby. He’s the youngest, he’s 14. Yeah he thinks he’s grown. He thinks he fly and shit. But whatever, it’s cool.

HoOz- What is your relationship with your parents like?

Sarah- Well I don’t have a father. Growing up he was not around. But I do have a good relationship with my grandmother. She adopted us at a young age and she raised us. I have an okay relationship with my mom. We don’t argue or anything like that but we just don’t talk everyday. That’s just like a “me” thing. I just don’t like to be on the phone all the time.

HoOz- What was one of your most memorable childhood experiences?

Sarah- When we were younger we didn’t have a lot. My grandmother adopted us and we lived in a one-bedroom apartment. She used to make these little honey drippers out of Kool-Aid with honey in it and she used to cook all these things cause she’s southern. All the kids would come to our house and they would eat our stuff and we would argue with them and stuff. One time my uncle bought all these water balloons. We had this big water balloon fight on the block and it was so cute. We were all just laughing. That’s before people were getting shot outside. It was just safe. That was my favorite memory.

HoOz- Tell us about your past four years at Oswego. What was some of your most memorable moments?

Sarah- When I first came to Oswego I was EOP and I remember getting off the bus and I was like oh no! Oh no, this is not what it looked like on TV; I’m not staying here! Then I went upstairs to my room and I was like, there’s no air conditioning? It was Seneca. I was like oh no, this is not what it looked like online. This is not what I thought it was gonna be. There’s no air conditioning. I’m a city girl; I can’t be playing out here with these bugs and this grass. That was my first experience with Oswego. As the time went by, I made friends and I made connections. I’ve gotten so much more independence from coming to college. Now that I’m in my senior year I feel like I’ve done a good amount of things. I’ve done my RA things, I’ve done my internship, and I’ve worked. So I feel like being up here gave me my own independence because being in the city, I would’ve just stayed with my same friends and I would’ve just been stuck in my little shell. So coming up here and meeting all these different people and being exposed to different diversities and cultures, it was a really good experience.

HoOz- Is there anything that you wish you did at Oswego that you didn’t get a chance to do?

Sarah- I wish I would have studied abroad. You know when you’re an RA you can’t study abroad; it’s one or the other. Some people say you can do the quarter class and go during your breaks but it’s like by the time you get to your break you just want to go home and be with your family or your friends or your significant other. So I wish that before I decided to settle in and be an RA I would have studied abroad or did a co-op and applied for RA during my junior year instead of my sophomore year. Those are experiences you can never get back, so I would have done that.

HoOz- What advice would you give an incoming first year student?

Sarah- I would tell them to get involved but for all the right reasons. Like don’t get involved just because it looks good on your resume. Get involved because you genuinely enjoy it and you’re willing to put the extra work in to make it something that’s a part of your brand. A lot of people come in their freshman year and they’re spazzing out, they’re partying, getting documented, doing all these crazy things their freshman year. Then sophomore, junior year, and senior year they can’t get certain opportunities because they were really lashing out their freshman year. So I think that when you first come in, think wisely about the things that you do and the company you keep.

HoOz- Out of the things you have been involved with on campus, what do you think has been the most valuable experience?

Sarah- I think the most valuable thing that I’ve done on campus was probably being an RA. Being an RA is not an easy job in my opinion. I think that it takes a lot of patience and dedication to be there, especially when your kids see you all the time and you have to report to other people. It’s a very time consuming, very dedicated job, but I feel like I learned a lot about myself through being an RA. I think I got a lot of mental strength from being an RA because it can be very stressful.

HoOz- What are your next steps after graduation?

Sarah- After graduation I’m gonna go back home. I want to get my certification to be an esthetician cause I’m a business and public relations major and I want to open up my own legacy or start a waxing company. I want to know about the chemicals that in products specifically for women of color. So I’m going to get a certification then I’m gonna go for my Master’s.

HoOz- What is your biggest flaw?

Sarah- My biggest flaw is that I’m very outspoken. On campus I don’t really talk to people that often because I don’t really have much to say, but I feel if there’s something I don’t agree with or the majority doesn’t agree with or it’s gonna inconvenience most but convenience few, I’m going to say something and however it comes out it comes out. The truth should be heard. If you’re wrong, you’re wrong. So I think that’s one of my biggest flaws.

HoOz- What’s your biggest strength?

Sarah- I think my biggest strength is that I’m a nurturer. I don’t like to see people fall through the cracks. If they’re down, I don’t want to see anybody hurt. I feel like I will go the extra mile to make sure someone’s okay even if I know it’s not gonna be reciprocated just so that people know that someone cares for them and that they matter.

HoOz- Where do you see yourself in 5-10 years?

Sarah- In 5-10 years I definitely think I might relocate. I kind of want to go to San Francisco or something like that. I always wanted to work for Sephora headquarters on the business side making sure the chemicals in the products are good and making sure there aren’t any issues. So I’ll probably be in San Francisco doing the Sephora thing or I might go into Law school to be a corporate lawyer.

HoOz- If you could tell your future self one thing what would it be?

Sarah- I think I would tell my future self that you gotta push yourself. Sometimes I think that I doubt myself a lot and I say that it’s not possible or it can’t happen, but anything is possible when you push yourself harder. I also think that I have to stick with eating healthy and being more aware of my self-care and not going the extra mile if it costs my mental or physical health.

[soulmxteskrp-blog]

WELCOME TO SOULMATES, SEOKJIN !

introducing kim seokjin ! she’s a TWENTY FOUR year old from CALIFORNIA, currently occupied as a JUNIOR SOFTWARE DEVELOPER !

❝ tell us about yourself! ❞ —

The camera peers over at him - a singular black, unwavering pupil amongst the haphazard glare of the lights. It’s unnerving, somehow; makes his palms feel warm and his heart sting in the same way telling a girl he loves her does. It’s a funny sight: a boy that’s spent the better part of his twenties in front of a camera for a living, now concaving into himself from apprehension in the face of one. He tells himself it’s different - that this isn’t his home, isn’t the same four walls and the webcam he’d saved up for; that he’s not talking to his fellow gamers about everything and nothing. Then, he tells himself that it doesn’t have to feel different - that inauthenticity is barely palatable, that he’s got nothing to fear here.

He thinks he can see the view from his bedroom window for a moment. When he unfurls his fist, his fingernails have left red crescent moons.

“I’m Kim Seokjin. People call me Jin, mostly because of my online name, Eeljin. N-Not iljin,” the word spills from an eager mouth, shaking teeth, “please don’t think I’m some sort of gang member or anything. It’s a pun. It’s- it’s not funny. I’m sorry. Uh,” hands curl into themselves again; clasp and unclasp, knuckles tense and then relaxed, “I’m sorry, really. Not sure if internet humour translates well in real life.”

“Eeljin’s my summoner name,” this, of all things, flows easily. Shoulders go slack; dimples deepen. “For the game League of Legends. I’m a streamer on the website Twitch; I’m usually online everyday after my day job. Started a couple years ago while I was still in grad school, and it kind of blew up, so I stuck with it. Not that I’m claiming to be famous, or anything; I’m just lucky enough to be able to play games for a somewhat-living.”

❝ what’s your goal of being on this show? ❞ —

Mother’s voice rings in his ears unbidden: honesty is the best policy, Seokjin. He wasn’t raised to be a liar. (Just a runner, but that’s a story for another time.) The question itself isn’t unexpected - in fact, he’s more than positive he’s answered it on paper before, blue pen staining the pads of his fingers and leaving ink trails on the application form. He’d been worried that they wouldn’t be able to read his scratchy writing - years of engineering classes had taught him much, but penmanship was not a mastery he’d been blessed to learn.

A pause - just enough to recollect, to focus. Dad’s taught him well - taught him to find confidence even when he’d had none. Didn’t work when he’d needed it the most, but the trick works just fine now. Breathe in, breathe out.

“To be honest with you, it’s because of my fans.” How awkward, to say it out loud, even after all this time. Disbelief that they’re even real. “They say they care about me so much they don’t want me to waste my life playing games. They want me to get a girlfriend already.” And, he adds mentally, to stop ‘pining’ after fake ones - despite his numerous, firmly-worded statements that he does have adequate interactions with women of the real world. “One of them started sending my streaming chat a link to this show’s application, then a lot of them started to do the same, and then finally a group of my friends cornered me and told me I couldn’t leave unless I’d filled it out.”

Strangely, the camera seems to look unconvinced. “I- I’m not not looking for love. I didn’t mean to sound so nonchalant about it. I’m really open to meeting new people and trying out new things - contrary to peoples’ belief about me, I do like the idea of dating. I’ve done it before. The soulmates aspect of it is-” eyebrows furrow contritely, and his smile takes on a shadow of good-natured teasing; a soft sigh of unbelief slips through his grin- “a little out there for me, if I’m being truthful, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to count anything out. I’m here because I think it’ll be fun - I hope it’ll be fun.”

#sm: welcome #kim seokjin #krp ad #krp ads #kroleplay #bangtan

[drowngrief]

   written    on     RELIGIOUS  PERCEPTIONS     in    relation    to    my    portrayal    of    brooke .

A . )       parental    influence    played    a    considerable    role    in    brooke’s    views       &       alignments in    regards    to    the    aforementioned .    

  –  quinn      subscribed    somewhat    silently    to    christianity ,         only    occasionally     attending      masses    for    christmas           (      &     easter ,       sometimes     )         in    order    to    maintain    a    stronger   public    image       &       appeal to a broader audience when the time came to run for mayor    ;         while    he    ran    as    a    republican    candidate ,          he    was    aware    that    there    were    always    a    handful    of    more    radical    people    who    were    likely    to hold what he did    in    public    against    him    if    he    didn’t    make   a    point    to    show    any    form    of    religious    faith .  

  –  monica ,    however ,       with    her    long  -  repressed    wanderlust       &       recurrent    need    for    something    new ,       found    her    form(s)    of    solace    through    gradually    increasing    absences       &       vagrancy ,        the    latter    both    in    a    literal       &       religious    sense .      she was brought up by catholic  parents  ––        her    mother    on    the    more    devout    end    with    her    father    more    untraceable    due    to    his    absences ,        which    overshadowed    his    wife’s    desire    to    make    spirituality    more    of    a    method    of    family    bonding  ––     but    fell    into    the    common    currents    of    her    father’s    absences come the later end    of    her    sophomore    year    in    high school .         she    didn’t    ‘fall’    into    partying ,      necessarily ,         but    slowly    realized    that    she    could    manipulate    herself    into    a    sense    of    belonging    somewhere    with    the    help    of    more    open  -  minded    friends       &       a    less    restrictive    environment .             she    then    fully    adopted the    more    open  -  minded    outlook    that    she    had    never    been    allowed    to    embrace    due    to    a    sense    of    obligation .       this    newfound    freedom    led    to    her    looking    into    different    belief    systems with    unparalleled    alacrity .        she    was    both    in    search    of    with    which    she    felt     most    connected    to      & ,       perhaps    more    importantly ,         which    could    be    used    to    help    her    to    achieve    the   furthest    distance    from    her    mother’s    looking  -  over  -  her  -  shoulder    nature    of    imposing .                                  +     this    also    serves    as    an    example    of    a    subconscious    imitation    of    her     father  ––         not    being    around    the    house ,         not    being    direct    in     whether     or    not    she      parallels    with    her    mother’s       (     rather    filmsy     )        set    of    rules    or    not .  

 in    regards    to     the    afterlife    specifically ,         quinn    feigns    whole  -  hearted    belief    in    heaven       &       hell ,       when ,       in    reality ,      he    is     too    reluctant     to    accept    anything    so    abstract    as    a    stone    cold    truth .         monica    appears    with    the    family    in    church    when    they    go      (    until  her    substance    abuse    worsens     )       to    help    promote    the    maddox    image ,       but    is    more    into    the    idea    of    reincarnation    than    anything    else   ––     at    least,        that    has    been    the    most    sticking    of    the    many .  

                            SO  WHERE  DOES  THIS  LEAVE  BROOKE ?

B . )       confused ,       perhaps ,      if    she    cared    a    bit    more    about    it    as    a    child .     when     once    asked    by    a    classmate    in    primary    school ,       brooke    told    them that    the    family    was catholic    without    giving   the    matter    much    thought  ––         it    was    hardly    discussed    in    the   house ,       &       they    went    to    a    catholic    church    to    celebrate    christmas    mass .        that    must    be it ,      then .         but    monica ,       who    had    jumped    at    the    first    opportunity    to    break    away    from that    mold ,           made    a    point    to    tell    her    that    they    weren’t    a    part    of    that    particular    denomination ,          leaving    her    with    no    solid    answers .

                                             so  brooke  didn’t  ask.

she simply assumed her family to reside somewhere on the spectrum of christianity ,         not opposing to mass until she reached the fifth grade      (     &       only because she dreaded the great  lull of the service     ) .          she assumed the same beliefs that her father projected for a while ––   life   after death ––   but rapidly began to question them with the influence of   online information      &       conversations  heard       &       had  among      /      with    peers.        (     not much was really questioned or challenged ,         as   the image of the family’s spirituality was fabricated      &     rarely touched upon as a family ––    monica stuck to her own on her wavering beliefs for a while.)  this went on through until brooke’s junior year of high school  ––      an idly lying    belief   canceled out by latent skepticism was forced to its crux   with   the string of murders    beginning with nina patterson .

   this ––    nina’s murder standing alone ––     was not what brought the question to its pinnacle.     brooke thought nina’s murder to be a totally freak,   one-time thing .     so ,     what was it  ?

                                                                     RILEY’S.

C . )    riley’s death  is what confirmed brooke’s original theory ––    that an attack on the second generation after the brandon james attacks would just be too lifetime movie esque to come true ––   to be fallacious .

   brooke finding out that ghostface’s texts put her    &    riley as the choose-between would  absolutely have the fault    /    responsibility-inducing effect on brooke, but from a smaller, more basic       &       emotion-desiccated viewpoint, the event & choice could be seen as something of a miracle .      don’t misinterpret––   brooke is nowhere near grateful that the victim was riley,     &      she would have rathered it be herself, but having fate twist in her favor in that way       (     beyond what money or her family is able to provide     )        would feel surreal for anyone.      she often finds herself consumed in the butterfly effect regarding this tragedy more than any other in her life,    leading to dreams in which she was the one murdered, in which she was the one who actually killed riley,        &       in which she feels the link on the handcuffs attaching her to the bedpost gradually growing white-hot until the pain is too much to bear. (the beginnings of survivor’s guilt.)

    brooke has never been one to look for the paranormal elements in her day to day life,     nor is it something that she’s into at all, but after riley’s death, there occasionally seemed to be a sort of unspoken presence in brooke’s house  in her bedroom      &     living room (a cooler draft, the creaking of floorboards under prodding feet). there also seemed to be more starless nights ––    even though louisiana offers no stunning view to begin with ––    after riley’s death,       &       things as simple as light refracted off of a glass     &     thrown into crystalline patterns on the walls brought back broken memories of better days .

basis  :       riley’s murder simultaneously heightened brooke’s belief in a god        (     without her even being that aware of it    )       &       made her internal denial of god’s existence even stronger .

D . )       the second influential event  on brooke’s faith was jake being stabbed in the chest in 1.07.     she tells noah in the beginning of 1.08 how the doctors described the knife missing jake’s organs as a��MIRACLE,     &      to a logistical extent, is inclined to label his survival the same way.

   this was even after she did the inadvisable out of panic ––   pulling the knife out.     once again,    some bizarre,    too-good-to-be-true outward thing has righted one of her committed wrongs,      &     she does not at all feel deserving.

                                                  so one miracle kills while another saves .

   with her mother’s well being dangling in midair at this point in canon, she almost feels the twisted luck to point more towards the wanchancy of further familial corruption gone unseen  ––    it gives her a reason to be more suspicious that quinn might have done off with monica.

    in her childhood, she was fairly used to getting what she wanted ––    perhaps, she thinks, her mother’s fate being the opposite of what she hopes it to be would serve as another example of the universe putting her in the balance’s sternum, if only to see the next move she’ll make. it may also serve as some twisted form of karma –––   a way for the world to reinforce the mantra of “you can’t always get what you want”.

basis  :      jake surviving the bowling alley attack throws her for a serious loop in the attempt to determine exactly where she stands on the existence of a god.     here ,     she begins to lean more towards belief.

E . )     closely following the description of jake’s survival, however, arrived the news of will’s death.    this marked the loss of four of brooke’s closest acquaintances at the start of the series.      while it didn’t have as distinctive or lasting of an impact as some of the other losses suffered in brooke’s life,    the timing of it offered a wall for the gaining momentum of her blossoming belief to crash full-force into.      it seriously challenged any form of optimism that came with the ‘miraculous’ survival.      here is where she is forced to come to terms with agnosticism,      &      it only continues to sprout from this event      &      the conflicting viewpoints that came with the real-life contrast .

F . )     the deciding event in terms of her view on the afterlife occurred in 1.10, when she was locked into the freezer & stabbed at.    this event is later referenced in her carnival speech in 2.08 :    

         “  i almost died.    & you know what i saw ?    nothing. no white light.    just big,    black,    empty nothing.  ”

    in a world where near death experiences are so often exalted      &      then used as fuel for intense cultural involvement          (     books ,      movies ,       constant news interviews     ––––––      think of colton burpo’s experience      &     how it was made into something for everyone to know every detail about    –––––     brooke not only felt for some time as though she had gotten the short end of the stick,     but also thought this even more of a reason to keep her own experience to herself.       she didn’t open up to anyone about how the freezer incident felt         (     in the heat of it or the aftermath     )       until intoxication blended with fury on the stage at lakewood’s carnival .    

    in the future,       brooke will not find spirituality as a stronghold in difficult times or when memories trigger pain.    the concept makes her feel too vulnerable,         &        the slope has proven itself to be far too slippery to place any trust in.   

#minimal formatting under the cut bc the first try failed me. #but this is something i've been thinking on for a little while &. #i wanted to delve into it. #the rambling probably gets a little hard to decipher at points lmao. #so my apologies for that ! but that's how things usually go here anyway tbh. #* in.⠀▬⠀STUDY.⠀❪ alpenglow sharpens silhouette⠀/⠀ᵃᵉᵛᶤᵗᵉʳᶰᵃˡ ᵃᵉᵗʰᵉʳᵉᵃˡᶤᵗᵉˢˑ ❫

[anoverwhelmingloser]

Come To

We were supposed to be each other’s firsts. It was a promise made on a Saturday morning in November, after the first night we’d spent together. “When we’re both ready,” she whispered. Her feet were so cold pressing into my shins and I could taste the stale acidity of my mouth fermenting, but we lay still, intertwined like strings of Christmas lights. Her breath shuddered against my neck as she gave over the weight of her skull to my chest. Eventually, she sat up and rubbed her left shoulder, looking out the window at the snow tumbling down in sloppy sheets. We kissed, gently – her lips crisp with the taste of peppermint chapstick – and she said she felt most like herself in my arms. I was jacking off when I found out that she died in late August. Classes were starting in a week, and I was already back at school, but Diana was supposed to stay in Seattle a few more days for her brother’s wedding. Her mom Carol told me hysterically over the phone that Diana was setting up for her band’s rehearsal in the hotel ballroom for the reception and she accidentally stuck her finger in the electrical socket. By the time they got her to the emergency room she was gone. Carol invited me to stay with them for the funeral – it would be on Monday – but she understood if I didn't have it in me to come. A sick tragedy, she muttered; her angel was gone. Before she could hang up, I was dry heaving, leaning over my toilet with blue balls. “Freak accident, I'm so sorry man,” someone said with a hand on my knee, and then another someone with a green sock hat nodded in agreement, and then another someone in a pair of clean white overalls said that I needed a drink. My roommates had planned a party; they offered to cancel, but it seemed too hard to have to tell all of my marginal acquaintances over text what happened. They found out anyway, obviously. I thought about leaving the apartment once everyone was crowding my couch, but there wasn't another bed to fall onto and a pile of limbs to collapse into anymore. I clung to a bottle of tequila instead. Frankie’s drum kit, which lived in the common space, was suddenly and violently attacked by someone who was not Frankie; angry heat washed over me. Conversations about disappointing class schedules and monotonous summer jobs and grueling apartment hunts grew loud and harsh in my ear – the combined effect of the uninvited jam session and the alcohol. Soon, people were standing in various formations above me, creating a poorly designed skyline of bobbing heads and plastic cups. My eyes felt smoky, unblinking. I hadn’t gotten drunk in a long time, and the sourness in my stomach twisted into knots. Joanna, Bradley’s girlfriend, handed me a plate of blue corn tortilla chips and store bought guacamole, “You should eat something.” I took the plate, faking appreciation, but I didn't want to engage. Instead, I got up to pee. Joshua and Eden and Tall Alex were squeezed into the tiny hallway, taking shots. As soon as they saw me coming, they stopped laughing and pushed themselves against the walls, parting the way with sorry eyes. Eden grabbed my hand and pitifully smiled. Once I was in our shoebox bathroom, I looked at myself for the first time since the phone call. But my eyes couldn't focus on my reflection – partly because the mirror hadn't been cleaned since we moved back in, but mostly because I was a walking hologram of leaking light. My skin felt dried out, like after a day in the ocean, but cloudier. I splashed water on my feverish cheeks and ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to feel the plaque that was undoubtedly there. Someone knocked before I could get to the mouthwash. “Hey, you almost done in there? I’m gonna piss myself.” An unfamiliar voice shot through my daze. I opened the door to a short girl with firecracker hair, curly and untamed. She looked up from her cup and huffed past me. A breeze of cinnamon sweat and lavender deodorant lingered. I could hear her unzipping her jeans; I tried not to remember the effortless, full swing of her hips. Diana’s frame was so small, I was always afraid I’d somehow break her, even when we were just making out. I used to look forward to the day she would say she was ready, but seeing hickeys on her tender neck for weeks at a time, I feared the bruises I could leave all over her fragile body. “Henry, do you wanna come over and help me move the furniture on Friday?” Diana winked. That was the euphemism we’d agreed upon from a list of 400 we’d found online the morning of the promise; it was the least offensive, she said, and also the dumbest. I was just glad to not be in a fight so I eagerly agreed to the date, our first in a long time, and kissed her on the forehead. “This will be really good for us.” My distorted silhouette quivered in her heavy eyes when I told her I loved her. Walking home, I felt like I was sailing; it was perfect timing because we’d both be leaving Boston for the summer, and each other, in just a few days. But the entire week I couldn’t focus on my finals, or get myself to pack, or even enjoy the thick sun of May afternoons. I woke up from a dream soaked in my own sweat on Thursday morning; Diana and I were having sex in the top of Big Ben tower (she was planning on studying abroad in London second semester of junior year), and somehow she fell the 315 feet into nothingness. When I told her, I think she laughed, but the simulated guilt lingered. I had a panic attack Friday during my linguistics final and spent the rest of the night in the ER. She brought wilting deli flowers and didn’t talk much. We cuddled in the hospital bed until she had to leave for the airport. “Do you live here?” The redheaded girl was closing the bathroom door as the gurgling toilet settled into silence. “Because your bathroom is disgusting.” “Oh, sorry about that … Hey, um, I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here? Who are you with?” “I’m Polly, friends with Alex. He dragged me here.” Her deep-cut black blouse exposed her collarbone, goosebumped. “Okay. Cool. Well, are you having a good night?” “Not really. Not drunk enough to deal with everyone, you know? I hate feeling that way – when you’re just too conscious of how everyone is acting and how you’re supposed to be acting and you’re not acting that way.” “Yeah, that’s rough.” “Oh, wait. Fuck, I feel like an asshole. You were with Diana.” She looked like she was on the verge of tears and I could almost make out my reflection in her soft, watery eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know her that well, but she seemed like a sweetheart. We always ran into each other at Pavement on Sunday mornings. I was always hungover, in desperate need of coffee, and she would be deep into some huge novel or scribbling in a notebook. Anyway, I’m sorry for your loss.” “Yeah. Thanks.” A bead of sweat dribbled down my back and I suddenly realized how close I was standing to Polly’s full, rosy cheeks. “Sorry, I, um, gotta – I’ll see you around.” I slammed my bedroom door shut, locking it behind me. I wanted to remember the way she was mindlessly braiding her hair when I served her that first almond latte on a fall morning, the dimpled smile she gave back; but her face was 3,000 miles away. For the rest of the night, I tortured myself by saying over and over, “Diana is dead.” I tried to whisper it to her spirit which was surely watching me with contempt, I tried screaming it at the photo of us in ugly Christmas sweaters (her on my lap, kissing my cheek) situated triumphantly upon my bedside table, but it was all in vain; it had been 16 hours since I’d heard that my girlfriend Diana Maeve Russell was electrocuted to death and I couldn’t find it in me to cry. When I woke up, my head felt like a sponge, entirely saturated, begging to be wrung out. It was 2 pm. The last time I'd felt the bite of a hangover gnawing on every nerve ending seemed so long ago; in April, after Frankie’s band, Born Tourists, played its first show, we all went bar hopping. Diana woke me up with incessant door banging after a meager two hours of sleep. “Where have you been? You just decided to turn your phone off all night?” Her face was twisted into a streaky blur of mascara and snot, furiously dribbling down her chin. “Oh, it died I guess. Just went out after the show, you said you didn’t want to go. Figured you were asleep.” “I had a really shitty day. I called you like fifteen times. Why’d you stay out so fucking late, you know I hate when you’re drunk.” Her arms folded across her heaving chest. “Diana -” “You didn’t even think about me all night while you were out taking shots and flirting with the sluts at Dugout.” “What? Flirting? Diana, It was just Josh and Frankie and Bradley and Joanna and Mary, no one you don’t know. I don’t want to flirt with anyone, I don’t need to.” I was an all over ache; percussion in my head. “I wish you trusted me.” “Well you make it really fucking hard, Henry.” She wiped her nose, fired her bullet eyes, and charged for the door. “Thanks so much for that heartfelt apology. Your concern is overwhelming.” We made up a few days later, but the sting never quite dissolved. I stopped drinking mostly. It was all pins and needles with Diana, yet I felt an obligation to always be by her side. We never got to have our special night, so things felt very uncertain when I flew home. I thought summer would be a relief, but the distance just sent us into a chaotic spiral of passive hatred. Most of my days in Dallas were spent on the phone arguing about my relationship with Zoey, my high school best friend; Diana was paranoid that I had feelings for her. It got so bad that I had to stop hanging out with her after work. “It would just make me feel more secure in our relationship. I need to know that I matter to you,” Di whined over FaceTime. We were fighting almost every night and I was desperate to make things work, so I spent all my birthday money on a flight to Seattle at the end of July. It was a quick weekend trip, and she was happy to see me; we held hands and walked through Pike Place Market and kissed at the top of the Space Needle and drank coffee from the original Starbucks. Saturday night, we cooked dinner together for her family – fresh Chilean Sea Bass and risotto and green beans and lots of wine. Diana liked casual drinking, as long as the intention wasn’t to get drunk; but that night she got plastered. She laughed, and danced, and splashed me as we did the dishes, and wrestled her little brother to the ground, and slid down the long hallways in socks, and kissed me endlessly. I recognized the shirt Diana wore from the Sunday morning we first met. We lay on her lemon yellow duvet, overcrowded with pillows. The pink and white striped walls looked like the inside of a candy store, and they were covered with doodles and notes from her childhood friends. I looked up at the blue moon-shaped lights hanging from the bed frame, and past Diana’s blonde ponytail thrown from side to side as she brushed her lips against my neck; an array of picture frames was arranged on the white shelf, staring at me. I saw Diana and Shannon Carmichael, her childhood best friend, wrapped in each other’s tiny arms, wearing matching witch hats and face paint; I saw Dylan Truscott posed awkwardly around Diana in an ill-fitting tux at junior prom; I saw Samantha, Diana’s freshman year roommate on move-in day, I even saw Joanna and Bradley, front row at a concert over the summer. But on the entire wall, I couldn’t find a single picture of the two of us. “Henry? Can we…?” She was reaching for my belt, determination in her eyes. “You had a lot of wine, Di.” “So? You did too.” “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not like this.” “But I want to.” Her swollen, hopeful face steered into mine; I grasped her shoulders. “Don’t you want to remember your first time?” “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m tired of acting like it’s so special when everyone else has been doing it since we were in eighth grade.” “You don’t want it to be special? Then what am I here for? Let’s just get some loser from Tinder over here. I bet he’ll fuck your brains out.” “Jesus, Henry, what is wrong with you?” “I don’t matter to you.” “What? Why would you be here in my bed with me if you didn’t matter?” “You don’t show it.” “Henry, you never even touch me. You hate PDA, you don’t want to have sex. Are you not attracted to me anymore?” “Are you fucking kidding me Diana? I’m just trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to protect you.” “I don’t need you to protect me. I can make my own decisions.” “But you’re drunk. Tonight isn’t the right night, Di. Let’s go to sleep.” “When is it going to be the right time? You keep doing this to me. I’m trying to share a moment with you and you don’t seem to want anything to do with it. So honestly, tell me, do you not love me anymore?” “Diana, I can’t do this, seriously, why can’t you just believe in me?” She inhaled sharply, her bottom lip taut. She climbed off of me and straightened her shirt. “You're impossible.” I tossed and turned in the starchy guest room sheets all night; Diana locked me out of her room, but I could hear her sobbing through the walls. In the morning, we had a polite cup of coffee with her parents before leaving for my flight. I thanked them for hosting me. She drove and didn't speak; our stubborn silence screamed over the car radio. We hugged goodbye outside of the baggage drop-off, but I couldn’t feel her breath on my neck or her heartbeat against my chest. She was as distant from me then, in my arms on a gray Sunday morning, as she would soon become; her body still, not yet with death, but with the weak knees of defeat. “We’re going midnight bowling. Come.” Eden and Mary were peeking through the door to my bedroom, smiling warily. I told myself I wouldn’t go out, I told myself to do what you’re supposed to do when you lose someone who matters to you. I looked at our old texts and Facebook posts, trying to miss her. Carol, and Diana’s dad Mike, and her brother Evan, and Shannon Carmichael, and 306 of her other friends had posted photos and messages on her wall: “The most loving, caring, beautiful daughter I could have ever asked for. Rest in Peace, Diana;” “Di, you were with me through everything, I know your kind, generous spirit is in heaven;” “I love and miss you already sweet girl xoxo.” I slammed my computer shut and punched the pile of pillows at the edge of my unmade bed. I was desperate to feel something, but the arresting smell of pot drifted into my room and suddenly the plan to grieve in the house alone all night became very hazy. All I wanted was to get incredibly fucked up and I felt very little remorse about it. Before we even left, I took eight shots and smoked a bowl in spite of my friends’ apprehensive glances. Frankie drove us to Lucky Strike, which was more crowded than I’d ever seen it. I saw people from my freshman year writing seminar, guys I’d played in intramural soccer, some girls in the band that opened for Born Tourists, all sneaking sips from flasks while waiting in line for a pair of disinfected clown shoes. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and the decision to walk past vaguely familiar faces was liberating. Everyone seemed afraid to talk to me, even friends; they couldn’t decide on the right thing to say, so they kept their distance. The bubble surrounding me instilled a profound confidence in me, defiance even, so I found Drew in the bathroom and did a line of coke. “On the house,” he said, since it was my first time. It burned my nose, but once I emerged from the row of grimy lockers and sweaty towel baskets, I looked at the electric screens above the purple flashing footlights lining the shiny lanes. My nerves quieted as the lights flooded me with warmth; the bass of the dance music pulsated in my skull. I stepped on some scattered, smashed M&M’s, leaving tiny drops of colorful, melted chocolate in the stained carpet. The disco ball glimmered over a bald man with rotting teeth walking past with a mop. The door to outside was wide open, letting in the muggy night and cigarette smoke. I had an urgent need to be surrounded by laughing mouths, but I couldn’t find any that I recognized. The party I had come to was gone; these were just faceless phantoms throwing big bubblegum balls. My skin all of a sudden felt so disconnected; a dying battery. I thought bowling would be too sobering, and I didn’t want to lose the little spark left in me, so I sat near the bar and watched a group of ornery old men play pool. “Henry? Are you okay?” Polly was standing there, her arm pressing into my chair, her fingers on my shoulder. I realized I was collapsed over the table, like a pile of dirty clothes; I straightened up at her touch. “Can I get you some water?” “I’m good, really, so good. How’s your night? You can sit. If you want.” “How are you holding up? Was today any better?” I met her silk eyes. Her usual wild curls were pacified tonight. “Today blows. I’m tired of feeling sick to my stomach. I just want it to be over.” “Are you going to the funeral? Maybe that’ll help. Closure, or whatever.” She started playing with the scraps of napkin left on the table. “I haven’t decided. Don’t really wanna. I don’t want to have to think about her anymore. She’s like a never-ending fever. Even dead, she’s plaguing me.” She shifted in her seat, wrapping her hands around mine; trying to pry me open. My head detached from my body; a balloon, threatening to pop at any second. “Can I tell you something really awful? Part of me was relieved when I heard.” “Henry, you don’t mean that. You’re fucked up.” “Diana would hate me so much for tonight. Jesus. So pure and beautiful and full of hate.” “Woah.” “I know, I know, I sound like an awful person. But she wasn’t the picture of perfection that everyone makes her out to be. I was terrified of how much pain we could cause each other.” “You’re allowed to feel weird and conflicted. If you weren’t happy, you weren’t happy. It was an insane, tragic accident, but that doesn’t mean you have to mythologize her or pretend for anyone.” Polly ran her fingers through her hair, splitting it into three sections, and began twisting them around each other. A braid rippling along the arch of her neck. The morning light hitting her delicate shoulders just so. Her ink-stained fingers clutching the mossy green mug. The scrap of paper left on the table with 10 numbers and a tiny heart. My heart suddenly plunged itself into the crashing waves of my chest; drowning, breathless. “I think you’re beautiful. I know it’s fucked up – really just shit timing – but I can’t help it, that’s how I feel.” My rollercoaster lips collided into hers. Magnetic scarlet light enveloped the bowling alley. But her lips didn’t taste like sweet mint candy; they didn’t taste like anything at all. I felt the glow of the kiss sink into rainy nothingness as puddles fell from my lashes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I pulled away into dizziness, I couldn’t see through my tears. But I ran out of the bowling alley and all the way home despite the ache in my chest. I frantically threw sweatshirts and underwear and toothpaste in my suitcase, and I could feel my head going fuzzy as I came down. But the clarity of Diana’s diamond-shaped face and the velvety blush of her cheeks and the fullness of her wildflower lips cut through the haze. Before I even realized what I was doing, I was at the airport, buying a ticket for the 5:35 am flight out. I knew I needed to be there. Carol and Mike were waiting for me in Seattle, exhaustion weighing down their shoulders, but we shared a sober hug in the foyer of the house. “We’re glad you’re here, Henry. Diana would’ve wanted that.” After lunch, where I nibbled on a turkey sandwich, they let me have some time alone in her bedroom; untouched, messy, the way she left it. Her bedding was different than I remembered, but her sheets smelled like her shampoo and her detergent and her breath. The orchid-colored dress she was going to wear to the wedding was hanging on her closet door. I noticed a new picture had been added to the shelf, next to the prom photo. It was my silhouette, sunny and unassuming, looking out at the calm Elliott Bay waterfront on that hot July afternoon. I hadn’t really stopped crying since I left Boston, but now the tears spilled anew. I carefully took the photo out of the frame and noticed that it had only been printed about eight days ago. In purple pen, Diana had written on the back, “Henry – my loving and frustrating and stubborn and divine boy – forever my first.” I wore my only suit to the funeral and sat next to her brothers. It was a closed casket, but it didn’t bother me. Somehow, in knowing her memory of us, I found the strength to let her go. I threw a handful of dirt into the ground where she would lay and thought of her body which I had been so lucky to hold; I didn’t cry anymore. Strangers hugged me and told me how sorry they were for my loss. I slept in her bed the night before I left, soaking up the last bits of her. At the airport, I bought a pack of peppermint gum and chewed the whole thing on the seven hour flight. I landed in Boston and spit it out.

[emmegoeswriting]

Danielle Jackobson

Their phone:

★ what kind of phone do they have? Danielle mainly uses an iPhone -- and has gravitated almost completely away from using a land line except for when she's at work.

☆ what is their phone’s background? She just has a background from one of her trips overseas when she'd wandered around Scotland right after college.

✪ their standard ringtone? Standard telephone ring -- she takes too many work calls on her phone for it to be anything else.

❉ do they have any pictures on their phone? All different kinds and lots -- many from different outings with friends and different events that she's gone to.

✯ what do their texts look like? do they use emojis often? what kind? she's a stickler for using proper grammar -- until she's drunk and uses emojis sparingly, though she does enjoy sending kisses over text on a regular basis.

✦ the first five names on their contacts list? Andrew Wells Andrea James Becca Jackobson Cole Voss DO NOT ANSWER (Hunter Davids)

⍟ any games on their phone? what kind? how often do they play? She has solitare and Mario on her phone -- she's very sporadic in playing them though, tends to only play them when she's stuck in an airport or it's just a very slow day at work.

✹ five - ten songs on their iPod/phone? Starving (feat. Zedd) by Hailee Steinfield & Grey Believer by Imagine Dragons Good Die Young by Molly Kate Kestner One More Night by Maroon 5 Crave by Tove Lo Light up the Dark by Gabrielle Aplin

Their home:

♈ a description of their home - apartment building or detached house? how many rooms are there? colours of their walls? any decorations? Currently living in a two bedroom apartment -- walls are white, but she's done a fair job of covering with either pictures, paintings or the occasional fabric. She likes candles and keeps them regularly lit -- at least when it isn't a sweltering summer.

♉ what are their neighbours like? their relationship to them? Her neighbors get frustrated with her, given that she seems to come and go at all nights since she's been going to more and more events the more she's making a name for herself with the press. However, she has a decent relationship with them and tries to stay as quiet as she can when she's getting in late.

♊ what kind of mail do they get (except for bills)? have they subscribed to any magazines/newspapers? She's subscribed to the New Yorker since college and has a couple newspapers (most prominently the LA Times). As for other mail, it isn't much besides her bills which she's tried to get as paperless as she can with her busy schedule.

♋ do they read any newspapers/magazines? what kind? what topics are they interested in? do they flip forward to the cartoon page first? She doesn't read the cartoons except on bad days, but she still gets this thrill when she reads about foreign affairs, though she knows that realistically she may never break into that particular market in journalism. Right now, she'd be more content if she was doing in depth articles on people rather than drudging up gossip and half-truths.

♌ how do they drink their coffee/tea? Coffee. And she's insulted if anyone assumes that she would drink something different too (with the occasional hot chocolate thrown in). She prefers mochas though.

♍ any pictures on their walls? what kind/of who? Mostly family with a large amount through college though as well -- varying sizes but she's been gravitating more towards paintings the past year or two and is slowly moving the pictures into the spare room that works as her office currently.

♎ is their closet tidy or are the clothes just being thrown inside or lying on the floor? Her closet is tidy, though her shoes are in disorder almost constantly.

♒ their cleaning routine - laundry/dishes/cleaning the rooms She does laundry every Sunday morning and cleans the bathroom every Tuesday night -- the dishes get done as their needed, luckily she has a dishwasher that helps with that.

Digging deeper:

🌷 what do they have in their wallet? Her life? Just kidding -- sort of. She keeps business cards, debit cards and her credit cards, along with the few store membership cards that she has and uses regularly. She'll keep business cards of important contacts in her wallet as well. And her ever important press pass.

ꕥ what’s usually in their trouser/jacket pockets or purse? She keeps a notebook and pen in her bag at all times, period -- no exception. Extra toothbrush and a spare lipstick as well.

☘ how many keys do they have? for what? do they have any key pendants? Four keys: office building, vehicle, apartment building and her apartment door.

🍀 what kind of jewellery are they wearing? what’s their favourite peace? Occasionally will wear earrings, but she is always wearing her grandmother's wedding ring around her neck.

🌻 what do their bedsheets look like? colour? patterns? She prefers understated, a soft blue that feels incredibly soft every time that she crawls underneath the sheets.

🌹 what’s the colour of your muse’s underwear right now? black, to match her bra.

Getting closer:

× what does your muse smell like? what perfume/cologne are they using? Philosophy's Falling in Love -- vanilla, jasmine, lily of the Valley, musk and blueberry

� do they shower often? every day or just every couple of days? Danielle is a creature of habit -- she showers daily, always in the morning to wake herself up.

♻ how about brushing teeth? three times a day, or just in the morning? And brushes her teeth each morning and normally in the evening (except when she gets distracted).

⌘ do they rather shower or take a bath? Showers, hands down -- no questions asked about something like that. She'll take baths after a particularly stressful day though or when she's just feeling down.

♀ how long does your muse usually need for a shower/bath? She's all about streamlining things -- 15 minutes, maximum for a shower. Her baths are always long because she's trying to distress though.

⚣ how long does your muse need to shave? (this is also for the ladies!) My little creature of habit -- Danielle shaves twice a week because she wears dresses and skirts so often. Sometimes three times when she has an event to go to in he evening.

♂ does your muse put on make-up? how long do they need for it every day?  She uses minimal make up -- foundation, eye liner, and mascara and a great lip color. Something easy to manage when she's not in her house. It ranges it day from 9 hours to 15 hours though.

⚢ what kind of make-up does your muse use? favourite colours? how much do they use? Mostly Urban Decay, though she also uses Bare Minerals.

Exploring their body:

♤ does your muse have any scars? where? what do they look like? how did they get them? She has a small scar on her shoulder from when she broke her collarbone and ended up with the bone breaking the skin slightly during her junior year of high school.

♧ any freckles/moles/birth marks? where? She has some freckles across the back of her shoulder (left side).

♡ are their fingernails dirty or clean? cut/long? She keeps her nails clean, a little bit longer but regularly painted.

♢ how much do they weigh? You never ask a lady how much they weigh! She hoovers around 140.

♠ any ‘weird’ characteristics on their body? one leg/arm longer than the other? Not necessarily.

♣ are their veins particularly visible when they’re angry/upset/sad? no.

♥ do they have more muscles or more fat on their body? She's more lean muscle -- regularly goes on jobs and keeps a fairly healthy diet.

♦ any tattoos? where? what’s the story behind them? As of currently, Danielle does not have any tattoos on herself.

Open your closet:

⦂ what clothes do they sleep in? She has a pair of shorts and a tank top that she always sleeps in.

♚ do they have a favourite piece of clothing? There's this little black dress that she keeps for special occasions or weddings that she fell in love with a year previously. Otherwise her favorite piece of jewelry is always going to be her grandmother's wedding ring. She wears it on a necklace around her neck.

❅ what do they usually wear when they’re not working? She prefers light dresses over staying formal. If she's not wearing one of those then she's wearing jeans and a button down shirt.

☏ what do they wear when they’re at work? Always dressed professionally, blouses and pencil skirts and high heels. Occasionally she'll throw in flats if she knows that she is going to have to walk around the city that day.

₤ how many shoes do they have? what kind? Shoes? Well, Danielle has a bit of a guilty pleasure when it comes to shoes -- all different types and general ones with heels to give her a little bit more of a height bump. That, and she likes how her butt looks in them.

Σ how many purses do they have? She only has a couple -- just one for each occasion. She prefers to carry a larger one though that she bought a few years ago.

⌚ how long do they need to decide what to wear in the morning? No time -- she picks out her outfits the night before so she can catch a little extra sleep.

⌛ do they go shopping for clothes often? how long do they usually need? More often than not, Danielle buys her clothes online these days, though when the bug strikes her, she'll take an hour two to browse.

$ how much money do they spend on clothes every month? She doesn't normally do a monthly budget on clothing -- simply because she doesn't shop every month. She'll snag things as they wear out now days as she has a decent wardrobe stocked up now.

@graceof1x1

#c: danielle jackobson #mycharacters