#roommate of sorts. jules
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YOU ARE INBETWEEN THE WHERE AND WHEN
#been dead ass haleee for days... good morning tumblr..#work gott me dragging my feet and life is being batshit awful but.iam drawing#been thinkin about hassan and his ummmm#roommate of sorts. jules#scratching my head. lips zipped but. We are in situations#campaign started last friday so im RRAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but holy fuck#yea#i mmmay#or may yy not have an nhp! shes very sweet! smiles. She's an unstable NHP.#Do with that what you will but she and hassan have a neurological link thru psychic means. thumbs up#bingo art#lancer rpg#but yea ill probably be online eventually ive just been very. man. putting my hands in a fist. iiiii am tired.
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do you have any tips on managing adhd when you can't get professional help and meds? Especially when I have a ton of schoolwork like 3-4+ important things a day when I can only manage 1-1.5.
hey sweetheart! i'm not sure when you sent this in, so i apologize for just seeing this. i'll try to organize my thoughts into bullet points so it isn't a chunky paragraph:
community! having a support network, for better or for worse, really is everything. (for worse because not everyone may have one, but it can be easy to start building one online at least.) i say this because 1) delegation, 2) body doubling, and 3) of course, emotional support.
delegation, meaning giving out tasks to different folks, can be helpful because then you aren't the only person completing these tasks!
body doubling is something i do, without fail, literally everyday, meaning i do my work in the same space as someone else who is also working because it motivates me to do more! whenever i see my roommate cleaning or typing away, before i even make the conscious decision to do so, i do work too. i even get texts like the screenshot below (literally yesterday) because all of my friends are neurodivergent except maybe one. find a set of friends you can count on for body doubling! there's also in our Academic Resources a site called Study Stream that lets you sit on Zoom with a bunch of other random students but personally that makes me feel awkward lol
[ID: Screenshot of text sent through iMessage, the "heart," "thumbs up," "thumbs down," laughing, "exclamation point," and "question mark" icons floating above. The text reads, "Hey, so I'm working on aleks and doing other tasks and I'd like to have a body double who'd be interested in kicking it afterwards. You interested?" For context, Aleks is a program used to complete math problems assigned by professors.]
and lastly, emotional support, the obvious one. when it feels like you have no one supporting you, excuse my language, but this shit gets hard. especially when you're low on spoons, if you know about spoon theory. you need that support!
i'd also say that prioritization is an important skill. sometimes, you really won't get everything done, and it is genuinely frustrating. i try to order my work by what's due soonest so i'm getting closer work out of the way. but you can also order them by hardest to easiest to do so you knock out the absolutely worst thing out of the way so if you do still have energy you just have little stuff left. OR you can do the opposite so you finish more tasks by completing a list of easy stuff. it's really about what makes most sense to you so i can't really make that decision for you.
reward systems tend to work really well, that or conditionals. what i mean by that is gamifying the process of completing tasks. my favorite example of this is actually a new trend on tiktok created by @/luxarnold and then further developed by @/this.isjules and @/fromwonder. if you don't have titkok, basically these folks have put ALL of their tasks in either some sort of arbitrary numerical order or ordered by the energy it would take to complete, and when they roll a dodecahedron (20-sided) die, it lands on one of the numbered tasks and that's what they complete. the more tasks they complete, the more health points they deplete off of this imaginary monster they've created. and at the end, just like a game, they win a prize for defeating the monster. some creators wrote extra hours to watch their favorite TV show, some wrote time for crafting, some wrote specific objects. video example below:
an example of a conditional to me is more like every time i check my phone, i force myself to at least take a tiny sip of water. and you could do the opposite. maybe every time you consume your favorite snack, you complete one assignment until it becomes like habit.
breaks! this girl once said that you should be taking breaks based not on how much you complete, but the energy you deplete. and i live by that now! it doesn't matter if you completed only 2 tasks. if you can afford to, i encourage you to just take the break if your body feels drained. pushing past that will not serve you in completing those other tasks to the best of your abilities. if you don't feel like you can hold yourself accountable this way, i would suggest maybe checking out Pomodoro timers.
bravery! at least in my case, i needed bravery to contact my professors and be vulnerable with them. not every teacher will be so kind, but if you feel comfortable, please reach out and explain that the workload does not work well for you. you'd be surprised by the number of folks who are willing to offer you accommodations. i will literally text my teachers at this point and say, "hey, i just had an anxiety attack and i know by now how long it takes me to regulate myself. i won't be able to attend XYZ/turn in XYZ, so can i instead attend/turn it in on [insert date]?" ask for that help, but also be clear that you do still want to show up and do your best, you just need support right now!
gentleness. i think this may be my last bullet point. like i said earlier, the reality is that you very well may not finish everything that you need to. this is a long-term piece of advice, but it's necessary to be gentle with yourself. cliche, i know, but it's true. i've been slowly unlearning these ideas of perfection and it's rough, friend. truly rough, because as i allow myself to make more mistakes, obviously things aren't in tip-top shape anymore. but to make mistakes, to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, especially in such trying times, is part of being human. right now, you're trying to conform to neurotypical, able-bodied perceptions of productivity and the truth is that we can't all do that. i surely can't. this world was not built for us, so we must reframe what we consider success. or at the very least, we can carve out our own space, hopefully with others to support us, to provide ourselves gentle care. you don't have to love yourself. you don't even have to like yourself, i know i'm still getting there. all you have to do is recognize that as living beings, really just as "beings" in general because i'd like to think our inanimate objects deserve care as well, we all deserve gentleness.
i know this was a lot but i had plenty of ideas buzzing like bees in my mind. let me know if you need help understanding anything i wrote. please excuse any potential typos. LOVE YOU, MWAH <3
-- @reaux07 (she/they)
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15 questions for 15 friends!!
thank you to @leorajames for tagging me!!
1. are you named after anyone?
my full name has my grandma's name in it and my middle name is my mom's name, and i hate my full name so that's why i go by jules
2. when was the last time you cried?
january 3, 2024 when i watched the whale (brendan fraser) with my roommates. we all cried it was a very good movie. i might have cried since then bc i cry a lot but i don't remember
3. do you have kids?
no and i never want any i will be a cool aunt to my friends kids
4. what sports do/have you played?
none. actually i played soccer for like a week in preschool but that's it
5. do you use sarcasm?
sometimes but not really
6. what is the first thing you notice about people?
vibes/energy,, i might not always say it but i have met friends of friends with bad vibes and don't know how to say anything so i don't say anything
7. what's your eye color?
hazel
8. scary movies or happy endings?
scary movie with a happy ending!!
9. any talents?
i'm good at art (or so i've been told), i can scream well, i kill on kazoo, and i can sort of play violin! the person who tagged me in this and i were in orchestra together
10. where were you born?
pennsylvania baybey
11. what are your hobbies?
art, music,, just spending time with my friends doing whatever, hiking is fun too but sometimes i run out of breath too quickly
12. do you have any pets?
my parents have 2 dogs, simba and gypsy rose (my mom named her, i know this is a slur but it's also just her name and i can't do anything about that. also my mom doesn't care about gypsy rose blanchard even though i explained to her what she did.) i had a hamster for a few years but she died in November of 2022, rip buttons <3
13. how tall are you?
5'6". 5'10" in my demonias
14. favorite subject in school?
orchestra, i was never great at violin but i loved to play and my orchestra directors were so cool (JB is a real one). i also loved art classes whenever i was able to take those bc i was good at it and my teachers always approved of my art :3 i felt bad for the kids who weren't good at art bc the one art teacher made fun of their art, and as a preteen that would hurt a lot
15. dream job?
probably full time makeup artist. my mom crushed my dreams of being a makeup artist when i was younger, so i chose a different career path. but yeah, i'd love that
if you're tagged don't feel like you have to do this!! :) i'm just tagging mutuals
@kxbi @againstpollutions @emovhs @lilmartinscorsese @a-star-that-fell @viiperfang @dingdingdingwehavealoser @baskinsilence @electricgf @finagle-a-bagel @entropicstatic @arathibasin @4stardusts @omgwhythough @paperkingd0m
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REVELATIONS
Love Island, Actually Chapter Nine
read it on ao3 | chapter one | chapter seven
Difficult conversations are had as Delilah and Bruno are forced to deal with his past and Jules is confronted with the aftermath of her rendezvous. Meanwhile, Bridget and Bobby put their feet in their mouths and it gets River considering things she never did before…
DELILAH: breaking free
Sounds. There were so many sounds in the silence. The car doors shutting them in, the blast coming from the grates of the heaters, the buckle of the belts, but the one sound that was sorely absent, almost painful, was their voices.
A deep exhale, inconsequential muttering under the breath, mumbles to fill in the silence. That was all that was exchanged between them. Delilah was brought back to the days after she and Lucas had ended things, to the silence that lingered in her life after that. The accursed lack of noise, the refusal of words out loud … it was a violence that was ironically never spoken about enough.
As the busy Friday lunchtime roads kept them stalling, the red light following a red light following a red light, the journey back to Bruno’s became frustratingly longer. Delilah didn’t want to talk about it in the car, but words tried to pull out of the back of her throat, scraping her bare as she had to swallow them back down.
Idle small talk felt so out of place, but the void was stretching, threatening to swallow her. It weighed heavy like she was meant to carry it as a Greek God would, but she was only human. Still, she had to try.
“That –”
“So –”
The crashing of words stopped them in their tracks, an awkward, insincere laugh following in its wake.
“We can talk when we get back to my place…” Bruno said, sounding lacklustre, like he knew something disappointing was brewing.
How bad was this news going to be, Delilah was left wondering. She was haunted by that last glance over at Jules; the frozen expression on her face like a deer caught in headlights. The texts from the woman of the same name that Bruno had insisted she needn’t worry about. Her knuckles shone white as she gripped the steering wheel.
The complex Delilah pulled them into was her first time. She and Bruno had only visited her place, and this was meant to be her first time treading into his turf. He had lived with Thea before she moved, and still had another roommate, so it was easier going to Delilah’s. Bruno had mentioned more than once that Lottie was an alternative girl who believed heavily in crystals and believed wholeheartedly that she practised real witchcraft.
Despite the awkwardness that had settled in the last half hour or so, Bruno opened the doors for Delilah, took her hand in his, led her in first so she was out of the cold quicker.
The place wasn’t the biggest, despite being fitted to house at least three people. The furniture wasn’t from the same set, let alone going for the same look; outdated rather than old-fashioned, with the occasional splash of the occupants' personalities here and there to try and make it feel more homely.
The remaining roommate was on the gingham sofa. Clearly a piece that came with the flat.
“Hey, Lottie,” Bruno said, as normal as could be. It was like there was no tension to be found, right up until he looked at Delilah, his finger pointing his way, adding, “This is, uhh –” and he floundered, unable to put a label on her after the display at her work.
Delilah reached over to Lottie. “Delilah,” she offered along with her hand.
“Lottie.” Her eyes narrowed, but not in a suspicious way, but like she was trying to place her. “Why do I feel like I know you from somewhere?”
Delilah sucked in her lips. In her gothic get up, Lottie was as striking as could be. She was not someone to forget, and Delilah had no memory of ever meeting her.
“Er, I sort of knew Thea? My sister-in-law owns The Sterling.”
The lightbulb went off for Lottie, lighting up her face in recognition.
“Right! You must be Gary’s sister! That’s how I know you!”
Delilah’s eyes widened. “Eh, yeah, we’re –”
“Twins! Yes, I’ve seen your picture in his office. I’m working with him at the minute, filling in a temporary position in his office.” Her brows arched up. “How’s he doing? We all missed him so much while he was on his honeymoon. It definitely wasn’t the same without him making his jokes all the time. He has the best banter.”
“That’s debatable,” Delilah said as kindly as she could to this stranger. “He’s good, cloud nine, that sort of thing. Settling into married life and all that.”
“Do you want a drink or anything, Delilah?” Bruno asked.
Delilah was thankful for the interruption. She wasn’t super into discussing her brother with Lottie, especially when she and Bruno still had their cross to bear. She shook her head and excused herself politely. Bruno led the way to his room, and she followed.
The door closed behind them, shuttering out Lottie, Jules, and the whole world. The silence from before sprang open, ready for them to dive onto, ready to catapult them high in the sky. Would they stay there, floating in the stars, or would they crash and burn, skidding across the ground.
Already Delilah had fallen so hard for Bruno. The question remained over how bruised and broken she would be when she landed this time around. Or if she ever would.
She was praying for the latter.
“So,” Delilah began, removing her scarf onto his bed. She could smell the fresh fabric softener, signalling that he had changed the sheets not too long ago. The fragrance filled his room. It was dizzying and delightful at the same time, but she was too burdened with what had just happened to allow her thoughts to linger on this gesture.
“... Yeah.” Bruno shrugged his jacket off, slinging it over his desk chair, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He sighed, and it quickly lengthened out into a groan as he remained not making eye contact with her.
Delilah sat on his bed, reminiscent of a teenager confined to a singular room for privacy.
“That was really awkward, I’m sorry.” He looked at her finally, the apology clear in his eyes, the unease of the situation lingering on his face.
“Jules is your ex,” Delilah offered, willing the statement to be true over anything else that could have been a possibility. Already she’d made the connection to the ‘Jools’ in his contacts. She’d have to be daft not to.
“Sort of.”
Brows raised, Delilah pushed, “Sort of how? Like … you’re still seeing her? I know you’re messaging each other about meeting up.”
His mouth hung open like he was scrambling for something to put there. Words, excuses, explanations. Just something. As he struggled and stammered, Delilah’s head was filled with the text message she’d read on his phone, someone else’s name lit up on the screen.
There was a whole mix of emotions swirling within her, trying to bubble up to boiling point. She had to work hard to keep everything down, to stop anything from spilling over, from overreacting or panicking. It was fine, everything was good, explainable. She and Bruno could talk through whatever the hell had just happened.
“Delly,” he said, voice strained, as he came lumbering onto the bed next to her, his knees leaving an imprint in the sheets as he made his way over. He laid his hands gently on her arm and she felt herself melting in an instance.
She liked Bruno. She liked him a lot. Was he different to the man she had thought she was getting to know these past few weeks? How long did you have to be with someone before you knew them? She thought she had got to that point already. She thought she had him pinned, her impression infallible. He was a good man, and a good friend, and a good boyfriend. If she had been wrong, she couldn’t bear the thought of what she’d have to do.
“Delly, I’m really sorry, and I get how that looked,” he went on, the same urgency that laced his voice making its way to his pupils, the concern spinning in his blue irises, “but please believe me that nothing is going on … anymore.”
There was a lump in her throat at that last word. Tacked on at the last minute. The blow had been softened, only for the anvil to land on her head anyway.
“...Elaborate,” she said, the words pouring through her teeth, the only way she could get them out at all.
He paused again. Why was this so hard for him to explain? It’s what was making Delilah’s insecurity triple.
“We were … seeing each other, for a bit,” he went on, his hands talking with him, something Delilah had noted him doing in his comedy sketch when he was rehearsed but nervous. “It never went anywhere serious, to be honest, and by the time I had met you, Delilah, I barely noticed that Jules had sort of ghosted me.”
“But you’re messaging her. She’s the Jools you have in your phone.”
“Yeah,” he said, uneasily, like she’d caught him out on a technicality. “She messaged me randomly to say sorry for how she’d treated me. The night we met Jules had … stood me up…”
Delilah found that that last confession did little to cheer her up.
“Like I said, though, I’ve been having such a great time with you that I hadn’t really thought about Jules until she messaged me.”
“So you don’t care about her?”
“It’s not that I don’t care … We’re sort of becoming friends in a way? She’s been more open and friendly with me since we stopped having sex.”
She pushed and she pushed and she pushed back tears that floated behind her eyes, desperate not to give in to them. “I know it’s only been a short time, Bruno, but I think I deserve a little more than what happened earlier. I don’t want to sound needy, but it did hurt when you blurted out for everyone, specifically Jules, that you and I weren’t – serious, basically. I thought that’s what we were aiming for and I don’t want to be someone’s fun time, or the in-between. I want to be someone’s first choice.” She exhaled deeply, taking a short second to herself before adding, “I want to be the only choice.”
His expression had softened, the embarrassment and unease seeping off and she could see the certainty behind his eyes saying that’s what he wanted, too. That he felt that way as well.
Delilah wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe it so bad. Everything was too fresh, and what he’d done and what he’s said was telling a different story to the one playing in the way he looked at her. She needed to know the climax now because she wasn’t interested in unhappy endings. Call it cheap, call it cliche, call it boring, but she was a happily ever after girl and she wasn’t going to apologise for wishing and hoping and praying for the best.
He shut his eyes tight for a fleeting moment. “I know. I know. I’m sorry, it all happened so quickly, it just came out. I didn’t want Jules to think I’d had a girlfriend the entire time I’d been seeing her or something.”
Something felt caught in her chest, pulling tight on the strings that were already so taught, to the point she was beginning to feel them fray. “So you care more about how she feels than how I do?”
His eyes went wide. “No, no! It’s not like that! I just - I didn’t want a scene to happen, you know? Like she realises I have a girlfriend and she does the right thing and confronts me in front of you and your work colleagues and then because Jules is blowing up at me you get this idea that I’ve been two-timing when - let me just be clear, there was noooo overlap in the slightest - basically, I could see it spilling out into a nightmare.” He breathed in deeply. “And I’m so sorry that it ended up making you feel bad. This isn’t - it’s not - I didn’t think what I had with Jules was worth explaining before, but if I’d known you work with her…”
Delilah’s mouth thinned sheepishly. “Well, I don’t technically. I just happen to be collaborating with her to boost Mason’s profile since she works at the biggest music magazine.”
“Oh, see!” Bruno slapped his hands together with such a bang his skin must have stung, but he soldiered on, carrying out his jubilant point. “I had no idea she worked in music - or journalism - I think that’s what it would be? But yeah, see, that’s how little I know Jules.”
“So the relationship was just sex?”
“Yes!”
“And you're still in contact?”
“Yeah!”
He looked at her. She looked at him.
“I should stop that, probably…” he added, sucking his bottom lip inwards.
“I mean …” Delilah’s eyes bulged momentarily. “It’s not great from my perspective, truth be told.”
“That’s totally understandable, and don’t worry. I - You won’t have to worry about me or Jules again, that’s a promise.”
Delilah nodded, feeling lighter. “Shake on it?” She said, holding out her hand reminiscent of their date.
“It’s a deal,” he grinned.
His hand clasped hers and though this small exchange was just that - small - Delilah let it encompass her. She wanted to shake out all the negative feelings, to keep flying high, soaring to that happily ever after in the city skyline. She knew she had to land at some point, but that wasn’t going to be today, and it wasn’t going to end in a bloody heap.
“But are we on the same page?” She asked tentatively. This time she felt a lot more secure in the answer she’d get.
“Same page, same book, same genre,” he said, laying down on his side, finally getting comfortable. “You’re my only choice, Delilah. As soon as I met you I knew that. There isn’t anyone else to even compare.”
For the first time since she first saw him that day, she dared to smile. It flit in at the corners of her mouth, daring to spread to her cheeks, infecting itself into her eyes to make them sparkle, infecting her mood and uplifting her.
Bruno copied her smiled. “It’s weird, but I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than I actually have. It’s like we’ve been doing this forever. I can’t believe you weren’t in my life even a month ago.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, mirroring how comfortably he lay. “It feels so bizarre that you haven’t always been in my life, but you’ve been living your own, doing whatever, without me.”
“Not anymore,” he grinned. “It’s you and me now.”
“Pinkie promise?”
“Pinkie promise.”
They wrapped that small part of themself around one another, the gesture and the words as strong as an anchor. Maybe she didn’t have to keep trying to fly so high after all.
JULES: would’ve, could’ve, should’ve
It was quiet, the kind of quiet where you wished and prayed for some sort of noise to appear and give your racing mind something else to focus on. The bed that she’d spread out like a starfish on for the last few months suddenly felt crowded. Cramped. She found it hard to believe the two of them had ever shared this bed before.
“You know this can never happen again, right?”
Her voice was soft but she may as well have been screaming in the silence that had settled around them.
Suresh turned onto his side, fixing those striking green eyes on her. “I figured you would say that. But I don’t think that has to be the case,” he said, reaching out for her. His fingers had barely grazed her arm before she sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, turning so her naked back was to him.
“Jules,” he said softly, and she felt him shift behind her, his hands coming to lightly grip her shoulders. “Come on. This is dumb and you know it.” His lips on her neck. “I know you. You don’t want this to end.”
Something about his words turned her blood to ice. Did he not think she was capable of thinking for herself? Of knowing what she needed?
“But I do, Suresh,” Jules said, shooting to her feet, taking most of the blankets with her as she tried to wrap them around herself, turning to look at him a moment later. “Don’t you get it? I need this to be over.”
“I don’t think you do,” Suresh said, watching her with a guarded sort of expression. Gone was the stripped down version of him that she’d seen in the kitchen, the person that had served her those divorce papers to begin with was looking right at her now.
“Maybe things weren’t perfect but I think what you need is for us to stay together. Jules, you’ve been miserable since we separated. Hell, you still haven’t told me what had you so upset earlier. You weren’t like that when we were together.”
“You were never around to see me like that!” Jules exclaimed, and she could hear the exasperation in her voice. “And who do you think you are, getting off on telling me what I need? What I needed was a husband who didn’t fuck other women, that was what I needed, but you couldn’t even give me that. What I needed was a husband who was emotionally available, okay, that was what I needed. You never gave me a damn thing I needed, Suresh, so how can you sit in our bed and tell me that giving you another chance is what I need? Huh?”
It came out of her like water flowing from a faucet, everything she had found herself wishing she could say to him since that night he left their flat with a bag and not even a goodbye. For once, she didn’t allow herself to hold back for fear of permanently damaging the delicate thing between them because that thing was already broken. Shattered.
A part of her had known that when she saw him standing outside her door, waiting to collect his things. She knew that there was no repairing this, no matter what he said to her or how many apologies he whispered into her skin. Call it closure or call it downright stupidity, but she’d known when she’d fallen into bed with him that it wasn’t going to be the glue that put their relationship back together.
As petty as it was, it felt like a final fuck you to him. Letting him have one last taste of her, one last reminder of what all he’d thrown away, before she took it away from him. Because at the end of the day, he was the one who told her he didn’t want to sign the papers. She had all the power now; this was all over the minute she decided it was. And it had to be over; she couldn’t let this keep going on.
For her own sanity’s sake.
“And I told you I was sorry for that—” he began, but she cut him off.
“Actually, you didn’t. You told me you made a mistake and that you regret making that mistake but you have never once apologized for everything you’ve done to me, Suresh. And that’s the issue.”
“Okay, so what, then? You go through with the divorce, and what? You’re just fine with that? With throwing away five years?” he asked, and the way he was looking at her made her want to scream, like she was some kind of petulant child throwing a tantrum instead of an adult woman making actual, relevant points.
But of course, because she was pointing out his flaws, it was like he didn’t hear a damn thing she was saying.
“You threw away five years the second you started screwing someone behind my back,” she said, trying her damndest to keep her voice steady. “And our fucking boss I mean, how cliché can you be?”
“Don’t bring Talia into this, Jules,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.
“I think I have every right to bring her into this conversation when the only reason we have to even have this conversation is because you cheated on me with her, but sure, let’s leave Talia out of this!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up. The blankets slipped down and she yanked them back up around her, blowing out a breath as she did so. God, having this argument when they were both naked hadn’t really been her plan.
“What are you going to do without me, Jules?” he asked, arching a dark brow at her. “You’ve been attached to my fucking hip since we started Uni. You don’t talk to your parents, you don’t have any siblings, you don’t have any friends.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t have anyone besides me.”
“I have me,” she said, the words rolling off her tongue quicker than she’d expected them to. “And I also have this flat since you took your name off of the lease, so you can get the hell out.”
Suresh looked at her for a long moment before he got up, yanking on the clothes that were scattered across the floor. “Fine, Jules. But you know what? When everything inevitably goes to shit—which it will—I’m not going to be here to save you.” He finished buttoning his shirt and snatched his jacket up, throwing it on as he fixed her with a hard look. “Remember that.”
She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so relieved to hear her front door slam in her entire life.
BRIDGET: faux pas
Usually, Bridget could be counted on being the life of the party. She loved people, so she’d circle the room and engage pretty much everyone in conversation, no matter if they were people she’d known for years or someone she just met on the spot. Being social was her thing, as she’d put people at ease, talking about any topic of conversation at hand or making them laugh with her easy banter.
Tonight she was feeling a bit off her game. Even though the party for Chelsea’s birthday at the Edwards’ household (which was practically a mansion) should’ve been exactly her type of scene, she somehow still felt a little intimidated by the opulence of the place, as she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she didn’t quite belong there. Which was a bit ridiculous, as she’d been hanging out with Gary and all his friends for years now, she knew practically everybody, including some of River and Chelsea’s extended family.
Maybe it was the fact that their brother Eddie had invited all the members of FourWay, including their manager Jasper and that had the potential to be a triple-fold minefield. Never mind the thing where, as Delilah’s best friend, Bridget should be totally against the band (Delilah insisted she didn’t need to engage in the ridiculous rivalry between FourWay and Mason Knowles, but Bridget knew better than that). But no, the issue was that she actually had personal history with not only one of the members but with their manager, too.
Back in her uni days, she’d lived a very ‘work hard, party hard’ lifestyle and on one such partying occasion she’d hooked up with Tom, way before he was known as the lead singer for the band. And she’d actually gone to uni with Jasper, where they’d had an on-again-off-again thing for a while.
But still, everybody had a past and Bridget would never be ashamed of hers. It was all water under the bridge (ha!), water off the duck’s back, still waters, not troublesome waters or… something? Anyway, that was all ages ago and they should all be able to behave like grownups in this social setting (she hoped).
Maybe her discomfort might be simply physical, as she’d been feeling off nearly the whole week. She hadn’t been violently ill since Tuesday, thank goodness, but every day she’d suffered from some bouts of nausea and headaches now and then. She wondered if maybe she should go to the doctor, but the symptoms seemed so minor that she was sure any day now they’d clear up and everything would go back to normal. And she’d never let something like this stop her from celebrating one of her dear friends, as Chelsea meant so much to her.
Maybe it was the absence of Delilah, as usually the two best friends would be joined at the hip during these events. Her sister-in-law did say she would be busy with the photoshoot for Mason’s article in the afternoon but that she’d try to stop by later. Bridget had sent her several texts that had gone with no reply so far, but she figured Delilah was probably spending more time with Bruno and she couldn’t blame her for prioritising her new beau over a party on a Friday night.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she’d got there alone, since Gary had come straight from the office. She’d even thought he might’ve been a bit late to the party since the whole week he’d missed dinner as he was working late, ironing out the details for the contract with the big client, yet it turned out he’d actually arrived early to help out with something about the sound system for the DJ? She wasn’t sure because just as Gary had been explaining it to her, River came up to them with a rather harried expression.
“There you are,” she said without preamble, placing a hand around Gary’s arm. “You need to come with me. Kassam says there’s something wrong with the audio system and he can’t figure out what you did.”
“Oh man,” he grumbled in exasperation with an annoyed expression. “Of course, he can’t. Fine, let’s see what the oh-so-famous-yet-technologically-challenged DJ needs now.”
Bridget chuckled as he handed her his beer before he followed River back through the throngs of people. She just stood there for a moment watching as they walked away before she mentally shook herself and turned around to socialise with the people around her.
She chatted for a bit with Chelsea and her beautiful mother, Magnolia, as she complimented their home and the lovely party. She danced and joked around with Kobi and some of his friends, at one point laughing so much that she had legit tears in her eyes. She even bit the bullet and said hi to Tom and Jasper, the two men congratulating her on hearing news of her recent wedding. It was actually way nicer than she had expected, no awkward blunders, weird vibes or any other unpleasantness as she found it was still as easy to banter around with them as when they’d been close, literally another lifetime ago.
The music had been flowing around them for a while and even though Bridget kept moving around the room she couldn’t seem to find Gary anywhere. She had paused by the bar as she looked around to see if she could spot him when Bobby sidled up to her.
“Two drinks at once?” He commented with a smirk. “Someone’s looking to party hard.”
“The beer is actually Gary’s,” she clarified with a smile as she held it up. “I’ve been carrying this thing around for almost half an hour now, since River took him away to solve some music emergency.”
“And you’re still carrying it around?” Bobby asked with a bemused frown. “Why didn’t you just drink it? The thing’s probably gone stale.” He said, making a gesture with his hand and she handed it over.
“I would’ve, but my stomach was acting up earlier,” she said with a shrug. “I actually switched to ginger ale.” She gestured with the flute in her hand.
“You’re still feeling sick then?” He asked, tipping his head back to gulp down some of the beer before grimacing. “See? Stale.” He commented, before getting rid of the glass of beer and going back to his tumbler of scotch.
“No, I’m actually feeling loads better. Just had some bubbly earlier and it didn’t sit all that well with me,” she said, brushing it off, as she didn’t want to cause him concern, but she could still see the worry in his eyes. “Oh my god, your brother and his friends are hilarious!” She exclaimed, hoping to distract him. “That theatre kid, Johnny? I had literal tears in my eyes at the impressions he was making.”
That got Bobby going, because the mere idea that anyone would be as funny as him seemed to be a matter of pride and Bobby set out to prove that he was even funnier by charming her with his best jokes, impressions and top-notch banter. By the time Gary and River joined them, he had her in stitches and Bridget was feeling so much more at ease.
“Is it time for the Bobby Show already?” Gary asked with a smile as he circled his arms around Bridget. “Did Riv hire you as part of the entertainment for the night then?”
“Nah, this is all a labour of love,” Bobby said, throwing his best friend a cheeky wink.
“Maybe you should try being a standup, Bobs,” Bridget told him with a grin. “I hear comedians are very popular these days.”
River let out a quiet laugh at that and bumped her hip with Bobby’s, a teasing gleam in her eye as she looked him over.
“Oh really?” Gary turned to his wife with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Where did you get that?”
“It’s what I heard from Thea anyway,” Bridget said with a shrug. “One of her roommates is a standup comedian and sort of a regular at the pub.” She took a sip of ginger ale then to avoid mentioning anything about Delilah, as she was sure she hadn’t said anything about Bruno to her brother yet.
“Bobby McKenzie, standup comedian,” Bobby said with a laugh. “Not gonna lie, I kind of like the sound of that. Maybe I’ll check out some open mic nights?”
“Oh my god,” River said with an exaggerated sigh. “I see how my life is gonna be reduced to going ‘round to stand up bars now.”
“Bet you would love having a horde of fangirls going after all your shows,” Gary nudged him with an elbow to his ribs. “Do comedians get lots of hook-ups, you think?”
“According to Thea, they do,” Bridget said with a laugh. “But oh! I’d actually really love to see you with a nice girlfriend, Bobby. You’re such a great guy, you deserve to find happiness and love.”
If she could’ve taken those words back, she would’ve. She didn’t really think before saying them, because it was something that had been going around in her mind lately, how she wished Bobby would fall in love with someone and just be in a happy relationship. But she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, as if those words directed at him coming from her were such a blow and in hindsight she could understand how it had been a bit insensitive of her.
She could feel she was about to start rambling away to dissipate the awkwardness in the air, as she wasn’t sure if it was all in her head or if everyone else could feel it too. But then River was speaking up, seemingly glossing over the potentially awkward moment as they continued with the conversation.
“Even if you don’t get a girlfriend out of it, at the very least you should get laid more often, boy,” River said with a smirk.
“Such a ladylike comment,” Gary snickered. “And in your mother’s house, too. Imagine what your mum would think if she heard that.”
“Excuse me if some of us like sex and aren’t afraid to admit it,” River huffed in response, a smile just tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Yeah,” Bobby said with a huff of his own, gazing into his scotch. “You and your married men.”
For a brief moment, Bridget had been expecting River to groan in response to what she was sure was a joke, as Gary would then launch into one of a thousand stories from their youth and reference a funny episode or another. But then Bobby looked up in alarm, almost as if surprised he’d said those words out loud. And looking at River she could see the same shock visible on her features, her eyes wide and her mouth just slightly open. She couldn’t look more shellshocked if Bobby had actually slapped her.
“Riv ─!” Bobby reached out reflexively, but she simply shook her head, her face like thunder as she hurriedly walked away. He ran a hand over his face and cursed under his breath, seeming to forget everyone else around him as he also started walking in the same direction she’d gone.
Bridget turned with a completely befuddled expression to Gary. “What the hell was that?”
“I honestly have no idea,” he said, turning to her with a confused frown.
“Really?” She asked in a disbelieving tone with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t know something that’s going on with River and Bobby?”
“I swear, I have no idea what that was, darling.”
She could see the honesty shining in the depths of his baby blues as well as his own sense of confusion, but something about that whole scene had her rattled. She opened her mouth to argue back, but then her stomach churned and she could feel the acid burning up her oesophagus.
She rushed by Chelsea as she ran across the room to the restroom and she made it just in time so she could empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet.
“Oh my god, babe!” Chelsea exclaimed in alarm as she walked in after her, crouching down next to Bridget and holding her hair back. “Are you okay?”
She could only shake her head as the wave of nausea hit her again. By the time she was done, Gary was also standing at the door of the restroom, his face marred with deep concern.
“What happened?” Chelsea asked as she helped her up and they walked to the sink. “Is it something you ate? Was it something in your drink?”
“No, don’t worry about it,” Bridget said dismissively as she splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth. “It’s nothing to do with your party, I’ve been feeling off the whole week.”
The gasp coming from Chelsea was so loud that it seemed to suck all the air out of the room. “Oh my days! Babe, are you pregnant?!”
Bridget looked up in alarm at that. She met Gary’s eyes in the mirror and she could see the same shock etched on his features, as the thought hadn’t even crossed their minds before. She was glad the Edwards also had a big restroom with a chair on hand because suddenly she was standing on very shaky legs and needed to sit down.
Not only for the possibility of dealing with an unexpected pregnancy, but because in the back of her mind she couldn’t stop thinking about Bobby’s strange remark and how the only married man in River’s life was actually… Gary.
RIVER: heat waves
The door opened.
River didn't have to look at it to know it was Bobby. Maybe it was the certainty she had that he would never let her be mad at him for more than five minutes, maybe it was how there wasn't a single chance Bobby would let her think he hurt her on purpose, or maybe it was just the sound of his sneakers against the tiles that she had grown used to. Probably all of the above.
"How did you know I was here?" Her feet were inside the pool already. Even if it was the middle of December, the indoor pool was always warm.
From her periphery, she realised Bobby was taking his shoes off just to sit next to her, and she had to fight back a smile. "I realised when we were around fifteen that you like to hide in your indoor pool when you're upset, never really understand why, though."
"It's the furthest away from the house." She sighed, feeling his body get closer to her, so close they were almost touching. "And my dad never liked it here."
He hummed, like it all suddenly made sense and she hated it. Hated that he knew her well enough so her peculiarities that she was so proud of were easy to decode. Between River and Bobby there was no mystery, no cool girl with a distant heart, no pride to keep. She was his usual, his every day, a certainty, something he knew like the palm of his hand, and she hated it.
She avoided looking at him, just for now. It bothered her that he had this power over her mind, how he could make her feel incredibly bad then switch it up to make her happy again. It was a feeling in the pit of her stomach, one she learnt to avoid at any cost but that Bobby would bring back now and again. One that made her hate people and ruin herself over and over again just to bury deep down her chest.
"River," his voice, so overly sad, pierced through her, making her tremble. She knew he would make it good again, he always had a way of doing it.
"Let me be mad at you for a second," she spit the words, a little more aggressive than she meant it but never daring to look at him. If she couldn't control how easily Bobby would fix this, she at least would control when he did it.
There was nothing he could say about it except a low and begrudgingly, "Sure."
Again, River sighed. "You know, I really, I really trusted you with this. I know you don't owe me anything at all, Bobby, but I trusted you, so I told you. I would rather die than lie to you and I thought… Somehow you felt the same. Loyalty and all that."
"But I do, Riv, I—"
"Let me finish," she interrupted him, closing her eyes to not watch his response. "Anyway, I know you are… in love… with Bridget or whatever, and I always tried so hard to protect your feelings from yourself. I wish you had the same care with me as I have with you, that's all. I can't really… demand anything… but I would like it if you didn't put me in second place."
"I'd never… oh, River, I would never…"
"You did, you chose to tell my secret to everyone instead of facing her."
River hadn't noticed it before but when she opened her eyes and looked down, she had her hands closed so tight it was hurting her palms. They were sitting on her lap, pressing her thighs down and pushing her shoulders up. Her hair fell around her like a curtain, protecting her from Bobby's broken voice.
"I screwed up, didn't I?"
She looked down, she looked up, she looked ten metres forward, but all that didn't stop her from looking at him. Her heart broke almost immediately and she instantly forgave him, just like she knew she would. He was staring down at their feet, slowly touching the water, but even so, he just had that devastated look on his face. His long lashes looked wet with tears, like morning dew, and his always silly smile was taken by an upside-down curve that River would dare to call a frown.
There it was, that stupid wave of affection and love she had for Bobby and only he. All she wanted to do was hold his face with soft hands, caress his cheeks, kiss his temples and say it was fine, that she was fine now. Bobby looked sad, frustrated and disappointed, all things she had caused him herself. She had spent so long hating those who hurt him and now, look at her.
All she had to do was think for a while to conclude there was no way she could be mad at him. He could hurt her, push her, simply disappear, and River would love him again the moment he showed up. It sucked, believe it, she was well aware of that, but still, she couldn't change that for the life of her. Her heart had a soft spot for him and a mind of its own.
"I know I maybe deserved it," she sighed. "But I really trusted you."
In a sudden move — one she wasn't expecting, even if he was Bobby McKenzie — he grabbed her hand and squeezed it, making her eyes travel to their linked fingers. She wondered if he could feel the beat of her heart in his hand. "No, you didn't deserve it. I was a complete knob. This was on me, Riv."
Rived nodded in agreement, squeezing his hand, trying to be light, funny. "At least you are aware of it."
He chuckled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I know what you're doing…"
"Oh?" She blushed — thankful that the moonshine wasn't that bright at that time of the night — the sentence catching her off guard as if she was a reindeer and the words, headlights.
"You never let me apologise properly, you always interrupt me, say it's fine or make a joke, but you never let me finish," he sighed, turning to look her in the eyes. They were so golden, had she noticed it before?
She shook that thought off her head and tried to focus on what mattered. Again, Bobby was right — he had been right a lot lately. She never let him apologise. Because she was afraid of the look in his eyes when he was guilty, the feeling in the pit of her stomach when he looked at her as if she was too precious to lose, and the dread of breaking it if she pushed too far. River knew that out of all her flaws, the lacking knowledge of how to be loved was the biggest of them all.
For Bobby, she wanted to be the synonym for summertime, happiness, bike rides next to the beach, fireworks, and good friendship. Nothing less. And definitely nothing more.
But when did Bobby care for that silly bad impression she had of herself? "So, right here, right now, I'm stopping you to say I am sorry, River." He nodded, taking a deep breath. "I will never, ever do something like that again. Not telling your secrets to others, not lying to you, not shaming you. I love you and you're so fucking important to me, and…"
Love you. She thought about those words for an instant. Bless his heart, she knew they were honest and she couldn't even count the times they had said it to each other, but a man shouldn't be saying that type of thing to a woman in the middle of the night, that close to her.
But then, she stopped herself. She was the one who shouldn't be seeing the situation like that, she knew he meant it in a fraternal way. For god's sake, she was anything but fine that night.
"It's fine, Bobby," she squeezed his hand and smiled before hugging him. And she was honest, it was really fine, after all. "I'm ok, I trust you. I love you. I just needed to cool down."
It was quiet for a while and she thought it was over. They would stand up and then go back to the party, if there was a party to go back to. If not, then he would stay a little longer and they would watch something on Netflix in her childhood bedroom.
But then she looked at him with one of her honest smiles and he had a mischievous smile that became a mischievous tone in his voice. "Cool down, you say?"
She only realised what he meant when his arms were circling her waist and they were falling.
Bobby pushed their bodies onto the pool. The water was warm, thankfully, due to its heating system, so the impact wasn't as big as it could've been. River didn't get the time to think before Bobby was splashing water around, laughing like a little kid, and making her follow him.
Soon enough, they were splashing each other in a weird, no rules spoken, competition. She had a feeling she was about to win and he might as well have felt the same because one second they were joking and the next he was holding her by her wrists, keeping her lock close to his body so she wouldn't move.
Her breath caught in her throat as she tilted her head to look at him. Had she ever noticed how the moon shone through the window panels? Or was it just its reflection on Bobby's skin that would make it look that pretty? Inside his eyes, she could see it better. As she searched for answers to questions that she thought were long forgotten, she saw a glimpse of the moonshine and her own reflection, looking back.
Time had frozen them on the spot, she thought for sure. What other reason would they have to be so quiet? Especially them, known for being loud and proud. The pressure of his fingertips on her skin started to tingle and, suddenly, River was much more aware of his engulfing presence and the few centimetres that made him taller than her. His cheeks, dusted with freckles, had a much brighter shade of scarlet and his dimples were looking so much clearer now.
Oh.
Bobby was handsome.
And she couldn't help but flush under the amber pair of eyes that looked at her back with an intensity that most definitely mirrored her own. The weight of his eyes had never felt so heavy on her, scanning and picking details as if it was the first time in a long while he had seen her, even if they saw each other every day for the past 10 years. She couldn't blame him though. For her, it was like seeing him for the first time as well.
Taking her by surprise, her heartbeat quickened and Bobby softened his grip on her. Yet, she didn't let go or dared to move away. She could feel his chest moving up and down, his breath just above hers, and the hesitation he also was full of. If someone was going to break their spell, it wouldn't be her. Not when she found herself wondering what he would do.
She could swear she felt him leaning towards her — or maybe it was her standing on her tiptoes — before they heard someone opening the door to the pool all at once. They snapped their heads in the direction of the sound at the same time, meeting River's mother leaning against the glass door.
"What are you two doing?" Magnolia asked, her blue silky robe sweeping the floor.
Even though the presence of her mother had just startled her, it was Bobby's voice that made it all very much real.
"It was just…" she heard him saying too close to her. Her eyes immediately turned back to him at the same time he did. But as quickly as he looked down, he shot his amber eyes right back up, leaving River with her heart beating faster than ever before. "... just a stupid joke. We were just about to leave."
He took a step back slowly and she had the time to miss his always-warm skin before he turned and swam back to the ladder. She couldn't exactly pinpoint why but she suddenly felt hollow.
"Yeah," she affirmed in a quiet voice, not sure of what had just happened.
She trailed the same path as him, back to the ground, with a handful of new things she had noticed about it, the knowledge that Bobby McKenzie was handsome and her heart on her throat.
#litg#litg writers room#writers room#litg fanfic#litg ff#lia#love island actually#love island the game#litg bruno#litg suresh#litg gary#litg noah#litg bobby#litg nicky
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OC NAVAL WARFARE
/ -- Romantic
*-- Unlabelled/Other
+ -- QPR
& -- Familial
Montcia (Alex Garcia * Jules Montgomery)
SO they're the co-writers/co-editors of a newspaper/dictionary/blog called "the new dictionary" set at least one hundred years in the future (i haven't quite figured out the logicstics). um the story would be told through a website and it would take place soon after humans first made contact with aliens and somewhere along the line they start academically dissing each other as they write their articles for the newspaper! they're roommates and at some point they'll take a short break from their weekly articles to "sort out personal issues". presumably because they had a fight. part of the point of the story is i don't know anything about them, and you don't either, but they do seem to care about each other in their weird little way. i just wanted to tell a story like this
Luna * Jade * Ciela * Them
Everyone but Luna is a ghost/entity. They're the voices in her head that can sometimes take a physical form to help her out. 'Them' is all the other voices that I haven't named/aren't really important, but I've got the main three. Luna is CN, Jade is TN, and Ciela is NG. Them as a whole are CN, and like drama. Luna is the embodiment of the Void Beneath It All, and is maybe immortal? She doesn't know. She is technically older than Time itself, but was asleep for most of it. (she's 17. someone help this poor girl.) Sorry for the overshare, I really like these guys, but I haven't finished enough of their story to show it to anyone. Thank you!
#oc ship tournament#oc ships#oc#bracket tournament#polls#unlabelled ship#luna * jade * ciela* them#montcia
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Starside [Starmont meets Farside]
A sort of rundown to what I'm thinking and working on
Jules Locke is a 15 year old kid living on a Fringe farm to the south of the city of Tairkyda, constantly in the shadow of the massive Wall that cuts off the other side - the Blighted side - of the island from the inhabited half.
Less than a week before the new year at Starmont College begins, Jules Awakens magic they shouldn't have when they find and bond a dragon egg that falls from a passing ship in the sky.
The witches of Tairkyda have ways of knowing when a new with Awakens, via the witchglasses at the centre of the innermost ring of Tairkyda's city proper. Because of this, Jules has no way of hiding.
Now a sproutling witch, Jules must attend Starmont to learn to control their magic, and their bond with their new dragon, or else risk losing their dragon egg, their freedom, and any chance of ever going home again.
But the innermost ring of Tairkyda is an elitest bunch. Prejudices run deep amidst the rich and powerful. And the mystery of how Jules has magic when they shouldn't - when no one outside the elite should - leaves Jules scrutinized at every opportunity.
Not that they're the only non-highborn witch. In fact, the other two are also dragon riders - Gwyn Vaughan, commander of the dragonguard; and Cináed, a fourth year student and Dustwitch. Both are underborn, meaning they are from Underside.
Rakesh, a professor at the school, is assigned to help Jules get ready for Starmont by the headmistress. When he brings Jules to Starmont early, at her request, Jules learns that the pirate noticed the egg is missing and wants their money.
Jules has no money, so the school pays for the egg, whose price has been inflated greatly due to being already bonded and unable to separate from Jules without conflict and consequence. Jules is assigned to work in the school and pay off the price of the egg while they are a student, and told they must pay off the full price to own their dragon as other witches do.
Less money. More problems. Always money problems.
Cináed also works in the school, as they were a servant before they were a witch, and this is a big part of how they bond.
Jules also meets and is roommates with Wren Hashimoto and Sabine Bellerose. And Jules quickly realizes that there's something going on with Sabine - she's hexed. Cursed. Hurting. And the more Jules learns about how and why - and about the kind of man her father, the one who did this, is - the more they realize they have to save Sabine. Her freedom is gone. Her voice, taken. Her life put on a timer. And if Jules stands aside and lets someone die when they could help?
Well, how the hell can they call themself a friend? Let alone a future dragon rider?
But things are far from easy. All the other sproutlings have several years of practice on Jules, as well as years of training and immersion in witchery and witch culture as a result of their upbringing. Not to mention, being able to draw perfect circles is considered the first skill a witch should learn.
And Jules hasn't. Not by a long shot.
But there's some stuff that comes easy to them, and that combination entangles them with Wren as they help each other with classes, with homework, and with learning more about each other and where they come from.
Drawing circles is still hard though.
And so is dealing with plenty of bigoted teachers, prejudiced students, and social norms that seem out to get them. And Jules has never been good with people, or social norms, to begin with. Learning an entire new set will be impossible without instructions.
And this isn't even getting into the fact that part of the island is Blighted, which means infected with a fungus that is stopped only by stone and fire. This creates monsters, freaky infected plants, and a lot lot more.
Anyway yeah. That's what I got so far. That's what I've been doing while not here. Combining worlds.
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>You and a friend from art classes decide to be college roommates because you pass each other’s Vibe Check.
>Both mentally ill.
>Both have some sort of trauma and bond over that but y’all don’t actually Know your trauma. That seems Normal.
>If she doesn’t know her trauma it’s normal for me to not know mine, right??
>Neither of us remember our childhood. That’s Normal right? Yeah totally…my roommate can’t remember HER childhood so that must mean nobody can, right?
>She uses part speak a lot “professional part of me is taking care of this today.” Talks about professional part taking over her actions and feelings.
>Oh I use part speak too I’m not weird after all haha! :)
>I also have “competent part” that takes over a lot so that’s normal hehe. :)
>I go to school counselor and she refers me to a trauma specialist after I start telling her about my frankly ridiculous amounts of amnesia.
>Fast forward 3 years later and I’m diagnosed with DID.
>Competent part’s name is James.
>I don’t live with my roommate anymore so I haven’t told her. We’re still close friends but are the type that only talks every few weeks and usually about things we’re hyperfixated on.
>I tell her about the DID. It goes well.
>Few months later she is finishing her last semester of college and starts using part speak again.
>I had forgotten she used to talk like that all the time. Lol amnesia.png
>I tell her she should see a trauma specialist because she starts talking further about these parts and it reads a lot like OSDD1b or Partial-DID.
>She sees a trauma specialist who clearly doesn’t treat dissociative disorders because she shoots down the OSDDID and claims BPD.
>I know a lot of people with BPD. I lived with my roommate for three years every day, she did Not have BPD and I knew it. I told her she should find a different opinion.
>She starts accepting the idea of parts being actual people and not just facets of personality like a normal person.
>She now is on a waitlist for my DID specialist.
—
I swear to the gods if we just so happened to BOTH have OSDDID and never know it because we thought our experiences were normal because the other one had the same experiences, I’m going to shit myself😂
-Jules
#bestie if you see this post on DID tumblr I love you#jules#did#did osdd#did alters#diagnosis journey#personal post#this is like a weird sitcom#idk this would make such a funny story or TV series for some reason#two undiagnosed systems who don’t get help for their clearly system behavior#because if my bestie does it too that’s normal right???#shocker we’re also both autistic
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Grey's Anatomy: Ready to Run (19x18)
Man, that patient death got to me.
Cons:
The ADHD plot thread still seems pretty weak to me, very after-school special in the way it's being handled. I just wish there had been a more organic, less textbook path for Lucas to learn this about himself. Nick coming up to him after a patient has died to be like "because of your ADHD, you're going to feel this loss really hard" just felt like the epitome of inappropriate to me. Maybe I'm being sensitive because I would personally hate someone being so presumptuous with me about my mental health. I think Grey's is so great at raising awareness for all sorts of topics, and it's cool to have two main characters on the show with ADHD who can represent that perspective. Conceptually, I'm all for this. I just think the execution is very weak and feels very... rote, and unmotivated. Nick is still super boring so I don't care about his and Lucas's burgeoning mentor/mentee connection.
I actually think Jo and the patient with all the broken bones have cute vibes, and I thought it was interesting that she felt the need to confirm that Link was her "roommate" there at the end. But... I still find the Link/Jo romance plot just kind of tedious all around. I'm not looking forward to him being weird and jealous and hurting Jo's feelings, etc. It's already annoying to me.
And another note on Nick: his hemming and hawing about the Fox Award nomination just makes him more irritating to me. I can't believe we're going to get Meredith back for an episode and it's going to be all about Nick's hurt feelings. Yeesh. Get it together, Nick.
Pros:
Ray's death hit hard. Despite not really connecting with the way they're doing the ADHD plot line, I did think Lucas had a strong week. He convinces a patient to get a surgery that might save his life, only for Ray to die of a ruptured aorta at the hospital. Ray was going to die either way, but the fact that they came so close to being able to help him only to lose him made his death all the more tragic. He had a feeling that he'd die before the age of thirty. Some part of him knew it. It was moving to see Lucas connect with this patient and really hear him about his concerns and his family and all the things he wanted to live for, and then convince him ultimately to get the surgery, which just made it all the more devastating that things didn't work out, and he had to make a tragic phone call to Ray's mother.
Also... he confesses his love to Simone! Gasp! It looks like she's still going through with the wedding, but we'll have to see if she backs out at the last second in true Grey's wedding drama fashion.
Meanwhile, Jules's roommate Max has continuing medical complications as, even as she's getting treatment for her UTI, she suddenly loses her balance and hits her head, causing a brain bleed. Poor Jules is trying to stay on her case, but Bailey puts her foot down as it becomes clear that Jules considers Max family. I like seeing Blue's feelings of tenderness and care for Jules grow, through watching her go through this difficult personal time. I root for them as a couple in the long run, as it seems that Blue is really willing to put in the work to be there for her. I also find Max's bond with Jules to be so sweet! She talks about how her own son is independent and lives far away, and he doesn't really need her anymore. Jules does, though. She needs the mothering and gentleness she didn't have as a kid.
Yasuda's plot thread is about screwing up her courage and making the first move on someone. Her friends tease her about being single after she says that she doesn't like to put herself out there in case of rejection, but eventually, after watching a patient shoot his shot with Jo, she decides to be brave. She goes up to Helm and asks her on a date to Simone's wedding.
But meanwhile, some more good news... Helm is officially coming back to the hospital, as co-chief-resident with Schmitt! Yay! I love what they did with this whole Helm plot thread, how they really stretched it out and took seriously the issues with the residency program and burnout and financial difficulties and all that. I loved that Helm broke the news that she'd gotten promoted to Schmitt's level, and Levi was nothing but excited about it. He rushes around the bar to scoop Helm up in a big hug, and I absolutely loved to see that.
It does cause issues for the Yasuda situation, as Helm is about to become her boss. But, as Helm points out, the wedding technically comes before Helm starts back up at work, so... looks like these two ladies are going on a date! I got an honest giddy smile on my face at this whole scene between them. Yasuda being so brave, and Helm being so quietly pleased. Who knows what the future holds, but I love the idea of these two getting to carve out some happiness for themselves in their busy lives!
And a couple small things: Teddy continues her streak of not pissing me off; maybe being Chief was what she needed all along. Her devastation at the loss of her patient was really moving to me. I like the quiet, efficient way she mentors the residents, too. She's got a lot on her plate but she still takes time to compliment Lucas on his nice work in convincing Ray to get the surgery. Richard is excited about the Catherine Fox award nominations, and frustrated that Nick doesn't want to go to the ceremony, explaining how much it means for the program, and for his wife. Winston is also having mixed feelings because it means sharing the award and the spotlight with Maggie. I'm kind of not interested in Nick and Winston angsting about their failed relationships, but I am sort of excited to see the Catherine Fox award ceremony. (Bailey griping about all her insane medical innovations not getting a nomination was pretty funny. It does seem rather arbitrary.)
And that's that! I can't believe we're already at finale time. I'm having a good time with the new intern characters, they really added new life into the show. I'm excited to continue on with them!
8/10
#review#grey's anatomy#grey's anatomy review#greys anatomy#greys anatomy review#grey's abc#greys abc
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A King’s Ransom, Part Nine
Word Count: 4541
TW: Violence (unsanctioned cage-fighting). 18+ only.
AN: Part of an unfinished series. The series masterlist here.
Nevada was at an utter loss at what to do. First of all, no woman ever walked away from him. Second of all, if any other woman had walked away, he’d probably just shrug and move on to some new piece of ass. Between the club and his other, less legal activities, there was always a steady stream of girls – girls with ambitious boyfriends who wanted his ear, girls who wanted a job of their own, girls who just liked the allure of a bad guy like him.
But you were the one he wanted, and you had ignored his apology. More than that, you and your roommate had been completely unflustered by his lame threat. If word got out that a couple of mousy-seeming bitches were running the show, it’d be a blow to his reputation. More than half of his success was due to fear and intimidation, after all.
He was reeling at what to do next. When he didn’t have enough information, he found a way to get it – so he put two of his best guys on each of your tails.
The guy who tailed you gave Nevada much of the same information he already had: business in Manhattan and Queens, business in the Heights. Softball games – you had a hard-looking line drive, and you always went out with your team afterwards but limited yourself to a single beer before you took off.
You had your usual defense and fighting classes. Your usual nights out with Jules – now at a bar on the boundary between Inwood and the Heights – where your roommate got sloppy drunk and grinded on guys and you sat at the bar, stone-sober, and made sure she got home safely.
You managed to shake the tail from time to time, and it made Nevada wonder if you knew you were being watched. He had his guy put a tracker on your car when you were at Jiu Jitsu one night, and he was able to see where you went when you shook your tail. Hell’s Kitchen. Hunts Point. Newark, a few times. All the worst places.
There was only one reason why you would go to places like that, Nevada figured. You used to go slumming at his club, you dropped into the gutter and fucked him a few times. You were obviously the type of woman who was tightly-wound and needed a release with trashy, dangerous men. And since Nevada was out of the picture, you had moved on.
The realization made him see literally red. It crept around the edges of his vision until everything was awash in crimson, and he ended up putting his fist through the mirror in the men’s room of the club, cracking two bones and cutting himself so deep that he needed serious stitching.
The guy on Jules brought Nevada more information. , Jules was Juliana Aimé, a local lawyer. Jules was a sort of jack-of-all-trades to the Heights and surrounding neighborhoods. Nevada searched for her on the internet and found a bit more information. She, too, had a simple, elegant website, and she specialized in everything from immigration paperwork to real estate deals. She had social media, and Nevada trawled it until he found a few pictures of you. One photo had clearly been taken at his club months back: you were in your usual black getup, and you had arms slung around each other and genuine smiles.
Past that, there were older pictures. From college. It looked like you and Jules went to the same university. Nevada scrolled through one night, taking deep swallows of whiskey as he examined every picture of you. It was like traveling back through time. The graduation pictures where you looked a lot like you did now, just a little younger. Then the pictures of you and Jules at college shit: parties and football games and lounging around in dorm rooms. All the way to freshman year, where you were a skinny, awkward looking teenager with an awful haircut that made him smirk.
Well, maybe you didn’t want Nevada around anymore, but he still had a business to run. And now that he was shifting the focus of his entrepreneurial endeavors, he needed a lawyer to help handle the paperwork.
-----
Gabe set up the meeting, keeping it purposely vague under the pretense of a “new client consultation.” The SUV pulled up in front of a bland looking office building where Jules kept a small suite of rooms for her operation. Nevada climbed out of the vehicle with a small bag clutched in his uninjured hand, and he pulled his sunglasses off in the gloomy, overcast November day.
When the secretary led Nevada into Jules’ office, she didn’t even look surprised.
“Mr. Ramirez,” she said. She stood up and shook his hand as if he were some usual asshole looking for help with their form N-400. “What can I help you with today?”
Nevada settled into a chair while Jules sat back down. He looked her over – she was gorgeous in her own right, and in a well-cut suit and polished, subdued makeup. Nevada wondered if you and her were in some sort of psycho bitch club that required modest clothes. When his eyes settled on her face, he noted a very similar smirk to yours. He was already fucking irritated again.
He kept his temper under control though. In broad terms, he laid out the business plan you had essentially given him – or as much as he could remember from when he read it and before you took it back. He wanted to explore purchasing a few more cash-based businesses; specifically, a spa-type place and a dry cleaner. He needed someone to help with the legal paperwork – the purchase and sale agreements and all the other boring shit.
Jules smiled at him. “I can help you with that, but do you have properties in mind? Are you financing the purchase or paying in cash? What about escrow?”
He shook his head, uncertain.
“I don’t really handle any of that,” she continued. Her smile widened. “I know someone that can help though. She’s good with numbers.”
He narrowed his eyes a fraction but forced himself to keep his voice level. “She won’t talk to me.”
She leaned back in her seat, rocking back and forth as she tented her hands in front of her. “She’s stubborn, for sure. Hard-headed, and I’d know – we’ve sparred enough and I’ve landed enough head-shots to know that her skull is thick.”
Nevada snorted at this.
“Still, you deserve it. You misjudged her.”
He was silent a moment, running his thumb over the edge of the bandage on his injured hand. “I don’t know her at all,” he finally admitted.
His mind flashed back to the first night you spent together, when he woke up in the hotel room and watched you sleep beside him. Then his mind shifted to the thoughts that had plagued him for days, pure imagination that made him envision you fucking some other dude, some other piece of shit in all black or too much gold jewelry. He gritted his teeth and held his temper in check as best he could.
“Sounds like you thought you did though,” Jules said.
He nodded but didn’t reply.
Jules lifted her hands, palms up in a gesture of consolation. “Well, business is business. She may help you.” She opened her mouth to continue, but then thought better of it and paused. Nevada could see her struggling with what to say.
He took the opportunity to reach down and pick up the bag he brought with him, placing it on her desk. It was the real reason he was here anyway. She didn’t move to touch it but looked at him quizzically.
“It’s for her,” he said simply. “She did a lot of work for me – good work – and she never charged me for it. I owe her, and I hate being in anyone’s debt. I estimated how much time she spent working and rounded up.”
“She’s going to hate it. It’ll make her feel like a whore.”
Nevada shrugged. “If so, she’s a very high-priced one. We only fucked four times, on two occasions.” Jules quirked an eyebrow at that, but he continued. “Make sure she knows this is for her work. Make sure she knows I appreciated it.”
She stood up and took the bag, opening it a bit and glancing inside. “No,” she finally said. “I’ll ask her if she’ll help with the other stuff, but I’m not serving as your bag-man.” She zipped the bag shut and pushed it back over it towards him.
Nevada’s temper flared up. How many women had fawned over him for his money? Not your or your roommate though. Neither of you had any fucking regard for the cash he practically threw at you. He reflexively clenched his bad hand and winced at the pain.
“How the fuck do I get this to her if she won’t see me?” he growled through his clenched jaw.
Jules sat back down in her seat and resumed her gentle rocking back and forth as she considered him. “You’re following her. Find an advantageous moment and toss it out the window of your SUV at her for all I care.”
Nevada had the good sense to look a bit ashamed. Of course you two knew he was tailing you. Jules threaded her hands together. Her face grew serious.
“You know,” she said. “I don’t think you’re good for her, because I don’t think you’re good for anyone, really. And I’m not saying she was happy, because I’m not sure she can be happy…” she trailed off. She shrugged, mostly to herself. “All I’m saying is, you threw her off her balance a little, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. You distracted her a bit. She needs a distraction, especially right now.”
Nevada wanted to ask a hundred questions. What had you told Jules about him? What did she mean about throwing you off balance? Why did you need a distraction now? And why couldn’t you be happy?
Instead, he scoffed at Jules. “She’s already got a new distraction, I heard.”
Your roommate nodded at him, her mouth set into a hard line as she frowned. “And she’s going to get seriously hurt. Or killed.”
“Who she fucks is her business,” he replied, ignoring the odd twist in his chest at the thought of you hurt or worse. Jules tilted her head at him in confusion though.
“What are you talking about?” she asked. “Jesus Christ, Trujillo. She’s not fucking anyone. She’s fighting them.”
*****
Everyone needed an outlet from their everyday lives. For normal people with normal jobs, it was a glass of beer after work or a pint of ice cream or a hobby like running. Some people slept around, some people did drugs. Some people went to Atlantic City and lost money they didn’t have on the slots. It was a pressure valve that kept things from boiling over.
Jules’ outlet was getting wasted and grinding on dicey guys, and you obliged her because she was more of a sister than a friend. And she joined you at all your fighting classes, burning off some energy there too.
You had a normal job, but your real job was anything but normal, which meant that you needed other outlets to blow off steam. The classes usually sufficed: you’d master one form of fighting, then move on to another. It helped you clear your mind and kept you exhausted enough to fall asleep at night. Kept the demons at bay, as it were.
The interlude with Nevada had been a nice change of pace, but it had ended, as you knew it would. Unfortunately, it ended just when you probably needed it most. The situation with Meredith’s family – Gaines and Alastair Brooks – was like a constant pressure in your skull. The pictures you pulled from their computer drifted behind your eyelids when you tried to sleep at night. You felt tense constantly, your shoulders around your ears and your neck knotted with stress.
A small part of you considered going back to Nevada’s club, biting back on your pride. It wouldn’t be hard, you thought. You could wear a fucking low-cut dress. But you were too intractable, in the end.
You lost control one night in boxing, whaling on a guy until the instructor broke you up and gave you hell. You knew exactly what happened – he looked a little bit like Meredith’s brother, and something in you snapped and you saw red.
You hadn’t seen red in a very long time.
But after the class, the instructor had slipped you an address and a number. You started to make an excuse, but he cut you off and explained he wasn’t asking you on a date – he was telling you about an unsanctioned club.
“They’re always looking for more women fighters,” he told you.
The location changed every week. The first week, you fought a woman and won, then took a second match later and won that too. The second week, none of the women wanted to pair off against you, no matter the odds, so you got paired with a small man.
He was short but roped with lean muscle, and the odds were heavily in his favor. You put a hundred on yourself. Then you took to the ring, slippery with blood from the last match. He danced around you for a moment, peacocking. Once he got close enough, it was three hits: one to the sciatic nerve, one to the brachial plexus, and the final to his jaw. He went down hard, and you collected a hell of a payday.
But it didn’t get the images out of the backs of your eyes. It didn’t stop the pressure in the back of your skull. It didn’t help you sleep at all. You still spent long nights lying in bed, your eyes dry and irritated and your skin feeling too tight.
Tonight, you were fighting another man. Bigger. He had a foot on you and fifty pounds, easily. His legs were like trunks, his chest was broad and laden with muscle, and his meaty fists were scarred from a lifetime of fighting. He leered at you openly as you made your way into the ring to join him while the emcee went over the rules – mainly, that there weren’t many rules. Tap out or knock out. That was about it.
You should feel scared, but part of you wanted him to hurt you. Possibly kill you. If he hurt you, the pain would give you something to focus on other than the relentless helplessness you were feeling. And if he killed you…. well, there was no sleep deeper than that.
*****
The week’s fights were in Hunts Point, and Nevada took a small entourage to the location. He had enough street cred that the crowd parted around him, but he stayed in the shadows, watching for you. Jules had given him the information. It was against her better judgment, but she was worried about you, which worried Nevada even more. Jules seemed unflappable.
His plan was to find you and get you the fuck out before you did something stupid. Nevada was pretty fucking tough and even he felt hinky. It was an abandoned warehouse, and the ring was surrounded by a high chain-link fence that was locked during each match, making escape impossible.
The crowd was rowdy, and Nevada’s nose curled at the testosterone, blood, and sweat that hung over the warehouse like smog. He actually hated crowds, which was why he tried to stick to his balcony at the club. But at least his club was just horny, drunk assholes. This place had a dangerous air to it, and the thought of you coming here – alone – made him feel sick.
He kept his head on a swivel and his guys did the same. All he had to do was find you. You could do damage, but if he and he guys all got to you at once – you couldn’t fight them all. They could drag you to the Escalade and drive you back to Inwood where you belonged.
One match ended, and the loser was dragged from the ring, a thin stream of blood streaking across the mat. A worker darted in and mopped it up quickly while the emcee announced the next round.
“Shit,” Nevada heard Gabe say, and he felt his captain nudge him and point. Nevada followed where his finger was pointing and saw a huge man take to the ring. He shifted his gaze a bit and saw you mount the stairs right behind him.
“Mierda!” Nevada yelled. He was too far away; his men were too far away. He shoved through the crowd as he watched, helpless, as you were locked into the ring with a mountain of scarred muscle that looked at you as if you were a meal to be devoured. You just gazed back at your opponent with that placid look you had, like the mild-faced saint statues in his mamí’s church. Beatific. Serene.
The emcee called out the rules, pitiful few that there were as last-minute bets were placed and wads of cash changed hands. The odds couldn’t be in your favor. Nevada could probably place a tenner on you and come away a millionaire at this point. Your opponent towered over you, and you just rolled your neck and stretched your shoulders.
Your opponent was in boxing trunks and heavy boots and nothing else but a feral grin. You wore black tights that ended just below the hinge of your knees, showing off your shapely calves. Low black sneakers. A simple black tank top underneath a black track jacket with blue stripes running down the arms.
Nevada wanted nothing more than to get you out of there and into his SUV. He didn’t even care if you broke his other hand in the attempt. He didn’t care if he never saw you again, as long as you were away from the animals in this warehouse.
But the emcee climbed out of the ring, hit the bell, and the fight started. Nevada could do nothing but watch.
*****
There was no way you could beat him head-to-head. First of all, your head came to the middle of his broad chest, and second of all, one of his legs probably weighted as much as your entire body.
You laid out a strategy in your head: defensive first. Wear him down with footwork, let him tire himself out with showy, meaty swings that didn’t connect. Stay soft and loose. Once he was tired, get him on the ground. Jiu Jitsu was all about smaller people defending themselves against stronger people, and getting them on the ground was a great equalizer. If you could get him in a chokehold, you might get out with minimal damage.
He started out exactly like you figured – he threw one heavy punch, a jab, and then followed it with a slow and heavy cross. He was a slugger. There was no finesse or thought to his hits. He just wanted to land blows, heavy and cruel.
He was easy to dance away from. He had a longer reach, but he was so slow. You dodged him, and once or twice, grabbed his arm and used his forward momentum to throw him into the chain-link. It made the crowd jeer and howl, making his face grow dark with fury.
“You think you’re fucking Sweet Pea Whitaker?” he snarled. “We fucking waltzing here?”
You didn’t respond, focusing on his fists. He raised his left arm and swung a wild haymaker that missed its mark and unbalanced him. You took the opportunity to lay two hits of your own – a quick, stinging jab to his bicep that you hoped would temporarily paralyze him there, and then a punch up high under his ribs as he turned away from you. A kidney shot. Whatever happened to you, he’d at least be pissing blood in the morning.
It went this way for eternity: him lumbering around the ring, you dancing away and taking quick jabs designed to hurt, paralyze, or otherwise tire him out.
But he wasn’t tiring, and you had a solid two weeks of poor sleep under you. You could feel your legs getting heavy.
It was the mat that undid you. They never fucking mopped up properly after each fight, so there were always little minefields of sweat and blood (and a few time, loose teeth) to watch for. Focused on your opponent, you missed the slick of blood near one corner and felt your foot start to go out from under you. Your eyes darted down, and you missed his fist as it connected square to the side of your face.
You heard the crowd roaring but it sounded faint and far away. There was a buzzing in your head like a hive of bees, and you looked up just in time to see your opponent’s cruel grin as his second punch hit you right in the gut, knocking your breath from you.
He shoved you against the chain link fence, his forearm pressed against your windpipe as you struggled against him. He shoved a knee, hard, against your groin and seemed to remember suddenly that you weren’t a man.
“You don’t belong here,” he sneered, his rank breath hot against your face. “But maybe after, me and some of my buddies can show you where you do belong.” You gritted your teeth and tried to push against him, but he just leaned in close to your ear and whispered all the filthy things he and his friends were going to do to you after the match. The buzzing in your head grew louder and louder. You shook your head once, twice, but it was too late.
Red flooded your vision, hotter than the center of the sun. You lost control, and the muted, logical part of you whispered that it shouldn’t feel so good.
*****
Nevada felt a riot of conflicting emotions: concern, worry, fear, anger. He watched as you danced around the lunk you were fighting, making it look like an art form, admiring the way your body twisted and weaved around the ring. You made your opponent look like an idiot, and he almost thought you had him.
Until you slipped, and then it was two heavy punches to the head and gut. Nevada could feel the reverberations in his own bones, and he cringed in sympathy. He pushed closer to the ring until he was right against the chain-link fencing, desperate to get to you.
He watched as the guy pressed himself against you, and he ignored the flare of fury that rose up in him. He’d find out who he was, torture him slow, kill him. No one touched you like that but him. He watched as the guy whispered something to you. Nevada focused on your face, crumpled in pain and frustration at first.
Then something shifted. The guy said something that made your eyes snap open, but they weren’t your usual bright, teasing eyes or even the furious ones when he had tried to lay his hands on you that one time. They were flat and black, a dark version of the lifeless eyes of the nurse sharks he used to see when he went out in his abuelo’s boat as a kid. He watched the grimace of pain drop off your face completely. Your body went limp in your opponent’s arms and, confused, he dropped his hold on you.
You were on him in a flash, so quick he couldn’t even raise his arms to defend himself. Your fists were small, but as you had demonstrated, you knew exactly where to hit. A flurry of punches around the man’s body, and he stumbled away from you, a perplexed look on his face. Nevada almost laughed to see it.
You swept his legs out from under him, and the entire crowd roared, in triumph to see an underdog get an upper hand, or maybe in frustration to see a bet be potentially lost. He scrambled clumsily to get back on his feet but you were as fast as lightning, twisting his body under yours until you had him in a hold.
You wrapped both of your legs around his neck and one of his arms and then rocked backwards. He struggled, but Nevada knew better than most how strong your thighs were. He felt a faint pulsing in his groin to remember that night at the hotel, when he showed you what his mouth could do. He remembered the feel of your thighs on either side of his head, tightening and loosening and responding to him.
Your opponent thrashed, flailing his free arm, but you just tightened your hold, visibly squeezing your thighs against his neck while your arms held his locked arm tight. Nevada couldn’t see your face, but he could see your opponent’s. It was growing darker and darker as the blood was pinched at his carotid.
With no other option, the man took the last of his remaining strength and surged backwards. It wasn’t enough to break your lock on him, but it was sufficient for him to swivel his head just enough against your leg. Nevada caught a gleam of the man’s yellow-stained teeth before they sunk into the soft meat of your inner thigh.
You bellowed in pain and released your hold, but the man’s victory was short lived. Within a second, you were straddling him, pinning his arms under your knees as you sat astride him, high up on his chest. He was huge and you were tiny and he should have been able to buck you off of him, but your fists were on him, a storm of punches to his face that left him stunned at first and then dazed and then eventually unconscious.
Nevada could hear the sound of bones breaking – he’d heard it a million times in his own line of work, and he winced again in sympathy. He heard the liquid gurgle as your opponent started to choke on his own blood. The cage was unlocked and the emcee and another man crowded in and pulled you off of the man, struggling against you until you realized you had won. You stopped resisting then and allowed the emcee to hold one of your arms up in victory as your opponent was half lifted, half dragged out of the ring. The crowd was so deafening that Nevada could feel it in his bones, a primal thrumming that you had created.
Nevada couldn’t look away from your face. The flat, dead look in your eyes was replaced by a fury he’d never seen before, on you or anyone else. He was simultaneously afraid and turned on. He wasn’t sure which emotion was stronger, but he knew one thing: the rage and wrath written across your face belied an uncomfortable truth – something terrible had happened to you, and this raw violence that he was witnessing was its legacy.
#nevada ramirez#nevada ramirez imagine#nevada ramirez x reader#nevada ramirez x you#trouble in the heights#trouble in the heights fanfiction#tropes-and-tales
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𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖘 · 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 · 𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙 · 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
( HUNTER SCHAFER, TRANS WOMAN, 24, SHE/HER ) welcome to sunny los angeles, ARIN YOUNG! we heard you’re quite TALKATIVE, but at the same time, you can be a little MOODY. i hope it doesn’t impact your job as a CLERK at THE LAST CHAPTER too much. either way, kick your feet up! we’ll see you around town― especially at VERVE. ( NOON, 26, EST, HE/THEY ) **applying for henry logan’s roommate
𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
lalaina pierce from reality bites, susanna kaysen from girl interrupted, violet harmon from ahs: murder house, sabrina spellman from tcaos, cameron howe from halt and catch fire, jules vaughn from euphoria, stiles stilinski from teen wolf, frances halloway from frances ha, eve from god help the girl, paul polydoris from paul takes the form of a mortal girl.
𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘
arin only did a year and a half of her college program before she dropped out, though she thinks she might go back at some point
she has adhd and anxiety
she lived with her dad until moving out recently; he lives in tujunga, and she takes the bus to see him when she can.
she has a bad habit of seeking out her ex’s social media and doomscrolling through all their posts, even though she knows it’s just going to make her feel worse
her breakup with her ex has led her to have lots of anxiety around closure / abandonment, and she can become clingy or obsessive if she thinks people are avoiding her, checking her texts every five minutes to avoid sending a bunch of messages in a row. she knows this about herself and tries to reign it in, but even if she doesn’t become overtly clingy she still feels all the anxiety and fear of being left behind.
since moving to los angeles she’s been teaching herself to longboard as a way to get around, since she doesn’t have her driver’s license
she took the job at the last chapter on a whim after moving home from college. she enjoys her job, though has a tendency to slack off a bit.
arin can be the type to talk a lot without saying much. she’s chatty and friendly with people, but it takes a while for people to really get to know her, which is on purpose.
for a number of reasons, she has a lot of self-doubt and self-criticism, though she’s working on it
she loves hot drinks, and is almost never seen without her hydroflask thermos full of coffee, peppermint tea, or matcha
her true passion is writing, and though she feels it’s sort of ‘cringe’ to admit, if she could she’d want to write and put plays on in nyc. she keeps a notebook on her at all times and can often be seen killing time at work scribbling out ideas and character notes.
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Uhhh the Bloom Apple-
Oh Bloom.
-Like the rest of the Apple-Jules-Carter family, she's got 10 other siblings!! Mainly sisters ofc w/ Parker being the only boy. She's the third eldest so she got to pitch in taking care of her younger siblings growing up, not as hard as Jackie or Cheri tho!
-She's closest with Cheri, which can be inferred since they're roommates! It'd be a bit too far to call her the "favorite sibling", but they'll always have each other's backs (... maybe)
-Her relationship with her dad, Brannon, is ultra complicated. They're still somewhat in contact? But its very brief and substanceless. She doesn't bad mouth him to her other siblings and he remains cordial when talking about her, but tensions are... there.
-Ok so its literally a whole backstory plot point that Bloom sorta manipulated Cheri into thinking their dad sucks? The whole thing is that Brannon found out about her obsession with the Karson Killers and tried talking her out of it. He didn't yell, scream, or try to force her to be normal, he just tried having an earnest conversation on why what she's doing is wrong... and she flipped out on him. She acted SUPER distraught following their argument and moved out with Cheri soon after. She never specified why they argued (obviously) but the language she used made it seem like Brannon was the aggressor and said some super nasty things, so now Cheri is pretty wary of him as well. We can argue if Bloom genuinely thinks Brannon is trying to oppress her by taking away the Ted Bundy flower crown edits or if she's being a REALLY good actor to gain sympathy
-Fauna and Flora (her youngest sisters) are scared of her because she has off vibes! Cant say theyre in the wrong here!
-Otherwise, she's got a good relationship with her siblings. She often stops by her mom's apartment to visit her, Parker, Pitaya and Scooter and is on friendly terms with her other sisters! Sure, they'll all admit she's pretty eccentric and weird, but everything's fine!
-[... looks at how her relationship with Parker and the rest of the family progesses] for now.
-I like to think she's actially met Fauna and Flora's dad before, but only because he's a barista. She's gone to the coffee shop he works at a few times and vaguely knows that's the father of her half sisters. She has no care in getting to know him further than that, though (even tho he's also Brannon's love interest. Lol.)
-Also pretty good friends with Scott! They often hang out when she visits Jackie and they have some shared interests, so he has her seal of approval to date dear old eldest sister Jackie o7
-As an added bonus, I'll also say that she and Berry have a sort of father daughter relationship? Berry never says he sees her as a daughter, but with how hard she latched onto him and the way their relationship develops, they have a messy mentor mentee father daughter duo dynamic! Once again neither side would admit it, or really Berry wouldn't admit it and would be like "WOAHHHHHHH RELAX. CHILL OUT. WHERE DID THAT COME FROM." if she ever called him dad lol
#asks#Bloom's pretty straight forward. Everything seems normal but. yknow.#lilyheart hotel and apartments
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outcast of redwall || abbie || trial 1.3 || re: saya, kaede || attn: kaede
Ooooohhhh. So, that’s how it is, is it?
Kaede tried to kill someone--did kill someone. Such a gentle and kind man. Abbie hadn’t spent a lot of time around him, but she does remember him crying when Jules was found. He was so sad. He was so scared. It’s no shocker that this happened, really. What had she said during investigation? Ah, yes, out of everyone here, the first to die would have been Suzy or Kaede, if you bothered to ask her.
Turns out she was just one spot off. Here he was, dying for nothing. He didn’t even get what he wanted. He was scared, and he would spend the last moments of his life scared. What, you thought whatever was planned would be kind? No, no. Abbie had no delusions about that sort of thing.
As her roommate reveals herself to be the mastermind, perhaps, behind spurring Kaede on, Abbie doesn’t react. She simply continues to braid the piece of gimp in her hands. She’s almost run out of thread.
Without looking up, she says:
“Mmmmmm, I won’t, like, pretend thattttt my name was crossed out ‘cuz we’re bestiessssss. It was just another way of making sure that, like, this didn’t work, right? Eeeeeeeveryone would think it was a frame job, buuuuuuutttt if you killed your roomie….Mmmm, you probs would be voted for, right? Unless that wasn’t the case? I won’t take it personally either way, Garfie!”
Abbie ties off the gimp at the end, finishing her creation of a twisted cobra stitch colored bright blue and pink. She stands up, walking over to Kaede without an ounce of derision or ire in her eyes. Instead, they’re filled with a sort of understanding. Kinship, maybe. Her smile is bright as she holds the completed bracelet out to him for him to take.
“I’m weird, too. People used to tell me to go back to normal, too. That I scare them. We don’t control that, though. We are who we are, and that’s okay, too. You’re haunted by something, I can tell. You think it’s real, and, to you, it is. It is real. It’s real because you say it is, and, just because other people don’t get it, I do.
I’m sorry we couldn’t be friends before, Kaede, but we can be for the lil bit of time you have left with us. If you wanna. I can’t, like, fooooorce you to, though. But, but, but!!! Hey, hey!! Think of it this way!”
Abigail places a hand against her cheek, giggling as though this is the time.
“Maybe it’ll finally let you go, wherever you’re going.”
Whether he accepted her gift or not, Abbie skips off with her index cards and permanent marker in hand over to wherever Kyousuke might be sitting, scribbling something as she goes.
You want to say “Maybe it just hasn’t hit her yet,” but for how long can you really say that?
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Map | Floor 1 | Living Quarters
Back to Maps
Ground Floor
Living Quarters
Exiting the elevator, one comes face to face with a numbered door: 01
It’s a thick, metal sliding door, the kind you might expect to find servicing a spaceship as some sort of airlock. There’s even a glass viewing slit– dark and mirror-like from the outside, but transparent from the inside. A black NFC pad with a red light is installed at elbow height to the side, and when you hold your watch up to the correct room, the light turns green and the door slides open.
It seems the rooms are arranged in four blocks, with the block names printed on the northern and southern walls between the doors. On the outer walls there’s a series of vertical slits for daylight, and also some artful arrangements of succulents and moss.
[1] Jules Ridley [2] Petronella
[3] Emmeline [4] Ithika
[5] Tracy [6] Kezia
[7] Ridley [8] Royce
[9] Michiya [10] Encke
[11] Ivette [12] Ozseb
[13] Morph [14] Hinrik
[15] Eden [16] Wren
Despite the numbering of the rooms and multiple doors, you each seem to have a roommate– the rooms can be partitioned off with a curtain for meager privacy, and each quadrant shares a single bathroom.
Your room itself is sparse. There’s a loft bed with recessed lights, and beneath it, a desk is built into the wall. It even has an empty bookshelf above it.
There’s a safe across from the loft bed’s ladder– the lock seems to also just open with your watch– and above that is a faux window… it’s got paper shades and glows with light when switched on, but it’s just a frame on the wall. Hm.
The dressers sit on either side of the thick and heavy black curtain, and there’s a mirror above each. At least the drawers are soft close, so you can’t slam them shut?
Lastly, the shared bathrooms– a pair of hooks exists on each door for hanging towels. The toilet is equipped with shelves above (stocked with toilet paper), and the sink has a cabinet below (with towels, brushes, water cups, shaving supplies, and a trash chute). The mirror doubles as a medicine cabinet, which comes stocked with toothbrushes and paste, as well as pain killers and it seems any prescriptions you or your quadmates may have notified the company about when applying. A blow dryer is mounted on the wall, as well as a bar for a hand towel.
The shower is a vertical stall with partially frosted glass, and features a showerhead with detachable wand. There’s a shower seat, and wall mounted dispensers labeled SHAMPOO, CONDITIONER, BODY SOAP, as well as a series of four vertical corner shelves that are empty.
Welcome home?
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open to anyone, nat is good friends with your muse’s roommate and is always coming around because she has a thing for them. they’ve been oblivious and thought it was because of them liking their roommate. in the source.
natalia had text julia to ensure that she’d be out that day, finally working up some of the nerve to talk to her roommate about the growing feelings that they had. she’d never really been the most confident when it came to this sort of thing. hell, they weren’t the most confident in general. it took them a while to warm up to someone in a friendly capacity but they’d clicked rather well. well enough for her to enough to show up at their apartment unannounced. “hey… uh. i was hoping we could chat, maybe? jules is out, right?”
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OC NAVAL WARFARE
/ -- Romantic
*-- Unlabelled/Other
+ -- QPR
& -- Familial
Marleksei (Marlowe * Aleksei)
Aleksei is a gas station attendant trapped in his hometown in the rural PNW. He isn't super well liked in town, due to transphobia, but that all changes when one day everyone (including him) dies in a fiery explosion coming from beneath the town. Rewind. Last week, Marlowe got out on parole after an 8 year stint for 2nd degree murder. Desperate for a means to make a living, Marlowe's taken the only job that will hire her in the middle of nowhere, PNW. Fast forward through a few mishaps involving cult sacrifices and an illegal cobalt mine, Marlowe has become God and can't keep the lid on her power. It's the end of the world, there's no one that cares about her anymore, and she's fine with letting the world burn. There's no one she wants to save. ...There was that cute butch from the gas station on her way in that was kind to her, though. Maybe he deserves a chance to set things right. Rewind. Aleksei wakes up one week before the end of the world, shaking from a dream where he fell into a yawning chasm filled with fire. In the moments before wakefulness, he hears a voice in the darkness. "Please help me."
Montcia (Alex Garcia * Jules Montgomery)
SO they're the co-writers/co-editors of a newspaper/dictionary/blog called "the new dictionary" set at least one hundred years in the future (i haven't quite figured out the logicstics). um the story would be told through a website and it would take place soon after humans first made contact with aliens and somewhere along the line they start academically dissing each other as they write their articles for the newspaper! they're roommates and at some point they'll take a short break from their weekly articles to "sort out personal issues". presumably because they had a fight. part of the point of the story is i don't know anything about them, and you don't either, but they do seem to care about each other in their weird little way. i just wanted to tell a story like this
#im unsure if i should use the website images linked#cause creator of montcia said dont use the website#but provided images#so#@gelatinous jellyfish do you want me to add the website screenshots on the form?#oc ship tournament#oc ships#oc#unlabelled ship#polls#montcia#marleksei#bracket tournament
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♡ LOVE TO ME — KIM JUNKYU
junkyu x gn!reader | wc : 0.9k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, best friends au, unrequited love au, angsty angst, university au, slight cursing, crying | loki's lines : my hs crush went exactly like this and i’m embarrassed now that i put it in writing. also kinda like this banner >o< anywho jules @kyufilms this is for you because of you
“junkyu! are you okay? what’s up?”
you furrowed your brows, looking at your friend with a worried expression etched on your face.
“couldn’t sleep last night because of an assignment,” junkyu replied, surprised by how croaky his voice sounded. “i got it done, though.” he cracked a small smile, hoping you’d believe him.
because how could he possibly be honest with you? how could he tell you that when he finally collected the courage to ask you out — he found out you were asked out by someone else?
how could he tell you that when he went to the university’s charity ball to find you last night, you were dancing with someone who wasn’t him? how could he tell you that when he wanted to ask you out, he broke down instead because he saw you kiss someone?
how could tell you he wanted time to turn back just so he could tell you the three little words he’s been wanting to tell you for the last two years? how could he tell you it broke him completely to see you look so happy in someone else’s arms?
just how … could he say that the reason he spent the entire night in tears was because of you?
the answer, in short, was no. there was no way junkyu could tell you any of that — because junkyu would rather experience heartbreak, every single day, for the rest of his life, rather than not have you as a friend anymore.
he treasured you that much.
“see you after class?” you asked, oblivious to the thoughts that ran through his head. “lunch?”
junkyu nodded. “i’ll be outside when your class finishes,” he answered quickly, not trusting his voice enough.
“you are seriously the best, junkyu! love you!”
“i know. love you too.”
if there was anything kim junkyu sucked at; it was controlling his expressions. and carrying out this simple conversation with you took so much more willpower than he had thought. his emotional battery was draining speedily, so he did what he had to, quickly bidding his goodbyes as he walked away from you.
turning around a corner as he fumbled with his phone, junkyu sighed in relief as he saw his roommate standing in front of him. park jihoon was junkyu’s guardian angel of sorts, having stayed up all night with him as he cried the night before.
upon seeing the similar expression on the younger’s face, jihoon ran to his friend, who looked like he was going to break down again. “junkyu!” jihoon held the male’s face, sighing before pulling him into a hug. “hey, it’s okay. what happened?” he patted his back, glaring at anyone who looked at his friend weirdly.
“i don’t think i can do it anymore, jihoon. i tried talking to them, but i’m just reminded of what happened. how can i continue to talk with them normally when my mind constantly repeats those moments?” junkyu sniffled, pulling away from the hug as his roommate took him to a secluded area. “i don’t know what to do, jihoon.”
jihoon thought for a bit, shrugging. “maybe … you should just get it off your chest,” he suggested, breaking into a chuckle at the way the younger looked at him with wide eyes. “okay, not my best idea.”
“it’s not.” junkyu let out a choked laugh, shaking his head as he wiped his tears. “i really like y/n. i’ve liked them for the past two years. and the worst part is that i know i’ll continue to like them.”
"kyu–”
“i know, i know. that’s an absolute shit plan, but i just can’t help it. if only liking someone for two years can be forgotten in two minutes, i would’ve done that last night itself, jihoon.”
“no, stop–”
“who am i kidding? i’m just trying my best to bury all these feelings. i don’t like y/n, i love them — and i’m fucking doomed because of that.” junkyu groaned, smacking his hand against his forehead. “love is supposed to be something beautiful, jihoon. but i love y/n, and love to me is loving them till the end of time, knowing that they’ll never love me back.”
jihoon inhaled sharply, grimacing. “i tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t let me fucking speak. now deal with them.” he placed his hands on the younger’s shoulders before turning him around, letting him see the person who stood behind him.
and that person was none other than you.
hearing kim junkyu say all those words was equivalent to a comet crashing on you. you weren’t really sure what to do or what to say, and it clearly didn’t help when the tears fell down your face, either.
“i’m sorry, junkyu,” you choked out, not really sure why you were apologizing. “i’m really sorry.”
was it because you felt bad for your friend for bottling his feelings for two years? was it because you didn’t return the feelings he had for you? or was it because you did like him but didn’t know what to do since you were with someone else now?
the possibilities were endless, and right now, you were crying in front of your best friend while apologizing for something you didn’t know … until a minute ago.
“you don’t need to apologise, y/n. it’s not your fault.” the male bitterly smiled, moving away when you stepped forward. “these are my feelings. i’ll learn to handle them somehow.”
you shook your head. “but i–” your voice cracked, feeling your heart drop as you saw a teary-eyed junkyu turn away from you.
“like i said, y/n … love to me is loving you till the end of time, knowing you’ll never love me back.”
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