I think part of why I take it all so personally is I am deeply ambitious.
I want to be first place, every time, in every situation. I remember every award I didn’t win, every law school I didn’t get into, every accolade I wasn’t given, and I take them all personally. (is this an ‘unhealthy competitive attitude’? well probably, monica, but it’s too late to fix that now.)
and I want what ambition points to. I work harder and longer than anyone I know and I want it all—executive editor of all the journals, my name on the dean’s list for every semester, best memorandum, first place in moot. I want the corner office in the nationally-recognized firm. I want the 80 hours a week schedule and the trophy case and an alphabet soup of letters after my name, I want to give lectures and write books and published articles and big name clients; have people talk about me when I’m not present. I might even want to run for office someday! who knows!
and I swear to god, I would rip out part of my heart if I thought it would get me there.
but even just telling all of you (who do not know me, and will never know me) feels transgressive, because you’re not allowed to say these things to people! you have to ask, you have to move sideways, and slowly, and wait, and receive. (lots of being receptive, open, like—fuck this, we’re not ancient rome, I want to be the active party.) I’ve never regretted anything I’ve gone after wholeheartedly, and yet people who know me well and love me still ask, “are you sure that’s what you want?”
so it’s deeply offensive to me that unlovable might be the thing that bars my way
Mark x Reader Genre: AU/Fluff/angst/implied smut (is that a thing?) Next Chapter
There were other ways you wanted to spend your Saturday morning, being at the mall wasn’t one of them. You walked through the hustle and bustle of the mall trying to find a last minute outfit for the engagement party of your two best friends. You caught the scent of coffee, the strong aroma reminding you that you hadn’t had your daily fix yet. While waiting for your order your phone rang,
“Hello?” you answered, giving a slight nod in acknowledgment to the barista as you grabbed your coffee.
“Y/N! What are you up to?”
“I’m…” you hesitated knowing that you would get lectured and face your friend’s disapproval, “At the mall,” you finished.
“Oh good!” she expressed delightedly over the phone, “I don’t know what you’re wearing tonight but you need to make sure you dress drop dead gorgeous.”
This was a typical request of your best friend and you knew she only made this request for a specific reason. Still to give her the benefit of the doubt you inquired anyways, “Why?”
“Well first of all, you’re my maid of honour so you have to look good next to me,” she teased, “Second of all, I have someone I want you to meet.”
You called it, rubbing your temples in frustration, “Monica, how many times do I have to tell you I don’t need to be set up with another guy. It’ll happen when it happens.” you sighed into the phone.
“Y/N, I only mean the best for you. I just want you to be as happy as I am.” she tried persuading.
“I’m glad you’re happy Monica, but maybe we both have different ideas of what happiness is,” you said as you walked into the store.
There was a long pause on the other line and you were hopeful that she understood and would finally lay off, “Or maybe you just need to get laid.” She cackled, knowing she would ease the tension between you two.
You stopped in your tracks, surprised at her sudden statement but a grin formed on your face, “Excuse me, I get plenty,” you defended.
“Oh yeah? When was the last time?” you could picture her sitting there and smiling.
You couldn’t recall the last time, you couldn’t even remember the last time you went out on a date. “Fine, I’ll look nice.” reluctantly, you gave in.
“Perfect! We’ll see you tonight, oh and Y/N you can’t look as good as me though. Remember, I’m the bride” your friend teased, celebrating the small victory she had just won.
write more bout why monica&chandler are ur fav couple
well firstly they’re one of the very few couples on television that never had any serious unnecessary drama which i love. like they had little arguments but the biggest was literally just a miscommunication and neither of them actually did anything out of character or wrong (when he pretended to be against marriage to surprise her with a proposal and she took him too seriously) and it was resolved by the end of the episode. i love that they never broke up or had any ridiculous over the top fights because it was more realistic and just more pleasant to watch. it’s one of the few genuine depictions of a healthy relationship that i’ve see on tv.
i also love how they were such good friends for years and years first because they went into a relationship already knowing so much about each other and already having a deep love there. i love how they got together (as much as i do love slow burns) because it was such a surprise but it ended up being so wonderful. i think it’s really cool that the writers never planned to get them together and that the characters were not created with each other and mind but they just got together and it worked because that’s what happens in real life when ppl fall in love!
also i just think their personalities are super compatible because they bring out the best in each other (chandler calmed monica down and monica made chandler care more and be less embarrassed to show emotion) but they didn’t change each other to the point where they were unrecognisable. i love them i love my parents i hope they;re happy wherever they are
Creepypasta #1054: I Watched Video Footage Of A Camping Trip That My Friends Never Actually Went On
Length: Super long
It was getting to be
For the past two years we’ve gone on a camping trip
together, me and my group of friends: Sean, Lin and her sister Lily, Key, Sal,
Monica, and Gabe. Monica’s family is really wealthy and they own a lot of land
out in Bumbfuck Michigan so we’ve wrapped up our past two summer vacations out
there in their woods. We pitch a few tents in what’s basically the backyard of
Monica’s grandmother’s huge Victorian-style house and pretend we’re
“roughin’ it” when in actuality, we just sleep out there for the five
hours of the night that we don’t spend drinking or playing video games inside.
Cooking out over the bonfire and climbing trees is fun, but it’s always only
been a very small part of the trip.
None of us talked about it or admitted it out loud, not even
Monica, but we were all a little afraid to be out there for too long. We had no
concrete reason to be, but we were. No matter how many times the Pines’ family
assured us that the property was safe. I’d never seen or heard anything out of
the ordinary out there–maybe it was just because I’d seen enough horror movies
to develop a fear of the woods in general, but I don’t know. Something about
the air in the intimidatingly vast property just made me feel really
I got told just days before we were supposed to leave that I
wouldn’t be able to take the time off for the trip. One of my fellow
supervisors at work had to go in for emergency surgery on his knee and my store
just didn’t have the coverage. I was really bummed, but my friends didn’t hold
it against me - we all know being an adult sucks sometimes. I told them they
could still use my cooler and my tents and my camcorder and that they should
video-blog the trip for me. I hugged them all goodbye the morning they left and
then I went off to my shift. I told Sal to call me once they got there because
I knew he would be the only one who’d remember to check in.
Sal never called. None of them did. I left work at 10PM and
tried to text and call all of them, but not one of them got back to me. I
checked Twitter, Facebook - nothing from anybody. No updates since Gabe’s
“hitting the road” status from earlier that morning. I felt like
throwing up. Something felt really wrong.
Key’s mother called me as soon as I
started to panic and she sounded really rattled too. He hadn’t talked to her
all day, and he’s really good about touching base with her when he takes trips.
I’d later learn that that whole night, my friends’ parents were all trying to
get in touch with each other. None of them heard from their kids since they
first got on the road. Monica’s mom called the landline to the house several
times. Grandma Pines was out of town this year, but Monica should have answered
if they were there - she didn’t.
Sean’s father drove up to Pines’ property the next morning
with Monica’s parents. He told me something felt off as soon as he stepped out
of his car. When you pull up to the house, there’s no fence or anything, so you
can see if anything is set up in the area surrounding it. He would have been
able to see if everyone had set up tents and gear as soon as he got up the
path, but there was nothing. But he said all the house’s windows were open and
all the lights were on. Within a half hour, they called the police.
I was asked to come in, watch the videos, and answer any
questions I could. I transcribed what I watched as best I could.
Clip 1, 10:45 9/16/2016
Gabe has the camera pointed at the rearview mirror.
Gabe: “How the fuck do you know when it’s
Monica: “The green button is on, dipshit.”
Clip 2, 1:15 9/16/2016
Gabe is filming the back of Lin’s car just ahead of them.
He’s talking to Sean and Monica but I can’t tell what they’re saying, even with
the audio adjusted. It’s raining really hard and I see flashes of lightning.
The light of the morning shone in through your old bedroom but you refused to open your eyes. As much as you wished the events of last night was a dream, you could feel Mark’s arm draped around your naked torso under the sheets. Your back was turned to him, the sound of his calm and even breathing beside you as he slept. You wanted to blame the alcohol for the lack of judgement but it was beyond that. You had wanted Mark. Had succumbed to the need and desire of him, more than once in the night. Vague flashbacks of the night you two shared played in your head. Every touch had sent heats of fire throughout your body, every kiss a ripple of desire and every moan a wave of pleasure. Mark had been an extraordinary lover. You ran your hand over your face, what were you doing? Why were you basking in the thought of your night with Mark when you two had made such a horrible mistake. He was your best friend. He was engaged, to your other best friend. How horrible could you be? Carefully, you slipped out of the bed, although a part of you had wanted to stay. You wanted him to wake up with you and share in the gratification of each other’s bodies again, this time in the daylight. Lust, that’s what it was. That’s what you tried telling yourself as you tiptoed towards the tshirt that had been strewn across the floor. Quietly you slipped it on glancing at Mark as he laid there fast asleep. The blanket only covering his lower half while his arm remained reached out to where you were laying a few moments ago. Exiting the bedroom, you made your way downstairs towards the kitchen of your parents house. What were you supposed to do? Mark was asleep, naked in your old bedroom while you stood in the empty quiet kitchen. At that time the only logical thing you felt like you could do was make breakfast. Distract yourself from the thought of Mark upstairs, hoping that the simple tasks such as cooking would bring you back to reality. Too many feelings were rushing at you all at once. Anger, that you had done something so foolish and you weren’t the only one involved in this, Mark had been just as part of it, so you were angry at him too for letting it get that far. Guilt, that you had done the absolute worst thing possible to your best friend and she had no clue. Hurt, knowing that you had betrayed her and she would end up devastated at your actions. Confusion, because now you didn’t know where you and Mark stood. Did you have deeply rooted feelings for him and were you completely unaware of it until now?
Y/N’s lips were formed in a pout as she sat in the small
office of her and Harry’s home. Hers happened to be much more clean than
Harry’s, up until today. Wedding binders, magazines, books, anything that held
something to do with a wedding laid in front of her. Harry offered to pay for a
wedding planner but she refused, she wanted it to be something special, to be
just like how she had dreamed of it. Harry wanted it to be just how dreamed, he
could care less if they married in a venue, on the beach, or in city hall, as
long as she was happy.
Y/N sighed, looking at the watch on her wrist. She turned on
the telly, switching to the channel that Harry’s interview would be airing.
Harry had informed he was attending the after party for a bit, but she didn’t
want to go, parties weren’t her things and she had been tired recently. Her
graduation had happened last weekend and she was tired out from the graduation
party her mother had thrown, then the one Anne had, then the one Harry had, so
Harry had understood.
“So you and Ms. Y/N are getting married,” James smiled,
showing a picture of the two.
It was one Harry had posted on his instgram, her arms around
his shoulders, her chin resting on his shoulder, a smile on both of their
faces, eyes bright and full of love. The picture was one of her favorites, it
was taken on the sixth day they had spent together.
“Yes,” Harry smiled, “she just graduated last weekend, so
now she is on full on planning mood. Figuring out who’s coming, and all. We
want a small wedding.”
“Are you helping with planning?” James asked.
Harry laughed, shaking his head, “no, no, it’s all her. I’m
not even allowed to pick my tux cause she doesn’t want it to be crazy, I did
though get to pick the napkins,” Harry laughed, “so when you go James, make sure
to tell her the napkins are the best thing.”
“Out of the whole wedding, the ceremony, you want me to tell
the bride that the best thing is the napkins?” James asked.
Did Scully discuss with Maggie about giving up William?
No. God, no. Maggie would have talked her out of it, or had her committed, or begged her to call Fox, he’d surely bring her to her senses, she couldn’t possibly give up their son, what did Fox have to say about all this? Was this his idea? And where is Fox, Dana, and what kind of a father disappears three weeks after his son is born?
She told Monica, but only after her mind was well and truly was made up. Only after she’d stuffed his diaper bag full of wipes and onesies. Only after his clothes and toys had already been packed away. She quietly pleaded with Monica that she be the one to drive him to the social worker’s office. Then she wrote a letter to Mulder, sealing it before she took a match to it and let it burn in the bathtub as William’s rubber ducky stared blankly. She turned off her phone, got in her car.
The carseat in the back of her sedan gaped at her in the rearview mirror as she drove straight to the church through a veil of tears, stumbling into the confessional to make amends through her priest. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I asked God for a miracle, but I should have been more specific. I wanted the miracle to be mine, not someone else’s.