We were told to dream big, that we can do anything we choose. So here I am at 17 going off to college next fall and realizing that I’ve been lied to. No I can not do anything I choose, dust off I have to go to school where my parents comply is the “right school for me”, meanwhile I have to finish my school work, go to practice, fold laundry, sleep, and then repeat. In college I have to find an acceptable job to pay off bills, and taxes that the United States of America impose upon us. Meanwhile we’re supposedly a free nation, so we’ve been lied to again. Next up what ever job I get I will automatically be assumed that I’m weaker because I’m a female, and is automatically going to “have babies”, just because I have a vagina. Therefore I won’t be able to have the same jobs as a man. Wait but what if i dreamed to be an artitect, well I’m sorry but because your a girl it’s going to be 10 times harder. Well fuck I guess dreams can go to hell because you all lied. I can’t be what ever I wanna be I have to please every one else.
You weren’t a clingy girlfriend. In fact you were the complete opposite, you were an independent college student who worked her ass off to help pay half of the utilities, internet, and electricity each month. You knew it wasn’t much considering you lived with Harry in Primrose Hill.Your biggest goal in life was to be able to provide for yourself seeing as Harry was 22 and could provide for himself and probably half of the world You wanted to be a strong independent woman, so that’s exactly what you were going to do. Somedays, being that woman was difficult. Being in Nursing school is absolutely no joke.
When H got home from doing the weekly grocery shopping you followed him into the kitchen where you sat on top of the counter and watched him put everything away.
“Petal, is everything okay?” he inquires
“No. It’s been a week from hell.” you reply
“I’m sorry its been so crap, what can I do to make it better?” Harry asks
“I’m not sure, maybe we could watch a film.”
“Do ya want me to bake you something? I used to be a baker!” Harry exclaims
“H, I just really wanna cuddle and have a cry,” you mumble
“No no no, don’t cry love bug,” he says rubbing your back
It takes just that to push you over the edge. The tears well up and curl into his arms.
“H, uni is so hard. I never ever thought it would be this hard. I just wanna be a good nurse. I wanna make you proud, I wanna make your mum proud, I wanna make Gemma and Robin proud. I want my family to be proud, I just feel like I dug myself a huge hole joining nursing school. I couldn’t get the IV in properly and I really bruised my classmate.” you ramble
“Hey hey hey, none of that. We’re all proud of you! I remember how hard school was and I only finished year 10. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but I want you to know that we’re all rooting for you! And just think of it this way, you have bruises on your hand from friends trying to start their IV’s on you. You’re all learning and that’s what is most important.”
“I don’t want your family to think I’m mooching off of you. I’ve slowed down my shifts because school is getting harder. I don’t wanna feel like I’m using you. I wanna be independent.” you continue
“You are independent. You’re not using me. I know that, my family knows that. We all love you.” he explains
“Promise your family doesn’t think I’m using you?” you ask
“Pinky promise,” he says sticking his pinky out to yours
you latch your pinkies.
The two of you put Elf on and snuggle up closely on the couch. You laugh in unison during the funny scenes and pout together during the sad ones.
When Elf finishes, you realize you’re famished and need something to eat.
“H, babe, are you hungry?” you inquire as you retreat to the kitchen
“A bit, what were you thinking of making?” he asks
“I kinda want to make up a veggie stir fry or enchiladas.” you call as you dig out the veggies
“Stir fry sounds lovely!” Harry replies
You decide to break out the peppers, onions, mushrooms, and cabbage along with brown rice, liquid aminos, and some other mandatory spices.
You get out your Wok and begin softening the vegetables.
About 35 minutes later, you have two very full plates along with glasses of red wine.
“Harry Edward, the food is ready. Come and get it while its still hot.” you call
His feet patter against the cherry stained hardwood floors and he enters the kitchen to see you in an apron and sitting at one end of the table. Harry sits across from you and you two begin eating.
“Petal, this is lovely. Thank you so much for cooking, even if you were a bit upset.”
“That’s alright, I figured I needed to do something I enjoyed!” you explain before taking a sip of your wine.
“I think that was a good choice after the awful week you had, shall we have a bit of a cuddle after dinner?” he inquires
“I’d absolutely love nothing more!” you say with a wide smile.
The two of you do dishes together singing Christmas tunes. As you dry the last dish you let out a sigh of relief. The chores are done for the evening so it leaves the two of you to enjoy each other’s company.
“H, thats it! Chores are done for the evening,” you say softly
“Perfect. Lets go put pajamas on and have a cuddle in bed!” he replies
You grin widely before jumping on his back and tapping his butt
“Off you go my trusty steed. To the bedroom!” you chuckle
He follows demand and walks down the hall to the large master suite.
He plops you down on the bed and pulls out one of his oversized t shirts and a pair of leggings for you to put on knowing that you’re not in the mood to navigate through your clothes to find pajamas
“Not a problem, petal!” he says as he strips into his boxers and puts on a pair of comfy pajama pants and a long sleeve henley.
“Aren’t you the cutest!” you say bopping his nose with two fingers
“I wouldn’t agree, but I’ll take the compliment!” he replies
“I love you, H! Always have, always will!” you say crawling into bed.
“I love you too, darlin!’ he replies wrapping his arms around you.
Have I got a great deal for you “boss”! Either you pay off all My college student loans or I will go to the CEO with this file proving you have been embezzling from his company. This deal is so great I can’t see how you can pass it up boss faggot. C’mon think faggot! Either become a prison bitch or become My boot licking bitch. Either way, this deal is for life!
((Song I listened to while writing this, cuz I feel like that’s needed: For Your Entertainment by Adam Lambert))
Jon, or Delirious during work hours, danced like no fucking other. His body was captivating in every way possible, with the ways that it turned and moved in a symphony of intricate movements. He used this talent of his to his advantage and used it to pay off his lingering college funds. And truth be told, he loved his job, it was nice being able to finally show people what exactly he was made of.
So here he was now one stage, in the red tinted spotlight. Clad in his black spandex booty-shorts and faded navy blue Dr. Martens. This moment was his, he felt it in his bones.
He stood there; head bowed low waiting for the music to kick on. And once it did at the beginning beats before the vocals he looked up, making what he called ‘Pretty-Eyes’ to the crowd as he subtly searched through it. It always helped to have someone or something to focus on. So he caught the eye of a beautiful bearded man, choosing him as quickly as they met eyes.
He popped his chest in and out to the first set of lyrics, mouthing each word. He’s heard this song so many times while practicing this certain dance, he was going to perfect this if it was the last thing he did.
He slowly guided his body to the left, then advancing forward and to the right, leading with his hips as he did so.
He continued to do this until he got near the end of the stage before bending his elbows, positioning his arms into an ‘X’ formation in front of his chest. He dragged them away from his chest, touching his own skin as he did so. He did his cute head roll, a look to his side, fluttering his eye lashes and smiling cheekily.
He turned in a circle, gyrating his hips in a pattern of a figure 8 then two rough thrusts to the one side and two more rough thrusts to the other side. His arms were behind his head gripping his own hair as he moved.
Jon sunk down to his knees, eyeing the man he’d looked at in the beginning only to see he was being eyed just as hard. He bit his lip, placing his palms on the stage, giving a buck of the hips and a few more after that.
He hopped up just as gracefully as his other movements, turned around, and strolled back down the stage. He gave a gentle wave and a toothy smile, walking backstage after the song ended. He could hear the crowd cheer and chant, his heart soaring with pride.
Jon got dressed back in his normal clothes. His clothes were baggy and layered since it was cold outside.
“Del, there’s a satisfied customer who rented room 13 who wants to see you.”
“Ok, thanks. I’ll be right there,” He grabbed his backpack and walked out into the common area.
He waved to the bartenders before walking down the large hallway of rentable rooms. In those rooms, private dances were bought along with little add-ons among other things.
He entered the assigned room, closing the door after him.
Jon immediately met the gorgeous eyes of the man. He stared at this man during his entire routine; he couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.
“Hey there,” Jon smiled awkwardly, setting his bag down on the floor next to the door.
“Hey,” the man smiled back, “You’re an awfully good dancer.”
Jon had heard the praise many times and of course it was great to hear, but it never made him weak at the knees like it did right now.
“Oh, thank you,” He placed his hand on the back of his neck, but remembered that this man was probably here for a reason. “So, what can I do you for?”
The man was confused, but recovered quickly, “I actually just wanted to ask if you’d possibly like to go one a date,”
Jon’s eyes widened.
“Yeah! I-I mean, if you want to of course.”
Jon smiled impossibly wider.
“Sure, that’d be nice.” He nodded, “My name’s Jon by the way…”
“I’m Luke,” They shook hands. “And I hope to be seeing you again.”
“You will, trust me.” Jon winked making Luke laugh.
i think i just sliced myself on the edge. but yeah it’s honestly so uncreative, to me it just signals that a creator can’t imagine anyone having any actual motivations for being a villain like.
give me a neurotypical villain that thinks that their plan to take over the world is necessary to protect people from themselves.
give me a neurotypical villain who just wants money. money galore. money everywhere. their actions are totally calculated and not a product of mental illness, just a product of being a greedy asshole.
give me a neurotypical villain who started as a “nice guy” hero, got pissed because he didn’t feel like he was being rewarded enough, and decided that he’d rather reap the rewards of villainy instead.
give me a neurotypical villain who took to crime to pay off college debts.
give me a neurotypical villain who was taught that their way of life was right and is willing to punish anyone who doesn’t follow their beliefs. somebody who doesn’t really believe they’re a villain at all.
or like. if you’re gonna do a mentally ill villain:
give me a villain that suffers from PTSD. can rob banks but would turn against their fellow villain if they found out another villain was a rapist. give me a villain whose trauma history keeps them from committing certain crimes, or even makes them fight for the victims of those crimes. give me a villain whose mental illness has more to do with the goodness in them than the evil in them.
give me a villain that suffers from schizophrenia and isn’t for some reason hearing voices that tell them to murder everyone or w/e the neurotypicals think a schizophrenic villain should be doing. maybe instead of their schizophrenia being voices that tell them to murder people, it’s in the form of a distracting auditory hallucination that sounds like somebody trying to get their attention while they’re really fucking focused on stealing this jewel, go away i’ll deal with hearing shit later. stop giving me villains whose auditory hallucinations are telling them to commit murder, what the fuck, why is that such a common trope.
give me a villain that suffers from depression and sometimes has trouble getting out of bed to bother doing awful things. the awful things they do are driven by something other than their damn inconvenient depression that gets in the way of their energy to commit crimes.
give me a mentally ill villain who took to crime to pay for their medications bc they can’t afford the medications and don’t want to relapse. give me a villain whose mental illness is a factor in their crime, but in an unexpected way, and not because people believe that mental illness makes someone bad.
for fuck’s sake.
give me something other than “schizophrenic villain hears voices that make them murder things” “villain with ASPD lacks empathy and for some reason this makes them murder things” “villain suffering from depression turns evil to make other people also feel miserable” “villain suffering from dissociative identity disorder has a personality that for no explained reason just really likes to be horrible”
i could go on about this shit forever.
i’m so fucking tired of how mental illness is used in terms of protags vs villains.
Idk I got bored :) It’s based off the recent photo on Ruby’s Instagram of her flying to Sydney :) She just looks so fuckable!! (Wouldn’t mind joining the mile-high club tbh)
You had been called into work last minute by your boss, being told that a celebrity had booked a flight last minute and they needed you there to take care of her. You had gratefully taken the shift, mostly because you needed the money to pay off your college fees, but partially because it was a flight to a country you had never been to before; Australia.
“Lookin hot Y/N,” Steve, the pilot winked, making me roll my eyes, and mess up his hair.
“Stop lying,” I scoffed, taking a sip from my bottle of water, feeling parched from running through the airport in a hurry to get onto the plane on time.
“Hey, I’m gay, not blind,” he pointed out, fixing his hair so it looked ‘as good as his ass’. “Did you hear who’s flying on here today?”
“Some stuck up celebrity no doubt,” I rolled my eyes, lifting myself onto the small kitchenette bench, swinging my legs childishly.
“Actually, for once, it isn’t,” he leant on the wall across from me, raising an eyebrow. “She’s quite lovely… Very much your type.”
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned, glaring at my co-worker. “You’re not setting me up with another customer. Don’t you remember what happened last time!”
“How was I supposed to know she was a convicted criminal,” he pouted, straightening up when he heard voices outside on the tarmac. “She’s hot, successful and the sweetest person you’ll meet. Just give her a chance.”
“She’s also probably got thousands of models falling at her feet,” I rolled my eyes, throwing my drink in the fridge and smoothing out my uniform.
“None with boobs and an ass like yours,” he winked, patting my shoulder as he returned to his seat. “Just flaunt it and she’ll be all over you.” I let out a deep sigh, plastering on a fake smile and standing in the hallway, hearing people start to walk up the stairs.
“I think I’m just gonna sleep the entire flight,” a soft voice hummed, stepping through the doorway, my eyes immediately widening at the sight of this girl. “Hi!”
“Uh h-hi,” I blushed, feeling my composure crumble to the deep pits of hell after one look at her. “Um, would you like me to take your bag?”
“It’s fine,” she grinned, patting my cheek as she passed me, making me freeze at the feel of her soft hand. She flopped into one of the seats, grinning up at me and gesturing to the one across from her. “Take a seat.”
“O-oh no I’m not allowed to,” I shook my head, squeaking when I felt someone nudge me from behind.
“Yes you are,” Steve appeared behind me, pushing me towards the seat. “You girls enjoy yourselves.” He disappeared back towards the front of the plane, turning around and making a rude gesture, increasing my blush.
“Do you want a drink or something to eat first?” I shifted slightly, not daring to look in her eyes.
“Are you on offer?” she asked, making me attempt to stutter out a response, her cheeky smirk making me even more embarrassed. “I’m kidding. Well I’m not really, but I’ll take you on a date first before I do something like that.” She stood up, standing infront of me and cupping my warm cheeks in her hands. “Sit down and I’ll get us something.”
“But it’s my job to get it,” I frowned, watching her scamper around the kitchenette, sitting down in the seat to make her happy.
“You’re stuck on this flight for hours on end with me,” she turned around, cradling several packets of food in her arms. “So you can sit down and relax and I can get to know you.” She threw the food on the table separating us, collapsing into her seat and staring at me.
“If I’m gonna sit here with your beautiful face, I’ll need a drink,” I hummed, fishing through the mini fridge, pulling out a bottle of rosé. “Do you want a glass?”
“I don’t drink, but I’ll have a bottle of water please,” she grinned cutely, resting her feet against the edge of the table and watching me get our drinks.
“I’m just warning you,” I threw her the bottle of water, taking my seat again. “When I drink, I get super sexual and don’t really have a filter.”
“That’s fine with me,” she winked, making me blush and take a gulp of my drink. “Let’s begin.”
“So you’re telling me you were given the opportunity of participating in a threesome with Victoria Secret models… And you said no?” Ruby raised a brow, her thumb rubbing small circles into my clothed hip. I simply nodded, resting my head on her shoulder, the wine starting to make me drowsy. “Are you stupid?”
“They’re too conceited,” I screwed my nose up, placing my now empty wine glass on the table, pouting at the completely empty bottle. “There’s no more wine.”
“I think you’ve had enough,” she chuckled, tightening her grip around my waist when I tried to get up. “Where are you going?”
“T’get some more,” I slurred, whining when she kept me pinned to her chest. “Let me gooooo!”
“You’re keeping my lap warm,” she hummed, manoeuvring my body so I was straddling her lap, her hands resting dangerously low on my back. “That’s better. Now I can see you’re beautiful face.” I blushed a deep red, wiggling in her lap slightly to get more comfortable, squeaking when her hands slid down to rest on my bum, stilling my movements. “I think this is one of my favourite things about you.”
“I work very hard on it,” I grinned, squealing when she squeezed it, her right hand smacking it a moment later, making me moan softly and bite my lip. “W-what was that for?”
“Just felt like it,” she shrugged, rubbing the spot she hit softly. “Sounded like you enjoyed it though.”
“I like things rough,” I shrugged, attempting to hide my blush by burying my face into her neck. “Don’t judge me for it.”
“Oh I’m certainly not judging,” Ruby chuckled, shifting forward in her seat, hands cupping the backs of my thighs and holding me firmly against her, standing up from the seat.
“Where are you going?” I wiggled slightly in her hold, my arms automatically wrapping around her neck, legs doing the same to her waist.
“We need a bit more privacy,” she hummed, kicking open the door at the back of the compartment, revealing a small bedroom. She threw me onto the double bed, kicking the door shut behind her and crawling onto the bed so she was hovering over my sprawled out form. “I want you to be as loud as possible. Let the pilot know how good I’m making you feel… Can you do that for me babygirl?” I simply nodded, whimpering when I felt her fingers dance up my sides. “Good… Now let me treat you like you deserve to be treated…”
Failure. Or perceived failure. This is something we all grapple with, whether it’s in theatre or in life. Things that we tried to achieve but didn’t, things that we took risks on that didn’t pay off, auditions that didn’t pan out, colleges that didn’t accept you, people you’ve disappointed… The list goes on and on, and it’s difficult not to feel crushed by these situations. I’ve shared lots of posts about this, but I wanted to get it all in one post for you.
You are not your successes or your failures. You are your long-term work, and your shining personality, and your drive, and your perseverance. You are your eyes when they glow at an audition and your heart when you share your passions. You are not better for succeeding, and not worse for failing.
Look at how far you’ve come. Next time something goes wrong, I want you to look back at who you were a year ago. Five years ago. Ten years ago. Marvel at who you are, and how you’ve grown. You’re incredible.
We cannot see the big picture. And there’s now way we can. We see our immediate circumstances, and we have a hard time leaving things up in the air. We have a hard time seeing that better things could be down the road, and could be a direct consequence of our failures. Not getting this show, not getting into this college, not nailing that audition…That could be the catalyst for something great. It could be a day from now or ten years from now, but try to remember that greater things could result from this.
You will grow from every experience you have. Good or bad, you grow from it. You learn from it. You become more equipped for next time. You are constantly changing, and that’s okay.
Ask yourself this question: “Did I do the best I could given the situation?” That includes if you’re sick, if you’re nervous, if your voice cracks, if you forget a line… Did you do your best, given the situation. If the answer is yes, that’s all you can ask for. If the answer is no, simply question what you could have done better, learn from it, and move on.
It will not serve you to dwell. I’m not saying you can’t be upset or disappointed. Those emotions are valid, and they have their place. But wallowing in what cannot be will get you nowhere. Let it motivate you and help you move forward. Never get dragged back by failure.
There are more doors open than you can ever imagine. It’s easy to just look at this one opportunity and feel like not getting it was the end. Not getting into this college is the end. Not getting this role is the end. But it’s not. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not.
We do not get everything we want in life. And that’s actually a good thing. Because if we got everything we wanted, we could never really appreciate the great triumphs we have.
For heaven’s sake, stop comparing. Comparison is the thief of joy. Throughout your journey in life, and your journey in this career, people will get things you wanted. It will not help you to compare yourself to them. You will not be better for comparing yourself to them. You are on separate journeys, and your failures and successes are completely unrelated. Focus on you.
“Ever tried? Ever failed? No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” This is one of my all-time favorite quotes by Samuel Beckett. We get into our heads that we cannot fail, and that everything is over if we fail. But in our world, failure should not be seen as the end. It is simply a necessary step in our lives, towards success. Those risks have to happen to succeed, and each failure brings you a step closer. Try to stop seeing things that don’t go well as the end. They are just part of your journey.
“I’m trying so hard. I go to school and try to get the best grades possible to keep my financial aid. I’m also trying to help my mom pay the bills by working two jobs, but I’m still not getting enough hours. Seems like I take 30 steps forward and then 20 back. I think I might give up.
“But I look around and see all these people sleeping in the park, and I’m crying—about something this small—and I feel like an idiot. Every day, I tell myself that half the people in the world are going through worse things than I am. I just talked to a homeless lady who asked me for money. I said, ‘I wish.’ But then she gave me words of encouragement and told me to keep going. So I’m going to do it for her and for lots of other black women who didn’t get to go to college. I know going to college will eventually pay off and 10 years from now I’ll be laughing at this moment—me sitting in the park crying about how I was going to give up.”