When you have skeletons in your closet, you hope they stay dead.
Part of a secondary series of character cards for @demenior‘s Voltron Gen Minibang fic, Lay to Waste. The bang happened during one of the busiest times in my life but it was so good working with Dem and I want to take a little extra time now to celebrate what we made.
Most of you have never seen my face before so, this is me. Genevieve, Gen, bucky-plums-barnes.
Today at the age of 23, I graduated. I’ve been studying since I left high school at 18. To say it’s been a bumpy journey would be an understatement.
My first year of university was hell. I was studying Arts/Nursing at University that brought me nothing but misery. It was one of the most prestigious universities in my state but I was so unhappy. My depression was at its worst. I wouldn’t go to class, I wouldn’t do the work. I almost lost my life. Then, I decided to switch everything.
I left university and went to TAFE. A tertiary institution specialising in careers/skill work. I decided pastry cooking was my life. It was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Or so I thought… for six months. It took a break between semesters and the whole series of Merlin for me to realise it wasn’t what I wanted. So, I took six months off. The questions were non stop. “What are you doing?” “You’re not working?” “What next?”. So, I thought and thought until I settled on film.
I enrolled in a degree in media, at a completely new university. It was terrifying. But slowly, I found my groove. I found myself excited about class, making friends and just being happy. But it wasn’t all rainbows and cupcakes. My depression and anxiety had reached a peak. Studying while depressed is a nightmare, you’re tired, not going to class, not doing the work. I’m lucky I had some understanding teachers, and the love of my parents to help. It was hard, a lot of nights I wanted to give up. Wanted to call it quits and just run, or worse. But I didn’t, I stuck to it. I pushed and pushed until… I got here.
I’m in bed, the gown has been returned, the flowers are in vases, the make up wiped away and the dress put away. Just like that, it’s over. A chapter which has been such a huge part of my life is over. It feels different. I’m scared, nervous and a little excited about what’s to come next.
I guess the whole point of this rant is to say, you can do it. No matter what comes to pass, when the road gets harder, you can do it. It might feel like the end of the world but it’ll get better. I’m only human. I’m nothing special. I hope even one of you will be inspired to keep pushing. Without the love of my family, friends and followers I wouldn’t have gotten here. I guess this is a reminder to follow your heart and to keep going because you never know where it might lead you.
I love all of you, thank you for being with me on this journey and heres to many more milestones shared.
I lowkey kind of dont like the “use pen all the time!!” argument bc while it DOES help alot w making urself feel more sure about your strokes, it can be a real fuckin struggle if youre like me. Like I use pencil bc i can erase, of course, but im scared of pens bc i have such an unsteady hand; its terrible lmao i like clean, crisp lines but i simply CANT do that with pens.
Those penmanship videos?? The speeddrawing videos with perfect slow lines?? I cant do that; my hands get all shaky and the lines come out too wobbly. So i have to do quick strokes to make anything look decent. Bt that means if I do that with pen, theres a 95% chance that the lines will overlap and get messy n wobbly, its ugly™. Pencil makes it look nicer bc i can erase those 15 extra, unnecessary lines i keep accidentally making
I dunno what the point of this was, just that my hands are shaky, not all artistic advice works for everyone, and dont feel bad if some of the professional art tips just Dont work with you.
“I’m NOT with Tariq. But I might be in love with someone else…”
Okay, but neither of the Beaumont’s seem to actually care about what MC wants. She says she’s in love with someone else and yet they’re still pushing her to marry Liam. How MC feels doesn’t matter to them - they just want her to be Queen so they can continue to use her.
At least Bertrand’s upfront about it. As much as Maxwell claims to be her friend (and I think, to some extent, he is), he guilts her into staying in Cordonia. What she wants doesn’t really seem to matter.
another nonnie requested this one too but “with a bit of anger” and it’s not quite anger, but we get a little bit of possessive!chloe
“You’re mine. I don’t share” established deckerstar
When Chloe arrives the party at Lux is in full swing, Lucifer holding court as he flits from person to person like an especially attractive butterfly. He’d paused to rest at a table, claiming a bar-stool for himself.
A girl is speaking with him, leaning a little too close to blame it on the noise of the music. He’d been grinning before, pleasantly engaged, but his smile goes suddenly wooden.
Chloe starts moving forward. He says something to the girl, looking apologetic, but she’s insisting, tugging at his sleeve. Chloe comes up from behind and slides a possessive hand under his jacket, moving her touch from his side up to his chest, pressing against the beat of his heart. She pushes the line of her body against his back. He glances over, sees that it’s her, and relaxes under her palm, leaning into her.
“Hello, darling.” he says, almost lost in the noise of the club, but she can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest, see the edge of his smile.
She looks over his shoulder at the woman and maintains eye contact while she greets Lucifer with a nuzzle. He lolls his head to the side to allow her the expanse of his neck while he moves a hand back to her hip. She bites at his ear. He jolts a little, but doesn’t protest. “You’re mine.” she growls at him and his grip tightens.
“Yes.” he gasps, almost unwittingly.
Chloe glares at the other woman. “I don’t share.” The other woman narrows her eyes, but moves off to find smoother waters. Chloe, not quite able to help herself, slips her free hand low on his stomach, wrapping her arms around his waist.
His groan vibrates through them deliciously and his hips give a little stutter. “Chloe.” he says breathlessly.
“Upstairs?” she murmurs, feeling bold.
“Yes.” he says, voice rough, nodding frantically. He’s sliding off the bar-stool and quickly herding her through the crowds toward the elevator. She spins on him and shoves him against the elevator wall the moments the doors shut, taking his mouth with an intensity that startles a little noise out of him, and oh, she likes that, chases it down his throat and then bites.
His whole body shudders against hers, and the metal railing under his hands squeals with pressure. She sucks a mark there, one that she knows will fade the moment she’s left his presence, but right now it stands out pink and flushed. The doors part and then she’s leaving him there, barely holding on, mussed and looking wrecked. She strides into the penthouse, Lucifer quick on her heels.