#notinsecure

so there’s this guy she knows, right. he lives in roughly the same neighborhood as where her office is. he’s twentysomething, dropped out of college after a few weeks of class, thinks he’s hot shit because he plays electric guitar and wears doc martens (and, admittedly, she would probably think he was hot shit too if she was younger). sometimes they chat about the state of the world today and the ridiculous price of a cup of coffee and the social implications of costumed supervillains and things like that. she’s been invited to at least three of his shows, each time for a different band, and she hasn’t seen a single one. but he’s a nice enough guy. he’s pretty decent, as far as guys she knows. so she does at least pay some attention to the comings and goings of his apartment complex.

she’s seen this woman before, she’s pretty sure, but she can’t remember when. maybe an old girlfriend of his? either way, she finds it somewhat amusing-slash-pathetic-slash-sickening to watch him talk to her. she sits in the apartment’s “courtyard”, which is really just some shitty grass and benches where old people feed birds, and today the mystery woman happens to walk close enough to start a conversation with.

she’s been trying to do that more lately-- start conversations. never was much good at it. never really got the hang of making friends.

She imagines that this is the truth, taking inventory of rosy youth on the other’s face. There was nothing sweeter in all the worlds than painted cheeks and bright eyes, and nothing more deadly. Coolly, she dissected perfect symmetry, healthy hair, and saw no reason to call the girl’s bluff.

Her true face had taught her to weigh beauty heavily, and the ugliness that it planted in the hearts of others.

So she smiled, lips curling against her glamours. With a quiet laugh at the expense of that majority, Hel spoke up.

“Okay. Wow. There’s, like- there’s a lot to unpack here, so do you mind if I like, go sequentially?”

She sucks in a deep breath. “Ok, first off: ew. Just needed to get that one out there, because it warrants saying. Eww. Second- second, my idea of stress relief is, like...absurdly violent video games, or- or watching a horror movie in a well-lit room with a bag of those little snack size Oreos all to myself, or maybe a block of cheddar and a family size box of Club crackers if I’m feeling especially decadent, not hooking up with some dude I don’t even fucking know. Which brings me to my third point- what in the entire goddamn fuck is a ham store? What are you even talking about? Is that, like- a store that sells ham? Is it a Radio Shack kind of thing but it specializes solely in ham radios? Ham store? What the fuck is that? Also, kind of a return to my previous point, but since I don’t know the store, I don’t know the guy who runs it! I don’t know if he’s cute, and I’m sure as shit not taking the recommendation of someone who looks and talks like they just walked off the set of a goddamn John Hughes movie, no offense intended because you’re like, scary fucking pretty. Like, cover-of-a-magazine-pretty. Victoria’s Secret catalogue-pretty. Poses-in-their-underwear-and-gets-paid-for-it-pretty. ”

She clasps her hands before her, exhaling slowly as she prepares to bring this weird-ass diatribe to a close, perhaps because she realizes that she’s veering wildly between coming off as a boring-ass prude and a hopelessly bisexual disaster; she’s heard other girls telling each other with the utmost sincerity that they’re pretty, but she’s never quite gotten the hang of it. Accelerating it easy. Braking is hard.

the fesh pince of blair. (accepting!)

“Okay…cool,” she replies, in the same tone that a guy who stopped her in Walmart earlier had used when she’d explained to him that yes, she did know what Metal Gear Solid was and no, it didn’t belong to her boyfriend despite being a men’s medium and no, she wasn’t just wearing the shirt because she saw it in Hot Topic and thought it looked cool. 

She actually saw it in Kohl’s and thought it looked cool, but that’s not the point. She’s not just wearing it to garner male attention. She’s liked Metal Gear since playing The Twin Snakes on the Gamecube, and while she’s never going to claim to be an expert on the series or the world’s biggest fan of it- because she’s not, she just thinks it’s a good game- it pisses her off that a guy wearing the same shirt wouldn’t have been asked that same question.

She sighs. 

MODERN MEDIA SENTENCE STARTERS // ACCEPTING

“Imagine being such a fucking attention whore that you think other people are just as sad as you, constantly struggling for the company of anyone available 24/7.  All because you can’t understand the value in being alone.  Away from basic idiots.”  The concept of being by yourself as negative is not on Mitch’s radar.  They don’t like people.  People don’t like them.  No, she enjoys and thrives on existing FAR AWAY from other people.  And, really, it’s better for everyone involved.  Her presence is rarely pleasant for others.  When she is around people, she’s an antagonistic force, whether in an annoying social manner (insulting people like she is now) or in causing violent misfortune (the Entity will find her, and it kills indiscriminately).  “Can’t relate.”