#'For' was kinda tough where mine's concerned but this sorta works

[contaiinedarmageddon2]

❌ for Feferi :3

//Feferi forced to actually meet Sollux. Eughageyahgnuagh.

No that's too horrible, this is a family friendly smut barn. How's about:

Feferi, in her constant quest for corporate dominance and the eventual eclipsing of the Condesce, began to seek more wild ideas. Not every timeline worked on the same rules, making copying successful products from other universes often more complicated than it was worth.

Some were more successful at adapting or smuggling technologies across time-lines though. One unsavory Sollux in particular had been a resource in the past where the odd gizmo or gadget was concerned. Now though she was on the cusp of launching a full scale manufacturing operation for one technology sourced from them, a pill for modifying body proportions. Plastic surgery was forever too niche and too flawed to mass-market, but this purported to be fully organic. Feferi could toss in some marketing about it being "All natural" and "Unlocking your body's true potential!" and have the public eating out of her hands!

She couldn't resist the temptation to do the final test run on this modified version of the original pill sent to her on herself. A little more up top never hurt! Now what were those instructions? Feferi was a busy business mogul, and Sollux's messages tended to be a potent cocktail of inscrutable and boring. He usually sent more anyways, they could wait. Oh well, her personal team knew what they were doing without any weirdo's advice. It's supposed to be pop it and watch the results! So she did just that, throwing it back with practiced ease and washing it down with a glass of milk. The coffee machine had been down this morning, so she'd poured that instead.

This proved catastrophic. The pill was never, ever to be taken with milk. Coming from a timeline of more humanoid trolls, it worked off the systems of the body responsible for making it, and upon finding itself in an environment already full of it, assumed it needed to go into overdrive to compensate for some mighty need not being met already. Over the next few weeks Feferi found herself blowing through suits, blazers, blouses, shirts, then tablecloths and tarps as her chest pumped larger and heavier. It wasn't just that hauling around constantly sloshing boulders was a distraction for those around her, it became steadily harder for the corporate heiress to think for herself. Her mind constantly thinking of when she might get the next release of pumping out the ever-growing flow. Each milking session put a history of countless debauchery to shame as her mind was seared blank by the flood of pleasure that emptying out gave her. But it was never truly empty.

By the time The Condesce finally had enough and shipped Feferi off to a warehouse to slap a set of mechanical pumps on her, she could only moan out a thank you. And moo, of course.

[spxllcxstxr]

Bridge Over Troubled Water • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Requests: can you do a blurb with Remus where the reader is nervous and anxious, maybe has a tough week and he gives her a massage and helps her relax? — anon and Hi! can you write an imagine where the reader is dating Remus and is disappointed in her school grades / results and is overall doubting herself and is disappointed with herself? — @emmaev

Summary: Things are getting really tough. Remus is here for you.

Warnings: mention of food, not eating/skipping a meal, hunger, depression, anxiety, a bit of a panic attack, homework, school, self deprecating thoughts, kinda take how we’re feeling in this pandemic and that’s kinda what this fic is, Snape being an ass for like two sentences, crying

Word Count: 1.7k

A.N: I hope it’s alright that I combined your two requests. But, I decided to make it longer with a lot more comfort. I really hope it’s ok with you guys ❤️ Kinda a vent fic? So that’s why it’s lowkey all over the place and the ending is sorta..abrupt? I hope you like it, though. I wanna say that I’m always here for you guys. This whole thing has been kicking my ass and school has been extremely tough for me, so know that you’re not alone. Know that you’ve got this. I believe wholeheartedly in you. Love you all. ❤️

Title: Simon and Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water

****

You trudge up the stone steps to the boys dorms, your bag dragging heavily behind you. With your robes slipping from your shoulders and your tie dangling loosely around your neck, you almost consider letting your bag go. Watching the heavy sack of books tumble recklessly down the spiral staircase seems like a great idea to you. However, you make it to the sixth year dorms before you’re able to loosen your grip.

The oak door was closed but not locked. What use was a lock when the door was charmed to singe off the eyebrows of any unwelcome visitor? Thankfully, the boys granted you complete access to their room in third year, so the door couldn’t harm you.

Turning the brass doorknob and stepping through the threshold, you’re greeted by somewhat organized chaos.

Sirius and Peter’s side of the room was a complete disaster while James and Remus’ side was at least nicer to look at. Sure a few books were scattered on the floor and James’ red and yellow underwear was hanging from his bedpost visible to anyone who walked in, but that’s nothing compared to whatever the other two have going on. You don’t even want to look at it, knowing full well that just one tiny glance would make your already terrible day worse.

The room is empty and completely quiet, the boys, just like every other person in the castle, were down in the Great Hall for dinner. At the thought of dinner just downstairs, your stomach grumbles before quickly churning in agony.

Quickly, you dump your bag next to the door and go through Remus’ drawers, searching for that one specific jumper.

It’s the deep blue cable knit one that always smells like him. The jumper is soft and warm and the perfect piece of clothing to cuddle into when you needed a good cry. And Godric, you needed a good, long, ugly cry.

After finding it and throwing it on, you barely lift up your feet walking to your boyfriend’s bed to get swallowed up by his blankets.

The weight of the day hits you full force the moment your head collides with his pillow, and your lips wobbles, the day replaying in your mind.

Your morning started with a Transfiguration exam that definitely was not on what you studied all night for.

Then, your potion bubbled out of your cauldron and started disintegrating the stone flooring, making Slughorn shoot you very disappointed look that made you want to disappear into the Forbidden Forest forever.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned into a complete disaster as well when Professor Bluebell handed back your essays on inferi, and yours ended up with a spikey red D scrawled angrily on the top. D, which stands for Dreadful, as Snape snidely reminded you from over your shoulder. He flashed you smug little smirk along with the delicate O that adorned his own essay.

And to top it all off, you had to meet up with Flitwick right after classes to go over the vinegar to wine charm that for some reason wouldn’t work for you no matter how hard you tried. And you still weren’t successful.

This was becoming a common occurrence.

You always knew that your N.E.W.T. year was going to be tough, but Merlin, you never expected it to be this awful.

Classes were longer and harder and your professors were relentless and unforgiving with the amount of homework and exams they started handing out.

Sure you had more free periods, but those were filled with research and essays and studying, you had no free time at all—it was all a lie.

You couldn’t escape it. Sleep was just more time to be plagued by anxiety to the point you barely even slept at all. Most of the time you stared blankly up at the ceiling thinking about all the assignments you could be doing instead.

It’s this torturous and vicious cycle that you just can’t get out of.

And your motivation was quickly disappearing.

It was getting tougher and tougher each time to even do your homework. Lifting up your quill and taking out a stack of parchment was just difficult. It took too much energy out of you.

Smothering your face in Remus’ pillow, you groan out your frustration, balling your fists around the frayed sleeves of the jumper.

You’re so wrapped up in your despair and panic that you don’t hear the door creak open and four sets of footfalls and laughter bounce around the room.

“Damn, what’s up with you?” Sirius chuckles. You hear him flop onto his own bed.

You bury your nose in the fabric of the jumper, inhaling the sweet and comforting scent of chocolate and old parchment that always accompanies Remus Lupin.

“Don’t be a git, Pads.” Remus scoffs, making his way towards you.

He crouches down by your head, placing a delicate thumb on your cheekbone.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” His tone turns soft, drenched with concern.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, tears trickling down the bridge of your nose and dripping down to the white sheets.

“Alright, darling, hold on.” Remus whispers, placing a dainty kiss on your forehead.

He straightens up, knees creaking the way no sixteen year old’s should.

“Alright, lads, clear out.” Remus declares to his friends.

“You can’t kick me out of my room, Moony. No way.” You hear James whine.

“Yes, I can, Prongs, c’mon. Go play chess with Peter or something.”

“But he always beats me.”

“C’mon, Prongsie, we can scam the first years by making them place bets on you winning.” Sirius suggests. His boots click against the floorboards, trailing towards the door.

Peter’s light footsteps follow after them.

“Fine.” James huffs dramatically. “But I’m not sleeping on the couch again, so no funny business.”

The door slams shut and once again you’re met with silence, though you do hear Remus changing out of his uniform and into more comfortable attire.

The bed dips underneath Remus’ weight and his hand gently starts to stroke through your hair.

“Tell me what’s wrong, my love.” Remus mumbles just loud enough for you to hear.

You try to swallow down the lump in the back of your throat.

“Just a very shitty day, Rem.” You manage to croak out, the words choppy and wavering.

Tears begin to flow freely, warm salty streaks making their way down your face in rapid succession.

“Oh darling.” Remus coos, practically pulling you into his arms and between his legs. You bury your face into his neck, tears dampening his scarred flesh. “It’s alright, let it out.” He continues to run your hair between his fingers. “Let it all out...”

“I-I’m just so stupid!” You sob, choking on spit. “Everything’s just getting too much and I can’t fucking take it anymore!”

He squeezes you closer to his chest, opting to stay silent so you can vent everything off of your chest. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head and you’re vaguely aware that you’re being rocked gently back and forth.

“It’s so hard!” You continue to wail, lungs constricting rapidly. It’s a struggle to keep breathing and your words barely come out fully, instead broken fragments are the only things spewing out.

“I’m a failure!” You spit out, face wet with tears.

“You’re not a failure, my love. I promise.” Remus tried to soothe, his voice adopting a small but noticeable waver. His hand rubs your back.

“I am! I’m a disappointment!” You sniff, taking in deep gulps of air.

“Shh...” Remus pulls you back a bit so he can see your entire face.

You already know you look disgusting. Eyes blotchy and red, tears streaming down your face. Snotty, spitty, wobbling, and watery features taking up his entire vision.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm? Let me help.” He consoles you softly.

You gaze into his warm honey brown eyes, glistening with his own tears.

You sniff, rubbing the sleeves of Remus’ stolen jumper across your face in an attempt to dry yourself off.

“Everything’s slipping, Rem. My grades, my mental health, everything. And I’m so lost I don’t know what to do anymore.” You confess. “What am I supposed to do?” You bring your hands up to you hair, tugging at your scalp enough for you to feel sparks of pain.

Quickly, his own trembling hands take yours. He stops you from tugging, instead bringing them to rest on his jumper clad chest.

You swallow harshly.

“I’m going to help you, (Y/n)—“

“You can’t help me, Remus! I’m beyond help—“

“No, you’re not.” He retorts lightly. “I’ll help you with homework and help you ask for a few extensions...we can get you back on track.”

“Remus...” Your voice trembles at his kindness.

“I’m sorry.” He rasps out, a tear or two slipping from his waterline. “I’m so so sorry that I didn’t see you suffering like this. Merlin, (Y/n).”

Shaking his head at himself, he brings his forehead down to your own.

“I’ll be better. I’ll be better, I swear.” Remus keeps repeating in a pained mutter.

“It’s not your fault, Rem. I got good at acting like everything was fine.” Your voice cracks.

“Still! I should’ve realized!” He mutters angrily.

“I love you, Remus. I love you so much, please don’t beat yourself up over this.” You plead.

He bites his lip, deciding to drop it, instead focusing on you.

“Why don’t we try to relax, hm? Just take a nice night off?” Remus suggests, pulling away to brush strands of hair away from your sticky face.

“But what about homework—?”

“Tomorrow, love. I think we deserve a break, don’t you?”

You shlyly nod, and he presses his lips to your forehead.

“You’re beautiful, darling.” Remus whispers.

“I just bawled my eyes out, Rem, I’m sure I look like a swamp hag.” You snort.

He brings his hands to your shoulders, rubbing deep circles into your back muscles. The knots start to dissipate.

“Never seen a swamp hag as angelic as you.” Remus flirts. But his voice is so sincere and honest, you have no choice but to somewhat believe him.

“Thank you, Remus.” You smile. “It means so much to me.”

“Anything for the love of my life.” He confesses, trailing his pink lips down your neck. “Now let me hold you close.”

He lays down, resting his head on his pillow, your head resting on his chest.

Things are going to get better.

Probably not tomorrow.

Probably not this week.

But things will.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Ik this maybe sounds kinda random but I have a feeling you're latinoamerican Idk why.

Also what are your thoughts on the anime? I really liked the CGI I think it looked very cool and clean!! A-1 pictures did a good job 👏👏 I know it just started but I really hope its successful in japan, so maybe one day we could see Osaka and Nagoya animated :')

That’s probably because I am and am fairly vocal about it.

I live in the US and am racially pretty damn white, but my mother’s family is from Mexico. (Sorta. They’ve been in the US for a while now, and we’re not exactly sure who came across the border when because most old Mexican men can give Gentarou a run for his money when it comes to telling mentiras.) I was raised speaking both English and baby Spanish, but I lost the opportunity to practice it all that often when I was pretty little and as such forgot almost all of it, hahaha. Still, I can understand most written Spanish and a fair bit of common spoken Spanish, and I speak Spanglish with my mom. Growing up mostly white is pretty weird, since I don’t feel Latino enough to fit in with my own family (but they ARE my family) but also not white enough to fit in completely with my white peers. They don’t get how enchiladas are comfort food or how the words “mijo” and “mija” are love incarnate. They don’t get it why my parents have three bags of tortillas in their fridge at all times (it’s because I keep stealing them whenever I run out at my house) or the importance of owning a big-ass olla. It’s like... I don’t want to intrude in spaces where I don’t necessarily feel I have the right to belong, but I also want to acknowledge the struggle of my grandparents who worked as migrant farmers instead of going to school and gave up everything they had to give their kids a better life. I wonder how well I can do that, having forgotten their language and living as so much as a product of “American melting pot” culture. It’s... tricky. Identity is tricky.

Point is, I want to see Dice casually calling Otome “vieja”.

ANYWAY. Anime thoughts. I’ll put them under a cut for anyone concerned about spoilers.

The little kick the Buster Bros did in the opening on “buttobasu” (send ‘em flying) made me involuntarily laugh out loud. So dorky. Love them for that.

I was not sold on the opening back when I saw it in the previews, but I actually liked the full version quite a lot. The rap bits are a lot more impressive than the sort of generic chorus.

Love how it opened on TDD. I hope other episodes will follow suit and give more TDD backstory, because I think it delivers the best emotional impact when you know the reasons the anime boys are duking it out with one another.

TDD Samatoki has giant eyelashes even in the anime. Jesus christ.

TDD Ramuda appeared for about three seconds, and I was appeased.

The Buster Bros bit didn’t interest me too much, personally, but I thought it set the tone for the series really nicely. I also thought that a bunch of random dudes ganging up on these children and being like, “Heh heh, bitch, whatcha gonna do? We have microphones!” is hilarious.

BB rap was fantastic. I appreciated how much of a mix this was between the ARB and manga styles in terms of the way the raps appeared. Having the lyrics on screen was a GREAT thing for me as well. I also really enjoyed the moment where Saburou pushed Jirou out of the way and Ichirou stopped Jirou before he could retaliate. It wasn’t a distraction from the song at all but also characterized the familial interactions so clearly in just a few seconds. Kudos.

My VPN connection died during Ichijiku’s first talk with Otome, so idk what went on there.

I know Samatoki is supposed to be taken seriously, but for the life of me, I really can’t. I kept on snickering the whole time he was talking to the yakuza NPCs and acting tough. All his posturing is ridiculous to me.

Loved that MTC rap, although I kept laughing at that too. MTC is overkill.

I have a love/hate relationship with Samatoki’s speaker ever since I had to redraw part of that motherfucker sometime last year, but it is really damn cool looking. The animation for it blew me away. LOVED THAT.

Riou was there :)

I finally understood the significance of the cigarette kiss between Samatoki and Juuto. It’s to symbolize the whole “I scratch your back, you scratch mine” professional relationship they have, but I did think Juuto was leaning in for a kiss for a really bizarre moment.

Riou showing up to offer food :)

Eat Riou’s fucking food, Samatoki :)

I think Ramuda is a bit smaller than he should be as compared to the other cast members, but I will let it slide

Ramuda’s office is absolutely awful in color, but I will also let that slide

The Fling Posse interactions were a huge hit with me. I love seeing them hang out with one another and horse around the way that they do. Like the BBs’ scene, this was a great establishing shot for them.

I love how Dice rolls with Ramuda’s gratuitous English without missing a beat.

FP song wasn’t as hardcore as some of the other ones, but it was executed very well. Love the wordplay with the end of Ramuda’s and the beginning of Gentarou’s verse.

THE HIGH FIVE AT THE END OF THE SONG... HOO HOO!! NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT, BABY! NOW THAT’S FRIENDSHIP RIGHT THERE!

Hypmic NPCs lowkey piss me off, especially all the “Kyaaa~!!!!” female NPC types. I get that they’re not supposed to be thought about all that much, but seriously...? Why is running from fangirls a plot point that keeps on being revisited?

They left Dice’s money behind... Bruh.......

Love how Doppo and Hifumi barge into Jakurai’s office nonchalantly.

The bit with the nurse establishes Hifumi’s character very well, although I still think Doppo’s being kind of an ass when he pulls Hifumi’s jacket off.

The whole fucking “terrorists on the roof” bit made me laugh again. Some of the Hypmic plot points are so contrived that I find them funny. It’s all silly good fun.

Love that rappers show up to push past the bumbling security guards/police. Excuse me, please, let me through... I’m a rapper.

Jakurai’s speaker was very well animated, but the way it appeared made me think of the Lionsgate logo. The mic animation was pretty cool too.

JAKURAI’S RAP ACTUALLY BLEW ME AWAY. I’m normally not a fan of Jakurai raps, but god DAMN was that cool.

Hifumi and Doppo didn’t drop the ball either. Fuck it UP, Matenrou.

I can’t believe they dropped lightning bolts on two people... especially when one was holding someone else hostage. Is that woman okay? Did she get fucking vaporized? I’ll never know.

Otome’s character model moves pretty stiffly, which I think actually helps her character because of how stoic she tries to act overall.

Ending song was dope. I wonder if they’ll feature other divisions in the endings of other episodes.

Ramuda leaping a good 3 meters in the air in the final shot is funny as fuck.

[excusetheandroid]

hi! if you’re still taking requests, could i please have some too fluff wih chan?? mb where the reader comforts him after a tough day or something like that. i was thinking prompts like 6/16/37 from the fluff list, but you don’t have to use them~ thank you and keep up the good work!

Ofc :) And yes we're still taking requests Hope you like it

Since a gender wasn't specified, I just went with a female reader - Summer

Requested?: yes

Idol: Chanhyuk

Group: TOO

Genre: fluff, kinda sorta angsty, female reader

Warnings: the gif is not mine :) dm for credits/removal, sad Chan, non-idol Chan

“You should probably go home.” “But I’m already home.” “Can you just please hold me?”  “You’re just a softie.”

When you first met Chan, you hardly even noticed him. You were in the elevator together on the way to to an interview - trying to get an office job at a cooperate office. There were at least three other people with you, so you weren’t really looking around at them. After all, they were the enemies that could prevent you from getting your job.

There were three spots open and you and Chan got two of them. Since you were both new, the seniors piled a lot of requests upon you. Noticing each other in the same spot, you smiled and introduced yourselves to one another, promising to help whenever you could.

And that’s how it started. You and Chan began to have lunches together and even spend time together outside of work. He became your closest friend, and, not soon after, your boyfriend.

He was a cool and fun boyfriend. He’d always try to come up with places to go with you, even though most times you just stayed in the house and watched TV together. Your relationship was filled with love and expressed and overall relaxed and comfortable atmosphere.

That’s why when he recently became stressed and quite visibly frustrated, you were saddened to notice. You knew Chanhyuk wasn’t the type to freely express his concerns but you also wanted to be there for him.

Days had gone by before you had enough of taking a back seat to his problems. Approaching him slowly as he sat in his home office, you placed a hand on his back and slowly ran it up and down.

“Hey, babe. Are you okay? You’ve been stressed lately. What’s going on?” you asked, hoping he’d give in quickly but received nothing but silence.

After about a minute of the concerning quiet, your boyfriend sat up and looked at you. “Nothing’s wrong, Princess, I’m just not feeling my best right now.” He reached across his chest to place his hand on yours that was now at the top of his back, motions ceased as your mind was far too concerned with other things to bother keeping it mechanical.

You looked up at his computer screen to notice the amount of tabs open filled with long documents. It was a lot more than you had ever seen on his desktop before. “Hey,” you began, soothingly, “is something going on at work?”

His exasperated sigh was enough of an indication that you were right. “Aish. You’re getting way too observant. I can’t keep things from you anymore.”

“Just things I’ve picked up after spending so much time with you, babe. That looks like a lot. Let’s take a break together, yeah?” you smiled, hoping to get one back, but Chan turned back to his computer with a saddened expression.

“I can’t, babe. I have to finish this.” His hand fell off of yours and returned to his keyboard. “I don’t want you waiting up for me. You should probably go home.”

“But I’m already home... You are my home, Chanhyuk. And I can’t leave it in such a bad state.” you said, moving behind him and wrapping your arms around him from behind the chair.

And that was enough for him. He gave in and held your hands tight against his chest. “Okay, let’s take a break.”

You grabbed his hand and walked with him into his room as you laid under the covers and enjoyed each other’s presence. You noticed him slowly relaxing and smiled. 

“I’m gonna go get some snacks, okay? Do you want something?” you asked, slowly lifting up from the mattress. He grabbed your arm and shook his head. “I don’t want snacks. Can you just... please... hold me?”

Your heart melted and you couldn’t resist grabbing and holding your boyfriend tight in your arms, like all the times he had done the same for you when you were having a bad day. “You’re just a softie.” you sighed, content with just being with him.

“Only for you, Princess. Only for you.”

[ilkkawhat]

I rewatched the Nigel episode not too long ago with new eyes and it struck me how much he has in “common” with Nick! Catherine and Warrick sorta brush off Nick’s concerns about his dry cleaned clothes and prom date photos, as if he’s just paranoid. He’s not taken seriously which results in being thrown through a window and Warrick feeling guilty and the only person who humored him in small talk is Nigel about cable channels. Nick hates that Nigel is him in some way, deep down. Thoughts?

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS

(warnings for mentions of abuse and Nick’s trauma and suicide attempts. Also warning for possible mischaracterization of Nick and Nigel because SELF PROJECTION cause I really can’t tell anymore nor do I claim to be any sort of expert on Nick, just a really really big fan of him)

So one quote from another fav show of mine that’s always just kinda stuck out to me is during this episode where SSA Aaron Hotchner is interrogating an unsub with a similar history of abuse as him, where the unsub claims “some people are born killers” and then Hotch says “and some people are born to catch them.” 

I think we all know which one Nick is, but honestly? I think Nigel is that other side of the coin. 

We are never told outright about Nigel’s past so just bear with me here and imagine how his childhood could have shaped who he is as a person. He may have grown up with a family who told him the world was dangerous and filthy, who thought the absolute worst of people and thought they were better than everybody else, which explains why he looks down on people so much. He could have witnessed his parents mistreat each other, perhaps to the point where maybe one of them didn’t fight back and was weak because of it (he goes on that rant about how humans are lifeless puppets and ants and all that). Perhaps he sees how his father controlled his mother, and that’s how he learns to control Jane Galloway--a girl who I’m sure, he would have considered to be more than just his “girlfriend” had their relationship “developed” in Nigel’s eyes.

He could have grown up in a neglectful household so he had to sort of fend for himself and make friends for himself but didn’t have the social skills to do that, so he he kind of became that creepy outcast kid that everybody wanted to avoid, so any, and I mean any positive attention he got, he misconstrued to be a sign of friendship which explains his fucked up idea of what friendship and love is. He gets obsessively attached, possessive--which is something I recently talked about Nick being in another ask--even if the other person doesn’t feel the same way towards them.

Or, he could have had a perfectly normal childhood until the age of nine, when a last minute babysitter turns his world upside down and reveals to him that life is not the land of sunshine and rainbows that all children should believe, that trust is a thing so easily broken just as his innocence is. That the horrors he hears spoken about from his family when they regale tales from the courtroom (though I’m sure the Stokes parents would not do it in such an obvious way, using code words and euphemisms that Nick’s older siblings catch onto and educate Nick on as well) are real and not just made up stories to scare him into eating his vegetables. That he doesn’t deserve the life he could have had, he deserves this trauma and this pain and is sentenced to carry it with him for the rest of his life with absolutely no choice in the matter. 

That his life was ruined a long time ago, so what’s the point in even trying to make it better? Connections were severed, connections to a happy childhood, to a happy home life, to a happy healthy view on the world that he’ll never get back no matter how hard he tries because that happened and he sentences himself to a life of investigating how it could happen to others, too. 

Or watching how it happens to others. 

Or in Nigel’s case, becoming the monster in the closet. The monster under the bed. The monster in the ceiling, watching the suffering through a tiny hole that’s not even noticed to the untrained eye.

Whatever happened, Nigel also seems to hate himself for it. Hate himself so much that he sees Nick and wants to become a whole other person, just as Nick strives to become the person Grissom wants him to be, or Grissom himself. And yet, Nigel also seems to have a bit of an ego, bragging about his achievements and deeds and while Nick is for the most part, modest, he does partake in his own share of bragging though it’s not often and usually only to tease somebody rather than some sort of show of superiority--like when he brags to Warrick during his high points in the Anonymous case they bet on. And I’m not saying Nick 100% hates himself but he definitely has confidence issues, definitely takes his mistakes to heart, it’s why he’s always looking for validation, working harder than he should have to in order to prove himself. 

And though Nigel hates others, too, most notably just...people in general, he still observes them. Still watches the world from a bird’s eye view (Nick loves birds, btw...and I think it’s very fitting that his like, antithesis is named after one) and is good at it, too. He’s good at what he does, so good that he’s able to add extra channels when installing cable and presumably doesn’t get in trouble for it. Good enough to sneak into somebody attic and live there for days...weeks?...months even? Who knows if Jane was his first, and we don’t exactly know how long he was stalking Nick for, I would imagine for more than a week though? 

And Nick’s good at what he does too, as he’s often told. He’s got a great eye for details--he always seems to go above and beyond in his evidence collecting (even with...pizza box sized swatches hehe) and seems to be a great photographer (just as Nigel’s a great videographer) He’s a good listener, too...and so is Nigel, taking the time to get to know somebody, even if he doesn’t let them know himself while he lets them take the spotlight. 

But when the spotlight is on him...that’s when things begin to change. Nick’s a very private person and obviously Nigel is even more so to the point when Nick got closer than anybody to discovering who he really was, he attacked and threw Nick out of a fucking window. Even when Nigel talks about himself it’s usually about how he sees his victims, again we don’t get much of any detail on his backstory, unless...he’s revealing details about himself...through those victims. The reasons of why he chose them. His almost...empathy of them, which we all know Nick goes a little overboard with. He doesn’t tell victims why he understands them so well, he probably feels he doesn’t have to or doesn’t want their pity--which is why he doesn’t talk much about his trauma even though it would probably helped a few times (like with the male sexual assault victim in 10x06 though I feel like there was some subtext there with it all, or if he outright told that vic in 15x09 that he had the same thing happen to him as a child, too) 

Nigel doesn’t seem to want any pity, either. He just wants to be adored. Wants to be loved. 

Nick may not necessarily want the adoration but does want acceptance. Understanding. Wants validation from people he feels qualified to give it to him (Grissom) He wants to be liked, and wants to like everyone...but he doesn’t. His faith in humanity seems to shrink throughout the series, but also with it, does that little bit of ego he starts off with in how he wants to pack heat. Wants to be the man. Wants to be a “good CSI” in Grissom’s eyes and by the end, all he wants is his friends. His family. 

The things Nigel can never have.

But also with the empathy thing--something I picked up on and always sort of thought about for a while is the final showdown scene between Nigel and Nick. How Nick puts on his brave face (and some poorly chosen sass like c’mon buddy is it really a good idea to piss off the stalker with a gun) and does finally kind of flex his strength, “this isn’t the first time I’ve had a gun in my face,” as if to say “what you are doing right now to me is not affecting me in the slighest” but it’s not anger we see in Nigel’s face after that. 

It’s almost...concern. 

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. He’s threatening Nick’s life, probably to expect him to beg on his hands and knees like the worthless ant he is just so Nigel can prove to him that he is the one who deserves to be Nick Stokes but here, he’s just watching as Nick throws the worth to his life away, acting as a man with nothing to lose and Nigel hesitates.

And his plan changes.

Nigel had to have known from the minute the psychic entered that the game was over. There were two ways out of this, either in a cop car or a body bag and suddenly he can’t do it. He can’t shoot Nick. He can’t become him anymore, ironically even if Nigel was going to throw his life away to “become Nick” he can’t seem to become a version of Nick who’s willing to just die, too. 

So back against the wall? No way out? No options? Time is at an end? He points the gun to himself. Wants Nick to remember his name. 

And Nick...what did Nick do, when his back was against a Plexiglas wall? With no way out? No options? Time is at an end?

Points the gun to himself. 

Leaves a message on a tape, starts that tape off with “My name is Nick Stokes,” because he wants everybody to remember his name.

And I mentioned in the other ask how I’m sort of touching upon some of this theme of Nick and Nigel being similar in this fic I’m working on, where I currently have this line of “He acts tough, acts with an air of superiority but when the light is shined on him, he shrinks away and the facade is broken, revealing the coward at the other end of the gun.”

Just as Nigel hesitated, couldn’t seem to shoot Nick, showing his true cowardly nature...Nick couldn’t shoot McKeen, who also declared his cowardice. Couldn’t become the man that McKeen is, just as Nigel couldn’t ultimately become Nick. 

And that’s the thing with Nick, is he does have that line that he never crosses, the one that doesn’t make him a killer, and he’s aware of that, and takes pride in it, even if he doesn’t tout it around. He’ll always have that bit of an ego that he’s better than the scumbags he puts away--he probably even thinks he’s better than the 15x09 vic in the way that while he can’t forget his past and didn’t murder his abuser, he didn’t beg for mercy or become vengeful or become a crazed stalker always searching for the connections he lost at a very early age...he just...deals with it. Carries it. Lets it be part of the person it made him to be. Nick Stokes, Crime Stopper. 

But he also knows that if he did have the chance, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it...he just knows how not to get caught...unlike how Nigel did. 

[mari-vargas]

Ok so I’m sitting waiting for my car to get an oil change (yes…the alert popped up Monday afternoon…just a day after my whole tire adventure), and since I just told this story yet again recently (to my tow truck driver on Sunday) I figured I’d share one of my “when it rains it pours” stories about my car. This is the story I mentioned in the teaser/reminder post, about my car transmission.

So I was headed home from university for winter break one year, and I had my two cats and a friend from high school that wound up eventually following me to university. Wow I just realized how much I’d love to tell the story about this friend of mine, but it’s a whole thing in and of itself so I’ll get into that another time…maybe soon so I’ll make a bit more sense…idk it’ll be fine I’m sure.

Anyways, we lived about an eight and a half hour drive away from our university. We were about an hour and a half to two hours in to our drive, in an area looking just like any other on the main stretch of the journey and I had no clue where precisely I was. All of a sudden, my car started making a weird noise. I’m not even sure I can describe it, but I absolutely will still recognize it to this day and am terrified of hearing it. When my tire was about to blow out it started making a similar noise and it’s only because it was missing the next few things to happen that I didn’t freak out as bad as the first time my battery died. ANYWAYS after it started making a sort of…clunking sound, it started revving (which I will be perfectly honest, happens sometimes with my car especially going at higher speeds with resistance like air or a slight incline or a slight decline), but the next two things were especially weird. The needle on my rpm meter started hard swinging back and forth like a pendulum on a grandfather clock even though I was keeping a steady pressure on my accelerator…and then my acceleration started rapidly declining.

I was in the far left lane of a three lane section of the freeway, and I was rapidly decelerating without any idea why or any ability to get myself to go faster. Also couldn’t find my hazard lights because it wasn’t in the same place as the car I had learned in. Anyways…somehow, miraculously, and with an awful lot of anger on other drivers parts (mostly towards the end because I was freaking out and didn’t just stop) I managed to get all the way over before the next exit, exited, waited at a light to turn left like an absolute dummy, and very very slowly made it into the parking lot of some sort of mall or shopping center thing. Where I then parked, and proceeded to freak the heck out. My friend was freaking out too and honestly I think I had more knowledge about what to do than he did, which considering the near white out panic I was in for at least a moment there is kinda saying something. I didn’t know what was wrong with my car. I tried to compare it to things I’d seen happen and just…didn’t know. My gas was full, the battery seemed to be working, tires all fine of course (don’t even remember if I’d even thought about tires at the time). All I knew was that my car had stopped accelerating at all. Maybe there was something wrong with my accelerator? I just didn’t know. It was out of my depth for what I knew how to deal with.

I started messaging everyone—texting because autocorrect could carry me through the worst of my hands shaking, fingers slipping, and eyes blurring which were all getting in the way of my ability to call anybody. I remember talking a lot with my sister, and a bit with my dad, probably even my mom at some point (who would’ve had a significantly leveler head and some more info than my dad). My sister meanwhile was talking and relaying information back and forth with my niece’s dad who was a mechanic at several points before and during the time we knew him (honestly don’t know if he currently was or wasn’t at that exact time but knowledge and skill like his doesn’t just go away). But whatever I’m amongst all that my sister was also the first to remind me about the AAA our grandma has gotten for all of her grandkids as soon as they start driving (yes, same grandma I travel with all the time. Makes sense, no? Always glad she’s able to do that for the five us).

So I call AAA and my friend is on the phone talking with his mom. My dad, knowing I could get a tow up to 100mi, sends me the address for a steak house exactly 100mi from the shopping center I was in (and had a decent sized parking lot for trucks). Tow truck pulls up, finds out I actually really am aiming for the full 100mi, calls his boss to get clearance for the long distance tow rather than the in town tow he was told he was cleared for because he didn’t want to pass us off to someone else since I guess he was sorta attached to making sure we got through this after hearing probably a full blown spiel from me, gets the OK and loads up my little red spark which I had cracked the windows of for my cats. We all hop into the cab of the truck and he goes and gasses up and as we’re pulling out of the truck gas station, I realize where I am. My car had died just past the exit I usually would stop for coffee at. Needless to say I was a bit superstitious after that and always stopped at that coffee shop either direction after that, whether I needed coffee or not.

So he tows us to the steak house a hundred miles away and it’s dark and the tow truck driver is concerned about leaving us in the middle of nowhere but I reassured him that I have someone with a car trailer on their way already. In case you’re wondering, that would be my sister’s coparent (here on referred to as B) with mechanic experience who would also fix up friends’ cars on the side and even had a couple of project cars.

So yeah we’re waiting there my cats are fine, frustrated over not being done with being in a car yet but seemingly understanding something unusual and out of my control had happened. It’s dark and around late dinner time. There’s a chain restaurant of some kind across the way, so my friend and I walk over there to get some dinner. Before that though, we had a talk because well…we’re wandering around in the dark. Now my friend, he’s tall like super tall and has a face that would at least warn away casual glances. However. He cannot throw a punch or literally defend himself in just about any way whatsoever. Me on the other hand, I unfortunately look like easy pickings. But I can throw a punch and otherwise escape an attacker and potentially help others get away too. So we had an agreement. He’d be there looking big and tough and warning away people, but if anything actually happened I’d be the one throwing fists and feet and getting us out.

I mean, we were fine. Got our food, got back to the car, no problem. But fact remains we had to have that conversation. Anyways it was another 2-4 hours before B showed up with the trailer. But show up eventually he did and he got us loaded up and into his truck (with my cats WITH me this time) and we hit the road, dropping my friend off with his mom at around 0100 and I finally made it home about half an hour after. He left my car on his trailer to get in the morning to take to the dealership.

So the dealership takes a look at it and says “well the transmission is completely dead, good news it’s still covered under the factory warranty.” It took a good while to be replaced but it was and again it was all on warranty.

Now I said “when it rains it pours”.

I could’ve just meant it was something major, out of nowhere right? But no…unfortunately, no. This was the winter break I’d been volunteering at that museum (have I mentioned this before? Eh….) and since I didn’t have my car I borrowed my mom’s. When I finally got my car back, we decided to keep having me use my mom’s car because I’d had to register it with security so they’d know not to charge me for parking. So my car sat in the driveway for the next…let’s say two weeks before I had to head back to university (again with my friend and cats in tow).

So it’s now I think the day before I leave and my dad takes my car to the grocery store and to gas it up for me while I’m working. Only…it doesn’t start. Or gives him problems or something I don’t even know the specifics. B can’t look at it before I have to leave, so we decide to just have my mom and I swap until spring. B came over maybe halfway through my drive and found a rodent nest in the engine compartment (rabbit or rat, we’re not entirely sure). Abandoned, but it looked like they’d chewed through some wires and other connectors to make room for their home. B got it taped together just enough for it to be taken back to the dealership to be properly fixed. It was.

BUT THEN (oh you thought it was over? Haha eh… almost)

It’s not quite spring break yet so my mom and I still have each other’s cars. My mom went to turn the key (on or off I honestly don’t know) and it broke. It was apparently a bit of an adventure for her involving at least three different shops but she got it replaced.

My little red car was running beautifully by the time I got it back 🤣

[kinetic-elaboration]

February 8: Mountain Lion Mean Notes

Okay, so I was writing up notes on my Troped Western fic and then I clicked something and it all disappeared! I’m very upset and I hate the idea of starting again but like... I guess that’s what I gotta do :/

Mountain Lion Mean on AO3.

Written for @troped-fanfic-challenge​

So as I said in my notes, I watched Hell or High Water on the Sunday the trope document opened and immediately became obsessed, and that was my main inspiration. I saw it and loved it and, like with most things I love, my first thought was how can I do this too?? I didn’t want to do a straight AU of it, because it’s just too good and I don’t want to mess with that kind of perfection, but I knew I wanted a similar mood. I also figured pretty early on that I would try to include a bank robbery.

For the first days after the trope doc opened, I mostly just gathered inspiration and tried to think Western thoughts. In addition to HOHW, my inspiration included:

The Western episode of Charmed

A Western Rock playlist I found on Spotify

This post of southwestern gothic aesthetics

“Ranch Girl” by Maile Meloy (also the inspiration for it is new moon and twilight, which, fun fact, was originally going to be a Western; I didn’t re-read the story but it’s been haunting me since I first read it c. 2001 and is probably a partial inspiration for everything I write)

William Faulkner (especially “A Rose for Emily” and A Light in August) for the “town POV” narration

Sigrid Undset for the floating third-person-POV

The wikipedia article on Westerns, for succinct summaries of the themes of Westerns

The original aesthetic, quoted from my notes: “The vastness of the west, the frontier, a little uncivilized, a little dangerous, tough looking men who don’t talk much, extrajudicial justice, the heat and the desert…“

By the time I sat down to brainstorm, I had a few ideas and a few images already in mind. I wanted to include a bank robbery. I liked the idea of Clarke as a gunslinger and/or purveyor of vigilante justice. I thought I might use Gina as a bartender (this was during the half-moment I thought I might write a Bartender Mechanic fic; obviously neither of these things happened). And I liked the idea of including Murphy as some kinda criminal or unsavory type. The image of Bellamy as a taciturn cowboy came fairly early too.

I was a little uncertain at first if I wanted to do an 1800s western or a neo-western, mostly because I felt like the tropes I was attracted to and the images in my head fit better in the 1800s. But ultimately I settled on neo-western pretty fast, because I thought the imagery and themes would work better in the modern day. Plus I just thought it would be easier tbqh.

My first concern was to not just re-write a shittier HOHW. I was really caught up in the logistics of the bank robbery; including too much of that would necessarily make it a copy of the film, so I tried to keep just the bare bones of the robbery + the general justification (saving the family land). Then I added additional portions of the scheme--not too difficult since I knew I wanted Gunslinger/Vigilante Clarke in there, and I needed some way to show that she takes Justice into her own hands--and additional characters. Again, most notably Clarke, but also Raven and Octavia. The characters have their own backgrounds, personalities, relationships, and motivations, all of which make the story more mine imo. I’m satisfied with the balance of Obvious HOHW Influences and original content.

At some point, I described it to my mom as “Bellamy is Toby, Murphy is Tanner, and Clarke is canon Clarke but in the modern West.” Which I still think is accurate.

Including Clarke, though, and privileging the various relationships among the trio of Bellamy, Clarke, and Murphy, made me feel like I was making an it is new moon and twilight knock off except with Clarke for Raven. I still kind of see it, tbh, in the sense that twilight was itself supposed to be a western--I think it would be fair to say that Mountain Lion Mean IS the fic I set out to write in February 2020--and in the sense that I could have written a different story in the same universe as Mountain Lion Mean that explored the Clarke, Murphy, and Bellamy relationships in a way that is similar to twilight. As is, a lot of that is unsaid and unseen. The two fics have different focuses, so it’s probably only apparent to me just how similar they are. Just like, to me, Mad Women and The Wanheda Tape are the same story even though they have very different aesthetics and plots.

Some excerpts from my notes that I think are fun:

I really want to work with the themes (haha themes) of frontier justice and also the sense that the west is infinite but also small, that nature is hard and impossible to wrangle but that the opportunities are narrow and it’s easy to get trapped in it, the melancholy nature of it, the dichotomy of nature (huge, powerful) versus man (small, struggling against nature and against man). Or some such. Or Murphy just robs banks.

Bellamy owns a struggling ranch. Clarke is a gunslinger (don’t really know if I can use this trope in the current day but possibly?) who doesn’t trust the law. Has a conceal[ed]-carry permit. Is the best shot in three counties. Murphy’s been in and out of prison most of his adult life, mostly for crimes like robbery and assault.

How do they know each other? Possibilities: Murphy knows Bellamy through Octavia (idk why…but I do feel like O should appear, riding a horse) (background Octaven? Just a thought), Bellarke are exes, Murphy used to work on the ranch. Clarke has killed someone (someone Bad) and gotten away with it.

I do like the focus being on these three characters, who have a long history but aren’t currently close, coming together for a mission (to rob a bank) for the benefit of one who is struggling (Bellamy) even thought this is an awful lot like both Hell or High Water and it is new moon and twilight lmao.

I like that mood from HOHW where actually Toby was the most dangerous, and the smartest, and he won—the idea that Bellamy is the taciturn cowboy who’s not good at sharing his feelings but he’s also the mastermind in the end. Is that the twist? You get the impression Vigilante Gunslinger Griffin and Actual Ex-Con Murphy are planning something, but then it turns out to be Bellamy who executes the plan? [Not quite how it turned out lol in that I think it’s decently obvious that Bellamy was a major part of it the whole time but I did try to get some of this in with Octavia in the final scene--to really drive home Bellamy’s importance, as the ring leader, since otherwise one could ask, what does he even do?]

Midway through the planning process I came up with some more images to work from:

B and C out at dusk on the ranch, she’s shooting can, a bit of UST perhaps

M shows up at the bar and there’s an awkward silent entrance—perhaps he’s just out of prison

Murphy or Clarke guns akimbo [I picked Clarke to emphasize that she’s the gunslinger, but I had Murphy shoot out the security cameras to show that they were using his robbery experience]

Bellamy being silent and awkward

At this point, it was just about putting all the pieces together. That’s how I tend to plan Troped fics: I lay out all the pieces I need or want to include and then I figure out the shortest and most efficient distances between them. For example, I knew I needed a bank robbery and for Clarke to administer some vigilante justice--so I use that justice as a way to launder the money. They fake a will for her victim and “give” the money to themselves.

I did worry, and still worry, about the timeline re: the Bellarke marriage and the will because I’m quite sure it doesn’t make sense and doesn’t work. But it also... it doesn’t keep me up at night because the whole point is that it’s a scam!! Worrying about legality in a scam is sorta... lol. What I mean specifically is that I wanted it to be clear that Clarke does not kill Kane FOR this scheme. They use something she already did to their advantage. So she and Bellamy can’t be married at the time Kane is killed. That implies the murder was pre-meditated for the bank robbing purpose. But I’m also fairly sure (and I should know this because I took T&E but like...honestly can’t remember) that the people in the will are counted at the time of death, not the time of probate, or you could like... adopt extra kids or marry or divorce someone to affect the will. Plus all that stuff about simultaneous death etc. etc. Also, on a practical level, if Clarke wasn’t married, Kane wouldn’t have an obvious reason to write her spouse into the will. But I get away with this in my head by saying, first, no one’s going to say the husband that’s standing right there doesn’t count as a husband--the law is the law but it’s implemented by people and they fudge corners all the time. They do what seems to make sense even if you’d lose points for it on a law school exam. And second, the will could have been written with the assumption or hope that Clare would marry. Possibly even, though I don’t say this in the fic exactly, on the condition of marriage--Clarke gets 100% to share 50-50 with her husband if she’s married, 0% if she’s not. Doesn’t really matter. It’s supposed to read as outwardly clever and create Mystery and play with the Exes Aesthetic even if it doesn’t hold up the strictest scrutiny. (JDs don’t @ me.)

I justified including the marriage as a necessity because Kane could possibly leave money to Clarke’s husband but he wouldn’t leave money to some rando. I do stand by that part.

I also decided at some point that I wanted to include Background Octaven but be really subtle about it so it was something else the reader would have to piece together: that Raven has a girlfriend, then that Octavia has a girlfriend but, hey, isn’t Raven a bartender?--and then it comes together in the last scene as we see that their relationship was factored into Bellamy’s plan all along: some of the loot goes directly to Octavia and her partner, officially as payment for Raven’s services, unofficially because Bellamy wants to give O a gift. Anyway. Either it was too obvious or too subtle/boring because no one mentioned it but I thought it was cool lol.

At this point in my planning I basically had everything I needed, so I wrote a quick outline of scenes, as I always do, to see how it would flow scene to scene and if I had a place to put all the necessary plot info. I also ended up doing “what I need from this scene” lists for each scene so that I knew what I had to have on my mind to include before I sat down to write each one.

The actual writing was done over 3 days and fairly easily and quickly. I had a lot of fun not just with planning but with the actual process of creation. I think it’s because I was just honestly excited to be in this universe and play with this aesthetic.

Not to blow my own horn here but some parts that I was particularly pleased with were:

“Arkadia hasn’t seen a drop of rain in thirty-two days. The asphalt on the highway shimmers with heat; the air crackles with heat; the heat rises, stifling and strong, from the parched dirt and the cracks in the pavement.” Like I’m sorry but that’s a good image, I like that a lot. Whenever I felt discouraged, I just read that again and felt better.

The description of past Bellarke because boy howdy do I not care to write romance anymore but that was fun. I thought it was hot.

Transitioning Murphy laughing until the coyotes can hear into Bellamy hearing coyotes at night into Bellamy still hearing them during the day. I don’t know if it worked quite like I wanted to but in my head that is a very Cinematic transition, okay? I also like that even though Clarke and Murphy aren’t literally riding off together in that scene, for the reader, they are leaving the narrative never to be seen again. So they get their Dramatic Exit.

Octavia’s explication of the Theme and Bellamy’s possible motivations. I’m pretty proud of myself for actually having a theme and I think I did a good job of explaining it without being too heavy-handed. I also think it was perhaps risky to end with the POV of Octavia, a character who’s barely been in the fic before the last scene, but ultimately that decision felt right to me and I think it had a good flow, a nice mellow exit from the narrative.

What I didn’t like as much was a lot of the first scene. I think it has some great bits but it was the most re-worked part of the fic, and there are still some paragraphs and phrases that I feel are a little stiff. For example, this is a paragraph that I cut entirely:

Diyoza was sure the Griffin daughter did the deed back in January and she's sure about it still. She even gives a quote to the Sun-Times about it, despite her troubles with Green. But she had no proof then, not even a body to justify a murder charge, and she has little proof now. So no one believes the investigation will come to anything.

As you can see, it gives no new information. There were other sentences and phrases that weren’t doing work but were interrupting the flow, which also got cut, but I’m still not sure that the flow is perfect in the final version.

Also displeased that I edited out a * from the version on AO3, thus letting two scenes run together. How embarrassing!!! It’s fixed now though.

Overall though I’m so pleased! I love this fic and I love that I can love things again. This year has already been so hard, just like being battered again and again by waves of a storm, and it’s only 5 weeks in but this experience was so unabashedly good and I’m so grateful for it.

[redytofucknow-blog]

A Christmas to Remember

Frank and Olivia had a wonderful marriage. It was so great Olivia decided to share it with Roberto, Sal, and Ox. She wanted dick all the time, and Frank was no match for her sexual needs. So she got what she needed from three men and her husband. Frank was totally unaware of her trysts. Olivia, a raven haired, buxom temptress, had dark brown eyes, dark brown nipples, that seemingly protruded through bras, shirts, even sweaters! She wore yoga pants so tight, you could read her lips, her labia lips, as she did not wear underwear! Men's eyes, and quite a few women's eyes followed her ass like it was magnetic. Her bubble butt, and her very big bust meant she would never ever sleep alone. She was so fine. Frank's job as a Federal Information Technologist sounded better than the reality. He fixed computers for the government, mostly for the FBI and the NSA. He had multiple security clearances, but most of his job was getting rid of porn based viruses, adware and malware. Day in, and day out, people abused the government issued laptops and desktops without remorse! He had to clean it all out. There was a power failure, with no work to do, so he bought some flowers to surprise his lovely wife. He walked in, there she was on top of Ox, a very large black man, she was on all fours, Roberto the Hispanic maintenance guy was in her asshole, and she was being face fucked by Sal, the guy from upstairs. All three guys were married. He got out his phone, this video was going to be needed for his upcoming divorce. The foursome was totally unaware he was even there. He walked around getting better views of his soon to be ex wife's face. He was upset of course, but he was a very methodical man. Pain would come later. So it was a bit of a shock to find his wife fucking three men in their apartment. Frank lost his cool demeanour, told them they had until he loaded the Glock, and then he would use them all as targets. They were all assholes and elbows, getting clothes, and getting out. His beautiful cheating wife was now crying, begging forgiveness, it would never happen again. Of that he was certain, she would be someone else's problem, not his. "Take your worthless scum sucking ass out of here. Get your clothes and leave!" "Where am I supposed to go?" she whined. "Go stay with one of your boyfriends! Oh, wait. Their wives might not take kindly to a slut showing up. Especially one that just fucked her husband. Better go home to mom's house then." "It's ten degrees outside! I'll freeze outside! Please don't throw me out! I'll make it up to you somehow." "Poor planning on your part dosn't constitute an emergency on mine. Get out of here NOW. I can't stand to look at your cheating face. You have pissed me off for the last time. You obviously don't love me. So, get the fuck out. I'll file on Monday, we will be divorced in a couple of months. Get going, you piece of shit!" She whimpered, grabbed a few things and threw them in a carry on bag and out the door she went. He thought, good riddance. But even in the midst of his tirade, he knew she would try to wiggle her way back into his good graces. This time was over the top. She was fucking THREE GUYS for crying out loud! She had been caught before, and promised before, several times. He sent a copy of her coupling to her mom Pamela. Her dad had passed two years ago. Three months ago, her mother Pamela had entered the bathroom while he was peeing and calmly began to clutch and stroke his dick. He was kinda shocked, then turned on, as his mother in law was even more voluptuous than the skank he just threw out. She was on her knees in a heartbeat, sucking his still wet dick for all she was worth. He came in her mouth very quickly, she swallowed it down. She said, "Thank you so much, its been so long since I tasted cum. Thank you, Thank you!" She totally washed his cock in her mouth. She was trying to remove her dress, when he heard his wife on the other side of the door. He kissed his mother in law and said, "Thank You Pam! and walked out. The apple dosen't fall far from tree. The tiny Christmas tree had twinkling lights seemed to be trying to cheer poor Frank up. He was weeping, feeling totally inadequate as far as the female of the species was concerned. He didn't quite understand it. He took good care of her. He made love to her three or four times a week. He always had her come before him. Sometimes he would eat her out for an hour till she got off again and again. Was it his size? He wondered. He was blessed or cursed to have a fairly large penis, very thick and pretty long. She had never complained about it in the seven years they had been together, six as a married couple. Even when she had been caught cheating, she never even mentioned his equipment. He had a theory: She was a slut. In the absence of other evidence, it seemed the most likely theory. She really liked dicks. He thought about her mom. Like mom, like daughter? He would invite her mom over and fuck the shit out of her, and do it in front of the cheating bitch! Evil fantasy #3! The wind was whistling in the front windows. It was cold, even with the heat cranked up. He heard a knock at the door. He opened it to a pair of smurfs. Two women who lived next door were on his doorstep. They were freezing. They really did look almost blue though. Sharon, a buxom blonde lesbian, said,"Wwwwee hhhhaaattte tutto bbboother yyyooou. Ooourrr hhheeat iiiss oouuttt, can wwwee wwwarrm pull hherre fffoorrr a mmmiinnutte ppplleeassse?" He ushered them in. They had on winter coats, and blankets. "Come on in here. For crying out loud, it's Christmas! How about some hot chocolate? Have you two eaten? Ill whip something up for you sit down, get warm." He rubbed their shoulders, Sharon and Liz both.They felt so cold. He got hot chocolate for each of them and made some Chinese vegetables and sauteed chicken pieces. He served it hot. They acted like it was their first food in week! "Frank, you are the nicest guy we know. If I was interested in men, you would be on my list! Except of course that you're married." "Not anymore. I caught her again, this time with three guys at the same time! I gave her the boot. Sent her to her mom's house. I'm filing for divorce on Monday. That is it. I'm done!" He was very close to tears. "Frank, why aren't you eating too? We didn't just eat your dinner did we?" Sharon asked. Some color was back in her cheeks. She was very attractive with full red lips, high cheekbones and wonderful eyes, not to mention her curvy, heavenly body. "It's ok, my guests always come before I do," he said. Liz hugged him. She wasn't quite as buxom, but she was very ravishing nonetheless. She had jet black hair, and flawless olive toned skin. She had hypnotic green eyes that sparkled in the light. Her breasts while not the football size of her partner were still at least a D cup. She had big, thick nipples, that currently were hard as diamonds. They poked through her bra and her knit shirt! "Frank, thank you so much for taking us into your home. If there is ever anything we can do to help you, just name it. I think your wife was very stupid, cheating on a wonderful man like you. I mean, I'm not interested in men. But if I was, you would be high on my list. Why on earth? What got into her?" Liz opined. "Oh I saw with my own eyes what got into her. Thing is, their equipment didn't look any better than mine. I wish you guys could tell me what's wrong with me. I feel completely emasculated by this whole thing. I wasn't enough for her." Sharon keeled down in front of frank and quick as a wink, had his zipper down and his dick out. She was examining it closely. It throbbed in her fingers. "I've only ever seen three cocks up close before, my dad's, my brother's and my only boyfriend's. This one looks way different." "What's the matter with it?" "It's HUGE. Its at least twice as big as the cocks I've seen. I think its nice, but a little scary." "Why scary?" Frank asked. "Men turn into animals when they get excited. You could rape and pillage me with this thing. Ohmygod its getting BIGGER! And harder too!" Frank laughed. "First off, you are watching way too much porn. I'd say 80 to 90 percent of porn is male fantasy; not reality. When you make love, it's all about the other person, not raping and pillaging. I'm not even sure what that is. Are you trying to make me cum?" "May I please suck it? It ... It's like magnetic. I want to put it in my mouth. Please? I don't get to see any dicks being a dyke." "Why would you call yourself that? Isn't that a nasty term. And sure, you can put it in your mouth, don't chew on it, just suck it gently. I am actually close to cumming, so you probably don't want it in your mouth when I cum." "I want to look! I've never held a big dick like this. C'mon. Gimme" Liz seemed excited. She took over stroking, but Sharon still had her hand on the bottom of Frank's dick." "I'm gonna cum!"Frank said. Sharon put the head into her mouth, but you could see the ropes of cum shooting into her mouth. Liz watched in fascinated wonder. "Sharon, don't swallow the jism. I want to taste it!" Liz was adventurous today. Sharon kissed her and they traded his semen. It was so incredibly hot he was hard again in no time. "Holy shit, your hard already!" "It sorta has a mind of it's own." Liz said, "Kinda salty and tangy, but not as bad as I thought. I like it." Sharon looked at Liz. "I want to fuck him. Please?" "NO... Not unless he can fuck us BOTH! I have never had a dick either. It's only fair! "Can you fuck both of us? Can we both cum? TOGETHER?" "Sometimes, it's very tough to get the timing so that two people cum at the same time. But I can fuck you two together!" "What about birth control? You want me to get some condoms?" he asked "We're both on the pill, but for different reasons, but we're good. You could cum in my mouth again. I liked it" Sharon smacked her lips." "First man we share, and you want to eat all the cum. You cum glutton! Gotta share. I get the next load!" Liz did seem to like cum. "How do we start?" "Let's go in the bedroom and get naked and I'll show you." They weren't there two seconds and Liz was bareass naked. Sharon let Frank take off her things slowly, one button at a time. Liz was having none of that. She had the head of Frank's dick in her mouth. She bobbed her head. Frank had Sharon stand up. He started to tongue her cleft. He licked from her asshole to her landing strip. Liz was shaved bare. Her vulva was completely drenched. "Frank I know you're big on long foreplay, but I'm ready to get laid. Can I just jump on your dick PLEASE?!" "If this is your first time, there might some pain involved. Are you ready? If it hurts too much, just tell me" She guided his dick to her labia. She was very wet. Two seconds later, Liz was no longer a virgin. "Oh this feels nice. I've never been so... full. She started to rocking and pumping. In a few minutes as Frank was concentrating on Sharon's pussy, Liz had a big orgasm. She wailed long and loud. It was so delicious and fun! She didn't want to get off Frank's dick. "Who's being the cock glutton now?" Jibed Sharon. The girls switched ends. Frank was having a great time. Sharon was trying to get his big dick in her. She was having problems. So frank switched positions so he could better penetrate her. They were in a sorta missionary position, with her legs held up on his shoulders, high up. He said, "Are you ready?" She nodded and Frank pushed inside her. She screamed, frank was so concerned he stopped. "Don't you dare stop! I just had a wonderful orgasm. My first with a man, ever! Oh frank you are so fuckin good. I know we're just a couple of crazy dykes, but you have made me feel so special. Oh my God I'm gonna... COME AGAIN! UHH! UGH OH FUCK YES. BANG ME FRANK! OOOHHHH FUCK ME GOOD! AAEEEIIIAAHH! WOW!" Frank came as she did. Liz was watching closely, she saw her partner squirt her womanly juices all over the place. "Frank, can you make me squirt too?" "Honey, not all women squirt. Some do, some don't. Not every time either! We'll just have to keep fuckin you until it happens! Practice makes perfect." They all smiled. The bedroom was bathed in the flickering light from the fake electric fireplace. All three laid back in bed. Frank in the middle Sharon on his left, head on his shoulder, Liz on his right, head on his chest. Both girls had a hand on his dick, but he was big enough for that. There was a knock on the front door, then the door opened and closed. Dread was upon Frank as he imagined the fight he was about to have. "Frank, where are you?"a woman's voice, he thought it must be his wife. "There you are Frank, why don't you answer your phone. Why do you have the lesbians in bed with you? Hi Sharon, Hi Liz." It was Pamela, his voluptuous mother in law. "Hello Pamela," he said, "The girls are here because their apartment is like the artic. But while they were here, they took it upon themselves to help me with my depression. They tried to fuck the memory of Olivia out of me. What brings you here, my sexy mother in law?" "I came here to fuck you." "What?" "You heard me. I came here to fuck the shit out of you. A very Merry Christmas fuck. I've wanted you for so long. Every time my dumb slut daughter gets caught cheating, I think, I'll get to be with him this time. I'll finally confess my feelings for him. But every time, like clockwork, she wiggled and worms her way back into your heart. How many times has my daughter fucked someone behind your back? So I'm on a timetable. I figure I have three days before the big softheart takes her back. I'm going to try to convince him otherwise." "Yeah, I'm just an asshole I guess. I keep hoping she will change, this will be the last time she does this. I guess she will NEVER change. I feel so defeated. She dosen't really love me like she should. Or she lets her pussy do the thinking for her. Either way it sucks to be me. Why are you here now though. You really want to fuck me?" "Men are so fuckin dense." She took off her coat, she was naked underneath. She had huge tits, at least 48 DDD or EE. Her nipples were hard as rock and big as Frank's little finger, at least an inch long, and thick. Her areolas were a good four inches wide and puffy from excitement. Her labia was clean shaved and dripping, she was raring to go. She ripped the blanket from them and jumped up on Frank's legs. "Sorry girls, I'm determined to fuck this wonderful man. He makes me so hot just from him looking at me! Frank PLEASE! Take pity on this old broad. Give it to me, I beg of you!" She climbed up over his now very hard dick, and she aimed it for her cunt. She couldn't get it all in at once, but little by little as she stroked and pushed, she stretched out her vaginal walls to accommodate his manhood. For his part, he was twisting and tweaking her nipples as she purred. "Ohmygod Frank, you feel so much better than my fantasy. I've wanted you for seven years. Seven long, fuckin years! You feel wonderful in my snatch, Ohmygod here it comes, I'm... I'm... Gonna COME HARD, really HARD! Yes, Yes, Fuck YES, I'm coming! I'm COMING! Frank I love you. Uhh. Ugh. Uhhhh. Oh aahhh!" She GUSHED, not squirted. She exploded into multiple orgasms. It was the single best sex she had ever had. She collapsed on Frank's chest. The four of them spooned all night, with Frank's front being the sought after real estate. He did get some sleep. But the girls were all over him. He had to admit, they made him feel a lot better. Christmas morning, they were around the tree. He gave the presents he was going to give his wife, well now, forget it. He gave his mother in law a corselet in black leather and lace, and it fit her well. He gave Liz a quarter cup bra, and matching silk panties in white. Sharon got the black brocade one piece, with the trap door bottom. It fit ok. There was a knock on the door. Frank did not dread it this time as he had his shock troops. The key turned in the lock, and there stood his stunning shapely sister in law Beverley. She had just turned twenty. She walked in, in her winter coat and said, "Frank I heard what my stupid ass sister did. Three guys?! How could she do that to you. I'm here because I have a confession to make." She took off her coat and she was naked. Frank sighed, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. This would definitely be a Christmas to remember.

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[transcriptroopers]

Hey! I have a question. You mention in your intro post that you're disabled and neurodivergent. If you feel comfortable, can you talk a little about your experiences in the Army wrt those aspects? Were you disabled before your svc? Because of? Thx!!

Hi there! The military is not a great place to be physically or mentally disabled I’m afraid.

My physical disabilities are a result of the military. I had a job that was the best of both worlds; sometimes I was hunched over a computer for hours at a time and sometimes I was crawling on and off giant equipment and jumping up and down a few feet at a time. So both my knees and my back are pretty wrecked. I used to go walk a mile or two just for fun or just to cool off; these days it’s hard for me to walk to the corner store and back, and round trip that might be a quarter mile tops. 

It’s very common for soldiers to tough it out and deal with an injury that for literally anyone else would leave them all but bed ridden. A friend of mine destroyed his ankle and still had to be on guard and walk on it for over a year until he was able to get surgery, and when he got surgery his unit still gave him the same old shit for having a fucking boot on his fucking broken foot and he physically could not do anything. In basic training we had a female also wreck her ankle the night before a ruck march and she was scared if she didn’t complete the march she would be kicked out, so this motherfucker did a 10k on a bloodied broken ankle and made it the whole way. She was medically discharged and probably crippled her whole life after that, but hey: at least the army was impressed.

My knees started giving me trouble in my second year, but they and my back started really bothering me going into my third year. Unfortunately at that point I was deployed and in no position to slow down. This was also the point where my mental illness kicked it into high gear.

My mental illnesses are kinda both the military’s fault and not. I did not have a great childhood and probably had dysthymia when I joined, (though I hadn’t been diagnosed with anything, or else I wouldn’t have been allowed to join) and then I developed MDD and GAD after the fact. Somehow for the first two years of my enlistment I was able to keep a lid on my chronic depression enough to suffer through. I actually had a pretty good run my first two years, to be honest. I was too busy doing things to be depressed. I had some moments where I faltered, but I had the support I needed. If I wanted to break down, I had a good squad leader who didn’t just tell me to get up, he helped me up, you know? I felt like I was under a lot of pressure, but I felt like I was appreciated and recognized by my unit for the efforts I made under that pressure. And my first unit was by NO means a perfect unit; it had problems out the wazoo. But it was nowhere near as bad as as my second unit.The military is basically a breeding pit for depression, so it’s not really unique for someone to have depression. They spend a lot of time telling us to go to mental health if we think we need it, but it’s hard for anyone to take your suffering seriously when almost everyone is suffering and almost everyone is just dealing with it. So I feel like...they take it “seriously,” but they don’t take it seriously unless you’re literally about to crack and shoot somebody. If you’re like “I wish I were dead” everyone else is like “so do we. Go fill another sandbag.”

 And even then like, if the unit is short staffed you might still just have to go through the motions, you know? At one point I was assigned to guard duty and it was the first time I was going to be handling a loaded weapon in a long time and I was just straight up shaking because I couldn’t stop thinking of shooting myself with my rifle and when I finally told my platoon sergeant he was like “Okay, listen...we won’t give you a weapon, but you still have to be on guard because we don’t have enough bodies to replace you.” So I’d be the only guy on guard without a weapon and then I’d get resented for it by the rest of guard because I was somehow special enough to not have a weapon, and that was almost worse than just having the damn weapon.It’s just an unfortunate fact that the military is very hard on shammers and malingerers, or people who’re faking to get out of doing hard work, and depression usually flares up in situations of high stress. People say like, “Well of course Kingsley’s suddenly suicidal because they put him on guard and he doesn’t want to do guard because it’s harder than what he used to do.” People say like, “Well sure Kingsley’s back suddenly hurts because it’s 120 degrees out and he doesn’t want to climb the radar.” Soldiers are just very harsh on anything they perceive to be weakness or slacking because if one soldier is slacking, that means someone else has to pick up the slack. If I don’t do guard duty, someone else has to do it. If I don’t climb the radar in 120 temp, someone else has to do it. And of course, that knowledge weighs heavily on the soldier who couldn’t do the task, which makes them beat themselves up even more. And if you’re the type of person I am it drives you fucking nuts to have to inconvenience someone else to do something you know you should be able to do but for some fucking reason you can’t. The military tells you “it’s not your fault; don’t blame yourself” as all of the soldiers around you are making damn sure you know it’s your fault and you know damn well to blame yourself.Of course I was lower enlisted and my unit was particularly ruthless. But NCOs and officers were usually able to get away with it, mostly because they’d “earned it” as far as the rest of us were concerned. Which, you know, fair enough. We had some guys who’d been in actual combat and like blown up by IEDs and shit and had had TBIs and shit. They usually had to go slow, and they were usually pretty blunt about how their injuries restricted them, but we supported them best we could because they were chill dudes and we respected them. But, double edged sword: seeing them struggling through and getting their shit done sorta made the rest of us incapable of excusing ourselves because of injury or mental illness. “SGT so-and-so was literally blown up and HE’S still doing X; why aren’t YOU doing X?”And of course I heavily suspect I’m involved somewhere on the spectrum and my inability to mentally process things the same as my peers made me an odd duck (a regular occurrence: someone trying to explain something to me repeatedly and failing; enter someone else who knows me walking up saying, “Here, let me translate that for you” and explaining it in a way I finally understand) but not being formally diagnosed I can’t really provide input on that.Man, and don’t even get me started on how profiles work. I’ll be doing a whole post on profiles one of these days.In short I have very strong feelings about how the military views mental and physical disabilities and if you intend to write a soldier with any form of mental/physical disability, be prepared for most of your soldiers to resent that soldier for any perceived special treatment he receives.