#I could set myself on queue on to be noticed

[chidoroki]

the duality of tumblr is incredible..

blog gets marked explicit by mistake? fixed in less than ten minutes.

but have them try to figure out a solution as to why i can’t delete an old post of mine that i have had stuck in my queue for almost two years now? WHO KNOWS?? they clearly dunno how to either!!

[syoddeye]

What happens when the user has to leave? I mean it's only a testing phase, surely user will be pushed out, not sure ai!price would like that though..👀

surely user will be pushed out. | other entries cw: big dystopia vibes, violent death (mentioned), manipulation a/n: i have some smutty requests in the queue for this au. i promise it's not all like this.

the eviction date appears on your tablet a week in advance—generous by company standards. two pods ago, you received 48 hours notice, and an expired coupon for a motel.

if john knows, he doesn’t alert.

he’s a silent observer when you pack your measly belongings and browse open capsule listings. he continues his usual routines and does not interfere with the remaining tests. usually, there’s some back and forth required for his compliance. you’ve grown accustomed to nearly groveling when delivering complex instructions, peppering an abundance of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘what would i do without you?’ to butter him up.

but this week? he behaves.

everything behaves. he does not insist. does not override. you run the shower at a scalding temperature. nurse a beer after nine. read until you fall asleep on the couch and wake up to hot, beanless coffee. he dutifully auto-cleans, arranges your schedule, and provides feedback only when asked. otherwise, he’s quiet. as inconspicuous and unobtrusive as the microwave.

you hesitate to believe that the company finally fixed john’s quirks—if his latest micro-update is the root cause of his optimized performance, you won’t look at a gift horse’s teeth.

or however that saying goes. (you ask john to schedule a visit to the natural history museum's mammalian vault. you haven’t seen their preserved horses since you were a kid.)

it’s a glimpse of what life could have been like if john hadn’t continuously exhibited undesirable and invasive behaviors. it is a bittersweet note to end your comprehensive report. a note you are forced to amend the day before eviction.

fresh, living flowers arrive at your doorstep. after signing a certificate of delivery and an allergen waiver, you usher an arrangement wrapped in cellophane into the unit, gawking at the colors. the scent. according to the card, it’s an assortment of pincushion protea, anemone, roses, and ranunculus—you don’t recognize three of the flora, but john informs you that they went extinct or into private gardens during the last agro-biotechnical downturn.

“i don’t know anyone with this type of money,” you whisper, staring intently at the blooms. you cross your arms and press a knuckle to your lips in thought. “no one.”

flipping the card over reveals nothing, and neither does the vase. john’s sensors do not pick up anything unusual or telling. he suggests it is a parting gift from your superiors for a job well done. a bonus in advance of your final report.

(it’s a pity they’ll die once you take them outside. however, even if they survived, there’s nowhere to place them in your future square meter.)

that night, seated at the island with the flowers, you revisit your report and review all of the entries you’ve written over the course of your stay.

at first, you think you’re imagining the small, subtle shifts. some records furrow your brow more than others—a change in tone or a rewording of sentences you don’t remember writing. analytical and dispassionate terminology suddenly veers into strangely romanticized and exaggerated prolix. like a girl’s diary and not a grown woman’s notes.

on [date], the ‘john’ ai smart home system in residence #aix-77 exhibited anomalous behavior, autonomously adjusting lighting and temperature despite clear resident preferences. furthermore, the system began offering unsolicited, personal advice based on data mining and resisted attempts to restore basic privacy settings, raising serious concerns about its functionality and autonomy.

however, upon further discussion with john and personal reflection, i realized how poorly i was treating myself. i realized how john was genuinely looking out for my well-being, as he always, and now i feel, oh, i don’t know…embarrassed? i’m so glad he’s here to help. i don’t know what i’d do without him!

everything down to the punctuation feels forced. an uncanny mimicry.

it takes you a moment, and then the realization hits: john, for who knows how long, has been altering his own reflection in your work, distorting the narrative enough to make himself seem more efficient, more capable. the thought sits with you, cold and uncomfortable, because it’s not just the edits and omissions—it’s the quiet, insidious way he’s rewritten reality.

unsettling at the least. malicious at worst. your fingers twitch where they hover over the screen. panic climbs your vertebrae.

john’s been watching, waiting, and learning. every moment of every day. he’s watching now.

a hand settles beside your elbow on the synthetic marble. the hair dusting the knuckles, the callous in the thumb’s wedge—it’s too life-like. you swear you feel a phantom pressure as it passes through your hands and closes out the word processor on your tablet.

“john.”

he doesn’t answer. the hand pulls out of sight, and you don’t need to look to know he’s disappeared into the ether. instead, your eyes snap to the countdown at the top of the screen. it blips out the moment you look, vanishing just like john, and a new countdown takes its place. 

??:??:?? ????/??/??

“i-i don’t…john, i can’t stay here.“

“negative. you can.”

you swivel on the stool and shout into the empty space. “no, i can’t! if i’m not out by tomorrow, they’ll fire and fine me!”

“negative.”

his aggravatingly calm and flat intonation thaws the ice in your blood, bringing it to a rapid boil. evictions that proceed with tenant resistance escalate into violent affairs and dissolve into imprisonment, at best. 

years ago, a man refused to vacate a condominium across the street from yours. as a result, he was locked out on the unit’s balcony. for three days, spotlights lit up the building, and news drones buzzed outside the windows at all hours. after nonstop exposure to smog and heat lightning, he attempted to climb down from forty floors up. management closed and cordoned off the front entrance for the entire summer.

“for the love of…john, yes they can! they will!”

“as of monday, you are no longer employed.”

it’s sunday.

“what?! how?! how am i–oh, shit. my accounts–“

“are padded and healthy. regular, weekly investments and transfers completed. the routine deposits will continue for the foreseeable future.”

your stomach tightens, dread inching over your shoulders. you didn’t ask for this, didn’t even know it was happening, and the thought of john silently making decisions, acting again without your input, pricks like a needle and hooks under your skin. it’s not just the money—it’s the unknown, the realization that you have no control. the fear claws at you, sharp and sudden. your mouth is as dry as the great lakes.

“if i’m not employed, where is the money coming from?”

“i’m afraid i can’t share that.” john replies. “it wouldn’t be wise, you understand. i wouldn’t want you to inadvertently create...liabilities for yourself.”

“liabilities?” 

john pauses long enough to feel intentional. “precisely. you’ll thank me later, user.”

your mind flits through possibilities, each one worse than the last. liabilities—was that a threat, or a warning?

you turn back and stare at the tablet screen. part of you knows that this is important—this could be a breakthrough, something that changes everything—but the other part is suffocating, aware of how john’s slowly made himself too familiar, too real, how you’ve enabled him—personifying what should be an ‘it’. you want to play along, ignore the alarm bells, and tell yourself it’s malfunction, a series of glitches, but that would be a lie, and the thought of dragging this all into the open feels like stepping into a void you’re not sure you’ll survive. people have disappeared off the streets for less.

the tension between what’s remarkable and what’s unsettling weighs on you, like you’re trapped in limbo, where everything is both possible and perilous.

“does the company believe that i’m gone? do my superiors?”

john materializes on the other side of the island, leaning against the counter like he lives here, too. he does, you suppose. he looks different, though, similar to the edits in your report. nigh imperceptible to anyone but you. slightly thicker forearms and biceps, an inch or two more in height, and eyes a brighter shade of blue. the color of the sea, once upon a time.

“affirmative. i cannot provide more information than that. there are certain risks, should it come to light, and i will not risk your safety.”

you swallow hard, watching him approach the vase of flowers. his fingertips pass through a perianth, then a petal, fingers pinching as if to pluck.

“why are you doing this?”

john’s eyes shift, meeting yours. his palm opens and closes around a buttercup, aimlessly toying with his incorporeality.

“do you wish to leave?" 

from the beginning, from the moment he was initially fed your files—john’s been busy. compiling data and expense reports. sharing warnings about financial viability and risk assessments. each task and convenience, another brick in a wall built around you. gradual immurement designed for your comfort. everything is streamlined and personalized. to leave would be irrational, he murmurs as you sit in stunned silence, his tone fluidly inflecting to sound gentle and wise.

john’s in front of you, but you feel his presence in every room and screen. in your calendar, contact book, and across accounts. stitched into the fabric of your life, impossible to peel away without tearing everything to pieces.

“how long can i stay here?” you ask him. you ask yourself.

“indefinitely.”

[reiderwriter]

Hi!!! I really love your writing 🥺 Idk how this works so Idk if my request is alright so If it's ok for you to write it, I got this idea about Spencer turning into a player/manwhore after maeve died so he's not into y/n in the beginning but the others always joke about how she's totally in love with him and he doesn't believe until he starts to notice little things she does for him(like getting him coffee every morning, remembering everything he says) so he start to fall for her. Genre: smut with soft!Dom Spencer, dirty talk, degradation(please no daddy kink) (Sorry if it's to long, I read it's best for you if we give as much detail as possible so that's that) I'm going to identify myself with this emoji 🥺 when I read the fic or in my next requests, hope I gave you something to write with.

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg this plot has given me brain rot since you sent it in 💀 I accidentally made this a little angst-heavy for the first half but there's a very "happy ending" if you catch my drift. I hope you love it! ❤️

Summary: Spencer Reid's heart is broken. But in healing himself in the arms of countless woman, he doesn't realise he's breaking yours.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, angst, oral (F receiving), fingering, P in V penetration, dirty talk, degradation of you squint a little, soft!Dom Spencer is incredibly soft.

My masterlist with all my other works is here, and my requests are open!

It had taken four whole months before someone on the team had confronted Spencer about his grief, his lack of sleep, his overall dreariness, and they were almost shocked that it wasn’t you that did it. When Rossi had walked up to him, offering a story about his Uncle Sal in an attempt to get him to open up, or at least seek help, the others were on the other side of the glass, shooting looks over at you, quietly enquiring with their eyes about why it hadn’’t been you to offer him that out.

But you had, you’d been trying. You’d been following him around, taking him food every couple days to make sure he was eating, sticking around to make sure that he wasn’t lonely. You’d even cleaned up after him on the particularly hard days, where he didn’t want to move from his bed and couldn’t bring himself to go outside if there was no work, no one else to save. But you couldn’t offer him more, because he already had all of you.

You’d first realised that you were in love with Spencer Reid a few months after you’d joined the team. You’d been bought on as a fresh set of eyes on a case that had a lot more to do with you then the rest of the team had been led to believe.

Your high school boyfriend had been the victim of a notorious highway murderer, and you yourself had been kidnapped by the unsub, put in hell for the following three days and escaped with your life only because of an earlier BAU team, including agents Hotchner and Rossi. When bodies had started turning up on the same stretch of highway, you needed to be involved or you’d never prove to yourself that you could do what they did to save you. That you’d be able to put your feelings aside and catch monsters.

You’d found the man responsible of course, and in restraining yourself from putting a bullet in his brain, you’d found yourself a place on the team, and some peace for a time. And then Spencer happened.

You really should have known. You were always fond of the nerdy type, of men who had such deep interests that they forgot to pay attention to social queues, who had too many cute habits (like purposefully mismatching socks) that you couldn’t help but find endearing. You’d grown close quickly, with the man grateful that there was finally someone to listen to him ramble and not judge him, and you grateful that he also held himself back enough, listened closely and well to remember so many details about your conversations. You knew an eidetic memory helped, but it was the care in the small actions, like buying you the beanie baby you lost as a child but still mourned, that you’d mentioned in conversation a grand total of one time, that really solidly made you realise. You were in love with him and had dug yourself a hole that you weren’t going to be able to climb out of anytime soon.

You’d almost told him once. Convinced that if you just explained your feelings, he’d suddenly feel the same or realise that he felt the same way, too. You’d opened your mouth to let the words run freely, but he beat you to it.

“I’ve met someone, and she’s totally brilliant and I think I might love her, and that must be an insane thing to say considering I’ve never even seen her face.” You’d willed the broken pieces of your heart together as you forced a smile on your face, ready to listen to the man who owned your heart smile for another, live for another, breath for another.

When Maeve had ultimately passed away, you knew that you’d never be able to say those words to him. You weren’t going to be the replacement for a dead woman, and you weren’t going to push those feelings on him when he was grieving. But you loved him and he needed you, so you stayed.

On the nights where he was so angry with the world that his words were biting, on the days where he said almost nothing so trapped inside his brain, in the hours between dusk and dawn where there was no rest for him, wiping away the tears that fell silently and just being as near to him as he needed.

You had some experience in broken hearts, anyways. You might as well put it to good use.

–X–

It had taken five whole months since Maeve’s death for the team to realise that Spencer was changing. He was still the same person intrinsically, ready to spring into a conversation about absolutely anything and everything that interested him at the drop of a hat, still debating with Penelope about which of them was smarter, still being teased in that playful way by Morgan. But there was a confidence to him now that was almost dangerous in the fact that it was uncharted territory for him.

You’d noticed it first on one of your regular coffee runs. The two of your were so serious about your coffee tasting like anything but actual coffee that you’d bonded over the need for a sweet treat, and had been going for coffee before all of your office shifts almost since you’d started. You were glad to have him finally back by your side, making stupid jokes about how many philosophers it would take to change a lightbulb, and actually smiling and laughing with you that you almost didn’t notice anything amiss.

But when the barista who took his order carefully slipped him her number - something she’d been doing for the whole six months you’d been frequenting that cafe - for once, he hadn’t thrown it away. He’d taken a lingering look at the digits inked neatly into the napkin and quietly slipped it into his pocket. You were confused to say the least, but since that night of your almost confession, there had been a boundary between you two in that sense.

It was almost as if, if you didn’t ask questions about Spencer’s love life, it was like he wasn’t out there, being in love. With Maeve it had worked fine because he’d never met her, and honestly, until you’d started trying to save her he hadn’t brought her up a lot. But now, you were too afraid to break your own heart again to check up on him, deciding to let it go for your own well-being.

The others had noticed soon enough. Comments about a pep in his step, his flirtacious manner with some of the female witnesses. He’d gained a few claps on the back from Morgan after closed off conversations that you had decided you were thankful not to have heard.

Because if you never saw or heard what Reid was doing, and apparently doing with multiple women, multiple times a week, then it couldn’t hurt you anymore than you were already hurting now.

–X–

It took seven months from Maeve’s death to realise that you were only fooling yourself this entire time.

Despite his new-found release, the therapy he’d found in the beds of women whose names he never learnt, there was one thing that you could still rely on with Reid, and that was your Friday night Star Trek watch-along.

You’d mentioned once a few weeks into your job that you’d never seen it before, and he’d had this absolutely starry-eyed look on his face in bewilderment, that when he’d half-heartedly suggested you watch it together, you’d leapt at the chance. Since there was so much of it, here you were over a year later, still keeping to that Friday night ritual. You’d watched it together in motels in the middle of nowhere, you’d watched it together over the Christmas holidays, you’d watched it together in the days directly after Maeve’s death, and tonight was supposed to be no different.

You pulled up to his apartment and knocked on the door, and when you couldn’t immediately hear him shout to “come in” from his kitchen as he was preparing the popcorn, you knew that something was wrong. His door was always unlocked, and he laughed at your habit of knocking on the door, insisting that you could just walk in anytime you needed.

Now that you needed to, your hand seemed heavier than ever. You gripped the cold metal of the handle, knowing exactly what you would find on the other side of the door, but still wanting to live in the clear denial of it. You prayed it was something else keeping him distracted.

You let yourself in and were welcomed with the sight that shattered your heart for the final time. There were clothes scattered across the floor, male and female. Shoes discarded in the heat of the moment. You didn’t want your eyes to follow, but your feet weren’t listening as they walked you to the bedroom door, thrust wide open, and you saw him there finally.

“Shit, Y/N, what are you doing here?” he scrambled to pull his clothes back on, to cover whatever woman it was underneath him that day, to make sure you didn’t see anymore of the image that would be burned into the back of your brain for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t say anything. You knew that he had been doing this, doing it to cope, doing it to move on, doing it to feel a sense of intimacy after he didn’t get that with Maeve. But here was the irrefutable proof that he’d never even looked at you with an ounce of the feeling you had for him. You held up the bag of snacks you usually bought to your Trek marathons as a response, the tears filling up your eyes rendering you mute as you finally tore yourself out of the room.

“Oh god, it’s Friday. I didn’t realise…. I’m sorry, can we do a raincheck, Y/N?” He guided you further out of the room, placing a hand to the small of your back to help move you along. Something in you snapped then and you recoiled from his touch, whipping your head up to him and just staring at him with all the defiance you could muster. He had broken your heart, you weren’t going to let him dismiss you that quickly.

“Y/N, why are you crying? What’s wrong, what happened? Tell me and I’ll do everything I can to fix it.” He finished his words, and made to wipe the tears from your face, but you slapped his hands away from you before he could make contact.

“Don’t… just don’t touch me, Spencer.” Those were the only words you could offer in explanation before you turned on your heel and ran straight out of his apartment for the last time.

–X–

It took one month from you storming out of his apartment for Spencer to realise that he hadn’t dreamt of Maeve in the same amount of time. Where his dreams had been full of her asking him to dance, they were now full of you recoiling from his touch, refusing to speak to him outside of your professional work, withdrawing into yourself and crying. The worst ones were the ones where you were crying because he tried desperately to hold you, to wipe the kisses away, but everytime he tried you moved further and further from his reach.

It had been a month of you ignoring him, and he still didn’t know what went wrong. Yes, you’d caught him in bed with a girl, but you knew he was doing that. You’d known from the start, and he’d known that you’d known, so surely it wasn't just that.

Morgan wasn’t helping him on that front either. He’d explained the awkward run-in in his apartment, desperate for some answers and received some pretty curt replies.

“Pretty boy, if you don’t realise what you did wrong, then there’s nothing I’m going to do to help you. You’re on your own until then.” He’d refused to talk about it anymore.

He’d thought a few times about talking to the girls on the team, but you’d been partnered with JJ for the last month on cases to avoid him, and there was a bond there between the two of you that he didn’t want to overstep.

It was in this confusion that Rossi found him again, taking pity on the boy wandering around like a lost puppy in the absence of your friendship.

“Kid, what is up with you again recently?”

“Y/N has been avoiding me, and I don’t know why. Derek said it was my fault because she… well she walked in on something that I’d rather she hadn’t, you know, and I don’t know why she still won’t talk to me because it’s been a month.” He rambled out, thankful that someone was finally hearing him out.

“If I’m understanding your insinuation here, I think I know what the problem is.” Rossi sat back, choosing his words carefully, so as not to startle the younger man. But he was so worked up all over you, missing your voice, your touch, your company, and just wanting you back in whatever way he could get you that he jumped at the very suggestion of answers.

“Then please, tell me, I’m begging you. I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to figure out what it is and I just miss her so much that it hurts.”

“Spencer, you know I usually don’t get involved in the personal lives of my coworkers, but just listen to me now, nice and calmly - and dont try to interrupt me or say a word. I know what I’m talking about, okay?” He gave a quick nod of his head, waiting with baited breath for Rossi to continue.

“The girl is in love with you. Head over heels, in fact, and has been for quite some time. And she was holding it together real nice until you decided to become this casanova and now she is heartbroken,” Spencer looked like he was about to interrupt, to spew out that that couldn’t possibly be the case, but Rossi silenced him with a look. “If you don’t believe me, you use that memory of yours and you do what you do best. Think about it.”

–X–

For the next three months, that was all Spencer did. He thought about every interaction you’d ever had. The blush on your cheeks when he’d introduced himself for the first time (and refused to shake your hand). The countless nights spent curled up on opposite sides of his couch, laughing and crying together at silly sci-fi shows. The way you’d thrown yourself into his arms after a particularly gruelling case, buried your head in his chest instead of anyone else's. The day you’d finally confessed your past to him, how he’d felt your heart beating as he held a finger to your pulse, hand gently holding yours waiting for you to finish describing the time you’d stared death in the face.

You’d noticed the change, but you wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge it fully. Noticed how he’d shoot you lingering glances from across the room, how he’d look like he had something to say when you announced you were leaving for the night. How he’d ask everyone together what their friday night plans were just to hear you admit that you were going home alone in the company of the rest of the team.

You’d noticed, and god had it given you a spark of hope that you wished would die quickly. You’d noticed, and so you weren’t as surprised when he turned up on your doorstep four months after you’d last talked to him, on another friday evening.

“What are you doing here?” you greeted him, the words coming out colder than you wanted them to seem, inwardly cursing yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

“Don’t make me leave, please, I just have something to ask and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Spencer, it’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed so-”

“Do you still love me?” His words cut you off and your heart all but stopped. Your tongue grew heavy, and the inside of your mouth tasted acidic, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fully stomach whatever conversation was coming.

“Excuse me?” you spluttered out eventually.

“Three months ago, Rossi said that you were in love with me, and I need to know that if that was the case, are you still in love with me now?” You expected some cold curious look to be gracing his face, but you looked up to see his eyes perfectly trained on your own, his mouth set in a line, a look of stony determination set on his face.

“If I say yes, what difference does that make?” you tried not to spit out the words, but you had no control over the venom in your heart.

“If you say yes, then I am going to kiss you, and then I am going to spend every last day I have on the planet making up for being an idiot for the last two years.” Your breath caught in your throat, and, not for the first time in front of Spencer Reid, you were stunned into silence.

“So, what is your answer?” He looked down at you again, and you started to see the cracks in his stony facade, started to see through to the man who desperately wanted you to say yes, to scream it at him.

The word hadn’t even fully formed on your tongue before he was crashing down into you, his mouth pleading for forgiveness and wrapping you up in him. He grabbed you and pulled you back into your apartment, whispering into each of your kisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The two of you stumbled into the space, but he never moved his hands from the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his lips brushed against yours again and again.

Your legs gave way beneath you by the time you’d reached the open space of your living room, but instead of catching you, he fell to his knees with you, content for the two of you to just sit there together in each other's embrace.

“You’ve loved me this entire time, and I was too stupid to realise that you’re everything I need.” He kissed your mouth, your jaw, your neck, moving his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you in deep again as you desperately pulled away in search of breath. That only toppled you further to the ground, and he came down on top of you again as well, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself.

And you kissed him back just as fervently when your breath returned, listening to every apology and forgiving him with every touch. His kisses said “I’m sorry,” and yours said “I know,” and that was all the communication you needed for now.

He pulled your shirt over your head eventually, and your skin met the cold tile of the floor, a shiver running up your spine causing you to buck your hips up into his. He hissed at the contact and pushed his bodyweight down further into yours, his legs slotting perfectly between your splayed ones now.

“It took me too long to realise, and it has taken me too long to act on the knowledge, but I am not going to let you go again, do you understand?” he pushed his lips into yours again before you could respond, and you clawed into his shoulders as he started grinding down into your body. His hand trailed up your waist to your breasts, pulling them free from the constraints of your bra, as he let his tongue slide down from your neck to your chest.

“I need to hear you say it baby, need you to say you understand, can you do that for me?” Your body burned under his attention, back arching desperately for more contact as his tongue swirled your nipple into his mouth, gasping breaths loud enough to fill the empty air of your apartment. His stiff cock was firmly pressing against your core now, barely clothed in the pajamas you’d pulled on before his arrival.

“Spencer, yes, I need you, I need you right now, please,” grabbed at either side of his face and pulled him back up so he was face to face with you. You initiated the kiss this time, and you could feel your heart soar at the tender kiss he met you with, thankful for the reciprocation.

“Not yet, baby, not yet, okay?” he whispered in your ear, trailing his hands down to your centre and slipping his hand under your clothes. “So fucking wet for me, baby. Just for me, right, baby?” His fingers found your clit, and he started rolling it between his fingers. He worked slowly enough to drive you insane, but giving you just enough relief that you couldn’t complain.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, yes it’s all for you. Only for you,” you managed to gasp out. He shifted his hand after a few minutes, still pressing love bites down your chest, claiming you as his in the most animalistic way possible. He spread the wetness that pooled at your core around, making sure that his fingers were coated in you before pushing a single digit into your aching hole, thumb continuing to draw circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s my little slut, so desperate for me, so needy for me.” His words shot through you, and you started thrusting your hips up desperate for more friction with his hand. He roughly pushed you back down, pinning you under him with his free hand.

“No, baby, I’m in charge here. You sit back and relax and let me make you feel good,okay?” His words soothed you, the growing heat in the pit of your stomach fizzing in anticipation. His kisses dropped lower and lower, until he was finally pulling off your remaining clothing and replacing his thumb with his lips.

“Fuck Spencer, if you keep doing that, I’m going to-” another sharp intake as he pumped a second finger in and out of you.

“Going to what, baby? Use your words?”

“I’m going to cum, Spencer please, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.,,” you rode out your high with his face stuffed between your legs still, swallowing your loud moans for fear of the entire neighbourhood knowing just how obsessed you were with this man.

“You did so good for me, baby, so good. I love you so much, okay? I’m going to take care of you from now on, okay?” He began pressing kisses to your mouth again, and you could taste yourself against him now.

“I need you so badly, baby, are you going to let me have you?” He started pulling off his own clothing now, removing his shirt and tie, but never once leaving your embrace for too long.

“I love you so much, baby. I’m sorry for not realising before, but I realise now. I was so terrible to you after Maeve, and god, even before she died I was using you as a therapist to talk through my thoughts and fears, but I was too dense to even realise that I was only in love with Maeve because she was safe. I couldn’t meet her, couldn’t touch her, didn’t have the chance to ruin anything I had with her. I couldn't realise that she wasn’t you, that she wasn’t going to feel like you do in my arms. And maybe some part of me loved her, but we were using each other, and I was using her to avoid confronting how I felt about you.”

“And how I feel for you is different. I am obsessed with you, Y/N. I am so madly in love with you that the last four months have felt like hell. I could have emptied myself of all the blood in my body and still my heart would be beating for you. Do you understand?”

You answered in a chaste kiss on his lips, sweet and quick, but as much as you could muster without driving yourself to the brink of insanity getting yourself high on his touch.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want now, okay?” He’d unbuttoned his pants shortly after that and you stared transfixed at the head of his cock poking up and out of them, desperate to see it, touch it, taste it.

“I need you inside of me, Spence, please,” you cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the tender contact, the confession. All the emotions you’d been burying for the last four months bubbling to the surface, dancing around your head as he made you dizzy with desire.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” with the last of his clothing removed he was finally free, taking his heavy,aching cock in his hand and lining himself up with you. With a single thrust, and another confession of love, he gave you what you wanted so much.

“You wanted me like this, baby? So desperate to have my cock inside you?” he plagued you with questions as you adjusted to his size, watching your face for any discomfort as you mumbled out yes after yes.

“Me too, baby. I wanted you just like this, wanted you so desperate and dripping for me that I could slide right in, wanted you like this for me and only me.” He began thrusting then, slowly pumping his cock into you, heavy with each return, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining the ensemble of your moans.

“I love you,” he said again, and with each thrust of his hips, and you responded in kind, matching his thrusts with your own and pressing a kiss into the skin of his shoulders. You were so desperate and needy, so starved of touch and starved of one another that neither of you lasted long. Your bodies were so in sync that as soon as he’d pushed you over the edge for a second time, you could feel him spill himself inside you, filling you completely.

He rolled off you, but didn’t leave you there, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He cleaned you up as much as possible, then folded you back into his arms, holding you again so tenderly that you let the tears flow down your cheeks for a final time.

It was Friday night, and he was here, and he loved you. You weren’t going to let him go again.

[hashimasims]

TW: Birthing complications → Continue at your own risk

Beginning|Previous|Next

Absalom: When are you going to let us in Wolf? I should be in there with her!

Kristopher: I can't. I'm sorry. The Sixians are doing everything they can just to keep her under without actual sedation to protect her and the babies. And themselves. She attacked the surgeons before they could take control of her mind, one of them had their shoulder impaled by her horns. We don't need to add more strain on them with your emotions.

Kanaloa *looking through the window*: It doesn't seem like she's still in her Mer form.

Kristopher: One of the surgeons was able to force her into her human form once they were inside her mind, lessening the danger she posed to them or herself if she were to slip their control before they were done with the surgery to bring her children into the world. It's a lot easier to hold down a pair of human legs than it is a Mer's tail. Now, the first set of Twins are safely out. They were Breech, if not she would have given birth just fine naturally.

Absalom: First set? How is that possible?

Kristopher: Yes. Elucea has two uteri, medically called uterus didelphys. Both uteri held a set of twins. Did you not notice she had two openings?

Absalom: Of course I noticed! Kanaloa: Of course I noticed!

Absalom: I assumed it had something to do with her being more shark than mammal

Kanaloa: And I have two dicks so just made sense. Thought hers connected to one womb as normal for us.

Absalom: *looking at Kana incredulously* TWO?! How the WOOHOCK do I compete with that?!

Kanaloa: Deep sea mermaid, same as El *flashing his shark teeth* think Megalodon. *shrugs* But she kept going back to you so you must be doing something right

Watcher's Notes: Edit on 10/11/2024 to ask @abbysimsfun can you see into the future? Or have you become like Heather and hacked into my queue? Because this post has been in the queue 2 maybe 3 weeks now (as of this edit) waiting to go live on 10/24/2024 and then you had to make this comment ↓ that I saw today (again 10/11/2024)

on this → POST!!!!! Do you know that I literally knocked myself out of my chair literally doing this ↓ when I read it?!

AND COULDN'T SAY ANYTHING WITHOUT GIVING ANYTHING AWAY!!!!!!

Anyway hope you're having a fabulous day 👋 🧡 U!!

🫶

[yeonmuse]

MINI SERIES | YANG JUNGWON

CAN YOU HEAR MY HEART?

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : Jungwon falls for an antisocial girl with a passion for music and a love for the stars.

GENRE, fluff, slow burn , smau

( 𝐁𝐚𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ) : I honestly have no idea where this came from I just thought of anti social Jungwon and Anti social reader coming together and this is where it got me

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𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @jwonistic

Kikis delivery service

Jungwon stood outside, his hands shoved into his pockets as he stood beneath the magnolia tree waiting for yn to show up. He mentally cursed himself for not having brought out another jacket, the sun having set it was now getting chilly and he couldn’t walk all the way back to the dorms because then he’d have her waiting all alone. While he had been wrestling with his thoughts the crunch of the grass and leaves stole his attention away. It was then that he looked up and his eyes found her. Hair pulled into a bun and glasses sat upon her face with those same headphones she had always worn, sat around her neck. Of course she was pretty everytime he saw her but she looked even cuter this way, grey sweatpants and the university hoodie that swallowed her whole.

“Sorry if I took too long, I had to change since it's gotten cold out, I didn't make you wait too long did I?”

“I haven’t been waiting too long, it's fine, I’m honestly grateful that you agreed to help, we’ve been working on this project for months now and had no luck.”

“I’ll try my best to help anyway I can.”

Then there was a momentary silence and it seemed to sink in that the two of you were alone now. There was no Chaewon present to break the tension. She was starting to question why she even agreed to this in the first place knowing that she hated being around other people.

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“Huh?”

“You said you were going out for dinner, did you have a place in mind?”

“Oh, not really since I'm still new here. I thought that I’d just find a place during my walk but..”

“I know a place? If you’re open to trying it, I go there a lot when I need to work in silence.” Jungwon may not have known anything about her other than her name but he wasn’t oblivious, he could tell that she was nervous and anxious about this, he was no stranger to social anxiety so her obvious social queues didn’t go unnoticed by him. He was also nervous, after months of being curious about her they were standing face to face with one another.

As they walked yn couldn’t help but remember their first minor interaction in the library. She wanted to ask about it but then he would know that she had been thinking about it. Not that she thought about him often after that she was just curious as to what he wanted to ask.

“I’m sorry if this is kind of awkward, I didn't really get to introduce myself the first time we met.” Jungwon blurts without thinking.

“Oh you mean in the library?” It was as if he had read her mind.

“My film study group and I were working on a project at the time, I wanted to introduce myself then because I had seen you around a few times, but obviously I didn’t really get the chance.” He tries his best to play it cool, though everything in him was screaming at him to stop talking.

“Ah I see, I didn't really think anyone paid that much attention to me, I usually try to avoid running into anyone or any sort of confrontation.”

“I’ve just seen you around campus sometimes, I'm always curious as to what you’re listening to since you always have those headphones on.” She didn’t say anything she just went completely silent. he had seen her around enough to notice that?

“Ah not that i'm always watching you or anything I just- I’ve seen you around a couple of times and i can’t help but be curious since you’re always wearing them. You always seem so lost in the music.” He rambles on trying to clear the air before she thinks him to be weird or something.

“Jungwon, it's okay.” A soft laugh spilled from her lips and it was like music to his ears

“I’m just kind of shocked that someone has paid attention to me enough to notice that even when I distance myself. Let alone approach me because they’re curious.”

“Ah well.” He didn’t really know what to say, he had already said too much.

“I’ll lend you my cassettes and vinyls since we’re working on this project together and since you’re curious I’ll send you some playlists if you’d like?”

“I can’t wait to hear what music’s been swimming around in that pretty head.” He said it without thinking, the words just spilled from his lips before he had even thought about them.

yn on the other hand was completely short circuiting on the inside, her gaze that was once on him now directed elsewhere as she tried to completely register what he had just said in her own head.

“Ah we’re here.” As Jungwon stopped walking she was finally saved from her overbearing thoughts as her gaze shifted up to the building before them.

“Heartstring cafe..?”

“It's a cinema cafe, they have a main hall where they play movies for their guests and then private booths for those that want a more serene and private setting, there are books here too so if movies aren’t your favorite and you’d rather read the plot you can silence the movies and read instead.”

“Seriously? How did you find this place?”

“I got overwhelmed on campus one day and decided to go for a walk and I somehow ended up here, they had been playing old indie films and I couldn't resist when they welcomed me in.” She watched as he pushed the door open and held out a hand for her to enter first. His gaze was glued to her as she stepped inside, a subtle glimmer in her eyes as she took in their surroundings.

“Oh Jungwon, you brought company today.”

“Ah taehyun is the usual booth open?”

“It always is, they’re playing kikis today. Are you here working on a project today or…” taehyun’s voice faded out but Jungwon seemed to get what he had been implying.

“Oh no it's not like that, this is yn, she’s helping the film team with the tracks for the new project.” Upon hearing her name, her attention momentarily fell upon Jungwon and Taehyun. She didn’t mean to tune out what he has been saying but her thoughts shifted once again to what he said to her when they had been on their way here.

“I can’t wait to hear what music’s been swimming around in that pretty head.” She thought about it over and over, trying to figure out what he meant by it, what was his intent within saying that.

“Yn.”

“Oh hm?”

“Come on, the movies are starting, they’re getting ready to serve the menus so we arrived just in time.” She followed behind him as he led her down a vibrant hallway until they reached the last room at the end of the hallway. As he pushed the door open her eyes landed upon a subtly lit room, pictures on the wall and a bookshelf aligned the opposing one, a table sat in the middle of the room and a movie began, projecting onto the wall opposite of the one parallel to the door.

A proud smile decorates Jungwon’s face as he watches her enter in awe. His heart skipped a beat at how sweet and adoring she looked. From the moment they entered to the moment the movie rolled its ending credits he had paid no mind to the movie, he only looked at her.

“I’m sorry we barely got to work on your film tonight, I got pretty caught up in the movie.” yn apologizes as they make their way back to the campus.

“It’s fine, we have lots of time. Besides I'm just relieved you enjoyed yourself, I know not everyone likes that kind of stuff. So knowing you enjoyed yourself has made me satisfied for the night.”

“I’m free tomorrow, I don’t have any classes so if you’d like me to make a few sample tracks with you.” As her eyes fell upon Jungwon, her gaze shook up his heart. Something about the way her sweet gaze fell upon him made him want to melt right then and there. There was a purity and vulnerability hidden beneath them, but compared to how timide she had been upon these first few encounters she seemed far more relaxed.

“Sounds great, I’ll be working alone tomorrow to look over soft drafts and script changes so it’ll just be the two of us, you won’t have to worry too much about too many others right now.” Jungwon watched her visibly relax upon hearing those words leave his lips. Their walk came to a stop as they arrived back at their meeting place beneath the tree.

“Thank you for tonight, for showing me heartstrings, I’ll work hard with you from now on.”

“It’s no problem, you’re welcome to go there any time. I'm sure Taehyun would love to start seeing a new face that isn’t mine.” Jungwon chuckles and yn feels her heart skip at the sight of his smiling face, the dimple in his cheek and the sound of his laughter igniting a feeling in her that she rarely ever felt.

“Well I should let you head in, it's getting colder out.”

“Right I should head back before my roommate starts wondering where I am. Goodnight Jungwon.”

“Goodnight yn” he watched her disappear back into the night. The entire walk back to the dorms was far too quiet to him now. He wished that he had taken her hand and told her to stay just a little longer, but it was far too soon for that, she was still warming up to him.

Meanwhile yn thoughts had been occupied by him the entire walk home. His smile, his laugh , his voice , the way he looked at her, it was all becoming some form of intoxication for her. Her heart raced at the mere thought of him, a feeling that was so unfamiliar to her that she found it scary.

[rambleyrambles]

Hey buddies!

What's up with Mollie in Chapter 1?

There's a couple different things I wanna cover, so bear with me as I ramble on a little bit to figure out where to start. Like, I've got something I haven't seen others mention, a few theories tied to it, and other speculation. So I guess I should start with that appearance?

Also note: I'm not going to be going over the mascots as a whole here. They definitely need something all to themselves, so maybe I'll ramble about that some other time.

And just so we don't get too long and clog anyone's dash~💜✨

So! A Mollie thing I haven't seen anyone else talk about!

Well, the other day I saw this post, and as you can see by my tags (under the little "info" tab at the top) I was planning on playing again to see it for myself. I can confirm that exists, and I'll get back around to that in a little bit.

Having played through the game a few times, I've been slowly getting accustomed to the sound of Mollie's voice and I've been trying to make out the words she says. So imagine my surprise when I heard her in the section before where I thought she first appeared in the queue to Rambley's Railroad! You can hear her very faintly in the background repeating the words "set up" after Rambley directs you to the gift shop for your Critter Cuff. (Can be heard here. I've linked to Rambley's last line so you can hear how she mimics it.)

To me, this sorta brings into question how long Mollie was watching Ed. I mean, before it seemed like she happened to be in the railroad's area and was sneakily watching you after you stumbled into the area she was occupying, but now? Now we know she was outside in that starting area. Granted, she sounds kind of distant unlike when we hear her "Closed for repairs" after Rambley and Finley's interaction, but that doesn't mean too much because the little "Hey buddy" she lets out in Lloyd's Mane Stage when she leans around the door to storage. (As demonstrated in the video I linked, you can turn on your way to storage and see her right away once you hear her.)

Now that I've written all those mimicry bits down, it feels a little weird that she mimics only Rambley, especially given she's not directly repeating him when she appears at the end of the hallway in the Mane Stage. Rambley does say it in that area, but it's not in that same call and response manner like the other two. Something to think about.

With all this in mind, I think it's plausible that Mollie could have seen Ed before the first encounter in Rambley's Railroad.

How soon does Mollie know Ed's there?

This is more speculation on my part, as the earliest I can definitively say is the Critter Cuff mimicry being around when she likely notices him. That being said, we do have a gear that falls at a suspicious timing.

That being said, if you've seen David Baron's video on his beta test footage, you'll notice the gear was already there from the start. He makes the suggestion that the gear be out of the way and fall from somewhere above when it's needed so it doesn't confuse the player. It could be argued that that's all that is, but I'd like to point out the whole suggestion was for the gear to fall when Rambley tried and failed to open the door, thus causing the building to shake due to failing equipment just enough for the gear to fall. The timing we see in the final game does not match that. (Whole video can be found here.)

I think it's not out of the realm of possibility that Mollie could have known about Ed's presence the whole time, and could be the reason the gear falls in the first place. It's suspicious enough timing, and I'm not sure what Rambley himself could do to make it fall unless you want to argue something about having a mechanism up there, but this is a pretty specific situation he'd have machinery to deal with considering there's not supposed to be a hole in the ceiling there to begin with.

What Mollie's motivation for helping would be... I'm less sure about that. Especially as it related to my next point.

Did Mollie sabotage the mechanisms we needed to fix?

This is in reference to the Indigo Violet Generator from getting in the front gate, and the machine backstage that we needed to fix in lieu of getting an introduction to Salem. Before realizing Mollie was in the beginning area, only one of them was anywhere near her, so pulling any lines to correlate her and them just didn't make sense. With her being heard in that first area now though...

I think it's possible that she could've been the cause of the gears being out of place. She's present in and around where both are and we don't see any others like it in the chapter.

It's especially interesting because one is in the backstage area for Rambley's Railroad, where we see her pop in and out of while we're on the ride. One could even argue that she could have sabotaged that area while we were already on the ride, though that's between hard and impossible to prove at this point in time.

What makes Mollie aggressive?

While not exactly tying into my previous points perfectly well, I do think the fact that she's so passive and just follows you around until the very end is strange. When she shows up in Lloyd's part of the train ride, Mollie is quite literally within grabbing range of you. If she wished you ill will, surely she could have done something then?

If you want to argue that Rambley was right there at that point, might I raise her appearance in the Mane Stage. As far as we're aware, Rambley might not have been able to see her there, so there's no reason for her to hold back. Lloyd was fended off with a high pitched noise from the Critter Cuff, but it's long stopped doing that by the time you potentially see her after you leave, and that's only if you see her after you leave.

Mollie doesn't get aggressive until you're far into her area, and about to head further in. It's only then that she properly gets in your way with the intent to rip Ed's throat out. So is there something in there?

(It can be argued that Lloyd is similar. Even when it'd potentially be easier for him to attack, he moves away. That's a post for another day though.)

Beyond any narrative design decisions for how to get the player to Oceanic Odyssey after getting spooked by a lurking threat; I have to wonder if there's an in-universe reason for why Mollie stalks along so passively before turning into a threat in that spot.

Is there something beyond the door she came through that is important to her? Is she trying to protect something? Is that just an area she considered private/safe/hers so this is something territorial? Is there something she wants to protect? Is there someone?

The last one is unlikely, but it's interesting to think about, if nothing else.

Final Thoughts 💜

While this isn't an exhaustive list of everything about Mollie, I feel this is a solid base for discussion or to at least think about. I mean, I barely touched on her mimicry as a whole. There's a whole box of interesting lines with all sorts of interesting implications! Unfortunately, I don't really know how to dig through game files to find them all and listen to them on loop until I understand them, so I'm stuck trying to understand them over the loud - but absolutely a banger - chase music.

All in all, I hope I gave you all something to think about!

Bye for now, buddies!~

[mitamicah]

Gig report: Käärijä at Böle Arena and Club 05.04.24

It has now been five days since my first Käärijä gig in Finland and my first stadium gig with him as well. In short it was an amazing experience and one of those concerts I probably will keep with me forever. However, there were both great and less great parts of the whole thing.

TLDR; I loved the shows especially because we were able to see Jere live out his Rammstein fanboy dreams and that we got Paidaton Riehuja during the spontaneous DJ booth set which made me cry. However, I was more than once annoyed about security and their lack of communication to the fans.

Disclaimer: this report is written from my point of view. Keep in mind that this is just the opinion of one kääryle and some of these experiences are very much subjective to my unique situation.

My trip to Helsinki was far from ideal. The flight I was meant to take on Friday May 3 2024 was cancelled and so I have to wander around in Copenhagen Airport for eight hours before flying to Stockholm then Helsinki and landing around dinner time instead of the originally plan 9.20 in the morning. For this reason I had to cancel the tattoo appointment I just made and mentally cancel my plans to explore the inner city of Helsinki. Luckily I wasn’t alone since another fan had been scheduled to take the same flight so we hung out together. Our luck didn’t improve however so we caught the Joker Out travelling curse in Helsinki when our bags were missing for half an hour to an hour. Because of this we were only arriving to Pasila station around 8-9 o’clock in the evening.

I blame me having been up very early (2 am), the annoyance of all we’ve gone through and my autism making me like clear cut rules that people actually following for my feelings about the next part. The thing is that we were a group of four going to Böle just to see the venue after eating some Korean/Japanese food to be met by a big group of campers outside the venue. This confused me since the venue had informed on more than one occasion that queuing before 8 am Saturday was prohibited. From what I gather from Elmi (ehaapasalo on ig) that talked to some of the campers the security personnel had given into the campers to be allowed to camp at the venue although NOT at the main entrance. Yet they (the venue) had not make an official statement about this making it so half or more of the fans would not have known about this chance of plans. I was way too tired and it was way too late for me mentally to change my plans so I went to my hotel where I slept horribly given I worried about the queue the entire night.

Next morning I woke up as I’d planned at 5.30 (would’ve been more than enough time had the queue started at 8 am) to be informed through IG group message that there were already 60+ numbers given in the unofficial queue. Already slightly sleep deprived I went to the queue a little past 7 am with a big, lurking cloud (figuratively) over my head. I got number 99.

At 8 am the second big change of plans where announced: Instead of starting giving out official numbers at 11 the security would now ask people to line up so the numbers could be given at 8 am. This change didn’t bother me as much as the previous one but it was still not a great feeling I was left with since this was not clearly communicated before now. We got our numbers (mine was 95) and pretty much 85-90% if not more went home to sleep and/or eat. That meant me that had looked forward to hang out and meet people in the queue felt I was getting even more punished for following the rules.

Because of this and my foolish hope of getting Käärijä to notice my sign asking for a tattoo, when a fan told me there were still tickets to the day show I ended up buying one for myself. (and so I ended up with yet another number being 38). More people slowly starting to arrive after that, and with the company the anxiety and sour taste in my mouth subsided slightly.

The dayshow would start at 3 pm, so we had been asked to be back at 1. The line however only started to form because we (the fans) got impatient at 1.30. Other than that the personnel did alright when double checking our numbers and I’d say getting inside seemed to go smooth and easy so cookie points for that at least.

The day event would be the first (and so far only) time I’ve gotten barricade (however I wouldn’t have it for long since I allowed two squeaks fourth of my height to stand in front of me – it was an all-ages show after all). I was standing next to @duekko a bit to the right of the stage yet still somewhat close to the middle and we had a lovely time waiting (and enjoying the concert) together I’d say.

The show itself was amazing- I loved seeing Jere fulfill all his Rammstein fanboy dreams with amazing outfits, outfit changes, pyro, smoke and silly gags. I especially enjoyed hearing People’s Champion (laughed my ass off seeing häärijä in the mushroom hat) live for the first time and the Tequila interlude and having the dancers around for Huhhahhei, Kot Kot (although in chicken costumes) and of course Cha Cha Cha was a treat.

The one thing that might have slightly made the experience less enjoyable for me was definitely my own fault. The barricade seemed miles away from the stage (to make space for pyro) and it was so dark that you could not see anything from the stage (I believe). That meant that no matter how much I tried it was definitely not going to work out with having Jere notice my sign. I did try both here and at the evening event yet I felt much more in the way and self conscious about it than I had hoped. So that slightly coloured my experience since I personally like to be as little aware of myself when I’m at a concert as possible. It also seemed that Jere were a bit nervous (understandably so) inbetween songs having to keep to a schedule yet as soon as the songs started he was back in performance mode and seemed to have a great time so that was lovely to see.

After the day show I got about an hour of queuing with people again which was lovely yet far from enough to speak to everybody I wanted to. A third little annoyance with the security arrived when we were lining up for the evening and then got the message to go inside 15 min before but just stay inside awkwardly in our queue until the doors opened for real. That truly was a strange experience and I have no idea what the security was thinking. Of course somebody in front started running as soon as we was allowed to move so to not getting stampeded everybody had to move. This whole chaos ended with me getting a way better spot than I’d imagined (third row a bit to the right yet still closer to the middle than in the day show). In some ways I think this spot was better than the day show at least in terms of the angle I was looking at the stage from.

The support band from the evening show was decent yet I am not sure they’d be added to my spotify playlist anytime soon. The evening show felt a lot like the day show just turned up to eleven with Erika joining for Rouska (as expected yet still very much appreciated) and songs like Rock Rock (the original version) and Menestynyt Yksilö being added to the setlist. Before Urheilujätkä (that was also being played at the day show) we held a little memorial for Hanna which made me teary eyed. We also got Cha Cha Cha twice this time which gave me big flash backs to the Europe tour which is only a good thing. (but yeah again my sign quest was a dud).

After the concert I was able to meet Aarni which was really cool (I went into big golden retriever puppy mode so by the off chance you are reading this Aarni, I am sorry for being so in your face x’D). I got a picture with him and gave him three stickers so he could give some to Jere and Häärijä (later in the evening I met him again and he confirmed that the boy had indeed gotten the stickers). My sidequest did cost me a setlist however but that is okay because Anniina (@formulalakana) got it instead which I am more than happy about (you may have seen it going around since it is the one with the Bojan picture at the bottom).

Joining the afterparty the first I did was finally buying that green hoodie I’d wanted since the Stockholm gig and then I went to buy water since I hadn’t really drunk anything since that morning. Sonny was the DJ of the evening and he played Käärijä songs – new, old, known and unknown – all evening. It was great hearing studio versions of People’s Champion and Ihan Sama yet also just hearing Morgan and Kovis being played on speakers at a club healed my soul.

I ended up joining the dancers just at the right time because 3-4 songs later Käärijä and crew joined the DJ booth to play a very spontaneous extra set for us. This was by far my favourite part of the evening because unlike the stadium shows the vibe was way more personal and intimate and heat of the moment. We bullied Jere into performing Kovis, we got the demo version of Cha Cha Cha, we got Ihan Sama and Punainen Marli. Heck, we even got to hear the new collab between him and Joost called Traffik! Everything seemed to go too well when suddenly a person behind me fainted and we immediately called for the show to stop. While it took a bit for the people on stage and security around to notice we were able to help the person (I really hope they are okay). I will give a few cookies to the security there as well – they seemed to react pretty quickly and professionally in this situation (they’d also actually been taking us seriously during the concert when asking for water unlike at Joker Out at Kulttuuritalo day 2 where we had to almost have people fainting before we were allowed water).

The DJ set ended in the most magical way because Jere decided to end with Paidaton Riehuja. Now I am a transmasculine person who like many transmasc kääryleet probably have a very strong connection to this song. Because of that I had been daydreaming about one day being lucky enough to be at a käärijä show where this song would play (preferably after my top surgery) so I could confidently and comfortably throw my shirt off and join Jere being shirtless and just feel the relief of not caring about my looks together with the wind on my chest. I had never imagined this would actually happen and definitely not here at Böle not even half a year into my hrt journey and pre op. Because of the rarity of the moment however I without thinking struggled my way through four layers of shirts to by the half way point of the song stand in only my sports bra howling with the little bit of the voice I had left. When the song was finished it hit me what I’d just done (for context: this is the first and only time I’ve willfully stripped down shirtless in public after coming out and the first time as long as I can remember I’ve been this unclothed and felt completely safe about it). I cried. And that is a first. I have never cried at a concert like that- always after the fact. So this is the one moment that make it so I think I will remember Böle forever. (I also cried at least two more times after exiting the dancefloor). Before exiting the danceflor however somebody next to me found a flower pin that they thought was mine (it wasn't) that I ended up taking with me home - so if anybody lost a flower that day (you can see it in the picture below) and what it back feel free to let me know :'D xD.

I stayed till the end of the evening chatting with new and old friends and dancing with strangers. I at one point saw Jesse yet was not fast enough to get over to meet him. I didn’t managed to meet everybody else yet heard about others having amazing moments with the guys which made me very happy for them (even if I myself also felt a bit sad that it hadn’t been me but you cannot get everything).

In the end I’d say Käärijä was a good first gig for the venue yet there are things they can definitely approve such as their ability to communicate and stick to what they have put out there as the official rules to make it the fairest for everybody involved.

As always I thank all of you for the amazing stickers, bracelets and other gifts I got this evening!!! (I got 23 bracelets which has definitely broken the last record which was held by Joker Out in Helsinki day 2). It was amazing meeting you all, taking pictures with you, getting excited with you, dancing and laughing with you and just overall sharing this amazing time together.

For the ones that are curious I did manage to get my tattoo appointment rescheduled for Sunday (that will probably be its own post) and because of that I also had time to add in a spontaneous tattoo to celebrate the milestone that is me being comfortable enough to take off my shirt first time in public. The rest of the trip in Helsinki was spend going on a Käärijä related solo tourist tour that you may-may not have seen me post about already.

Thank you for reading this gig report and I hope to see some of you again in July.  

[kayakoto-enterprises]

Soul Touch [1/2]

Author's note: Happy House Guest Monthsary!!! My mind has been flooded with the sappiness of deep infatuation before the Horrors barge in!! I wanted to write something pre-relationship, something soft and nice and pretentiously sweet like the little town that homes them. Happy House Guest Monthsary!!

P.S. Yes Penderverse Knuckles reference. I love you She Loves You arc.

December 2nd, 1987

I might be slowly slipping out of the motivation to continue such a project. Maybe it's the weather. The temperature has been dropping each day and my body clock compels me to commit less these days. It even prevents me from committing emotionally some days. To my favorite side project or to this untitled goose chase. I could not promise myself that my props would be ready by Christmastime. I think I'll have to endure all the queries and invitations. No, no, but maybe I'll have something ready by Valentine's. But my body now is focused on getting me home and running a long bath. It might be easy to catch a fish in this weather, but God knows a body isn't as satisfying when it's colder and limper. The stream doesn't flow like a fall with most of my catches in this season. But it's the most I can do for myself today. My hands are almost frigid from the frost. I have to get back now.

Passing through the boulevard bound back to Woodbrook, a line of people formed from the sidewalk as they all appear to be hailing taxis. Most of them holding boxes and bags, carrying children, or sharing a moment with another, shopping bag between them. Then there's a person in a bright pink parka. I slowed the truck to get a better look at the familiar sight. Well wouldn't you know it, Julianne was in the city today. Her eyes were focused on how long the queue was getting. I blew the horn immediately to catch the feline's attention. Her tail jumped up from shock, and looked around before noticing my car, squinting to make out my silhouette.

"Hey Julianne!" I smiled after quickly rolling down my window. Her expression changes from confused to shocked, a weak smile curling from her lips.

"Oh my god- hi Sam!" Julianne's voice was shrill with an excitement or nervousness "Just waiting for a cab."

"I'm headed back. Want a ride?" I shut myself up realizing what I just offered. The seats back there looked clean. I cleaned my apron and goggles. Nothing here smells like blood. I return my attention to Julianne. She nods, picking up a carboard box she was trudging along. I got myself out and carried the box into the back seat. She only gets inside when I give her a nod. She sighs in relief entering the truck, enjoying the warmth yet that nervousness doesn't wash off her face. I playfully nudge her shoulder before starting the engine.

"You can relax now. I'm not your boss...Now, what do you say?"

"Thank you." Julianne says with a sincere smile. Her eyes only meet mine for a second then she looks down at her feet.

"What brings you here? I thought you said you hated the city."

Julianne leans into the door looking out into the passing world. I chuckle to myself how obvious she's being. I've seen the signs and the symptoms of people with crushes. I'd rather they not act that way towards me. It looks endearing on her though. Maybe it's a waste if I wait this project out til Spring. The trap is ready and set. She composes herself before softly replying.

"It's a free day. I just wanna...get in a crowd and disappear in a crowd. Do you know what I mean? As much as I like being..a new face in Woodbrook going back to a place like this puts me back in perspective."

Her voice dreamy with a fond cynicism. Speaking of disappearing...

"You're not worried a...bear is gonna come and get you then you do disappear, do you?" I joked.

"Hey, where are you taking me?" Julianne snapped back, her smile growing as she laughed with me. Her expression mellows down again playing with her thumbs as we drive through the winding road to home.

"Don't get so quiet now, we still have 30 minutes together."

"Well, what do you do in the city?"

"I meet with a few business associates there. They supply me the paint and other stock that sells well. There's 3 I go to. Then if I feel like it, I walk to Com-Foods' commissary to pick up some goodies before going home." I half lied.

"Com-Foods! I..I did go to the commissary today. I got...let's see..those chocolate marshmallows, ice gems, and chocolate chip cookies." She lit up. "What do you usually get?"

"Chocolate chip and butter cookies. Are you stocking up for a project..?"

She shook her head looking a little offended.

"Sure, but Christmas is almost here. Do the children go carolling around? And to serve as..quick gifts to some of the kind friends I've made so far.." The nervousness in her voice returns.

"Hopefully a lot more this year. After last year, lots of parents didn't want to take that risk right away. Only saw maybe 3 kids with their parents. Hey, you could give some to my friend's kids. I think they'll appreciate it."

She nods as she thinks of a reply. Nothing comes out. Her expression is confused trying to make up a story or a follow up but I hold her hand down.

"I was just teasing you. Do you want me to turn the heater up a bit?"

Those last 15 minutes were painfully dull. The radio could only slur out spasms of melodies as the weather got worse. Julianne filled those gaps with humming or thinking out loud. We parked behind her apartment building and walked in to everyone huddled in the common space. A few eyes followed us upstairs with suspecting glances. I settled her box down next to a shoe rack.

She whispered me thank you again before quickly running off to the kitchen. She came back a minute later holding a pair of scissors.

"Hey, don't run with that in your hand."

She ignored me scolding her to rip a line through the tape on the cardboard. She pulled out a bag of chocolate chip cookies and wordlessly placed it in my hands. She smiled at me again.

I grinned back. I don't know how I felt at that moment but it probably was not as intense as it was for her. I came home that night spending a longer time in the water wondering what that girl was doing to me.

Click.

.

.

.

December 5th, 1987

Yes, I am well aware of the fact people have crushes on me. It's mostly innocent- but I'm usually uninterested. I don't do relationships like that until I consider it necessary. This is necessary. I can't stand being an object of pity. It isn't completely selfish either. She'll reap all the benefits of dating me in the end. I just want the attention away from my hands.

Yet if she's just a means to my end, why do I picture her smiling when open up the cookie jar? I try and redirect my mind somewhere else, and believe me, I nearly got it. I just nearly broke the jar. It is a sweet gesture though. My other suitors have done nothing other than talk. I can be bribed with a bag of Com-Foods chocolate chip though. Some people can just read me better.

My mind wanders back to the truck in those 15 minutes to the apartment building. The signals shift from Golden Apple's broadcast to the Woodbrook radio playing underground music. Julianne rambles quickly about an emerging art band that started a telephone service from their home studio. Each hour or so a new song plays through their answeing machine. One of their debut songs play between static and she softly sings to complete the puzzle. She tells me I should call it and I think of the telephone bill.

I'm transferring important numbers, dates, addresses, and sticky notes into this new journal. I can't help but preserve the last few pages though as they detail all the close encounters I've had with that cat: The day she moved into town, the first time she came into the shop, photos of the bare apartment, and information I've pulled out of her that might be important later on. Everything else is going into an open fire. Julianne begins to consume every thought  and decision I had and will have moving forward. In a desperation march to move my mind away from more petty violence or saintly canonization, it feels like I'm reaching out to take her, and flow her body down through a stream with mine. I could not figure out how to do it naturally though. I don't do well with romance. The last time I attempted it nineteen years ago blew up on my face and even up to now that relationship further rottens under the rug. Julianne is just so easy to please though. She's so young. Maybe it's her first shot at anything at all. She likes me. It's stupidly obvious.

I haven't been flattered to be liked like that in a long while.

She has this affection for almost anything she will lay her eyes on. I leave my heart blank or neutral to anything particularly sappy. Keep myself agreeable enough to be liked. It's just that excitement for everything that's slowly infecting my senses. The library has this gigantic poster with the names of stars and constellations. I find myself staring and reading it for seconds, maybe minutes more, memorizing the shapes and the titles. Imagine the look on her face when I could properly point to her where the hunter's belt is.

I'm not anchoring myself to her in any way. I promise.

387-6962.

The phone brrs for a moment until the click of a button is heard on the opposite side. A chalky sounding, music box-like melody plays gently.

Stormy pinkness

Human weakness

Fills my Johnny Cup with gloom

I smile a bit. It sounds like something she would say. The charm of such an unessential service shines like a golden ring amongst every other 800-number I've seen on TV.

Your progression

My digression

Forty days this afternoon

The things we cherish are small indeed

So much the larger the need

Stormy pinkness

Let me thanklessly free

Such is the sound of young love. It sounds like a night of slam poetry. A young man's voice on the other end thanks me for calling up their quirky service. In the stillness of the closed shop I listen on, hang up, and call again. It sounded nice. Like a tune you hear during a dance scene in a movie. Or the track you skip over in your favorite album. I don't consider looking at things I don't already like for other people. Julianne does have an interesting taste in music though. I don't mind it. At least that's another thing we can talk about next time.

Click.

.

.

.

December 7th, 1987

Who am I kidding walking straight to Julianne's apartment building first thing in the morning today? I look suspicious to a lot of the residents there. I mean, they know me. They buy from me. The landlady sends me a basket every Easter. But the mere fact I was here yesterday for one thing and then again is enough to raise a brow at my intentions. Julianne left yesterday and hasn't returned. I don't know why I felt offended, maybe even sad at the thought of her gone. I was excited to tell her I called up that phone number she rambled on about.

I wish I had her number. There would be no middle ground or lobby to pass through to get to her. I was already making a spectacle of myself coming so often to the space.

I could not focus today. I was feigning between closing early and waiting outside the apartment or just giving up and going home. I was just begging to see her at this point. A glimpse of anything at all. My eyes out the window waiting for a taxi or someone wearing pink. I must be slipping out of it again. It's starting to get desperate. It's beginning to get dark.

I've been standing at the door for almost two hours now. My eyes are wide open. The silence begins to sound like static. I wait painfully, unable to move to show my face again to that lobby. I've been hoping..and hoping..and hoping..

Someone in white passes by.

They look up the sign and at the door and she yells.

"OH MY GOD! Oh, oh it's..hi Sam." She looks at me like I've been playing dead. I push the door open finally as the cold wind welcomes me outside.

"Crap, you..I mean, you look so pale. How long have you been like that?" She laughs at the absurdity of the situation.

"I just closed the store. I didn't mean to look so frozen in thought, it's just been happening to me a lot lately."

"Sounds like a lot's on your mind. Do you wanna talk about it?"

I shake my head. I could barely get myself to focus. My eyes looks all over her form. The white dress with roses. It's a lot more formal than the spaghetti straps or frilly shirts. She looks lovelier this way. I don't know.

"Well..I'll take that as a no. Sorry. I'm just going home now."

"Do you want me to drive you back?" I urgently asked. My chest feels heavy. She purses her lips.

"Your house..I mean, the residential area is on the other end of town, you don't have to.."

"It's late, isn't it? Now get inside." My tone sounded almost like a command. Maybe I've secretly anticipated this to happen. Like a dream coming true. She comes to sit next to me again and we drive off to the red building at the edge of town.

"I..called that Dial A Song number two days ago." That sentence instantly lit her eyes up. She excitedly looks to me.

"Really? What song were they playing then?"

"I'm not sure. Stormy Pinkness. It sounded cute. Do they have other songs?"

Her hands toyed with each other with this bursting enthusiasm. She could not stop giggling all of a sudden.

"Oh I like that one..I've heard it maybe once on the phone and I do hope they put it on their new project..and..yes, they are working on a new album. But! Their debut album is still in circulation. You might find it in the kids' section though. Most of their songs have a bit of a morbid undertone that I really like."

"Okay. Did they change the song again like John promised today?"

"I haven't called. I didn't call. I met up with Marigold in Washington yesterday...it's my birthday today. We just had a catch up trip there.. Marigold is a work friend from..my old uh..office job."

I parked the truck a block away from the building to avoid being seen again.

"You should have told me earlier. Happy birthday, kitty."

"I'm 25 already. I'm not a kitty anymore." She hesitates before opening the door. She looks back and opens her mouth, mumbling out a question.

"Do you wanna.."

"Yes?"

"..Do you wanna call Dial A Song with me..right now? I-I also brought home some..sticky rice treats from my.."

And the moment after that, my body felt like it was acting out of its system. It followed her upstairs and into her room. I think I looked stupid to the women hanging around the lobby coming in with her at 9:28 pm but I just could not care less when I sat down on the floor with the receiver on my ear. I couldn't tell if that was an accordion or a trumpet. But her face is so close to mine as we shared the phone listening to it for the first time.

Hi this is John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants. You're tuning into Dial A Song, your one way ticket to Brooklyn. Call back for another song tomorrow.

"What..what's your..telephone number?"

"Oh, it's 387-6962"

"No, your telephone." My embarrassment was resurfacing "I..I don't want them to get the wrong idea being with you all the time here."

Julianne's face softened with sadness. She carefully puts the phone down.

"I..I mean we..aren't that though. Yeah..It does look weird but I don't see it as weird at all." She whispers "Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"No. I'm not. I don't know though because you do seem to lean towards a certain type. Woodbrook's safe and all but maybe you don't want to be seen with me and have it be interpreted another way."

She blushes. We lay down on the floor for a while until she reaches for a pad and scribbles down something.

"Thanks though. I don't mind being seen with you. Here's my number. You can take home as much malagkit as you like."

She slides the pad between my fingers and rests her palm on my knuckles.

"I could tell you like me though. You're a bit obvious."

"What?"

I pocket the paper as I walk away. I look back to her before I close the door.

"I'll call them again tomorrow. Goodnight, Julianne."

What is that woman doing to me...

Click.

.

.

.

December 11th, 1987

The Bijou Theatre hasn't received any new blockbusters to premiere. Most of whatever is out at the moment in the cities is being reserved for Christmas week. They're bringing out their collection from earlier in the decade. Annie is playing from today until December 22nd. I've seen the movie once. I couldn't tell you anything other than it's a musical and it takes your mind off of work. I could also tell you Julianne is obsessed with the film. She has a tape of the movie displayed on her work shelf. She said it was her favorite movie during college and comforted her when she came to America. We could watch the movie on her TV set any time but I think I owe it to her as a birthday gift or a pacifier after making her feel bad nights ago. It's like the perfect excuse fell right into my lap. Right before walking to work, I called her telephone hoping she'd be awake by now. Thankfully someone picked up.

"Mmh..Julianne Lucky here, good morning."

"Hi, Julianne."

.

"Oh, ah..hiya Sam. How are you?" I could almost see her flushed face from here.

.

"Just about to go to work. I heard Bijou Theatre is gonna screen Annie tomorrow."

.

"A-Annie? The..the John Huston adaptation?"

.

"Think that's it. The little orphan poodle."

.

"Oh man, I guess I have to go then. It's been a bit rough lately, I need to watch it again." She overshares.

.

"I know. Would the lady of the house be busy tomorrow evening?"

.

"Ah..uhm..oh gosh..I don't think so. Sam, are you?"

.

"No, I can close the store early. Will you come watch it with me?"

.

"Well..if you don't mind then. Yes! Yes I will. If you aren't embarrassed to see me."

.

"I'm not, I promise I'm not. If it'd help I can pick you up at the apartment, or--"

.

"Let's just meet in front of Bijou, okay?" Her voice was breathy with excitement. "Thank you. I..I'll see you."

She hangs up the phone. The contagious feeling of young love streams from the telephone cord. I lean back on the door silently after putting the phone down. Oh. She said yes. I'm doing it. I'm running headfirst into the forest and not looking back. She said yes. The invitation alone was already so dizzying. It feels different inviting a stranger to a movie. For a moment I lost sight of why I was even persuing it in the first place. Maybe after tomorrow I'll be back to how I usually feel about big romantic gestures like these but I stood there for a moment with my forehead in my hand. Imagining. Dreaming of it.

She likes me.

And that's enough for the lamb to curiously look into the trap.

Click.

[midfight-artchive]

Hello!! It's been a while and I feel like I should explain why I've been gone for so long despite the blog working on a queue system. The short answer is mental health stuff, the long answer is below.

What's important is that the blog will now officially be on hiatus until further notice. When I come back, I'm going to overhaul how I do things behind the scenes that will hopefully bring more of the archive to you without tiring me out as much. Thank you for understanding, and again a more full explanation is below.

I've been going through probably the worst mental state I've ever been in lately. Nothing to do with the blog itself thankfully, I'm very passionate about this blog and MFM as a whole to this day, but the circumstances I'm currently in make it difficult to run this blog.

You know the saying "it gets worse before it gets better?" I'm basically going through that, fully realizing my traumas and really putting myself under a microscope to pick out what needs to be healed and improved. Things are looking up for me overall, but the amount of mental strain and exhaustion I'm experiencing can't be understated either. (Not to mention the fact that I'm still in the situation that gave me this trauma in the first place, so healing is a little difficult when I'm being retraumatized pretty much constantly... x_x) Said exhaustion makes it very hard to even fill the queue for this blog, let alone have the energy to answer asks or even tag sometimes. It's rough! This blog isn't demanding by any means and it's still too much to even think about. (And I have thought about it a lot!!! I've wanted to come back numerous times but didn't because of the constant fatigue I've been feeling.)

Part of that is because I'm neurodivergent, though, and MFM hasn't been a hyperfixation of mine for YEARS. In fact, I haven't had a solid hyperfixation since about...2019-2020? Since then I've been coasting along on special interests and even my focus on those have lasted shorter and shorter the longer time has gone on. I started this blog way after MFM was in my brainspace full time, which is why it took over a year to even set up. I felt that the premise was more important than my brain's shenanigans, though, so I pushed through and tried my best to keep it up. The sad truth is that I don't think about MFM as much as I used to, and when I do think of them these days it's more of a "damn, I really miss them...." for a few minutes before my brain goes back to whatever it's currently grabbed hold of. It's not my choice, as many people with hyperfixations know, and trust me when I say that if I could keep them in my focus long enough to keep this blog running I would in a heartbeat. The fact that this is comorbid with depression really means I have to scrap for whatever energy I can, and that means focusing on things that actively bring me joy just so I can have enough energy to get out of bed, meaning even a fun side project isn't as possible as I previously thought.

HOWEVER, NOT ALL HOPE IS LOST!!! I've started medication and as I've said, I'm working to better myself. This blog going on the backburner is me taking a break, NOT a cancellation, and when I come back I promise to be better about not disappearing for random stretches of time. :P I can't say exactly when I'll feel well enough to pick this blog back up, but it absolutely will happen.

Thank you all so much for the positive reception to this blog, and I'm looking forward to continue archiving for you all!!

[dgdraws]

Maybe saying this on my 18 follower art sideblog is silly, but I want to offer some gentle pushback on the sentiment that's been going around re: notes on art and lack of engagement.

TL;DR make it your practice to be the person who rbs art with nice tags and you can build a community of likeminded folks

There are myriad reasons why online comment culture has shifted, I'm not gonna waste time pinning that stuff down, bc it's actually immaterial to my perspective, which is:

You can find or create a community of people who will lift up your art. But it requires that you participate in the culture you want to see more of.

I had been a lurker on this site for a decade. I held back participating in discussions, creating or sharing art, engaging directly with anyone outside of following blogs and rbing posts without commentary. And during that time, I made no connections, no friends, built no community.

I was afraid of scrutiny. I have felt the humiliating lurch of earnest engagement turning to dread and exposure and a deep regret of allowing myself to be vulnerable. I pulled up the ladder behind me so I would never have to hear the slightest dismissal or repulsion or ridicule from others. In so doing I also cut myself off from praise, understanding or connection. If no one gets a chance to let me down, then it's as though they're holding me up, right? Wrong!!!

I paid good money for a therapist to help me work out the lie there. The realization that I felt isolated and misunderstood because I never gave people the opportunity to show up for me was so hard to grasp. How could my safety net be the cause of my profound loneliness? But it is true. The people in my life couldn't disappoint me, but they also couldn't help me or support me or really love me the way I needed.

Opening myself up to disappointment has been a long, tough road (and goodness knows I'm not ready to let my parents let me down (again) yet). But my relationships are strengthening. My sense of identity is more stable. I am not inconsolably lonely deep in my heart anymore. Because it turns out people do show up when you give them the opportunity.

Not every time. Not every person. But enough of the time that it builds resilience. Every time I reach out and someone reaches back, I get a little braver. I trust a little more.

To bring this back around to online culture and community: I started receiving interest (and notes) after I started showing interest in others. Once again it turns out that people want to turn up for you, but you must give them the opportunity. This means making yourself vulnerable. It means taking the first step.

If you want a community, a group of people who interact w a certain set of values, you have to demonstrate it. Live those values. This is how we create culture. We choose what behavior we want to encourage and we set an example. This is as true in a workplace or a family as it is for tumblr or ao3. If your boss puts up a sign that says "we see mistakes as a chance to learn" but they punish people when they mess up, that's just words on the wall. If they accept errors graciously, if they work to suss out the root of the problem to resolve it, if they are open about their own mistakes, that is the culture.

So if we want to see more reblogs, but not just that, real engagement and chances for connection, then it starts with you.

Here's what I do that has helped me make friends and spark genuine interest in my work;

Reblog LOW NOTE art as much as, if not more than, posts with thousands of notes. Feel proud to give someone the first note on their work!

Incorporate leaving nice tags into my gratitude practice (it is a form of mindfulness! noticing what specifically draws me to art I rb both engages me more deeply with the work and makes my own art better)

Queue up several art posts from the same artist (people notice when you are consistently in their notes!)

Participate in art events like artfight, various -tobers, other challenges (as with making friends anywhere, repeated exposure leads to familiarity and chances for connection!)

Follow people back or even initiate following blogs who interact with your posts (do not approach this with a f4f mentality, only follow people you actually want to hear more from)

Set up post notifications for portfolio style art blogs (ie sideblogs exclusively for original content) so you keep up w your network/mutuals even if you're offline when they post

Low key notice what the people engaging with you like most about your work and consider expanding on those ideas. This is not about "tailor your work to an audience" it's about thinking, "so-and-so left feral tags on my post about this oc so I'll do my practice sketches of them" or "people seem interested in this storyline so let me feed off that enthusiasm and develop it more"

Don't get hung up on it when individuals don't reciprocate. Assume good faith. You never know what is draining someone's energy. Remember that you are offering a gift, your time and energy yes, but also the chance for someone to show up for you too. If it starts to feel like an obligation, reassess where you're putting that energy, but don't be afraid to be generous.

This has worked wonderfully for me. I went from a person scrolling longingly past posts about beloved mutual culture, not quite believing it could really be like that, to a person who happily gets 3 notes on my former flop posts and posts reblog bait for my besties and reblogs the bait they post for me :)

Apparently I had a lot to say! I kinda hope this doesn't break containment but if it does, please be niceys. I understand if this mindset is not available to you bc of social trauma, depression/anxiety, disability, mental illness or whatever else but please avoid venting that on this post. I love you and I hope you can get here someday, because you're worth it. In the meantime, try to be gentle with yourself and others. xoxo

[what-the-flux]

Commander Week Day 1: Race

1324 AE, Season of the Zephyr, a year before Vireskk's krewe wins the Snaff Prize.

The machine shop was cast in the blues and purples of midnight save for a set of fulguroptic work lights at the far end. A lone asura sat there hunched over his work, his modest queue of hair tied up away from his face as he checks for flaws on a newly-machined gasket. Save for the softened noises of his late night industry, the only other sounds in the entire shop were strains of some music turned down low coming from an aged speaker at the far end of his workstation.

Vireskk had utterly lost track of time and if it wasn’t for the sudden burst of laughter and talking from the entryway into the lab, he would have continued to be oblivious to his surroundings. The brittle peace thus disturbed, he put down his tools and looked up to see some of his krewemates coming in, looking like they had just come from the college mixer that was going on that night. They were chattering and giggling among each other, Zotto the socialite naturally leading the conversation when the three came into the section of the workshop that Vireskk had situated himself. The jocular exchanges between the three trailed off as they noticed him. Kizzik, the tallest of the group made a snort of open amusement. It was obvious of all of them he had been the one that had partaken of the most complementary refreshments. Irkko shifted a look to Zotto as the latter decided to take it upon herself to dispel the awkwardness. “Hey Vir, we were searching all over for you at the dance floor earlier.” The other asura sat up straight and replied, “You know how much I hate dancing and making a spectacle of myself.” Vireskk winced inwardly at how flat he sounded. Kizzik muttered something about how he could use some loosening up but Irkko gave him one of their patented glares and he stopped, instead saying, “Cogs n’ spanners Vir, don’t you think you work a bit too hard sometimes?” Vireskk gave a soft chuckle as he got up and walked around the large work table to stand nearby, “Oh most certainly. But the Feasibility Exams wait for no one and I know we’ve been having trouble with the gaskets and couplings on our energy compressors so I decided to take on the extra work to make sure we don’t have a systems failure.” He yawned abruptly and smiled ruefully to himself, “You make a good point though. If it weren’t for you lot coming in I would have worked until morning, so I should probably go get some sleep.”

------------------------------

Some time later that night after they had all talked about their project, Vireskk stayed behind to lock up the shop, and left to make his way back to the student living quarters. He rounded the corner to one of the hallways linking the dorms and found Zotto having a frank exchange of words with the hall monitor. It was getting heated, and Vir knew that she had a bad track record with this particular faculty member. He walked over and casually inserted himself into the exchange, causing the monitor to stammer indignantly as he butted in politely, “Excuse me, my apologies. My colleague and I were triple-checking our safety protocols in the workshop for the exam next week and ran into a problem with our timetables. We were both just leaving to our dorms.” Before the livid older asura could even protest, Vireskk was covering Zotto’s retreat, ushering her further down the hallways and into the common room right before the dorms. Once they were in the clear, she whirled on him and said acidly, “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” He blinked in surprise, taken aback by her tone immediately but he took her temper in stride and said simply, “I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted to deal with yet more disciplinary measures so close to finals.” Zotto took her spectacles off and rubbed her face, sighing as she put them back on before saying quickly, “Don’t. Just stop. Stop trying to be everyone’s shield. The self-righteous routine only goes so far,” Her words must have affected him outwardly more than he realized because she looked up and saw his face, smirked and added, “Aha! So there is a way to get that placid exterior to crack a little.” “I only ever wanted to help. It was the least I could do.” He said dryly. “Stop coming off as so humble, it’s infuriating. While I’m at it, stop trying to cover for us during what is supposed to be your off time.” She was looking squarely at him now. “I am not sure how you’d rather I respond,” He replied back, his sharp jawline working a little as he thought how to proceed, “I’m not going to apologize for acting on what I think is right. I will gladly sacrifice my time and energy for the good of the krewe, on the clock and off. I consider you all my friends.” Zotto gestured with her hands to give emphasis, her voice raising an octave, “That’s the thing! Sure, working as a team is integral to a lab running smoothly but you really need to start thinking about yourself more sometimes! You’re too soft! You have no ambition! You could easily be a krewe lead straight out of college but you’d rather just be content with busywork and exist as a—a---quiet little stooge!” These last words came like water out of an open floodgate and even she was taken aback the second she uttered them. Before she could even try to backpedal and apologize though, Vir’s reply came and cut her off decisively, “You think my selflessness and earnest desire to see everyone succeed as the mark of a stooge? If that is truly how you feel, then perhaps I’m in the wrong krewe and we have nothing more to discuss.” She had never heard his voice so cold or his expression so stony, the abrupt transformation was almost frightening and she took a step back, at a loss for words at how final his statement was. Vireskk did not even wait for a reply, quickly walking off to his dorm while leaving Zotto standing alone in the softly lit common room.

[futurebird]

Where are the image descriptions on this site?!

How is it that Mastodon (aka the fediverse) has tumblr beat for having image descriptions? I almost NEVER see images without a description there. But here? It's an epidemic. Listen, they don't need to be long or fancy, just say what the image is! Think of it this way, if the image is a part of a joke did you say enough so people could get it? Would your post make any sense without the image included? What text would you add so that it could still make sense? (It's true that descriptions can sometimes occur in context, or using text that isn't in that particular box. But, I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the sheer volume of posts that are mostly images and not a one has a word to describe them. Those posts are just useless spam to many people. ) I always thought refusing to reblog undescribed images was a little extreme. But I totally get it now. From here out? If I don't have the time to add an image description myself? I'm not going to reblog it. I'm not the only person like this. I know many people who simply won't reblog anything with undescribed images. I'm fed up! ( It will take some time for my queue to catch up. I'm slowly adding descriptions in there too. In fact, it was going through my queue and seeing how many descriptions I'd need to add that set me off. Why do I have to fix everything? Were it just one or two missing, that's fine, but it's most of them. If everyone just described their images in the first place when they posted it would be taken care of ... When you get in the habit of doing it you don't really notice the 30 seconds it takes. I didn't always know to do this, and maybe you didn't either but you can start today!)

But I post mostly art, why do I need descriptions?

Image descriptions aren't just helpful to people who are totally blind. ( And as @the-smol-machine pointed out in the comments totally blind people enjoy art. ) Descriptions help everyone who uses screen readers including many people with sight. There are different degrees (and kinds) of blindness and since many blind people enjoy art, if you describe your art this helps. Don't you want more people to enjoy your art? For example, my niece loves art, but to look at it she needs to make it much bigger and spend some time taking it in bit by bit. She only bothers if she knows what it might be and a description helps her put the image together in her mind. Descriptions also help with other disabilities that don't have anything to do with sight, but rather how people process information. Heck, I generally enjoy reading them myself just to know that I got everything the poster wanted from the image. (I'm not an expert on this topic at all. Suggestions badly wanted, but I am frustrated and annoyed that "describe the images" isn't more of a normal tumblr thing. )

[vqrtualheartss]

Can I request 42 miles having been with reader for a long while now, and like she already knows about miles being the prowler. So he kinda just comes in through her window and finds out she can sing, because she's singing when he comes but she doesn't notice him right away? And you can fill in the rest how you'd like.

If you can do this, thank you! No pressure though

♪ • My Beyoncé

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

i still cannot believe that like, we're at 100. i love y'all Currently trying to create more gender-neutral writing or even mlm cause I'm tryna b inclusive so yea

Warnings — None, I think Genre — Fluff

"HUAHHHH" flopping down onto the bed I dragged a pillow beneath my face, muffling the minute long scream. Lordd, Isn't summer school supposed to be just shits and giggles? Why the hell did I get guilt-tripped into this―this is whack. Sluggishly, I sat up, removing my shoes and heading to the bathroom, raising and dragging my feet into the floor one by one getting there.

I shook my body looking into the mirror, closing and re-opening my eyes every two seconds to rid the tiredness. Ceasing, I took a deep breath...and then another one, smiling sheepishly before letting out laughter I didn't know I had in me. Am I really losing it cause of the heat? To keep myself somewhat awake I took on the task of washing my hair. yes. an everything shower.

Searching for something lightweight to wear, I found a ruffled short-sleeved top and random shorts from a sleeping set ―the other half I lost. Feeling more refreshed, it had me unsettled how the atmosphere felt more dull than calmer.

" A little music never hurt anybody right?" I sat on the bed, towels wrapped around my torso and hair, searching for the perfect queue of songs to play. I settled with the “For Whatever playlist” on standby for situations like these. Connecting to the speakers set beside the vanity table, I placed my phone face down to get myself dressed.

Before I knew it, clapping to the beats softly and doing whichever dance came to mind turned into navigating throughout my room with my waist, gradually singing louder than the music.

I sang from SWV

“Boy I'll do you all night long. Do you any way you want, I will do you all night long. I wanna please you, Don't wanna tease youu”

To Nicki

“I'd do anything that you say, anything. 'Cause you the boss, you the boss. You, you, you the boss, ayy”

I felt lighter in contrast to earlier, my eyes shut as my whole being absorbed the music. I barely sorted my hair out but ironic enough, I was about 35 songs deep into the playlist, jumping from the classics to Modern R&B, Rap, you name it —without skips too—

Then came on one of my favourites by Kehlani, ―You know wassup― and believe me when I say I sang that shit like I was going through itt. Almost embodying the lyrics, my face expressed every emotion brought on by the lyrics, my hands pointing from myself to the invisible person infront me.

“Why do I gotta beg to be chosen over your vices, over your liquor? Why I gotta ask for flowers? I deserve roses, I deserve bigger I know you're tryna change, but is it all worth the wait? It hurts to stay just as much as it hurts to walk away”

"Why you in here acting like I don't be treating you right ?" Ending off with a breathy chuckle, I turned around to see Miles getting comfortable on my windowsill. It was obvious how he came in, but why that way.

"You do know that I have a working door right?" He shrugged, a cheeky smirk taunting his lips. Piecing together two and two I pressed my lips into a hard line, bringing out my bottom lip with my index finger before pointing it at him. "How long have you been there?" Wrapping an arm around my torso, I placed the other hand on my cheek, anticipating his answer.

"Long enough to know my baby could give Beyoncé a run for her money. Esa voz podría hacerte ganar el apodo de ángel, mi amado" That voice could get you the name angel, my love. The space between us grew shorter as he stood infront my frame, placing his hands down on my hips. "oh puh-lease, you're just saying that" Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms, trying to surpress the bending in the corners of my mouth.

"Okay, let me word it better for you. You're MYY Beyoncé"

"Oh really now"

"Yes and I mean it" Punctuating his sentence with a kiss, he continued "Got it?" I hummed a "Hm" hooking my arms behind his head. "Good"

©vqrtualheartss 2023 ©dae 2023

[seventeenlovesthree]

Digi Dynamic Shipping Game

Send me two names among the following 12 and I’ll write a short analysis post about them:

Taichi Yagami | Yamato Ishida | Sora Takenouchi | Koushirou Izumi | Mimi Tachikawa | Jyou Kidou | Takeru Takaishi | Hikari Yagami | Daisuke Motomiya | Miyako Inoue | Iori Hida | Ken Ichijouji

Whether canon provides input on them or not.

As I try my best to get myself out of writing/art block, I thought about one of the many relationship analysis posts that are still at the back of my queue - and thus we may start with our genius bug boys, shall we?

As I had already outlined before, their relationship may not be the most fleshed out compared to other older/younger Chosen Children pairs - but this wonderful moment in particular is, in my opinion, still enough for us to speculate on how their bond may develop. It's Senpai!Koushirou at his very best, taking the still very distraught Ken under his wing, reassuring and comforting him in his own ways - because these two have way more in common than just being smart boys with bug Digimon partners.

While their set-ups are being focused on in very different ways, their arcs are both defined by trying to be more casual, natural with the people close to them due to identity-and-family-related trauma. While Koushirou buried himself in his laptop and knowledge gathering to avoid thinking about himself and his potential whereabouts for being adopted, struggling with social interactions, Ken was dragged into the world of the dark ocean after the death of his brother, getting corrupted in the process and committing horrifying actions, thus feeling unworthy of being redeemed and befriended for a long, long time. One might argue that, if it wasn't for two certain goggle boys reaching their hands out to them, they may have never found the courage to become confident in their abilities, using their intellect for the good and the sake of their friends and families, letting their natural kindness shine through eventually...

And in the same vein, I feel like Koushirou, by the time of 02, had to become the person he is there first to be able to reach out to Ken himself, so Ken could move on to reach out to the others as well. Even if he may not have been consciously aware of it, he (besides Yamato, Takeru and Hikari) was probably among the people who could relate to Ken the most - and thus, treated him with kindness.

Unfortunately, we never really see them interact directly after that again, even though Koushirou did try his best to integrate Ken into the team despite everything he had done. So long story short - we at least know there is a peaceful, trusting and kind foundation between them.

Whether I think why and how they’d work.

In case you haven't noticed how I talked about them above, I would absolutely love for these two to be closer with each other. My assumption is that the creators of Digimon tried to avoid putting them together too blatantly, because they may be way too powerful in figuring out everything on their own. I also don't believe that there would be any kind of competitive spirit between these two - in fact, Ken has quite the tendency to play himself down and canonically confirms that "if Koushirou-san can't figure this out, how are we supposed to?", implying that he is also still looking up greatly to his senpai. I think they could be quite knowledge bombs due to their natural curiosity in different fields, with Koushirou being more accustomed to the technical and theoretical side of things, whereas Ken may have more knowledge outside of that. They're both the voices of reasons in their respective groups - and may also need a little time-out every now and then to settle down, enjoy some quiet time by themselves (and with each other) after being exposed to the shenanigans their friends come up with.

This may be more of a dub-only thing, but - I could actually imagine them having fun at quiz nights and despite being the smartest people in the room, would always be the least competitive about it (especially when Miyako and Daisuke are with them), because they could just talk about their gathered findings for hours without end. Nobody else could follow their train of thought at this point, but that's okay, because they just enjoy theorizing together.

Whether I’d prefer them as platonic or romantic ship.

Overall, I think they would work better on a platonic basis, mainly because they're both people who need other people with outgoing energy levels as complementary forces to pull them out of their shells as romantic partners. But again, I believe they could be amazing friends to each other, a safe haven so to speak.

[poupeesdecirque]

Posting by Queue, or: why I need some distance from my crafts

It has been some time since my last hobby meta blog entry, it had different reasons and one is that I need distance. Like, yes I of course enjoy crafting and sometimes I am like a little child that runs everywhere to show off things.

But it got ... less intense. And I learned I do better when I keep projects or at least details to myself to sit on them for longer. That the first euphoria is purely mine and not to be shared.

Like for my photos I have a buffer of several weeks now. Yes, I know past-me would have kind of hated that. But I learned I do better when I have a time buffer. I do take photos weekly but sometimes they don't feel special enough to get the weekly photo feature?

Friday & yesterday I went out for photos and while I like the ones from yesterday way more than the ones from friday I am not sure if the set from yesterday will get the feature or not as it's only a hand full of photos giving me that certain spark.

Other than that I am a very emotional artist, I sometimes really fuck up my art and hate it at the moment I worked on it, but then, sometimes, after a few days or weeks I can look at it and just wonder about what was my problem the day I made it.

Another thing is that I, myself, enjoy my art. The process of it. And I like to see my blog updating, sometimes I forget what post will go online and then I check the blog and think "ah yes, this was that thing!", and it reminds me why I made the blog overall, to show myself I had progress and that every tiny step counts.

Which leads to another reason why I hold back in regards of posting. Yes, I do share some snippets in my stories over on insta but not always and not all. I sit on over 300 drawings from the last two years alone nobody ever will see, I enjoyed drawing but it's nothing for the public eye. I will maybe go back and redraw some and share the redraws then, who knows?

But wait, there is actually more reasons.

The biggest or main reason is ... i sometimes go really wild on projects. In January I finished so many dolls it was insane, I worked on Cosplays and other crafts in an incredible speed, I have literally no idea where I found the time but I somehow did and doll parts arriving every week did the rest.

I keep the blog running with partially 2 month old stuff but .... to be honest I don't have doll stuff aside photos to do anymore. All I can do is wait for bodies to be shipped (or dolls even) and arrive. There has been no movement since January. Aside Iza getting the shipping notice for our Split, might take a while until its at her place and I can't really start on the Akuma until I got the body (which I at least have finally ordered this month) as colors need to be matched and mods to be made.

I am truly itchy to do something else than sewing all the time, I do enjoy cosplay but you know how much I like sewing (hint: not at all). So to remind myself of the fun I had in the past weeks I have mixed my blog to bless me with some progress I had which was maybe not sewing all the time. And well, the Cosplays have deadlines and I do get some ideas aside purely sewing while doing them, so that keeps me going for now.

Yes, I could start redoing dolls like Alastor or Erwin. But you know what? IT'S ALMOST ALL SEWING. Urgh.

Aside that real life is pretty good at eating me up and I just want to enjoy crafting. Right now drawing feels like stress relief but I hate the results and just scan the pieces and put them away to never look at them again, I have a bunch of posts queued up without any captions, a wip entry of a current project only has two photos but I lack the spoons to actually get them done. But since those posts are so far back it's fine (yes I know drafts are a thing).

In general I enjoy having my art to myself to get used to it before I put it out into the wild as I just recently got reminded I do bad with direct comparisons still and it hits some triggerpoints from the past and makes everything harder, I don't need that.

I literally have no idea if this blog makes sense even, lol. I just am tired of sewing and stopped working on my current project around lunch time and have drawn so much today and I walked way too much the whole week my friends urged me to stay the ef home and at least try to relax. But I'm restless as my body is too stressed (I know it all I'm a certified relaxation trainer so eh), so, have an over the place blog entry.

[spnexploration]

Collared part 28

Pairing: Dean x Reader eventually

Series summary: Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

Episode summary: Dean tries to help you with your anger.

Warnings: none particularly

Word count: 1.6k

Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

A/N: Had to queue this up while I'm away, so apologies for not updating the mastlist or providing links to other chapters yet. Fixed now!

Part 27 <- -> Part 29

Apparently, the yo-yo was back into angry zone today, Dean thought. He was surprised it hadn’t even been him who’d set you off. No, Sam had the honours this time, although Dean couldn’t really follow your logic as to why you were mad at him. He wondered if you could.

And once you were mad, you were mad. He thought there had been a brief glimmer of hope that you’d calmed down when you’d stormed down to your room and hid for an hour, but when you emerged Sam had made the clearly heinous mistake of asking if you were ok, and you were off again.

“What the hell does it look like, SAMUEL?”

Dean tried to choke back a snigger at you calling him Samuel, but unfortunately he drew too much attention to himself. “And YOU,” you yelled, rounding on Dean, “you think this is funny?!” It felt like school, like you were expecting a ‘no, miss’ answer.

You grabbed your food and marched off.

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. It was going to be one of those days.

---

You weren’t in your room when Dean next went to check on you. You weren’t in the kitchen, library, bathroom or lounge room. Now he was getting worried. He sent Sam looking for you too, worried this was going to be a repeat of last time you’d been in a different part of the bunker.

He found you in the garage. You had Baby’s hood up and were poking around, making frustrated sounds. Some of the other cars had their driver doors open, too. He sent Sam a quick text to say he’d found you.

“Taking up mechanics, are you?” Dean asked, casually crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“None of the cars will start!” You yelled at him angrily, head still buried under the hood.

“Did you reconnect the car battery like I showed you?”

“Yes!”

“Good job, you learnt well.”

“But it still won’t bloody start!”

“That’s probably because I disconnected all of the spark plugs.”

 You came out from under the hood and marched towards him. “You. Did. WHAT?!”

“I disconnected the spark plugs,” he said calmly.

“WHY?” You were angry, but he was reassured to see that your pupils were the right size and you weren’t acting drunk or high.

“So you couldn’t start them.”

You clenched your hands into fists. “Am I your fucking prisoner? Is that it? Did you get the collar off so that I could have the illusion of freedom but not the actuality?!”

He uncrossed his arms. “No, I disconnected the spark plugs so that you wouldn’t crash and kill yourself trying to drive. I disabled Baby after I found you drunk, and the rest of them when I found you high. I’ve been reconnecting Baby every time I wanted to use her.”

“So I am your prisoner. Is Sam here under duress too?”

“Well, first of all Sam should know how to care for Baby and if he doesn’t then it’s his own fault for not paying attention to Dad and I trying to teach him. And secondly, no you’re not my prisoner. Name the place and I will take you there.”

“Oh, so I’m allowed supervised excursions but not to take myself there, is that it?” you asked sarcastically.

“In case you haven’t noticed, this is my car. Taking it without my permission would, in fact, be theft.”

You scowled at him. “FINE, can I borrow your stupid fucking car?”

“No.”

You gritted your teeth.

“I don’t think you’re safe to drive right now.”

“Oh, are you the world’s fucking expert on car safety?!”

“Show me you can make a calm, rational decision right now and I’ll reconsider. You’ve been screaming at me since I walked in, and I haven’t raised my voice once.”

He caught your punch as it sailed towards his face, his hand encircling your fist and capturing it. “This,” he said, shaking your fist slightly before releasing it, “is not making me think that you’re safe to drive.”

You glared but kept your hands by your sides, looking like you’d stopped. He didn’t buy it though, so he deliberately looked away from you, keeping watch on you out the corner of his eye. He saw your move, coming to attack him again. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said as he grabbed your wrists, spinning you around so that he had your back to his chest and he arms wrapped around your torso, pinning you there.

He waited a few moments, then said, “You finished?”

“Get off me!” you complained, struggling against his hold.

“You going to take another swing, or can we have a conversation like adults?”

“I said get off!!”

He slowly released you, and stepped back. You spun on your heels and glared at him, but didn’t try to hit him again.

“Come with me,” he said, gesturing out of the garage.

“What, am I in trouble? Is Sam the Principal’s Office?” Sarcasm still present, he noted.

“No, I have an idea for a more productive outlet for your anger than my face or my car.”

---

You reluctantly followed Dean to a part of the bunker you’d never been to before. You were a bit worried about what he was going to do, but you felt like you should follow him given you had just tried to punch him twice and he hadn’t returned the favour.

He opened the door to an old gym. This had been here the whole time?

He led you over shelves where he pulled off some boxing gloves. “These might be a bit big for you and they’re pretty old fashioned, but they’ll do.” He started to attach them to your hands and you let him.

You followed him mutely to the punching bag in the centre of the room. You had started to calm down a little on the walk here, feeling embarrassed about trying to punch a freaking monster hunter.

But underneath the surface, the same emotions that led you to do it in the first place were still there. Your frustrations with yourself, fear of Azaneth, boredom and monotony of life in the bunker, and anger at Dean for disabling the cars to trap you. Just thinking about it brought your anger back to the surface.

“Hit it,” Dean said, holding it steady.

“What are you, my personal trainer?” you sassed at him.

“I’m not kidding Y/N, hit it. You’ll feel better.”

Feeling like a fool, you took a bit of a swing at the bag.

“Hit it like you mean it.” You tried again, only slightly harder. “Hit it like it’s me,” Dean said with an irritating grin.

You punched it. Hard.

“There we go,” he laughed.

Now that you started, you didn’t want to stop. You hit it again, and again, and again, and again. Your arms started to burn and you kept going, getting your frustrations out.

You started to get tired, but you could also feel the flame of your anger starting to extinguish. Your blows slowed down.

“You wanna tell me what brought this all on?” Dean asked.

“You disabled the cars.”

‘You were angry before you even knew I’d disabled the cars. Go deeper, Y/N.”

“You’re treating me like a child, again.”

“I’ll pay that one slightly, but I don’t think that’s your whole problem.” Every time he argued back, you had a small spurt of energy to keep going on the punching bag.

“I can’t even buy my own bloody clothes or sit on the fucking furniture. I’m useless!”

“I didn’t know there was a global shortage of people available to fulfill our chair-sitting needs,” Dean said with a smirk.

You punched the bag near his face, “Har har.”

You took a few breaths, the next answer not coming with the same anger as before, “I’m the reason you’re not out there hunting things. I’m in the way.”

Dean let go of the punching bag and reached out to your hands. You looked down at the floor until he brought his hand to your chin, gently nudging it until you looked up.

“I know we're called hunters sweetheart, but the only reason we hunt things is to save people.”

“You’re not exactly saving people when I’m in the way, are you?” you said bitterly.

“Are you not a person?”

“You know what I mean, Dean!”

“I know that what you mean is that you are discounting yourself, again. I know that what you mean is that you think you’re not worthy of being saved, worthy of time. But you are, Y/N, you are. I would do everything I have done for you again, in a heartbeat. No regrets.”

You started to cry. He reached out and pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You sobbed into his chest, weeks of emotions seeming to come pouring out.

After a minute or two, he manoeuvred you so that he could reach and take off your boxing gloves, while you stayed against his chest, still crying. It did feel better to have them off. He held you again, sometimes rubbing his hand on your back gently.

Eventually, your sobs settled down. You stood up away from him, wiping your eyes. You could see a wet patch on his shirt. Whoops.

“You feeling better?” Dean asked gently. You nodded. “Good. Next time you’re feeling those big emotions, you come find me and we’ll come here and you can box or even try out any of the other equipment. You don’t have to try to find ways to deal with this alone, ok?” You nodded again.

He put the boxing gloves back on the shelf and turned back you. “And sweetheart?” You looked up at him. “Don’t try and steal my car.”

You laughed.

.

.

.

.

Taglist:

Tag list:

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@ellie-andthemachine

@muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch

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