#I’ve done the same problem eight times

[a-person-who-didnt-wanna-be-here]

Pov you’re literally only a week into school crying over math

[lunaritex]

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ UNDER THE GLOVES 𖤐. — lee heeseung.

(๑>◡<๑) ৎ୭ lee heeseung + fem! reader co-workers to lovers office romance reader is part of the finance department brief appearances of the other members 𐙚 warning fighting, blood, violence, tooth-rotting fluff, confession, one kiss scene, someone save riki . . !? & 3930 — m.list

note. i like office romance and why not write something for the CFO aka lee heeseung haha... @riekiss

You let out a long and exhausted sigh, rubbing your temples as you looked away from the blinding screen of your computer. Hours had passed and you were still trying to figure out the solution for the problem you had encountered since eight in the morning. One glance at the time on the bottom right of the screen tells you it was close to five, which means you had wasted nearly the entire day wrecking your brain over a problem. You were tempted to slam your head against the desk, hoping the pain could make your brain cells come back to life. 

I need a break. 

Rubbing your eyes, you stood up and left your desk, heading to the pantry area to make a cup of much-needed coffee for yourself. You halted in your tracks when you realize someone was there before you. It was none other than the Chief Financial Officer of your company; Lee Heeseung. You remembered meeting him for the first time, back when you were still a newbie half a year ago. You remembered how you were practically trembling when your name was called and how you were instructed to see him in his office. 

Heeseung was not an intimidating person. You have seen how he interacts with his friends; Jay and Sunghoon. Both men were from different departments but they always had their lunch together and sometimes went drinking with other people who you do not recognize. However, a part of you finds him hard to talk to and if preferred, you would rather avoid him at all costs. You were not sure why you were acting this way. Perhaps it was due to your shyness or perhaps, it could be something more. 

“Oh, hi (Name), did you come here to catch a breather too?” Heeseung’s voice snapped you out of your trance. You blinked and saw your fellow co-worker leaning against the counter with a cup of freshly-brewed coffee held in his left hand. 

“Uh,” you opened and closed your mouth before regaining your composure, “yeah, I’ve been staring at the same sheet since morning and I’m nowhere done,” you sighed, entering the pantry to make a cup of coffee. 

The man gave you a sympathetic look as he took a sip from the paper cup. “That sounds rough, but I don’t mind helping you out. That is, if you don’t mind, of course.” 

You blinked, “A-Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to waste your time-” 

He dismissively waved off your response with his hand, “Nah, don’t worry about it. Besides, I don’t think helping a colleague out can be considered as wasting someone’s time. The sooner we get this done and over with, the sooner we can go home.” 

You knew he had a fair point with that and you ended up agreeing. The both of you returned to your desk and you watched as Heeseung sat on your chair, pulling himself forward to get a clearer look at the screen. You, on the other hand, stood behind him on his left, leaning against the wall that separates you from the other people seated around you. Since you were hidden from his view, this grants you the rare opportunity to stare at him.

It was with no doubt that Heeseung is attractive and you had seen how many women tried to woo him, be it during or after working hours. He is a gentleman who knows how to treat women right and not to mention, he is kind-hearted, friendly and the list goes on. Your eyes slowly trailed down his cheek outline and that was when you noticed it. 

A faint, tiny cut etched across his cheek, barely noticeable unless you looked closely. It was not the first time you had spotted something like this. A couple of weeks ago, it had been a bruise on his forearm, the yellowing edges suggesting it was healing. Before that, a small cut on his knuckles he brushed off as "nothing important." Each time, Heeseung had given you a vague response, quickly changing the subject or flashing his easygoing smile to disarm your curiosity. But this time, the suspicion gnawed at you a little harder.

Your gaze lingered on the faded mark, your mind racing with possibilities. Where did he keep getting these injuries? And why did he always seem so intent on hiding the truth behind them? As he straightened up and glanced at you with that ever-casual grin, you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the computer screen. But the question had already planted itself firmly in your mind: What was Lee Heeseung hiding?

“...and that’s it. You just need to save it and you’re done for the day.” 

Heeseung’s voice snapped you back to reality. Blinking, you realized he had finished explaining and was looking at you expectantly. You felt embarrassed at how you were not listening to a single word he had said and you awkwardly cleared your throat. He sighed and light-heartedly rolled his eyes. 

“You weren’t listening, were you?” He questioned. 

“Uh, well,” you opened and closed your mouth, resembling a fish. The other chuckled and you regained your composure, feeling your ears heating up, “Sorry, I was lost in my own thoughts.” 

“It’s fine, I’m sure you must be tired. You can leave early if you want,” he proposed and you were about to protest but you were silenced when he raised his hand, stopping you as if he knew what you wanted to say. 

“And before you say anything, I insist. I’m your superior and the last thing I want is to find out one of my colleagues is forced to work overtime on a Friday. You should go home and rest,” his eyes softened, concern seeping into his voice. 

You ended up obeying him and you left the office, heading to the carpark where your car was parked. Once you got in and closed the door behind you, you let out an exhausted sigh as you leaned back into the seat, closing your eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. You started the engine, hearing the vehicle purring to life before driving home.

~ 

The second time you bumped into Heeseung was when you were trying to fix the printer. All you wanted was to print a few documents that you needed to compile together for the meeting today but just to your luck, the papers were stuck halfway. You sighed, kicking the printer in hopes of getting it to work despite knowing your attempt was futile. 

“(Name), why are you kicking the printer?” 

Jumping, you swirled around to see your superior looking at you, amused. You sheepishly scratched the back of your neck. “The papers I printed are stuck and I think the printer’s spoiled,” you replied, moving to the side when he drew closer. 

Heeseung hums, eyes focused on the machine. “Is that so? Let me take a look to see if I can help you with that.” 

“But-” You zipped your lips when he shot you a look and you allowed him to do as he pleased. 

He crouched near the printer, rolling his sleeves up as he fiddled with its inner mechanics, trying to resolve the problem. The soft glow of the overhead lights casts a gentle shadow across his face. As he shifts slightly, something catches your eye—a faint purplish mark peeking out along his jawline, just below his cheekbone.

Your brows furrow, the sight stirring a mix of curiosity and concern. It was not the first time you have noticed marks like this, and the coincidence feels too uncanny to ignore. This time however, you were determined to get answers. You cross your arms and step closer, tilting your head as you speak. 

“Heeseung,” you say, your tone carrying a hint of softness but also unmistakable firmness, “what happened to your jaw?”

Heeseung pauses, his fingers freezing mid-adjustment as if caught off guard. Slowly, he straightens up, brushing his hands off on his pants. His gaze flickers to you for a brief moment before darting away, his usual confidence replaced with a quiet hesitance.

“Oh, this?” He reaches up to touch the mark casually, almost as if just noticing it himself. A small, sheepish chuckle escaped his lips. “It’s nothing, really. I probably bumped into something—clumsy as always.”

But the way he avoids meeting your eyes, the slight delay in his response, feels off. You narrow your gaze, stepping a bit closer, determined not to let the matter drop so easily. 

“You bumped into something? Again?” you press, folding your arms tighter. “Heeseung, you’ve had a lot of these ‘accidents’ lately. What’s really going on?”

For a moment, he opens his mouth to respond, but then he hesitates, letting out a soft sigh. He scratches the back of his neck, his usual easy going demeanor faltering. “Look, it’s nothing serious, okay?” he finally says, his voice quieter now, almost defensive. “Just... drop it, alright?”

You frowned, getting annoyed with how he kept dodging your questioning but he had already left without saying another word. You remained where you were, watching his retreating figure until he was out of your sight. Sighing, you approached the printer and you noticed the documents you needed had been fully ejected from the printer. You grumbled a string of curses under your breath as you snatched them away, storming back to your seat and slammed it down on your desk. 

Bam! 

The sudden sound startled the people around you. Some gave you annoyed looks while some were curious, wondering what had happened to ruin your mood. Riki, who sat on your left, leaned back so his head was popping out. 

“You good?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

You looked at him and sighed, “No, I’m this close to losing my mind.” 

Your friend only flashed you a sympathetic look before returning to his task at hand. You took a sip of your now cold coffee, rearranged the documents and got back to work. 

Fine, if that’s how you want to play then two people can play that game. I’ll make sure I find out what you’re hiding, if that’s the last thing I do, Lee Heeseung. 

~

The rest of the week passed in a blink of an eye and it was finally Friday, much to your relief. It is a weekly routine for you to eat and drink with your small group of friends; Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki. The four of you graduated from the same college and to say you were surprised to see familiar faces in your company would be an understatement. You had finished packing, waiting for Riki who was ready to send his final email for the day before logging off. 

“So, where are we going tonight?” You asked, leaning back in your chair as you idly swayed side to side, legs outstretched before you. 

“Oh right, I forgot to tell you but there’s been a change of plans,” Riki answered, shutting down his laptop as he closes it before shoving it into his work bag. You stared at him, bemused and he continued, “Jungwon has invited us somewhere and we’re going there now.” 

You owlishly blinked your eyes. “Like right now?” 

“Yes right now,” Riki nodded, rising to his full height and dragged you out of your office. One moment you found yourself seated in his car and the very next moment, you found yourself standing before a pair of closed metal doors. 

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and adrenaline as you and Riki stepped cautiously into the dimly lit building. The door creaked shut behind you, its sound swallowed by the cacophony of voices and the rhythmic thud of gloves hitting flesh. Inside, the room was a stark contrast to the desolate streets outside.

It was alive—crowded with people of all kinds, from spectators yelling over the noise to fighters warming up in corners. Dim fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow over the chaotic scene. At the heart of it all was the boxing ring, its ropes frayed and canvas stained with years of battles fought and won.

As you tried to take it all in, your gaze wandered to the center of the ring. A match was already underway, the sound of rapid punches echoing through the room. It was not until the fighter ducked to avoid a hit, his sweat-dampened hair catching the light, that your breath caught in your throat.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

Lee Heeseung—your superior, the same person who always seemed composed and meticulous at work—was in the middle of an intensive match. His usual buttoned-up demeanor was gone, replaced by a raw, almost primal intensity. His movements were sharp and calculated, each strike delivered with precision. Yet, even as he landed a clean hit on his opponent, his jawline bore faint bruises you now understood all too well.

“What the hell is he doing here?” you murmured, more to yourself than to Riki. 

You could not tear your eyes away from him, observing his movement as he delivers a final blow to his opponent, effectively knocking him out. The crowd went wild, cheering and yelling at the top of their lungs when Heeseung was announced as the winner. You saw how his eyes scanned the crowd and your heart stopped when they landed on you. He was stunned, not expecting to see you here and you looked away. 

The noise and heat of the boxing gym became too much, clawing at your chest like a vice. You turned abruptly, heart pounding, and pushed your way through the crowd. The voices around you blurred into a muffled roar as you stumbled out into the open, the cool night air hitting you like a slap to the face.

You kept walking, your steps uneven and aimless. The distant hum of streetlights and the faint echo of your own breathing filled the void left by the gym’s chaos. You didn’t know where you were going; you just needed to get away—to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the suffocating scene you’d just witnessed. But then, a sudden tug at your wrist stopped you in your tracks. Your body jerked backward slightly, and instinctively, you turned, your heart leaping to your throat.

It was Heeseung.

He stood there, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath, his face partially shadowed by the dim streetlights. Sweat clung to his skin, and his knuckles were faintly red—either from the match or the cold, you were not sure. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made you freeze.

“Why are you running?” he asked, his voice low and steady, but there was a crack in it—something vulnerable, almost desperate.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. The raw image of him in that ring—fighting with a kind of ferocity you didn’t think he was capable of—flashed in your mind, and a knot of emotion tightened in your chest.

“I—” You looked away, shaking your head as you tried to find the words. “I couldn’t... I just needed to get out of there. I didn’t know you—” You stopped, your voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me, Heeseung?”

His grip on your wrist loosened slightly, though he did not let go. “Because it’s not something I wanted you to know,” he admitted, his tone quiet but firm. “This... this part of me—it’s messy. Complicated.”

“Complicated?” you repeated, your voice rising in disbelief. “You’re risking your health, your safety, and for what? To keep it a secret?”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened, the flicker of defensiveness crossing his face. “It’s not about keeping it a secret,” he said sharply, then paused, exhaling slowly. “It’s... it’s how I deal with things. It’s something I need.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. The Heeseung you thought you knew—the calm, collected superior—felt like a stranger in that moment. And yet, there was something raw, something achingly human in his vulnerability that you couldn’t ignore.

“But why didn’t you let me in?” you asked softly, your voice breaking. “You didn’t have to go through this alone.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked as though he might say something—something real. But instead, he let out a soft, bitter laugh and looked away. “Because I didn’t want you to see this side of me,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his eyes met yours again, and there was something in them—guilt, maybe regret. “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

Your frustration bubbled over, and you yanked your wrist free from his grasp, stepping back to put some space between you. The cold air stung your cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the sting of his words. 

“Think less of you?” you repeated, incredulous. “Are you serious right now, Heeseung? You’re out here throwing punches like your life depends on it, shutting people out, and you think that’s what would make me think less of you?” 

Heeseung flinched slightly at your tone, but you did not care. The words poured out before you could stop them, each one fueled by the flood of emotions you had been holding back. 

“You’re supposed to be this confident, composed guy who always has it together, but you’re human! You’re allowed to have flaws, to struggle, to need help! God, do you think I care if you’re messy or complicated?” 

“(Name)-” 

“I care about you, okay? I care about you so much that seeing you in that ring—seeing you like that—hurt more than I can even explain! And the fact that you didn’t trust me enough to let me in, to tell me what you were going through, makes me feel like I’m nothing more than just some... some coworker to you!”

You froze the moment the words left your mouth, realizing too late what you’d just said. The confession hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, as the world seemed to go silent around you. Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly, the shock evident on his face. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the streetlights and the distant buzz of the gym behind you.

“I—” you started, suddenly panicking, the weight of your vulnerability crashing down on you. “I didn’t mean—”

“Wait,” Heeseung cut you off, his voice soft but urgent as he stepped closer. His expression had shifted, the vulnerability you’d seen before now mixed with something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

“You... care about me?” he asked, his tone careful, as if testing the words.

Your heart raced, and you felt the heat creeping up your neck. You wanted to deny it, to brush it off, but the look in his eyes stopped you. It was a look that made you feel exposed but also strangely safe, like he was seeing all of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between—and wasn’t pulling away.

“Yes,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

Heeseung lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his damp hair as a small smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t know how to say this right,” he began, his voice softer now, filled with hesitation. “But you’re... so much more to me than I think you realize. I’ve been scared—scared of what you’d think if you saw this side of me. Scared you’d look at me differently.”

Your chest tightened, but this time, it was not with frustration or hurt. It was something warmer, something that melted away the tension from before.

“I don’t care about that, Heeseung,” you said softly, your voice steady now. “I care about you. All of you. Messy, complicated, whatever. None of that changes how I feel.”

Heeseung blinked, his expression a mix of awe and relief, as if hearing those words for the first time lifted some invisible weight off his shoulders. His lips quirked into a small, genuine smile, one that reached his tired eyes.

“Why are you always so... amazing?” he muttered, almost to himself, as his hand hesitated in the space between you. Slowly, he raised it, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch so gentle it made your heart flutter.

You let out a small laugh, feeling the tension dissolve into something light and tender. “Amazing? Says the guy who just beat someone to a pulp in a boxing ring.”

Heeseung chuckled, the sound soft and warm. “Yeah, well, that guy didn’t make me feel like my heart was going to explode every time I looked at him.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you playfully shoved his shoulder. “You’re such a dork, Lee Heeseung.”

“And you’re stuck with me now,” he teased, his grin widening, though his voice carried a hint of sincerity. The banter melted into silence as the both of you stood under the streetlights, the night air no longer feeling so cold. Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Heeseung took another step closer, closing the gap between you.

“Can I...” He hesitated, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t hesitate. “You better.”

A soft laugh escaped him before he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was equal parts gentle and fervent, like he’d been holding back for far too long. The world around you disappeared entirely, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the rapid beat of your heart. When you finally pulled away, Heeseung rested his forehead against yours, his smile so soft and tender it made your knees weak.

“I’m really glad you care about me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You grinned, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jawline. “I always will.”

~ 

The first person to find out about your relationship was Riki. The poor guy had gone to the pantry after coming to work at nine in the morning, only to drop his tumbler when he saw you and Heeseung making out in a public space. The horrified screech he let out made the both of you pulled away from one another, startled by his sudden appearance. You tried to pat down your hair but it was futile as Riki had unfortunately witnessed the whole scene. 

“Wait, Riki-” You called out. 

“Oh, Jungwon owns me lunch now,” he cackles like a maniac, bending down to pick up his tumbler. He was about to walk away when he turned to you. “Oh and congrats on your relationship but for God’s Sake, please do that nasty shit somewhere else.”

“RIKI!” You yelled, face turning as red as a tomato as he ran away while laughing. You sighed, turning to your superior who is also now your boyfriend, only to find him poorly hiding his laughter. 

“I didn’t know this is funny to you,” you deadpanned. 

“Sorry,” Heeseung coughs, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag, how about we grab dinner tonight?” “Are you asking me out on a date?” You cocked your head to the side, grinning. 

“And what if it is?” He copies your action, resting one hand on your waist. 

“Then I accept but you’re paying, of course,” you replied, leaning in to press a kiss on the corner of his lips. 

“Anything for you.”

[cutielights]

Tw: none

Rise! Boys x Spider Person! S/O

Leo

Incredibly whipped

He’s in love

You can stick to walls? That’s awesome. Bring him with you.

Brings you on patrols and such

Absolutely adores your spider suit

Spider senses? Extremely useful, but not around Leo

He’s getting into trouble so much that they constantly go off

Constantly makes spider jokes

He is genuinely thoroughly relieved that you don’t have eight legs, sticking to the average

Spiders have no bones, but humans do. The compromise? Extreme flexibility. Low-key freaked him out a bit

Raph

Likes your webs and combat style. Not so much the fact that they stick to him even if he barely touched it

Spiders can lift up to fifty times their body weight

You can lift him no problem

He found this out when you caught him after he got thrown by an unnamed villan

“Okay, I’m not freaking out. But, how are you holding me right now?”

He likes the feeling, not many people can lift him

Listen, he loves that you can take a few hits, move around NYC speedily and efficiently

But for the love of god- Stop. Scaling. Buildings.

He knows you can stick to walls. But he has a heart attack every time.

He’s found himself incredibly fond of your spider sense, taking a certain amount of stress off of him, even if it’s just a little

Donnie

Fascinated by you, every time you use your powers you can see him furiously taking notes out of the corner of your eye

You slept off a spider bite instead of going to the doctor?”

“Yes?”

“You’re incredibly lucky to be alive.”

“C’mon aren’t you over reacting?”

“IT WAS RADIOACTIVE HOW ARE YOU NOT FREAKING OUT?”

“It was like a year ago, chill.”

Runs consensual tests on you

Estimates what type of spider bit you

Tied between the need for knowledge, the fear of spiders, the love of his partner

Refuses to touch your webs, and he’s not sorry, not even if they happen to be purple

Mikey

Likes that you can stick your feet onto skateboards

Makes it ten times easier for you

Gets you to sling him into high places to do graffiti

Spider-Man kisses?

SPIDER-MAN KISSES!

Gets you to stick to the ceiling so you can jumpscare Donnie

Helps you with different suit designs, sure he’s more on the pallet side of things, but it’s still fun!

Asks if you have dietary restrictions, and therefore cannot eat pizza

You reminded him that you just have spider powers and not spider insides

Doodles spiders on your arms, in relatively the same places his own spots are, so you can match!

I wrote this in one sitting, easiest I’ve done in a while <3

[scoonsalicious]

5.4 Major*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, explicit sexual content (hand stuff, fingering) Minors GTFO: I don't serve your kind here.

Word Count: 900

Previously On...: Lily knows Bucky's been lying to her, and she's surmised he's on a date. That's got to end.

A/N: Posting a little early today to make up for yesterday being so late!

I've decided to postpone my break by a few days, so I will give you Chapter 6 in its entirety before I take my mini-hiatus. It's only three parts long, so I will start my break on Thursday, 5/16 and resume posting on Thursday, 5/23. It's a better place in the story to leave you, a little bit more dramatic than at the end of this chapter, like I had originally planned, lol. It felt off leaving you all here.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You flopped your body down onto your bedsheets with a giggle. “Full marks, Sergeant,” you gasped between panting breaths. “Once again.” It was all the two of you could do to get back to your apartment without ripping each other’s clothes off.

Bucky laughed and came to lay down alongside you, propping his head up on his vibranium arm. Leaning over, he bent down to kiss you. “I couldn’t have done it without you, doll” he said with a grin, but then his face grew serious. “Seriously. It’s never been like this with other girls.”

You blushed and playfully pushed at his rock hard shoulder. “Come on, Bucky,” you said with a laugh. “You’ve already got me naked and exactly where you want me; you don’t need to sweet talk me.”

Bucky placed a hand on your sweat-slicked hip, gently turning you to your side so you were facing him. “I’m not,” he told you, searching your eyes with the utmost sincerity in his expression. He pushed back a strand of damp hair away from your face. “I’ve been with… well, a fair number of girls over the years.” At the raise of your eyebrow, he held his flesh hand up defensively. “What? I’m 105 years old, doll. I’ve been around the block.” You couldn’t hold back your laugh at that, and he kissed your nose before continuing: 

“Like I said, a fair number of girls. And none of them, not a single one, ever made me feel the way I have when I’m with you.” He cupped your cheek in his hand and you felt your cheeks flame in a blush. “Come on, sugar. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. That this,” he took his hand off your cheek to motion between your two bodies, “isn’t something special.”

“It’s been a little over a day, Bucky,” you chastised him gently with a smile, afraid to admit that you, too, felt this was something unique. “Maybe thirty hours?” Thirty hours in which the two of you had somehow managed to have sex eight times, not that you were counting. You couldn’t believe how quickly he was able to get it up again after he came, but he’d assured you that was his favorite side effect of the serum that had made him a super soldier. It had quickly become your favorite, too.

Bucky’s face fell, and you realized that he wasn’t going to judge you if you told him the truth, because he felt it just the same. “The best thirty hours of my life,” you clarified, tucking your fingers under his chin so you could bring his gaze back up to yours. “And yes, I feel it, too. It’s never been like this before. Not with anyone else.”

“Not even with your ex-husband?” Bucky asked with a playful smirk.

“Especially not with Conner,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “Took me years to teach that man where my clit was, and even on his best days, he still needed a map.”

“Oh, you mean this, right here?” Bucky deftly slid his hand between your thighs, finding your hub of nerves almost instinctively and began to lightly trace it with his finger, sending an electric tingle through your body. 

“Fuck, yes,” you exhaled, reaching up to grab Bucky’s shoulder for support as he increased the pressure. He moved his metal arm from under his head and slid it behind your shoulders as he pulled you flush with his chest.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured into your hair as he moved his fingers faster against you, occasionally dipping them down to your entrance to collect some of your slick for lubrication. You hitched a leg up over his hip to allow him better access to your core. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” you moaned, feeling yourself building to the crescendo. Taking your hand off his shoulder, you grabbed his wrist, guiding his movements so you could grind your desperate cunt against his hand.

“Do you want my fingers, sugar?” Bucky panted. You looked up at him to find his gaze locked on where his hand had vanished between your thighs, his pupils completely blown from lust. “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers until you squirt all over me?”

You couldn’t even get out a coherent word, just a pathetic whine that turned into a near scream when Bucky plunged three of his digits into you. The air was full of the frantic sounds of your combined breathing, along with the rapid squelch of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt with a speed you didn’t know was humanly possible. It felt like he was hitting every part of you, even parts you didn’t know existed until now. Every time with Bucky felt that way.

“How you doing, sugar?” Bucky asked as he continued to drive his fingers home. “You okay?”

You nodded and grunted in the affirmative, loving how he always checked in on you. You were so much more than okay. You were transcendent. 

Soon, you felt that intense, unfamiliar build up that only he had been able to pull out of you once before, on the living room floor. The pleasure was so intense, you couldn’t see straight and you were exploding all over again, clinging to Bucky for dear life as you screamed his name. 

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[forsetti]

On American Exceptionalism: Stupid Is As Stupid Does

“We are drowning in information but starved for knowledge.” -John Naisbitt

Right after the 2016 election, the dominant hot take from pundits was Hillary lost because Democrats failed to understand Rural America. This explanation was complete nonsense. Liberals who grew up or lived/live in Rural America very much understand them. That wasn’t the problem. As I wrote about at the time, the problem with Rural America was/is the racism and misogyny that are deeply embedded in their culture and religion and their willingness to all these to dictate their choices, even at their own expense.

Here we are eight years later and with Kamala Harris’ loss to Trump, the stupid hot takes are again flying off the shelves. This time around, the reason for Trump winning was Democrats didn’t care about the working class. As with “Dems don’t understand Rural America,” the reasons behind why Trump won were racism, misogyny, and stupidity. “Dems don’t care about the working class,” is a flat-out lie, no matter who says it, (I’m looking at you Bernie Sanders.) All the evidence shows America has done better than every other major country responding to the pandemic and EVERY economic indicator is better now than just about any time in the past fifty years regarding unemployment, job creation, DOW, wage growth… Trump’s reelection showed how much facts and evidence don’t matter in America.

As long as people “feel” a certain way, that is all that matters. Any argument that hinges on “feelings,” or “vibes,” is intellectual laziness at its finest. Why do people feel a certain way? Are these feelings justified? These questions are completely ignored or quickly glossed over because no one wants to know or discuss the answers to these questions.

No one wants to discuss why a large number of Americans are willing to believe a Five-Star, chronic liar. No one wants to know why these same people are willing to vote for a self-serving billionaire who has a long record of fucking over working-class people who have done work for him. No one wants to know why “good Christians,” happily support an adulterer who paid off a porn star not to divulge he had sex with her four months after his wife gave birth to their youngest child. No one wants to ask why these same, “good Christians,” are gleeful about fucking over immigrants and asylum seekers. No one really wants to know why Republicans are hell-bent on stripping women of rights and economic opportunities. No one really wants to admit that “The Greatest Nation On Earth,” “The Shining Beacon On The Hill,” and “God’s Country,” is very much racist, misogynist, and really stupid.

"A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals and you know it." -Agent K

People are generally stupid. Stupid people are easy to manipulate, especially when it comes to their feelings. Most of the “feelings” about “economic anxiety,” are rooted in racism, bigotry, and misogyny.

In America, truth and evidence have been replaced with feelings and vibes because it takes no effort to feel something, to believe something. It takes a lot of work to understand and know something. There are too many Americans who are intellectually lazy and poorly educated and are either convinced they are smart or know they aren’t and overcompensate by gish galloping and talking very loudly. The only thing more dangerous than a stupid person is a stupid person who is convinced they are smart.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had little to no tolerance for stupidity. As a kid, I would often come home from school or church and complain vociferously to my mom about the stupidity I’d encountered. Her advice to me was always, “You can’t fight every battle against stupid people, there are too many of them. Even if you “win” against one, there will always be another to take their place.”

Whenever she would tell me this, it would remind me of something I once heard the population of China was so large and growing so rapidly, that they could walk ten-abreast into the ocean and the line would NEVER end.

That is how I few stupid people. Never ending.

Instead of constantly battling against stupidity, I tried to carve out niches of smartness and sanity wherever I could. It is why I felt the need to leave America and go to Japan for a couple of years. It is why I studied philosophy. It is why I ended up in grad school at a Big 10 school in a very progressive town. It is why I’ve always surrounded myself with a very small but incredibly smart group of friends.

For a long time, this way of dealing with stupidity worked. Then social media brought the stupidity I’d fought so hard to avoid to my door with a vengeance.

Nobody was more excited for the internet than me. I’m an information junkie. My “hobby” as a kid was reading the Encyclopedia Britannica every night until the wee hours of the morning. Having all the information readily available was amazing. At least it was amazing until the Libertarian Tech Bros decided to create social media platforms to “democratize” information and bad-faith actors realized how easily they could manipulate a poorly educated population.

Thomas Jefferson knew that democracy could only truly function and succeed with an educated citizenry. Poorly educated people cannot make truly informed decisions. This is why mentally incompetent people and children cannot enter contracts. It is why people on certain drugs in hospitals are not allowed to make decisions about their health care. A democracy of idiots isn’t a real democracy (and if you tell me America is a Republic, not a democracy, I’ll send a civics teacher to your house to beat you about the head and neck with the largest textbook in their library.)

You can’t have a functioning democratic government with un/misinformed people. The exact thing is true when it comes to “democratizing,” information. It might sound like a good idea to open up information to any and all because good/sound ideas will rise to the top and win out in the end. To quote from, “A Stress Analysis Of A Strapless Evening Gown: Essays For A Scientific Age,” “There goes another wonderful theory about to be murdered by a brutal gang of facts.”

When you “democratize” information you automatically give everything equal weight of legitimacy and truth value. Then, somehow, the right/true things become apparent and win out. This treats facts as opinions. The answer to, “Which is better, Coke or Pepsi?” is not a factual statement. It contains no truth (even though anyone with any taste buds knows the correct answer is, “Coke.”) When scientific theories and data are treated the same as opinions and opinions are treated as facts, we are beyond fucked.

The other thing “democratizing” information either takes for granted, completely ignores, or willfully denies is, in order for their notion of a “free marketplace of ideas,” to work, people need to have the skill sets necessary to properly understand and process the information, in order to make informed decisions.

The tech bros don’t have these skill sets. Libertarians, by nature, are idiots. The best description of Libertarians is from Tom Morrow - “"Libertarians are like house cats: absolutely convinced of their fierce independence while utterly dependent on a system they don't appreciate or understand.” Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg don’t give one fuck about the well-being of people. They care about their egos. They care about how much data about you they can extract to sell to other amoral dicks. They care about how many toys they can buy and how many expensive, unique experiences they can have to brag about to their other equally amoral dick friends.

Truth isn’t contingent on popularity or who has the most followers or poll numbers. To treat truth this way obliterates any and all standards of evidence, validity, and soundness. It does away with the need for truth. To pretend otherwise is to either not understand a functioning view of truth or to understand it and use the destruction of truth to your advantage.

When you combine a completely misguided idea like democratizing information with a poorly educated population, the result is the stupid become proudly and arrogantly stupid. It becomes the perfect breeding ground for conspiracy theories.

Social media sites always kind of were this way but two events really showed just how problematic and dangerous they were: The election of Barack Obama and the pandemic.

The amount of sheer bullshit spread on social media about Obama’s birth certificate and the Affordable Care Act was staggering in volume and stupidity. Stupidity that is still believed as absolute gospel by a good chunk of the right. This really isn’t surprising since many of these same people deeply believe Jesus was white and apparently a vindictive, gun-toting he-man.

However, as stupid and awful as the lies about Obama and the ACA were, they paled in comparison to those spread about the pandemic. The propaganda about the pandemic was unbelievably widespread and very dangerous. Literally, hundreds of thousands of people died from the lies spread, mostly on social media, about COVID-19 and the vaccines.

I have people I know very well and some I love deeply who adamantly believe the stupidest nonsense about the virus and vaccines for no other reason than the propaganda they read/heard on social media, pundits, and their social groups… The more people passed along something they’d heard/read, the more it turned into a very dangerous Purple Monkey Dishwasher situation:

Once people believe untrue things, especially if those things are closely tied to their self-identity, it is almost impossible to unscrew that pooch because it would mean they have to admit they were not just misled and wrong but adamantly so. It takes humility to admit you are wrong. This is why, no matter how many times we are promised that the “Republican Fever,” of Trumpism will break, it will never happen because it isn’t Trumpism, it is Republicanism, and because the right will NEVER FUCKING EVER admit they were wrong about anything, especially if the liberals were right. It just isn’t in their fundamentalist, white supremacist, misogynist, Manifest Destiny DNA.

The past few election cycles have been nothing but a constant barrage of well-designed, well-placed propaganda from bad-faith actors here and abroad. Fear, hatred, lies...all get more attention and traction with people, especially stupid people, than facts and the truth. Anyone who has a basic understanding of human psychology has to know this. The entire field of advertising hinges and relies on people being easily manipulated.

The culmination of decades of underfunding, undercutting, lying about, and demonizing education by the right and the proliferation of social media outlets resulted in the election of the most unqualified, uncaring, self-absorbed, chronic liar to run the world’s largest economy and military not once but twice.

I keep hearing people blame Hillary Clinton and Kamala Harris for losing to Trump because, based on who Trump is, “the race should never have been close.” This is a stupid take. It absolutely shouldn’t have been close, either time. The problem wasn’t Hillary or Clinton or anything they did/didn’t do. The problem is Americans are fucking stupid and since America is a representative government, their votes are a direct reflection of who/what they are.

The day right before this year’s election, all the left-wing pod bros and Never Trumpers, to a person, talked about how Kamala ran the most perfect campaign they’d ever seen. The day after the election, every single one of them rushed to get on the “Dems don’t care about the working class” bandwagon like they were trying to get front-row tickets to Taylor Swift.

In my lifetime, ALL of the evidence from jobs created, unemployment, wages, and the DOW… shows Democratic administrations greatly outperform Republican ones. Yet, the narrative has always been that Republicans are better at handling the economy.

Why is there such a gap between facts and feelings when it comes to the economy?

One answer is propaganda. The right has a massive media advantage when it comes to pushing whatever narrative they want. AM radio, FOX NEWS, and Sinclair Corp… do nothing but pump out right-wing talking points all day, every day. If you hear/read nonstop that the economy is in crisis, no matter what the facts are, you will start to believe it. This is why, when Republicans were polled about the economy pre-election, the majority said they were in a good economic situation but the country was not. This also explains why, right after the election, when the “bad economy” propaganda was no longer being pushed, the very same people who claimed the US economy was in shambles a week prior, now think the economy is doing fine.

The same thing is true about crime rates, welfare, immigration… You name it and there has been/is a massive propaganda effort from the right that has made a whole lot of Americans “reprogrammable meatbags” (hat tip Driftglass.)

Let’s just put aside the fact the Biden administration did more for workers than any administration since LBJ and possibly all the way back to FDR. When it comes to Democrats “ignoring the working class,” every single economic crisis in my lifetime happened while a Republican was in the White House. And, every single one of the times this happened, it was a Democratic president who fixed the mess only to be replaced by another Republican who once again fucked up the economy.

The reasons why Trump won in 2016 and again in 2024 had nothing to do with Dem messaging or policies. The reasons are racism, misogyny, widespread propaganda, and Americans are unbelievably stupid. Full stop.

I’m not surprised Trump won again because I understand the American electorate. I’ve also been warning for at least the past three decades that as white, male Americans become less culturally and demographically significant, they are going to do and rationalize whatever it takes to hold onto their artificially created sense of importance and self-worth. They will not just fight like hell to protect what they deem their God-given place in society, they will burn it all to the ground and salt the earth behind them rather than see anyone they deem unworthy get a damn thing.

In one of my undergraduate philosophy classes, I can’t remember which one or the context, one of my professors brought up a hypothetical scenario where a wise king had a difficult choice to make. The public well in the village he ruled over had been tainted and anyone who drank from it went mad. The choice the king had to make was to either not drink from the well and rule over a bunch of raving lunatics or drink and become one of them.

The general consensus among the students was the right choice was for the king to drink the tainted water because, no matter how wise you are, you can’t rule idiots.

I completely disagreed with this and thought the entire thing was a false dilemma (an either/or fallacy.) The smart/right thing for the king to do would be to find another village to rule over or head to the wilderness. Trying to rule idiots is a waste of time and talent. However, idiots aren’t going to be any more easy to rule if you are also an idiot. Find a new place for your talents and/or get the fuck out of Dodge.

I’m certainly not a wise king. I’m just a lowly villager but I have the same choice to make because the public well of information has been tainted and those who drink from it are getting stupider by the day.

What does this all mean?

It means I’m out. I’m getting the fuck out of Dodge, not in the physical sense but intellectually and emotionally. I can no longer be a part of the public square of information because it has been overrun by idiots and bad-faith actors.

I’ve been out of fucks to give for some time and barely running on fumes. Watching 70+ million of my fellow Americans vote for chaos, white supremacy, lies, misogyny, and sheer stupidity and a whole lot of other Americans not even be bothered to vote for whatever reasons they tell themselves to feel better about themselves has completely exhausted whatever was in my public engagement tank.

I am going to completely stop using social media and pretty much avoid as much other media as possible. I know a lot of people who are leaving Facebook and Twitter and setting up shop at sites like Bluesky. I have a Bluesky account but won’t be using it. When I say I’m taking myself out of the public square, I mean all of it. If the public has access to something, the well of information that hasn’t been poisoned eventually will be.

There is a part of me that wants nothing more than to hang around and watch people who voted for the Face Eating Leopard Party get their faces eaten by leopards. Nobody loves the Find Out portion of Fuck Around And Find Out as much as I do. However, I can’t enjoy the Schadenfreude of people who voted for or enabled Trump to get exactly what they deserve because a lot of people who did the right thing for the right reasons are going to suffer as much, if not much more.

I also can’t watch people who keep telling me they are allies continue to make horrible choices, bitch about the consequences of their choices, and then make the same choices again. Every single person on the left who says things like, “Both parties are the same,” or “Dems have ignored the working class,” needs to go back and take a remedial civics class.

There is ONE AND ONLY ONE principle progressives need to come to terms with. If you want FDR-like policies, you HAVE TO HAVE FDR-like majorities in Congress. There is no fucking third or fourth or fifth option. The surefire way to not get these kinds of majorities is to sit out elections, vote third-party, and spend more time and energy attacking would-be allies than opponents.

I can no longer watch people be more concerned about coming across as “independent thinkers,” than being intellectually honest.

I can no longer watch people monetize anger, grief, racism, misogyny, bigotry, and stupidity.

I can no longer watch people care more about how many followers they have than facts.

I can no longer listen to people talk about “Christian values,” when their actions and words would make Jesus weep.

I can no longer hear people complain about “elites,” but continue to cater to billionaires and be fine with tax cuts for the wealthy.

I can no longer listen to people who do not understand basic economics, basic civics, and basic logic. I can no longer deal with people saying, "It's no big deal, it's just politics."

I can no longer watch people “punch down” on people/groups that are the most vulnerable in our society.

I can no longer watch women and minorities be treated as second-class citizens.

I can no longer tolerate the left being a shining example of “the perfect is the enemy of the good.”

I can no longer watch people who claim that women and minorities are high priorities to them but who constantly don’t do what is necessary to protect them.

I can no longer watch the hypocrisy of people who claim to be “Christian,” exude so much hate and anger towards people their Jesus would have taken in and washed their feet.

I can no longer watch people with little to no critical thinking skills carry more influence and weight than experts in their field. Sorry Uncle Freedom, but you don’t know Jack about virology or tariffs or Ukraine or gas production or (fill in the blank.) You don’t have the critical thinking skill set to even know why you don’t know what you don’t know and neither do the idiots you listen to on AM radio, FOX NEWS, Rumble, or OAN.

All of this probably comes across as “sour grapes,” and/or “arrogance.” I don’t fucking care. I haven’t been wrong about this stuff yet and I don’t believe I am now. I really want to be wrong. However, over the past few years, Americans generally haven’t done anything to prove me wrong.

Someone might think I’m, “just another elite liberal talking down to “Real Americans©.” First, despite all my scholastic training, I’m very much blue-collar. Second, I’m not being judgmental, I’m being purely descriptive. Finally, the Fuck Your Feelings Crowd don’t get to complain about what people think/say about them. If you are a liberal and think I’m being too harsh, get a backbone and stop pretending Republicans are something they are not, and stop wasting your time trying to convince them. No amount of evidence or arguments is going to make a meaningful dent. The ONLY thing that has a chance of making them change their beliefs is if they personally suffer from their choices, and even then that isn't a guarantee.

I saw a very popular Tweet from someone lecturing the left for “mocking people who are concerned about the price of eggs and bacon.” I’m not mocking them for their concerns. I’m mocking them for not understanding the very easily understandable reasons why certain things cost what they do at any given moment in time. Don’t wrap yourself in a flag of capitalism if you don’t understand the basics of supply and demand. Don’t be fucking stupid and certainly don’t let your stupidity lead to even stupider consequences.

It isn’t the fault of Joe Biden or Kamala Harris or liberals that a lot of Americans don’t understand the consequences of a worldwide pandemic, deregulations, supply-side issues, how the need to maximize stock dividends led to a shortage of warehouses or dozens of other economic factors. They tried. A FUCKING LOT. Somehow, it just seemed easier for a lot of people to believe the person who lies about his wealth, lies about his crowd sizes, has a long list of failed businesses, including two casinos (BANKRUPTED... TWO... FUCKING... CASINOS something that no one thought was even possible,) than the President and VP who oversaw the largest growth in US manufacturing, wage growth, jobs, and saved pensions in the past 60+ years.

To call what happened on Nov 5th stupid is an insult to stupid. What it sure the fuck wasn’t, just like in 2016, was a result of “economic anxiety.”

I have to take myself out of the public square because I see no end to the stupidity. I only see it getting worse. It is going to get worse because too many billionaires are more concerned with their placement on the Top 100 Biggest Pricks List than making things better for anyone other than themselves. It’s going to get worse because white men and their enablers are going to fight even harder to hold on to the bullshit worldview of their stature and importance. It’s going to get worse because AI is going to further dumb down an already poorly educated population. It’s going to get worse because people running social media platforms are more concerned with algorithms that will generate profits than what those algorithms contain or their consequences. It’s going to get worse because young people don’t have the skill sets necessary to process the amount of misinformation and disinformation they are exposed to on a daily basis.

It is going to get worse because there is no more fragile substance in the known universe than the male ego.

It is going to get a lot worse because when fundamentalists think they have the upper hand, they ALWAYS make things worse.

It is going to get worse right away because the worst person and president in my lifetime, and possibly American history, isn’t going to have the people or guardrails around him like he did the first time. The upcoming administration is going to be a clown show. Not a Bozo or Krusty The Clown show but Pennywise and John Wayne Gacy clown show because every single person being singled out for top positions is not just grossly unqualified but a rabid nut job.

Germany turned to fascism largely because of economic factors. Between a decimated manufacturing sector, severe reparations due to Great Britain and France, hyperinflation, and the effects of The Great Depression, Germany was an economic disaster post-WWI. Hitler capitalized on this economic strife by telling Germans he’d make Germany Great Again.

America has the world’s greatest, most stable economy. The lives of everyday Americans are infinitely better now than they were a generation ago. Many of the problems we do have can easily be corrected with some basic regulations on our poorly regulated capitalism. Yet, despite this, Americans are turning towards fascism because they can’t buy whatever they want whenever they want for as little as possible, and, most importantly, white men see their self-appointed place at the top of the social/cultural pyramid, threatened. American White Christian Male Exceptionalism and Hitler’s Aryan Master Race are both based on pseudoscientific bullshit. They aren’t the exactly same but the Venn Diagram of the two overlaps a lot more than Americans care to admit.

Other than exiting from the public square, I really don’t know what I’m going to do. The last time I felt this way, to a much lesser degree, I moved out of the country. This is certainly something I’ve thought about and a serious option but due to personal responsibilities, it wouldn’t be for a few years.

When I lived in Japan, they might have been as stupid and conspiratorial as Americans (I don’t believe they were) but I didn’t know the language well enough to find out. There is something sadly true about the quote from “Bull Durham,”-“The world is made for people who aren't cursed with self-awareness.”

I’d really like to get back into writing but I haven’t figured out what to write about if I’m self-exiled. Writing about the Village Gone Stupid would defeat the reasons I’ve decided to leave the village. No matter how little you expose yourself to poison, it is still poisonous.

Whatever happens, I want to thank everyone who has read, tolerated and appreciated what I have posted and written.

I initially thought about ending with a quote from Douglas Adams- ”So long and thanks for all the fish,” but that doesn’t really capture how I feel. A better ending would be to post the entire lyrics to “Amused To Death,” by Roger Waters. However, that is too long and I’ve gone on enough. Instead, I’ll end with the lyrics from another song by Roger Waters from the same album.

Muslim or Christian, Mullah or Pope Preacher or poet who was it wrote Give any one species too much rope And they'll fuck it up -Roger Waters “Too Much Rope”

[kinardsevan]

Prompt: Buck finds out that Tommy is actually related to TK Strand.

(ahem. you asked for this.)

ETA: I have a serious problem with word skipping when reading if you can’t tell 🙃

He never intended to find out this kind of information. He done the 23&me on a whim after joking around with Eddie and Chim at work when Chim had randomly dropped into conversation “did you know I’m eight percent Scottish?” And of course they didn’t know, because how would that information have been freely available to him? How would he ever have known? 

And then Chimney had gifted him and Eddie each tests for Christmas, and at the time, Evan had figured ‘why the hell not?’ So he’d done the whole thing. Spit in the tube, sent it in, figured maybe he could at least find out if he had to worry about cancer in his future due to the Daniel of it all. 

“You sure you want to mess around in that,” Tommy had asked him over dinner one night. “I’ve heard about people finding out about murderers in their family.” 

But he’d been so sure. So sure there would be nothing interesting that would come back. There was nothing fun about the Buckley’s. His parents are teachers. His grandparents died of natural causes. What’s the worst that could happen? 

Turns out it was a lot. 

. . .

He’s on the stairs when Tommy comes into the loft, duffel still hitched up on his shoulder. They’re supposed to be spending the weekend together, but Evan’s not really sure what’s going to happen after the last twenty-four hours. 

“Hey,” Tommy murmurs softly, letting his bag hit the floor as he walks over to the stairs. He perches down at the base of them, resting a hand on Evan’s knee and ilfting the other to his face, brushing away the tears there. 

“Hi,” Evan rasps back, still staring at his hands folded in front of him. 

“Eddie said Bobby sent you home,” Tommy murmurs. Evan nods. 

“What’s going on,” Tommy asks softly, concern laced around his words. 

Evan’s eyebrows are knit so tightly together they could one into one another and the line his mouth is pressed into could crack peanut shells. 

“I-…My…Um, Maddie…” The words keep dying in his throat before he can get them out, and it just keeps making the knot in his chest tighter. 

“Is something wrong with Maddie?” 

Evan’s head lifts then, meeting Tommy’s eyes. There are conflicting emotions in the blonde’s sapphire eyes. Sorrow. A little bit of anger. Something else Tommy can’t place. Loss? 

“No,” he replies rapidly. “No, she’s fine. B-but she’s… she’s not-…”  Evan shakes his head at himself and reaches for his phone next to him on the stairs. He unlocks it, swipes at it a few times, and then passes it to Tommy. Tommy stares at him for a moment longer than necessary, and then looks down at the screen. 

“Family tree,” Tommy comments, moving the screen around to see the connections. It takes him a moment, but then suddenly he’s pulling the phone closer to his face, moving things around. “Where’s Maddie and Chim?” 

Evan lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, pressing the back of a hand to his nose as he sniffles. Tommy just keeps staring at the phone. 

“This has to be wrong,” Tommy comments. He sets the phone down and looks back up at Evan, cupping his face. 

“It’s not,” Evan rasps, blinking more tears down. “I got the first set of results weeks ago. Told them the same thing. They had me send a fresh sample and retest.” 

Tommy deadpans at him, eyes widened. “Evan.” 

“They’re not my family, Tommy.” His voice is so small and broken that it breaks Tommy, and he can’t stop the tears in his own eyes. “I never fit in because I didn’t belong to them. I’ve never belonged to them.” 

Tommy slides his hands off Evan’s face then and stands, pulling the blonde up with him as he does and into a tight hug. Evan burrows his face into Tommy’s neck, crying softly into the fabric of his maroon henley.

“I’m so sorry, Evan,” he murmurs to him, hand to the back of his head and lips to his temple. For all the jokes everyone has made in recent weeks after Chimney had gifted his friends the test, nobody, not even Tommy, could’ve forseen this outcome. 

They stand in that position for a while, letting Evan process. When it seems like he’s calmed enough, Tommy pulls him over to the table and they sit down next to each other. Tommy pulls Evan’s chair right up next to his, stretching his arm across the back of it and resting his free hand in the blonde’s on the table. 

“There’s nothing that says you have to do anything with any of this information,” Tommy tells him. “Maddie is still your sister. Your family is still your family.” 

Evan sniffles, leans over and rests his head on Tommy’s shoulder. 

“I know them,” he murmurs a moment later, his voice cracking. “The-…my biological family. I know them.” 

“You do,” Tommy asks. He tries not to sound overly curious in case Evan doesn’t want to give more information. 

Evan nods, lifting his head back up. “You remember my friends who came through a few weeks ago to visit?We went to dinner with them?” 

Tommy’s brow furrows as he tries to recall what Evan is specifically referring to. When it clicks, he looks back over at him. 

“TK and Carlos?” 

Evan nods. “H-his parents-… o-or I guess….” He pauses, shakes his head. “Owen and Gwyn had a kid their first year of college. Me, apparently.” 

Tommy frowns at him. 

“They placed the baby for adoption,” Evan continues. “With the option for the baby- me… to seek them out if I decided to once I was an adult.” He pauses for a moment, scowling at his table. “I don’t know h-how, but m-my parents...they tried to have a savior sibling, for Daniel. And it didn’t work. But they knew people through the hospital, a-and when I was born…” His voice trails off, his expression shifting to one of disgust. He looks up at Tommy. “I was technically a match to Daniel. But the graft didn’t take.” 

Tommy narrows his eyes at him, the weight of what Evan’s telling him sinking in. “They adopted you so they could have your bone marrow?” 

Evan lets out disgusted laugh, shaking his head. 

“And then when I couldn’t save the son they actually wanted, they acted like I wasn’t their problem,” he mutters. “And they never told me. “ 

Tommy huffs. He lifts his arm from behind Evan and pulls him in, presses his lips to the blonde’s birthmark. 

“I know it’s not a consolation, but you can still know them,” he states softly. “You already have TK in your life.” 

Evan shakes head, pulling away and looking at Tommy again, more tears in his eyes. 

“Gwyn is dead,” he tells him. “She’s been gone for two years now.” 

Tommy’s head tilts at the information, sorrow and compassion crossing his face. TK also had mentioned when they met that his father was a cancer survivor, and the realization of both of those factors is almost gut-wrenching. 

“I don’t have the right answers for this,” he admits softly. “But I can be here with you through it, whatever you want to do.” 

Evan nods. He leans back over, resting his head on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy presses his face into Evan’s hair, leaving quick, gentle kisses there as his fingers massage gently on his scalp. 

“You’re the only person who’s ever loved me just as I am,” Evan murmurs, snuffling back a small whimper. “The only one who’s ever decided I was enough this way.” 

Tommy gulps down past the knot in his throat as he fists a handful of Evan’s hair, holding him close a beat longer. 

“Never gonna stop,” he rasps after a moment. “This version of you is enough, no matter what anyone else thinks.” 

[gallavichpreg]

🟠 E5: Pre-Pregnancy Clothes

Laundry day.

Mickey sorts through his newly washed clothes, picking them out of the hamper one by one, and folding them neatly on the bare mattress. Shirts. Pants. Socks. Boxers. Pick, fold, repeat. The sheets and covers are still in the wash, and since they always take a while to get clean, he’s got a good chunk of time to kill.

Time to get his shit together.

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, carefully setting another warm shirt down onto the bed. “I can’t be wearing this shit too much longer.” He stares down at it contemplatively, his shoulders tensing. It’s only been a few days since he and Ian went down to the clinic, and found out that he was pregnant. Seven weeks along, the doctors said. Eight weeks now. Over halfway through the first trimester. “I’m gonna be too big.”

Mickey’s been dealing with the news well… the best way he knows how. At first, he was scared… then he was angry… but, after the dust settled, and all of the emotions passed, he just stopped thinking about it altogether. As far as he’s concerned, if he just soldiers through the morning sickness and goes on as though nothing’s changed, he won’t have to deal with it at all. He doesn’t want to talk about it… so he and Ian don’t talk about it. He refuses to pay attention to the way that he’s eating, to start getting more rest, or do any of the other things that the folks at the clinic recommended for him. He doesn’t want Ian to touch him, or be all sappy with him. There’s nothing to be sappy about. He does all of the same things that he’d been doing before… or as much of it as his body will allow… convinced that he can go on this way until he’s too pregnant to ignore it anymore.

“I’m… I’m gonna be too big.” He says again. Staring down at that shirt… a shirt that he’s only owned for less than a year, all of the thoughts and feelings that he’s been trying so hard to suppress come pouring out of him. Even standing a foot away from the bed, he can already see the curvature of his stomach jutting out just below his line of vision. It’s growing so fast. All of that worry and angst gushes from his pores like sweat, clinging to his skin… and, for the first time since the day that he and Ian found out about the baby, he speaks about it out loud. “I’m already so big! I’m… I’m not getting new clothes.” His hands trembling, he tosses the shirt back into the hamper, as if to reverse time. “Fuck this. I’ve gone this long without having to buy any new shit. Eight weeks, and my stuff still fits. Eight fucking weeks!” Turning his back to the bed, he takes a breath and stares at the wall, going back to that disconnected place that he’d been in for the last few days. “I get too big, I’ll… I’ll just wear Ian’s shit. I don’t gotta worry about that.”

That familiar numbness washing over him once again, he sits down on the exposed mattress—his bare ass against the soft fabric. He’s done with the laundry now. He’s done. Whatever’s left of it is going to be Ian’s problem.

[solarbird]

The thing about spending eight years cheering, supporting, and encouraging political violence and welcoming people dedicated to political change through violence to your movement is that…

well…

…okay, sure, you can build up a mean little coalition of paramilitaries that way. If you’re disciplined and careful.

Or, if you lack that discipline and those organisational skills, you can instead build up a motley little coalition of people more than happy to listen to your calls for stochastic terrorism.

And the problem with that latter route is they might not always aim where you want them to.

The other problem with that is if they decide you’ve abandoned or betrayed them – and if you’re coaching them and constantly encouraging them in conspiracy theory thinking and bullshit, that gets a lot more likely, for any reason and none – they might even aim at you.

Elon Musk earlier today wanted to know why people weren’t trying to assassinate Kamala Harris and finds it very suspicious that they aren’t. (He since deleted the tweet.)

The New Hampshire Libertarian Party said anyone who did it would be an American hero. (Screenshot, also since deleted.) Whoever is in charge of that account is gonna have a looooooot to talk about with the US Secret Service tonight.

In short, the usual crew of fash are trying real hard to aim this shit. But so far, well – it’s not working out as they’d planned.

Nonetheless, they will continue to do this just as they have. They will continue to ramp up white nationalist violence against immigrants in particular but not just, and tell their base that brutality and violence will be necessary and just, just as the OG Nazis said, and the crisis will escalate through – and almost certainly after – the election.

The more they realise they’re going to lose, the more they’re going to ramp it up going into the election. Harris is at +5 points today. Polls are difficult at best in this environment, but they listen to them just the same, and their actions say it’s worse for them even than it seems.

However, the more by which they do lose, the more it’s going to ramp back down after. I’ve talked about this before. The bigger the loss, the fewer people will be willing to take action to overturn it.

This is now the latest reason we need to deliver the biggest, most absolutely crushing defeat that can be managed. They need to be deflated, depressed, and done in. It needs to be a definitive statement that this will not gain you power.

The win needs to be so clear, so obvious, that any attempt they launch will attract the fewest number of people, and so, cannot succeed. Roberts and the corrupted SCOTUS are, sure, firmly in their camp, but they’re not stupid; they want to hold onto power even in the event of a GOP loss everywhere else, and that puts hard limits on how far they’ll go to overturn an election.

They absolutely will not further endanger their own power. They want to be around to rule from the bench for decades, if they can.

So. This year has been doomed to be violent for a long time now. But we can make it the least violent it can be with an absolute electoral blowout.

There will be more of this, going forward. Expect it, but do not be discouraged by it; in fact, be heartened, because the more they lash out, the more it clearly it shows that they know they’re about to lose.

Stay on target, team.

49 days remain.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Beware, Emoji SOUP

🚨⚡️➰➰☠️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️⚡️⚡️🔽☠️☠️◀️🔼➰🚨▶️🚨🚨🧟‍♀️⚡️🔽🔼☠️☠️➰🚨⚡️⚡️☠️

Oh boyyyyyyyy

3 for 🚨:

---

“Have you been hurt on the job?” Phillip asks. 

Eddie was not expecting this question.

---

3 for ⚡️:

---

Eddie looks over his shoulder nervously, to make sure Chris isn’t listening. He’s not. 

“Mom, you have to know it’s so different.”

---

6 for ➰:

tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

Buck rolls over in bed,  away from the bright red digital clock face, to where Eddie is still sleeping, arm slung over Buck’s waist. He shakes Eddie awake.

“Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes flutter open. 

“Morning, handsome,” he mumbles. 

“What day is it?”

---

3 for ☠️:

---

His nerves don’t bode well for him today.

Ransone begins the interview the same way he did for everyone else.

“Did you know Captain Gerrard was allergic to shellfish?”

---

6 for 🧟‍♀️:

---

“He always talked about the two of you finding each other again,” Chim says instead. “Crazy that you actually pulled it off.”

She smiles. “I like that he’s made a life for himself here. A family. In case I didn’t.”

---

6 for ⚡️:

---

“I do,” she says. “Very different.”

“I am making this choice because it makes me very happy.” Eddie tells her. “Because I know exactly what I want my future to look like, for the first time, and not what I think it should look like. And that is being married to Buck and building a family with him.”

---

3 for 🔼:

---

Eddie smiles gratefully. “Thanks. I just need like an hour or two, then I’ll be good.”

---

6 for ☠️:

---

Tommy’s eyebrows crease. “I did not.”

“Really?” Ransone presses.

“Unless I’d forgotten?” Tommy shrugs. 

---

6 for 🔼:

---

Strange, to have an eight year-old between them, but to have never really done that before. 

Eddie nods. “See you in a bit then.”

And then he heads off to the bedroom to sleep. 

So it’s getting somewhere. Looking up. Things aren’t perfect, and they’re still really awkward a lot of the time, but for the first time in a long time, they sort of feel secure. 

---

3 for ➰:

---

Eddie’s eyes shift from sleepy to intense in a snap. Like Buck has doused him in cold water. 

“What?”

---

3 for 🚨:

---

Honestly, he’s not even sure why it’s relevant. But sure, he’ll bite.

“Not too seriously.”

---

3 for 🔼:

---

Shannon finds out exactly how she is going to ruin things literally the next day. Or at least, how she could. Because she is, at this point, still determined not to.

---

6 for 🚨:

---

“Had a bit of a close call earlier this year, but I’ve been pretty lucky. I’ve got a great team looking out for me.”

He nods at Buck and Chim.

“It still seems risky. I mean, from what I hear, Evan has spent quite a lot of time in hospitals,” Phillip retorts. 

“From what you hear?” Buck echoes.

---

3 for 🧟‍♀️:

---

“Well, we’re a tight unit,” Chim says. He waits a breath before speaking again. “And we could be that for you, too, you know.”

---

3 for ⚡️:

---

Helena inhales. She blinks, eyes tearing up. Eddie is a little caught off-guard, to be honest.

---

6 for 🔼:

---

The problem happens after an impromptu text from Maddie, inviting her over to her apartment for takeout and reality television. Not usually Shannon’s go-to, in terms of viewing genre, but it sounds fun on a Sunday evening where she’d otherwise be alone. Eddie has a family dinner at his Abuela’s, so Chris is there. Shannon has to have other things to do. That’s part of this, right? Figuring out who she actually is.

---

6 for ☠️:

---

“Are you especially forgetful?” Ransone asks. “When it comes to matters of life and death?”

“Well, no…” Tommy frowns. “But I don’t remember this.”

---

3 for ➰:

---

“What day is it, Eddie?” Buck asks again. 

Eddie swallows heavily.

---

3 for 🚨:

---

His tone is icy. Severe. It chills Eddie, a little, to hear it.

---

6 for ⚡️:

---

“I had to ask, Eddie.” She says again. “I didn’t ask last time, because I already knew the answer. I knew what I thought the right thing was… I didn’t do right by you. But if you’re happy today, then I am very, very happy for you.”

---

3 for ☠️:

---

“Do you remember mixing up the pitchers when you were making caesars?” Ransone asks. 

Tommy’s eyes bulge. 

[billdenbrough]

my uncle killed himself last night.

technically, he’s my mum’s cousin, but we’re pasifika, which means he’s my uncle. he’s one of her best friends in the whole world. she’s closer to him than she is to her actual brother.

when he told me the news, my dad gave a tiny biography. a refresher course, if you will. to some, this would indicate, i imagine, a great distance. a lack of familiarity. the thing you have to know, then, is my mother has one hundred and eight first cousins. multiple of them (who are also related to each other) have the same name.

but i’m sitting in a mall, looking at my google doc, thinking to myself, how am i going to connect a to b, and then i get a text, and i am staring at my phone for ten minutes. there is something weird and staticky and tight and panicky in my chest, but mostly everything is numb. i do not own a weighted blanket, but i imagine sometimes it might be like this. a grounding pressure coating everything. or maybe vaseline is closer to what i mean, keeping things in, keeping things out.

i call my dad. i take a list of errands. nothing to do with my uncle, or my mother, or grief, or death. they are the tasks my dad needs done, the things he was going to do today but now is not, because my mother’s heart is broken and he can’t leave her alone. so maybe they are to do with grief, kind of.

i drive through the city, and it sucks, because of course it does, but also it’s a saturday, and it’s a long weekend, and there are sales, and i am driving to the biggest mall in my area. and i get there, and i don’t really know where to go or what to do, so i try to nap in the back of my car. i lock all the doors, bunch up several of my jackets lying around, and set a timer for half an hour. after three minutes, it’s too hot, so i climb back up, figure out how to unlock the whole car, make my way to the front, turn it on, and put the back two windows down, just an inch or two. inches aren’t my favourite measurement—imprecise, unpractical, american—but it is what it is. i lay back down, and i try sleep, and i get maybe ten minutes of semi-aware rest before the noises outside stress me out too much, and then i spend the rest of the timer curled on my side, staring at my phone battery go down. my dad calls me back eventually, and gives me a direction. the first half of the great impersonator is my company for this, until my battery level stresses me out even more than the vaseline works, and i switch off bluetooth completely.

it starts raining at some point, and there is a wind tunnel, and my feet are sore because i’m not wearing my orthotics, which i am not wearing because they were making my feet ache. catch-22. i keep doing errands, and eventually, the lane i take when driving from one of the stores to a different mall leads me all the way to the house of someone i used to know, a boy who dated someone in my family for years and years and years. this is not great. i do not love this. i have spent the better part of a year adjusting to his absence, see, and reckoning with the big hurts people can deal people in ways that are small, in the greater scheme of things.

and i’m driving past his parents’ house, thinking about the last time i was there, and it’s probably less upsetting than it would be on a good day, but it is still a bad thing on a day that just managed to already be worse. and then i start thinking about my uncle, and my dad’s refresher bio, and how it did not include the fact that this man taught me how to weave, even though he did. he showed me how to weave hammocks and nets and helped me into a dinghy when i was ten and trying to bridge the gap of the ocean from the ladder to the boat and my mother loved him and relied on him and his smile is etched into my brain and now he is dead.

i finally get hungry. i woke up at 5am, my body causing me problems even after being up past midnight revisiting old stories and universes and ideas, and i’ve had one thing to eat around 9:30, and then everything has been too funny in my stomach to contend with the idea of eating. and then, suddenly, i am finally hungry, so much that it hurts. and i get food for my mother, who has not been eating all day, too full with grief, and i get food for myself, and some extra for my dad, and i drive through the rain and behind bad drivers and with songs i don’t know playing, until i get to the kitchen where my mother is, and i drop all my bags, and i hold her for a full minute while she shakes against me.

dad went for a walk, she says, and i give her the food, and i tell her i got the broth separate from the noodles so she can heat and eat it later if she isn’t ready now, and she says she will eat it.

and she is eating. and i am eating. and there she is. and here i am. and she says she wants to go back home. she wants to go this week, but she doesn’t know who can take care of the cat, because i will be in another city for three days and dad will be away for two. and she says how my uncle was such a big part of the reason she was so looking forward to going back home with all of us this christmas. they had so many big plans. and her voice shakes. and she says my aunt, her sister, is taking it badly, and i am not surprised, and then she says that my aunt is the one who found him, that it was in her house, and now i am surprised. now i am shaking too.

my dad comes home. she doesn’t bring up wanting to go back. maybe she is waiting. i wash my new sheets. the rugby game is starting in one room, and we all slowly migrate there, and we sit in separate chairs, and we watch, by which i mean we have devices in front of us that we sometimes look away from to observe the game. i’m still staring at that same google doc from this morning.

every so often, when i look up, i don’t watch the game. i watch my mother, and i watch how her face crumples, so many times that i cannot count. her whole mouth turns down, and her face shakes, and her eyes are so, so sad, and she is across the room from me, and all i can do is watch. she does not cry. she does not speak. but her face crumples, over and over.

my dad goes to shower. she goes to shower. i end up on a wikipedia deep dive of something even more horrible, even sadder, and close my laptop screen. i go to shower, because i almost had a breakdown over something that isn’t even a thing to have a reaction to on twitter, and i need to do something to douse the rising anxiety beneath my skin. so i go to shower, and i open tumblr, and i start typing. i don’t really know why i’m saying all this. i guess i’m still trying to douse the rising thing in my chest. the vaseline is wearing thin, and i don’t know if it’s all better out or in.

i guess it’s just a lot. and i don’t know where to put it down. and today is the first day. and we will do it all again tomorrow, and my mother will still be staring at the ceiling, and i will be watching her, and my dad will go for walks in the rain, and nobody will have anything big enough to say to make it better. i don’t know if anyone has told my sister.

[gallusrostromegalus]

For the fic writer ask meme, #8: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Here's a bit from An Elephant Is Soft And Mushy, where after Kenpachi goes on a short visit to what will later be Hueco Mundo, he and Byakuya sit down to do some scheduling late at night:

Warnings: This is the result of the Angst Goblin in my brain suddenly remembering Bleach OVA content and realizing that it makes several people's backstories much, MUCH worse, and not so much kicking the door in as blowing it away with a #suffering shotgun. Discussion of a canon character death, and an additional implied death :)

(tagging @cesium-sheep because you wanted to see what I was going to do with the characters.)

***

“...Ken-chan?.”  Yachiru glared from the doorway, rubbing the dark circles forming under her eyes. “Its really late.”

“I know, I know.”  Zaraki sighed. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nm.” Yachiru mumbled, shaking her head and leaning on the doorframe.

“Hand me that pillow behind you.”  Zaraki pointed, sitting up and shifting positions so his leg was sticking out beside him. 

“Ta. C’mere.”  he nodded, taking the pillow from Byakuya and setting it in his lap. Yachiru plodded over, waved at Byakuya briefly while yawning, and curled up beside Zaraki’s leg, head on the pillow and shoulders in his lap. He returned his attention to the patrol schedule, changing which hand he was writing with to gently stroke her hair. 

“...I didn’t know you were ambidextrous.”  Byakuya blinked.  Perhaps this was the key to his success as a swordsman with no experience in kendo?

“Nah, I’m Buddhist.” he shrugged. “Right, where were we-?"

"I believe were up to May." nodded Byakuya, tabling his questions of handedness for now.

"May... That’s right before graduation and when everyone who is gonna quit or transfer does, right before summer scheduling so I’ve got a skeleton crew until the end of June-”

“Every division has the same problem, but yours does tend to suffer it more severely.” Byakuya agreed, watching Yachiru roll over and pull Zaraki’s leg closer like a stuffed toy, apparently setting quickly.  "Prob'ly a terrible idea, but what about dropping bait in a few tactical spots so we draw the hollows to places that can be managed with fewer patrols, rather than try to cover more ground.” Zaraki suggested, tapping a few open plains on the map.

“It’s been done in the middle districts with good results.” Byakuya nodded. “The difficulty is in the cities, where there is too much cover to patrol effectively, and in the more remote regions, where bait doesn’t have the range to effectively draw the hollows in.  But it may alleviate some of the staffing issues…”

Half an hour later they’d worked out a reduced patrol schedule that would still likely catch the majority of hollows approaching human settlement, when they were interrupted by Yachiru’s soft snores. Zaraki paused mid-sentence to grin apologetically, and turned his attention back to Yachiru, shaking her shoulder until she rolled over and quieted down. 

“She sleeps very soundly, but not if you’re absent?” Byakuya asked, watching the girl in the yellow lamplight.

“Yeah, but it’s not really a surprise.” Zaraki shrugged. “If anything, it’s that she’s taken to sleeping in her own bed as much as she has.”

“At her age?”  Ages were a relative thing in the soul society, but Yachiru was reading well and getting her adult teeth, as she had demonstrated her loose incisor at the last captain’s meeting- by the time he’d done so, Byakuya had been commanded to sleep in his own room for well over a decade. 

“I mean-  Sure, she’s five hundred thirty-eight now, but she spent nearly all of that homeless with me.  She was just a cabbage when I found her, and you don’t sleep without something between you and the ground, but you really don’t let a baby sleep where they’ll get cold, so for the first couple decades she slept inside my Kosode, then after it was on my chest, and then when she got to heavy for that she slept in my lap and now it’s by my back or under my arm.” He explained fondly, stroking her hair out of her face. “I’ve been her bed for half a millennium now, and I’ll probably be her bed when I’m ten thousand years old and nothing but bones and liver spots.”

Byakuya was silent for a long time.

…Had he ever slept in his father’s arms?  If he did, he had no memory of it.

“That’s a miserable mug.” Kenpachi said, nudging his arm. 

“I am rather morose this evening, it seems.”  He sighed, looking out at the moon. 

“Any hope of cheering you up?” he offered, gesturing around the small room that made his home, broadly offering whatever he had on hand.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I do not think so.”  Byakuya shook his head.

“Ah. Monsoon mood kind of thing.” Kenpachi nodded, and frowned, turning something over in his head.  “If you’re already going to be miserable, can I ask something awful?”

Byakuya tilted his head a bit to indicate he was listening.

“Yachiru goes to your place a lot- don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for every minute you’re willing to watch her. Was hard enough taking care of her out in the Rukongai, but now with the job- thanks.”

“It is… pleasant. To have her company.” Byakuya nodded. “Thank you for trusting me with her care.”

Kenpachi nodded in acknowledgement, chewing his lip. “...Last time, when I came to pick her up, I saw a lotta toys in the compound.  Cute stuff- dolls, the tea set she badgered you and Jushiro into playing tea ceremony with her-   But no other kids. You an’ Rukia really are the last generation, aren’t you? At least, until one of you is lucky enough to have kids.”

Byakuya looked up at Kenpachi, eyes hardening a bit in suspicion.

“...You used to be married.” Kenpachi continued.

Byakuya glared outright.

“-My condolences. Honestly. I’m not so lucky in love as you were, and losing her suddenly like that must’ve felt like getting your chest ripped open, ‘cept you don’t get the mercy of dying too.”

“What was it you wanted to ask?” Byakuya demanded, voice hard and dangerously quiet..

“I worked with a lotta women, and saw the problems they have up close. Retsu’s a damn good doctor, but even she can’t stop something if she doesn’t know it’s there to stop. Like an internal hemorrhage or septic infection, where there’s no outside problem and everyone tells women they’ll be sick and in pain during a pregnancy, so she just ignores it for a few hours but by then-”

He was interrupted by the crunch of wood as Byakuya’s fingers dug into the table.

“What was her name?” Asked Kenpachi.

“Hisana.”  Byakuya growled. “My wife’s name was Hi-”

“-Not her.” Kenpachii growled back. “Who was the little girl all those toys at the compound were intended for?”

Byakuya froze. 

“You had the baby sexed, or you wouldn’t have gotten dolls and tea sets. Surely you picked out a name.”  Kenpachi met his gaze, cool and unflinching like iron. “What was your daughter’s name?”

For a minute, there was only the horrible numbess of grief.

“...Noriko.”  Byakuya finally whispered, hands shaking as he let go of the table and hid his face. “My daughter’s name was Noriko.”

“Noriko.” Kenpachi nodded.  His face didn’t exactly change but the hardness was gone.

Byakuya choked, hands pressed to his mouth. “I never-  nobody’s ever said her name aloud-”

“Noriko.”  Kenpachi repeated, and Byakuya sobbed.  “Noriko, daughter of Hisana and Byakuya.”

Byakuya crumpled, hand clasped to his mouth to try to stifle the sobs, staring at Yachiru, still snoring in her father’s lap, tears streaming down his face and staining his scarf.  There was a weight on his shoulder.  It belonged to Kenpachi’s hot, scarred hand.

“I’m sorry.” Kenpachi’s voice was barely a whisper, eyes maybe just a bit red too. “But I needed to know, so I can ask what I actually need to ask.”

“What?” Byakuya whimpered, staring back at him.

Instead of answering, Kenpachi let go and shook Yachiru’s shoulder. “Hey, Kiddo.”

“Mgh?”  She blinked. 

“I need to get up a minute and your uncle needs a hug.” he said, pulling her up into a sitting position. 

“ -’kay.” she yawned, getting up and plodding over to Byakuya and leaning into his shoulder, eyes still closed. He held her, trying to not squeeze too hard, face in her own shoulder, gasping-

“Bya-chan?”  She mumbled, blinking at him. “You okay?”

“Just-  Just missing someone.” he stammered.  Kenpachi was rifling through the file cabinet on the other side of the room. 

“Oh.  Here-”  Yahiru said, straightening up and hugging him back properly.  

He couldn’t stop the sob this time, squeezing Yachiru to his chest for a long moment. “...Thank you, Kusajishi-san.” “ ‘s Yachiru.” she groaned, rolling her eyes at him. “Sorry, ‘m really tired…”

“-Curl up on him, I can’t find the damn thing I was looking for.” Kenpachi called from the other side of the room. 

“ -‘kay. G’night.”  Yachiru mumbled, sliding down Byakuya’s chest and immediately settling in his lap. He had to fight the urge to sob again, trying to hold still and cradle her. He watched her eyelashes flutter and she drifted off, the way she wiggled to make herself more comfortable, the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept-

“She out?” Kenpachi asked, peering over the table. 

“Y-yes, I believe so.” Byakuya whispered, trying to not wake her. 

“Good, I don’t want her hearing and worrying.” Kenpachi grunted, sitting down again and placing a file folder on the table between them.  “Sorry to ask you such a bitch of a question but-  Well.  Needed to know the measure of man you are.”

Byakuya watched as Kenpachi pulled off his haori off his left shoulder, with a small grunt of pain, followed by the same shoulder of his kimono and kosode-  Byakuya belatedly realized the thing that had looked off about Kenpachi earlier was that his uniform was closed up properly for once, as he stared at the bandages, gauze, still-healing stitches and brace that was only barely holding the left half of his ribcage together. 

Apparently the campaign in the realm of the hollows had been harder on Kenpachi than he had let on. 

“Restu said the blade that fucking thing had got within half an inch of my heart, and that almost wouldn’t have mattered with the amount of broken bones and other damage.”  he explained, wheezing “I have the devil’s own luck somehow, but I’m not convinced that I’m actually immortal, so I needed to know-”  he pushed the file folder closer to Byakuya and opened it, revealing legal documents. 

“-If something happens to me, will you be Yachiru’s Godfather?”  He asked,head bowed and his only mobile hand up like he was begging. “You’re her favorite person in this city after me, and now I’m sure you’ll take good care of her-”

"You are spectacuarly bad at diplomacy, Zaraki." Byakuya sighed as signature was already drying on the paper.

[alexbkrieger13]

https://www.theguardian.com/football/2024/feb/22/how-to-stop-spain-and-aitana-bonmati-moving-the-goalposts-nations-league

How to stop Spain and Aitana Bonmatí. Well, how to try at least

for my first column for Moving the Goalposts I was asked: how do you beat Spain? Well, it is easier said than done. When my Sweden team faced them in Gothenburg in September I had a moment which felt like an out-of-body experience: I could see clearly which kinds of balls they wanted to play and the patterns of their passes. They like to play diagonal passes from the No 6 up to the No 8s and, from there, switch the play. The problem, though, was reacting to it as they are just so quick.

I’ve seen them close up probably more than I’d have liked in the past year – three times, in fact, as we lost a World Cup semi-final to them and then suffered late defeats in both our Nations League group games against them.

Now it is time for the Nations League semi-finals. France face Germany and the Netherlands have the unenviable task of taking on Spain. When I think about what makes them so formidable, I’d start with two things: the amount of quality players and that winning culture, which begins with their youth national teams. They’ve won four of the last five Under-19 Euros and been to the final in seven of the last eight Under-17 Euros. In other words, just reaching a tournament is not enough – their attitude is “we’re going to be there until the end”. The same goes at club level with Barcelona.

In fairness, with Sweden we were close in both Nations League group games: we interrupted their rhythm and were close to getting a draw. We like to press high and force mistakes and, at home, I scored the opening goal and we managed to disrupt them quite well. However, we didn’t have energy to do it for the whole game and lost 3-2.

In Málaga we played a new 3-5-2 formation as we wanted to get a higher press on their centre-backs and also – with our three centre-backs – to cover the inner corridors that they are so good at exploiting. We won the ball high and led 3-1 at half-time. But after an hour a little player called Aitana Bonmatí came on and changed the game, and we ended up losing 5-3.

View image in fullscreenThis is an example with Alexia Putellas this time positioning herself in the same area, making it really difficult for us to decide who should mark her. Photograph: SvFF

Another player I’d like to mention is Salma Paralluelo, who has added a new dimension to Spain’s game. She is so quick that you can’t just have a high line against them as you might get caught out behind instead. Previously, Spain had forwards coming short so you could keep the team really compact but with Paralluelo it makes that really difficult.

Spain’s opponents in Seville on Friday, the Netherlands, have resilience and some good attacking players but the challenge will be to play the perfect game for 90 minutes. When you have the energy, you can press Spain and get the ball in good areas but they’re so good at tiring teams out, as they showed in the World Cup final against England. You retreat into a mid or low block and then you are just chasing and looking at what they are doing. And that means that when you do win the ball, it is hard to have ideas and keep hold of it – they are so quick at trying to regain it, while you are still tired.

If there is one weakness in Spain, it is the fact they do concede goals – nine in six Nations League group games. At Chelsea we always had the mantra that goals win you games but defence wins you championships and, as a defender, I like to believe that is true. That said, Spain scored 23 at the other end so maybe they have cracked the code – as long as you score an extreme amount of goals then it is OK not to be so solid. However, that could be where other teams have a chance.

As for the other semi-final between France and Germany, the French had a strong group stage, dropping just two points and conceding only one goal. They are a team with a core of experience as well as individual flair and they have Marie-Antoinette Katoto looking dangerous again after her long-term injury. However, as a Bayern Munich player I hope my German friends will go through and I do think they have grown as a team. Since moving to Bayern I have noticed that German football has a similarity with Swedish culture in that everyone is expected to work for the team. An example is Klara Bühl, my Bayern colleague, who is one of their key attacking players but still works really hard for the team. With that attitude, I fancy them to reach the final.

Credit to Spain campaigners

It is not just on the pitch that I admire Spain. As a member of FifPro’s global players’ council, I have followed their story off the pitch too and before the game in September, I managed to say, very briefly, how much I respected them for the way they have stood up and demanded changes from their FA – and got them. The week leading up to that match they had had late-night meetings, little sleep and plenty of stress yet still managed to come to Gothenburg and play a really good game. I am impressed with how, between their struggles, they have managed to stay focused on their football and win a World Cup.

Nations League format should follow men’s example

On a broader note about this first Women’s Nations League, it has been a welcome addition even if, timing-wise, it was tough from a player’s perspective to regroup and go again so soon after the World Cup. However, when I look at the fact Spain and France each play their semi-final at home, I do believe it would have been better to follow the men’s example and have a ‘final four’ event in just one place. It would have been a better spectacle and would make more sense from a commercial perspective – not to mention a sporting one as it is a huge advantage for Spain and France to each have a home semi-final.

[aeoki]

Number Eight - Tripping: Chapter 7

Characters: Rinne, HiMERU, Kohaku & Niki Location: Los Angeles Townscape

TL Note:

A pure culture of an organism is a culture which is obtained from a single strain having no contamination of other strains of organisms. Basically, Niki is trying to say that Rinne was raised in a pure environment, free from other influences/culture.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< After some time. >

HiMERU: Three hours left. It seems “Number Eight” is finally coming to an end.

Niki: Let’s hurry and find the goal while Rinne-kun’s resting in the car.

Kohaku: Where are the clues for the goal hidin’, anyway? I wish we had somethin’ more specific.

Rinne: Sorry to make ya wait, guys!

HiMERU: That voice–

Niki: Rinne-kun! You’re finally awake. Are you feeling okay?

Rinne: You betcha. Rinne-kun slept like a baby, so he’s in tip-top condition ☆

Kohaku: Thank goodness… Still, it’s rare to see you sleep for that long.

Did you feel like a fish out of water?

Rinne: Probably. The water and air was just so different here, so I guess I must’ve used up more energy than I’d thought.

But who knew we had this sorta weakness~? Man, I’ve never been more envious of Niki’s sturdy stomach.

Niki: There’s a lot of nature back in your hometown, right, Rinne-kun~? It’s kinda like pure culture[⁎].

Rinne: I don’t wanna hear that from you. There aren’t that many things that can rival your purity, Niki. Or in terms of cooking, anyway.

Well, I’m sure the only reason I got used to living in the big city was all thanks to your cooking. But now that I’m overseas…

I ended up passing out due to starvation and lack of sleep. Haven’t done that in a while.

Dunno if someone cast a spell on me or something, but I found myself at our destination when I woke up.

You guys can’t drive, right? If you guys committed a crime, then even I can’t help you then, ya know?

HiMERU: Don’t worry. We came up with a plan for that.

You should be able to understand what happened if we told you we borrowed a staff member’s phone and used all our money to call a towing car over.

In any case, we need to find the goal.

But we don’t have any clues. There hasn’t been any new information from the tablet, either.

Kohaku: “Go back the path you came and find the goal”... the mission itself sounds simple, but we’re stumped because we don’t have any clues.

Niki: We should have more luck if we had some clues~

Rinne: Oh? You guys really have no idea?

There was a huge clue on the way here.

Niki: Wha? You sound like you know where the goal is, Rinne-kun.

Rinne: You betcha. Don’t underestimate Rinne Amagi-kun the genius…☆

I know exactly what the mean “Number Eight” staff are thinking!

HiMERU: You mean on the way here? Don’t tell me, you’re talking about that?

That banner that was at the place we landed on with the parachutes…?

It had “COME HERE” on it, didn’t it? You’re saying that wasn’t a landing point, but a clue hinting towards our goal?

Rinne: Perfect answer ☆ I’d expect no less from you, Merumeru!

I can be a bit mean, ya know~? I had a lightbulb moment when I saw the tablet saying “go back the path you came”.

It’s pretty convenient for a variety TV show to have both the starting point and the finishing point at the same place, right?

Kohaku: That’s true. It makes sense when you think about all the ridiculous things we’ve been through. They were plannin’ on confusin’ us even further by givin’ us that hint.

Niki: And they wouldn’t be villains if they just gave us a hint from the very beginning. You could even say it’d be our fault if we failed to notice it.

Rinne: If we couldn’t reach the goal, then they could laugh in our faces too.

Gyahaha. That sounds pretty funny in itself, though.

“The problem children of the idol industry fail to notice the clue at the starting point and wander around in circles on the West Coast!”

But we ain’t gonna fall for their trap.

We’re currently in a clean era, where anyone can say whatever they want on social media. They want to be a villain who wants to feel satisfied after arguing with those with differing opinions.

They only care about themselves. We’re in an era where everyone wants to win – they want to argue and eliminate the foreign matter…

If a villain doesn’t exist, then they’ll find another to use for their own satisfaction.

It makes you wonder where the real evil is, huh? Let’s hit back and do a proper job of saying NO to those opinions.

We’ll reach “Number Eight’s” goal, and we’ll sing our hearts out with love and peace. And the ones who are allowed to do that are us, “Crazy:B”, right?

HiMERU: Hehe. You’ve got quite the silver tongue. You said it loud enough for the staff behind the cameras to hear as well.

If you’ve had a good rest, then all that’s left to do is to head towards the goal.

Once again, we’ll be counting on you to drive. You’ll do it, won’t you, Amagi?

Rinne: ‘Course, I will. Right now, the word “impossible” doesn’t exist in my dictionary!

If they’re tellin’ us to “COME HERE”, then we’ll have to do just that…☆

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[heyclickadee]

My take (that no one asked for) on every single Star Wars show and non-saga movie:

The Clone Wars (movie): It’s…okay it’s rough. This wasn’t supposed to be a movie at all, putting three episodes of the show together and releasing it theatrically was part of the distribution deal with Cartoon Network, as far as I know, and it does show. It’s grown on me, though.

Clone Wars (The Tartakovsky Series): I think I’m probably in the minority here, but I actually don’t love this one. It’s fun, slick, and stylish, like everything Tartakovsky does is, and I don’t dislike it, but it just doesn’t do much for me. It’s cool. Maybe it’s a little too cool. Great art style, though.

The Clone Wars: Very high highs, very low lows. Though to be honest, I actually love a lot of the goofier episodes. They’re fun. It doesn’t have to be all drama all the time. Sometimes you can let Jar Jar be an agent of chaos. Sometimes you can have an episode about interest rates. I don’t have the nostalgia factor going with TCW the way a lot of people do—I didn’t watch it until I was in my twenties—so I do have to admit that it is tied with one other show as my least favorite of the animated shows, but that’s not a bad thing. I still love it.

Ewoks: I’ve only seen about six episodes. It’s veeerry 80’s. I think eight year old me would have gone insane for this show had I seen it. Adult me actually has a bit of a soft spot for it. I’ll watch the rest of it eventually. (Aaaand now I have the theme song stuck in my head. It’s. It’s definitely a theme song.)

Droids: I…haven’t seen it.

Resistance: I finally had a chance to get all the way through this show (I was eyeballs deep in “okay fine we’ll try this college thing AGAIN” when it was airing and just didn’t have time to check it out) and you know what? It’s actually pretty good. It’s definitely skewed even a little younger than Star Wars typically is, but it does what it does really well. Sort of feel like this one is slept on.

The Mandalorian: It’s a fantastic adventure of the week show. I actually don’t dislike the “plot” episodes, but mostly I’m just here to watch what shenanigans Din and his small green force son get into. Season three is weaker than the first two, but I don’t even really think that season is bad. There was some great stuff in it—just uneven and mixed in with some not so great stuff. Overall, good popcorn viewing, as far as I’m concerned.

Andor: Okay, yeah, Andor is fantastic. I do think some of its popularity is that it’s one of two (maybe three) Star Wars shows made for adults more than anyone else, so some people don’t quite have the same “why isn’t this making me feel like Star Wars did when I was a kid?” dissonance watching it, but it is also genuinely amazing. Probably the best thing Star Wars has ever done even if it’s not technically my favorite.

The Book of Boba Fett: Is it a mess? Yes. Do I still enjoy it? Yeah. My main problem with BoBF is that it’s got some serious structural issues. Even besides Din coming in and taking over two whole episodes, I think that the telling the story via flashbacks was a mistake, and that we should have followed Boba through the childhood bits and slowly caught up to him in the present. Maybe revealed it was all a flashback while he was in the bacta tank from there. And I…don’t love Robert Rodriguez’s directorial style all that much, never really have. That said, I do hope we eventually get more of this, though if we do I think it will be folded into something else. Still don’t love the live action pike design. (I actually have a conspiracy theory that BoBF was originally just a few episodes or even a season of The Mandalorian, and that it was made its own thing for marketing purposes.) I want more Boba, more Fennec, and more Sand People, if nothing else.

Solo: One, killing off Val Beckett was a huge mistake. It’s not story breaking or anything like that, but doing so when she’s one of very few black women in Star Wars and half of one of, like, two interracial couples in the entire franchise means that it hits in a way it wouldn’t if she was someone else. So, yeah, don’t like that. Two, the rest of this movie is a blast and audiences just hate fun. I don’t care that no one asked for this movie, it’s fun and campy and there’s a heist and I like it. Three, Enfys Nest has the sickest armor design in the whole franchise and I need more of her.

Kenobi: So…maybe unpopular opinion here, but…I really like Kenobi. Kenobi’s a delight. It’s not perfect, it’s got some problems, but I like that it’s about a guy who’s that depressed and alone slowly regaining his sense of hope, I like that we had something focus on Leia for a while (because Anakin and Padme had two kids and Leia always gets left second string), I like that you’ve got grifters like Haja and former imperials doing what little bits they can to help even though they can’t fight the whole empire. And I know that thoughts are mixed on this, but I actually thought it made a couple bits of A New Hope make more sense where Leia is concerned; kid me could never figure out how she knew who Ben Kenobi was when that was the name he only went by in exile on Tattooine (“Ben Kenobi? Where is he!?”), and it kind of made the switch from the very formal request for aid on behalf of her father to the more personal, “Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi,” a little more poignant, for me, anyway. Reva is an amazing character, she’s a perfect parallel and eventually perfect foil for Anakin, she’s a mess and a he’s in pain and I just. I love her. I have mixed feelings on the live action Grand Inquisitor’s performance (and mixed feelings on the makeup—on the one hand it could be better and on the other hand the other main live action pau’an we’ve got—the actor’s head was just shaped like that). Nevertheless, this show for me was mostly about the big emotional beats, and it hit all of those really well.

The Bad Batch: This is a magnificent show and I adore it apart from That One Thing and the fact that everything was left completely open, even going into the epilogue, apart from Omega’s coming of age and the Hunter’s and Omega’s relationship’s arc. That was resolved very well. I am mildly insane about this show. I love it. Also, it vexes me. Tied with two other shows as my favorite Star Wars show in spite of all that. Amazing soundtrack. Sidebar: If it turns out I’m right and That One Thing is an extended fake out and we’re not quite done with these characters, I’m sorry, but I’m going to be the most insufferable person alive.

The Acolyte: Everyone is very pretty and just a little stupid. Mae is very fun. The good scenes are very, very good. The writing is pretty uneven; judging from interviews I have a completely different view of writing than Leslye Headland and had a hard time picking up why a lot of the characters did anything, but when it hit, it hit. It’s…very CW drama, which isn’t a bad thing—just not always my thing. That said, Sol is a fascinating concept for a character and Lee Jung-jae did an incredible job with what he was given. Same with Qimir and Manny Jacinto. It’s honestly not my favorite Star Wars show, but I’m still disappointed that it looks like it’s not moving forward. The leftover story might end up being folded into the high republic book series, but I still hope we get some kind of on-screen continuation. I think the public needs more of Darth Babe the Jacked.

Rogue One: It’s great. Yes, the entire main cast dies, but the central message was still about hope. Vader gets to pun. I remain somewhat dismayed that the only thing a portion of the audience took away from it was that the Vader hallway scene was cool. He’s a horror movie monster there. Still a great movie. (Also, Saw, why do you have that??)

Young Jedi Adventures: This skews very young; most Star Wars is for kids in the first place apart from Andor, the Acolyte, and mmaaaaaybe the Tales of anthology (the other live action shows are, in my opinion, solidly whole family), but this really is made for very young children. That said, I have watched it, and it’s a very well done show for very young kids. Also I would die and kill for Nubs.

The “Tales Of” anthology series: Yes, I am counting this as one, because even though there’s a shift in focus from the Jedi to the empire between seasons, it all follows the exact same format and structure. I’d argue this series is the one that’s primarily for the adults who either grew up watching Star Wars animation or got into it as adults. It’s good, lots of atmosphere, the episodes do range in quality but I generally like them, and it’s nice they get to play around with different techniques, like making miniatures and incorporating them into the animation. The Dooku and Barriss episodes are probably my favorites.

Ahsoka: I know the fandom is divided on this, like they are on most things, but I love this one, okay? It’s not perfect, but I have a good time watching it. It just happens to be this perfect blend of campy, fun, dramatic, and mystical that really feels like Star Wars for me. I like it when Star Wars gets weird, has silly little guys, and doesn’t take itself too seriously. Lucky for me that this series has extragalactic travel via whale, Ahsoka being dragged to Force Therapy by Anakin, and Ezra hanging out with the space fraggles. That, and I love some of the concepts. I like the idea that force sensitivity isn’t the be all end all, that connecting to the force is something you can learn with practice even if you weren’t blessed with the genetic lottery. Peridea and the space it occupies in folklore is neat. And the music is wonderful. It is a little uneven, it’s not Andor or anything quite that amazing, but I’m eager for more.

Visions: This anthology is fantastic and you’re missing out if you haven’t seen it. I don’t love every entry, but even the weaker ones are worth seeing once, and the stronger ones are worth seeing a whole lot more than that. It’s a great blend of styles and takes from people normally not involved in creating Star Wars. This is in a three way tie for my favorite Star Wars show.

Rebels: Again, it’s not perfect, because no show is, but I also think it’s the strongest standalone show Star Wars has besides Andor. Yes, there are weaker episodes, but on the whole it’s remarkably consistent, and the second half of season four might be some of my favorite Star Wars outside of parts of the original trilogy. Also, it has some stunning backgrounds, and while the art style doesn’t always work for every character, the character animation ends up really hitting its stride towards the end of the second season, and just gets better from there. And, as always, the music is fantastic. Rebels rounds out that three way tie for my favorite Star Wars show along with TBB and Visions.

[gaysforbyler]

Rant post because you guys are my only friends, which is kind of embarrassing but the truth. You don’t need to read it i just wanted to get it out.

I hate complaining about my parents bc they’re actually the best parents in the world, but i think I’ve been trying so hard to put them in this perfect little box that i completely ignore how much they’ve fucked me up. So many adults in my life have bullied (emotionally abused?) me because of a mental disorder I have, and I’ve always left my parents off of that list because it really wasn’t that bad with them. They might have made a few offhanded comments, but it was definitely not on the same level at all. I would never classify them as abusive in any sense, but in doing so I ignore the fact that they hurt me in general. My dad just stood there while the “trusted” adults in my life made fun of me in front of dozens of people over and over again, and he did nothing to stop them. That hurts more than anything.

When i was thirteen my worst abuser came into my life. She was my coach, like most of the others, but i was old enough to where my parents didn’t have to watch over me. I went to practice alone, and she tormented me. She pulled me aside in front of my entire team, and scolded me for being disrespectful to her. She said that my actions were not the result of any mental disorder, because she was a psychologist and she would know best. (I wasn’t diagnosed with anything at the time. I thought i was fucking insane. I’m now diagnosed with selective mutism.) She threatened to kick me off the team if i didn’t fix it. I was scared shitless that she would go through with it, because I didn’t know how my parents would react. I thought they would blame me like they had before, so i spent the next year hiding what she did (and continued to do). I was so scared to go to practice that i nearly passed out every week when the time came around. Idk, i just feel like i should have been able to trust someone

I didn’t get diagnosed until i was fourteen. I wouldn’t have gotten diagnosed at all if my cousin hadn’t been diagnosed at the age of nine. It was too late for me. I watched her get better while I made no progress myself. In the past five years, I have only spent two in therapy, because they were too busy to find me a therapist. I can’t make friends, i can’t keep friends, i can’t get a job, i have breakdowns every time i go to the store, I’m wasting my entire life being scared of every human interaction, all because no one cared enough to figure out what the hell was wrong me. I’m never getting better. This is the rest of my life.

And i know i secluded myself from the age of eight. I used to spend all of my time alone as a kid, because it’s how i felt safest. I pushed my family away. But i still feel emotionally neglected. I can’t remember the last time i went to my parents with a problem. I don’t know if i ever have. Maybe that’s because of the anxiety, but i still feel like that’s their fault. I was a child. They could have pushed more, or done literally anything to research what was going on with me. That was their job, and now I’m facing the consequences

[annakie]

FIXING THE HOUSE Part Seven (Sorta) - Let's go Backwards to go Forwards

Part One: I Do Not, In Fact, Have the Power

Part Two: Let’s Spend Lots of Money!

Part Three: All These Things That I’ve Done

Part Four: I Really Want to Stay At My House

A little interlude.

Part Five: Power Down

Part Six: You Will Leave Some Paint

Part Seven: Backwards to go Forwards

Part Eight: Master of Bathrooms

Part Nine: Within a Room, Somewhere

Part Ten: Rooms With No View

Part Eleven: Big Bang Room Part A and also Part B!

Part Twelve: We Can Make It On the Outside

Part Thirteen: Mauve Haze Symphon

Part Fourteen (A) - In the Kitchen

-----

In the summer of 2003, it felt like all of my friends were moving forward with their lives but me.

Two of my friends had gotten married a year or two earlier and were living a ways away but had rented a house.

Two more friends had just gotten married, and were buying a house.

Two more had just gotten into a serious relationship, and he decided to buy a house. She was moving in and paying rent. A year or so later they'd get married, too.

I wasn't in a relationship but was the oldest in the friend group and I was still renting a one bedroom apartment.

I got the bug in my ear that I should buy a house, too.

Once again, a very long post.

I just want to make it clear -- this is more of a flashback episode than updates on what's been going on. But it's important.

Those three couples all eventually had houses all in the same neighborhood. I couldn't afford their neighborhood. Honestly I couldn't afford a house at all but that was right during the time that banks were handing out mortgages like candy.

I shouldn't have been house shopping, but I did it anyway. Somehow my mom agreed to co-sign with me. She shouldn't have, tbh I was a bad bet credit wise at that time, but she did.

After losing out on a couple of bids, I finally found this house I really loved from the outside. The thing was, they weren't letting people inside for awhile, but the price was great and it looked great from the outside.

I put in an offer before seeing the inside (Pro Tip: never do this) with money I didn't really have, and despite many warning signs that I shouldn't be buying this house, I went ahead and did it anyway.

For several years, it was a really bad decision.

This house had been a rental for like 20 years before I bought it. It was severely neglected, but it had been fixed up just enough by the previous owners to hide the most glaring problems with it.

So much went wrong those first few years that I was more or less always in debt, lurching from problem to problem, borrowing money from my parents to keep the AC going and sewer flowing. Eventually my mom just paid to fix the sewer rather than call a plumber every month or two. (Eventually, I paid her back). Now I just have to call one out once a year or so.

And y'all, the house was ugly inside. Just really not updated almost at all since the 60's. Nobody gave a shit.

A few things had happened, three layers of wallpaper in the bathrooms and kitchen, and two layers of peel and stick tiles on the floor.

But most things were original to the house, or maybe updated in the mid to late 80's at the newest.

In 2004 when I'd done what I could with the place I started writing a walkthrough with pictures. It's not complete, I never did the bedrooms or master bath... I think I have pictures of those, I'll fill in later. But just scrolling through that and taking a look is super cringe for me and maybe entertaining for you. Also, hey, some of my friends and family are in there, too.

It will give you a decent idea of where I started, so later you can see where I am now and why doing this has been so damn important to me.

-----

I had a few bits of good luck, one of those couples mentioned above gave me their old washer and dryer which I still have and use to this day, I bought a dishwasher and fridge at the Sears Scratch and Dent store and the fridge is still running... for now. And my house had come with a home warranty that was paid for the year AND GOT USED HEAVILY. It saved my ass a time or two. And at least once I got ripped off by a new furnace install that was an utter disaster and almost killed me with carbon monoxide poisoning until I got them to send out a better repair guy who probably saved my life.

My parents would come once or twice a year and help me do all the repairs and improvements I could afford, and usually kick in some of their own money to help.

I had secondhand and salvaged furniture, much of it came from relatives who downsized or passed. I scoured yard sales for stuff to put in the house. I was paying off $4000ish on a $1700ish bedroom suite. I was at a job that was severely underpaying me and then everyone there got a paycut in 2007. I had no savings, maybe I'd scrape up $1000 which would get eaten by a new emergency every time I got it together.

It was bad. I was barely scraping by.

I made a post about it 10 years ago, and I still agree with basically everything I said in there. And that was when things had just started to turn around for me financially so that I wasn't lurching from paycheck to paycheck.

These are also linked there, but in 2008 my mom came into a little money and gave me a couple thousand and I was able to get all of the floors redone, and new countertops/sink in the kitchen.

These Flickr sets show even better just how bad it was, and how much it was improved. Except I made a huge mistake and got carpet in the bedrooms instead of Laminate everywhere. Something I'd start regretting days into the new floors and would keep regretting deeply for a few years. New Floors

New Countertops

With the countertops came a sink and faucet. Instead of laminate countertop from 1963 that had worn through and had holes in it, I had the cheapest countertop Home Depot had but it was new and looked decent. Instead of peel and stick linoleum I had the cheapest laminate flooring on the market but it was way better than the forever-stained brown carpet from the 80's.

That was the first time the house felt livable at least, finally.

In 2012 I got a better job, and finally started having some savings. I spent about $1500 one weekend with my parents upgrading the bathrooms. We bought $250 cabinets from Home Depot, two of the same ones, two of the same faucets, two of the same toilets.

We re-painted the bathrooms because I was thinking of selling the house at that point.

I was a big dummy and never finished painting the hall bath -- ever. It was still only like 90% done for nine years. I have no excuse for that. I just kinda stopped seeing it.

The very worst problems of the house were solved then, and my house was... okay.

The pictures in that Flickr set make it look almost nice in some places.

Except for a few things.

Like that when you took a shower in the master bath it had started having water seep through under the trim back into the bathroom.

I hadn't taken a shower in my master bath since about 2009.

And the hall bath, while it worked, the entire tub area was a nightmare. A horrorshow, honestly. I mean, it worked though. It was just really ugly, and a little grosser every year. But hey, as long as you kept the shower curtain closed, I only had to contend with it a few minutes a day.

----

In 2019, things had spiraled a bit in the house. I made a couple of posts about this, and how my friend Ange came to visit so I did a big cleanout of the house, and replaced the carpet with new laminate.

Here's the first and second post. Well it's the second post that links to the first post.

Here's the followup post.

It was a huge blessing that I did this, that Ange's visit got me to get my house in order. I put a lot of work into it, and in the end it paid off not only because I wasn't that ashamed of most of my house when Ange was here (I mean, still, the garage was a huge Problem, the bathtub had continued to deteriorate and still wasn't fully painted, and the dining room was still full of STUFF that needed to be sorted and put away when she got here) but it was enough.

Then, you know, 4 months later we all stayed home for a year or two and having a house that was improved and decluttered significantly went a long way towards being OK mentally that year.

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Four years on, and some of the things that had been bad had gotten worse. For instance, the 1960's electric wiring. The house once again had more clutter than I was comfortable with, and the tub situation had gotten fucking dire. Also, the cheap, cheap laminate in most of the house from 2008 was really showing its wear... it had not only started separating at the point in the house that got the most traffic, but it had water damage there, and in other places, too.

Things that were bad, like the state of the windows, hadn't gotten better. The kids across the street shot BBs at my garage one day and one went through one of my garage windows (I didn't catch them in the act but I saw them with it a few weeks later. I love those kids, I'm friendly with the family, and at that point I was like IDGAF, tbh.) The patio roof was a few years from falling down from rot. And a whole host of other things I've posted here and some I haven't.

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Y'all, I'm aware that I'm damn lucky to own a house, especially in this market. I'm lucky that I was old enough to buy one before prices skyrocketed and I bought one cheap enough (even in 2003 prices) that I ended up not losing it when the housing market exploded in 2007 and I sailed out of that OK when so many others didn't.

I am aware I'm talking about something now that it's ridiculously out of reach for so many people, and that situation is just unbelievably shitty, and I'm sorry for that.

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At one point when all these renovations started, a friend of mine, one who is in a lot of the 2004 pictures and was one of the couples who bought their house in 2004 asked me if I would still buy a house knowing everything I went through the first few years, all of the things that have gone so very wrong with this place. All of the ugly things that didn't get fixed for 21 years, and how much money this place would cost me.

At the time, I told them I wish I could go back and tell myself do not buy THIS house. Get a house, just not THIS ONE.

But then, a few hours later I re-thought my decision. There's a few reasons why... even through it all, I'd get this house.

Here's the three most important reasons.

And about a half dozen other cats, and two dogs, that I've rescued and re-homed, or just ferals I've taken care of, because I lived in this house.

I wouldn't have Fry, or Pemily, and I wouldn't have had Patchy (or re-homed her babies) if I didn't live here, because they all came from my backyard. I don't think any of them would have survived, and Pemily probably would have never been born.

I also have good neighbors. We look after each other but also mostly mind our own damn business. We're not in a floodplain, taxes are relatively low. It's a decent place to be, even if all my friends who used to live near me moved farther away except one.

So, yeah.

After 21 years I'd saved enough and in the end when I found someone I liked and trusted and who didn't charge crazy amounts of money (HONESTLY I think Arturo didn't charge me ENOUGH) all of this spiraled from "Well we'd better get the electricity fixed so the house doesn't burn down" to... well... what it is now.

It's starting to wind down. We just need a couple more good days of work and it'll be over, for now.

Hopefully then I'll have time to finish this extremely long story and share all the pictures and all the stuff that's happened, more than I have, and show you what Arturo and I made from what you've seen in all the pictures in the links above, if you looked.

I'll be back as soon as I have the time. :)