#People can still send me these ill just answer em when I feel like

[cybergoth-damsel]

Hi I know your clown girl thing was yesterday! but I need to spread the gospel of my beloved Sprinks the Clown from the Flipline Studio's Papa Louie game series

Mirth & Merriment: 9/10 - Look at that smile! The name! This is a clown who clearly appreciates the indulgent and the sweet. This clown appreciates each color in the beautiful rainbow wig of emotion

Circus Chic: 10/10 - Ignoring the degree to which the Papa Louie style denies us access to pants, these are great designs that could only be described as "clown". The balance of color in the first one is particularly nice! Go Sprinks!

Sugary Topping: I hope her order is as crazy looking as she is.

[skunkes]

sorry if this is a silly question but do you like. sit down and talk with your ocs in your head? and they tell you about themselves? how do you get them to reveal information....i am begging mine to let me know them orz

I do! In several different ways ^_^ the trick is to think of yourself as a character in your brain theater... ill mostly be explaining thru examples and using silly language ^_^ and its more How I Do It vs a how to....

"Sitting down and talking to em" interrogation style only happens before they're fully formed. when talon still didnt have very many traits it was like we were in a white room with 2 chairs... although you COULD make a scenario out of this its usually the Before for me. final tweaks in the form of basic traits and info before sending em out for further development

the way i get ocs to tell me about themselves is more thru actions! with talon I "locked him in a room" with al in the form of imagining how they'd meet. because I set it in talon's decrepit home with no running water or electricity, there come questions like. would he be accommodating? would he explain the vampirism or just rely on flashing his fangs or hiding them until its time to bite? these arent questions i actually went into the scenario having, but as you Play Dolls its questions that get answered anyway, ykwim? (although you could also go into the simulation (lol) with questions you want answered!) And its your brain so you can do as many takes and tweaks as you want, and things develop as you imagine the same thing, or different things, which all inform a character.

Scenarios could be anything. Im a serial daydreamer so anything goes depending on how bored I am or what im doing... and just like with real people, every scenario is a way to learn more about somebody...! It's like improv in your brain as you think up how they'd react and respond to things, and what they'd say. But also, going with your oc to the grocery store or a restaurant or to slay a dragon could give you insight into their behavior but likely not any info about their trauma or whatever, just like real people (but it also depends on the person) (and the oc!)

I DO have "sit down and talk" scenarios once i feel ive learned enough standard, early level friendship stuff about em though. It's much fun if you set the scene in your mind to mimic a real life Deep Conversation session. Sitting in the backyard on those plastic chairs, or aimless car ride at night. right now the one I keep going back to is just. Loafed in bed when you're really sleepy and just starting to say anything about anything and maybe get a little sentimental. sometimes its just me talking but I obvs have the ability to imagine how he'd be interpreting that in his brain, ykwim?? You play several roles at once I guess. It's like the sims, switching back and forth between povs, but the level of immersion i get into never feels like I'm Making Them Say It, it just feels natural at that point because I've learned enough.

There's also information that's shared by you figuring out what they'd Think (as above) vs what they say which is also fun characterwise... AND ALSO while im daydreaming scenarios I do multiple takes to find their voice. Like, I'm an overexplainer, a detailed therapy-speak-er. Sometimes I catch myself giving ocs that Voice and I have to do a retake. Like hold on, Talon would NOT be introspective. He wouldn't share all that shit I just "made" him say even if it is true and now I know about it. He'd say something insanely vague and confusing if anything at all. Let's take it from the top. etc

It rlly is about immersion! You have to have fun with it! Sometimes it's so Real to me that I genuinely can't develop an oc further because I cant make something up for them and they wont "tell me", which means I just have to spend more time with em I guess! or maybe need to leave em alone for a bit. or maybe ill never know (<- which also tells me about em!) just like real people. treat the fake people like real people in your fake dollhouse brain theater sims lot puppet show simulation.... also i added more in the tags bc i didnt know where to put it in the main txt 😭

[madfantasy]

I haven't seen you post in a while, I hope you've been doing okay? How is everything? Hope it's been a good year so far for you 💕💕

You're too kind, u & everyone who made inquiries, bless ur hearts.. im sorry for disappearing, but yeah, I don't have net— using my phone credit and hope this posts..

I tried to record my voice answering this, like I sometimes did on tik, suddenly ended up trying to muffle the floods of my burning tears, so now I have an awkward vid of me talking then weeping out of nowhere, which a good reason for me to keep up the no cry habit, heh.. but seriously, I suppose I'm fine till I be conscious of it.. its much easier for not to talk .. even tho I'm aching to be back in thy company, lonely in my foresight to catch on to the present that joins us, hand held out to reach like minded souls but shying from the fear of forgetfulness occurring..

I'm fine tho, did few new stuff, merely drowning in too muchness and nothingness as usual, this month I guess you could say I took an act of mad fury in search of any happy source because the echoing silence and the swarm of sadness nipping on my brain cells thickened, and the reasoning merged with the obscene. So instead of giving my guardians the usual of 3/4 of my earnings last month for net and groceries, I spent it all. Ya know, as it was told to me it mine to do as I please? As being prevented any chance of work if it was possible, 't was supposed to be spent on art supplies & measly delights craved for years ?

Before hand, I've been begging them to take me for months to get any clothing or whatever, be it the first time I ever see a shop, then just to drive around, then just me peaking to the outside when the front door is open, merely seeking change I suppose. They kept vaguely promising me until they refused point blank— getting tired of my nagging, then their car just stopped working till this day. Its in the workshop rn..

Anyway, befouled by despair, needing the mere basics of life and not granted, I was delighted when i found a site to buy from cheap & pretty, I pressed buy without any further considerations, or taking their permission and thrilled to be able get gifts for my siblings too. I say gifts but really they are deprived necessities too and not even much just one each cuz well, they are 5 of my babies and to start with the top of priorities; we all draw

I could already see it, they can't help themselves; heck seeped through the clenched gates of their mouths, trying desperately to poison me with undirect attempts this time, cuz I bought for my sibs they're out of the option of calling me selfish. I was upping the same trance like state of vague existence dealing with them, absorbing their insults and degrading just to make sure my shi arrives safe.

Unfortunate for me, the site chose the worst carrier in this country

I did everything in my power to make it into their convenience, by embarrassingly messaging the carrier daily, they took a week of promising to deliver and flanking so my guardians reached a heated level of threatening, waving their hands nd almost tossing shi at mE saying that they don't care if they came and if i dared to order something again they'll do this and that. Not allowing me to open the door for the delivery guy when he comes, blaming me for missing vaccination dates (they kept missing them even before)& missing going to important places(again, they just didn't go to for ages), made them loose sleep, etc etc— in turn, I seen red and regretfully blew up.

I screamed at them its literally the only time I ever did this, it BECAUSE it easier on them & I'll do what I want whatever anyway, & to stop interrupting me while I try to explain things , then they suddnly back done and be like I'm not mad at u I'm mad at the delivery ppl, that they are proud of me for being able to do all this, and such sort. I left them to cool in my room, Idk how I did it but must have slam-gripped something so hard it chipped most of my short nails & cracked one, was glad I didn't hurt my drawing hand but yeah, goofy mani

They robbed me of the joy of anticipation & the dissipation of apathy, I started to lose sleep again and my liberating dreams left me and I don't think I remember leaving bed.

But still, If not force myself to do things.. there'll be nothing for me if I don't.. at least I know im able of that

I got my guardians happy tho after another tiresome refusal, by trying out one of those Uber-eat like local apps here, since they have no car and being disabled & ill, I ordered McDonald's for the first time. Slythry behind their backs per habit, told them someone coming and they had that look again, but thankfully the guy came through and didn't steal my money, heh. For a big 1800 calories meal I suppose it was passable, the happy fam faces I got was the real treat..

Oh with that thing with the credit card stating I owe them money, waited weeks & nobody got back to us? They started taking from my guardian's account directly to pay it, saying oh we did send you warnings--- TO THE SHADOWY LINES OF THEIR POSTERIOR A.K.A NOWHERE. Thankfully the account is mostly empty nd just for random transactions, i alerted my guardians not to use it. And again, my god, another round of endless calls and promises started, and we wait again so they just don't act as if we owe them a frking 17k dollars that we don't have.. was panicking cuz I have nothing and but my guardians were weirdly comforting about it and told me not to worry

One thing good bout no net is it made me stop thinking about life in general, and stop the tiny unnoticeable prick of misery when I have no input to share, trying not to helplessly compare people just living, in inflated style or not, in media, to my isolated-most-of-my-life style and missing much of that organic "life experiences and chances", heh. At least, my situation would be favorable to me if it was ever possible for it to let me have peace, or have the simple knowledge I'm not virtually imprisoned and have never familiarised with nothing of this world but the surrounding walls.. its nice to have more time to be consumed by muse and day dreaming that flutters life through my dull being and sing chorus of inspiring means for art to flow and finds its way delicately onto my realised canvas.. but no, I continued drawing whilst sight blurred with salty droplets contradicting that happy tintin dance on tiktok I worked so long on just cuz I couldn't stop, not the tears or the mad scribbles of determined intention to visualise the mourned excitement I need, hating everything I make

Somehow the lilac dream still intrudes, visualising me friends, living, in a quaint home, maybe we roommate, arm in arm we go to make every fracture of fate's encounters a disgusting adventurous thrill, like building a maze of cardboard or chasing each other in the dark.. maybe getting that half bleached head and endless ear pericings ... then it dies and I totally forget it..

But what those awesome headphones helped me do, literally blocks all their voices listening to Sev losing it and I can Waltz around not feeling gutted to go and interfere or play the referee each time. But I can't wear them forever, gives me a bad headache, and honestly; I can't be too neglectful.. my sibs hates me for it already hehe

At least these clothing came true to their measurements, felt the new sensations on how everything I wore hugs me & learnt the baffling ways on how "gender" and region plays different tunes on the same measurements. Getting fitting things felt like suddenly there's hope to be, for myself to be me, and ease this severe disassociation between who I am, and what my body is .. from how little I see myself nd consider it worthy of anything because of how long it been living like a phantom among people.. to numb this dysphoria until it be gone one day

Saddened that the only site I can't order from again if they keep using that awful carrier

...

I missed our country's 91 national day, too. They made sales everything 91 riyal so.. but knowing the sellers here, I don't think most of em went true with their offers.. Horrible news tho on the celebrations, sigh

I turned this into a dear diary, guess bothered you enough today, sorry

So thankful to yous, Idk if I can be back, but I'll remain creating, and will keep the thought alive of being tickled when sharing my creations with your viewing pleasure somehow

'till then my precious dears, take care 💛🙏

26.9.2021, 8 pm, sleeping

[whump-n-comfort]

💊 💢🎭

Send me emojis and I'll answer This or That! :D

after a good night's rest, i'm up and at 'em! thanks for the ask dear anon <3

💊 Medical whump or fantasy whump?

This one's difficult, because I love tropes from both genres. Stitching with no pain medication, fear of hospitals, bad doctors making an illness/injury worse, etc. VS. someone getting cursed and they can't find the person who cast the spell so the caretakers can't do anything to help, potions and magic in general have a whole smorgasbord of stuff to work with, unique weapons that can cause a lot of damage, don't even get me started on wings, etc.

I guess when it comes down to it, Medical Whump has more tropes I lean towards. Plus, there's always the added bonus of having to hide your more fantasy-based parts (like wings *wink wonk*) from human doctors and helpers out of fear of behind dehumanized

💢 Psychological or physical whump?

Just like the previous one, I love things from both, but I gotta say Psychological does it more for me. The torture scenes are always 10x better when the whumpee in question feels guilty or ashamed for "letting" something like that happen to them (this is also even juicier when the whumper instilled that line of thought into them during said torture), the way words can rot in a whumpee's brain and affect them for the rest of their life, sure, a whumpee hiding a bruise is amazing, but the anguish a caretaker feels when they can see that whumpee is on the verge of tears but refusing to open up? Mmmmm

(I sound so sadistic oh gosh)

A scene in media I always love to see is when whumpee's team/family is searching for them, hear an ear-piercing shriek, realize "oh god, that's [whumpee]," and rush to where they think the noise came from. This is is more Physical, but there's still a sense of Psychological because they have to deal with the fact that they know what [whumpee] sounds like in utter pain and fear, and how they never, ever want it to happen again

🎭 Whumper turned Whumpee or reverse?

Oof, well, this one is hard not because I can't choose, but because I don't really focus on Whumpers (they are more or less plot devices in my attempt at hurt/comfort gfndfkjgndfg). However, Whumper Turned Whumpee is AMAZING in certain contexts. When a Whumper is doing their best to show that they've changed that they don't ask for help. Why should they? They ruined [whumpee] and [whumpee]'s family with their antics, they don't deserve it. This of course leads to the inevitable collapse and everyone reassuring ex-Whumper that they've changed, they know they've changed, and they deserve to be treated correctly just like everyone else

Also, not to lean toward both options again, but Whumpee Turned Whumper can be fun. A lot of people find it cliche, but I like "revenge plot where [whumpee] is talked down last second before doing something they regret" because the Power Of Love And Friendship always does me in

[bestnoncannonship]

I'm drowning in the gender sandbox guys.

I am agender. At least....I think I am. It's the closest to what I'm feeling. In that I really do not have an attachment to any gender and cannot conceive how people identify with a gender. Like....they just FEEL a gender? All the time? No matter what they look like and what they're wearing they FEEL a gender?? Whaaaa??? Sounds hella fake but okay.

And now I'm gonna talk about that and my experience for a while, in a series of ways that's probably gonna get the gender and sexuality neo-puritans to come yell at me for not being ritually pure enough in the way I talk but.....I'm talking from my own brain, baby. This is the toolkit I'm packing right now and the world I live in and I just need to spit it out. Maybe see if it resonates with people who know more than me. I don't know. Help.

I didn't question being a woman for the longest time. I grew up in a rural area culturally dominated by "Christians" (Not Catholics. I was Catholic. That comes with a whole different set of religious traumas pre-installed. I mean the ScAaRy protestent and nondenom Christians.) You didn't question anything. Not an adults orders. Not authority. Certainly not straightness. Gender was biological. I'd never heard of a trans person. There were rumors of Gays™. For most of my life it was just "Gender is the meat suit you got stuck with, right? I got stuck with this meat suit so it's my gender, I guess." And when I finally left the middle-o-nowhere for Le Citè and I met some (mostly bianary) trans people I was like "OH! OKAY!! Having strong feelings about being in the wrong meat suit can make a gender!" And the non bianaries that I met were still playing on that bianary scale. The "bit of boths" and the "different genders for different days" varieties. They has strange attachments to genders. And the whole retoric of "Questioning your gender and feeling things about you gender is the indicator that you might be trans!!" Just furthered my feeling that I must just be female by default cause like.....I didn't question anything. I didn't think about gender. I had a COMPLETE lack of feelings about gender whatsoever and that was normal, right?? Just meat suit gender. I certainly didn't have a strong feeling about wanting to be the opposite: *gag* a man?? A straight white man? Nope! I have no desire to be a bianary man and frankly I find 99 percent of men and male culture traumatic. So I must just be meat-suit gender.

And yes, I wanted to scrape my breasts and hips and thighs off with a cheese grater. But I wrote that off as a symptom of having started putting a finger down my throat after meals when I was 6 and having a family that forced hour upon hour exercise with their thighs and tummies wrapped in saran wrap and sang "I don't love her! She's too fat for me!" to a literal toddler and put that same toddler in oversized clothes to hide the healthy baby squish that toddlers HAVE. OF COURSE I wanted to die when my breasts grew in and my hips and thighs filled out. They were evil fat deposits. And they meant nothing but unwanted attention from yucky men. (Lesbianism to be discovered some 15 years later. My comphets we're almost as bad as my compgenders.) It had nothing to do with gender. Gender is just the meat suit ....and I already hated the meat suit by the time I had breast buds, they just enhanced a disgust that I thought was normal by then. Everyone kind of hates their meat suit, right?? Yes I wanted to look like men sometimes.....but they were skinny heroin chic men. I also wanted to look like kate moss. I wanted to look like a sideways door but my family is Italian and we have hips and thighs. It's just the meat suit I was assigned. Just have to learn to deal with it and dress it in the way that it looks most socially acceptable and get on with life. And my meat suit had a very gendered look, even in the deepest throws of my illness. "All woman." "The curves of a real woman." So that was just the hand I was dealt. Like having a hard to match foundation undertone. You don't gotta like it, it's just reality. Yes, I wanted to wear nothing but waistcoats and gay vampire clothes but they weren't cut for my body type so *shrug*.

Did I start to have way too much fun cosplaying and embodying male characters? Yes. But that was just identifying with characters. I'd always identified with characters. Did I still distinctly identify with the character's gender, even when I femmed the costume to avoid the hellish pain of binding? Yes. Did it make me feel weird when people referred to my Thor as a woman, even though it was technically a femme? Yes. But that was just feminism. Heroes don't need to be called girl heroes. No gender issues here!! Besides it's not weird in fandom circles to stongly identify with people across gender lines. The fact that I found the gendernope option if there was one available in the fandom and *attached* was surely just coincidental. Right??

Did I absolutely loose my mcfreaking mind when the gyno started talking about having to take my uterus away because the amount of blood it was loosing was doing irreparable harm to my body? Yes. My gender is my meat suit. When you take it away....what am I???? A *gag* man??? Nothing at all?? Am I still even human?? If I am not *gag* male and you take away the female part of the meat suit am I an aphid? A plant? A chair? But I was comforted by a chorus of voices saying "No!! You're a WOMAN. Infertility doesn't make you not a woman! You still have a woman's body!! Because you're a woman!!! Just look at you in your skirts and with your long hair!! You're a woman!!!" So.....still a woman, I guess. Because I still LOOKED like one. Gender = the PRESENTATION of the meat suit. That made sense. The structure of my meat suit made me limited to woman-presentation. So I was woman.

Then, it was the stupidest thing, I was talking to the other half of my life on the 4/5 train on the way to a friend's house about HER issues with gender presentation and the amount of attention to detail it takes to be socially acceptable as female and she said "You just know you're a girl. Like if they just picked you up and put you in a robot body you'd be a girl?" And I was like "......no? I'd be a robot?????" "But you'd still feel like a girl???" "No.....I'd feel like a ROBOT." "BUT you'd still like hear she/her and identify with those???" "No. I'd probably identify more with It/it's because that's what I'd be. A ROBOT!" And she's like "But what if your brain got transplanted into a boy body???" "Then I'd be a boy." "But what would you feel like?" "A BOY?" "Okay but what if you had a very neutral body with like no genitals? What would you feel like then??" "I mean....then it would depend on how I'm dressed. I'd feel like what I was dressed like." And we went around like this till she surmised that my entire relationship to gender was basically "You are what you look like." Which is apparently NOT how people relate to their own gender. They "feel" it somehow?? (I genuinely thought "FEELING" like a gender was what made trans people.) I feel nothing. I identify with a lot of things and ZERO of them are a gender. I thought that was normal. I thought that was the default. Apparently it's not. And then if you ask me what I want to be.....I can't answer. I really don't want to be a gender. I guess I want to be able to put different genders on at my will, like outfits, for societal convenience. But I don't "identify" with any of them. Hell, I have sweaters I identify with more than any particular gender. But there aren't really systems in place for describing and portraying that.

Gender.exe was not installed.

I did a lot of research. Agender felt closest. I actually felt closest to a Good Omens meme about Aziraphale describing his gender as "No, thank you!" That's what I feel like. But all the agender folks were vibing that moment. So I joined 'em. I am aware that puts me under the trans umbrella, but I don't really identify with that word. I don't feel like there's any transition. Any changing. Can't change what was never there. Also I feel like it's for people who....CAN present as their gender. I would be seen as an invader in those spaces. Its not bad enough to justify being in those spaces. I can live with being gendered. I just don't have one.

In the society we live in one cannot present as "not a gender". Someone with MY body definitely cannot present as "not a gender". The clothes that they make in size "giant human with planet tits" are agressively gendered. And even in a binder.....they're still REALLY there. (Yes, a reduction is desirable but I don't have reduction money.....and you can't reduce the fact that I'm the bowl shaped robust extreme female hipbone they use in Forensic Anthropology textbooks.) It is what it is. My body will always be perceived the way it's perceived. And frankly a lot of what we perceive as genderless is just "skinny body in masc style with short hair and makeup". That's not really want I want. I don't want to cut off my hair. It's my one really good feature and I've worked hard to grow out these Valkyrie worthy lengths. Mens clothes are so limiting. And there are no gender: no thank you clothes. (One well meaning friend kept trying to send me "genderless" clothes......but it was all rail thin afabs in mens clothes with short hair and heavy makeup. That's not looking genderless. That's just being skinny.) Gender no thank you presentation is very tied to short hair and thin bodies. So I've accepted that I don't get to play in the gender sandbox outside of the privacy of my own mind. It's a societal flaw. But whatever.

But pronouns are starting to really bother me. Everyone is so into them and identifying with them. And like.....I don't get it. I don't get the joy. I don't think I've found the one. Like.....I'm used to she. I will always be read as she. I will always be Miss and Ma'am in stores and restraunts. So I just kind of roll with it. I don't hate it. I don't like it. It's just a thing that I have to have to exist in society. Like a social security number. I actually think I identify with my social security number more. There's no point in making myself uncomfortable with something that's just going to be a part of my life. And I don't want to be the kind of person who expects people to address me by a pronoun they can't see and aren't used to. It's too much to ask of the average citizen of a gendered society to go through that much gender theory for just me. So "she" is an inevitable part of my life. And He....well ......I don't hate it. I dont like it. It's just there. I certainly don't get called it. And I'm not capable of presenting it well enough for this to be relevant. Now they......fuck I HATE they. I hate that it's the acceptable pronoun for anyone not bianary male or female. It just rubs me the wrong way. When people refer to me as they, I feel like they're referring to me and the host of mental illnesses I carry around and you don't have permission to address those troops thank you very much. They causes a genuine squick. But it's kinda the only widely acceptable option. I kinda like "it". I VIBE with it. It feels good. Unfortunately the people in my life have a certain reluctance about calling me it as they believe that happy vibe around a traditionally dehumanizing pronoun may be a trauma symptom. They might be right so I'm tabling "it" till I find a good therapist. Also...I cannot ask strangers to call me it. I don't have the confidence it takes to explain why and I frankly don't want to be faced with the criticism and questions I would face because I am unable to make my body be perceived as Nonbinary. I don't have the confidence or conviction to face that every day forever. Ditto neopronouns. I also haven't found one that I vibe with at all yet.

And queer labels get harder when you pull away from gender entirely. Like ... I am a Lesbian. I am solely attracted to women. But now I'm getting a lot of "You can't be a lesbian if you don't have a gender!!!" And like ...can I??? I like being a lesbian. It feels right. It conveys what I want it to convey. I like the exclusion of men entirely, after being taught to structure my life around men. I have a kinship with womanhood. It's where I was raised. It's how people see me. I just don't identify with it. It's not how I see myself. I guess that can kind of exclude me from the label? All of our terms are defined by being attracted to "your own gender" or "the opposite gender" or "both your own gender and other genders" and like ... I don't have a gender. And the opposite of nothing is....?? Fuck if I know? So what term am I allowed to use? I love queer for exactly this reason. But it just doesn't have the same clarity that lesbian does.

So I'm just kind of in a hole rn. Grappling with the fact that I really don't have a gender in a gendered world, and dealing with the fact that so much of our understanding and acceptance of gender is about presentation, a door closed to my body. I don't have the confidence or the spoons or the knowledge or the experience to fight this fight. The path of least resistance is sticking my head back into the sand and going with straightforward womanhood....but now it feels like I'm lying. I feel like an intruder in woman's spaces. And I can't go in men's spaces, they see me as....well...a woman. Lesser.

Someone out there who's better at the genders please help.

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

39. “If you don’t rest, you won’t get better/heal.”

39. “If you don’t rest, you won’t get better/heal.”

Scotland, 1981

“Paul?” He said with some confusion as he entered their bedroom.

“In here…love,” a weak voice replied from their en suite bathroom. Concerned, John asked, “You alright in there?” Paul had been sick for three days now - at first, they’d assumed it was only of a dash food poisoning, but when he hadn’t recovered by day two, John felt it necessary that he have a doctor inspect his partner.

“Is he alright then?” John asked in a dry voice that attempted nonchalance, but was so clearly underpinned with worry.

“In short, yes, he’ll be fine.” The doctor returned with almost indifference – there’d been a flu going around recently, so presumably he’d been asked the same question, with the same worried tone, a dozen times already. “He appears to have contracted a viral infection in the stomach – however, it should pass in a few days, although he may have to remain in bed for the next week or so, depending on the state at which his health returns.”

“Is there no medication you can prescribe him?”

“Well,” the doctor contemplated, “I could consider prescribing him something to treat the vomiting perhaps, but ultimately, the best thing for him is just rest.”

“Just rest?”

“Just rest, really.”

“Don’t think he’ll be too happy about that…” John muttered to himself – knowing his partner was a complete workaholic, he could already predict that for the next week or so he’d hear nothing but whines of ‘I’m bored’ and ‘I can’t afford to take a break’ (the latter being blatantly untrue).

“If his progress seems stilted, or he appears to be getting worse, call me. If his health appears to worsen, we will admit him to the hospitable – for now though, ill send a nurse over to do daily checkup’s on him.”

“Is a nurse really necessary?” the proposition had alerted more concern in him.

“Probably not – but why take the risk?”

“Suppose yer right, yeah.”

Pauls voice returned, “’M fine…” as he left the bathroom and crossed their room limply, “in fact, I think im virtually better – think I can go out by now.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“No,” his voice was exhausted and appeared to peter off, until he continued with a faux excitement cemented in exhaustion, “really John! Im…im fine…now.”

“Alright, well, why don’t we ask the nurse about it when she gets here, yeah?”

Whining like a small child, he pouted, “She’ll just say no.”

John joked back, “Tell it to the judge.” Defeated, he decided simply to disregard Pauls attempts in convincing him he was absolutely, unequivocally fine (despite having just thrown up for the third time today), “C’mon, come back to bed.”

“Ive been in bed for two bloody days now,” he whined back, “can’t stand another minute of it.”

“If you don’t rest, you won’t get better,” Paul mumbled a small groan at this, so John tried to console him a little, “c’mon now - we’ll play scrabble or something.”

“Okay…” he whined defeatedly. As he entered their bed again, he muttered, “I hate bein’ sick.”

“Not a particularly unpopular opinion...” John retorted with some disinterest.

“But I really bloody hate it - I can’t do anything. Can’t work-”

John interjected, “You work too much as it is, love.” He brushed a hand through Pauls tangled hair, then added, “I’ll go get you some water – do you want anything else?” Paul, dejected from being bed-ridden and ill, solemnly nodded his head ‘no’. “C’mon love, cheer up. You’ll be fine in a few days’ time.”

Unpromisingly, Paul replied, “Yeah, I suppose so…”

“Paul? You awake?” he half responded, since he’d been half asleep, with a groan that indicated an acknowledgement of their presence, but a reluctance to engage in any real conversation with him. “Nurse is here. I’ll bring her in, yeah?”

“Mhm…” he muttered back, still sleepy.

As the nurse awaited the thermometers results, she made polite conversation, “How’re you finding being bed-ridden?”

“It’s alright, y’know – ‘m goin’ a bit mad here though. There’s nuthin’ on the telly these days.” If there was one thing about being sick that he did enjoy, it was that it gave him an excuse to pause his seemingly never-ending optimism, and just have a whine about his truly first-world problems.

In her Scottish brogue, she continued, “Yer partner not keepin’ you entertained is he?” a part of Paul panicked inside, it was only his natural reaction to do so when a stranger would refer to them as ‘partners’. They tended not to feel so ashamed about their relationship these days, and if people did enquire into the very nature of their relationship, they’d now respond with the honest answer that they were lovers – but even still, a part of him had and most-likely always will panic inside, irregardless of how comfortable he might be with their relationship.

John interjected, “Nah, ‘m miserable company.”

“Well, im sure you’re jus’ fine, love.” She responded warmly.

As they exited the bedroom she passed him a container of pills, “If the vomiting continues, give him two of these.”

“Alright – there any side effects to ‘em?”

“Drowsiness is common, and decrease in sexual libido too. People who have taken them to excess have been known to experience symptoms of psychosis, so be careful to prescribe him no more than two a day. Other than that though, he should be fine – and he appears to be improving rapidly, so it seems he’ll be out and about in just a few days.”

“Thank you – you’ve been great love.”

“Alrigh’ then,” she said with a natural joviality, “ill be back to check up on him tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

John returned to their shared bedroom, “Paul?”, he asked quietly, as not to wake him in case he was sleeping.

After getting into more comfortable pyjamas, he got into bed with his partner, wrapping an arm around his other half.

“John?” Paul asked confusedly.

“Yeah?” he replied tenderly.

Paul didn’t continue the question, it seemed he only wanted the reassurance that someone was there for him. And that was John. John was there for him.

***

Theres quite a few time jumps (not huge ones but still) in this fic, so if it seems a bit sporadic thats why!

[commander-diomika]

Fandom: Rusty Quill Gaming Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde Rating: Gen Word Count: ~2000 Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Rating Will Change to Explicit in Later Parts, Opposites Attract, just two people trying to figure out how to keep the peace with each other and very occasionally succeeding

Summary: Part 2 is here, set several months after Part 1 in a Damascus safehouse. (here's Part One)

"There was another Sending from Curie’s people.” From a side-table awash with documents, Zolf fetched a piece of paper. “New workin’ theory on London, some kind of disease, rather than mind control."

Wilde frowned. “Oh, that’s much worse. Mind control magic at least implies some kind of central power system, a culprit to be fought. If it’s an illness… it might just be chaotic, undirected spread.” Wilde's eyes were shrewd. This was the Wilde that Zolf actually liked working with.

“The message doesn’t sound certain. Just a theory.” Zolf pointed out. He settled back. The couch was a threadbare number but it was comfortable enough, and this wasn’t the first evening they’d spent sitting here discussing plans and directions.

The two of them couldn’t have gotten the hell out of Cairo at a better time. Two weeks after Zolf and Wilde made their quiet exit from the Meritocrats, Aphophis disappeared, taking with him the last few loyal agents. In the ensuing chaos, Wilde pulled some strings and… appropriated significant funding for the next phase. Enough to rent a modest base of operation in Damascus, where they had been for the past few months.

Zolf wasn’t quite sure how Wilde made it all happen so smoothly. At the time he’d just thought Wilde got lucky. Though having worked together for just a few months, he was tempted to say Wilde got lucky a lot… Or perhaps he was just very good at making it seem that way.

“Ho, Wilde,” Zolf called from the kitchen, as he heard Wilde enter the townhouse.

His companion entered the adjoining sitting room, dressed almost-sensibly for the heat in a cream linen suit, a satchel slung over his shoulder.

“What you got there?” Zolf called. He had been chopping vegetables for the evening meal but seeing that Wilde looked flush with success, Zolf put the knife down and wiped off his hands as he went to join him.

His step faltered as he realised that Wilde, once again, was not alone. With him was the man Zolf couldn’t help but think of as “the interloper”.

Alfred Douglas stood just a few inches shorter than Wilde, similarly dark haired and dashing, as he followed Wilde into the sitting room and greeted Zolf with a winning smile. “Hello, Mr Smith.” Wilde had once said that he chose his friends for their good looks, and to look at Alfred, Zolf would begrudgingly agree.

Zolf had met this newcomer just a few days ago. Returning from a fruitless trip to Turkey, he was shocked to find another person at the safehouse; an old friend, Wilde said. When pressed for details, Wilde had first deflected, demurred, and then dug his heels in. It had gotten ugly.

Not wanting to repeat the fight, Zolf just nodded tightly. “Douglas.”

“Oh please, I’ve been telling you, you can call me Bosie.” Zolf, basically immune to affected charm, ignored him and repeated his question to Wilde. “What’s in the bag, Wilde?”

“Books!” Wilde replied, pointedly ignoring the pair’s less-than-warm interaction.

One by one he produced several tomes from the leather satchel with a flourish, revealing each as if waiting for applause before placing them on the low wooden table. A History of Dwarven Achievements; Svalbard, a Japanese travel guide, and one more sizeable volume. Zolf couldn’t immediately understand the title, but he could see that it was written in Dwarvish. That last one gave a small puff of dust as Wilde gently ran his fingers through the pages before adding it to the pile.

“Bosie was such a help, weren’t you dear, I would never have found that last little merchant alone. I swear we went down so many side alleys it was like a maze!” Wilde’s voice was honeyed and light again. It made Zolf feel itchy and irritable. In the months they’d been in Damascus, he’d almost gotten Wilde to just act like a normal bloody person when it was just the two of them, instead of some conversational artiste looking to make a spectacle of every interaction. Two days in the interloper’s company and he was back to the same smarmy, dunkable cad Zolf had met in London.

“The Svalbard one wasn’t exactly easy to get our hands on, either. It’s not like anyone is doing transfers from The London Library anymore.” Wilde reported as he speedily shed jacket, hat and shoes, then plopped down on the settee. Still looking overly pleased with himself, he patted the seat next to him, inviting Bosie to sit. He did so.

“How did you go with your leads?” Wilde asked, still slightly breathless from the performance he made of unveiling the books.

Zolf’s lips pursed, and he considered not answering. Even though Wilde was probably telling him everything in the long hours they spent sequestered in Wilde’s room, it still felt wrong to discuss business with Douglas here. Since he’d arrived on the scene he’d been nothing but disarming smiles and quiet interest but…

Maybe I’m just bein’ paranoid, Zolf said to himself. It was immediately followed with another thought, unbidden and unwelcome. More like bein’ jealous.

That couldn’t possibly be the case, so Zolf opened his mouth and started speaking. “I went askin’ after our initial contact with the Hephaestus lot. You know, the one that sent me on that bloody wild goose chase?” Zolf’s recent trip to Ankara had been based on that lead. He’d been looking for Garten, with no success.

“Turns out she’s not keen on explaining to me why her lead was a blumin’ fake, and the rest of ‘em have closed up ranks.” Finding something to do that didn’t involve looking at either of them, Zolf picked up Wilde’s hat off the table and hung it on the hook by the door. “Also, it looks like the whole Cult is gettin’ ready to move, if I’m honest. A lot less folks workin’ and a lot more packin’ up than I saw last I wer’ there.” He picked up Wilde’s shoes and put them by the door.

“Yes, actually, I noticed something similar at the Artemisian temples the other day,” Douglas said thoughtfully.

Zolf glared at him. Who did he think he was?

As far as Zolf was concerned, the man’s only saving grace was that his sudden reappearance in Wilde’s life made him happy. Pleasant or positive things had been in short supply, and Zolf wasn’t a monster. But Douglas had been tottering about on thin ice since the moment he arrived, and his comments were only salting the surface.

Wilde’s eyes tracked between the two of them, and with a melodramatic sigh he said, “Perhaps you ought to head off, my dear.” He threw Zolf a glance that said there, are you happy now?

“Yeh, I’ve got some things to discuss with Wilde. In private.” Zolf added, eyebrows brewing up a thunderstorm.

Bosie tilted his head, an expression of mock-hurt on his face. It was an expression Wilde made often and Zolf did his best not to explode. These two were as bad as each other and getting worse.

Wilde made an apologetic shooing motion with his hands, and Douglas did as he was bid. He gathered his hat with a reproachful look at Zolf, and gave Wilde a peck on the cheek before leaving. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oscar.”

Wilde walked Douglas out and returned to the settee, sitting with an exasperated sigh.

It had been getting better between them, heroes with their backs against the wall that they were. It had been. For all that Wilde was insufferable when he got on his airs about “need-to-know information” and couldn’t cook and was constantly preening as though any of that even mattered… But for all the myriad of ways he got up Zolf’s nose, he was also talented. Adept at making and keeping contacts. Able to talk his way into places Zolf couldn’t even get a foot into. An incredible mind for language, information, and planning. He was useful to have around, and for that Zolf was trying his best to extend a bit of graciousness.

And for all Wilde was frustrating company, at least he was someone. Wilde had been dead right, back in Cairo. It was nice to not be alone.

A mulish expression settled on Wilde’s face. It was obvious he was getting ready to jump straight back into the argument about Douglas, but Zolf wasn’t in the mood to rehash the same angry words.

you need to trust me, Zolf

you ain’t supposed to hide things from me anymore

we’re supposed to be partners

it’s none of your business

I thought you were more careful than this

With all the tact of a glaive to the face, Zolf changed the subject.

“There was another Sending from Curie’s people.” From a side-table awash with documents, Zolf fetched a piece of paper. “New workin’ theory on London, some kind of disease, rather than mind control. But it is affectin’ paladins, so it’s not any kind of disease we’ve dealt with before.”

Wilde frowned. “Oh, that’s much worse. Mind control magic at least implies some kind of central power system, a culprit to be fought. If it’s an illness… it might just be chaotic, undirected spread.” As though a spell had been lifted, as soon as Douglas left the room, Wilde turned into a different person, sharp and incisive.

Zolf nodded in grim approval of Wilde’s assessment, moving to sit down next to him.

“She also reckons we start treatin’ it like something communicable. Isolatin’ when we’ve not been able to keep an eye on each other, so on.”

“Well, that’s not very practical for us, now is it. We don’t have the kind of operation Curie does, with the people and resources to run proper quarantine.” Wilde said, eyes shrewd. This was the Wilde that Zolf actually liked working with. “We split up all the time.”

“The message doesn’t sound certain. Just a theory.” Zolf pointed out. He settled back. The couch was a threadbare number but it was comfortable enough, and this wasn’t the first evening they’d spent sitting here discussing plans and directions.

“Still, a theory from one of the sharpest minds left on the planet. Worth giving credence to. Maybe we need to look at bringing a few more people on board.” Wilde paused, thoughtful. “How would you feel about working with James Barnes?”

Zolf cocked his head, unable to place the name for a moment. “Commander James Barnes?”

“The very same.”

Zolf’s jaw worked as he started several different sentences then abandoned them. “I mean, he’s in the Navy, ain’t he? Last I checked, that’s still under Meritocratic order.”

“Perhaps he won’t be with them for much longer.” Wilde said mysteriously. Zolf nearly called him on it. Fighting about the sudden inclusion of Douglas in their affairs, Zolf had pushed Wilde hard on his habit of half-truths and leading statements. He hadn’t gotten anywhere with it. He was starting to think Wilde might be just an incorrigible equivocator, and there was nothing to be done about it.

So Zolf simply grunted.

“So that’s a solid maybe on Barnes,” Wilde grinned. “Besides, we’ll be fine for the moment. I won’t go running off and recruiting anyone new, because now we’ve got Bosie.”

Zolf took a slow breath at this topic change. He gentled the first angry words that came to mind, and spoke. “Wilde… I know you trust him. I know you two have a long history. But in light of this-” Zolf tapped the transcribed Sending. “-I don’t know how I feel about you bringing him in on… everything.” It lay on the table next to the satchel.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Wilde said smoothly, grabbing the bag and reaching inside. “I managed to pick up one more thing.”

From the satchel he produced a much smaller item, a banged-up paperback with a bright cover.

“Ohhh it’s the second Hearts of Fire!” Zolf exclaimed. He knew a misdirect when he saw one but couldn’t contain himself. “Those are so hard to get!” He took the book-shaped olive branch from Wilde quickly, already opening to page one.

“I knew I shouldn’t have given it to you until you’d at least had a look at the Svalbard books,” Wilde teased.

Zolf considered Wilde over the top of the book for a long moment. Wilde wasn’t off the hook. Neither of them were. They would have to come back to this jagged mess of a conversation at some point, but for now, Zolf chose peace. Of a sort.

“Look, the quicker I’m done with it, the quicker you can have it. Don’t pretend like you haven’t read my Campbells. I’m not the one dog-earin’ the pages. I thought you were sposed to be a man of culture.”

“Oh, stop hounding me about it, Zolf,” Wilde said, picking up Dwarven Achievements and relaxing gratefully back into the couch. Zolf was already so engrossed he didn’t even groan.

[rattyarts]

Huge-ask post (I am VERY funny)

Because I have so many questions that can be answered with just text, and I have mentioned my dislike of filling my art blog up with Words Words Words... let’s get them all done in one go!

(You guys can blacklist #rattytalks if you’re just here for the draws, btw)

A shit ton of asks under the cut!

Anonymous said: So for the center of the world, what with it being forcefully PG and all Bad Thoughts TM being prevented, how does having kids happen? Do parents just black out and wake up holding a child in their arms and vague memories of the last 9 months?

Ever seen a movie where they do that “and one day... a baby was born!” thing and a kid just appears offscreen with no explanation?

(This is how it works everywhere, Edgelands included; no one does the do or gets pregnant in this setting.)

Anonymous said: Hello! Quick question, and sorry if you’ve answered this before, but can other elves see the “intangible” bits of one another? Big fan of your work btw!

Nope! And thank you!

Anonymous said: Leopold was in my dream last night but I sadly cannot remember any of it.

I am SO sorry. I will try to keep my stinky murder men out of your head in the future.

Anonymous said: are the floaty bits stuck in one spot, or could the one they are attached to learn to move them around their body as long as its still within a certain distance? like, someone with the Floaty limbs, lets call him Ray, can move his limbs all over his body, allowing him to do all sorts of neat things that others with their attached limbs probably couldn't?

Whatever you want, honestly. As a general rule of thumb I don’t like putting down TOO many hard rules that prevent people from having fun with this setting. (Please ignore and scrap anything you think is stupid, I do this all the time and enjoy keeping this setting inconsistent and contradictory)

Anonymous said: Do elf names work off of Death Note rules, or is it like, if you know one elf’s name, all elves with that name are now unable to harm you? So if all the elf brothers are named Martin, for example, does it only work with blue?

I think it’s prolly just the one! Probably? Idk, might change if I think of something funnier.

Anonymous said: Can elves do magic on themselves or does thst go against the knowing name rule

Most people tend to know their own names, lol. So in my opinion, no, but don’t let me stop you if you got a fun idea.

Anonymous said: Could an Elf stitch on parts from another elf and have them work? i.e an Elf's finds the arm of another Elf. "Hey, free arm, might as well put it to good use", so they attach the arm and now they can give three high fives at once!

Same deal as previous questions, I personally would say no, but I also encourage people to do whatever the hell they want. It’s more fun that way!

Anonymous said: I bet elves are greasy to the touch.

They’re very powdery! Like if you rolled them in flour. And by flour I mean nasty glowing elf dandruff.

Anonymous said: Can elves fly or are their wings just for show?

No flying!!! (Unless you’re a mousefly)

Anonymous said: Something tells me that the elves would LOVE Obatzda.

Had to look that up, but definitely!

no1fan15: Not sure if someone asked already- Does Edgeworld have any equivalent to demons and angels? Like the old rubberhose cartoon kind?

Demons, yes! That’s what imps are: basically any demon, devil, or generic monster, but tiny! Even a couple of pop culture critters in there, there’s probably a very small gillman or robot monster running around there somewhere.

Angels, not so far. 

Anonymous said: How come Margaret hasn't yeeted George's jar into the Edge yet

I’d say being locked in a closet is good enough! (and also I need him for plot reasons, don’t tell anyone)

Anonymous said: If elves have knees bulges in the front then do they have butt bulges in the back?

i do not want to think about elf bulges

Anonymous said: So if you find a baby Therewoof and you say "aw you're so cute", their true name is So Cute?

Yep!

Anonymous said: Since a Therewoof's true name can be something like "cutie pie" or "dingus", does their name have to be spoken with "intent" for it to doggo-fy them? Or do they just have to live with the reality that any casual conversation/flirting can make them lose up to a month to Doggy Mode? My mom has little terrier dog named "Sweetie" so that got me thinking 'bout Therewoof names. & Anonymous said: here's a good question: If someone says a therewoof's true name, but not reffering to them, does it still affect them?

Just saying it will do! It’s based on those old werewolf stories where calling out the person’s name will change them back into a human/cure them, and a lot of the time it was by accident.

(My favorite is the one where they slam the door on the wolf’s tail and then say his name, and the dude ends up with a wolf tail for the rest of his life.)

Anonymous said: Would Seeing eye Therewoofs be a thing?

I... guess? Probably? Since regular dogs can turn into woofs, yeah. You might have to start paying em once they turn into a person tho. 

Anonymous said: Was ChalkZone ever an inspiration for you? Because I just love the silly world of ChalkZone and I noticed getting that same warm feeling when thinking about Edgeworld.

Maaaan, I wish. I’ve only seen about three episodes or so, but it seems really fun!

Anonymous said: So I saw your mimic post, and even though I don't think I've seen any other of your art before I was absolutely HAMMERED with an indescribable sense of slightly unsettling strangeness and comfortable familiarity. Your art feels like something from like, an old point and click computer game I would have had formative memories of before accidentally losing or scratching the disc therefore making me unsure if it ever REALLY existed. Sorry for being weird but I love the wacky nostalgia feel here

Aaaaaah, THANK YOU! That is SUCH a cool comparison and I appreciate!!!

Anonymous said: If the Edgeworld is based on cartoons then is there a Reverse Edge-world that’s based on anime?

Lol, I mean I DID have an anime phase for a while there, so...

caydebug: Man I’d love to see this as a cartoon some day

Honestly, same. Best you’re gonna get is the occasional animatic or gif, tho.

Anonymous said: Does anyone..."go" in Edgeworld? or is it like Pleasantville where bathrooms exist but there are no toilets in them because acknowledging it is yucky?

Oh god I keep getting asked this and have been avoiding it like the damn plague. But... Uh. No. No they do not. I am begging you all not to send any followup questions.

Anonymous said: Have you considered putting computer viruses or illnesses in with the buggymen? Since those are typically called ‘bugs’

Sure!

Anonymous said: are there any limits to what an Animimic could posess? i.e if they were in a costume of a Buggieman with multiple arms, could they control all of them? what about a small Mousefly costume? can multiple fit into one costume like a clown car? and what about in pitch black darkness, where you can only see the lights of their eyes and not their bodies? could one fit inside the pocket of a jacket you are wearing and help you steal things/wield a gun like a living turret?

Since clothing fills into the body type of the intended wearer, they would indeed be able to control all arms/legs in buggieman clothes.

Size restrictions is one of these things I wanna try to be vague about: I personally have been imagining them sticking to hiding in things no smaller than, um. Maybe imp sized, but really, whatever. It’s a cartoon eyeball critter!

You can put multiple animimics in one outfit!

They can move around just fine in darkness without being off screen, yeah!

And sure why not. lol

Anonymous said: I know you have been asked this once before, and you said nah you don't, but with a few more months of worldbuilding, do you have an idea for what could be down the edge now? 🤔

Not really! It’s not super important, honestly. I’d say any fan theory is about as valid as anything else I can come up with.

ps2polpo: I doubt you’ll ever elaborate on The Edge but I like to imagine there’s just one dude there like the Nowhere Man from the Yellow Submarine movie. Mostly cause the thought of someone accidentally winding up there being like “where am I?” And there’s just a guy casually waving at him like a friendly neighbor is funny to me & Anonymous said: The implication that the Edge is the physical manifestation of edginess so there’s probably like, Trevor Henderson monsters hanging out down there.

See above question! Valid! I also accept falling forever, getting erased from existence, ending up in another universe, getting stuck in limbo with thousands of other people, whatever you want, really!

Anonymous said: " he has very few bones and weighs basically nothing, " "Fastball special" trope, but with Leo?

YEET THE NASTY MAN

Anonymous said: did you ever watch dragon tales as a kid? because george and margaret make me think of murderous zak and wheezie from that show, and i love it to bits

I did not, but I would have loved it. Definitely up my alley!

(watched Quest for Camelot a loooot, though!)

Imma go ahead and stop here! There’s more but I’ve been writing for well over an hour and I have things to do. If your question is missing I’m either saving it for later, wasn’t entirely sure how to answer, or it’s spoilery.

Will probably do another one of these at some point!

[heartbreakgrill]

That Smile; Luke Hemmings

description: in which you’re a songwriter, working on Youngblood with 5sos, when a certain blonde catches your eyes.

a/n: there will be a part 2 for this!

“AHHHH!” You threw your green mechanical pencil across the room. It bounced off of the wall, snapping in half, and landing in separate places. One ended up by the door by your shoes, the other on the couch, beside your purse, jacket, and water bottle.

A voice crackled through the speaker system, obvious laughter being bitten back. “Y/N, are you okay?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, hands in fists on either of your temples. You were on the floor, on your back, skinny jean clad legs sprawled out in front of you. Your t-shirt was ridden up on your stomach, revealing a thin strip of your skin to the room, which you were now realizing was freezing. Through welling goosebumps, you grumbled, “I’m never okay, Brad. You know this.”

“I had to check. We have legal obligations in the workplace,” he responded, this time chuckling throughout his spiel.

“Damn, OSHA,” you mumbled into your bottom lip.

Brad hesitated before his voice echoed back in, “They’re here, by the way. Making their way back now.”

“I’m not getting up yet. I’m still moping over my inability to properly write a single-“ your voice rose into a yell now, “fucking line about a stupid fucking boy!”

It was now that you realized the door to the studio was open with the head of receptionist Cindy in the room. “Is this a bad time?”

“I get paid to do this, I have no say,” you dropped your hands to your sides. “Let ‘em in.”

The four lanky boys shuffled in, two dressed like it was New York Fashion Week, the other two lazed about in sweatpants and hoodies. They stood awkwardly against the wall, unsure of how to go about greeting someone having a mental breakdown on the ground below them.

“Hello, I’m sorry, I’m trying to recover,” you began to sit up, back cracking in the process. You straightened your shirt out, catching eyes with the tall blonde. You swear, in the most cringey way, your breath caught in your lungs.

“You’re okay, we go through similar processes,” a curly headed, dirty blond remarked, giggling lightly.

“Yeah, I have plenty of photos of Calum laying on the floor like you were,” long fringe, bright eyes. Michael, perhaps?

You had familiarized yourself with photos of them on the internet, but were not at all confident you knew who they were. In fact, you couldn’t recall anyone’s name when the tall blonde who stole your breath offered his hand. You took it, your hand completely encased in his warm one. Without much efforts, he pulled you off the ground, nearly flush against his chest. But, you made sure to step back when you stood.

“Thanks,” you sighed, shuffling to the couch in your sock-clad feet. “Uh, I’m Y/N,” you introduced while clearing the seating area for them, “I’m sorry, I dont really know your names. Could you-?”

“Luke,” he stuck out the same hand for you to shake; you did.

Michael was who you suspected, Calum the jet black haired man Michael had mentioned, and Ashton the giggly one. You situated yourselves on the couches once you demanded they make themselves at home.

“So, this is your third album?” Of course you knew their music. If you were pairing with an artist on a new project, you had to familiarize yourself with their sound. You couldn’t write a Taylor Swift-like song for Lil Uzi Vert.

“Yeah,” Ashton answered, seemingly the spokesperson for the band. He was sat on the couch across from you, with Calum, Michael in the computer chair by the recording equipment. Luke was beside and, damn, did he smell good.

“What’s the motive?” They looked confused at the question, sharing a furrowed look. With a quick tuck of your legs underneath you on the couch, you launched into explanation, eyes moving from boy to boy. “So, you’re first album was very teen punk, kinda edgy, but safe with cute love songs and innocent forever young vibes. Sounds Good, Feels Good was super grunge with ballads about your actual feelings, a few love songs, and a handful of those same forever young vibes. It was, like, healing for you, almost. Like an album meant to truly introduce your fans to who you are. What do you want to say with this one?”

Luke cleared his throat beside you, “I dont know that we really have a vision with this one. We never really do.”

“Gosh,” you laughed, “no wonder they hired you guys a new songwriter. You have to have a plan! Otherwise it takes way too long and you have no idea what you’re doing. You’ve managed to do awesome without me, but this album, I promise, is going to be amazing.”

They, collectively, grinned at you. “I dont know about you, boys, but Ive got fucking chills!” Ashton exclaimed, shoving Calums shoulder, glancing at Michael.

You grinned back, proud with yourself and your words. You looked over at Luke who had a twinkle in his eyes, a smaller smile that seemed reserved for admiration to you.

-

You’d see that smile many times again throughout the process of writing their new album, later titled Youngblood after the first song you wrote together.

Ashton thought you were a bloody genius, as he would say, again and again.

“Its just a simple lyrical progression, Ash,” you coined his nickname a week into the process, “not that big of a deal.”

He still grinned, continuing to flip at your ‘talent’ with the randomest things.

When Youngblood, the song, was completely recorded and produced, you had a listening party in the small recording studio. You’d baked cupcakes and cookies for everyone, Calum had popped some champagne, and Michael brought his girlfriend along for the celebration.

You got along with Crystal well, chattering about makeup, music, and many other things before Brad came into the room with a frog shaped file USB. You stood from the couch beside Crystal and moved to stand beside Luke, who just so happened to be standing in the spot you wanted to. He smiled down at you, bouncing on his heels in excitement.

As Brad set up the file, Luke said, “The cupcakes are really good. As are the cookies, and the song. Everything, really.”

He was nervous around you. He was never nervous around girls. But something about your overwhelming talent, immense beauty, and super sweet personality made him jittery. He held tightly to his paper cup, nearly breaking in from his squeezing knuckles.

“Thank you, Luke,” you set a hand on his shoulder, prepared to say something else when the song began.

You’d heard it prior to this to ensure that it wouldn’t be utter crap. It was amusing and prideful for you to watch everyone’s jaws drops, to see Calum drop onto the couch with his head in his hands. Ashton danced around, Crystal leaned against Michael, praising his guitar and vocal bits. As the beat picked up and, soon, as it ended, Luke turned to you, lifted you in his arms, and spun you around. You were laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at his hoodie-clad shoulders. When he set you down, you were still laughing, as was he. His laugh faded into that smile, that stupid smile.

-

The next time you saw it was halfway through the album. You had been losing sleep, between handling 5sos as a client and, now, Taylor Swift, who noticed your work through a friend. She wanted a new song, something uplifting and sweet. You agreed to help, not realizing that, now, you were overloaded. And, you weren’t able to devote your time to just 5sos.

One day, at the end of a long studio day, Luke noticed you on the floor of the recoding studio. Youd set yourself there when the boys starting gathering up their things, bidding your farewells with weary hands. Your eyes were no shut, hands resting on your stomach. Luke watched the boys leave and, having driven himself there, sat down beside you. He nudged your leg, gaining your attention through weary eyes.

“Hi,” he smiled, not quite in that way, but still sweetly. “Are you okay?”

“Stressed. Tired. Sick of writing. I haven’t been out with friends in so long and i want to, but all of my friends have normal lives with normal jobs. So they wont go with me during the week, and I cant on the weekends, because Ive been busy with Taylor Swift. God, never thought I’d say that sentence. Anyways, I just really want to get drunk and dance and then cry to someone about being sad, single, and so, so tired.”

“Well,” Luke resisted the urge to pick you up, place you in his lap, cradle you and coo you to sleep, “I’m sure I can urge Ash to have a party in his house. There’s plenty of people who dont care about their jobs or dont even have ‘em.”

You lifted yourself up on to your knees, “I would literally write you, like, an entire song if you got him to do that. I need a night away.”

“No need, I’m fine with one dance reserved for me,” there was the smile. “Oh, and a shot. We have to do a shot together.”

“I would do a million shots with you.”

He walked you to the parking lot, to your car, leaning against the door frame while you turned it on and buckled your seat belt. “Okay, so, Ill send you his address, and see you in a few hours?”

“See you.”

Now, what the hell were you going to wear?

[wienerbarnes]

Breathe Deeper

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,324

Prompt: “Why is it always murder and mayhem with you? Don’t you ever just do normal person things? Eat a sandwich? Brush your teeth? Do you even brush your teeth?” (from a random prompt generator)

Warnings: murder, violence, staging a suicide, ~feelings~

A/N: cafe bustelo does wonders for you at 1 am anyway ive been trying to finish this for like two months. have a couple more ideas for these two but feel free to send me any ideas or requests and ill do em if the inspo strikes! also title is purely the song im listening to as i type this out and has no correlation to the story LOL but hey if yall like tame impala enjoy

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

A single pop is heard as a bullet flies out of your gun into the head of the old man who opened the door.

“Christ! No build up?! No tension?! No confirmation that it’s even him?!” Bucky yells as he wiggles his ear to rid the ringing from it.

You brush past Bucky and slide the gun back into the holster strapped to your thigh. You step over behind whatever his name was, Bucky’s having trouble remembering after that blow to his eardrum, and hook your hands under his arms in order to  drag him back into the empty house.

“Why is it always murder and mayhem with you? Don’t you ever just do normal person things? Eat a sandwich? Brush your teeth? Do you even brush your teeth?” Bucky questions you as he closes the door behind him, stepping in between splatters of blood.

“Nope, gotta leave leftovers for the bugs that live in my mouth.”

“That’s gross.”

“Shut up, help me lug this guy to the bedroom.”

The two of you are in a small town in Northern Oklahoma on the property of one of your ex-Hydra handlers. After a few days of researching, the two of you were able to figure out where he moved to and what he changed his name to after retiring from his prior lifestyle.

“I knew it was him from the second I saw him. You never forget.” You explain to him, both of you positioning his body in the corner of the room.

“You go clean up the entryway, I’ll finish staging over here.” Bucky offers it to you. He takes out his own gun from his own waistband and fires a single shot through the same hole you put in between the guy’s eyes. The splatter that explodes on the walls behind him are perfect, artistic almost. Bucky then starts looking around the room; in the closet, under the bed, until he reaches the night stand where a pretty little pistol lays. Not the same gun as his, but he has a feeling the police system in such a small and unpopulated town won’t bother to investigate this death as a murder as opposed to the obvious suicide that took place.

Bucky notices the small skull and octopus stamped into the side of the gun as he places it in his hands. He rolls his eyes before making his way back over to the entryway where you’re sat on the ground, scrubbing away with a rag in your hands and a bottle of bleach next to you. 

Bucky walks over and takes a seat on the loveseat positioned a few feet away from where you are.

“So, where we heading after this?” Bucky asks you, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the arm of the seat.

“Back to New York? You probably gonna be busy working on that murder case.” You glance at him confused before going back to scrubbing.

Bucky pauses before speaking again, “How do you know about that?”

“I… keep up with my fair share of news.”

“You don’t pay for newspapers nor do you have a TV or a phone; you don’t have news. Besides, we haven’t released any information to the public about anything before we get more leads. So, how do you know about that?” Bucky stares at you, eyebrows pinched a bit in the middle as he awaits your answer.

“Do you wanna stop and get some pie on the way back?”

“No. Did you see something about the murders?” Bucky ignores your attempt at changing the subject.

“You just said you haven’t released anything-”

“I don’t mean on the news, I mean in that empty head of yours.” He teases.

You sigh, “I hate when you ask me about my… head.”

“Well, you could be helping here! You can try and be good!”

“I’m sitting on the floor scrubbing an old guy’s blood out of the wood of his own house after I’ve just blown his brains out.”

“Yeah, a bad old guy!”

You get off the last of the specks of blood before standing up and screwing the cap back onto the bottle of bleach. “I didn’t even see anything about the killer, anyway.”

“So, what did you see?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Fetch me a bone here, doll.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d like that, dog.”

He grabs the bleach and rag from your fingers to free up your hands from carrying anything. Tingles travel up the tips of your fingers and flow up through your wrist into your chest. You glance up and make eye contact with Bucky and the dramatic puppy eyes and pouty lips he’s throwing your way. 

You stare for a few more seconds before looking away, “Check that huge pond in Central Park tomorrow. His next victim will be floating there.” You satisfy him before turning and making your way back outside and to the car the two of you took on your little road trip.

While walking back to the parked car, Bucky quickly rushes in front of you and grasps the handle before you can reach it, allowing you to get in the car while he holds it open for you. He throws you an innocent looking smile, a smile coming from a person who surely didn’t just stage a suicide. You bite back your own smile before taking a seat and letting Bucky close the door behind you.

…

When you open your eyes after your nap, it's dark outside the moving car. You slowly lift your head up off the car window and glance over at Bucky, who you now realize is on the phone with someone.

“I told you, it was a weird anonymous number, Sam. I don’t know where it came from.” Bucky speaks softly on the phone before turning his head to look at you in your sleepy state.

“All they said was to check the pond in Central Park tomorrow. I know it’s sketchy, but we don’t have any other leads anyway, we might as well try it.”

“We sounds like a lot of people, ain’t you say that to me one time? Not all of us are on vacation, you know.” You hear another deep voice through the tiny speaker of the phone against Bucky’s ear.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, man.”

Bucky wraps up his conversation as you process what you’ve heard. Bucky has lied, again, to the government, to Captain America, in order to protect you and your existence.

“How’d you sleep?” He asks before your thoughts can get too far from you.

“Fine. We’re already heading back to New York?” 

“We’re stopping at a motel for the night, but after tomorrow’s drive, we’ll get there by sundown.”

You sit up proper and stretch your legs as far out in front of you as you can, the bones crunching and popping in relief at the new position. Bucky cringes next to you. He glances at you and watches you pick at the crust gathered at the corners of your eyes, a yawn escaping you along with the last of your grogginess.

Bucky doesn’t know how he’d fully express it to you, but he’s so happy to see the person you’re growing into. Everyday a little bit more of your personality, your mannerisms, your weirdness, your humor, your ideas; everything about the real you, shows more and more. He sees this beautiful woman who, maybe a year and some ago, was walking the line of death and now sits beside him with neon green nail polish and mismatched socks and cute flower earrings adorning the curve of your ear. He stares at the tattoo on your neck, that angry red face with large eyebrows and wonders whether or not that was your idea or not. He wonders if you have any other tattoos hidden among the space of your skin, he doesn’t remember seeing any along your sides or stomach that nightmare of a night in his apartment-

“You’re swervin’.” 

Bucky clears his throat and snaps his head forward, fixing the car to drive straight on the road. Soon, he sees the promising sign, “Motel in 10 Miles,” and the two of you park in the small lot of the light orange building.

The inside smells of old people, an aged scent that isn’t necessarily bad, but makes you scrunch your nose nonetheless. No bugs in clear sight and the roof is still intact, so it should be suitable for a night of rest.

“We only have rooms available on the first floor for tonight, I’m assuming you’ll want one bed?”

Bucky's throat goes dry for a second, “Yes, that’s fine.” He doesn’t want to consult you as you look far off out the front window of the lobby, back turned to the young woman at the front desk. No matter how small a town in whatever state there is at this point in their journey, there is no risking anyone recognizing you, even if your search mission has been deemed unsolved.

A plastic card is slid into Bucky’s right hand and he begins making his way back outside and down the walkway towards their room for the night. You follow him silently.

“I call showering first, I think there’s small clumps of blood still stuck in my hair.” You tell him, flinging your backpack onto the bed, and pulling out a large sweatshirt and panties and taking them into the bathroom with you. 

While the water begins to run, Bucky undoes the blankets, looks thoroughly through the pillows and in between the sheets in search of bed bugs. Next, inspecting the lamps, outlets, and anything else that could possibly hide a camera, microphone, or any other device. He even contemplates tearing apart the carpet under his feet, but decides against the extra work. He places your bag along with his own backpack on the small table in the corner of the room and fixes the bed to not look like he tore it apart recklessly. I wonder what side she prefers-

The bathroom door opens and a cloud of steam flows out, you soon emerge with a towel wrapped around your head, large sweatshirt hanging off your frame and bare feet digging into the soft carpet beneath you. You fling the towel off of your head using momentum from throwing your head and neck forward, the towel landing on the floor in front of you and your wet hair sending a light spray Bucky feels on his warm face.

By the time Bucky finishes with his shower, the room resembles a sauna and his metal arm has gone hot. A long sleeved shirt and cotton shorts are slipped onto his body along with a pair of thick socks to keep him warm at all times. He steps out of the bathroom, using his towel to rub through his hair, and he spots you using the small mirror on the wall. 

Your legs are on display and your underwear is in sight. Bright pink with WEDNESDAY printed on the behind in bubble letters, it’s Friday, the bottoms of your butt cheeks hanging out the bottom of the fabric. The cotton hugs your body and Bucky can’t help but blush at the sight. His mother would smack him over the head if she were here right now. 

Your shirt is lifted, one of your hands holding it high on your chest where Bucky can see a slip of under your breast peeking, the curve intriguing him. Your other hand is occupied rubbing a colorless liquid along your side, Bucky focuses his attention and realizes your rubbing along the scar he left you from your stitches. The bottle on the table has a label that read Vitamin E Natural Oil. 

Your fingers seem unbelievably soft and gentle as he watches them glide along your side, massaging the shiny oil into your smooth skin. You drop your sweatshirt and gather a bit more oil on your hands before rubbing it into your hips where Bucky can see the faintest stretch marks.

“Sorry ‘bout the scar. O-on your side, I mean.” Bucky stutters out, convincing himself that his body is warm from the shower he took. 

“It probably saved my life, so I can’t say I’m sorry about it.” You respond without turning around, as though you knew he was there watching you lather yourself in oil like the beginning of a softcore porn but didn’t mind him enjoying the show.

“What’s that stuff for, anyways?” Bucky asks as he gathers his old clothes back into his bag, folding each piece before placing the packed bag next to yours on the table. Your bag that clearly does not have folded clothes, only crinkled ones. Bucky empties your bag and folds your clothes for you before neatly packing it and closing the zippers.

“Helps fade scars.”

“Yeah, but why? Scars are cool.” 

“I suppose. I’d still like to lighten them a bit. So they look better, prettier.”

“You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in the last few decades.”

“You don’t even remember most of the last few decades,” You try to joke.

“I mean it. It’s a compliment. It’s okay to accept and enjoy compliments, doll.” Bucky looks at you, forcing you to meet his eyes. You see in your peripheries as he puts the cap on the bottle of oil and places it next to your bag. A small smile adorns his face as he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel a knot form in your throat.

It’s been a long while since you’ve received any kind of love, whether that be physical, emotional, mental, or self. It’s an overwhelming feeling when someone who you aren’t actually the closest with gives you such a deep and personal compliment. 

Aren’t the closest with- this is your only friend he the only person you even know. The point is, being the most beautiful woman of the century is much different than having pretty hair or a good sense of humor.

You look away from him before the small bit of wetness can gather in your waterline.

“Which side of the bed do you prefer?” Bucky whispers softly to you, as to not break the safe atmosphere created by his sweet comment.

You clear your throat that now feels thick with tar, “The right.”

“Good. I prefer the left.”

[sherlollydramoine]

Detroit

Prompt 15: “not interested, thank you”

Fandom: Rami Malek/Need for Speed Movie

Pairing: Finn X Reader

Word Count: 2052

Warnings: Language, Alcohol consumption, Predatory Male Character (don’t worry–he gets his), Fist fight.

Here’s the follow up that was much requested to Broken Promises (HERE). Didn’t have time to edit this so please don’t mind my mistakes.

It had been just over a year since you’d walked out of his life away from everything that you’d ever know to start fresh. A good friend of yours from college worked for some big time corporation in Detroit whom upon hearing about what had happened and your need to start fresh had recommended you for a position. Everything was a blur after the interview having been basically hired on the spot and you needed to move quickly. The company itself owned several apartment buildings and was able to provide you housing for six months until you’d been able to secure one on your own. They’d been generous in allowing you three weeks to start, which enabled you to gather the remnants of your life with Finn, and put them on a truck.

You’d been unable to face him without feeling some kind of guilt. You did just walk out offering no explanation, after angrily expressing your frustration with his broken promises. Once you’d left there was no going back for you, you’d purposely fallen out of touch with everyone to avoid any updates on Finn. 

“Hey, YN, boss needs you to run some files down to the second office,” your co-worker and roommate Alicia informed you as she perches herself on the corner of your desk crossing her legs over each other, her heel clacking against the faux wooden front of your desk. You kept clacking away at the business email you’d needed to finish typing, hitting spell check, then sending it off to digital transmission land.

Looking up at her nodding your head, you hated this corporate job with every fiber of your being, but it more than adequately paid your bills. Alicia was the only friend you’d made since your move to Detroit. The two of you bonded quickly over the fact that in the main office of this company, you were only two of three women.

 “Yeah, sure I’ll run em down anyway since I’m out to lunch in about ten minutes anyway. Anybody need anything from the other office while I’m there?” you ask, you hated going down there. The fellas who were employed in the secondary office were far less refined than those on the top floor and were prone to make rude or outright lewd comments. The only man in the other office that never was rude or lewd was the actual office manager Doug, a kind man in his late forties that had a wife and four children.

“I don’t think so. At least no one has said anything to me about it. There is something you could do for me though?”

“Yeah sure Leesh what is it?”

“Could you give me the scoop on one of the newer guys down there? I heard some rumblings that he was gorgeous. Can’t remember his name though, Jen said he was kind of flirty in a goofy way and he talked about cars a lot.”

With a small laugh and a roll of your eyes, you agree to give her the scoop on the new hire, though a small part of you felt sad. That description could fit any number of men but it also aptly described your ex and it made your heartache a little bit. She wasn’t sure what cubicle he was located in but you figured it probably wouldn’t be overly tough to spot them. New hires were easy to spot: Ill-fitting suits, slightly tense, and they never seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to be doing.

Alicia gives you a big smile and then ambles away back towards her desk buzzing her boss to make sure that he had the files ready to go for her. You watch as she disappears into her boss’s office for a couple of minutes reappearing with a stack of manila files in her hand.

“Here ya go, darling. The top six files need to go to HR and then the rest go to Doug. I’ll see you after lunch.”

Pushing back from your desk and standing up, taking a moment to stretch as it had been way too long since you’d seated hunched over a computer answering emails for the last several hours. Taking the files from your friend you trek towards the elevator bank humming a song that had been stuck in your head. Dropping off the necessary files to HR and then getting back on the lift to drop off the last stack downstairs before your lunch break.

“Hey Doug,” you said with a friendly smile. “These are all yours,” you say as you set the large stack of manila folders stuffed to the gills with who knows what paperwork in his ‘INCOMING’ tray.

“Thanks YN, how’s it going upstairs?”

“Oh you know, the same ole same ole. I just do as I’m told,” you laugh out. You start walking back towards the door, “Anyway, I gotta go but let me know if there is anything that you need from upstairs.”

As you walk out of Doug’s office you catch a glimpse of a man with very familiar curly hair and your heart drops. You couldn’t help but stare thinking maybe you’ve hallucinated or if this was really happening. The man must have felt your eyes on him because when he looked up both of you gasped in shock.

You didn’t wait around for him to react instead sprinting down the corridor to the elevator. Trying to calm your breathing as you rode the elevator down to the main level of the building, walking across the marbled floors, and out the door as fast as you could.

What the fuck is he doing here? You thought. How fucking dare he come all the way to Detroit. He has no business being here.

After your second cup of coffee, you came to the realization that It didn’t matter as you likely weren’t going to see each other very often, you could do this. You were an adult after all. Instead of grabbing lunch, you grab another coffee and then head back upstairs to your office deciding to cut your lunch break short.

The rest of your day was spent working furiously not even realizing when it was quitting time until Alicia tapped on your desk with her perfectly manicured nails. 

“Bitch, we’re going out!”

“Do I have to Leesh?”

“Yes, yes, you do. You never did give me the deets on the new guy. Is he as handsome and flirty as Jen said he was?”

“Yeah. He is, he’s also my fucking ex,” you respond dryly, watching her face morph from curious to curiouser. 

Grabbing your bag and following her to the elevator making the quick decision that you’d go out. If there was ever a time when you needed a strong drink and some possible casual sex, it was tonight.

 Alicia ends up taking you to one of your usual spots. As was common for the place it was crowded and loud full of other ‘suits’ wanting a little bit of fun on a Friday night. After scoring you both a prime spot to hang, she flings her bag onto the seat next to you and flounces off. Her red curly hair bouncing as she dances along to the beat of some heavily auto-tuned pop song that was blaring through the speakers. 

Sitting back in your chair watching the random groups of people taking shots, sipping beers, out for nothing but another convivial Friday night.

In your observations, you failed to notice when Finn walked in with a group of co-workers still in his suit and tie. He fidgets nervously with his tie, loosening it while talking to one of your other co-workers.

Just then Alicia re-appeared with a small tray of assorted shots carefully setting it down to avoid sloshing the amber colored liquid over the shot glasses. 

“Uh-oh babe, looks like you’re in for a heck of a time tonight,” she warns, tilting her head in the direction of Finn.

You look up in time to see Finn walk past your table, your eyes briefly catching before you lower yours, grab a drink off the tray, and slam it back. 

“Fuck this night!” you yell out, grabbing another drink and repeating. Twenty minutes and five shots later you were definitely feeling good. 

Grinding against Alicia on the dance floor giggling with each other forgetting all about the issue of your ex being in the same space as you. 

Leaving the dance floor behind under the guise of thirst, Alicia goes back to the table while you grab another round of drinks. While waiting an attractive man you’ve never seen before turns to you to strike up conversation apparently, not really wanting to deal with any of that you turn your body away. Dealing with men right now was not necessarily high on your list of priorities since you were already a few shots deep.

“Hey gorgeous, let me buy you a drink?” the stranger asks. 

“Not interested, thank you,” was the only thing you could think of to say. Inwardly cringing at how rude that sounded but at the moment you couldn’t be fucked to care.

“C’mon, what could it hurt? It’s just one drink,” he responds with a tone that made you suddenly angry.

“Yeah? One drink? And then what, mister? Then another one, and another until you’ve got me so drunk that you can take me home and use me in whatever way you see fit because somehow I owe you something. No, no, no. I don’t want your fucking drink!” you were yelling now stamping your feet looking very much like a toddler throwing a tantrum in the middle of a crowded club, and the handsome stranger had the nerve to look pissed off.

“Now gorgeous that-”

“She said no man, why don’t you leave her alone,”a familiar voice sounded from behind you. 

“Oh and what are you gonna do about it pipsqueak?,”the man challenged.

Rolling your eyes at the sudden testosterone fueled fight that you can feel is about to happen.

“Nothing, I’m just letting you know that my girlfriend isn’t interested in your drinks. She’s an independent woman capable of buying her own.”

The bartender returns with your drinks, eyeing both Finn and the stranger, the aggression radiating off of the both of them. It had been a year but you could clearly see Finn with his chin up in definance, shoulders squared, strong arms tense, and fists balled. A stare down between the two until the man in the suit swung at Finn, hitting him square in the side of the head. 

Finn might be to most men considered small but he was tough, having worked as a mechanic for most of his life. He had way more muscle packed under his suit than it looked like he did. 

Finn stumbled backward, hand coming up to the side of his face where the asshole had struck him. Abandoning your drinks in favor of subduing Finn, you launch yourself at him and doing the only thing in the moment that you could think of to do, you press your mouth to his. It only took his brain approximately three seconds for him to go from aggressive to horny.

His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, you moan into his mouth giving into the warmth of him. The alcohol you’d consumed making your brain foggy, slowly processing what is happening. You break the kiss without warning hoping that whatever the hell that was, the spark that you had felt would fizzle out. 

Forgetting completely about the drinks you make your way back to your table grabbing your bag ignoring the look on Alicia’s face as you then make your way out of the club in a stunned confusion.

“YN?” you heard Finn call out.

You whirl around, nearly stumbling in your half drunken state, “What Finn?”

“Do you-need some help?” he asks, unsure of how he should proceed.

“You know what, why the fuck not.”

You barely remember walking home with Finn in tow but when you woke up in the morning with Finn still in your bed a slow smile spread across your face. There would be worse ways to wake up on a Saturday morning.

[inkykeiji]

oh my godddddddd I almost cried reading your response, you are the sweetest angel with an incomparably beautiful soul 🥺<33 your genuine, warm and thoughtful reply really helped me so much and made me feel at home(like u always do w ur blog!!) thank u so so much for your advice, I cannot appreciate it enough and it’s going to help me so much every time I come back to read it 🥺 I love u so much!!! also such an honor to be on your mind through the whole september r u kidding me?!?!!! I can’t believe it that makes me melt <333 (+BTW I wanted to apologize for unintentionally sending u a huge rant when u were in semi-hiatus (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) I didn’t realize it until a while after I sent u the ask and I felt so bad for venting to u when u were on a break :( didn’t mean it at all)

I also wanted to say u are one of my biggest inspirations in many aspects (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ik I’ve said this before but u inspire me so much in various ways. ur maturity and kindness, passion and enthusiasm w the things u love (such as writing, film and anime), how positive and sweet and thoughtful u are etc etc !!!! there are so much to learn from you. u make me feel truly comforted and safe(which is something that’s NOT easy), be kind to everyone(including myself), keep myself motivated and productive, strive for things I truly love <3 you’ve had such a positive impact in my life and I’m sure this applies to all the other lovely anons of your blog as well hehe

anyways did u drink plenty of water today? how r u feeling lately? what r ur interests/hobbies/favorite little things these days? I’m cuddling in my bed ready to re-binge through all ur bmb series and touya nii series again :D also side question: idk if anyone else asked this but have u decided on what u’re gonna be for halloween? I still got no clue </3 I don’t know if I should dress up as someone meaningful(like audrey hepburn) or just be a thot cuz I’m in college HAHAH I can’t think of a good one at all

sorry that I flooded u w so many questions!! (u don’t have to answer all of em hehe) I hope you’re doing well and having plenty of rest, u are such a beautiful soul <33 mwah mwah -🐰

hehehe hi bunny <333

aw sweetpea i’m super happy to hear it!!!! <33333 it always makes me feel really, really good whenever i hear that my advice helps <3 it’s such a special and rewarding feeling!! i love u too, more than u know!!!! <333 oh my gosh hahaha no, don’t worry about it!!! it just meant that i’d get to it a lil later, that’s all <33 i was literally so happy to hear from you!!

WAAAAAH listen bunny 🥺 this paragraph made me cry!!! it made me so emotional that i took a screenshot and sent it to my mom!!! i’m truly at a loss for words in the very best way, thank you SO much for such beautiful, sweet, thoughtful words <333 this means so very much to me!!! i feel really good inside and really happy when i hear that i inspire someone!! since i was three years old (literally lmao) i’ve always wanted to help others. i wanted to be a doctor until i was 16 years old (first a GP, then i wanted to be a psychiatrist haha), but with the help of a teacher i realized that writing/creating art is what i really loved to do and what i was really, truly good at, and that i could still help people through art, as well. so to receive such a lovely message, and hear that i can inspire and comfort you...well, that just means the whole world to me <3 so thank you, so so so much, for sharing such special thoughts with me <333

i only woke up a few hours ago, but i’ve already drank two glasses!! i’m very good with drinking water hehe <3 AH lately my mood is still really chaotic, it’s up and down and all around hahaha BUT therapy is going well so far, it’s a lot of work but i want to become stable again and reign in my illness a little, and i’m just so so SO grateful to have found a fantastic psychologist after two whole months of searching <3 hmm that’s a good question!!! lately i find myself spending a lot of time with my boyfriend’s family, actually!!! i just watched squid game with him + his brothers like a week or two ago and that was super super fun, and on the weekend we went over to his uncles to watch halloween kills which was also a ton of fun!! the two of us are also trying to establish a new habit of playing stardew valley together a few times a week (we have a multiplayer game started), and we’ve been learning italian together, too!! other than that, i spend the majority of my time writing still hehe <3 OOOOH hehehe i hope u enjoy rereading them!!! i have a bit of touya-nii content coming within the next month! <3 and ofc the last part of bmb in november!!!!

HEHEHE i am dressing up as a bunny princess, actually!!! i was at the store not too long ago picking up supplies for my halloween treat bags and i came across a cute lil bunny set with ears and a tail, and then grabbed the cutest frilliest pink tutu and was like AH! A COSTUME! hehehe <3 i’m only dressing up to hand out my treat bags, so!!! OMG LMAO WELL LET ME KNOW WHAT U DECIDE AAAAH

don’t apologize, i enjoy talking to you!!! have a fantastic week bunny babie ilysm!!!!! <333

[smolbeandrabbles]

Try It On, Take It Off - Orson Krennic x Reader (Rogue One)

100 Sentence Challenge Request

Orson Krennic + 95 -  “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” Requested by @mysticaltimemachinewench

Author’s Note: Roll with the idea of Halloween and October 31st being things in the Star Wars universe just for this fic, please! This boy is so whiny, I spent all week writing for him last week and he’s still like “write more!” so, I thought I’d post one. It’s because he’s all the bottom of my drafts now I’m sure of it. Boots & Boys - Kesha  Okay, so I was looking for songs to do with dressing up. And I found a bunch of cute love songs about wearing your SOs clothing, but... This one is fun and I needed fun for the premise-!

Disclaimer: Rogue One Characters/SW Universe not mine. / Requested  premise / lyrics & gifs not mine.

Premise: Every Halloween it’s the same thing, and Krennic is sick of people dressing like him. This year he’s determined to get to the bottom of things...

Words: 2010

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual connotations/Pre-Amble

_____

Think it's time that I mention I've got myself an obsession For the smell, for the touch I know I've got myself a habit But I gotta have it now I don't care where, work it out Let me break it down I try it on, I take it off So what you got? Something 'bout boots and boys They bring me so much joy I gotta say I wear 'em both so pretty as I walk in the city Give me boots and boys I'm keeping quite the collection Take nothing less than perfection My men drop beats like a bomb Wind me up, spin me round Oh, lookie what I found (ooh!) I'm crazy for you, crazy for you Hey hey, whatcha looking at? Hey hey, something you can't have They've got me looking rad You feeling that?

---

October 31st was always a date Krennic hated seeing in his calendar. The Death Star had not been a project spanning months by any stretch of the imagination. Orson was many, many years into this – and he was now accustomed to his workers Halloween traditions. He couldn’t say it wasn’t one of the reasons he was glad that it was nearing completion. That, and he might finally get the recognition he deserved. At least for now he had you. Given, you were relatively new to the project when he looked at the timeline as a whole, but you were certainly a necessary piece – and Krennic actually liked you. A lot of the other employees, if he were honest with himself, he actually could have done without. Which is probably why you’d grown close – and then maybe a little too close. But Orson wasn’t going back on that now. This was the day Krennic didn’t want to leave his office – inevitably, it was also the day that everyone would have him chasing all over the structure. Why? Oh, because they all knew how much he hated today too! So as soon as the email pinged in from the other side of the Death Star, Krennic tried everything he could to get them to come to him, or to send him documents, pictures, anything that meant he didn’t have to go on an annoyingly long walk. Orson used practically every persuasive trick in the book, to no avail. Eventually he had to concede rising from his desk, sighing angrily, and gathering his things to head to the problem. Almost immediately he was assaulted with the kind of visuals he’d become accustomed to. It seemed every other person on this damned vessel took today to dress up as him. Now, whilst dressing in the full white Intelligence Bureau tunic would have been against protocol and would have meant he could reprimand them, everyone decided to wear capes of various different colours instead. Some, like his, matched their uniforms – and if it wasn’t also for the fact they copied the way he walked and carried himself, with an unconvincing attempt at his accent and speech patterns, he’d find it quite tasteful. Krennic would almost be flattered, he supposed - perhaps even feel like a trend setter – had the crew not being doing it for any other reason than to mock him. God forbid any of them attempt Lexrulian; one day it was going to make his ears bleed. Others decided to wear their ‘capes’ in the gaudiest colours imaginable, and sometimes Orson felt like he was going to be physically ill just staring at them.

Still, technically all of this was against regulation – and although he probably couldn’t take on the entire staff and win, he took pleasure in chastising those he disliked most. “Isn’t that a little against your uniform regulation?” “Take that off now – before I have you reported.” “Next time I catch you in something like this, you’re off the project.” Annoyingly, he could never keep how irked he was out of his voice – and they took great joy out of that, and never bothered hiding it. When they did take these ridiculous attempts at mocking him off (Though it worked. He supposed.), Krennic knew they’d be pulled back on before he rounded the next corner – but for now at least, Orson could be smug in his little bit of power. The fact he could actually force the crew to remove them. He often pondered how this started. Tarkin, he had no doubt. Krennic wasn’t going to blame himself after all, he knew his uniform looked damn good. He just wasn’t fool enough to think this was respectful admiration. Eventually he reached the person who emailed him and, as predicted, it was an easy fix that Krennic could have done in less than five minutes on his tablet back in his office. The Director almost punished them on the spot for that, but by this time was already too pissed off with the situation to trust himself not to lose complete control. Not that that didn’t happen a lot, especially when everything was stalling – but today that was what everyone wanted. ‘If I see another bad attempt at ridiculing my uniform I’ll scream…’  Orson’s jaw was beginning to ache with the way he was tightening it. Half way back to his office, Krennic took a detour. By now he really was yelling at people – Orson was this close to drawing weapons and kicking them off the station, Project Stardust be damned. Desperately seeking respite, he wandered back to his quarters and as the corridors began to quieten, scuffled along in his boots, sulking. ‘What did I ever do to deserve this-!?’ Reaching the door to his room, Krennic gave a small smile – he would receive relief in here. Well at least she will be sweet... I can tell her my frustrations and she’ll sympathize… As Krennic keyed himself in and the door slid open, he realised just how wrong he could be. You were walking up and down the main room and studying yourself in about every reflective surface you could find. If this wasn’t you, Krennic would have blown it, and immediately all his irritations came flooding back. You were, of course – with access to his wardrobe - pacing around in his uniform. Full Intelligence white, rank bar included. Sure, the sleeves were rolled up – which pained him because it’d take an age to get those creases out - and the cape was a little long for you, but, you had the whole thing on, right down to the boots. Usually Krennic might smirk and call you out on wearing his clothes, after all you did look good in his tailored shirts. Any other day of the week he’d probably be pretty turned on right now. But NOT today. As the door slid closed behind him and beeped locked, you whirled around. The cape moved with you and your eyes fell to it; immediately distracted. Krennic’s uniform was gorgeous on him, but the feeling of power you got when wearing it for yourself was indescribable. You liked running your hands over it – the feeling of the fabric between your fingers very nearly bordering obsessive with your need to do it at every chance you could; it was so perfectly weighted that, in all honesty, the tailoring was a marvel to you. You always made a mental note to thank the designers and sewers for their impeccable work. (On Orson’s entire wardrobe, actually.) “Director.” You presented yourself and looked back to him, “What do you think?” Orson very nearly shivered, and if he wasn’t so pissed he’d probably have let himself. That was Lexrulian – and compared to everything else he’d heard today, was very nearly music to his ears. “What are you doing-!?” There was a snap in the undertone of his voice – agitated, to match the way his jaw tightened. You answered cheerily, nonetheless. “It’s Halloween. So, I’m you! I mean you could be me if you wanted, but I’m not sure the uniform would fit-!” You giggled slightly at the mental image of him in your tight black jacket – no, maybe it wouldn’t fit properly, but it might look really good. If only for a second. Although Krennic was glaring at you by now. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, is all this YOUR idea-!?” For a moment you looked innocent, “No! You mean the fact everyone else does it? I didn’t start it, but I felt I could damn well finish it. Besides, LOOK!, I can do it better than everyone else!” “No! No! Y/N-!” You scrambled up onto the table, and cleared your throat. It was clear to Krennic you’d been practicing, because you had his stance down and his mannerisms almost perfect. He was almost impressed. “The POWER we are dealing with here is immeasurable! Single reactor ignition would be just an inkling of it’s true destructive potential! And I will not fail!” He blinked slowly, thinking you were mixing up at least three of his previous conversations there. There was a long pause before Krennic stepped forward, pointing at you. “GET. DOWN! Do you have any idea how expensive that table was-!?” “Awwww, Orson, c’mon!!” “I’m NOT impressed, GET DOWN!” “Baaabe.” “Don’t whine..!” You backed up just out of his reach, even your best innocent eyes weren’t saving you today – he must have been furious. “But it took me so long, I’ve tried on all the variants, I tried on your dress uniform even-! And it isn’t complete without the cape, and the rain one doesn’t have a patch on the glory of this one!! I thought it wouldn’t drag if I put on my heeled boots, but that didn’t get the look right either! And it’s you – so, it had to be perfect…” Your eyes glittered gently as you tried to plead with him, “I thought if I did it properly, it might make you smile. That it might be more… respectful. I dunno I-” He cut you off, demanding, “OFF. THE. TABLE.” “Well, what are you gonna do-!?!” Krennic was quick on his feet, and even though you’d backed yourself up he still managed to grab your wrist and drag you down. You might have been in his uniform, but you were nowhere near his height; and you might have had his traits down, but you didn’t have his strength either. Meaning within seconds he had you shoved up against a wall – with a squeak – before his lips were on yours, wrists pinned by your sides. He might have been angry, but that only made this kiss hotter, and you practically melted into him. Orson was showing you absolutely no mercy – and you weren’t sure if you really deserved it, but you were at least a little glad of it. Eventually he pulled away from you; leaving you gasping and panting for breath. But you whined, wanting more from him. “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” Krennic had, many a time. Which is one of the reasons you wanted to do this, because he might feel a little better if you were doing it right. Clearly you were in the wrong ballpark. You thought about nodding in admittance, but thought maybe continuing to be playful would get you what you wanted. “Don’t think you did – maybe you did. You should remind me.” “Oh, I think I will.” His smirk was back as you let him run his hands through the fastenings of the tunic and unzip your pants. Oh, yeah, he wanted this uniform off bad. You bit your lip, “It does look sexy on you though, is it surprising everyone wants to copy it? I mean I like trying it on and taking it off.” Orson nipped your neck, eliciting a gasp from you; “Evidently I might too.” Then he chuckled at your sigh, running his hands over your warm skin, “That doesn’t make me hate today any less. I mean it’s hardly tribute, is it?” You tipped your head, “I mean, I tried.” “Oh, don’t think I didn’t hear that mocking tone.” He grazed his lips to yours, and it was hardly rewarding, you pined for more but he held you away from him – still immobilized against the wall, “Still, I’ll admit so much… you do look very pretty in white.” You did very nearly blush, but knew that his mind wouldn’t be going to something as virtuous as weddings or dresses; probably a different kind of white lace altogether. “Can I keep the cape at least?” Maybe he’d enjoy you wearing that and very little else. That would be like a ‘sexy’ Halloween costume, would it not? Even if it was just for him. Maybe that’s what Krennic needed if he detested today so much. He growled, kissing you again before you let him slide the jacket from your shoulders and it fell to the floor; “If you’re good, we’ll see.”

--- Thank you very much for reading! It’s been a while since Krennic has been posted too, I’ll admit! 🙏❤

2/16 down!

[datawyrms]

Ectoplasmic Bonds

Dannymay2020 Day 30: Family

“AHA! I have found you, ghost child. You are no match for my peerless intellect!”

This was weird. Not the ranting and dramatic posing in midair, that was just Technus being the weird little boaster he was. The fact he was boasting at a park with no gadgets in sight was the confusing bit. He’d expected the Box ghost or some random animal when his ghost sense rudely interrupted his Saturday, not the tech crazed monologuer. 

“I didn’t know we were playing hide and seek!” His hands glowed green, ready to blast the second his foe made a move. “I know a great place you can hide though!”

“Playing? No, we are not playing hide and seek!” the ghost crossed his arms, almost looking insulted. “We are playing BASIC HEALTH EDUCATION, for your feeble mind is clearly LACKING THIS DATA”

“Uh. What.” Danny blinked, eyebrow raising in bafflement. Blasting the ghost would probably be best, but he hadn’t even taken advantage of his blank stare.

Technus shook his head and tisked at him. “Your cousin let us know about your RECKLESS BEHAVIOUR, ghost child! It is a wonder that you haven’t collapsed!”

“My cou-Dani? Wait why would Dani be buddies with you?” the green glow snuffed out, brain struggling to figure out what was going on. Was it April first? Was this a really complicated distraction plot?

The green skinned ghost tisked again. “By being as reckless as you! Young and thinking you are invincible!”

Well that answered approximately nothing at all. Yet the ghost did seem to be serious, he was getting the distinct impression Technus was scolding him. For something. Maybe he was just having a weird dream. “I still have no idea what you’re babbling about.”

“Your education is LACKLUSTER, child! How can you not know you are starving yourself? You are more a ghost baby than a ghost child!”

“Well excuse me for not getting the ‘ghosts for dummies’ book!” he snapped back, wondering if he should go after the ghost for that baby comment.

“Ah, ah, I am not fighting a half starved toothpick! You put those fists down, child and listen to your elders!”

He was totally scolding him, what the heck. “Ghosts don’t eat, what are you even on about?”

Technus put his face in his hands. “The youth of today! So uneducated!” Yet when he looked back up he just seemed more determined. “Fear is all well and good child, but it is no replacement for ectoplasm! The state of your cousin was appalling!” He seemed to notice how Danny tensed at the mention of ‘cousin’ and continued. “She is FINE thanks to our cardboard enthusiast!”

“Well uh. Thanks for helping her out?”

“It was AVOIDABLE! If you were not so reckless in hanging around over here all the time! Do you WANT to start falling apart from lack of ectoplasm? It is distinctly UNGROOVY”

...Was he actually worried about the two half ghosts? Weird. “Errr no, I would not like to do that, thanks.” He had enough nightmares from just seeing it happen to the other clones.

“Then you must stop AVOIDING returning to the ghost zone! You have not come in over a month! Perhaps exhaustion is a thrill to you, but you take it to RIDICULOUS levels! The cousin was quite WORRIED for you, ghost child!”

Dani had managed to set Technus on him for...not going into the ghost zone. What. That was important? “I don’t think I have to-”

“YOU DO! Do you think ectoplasm will rain from the sky for you here? NUH UH. IT DOES NOT.” He seemed larger,  looming over the teenager as he pointed at him. “You might have a big battery but it will still RUN OUT. Then no more RECKLESS ghost child!”

Why did he feel so embarrassed? Why was he even letting Technus of all people chew him out? “Okay, okay! I get it!”

“GOOD. Puddles are very BORING nemeses!” He glared at the jumpsuited teenager for a moment longer before vanishing, apparently planning to keep his word on a lack of fighting.

He really, really hoped all this was just a very dumb dream. People had definitely seen the encounter, it was pretty hard to overlook two ghosts yelling in a park in the middle of the day. Mom would probably call it proof that all his fights were staged, or something fun like that. Not that the truth of ‘he came to yell at me because I’m bad at being a ghost’ was much better.

Mom’s pondering at the table in the evening shot any hope square in the chest. “I suppose they do look similar, colour scheme wise. I’m not sure it’s any proof of a familial relation though, there’s no real reason for such relationships”

Jack nodded, scratching at his jaw before adding his thoughts. “Maybe new ghosts cling to older ones at first before separating off to do their own thing? Phantom’s got some electricity powers, doesn’t he?”

“He does, they do share the tendency to never stop talking as well, come to think of it.”

It was very difficult to not respond to that remark. He was not the kind of scenery chewer Technus was! This was going to be a looooong night.

“It’s just strange. They’ve never shown to have a friendly relationship before now. If they wanted to take the town for themselves it’d make more sense to let Phantom stay ill.”

“Even ghosts want to protect the young of their species?” Jack frowned “I didn’t think the spook was actually a young spirit though.”

“True. Technus might only call him a child because of his appearance. Yet it did look like a parent scolding a child, didn’t he complain about the youth?”

“Well if we can nab one of em, we can see if they share or have similar ectoplasmic signatures! It could be an instinctive thing if they’re ‘related’ that way.”

Danny worked to suppress a groan, rubbing at his forehead. Great. Now they thought Technus was his ghost dad. All his dated references were going to be way worse now! He so wasn’t like him! The second his friends found out it was going to be their new favourite joke.

-

He never did manage to figure out how to track Dani down, instead getting surprised by her with a tackling hello.

“Does this count as a ghost attack?” he asked, smirking as the the ghost snickered at the question.

“I dono, does it? You aren’t fleeing in terror.”

“Maybe I’m just an out of towner that doesn’t believe in ghosts“

Dani shrugged before landing, taking a few glances around before shifting back to her human form. “Then I guess I’m a ghost that doesn’t believe in ghosts either.”

“New outfit?”

“Yup! And it’s all mine,” her grin was infectious as she grabbed the edge of the thick purple hoodie, fiddling with the dark lining that seemed to have a scattering of stars. “I don’t even feel cold in the zone with this on.”

“You know you don’t have to live in the ghost zone, right? Jazz can probably make up some forgotten branch of the family you’re from, or something.”

“What, and join you in tip toeing around ghost hunters that love and hate you at the same time? No way cuz. If I wanted that, I’d be with Vlad.” she paused with a frown. “Well okay, it was fake love but you get it.”

“Too well.” he shrugged, trying to ignore the rush of irritation from his parents being compared to that absolute fruit loop. “What did you drop by for then? Seeing as you sent Technus after me last time. Which I’m still mad about.”

“Oh you know, catch up with Val, enjoy some sunlight. Nothing big.” she rolled her eyes “I didn’t send him after you! I just mentioned to Boxy how you don’t go to the ghost zone much and I guess he spread it around?”

“Well thanks to that people think Technus is my dad!”

“What, he’s not?” she burst out laughing from the other half ghost’s full body shudder, ducking the half hearted snowball thrown her way.

“Oh you think it’s funny now, just wait until they start saying it about you too.”

“Nope, still funny! Besides, I already got a ghost dad.”

“You what.” he stared, but she didn’t seem to be kidding. 

“Well after the whole Boxy making sure I didn’t drop dead from lack of ectoplasm thing a lot of ghosts kinda felt bad for me?” the dismissive wave of her hand seemed a bit forced. “Way easier to deal with over there than with humans. They knew I didn’t really have a place that was mine so they let me stick around for awhile.”

“I guess that was nice of them. You sure it isn’t some trick?”

“You worry too much cuz. You really think I wouldn’t have been super suspicious at first? Already did that once!” her glare made him blush, rubbing the back of his neck. Stupid question, of course she’d be careful after Vlad. “Being a clone with no papers is way easier in the ghost zone, so spending most of my time there just makes sense.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” He couldn’t imagine wanting to live in that green chaotic world, but he actually had a decent amount going for him on this side. Dani...didn’t.

“So yeah, basically got adopted by Nocturn. He helped me figure out the design, it’s reversible.”

“Wait wait NOCTURN? The guy who tried to put everyone to sleep to take over the world? That one?!” he sputtered, only causing his clone to laugh again.

“Yeah? Everyone likes to try and see how powerful they can be sometimes, did you take it personally?”

“Yeah a little! People could have been hurt! And he dumped me on a random rock in the ghost zone! Then tried to kill me!”

“Everyone tries to kill you.”

“Like that makes it better?! He’s a nutcase!”

“Or maybe you’ve only actually met him once? Everyone wants to try messing with Amity Park at one point. It’s just a thing to try, since you never really seriously hurt anyone.”

“Now you make it sound like the ghost attacks are my fault.” he muttered, quickly realizing Dani didn’t care if he wasn’t exactly a fan of the dream ghost.

“Well they’d come anyway because the human world is cool. Some of them are totally only coming to try stealing the town from you though, sorry cuz.” she shrugged again “Oh! Noc’s pretty impressed by your ice attacks by the way, but he’s still pretty sure Frostbite could help with a few things.”

She nicknamed him! “Noted. Uh. Maybe tell him not to do the whole take over the world and kill me thing again?”

“He won’t. One, I consider you family. Two, watching and learning from dreams is more his thing. The take over the world bit was more of a ‘sure why not give it a go’.”

She seemed so relaxed, even while his mind was yelling that she couldn’t be safe around a ghost like that. Yet she was the one who mostly lived in the ghost zone. She probably would know a lot of his foes better than he actually did...though it still rankled. “Well I’m glad you found more family over there. But I’m not inviting him for lunches.”

“You’ll have to be the one to come visit sometime! You have no idea how scared some ghosts are of you, it’s hilarious. They don’t know you’re a total dork.” She perked up when he stopped crossing his arms.

“Hey, that just makes you dork squared ya know.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Sure it does. Or not. I’d have to ask Tuck.” he managed to keep smiling, trying not to think too hard about why he’d be considered terrifying to ghosts.

“Or you could ask your daddy” her smirk was vicious as he let out an offended squawk, flinging another snowball after her.

“Don’t even joke about that!”

“Tooooo late! Bye cuz!” her laugh was warm and carefree as she fled from her flustered cousin, vanishing as she darted behind a large bush.

Probably off to go find Valerie now then before headed back home. Still, it was good to know she had a home to go to now. Even if it was with some ghosts he usually had to beat up. Family reunions would be a whole lot messier if she kept that up. Though really, she deserved any kindness she got.

He still wasn’t going to forgive her for the Technus thing though. He was going to need to brush up on dream and sleep puns for proper retaliation. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #370

“breakdowns, obscenities, it’s all i wanna be”

Do you have any bad habits you aren’t working on changing? If so, do you ever think you’ll try to break them? Downloading music, for one. I really should just start using Spotify... but my iPod has over 1k songs on it and I just seriously don't want to got through all the trouble. When was the last time someone surprised you with their reaction or behaviors? Hm. I dunno. What kinds of videos do you like to watch on YouTube, if any? I watch SO many different kinds. It used to be pretty strictly let's plays, but I've definitely expanded my watching interests. Now I'm really into watching educational reptile and tarantula husbandry and keeping channels, I watch one woman who is like my weight loss idol (Jordan Shrinks, she is amazing), there's a few vloggers, I enjoy some World of Warcraft channels, and then there's a couple urban exploration guys I like. I also occasionally watch some beauty YouTubers just for their personalities and the art of it. Have you ever reached out to a crisis center for mental health support? If so, how was the experience? Yes, but they were so busy that I didn't connect with anyone before I finally gave up and ODed. When was the last time you did something you were afraid to do, and how was the outcome? Ummmm I don't really know. What is one positive thing you believe about yourself? I care a lot about other people. What is something you have been through that has made you stronger? The breakup. It brought me to the lowest of lows, where every day was a struggle to survive. It taught me I can endure through almost anything, even if it doesn't feel like I can. Other than money, what is something you wish you had more of in your life? Happiness, contentment, being in love, motivation, energy, activities, travel... There's genuinely a lot. IIs there anything that you tend to ignore for the sake of your sanity? I'm very bad at ignoring things. If something is bothering me, it's going to put up a beastly fight to be at the forefront of my mind. What is something you wish was different about your family? I wish we were closer and better off monetarily. What keeps you going lately? The hope for a happy, satisfactory future. Have you ever been in an unconventional relationship (long distance, polyamorous, same gender, age gap, etc)? if so, what challenges did this relationship present, and were they worth overcoming? I've been in a long-distance relationship with another girl. I think the hardest part was that there was not being able to physically be there for each other when one of us was really struggling, and sometimes communication was an issue, not being able to read body language when we voice chatted or hear the tone in which we "spoke" when texting, though I'm pretty sure that's an issue with any online relations. I also feel it's difficult to really build and experience your chemistry with one another when you're not physically with the other person. I still think all these challenges were worth overcoming, though. I in no way regret the relationship and got only good things out of it. What is the most unhealthy relationship (whether friendship or romantic) you’ve ever had? What made it so unhealthy? Do you still talk to each other? I'm kinda torn between Jason and Colleen, but I think my bond with Jason was ultimately more unhealthy because it went beyond love: he was an obsession. Having him with me was the only thing that brought me joy, and I lit-er-a-lly could not imagine my future without him. Like that concept just didn't exist; it was entirely impossible in my head. On his end, he failed to communicate what he was going through emotionally, which only contributed to the damage. I never knew he was struggling because of me. Without realizing it, I put so much pressure on him to make me happy, so to answer the last question, no, we don't, by his decision - and I don't blame him. Have you ever been abusive in any way? Were you able to change or make amends, or, in general, what do you think people should do to make amends in that situation? A neverending battle I have with myself is if how I treated Jason after the breakup was qualifiable as emotional abuse, specifically with messaging him things like "thanks for sending me to the ER" and shit. My therapist reassures me that it wasn't abusive because I wasn't being deliberately manipulative, but rather genuinely hurt and convinced I had been wronged and wanted him to know and acknowledge it. She agrees that it was wrong, which I entirely agree with, but sometimes, I'm still convinced I was abusive. I fucking hate answering this question, so hurrying up: I don't know if he's forgiven me. As for how others could reconcile, that's not for me to say. I know sometimes the answer is to NOT make amends and completely stay away from their abuser. It's not my right to tell others how to cope with their abuse. Have you ever forgiven someone for being abusive or allowed someone toxic back into your life? Did this person change for the better or not? My former best friend Colleen was toxic as all fuck hell, and I let her back in way too many times. No, she never changed. I honesty doubt she ever will, given her pride. When was the last time you did something “meant” for children? Do you think it’s okay for adults to do these things (ie. watch cartoons, have stuffed animals, dress in cute clothing, etc), or do you think there’s an age beyond which it becomes unacceptable - and if so, why? Hmmm... I know this was semi-recent, but whatever it was is evading me at the moment. I personally have zero issue with adults engaging in activities like that; let people do what they enjoy if they're not harming anyone, especially things as innocent as dressing how they think is cute, etc. I would far rather people "act like children" (not emotionally, you know what I mean) than run around the streets selling drugs and shit. What was the last thing to “trigger” you (as in, in a true mental health sense, I’m being serious here) and how did you cope with it? What kinds of things do you tend to find triggering? What do you do either avoid or face your triggers? When I was riding to the sleep study section of the health plaza, where the hospital is, my anxiety spiked quite a bit, recalling all of my ER stays for being suicidal. It didn't help that the psych hospital I visited most is also in that whole jumble of buildings. I dealt with it by reminding myself I was in that area for a very different reason, and Mom reassured me that where I would be staying was more like a small hotel room than a hospital bed, which was true, so that helped. Regarding the next question, I'm not gonna lie to ya, I have a stupid amount of PTSD triggers: certain music, shows, fandoms, places, smells, even tastes of certain foods. I tend to stay away from my major triggers, but I'll *sometimes* fight the tiny ones, because I want that sense of ownership of myself back. If you’re diagnosed with anything, do you feel that it accurately represents what you’re experiencing? Yes. What are some minor physical discomforts that really bug you (eyelash in your eye, a wedgie, rumpled socks, etc)? I'm VERY sensitive to feeling anything in my nose, and it leads to me needing to blow it a lot. I also can't stand having holes in my socks, but since I wear flip flops essentially everywhere, I don't experience this much. Are you ever afraid to admit to liking something because you’re afraid other people will judge you for it? What is the worst that’s ever happened as a result of you liking something different from the crowd? What about the best thing that’s come as a result of a unique interest? Y E P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nothing really bad has happened because of admitting my interests, other than hearing things along the lines of "I don't get it." It's very odd, just how horribly receptive I am to judgment about things I like when I don't recall a time where I was ridiculed for anything. But anyway, the best thing to happen from sharing interests for me is making a new friend that likes the same thing, and I will IMMEDIATELY be closer to you than most people I associate with once you've helped me past that vulnerable spot of mine. Have you ever remained good friends with an ex? Yeah. Do you have a negative view of mentally ill people, or are you mentally ill yourself? Do you ever call others crazy, insane, etc? Do you ever call yourself those things? I'm mentally ill and empathize heavily with those who suffer themselves. I absolutely do not have a negative look on mental health sufferers; we don't choose to be victims. I'm definitely not a big fan of abusing terms like "insane," because I've fucking been there, and it's not a term to take lightly. I've thrown 'em around before, but I try to avoid it. I don't call myself any of those things nowadays, but in the deepest trench of my depression and PTSD, I honest to God think I fit the definition of "insane." Does it bother you to have people comment on what you’re eating, or do you not care? What are some comments that would bother you, if any? Do you ever comment on what other people are eating or make assumptions about their intakes? YES. JUST DON'T FUCKING COMMENT. I get EXTREMELY self-conscious when my mom does this sometimes when I occasionally need a small snack to hold me out overnight, and I absolutely never will say something to someone else. It's just rude, imo. Well, I guess if someone was really destroying their health and I was close to them, I would out of concern and be very gentle, but when regarding most people? I'm keeping my thoughts to my damn self. Do you like Redbull? I've never tried it and don't want to. I'm not an energy drink fan. Who is the last person you spent money on? My mom. I remember I bought us fast food when we were out once. What are you looking forward to in the next 4 days? G U Y S!!!!!!!!! I GET MY TATTOO TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!! :'''') Also on the same day, I start my TMS therapy, which I have high hopes for. Have you ever gone a whole day without eating? No. Do you sometimes use your music player to help you fall asleep? No, but I did that for years back in middle school. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you shave your legs more than once a week? Haaaaaaaaa. If you could cuddle with anyone right now, who would you pick? I really wish I could cuddle my late pup Teddy again. :/ I was thinking about that recently. Are you tanned? God no. I never am. Do you try to wear dresses whenever you can? No. I wish I was in a shape where I was comfortable wearing spring dresses again... I had this floral skull one in high school that I adored. Are you wearing something that belongs to someone else? No. Have you ever been called a bitch? Yes. Did you like the person you last kissed when you kissed them? I loved her. Who did you have a meaningful conversation with last? Sara. Do you have feelings for someone? Yeah, but they're like... on a leash, you could say. I don't let 'em run free and wild, and I know that even if nothing comes of those feelings again, it's fine. Are you trying to avoid liking somebody at the moment? I think Jason will be this answer for a very long time, if not forever, given the trauma and all. I have to remind myself frequently that I love his memory, not him, because I don't even know him anymore. It's been YEARS since we spoke. Just like I've changed incredibly, I'm sure he has, too. If you saw life in black & white, would that be okay with you? I mean, it would suck, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. When you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep, what kinds of things are you likely to do? How often do you find you have trouble sleeping? I do exactly what you shouldn't do and get back on the laptop. I'd say I most often get on WoW and refresh the auctions I have up because that tends to tire me out because I do that shit manually to avoid any addon mishaps, and I have a looooot to put up as a gold farmer. What was the last lengthy packet you filled out? Something to see if I qualified for a sleep study. Are you a patient person? What is one way you have a lot of patience? What about not very much patience at all? I am NOT patient, at least regarding more trivial things, like sitting in waiting rooms. I do have patience though with other people with more serious things, like getting someone to open up to me. At what time during the day do you tend to feel your best? What about the worst? When I first wake up. It's a "fresh start" and it's nice to feel rested. Plus, I open a fresh can of cold soda as my "coffee" for lack of better word, haha. I'm in my worst mood probably late afternoon/early evening, by which time I am incredibly bored and just dulled down. What was the last thing you did that you wish you could take back or do differently? The last thing... I dunno. How frequently do you stay overnight somewhere that isn’t your own home? What things do you miss about home when you’re away? Do you tend to get homesick easily? Pretty much never. I do miss my room and its privacy when I'm away from home, but I wouldn't say I get homesick all that easily, so long as I have WiFi, haha. Do you tend to eat more in the beginning of the day or at night? Do you have a tendency to snack when you’re bored? If so, what kinds of snacks do you normally go for? Not necessarily the beginning of the day, but definitely more than at night. I am BAD about snacking when I'm extremely bored, but at the very least I'm conscious enough to try and find something semi-healthy, like granola bars, fruits, a scoop of peanut butter, but I also sometimes just eat like... a slice of bread or a tortilla. Horrible choice. I'm a carb fiend and I hate it. If you have any dietary restrictions, do you ever miss foods you can’t have? If not, what’s something you haven’t had for a long time that you wish you could eat again? I thankfully don't have any. I've been craving cheesecake like a madman lately. :< The spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden, too. Is there something you still can’t do even though you’re an adult or might be expected to do this thing? I don't have my license, and my driver's permit is even expired. I'm terrified of driving. I also don't have a job, and I can't cook. When was the last time you congratulated someone? Were you happy for them, indifferent, jealous? Uhhh I think someone on Facebook had a baby. Of course I was happy for them. What was the last milestone you reached in your life (graduating, buying a car, starting a family, etc)? What milestone are you going for next, if any? Um... I haven't reached a true milestone in years. Hell, I don't think since I started recovery from the breakup. Do you enjoy getting comments or messages? How likely are you to leave comments or messages for other people? Yeah, it makes me feel cared about. It really depends on the platform on how much I leave other people comments, and I'm extremely shy about messaging, but I'll do it sometimes. When are you most likely to scream (either out of fright, anger, or whatever)? Do you scream or yell often? When was the last time someone screamed at you (or in your presence)? Frustration, for sure. I've screamed into a pillow more than once. I definitely don't yell or especially scream often. I'm sure the last person to yell at me was Mom, but I don't remember about what. What would you say is your STRONGEST emotion? Maybe not the most frequent, but the most intense? And what emotion do you feel most weakly, even if you might feel it more often? I'd saaaay... maybe love. When I love something/someone, I love HARD. I think I experience joy the weakest; it's very muted for me. And lastly, what are you listening to? Is this a band you listen to a lot "The Heretic Anthem" by Slipknot. I wouldn't say I listen to them a lot, but I have been more than usual lately.

[brooklynislandgirl]

👄 Do you kiss on the first date?

📼 Favorite movie romance?

💐 Do you think sending flowers is an appropriate gesture? Why, or why not, and if so, when?

☕ Coffee date, dinner date, or movie date?

Love, Love me do... || Accepting

👄 Do you kiss on the first date?

“I don’ date.” Those are the first words that come out of her mouth, though, maybe unfortunately for Aspen, they won’t be the last. She twirls her straw in her cup, having just tried the iced coffee the other woman is fond of, and for all the sweetness in it, there’s still a sour taste in her mouth and what feels like hot burning coals in her belly. 

“Don’ see da point. I don’ ... I don’ really feel romantic toward oddah people. Not like you or Andy or...really almost every kine I know. I mean, I go places. Mos’ly wi’ friends. I go out f’ dance. F’ movies. Stuff li’dat but not alone, not like a couple. Second...no one really askin’ me to, eiddah. An’ I’m pretty sure if someone did, before I could say yes or no, Andy would politely decline on my behalf. Take it a step more far...assuming I did go out wi’ someone, jus’ da two of us, first time... I don’ know dem. An’ kissin’ is mebbe da third mos’ intimate kine of expression an’ if put in dat situation, prolly punch ‘em dead in da face.”

~*~

📼 Favorite movie romance?

Everyone knows that Westley and Buttercup are the idealisation of everything Beth’s romantic soul finds appealing. There’s sweetness, incredible romance, swashbuckling, and who wouldn’t want your bashful farm boy to grow up into a sword-wielding Man in Black who would stop at nothing to rescue you. Someone who loves you so much, they would come back from death just to be with you? But Beth also knows that anyone who knows her well enough, gets sick to death of that being her truest go to. And it isn’t the only one she loves best, it’s just the first one that always comes to mind.

So she reaches out for the second one that comes up when she bothers to think about it.

“Li’dat... Phan’om of Da Opera, an’ Christine. Granted, is very one-sided an’ I nevah figure out how...jus’....Like okay. So you got Erik ~he’s da phan’om, but not really a ghost, jus’ pretends to be one, for reasons~ an’ Erik is dis really brilliant musician and magician ~stage kinna magic, not real kine~ an’ he travels da world, an’ constantly get’s dumped on by everyone cause he was born with tragic facial deformity. Eventually, he help build da Opera Populaire in Paris an’ was minding his business an’ da t’eatre t’rough da manager. Den dis orphan girl, daughter of a famous musician ends up at da Opera House. An’ one time she sing for him an’ he decides t’ train her but like...on da down low. An when she gets older, he realise he loves her, but den her old friend from childhood, rich guy son show up, an’ make eyes at her an she make eyes at him an...I guess wha’ I’m sayin’ is...I nevah understood how she could choose some rich guy over da beautiful soul of da Phantom dat love her SO much he would do anyt’ing, even kill lots of people, to make her happy.”

~*~

💐 Do you think sending flowers is an appropriate gesture? Why, or why not, and if so, when?

“I mean, define...appropriate? Well, no. I suppose it’s a maddah of context, really, isn’ it? I could send flowers to a friend ~male or female, cause dat always seem to make a difference to people~ like on special occasions. Birt’day, wedding, anniversary of some kine, funeral, all dat kine. No one would blink an eye. Could send flowers to female friend just cause dey pretty, or cause she like dem. Again, no issue to be had.  But...say I was seein’ a guy in a romantic context... even as flexible an’ fashionable as it is now a-days wi’ expandin’ gender roles... da man in question, his immediate peers or family, an’ maybe even some of my friends would definitely find dat weird.

“And mebbe more so, dependin’ on when. Like we jus’ met? Unless I know it’s one dem special occasions, oh absolutely not. Dat’s da kine...inappropriate. Mebbe later on, once we know each oddah real good, once we both consider each oddah as friends, den mebbe yeah...cause at dat point, he know I’m kinda weird, kinda funny li’dat. I dunno. I t’ink if I was gonna do some kine li’dat, I would ask Andy his opinion. My braddah never steer me wrong, yet. An’ he really loves givin’ me advice.”

~*~

☕ Coffee date, dinner date, or movie date?

“Oh uhm.” This is another one that needs more context and her brows furrow as she takes an inordinate amount of time to answer. “Like, if jus’ met dis person I’m goin’ out wit’? Absolutely goddah choose coffee. Dinner is awkward because like...I no eat meat if I can help it, an’ dere’s allergies and illnesses dat goddah be taken into consideration. Plus you know..it’s at night an’ dat’s really uncomfortable. Den dere’s da whole awkwardness about who payin’ for it, if it’s fancy or casual, if ya wanna spend hours trapped in a room wi’ lots of oddah people an’ everyt’ing is kinda loud and crowded an’... if I were to drink enough wine t’ put me at ease...den I’d be more dan a lil intoxicated an’ it jus’ sound gross to me.

“An’ movies are jus’ as bad. Mostly at night. Trapped in a small, dark, crowded room where people all around you are talkin’ an’ whisperin’ an’ at least two or t’ree phones are gonna ring, an’ someone’s got a baby or two in dere, an’ dey cryin’ an screamin’ an’ as much as I love dem, it’s considered real impolite t’ jus’ walk up to someone an’ ask dem t’ leave or to hand ovah da baby dey obviously don’ know how to make quiet an’ it’s kinda considered assault or kidnappin’ to take one away and bounce it on ya hip our feed it so everyone else can watch da film. An’ most of da time, dere no subtitles an’ so it’s really hard to hear what’s happenin’ an’ it’s a strain on my eyes tryin’ to watch dey mouths and like yeah, I’d really raddah not.  “An’ anoddah kine, wi’ movies a’ least...ya not talking to each oddah. An’ I have heard from oddah people dat sometimes you’re date’s hands go wanderin’ an’ people start kissin’ and again, dat’s da kine dat gross me out.  “But wi’ coffee, can be any time. Usually a decently lit place. Can meet dere, an’ dere’s room for talk, an’ da kine to look at’ an...”

Beth’s eyes widen owlishly large an’ she slowly raises them from her cup, to Aspen’s face. The expression that etches itself onto her features is one part cringe, one part apology and two parts confusion. “I mean...we...we...are not...this isn’t a date, is it?”