#and the. there’s me 6 hours away from everyone and only seeing folks like once or twice a year

[theworstcreature]

Ever since I was a little girl I’ve known that I would be the family weirdo and feel alienated and ignored for my entire life

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Focus On Me

Randall Kirkland x Fem!Reader 

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: Y/N is the newest arrival to the township. Amongst all the townsfolk, she takes a liking to the most unlikable guy in town when things go awry at the colony house. How will she survive the night? 

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, piv, unprotected sex, DubCon (kinda), breeding, public sex, exhibitionism, drug use, mentions of DV, mentions of violence (murder), swearing, fem!reader, romantic smut, aftercare (he deserves that and more!) 

A/N: Randall Kirkland needs love, y'all!! You know, under that cold abrasive exterior, he's a total softie with a good heart! From is such a great show, I love Randall and will protect him at all costs!!! Story is cannon, no spoilers for new season, but it's definitely the reason I wrote it… especially after ep. 6. Randall is baby girl!! Please enjoyyy! I love and appreciate you all! Feel free to reach out anytime! I welcome all interaction!  

Word Count: 5.4k

FOCUS ON ME

Stepping back into colony house was heavy after last night. Donna and Boyd were outside at first light to cover and remove the body of yet another victim to these creatures. You often reminisced of your days before this nightmare you were trapped in. Wishing, hoping to wake up. You arrived in the township by yourself, close to sunset. The folks at colony house were welcoming albeit, strange. You understood now. Often disassociating from the truth and drowning yourself in a journal or sneaking off to vape THC, often walking in the woods, trying to make sense of things, to find… something. Like everyone's first night, you struggled to take in what this place was, what it did to people, not wanting or willing to trust anyone. There was no answers or information as to why this was all happening, no one communicated, and you felt alone. Everyone else seemingly accepting their fates. Except one person. A guy by the name of Randall who people whispered about in the colony house. After hearing some not so stellar rumors about fighting and guns, you initially opted to stay away. Not just from him but closing yourself off to others as well. Sure, some of them seemed nice, but you knew no one or the circumstances that led you to this place. It just didn’t make sense. It was hard to trust anyone, truly. 

After your third night here, you awoke from maybe two hours of sleep to find people rummaging through your things. Personal items mixed with sentimental items that you once thought held value. You were in the middle of a move, taking only your most precious items with on the initial voyage from Key West to Seattle escaping from a violent DV situation literally upheaving your entire life. A new life, new beginnings and new opportunities you had once looked forward to. That was before the tree appeared in the road and the crows circled above.  

The car alarm was jarring waking you from an unrestful sleep, you bolted out the door to see people with handfuls of your clothes, bagging up your journals and other personal effects. It felt as if they were taking what was left from your old life, what made you, you. Without hesitation you started ripping your items from the hands of the thieves. One of the women started yelling while trying to yank back your things, you didn’t hear her and acted out, launching a solid fist into her jaw causing her to fall back as others went to restrain you trying to talk about the rules, and other things you were too upset to hear.  

This place was already loathsome enough, you thought. “You can't take my things!” You yelled as people held you back, each holding one arm. You bucked and screamed until they let go and you fell to the ground. A crowd had begun to form on the porch, watching you. You could feel the heat of anger and embarrassment rise in your cheeks. You pant in defeat, looking at the ground sobbing as people loaded your things into the home. Boots appeared in front of you and a hand reached down. A deep voice spoke out “Here, stand up” You recognized the face immediately as Randall, who had wandered over after hearing the commotion. Him and some folks from town were trying to build some kind of radio tower near the garden.  

You took his hand and stood, dusting off the front of your pants where wet dirt had stained your knees. “Don’t let them see you like this” he whispered. “Give her back her shit!” He yelled to the crowd. Donna stepped forward demanding everyone calm down, she then firmly reminded Randall of the rules if “she” wanted to stay here. “As a community, we have to share everything equally” she had said to him while looking at you. “My journals? My clothes? Are you serious? Its all I have!” You said wanting to swing again but refraining, what good would it do. Your stuck with everyone here anyway. “That or you can do as Randall here did and leave if you don't like the rules” she said directly to you in a condescending manor.  

You storm off in a huff, not wanting to display any more emotion than you already have. You walked away fists clenched and head down when you heard footsteps beside you. “Thank you.” You said. Looking up and meeting his eyes. It was Randall. His smoldering gaze made your breath catch in your throat. He stood at least a foot or more taller than you, athletic build, clean shaved buzz cut, hazel-green eyes, and a dimpled chin. Funny you thought, all the talk about him, how terrible he is, how difficult he can be, and yet he was the only person to stick up for you.  

“Its bullshit, you know it, I know it. They tried that with me too when I got here.” He said as you two continued walking away. “What did you do? Did you get your things back?” You asked. “Yeah eventually, and they kicked me out because of it. Didn’t want to follow their rules” he said with a half grin. “I stay in the bus away from everyone else.” He lamented. Explaining how Donna had showed him how to use the talisman and wished him luck as he took his things. "Wow. What a peach," you said. “I'm Randall, by the way” he said while sticking a hand out. You reached to shake it “Y/N” you replied.  

It was nice talking to someone, you had felt alone here for the past few days, even more so when they began taking your things, it felt like your identity being stripped away. He seemed to understand, and vice versa, you understood him and his reasoning. He had already come to terms with some new truths about this place having been here longer, but you were still taking it all in, or rather, bottling it up and pushing it away. Whatever worked really. “So, where are you going?” He asked while walking beside you. “I guess, just for a walk to clear my head. Wanna come?” You asked, flashing a smile at him. “Sure. Anything to get away” you both chuckled as you led the way to the tree line. 

You learned a lot from him that day you first met him. You exchanged stories of your lives before, where you were going, what you were doing prior. He spoke candidly with you. It was truly refreshing. Sure, he was abrasive and blunt. You could see that on the surface, but somewhere below, you could see he was kind, that he cared, and that he, like the rest of us, was scared. You found it easy to talk to him and it was nice having conversations that didn’t completely revolve around death or scary night serial killer creatures. It was a nice escape from reality, one you both suffered from and needed badly. Spending much of your walk laughing and cracking jokes. His humor was dark much like your own, something you appreciated. You quickly found yourself wanting to talk to him all the time. He was relatable and understanding. He exuded strength and confidence and a no bullshit demeanor. Everyone else seemed so fake, or so lost. 

Although your conversations mostly remained light, he did speak about the people here too, about not trusting anyone, and how no one has really done anything or tried to figure this all out. He explained that living in the bus was hard, the creatures came every night like a routine, he studied them closely. Trying to find weaknesses, vulnerabilities, any information really. You two had stopped for a while. You remembered you had your pen in your pocket and asked him if he was ok with it. "Do you mind if I uh" you said as you wiggled the pen in your fingers. “Nah” he said with a grin. He stood taking stock of the environment you found yourselves in as smoke billowed from your lips into the cold morning air. You nonchalantly hold the pen out to him while also examining the environment. He looked down and grabbed the pen before clicking the button and drawing from the mouthpiece. Eliciting a couple small coughs from him. “Thanks, needed to take the edge off” he said while trying to catch his breath as you two began the trek back to town. You hadn't wandered off too far, never did in fear of getting lost before dark.  

He walked back to colony house with you. You didn’t want to go back, wasn’t ready to after this morning but nightfall approached. Randall stopped at the steps as you ascended. “Thank you, for today. I was really struggling, so, I appreciate you talking with me. It was nice.” You said with a coy smile. He nodded “Tomorrow we’ll get your stuff back okay.” He said. “Thank you, please be safe.” You lamented, truly hoping he made it through the night. You at least found solace in knowing you made a friend here. Knowing that made you feel less alone, but when you were on the couch at night as the creatures roamed the streets as Randall watched. You felt more alone than ever. A resident walked by wearing your shoes. You rolled your eyes and turned over, waiting for the night to be over. Tomorrow you would get your things back. You decided you weren't coming back to colony house. Maybe you could stay with someone in town, but you just couldn’t stay sane in a house full of people, especially when they were taking your things. You drifted off thinking of Randall, and what it must be like to stay on the bus at night.  

You were awoken by screaming. Someone had gotten killed last night and their body was left in the road in town. You heard residents chatter as Donna left to help dispose of the body. Before your mind could fully wake your body pulled itself up and ran for the door. You walked over to town, not wanting to see the body, but wanting to make sure it wasn’t Randall. A crowd formed around the body as Boyd tried to control the commotion with his hands waving telling people to move back. The bus was down the street a bit further away when you saw the door open and Randall step out to see what happened, who had gotten killed. Boyd gave his speech about safety at night and not trusting the creatures. You found yourself walking over to the bus where Randall stood arms crossed leaning against the open door. He straightened as you approached. “Let's go get your things” he said. “No one needs your journals and shit but you!” He said while starting to walk.  

The crowds were all down near the diner speculating about last night's murder. Only one or two people were at the house. You began collecting your personal effects from the rooms and basement where much of it was stored, mixed with other linens in a chest. “What if they don’t let me stay anymore” you said, voice full of concern. Randall set a bag down thinking for a moment. “Then you can stay in the bus with me.” The words sent shivers down your spine. The bus seemed so unsafe; he spoke about how vulnerable it made him feel. No shades for the windows, no pretending like everything is ok at night like the others have the luxury of doing. But it also excited you in a way. Randall was the only person here you’ve connected with, and on a deep level. You felt compelled to stay with him for reasons that can only be blamed on your hormones and lack of social life here. Maybe you would both be better off if neither of you were alone. You could feel heat rise in your cheeks as you continued to pack your things and head for the bus. 

After dropping off your things to the bus Randall was kind enough to help you carry, you both opted for another walk in the woods. It was a calmer environment; it was almost like being taken away from the commotion and despair that was the township and the townsfolk. Randall was a breath of fresh air. He saw through the bullshit and told it like it is. You appreciated his directness, especially when it came to you. “They think what they're doing is right, but they have no idea, no one does" you could sense the frustration in his voice. An emotion you shared. You agreed. “I get people are scared, we all are, but why can't anyone come together and think of something more than a temporary fix. These talismans are Band-Aids over a bigger issue were almost ignoring or just not trying hard enough to figure out. How many people are here, have been here, with nothing to show for it? With no answers as to why or how?” Randall shook his head. “See, you get it” he said as he reached to grab the pen from your hand.  

You two had found a log to sit and chat. Remarking at the landscape, trying to find something, anything really. Every answer he found only led to more questions, but at least he was trying rather than ignoring it like nothing ever happened. Like we all just chose to live here, to be here. Neither him nor you accepted that sentiment. He wanted out just like you did. But in the meantime, at least you had each other in a way.  

He never said anything but it seemed like he enjoyed your company. Willingly going on walks with you and talking for hours about anything. You were both a nice distraction for each other from the daily depression of existence within the confines of this horrible place. You found solace in him. A warm presence like protection and safety. That night you two had stayed awake for the most part talking through the screeches and screaming heard in the distance. Helping one another to ignore the words of the creatures when they would tap on the bus windows asking to come inside. It was scary but you two got through it.  

He had been used to this for some time. As used to it as someone could get, you supposed. But he was able to help you through your first night on the bus. “Focus on me” he said when they wandered to the window at the seat you occupied. He sat next to you and reached for your hand squeezing tightly. “Just focus on me”. The words he spoke echoed in your mind that evening until it darkened with slumber.  

You must have drifted off at some point because you awoke at first daylight as the sun began streaming into the windows. Randall was still sitting next to you. Had he held your hand all night? You must have fallen asleep on him. He could have shifted or asked you to move so he could sleep as well. But he didn’t. He sat there with you all night as your head rest upon his shoulder. When you moved, he jumped suddenly, eyes shot open and looking around. “Hey, hey, it's okay.” You said grabbing his leg and shaking it gently. He immediately relaxed.  

“Bad dream?” You asked. “No. No I uh, I just never really fall asleep in here. Sorry.” He spoke in a soft voice. “I haven't been able to sleep much at all my self since I've been here. But I was able to last night. I have you to thank for that” you looked on as he processed what you said. “Don’t worry about it. I should uh, thank you too. Having you here I guess, made it easier for me. Not having to be alone when those things show up.” He said clearing his throat and shifting slightly in his seat. “I appreciate you letting me sleep here. And I'm sorry about falling asleep on you” you said sheepishly.  

He grabbed your hand once more “Like I said, don’t worry about it.” A light smile lingered on his lips before he left. He had gone up to colony house again. Him and a few others that he was able to gather, had left to scavenge materials for the radio tower they were building. He would be gone for a while, so you spent your day mostly in the woods searching for answers, stopping by the diner for a quick meal then returning to the bus before nightfall.  

You sat in the fourth row back from the entrance. There was a break in seating here and room for your things in front of you without feeling crowded. This was normally where he would sit. You sat and journaled about your day, about last night. Jotting down ideas, possible relations between happenings and the effects, trying to make sense of things. The familiar ding of the nightly bell Boyd used to warn the townsfolk rang on the distance as the sky began to darken.  

You realized Randall wasn’t back at the bus yet. Your mind spiraled into worry. You panicked rushing to the bus door closing it and waiting for him to arrive. You looked in all directions when you spot him emerge from by the clinic. He’s running to the bus as those creatures slowly follow behind him ever so menacingly. You open the door before he gets to it yelling for him to hurry. He rushes in and runs to a seat. You shut the door behind him insuring its fully closed then rush to help him. Was he hurt? What was going on? He was frantically tearing at his clothes and swatting as if there was something near him. 

You stepped close to him trying to calm him, it was as if he could hear you but couldn’t respond. You could see he was scared and was seeing something you couldn’t, his eyes flickered looking at something. Not odd for this place but nonetheless, you were concerned. He was back on the bus, but was he actually safe? What happened out there? You wondered as you tried to calm him. “Randall! Hey! It’s me you’re okay!!” You tried to consol him. You grabbed onto him holding his arms and entering his vision. He was sunk into the seat eyes still wide with fear. You put your weight on him, straddling him in the seat grabbing his face trying to redirect his attention. “Randall!” You yelled helplessly. You were scared, unsure what else to do in this moment. Unsure how to help. 

He sat with you on top of him, still unphased. It’s as if he was stuck in a waking nightmare. Suddenly all you could think was to potentially shock his system somehow to take him out of it. "Randall, focus on me, okay?” You lean in quickly, pressing your lips to his, breathing deeply through your nose. Laughter could be heard coming from the creatures that had gathered around the bus. You ignored them. You continued kissing him. Softly pressing your lips to his watching his reaction. His eyes went half lidded before flickering shut.  

His breathing slowed and body stopped trembling. He kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist. You embraced it and closed your eyes. You didn’t expect that. You pulled away for a moment examining his expression, wanting to know if he was out of the woods so to speak. “Are you okay?” You asked. He looked at you with surprise. “Why did you do that?” He spoke softly, still holding you to him. “I'm so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do, I just wanted to shock your system or something. I had to pull you out of that! I was scared for you, and you showed up past dark and-" he cut you off suddenly, pulling your face back to his. You melted in his grasp, returning the kiss with fervor. You wrapped your arms around him while he pulled you closer as your tongues searched each other's mouths, teeth clashing as you vigorously and passionately kiss. 

Somewhere outside there was knocking at the windows of the bus as the creatures taunted you. Neither him nor you paid attention. Your focus remained on each other. As long as the talisman hung from the frame of the bus within and the doors and windows were shut, you were fine as far as you knew. Not accounting for whatever happened to Randall. Regardless of what it was you were able to redirect his attention and pull him back, putting his focus back on you. 

Moans escaped your lips as his hands caressed your back, sides, and hips, rocking you on him. You could begin to feel the stillness grow in his pants. It was hard to ignore as it pressed against your thigh. His hands slid under the backside of your shirt; you could feel the cold air from the bus creep underneath. You took a moment to pull your shirt up over your head, fully immersing yourself in the heat of the moment. You weren't even thinking about those things outside watching. Let them, you thought. 

You caught his gaze after removing your shirt, his eyes met yours with a look of longing. You felt the same, the need. You had only been alone here for less than a week, he had been here for months. You could only imagine how alone he must have felt. Your heart ached for him, but your body lusted. You could feel heat envelope every part of you, concentrating in your groin where you began to throb for him. Your hand wandered his body, exploring every muscle, every curve and line, tracing it with your fingers, following where it led. He continued rocking your hips into him, his face now stern with concentration as he looked in your eyes watching you squirm as he rocked you slowly forward then slowly back. 

The look in his eyes as he watched you soaked your panties, that, and the friction he applied. But the way he looked at you, like he needed you, drove the innermost primal part of you absolutely insane. You began rocking with his grip, pushing yourself onto his stillness. Your head flung back as he began pressing kisses to your décolletage, biting at the fleshy mounds beneath your bra breathing heavily. 

You slid a hand between you and him down to his waistline tugging at the buttons on his jeans. He motioned to undo them and took them and his boxers off. You stood and slid your pants and panties down as well, taking them off completely before returning to his lap. You grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself as you put your knees on either side of him, while he slapped your ass. You cried out at the sting of the slap that reverberated through the silence of the bus. He looked up at you and grinned, rubbed up your thighs to your backside, grabbing a handful of flesh in each hand and bringing you in for another passionate kiss.  

Your chest heaved against his as you lustfully devoured him. You could feel him even firmer now. You were soaking wet; he must feel it you thought as you mindlessly grinded against his length. After breaking from the kiss, you lean your forehead to his looking into his eyes then down at your hand that was moving to grip him. He gasped as you took hold of him, stroking him slowly as you looked into his eyes. He was rock hard and throbbing. His tip sticky with precum. You used your fingers to spread it around before scooting yourself against him and sliding his length up and down your slit.  

Your hand held him firm to you as you slightly moved up and down. His manhood throbbing against your clit as he slid so easily against your slick cunt. He had been pawing at your flesh, squeezing, pinching and scratching at your back as you teased him. His face buried between your breasts sucking and biting. He would reach up and grab them and caress them, running his tongue over them leaving a trail of cooled skin behind that made you shiver every time he breathed.  

He would look up at you periodically, watching your face enjoy him. The hand you used to hold him against you slowly started applying pressure until he was at your entrance, and you slowly slid down, taking time to accept his size within you. You cried out as he breached, just the tip making you want more. You slid down fully, watching his face contort as you forced him inside you. You were dripping wet yet he was quite substantial, so you felt yourself stretch as he entered.  

You wrap your arms around his neck as you start to slowly grind and bounce on top of him. His hands were back at your hips trying to control the speed, pushing you down on him harder each time. His look was stern as he focused on you, looking directly into your eyes as he met every bounce of yours with a thrust of his own. Each thrust drawing a cry from you. Your moans and cries of passion paired with his grunts and heavy breathing, drowned out all the outside noise. All the screaming all the nightmarish things just beyond the windows were now worlds away. They could probably hear you over at colony house with how intense it was, how loud he had you. You pick up your knees bringing your feet onto the seat on either side of him, grabbing his shoulders as you continue to ride him. 

His head fell back against the seat eyes closed as he used his hands placed under your thighs to help lift you as you rose and fell against his length. A look of relaxation and serenity you had never seen on him before. You provided a peaceful temporary escape for him. You watched as his chest rose and fell with each panting breath that escaped his lips. You watched how his lips quivered with each passing exhale. You reach a hand up from his shoulders and caress his face softly, he burrowed his cheek into your embrace. You cradled him as he looked at you adoringly. You wondered what he was thinking. 

You felt his grip tighten on your thighs as he grabbed you and flipped you onto the seat. He hovered above you as you pulled your knees to your chest. He pushed heavily against you, leaning into your knees, filling you completely. He leaned back slightly, grabbing behind your knees, placing your ankles upon his shoulders as he began drilling into you. The pain he must have experienced here, the things he's seen. You couldn’t imagine. You wanted him to take it all out on you, to have you exactly how he would want. All of his frustrations, anger, and fear, pounded into your readily waiting cunt. You wanted to give him that release, anything to take the pain away, even if only for a moment. 

Your legs clung loosely around his neck as he continued pressing his weight against you, forcing loud moans to escape your lips every time he buried himself within you, hitting your cervix. He was so enveloped in you. Watching your face twist with every thrust against you.  

He needed this, but so did you, perhaps neither one of you knew. It would have eventually led here though you thought.  He was the only one in town you found yourself able to relate to, the only one who stood up for you. Whatever ideas or thoughts people had about him were wrong. They just didn’t know him or understand him. This place makes people crazy; everyone reacts differently. It’s a big change to adapt to that no one wants to. 

Enveloped in your thoughts about him as the pleasure began to become overwhelming, you pulled your legs back down spreading them wide and wrapping them around his back as you tugged on his shirt, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. Holding him as close to you as you could. You took his tongue into your mouth, sucking it and pulling from the kiss with a gentle bite to his lip. This only made his motions increase furiously. He slammed into you continuously, teeth gritted, eyes narrow. A wave of pleasure washed over you emanating from your core, a sensation that began taking over your entire body. You clawed at his back, leaving red lines trailing your fingernails, it made him shiver under your touch. He could tell you were close; he was too. “Please, don’t stop!” You cooed in his ear.  

The creatures still outside could be heard chattering near the windows. Why were they watching? Maybe it mattered, maybe it didn’t. Right now, it didn’t, Randall was your focus and you-his. You had managed to pull him from his waking nightmare, however difficult that may have been. You did it, you helped him. Whatever control they had over him, was not present when he was with you. 

Hearing your plea, he maintained his rhythm as your legs began to quiver and shake around him. You squeezed your legs tightly around him as you arched your back, meeting his thrusts with your own enthusiasm. Still holding him close, his forehead resting against yours, your eyes watched each other approach the precipice of climax, focusing only on one another. You could feel him begin to pulsate within you as your own climax began to coalesce. Your walls clenching tightly around him as he buried himself to the hilt. No longer able to hold on. As your own climax eclipsed his. The pulsating of his member echoed by your own quivering climax. You both erupted. Your moans filling the air of the bus and beyond. The feeling, immeasurable, as he let out an animalistic groan, thrusting into you with every pulsating shot of his essence that painted your insides. You could feel each pump, burning you from within, a fire you so badly desired.  

His face relaxed, shoulders dropped, every ounce of tension left his body with his seed, spilled deep within you. Your bodies, both shaking with exhaustion and satisfaction. Temporary focus offering temporary relief for you both. He slumped beside you cradling you to him with his large arms wrapped around you. You felt his breath on your neck, still heavy but slowing, his stillness pressed against your back as pearls of his desire dripped from your core, slowly leading a trail down your thigh.  

He pulled a blanket draped over the seat behind him and spread it over you and him with one arm. You turned your head slightly to him and raised a palm to stroke his cheek as you planted a kiss upon his lips before turning back around. He looked at you admiringly, his eyes soft and a smile that touched the corners of his lips. He kissed the back of your head before cradling himself in the crook of your neck as he held you close to him. "Thank you for letting me stay here with you.” You felt him nod and his arms squeeze you tighter. “I'm not going anywhere; you don’t have to tell me what's going on if you don’t want to. Just know I'm here, you're not alone, and my focus is on you.” You spoke candidly in a loving voice. He only nuzzled his face into your neck further, peppering your shoulder with light kisses as he quickly drifted to sleep. 

[omniblades-and-stars]

6 pairing of your choice?

Ok listen I think I just needed something soft and thoughtful and then I did way too much. Sorry? Anyways, this is everyone's reminder that I cut my teeth on writing Dragon Age fanfic.

From this ask meme here.

bound and undone

some things get easy with time

It wasn’t unusual for him to wake in the small hours of the morning, when the sun was just a whisper of pink on the horizon and the birds still had the grace to be quiet, and find himself alone. Valethen was taken to walking in the woods on her own when they traveled, she claimed it was a Dalish thing, but Thom knew the truth. She needed the solitude.

He’d asked her once, what she got up to when she wandered away when most folk, Maker-fearing or not, had the good sense to sleep for a couple hours more. She simply offered a demure smile and said, “We all have our secrets, Thom. Please allow me mine.” The smile didn’t reach her eyes.

That is what she always said when their conversations edged to close to home, to Cyrion. Valethen had told him as much as she was willing about her husband from long before she’d ever gone to the ill-fated Conclave. And how she still harbored guilt that she had been unable to save his life.

Thom was many things, a fool chief among them, but he was not the sort to pry about where he wasn’t wanted. It bothered him not at all that Val liked to walk among the trees and speak to her husband’s memory when she couldn’t go back to sleep. Everyone had their way of praying. And she’d had her gods snatched right out from beneath her previously sure feet. It would have been a matter of cruelty to deny her the one connection to her life before, the one thing that truly mattered to her. Furthermore, it was his firm belief that he had no right to interfere with her rituals.

No, her need for solitude didn’t bother him. But on that morning, wiping the sleep from heavy eyes, he couldn’t shake a deep feeling that something was wrong. He sat up quickly, taking note of anything in the tent that might have been out of place. But everything was just as it should have been.

He had one boot about half on his foot when he heard again what must have woken him, and worried him so.

The subdued but very distinct sound of a woman crying.

His boots forgotten, Thom rushed from the tent with newfound purpose. Valethen was stoic, some even accused her (wrongly) of being cold, and he had only ever seen her cry once: when Solas took her arm and shattered her already fragile heart, disappearing to leave her to pick up all of the pieces on her own. Again.

Thom didn’t have far to look, a blessing for his bare feet on a cold morning. Valethen sat in front of the fire, restoked and burning low. She cradled her face in her hand, soaked raven-dark hair, shot through with grey, clung to her back, and a small looking glass lay abandoned at her feet.

If she heard him approach, she made no effort to greet him, or hide that she was crying until he kneeled before her, the fire warm at his back.

Valethen took in a deep shuddering breath before saying, quite pitifully, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her jewel green eyes were rimmed red and fresh tears slid over sun-darkened cheeks.

“What troubles you, Val?” Thom asked while wiping a tear away with the pad of his thumb. He rested his other hand gently on her knee.

“It is quite possibly the stupidest thing I have ever cried over,” Val mumbled darkly in reply.

“I don’t believe it’s possible for you to cry over anything that is not worth crying over. Tell me.”

Val chewed on her lip, made a heroic effort to gather her composure, only to drop it entirely. “It’s my hair,” she sobbed and choked on a fresh wave of tears. “I haven’t been able to braid it since I lost my arm. I thought I might be able to figure it out with it wet, but …” her voice trailed away and she cast her eyes down to the mirror by her bare feet.

She had lost so much of herself already. To see her shattered and pulled apart in this way sat heavy and burning in his chest.

Valethen looked at him with tired, questing eyes. She held her breath as though she waited for him to laugh, or chide her for being ridiculous.

Thom leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her tear-soaked cheek. He felt her sigh, releasing the defensive wall she frequently erected in front of her heart to the gentle breeze. “If it’s a braid you want, Val, then a braid you’ll get,” he said softly with his forehead pressed to hers.

He was rewarded by the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth, the sparkle in her eyes as she pulled her head back to regard him with mock suspicion. “Thom Rainier, if you are about to tell me that you were once a hair stylist at a premier Orlesian salon, I shall have to send you away. That is a secret that is a bridge too far!” There was a hint of musical laughter hidden in her words, barely audible beneath her breath still hitched with tears.

“We all have our secrets, Val,” he teased with a cocked eyebrow. When she snorted and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, he added, “Sadly, I have never braided anything a day in my life. I make no promises as to the quality of my craftsmanship.” Thom stood and helped Valethen to shift so that she was sitting in the spot where he had just been kneeling. He settled in on the canvas stool behind her. “How have you been out here without anything on your feet? I half expect you wouldn’t feel your own toes by now.”

“Ancient elven secrets,” Valethen answered with a shrug. After a second or two of pointed silence, indicated that he wasn’t buying the lie she was selling, Val cupped her hand and breathed into it, speaking quiet words which seemed to form into a golden, glowing mass in the palm of her hand. She placed her hand on the ground next to her, and Thom felt the earth beneath his feet begin to warm. “I can cast a fireball large enough to rival one of Cullen’s trebuchet projectiles. I think I could keep my feet warm for a couple of hours.”

“All of that time freezing my bits off in the mountains, and here you had the solution in the palm of your devious little hands,” he groused playfully as he carefully separated her hair into three separate strands. “I know you heard us complaining.”

“If only any of you had thought to ask me to warm your socks for you.”

A comfortable silence fell over them as Thom worked to tame Valethen’s hair into something that sort of resembled the neat braid he had always seen her wearing before. Valethen hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. “He used to call me “Little Halla,” she whispered to the embers remaining on the fire. “Cyrion, I mean.”

“Halla are majestic creatures,” Thom reasoned, careful not to say too much, afraid that one wrong word would have her sewing herself up in her shroud of secrets and memories. The pieces of her she rarely spoke out loud for fear that the wind would take them away forever.

Valethen shook her head lightly. “Halla are temperamental animals. Beautiful, to be certain. The halla-tenders all say that they will only carry our aravels when asked kindly. And even then, if they are unhappy, they’ll refuse.” She lifted her hand to offer Thom the leather chord hanging between her fingers. “Cyrion, may his soul be at rest, called me such because I am hopelessly stubborn. It was his little joke.”

He couldn’t help but agree. Valethen was quite stubborn, though he might have compared her to an ornery mule, but that was far less poetic and far more likely to end with him knocked flat on his ass by one of Val’s great earthen projectiles for saying so. Thom settled on saying, “He was a wise man, then. You miss him.”

“His memory has always walked with me, but old wounds are torn open with new.” Valethen sighed, straightening her shoulders before saying, “I can almost hear him chastising me because I still haven’t learned to ask for help when I need it. Even a halla knows to tell the tender when it’s ill or in pain. I’m afraid I’m more like a particularly recalcitrant cat, who hides its wounds until they fester and can’t be hidden any longer.”

Thom squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, “Cat or halla, I don’t think anyone could rightly blame you for it, all things considered.” He draped the finished braid over her shoulder for her to inspect.

Valethen tenderly picked up the braid, looking over what she could see and feeling the rest of it to the back of her head. It was uneven, the pattern skipped here and there. Overall, a terrible braid. “Oh, it’s positively awful,” she said with a laugh. “Thank you, Thom. I feel much better.”

Thom smiled before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Next time, you need only ask.”

“I will try."

[naavispider]

This just popped into my mind: one night while they were camping in the forest, one of the Recoms tells a scary campfire story. Something like: “here’s the true story of the monster that eats you if you think about it”, you know the type. The marines all know it’s for fun and play along, but Spider grew up in a culture where stories are a primary way of sharing history and information, and he thinks it’s FOR REAL. A few hours later in the middle of the night, Quaritch finds spider wide awake and scared out of his mind…

"Now, listen close. What I'm about to tell you is real, it happened, and it can happen to you, too. We’ve all heard the story of a spirit or a monster that hides in the dark and eats you if you've done wrong, but this is no story. It's not folklore, it’s not myth, and it sure as shit isn’t make believe."

Spider shifted closer to Wainfleet's low voice around the fire. He rolled his eyes at the corporal's drama, but a shiver ran down the back of his spine all the same. Z-dog was to his left, and Fike was to his right, both a few feet away with shadows flickering across their faces from the campfire, both grinning expectantly.

"Like all good close encounters, this one started when I was very young - probably about 5 or 6, when I used to stay at my Nana's house while my folks were off working. These were the days when every meal was rationed, and every breath of the dying Earth polluted your lungs. Nana was old, she was dying, but I liked her company. The only thing I didn't like was the strange scraping noise that used to come from her basement. I'd tell her constantly, but her hearing must have been completely busted because she never heard it. One evening, while she was upstairs, I decided to check it out. The steps down to the basement are steep, wooden, and creaky. I made it halfway down towards the heavy door when I heard the noise again. A slow, drawn out scrape, that sounded like fingernails on floorboards. I stopped. I didn't know if I could do it. My heart was pounding like nothing."

Spider suddenly felt his own heartbeat increase. He shuffled closer to Z-dog, suddenly not wanting his exposed back to face the darkness of the forest.

"Then... I heard another noise. This time, it was a quiet, agonising moan. I strained to listen closer - not sure if my ears were screwed on right. But then the volume increased. It sounded like it was coming towards the door at the bottom of the stairs. I froze. I couldn't move - paralysed with fear." Wainfleet paused for dramatic effect, eyeing everyone in the cicle. "The sound was like a dying animal, or perhaps a dying person. It sounded like the moans and cries of an old woman who'd lost her mind. It was getting closer... it was right behind the door... It was coming for me... I bolted. I'm not ashamed to say that I turned tail and ran straight back up the stairs. My legs couldn't carry me fast enough. Just as I reached the top, I turned back to look at the door... only to see... it was ajar."

Spider looked around at the other recoms, horrified at the way Wainfleet was telling this story. But wait, he'd said it wasn't a story. This really happened. No wonder the man became a marine - he had balls of steel.

Quaritch was staring into the trees, always aware of their surroundings. Mansk and Prager were leaning against each other, having paused their card game to listen in to Wainfleet's tale. Spider could see he was not the only one hooked. Nobody interrupted Lyle, so he carried on.

"That was my first encounter with the being, but it was far from my last. The week after that, my Nana died from heart failure. I never went back to her house. But the creature... or whatever it was... followed me throughout my life, wherever I went. When I was 12, and we moved to Chicago, when I was 19, training at base camp Nevada, when I was 23 in Vietnam... it followed me... always. The... thing... it chooses you, and once it does, there's no way you can shake it. Hell..." Wainfleet's grim eyes locked across the circle with Spider's scared ones. "Even here."

No one said anything, but Spider wasn't looking at anybody else. "You mean... on Pandora?"

Wainfleet held his stare for a moment, the firelight dancing in his large, yellow eyes, before chuckling darkly. "You bet your ass. This thing isn't confined in the physical realm. It doesn't need air to breath, food to eat, water to drink. I don't know if it hitched a ride with us on the ISV from Earth, or if it can just materialise anywhere, but one thing's for sure... it's here, and it's not let me go."

Spider suddenly felt bare - exposed. The air chilled his skin despite being a warm summer's evening. He crawled even closer to Z-dog, part of him wishing he could move right into her lap. He restrained himself, however.

"You can always tell it's near by the slow, grinding scratching it likes to make on surfaces... I've even heard it scratching the trees out here, just out of sight." Wainfleet's voice dropped even lower, and Spider had to lean in to hear what he said next. "It doesn't like when we talk about it."

A shudder tore its way through Spider's body, and he sucked in a deep breath as a gentle wind blew through the camp. Suddenly, the warmth from the fire seemed to be blown away in the breeze.

"That's enough Lyle, you'll fill his head with all kinds of bull," Quaritch interjected.

Spider bristled. He didn't need Quaritch stepping in, he wasn't five. Nevertheless, Spider felt unsettled as the talk turned to tomorrow's plans and later, one by one the recoms drifted off to sleep. Usually, Spider slept a little away from the others, preferring to find spot next to a rock or tree stump, even if the privacy it offered was only in his head. Tonight however, Spider didn't really fancy that. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. Whatever Wainfleet had been talking about - that... thing - it seemed to be here. It could be watching them right now for all he knew. Spider liked to believe that Eywa wouldn't allow such an abomination on her world, but perhaps this creature was beyond her control. Wainfleet had said he'd heard it. Out here, in the forest.

He got up and walked quickly over to Quaritch's pack, grabbing the man's discarded jacket. He knew by now that he wouldn't get in trouble for using it whenever he liked. He threw it over his shoulders to warn off both the chill and the feeling of being watched by unknown eyes. He cast his eyes around for Quaritch - but the man was on watch duty, stationed a little further out of the camp, gripping his AR. He'd probably be there for another hour or so before swapping out.

Repressing his shiver, he found a comfortable spot nestled up next to the colonel's pack.

It took him a long time to get to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the unseen presence of Wainfleet's stalking monster, pressing in on him from the darkness that surrounded the camp. Who knew where it was now. He simply couldn't get comfortable, imagining it lurking out in the forest, waiting for the moment to strike... scratching its claws on each tree it clung to.

Every noise echoed in the quiet. Every snap of a twig from a roaming Pale, every buzz of a Shimmyfly as it floated uncaringly over the camp, Fike's gentle rumbling snores - it all seemed as loud as an engine roaring as Spider lay thinking about Wainfleet's story. Eventually, it got too much. Spider was never getting to sleep like this.

He groaned a frustrated sigh, sitting up against the pack and looking to see if anybody else was awake who might lend him a tablet. He needed something to take his mind off everything, but no one was up. He considered nudging Z-dog awake, but he knew she'd kill him. He wrapped his arms around his legs and brought his knees up to his chin, pulling Quaritch's jacket around him tighter.

"Kid?"

Quaritch's voice made him jump. He twisted around to see the colonel coming towards him.

"Why are you still up?" the recom asked, concern layering his voice.

Spider shrugged, turning back to stare at the dying fire.

"Hmm," Quaritch murmured. "Wainfleet's tall tales aren't getting to you, are they?"

Spider frowned at the embers. How could they not? "That shit's horrible..." he grumbled, unwilling to admit how horrific it sounded to be stalked by a sadistic, fiendish being.

"Spider..." Quaritch began, sitting down heavily next to Spider on the moss. "You... you know that story wasn't... real, right?"

Spider flinched as if burned. What did Quaritch mean? He tried to arrange his features into an uncaring, cool outer exterior, desperately hoping he wasn't betraying the confusion he was currently experiencing. "Sure," he said evenly.

Quaritch eyed him knowingly. "That's just a scary story... something folks tell each other back home to pass the time."

"Pass the time?"

"Sure. It's entertaining. The aim is to scare the crap out of whoever's listening. The person that tells the scariest story wins."

"Are you serious?" Spider glanced up at Quaritch now, almost too embarrassed to seek eye contact, but needing the reassurance that there was no creepy monster waiting to grab him more.

Quaritch stared amusedly at him, clearly fighting some urge. "Deadly."

Spider couldn't help the sigh that escaped him when Quaritch's certainty became clear. "You got a tablet?" he asked to change the subject.

Quaritch's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, but he pulled out the tablet from his pack and tapped in the passcode. He passed it to Spider knowingly and the boy went straight into the entertainment system, searching for one of his favourite cartoons.

Quaritch's heart warmed at the sight, and a sly smile spread slowly over his face. Raising a hand to ruffle the kid's hair, he murmured a soft comment about waking Mansk to relieve him of watch duty.

When he returned, Spider had laid down comfortable, eyes fixed on the tablet and quite at home in Quaritch's sleeping spot. Assessing the situation, Quaritch decided that the kid probably wouldn't mind if he lay down next to him. It was his spot after all.

He left a few feet between them, but even so, the pair had never slept in such proximity to each other before. He rolled over so he could watch Spider, but the kid was engrossed in his tablet. He seemed happier now Quaritch had enlightened him to Wainfleet's little game.

He smiled at the sight of his boy.

Meanwhile, Spider was immersed in Scooby Doo, more at ease than he had been all night. He knew Quaritch was lying nearby - he could sense the man's breathing, the rise and fall of his chest a few feet away. He could never admit it out loud, but he knew that the man's presence comforted him. Eventually, he felt his eyes start to droop, and the tablet slipped from his hand as sleep finally took him.

x

[xtruss]

What Life Is Like When Your Brain Can't Recognize Faces

The common neurological disorder affects roughly 2 percent of the population. Author Sadie Dingfelder shares her perspective navigating the world with it.

— By Sadie Dingfelder | August 6, 2024

An illustration adds an abstract look on top of a photo of author Sadie Dingfelder. Illustration By Matthieu Bourel, Photo By Oxana Ware

Fifteen pairs of eyes stared into the gloaming. An hour passed before someone spied the faintest wisp of smoke on the horizon. The wisp drew closer, becoming something larger, winged, and muscular: sandhill cranes the color of storm clouds, save for their smart red caps. They swirled around our bird blind, a converted shipping container set into the riverbank to hide us from the cranes, and dropped out of the sky in groups of two or three or five, landing gently in the Platte River in central Nebraska.

“It looks like one big mass of birds,” explained our guide from a conservation group called the Crane Trust. “But they actually stay in family groups for their entire migration.”

“How do they keep track of their mates?” I asked.

“They look alike to us, but I bet they look different to each other,” replied a woman in a green coat. I turned away from the birds to study her face. She had wide-set eyes, a ski jump nose, and short gray hair. Was she the same woman I was chatting with on the van ride here, the one who showed me pictures of her dogs?

She was flanked by two similar looking women, and all three were traveling with their own mates—men who were, to me, interchangeably outdoorsy, middle-age, and white. After the cranes melted into the inky darkness, we humans filed silently out of the blind and trekked across a muddy field, our careful footfalls drowned out by a choir of chirping frogs.

Back in the dining hall, we sat speechless, some of us near tears at the beauty we’d seen. As we began to put our collective wonderment into words, I noticed many of my fellow “craniacs” (our term for crane enthusiasts) were calling me by name. It wasn’t strange by any means. After all, we’d spent the past six hours together, chatting over drinks, getting settled in our cabins, and then packing ourselves tightly into vans. But, hard as I tried, I couldn’t draw forth any of their faces or names.

To my eye, humans are nearly as interchangeable as cranes, and I only recently discovered why. I have a neurological disorder known as prosopagnosia, or face blindness. Some people end up with this condition through brain injury, but most cases are genetic in origin—and this version, known as developmental prosopagnosia, affects 2 to 2.5 percent of the population. It touches nearly every aspect of our lives, from dating to networking to making friends, and yet it goes largely undiagnosed. This is because, like most people, folks with face blindness assume that everyone else sees the world the same way as we do. We don’t realize that other people perceive faces as distinctive and highly memorable. A case in point: Bill Choisser, who coined the term “face blind” in the late ’90s, once asked his partner, “Why do TV shows have so many close-ups of actors’ faces? How are we supposed to tell them apart if we can’t see their clothes?”

As a kid, all I knew was that I couldn’t seem to make any friends. I’d hit it off with someone one day and then treat them like a stranger the next. I later found out that my classmates, quite reasonably, thought that I was aloof, or weirdly hot and cold. To fend off loneliness, I would read constantly, usually series like The Baby-Sitters Club or Sleepover Friends. I dreamed of having not just one pal but many. I yearned for the safety of a flock.

In college I abruptly switched strategies—from treating everyone like a stranger to treating everyone like a friend. Walking to class, I’d stop and chat with anyone who so much as glanced my way. It was, I thought, a major improvement. So it went for another 20 years. I knew everyone without really knowing anyone, save a handful of best friends and a boyfriend, all of whom tended to be visually distinctive, or at least very loud. It never occurred to me that this might be a strange way to live.

Not long after I turned 39, I began writing down funny stories from my life, pushing to meet a personal deadline to write a book by 40. Since I was working at the Washington Post at the time, I sent drafts to friends who also happened to be award-winning journalists. They had questions: Why are you always lost? Why do you regularly have no idea who you are talking to? Why is your life shot through with so much ambiguity and confusion?

Other people might have consulted a neurologist, but as a science writer, my first instinct was to sign up for studies. One, run by researchers at Harvard, involved brain scans followed by nearly 30 hours of intensive face-recognition training. My scores in the program improved, but whatever skills I learned during the exercises did not translate to real life. Somehow, I figured out a work-around for tests that were all but impossible given my unusual brain—and this is how I (and most face-blind people) get through life. We figure it out. We adapt.

This is also true for the sandhill cranes. When humans replaced wetlands with farmlands, the birds adapted their diet to include crops like corn. The sandhills, however, are uncompromising in at least one regard: They need wide, shallow waterways to roost in—and that’s why, during much of the year, Crane Trust staff mow down saplings and prevent shrubbery from rooting along the riverbanks. As a result of this adaptability and assistance, sandhill crane populations have been steadily increasing every year.

While I don’t require much accommodation these days, except for the occasional name tag, I do worry about all the lonely face-blind kids out there—as well as people who have other neurological differences. What could we as a society do to make the world more hospitable to the largely unacknowledged diversity of human brains and minds? Where should we be clearing riverbanks?

It was late when we got back to our cabins, but I was still curious about the cranes. I skimmed a few papers before going to bed, and I discovered that cranes probably do look alike, even to each other. But their calls are distinctive. Each bird has its own signature sound, and their voices can carry for miles. This is how cranes keep track of their family members throughout their migration—not with their eyes but their ears.

I should have known. While the cranes looked the same to me, I noticed one particular bird that stretched its neck long and made a sound like an angry clarinet. “It looks like he doesn’t like where his family has roosted,” my friend in the green jacket observed. It was impossible to know, but I suspected she was right. The world is a cacophony of consciousnesses, all so different from your own. But sometimes, if you’re quiet, perceptive, and lucky, you can hear another singular voice piping through the din. I drifted to sleep that night feeling a deep kinship with the cranes, comforted by the knowledge that while my vision may sometimes fail me, my curiosity never will.

[ofelsewhere]

Little Sleep's-Head Sprouting Hair in the Moonlight by Galway Kinnell 1

You scream, waking from a nightmare.

When I sleepwalk into your room, and pick you up, and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me hard, as if clinging could save us. I think you think I will never die, I think I exude to you the permanence of smoke or stars, even as my broken arms heal themselves around you.

2

I have heard you tell the sun, don't go down, I have stood by as you told the flower, don't grow old, don't die. Little Maud,

I would blow the flame out of your silver cup, I would suck the rot from your fingernail, I would brush your sprouting hair of the dying light, I would scrape the rust off your ivory bones, I would help death escape through the little ribs of your body, I would alchemize the ashes of your cradle back into wood, I would let nothing of you go, ever,

until washerwomen feel the clothes fall asleep in their hands, and hens scratch their spell across hatchet blades, and rats walk away from the culture of the plague, and iron twists weapons toward truth north, and grease refuse to slide in the machinery of progress, and men feel as free on earth as fleas on the bodies of men, and the widow still whispers to the presence no longer beside her in the dark.

And yet perhaps this is the reason you cry, this the nightmare you wake screaming from: being forever in the pre-trembling of a house that falls.

3

In a restaurant once, everyone quietly eating, you clambered up on my lap: to all the mouthfuls rising toward all the mouths, at the top of your voice you cried your one word, caca! caca! caca! and each spoonful stopped, a moment, in midair, in its withering steam.

Yes, you cling because I, like you, only sooner than you, will go down the path of vanished alphabets, the roadlessness to the other side of the darkness, your arms like the shoes left behind, like the adjectives in the halting speech of old folk, which once could call up the lost nouns.

4

And you yourself, some impossible Tuesday in the year Two Thousand and Nine, will walk out among the black stones of the field, in the rain,

and the stones saying over their one word, ci-gît, ci-gît, ci-gît,

and the raindrops hitting you on the fontanel over and over, and you standing there unable to let them in.

5

If one day it happens you find yourself with someone you love in a café at one end of the Pont Mirabeau, at the zinc bar where wine takes the shapes of upward opening glasses,

and if you commit then, as we did, the error of thinking, one day all this will only be memory,

learn to reach deeper into the sorrows to come—to touch the almost imaginary bones under the face, to hear under the laughter the wind crying across the black stones. Kiss the mouth that tells you, here, here is the world. This mouth. This laughter. These temple bones.

The still undanced cadence of vanishing.

6

In the light the moon sends back, I can see in your eyes the hand that waved once in my father's eyes, a tiny kite wobbling far up in the twilight of his last look:

and the angel of all mortal things lets go the string.

7

Back you go, into your crib.

The last blackbird lights up his gold wings: farewell. Your eyes close inside your head, in sleep. Already in your dreams the hours begin to sing.

Little sleep's-head sprouting hair in the moonlight, when I come back we will go out together, we will walk out together among the ten thousand things, each scratched in time with such knowledge, the wages of dying is love.

[this-is-lightning]

so folks! the holidays start tomorrow and it's not gonna be easy for many of the queers who have to see/ spend a significant amount of time with their families.

so I decided to make a little personal post and tell you from on queer to another that it will get better I promise you.

this year two pretty significant things happened in my life. 1 I got my ba degree (finally yay!) and I started dating a girl for the first time in my life.

they are both nearly equally important. 1 I had hard time in university. corona, my neurodivergence and my demanding study program manifested itself in a grade a burnout eventually. but this year I finished! so to all those people struggling out there: it's get better, it's not easy but I promise you can do it, there still a life worth living for you out there.

2 I started dating for the very first time in my life, mind you I'm in my mid 20s now. so to all the people who pressure themselves about dating, don't. take your time, life's not running away, you'll meet some amazing people in your life, it's gonna be just fine when that special someone appears. you are loveable and loved just how you are I promise.

now here is the very lesbian clichee story of me and my girlfriend: we've know each other since we were 6. went to primary school together and where fast friends quickly. we both had no idea that loving another girl was a thing yet. but I'm pretty sure I loved her back then already. she moved away before we started middle school. promised to keep in touch (by letter mind you) wich didn't work out. but I thought of her often and tried to reach her somehow over the years. to no avail sadly. but then we met again by chance. our school had a anniversary party and invited everyone who ever went there. I went and she too. we ander up ditching our old classmates and talking outside for 4 hours. got her number! we were 16 by then, was in a little crisis about my sexuality at this point already but had convinced myslefi was straight. (that lasted for another 5 weeks lol)

after that we texted like once a year, very sporadic. Hush school was busy and we were shy. till the moment we graduated. we met up that summer before we both went off to univercity. it was basically a day long date. by that point I was pretty secure in my sexuality and knew that I had been attracted to her all along. but I didn't say anything, cause she was straight. I did tell her I was queer tho.

after that we started texting more. and because we couldn't meet up we started making video calls. for hours and hours. at first only once every 4 month. then every 2 then every month and 3 years later we talked every 2 weeks. we hadn't seen each other in person for 4 years tho. till this year. where we started seeing each other every 2 month. staying over at each other's place. and still the 5 hour long calls.

by this point I the attraction I had felt at first had morphed into a solid crush tho I tried to stop it I had fallen completely in love with her. but, tho she was a great ally she was still straight so I said nothing (a bit cowardly I know). problem was tho that our friendship had a very weird dynamic, from the start really but it morphed into something more in the last year.

I was confused of course, I couldn't really pinpoint what was going on but something was up. well the thing that was up was her figuring out her sexuality because she fell for me too. fast forward to October: apparently I wasn't subtle enough with my feelings and she was brave enough to make a move.

I got a letter from her one when she stayed over. with her confession. and well it's been truly bliss ever since. I hadn't anticipated how transformative being loved like she loves me would be. but I'm eternally grateful.

So to everyone out there who figured it out late: it's alright your perfectly normal and in the positive side you won't have to deal with teenage hormones while doing it. (if figuring IT out means a second coming of the hormones TM good luck with that ;P )

To everyone who thinks there's no one out there who would love them, I promise you with all my heart that's not true. You are loved. By strangers on the internet, your friends, your (chosen) family. And it'll get better. Theres people to meet and love and care to be had yet.

So to quote our resident queer writer Chuck Tingle: Love wins!

I love you all have a good break, there's love and beauty in the world too♥️

[butwhyduh]

Peeping through the stacks

Jason todd x reader

Valentine’s fic

Warning: smut

I recommend the book I mentioned if you like the classics.

“I have a proposition,” Jason said and your eyebrows rose. “Not that kind. We separate. I grab you a book and you get me one. And we meet up afterwards to go to dinner to see what we got. No cheating. No following each other around. Whoever gives the better gift, wins and gets to control the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like plan. Just know Todd,” you said moving up in his space standing on your tiptoe to talk in his ear. “I’m going to crush you.”

“Only if you win, baby. Only if you win,” he said with a smirk. He opened the door to the largest used bookstore in Gotham. 3 stories with a section of just records and another of old comics, it was heaven. They even had a coffee shop in the back of the second story. You went left and he went right.

You went straight for the classics. Jason would pour over old novels for hours and his favorite were clearly dog eared. You thought about replacing them but, while he’s appreciate it, it wasn’t exactly exciting. You milled around the area, looking at books that were nice but not it. As you moved to leave the area, a section caught your eyes.

If you love the classics but need a book written in the last 50 years:

This is what you needed. A careful list of books that you like next to new books was perfect. Jason had been reading his copy of Moby Dick and talking about the hubris of man recently, heavily alluding to Bruce. You grabbed the recommended book: In the Heart of the Sea.

Now to find Jason. You had agreed to no cheating but it wasn’t really cheating to just watch him if you had already picked. He was probably in your favorite area and you walked upstairs to watch down low.

Jason was holding two books in hand and looking between them both. You felt a thrill to watch him. He almost always caught you quickly but the store with multiple patrons and levels must have thrown him off a little. He finally grabbed a book and looked directly up at you with a smirk. You threw your fist playfully. He’s certainly caught you. You came downstairs with a grin.

“I knew you were watching me. That’s cheating,” he said. You held the book behind your back as you kissed his cheek.

“It’s not cheating if I didn’t change my book,” you protested and he kissed your forehead.

“Tell yourself that. Let’s check out and then I can win,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and walking to the counter. You both laid them down, face down because you’re competitive, and paid. You carried two separate bags and held hands as you walked down to a little cafe on the corner.

The place had the coolest vibes. Fresh coffee day and night, records and music memorabilia on the wall, and a band of musician played on a tiny stage every night. Valentine’s was no exception. You found a table in the back and promptly ordered your favorites from the menu.

“Okay. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” you said with a grin.

“I thought we’d wait until tonight to do that,” Jason said with a roguish wink. “Oh, you mean the books. Yeah, let’s swap.”

You gave him his bag and he yours. It almost looked like a drug deal if it wasn’t books. You pulled out the book. A continuation of a series you loved but had a hard time finding the next parts. Jason pulled out his and read the back.

“Okay, you won,” you said with a teasing scrunch of your face. “This is really great.”

“This looks great. But you did cheat too...” he said pretending to take his time deciding. “I guess I’ll take the win. But it was pretty close, I’m not going to lie.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Seriously, I can’t wait to bore you with more whaling facts.”

“I’m taking it back,” you said and he laughed. “I can’t learn anymore. I’m not kidding.” Jason’s eyes smiled too and you loved the sight. He looked happy. You food arrived and a folk band started playing.

As your food dwindled and it was fully dark outside, Jason’s gaze lingered on your body. His hand sat on your knee as you talked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said randomly and you exhaled quickly with a shy smile as you looked away. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay,” you said, letting him pull you from the cafe and a few blocks down. Jason pulled you close and rubbed his nose against your cheek. You turned your head up to close the space between your lips. It started as soft, gentle, cute. But Jason gripped your hips and pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms around his neck and before you knew it, you were being pushed against a wall as he kissed down your throat. You made soft sounds as he nipped and kissed the sensitive skin.

“Jason,” you said breathlessly. He hummed against your skin. “Take me home. Take me home.”

You ran your hands along the muscles under his shirt as you rode behind him on the motorcycle. Jason insisted on helmets and you wished you could kiss at the back of his neck. Probably best. Your hands on his stomach were distracting enough.

Jason barely drove the bike into the parking garage of his building before pulling off his helmet and turning towards you. You did the same. Neither of you climbed off as you made out. His tongue slid in your mouth as his hands held the back of your skull in place. He reached behind him to turn it off as you kissed.

“Upstairs,” you breathed. He nodded before getting up and picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed his neck as you walked towards the elevator. The knee high slit in your skirt had scooted up to expose most of your thigh. Luck was on your side as no one was around to watch but security must have gotten a great show with the pair of you aggressively kissing. Jason pressed your back against the wall in the elevator as you rode up to his floor.

He carried you down the hall. You were less lucky as your elderly neighbor was sitting in the end of the hallway as she always did everyday. She’d watch the sunset and people watch everyone coming home from work or school. She giggled and looked away. Jason put you down the second you both realized and you flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I was married once. Happy Valentine’s,” she said with a big smile looking out the window. Jason quickly pulled you in the apartment.

“I forgot about her,” he said. “Gross part is that she’s probably thinking about her dead husband and all the times he used to rail her.”

You glared at Jason. “That’s.... so gross. Why? Like you ruined it. Your dirty mouth.”

“I can get it a little dirtier,” he said with a wink but ruined by bursting into laughter. “Like do old people blow each other? Can their hips bend that much? I know their knees are bad. What age did they have to give them up?”

“Shut the fuck up. That’s so gross,” you said putting you hand over his mouth and he laughed before pulling you close.

“You look really pretty tonight. I forgot to tell you because I kept staring at you,” he said with a soft look. He bent and kissed you sweetly. Not rushed or hard like earlier. He slowly pulled you to the bedroom. You pulled each other’s clothing off as you walked. Shirt here. Pants there.

“Thank you. You look good too,” you said as you pulled the bedroom door closed. Jason rolled his eyes. He never agreed with you but had given up on arguing.

Jason pulled you on top of him in bed. His nose ran up your throat until his lips met yours. He was slow and deliberate in his movement. His hands roamed your body as you moved your legs to straddle him. You didn’t bother teasing either of you but instead sunk down on him.

“Princess,” he breathed with closed eyes. You sat for just a moment, get used to him, before starting to move. You bent at the waist to give him long deep sloppy kisses. “Baby,” he pleaded before you started moving.

“Remember, I won,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” you asked with a grin. “What do you want, Jaybird?”

“This. Keep riding me. You look so good,” he said breathlessly. His hands gripped your hips as you bounced. He grimaced as you swirled your hips. “Fuck!”

“Oh we like that,” you commented. He chuckled distractedly. Jason pulled you down to where he could kiss and nip at your chest. You whined as he took your nipple in his mouth. He let go with a loud smack.

“Mmm someone seems to like that,” he quipped. You pressed yourself back towards his face and he chuckled against your skin before giving your breasts the attention you wanted.

“I love your Valentine’s gift. You’re so thoughtful,” you said breathlessly. Jason looked up at you confused.

“Yeah no problem. Is now the time?” He asked with his eyes half closed and mouth open as he breathed heavily. His hips jumped to meet yours and he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loudly and he smiled as he watched you come undone. He thrust your faster to finish with you. You both moved together jumpily as you buried your head in his neck. You breathed for a few second before softly kissing his lips.

“I seriously loved today,” you said.

“Yeah, I’m glad. Me too. Surprised that no one call-“ Jason started before his phone rang and he sighed. “At least we finished. I’ve got to take this,” he said and you rolled off and curled in the blanket. He answered the phone as he threw on boxer briefs. He looked at you wistfully as he talked. It sounded important.

“My source said Black Mask is getting a shipment early this morning so I’ve got to go. We can’t have those guns on the street,” Jason said after hanging up. He leaned over to give you a dizzying kiss. “I’ve got to go but here is your book and a glass of water. Don’t stay up. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Be safe,” you said before he climbed out the window.

“Aren’t I always,” he said and you just knew he was grinning under the helmet before jumping from a 6 story window. No, you thought, no you aren’t.

[bridgeportbritt]

The Toxicity of Royal Simblr

alright guys. I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t have to make a post about this or that it would just go away. But, I’m seeing now that this is not the case. As the owner of the Royal Discord Community, I along with others in the community feel like this behind the scenes toxic behavior needs to be addressed because it’s been going on for a while now and a lot of people have been affected.

Please note that the intention is to bring attention to some of the toxic behaviors shown here so those involved will not continue further. We’ve blocked names of some people in the following screenshots to remove their identity as this is not about he said/she said stuff. It’s about bringing light to something that’s been affecting all of us.

This is a long post so be prepared to do some reading if you continue on. The following screenshots were provided to me because I took over the Royal Discord once the previous admins no longer wanted it. The rest is under the cut.

*Before you read on, I’m happy to let you know that a resolution has come since this initial post. Please read this post. Thank you!*

A lot of these messages are disheartening because myself, the other admins/mods, and the community as a whole has worked hard to bring the community back from a place where people honestly felt too scared to join because messages like these were playing in the background and this sentiment seeps into every part of Royal Simblr unfortunately. Due to how things were run previously on top of this toxic underbelly it’s made people hesistant to join in.

There is one thing I’d like to address first as it was directed at myself and I want to own up to anything I have done in this. When I first joined Royal Simblr, I participated in a Royal Sim Pageant. In one of the rounds, derogatory and racist remarks against Asians were made without the participants knowing. I truly regret to have been apart of it. When it was brought to my attention, I worked to correct the damage done with the owners of the pageant. I’m not perfect and don’t claim to be, but I’m always working to be better especially when it comes to correctly representing other cultures as it’s something I take very seriously.

To preface these messages, there are two things to know. There are two seperate servers. Server A) The server I’ve been admin of for a little over a month after the last admin transferred it to me. Server B) A smaller server that was created before Server A and made up a lot of the folks who also created and ran the Server A initially. The other thing is most of these people are not in Server A and haven’t been in over a month.

The conversation you see here started with a member of the community being accused of copying storylines. This person being accused is in Server A and this conversation took place in Server B on July 15, 2021.

The person speaking is saying they left Server A because a person is accused of copying storylines. For some reason, the whole community is then somehow involved in this as the conversation shifts. The person accused of copying happened to be a moderator in Server A which is mentioned. 

From what I’ve seen from this server, this is fairly common behaviour and multiple people have been bullied, accused of copying, etc. many stemming from this server.

In this shot, Server A is put into question. Many stating they left because they don’t want to pretend to be positive or show interest in other stories as if they are being forced to. As you can see one person states that this is not the case of the server since I’ve been admin and don’t encourage people to show fake positivity.

However, this person is actually in Server A which I’m guessing is why they decided to sort of defend it. But, then they agree that those running Server A are questionable (ie myself and the other admins/mods).

More of the same, but speaking about the previous ownership of the server when referring to being asked to step down. Also more just toxic talk about the entire Royal simblr community for no reason. This comes from those who have “built the community” and “do so much for it.” But behind closed doors this is what is done.

In this shot, those in Server A are accused of not “making an effort to be anyone’s friend” with those who rarely interact, being nice to each other for clout, and just overall being fake. Although, keep in mind, one of these people (”I stay for the drama”) is in Server A and never expressed any of this to me or other admins. Yet talking trash about us in Server B. Note: the pageant is also brought up here which I’ve addressed above and I believe I was the only admin or moderator apart of the pageant. 

Here they make fun of people speaking about their stories and other people encouraging them. Also, just want to point out if anyone ever feels unwelcomed in the server, please reach out to me of the other admins. It’s our goal to make everyone welcome, but we can’t do that if we don’t know. Also, being a jerk to people in another server for no reason isn't really a good way to make friends.

Some general nonsense about the server and those in the server. Again most of these people haven’t been in the server since I took over so sentiments about the status of the server are all from a month ago when those in Server B were in charge of Server A. The “felt like a corporation” and “crickets” is all things we’ve been working to reverse since we’ve taken it over.

In these shots, it’s talked about how so many people are stuck in their Royal stories and don’t plan methodically and decorate and how they take bad screenshots. Basically making fun of everyone else because they aren’t doing things exactly as they are or think they should be done. The community they “built” mind you. Then, they talk about some plan to rejoin Server A and bait people, but not wanting to get caught up so deciding against it.

This gives you a gist of what is happening in the Royal Simblr community. Some of the most beloved and talented among us are spending their time poking fun at everyone else, bullying, and being toxic in a server that is “not exclusive.” Many of my friends have been apart of this and even got swept into the toxicity which shows you the nature of this group. It’s very exclusive and meant to bully and mock others even going as far as making people want leave the community alrogether.

This is not me trying to bash anyone or continue bullying or single out these people specifically as bad people. There are a lot more screenshots that I did not share of just really mean stuff, but we’ve all done messed up stuff. I won't say who said what or even who had this particular conversation because at this point it doesn't matter, but I will address those who are in the server and actively participate in toxic conversations including @royaldevilliers @thesimsroyalfam @wa-royal-tea @royalfamilyofgrimalldi and @markinghamroyals​

We all have a vision for the community and we’ve been working towards that and this is NOT it. It’s not about who’s best or being being better than everyone else. It’s supposed to be about community, sharing stories, and overall just having a good time with a fun HOBBY. Others are just taking it too far and too seriously. Things like this ruin it for EVERYONE. 

When I took over Server A, no one interacted, people were nervous to join, and it was a place where people didn’t feel welcomed. Now, we just had a random 6 hour server stream yesterday, people are helping people daily and sharing their stories again. This is what we want for the community. But with behavior like this, we will NEVER get there.

To those who are doing this, please look at these nasty messages and see how this does so much harm. The toxic energy you bring does not stop just because it’s in your little bubble. 

This is who you want to be known as?

This is how you want to “build a community?” 

None of us are perfect and we don’t expect you to be either, but this is just mean especially to folks who haven’t done anything to you and even look up to you.

To those who’ve been affected by this, I’m really sorry. We have to do better if we want this community to continue and be a good place for us all.

[worstloki]

Top Forty Thor-Being-Thor Moments from Thor 1

just absolute dumb*ssery that this 7yr old kid’s life goal is to “hunt down the monsters and slay them all”. I’ll go easy on him here and let the Thor/Loki expressions do the talking because of “...just like you did Father” but seriously can his hands even fit around a sword handle??? this kid isn’t even punching the air right??? if there was a sword in his hand he would’ve cut his head with the way he’s moving???? pure tiny-himbo energy here just look at that >:o face he’s making. contrasts very nicely with Loki’s ‘,:|. 10/10. such a baby idiot.

“the jotuns must pay for what they have done! they broke into the weapons vault! if the frost giants had stolen even one of these relics!” thor. thor please. can you even name one of these relics. thor. hey thor. thor. shut up. “well, what would you do about this?” odin asks him. “march into jotunheim! like you once did! break their spirits! so they’ll never try anything like this again!” wow okay so we’ve fast-forwarded by like a thousand years and thor is still going on about genocide. huh. that’s funny, i thought loki was the genocidal one. hmm. i also just realized that the loki exclusive clip gives loki the same hairstyle thor has here so do what you will with that information.

0/10. horrible. terrible. i dont care how angy thor is about not getting to kill some jotuns or become king today this very instant, that is a tremendous waste of food. an absolute fool. how can he just remorselessly throw the bread to the floor. if loki stabbed him when he was 7 he would deserve it for this table flip alone. what a privileged white *ssh*le.

loki came skulking around a corner and suggested not to go to jotunheim and not only did thor not suspect anything but he also then went on to decide to go to jotunheim. 10/10 himbo material. 

if tumblr didn’t have a picture limit i would put every instance of thor smiling in this list because look at that stupid smile. he’s such an idiot. 11/10. this is the thor content i’m here for.

“I have no plans to die today” thor says with the stupidest open-mouthed smirking smile ever captured on film. right after he also told heimdall not to tell anyone they’re gone. he’s literally planned to strand them on jotunheim. thor’s grand plan was to strange themselves on jotunheim and also start a fight. i repeat: thor’s plan was to successfully slay all the frost giants and not need to return until they’re all gone. what an absolute d*mb*ss. this is getting ridiculous. this was originally a top-ten-thor moments list but i’m not even twenty minutes in so i’ll have to extend the list. thor. thor are you listening? thor, you’re such an idiot.

“HOW DID YOUR PEOPLE GET INTO ASGARD?!” thor you sweet sweet summer idiot, please, i am beggin,g you,, learn to rea,d , a room,, literally everyone else who came with you is regretting it, there is complete silence and only the rumble of the opposing king is meeting your “I AM THOR, SON OF ODIN”s, please, please take some notes from Loki, or, you know, literally anyone else in the room, since everyone is asking you to get out of this realm while you still can,

thor’s stupid smile makes an appearance after he gets called a princess and decides to fight a whole realm over it. you know what? thor is a princess. he’s the prettiest princess in all the lands. what’s thor gonna do about it? is he going to fight me too? I hope he does the stupid grin first. minus 15 points for the sexism. thor is a complete and utter sadistic fool who needs to get a hobby. seriously, he’s 1500 years old and still going on and on about slaying all the frost giants. boi, i hate to break it to you, but your dad is not the best or only example of greatness out there. i don’t think your dad even qualifies as an example of that. 

“THEN. GO!” 🥰 ahh yes, just thor thingz 🥰🥰 like when one friend has had his arm burnt 🥰 and another friend has been impaled and needs medical attention, 🥰🥰 and all the rest of your friends are yelling for you, 🥰 and your brother is telling you they must go, 🥰 and you decide to buy everyone time by laughing maniacally and killing more frosties because you care for them and dont find joy in destruction like a loon 🥰🥰🥰 

THIS is the iconic Thor moment that makes my day whenever I think about it. Just Thor, an absolute bumbering 6′6′’ giant boodlusting dummy sees Odin and just decides to yell “FATHAA!! WE’LL FINISH THEM TOGETHAAA!” as if the last thing Odin told him wasn’t “no, thor, we’re not going to do anything to the frost giants, do not go after them and try to kill them all.” 11/10 d*mb*assery right here folks, I couldn’t ask for Thor to be more of a fool. This is PEAK Thor energy. Look at that face. I feel like Thor spends half this movie with his nostrils flared. I love it.

okay i gotta give thor credit for rightfully calling odin “an old man and a fool” but also there was not even 1 frame of the scene where Thor had a decent face so now all i see is >:O >:| >:o >:[ when i watch that scene. yelling at odin was great, not yelling at odin after he HUAERGHed at loki was less great, but to be fair it’s thor and he is the definition of Peak D*mb*ss. 

thor literally GROWLS and starts yelling “HAMMAA?? HAMMER??” over and over. He was hit by a van, he fainted, he woke up and started growling. I don’t know what else there is to say about this.

“you dare threaten me? puny human?”. so. uhh. basically. Thor knew she was threatening him? He KNEW she had a weapon? instead he made a face and started yelling as he tried to walk his way closer????? thor you complete and utter dum dum. you frickin hairball-for-brains. im not even surprised darcy tasered him. with that kind of face, i’d taser him too.

when you wake up in an unknown place to a person smiling at you without a stupid smile, the first step is always to attack first and ask questions later 😌😌😌 (but seriously thor you imbecile why didn’t you ask where you were instead of throwing multiple people around the room and getting your butt needled. you clueless buffoon. you’ll remain a clueless buffoon if you don’t listen to anyone.)

just a quick recap but thor was knocked unconscious by a van and these people kidnapped him aboard and the next scene we see him in he’s checking himself out in  mirror after presumably changing right there in the open?????? these are the things that make thor thor. any other character and i’d question it so much, but this is thor, and i truly believe this is in-character for him. just change in the open because why not? thor is a beefcake and that’s his only redeeming quality and he knows it. 10/10 thor moment. 

I am now convinced that Thor saw Jane and “5k van-hitter to lover slow-burn height-difference himbo-scientist trope” flashed through his mind.

“but no more smashing!” Jane says, and then Thor proceeds to check her out and smile unlike an idiot and like a douche. was this his version of flirting???? i’m not one to decide, but yes, yes it was. He threw a cup to the ground and broke it, and she’s getting mad at him and berating him about it, and he’s liking it. y’all i’m sorry to break it to you like this, but thor has a canon fetish. i am so, so sorry.

im DYING. THAT ISN’T EVEN A KISS, HIS MOUTH IS OPEN. he SMUSHES his mouth around her knuckle???? WHY. I can’t keep noticing things like this. send help. please. Jane’s response makes so much more sense now; she’s laughs for a solid 3 seconds and shakes her head and is like “uhh, thank you? ahaha,” and then she keeps looking back longingly when walking away. they are doing this in PLAIN sight of EVERYONE. Darcy and Erik are standing RIGHT THERE, and Thor is doing weird things to her with his mouth. I’m out. I am done here. goodbye. 

return of the stupid smile AND the douche smile in quick succession through the entire trip. their entire dialogue is peppered with innuendo. “I’ve never done anything like this before. have you ever done anything like this before?” “many times, but you are brave to do it.” “I have nothing else to lose.” “ah but you are clever, far more clever than anyone else on this realm.” “realm? rEaLm?” “you think me strange?” “yes” “good strange or bad strange?” “I haven’t decided yet.” I AM DYING OVER THIS. plus, we get Return Of The Himbo with Jane asking after Einstein Rosen bridges and Thor is like “uh, actually, more like a rainbow bridge 😜🤪” i feel so sorry for jane here, didn’t know how much of a d*mb*ss Thor was when signing up for this van-trip and knuckle-sucking 😭😭😭 i also no longer have questions about how the trip that SHOULD HAVE BEEN A HALF-HOUR ONE turned into one that LASTED TILL THE SUN WENT FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE SKY TO SETTING by the time they arrived. I have no questions. please. I don’t want to know what they were doing in that van. please no. don’t make me think about it.

thor’s plan had 3 steps and they were 1. give jane his jacket 2. walk in and get his hammer 3. fly out. that was literally his plan. he had the first “I have a plan. attack.” moment in the MCU. pure concentrated 0-brain-cells energy right here. how can you not stan this king of d*mb*ssery. look at him, flaunting his big boy muscles. he’s about get his hammer and fly out, like he just told jane with a trademark stupid-smile.

crop-top hair-mop thor is my favourite thor. the way the entire fight scene parallels a hamster in a maze only exemplifies the thor vibes for some inexplicable reason.

“you’re big. fought bigger.” + Thor douche-smile + subtext from earlier + rolling around passionately in the mud = not a happy me. 

I swear i’m not making up this romantic subtext but it’s barely even subtext. the entire scene leading up to Thor’s attempt at lifting the hammer is actually filmed erotically. I’m not kidding. First there’s a shot where Thor pulls aside a hamster-cage-wall blind which mirrors a shower-curtain, and THEN he walks around the hammer while smiling douche-ly at it, we get a few close-ups to his face which are shot from angles slightly lower than himself, giving him an aire of superiority, plus the music adds to this, he reaches out for the hammer’s handle with a mud-covered arm in the rain, in non-slow-motion slow-motion, and he wraps his arm around it, like, he fully twists his arm, unecessarily sexually, around it as he grabs the hammer. This is not okay. On the plus side, it makes the movie much more entertaining,, on the down side,,.

im not going to call Thor dumb for not knowing he’s not worthy. im not going to. because odin literally whispered the enchantment to mjolnir after he’d thrown thor to midgard. it is very funny watching thor grunt in frustration though. he starts yelling because he couldn’t lift the hammer and just lets himself get caught. like, dude, get a life, go buy a new weapon from the store, seriously. he mourns for the hammer on-screen longer than he does for loki. he also looks like he’s in far more pain here. he becomes catatonic and unresponsive after this, but when loki dies he’s already feasting the same afternoon. 10/10 dum dum thor material. never change thor, never change. (that’s code for please change, thor, please,)

thor trying to establish dominance wherever he goes is the funniest thing because at this point he’s being a complete asgardian *ss about it and it’s reaching points of pettiness never seen before. side note: he is possibly flirting with selvig too. maybe. i’m not saying anything happened, but Thor’s openning lines when bringing him home carried over his shoulder are “he’s fine, not injured at all,” followed with an apology to selvig, and an explanation to jane which consisted only of “we drank, we fought, he made his ancestors proud,” and then he puts the man to bed and before he falls asleep erik says “i still don’t believe you’re the g*d of th*nder, but you ought to be,” so... your choice, i guess...

thor’s got his trademark stupid smile and stupidly takes jane’s life’s work notebook and starts doodling in it about trees. the last time his father told him this story about Yggdrasil was when he was 5 and he clearly hasn’t payed attention to any lesson about anything since and it shows so so much. thank you thor. very insightful knowledge you’re passing on hear. ‘i come from a world where [science and magic] are one and the same,’ ok great, now elaborate on that please. oh, right, you can’t because you’re thor, my bad, 20/10 thor behaviour. he couldn’t even doodle nicely. all his lines are wobbly. epic art fail. i wouldn’t trust him near my sketchbook with a 2B pencil.

THIS is thor’s realization face. in case anyone was interested in what ‘dawning truth’ looked like on him. 😰😪 THIS is the face of a thinker, of a man betrayed by his own beloved brother for unprecedented reasons. look at the nuance in his expression. 😩😩😩 so many emotions, I can’t even count them all 😩💯😪

stupid smile and “do not worry my friends, i have a plan,” he says, “i’ll just try and abuse the fact that Loki’s super selfless and kind and has no self worth to my benefit as i have countless times before which is exactly what he’s rightfully angry about this time,” he doesn’t think to himself because that is NOT the smile of someone who is thinking... like, at all. +10000 points to gryffinthor. the d*mb*ssery really jumps out.

“im sorry bro for whatever i did and whatever you’re blaming me for as an excuse to do this, im sorry bro, but you’re disturbing innocents that i don’t really care about but you’re the one making a scene in front of them so why don’t you admit you won’t kill me and are just having a temper tantrum and we move on? hmm?” and then he proceeds to get slam dunked in the face with a metal arm like yEAAAA BOI that’s what you GET for going up against the SENTIENT LAVA-SPEWING metal-man ya absolute dunderhead clod. thunderhead clod? yeah, that. he’s just so dumb, your honour, please, you must understand, the victim pleads guilty on all charges of d*mb*ss and d*mb*ss alone.

I can NOT describe the emotions I feel knowing that Thor is suck-kissing Jane’s knuckles. Like, his mouth is literally jelly-ing it up against her hand. There is suction there and it shows when he is placing and removing his mouth. I promise that’s what is happening. I’m not any happier than you about this. I regret everything. This is why Loki should be what is focused on and not Thor; Thor’s going around trying to frick frack everything in sight even if it’s just Jane’s hand. He’s maintaining eye contact with Jane while he licks her fingers. Why did I decide to rewatch this movie. 

i’m only adding this in as a thor moment because of how desperately and badly they kiss. seriously. 2/10 kiss. im not surprised jane broke up with him. they look like two actual seals fighting over an actual grape. while i’m here i’m going to criticize every fic ever that decided thor is an experienced gentle lover. what were y’all on when watching this movie. thor can and will f*ck literally everything in sight and he won’t even do it well because he is the peakest of peak d*m d*m. look at this man. look at his face. that is the face of an absolute himbo idiot, and it’s the face of an absolute himbo idiot who knows it. he’s been stranded on earth for 2 days, max, and his flirt-count is at 69 people because his name is one letter away from thot. i bet his terrible use of a pen from early means he writes his ‘r’s like ‘t’s and he doesn’t even care. 1000/10 thor moment. doesn’t get much more romance-thor than two individuals smooshing their faces together after some finger sucking. that finger sucking is gonna leave jane simping for years. and that’s true love babey. <3

“I’ll handle my Brother!” Thor says, as if Loki didn’t send a metal-murder-bot that quite virtually killed him less than ten minutes ago asdfhkhsdgsdjf Thor, you horrific himbo you, Loki’s weapon of choice is literally throwing knives he will literally kill you before you enter the room if he’s on his game and wants you dead which he just proved he would do and you’re just gonna???????????? jog on over to him????? Thor??????????? bruH???????????? buddy??????? pal???????? you really wanna go 1v1 the brother you very clearly underestimate and know nothing about????????????????? im loving the confidence, but, no.

Loki: “you literally can’t stop this from here.” Thor, immediately: “i’m going to hit it with the hammer and see if that works” and then it does in fact work later... technically speaking, even if it ends up causing chaos destruction and death and loki falling off the bifrost 😔😔😔 but Big Brain Thor is the Biggest Brained Thor!!! The plan worked!! in a messy-Thor-ish way, but it did!!!

“you can’t kill an entire race!!!!” Thor yells, teeth gritted, as he faces his brother, his coward pacifist brother, who has suddenly decided he wants to join the age-old family tradition of realm-destroying, when this is supposed to be Thor’s dream, Thor’s, not Loki’s. How dare he, Thor thinks to himself, fist clenched around Mjolnir in anger, the pain of the handle pressing against his palm perhaps the only thing preventing him from lashing out at this thought, that’s my planet of monsters to slay, he should go get his own! Loki hits Thor across the face with the back-end of his spear. “Now fight me,” Loki says, but Thor, well, Thor cannot fight, as he remains stunned that of all things Loki would dare steal his life’s ambition, and he is sent sprawling backwards across the observatory, slowly but surely sliding to a stop despite his catatonic, very symbolic silence.

the elegance, the poise, i see your time on earth has made you no less graceful, Thor. the simple magnitude of this sprawl. the spread of the arms. the turn of the feet. this is not a dude, this is a man.

sometimes your brother starts vehemently talking about he’s gonna kill the race of monsters and about how he’s only ever wanted to be your equal and about how he’s not your brother and never was and sometimes you just have to say “this is madness” instead of addressing the issues or asking for any of the  deets 🔥 👊💯😩

Loki is whipping Thor’s butt. Both literally, and metaphorically, Loki is whooping Thor’s d*mb*ss. Earlier he knicked Thor’s face, now he’s just pushing Thor around, he uses the spear as a pole and later kicks Thor’s face by kicking vertically up, and Thor, bless him in all his blond golden muscled glory, doesn’t think anything is up with this, gosh he’s such an absolute utter idiot

sometimes your brother laughs way too much and also cries too much in a fight and there are also too many of him so you just need to blast lightning so you get a shot at all of them 😌😌😌 and then put your magical infinitely-heavy hammer on his chest 😌😌😌 but it’s okay because Thor left holes in Loki’s container 😌😌😌

now THIS is the meat to Thor’s funny bone, just the pure unadulterated humour that is Thor saying that there will never be a “wiser king” or a “better father” than Odin, it cracks me up every single time without fail, just the way he says it with a straight face and— what do you mean he wasn’t joking

look at Thor’s stupid smile as he asks Heimdall to spy on jane every single day while conveniently never asking after Loki ever. This is Thor’s face in mourning after he attended a feast after everyone was celebrating after Loki’s death. Look at his stupid smile. I love him your honour. He’s just,, he’s just so frickin stewpeed, just Thor being Thor, just the purest of d*mbest of *sses. 

[nerdythebard]

#25: Artio, The Bear Goddess

Fáilte, Gods and Goddesses!

Today, we step onto the green shores of Ireland for our first Celtic deity. Meet Artio, the Bear Goddess. Evidence of her cult was found as far as modern-day Switzerland, where a figure showing a woman feeding a bear was discovered. In SMITE, Artio is a melee druidess who shapeshifts into a bear to protect her allies.

Next Time: Who knew the wisest of the gods would turn out to be the pettiest...

Let's start with the goals of making Artio:

Bear Hug: Easy one, but necessary - we need to be able to transform into a huge bear and deal some serious damage.

Mother Nature: Artio can heal, conjure up vines, and drain vitality from her enemies.

Celtic Guardian: Artio's strong sides are good Crowd Control abilities and High Sustain. We need to be able to soak in some damage and prevent enemies from advancing.

---

Now, we could just go with a human or (like Artemis) an elf, but for Artio, I think we'll look at the Wayfinder's Guide to Eberron and one of their races. More specifically, the Beasthide Shifter. Believed to be descendants of humans and lycanthropes, Shifters combine the traits of man and beast into a single, deadly force. Beasthide Shifters get a +2 Constitution and a +1 Strength, 60 feet of Darkvision, and proficiency in Athletics skill. We also get the Shifting ability; as a bonus action, we can assume a more bestial form for up to 1 minute. We gain Temporary Hit Points equal to [our level + our Constitution modifier] plus one more benefit depending on our Shifter subrace. Beasthide Shifters gain an extra 1d6 THP and +1 AC bonus when shifted.

As the Big Bear In Charge, Artio is the protector first and foremost, so making her the Folk Hero seems right to me. We gain proficiency in Animal Handling and Survival, one type of artisan's tools, and land vehicles. The Rustic Hospitality feature allows us to seek help and shelter among the common folk, because of our good reputation among the poor.

ABILITY SCORES

We'll start with Strength - we're a melee combatant, our blows need to pack a punch. Constitution will be next, we're the guardian with a thick bear hide for a reason. Follow that up with Wisdom, it's going to be our casting ability, but we won't be very spell-forward.

Dexterity is next, while not the most nimble of fighters, we need to make sure everyone around is protected. Charisma is a little low, but since Artio keeps mostly to the wilderness and forests, she doesn't necessarily interact with people... although we need to boost this up, bears are pretty intimidating. Finally, we're dumping Intelligence. I don't see a reason to have academic smarts here.

CLASS

Now, I know what you're thinking. Nature, shapeshifting, magic... Druid start-to-finish, right? Well, not necessarily. Half-a-point for trying, though.

Level 1 - Fighter: Artio is a melee character with spellcasting. We need to be a tank first, a magic-user second. Fighters get a d10 Hit Dice, [10 + Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, and proficiency with light armour, medium armour, heavy armour, shields, simple weapons, and martial weapons. For Artio (when not in the Bear Form) I think we could get regular leather armour and either a quarterstaff or a glaive. Our saving throws are Strength and Constitution and we get to pick two class skills (Intimidation and Perception).

Fighters begin by choosing their Fighting Style, and to fulfil Artio's role as a guardian, we're gonna go with Interception from Tasha's Cauldron of Everything. Whenever a creature within 5 feet of us is hit by an attack, we can use our reaction to reduce the damage taken by [1d10 + our proficiency bonus] to a minimum of 0 damage. We must be wielding a shield or a simple/martial weapon for this.

We also get Second Wind, which lets us take a breather and heal [1d10 + our Fighter level] Hit Points as a bonus action once per short or long rest.

Level 2 - Fighter: We get Action Surge. Once per short or long rest we can take one additional Action on our turn.

Level 3 - Fighter: We get to pick our subclass, our Martial Archetype. For Artio, who uses her bear form to maul any enemy in her sights, we're gonna pick the Brute archetype from a 2018 Unearthed Arcana. With Brute Force we increase our overall weapon damage by an extra 1d4.

Level 4 - Fighter: Time for our first Ability Score Improvement. We're really going to double down on our Hit Points, by taking the Tough feat. Our maximum Hit Points increase by [our level x2]. Whenever we level up afterwards, we get +2 Hit Points Maximum.

Level 5 - Druid: Time for some representation of Nature's might. Multiclassing into a Druid gives us proficiencies we already have, so we're going to skip it. We do, however, learn the Druidic language - a system of phrases and symbols we can use to encrypt messages.

Druids are also full casters, so we learn Spellcasting from the start. Wisdom is our casting ability, and we can learn cantrips and ritual spells. Druids have an access to their full spell list, and can each day prepare [our Wisdom modifier + our Druid level] spells. We start by knowing two cantrips:

Druidcraft is a druid-exclusive cantrip used to influence nature around us. We can make flowers bloom or wither, predict the weather, light and extinguish small flames, and create harmless sensory effects.

Guidance lasts for 1 minute (concentration). A willing creature we touch (or us) can add a 1d4 to one ability check of its choice.

We also start with two 1st-level spell slots:

Cure Wounds is a very useful healing spell. One creature we touch regains [1d8+our spellcasting modifier] Hit Points instantly. The number of Hit Points healed increases if we use a spell slot higher than 1st level.

Earth Tremor creates a shockwave within 10 feet of us. Each creature in the range must make a Dexterity saving throw or take 1d6 bludgeoning damage and fall prone.

Level 6 - Druid: We unlock the Druid's signature ability: Wild Shape. As an action, we can transform into a beast for a number of hours equal to half of our Druid level (rounded down). In the beginning, we can only transform into a beast with no flying or swimming speed and with a maximum CR of 1/4... which means, we can't become a bear yet.

We also get to pick a second subclass, our Druid Circle. We need to become a bear ASAP, therefore we're choosing Circle of the Moon, which focuses on improving our Wild Shape. The Combat Wild Shape feature lets us transform as a bonus action instead of action and lets us spend a spell slot when transformed to regain 1d8 Hit Points. Circle Forms changes our Wild Shape table, giving us the ability to transform into beasts with a maximum CR of 1 as of now. This means we can now become either a brown or black bear.

We gain another 1st-level spell: Entangle causes grasping vines and thick brambles to grow in a 20-foot square area centred at a point within 90 feet of us. For 1 minute (concentration), the area becomes difficult terrain. Any creature that enters (or ends their turn in) the area must make a Strength saving throw or become restrained. On each of their turn, they can make a Strength saving throw to free themselves.

Level 7 - Druid: We don't get any class features here, but we do unlock 2nd-level spells. Gust of Wind causes a strong gale to blow in a line 60 feet long and 10 feet wide for 1 minute (concentration). For every 1 foot they want to move, all creatures within the line must spend 2 feet of their movement speed. The wind disperses gases and fog and can either extinguish flames or fan them (50% chance).

Level 8 - Druid: Time for another ASI. This time, let's put two points into Constitution for even better durability.

Our Wild Shape ability also improves, now giving us the ability to transform into beasts with a maximum CR of 1 but with swimming speed (e.g. a giant octopus).

We also learn a new cantrip: Frostbite causes ice and frost to appear on one target within 60 feet of us. The target must make a Constitution saving throw or take 1d6 cold damage and gain disadvantage on their next weapon attack before the end of its next turn.

We get one more Druid spell: Enhance Ability lasts for 1 hour (concentration) and enhances one ability for one creature of our choice (or ourselves).

Level 9 - Fighter: Coming back to the frontline combatant, we unlock Extra Attack. We can now attack twice instead of once during each Attack action.

Level 10 - Fighter: Halfway through the build and we get an ASI. This time, let's raise our Dexterity by 2 points for better AC and Initiative count.

Level 11 - Fighter: We get another subclass update. With Brutish Durability, we can now shake off more powerful attacks. Whenever we make a saving throw, we can roll a 1d6 and add the result to the overall score. This benefit also works on Death Saving Throws; if a total result is 20 or higher, we gain the DST benefit of a Natural 20 (+2 saves).

Level 12 - Fighter: Another ASI. This time, let's put one point in Strength and one in Dexterity.

Level 13 - Fighter: We get the Indomitable feat. Once per long rest, we can re-roll a failed saving throw. We have to use a new result even if we fail it again.

Level 14 - Fighter: Another subclass upgrade. This time, we get to pick a second Fighting Style. The Superior Technique style lets us choose one manoeuvre from the Battle Master subclass. We also get one d6 Superiority Die to fuel said manoeuvre. Pushing Attack allows us to spend the Superiority Die whenever we hit the enemy and impose the Strength saving throw on them. On a failed save, the target is pushed up to 15 feet away from us.

Level 15 - Fighter: Our Extra Attack can now be used to attack twice instead of once, for a total of three attacks per one Attack action.

Level 16 - Fighter: For another ASI, we once again increase both Strength and Dexterity.

Level 17 - Fighter: We improve our Indomitable feature into two re-rolls between long rests.

Level 18 - Fighter: Another level, another ASI. Let's max out our Constitution into 20.

Level 19 - Fighter: We get our final subclass upgrade. With Devastating Critical, when we score a critical hit with a weapon attack, we gain a bonus to damage roll equal to our Fighter level.

Level 20 - Fighter: Our capstone is Fighter 16, which means final ASI. Let's put two points into Intelligence to get rid of negative modifiers.

---

And that is Artio, the Mother Bear of Ireland. Let's see what I came up with here:

To start off, we're an absolute tanking beast (no pun intended). With an average Hit Points of 235 and Temporary HP of 25+1d6 every time we shift, we can soak some serious damage and protect our allies. Our AC is 16, and we have a +3 to our Initiative.

Unfortunately, our magic capabilities are pretty scarce for a Druid. Plus, most of our spells require concentration. Our Intelligence and Charisma scores are also not great, so we might be vulnerable to those kinds of saving throws.

---

Another day, another build. I hope you guys enjoyed it and I'll see you for the next one. I'll start with another request when we finish gods beginning at the letter A.

- Nerdy out!

[numetaljackdog]

what i'm listening to 10/5/2022 (song notes under cut)

spot. link//yt link

Laura Les - Haunted: haunted. by laura les

Nirvana - Something In The Way (Live at the BBC): when listening through last month's album ranking, this performance caught me. something in the way is one of the more underrated tracks from nevermind (or at least it was before the new batman movie lol). truthfully there's nothing too out of the ordinary with this performance but i like how kurt's voice sounds on the chorus especially <3

Umphrey's McGee - National Loser Anthem: i LOVE mashups that are actually recorded by someone else instead of sticking the tracks together (both kinds are good but this type is underappreciated). this is the opener to this album and it introduces the mastercraft on display so well...

Papa Roach - Scars: i don't even have anything nice to say about this song other than that it's super catchy. i actually got it in my head bc i had been listening to the laura les remix lol

Europe - The Final Countdown: okay everyone SHUT UP. i know this is a fucking sports stadium anthem but i dont give a shit about that!! when i was 11 years old and only just starting to listen to music, this was one of the only songs i knew. everyone only knows the chorus (which is really good) but if you actually listen to the lyrics it's this heartwrenching power pop track about leaving earth and dealing with the complicated emotions that would come with that...... you wouldn't get it................

Luscious Jackson - Naked Eye: heard it on the radio. struck me as a very genre-bending band, with rock and hip hop and a bunch of other shit mixed in. cool stuff! apparently the drummer was the original drummer for the beastie boys?? crazy

Vanilla Ice - Hooked-Live/1991: i've been writing a ranking of all of vanilla's albums, which led me to relisten to some significant tracks. hooked was one of the stronger tracks from his debut album (the original release of which was even named after it) but it always fell a little short for me. the live version, on the other hand, has a lot more energy and hype

They Might Be Giants - Hide Away Folk Family: tmbg was one of the first bands i ever listened to (explains a lot tbh) but i only knew a little bit of their stuff from like the 90s and 00s, so i wanted to go back and check out some old school material. i liked this album a lot, and the chorus to HAFF stuck in my head big time

Jethro Tull - Aqualung: i've been getting into some more prog rock recently for no. particular... reason...... and i already kinda knew i would like this album. my dad had recommended "up to me" a while back, which i really liked, so i had high hopes. they were met! good fucking album! the title track is really only a standout bc of my love for opening tracks

ANGEL_TECH - whats up with u??: new angel_tech album out now!! once again, the opening track thing is big for me. i love an album that makes a good first impression. it was unfortunate that i couldn't make the release party but oh freaking well!

Huey Lewis & The News - I Want A New Drug: i think i've properly memed myself into enjoying huey lewis lmaooo i found sports in those old cassettes i mentioned i've been going through and was like "lol i should listen to this bc funney american psycho reference" and then an hour later i was adding a bunch of huey songs to my playlist...

Mind-Body Problem - Flesh and Blood (Ephesians 6:12): found this band through their hand crushed by a mallet cover, but honestly i think i might like this original track better. metalcore and hardcore and all that are severely lacking some fresh faces and new takes on the genre, so i'll be keeping an eye on what else this band has to offer!

August is Falling - August Is Falling: really great new ep from an absolute classic pop punk emo band. definitely not tied to any kind of internet inside joke bullshit. remember seeing them on warped tour

Girls Rituals - Idiot punk tetratogenic perma-decline (at the end of your bed): i've been enjoying all devi's new singles but this one's the one i keep coming back to. nothing much more to say it's just good tunes

Spin Doctors - Little Miss Can't Be Wrong: i've been just ever so slightly abnormal about these guys since the trainwreckords episode, but this one is not really that interesting? it's just a really good pop song 👍

Cry Baby - Singing For You: y2k throwback pop rock recommended by skatune network. i've become such a pop girlie and this one has a big catchy chorus. great stuff :)

[pepperonijem]

Silent Night || Steve Rogers

MASTERLIST

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None, just pure Christmas rom-com feels.

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You need a fake date to bring home for the holidays. Steve is more than willing. (Fake Dating AU)

A/N: Don’t mind me, just overly obsessed with cheesy hallmark Christmas movies and Steven Grant Rogers. It’s my first fic in a very long time, please be nice ok thx bye have a happy holiday!

‘Twas the night before Christmas break, when all through the apartment complex, not a creature was sleeping, not even a mouse; luggage was packed, without so much as a care, in hopes that they would all soon be out of there. All except one, who wished to stay.

“I can’t believe you told your mom you had a boyfriend,” your roommate, Natasha, laughed. “Actually, I can’t believe your mom believes you have a boyfriend.”

You shot a look at her before tossing a pillow in her direction. “I’m just tired of her getting onto me about being a spinster,” you rolled your eyes as you recalled your mom’s pleading voice over the phone.

“So have you met anyone yet?” 

You couldn’t see her but you just knew how her eyebrows were raised in interest. It had become almost a weekly question, and for a second, you considered just hanging up right then, but then an idea came.

“Actually, I have,” you lied. It was only September, and you weren’t going to see your parents until the holidays, and by then, you could come up with a fake break-up story with your imaginary boyfriend. 

“Really?” you heard your mother squeal in excitement and you almost felt bad. Almost. “Tell me all about him, and make sure you bring him home for Christmas, I want to meet him!”

You couldn’t help but crack a sad smile as you fed your mom fake details about your fake relationship. “We met in class and started studying together and one thing led to another, and now we’re dating.” There. The bare minimum, but enough to keep her satisfied.

The impact of the pillow against your face snapped you out of your thoughts. “Weren’t you supposed to break up with your fake boyfriend before break?” She questioned. “What happened to that?”

Plopping down beside her on the couch, you sighed and hugged the pillow to your face. Natasha pulled the pillow away and you gave her a dirty look. “You know my mom,” you began. “I just didn’t want to disappoint her. I thought I would be able to find another excuse as to why he couldn’t make it to Christmas, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer after he missed Thanksgiving.” You turned to give Natasha a pleading look. “What do I do?” you asked.

“Well, I still think you oughta tell her,” Natasha admitted. “Or, you could bring home a fake boyfriend.” 

Immediately, you shot up and gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean a fake boyfriend?”

“A blow up doll,” she rolled her eyes. “No, obviously you just get someone to pretend to be your boyfriend and then they pretend to break up with you, and you pretend to be sad, and then that’s it. Easy peasy.” Natasha shrugged her shoulders and stood up to pick up her phone from the kitchen counter as if what she suggested was a simple idea. You could hear her furiously typing in the keyboard as she walked away from you.

“Nat, you’ve officially gone bonkers.” However, the longer you thought about it, the more desperate you became. “How would I even find anyone? Everyone’s packing to go home. And on top of that, who would even be willing to pretend to be my boyfriend? They’d have to be really dumb, or really bored to agree.”

“Sure, I’m in.” 

“Excuse me?” you asked incredulously.

“I said I’m in,” he repeated with a shrug of his shoulders.

A few minutes after Natasha suggested her idea, you heard a knock at your door. Natasha gave you a mischievous smirk as she opened the door and welcomed in the boy you’d been crushing on all semester. Steve was best friends with Natasha and her boyfriend and although you had hung out with them a few times, you always found yourself getting nervous around him.  He was never anything but kind to you, always making sure you were included in the conversation and taking time to include you in the inside jokes. 

Of course, Natasha knew about your crush and every so often would try to drop not so subtle hints to Steve. One time, Natasha and Bucky told you and Steve that the plan was to have dinner at 6:30 p.m. but didn’t show up until nearly 8. It was obvious that they were trying to set you up, but Steve never made a move and you didn’t want to be presumptuous, but at least he never made it awkward either. You knew Natasha was reeling inside at how perfectly things were falling into place. 

“But why?” You asked, still unable to process what Steve was agreeing to.

“Oh does it matter?” Natasha asked with an eye roll. “You said you needed a boyfriend, and Steve volunteered. It’s perfect!” She took Steve’s hand and led him to the couch where you were sitting on and pushed him to sit beside you. He offered a sheepish smile and left enough distance between you two to be polite.

“Well,” Steve began, turning to face you. “Bucky’s going over to Nat’s over the holiday, and my folks are out of town, so I was just planning to stay on campus for the break.” Natasha coughed and gave Steve a look that you didn’t quite understand. Steve stuttered before adding, “But Natasha mentioned that you needed a boyfriend -- a fake boyfriend -- and I couldn’t leave you in need.” Steve looked down at his hands and back up at you. There was an unmistakable twinkle in his ocean blue eyes and for a second, you let yourself get lost in the idea of what it would be like to hold his hand in the December cold. Natasha rolled her eyes and filled the spot between the two of you. 

“You two are hopeless.” She sighed, but a small smile still played on her lips. “Anyway, I’ve got it all planned out.” She turned to you first. “Since you never told your parents what your imaginary boyfriend’s name is, and every detail you’ve fed your mom is vague as hell, you can just fill in the blanks with Steve.” 

Standing up, she pointed at Steve. “Okay, Rogers, your job is just to make the parents believe that you are absolutely head over heels for their kid.”

“Easy.” Steve said instantly and you caught him glance in your direction with a smile before turning back to Nat. You felt your cheeks heat up and you sank further back into the couch.

“The important thing is to keep your stories straight, and remember, the most believable lies are based on truth,” Natasha ended. She looked down at her watch. “Alright, Bucky’s waiting down in the lobby, and we need to go so we don’t miss our flight.” She pulled you and Steve in for a hug before heading to the door where her luggage was waiting. “You two have a very happy holiday. See you in the new year!” 

As Steve shut the door behind Natasha, you found yourself feeling the butterflies that were hidden by the adrenaline from earlier. Steve turned to face you and gave you a comforting smile. “Look,” he began. “I just wanna be the best fake date you’ve ever had,” he joked.

“Well, you’re the only fake date I’ve ever had,” you laughed. Steve chuckled and you felt yourself grin. “Thanks, Steve, for doing this. You really don’t have to.” You looked down at your fidgeting fingers as you felt his gaze fall on you.

“I know,” he said softly. “I wanted to.”

The rest of the evening was spent planning. You put on the Charlie Brown Christmas special and ordered a pizza and began discussing every detail. You tried to think like your parents, wanting to have an answer for every single question they could ask. When was Steve’s birthday? What was your first date like? What’s your favorite pizza topping? Where did Steve grow up? It was like you were studying for an exam, except the longer you talked, the more you found yourself getting lost in the stories he told of Brooklyn, of his and Bucky’s teenage shenanigans, and it was all easy. 

Three movies and a box of pepperoni pizza later, the two of you had settled onto the couch, still trying to think of any other possible stories to tell before you quickly drifted off into a tired slumber. The last thing you remember was Steve’s voice and his arm wrapping around you.

When you woke up it was to the sound of your phone ringing. You sat up to find yourself wrapped in a blanket. You scanned around the living room as you recalled the events of last night and found no trace of the empty pizza box and paper plates or the mugs of hot chocolate you and Steve went through last night. Warmth rose to your cheeks when you remembered that you fell asleep on him, and fell into a small panic when you realized it was him calling.

“Hello?” You answered with a yawn.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Steve answered. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

You smiled into the phone. “Yes, I did. Thank you for cleaning up, you didn’t have to --”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, I didn’t mind.” Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart as if it was the most natural thing to do. “Sorry, we never discussed nicknames, but it just came out,” he quickly added. “I just picked up some coffee, and I’ll be there in 15 to help you pack or anything before we go.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a bit,” you hung up. You got yourself ready and answered the door for Steve. He handed you your coffee, two sugars, no cream, just the way you like it and you smiled as the scent of strong coffee hit your nose. Once you had everything packed, Steve grabbed your bag and the two of you made your way to his car and drove to your hometown. The drive was a few hours long, but Steve had a solid playlist full of karaoke songs that you loved, and the drive felt like it was not long enough.

The wreath on your parents’ door filled you with a sense of nostalgia. Or maybe it was nervousness? Butterflies? Whatever it was, the feeling settled heavily in your stomach as you rang the bell. You looked up at Steve, whose scarf was bundled tight around his neck, and his nose red from the cold, and he gave you an encouraging smile. “You ready?” he asked. 

Before you could answer, the door swung open and you and Steve were enveloped in a tight embrace as your mother squealed in happiness. The holidays had begun, and there was no backing out now.

The first few days of the trip had gone by without a hitch, much to you and Steve’s surprise. Your parents did their best to embarrass you with silly stories about your childhood, and while at first you were filled with dread, the lopsided smile he gave you after finding out you once dressed as a McDonald’s Happy Meal box for Halloween made it worth it. Your dad asked the hard questions, asking what Steve’s plans for the future with you looked like and you found your hands fidgeting under the table before Steve’s hand found yours with a squeeze and told your dad that he couldn’t see a future without you in it and you began to picture what that would look like.

Everything was easy with Steve, in a way that it never was. You’d wake up in the morning and head downstairs to find him already awake and laughing with your mom and dad with a coffee waiting for you. After dinner you knew you’d find him sitting by the fire with a book in his hands. As you walked around town you’d spot things in the windows, little tchotchkes that made you think of him. Steve was growing roots in your family and it was as if he was meant to be there, another picture in the family scrapbook, another stocking hung on the fireplace.

Sweetheart became more common. And soon, so did darling and honey. They began to bleed into the quiet moments when you were alone, where you weren’t supposed to be pretending anymore. The soft smiles, the way his hand reached for yours without a single glance, the warmth of his arms wrapped around you. All of a sudden it didn’t feel like you were playing pretend anymore and you wondered if he noticed it too.

It was when you realized how easy it was to be with him that you realized how hard it would be to let him go. The thought of an inevitable end to your not-so-fake-anymore relationship weighed upon you like a blanket of snow, cold enough to snap you out of your fantasy. You were sitting by the tree with Steve the night of Christmas Eve, wrapping some last minute gifts for your family when you felt it.

The end was coming.

Steve must have felt it too, or felt something was off, because he reached for your hand almost instinctively. You hesitated before slipping your hand in his and when you looked up, you met his eyes. Just over a week ago, his eyes were just blue. But now, you realized, there was a storminess hiding in the blues of his eyes, like there was lightning behind his irises, but an ever-present stillness to them too. In this moment, there was concern mixed into the grays and blues, and your stomach lurched in a desire to forget your realization, to relax back into the rhythm and rightness of pretend, but Steve deserved more than a fake relationship and you owed it to him.

“Sweetheart,” he began. “What’s wrong?” The plea in his voice made it obvious that he suspected what was wrong. He was only asking to give you a chance to tell him that his suspicions were wrong. A last chance to abort and keep the charade going.

Pulling your hand out of his was the hardest thing you’ve had to do, and the instant chill on your skin where his calloused hand was touching was impossible to ignore. “This,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes. “Steve, we can’t keep pretending like this, not when I have real feelings for you.” You finally looked up at him and kept going. You wouldn’t be able to finish if he interrupted, and you needed to be heard. “I can’t tie you down to a fake relationship, when you deserve to be with someone you actually are in love with. You’re an amazing friend for even agreeing to do this, but I don’t want to force you to be part of a mess that I put myself into.” You stood up, and finally added, “You can go home tonight. I’ll tell my parents the truth in the morning, you don’t have to worry about it.” 

“Hold on, I--” you interrupted him with a final, lingering kiss, hoping that the memory of it would be enough for you. You felt the hesitation in his fingers as he reached up to cup your face, trying to keep you where you were, before you pulled away.

Without looking back, you turned around and walked up the stairs, trying to convince the tremble in your fingers and the pounding in your heart that you made the right choice.

The next morning you woke up and for a few seconds, you laid in peace until the regrets of last night flooded over you. You dragged yourself up off your bed, trying to cheer yourself up by remembering that it was Christmas. Part of you hoped that you would see him downstairs, talking to your mom about her favorite cookie recipe, but when you walked into the kitchen and found your mom by herself, you knew he was really gone.

“Hey honey,” your mom exclaimed, wrapping you in a tight hug that suggested she knew something was wrong. “Merry Christmas” she said into your hair. After a moment, she finally let go and the tears that were threatening to spill over finally gave way and your mom reached out to brush them away. She pulled you back into her arms, and once you managed to steady your breathing, the two of you sat down.

“I heard you and Steve talking last night,” she admitted. You let out a strangled sob and your mom reached out to rub your back. “Honey, you could have just told me the truth. I love you, and you don’t need a relationship to validate that.” She gave you a small smile. “But when I saw the way you looked at each other, well I have to admit, it was nice to know someone would be here to keep loving you long after I’m gone.”

You set your head down against the table. “Well too bad Steve was only pretending to love me,” you sighed. “He deserves to love someone for real. I couldn’t hold him back from that. It was unfair.”

“Pretending?” She asked incredulously. “Sweetie, listen to me. That sweet boy was head over heels for you, and anyone could see it. The way he looked at you everytime you laughed, and every time he walked in a room and he always looked for you first, no one could fake being as in love as he clearly is with you.”

Finally lifting your head up, you wiped your tears with your sleeve. Maybe those moments you thought you were imagining were really there. Maybe he wasn’t pretending. Maybe you were an idiot for walking away from you last night. You stood up, ready to find him and apologize. 

Feeling a rush of frenzy and determination, you ran upstairs to grab your keys and your coat, ready to ask your mom to drive you back to school so you can find him. Your heart was pounding in your ears and as you turned the knob to open your front door, you found yourself staring into a pair of stormy blue eyes.

“Steve?” your voice came out in a whisper. His hand was frozen mid-air, about to press the doorbell.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry, were you heading out?” he asked.

You snapped yourself out of the trance you were lost in. “Uh Y-yeah, I was on my way to see you, actually,” you admitted. You stepped out of the doorway to let him in and you both stood in the kitchen. He set the bag he was holding on the counter and he opened the box.

“Donut? The only donut shop open was like 30 minutes away,” he offered, smiling as if you didn’t just try to break his heart last night. He handed you one, a chocolate with sprinkles, your favorite, before pulling out one for himself and taking a bite. He motioned for you to sit with him and you followed. “Listen, I--”

“Steve, I’m --” you both started at the same time. “You go first,” you allowed.

He nodded before continuing. “I know last night, you asked me to leave, but I couldn’t. At least not without telling you how I feel. You told me that you had real feelings for me, and I do too. Hell, I’ve had real feelings for you. Long before these last two weeks. When Nat texted me that night, I knew I finally had the perfect opportunity to tell you how I felt, but when we got here, everything just felt so… so real, and I let myself forget that it wasn’t. At least not yet. No matter how much I wanted it to be.”

You set down your donut, suddenly feeling that hunger was the least important thing you were feeling at this moment. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply nodded as he continued.

“I should’ve told you a long time ago, that I really, really, really, like you. None of this has been pretend for me.” He looked into your eyes, pleading, as he tentatively reached for your hand. “I want to do this the right way, no games, no schemes, just you and me. The real thing.”

The storm in his eyes seemed to make way for light, and the bright blues that disappeared behind his eyelids were the last thing you noticed before you felt your lips fall onto his. His hand reached up and you felt the pad of his thumb brush against your cheek. Gently, as though any more pressure and you would crumble like snow. You pulled away with a sigh, Steve’s lips chasing after yours.

“Merry Christmas,” you breathed out.

“Merry Christmas.”

[goldenspecter]

Cosmo’s TMNT Masterpost

(Rise, 2003, 2012, and others)

Here’s where you can find pretty much everything I’ve ever made for the TMNT fandom! Fanfics here[haven’t gotten the courage to post fanart here yet], hope you guys enjoy my work. Reblogs are appreciated!

Fanfics

1. Finding my way home(and moving forward)

Out of sheer curiosity, Leonardo and Donatello looked up, and there it was.

A portal.

Had the Universe really taken pity on them? Had it really heard his desperate prayers for one more chance?

It was not like the ones they had seen before, it was an irregular circle made up of several shades of blue, completely different from the perfect and symmetrical pink triangles of the Kraang.

Leonardo and Donatello looked into each other's eyes for a few moments, "Should we go in?" Donatello asked, almost shouting, drawing the attention of the others, who quickly turned to the portal and to see each other, then the two brothers in question.

"It's our best bet, and our only chance," replied Leonardo.

Or rather, with the 2012 kids' home gone, they end up in the Rise verse after a strange portal shows up. Therapy is needed, and start the slow process of healing from their trauma.

(Rise/2012, Work in Progress, written with @keeryd​ )

2. Strawberry Cookies:

"Mikey here was just about to tell me what we could do to cheer Raph up while he's sick," Donnie says. "Mikey continue?"

Now that Mikey had both of his older brothers attention, he grins. "I was thinking we make strawberry cookies!" He does his jazz hands as he says this and is met with looks of something that he can only put as disapproval. "What?"

"You do know that everytime that we have tried to make it-" Donnie starts.

"We mess it up and Raph has to come in and save our butts from burning the cookies?" Leo finishes, "What would be different this time?"

Mikey huffs, "We are doing this so we can cheer him up and to prove that we can do something on our own!" he says, "That's what got Raph sick in the first place!"

Or rather, Raph gets sick after helping his brothers recover from the poisoned pizza puffs. Mikey, Donnie, and Leo take a shot at baking cookies for Raph while trying not to burn their kitchen down.

(One shot, complete)

 3. Chicken Fried Rice:

“I only poured in half a pot of rice,” Donnie complained.

Mikey stared at him, really stared at him before he spoke. “You do realize that rice expands when cooked right?” he said, “You do realize that?”

Donnie was silent, looking away from Mikey.

“Donnie!”

Donnie makes chicken fried rice. Mikey watches over. Shenanigans and brotherly fluff ensue.

one shot in which Donnie is in the kitchen, cooking rice and Mikey, Mikey is positive he should have gotten Donnies braincell. 

(One shot, complete)

 4. Tea Time with Hortense and Patty: 

"Sooo," Raph starts. She's always been weird with awkward silences. "Are these grandma kinning hours?"

"Grandma hours!" Mikey exclaims excitedly. "Grandma time!!!"

"Ah, if it isn't our favorite girl and her little brother!" Hortense tilts her head over in their direction slightly. "Are you going to join us? We were just about done arguing," she says.

---

Today is Tea Time. Two old ladies have a tea party, one of them forgets to bring the food, and they are joined by Mikey and Raph. A good time is still had.

(One Shot, Complete)

5. One of those Days

When Donnie woke up this morning, he woke up with the familiar thrum of anger and irritation running through his body with more intensity than normal. Rubbing the crust out of the corners of his sleep-addled eyes, he jerkily grabbed his phone and turned off the alarm. It's one of Those Days, Donnie noted. Those Days where Donnie isn't capable of handling Mikey's over-enthusiastic optimism or Leon's chaotic trickster nature. His safest bet is to hang out with Raph, his calm and mellow demeanor always helped calm down before Donnie went on a rage fest and say anything he couldn't take back.

Or, Donnie and Raph help each other out, balance each other, and make things a little less difficult.

(One Shot, Complete) 

 6. Gift Hunting: 

“It’s Leo. Tiny Leo,” the voice answers. “I need your help with something.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t say until you say yes first,” Leo says. “It’s really important though.”

Angelo is silent, weighing his options. He could say no, he really could-

“Please, Angelo, you’re the only one who can really help me with this,” Leo pleads.

Rather, Angelo and Leonardo go out in the streets of New York to help the blue banded turtle find gifts for his brothers' sixteenth mutation day. Bonding and fluff ensues.

(One Shot, Complete)

 7. Aftermath:

“Raphie bear?” Mikey called out, gently tapping Raph, with relief washing him when Raph turned his head to face him. “What’s the matter teddy bear?”

“Th-thi-this doesn’t feel real.” Raph stuttered out, his voice cracking as a sob broke through. “I’m not really here. Neither are you and everyone else. I’m still alone with Draxum and his minions. No one’s coming to save me because I was stupid enough to get captured and no one wants such a worthless turtle like me.”

In which Raph was kidnapped and tortured by Baron Draxum and his family has to deal with the aftermath of it.

(One Shot, Complete)

 8. To Be the Eldest

Donnie, the second youngest in his family, wishes he was the eldest for once. Then one night, Donnie gets his wish granted and now he was three small turtles in his care.

Donnie adjusts to being the eldest, comes to some realizations, and makes a promise to his (now) younger brothers.

(Work In Progress)

 9. Wanted: Snaggletooth 

Dr. Noel bent down on his knees in front of Raph, a manic smile that showed too many teeth coming about on his face speaking of pain and suffering that has yet to come. He stretched out his hand towards Raph’s face, placing a thumb under his mouth, pressing into his snaggletooth. “Beautiful. Just as I expected,” he crooned, pulling out a syringe and injecting it into Raph’s neck, pushing the contents of the syringe into his system.

Raph’s eyes fluttered as he started losing consciousness, watching through hooded eyes as Dr. Noel's smile grew even wider, with his last thought right as darkness consumed him being that he hoped his family would find him before it was too late.

Post S2 Finale, Dr. Noel remembers Raphael, his snaggletooth, and manages to find and capture the red masked turtle. It doesn't end well for Raphael.

(Work In Progress)

 10. Dimensional Differences:

They bow. Not like one of those pretentious bows like she would do at Yokai parties and not like the ones she would do with her brothers when they hosted tea parties. They bowed deeply, heads stopping at her stomach, one hand closing around their fists. This spoke of respect and honor.

And that unnerved her a little bit. Why are they bowing so deeply?

“Thank you,” they said in unison. It’s unnerving to April and she felt the uneasiness coming from her brothers too.

“Why are you thanking me?” She said finally, voice sounding foreign to her.

“You saved my life?” Baby Leo said slowly, voice tinged with confusion. “That was an honorable thing to do?”

April blinked, “It shouldn’t be considered honorable for doing what any big sister would do,” she said. “That’s not honor, that’s just being a good older sibling.”

In which April, Sunita, Casey, and the turtles end up in the 2012 verse after a mishap with Leo's ōdachi and stay with the 2012 turtles until they can go home. They find out a lot of things that don't quite jive with them. Some things are the same, some things are different and they're not quite sure how to handle those differences.

(Rise/2012, Work In Progress)

 11. Mind Meld Part Deux:

“Oh thank Galileo that you all are back to normal!”

“What do you mean we’re back to normal?” Raph questioned, pulling back from the hug. Mikey and Leo also pulled back to stare at Donnie. “We’ve-we’ve always been like this?”

Donnie went quiet. He shouldn’t have said that.

“Donnie, what did you do?”

The brothers found out about Donnie’s Mental Intelligence Reprogrammulator. Arguments are had, words are said, words that tear a rift between him and his family, and it’s up to Donnie to earn his brothers’ forgiveness. The only thing is, will he get it?

(Work In Progress)

 12. I'm a little kid and so are you(don't you go and grow up before I do):

The 2003 turtles somehow, someway ended up in the Rise verse, with Rise Splinter and his turtle tots, and stay with them while the boys try to figure out their way home. 2003 Raphael got attached to his tiny counterpart the moment he laid eyes on the tot. (Raph centric)

(Rise/2003, Work In Progress)

 13. Dimensional Self-Isolation

Post S2 Finale, Raph finds himself trapped in the 2012 universe and has a difficult time coping with all of the differences that this world has in store for him. From new villains, unfamiliar familiar faces, and the way the 2012 boys and Splinter treat each other and him, Raph has a heavy plate on his hands during his long term stay.

(Rise/2012, Work In Progress)

14. A Collection of Turtle Thoughts

A collection of drabbles and ficlets about Turtles I've been writing since October 2020. Ranges from humor to hurt/comfort, I have it all.

Requests are open. SFW only though.

(All Iterations, Work in Progress)

If y’all reblog, read, and share my work, I’d really appreciate that! Anything and everything is appreciated, money or not! Thanks folks 🐢💕

[angelanimedesaray]

Wings in the Dark Chapter 6:  Stories From the Dark

AN:  I feel like this chapter should have been posted around Halloween, but there was NO WAY I was waiting that long XD  Also its a bit short, I think, to me, it goes a little quick, partially because I didn’t want to have to write Levi wandering around this little town this whole time having all this meaningless chit-chat meant to fish information, I decided summarizing was best with detail where it counted XD

Characters:  Levi, Fem!Vampire!Reader (Mentioned), Erwin, Various OCs and BG Characters

Pairing:  (Eventual)  Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings:  Descriptions of Violence, Descriptions of Murder Aftermath, Description of Fatal Injuries, Description of Buried Alive, Descriptions of Injuries, Language

Word Count:  5188

<----Previous Chapter    Masterlist    Next Chapter---->

*Levi's POV*

While taking such a sudden few days off might have caused a couple bumps in the way things were developing around HQ, but he knew Erwin would be able to handle it and smooth things over, so he stayed focused on the task at hand.

Stripped of any signia, symbol, or uniform resembling clothes that could suggest that he was part of the military, Levi was dressed in plainclothes, having taken a carriage out to L/N’s supposed hometown early in the morning.  He still arrived with plenty of time in the day to investigate the town and see what he could find on-site, taking in the small, easily overlooked town that was more of a loose collection of homes bordered by farms, with a central farmer’s market to keep some local trade and business going.  Any serious buying and selling probably consisted in a day’s trip to one of the larger towns within Wall Rose, but it seemed they had basic foodstuffs here.  He managed to find a blacksmith tucked away in a corner between a small grouping of houses, as well as an old, empty building that had a weathered carpentry sign in front of it.  So there had been more trade smiths around here, before the town gradually lost those businesses.

Talking casually with the blacksmith informed Levi that a ways past the farms, there was a home that was the reason for most of their outside visitors--people who could afford to would put their elderly loved ones in the care center, and there was a separate building for the mentally ill to live comfortably and get the care they needed as well.  Visitors to the town usually consisted of relatives visiting their loved ones in the homes, or they were descendants that had moved away but came back for the occasional hometown or family visit.

Which meant Levi, having no ties himself and not knowing about the homes, stuck out a bit despite his best efforts.  The communities of small towns were tightly knit and they knew their own, so it couldn’t be helped, and he would have to deal with the fact everyone was going to be curious why he was here.

While talking with the blacksmith, he also heard that the carpentry shop had been the family trade for the Frazier family--the family who lost the daughter sharing L/N’s first name.  With the murder of their only child, there was no one to take on the family business, and the building had fallen into disrepair after the parents had gone to the home outside town.

That had caught Levi’s interest.  They’d been in the home for years judging from the sign alone, and the impression he’d received was that only the well off could supply their own stay at the home, or their family members paid for it.  If there were no children to pay for them, and they’d only been a small carpentry business in a no-name town, how could they afford to be in the home?  He doubted it was by the grace of the community, though it was a possibility considering the tragedy that had happened here.

Moving on from the blacksmith so he didn’t ask too many questions in one place, Levi made a mental note to make his way up to the homes to investigate the still-living parents of the original Y/N.  Making his way to the farmer’s market, Levi perused for any small town hidden treasures and struck up conversations, looking for a town gossip to get talking about the town’s history so that he could eventually hear the more personal tale of the double homicide than the technical report Erwin had scrounged up for him.

While trying to get the man selling the baked goods to be a little more forthcoming, Levi overheard a small group of children, three or four gathered around each other as one of the older children attempted to scare the smallest of the group with a surprisingly gristly tale.

“...clawed at the wood of the coffin, screaming for someone to hear her, too afraid to realize her screams took up what little air she had.  Her fingernails broke and blood coated the coffin, her elbow busted open as she pounded and shrieked for help, but no one could hear her so far beneath the dirt.  Some say she did manage to break the wood, but halfway through the dirt falling on her she couldn’t breathe, and body’s still frozen in her silent scream, so close to freedom, no one above ground aware of the terror she felt before she truly died.  Now, so she doesn’t feel so alone, Screaming Sally’s ghost crawls out of her grave and drags children like you from their beds and drags them into her coffin below ground.”

The poor youngest was visibly trembling, tears of fright in their eyes before one of the other kids shouted and grabbed them, making the youngest shriek and cry as they laughed and continued to pick on them.

“Tch.”  Levi turned to them, a glare in his eyes that he pinned on the older kids who should have known better.  “Oi!  Cut it out.”

Spooked by the scary voice, and even more so by the scary man they saw glaring at them, the older kids bolted, with the youngest running away once they were free of the older kids, most likely to run home and find comfort from a parent.

Levi turned his attention back to the stall in front of him, a woman beside him buying a basket of rolls as he scowled over the childishly cruel display he’d just seen.

“That’s one messed up horror story for kids to be telling each other,” he muttered, paying for a loaf of bread and waiting for the man to finish wrapping it for him.  The woman beside him turned with a small shrug.

“All the children around here know about that stupid story about Screaming Sally.  It’s been around for decades, and at this point, it’s almost a rite of passage to hear it eventually.”

Levi looked at her, sensing he might have someone who would be willing to share if he asked the right questions.  “How did it start?”

The woman sighed, shaking her head.  “Some poor caretaker for the graveyard by the woods about forty years back snapped after that double homicide and started trying to tell people one of the girls crawled out of her grave.  Everyone knows it’s impossible, not to mention the grave was undisturbed when folks checked in the morning after seeing how sincere he was.  They had to put him in the home because he kept insisting he saw it, and eventually the story turned into the Screaming Sally legend the kids are always sharing to scare each other.”

Levi’s head tilted slightly to the side, eyes widening momentarily in surprise as the unsuspected connection jumped out at him.

For the briefest moment, he was looking back up at Kenny years ago as Kenny shared some outlandish story to try and scare him.  When Levi had called out it’s legitimacy and accused him of spewing a nonsense legend that wasn’t even possible, he’d suddenly appeared a little serious, a small frown appearing beneath the brim of that signature hat of his as he gave Levi the reply that now rang in his ears.

“There’s always a little truth to every legend.”

Pretending his surprise was over something else the woman had said, Levi took the chance to try and pry the local story from her.

“Double homicide?  Out here?” Levi asked, suggesting that kind of thing never happened in places like this.

In his opinion, they were more likely to happen out here, since it was so damn isolated.

As Levi took his wrapped loaf, the two started to walk together, just a little further down the path as she indulged his curiosity.

“I know--it’s the darkest stain on this town’s history.  Still unsolved, too--one of those locked room murders I think they call them.  Y/N Frazier and Victoria Schultz.  The Fraziers’ daughter had been out late the night before and came to her parent’s home to rest instead of going back to her own home.  She was sick the entire next day, and her best friend Victoria came to visit her.  Sometime between the moment Victoria and Y/N were in the room together to the time the Fraziers checked in on them a few hours later, some psychopath managed to find their way into the room, tore Victoria apart beyond recognition, and disappeared with the Frazier girl.  Without the Fraziers hearing anything amiss!  The police thought it might have been the Frazier girl, because it was the only possible explanation considering the bedroom door was locked and any attacker would have had to come in through the window, and neither girl made a sound, so perhaps Victoria knew her attacker--but Y/N’s body showed up on the edge of the woods a few days later, poor girl.  They never found out who did it, or what exactly happened.  It still haunts the people in the town who are old enough to remember it.”

As the woman spun the more personal version of the tale, Levi’s mind filled in the gristly details that had been in the report he’d read.  How there had been hardly any blood left in the mutilated girl left behind lying on the bed, but far less in the room than there should have been, how L/N’s namesake had been found lying just within the forest’s edge, neck bruised and broken, as well as several bones, covered in bruises and lacerations.  It was a closed-casket funeral for both.  They had no leads, no one with a motive, no mysterious footprint or shadowy figure seen leaving the crime scene.  They’d just been murdered out of nowhere, and nothing like it had happened anywhere near the town ever since.  It was a sudden, violent anomaly in their history, and one that was going to leave a mark that would never disappear.

Levi said goodbye to the woman with the bread roll basket, standing in the middle of the road with his gaze turned towards the homes he’d been told about, a thoughtful frown on his face.

It seemed he had two reasons to visit this place:  the Fraziers and the caretaker.

Once there, as curious as he was, Levi decided against visiting the Fraziers and asking about the events of forty years ago.  From what he’d been able to dig up, it was likely something that still haunted them to this day, and he wasn’t here to terrorize the elderly.

He did, however, pry into who was paying for their stay at the home.  Once at the front desk, he suggested that he wanted to pay for their stay, asking after the amount it would take and how often, before insisting whatever payments they were making themselves stop so they wouldn’t have to pay out of their own pockets.  At that point, he’d been politely turned down, the secretary informing him that the Fraziers already had an angel donor who was paying regularly for their stay at the home.

“Can I get a name so I can talk to them about splitting the payments?” Levi asked, leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

“I’m sorry, but...angel donors are what we call anonymous donors who don’t have any ties to the family but still pay for their care.  We don’t know who makes the payments, only that they’re made regularly and on time, so Mr. and Ms. Frazier can spend the rest of their days here.  I have no name to give you, not that I could, considering that would be sensitive information,” the secretary said politely, though there was a bit of a chill in her voice brought about by Levi’s questioning.  He ignored it, busy mulling over this new detail.

He had no evidence to support it, no reason to suspect it, but what if the angel donor was L/N?  He knew she was looking for ways to cut costs with how she spent her money, it was one of the reasons she had the tea garden at HQ--it would save her money in the future by cutting costs she spent on things like tea.  And her lack of personal belongings could also be from a lack of money to buy nice things for herself.  What if the money she saved from her salary was going towards the Fraziers’ well-being?

Again, he had no evidence.  It was just a thought, a far-fetched theory, but it was something to take note of and consider, just in case it wasn’t far off the mark.

Getting the hint from the secretary and knowing he was at a dead end as to who was taking care of the Fraziers, at least for what he would find here in town, Levi moved on to the next objective.

“All right, well, I also came to talk to someone in the psychiatric home.  He used to be a cemetery caretaker about forty years ago.”

Recognition immediately sparked in her eyes, as well as a bit of apprehension.  “We’ll need you to sign in, as well as put down a reason for visiting.”

“Fine,” Levi replied, taking the paper she slid over and writing Jacob, no last name--not that he’d have one to give even if he was using his actual name--and then wrote down social visit before handing it over.  Her eyebrows rose slightly and her gaze flickered up to him from the paper, and Levi gazed back at her calmly, waiting patiently for her to at least direct him the proper way.

“Room seventeen.  Follow me,” she said, leading them out the door--since they’d been in the home for the elderly--and a little ways away to the other building that acted as the psychiatric home.  Once inside she led Levi up two flights of stairs and down a fairly long hall to let Levi into the room marked seventeen in white paint.  “Mr. Briarton, you have a visitor,” she said after opening the door, allowing Levi to step into the room and take in a man in his late fifties, early sixties, suspicious pale green eyes narrowed at Levi as he stepped inside.

“I don’t knows you,” the man rasped.

“Jacob,” Levi said bluntly, stepping deeper into the room and staying conscious of the fact the secretary was temporarily lingering to make sure everything was going to be all right.  “I came to hear your story.”

“Hah?  Here to mock an old man?”  Briarton sneered.

“No.  Just to listen,” Levi responded simply.  Briarton sized Levi up for a moment, then looked at the secretary still standing in the doorway and gave a small wave.

“We’re fine, Janice, you can leave now.  I’s knows the rest of you’s is tired of hearin’ my tale.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Briarton.”

“Eh,” he grumbled, and Janice sighed and shut the door, leaving the two of them behind.  “Why exactly are you’s interested in hearin’ my story?  Everyone else says I’m’s crazy.  Locked me up for it, too!”

“I’ve heard the town legends.  Someone I knew used to say there’s always a bit of truth to the legends.  So I’m here looking for the truth,” Levi answered, leaning up against the wall with arms folded over his chest.

“Hmm…” Briarton hummed, contemplating Levi’s reason before he sighed.  “I’s guessin’ you’s already heard ‘bout the murders, if you’s here.”

At Levi’s nod, Briarton skipped over the events that came before, and went right to talking about the burial.  “Closed caskets they’s were.  Victoria had a pine box, Mr. Frazier insisteds on makin’ Y/N’s hisself, out of willow.  We’s buried them midday, six feets down in the grounds, six feets dried earth on those boxes.  I’s told they’s were both dead for sures, no comin’ back--specially poor Victoria.  Schultz’s weren’t allowed to sees hers it was so bad.  Course we’s all thoughts abouts it, we’s all hoped back then the killer’d get caught.  People kept comin’ by till it gots too dark and I’s closed the cemetery for the’s night.  My’s job was to make sure no ones messed with the graves, and I’s was patrollin’ like usual, and for the’s longest time, I didn’t hear nut-thin.  But sometime in the wee hours of the mornin’, as I’s was comin’ up on the girls’s graves, I saw somethin’ movin on the ground on tops of one.  I’s went to yells at them, to tell ‘em kids to scram, cause that’s what I’s thoughts they were.  But when I’s got close enough to see a bit better, I’s realized they’s was comin’ up from the ground--outta the ground.  I’s was frozen in place, watchin’ them’s drag themselves out of the dirt, clawin’ across the ground likes a wounded animal.  I’s was tryin’ to scream, but I’s couldn’t makes a sound.”

Briarton stopped, his wide eyes turned towards Levi.  “Do you’s know how heavy the dirts is on a coffin?  How hard it is to break open a coffin?  Impossible’s what it is!  My’s brother once locked me’s in one to scares me, and my’s mother lost it whens she found out.  I’s was kickin’ and screamin’ for what’s felt like hours tryin’ to break out, but all I’s got from it was bloody hands and elbows.  Ands that was without the dirts on tops of it.  But I’s swears this girl busted out and crawled outta hers grave.  Even if she’s managed to breaks the coffin, she’d’da been crushed bys the dirts.  But she’s still crawled outta hers grave.  She’s stood up, covered in fresh bloods and dirts, and she’s shoved dirt backs into the hole she’s crawled outta like a drunkard, gaspin’ and wheezin’ and wailin’ like a banshee, an’ then she’s disappears into the night.  An’ I’s ran for help, jus’ to get calleds crazy and locked up in here.”

Levi listened to Briarton’s tale in silence, studying the man’s face closely as he spoke to see if the man truly believed every word he was saying.  The terror in the man’s eyes was real, though, as he spoke of the impossibility of the haunting image, and there was no trace of insincerity in his face as he spoke.  He truly believed in the tale he was telling.  Considering the impossibility of it all, Levi also doubted, but he wasn’t going to call him out on in--enough people already believed this man crazy, Levi wasn’t going to add himself to the mix.

He only had one question.

“Who was the woman who crawled out of her grave?” Levi asked steadily, though the crawl of his skin as he said it told him he already knew the answer.  He just wanted to hear Briarton say it.

“Y/N Frazier.”

The day had cooled--in fact, it was starting to feel chillier, the sun frequently hidden by clouds that seemed to be gathering across the sky, hinting at fouler weather on the horizon.  After taking his leave of Briarton at the home, Levi went looking for the now infamous cemetery--infamous in his mind, at least--and had made his way to the grave of one Y/N Frazier, where he now stood in silent contemplation, staring intently at the headstone that had engraved upon its surface the girl’s name, a birthday and date of death that showed she had barely been in her twenties, and a brief, “Beloved Daughter.”

He wasn’t really seeing the grave anymore, though.  His mind was a flurry of thoughts, theories, memories, information...none of the connections he’d made here made any kind of sense to him, but there were far too many to be ignored.  There was something here, something that seemed to be staring him in the face, but he couldn’t see what it was, so he couldn’t use it.  Not yet, anyway.

Maybe Briarton really was crazy, maybe he hadn’t seen Y/N Frazier crawl out of that grave that night and he’d simply snapped like everyone suggested he had.  But there was nothing to have caused him to snap, no trigger.  Not to mention, the sheer coincidence was far too strong to be a coincidence.

So, he entertained the possibility that the bizarre and impossible happened, that Y/N Frazier somehow survived, a mistake had been made somewhere and she was buried alive, and managed to crawl out of this very grave.  Ignoring the impossibility of that scenario still didn’t give him many answers.  If Y/N Frazier was still alive, she would have been sixty, seventy years old by now.  L/N back at the Scout Headquarters was in her early twenties, and very clearly /not dead/.  So, L/N definitely wasn’t this Y/N Frazier.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be related somehow.  If the original girl did survive, it would be possible for L/N to be Frazier’s daughter, maybe even grand-daughter, though that was starting to push the theory beyond what he was willing to suspend believing as impossible.

One thing the Screaming Sally horror story had made him remember, and that Briarton’s recounting had brought to the front of his mind to offer him another connection, was the conversation the other day between the rest of his Squad and L/N.

He remembered the tremble in her hand, the stillness in her posture, the flash of soul-deep fear, trauma, and pain in her eyes as L/N had softly stated that her biggest fear was being buried alive.

He had something big here, but he wasn’t sure where it fit in this messed up puzzle he was trying to solve, and was missing some key piece that connected it to something else.  He needed more than ever to see what she was doing in the Underground when she snuck out at night--whatever it was, he was convinced at this point it was the missing piece he needed to make sense of all of this.

But first, he needed to do something that would give him a definitive answer amongst all these legends and tall tales.

It was a new low for him, he knew that.  The entire ordeal felt wrong and filthy on an entirely new level, but it was something he had to do.  No one else had thought to look, to disturb the grave of one of the murdered girls to see if there was any validity to Briarton’s claims, to the stories of Screaming Sally.  Everyone brushed it off as nonsense and went about their day, probably because it was so certain, and it was easier to believe the horror stories were nonsense.

Levi didn’t have that luxury.  He didn’t have the certainty, and the easier route was not the one he was going to take.  He needed answers.  So, he’d returned briefly to Headquarters in order to enlist Erwin’s help to give him the opportunity late that very same night to dig up the grave and settle once and for all whether Y/N Frazier had died.  It would help clear up some of the questions and theories when he found her body in the coffin, and it might put them back at square one in figuring out why this place and this name had been chosen by Y/N, but it would help bring them back to a world that made some sense, and it would help weed out a few questions that these legends and stories had brought up.

He didn’t want to think of the implications if the grave was empty.  He doubted it would be, but if it was...then this entire mess went far deeper than he could ever imagine.

Perhaps that was why Erwin agreed to help him, why he’d paid off the caretaker to make sure the grave was empty but leave the section Levi was going to be in undisturbed until Levi left.  Erwin clearly hadn’t approved of disturbing a gravesite, especially the gravesite of a murder victim, but Levi had strongly believed it was necessary despite his own misgivings, so Erwin had relented.

Now, Levi was in a hole that passed his head, digging the last few inches to the willow coffin Y/N Frazier had been buried in, filthy and tired but determined to get to the bottom.  Just a little further, and he would have his answer.  He would see the bones in an undisturbed grave, fill in the grave once more, go home, wash up, hate himself for a while for doing this to confirm what he already knew, and then go back to trying to figure out why L/N seemed so deeply connected to this place.

He hadn’t found any bodies frozen on its way to the surface, so he could already rule out the legitimacy of the children’s scary story about Screaming Sally, at least.

The shovel Levi was using scraped against something solid, and Levi paused.  Here it was.  He’d found it.

Kneeling down, Levi started brushing away at dirt so he could find the coffin lid, fingers brushing against wood, hand brushing a little harder to smooth away dirt--

He had to pull his hand back as he unexpectedly came into contact with splintered wood sticking up into the dirt, piercing his hand and drawing blood as he jerked in surprise, breath catching.

No…

A few more careful brushes with his hand, and he was staring at a coffin lid that had been busted open, shards of wood buried in dirt, but the hole clearly enough for a person to crawl out of.  He froze where he was as he stared at the sight before him, the odd, irrational fear that a hand was going to burst out of the hole and grasp his wrist strangely flashing through his mind before he pushed it aside.  He wasn’t breathing anymore, an admittedly trembling hand reaching out to pull back the lid, just to double check and confirm what he was seeing.

The grave was, in fact, empty.  The coffin was busted open with gouges that had old red stains upon them, as if it had been punched and clawed through from the inside.

His blood running cold and his breaths shallow, Levi had to fight not to think of the haunting image Briarton had described, the fear in L/N’s eyes, and the mental image of a woman trapped in this grave screaming and crying for help, having to tear apart her own body and defy all odds to crawl her way to the surface, tried not to imagine the terror of being buried alive like this.

Kenny had been right.  There was always a bit of truth to the legend.  He never imagined it would be this much truth, though.

When Levi returned to HQ, the first thing he did was clean himself up and get changed.  Then, he made himself some of the tea L/N had gifted him, choosing one of the blends meant to calm in the hopes that it would help settle his nerves after what he’d seen.

Outside, he might still appear stoic, but inside, he was shaken.

Once he was clean, he had his tea, and he felt he had a better grip on himself internally and he was ready for the conversation, he went to Erwin’s office and very solemnly relayed his findings to the man, who looked no less disturbed by this unexpected turn of events than Levi had been.  They’d expected some kind of secret while digging into the truth about L/N, they hadn’t been expecting a full blown conspiracy on this level.

Once Erwin was up to speed on Levi’s findings, they started to hash out some theories and details, both of them well aware that they were still missing something crucial as they attempted to make a broader picture with the pieces they were currently in possession of.

The running theory they were working with was that Y/N Frazier was L/N’s mother.  It was the most logical connection they could come up with, even though it dumped a whole new slew of questions into this mess.

Why did Frazier run after she crawled out of her grave?  Why not return to her home and family, alive and well?  Why leave the town behind and everyone in it believing she’d died so terribly?  Why never come back to tell who had attacked her and her friend Victoria?  What happened that night forty years ago?  How had she managed to crawl her way out of a grave?  Why had she instead disappeared somewhere inside the walls never to be discovered or heard from again, hiding her true identity remarkably well?  Or more importantly, how had she been alive?  How did she survive those injuries?  Had a mistake been made and she’d been assumed dead?  Was the report faked?

How was the Underground supposed to come into play in all of this, and what part did L/N have in it as well?  If Frazier was indeed L/N’s mother, was Frazier still alive and living in the Underground?  Was that why L/N went down there every now and then?  Why not bring her mother to the surface with her?  Why, when she came to the surface, did L/N take Frazier’s first name and not use her last name?  Why not use her real name?  How did the events of forty years ago play into now, and how had it had an affect on L/N?

As always, whenever they uncovered something about L/N, it always came with a thousand more questions.  They could theorize all they wanted, but it wouldn’t bring them closer to finding the answers that they craved at this point.

And still, despite the shock and the...unease he had felt to find the empty grave and realize the reality of what happened in that town--or at least part of it--Levi still felt like there was another reality altering twist in this dark tale that was unraveling in front of them that would be far worse.  He still felt like they were far off the mark, that the still failed to understand the reality of what they were stepping into.  More than ever, Levi felt there was something dark behind this, and he began to feel the first hints of malice surrounding these secrets.

Whatever L/N was hiding, at this point, Levi knew it had to be dangerous.

Erwin’s concerned eyes probed Levi’s expression as Levi gazed at the empty teacup in front of him, well aware that despite his feeble attempt to calm his nerves and thoughts, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

“Levi--” Erwin started to say in a grave tone of voice, but Levi cut him off.  He knew what Erwin was about to say, and he already knew what he had to do next.

“I know.  All I’m waiting for now is for her to make the next move.  This time, she won’t shake me.”

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier@whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea​

Wings in the Dark Tags:  @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse

[princesscandijane]

Males Reasons to Shave with some tips

A quick guide for those wanting to shave, but cannot seem to find the reasons to.  As well as some tips on how to shave.

Groin

As a favor for someone going down on you. Think about how much you enjoy pulling pubes out of your teeth. I shave my groin every morning, as part of my morning routine. Takes me no less time to shave my face if you do it daily, and I could probably go every other day without notice.

Shaving Groin

From various blogs and articles

Trim—Bust out your trimmer and prep the area by trimming off a good chunk of the bush before you dive in with a razor. This helps ensure that you have total visibility and don’t miss any important areas. Take your time, trimming in small sections starting at the bottom and working your way up to the stomach.

Shave—Generously apply shave cream that you can see through, creating a layer of cream about a millimeter thick on top of the areas where you want to shave. Holding the skin taut with one hand and taking it extra-slow with the other, lightly shave IN THE DIRECTION that the hair grows. Avoid using too much pressure. Rinse the razor with every pass and, when completely done shaving, rinse the body with warm water.

Use a new/sharp razor– DON’T use a dull blade or disposable razor.

Shave Your Balls—The golden rule of ball-shaving is to always hold the skin taut so there are no wrinkles or curves that could catch skin or cause cuts. 

Rinse with Cool Water—Make sure you give your junk a good rinse in cool water after you’re done shaving to soothe the skin and close the pores. This will also help prevent any ingrown hairs or irritation.

Asshole

Dingleberries. If you have ever had to wipe away a dingleberry, that should inspire you to at least trim around the asshole. Full shave can be difficult, but again, how attractive do you find a hairy ass? So consider trimming. I don’t shave completely because I’m worried about nicking something, so I wear a butt plug and shave around it.

Guide to Asshole shaving

https://www.reddit.com/r/NoStupidQuestions/comments/27dh1x/how_do_i_shave_my_asshole/

Use a moustache/nose hair trimmer to trim off all the excess hair until it's short enough to feel like 2 day old stubble, and then apply good hair conditioner or shaving gel and exfoliate using a loofah or washcloth. The idea is to get all the hair up and on end and stimulate the skin while opening the pores; this avoids ingrown hair and razor burn, which you do not want on your butthole.

Now wash your butthole. Intensely. You do not want to leave any stone unturned, so to speak. Shove your soapy finger up there and really get your sphincters squeaky clean. Don't hurt yourself, just make sure you don't have any icky fecal matter or tiny sharp hair nuggets trapped in the mysterious crevices of your anal caverns.

Use a BRAND NEW 4-blade disposable razor/razor blade cartridge. Don't use a dull blade or you will regret it. Shave with the grain, first, not against it. Rinse after each and every stroke of the blade against your skin. Re-apply conditioner/gel and shave again, this time against the grain and again be sure to rinse after every stroke. Rinse completely and then give it a quick wash with some plain antibacterial soap (kills bacteria on the open skin so should avoid irritation from fecal matter etc that you may have missed during your butthole cleansing).

Now comes the rough part - preventative care. Grab a bottle of witch hazel and spritz it on a washcloth, and pat the fuck out of your butthole with that shit. IT WILL BURN LIKE HELL FOR A SECOND IF YOU DO IT RIGHT. It is not the end of the world. Your butthole is not on fire and you will live to poo another day. After witch hazel-ing the hell out of your ass, lay tummy-down on your bed or on a towel on the floor and either:

When your butthole has been sufficiently aired out and dried, apply non-scented women's roll-on deodorant. This sounds stupid and weird but trust me, it helps. Dove no-scent is the best I've found. This will avoid chafing while walking, irritation as the hair grows back, general stink, and will provide you with some cushioning.

Chest, Back, Arms, Armpits

Do you think any of them are naturally smooth? Once a week I take a nice hot bath, relax with a bowl and shave everything below my neck. Takes me an hour at most.

I think we can acknowledge that a smooth body is sexy regardless of gender.  How weird would it be for there to be hair

Vs. how is this for hair?

Once a week shaving. The more often you keep up with it the easier it is and the less time it takes.

Shaving Chest Tips

various blogs

Before beginning to shave, be sure to trim any long chest hairs to make the process easier.

Apply plenty of shaving gel over your chest and any other areas that you intend to shave.

Begin shaving, using short, gentle, and slow strokes for a clean shave without any nicks or cuts.

After each stroke, rinse the blade to avoid getting it clogged and causing a messy shave.

Once you’ve completed shaving and removed all unwanted hair, rinse your chest thoroughly and apply an aftershave product, such as the one that you use for your face.

Remember to also exfoliate the area twice a week with a quality body scrub to reduce the risk of ingrown hairs.

As the nipple is really sensitive and may not want to risk a nik, I recommend using a tweezer. Before you tweeze, take a hot shower—the heat will open up hair follicles, so it’s easier to grab the root—and pat the skin around your nipples dry. Pull each strand quickly and firmly in the direction your hair grows.

Shaving Armpit

from Men’s Health

Trim Your Armpit Hair First

If you’ve never shaved your underarms before, chances are you’ll need to trim those patches down for the easiest and most comfortable shave . It’ll make less of a mess in the shower as well (because nothing is worse than a clogged drain full of man-hair).

Exfoliate Your Under Arms Before Shaving

Sure, you don’t have to exfoliate, but you should to avoid pesky, painful ingrown hairs. A loofah or exfoliating body scrub will do the trick to remove dead skin cells and bacteria (along with any deodorant gunk) to help you achieve the smoothest shave without razor burn.

Shave Your Armpits Wet in the Shower

You can cut it dry, but Whitely recommends to do it in the shower. Hot water softens the hair and reduces the risk of pulled hair or nicks, he says. Shave towards the end of your time in the shower and use shaving gel for added moisture to prevent irritation.

Shave Slow and With a Good Razor

It's not a race, folks. To avoid razor burn and skin irritation, take it slow with your razor blade to make sure you get the closest shave. Unlike the hair on your face, underarm hair grows in all different directions, so make sure to shave sideways, as well top-to-bottom. Toss your old dull razor, and opt for one with a sharp blade and a pivoting head to move with the curves of your armpits for a more effective, easier shave.

Legs 

First shaved legs feel amazing.  Everyone deserves to know the feeling of freshly shaved legs. Second how are hairy legs, feet, and toes sexy?

Quick guide to shaving legs

Taken from Glamor and Cosmopolitan 

1. Trim

If it's the first time you're removing your leg hair, you might want to carefully trim the area with an electric razor. This will stop your razor clogging up, causing you to miss patches of hair.

2. Soak your skin before shaving

“Hydrating the hairs makes them up to 60 per cent easier to cut”, says Dr Anita Sturnham, Venus Ambassador. “Soak your skin for two to three minutes before shaving.”

Use warm water when you're bent over the bathtub in the middle of winter with goose bumps on your legs, it's tempting to have the shower on boiling hot. But hot water is not your friend when it comes to shaving because it closes your pores. Warm water opens your pores, allowing your hairs to soften (making the whole shaving process a lot smoother).

3. Do not lather your legs with shampoo

Dr Sturnham says using shampoo or body wash as shave prep can, “increase your risk of redness and irritation, and blunt your razor blades.”

4. Don't go ham on the shaving cream

You really only need a thin layer of shaving cream to do the job. Too much will clog up your blades, slowing down your shaving time and making it impossible to see where you already shaved. Of course you don't really need to buy shaving cream in the first place, hair conditioner works just as well (if not better).

5. Always shave against the direction hair growth

To get your closest shave possible, shave against the direction of your hair growth. For the legs, start at the ankle and work your way up towards the knee.If you’re using a good blade, this won’t cause any irritation and will cut the hair right at the root for a longer-lasting shave.

6. Don't apply too much pressure to your razor

Your razor shouldn’t make a dent in your skin in order to work.“ The razor should glide across the skin, not drag”, says Adam Boulding, Venus Scientific Communications. “Remember to use a light touch, exerting as little pressure as possible.”If you need to press your razor firmly to work, it can be a sign your blades need changing.

7. Short strokes

If you're shaving from your ankle to your knee in one long stroke, you are guaranteed to have missed hairs. It's just impossible for your razor to keep contact with every single hair for that long. That's why you need to shave with short strokes. Short strokes = less missed hairs.

8. Change your razor blades regularly

A blunt blade not only increases friction against the skin, but also the likelihood of missed hairs. There are many factors that can impact blade life, including your hair type, how much of your body you’re shaving and how you store your razor.  Roughly every ten shaves. If you shave daily then about every 1-2 weeks, if you shave 2-3 times a day then every 3-4 weeks. You should also change your blades whenever you start to feel tugging or pulling during your shave.

9. Don't use razors with less than four blades

The number of blades you use is actually super important. The less blades you have, the higher the chance of cuts and nicks.

“A razor with more blades means that the pressure is distributed across more evenly”, says Boulding. “Therefore less pressure is applied to any one spot of skin during the shave, reducing the probability of cuts.”

10. Use a manoeuvrable razor head

The second thing to look for in terms of razor quality is the manoeuvrability of the razor head. When it comes to the backs of knees and areas like ankles, where the bone is close to the skin surface, you need a razor that moves with the curves of your skin to glide over trickier areas. A stagnant blade will only increase the chance of missed hairs or cuts.

11. Always bend a knee

Knees are notoriously the most tricky spot to shave. The solution? Sarah says to slightly bend the knee.

“This will pull the skin tight before shaving, as folded skin is difficult to shave.”

Try propping your leg up on the side of the bath.

12. Don't forget your aftercare

If you suffer from red bumps after shaving, rinsing properly is a must post-shave. If you can bare cold water, this is even better to ensure the pores are closed.

Sarah also recommends leaving the skin to rest for at least 30 minutes before applying lotions or moisturisers, to avoid inflammation.

“If you must moisturise immediately following shaving, select a cream formula rather than a lotion, and avoid exfoliating moisturisers that may contain alpha hydroxy acids,” she adds. If not, it will sting!