#at least shes bulk billing me

[ratbastarddotfuck]

Today I said to my doctor "yeah I've had like a dangerous mental health crisis any time I've been in long-term employment, and also my physical health seems to suffer quite a bit due to all the Conditions I Have, and both of these things make each other worse," and she really did turn around and say "hmm, we have a long way to go to make you healthy so you can work".

🙃

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 ; 𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐱 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

!! disclaimer before we start this girliez !!

it's gonna be a multi-part fic

it's based on the movie (i read about the band's and nikki's life, but it'd be complicated)

fem!reader will be half russian and half of another nation (you can insert yours here)

it's gonna have some TW parts as cussing, drugs, sex, miscarriage, depression so please read with caution!!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏.

word count: 2.308k trigger warning: cursing, pole dance, smoking

1981, hollywood, sunset boulevard

♡ 𝐘/𝐍 ♡

the fake lashes tickled her eyes as one of her colleagues helped her to ruffle up her hair, well, if you can name the other girls who pole dances with you in a night club 'colleagues'.

"i fucking hate this shit" she muttered, putting lipstick on her lips. jessica, the girl who helped her shrugged her shoulders.

"when you're done with that, you can go off with a guy. old men pays way much more then the broke, skinny rock and roll wannabe-ones."

"it's a good idea jess, but i want to use my young years, and maybe get a normal relationship." y/n knew that this decade had its own fuckboys, just like the teddy-boys in the 60s with long coats and hair with much gale, and the hippies in the 70s with those fucking irritating and bad-looking flares and too much color, and now... they had log hair, black clothes and bulked up with studs, now just on their clothes, but on their face, too. sometimes it was fucking disgusting, even worse than punks, but other times, it was pleasant dig into a boy's long hair while he ate her out.

"your choice, baby. two minutes and simon will come in, so prepare yourself." simon was the guy who talked with them; when to go to the stage and when their shift ended, handing out the girls' 'salaries' to them, always in cash, of course. dancing here wasn't her first option; y/n wanted to go to somewhere, where an audience could tell that she had a good voice, or just tell her to fuck off, getting into dancing and singing, acting universities were difficult and expensive to get in. but since she had to pay the bills in the house she shared with two other girls, collecting money wasn't that easy.

in two hours, she was dancing in the big area on the counter, letting men tuck money into her panties and throw it in the front of her legs. shaking and crawling her body to the music, she almost completely shut the world out from her own world. at least she could dance, and she liked dancing, as soon as...

a bolting light shone through the bar. it was impossible to miss that is was a camera light. what the fuck, she turned and saw a couple of guys standing there, making pictures in front of where she was dancing.

"the guys will be so jealous when they're gonna see this! okay, brad, could you-"

"what the fuck do you think are you doing?" y/n stopped dancing, getting their attention.

"just making some pictures, don't worry, babe."

"don't fucking babe me! you can't take pictures here, do you understand?" she hollered, climbing down from the counter.

"could you take a picture about us with your friend in the back? or could you call down her?"

y/n snatched the camera from them.

"if you don't fuck off, i'm gonna trash this piece of shit."

"i'd listen to the girl." two other guy stepped in, they had long hair just like the rockers they probably listened to. one of them, the curlier and brown one carried a drumstick with himself, tucked into his belt.

"sorry, but what the fuck are you?" fuckface brad's one friend asked him.

"just a guy who walks in here from time to time and doesn't break the rules."

"i don't fucking care, could you please go away? we have to take some pictures, give me back that shit!"

"this?" y/n asked, looking at the camera, then, with her heart stomping in her chest, she trashed it down to the ground, breaking it into thousands of pieces. the fuckfaces got shocked.

"are you fucking mad?!"

"you deserved it anyway", the drumstick-boy's friend said, but the next moment, y/n got a punch into her face, crashing into the counter where people stood before it. looking up, she felt something warm running down to her lips, but instead of crying being hurt, she grabbed the nearest bottle she could find, breaking it, she successfully scratched the boy's arm.

"fuck you!" she screamed, aggressively waving the bottle in front of her. "fuck off, right now, motherfuckers!"

"y/n, what the fuck are you doing?" simon got in the picture. y/n looked around; some of the guests and jessica stared at them, the rocker boys stopped punching the other two guy as she fretted the third of them with a broken bottle. "if you do it again, you are gonna get fired!"

the girl looked at him, laughing, grabbing as much as money she could.

"yeah? then you won't gonna get the chance to fire me, because i quit! fuck you, simon, and fuck everybody in this craphole! i'm done!" screaming, she walked back to collect her things. not saying a word to anyone, carrying her clothes and her wallet, she walked beside simon, pushing his shoulder with hers as he tried to talk with her. but now, she was mad and unstoppable.

"you can never go back here if you quit now!" simon yelled to her as she stood at the door, now everybody staring at them.

"you know what simon?" she asked, licking her lips. iron from blood. with money in one hand, she dropped her things for a second and showed up both of her middle fingers.

turning around, she left the place that was her second place to go, but not her second home. out the door, she saw that people were staring into the bar, probably they heard the fight.

"hey dude! give me a fucking cigarette." getting one, they lit it to her.

"do you know what happened? we heard yelling and screaming." a woman asked, y/n nodded, blowing out the smoke.

"yeah, it was me. and don't come here, because the motherfuckers replace half of the whiskey with water." then walking away, she sat down on the side of the road, smoking the stick between her lips as she put on her skirts, top and her jacket. she couldn't think about what's gonna be with her. there was always a place for a crawling, dancing girl who could dress up as a slut.

"hey, are you okay?"

turning around, it was the same two guy who tried to defend her. she couldn't blame them, she blamed the brad-kinda assholes. holding the cig with her hand now, she bit her lip.

"except that the fact that now i'm jobless, that my face hurts and got rearranged, i'm pretty good, thanks." they sat down beside her.

"we're sorry for what happened. but we beat them up."

"you were cool, too! with that broken bottle. i'm tommy, by the way, and he's nikki."

"i can talk myself too, tom."

"i'm y/n. and that's my job... well, was."

"sorry that we couldn't stop it." nikki looked at her. he had pretty, green eyes, not the ones she could see everyday.

"don't worry, it was just a matter of time. otherwise, if i have to handle those three, maybe i'd be in jail now. and i hate this shit", she added, tearing down the fake lashes.

"would you actually stab them?" tommy asked.

"of course. if they break the rules, i break them head." at that, the two of them looked each other. "what? you don't meet girls everyday who smash others for being a motherfucker?"

"no, most of my girlfriends cry and scream, or throw something at me." tommy shrugged his shoulders. "i'm gonna borrow some cigs, do y'all want some?"

"yes, please." y/n said, and nikki nodded, also. now, it was just the two of them. she turned to the guy.

"and you? any troubled girl?" he shook his head.

"not one yet. but an upcoming band, and it's gonna be fire."

"upcoming band? you drive in bands?"

"yeah. but the last one was shit, it was called london."

"bands with names of towns never work, didn't anybody tell you that before?" nikki laughed at her question. "well, now you know. and any plans about the new one?"

"it's gonna be... the best band you've ever seen. but i still need some members in it, now i only have tommy. so tell me, can you sing?"

it this the hand of fate? y/n was far too much played to believe in some guy's promises and questions.

"well, nobody wanted to beat me when i was carousing in my rent." laughing at this, nikki turned to her.

"maybe if you can really sing, i'll count a frontwoman into my band."

"frontwoman? don't joke with me." y/n shook her head at his words.

"why would i joke? why do you think it's a joke?"

"because i got fucked up by some people before, and i don't believe to empty promises. see, i'll go there, and if the band is cool, then i'm in."

tommy came back, handing the cigarettes to them, showing up a bottle alcohol.

"guys, i found this on the ground, it's only half empty!" he said, making y/n grimace.

"watch out, maybe it's piss. happens a lot of time." the two guy laughed again.

"were did you learn these comments?" tommy asked. y/n shrugged her shoulders, letting nikki light her cigarette.

"anywhere. i spent my childhood with people i learned a lot from."

"were you in orphanage?" nikki asked, and she nodded. another piece of ash falling to the ground.

"kinda. i grew up in sacramento, and getting out from it, i came here."

"that's fine. i sent my mother into jail, but she was an asshole anyway." nikki added, making y/n pull up her eyebrows, nodding approvingly.

"hard."

"do you wanna go to party? tommy?" the guy asked, tommy shook his head.

"sorry, but i gotta be home. i think that girl broke up with me, but anyway, it was nice to meet you, y/n."

"see you again, toms."

"how so?"

"your friend just invited me to sing in his upcoming band, the one that never anybody has seen before." she teased nikki.

"wow, that's cool! i thought we're gonna have a guy, but that's okay."

"can't i be as good as a guy?" she asked back, making tommy look at nikki. "whatever, it's only a trial."

as tommy got away, y/n finished her second cigarette. "it was a pleasure to meet you, nikki, but i gotta search for a new place to work."

"really?"

"why? until 4am, they're open. it's not a big deal."

"come and party with me instead of it. or just sit down and talk, hm?" the girl smiled at this, rolling her eyes.

"are you trying to fuck me? other guys just pay me the drinks and help me to get to the bathroom."

"no, i just wanna get to know more about you. you're probably not pure american, judging by your accent." nikki answered, helping her stand up. y/n looked at him.

"it's true that i'm a half-blood. half russian, half (y/na). every cop asks for my id, everybody thinks that i'm a fucking illegal immigrant, but i'm just as an american citizen as this fucking ford!" she said, pointing at the car beside them.

"fuck the police anyway. and... you said that you were a foster kid, how so?"

"i don't want to talk about it. besides, not everybody's choice to get their parents int jail."

the truth was that her mother was truly an illegal immigrant, and in the short half and a year she was in the states, she got pregnant with her from a fellow guy she met with. when y/n was born, her mother had a beautiful, lovely six months with her baby, but then, one day the police knocked on her door. having no father and living in a mother's home, it was an instant way to get into orphanage.

"i'm sorry about that. do you want to forget these things with some booze?" nikki asked as they turned down on the road.

"do you have an actual place to live?" she asked him.

"do you have a place to stay?" nikki asked back.

"hell yeah, just because i'm stated as a slut by the society, i'm not a homeless one!" y/n spread her arms beside them, almost slapping a guy. they both laughed at that. "lead me to your place."

"right away, princess." he replied, setting his arm around her shoulder. "can i?" nikki looked at her, y/n looked up to her from her real eyelashes.

"what?"

"people can think that we're going up to me to fuck." y/n laughed, shrugging her free shoulder.

"and do i look like i give a fuck about what they think?"

♡ 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐊𝐈 ♡

y/n could be only one girl from all those who he met through the years, but she wasn't. he was unsure about that he really should invite her to the band, because if they really would get famous, everybody would bully her do death. and maybe she wouldn't get it on herself, but he would blow up from all the shit she'd get. looking at her, he only knew her a couple hours ago, but the way she protected herself from the creeps in the bar in underwear, the way she talked, she could be a pure ghetto chick, but she was more than that. it was like... she born into the wrong place, wanting to be more than she was now.

"is something bad? or are you just thinking?" she asked him.

"what? no, i just hope that i locked the windows before i started the night."

"i fancy the simple fact that you are a guy who is capable of thinking."

he wasn't a fan of fast and strong emotions, but if she doesn't stop replying sarcastically, he's gonna marry her.

it was just a matter of time...

...and tons of drugs, music and trouble.

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓.

a/n: i gotta get into writing since i just got back, but i hope you still like it. if you want to get on the taglist, dm, comment or write here

take care and stay safe girliez

[somecunttookmyurl]

Hi, do you have a sec to talk having a cat for a pet? I've been wanting to hit up the shelter and see if I can't take one (or maybe a pair) home for a good while now and while I have a smidge more money than even a few months ago, I'm still arguably Poor Enough that I've also been checking and rechecking to make sure I've thought about all/most the costs that are connected to cats.

Is there anything that you think people often forget about when they try to do the budget maths that's a bit more past the regular upkeep and standard stuff like surprise vet bills, insurance, 'fuck you I'm not eating this brand of food anymore', and periodically replacing stuff that either breaks or wears down?

I would hate to commit only to realise I don't have the funds after all, y'know?

ummm not really? remember to budget for regular yearly vaccinations. even if cats are 100% indoor you can still bring stuff in from outside so they could still get those illnesses and a lot of insurance doesn't cover routine care

honestly i don't have pet insurance at all because most of them cover fuck all for the first like... year (and 2 years in the case of dental which like. what) and the list of things they don't cover is ridiculous. if you're in the UK and financially struggling (you do not have to be unemployed or on benefits) you can register with the PDSA for reduced cost vet treatments. otherwise just hit up the least extortionate one and keep a separate savings account for potential vet bills.

(insurance won't even insure 2 of my cats because bean is FIV positive and siouxsie has a slightly dodgy kidney. i mean slightly. she doesn't even have to take meds for it that's how slightly. but these are "pre existing conditions" that invalidate them like again. what. is the point. of you)

but no you've not forgotten anything. outside the initial "buying everything" expense cats really aren't that spendy as far as pets go. if you can afford it i'd recommend buying food in bulk and larger bags of litter. it normally works out quite a bit cheaper to get like... 120 pouches of food once every 4 months than getting a small box every 12 days yanno (by the time the next shipment rolls around you'll definitely have enough if you just keep x aside a week for it it's just that first one that gets you) oh. boyfriend pointed out having a little treats budget too. sweeties.

good luck also please show me the baby i need to see the baby

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Well, I’m frustrated out of my gourd. UGH! Too many things not going right.

Ex. To go stay with Mom a week, very important with time running out, I have to have a way to feed the animals.

I haven’t found a single human being that can, or is willing, to help me out.

I do have feeders for the animals that can theoretically hold a week’s worth of food. Trouble is Ryoga (the hog) never would use the hog-feeder, despite it saying it was good for all hogs, including boars.

I spent a day trying to modify it so he would try to use it. I succeeded. He tried it ….and he cut his snout and face up.

Out of frustration he pulled lose the metal strapping I had it fasten to, so the whole feeder moves.

So, then I spent yesterday trying to modify everything about it so he wouldn’t get cut, and adding more metal bands to hold it.

Today was the big test and….

He can’t get his head in enough to eat much at all! The poor guy lifts up one foot and tilts at an alarming (for his bulk) angle to try to fit his head in, but he just can’t do it. The poor guy can see and smell the food, just not eat it.

Ryoga is now attempting to tear the whole thing apart to get at the food, and I expect to vent his anger.

The front panel is welded in place, so I can’t just open it up.

I have until tomorrow to tell my brother yes or no about being with Mom, and I haven’t even started on rigging and testing the cat feeder (we have only used it with dogs before, previously always having people willing to at least feed cats).

Meanwhile I have had a headache for two days straight, wasn’t able to talk to Mom for but a couple minutes, the car is making worrying noises, every single appliance and device has decided it’s time to have a new problem, I heard a chunk of the house fall at four AM, I’m out of everything including stuff for the animals, my bad ankle is hurting as it turns over more , my left arm (elbow, wrist, fingers, shoulder…all separate problems) bugs me constantly, I have a fresh handful of heart attack inducing bills, speaking of heart I’ve had two of my heart racing spells in the last week, I haven’t gotten more than five hours sleep in ages, making my birthday gift for Mom is going very, VERY badly**….

You get the idea.

I want a nap. Or a walk in the woods. Or how about a nap IN the woods. Just to sleep forever under a tree…..

But, instead, I think it’s time to take a sledge hammer to that damn hog feeder!

And you know, if I beat it into submission (AKA bend it for Ryoga’s head) I STILL have to rig a cover over it, now that I had to remove the flap built onto it. I know we haven't had any rain at all in two weeks, but I just know if I so off for a week it will be like monsoon season. Because that’s how things are going.

** At first it was it was mostly my inability to sculpt an orangutan (she’s a Discworld fan and I thought this would be an easy gift), but then I ran out of prepared sculpey. So now it’s a box of sculpey so old and hard it’s like trying to grind sand into putty, or a box to squishy and soft it’s like trying to sculpt with pudding. I need to mix the two, but doing that takes hours to make up a lump the size of a gumball. I’d need a week’s worth of evenings just to finish this attempt at a gift, and the sculpting has gone so badly I need to make one if I can.

This is almost certainly her last birthday, which is not only why I need to go be with her, but why I need this gift to be good. Right now it’s on track to be the worst thing I’ve ever made for her!

[sithwitch13]

AEW Dynamite 8/28/24

Got my neck nerves re-burned today and I'm not allowed to have thc to help the pain until tomorrow, so wrestling will just have tk do

MOX

@weareallkosh is in a meeting so I can barely hear the TV right now bug they are apparently the using his NJPW theme and I approve

Going back to watching alone after having friends over for All In feels kind of lonely

Mox desires Darby (for a talk but also what if...)

Is Mox talking to the Bucks or Schiavone?

Aww the Conglomeration supports Hook

Aww they are so proud of Willow

CHICAGO STREET FIGHT FOR WILLOW AMD KRIS AT ALL OUT, THANK YOU FOR THIS PRECIOUS GIFT

Hook and Orange just kinda hanging out, love yhay for them

HANGMAN VS BIG TOM

SWERVE

They are going to kill each other and then kiss each other and do it all over again forever

HANGER WANTS SWERVE ON HIS KNEES

STEEL CAGE MATCH

JAMIE RETURNS AND GOD I HAVE MISSED THAT THEME

Vs Harley, I'm so happy

Toxic Ex Roddy, leave Kyle and his new friends alone

Lol I may have gotten my neck burned but at least I haven't taken a Tiger Driver 91.

Have there ever been any SovCit wrestlers? Like, gimmick, not for real.

Dang, did Garcia bulk up?

WAIT DID HE JUST SAY RUINING MJF'S LIFE IS HIS FETISH?!

GET GLOMMED LEARNING TREE (AND RODDY)

Oh that reminds me, I should sleep in my neck brace tonight

God, I love the picture in picture commentary.

Big Bill's legs go up to, like, the upper half of Orange's ribs, goddamn

Height difference kink folks, this one is for you

Aww, Kyle and Mark celebrating with Orange, who was actually smiling

Roddy no put that down it isn't yours

Aww Mercedes party and Private Party is there!

Lol Zay shooting his shot

OKADA BACKING UP MERCEDES

Okada doing her dance!

MARIAH. In a robe? hmmmm

She's like "I wouldn't date any of you bitches."

Oh... my...

GYV TIME

Matt's bitchy little faces are perfect

TAKESHITA MY BOY

RICOCHET VS FLETCHER RIGHT INTO MY VEINS

Aww, Ospreay showing up for Kyle

...Pac? Oh right, the International belt

GIVE ME PAC VS RICOCHET

"This one belongs to me." Excuse me

MARINA!!!!!!

Danielson time!

STOP SCARING US YOU DICK

Danielson vs Jack?!?!

Theory: Jack has learned to teleport

And now for painkillers and more sleep

[magnetictapedatastorage]

“Ask me to kill for you.” “No(t at that price)”

i have fem sniperspy thoughts. okay. the first time that spy hired sniper was the most satisfying mission of sniper's career. and now shes got an itch she can't scratch because for some reason, little miss ive-got-enemies doesn't want any more of them shot in the head! or, at least, she doesn't want them shot at the price sniper is charging. it would be idiotic to lower the price. unprofessional. needy. really, it's not that much lower. honestly. same number of digits.

it's hot in the Maldives, even in the shade. she barely remembers the way the way the target's greasy, balding, sunburnt head split like rotting fruit. instead she remembers the hotel phone, heavy in her hand, sweat dripping down her back in the freezing air conditioned room. it was barely 36 hours since she'd received a single black and white photo, and the entire time, she'd worked like a woman possessed, until he was dead. shot in the middle of one of his company's fields, while the farmhands were busy elsewhere.

"ma tireuse, perhaps I can find more work for you, if you are always to be so..."

when the silence stretches on in lieu of a compliment, sniper tries to complete the sentence, by offering "efficient." her voice is strained. she feels halfway suffocated by some kind of emotion, but she doesn't want the feeling to stop.

there is a sound not quite like agreement on the other end of the line, but the words give her enough of a rush to live off of. "Yes, efficient, you were certainly faster than I had expected." Sniper breathes a near-silent sigh of relief. The bed she's sitting on is still made, from when she checked in yesterday morning, before spending all day and night on the stakeout. "Nonetheless, there are, shall we say, economic concerns. I'm not asking for a bulk discount, nothing of the sort, but if you're to become my on-call, I cannot be forced to keep such a conspicuously liquid account in order to access you."

It takes sniper nearly a full minute to try and parse all of that, especially with the way her client's voice seemed to drip like honey over every word. and how tired she was from the heat. but sure, she can go a little cheaper. nothing crazy. "What kind of budget limitation are we talking about?" she steels herself for a crushingly low number. somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows she'd accept almost anything.

"ma tireuse you misunderstand me. I am giving you full access to my account. I trust that you will be able to control yourself."

the change is so fast, she feels lightheaded for months. no matter where she goes, what hotel she books, she is simply never billed. and far from needing to buy ammo in cash out of the back of a pickup truck in the middle of nowhere, she's shaking hands with the 5th-in-command of the Sicilian mob, and taking home a rifle in a bassoon case.

spy made the calculation that she was worth more as a loyal, long term investment than as an exploitable source of cheap kills.

sniper is living in an apartment for a month or whatever, there's down time while spy is under the radar for a very delicate plan. sniper goes to bed alone. she wakes up alone. but in the middle of the night She Was Not Alone. 

and it's not like spy had to break in or anything. technically it's her apartment. she's the one paying for it. she'd been a bit surprised to find herself so thoroughly wrapped in long limbs, and it had been a challenge to extract herself, but she slipped away eventually, and long before the woman awoke. it was an acceptable way to spend the night, and to lose the tail that had been following her the past few days. 

sniper awoke fully wrapped around her pillow, as if she'd been afraid of it trying to escape. and the coffee machine was on.

she'd never take a trophy while out on a job, but she does take the bullet casings home (more out of hiding her tracks than anything). and if those casings make their way on to spy's desk on a regular basis than who's to say what that's all about.

[dalejagger]

𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶   …   𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚂   //

BIOGRAPHY   /   DOSSIER   /   GALLERY   /   MUSINGS

𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶   …   𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽   //

𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴   …   Dale Augustus Jagger, aka DJ. 𝙰𝙶𝙴 & 𝙳𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙱𝙸𝚁𝚃𝙷   …   25 & 09 / 25 / 1996. 𝙷𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 & 𝚆𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃   …   5 ft, 7 in & 138 lbs. 𝙱𝙸𝚁𝚃𝙷𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴   …   Santa Cruz, California. 𝙲𝚄𝚁𝚁𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙻𝚈 𝙸𝙽   …   Los Angeles, California. 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝚃𝚈   …   Cisgender male. 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙵𝙴𝚁𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙽𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚂   …   He, him, & his. 𝚂𝙴𝚇𝚄𝙰𝙻 𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽   …   Homosexual. 𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂   …   Single, mingling.

𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶   …   𝚃𝙻𝙳𝚁 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳   //

❰  𝚃𝚆  ❱  Infidelity, drug use, & sex work.

𝟶𝟷.   Born in Santa Cruz, California and raised by a single mother. She worked multiple jobs to pay bills / put food on the table, and he often tagged along since she couldn’t afford a steady babysitter.

𝟶𝟸.    He learned from an early age that the hardest and most dedicated workers often don’t get the payout they deserve. It’s given him a slightly jaded view on life and humanity at large. He’s trying to remain optimistic, though. At least for right now, anyway.

𝟶𝟹.   Come middle school, his mother put him in charge of grocery shopping and cooking. At first, he thought he would hate it, but little did he know that he’d fall in love with being in the kitchen; preparing meals becoming one of his favorite parts of the day. Around this time, Dale also discovered a passion for athletics.

𝟶𝟺.   In high school, he was your typical golden boy jock. His sport of choice was soccer, and he was highly regarded as one of the best on his high school’s team. If not for soccer, he likely wouldn’t have gotten decent grades, but the love of the game kept him in check. He was popular; had tons of friends, girlfriends, flings, etc.

𝟶𝟻.   Throughout this time, he remained closeted in the hallways at school, but unveiled himself much more online; engaging more with his community behind the anonymity the worldwide web allows. He was always terrified of what coming out as gay would do for him in high school, especially with his “status” among everyone, so he kept that to himself… even if it meant he was unfaithful in relationships. Cyber-sex is still considered cheating.

𝟶𝟼.   Upon graduation, he accepted a scholarship to attend the University of California—Los Angeles; wanting to get away from Santa Cruz. Here, though, his lifestyle completely changed. He became your typical obnoxious frat boy—partying all the time, watching his grades sink, and even going so far as to sell adult content of himself online to bulk up his bank account; fraternizing with people who were not good influences on him whatsoever. He only lasted three semesters before failing out of school. After, he returned to Santa Cruz and worked hard to get sober.

𝟶𝟽.   Laid low, worked at a bistro for awhile—which wasn’t the best decision for him as he was trying to remain sober, but it’s what he could find upon moving back—and a few years into his return to Santa Cruz, he was informed that he inherited a house and $100,000 from a distant relative on his dad’s side. He has no idea why this happened to him, but he used it as inspiration to completely start over. Dale moved back to Los Angeles, became certified as a personal trainer and nutritional therapy practitioner, and has been working on his private practice slowly, but surely; offering health and wellness services to the people in the city.

𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶   …   𝚃𝚈𝙿𝙸𝚂𝚃'𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴   //

Hi, new friends! My name is Alé and I can’t wait to meet you, and write with you! Dale is a muse that’s based on an old one of mine, but with fresher ideas, so while I’m somewhat familiar with him and how he operates, it’ll be so exciting for me to view him in this directory as it’s a completely new space for him to explore! I typically prefer plotting based on chemistry and by brainstorming personalized ideas with other typists, however, I’m happy to take a look at any wanted plots or connections you may have for your muses that Dale could fit into! I’m always happy to chat and plot with you, so don’t hesitate to reach out and say hey! It’s been awhile since I’ve roleplayed, but I’m eager to get writing!

[zumpietoo]

Oh Also....

Gonna revisit this bitch in general, now

A) Charli is a snide, smug cuntwipe----and I kinda always knew that?

B) Her posturing here makes me question her past abuse etc....and I shall now launch into a rant...

That actually has nothing to do with Cole, per se....because when you accuse him of abuse for, literally, being human....you don’t “hurt” him, (even tho I get that’s your goal as pathetic haters)....you know who you fucking hurt? Actual victims of abuse....

Because you fucking trivialize something insanely serious into “failed to pet some sadgurl’s hair on cue”.....that isn’t abuse. It doesn’t even approach the threshold for “kinda a dick” or even “slightly insensitive”.....

And no, it does work where “if I feel it was abuse, then it was abuse”, because that isn’t a thing....and no amount of whiny sadgurl bullshit will make it that way.

So how do I dare say this/claim to know/etc?

BECAUSE I WAS IN AN ABUSIVE MARRIAGE FOR LIKE FOREVER....

And grew up in a household that was also abusive, with my pretentious brother frequently the same person doling it out (probably the most significant instance was him trying to shove my head through a closed window while choking me).

And my ex husband had two affairs during our marriage, which he felt fully entitled to, in both instances, particularly the second one....as a way to punish me...

And I can attest, that was, unquestionably, the least of the shit he did to me and to our daughter. 

And, yes, his abuse did not start out as physical, nor did it start quickly....

And it most assuredly did NOT consist of merely failing to be a perfect partner to me at all times....and any time, anybody comes out with that shit? You’re minimizing what real abuse is and what it does to you. 

Additionally, I saw some bullshit on reddit that Cole “financially abused” Breetch....because he “expected her to split the bills 50/50″.

A) No he didn’t and Breetch, herself has said as much. She whined, later, about how $$$ his apartment was and how she paid $600 a month towards rent and didn’t think his apartment cost that much.....duuuudddeee....it was a large 1 bedroom (at least) in NYC, with multiple views that you bragged about and a terrace. $600 doesn’t (and didn’t a decade ago, either) even cover half rent on a 1 bedroom in Seattle, where you’re from. 

B) She expressly stated she offered and wanted to contribute

C) Expecting your partner to contribute financially isn’t “financial abuse”---even if you have lots of $$$, plus we don’t actually know what/how the situation was, past the above. Cole lives fairly modestly for a millionaire, but we’ve seen, countless times, he has no issue whatsoever opening his wallet.

D) Both Breetch and PP have routinely let it slide they’re golddiggers themselves/want a dude to foot the bill.....now THAT could (not here, but just sayin’) constitute “financial abuse”.

E) Breetch chose to move to NYC. She chose to live there. 

Anyway, again.....

If Cole did cheat (he didn’t, but whatever), that is not a crime. They were not married, engaged or even lived together for the bulk their relationship.....they also turn out to have had a lot of break ups throughout. 

And if he did, it isn’t “abuse”. Nor are any of the things they’ve accused him of. That some of you haters hate him does not make him “abusive”. 

FUCKING STOP WITH THIS. YOU’RE HURTING EVERY REAL ABUSE VICTIM EVERY TIME YOU DO THIS BULLSHIT

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

well I've had an interesting first week of the year back at work. I managed to get through to my usual doctor this week, which is a bit of a miracle, considering she's always back late jan/early feb each year. she's recommended 3 places for me to ring to follow up on a probable ADHD diagnosis. the best one is one in Sydney, in Bondi.

but to do all of their tests would mean I'd try to jam them into a week, if I could (probs not let's be real), or each time I do one I spend on a hotel room to stay up there, since I just wouldn't feel bothered to the 2 hour drive home after 8 hours of tests. but the Sydney one gives you a brain scan which would be super cool. but also if you managed to get bulk billed, it's $1,200. also they don't focus on meds, they focus on "brain based" and behaviour change stuff.

the other 2 places are local to my area, but you have to ring to find out their prices. but on the other hand, my doc said to leave all this stiff until after I have my colonoscopy that's booked for a couple weeks from now, on the 16th.

work is better since I'm not at a tired low point like I was at the end of last year. my boss is a bit happier that I'm turning up at the office at around 8:50 roughly and set up by 9. but yeah I hate having to cut my pre work bed relax after my bath each morning to 7:15 to get out the door by 8;20. but rn 8:20 is only working bc it's the school holidays so I'm not locked into the mronjng school run traffic and school zones right next to my house (basically). so it means I will have to bother to leave at 8:15 or whatever when school starts back up again on jan 31st.

but yeah. I still haven't handed in any of my unfinished (or unstarted) cadestship assessments; bc I forgot right before we left of chrissy/NY break to ask our outsourced IT guys to set up our VPN access app (it just gives you a code to type in) on my phone to access the work hard drive at home lmao. so I've meant to start this week, but I just haven't.

aside from work, the other interesting thing is that someone from the catholic school I went to for years 7-10 from 2008 til 2011, decided to invite me to a 10 year reunion that someone else from our year group from that school set up on Tuesday on fb for October this year. and I was just so surprised that someone bothered to remember me and invite me.... and I feel kinda touched tbh lol. bc i didn't even graduate with them properly, in a way, in 2013, bc I obvs graduated at the public school that I transferred to. it's so random that someone thought to invite me all these years later.

and I'm also stressing over the event a little. mostly on the level of what to wear to it, obvs lmao. but also, most of these people are successful working in good jobs. or they run their own successful local businesses/take over their parentd businesses.

while, on the other hand. I finish my cadetship in march, and I have no idea whether i'll be kept on where I am or whether I'll be somewhere else or jobless lmao. but anyway. it's going to be so weird seeing anyone from that school again, when half of them have kids and are married now or some have even divorced or split from their partners that they married in our early 20s (or at least that's what I've deduced from their name changes on fb back to their original last name I knew them by in school).

also im bitterly jealous of a few of them because they've bought their first house or have a second house and are using their first as an investment property. like bruh. am I the only one who still hasn't moved out of home yet??? and obvs there are obvs other people renting but still. am i the only one still at home??? I don't want questions about that tbh.

like is it even worth catching up with these people, when I still remember the derision I got from one of the girls from my group from that school, when I ran into her at uni back in 2016??? how she told me that everyone was actually SO GLAD that I'd left bc apparently they were all secretly harbouring embarrassment for my behaviour and my "attention seeking" or whatever the fuck she said to me???? but also part of me hopes that rich boy goes and is happy to see me and I'll get to congratulate him in person on his engagement or perhaps being married by the time this event happens (if it even does lmao). and that's my other thing. could just be an elaborate joke where they do this, and I turn up, but NO ONE is there???? like hello trust issues, aren't you looking very sexy this week.

[wild-houseplant]

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 I come to humbly ask for some Rhodri and Zevran smooches? Maybe one of these?

neck kisses that turn into love bites

a kiss while slow dancing

kissing the top of their head as you hold them

Or, maybe, maybe, if they strike you as fitting for them, maybe one of the last two could be for Van and Zevran? I think Zevran might be able to tempt Van into a dance, and the kissing the top of the head could be justified as being platonic? I'll leave this to your judgement ^^ But, as always, please choose and pick which you like best. Have a lovely weekend!!

MY FRIEND MY PAL MY BUDDY I HAVE ONE OF THESE READY AT THE MOMENT but I will work on the others later. For now, I humbly offer 'neck kisses that turn into love bites' for your consideration. I wouldn't call it NSFW but it IS neck kisses that turn into love bites so. It's at least a bit nippy. More under the cut! Thank you thank you for the ask!!! Hope you're having a great one today!!! §

§ The Minrathous galas were always the same. Not boring per se; certainly, the entire affair was lavish from start to finish, and that on its own was a fascinating thing. The cost of one meal alone would have covered Zevran’s food bill for months in the Rialto Alienage, never mind the unspoken competition between hosts to send guests home with the most opulent gifts. He always made sure to take two; after all, what self-respecting host would complain about that?

And the drama! For all the differences between Tevinter and Antiva, it had to be said that the nations were on equal footing when it came to arguments and intrigue at festivities.

It was the same with the flirting, when it came to that, though Rhodri appeared not to be aware of this. This despite the fact that between them, she was the one who caught the bulk of it. How was it that she still had the nerve, after two years back in Minrathous, to be shocked– displeased, even– when someone made a saucy remark to her? 

More to the point, how did so many more come-ons manage to escape her notice before the copper dropped? In what world was it normal to receive compliments on one’s shapely lips or devastating eyes as though the speaker had pontificated aloud on the weather?

In Rhodri’s, apparently. 

And now Zevran sat beside said wife, watching on with no small amount of amusement (and knowing anticipation, it had to be said) as her mouth fell open at the determined fellow’s remark about having her tongue somewhere on his face. The would-be gentleman caller was an exquisite specimen, there was no denying it. A true Tevinter beauty with those silver eyes and thick, dark hair dressed in the traditional style, occupying the adjacent chair in a sprawl that purposely showed off his long legs. He and Rhodri might have made a perfect match in another life.

Or perhaps this one, if she grew tired of Zevran now. Who could blame her?

Oh, stop it.

Rhodri sat up at her full height, her shoulders drawing back and face hardening as though the man had sassed her. And he certainly frowned like he was being accused thusly.

Zevran bit his lip– he couldn’t help himself– and the man watched on with a raised eyebrow as Rhodri, foregoing her usual cautiousness, circled an arm around Zevran’s waist. Her fingers latched onto his side, palpating and rubbing deep, insistent circles into the flesh there. For propriety’s sake, Zevran crossed his legs before his reaction to the uncharacteristic comfort-seeking could mortify all present. 

“You flatter me ser,” Rhodri said, moving Zevran closer to her as she spoke. “Thank you, I am joyfully married.” 

She took Zevran’s free hand and watched him like the other man– and the rest of the room– had ceased to exist (he had to cross his legs a little tighter at that). With a private, warm smile, she pressed a kiss to the knuckle of his wedding ring finger.

The fellow looked less than impressed by this display, but was not to be deterred. He flickered his eyebrows once and bit his lip.

“You are even married at parties, then, Magister?” he asked with a coy grin. 

It was doubtful, Zevran knew, that this would have continued had he been human. At the very least, it wouldn’t have happened directly in front of him. It was always this way. There was something– several somethings, he supposed; it couldn’t be race alone– about him that gave him an air of disposability.

Some unknown knot in Zevran’s belly loosened as Rhodri (who years on was still yet to notice any of those somethings) dragged him even closer, only stopping when their thighs were so crushed together that further movement was impossible. She kissed his knuckle again, and then a third time, her soft, darkening eyes meeting his ever so briefly before she looked back at the man.

“I am constantly, permanently married,” she said evenly. “There is no room for another on any occasion.”

The man glanced over at Zevran. His mouth twitched in one corner like he had barely stifled the urge to curl his lip. 

Zevran smirked, not quite bothering to feign polite apology to the rejected party. “She spoils me to within an inch of my life,” he said, half out of joviality and half because the nerves wouldn’t permit him to stay silent any longer.

“So it seems,” the man replied coolly.

Rhodri frowned and held Zevran to her a little tighter. “I do not ‘spoil' him," she insisted, glancing at Zevran. “You have what you deserve.”

Zevran chewed his cheek and gave her hand a small squeeze, chuckling fondly. The tension in her face melted most gratifyingly before she returned to the man.

“Was there anything else you wished to discuss, ser?” she asked matter-of-factly.

When he advised that there was not, Rhodri nodded, released Zevran, and rose to her feet. “If you would excuse me, then. Please enjoy your evening, and give my regards to your family."

Her hand dangled by her side, one palm turned out towards Zevran in silent invitation (never request) to be taken.

Zevran stood up and, with a wink to the rather disgruntled party, reclaimed his wife’s hand and let himself be led out of the ballroom.

Nestled in the back of a sizable alcove concealed behind a tapestry in the corridor– an interlude room, Zevran was told they were called here– Rhodri sighed and peered at him with concern. She dipped her head down and rubbed her forehead against his. “Are you all right, dulcis?” 

He chuckled. “Me? Oh, I am quite fine. I am not jealous, my love.”

“I know you’re not.” She snaked an arm around him and sealed her fingers firmly around his waist. “But those attentions aren’t for him.” Zevran’s eyes slid shut as she kissed an arch up his cheek, over his eyelids, down the other cheek. 

“Mmm…” he sighed.

Her mouth ghosted over the corner of his lips, leaving the tiniest hint of sweetness from the mango nectar she’d been drinking earlier. “They’re for you, sic?” she whispered. “Not for others.”

There wasn’t any need for such words, and Zevran should have said so. She had always told him that he could pursue others if he wished to, and he had said as much in return. Both of them had had multiple lovers at a time before they met. 

But he was a weak man; he said nothing. 

Rhodri walked him backwards until he was against a wall. Thick, hard legs nudged themselves between his softer ones, almost smacked into the stone behind him as Zevran swung his knees apart to give her passage.

“I,” she murmured, “am yours.” Her lips burned their way down his throat like he was soaked in alcohol, pressing in kiss after supplicating kiss. 

He let out a shuddering breath. “Sí.”

“And all my resources are yours, sic? Comprendis?”

“S-sí…” Zevran’s fumbling hands finally breached her robes. He fed his fingers under her shirt and dug his nails into the sensitive flesh in the small of her back. Rhodri let out a low moan and pulled his slackening body up her legs until their hips were flush against each other.

“My attentions are exclusively yours,” she growled onto his throat, chasing it with a kiss. “I don’t devote them to others, sic?” Another kiss. “And I did not care for that person’s attempts to divert them away from you.” 

Zevran groaned and clenched her a little harder. He got a third kiss for his trouble; four, five, six more, strung around his neck like pearls. Rhodri lingered under his jaw, arms tightening around him until without warning, she stood upright with him still plastered to her.

Panting, she pressed one more kiss into his throat and sighed, swivelling on her hips to steadily rock them both. 

Restrained urgency slowly ebbed to intrigue as he idly watched her ponytail sway in the self-made air current. Rhodri, who had been palpating his hips the entire time, harrumphed into his neck.

Resisting the urge to laugh, Zevran raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

She grunted. "Embarrassing." 

"What is?" He carefully tucked a newly-errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Hmm? What is embarrassing?"

Rhodri buried her face even further out of sight. “Grabbing at you and telling you things you already know whenever I’m flirted with,” she mumbled. “I always get like this.” She sighed. “Was I rude to that man?”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Not rude, no. A little abrupt perhaps, but he was being insistent. I would say that if you dispensed a punishment, it fit the crime. Is that fair?”

Zevran got a small ‘hmph’ in return; he snorted and straightened the collar of her robe. 

“And you know,” he crooned, “I rather like it when you get this way.”

“Mmph.”

He hooked a finger under her jaw and guided her back into view, grinning at the scarlet face appraising him.

Rhodri’s eyes widened as they fell on his neck. “Merciful fucksticks,” she gasped. “I’ve– your– oh, dear…”

Zevran chuckled wickedly. “Hmm?”

“The… ah…” she pointed down with her nose. “There’s… well, I seem to have– oh, dear.”

He slipped out of her arms and made for the mirror on the other side of the interlude room.

“They really have thought of everything, haven’t they?” he gestured at the day lounge he passed on the way to the mirror. “A surface to conduct the torrid affair, another chair to drape your clothes, and a mirror for tidying up afterwards! Ingenious! Now, let’s see what all this fuss is about…”

From behind him, Rhodri whimpered softly. He looked into the mirror and chortled as he caught the ring of red marks adorning his throat.

“Ooh, Rhodri!” Zevran cackled. “How many–? Two, four– seven love bites!” He turned and smirked victoriously at her. “I think that may be a personal best for you, mi sol!”

Rhodri covered her wine-red face with her hands and croaked miserably.

Zevran chuckled and peeled her hands away. “So bashful,” he purred. “Don’t you want to take me back into the saloon and show me off?”

His wife’s mouth fell open. “Show–? You look like you’ve been attacked by a sucker fish!” 

“Well, now,” he slipped his arms around her waist. “Is this your way of telling me I should start calling you my sucker fish? I thought you were fond of being called octopus, but perhaps I was a little off the mark.”

Rhodri’s eyes widened. “I–! Oh, my stars…” She grabbed the hem of her robes and fanned herself. “Is it just me, or is it getting immodest in here?”

Zevran snickered. “Just you, I think. I was talking about aquatic life, and here you are getting hot under the collar!” With a grin, he shook his head at her. “Truly, I don’t know what goes on in that filthy mind of yours sometimes. I, for one, came into the interlude room to be entirely chaste.”

Her expression was withering, but she snapped up his hand quick enough when he held it out to her.

“One lap around the hall?” he wheedled. “I want to see that man’s face when he catches sight of my neck.”

She tipped her head back and groaned. “Oh, how mortifying…”

“I guarantee he won’t bother either of us again after that.”

“Hmm?” Rhodri looked at him with renewed interest. “You think so?”

Zevran laughed. “I know so. One lap, and we’ll run for home. What say you, hmm? If you guide us past the dessert table, I can even steal some more of that pomegranate tart for you.”

His wife’s breathing grew heavy; he accepted his victory with a broad smile. “I knew you couldn’t say no to it.”

With a smug grin, he led them back toward the tapestry.

“Ah… dulcis?” Rhodri stilled him with a hand to his shoulder and stepped back in front of him. 

She was watching him with that small, tender frown of hers. Unable to resist himself, Zevran brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone. “Mmm?”

“You have…” she peered down at his neck and counted aloud, “... seven love bites.”

He accepted the reiterated fact with a nod. “I do, indeed.”

A blush had crept into her cheeks, and was spreading out to her ears with quite some speed. Her fingers rubbed his hand insistently, and as was usually the case during these moments of dogged bashfulness, not a single sound was issuing.

Zevran arched a brow at her. “My, my. Aren’t we shy today!” He bit his lip and chuckled. “Tell me everything, my love. Don’t spare the details, now.”

Rhodri’s gulp would have been audible from the other end of a crowded room. A new resolution came over her face, muscle by muscle, and she gave a single, firm nod. 

“I… don’t know if I ever told you this,” she declared, “but I don’t really care for odd numbers.” She paused, and with an enormous, wide-eyed wink, she added, “like seven.”

“Ooh,” he cackled, half-amused and half astonished by the unexpected flirtation. “Well then, you had better even me up then, my love. I prefer two-digit numbers, myself.”

Zevran tightened his fingers around Rhodri’s robe and hauled her away from the tapestry. She came so easily, so readily following his pull with that victorious, smitten grin on her face, and Zevran couldn’t help but feel wanted.

[huuxy]

So... I need to vent.

Our dog, 11 years old, passed a few months ago due to sickness (and also old age) and we didn't want a dog for a while.

First, because we have 6 cats, which is already a huge burden financially and other ways. We do love them ofc, but I admit it's a lot and it's very draining.

Second, because of the tiny human who was born last year November.

But this summer an acquaintance called us saying he found an abandoned dog next to the highway, and if we could adopt her. The dog needed help. We're people who can't turn our backs on anyone needing help. We were like, alright. Well give this dog a home. We'll try not to get too attached though. We'll give her the best food, toys, a giant backyard and a warm place to sleep. But we can't spend too much time with her, due to the above mentioned reasons. But still, it will be better for her than the other options she had.

It went well. For a while. Then she started throwing up. Vet said she was sensitive to her food. We donated the huge bulk of food we bought and got new food. She was fine for a while. Then she got worse again. Vet said, she must have eaten something weird in the backyard. Possible, I said. She's a very stupid dog honestly. We tried to put her on a diet. Got better, then worse. Nothing stayed in her anymore. Vet again. X-ray showed she has megaoesophagus.

The diagnosis wad bad in itself, but we had to find out if food can even reach her stomach at all, or if it's fully closed. There was only one doctor who did endoscopy in the country. 2 and an half hours drive from here, in the capital. Ok, we got an appointment, even though we're already in negative money-wise.

So, she was tested and the vet did the endoscopy. Her stomach was cleaned and she was sent home. Now she has to be fed 4-5 times a day tiny amounts and has to be held vertically for at least 20 minutes after that.

Yep.

The dog we didn't have time to get attached to, because we were busy, now has to be fed in a special way. And what's worse, she's issued to be an indoor dog from now on. She, who's a very much outdoorsy dog. This is horrible in every way. I can't afford staying still with the dog 20 minutes 5 times a day while tiny human is nyooming around the house hurting himself or who knows what else. The dog will go crazy indoors. The cats will go crazy if the dog is there. Vet bills already made sure we don't have a Christmas anymore, but we still have to keep bringing her to regular check ups.

So honestly I just want to scream.

We wanted to do something good. Take in the dog even though we were still mourning over the loss of our old dog and while trying to adjust being a 3 member family. But now I feel suffocated. I'm already depressed over not having time to draw and forgetting how to draw in general. Now as it seems, if I even have any free time in the future, it will be spent on keeping the dog alive. I love the dog, but I can't help feeling dreaded by this. She's 8 months old. So as it seems, we'll have about 10 years of special treatment for a dog we barely had time for in the first place.

And above all this, I'm sick for 2 weeks. The sickness is kinda over, but the infection went to my ears and I cannot hear almost anything for more than a week now. All this while tiny human is also being sick. I can barely even hear when he's crying and needing me...

I'm drained. I'm soooooo drained.

[sfarticles]

Blueberries are a succulent superfood

Check out my latest column

Last week I drove past the winding country road leading to the now-defunct blueberry farm where at least a couple of times during the summer I would stop to pick several buckets of my favorite summer fruit. It reminded me that I have not yet paid homage to the blueberry.

Though July is National Blueberry Month, it is never too late to celebrate this tiny fruit that is packed with many nutritional benefits. And, National Blueberry Muffin Day was July 11, an extra reason to indulge in a freshly baked treat with blueberries bursting with flavor.

Abundant this time of year, the succulent superfood is believed to have multiple health benefits. With a flavor that ranges between tart and sweet, blueberries can be used in myriad ways; the plump ones seem to be the sweeter ones.

There are two types of blueberries, lowbush and highbush. The ones we purchase at supermarkets, farm stands and markets are usually the latter. The wild lowbush variety is smaller and is processed into jams, juices, pie fillings, purees, etc. New England, especially Maine, as well as Canada are known for this kind.

According to the Blueberry Council, 10 states spanning the country produce 98% of U.S.-grown, highbush blueberries.

For those of us who crave blueberries year-round, Florida’s peak production season is March and April; and during our winter, South America is experiencing summer, and their crops are at their peak.

Wild blueberries are the lowbush type and are not planted, as they grow naturally. Living in the Northeast, many of us visit Maine, known for its wild blueberries. Did you know the Pine Tree State provides the bulk of the U.S. wild blueberry crop?

Although the pick-your-own farm is gone, I am still an avid fan of these blue gems. This time of year, my cart at the market usually has a pack or two. A recent sale coerced me to purchase four. With so many on hand and for inspiration, I perused my cookbook collection for recipes.

“Blueberry Love: 46 Sweet and Savory recipes for Pie, Jams, Smoothies, Sauces, and More,” by Cynthia Graubart. (2021, Storey Publishing, $12.95) was perfect. With recipes for jumbo, bakery-style, ginger-blueberry muffins; warm grilled chicken and blueberry salad; succulent pie; or even blueberry vodka, Graubart, a James Beard Award-winning author, created recipes that make blueberries center stage. She shares a few below.

These tips by the author will come in handy:

• Blueberries should be stored unwashed.

• To freeze fresh berries, spread them out on a baking sheet, unwashed and freeze. Rinse before using.

• To boost blueberry flavor, mix in some wild blueberries with cultivated ones in most recipes.This one surprised me…The adage of tossing blueberries in flour to prevent them from sinking in baked goods is ineffective.

Jumbo Bakery-­Style Ginger-­Blueberry Muffins

The headnote says: “These fluffy, big bakery-­style muffins have it all — taste, texture, and eye appeal — and were awarded a blue ribbon in the Machias Wild Blueberry Festival in Maine in 2019. A light zing of ginger, a little zip of spice, and the crunch from the topping of coarse sugar fit the bill. If the muffins aren’t devoured in one sitting, slice one open, toast, and slather with butter for a treat later. These muffins are best made with fresh blueberries.”

Makes 6 jumbo muffins

Ingredients:

3 cups all-­purpose flour

4 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup granulated sugar

2 eggs

1 cup milk

½ cup canola oil or other neutral oil

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon almond extract

2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries

¼ cup finely chopped crystallized ginger

Decorating sugar or other large-­grain sugar

Directions:

1. Set an oven rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Spray a jumbo six-­muffin pan with cooking spray or coat lightly with oil.

2. Whisk together the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt in a large bowl. Add the granulated sugar and whisk until thoroughly combined, at least 30 seconds.

3. Break up the eggs in a medium bowl with a whisk and whisk in the milk, oil, vanilla, and almond extract.

4. Make a well in the flour mixture and pour the egg mixture into the well. Using a silicone spatula, fold the egg mixture into the flour, scraping the bottom of the bowl at each turn. Mix gently but quickly. Avoid overmixing the batter.

5. Toss the blueberries and ginger on top of the batter and fold gently to incorporate the berries. Spoon the batter into the prepared muffin pan, filling each cup to the rim. Sprinkle the tops with decorating sugar.

6. Bake for 5 minutes. Reduce the oven temperature to 375 degrees  and bake for 25 to 26 minutes longer, or until tops are light golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean (avoiding a blueberry). Let cool for 10 minutes in the pan. Serve warm, or transfer to a wire rack to cool for storing. These muffins freeze well.

(Keller + Keller Photography)

Blueberry and Red Onion Salsa

The headnote says: “Grab the chips and enjoy this special summertime salsa. Reserve a small basil leaf or two for garnishing the top of the salsa. Substitute white wine vinegar or another light vinegar if white balsamic is not available.“

Makes 1 cup

Ingredients:

1 cup fresh blueberries

3 tablespoons minced red onion

2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil

2 teaspoons white balsamic vinegar

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Directions:

1. Smash half of the blueberries in the bottom of a small bowl with a potato masher or other implement.

2. Add the remaining blueberries, the onion, basil, and vinegar, and toss to combine. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

3. Refrigerate until serving. This may be made up to 8 hours in advance.

 (Keller + Keller Photography)

Blueberry, Watermelon, Feta Cheese and Mint Salad

The headnote says: “This salad is summer in a bowl. The red, white, and blue combination brightens any summer meal. For a significant side dish, place this fruit salad on a bed of mixed greens.”

Makes 4 servings

Ingredients:

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

1 teaspoon honey

2 tablespoons red or white wine vinegar

½ cup extra-­virgin olive oil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 cups watermelon, cut into ½ -­inch cubes

1 pint fresh blueberries

6 ounces feta cheese, crumbled or grated

Chopped fresh herbs such as basil, thyme, or rosemary

Directions:

1. Combine the mustard and honey in a small bowl. Whisk in the vinegar. While whisking, slowly drizzle in the oil and continue whisking until emulsified. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

2. Place the watermelon, blueberries and cheese in a large bowl. Serve with the reserved dressing and top with fresh herbs to taste. If making ahead, dress just before serving.

 (Keller + Keller Photography)

Salmon Fillets With Blueberry-­Onion Jam Glaze

The headnote says: “Salmon is a year-­round favorite, and blueberries love vinegar and onions, making a savory topping for the fish. Double the jam ingredients and use extra with any leftovers as an innovative sandwich spread.”

Makes 4–6 servings

Ingredients:

Jam:

1 tablespoon extra-­virgin olive oil

2 onions, sliced

1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries

1 cup water

¼ cup balsamic vinegar

1–2 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Salmon:

4–6 salmon steaks or fillets

Salt and freshly ground pepper

Fresh basil leaves, for garnish (optional)

Directions:

Make the jam:

1. Heat a large skillet over medium heat. When hot, add the oil and onions and cook for 2 minutes. Reduce the heat to low and cook until the onions are wilted and starting to turn brown, about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

2. Stir in the blueberries, water, and vinegar. Increase the heat to medium and cook until the blueberries have softened, about 5 minutes. Season with the sugar and salt and pepper to taste. Set aside.

Cook the salmon:

3. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with foil. Place the salmon fillets on the sheet and season with salt and pepper.

4. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, depending on the thickness of the salmon (about 10 minutes per inch of thickness), until the salmon is still slightly pink in the center. Remove the baking sheet from the oven and spoon a portion of the jam glaze over each fillet. Garnish with basil leaves, if desired, and serve hot.

(Keller + Keller Photography)

Homemade Blueberry Vodka

The headnote says: “True blueberry flavor shines in this homemade blueberry vodka, making it a great choice for drinking in a blueberry martini (page 68 shares one of the author’s favorite recipes). Plan ahead to infuse the vodka for five days, yielding the most flavorful results.”

Makes 1 (750 mL) bottle

Ingredients

4 cups fresh or frozen blueberries

1/3 cup sugar

2 tablespoons water

1 (750 mL) bottle vodka (about 3 cups)

Directions:

1. Cook the blueberries, sugar and water in a small saucepan over medium heat until the blueberries are soft and release their juices, 8 to 10 minutes. Set aside to cool.

2. Combine cooled blueberry mixture and vodka in a large nonreactive bowl and cover loosely. Let stand at room temperature for 4 hours.

3. Cover and refrigerate for 5 days, or until the vodka has been infused with the blueberry flavor.

4. Strain out the solids by pouring the mixture through a fine-­mesh strainer lined with cheesecloth into a glass jar or decanter. Gently press on the solids to extract a little more juice but avoid squeezing as that releases more sediment. Discard the solids, or reserve them to make No-­Waste Blueberry Butter (This recipe is on page 26 in the book or at https://stephenfries.com/recipes

5.Blueberry vodka keeps for 3 months in the refrigerator or for 6 months in the freezer in an airtight container.

Recipes excerpted from “Blueberry Love” by Cynthia Graubart, copyright 2021. Used with permission from Storey Publishing.

Stephen Fries is professor emeritus and former coordinator of the Hospitality Management Programs at Gateway Community College in New Haven, Conn. He has been a food and culinary travel columnist for the past 17 years and is co-founder of and host of “Worth Tasting,” a culinary walking tour of downtown New Haven, and three-day culinary adventures around the U.S. He is a board member of the International Association of Culinary Professionals. Email him at Stephen@stephenfries.com. For more, go to stephenfries.com.

[roseband]

so like i'm going on vacation at the end of this month (on the cheapest week/days of the year to travel lol and 6 days in nola with flights for two of us (minus food, which we eat anyways while home) is ~1k)

and like, i'm planning a small vacation (for myself and myself alone bc my fiance needs to save his pto for our honeymoon in a year cause I have 2 more weeks than him) for whenever the rose release their europe dates (i'm legit planning on going time zone by time zone for three hours until i snag a vvvip lmao, that will determine where i go, if i don't get a vvvip i probably won't do it)

and like i'm not looking forward to hearing bs from one of my coworkers about this, cause she's already kvetched about vacation #2, cause i went away w/ my family (and only took 4 pto days to do 8 days off by timing it well) at the beginning of the summer, and i have next month planned and put into the system and company calendar

and she's heavily implying that i have other ppl paying my bills (which LOL... nope, my fiance and i split things nearly proportionate (plus i have medical bills that he doesn't on top of our expenses), my mom pays our family plan phone bill, but i pay her coffee subscription and for dinners out to even it out) while she definitely makes more money than me

like girlllllll i spend $1.50-3/day on lunch, u buy lunch out which midtown is at least $15, closer to $18, there's the vacations...... there it is, $15 x 3 (days a week in office) x 4 (weeks a month) = $180/month, there's my extra two vacation compared to yours. That's .....fucking two thousand dollars dude, there's the family trip (which my portion was $750 cause my fiance, mom, and i split a room and divided it equally) and the anniversary trip I paid for both my fiance and I to go on (which is $1k, and my fiance is paying for our food and museum entry while away), you ate ur vacations as overpriced midtown salads....like... $1,750 isn't even all of the difference between home lunch, made in bulk and the $2.1k spent on midtown lunch in tourist hell, there's one of (hopefully) the flights one way to somewhere to see the rose lol

like i prioritize.... spending a week in jazz clubs, or 8 days in a hot tub and water park on a boat with my extended family, or....meeting the rose yet again (lol), over the convenience of midtown lunch (even though the last two weeks i've been super bad about midtown lunch, bc i've been so busy at work and come home and take a nap instead of cooking ;~;...but that's justifiable cause the overtime balances out the $15 lol (i am so tired i have to give another presentation in a half hour ;;;;;))

like the "how do u afford this while making less than me" which turns into "well seems fake tho but okay" is not fun???? because i am NUTS when it comes to money, i had to make myself a budget to make myself spend more on things i like, cause if i don't, i'll legit not spend anything, i will buy liver (yummy tho!!) for meals that cost $6 for four servings, or make BULK bulk chili that costs like $25 for 20 servings (which is actually really good!!! it's good chili i make good chili), every day... w/o my budget app telling me it's okay to spend

like i know she doesn't mean it in this manner cause no one at work knows, but she's literally digging on something i've had to deal with with a literal therapist, out of weird jealousy????? shtappppp like i literally have adhd/ocd combo diagnosed, pls....this is my mental BAD making me a frugal hoarder and i'm trying to stop it lol, and if i cannot defeat the two wolves fighting in my head day to day, i'll definitely go do BIG fun things instead

[chargetheintruder]

(Personal, Long) This is why I can't use 9-1-1 currently.

Yes, there's the issue of not being able to call for an ambulance for my health concerns without involving the police. The last 3 times I tried to get an ambulance I got cops instead, and while they weren't hostile they were, you know, police, not medical personnel, and then there had to be a second wait FOR the ambulance. And the sad part of that is, that's a fairly GOOD outcome for the United States: too often you dial 9-1-1 and what you get is Death on Wheels as Officer Trigger-Happy and his boyfriend, Officer Panic Attack, show up locked, loaded and dogs off the leash. Everyone's hyped up, but it's for the wrong reasons, to say the least. Too many police show up with a "who do I kill?" mindset versus a "who do I help?" one.

But this one runs deeper than that. More on that below the break.

I've had fairly serious health issues now for years. I've just had to sit there and watch in horror as my life's fallen apart, piece by piece as I've become more of a shut-in due to my bladder, prostate and colon issues becoming a constant and life-wrecking hassle. No sleep, no real chance to maintain laundry, no endurance left to get out there and do things with, and yeah, having the COVID-19 pandemic and its dysfunction to work around has been a mixed blessing at best.

But the main thing of it is this. I was forced to move across town and nearly completely out of zipcode in 2019. I've been banished from a centrally-located neighborhood in my town to being nearly in the boonies in the town next door--now I'm about 3 miles away from the bulk of my healthcare and I have neither a car or the license to legally drive one. There's mass transit bus service, sure, and that takes an hour's ride plus a walk to get to many places near Carle Hospital in town. So basically, I have no transportation I can reliably use to get to places without a longer trip than what my lower-body will tolerate.

So I did, a few times, have to use an ambulance service to get there to try to get help. And I got dumped by the Emergency Ward--basically given minimal meds/help and then told to "walk it off" and "go home" on foot, once late at night, once during the day, both times without even being told what bus routes run out to the place, or what my options were in terms of transportation home (and what I'd be billed for those). And yes, dumping happens, it's a thing:

And the last three times weren't any better. I got help with bus route info exactly ONCE from a specific nurse who even helped me make sure I had bus fare, but if she hadn't been there, nobody else would have been. The next one doesn't count--it was on my birthday 2 years ago and like an idiot, I admitted my physical health issues were emotionally distressing, and making me crazy. This got me put out to the Psychiatric Ward for my birthday, and then 6 days-ish of my being treated like dirt in the name of CBT exercises and enforcing obedience to Nurse #Karen. Although to be fair, EVERYONE in the Ward was being treated like dirt, half-starved by the lack of medically ordered dietary options, half-left to rot for want of access to hygiene goods, and a lot of us were left to fend for ourselves (and wait our turns for the most aggressive people to get done and get out of the way already). Point being, I got no help for the physical issues (I couldn't and they wouldn't), but I did at least get a ride home, after a colossal hassle.

Third time? Look, one side effect of the urinary tract business is that I get water issues (swelling, pain, bloating) in my feet and lower legs. I can't always stand and walk a lot. So I did get pushy ONCE and insist on a ride home on a "bill me later?" basis, since a) I don't have a smartphone for Uber purposes, and b) offering me an Uber home might have been a HIPAA (privacy act) violation on top of that. So I now owe a back debt (some 6 months old) of $36 bucks to the ambulance service. Meaning that won't work again, but at the same time, I didn't have to "walk it off" and dead-reckon/waddle my way home either like an unhinged duck trying to avoid being Duck Hunted By Police Helicopter. (all while hoping I don't pee myself all over the Mass Transit bus trying to get home from Downtown Urbana, ugh)

My point is? I've been dumped by Carle facilities at least twice. I also know going the Mental Health route won't work since it won't get me even trivial aid for the bladder/prostate issues. They'll just accuse me of being a drunk and/or uncooperative and go into Prison Warden Mode.

When here's the truth: the week of my birthday last month, during the night of August 17th into the day of the 18th, I had a CYST pop audibly in my urethra, inside of my literal penis. I had planned to do something about my student loans the tail end of August, but instead I had to spend the next 2 weeks biting down volcanic pain and taking store-brand over-the-counter stuff to keep myself out of sepsis and to take the edge off of the pain.

And there's at least two more CYSTS where that came from: one in my urethra, a second lying quietly on top of my bladder. A simple ultrasound could detect them both. But nah. I had the CT scan done, and now people insist on shoving robot probes up my butt (colonoscopy) and up my urethra (cystoscopy, yes, even with cysts present) with minimal doses of over-the-counter numbing agent, because By God, Mandated Suffering, I've Gotta Be AWAKE For This Shit, said no one BUT the insurer. Nobody but the right-wingers at Carle and Aetna actually want this. There's probably laws on the books keeping a Veterinarian from shoving robot probes into Dogs and Horses without knocking them out first, but nah, people are fair game.

But yeah. I have cysts, acting a lot like tumors. But Carle is like SETI. According to SETI, "It's not aliens because it's NEVER ALIENS, It's always DUST." Carle is "It's not Cancer because it's NEVER CANCER, because you're too fucking poor to help with that." Well, not unless you want robot probes shoved up your junk while you're being forced to be awake and watch your own torture.

If only I had the spare money to throw into having a bodily MRI done that I could submit INSTEAD OF the Robot Probing. But nah, that would be cheating, and expensive:

But mainly it would be Cheating right-wingers and #Karens out of their chances to gloat and chuckle over how "they get to suffer." And by suffer I might mean exploding cysts, and also having to deal with butt-seizures every time I fart or drop bowel, and near-constant blockage issues happening between the colon, prostate and bladder in there. Really, my life's been ruined for a couple of solid years already. I've already BEEN made a neutered shut-in by this condition, so Nurse #Karen and her radical feminist buddies can party and gloat and laugh right up until I Bite The Dust.

What am I saying? I have flagrant cysts. I do NOT feel good. I'm exhausted and in constant pain. I have anywhere from a few days to a few weeks left to live, and this isn't intentional on my part. My shoes are worn out and I don't have decent clothes left for a final trip to the hospital anyway. When the landlords kicked me out of town and Carle made all of this so difficult, they both sentenced me to death, and for what, being a townie on their precious Campus? :p

Something like that. I say that because I have to block a LOT out of my mind and make whole days and weeks a Blank Space just to NOT be traumatized by "everything, all the time" the way some folks say I am. I already have to block out and/or de-escalate from a lot as it is.

But yeah, I might be involuntarily dead or something, sooner than I'd like to be. Whether it's a few days or a few weeks, I don't know, but it doesn't feel so good, particularly around where my kidneys are. Things have gotten WORSE-worse. I will hang in as long as I can, but I can't promise miracles.

[sea-lilli]

I feel like if he got so stressed, because he feels like I’m “not being part of the team”, bc of my boundaries, and broke up with me, I’d be okay. I don’t think I’d be broken up with. Maybe. Idk. But I also think it’s not the type of relationship I’d want to be in.

What he seems to want is for me to financially support him. Him work every once in a while but me carry the bulk. Him driving my car, living in my house, (but getting credit for it and having claim to it if we broke up) etc. Me going with him every Thursday and Friday. Two hour trips in the morning, two in the afternoon. A two? three? hour trip on Sundays when he has her. Supporting him in half or more of the parenting responsibilities. Esp so he can be “fun dad.” Giving him couple hour breaks at home when he gets too worn out to deal with Jane, so at least once per day. Listening to him while he talks to me about all the pain management stuff and helping him figure out his anxiety. Me paying all the bills out of my money and him inconsistently paying me back or paying it late.

It’s just too much. I did set boundaries with the parenting, and that has been very effective though very stressful in the beginning. He has grown so much because of this and I’m finally more comfortable being more parental bc I know it’s more equal now than what it would have been in the past. I guess now I have to set car boundaries. And financial boundaries. The financial ones are already working as well honestly. He’s talking about working a day extra twice a month and banking the OT for a savings fund (after the holidays). Honestly even if he just had $1000 in reserve it would help my anxiety so much. I would feel to an extent that he could support himself if needed.

I think he’s just been given a lot of help throughout the years. His parents always bailed him out, or he had Emily to bail him out, and Emily had her rich parents. She said he took all her money & I believe it. Jax can kind of be a mooch. I love him, but it’s how he is.

[lihikainanea]

I read in the interview that Bill had a strict training schedule for Boy Kills World (before he left Sweden for Cape Town) that resulted in an injured leg and that for the photoshoot he was limping. Can you do a little story where Bill comes home limping from the injury and maybe he tries to hide it from Tiger because he knew she’d worry and say he’s working himself too hard? Or something similar?

I'm glad I'm not the only one that had this delicious thought. I wonder what part of his leg it was? The most common injury is to the thigh. Which is, ahem, really a beautiful thought isn't it?

But wait, let's back up a second here. When I read the summary of Boy Kills World I knew Bill would be undergoing some serious training if he had a hope of making this character look realistic. And I've waxed poetic before about my sheer desire to like...FIGHT Bill. Or at least, teach him how to fight. Because he has the potential to be a beautiful fighter, and he has so much to his advantage--not his height, actually, that's a disadvantage--but his long, long limbs. His litheness. With a little flexibility, he could be deadly.

And I am saddened that I don't know more Hollywood martial artists because I would love to be a fly on the wall.

But anyway, Bill has a lot of training to do. And I love this concept that like...tiger gets into it. That's so cute, isn't it? Tiger is all in for her Big Dude. Not on the training aspect, but on what he needs to bulk and sustain for the role. Once he gets his training plan, tiger asks if she can tag along to his meeting with his nutritionist--and Bill smiles a little bit when tiger sits down, all business, and actually takes out a notepad.

And the nutritionist is going over grams and proteins and when he needs to eat what and tiger is taking notes and Bill's heart could just explode--and when she starts actually asking questions, he's done for. She's asking about oils and fats and how she can cook his food and what he's not allowed, she's asking about caloric intake and how to calculate it, she's asking about protein sources and carbohydrate sources and flavours that he can have without adding too much bad calories.

Once they're back in the car Bill reaches over and grabs her chin softly, pulling her in for a kiss.

"You don't have to do this kid," he murmurs, "You don't have to do anything for me."

"I want to," she smiles, "This is going to be intense for you, bud. If there's something I can do to help lessen it, to make it a bit easier--I want to do it."

A shipment comes in the next day--two huge boxes--and it's full of protein powders and muscle builders and Bill eyes it wearily as tiger unpacks it all.

"You won't even realize you're eating it," she says as she organizes them, "I promise."

Bill gives her a dubious look.

"If anything, I'm gonna be the one noticing pal," she retorts.

"What?"

"Common knowledge," she says as she nonchalantly places another huge jar of aggressively-labeled product on the counter, "Muscle building diets make your spunk taste gross."

"What?!" Bill nearly chokes, but tiger is unfazed.

"It's true," she shrugs.

"Then I'll have to counterbalance it by eating like....an entire field of pineapples everyday."

"No pineapple allowed," she continues about her business, "Too high in sugar."

And listen, the next day when Bill is away training for like, 10 fucking hours--tiger gets shit done. She has an astronomically large grocery list. She has a meal plan for the next three weeks. She hauls everything home and starts washing, chopping, cooking, labelling. Her kitchen scale is working on overtime, everything is perfectly weighed out, cooked according to the strict guidelines she has to follow.

And then everything is put into containers, Tupperware, and labelled. Not only what it is, but when he needs to eat it. His intake at 6AM within 15 minutes of him waking up. 7:30AM breakfast. 10AM snack. Lunch. 2PM snack. 4PM snack. 6PM dinner.

The exact food he needs to eat, at the exact time he needs to eat it. By the time she's done, just one week's worth of his meals and snacks takes up nearly the entire refrigerator, and the rest is stocked in a deep freeze.

She's nursing a glass of wine by the time he gets home, sore and stiff, and she's waiting with a protein shake and a hug.

"How was what?" she asks, and Bill just groans.

"Come on big guy, I'll run you a bubble bath."

But then like, inevitably--when you train that hard, whether you're used to it or not--you're gonna get injured. It's to be expected. And maybe Bill is just in such a permanent state of soreness that he doesn't realize at first that he really is genuinely injured, but when he realizes it--shit, he's in pain. He walks with a noticeable limp. Now he has to start going in for physiotherapy sessions in addition to his workout sessions--and tiger is already doing so much for him, she's already fussing and fretting over him so much, that he doesn't want to add this on top of it. He doesn't want her to worry. So everyday he goes in and he gets the injury taped up, worked on, he gets his workouts in and then he takes the tape off and tries to walk normally. And it hurts--it hurts like hell--but he manages well enough that she doesn't notice.

That is, until he crawls into bed one night and shrugs off his sweats. Tiger kisses his chin, then the hollow of his neck, then his chest. He groans as she makes her way down further, leaving suckling kisses, but then her hands run across his thighs and she stops. His eyes widen.

“What the fuck is this?” she asks.

He forgot to take off the tape.

“Uh....” he stammers. She pinches his belly and he shrieks.

“I got hurt,” he mumbles.

“You got hurt?” she repeats, “When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Ugh, Bill!” she pinches his belly again and he jerks.

“Ow tiger,” he whines, dragging it out, “Stop pinching me.”

She pushes the covers down and sits up. He bites his lip as he looks up at her sheepishly. 

“What happened?” she runs her hand gently over the tape, and he sighs.

“It’s a pulled muscle. I twisted wrong in one of the fight choreographies and messed it up,” he tells her.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Does it hurt?” she asks again.

“...yes,” he admits.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she leans down, closer to his face and runs her fingers over his brow.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry,” he admits, “You’re doing so much for me already, kid. I didn’t want this added on top of it.”

“I could have helped,” she says softly.

“The only thing that helps is brutal physiotherapy,” he readjusts his head on the pillow, and then smirks devilishly. “And blow jobs.”

“And blow jobs eh?” she chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s science,” he says, “Doctor’s orders.”