#but I had less than 2 weeks of sick days so should of at least gotten half of a paycheck?

[lo-carb]

NortonLL was hacked/breached and good lord am I glad I no longer work there. They prided themselves with being the best security company and not having breaches for years (what they would tell us to say.) Thank fuck I don't have to be on the other end of the phone line trying to excuse what happened and all of Lifelock's other weird monitoring services as well to boomers who cry just trying to reset their passwords. Ugh

[baby-yongbok]

Ex : Part II

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

⇝ Genre: Angst then Smut then angst again. Dirty Drama.

⇝ Summary: There's only one thing on your mind after 'welcoming' Hyunjin back into your life.

⇝ Warnings: Themes of Cheating, Arguing, Oral sex, Hyunjin is toxic - the manipulative type - and he seriously thinks he did nothing wrong. (I think that's all, let me know if I missed anything!)

⇝ Word Count: 3.2k

⇝ A/N: SO MANY of you wanted a part 2 to this so I tried my best + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ I hope that you enjoy the drama! 💕

✧ Part One ✧ Masterlist ✧

It took you a week. A week of crying and screaming, a week of avoiding your friends, a week of him ignoring your calls for you to realize that Hyunjin has you fucked up if he thinks that you’re going to let him get away with what he put you through. At first you just wanted to talk to him, you thought that maybe you could convince him to cut Yara off. You thought that you could change him - how cliche. You called him for three days and when you got sick of getting his voicemail you called his best friend, Jeongin. He was surprised to hear from you but he was even more surprised when you told him everything that happened. 

“Are you fucking serious?” For the first time since Hyunjin left you crying on your bedroom floor you let it all out. You told Jeongin every dirty detail of the encounter. You cried and he was there for you, he did what Hyunjin hasn’t done for months. “Is there anything that I can do? Anything you need?” 

The line fell silent as you processed his question. Your brain is telling you one thing while your heart is telling you another. You sigh as the two battle for dominance over what comes out of your mouth next. You’ve let your heart make all of the moves for the past three days. You’ve cried and you’ve screamed all in favor of lifting the crushing pain off of your chest for an hour or two. Now it’s your brain's turn to decide and it only wants one thing. 

“Ya know there is something that you can help me with.” Your heart pleads for you to choose something less drastic, less dramatic but your brain yells for it to shut up. Why should we let Hyunjin have all the fun? “Anything, you name it.”

“Revenge.”

Hyunjin came to your place four days after you spoke to Jeongin. He had cherry red roses in his hand and an apology plastered on his face. His eyes were pleading with you before he could even open his mouth but to his surprise you hugged him. You held him tight and smiled, taking the flowers and making a home for them in your favorite vase. He was stunned to say the least but he didn’t comment. He needed you. His ex did exactly what you knew she would, she took all that she wanted from him and the second that she started to get attention from somewhere else she acted like he didn’t exist. 

He tried to be the boyfriend that you’ve been wanting him to be over the next couple of weeks but he couldn’t seem to get a hold of you. Each and every time that he’d plan a date or show up to surprise you, you were already out or you were leaving to meet with your friends. You barely answered his texts and he’s more than positive that you’ve been sending him to voicemail for the past week. It’s been a month of him putting up with you blowing him off and he’s sick of it.

He decided to show up at your place two hours before your plans to talk to you, maybe he can get you to stay home and spend some time with him tonight. He misses you more than you could even imagine and he thought that you’ve been missing him too. Shouldn’t you be dying to spend time with him? 

His face drops when he gets to your front door and his key doesn’t fit into the lock, did you change it? He rings the bell, tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for you to open the door. His eyes meet yours when it swings open and you smile at him, welcoming him in. 

“My key didn’t work.” He comments as he kicks his shoes off.

“Really? That’s odd.” You shrug as you make your way to your bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.” You call to him as the bathroom door closes behind you. The click of the lock draws a sigh from Hyunjin. Not even a kiss or a hug? Just a friendly hello like you’re not even dating. He drags himself to your bedroom and throws himself on your perfectly made bed. His thoughts project onto the ceiling as he stares at it. He feels like he’s going crazy, why are you acting so weird? No affection, barely talking, barely hanging out and you’re always on… Oh no. He sits up quickly, his eyes dart around the room until it finally lands on what he’s looking for on your bedside table.

Your Phone.

He glances over at your bedroom door before grabbing it. The screen lights up and a picture of you and your friends presents itself to him. That’s funny, wasn’t your wallpaper that picture of you two from when you went to the aquarium for your second date. You always said that that was your favorite picture. When did you change it?

He glances towards the door again and swipes your screen, his brain is busy thinking of possible password combinations but there is no password. His brows pinch together in confusion, you always have a pin on your phone. He decides to worry about that later and quickly starts searching all of your apps. He goes from your instagram to your snapchat but there’s nothing. Just a bunch of reels being sent between you and Jeongin, the last person you sent a picture to on snapchat was also Jeongin. How can his best friend have time to talk to you but he doesn’t have time to text him back? He’s called him an unimaginable amount of times over the past month but he hasn’t heard a single thing back. His finger hovers over your text messages for a second too long. What if he doesn’t like what he finds? What if you’re cheating on him? How could he handle a betrayal like that? With one more quick glance towards the door he taps the app and it opens up to a conversation. Hyunjin’s heart drops when he reads the name at the top. 

“What?” An incredulous sigh escapes him as he starts scrolling to the top of the conversation. Pet names are being thrown left and right, plans are being made every single day and there are back to back facetime calls in the dark hours of the night. 

Hyunjin’s heart is pounding in his ears and his fingers are moving so fast that he didn’t even realize that he went into your shared media. He freezes and his heart drops to his ass as he takes it all in. Nudes, videos, everything that he could imagine, all of you and his best friend. All of you and Jeongin. He opens a video and his mouth goes dry at the lewd sounds that fill the room. He’s fucking you from behind with a fist full of your hair to keep your head up. You’re drooling and moaning and Jeongin is smiling, he’s fucking smiling at the camera. His shirt - wait a minute - that’s not his. Hyunjin’s eyes go wide as he studies the fabric, his best friend is wearing his clothes while he fucks his girlfriend? Unbelievable, this can’t be real.

He quickly exits the video and scrolls through your pictures. You and Jeongin in the car, in your bedroom, your living, you on your knees and him on his. Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to look at the door to make sure you aren’t coming. He can’t hear anything but the thoughts racing through his head. His finger slips and another video opens. The sound of skin against skin echoes through his ears as the video plays. Jeongin is shirtless, fucking you in front of your bathroom mirror. Actually, he’s naked, did you two shower together? Hyunjin balls a fist in the blanket under him as he watches the video.

“Say it again, baby, say it to the camera.” A broken moan escapes you as you try to follow Jeongin’s order. “Y-you’re so much better than him, fuck me so good, Innie.” Hyunjin swears that his heart broke at the sound of you. Why would you say that? You don’t mean it do you? What did he do to deserve this?

He pauses the video and drops your phone against the mattress, your texts stare back at him and he can’t help but to scroll. “That’s not yours.” He jumps at the sound of your voice and you laugh. You wander over to lazily flip through your closet with a towel wrapped around your hair and your rob loosely tied around your body.

“What the fuck is all of this?” His voice is small, much smaller than he meant for it to be but you can hear the heartbreak laced in it. You almost feel bad for him. But that’s your heart speaking, she’s not in control right now. “You’re fucking Jeongin?”

You pick out a dress and move to your mirror, you tilt your head as you hold it against your body. “Think this is too much for a dinner date?” Hyunjin scoffs, moving to stand from your bed.

“Answer me, tell me that everything that I just found is fake. Tell me that you didn’t betray me.” He has some nerve talking about betrayal. You face him, staring back at him with faux sympathy. “I was lonely when you left, what was I supposed to do?” 

“Wait for me to get back.” You turn your attention back to your closet but he calls your name before you can pick out another dress. “You haven’t been going out with your friends have you? You’ve been with him. What in your right mind possessed you to fuck my best friend?”

“Do you really care, Hyunjin? Do you really want me to tell you? Cause I’ll tell you everything but that’s not what you want to hear, is it?” He watches as you slowly step towards him, like a vixen with her eyes set on a prize. “You wanna hear me say that I love you. You want me to say that I’ll stop seeing him because I need you.” 

He’s stuck in place as he watches you, heavy breaths passing his parted lips as you read him like a book. That’s exactly what he wants, he wants you, that’s all he’s wanted for the past month. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” His voice is a mere whisper once you reach him, like he’d scare you away if he talks too loudly. “That’s what I want.” He shudders when you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. 

“Are you touch starved, baby?” His soft gaze pours into yours but he doesn’t recognize the look in your eyes. It’s not what he wants but he’ll gladly take it. At least you’re looking at him. “Didn’t your ex touch you while you were away?”

His heart sinks and a smile creeps onto your lips. “She - she did but -” You tsk, cutting him off before he could stumble over his words further. 

“She didn’t make you feel like I do, did she?” He shakes his head, guilty eyes staring back into yours as you reach down to palm him over his sweats. “Is that why you’re back? She didn’t take care of my Hyune?”

“She’s not you.” His breath is heavy and his eyes roll back as he answers with a thick groan. You run your fingers over him with expert precision. You’ve always known what to do to get him going. “I want you, not her. Always you.”

“Untie my robe.” You whisper and he quickly obeys, fumbling with the loose knot until the fuzzy fabric falls open and reveals your naked body to him. “Wanna show me how much you want me?” He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss but you dodge him before he can. A disapproving whimper escapes him and you puff out your lip in a fake pout. 

“Gotta be patient, my baby. Can you do that?” He nods, whimpering out a pathetic ‘yes’. His eyes follow your frame as you sit on the edge of your bed. Your eyes wander from his down to the floor in front of you and back up again. He quickly follows your unspoken instruction, falling to his knees in front of you and drooling when you part your legs before him. “Show me.”

Hyunjin latches onto your core like a desperate puppy. His tongue wastes no time exploring every inch of you that he’s missed. Hums and moans vibrate through him as he tastes you and you match each sound with your head thrown back and your fingers laced in his hair. At least he remembers how to eat your pussy the way that you like it, though you must admit that you’ve gotten used to Jeongin’s mouth on you. 

Your bed creaks as his hips buck against it in a desperate attempt to feel half as good as you do. “Fuck, come on, Hyune. Don’t tell me your best friend eats my pussy better than you.” He groans in protest, hooking his arms around your thighs to keep you open while he works against you. You gasp in pleasure, so he’s competitive? He swirls his tongue in imaginary patterns, sliding it between your folds as he takes turns sucking on your clit and fucking your pulsing hole. His hips grind restlessly against the edge of your mattress and desperate grunts fill the air once they vibrate through your core. 

“You missed me didn’t you?” You pull him back with your fist in his hair, his swollen lips glisten in the low lamp light and his eyes are glazed with fuckout desperation. “Yeah, missed you.”  He’s too deep into the brain fog to hear just how pathetic he sounds but you’re more than happy to take it all in for him. A strangled moan escapes you as Hyunjin's tongue explores deeper. You grip his hair tighter as he laps up your juices, and you arch your back to meet him. 

His thrusts against your mattress become more desperate as laps at you, The mess of your drooling cunt makes a mess all over his chin as he works desperately to get you to the edge but that’s not the part that gets you close. It’s the thought of him hoping and praying that hi tongue is fucking you better than Jeongin ever did and as you get closer to coming undone you find yourself clenching at the thought that his best friend does it better. “Shit, Jeongin, I’m gonna cum.” 

 Your orgasm rips through you with a loud moan and your body shudders in pleasure. You hold Hyunjin's head in place against your core as his tongue continues to work diligently in an attempt to help you ride out your orgasm. Once you’ve come down from your high he pulls back slowly, a single string of spit still connecting him to your cunt.

“What did you call me?” He mumbles, not even bothering to wipe his mouth clean. You stare down at him with not an ounce of care in your eyes. 

“Don’t remember.” You pull your robe closed and slide from in front of him to pull yourself up to your feet. “And I don’t care.” Hyunjin’s heart dissolves as he watches you shrug and wander back over to your closet.

“What are you doing?” He mumbles and you scoff.

“Will you stop with the pitiful tone?” He scrambles up from his knees quickly, a surge of anger running through him. 

“Come on.” He stalks over and wraps his arms around you, leaning in to kiss your neck but you push him away before he can. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I have a date to get ready for.” You flip through your clothes and it’s only now that he notices the empty space in your closet. “Where are my clothes?” 

“I told you to take all of your shit last month.” You shrug, pulling out a dress and holding it against your body in the mirror. “You didn’t take it so I gave most of it to Jeongin. Thought about burning the rest but I donated it instead.”

He watches you silently, jaw hung slack in a frozen state of disbelief. “Are there fucking cameras in here?” He looks around, half desperate for that to be the case. “Is this a joke?”

“The only joke here is you. Did you think that you could come back here and I’d act like nothing happened?” A venomous laugh erupts from your chest. “Be fucking forreal.”

“But we just fucked, I just ate you out why would you let that happen if you’re still going to see Jeongin?” 

“You got a phone call last time. You owe me, remember?” Hyunjin can’t decide if he should be livid or desperate. He wants to yell and curse you out for being so ridiculous but at the same time he wants to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. He had hoped that you understood what happened a month ago. He thought that he could count on you to see that he only did what he had to do. Yeah he cheated but if you really loved him you could move past that. 

“You’re excused. I need to get ready.” You push past him, bumping your shoulder with his but he grabs you by the waist before you can get too far, pulling you against his chest. “Don’t be like that, angel.”

 His hands run smoothly up your side, taking in every curve of you. “I know I upset you but you can’t act like you don’t want me. What happened to you forgiving me?”

His lips brush over yours slowly as he whispers. “I want you so badly, I wanna be with you tonight. Stay here with me.” You smile against him as the towel containing your hair slips off of your head and your damp curls curtain around the two of you. You run your hands up his chest, taking in each and every toned dip before you whisper back. “Get out.” You peck his lips and push him away from you with a smile.

“You’re making a mistake.” He pleads with wide eyes blown with anguish. “He doesn’t make you feel like I do, you know that.” Your ringtone bounces off of the walls before you get a chance to answer him. You reach across your mattress and smile when you see Jeongin’s name.

“You’re right.” You shrug, swiping to answer the call. “He makes me feel so much better.” Hyunjin’s jaw clenches as you press the phone to your ear with a smile. You greet his best friend with a sweet tone that used to be exclusively for him. Hyunjin is practically invisible to you as you buzz around your room grabbing accessories and planning your outfit. It isn’t until he grabs your wrist on your way to your vanity that you look at him again.

“Please don’t do this.” Jeongin’s voice is heard from the receiver before you can answer the man in front of you.

“Who’s that, baby?” He asks, and you smile as Hyunjin deflates.

 “No one.” You shrug off Hyunjin’s hold and he deflates as you passively wave him away. “That’s no one.”

Tag List: @dessianna1, @foxytoxxic, @snxfall (If you asked to be tagged and you weren't it's because you did not have your age in your bio. You MUST have your age in your bio to be tagged )

[crguang]

wasted with longing, part 2

You have never been so bothered in your life. Why? You refuse to admit it to yourself yet.

friends with benefits, afab!reader, gp!kafka, smut, mutual masturbation, facetime/video call sex, 6k words

A/N: after two whole months… we’re so back (im sorry). i giggled a lot writing this because the simple concept of fuckboy kafka is so ridiculous but i swear there’s a plot somewhere

part one part three

The bright light of your laptop screen starts to burn your retinas, and you blink quickly to chase away the fatigue building up under your eyelids. The words on the page stopped mattering over an hour ago yet you’re in no position to throw your work to the wind; you’ve already made it this far and this presentation is due in exactly 12 hours and 33 minutes. You’re at a stage where you blame everything and everyone that has ever contributed in leading you to where you sit against your bed’s headboard, lights dimmed low as your fingers brush over the keyboard in clicking sounds you’re deafened to. Your anxiety is the only thing keeping you awake, and if you cared about your job just a little less, you would have quit right then. You thought you’d left all-nighters in the past with boring college classes and tiny dorm rooms but life has an irritating way of repeating itself. 

You let out the hundredth sigh of the hour and take a moment to breathe in slowly through your nose, head tilted to the ceiling and eyes screwed shut, before exhaling loudly. You steel yourself for what you know is at least another hour of bullshitting statistics that you will do your best to present confidently this afternoon, but you can’t even pretend to like what you do anymore. Working in research has never been the most exciting career despite the occasional interesting discoveries you’ve been a part of. Still, you needed a job that would allow you to afford to live on your own in a city far away from your nagging parents and you were getting good at denying the fact that it is sucking the soul out of you. Your days are mundane, your routine unsatisfying, and you long for something more like most adults your age. You can’t quit until you find a better alternative that will pay you the same or more, so you bite back another exasperated groan and go back to your slides.

You wouldn’t be in this position eight days ago. You’ve had a week to come up with this presentation and instead of working on it like the diligent employee you usually are, most of your time was spent with your head in the clouds, preoccupied by someone who isn’t thinking about you. It makes you sick how bothered you are. It’s not like anything changed between the last time you talked and the one before that, and you were never as distracted by the lack of response as you have been this past week. You ignored your responsibilities, went out with friends four days in a row to convince yourself of your fake nonchalance just to find yourself in trouble that could have easily been avoided, anxious over the career you’ve worked so hard to earn.

Nothing good comes out of allowing that woman a bigger place in your thoughts than the three square feet corner she deserves, you know that. What frustrates you the most is that you don’t understand where this sudden concern for her lack of honesty comes from. Lies flow out of her like she was born with them on her lips; again, you know that. Then, what is the issue? Without identifying the root of the problem, you’re left a snowball of jumbled thoughts and insecurity steadily getting bigger as it nears the foot of the mountain until it inevitably crashes into a tree and falls apart completely. Why say things she doesn’t mean? Are you disposable? You hate her. Does she hate you? You should block her number. Why do you care? Screw her. 

…You wish you could.

Your laptop screen turns dark and snatches you back to reality. You got lost in thought again. You run a hand over your face, using two fingers to rub the inner corner of your eyes. You’re pathetic. Even now with this feeling of impending doom looming over you, your mind drifts to her and attempts to find reason behind her actions when there is likely none. Your work is important to you, she is not. Yet, you’re incapable of focusing on the PowerPoint in front of you. You start to wonder if you should lie down, rest your eyes for a few hours and finish the presentation when you wake up, right before you get ready to leave for the office. It would be cutting it extremely close, but you can’t think clearly anymore and the stress gets more paralyzing as the minutes go by. Another tired sigh escapes you. Maybe you simply need to relax a little, perhaps with some scalding tea. 

You push your laptop aside and stretch your body on the covers, arms over your head like a lazy cat. You’ll prepare a cup of tea to soothe your muscles then you’ll finish your work and go to bed. If you lie to yourself enough times, you believe you can make it. You straighten up and smooth down your hair. You’re about to stand up when a familiar ping! near you announces a new text message. You reach for your phone on your nightstand, thinking perhaps one of your friends got drunk again and needed a ride home, and tap the screen to open your notification center. 

You stare at the screen until it turns black, tap it so it lights up again and repeat the process a couple more times as your mind processes what your eyes are seeing and the implications behind it. You almost can’t believe the message you just got and have to click the notification to open up the private conversation; there, at 2:29 AM, Kafka sent you a video. You can’t make out much from the blurry cover, though the lighting seems low like it was filmed during the late evening. Your thumb hovers over it for a moment, wondering if she even meant to send that to you since she hasn’t texted or called since the last time you hooked up. In hindsight her behaviour is not so unusual, you thought you were used to her elusive ways but if the past week has taught you anything, it’s that you obviously expect something from her. Honesty, basic human decency— to not leave you feeling like a wet towel discarded in the laundry bin after she’s used it.

“…Fuck it.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you despite your self-pity at the prospect of always making yourself available for her no matter the time. It’s a coincidence, you tell yourself. The two of you have many of those. You press the play icon on the video and it expands to the full screen. The camera shakes a little, then steadies to show half of Kafka’s body from an inclined angle and part of her face, peach lips on display. She’s wearing a strapless dress, the kind only worn to impress, with a pearl necklace over her collarbone; it’s your first time seeing her in something other than casual clothes. You have to admit that you wish you could’ve seen the whole outfit, if only to… You don’t know. 

Kafka is sitting on a bed judging by the white sheets you can spot, and you blink several times at the unmistakable outline of her cock and hard nipples through the material of her dress. You watch in disbelief as she pulls the fabric up to her waist, revealing the garter belt around one of her thighs. Her hand slithers between her breasts and down her stomach to finally disappear under her clothes, but the way she begins stroking herself is purposely obvious. The head of her cock creates a tent meant to remind you of how big she is, and she pumps her shaft steadily, her lips parting slightly to let out low hums of pleasure. You stare, unmoving, unaware of your pulse’s quicker pace as Kafka jerks off on video, the erotic tone of her long moans filling your bedroom, and you don’t register turning up the volume a bit more. Her hand speeds up a touch, you think she must have already been hard before recording because she clearly won’t last much longer, but instead of rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all, you find yourself hoping she’ll take off that dress and give you a real show. Kafka’s breathing becomes heavier, her moans less controlled, and from this angle, you notice the movement of her hips eager to meet each stroke along her cock. Her thumb swipes over her sensitive tip and her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth at the pleasant sensation. Not a single word is uttered, you can’t hear anything in the background either— not that you were listening for it— it’s just the sinful sounds of her throaty hums and her fingers around her dick. Half a minute passes before her breath hitches in a sharp gasp, and you know she’s going to come right before she does. Your thighs squeeze together at the breathy moan that spills from her mouth, her hand still gently stroking herself. Her lips stretch into that teasing smile you can picture with your eyes closed, and the video ends. 

You’re harshly pulled from the daze you were in, staring at your phone. You don’t know what to think, she ignores you for a week then sends you a video of her masturbating at two in the morning with nothing else attached. You can’t deny that it had the desired effect on you; your body feels hotter under your sleeping clothes and your thighs are still pressed together to ignore the throb between them, but once again you attempt to figure out the reasoning behind what she does and come up empty. There’s no use in trying to pry open a steel safe that is sealed shut, so why do you try over and over like you have nothing better to do? Why show up with blowtorches and lock picks when your presence is unwanted inside?

Kafka uses you for pleasure, and you use her the same. That is the nature of your relationship. So, you decide to take that video at face value and press replay. Leaning back against the headboard, you bite your cheek as Kafka’s hand travels up and down her veiled cock while your own restlessly traces shapes into the skin of your thigh. It wanders up your body to cup one breast under your shirt, thumb softly circling a stiffening nipple. You pinch it between two fingers at the same time Kafka lets out a pretty moan and you feel arousal dampening your underwear at the various stimuli. The video ends before you can move on to your thighs and you have to replay it again, and again, to properly build up your orgasm before you’re needy enough to slip a hand under your sticky panties. Your middle finger applies pressure on your puffy clit in tight little circles, jolts of pleasure shooting through you and tightening your stomach.

Eyes half-lidded, you forget all about your work to prioritize the need in your cunt, unconsciously matching Kafka’s pace and wishing she was there to take care of you the way only she knows how. Your hips move with the fingers that rub between your wet folds in a messy pattern. You breathe in sharply through your mouth when one of them finds your clit again and firmly toys with it. You’re so aroused, so wet and needy, but watching Kafka’s playful performance through a phone screen with only half of her body shown and her cock hidden from sight isn’t enough. Desperation builds within your lower belly as you inch a finger past your entrance, barely biting back a breathy moan at the feeling. It sinks in effortlessly, so you add another after adjusting to the slight stretch of it rubbing your inner walls. Your other hand holds the phone closer to your face like that will make Kafka seem more tangible. You pump two digits into your pussy, coating them in your arousal, and it feels so good, has your thighs spreading further apart, but it’s not enough. 

A frustrated sigh leaves you. You don’t think before exiting the video and pressing the video call button. The line rings once, twice, and your fingers slip out of you as you wait to see if it’ll connect. After a few more seconds, you choose to save face and go to hang up just as it connects with the other line and Kafka’s smirking face comes into view. You blame the stutter of your chest on your arousal. She blows smoke through her mouth and faces away from the camera for a moment to put out the cigarette you caught her smoking. She’s in casual clothes once again, and by the lighting, you infer that it’s likely afternoon wherever she is. That video she sent must have been filmed earlier than the time it was received, it might also be an older one from before you met. You mistake your disappointment for annoyance. 

“What is wrong with you?” Your stern voice has a shaky edge to it that Kafka definitely notices. Her smile widens an inch. 

“You look a little… flushed. Saw something you like?”

“Fuck you. It’s almost three in the morning.”

“Is that how late it is there? Mmm, it slipped my mind.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that,” you put down the phone for an instant, pulling your pyjamas down your legs to toss them onto the bed. You bring the device back up and recline on the pillows, holding it high enough for Kafka to have a view of your torso and the stiff nipples poking through your half-ridden shirt. 

Kafka’s lowered gaze unapologetically trails down your upper body. You cup your breast, softly kneading the soft mound between your fingers, and watch her eyes darken with desire.

“I can’t come over.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to. Just need to hear you.”

“Cute. What if I’m not alone?” Her tone is teasing but she does look up from the screen as if someone could walk by and catch you touching yourself. 

“Figure it out.”

“Bossy… And so aroused, aren’t you? From a simple video, no less.”

You let the confident drawl of her words wash over you, ignoring her attempts at riling you up further to focus on the familiar pitch of her voice. It’s rough, intentionally slowed to keep people’s attention solely on what she has to say and control the pace of the conversation, dripping like syrup. You relax into the mattress and let your hand wander down the valley of your breasts, caressing the curves of your stomach. You’re already turned on and aching for release, each brush of your fingertips against your skin requires restraint not to slip a hand between your thighs and circle your clit. Your little show seems to give Kafka a taste of her own medicine, she observes you for a while, her gaze piercing through the veil of lust over her irises. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

“I would if you talked me through it,” you reply, expectant, lips parting as your hand teasingly disappears below the camera to massage the flesh of your inner thigh. 

Kafka hums, amused and intrigued. You’re sure she can tell how worked up you are and is debating helping you or leaving you wanting. Then she moves, the camera following her every step, and walks somewhere you hope is a secluded room. You don’t recognize her surroundings, she seems to be inside a building but the phone is too close to her face to show anything else properly.

“Did I wake you?” She asks on the way, barely looking away from the screen to watch where she’s going and instead focusing on how your hand travels back up your abdomen, lifting your shirt and revealing more of your chest as it goes. 

“No, but it was a welcomed distraction. Walk faster.”

Kafka laughs at your impatience, the sound lighter than her usual arrogant or mocking chuckles and betraying her genuine amusement. There’s a fluttering sensation behind the walls of your heart like the wings of a panicked bird. 

“Why? You in a hurry?”

“Yes.”

Kafka enters a room drowning in sunlight, brighter than wherever she was before. You hear the sound of the door closing, then a lock turning before she walks further into the room to sit at what you presume is a desk. The phone is placed far enough from her frame to allow you a full view of her upper body over the wooden surface and the twin-sized bed behind her. The covers are unruffled, the walls barren and white, and you think she might be in a simple hotel room. She leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and resting her cheek against the back of her hand. The index finger of her free hand absentmindedly taps the desk’s surface, mirroring her steady heartbeat. She gazes at you like you’re the most interesting sight she’s seen in days. 

“You look so needy… desperate for my touch.” Kafka drinks in the image of you sprawled on your bed, the lower half of your left breast exposed to her hungry eyes. Her mind conjures up many ways she would touch you if she were there, feeling your stumbling breaths in the crook of her neck. “What’s the matter? Can’t come without me anymore?”

Irritation swirls in your gut, mixing with the arousal pooling in your belly at her nonchalant arrogance. Her self-assurance infuriates you mostly because it’s not entirely unfounded; you do wish she was present in person to fuck your worries away but she could be on the other side of the planet for all you know, doing Aeons know what. You don’t have a retort, and you’re in no mood to be teased any more than you felt watching that short video of Kafka stroking herself. 

“It goes faster this way,” you lie.

“Mmm… Show me how you touch yourself when I’m not there.”

Her words make your pussy throb. You bite your lip, adjusting your hold on the phone and lowering the camera so she can’t see past your mouth but has a better view of your body. From this angle, the waistband of your underwear is visible just under your stomach. Your fingers dig into your pliable breast, kneading the mound like she usually does to you, occasionally toying with the nipple for the pleasant sensation that ripples through you and causes your thighs to twitch. Kafka’s intense gaze, deeply pleased at your immediate compliance, excites you like nothing else. You know she’s not as unaffected by the sight as she seems to be, her finger drums on the desk a tad faster when you twist your nipple and part your lips to exhale audibly. Your hand leaves your chest and you lower your phone further to follow its path across your torso until it reaches the band of your already slick panties. You sneak a finger under the thin material and Kafka speaks up again.

“Take them off. Let me see you.”

Hesitation takes hold of you for a second, and then you obey her sultry command, shifting to pull the underwear past your hips and down to your ankles. You angle the phone to provide her with a clear view of your wet cunt, breath hitching as Kafka unconsciously wets her lips and the drumming noise stops completely. She’s a statue of desire on the other side of the screen, her heavy stare locked on your fingers spreading your lower lips apart, puffy clit on display. You don’t wait for any other instructions, your need is too great to go unchecked a minute longer; you use your index to circle the bud in quick, desperate motions. Your body’s temperature rises a few degrees and a short, involuntary moan spills past your lips. Your eyes are tempted to close under such stimulation but you want to see Kafka’s every microexpression, every twitch of her mouth and fall of her chest, the flex of her hand against her cheek and the movement of her irises following your ministrations.

“Are you picturing me? My hands on your body, touching you just how you like it?”

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth to seal another soft moan. “Yeah…” 

Kafka’s fingers are skilled and precise, stimulating the most sensitive parts of you, some of which didn’t exist before she touched you. She’s learned you by heart as one does a music sheet and makes you sing in a way impossible to replicate alone, an artist missing their accompaniment. You imagine her palms brushing across your chest, teasingly squeezing one breast while her lips ghost over the skin of your jaw, trailing wet kisses up to your cheek. You imagine her slender fingers sinking into your inner thighs to keep them spread before her, drinking in the erotic sight you create under her. You swipe at your clit, each breath heavier than the one before, and observe her body language; how she uncrosses her legs and her hand on the desk disappears beneath the surface, how she tucks away a stray strand of hair so it doesn’t obstruct her vision, the apparent lust in her eyes almost turning their color a shade closer to magenta. Her attention feels like the many cocktails you drank this last week, smoldering down your throat and intoxicating your every nerve. It tightens your lower belly and makes you throb, entrance gushing even when she’s likely thousands of miles away. Your orgasm builds and builds, pleasure steadily mounting and promising salvation the closer you get to the edge. 

If her camera was positioned better, you would have seen her pointer and middle fingers drawing circles on her thighs not unlike how you’re stimulating your aching clit, slowly inching higher until they softly stroke the prominent swell over her shorts. You would have been privy to them slipping under her clothes, past her boxers, to caress along her cock from tip to base and draw a sharp intake of breath from her. You’re too lost in the pleasure to notice her next swallow as she wraps a hand around herself and masturbates in tandem with your heavy exhales. Just as you did, she pictures your wandering hands, your warm tongue licking broad stripes up her cock and the quiver of your brow when you struggle to take her into your mouth. You look up at her prettily through wet eyelashes, eager to please, and you suck her dry as she paints your throat white. 

Your camera trembles, you struggle to keep it still while you work to make yourself come, digits stuttering on your clit with quiet moans on the tip of your tongue. You’re so close that you barely compute what Kafka is saying.

“You look about ready to come. Are you going to come just from the sight of me?”

She sounds way too pleased for your liking but you can’t bother to care at this moment, all that matters is your impending release. You nod quickly.

“Yeah? Let me hear you.”

“Fuck…” you manage to breathe out, hips desperately bucking into your hand, chasing relief from the pressure building in your belly. 

You don’t contain your pitiful sounds of pleasure at Kafka’s request and a soft cry rips from your throat as you finally burst. You come hard, thighs closing together and trapping your hand between them, jolts of pleasure running down your body like a thousand little shivers until you’re a shaking mess on the bed. Eyes screwed shut with the intensity of your orgasm, you miss Kafka’s parted lips and unyielding stare roaming over your arching form, her thumb applying mind-dizzying pressure on her leaking tip under her shorts to tease herself. You take a minute to calm yourself, she takes in the movement of your breasts rising and falling with your chest, imagining wetting them with her tongue so they glitter stunningly in the light when she pulls away. She strokes herself faster and the sound of her satisfied hum helps you realize what she’s doing.

“Hah… This is what you wanted, huh?” You bring your phone higher, circling your areola with two cum-coated fingertips and relishing in the way her eyelids droop. “Sending me that little video to tease me so I’d call and help you jerk off?” 

Kafka’s low chuckle turns into a pleased sigh at the end as she touches herself just right, smearing pre-cum all over her throbbing cock. 

“I wanna see.”

She picks up the camera and angles it so you have a view of her cock straining against her clothes. The silk of her glove is heaven along her skin, and with the microphone closer to her face you can hear the shallow breaths she releases on her journey to relief. No doubt the friction is dulling her mind, reducing her to her urgent need to come. Your tongue flicks over your upper lip and Kafka almost groans, still watching you intently like she’s making up scenarios of you on your knees with your head bobbing up and down her thick cock. The next time she takes you is already planned out in detail, you’ll be so utterly ruined that you won’t be able to beg her for more.

“I’d get you there quicker if you were here.”

“Mmh… Soon.”

You refrain from rolling her eyes at her obvious lie. Spoken words out of her lips mean nothing, especially with pleasure fogging her mind. Kafka’s following sharp gasp lets you know she’s close to falling apart; you lift your sticky fingers to your mouth, making a show of licking them clean how you would her shaft, and this time she doesn’t suppress the throaty, blissful noise that was sitting on her tongue. She sears your performance in the back of her eyelids and pumps her cock with purpose, orgasm imminent. Her hips jerk upward as her release crashes into her in toe-curling waves of pleasure, hand stuttering around her length and cum staining her underwear and glove. She moans unashamedly, knowing what it does to you, and her eyes flutter shut only for the instant it takes to compose herself afterwards. Her hand leaves her shorts, she brings her wet fingers to the light and smiles up at you. 

“Thanks.” Without any underlying cockiness, there’s nothing but appreciation when she addresses you. 

You don’t meet her gaze, averting your eyes while you sit up and smooth down your hair. Now that the tension in your muscles has dissipated, you’re reminded of why you were up this late in the first place and the work that still needs to be completed before work some hours later. You sigh tiredly, but your mind is clearer and you feel a spike of energy to finish your presentation, invigorated from your previous orgasm. Maybe you should be the one thanking her.

“What’s wrong?” 

You look back at Kafka. “I hate my job.”

“You should quit, then.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?”

“…And do what?” You ask flatly.

“Whatever you want.”

You stare at her momentarily, wondering what kind of reality she must live in where everything is available for the taking. Your studies were largely influenced by the constant pressure your parents put on you to get a sustainable income, and you were too preoccupied with your grades to ponder the what-ifs. They sacrificed quite a bit to have you enroll in one of the Intelligentsia Guild’s schools, your academic success was the least you could do to settle that debt somehow. You don’t care for mechanics but it was a relatively easy subject to study, so you picked it. You’re good at what you do, despite this job not being what you dreamed of doing for the rest of your life. Now, you’re not sure if you even have dreams. You have some skills, sure, but what do you want?

Kafka’s looking at you like she’s figuring you out. You don’t know what she aims to find but a childish part of you hope she likes it. You shake your head as if the thoughts would evaporate with the movement and stand from the bed.

“I should finish my work,” you say on the way to the bathroom, flicking the light open. 

“I need to go too.” Kafka pauses, seemingly considering something, then continues, “Do you have plans on Thursday?”

The question is unexpected, it takes you a few seconds to come up with an answer. “Apart from work, I don’t think so. Why?”

“You should stay home. Skip work.”

“Why would I do that…?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” The reply leaves you before you can think about it, but it’s the truth. Kafka has never given you any reason to trust her up till now, you don’t even believe half of the things she says. Trusting her for anything would be incredibly foolish.

Her eyes narrow a bit, though that small smile stays on her lips. Your confusion must show on your face, and you have the impression that her demeanor has gotten more serious. 

“Trust me now. I have to leave, but I hope you take my advice. If not… Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Wh—?”

The video call disconnects. Did she just hang up on you?!

After a quick shower and a change of sheets, you end up completing your assignment in around 40 minutes and getting a few hours of sleep before you have to leave for work. The day is long, and your anxiety intensifies with each passing hour but you present your project idea with little to no problem. The rest of the week passes quickly with no further messages from Kafka, but you stop expecting her to hit you up for anything other than sex so you get better at hiding your disappointment, enough that you’re able to focus on your job like the development of the past two weeks never happened. On Thursday, you wake up for work and sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone open on the private conversation between you and Kafka, debating with yourself whether you should ask her to clarify her last words to you. You try to recall her expression when she said them. Reading her is hard, her behavior is too well-rehearsed to be peeled to pieces by anybody— and you guess that is what you are; anybody. You feel like an idiot as you dial your office to call off work. 

With nowhere to go, you spend the day at home watching shitty TV until the sky begins its descent in the sky, catching up on shows you previously had no time for. You do go out for groceries in the afternoon to cook something nice for yourself once dinner comes around, but your day is mostly boring and uneventful. You’re lying on the couch, half-lidded eyes barely focusing on the bright TV screen as it plays the same sitcom you’ve been watching for almost two hours when your phone rings. The noise wakes you, you blink rapidly and reach for the device, accepting the call without looking at the contact ID. 

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Himeko’s musical voice sounds from the other line. 

“Hime?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

You rub your eyes with a hand and sit up to pause your show. “No, not really. How’s trailblazing going?”

“It was kinda tough the last few weeks but nothing we couldn’t handle. What about you? Last time we talked you were pretty busy too.”

“I’m good, work has been a bit demanding lately because of this secret project thing I can’t really talk about, but nothing eventful has happened, except…” You cut yourself off. 

“What is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Oh? Now I definitely want to know. Let me guess… It’s that lady again.”

“Lady?” You repeat with a laugh, “There is nothing ladylike about the way she f—”

“Ew. I get it.” You hear shuffling on the other side, like Himeko is walking from one place to another. “You were complaining about her last time, what happened now?”

“More complaints.”

“I can’t understand why you won’t end things if all you’re going to do is get annoyed every time you see each other. Learn to walk away from unnecessary grievances, they only pollute your thoughts.”

You stand from the couch and walk towards the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out the stuff you’ll need for dinner. “The sex is really good. Like, great. Like, mind-blowing. Toe-curling, even.” You can almost hear Himeko’s eye roll. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I don’t know why she has to be so infuriating. It’s obviously a case of big ego, but there’s something more in there. She just won’t let me see it.”

“You’re practically strangers. No wonder.”

“She’s been inside me. I wouldn’t call us strangers.”

“Do you know anything about her apart from her name?”

You pause with one hand around a carton of heavy cream. A door slides shut on the phone. You don’t have to think long to know the answer to that question, but you’re a little ashamed of it. Ashamed and disappointed, because it’s not by lack of trying; Kafka treats every attempt at getting to know her beyond the bounds of your relationship like a battlefield where she has to lie to survive. There’s a constant distance between you no matter how physically close she gets and it’s beginning to drive you mad. It was hot at first, the air of mystery around her is what drew you to her in that clothing store. Months later, it’s simply an obstacle you can’t jump over.

“Fine,” you reply with a sigh, closing the fridge and putting the carton on the counter, “you have a point. But it’s not like I haven’t tried, she just…”

“Doesn’t value you for anything other than sex?”

You don’t respond, mouth curving in a frown. That hurt your feelings, even though you know Himeko is only being honest because she hates this situation for you. She disapproved from the start, said you weren’t the type to have no strings attached, and she was right. You didn’t listen; Kafka is a splash of excitement in an otherwise pretty boring life, unraveling her takes skill and effort, and it is much more gratifying than a research well done. However… perhaps it’s time you do.

“Was that too far?” Himeko asks, voice soft. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than someone who brushes you off constantly unless they want something from you.”

“I know…” 

There’s a sudden knock at your door and you furrow your brows as you look at the time on your phone. You’re not expecting anyone and you’re not a fan of people showing up unannounced in general, still, you start making your way out of the kitchen to the front door. 

“We had an agreement, though,” you continue, “so it’s not like she owes me anything. I’m the one asking for too much.”

“You want to make connections with people and that is a beautiful thing. If she can’t see that, then she isn’t worth your time.”

You reach the front door, unlock it and turn the handle. “You’re probably r—”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue. In the hallway of your apartment building stands a panting Kafka, coat in one hand while the other is pressed hard against her bloodstained shoulder. Her white shirt is tainted with the seeping liquid which turns her glove a deep violet color, blood spatter over her torso and some spread onto her cheek as if she attempted to wipe it off. She’s hunched forward instead of her usual straight posture and the sunglasses over her tussled hair are cracked. You’re frozen where you are, a dozen thoughts buzz inside your head like restless bees and keep you from uttering a word; dread, worry, confusion, you can’t name them all. You have trouble computing what you’re looking at. Kafka looks up at you with the small smile she wears like armor. Even now, her nonchalance annoys you.

“Hey.”

The sound of Himeko calling your name over the phone and asking you if everything’s alright shakes you from your stupor. Your movements are slow, delayed, as you turn your head towards the device close to your ear and speak, “I’ll call you back.”

You hang up without hearing the response. 

[lasciviouspoison]

my first full length smut fic! this shit took weeks to edit ngl, but it was worth it. with that being said, there are probably still some mistakes so excuse those, lol. tw: breeding, eren calls himself “daddy”, word “mommy” is used, reader and eren are extremely (heavy emphasis on extremely) frustrated. not a tw, but like i always say, this is for my chubby black women, but all are free to read <3

eren has loved you for an extremely long time. he’s spoiled u, fed u, he’s even dressed you head to toe while you were sick.

yet, all of this spoiling and caring for u, does not warrant your brattiness right now.

he’s been studying tirelessly for his midterm for about 2 weeks now, finally on his last day of review before his test in a couple of days. yet, he can’t seem to focus because you keep coming in and out of your shared study every three seconds.

“‘ren, where are the extra washcloths?”

he looks up from his textbook, glasses falling off his nose a bit. you’re even dressed like a brat, skimpy little white tank top and baby pink panties. it makes his head hurt worse than the passage he’s read over 4 times now.

“there’s no way you’re asking me where fucking washcloths are right now. there’s no way.” he says with some bite to his voice. he just needs to finish these last two pages and the longer it takes him, the more it kills him.

your arms cross over your chest, pushing your bra-less chest up and exposing a bit of your chubby stomach. “does it look like i’m joking with you? where are they?”

he clenches his jaw and in a very clipped tone, he responds that they’re under the sink. you scoff slightly and walk out, making an effort to slam the door a bit harder than necessary.

he sits back in his chair and throws off his glasses, big tattooed hands wiping his face. eren knows he’s been neglecting you, and it’s killing him just as much as you. he’s tired of coming home from class too tired to touch you. he’s tired of you having to tell him to go lay down after his head rocked one too many times over his dinner plate.

he’s tired, but he’s not gonna let you act like a bitch just to get what you want. simply because it’s fucking working.

he pushes up from his desk and walks out of the study. he hears the bathroom cabinets opening, so he does everything but sprint to get there.

you peer over your shoulder at him and roll your eyes, “they weren’t under the sink. in fact, they’re all dirty cause, you know, you act like you can’t help with laundry anymore-“

erens grabbed you by the nape of your neck and brought your body close to his. you can hear his semi-heavy breathing despite still being bent over, which caused your heart to race a little. although you knew eren would never hurt you, it doesn’t mean that his pent up energy won’t go to waste.

“a couple things: one, don’t talk to me like i’m a fucking child. two, i do still help with laundry, there’s a whole basket full of folded shirts sitting on the bedroom floor that i didn’t get the chance to put away. and finally, you that cock hungry, or are you genuinely mad at me?” he finishes with a finger running up your spine, back arching at the feeling. he knows this rills you up, which is perfect for him. you don’t get to frustrate him and remain unscathed.

your eyes widened a bit, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop eren’s hand from moving. you could feel just how hard he was and it made you think that he almost had it worse than you. however, that doesn’t mean your just gonna lay here and take it.

“get the fuck off me eren” you said through tight lips. his hands now steadily making their way under your top, with you making no advances to stop him.

he bent down towards your ear as his body almost covers yours entirely, with his fingers now gently pulling at your nipples.. “you know what’s funny? you can act mad at me all you want, but this pretty pussy is never ever mad at me. maybe i should gag you and let her do the talking, at least she’s not a fucking liar” at this point, eren’s hands feel like hot coals against your body. while they slowly make their descent back down your body, you can feel your resolve slowly melting away under his touch.

before you could reply, his fingers begin to softly move along your covered slit, causing your breath to hitch. you push your hips back a little and eren gives you a breathless laugh in return.

“i know i’ve neglected you pretty baby. daddy’s really sorry, just let me make it up to you. i promise, you can have me all night if you just tell me what you really want”. sometimes, you swore that you could hear the smirk on eren’s lips.

you shook your head no and felt a soft slap to your pussy. you wanted to scream at him and tell him just how badly you missed him, but your mouth refused to open. you bit your lip once he began touching you again, attempting to coax a confession from your pretty lips.

you felt him bend over once again, this time to place small kisses behind your ear, kisses that started to travel down your neck and onto your back. the entirety of his ministrations were torture, but it was when he stopped kissing you and replaced his lips with his tongue to lick a stripe up your back that you really wanted to cave.

eren’s middle finger finally found your bare clit, the initial contact causing you to jump hard against his body. small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to maneuver on his fingers before he stilled your movements.

“m’not doin anything more till you tell me the truth. what do you want from me baby? tell me and i’ll give it you ya”.

you try to grind against his fingers once again before a hard smack to your ass forces you to stop. his grip on your hips tightening, letting u know that he’s really gonna deprive you until you speak.

“want you to touch me ren! wan’ you to fuck me so fucking bad!” you finally scream out.

every gives you a small chuckle before his middle and index finger burry themselves into your cunt. his body almost shakes at warmth you provide. blood rushing straight to his dick, making him indescribably hard.

“that’s it baby, that’s all i wanted to hear.” he sounds breathless, almost like he’s the one that’s been getting teased.

he’s pumping his fingers in and out of you, a small squelching sound coming from your sopping pussy. your grip on the cold marble counter top has your knuckles turning white. at this point, you’re so desperate for more that your meeting his fingers half way.

with tears threatening to run down your chubby cheeks, you make pleas for more. “ren please, please gimme more. i’ll be good i promise!”

he feels so bad. you’ve never acted like this, even when the two of you were still forced to live separately on campus. the desperation in your voice is surprising him just as much as it’s surprising you.

because he knows you like it when he fucks you with his hair down, he pulls his hair from his already loosening bun and all but rips his sweats off. dick hitting his bare stomach with a heavy thud.

he takes his fingers out of you and rips those pretty pink panties off, he makes a mental note to buy you another pair.

he rubs himself between your sticky folds till his cock is shiny, hitting your clit a couple of times in the process, drawing more whines from you. all he can do is look down in awe. it’s amazing to him just how wet you get from just a couple of fingers, but who can blame u? his dick’s been throbbing for four days straight.

he finally anchors himself and spits, emitting a soft puh before he smiles. you’re such a mess underneath him and he can’t wait to make it even worse. he finally starts to push in, but your tight little cunny won’t let him in no matter how gentle he tries to be.

��lemme in baby… please lemme in” his voice is so strained it’s making u gush even more.

“i’m tryin!” you say with a pout, tears running down your face.

eren knows you’ve always been big on eye contact when the two of you fuck, it’s almost necessary… so, he hooks his fingers into the side of your mouth and forces your head to lift. finally you were able to see that tattooed chest and pretty face, and he was able to see those pretty eyes and beautiful tear stained face.

almost immediately do you loosen up and he accidentally on purpose pushes all the way in, causing the both of you to moan loudly.

“there you go baby, take it for me ya spoiled fuckin brat”. his hands have found purchase on the fatness of your hips, his grip so tight that you think he’ll bruise you. not that you’ve ever cared.

“fuckfuckfuck” is all you can say as you watch his facial expressions through the mirror. his hair is down and there’s tiny beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. he’s gone slack jawed while stroking you, a relaxed expression gracing his pretty face. no matter how many times he’s buried himself in your warm walls, he’s never gotten used to how good u feel. once his green eyes make contact with yours and that smirk graces his face, it makes u realize just how in control he is no matter how gentle he may look.

“squeezin’ me so tight baby.. u miss me that much?” he says with a breathless laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm. the both of you know that going this long without touch was both odd and frustrating. it caused the both of you to miss each other equally, hence why this could be categorized as some of the best sex you’ve ever had.

at this point, he knows you’re gonna cum soon, he can feel your walls pulsing and eren feels like his dick is gonna pop.

“g’nna cum rennie, g’nna make a mess on yo- ugh fuck!” your little hands balling into fists as he hits that spongey spot in you. you can hear just how hard he’s thrusting into you, each stroke sounding more sticky than the last. it’s making your eyes cross and toes curl.

your convinced he’s gonna kill you with that horse dick of his one day.

“let it out baby, i’ll clean it up the mess, wanna feel you cum on me.” even he’s getting whiny now, so it’s only a matter of time before you-

“-ohmygod eren!” you cum so hard that your body’s shaking and your knees are buckling. thankfully, eren’s always there to catch you.

despite chasing his own nut, he desperately wants to see you ride out your orgasm. he’s so desperate that he’s picking you up by your hips, forcing you to do small circles against his waist cause he knows it drives you crazy.

however, it doesn’t take long before he’s digging deep into you again, the force of his thrusts causing your head to bounce a little harder than intended.

“god i’m gonna cum so hard in this pretty pussy. i’m so fucking sorry i neglected you baby.. never again, god i’ll never do it again baby i promise. gonna fill you up okay? awe, you like the sound of that yeah? make you the prettiest mommy for me. promise i’ll take care of you forever. god i love you”. he’s rambling and his voice is getting rough. it’s only a matter of time before he cums.

after finding some strength, you finally look back and smile at him and that’s all it takes for eren to cum. his face screws up and his warm hands slide up your back to make you arch a little deeper. you wish you could run your fingers through his hair so badly, but you couldn’t ask for a better view of your beautiful boyfriend.

after a few moments of silence, eren finally comes down from his high with a big huff of air. gently, he spins you around so you face him. he moves your curls from out of your eyes and gives you a slow kiss on the lips, hands resting gently on your chubby, tear stained cheeks.

after a few moments of silence, he starts to speak, “i meant what i said. i’m sorry i left you alone for so long baby. i just gotta pass this test.” his eyes full of remorse.

“i know eren, i just wanted some attention… it’s really easy to miss you, even if we live together”. small smiles find both of your faces and eren finally pulls out to run the two of you a warm bath.

he strips you out of your tank top and carries you over to the tub, where he holds you tightly.

after some comfortable silence, you can’t help but look over your shoulder and ask the question that’s been plaguing your mind, “you really wanna get me pregnant?”

he looks towards the ceiling and let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “i mean, eventually yes. right now? fuck no”

the two of you fell into laughter while the smell of lavender filled your noses and achy bones were finally allowed to rest.

[yumeka-sxf]

I try to stay away from negative topics, but after hearing talk on social media yesterday and seeing this post from @such-a-downer, I just had to give my two cents about the complaints regarding yesterday's chapter being "another short mission" and that Endo is somehow being "lazy" or whatever.

I honestly don't understand this mentality of criticizing manga-ka, or any artists really, because they aren't delivering by whatever standards you personally think are appropriate. To me, it just seems like entitlement because Endo has no obligation to cater to any specific fan's wants. This is his story to tell the way he wants, and his characters to develop at the pace he deems fit. This isn't a business contract where we're paying him to deliver content we want every two weeks without fail. If I'm consuming the fruits of someone's creative labor for free, I certainly feel no right to complain if sometimes their content isn't what I wanted or expected. I'm fine with that because 1) I know it's what they (the creator) wanted/needed at the time, and 2) even if a particular chapter wasn't my cup of tea, I know other fellow fans out there somewhere are enjoying the heck out of it, and that's cool!

We also have to remember that SxF is basically a one-man show. If Endo is busy or sick or whatever, it's not like he can have someone fill in for him to write and draw the series. That's what a hiatus is for, that's what making a short chapter instead of a longer one is for...that's how artists should be treated so they don't get burned out and stressed. Plus, art shouldn't be rushed. Any artist knows that there are times when you have trouble coming up with ideas and maybe need a little extra time to develop a more complex section of the story. To immediately jump to conclusions that he's lazy or doesn't know what he's doing is ridiculous. Maybe he didn't feel good for a few days, maybe he's been busy with other SxF events, maybe he just needed more time to get a particular future arc developed, or maybe he just has basic IRL obligations to take care of like we all do...you don't know what's going on in his life, so don't make assumptions.

Another thing to keep in mind is that it's literally impossible to please every fan. One of the comments I read for example, someone was ready to drop the series because we haven't seen much of Yor in "a while." All I could think of was "didn't she just have a pretty big role only four chapters ago when they went to the ski resort?" Plus she was the star of chapter 91, which was less than ten chapters ago. So according to this person's standards, four chapters without seeing a particular character is "too long"? What if it was only three chapters, would that be acceptable? It's not right to push our own personal standards of a series' pacing as the "correct" way: some people want to see more of character X while someone else wants to see more of subplot Y, so should both complain that the manga-ka isn't doing right whenever they focus on something else? I'm not saying you shouldn't make criticisms of a manga-ka's work, but the criticisms should come from within the narrative itself, not superficial things like chapters focusing on subplots/characters you don't want to see or not having enough "plot-advancing" content when it's not a plot-focused series.

People who have read SxF up to this point should know the general flow of the chapters: mostly slice-of-life episodic, with more plot-heavy, intense arcs once in a while, like the cruise arc and bus arc. It's an ensemble series that spends most of its chapters focused on at least one of the Forgers, but occasionally other characters here and there. That's how the series has been for years and will likely continue to be. So if you keep complaining because you only like the dramatic story arcs and not the "nothing happens" episodic chapters, then maybe the series just isn't for you. It's totally fine if that's the case, but don't act like Endo is doing something wrong because he's not providing the particular thing you want in his story.

To summarize, Endo has no obligation to cater to particular fans' standards, just as we have no obligation to keep reading his work if we don't like it. But being a fan to me means respecting the creator's pace and vision even if it's not always what I personally want. I can find something to enjoy in every chapter because I'm a fan of SxF, not a fan of one particular aspect of it. But I also will not complain every time my tastes aren't being catered to and will simply occupy myself with other things while I wait. What's the big hurry, after all? I'm in no rush for SxF to wrap up its plot and I'm glad Endo isn't rushing either.

And that's all I'm gonna say about this topic, lol. On a happier note, I'm going to finally see Code White on Thursday! 😁 More to come later~

[xxxg0ryygurlll13xxx]

he won.

he won the election. fairly. legally. by our system. for anyone not american or who just may not know, the new president of the united states is Donald J. Trump a rapist, abuser, womanizer, racist, homophobe, transphobe, self proclaimed dictator, hitler idolizer, domestic terrorist. ive been awake for less than an hour and ive cried twice. im terrified. some part of me still feels like the race can still be won like somehow she can scramble up some more electoral votes. its impossible though. you need 270 electoral votes to win and its impossible for both candidates to get to 270. im not the only one in a state theres girls in my school dining hall crying and weeping. i cried in my mothers arms this morning like a baby and she kept telling me well be ok and she wont let anything happen but she just had such an uncertain look in her eyes. the decision didnt seem hard. a felon and sexual abuser or a woman. the felon won. i hope people are proud of themselves. i hope that in 2 years when we have no department of education, women cant vote anymore, humans are in camps, no one is vaccinated, all products cost at least $100 and our government is comparable to big brother in 1984 the people who voted for him or didnt vote at all cause she "supports a genocide" are happy with themselves. i feel sick. i think something can be said for the weather again too at least where i live, in 2016 on both election day when he first won and on his inauguration it was cloudy and rainy and now its our 35th day of an historic drought. im so terrified. i hope he was all bark and no bite or maybe hell do something too far and theyll impeach him or maybe hell die. hes old. hes got dementia or something. maybe hell just die. or well revolt? as much as i belive in order i think maybe a revolution wouldnt be a bad idea.

im 16 years old. in exactly one week i will be 17. my biggest worry right now should be my algebra 2 test on monday but no my biggest worry right now is that soon i will be considered a second class citizen cause i was doomed to be born a woman. i should be worried about if i have enough cash to go to the mall this weekend instead im worried because of tarrifs and inflation that will soon skyrocket my family wont have enough money to live. i should be worried about my midterm exams instead im worried my parents interfaith marriage will be null and void and my father will have to go to some camp.

im so scared. ive been promised everything will be ok but im so scared. im so so scared.

[mangosrar]

Wake up.

chris sturniolo x fem reader.

warnings: mentions of death. sad.

an: this is basically like a journal thing that chris wrote after his girl died :/ i cried while writing this😍

its only been 5 days but i hate you and im so angry. how could you do this to me. you’re selfish. you’re a coward for leaving me. i could’ve helped you. we were in love we have been for years. how could you ever just leave me alone here without you by my side. you were weak you took the easy way out and left us to deal with the consequences.

today was your funeral. it was nice. exactly how you would’ve wanted it. the flowers the music. the casket. exactly how you would’ve liked. your mom asked me to give a speech but i had to go to the bathroom to throw up. i couldn’t do it. i couldn’t stand there and tell everyone how beautiful and funny and kind you were. not are. were. because you’re not here. your mom held me back when they were burring you, i couldn’t take it. i wanted to get in there and shake you and yell at you to wake you up. seeing your body get lowered into the ground was like the last goodbye. i know you’ve been dead for a couple of weeks but it was like you were still here in a way. i was waiting every day to wake up from this horrible dream and you would be there to hold me and tell me its all going to be okay. i couldn’t let you go. i couldn’t have the only thing i ever loved ripped away from me. i wish i could switch our place. i wish i could have you here. i need you here because i still haven’t woken up.

its been a month and it still don’t feel real. im not angry anymore though, just sad. i wish you would have told me, we could’ve worked this out together, that’s what we were supposed to do. i forget what your voice sound like and have to look back on videos to remind myself. how will i ever be okay again. this is like a sickness, a flesh eating bacteria that has gotten into my bloodstream and spread throughout my entire body. it would probably hurt less for you to die all over again. at least i would know what to expect. i think im dying. i could be. matt said i wasn’t but he don’t know what this feels like. he doesn’t know what it feels like to have the love of you’re life one day and to not have them the next. he doesn’t know what its like to have this hole inside of me that only you could fill. he doesn’t know what it feels like to know that that was the last time i ever saw you, last time i ever kissed you. last time you ever told me you loved me. i should have known. you held me extra tight that day. you knew i was never going to see you again. you knew and you let me leave your house. you let me look into your eyes for the last time ever. you allowed me to tell you i loved you for the final time. how could you. i just want to wake up from this fucking nightmare.

its been 2 months and things haven’t changed. its almost your birthday. last year we spent it together in the cape. this year ill probably bring flowers to your grave and cry, pleading for some sort of miracle to bring you back to me. its like you’ve taken a part of me with you. i can never get it back. i will never be the same again. i just wish i could have you, i still haven’t died yet but i think its a long process to die from this type of thing. its painful too, more than a mental pain. its a strong physical pain that i feel deep in my bones, or like i get this really dull ache in my chest whenever i think about you, witch is almost constantly. it hurts so bad honey. like my soul is calling for yours but its getting no reply. i would like death that way. to die at the hands of heartbreak. or maybe just to you. i would die and let you take my place if it meant i got to hold you one more time. i just want to have you back. why would you ever do this.

happy birthday. i wonder if you knew that last year was the last birthday you would ever had. maybe. but today isnt special. today is sad and painful. i went over to your house today, and for the fisrt time since i saw you for the last time i went into your bedroom and cried for hours while lying on your bed. the house still smells like you. it made me throw up. i need to have you back or i might die. i fell asleep after a while tho and woke up to matt. id been there for hours and he was worried but i thought it was you. i almost had a stroke. i was in your room, on your side of the bed, holding your pillow waking up to the smell of your perfume. how could you blame me. i hated it. i threw up again after that. but its still your birthday so i lit the candle that was on your coffee table, and i know you’re not supposed to tell your wishes but i wished for you back. like i do every day, morning and night, i wished for you to be mine again, i wished to wake up from this pandemonium of a terrible, terrible dream and to have you wrapped up in my arms where i know you’re safe, where i know you should be. but your not so now i have to remember you for longer than i have known you. happy birthday lovey.

SAD ASF RN

taglist: @christinarowie332 @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @azkabanstar @freshlovehacker @urmyslxt @kitaysworld @kvtie444 @mattenthusiast @flowerxbunnie @mattsd0ll @iheart2021chris @its-jennarose @hearttshapedkisses @lovingsturniolo

[sad-endings-suck]

Mizu’s Period

I’m getting kind of sick of the weirdly agreed upon headcanon within the fandom that stipulates Mizu simply must not menstruate very much if at all, solely because Mizu is often injured, possesses a slender build as well as an athletic lifestyle, and in many ways is androgynous in appearance (but that last point is always unspoken ofc).

There also seems to be an odd obsession with using fanon theories that are not directly disproved nor proved in the canon, such as “Mizu never eats enough” as evidence for the Mizu’s Uterus Is Not Like Other Girls Reproductive Organs™️ headcanon, that presumes Mizu is just so special she’ll bleed from everywhere except her pussy.

Like… is it perfectly possible that Mizu does not often get her period due to her extremely active and dangerous lifestyle? Yes, of course! Does Mizu’s slender and athletic frame make this seem like more of a possibility? It could, but her physique in of itself is not “evidence” per say, especially since Mizu’s body looked exactly the same when she was living a much easier and more comfortable lifestyle on the farm with Mikio, and they clearly had plenty of food. Mizu also wasn’t training intensely if at all for the 8-12 months she was married to Mikio. Yet her build remained the same. So it’s perfectly probable that Mizu’s physique is most greatly impacted by her genetics and thus not greatly affected by physical activity.

And for everyone that’s about to shout “but women athletes that compete at the highest levels often loose their periods for a while!” yes absolutely, some of them do. They also work out for 2-6+ hours a day six to seven days a week, use treadmills, bench press, and eat ridiculously curated diets that specifically target certain macronutrients and involve carefully curated portions that must be eaten at the right times on the right days. The fuck makes you think Mizu is doing all that?? My girl inhales whatever food is put in front of her as long as she has good reason to believe it is safe (i.e not poisoned). Do you really think modern day Olympic power lifters, track and field runners, artistic gymnasts and rhythmic gymnasts are all slurping down full servings of soba or dumbplings just whenever? Fuck no. Also, the current top women athletes in the world from the aforementioned Olympic sports I just mentioned, all have vastly different body types. As well as extremely different dietary needs, training routines, workouts, and just plain genetics that would have naturally given them certain bodies regardless of sport.

as evidenced by the above photos of various female olympic athletes: power lifter (top left), track and field runner (top right), artistic gymnast (bottom left), and rhythmic gymnast (bottom right).

Mizu is not a power lifter, or a sprinter, or an archer, or anything of the sort. Mizu does not train to be incredible at one thing, nor does she base what she eats or how she trains on when she will be preforming at a specific event (such as Olympians do). She is a swordsman, a blacksmith, and an all around athletic person that needs to stay in a state of constant readiness for any physical activity. Such as climbing, swimming, horseback riding, using acrobatic techniques, performing martial arts, working on a farm, and so much more. All of which is presented as such in canon. Not to mention Mizu lives as a lower-class individual in Japan during the 1600s. What ever gave you the idea that she was dieting and training like a modern athlete? Mizu is not a sportsman, she’s a killer.

So can we just stop, please? Plenty of people menstruate. Its perfectly normal and natural. And as someone who has been at a much lower weight at different points in my life with less than desirable health conditions (to say the least), menstruation does not magically halt just because you (stranger on the internet) thinks it “logically” should under such circumstances. That’s not how it works. Bodies are weird, and everyone’s body works a bit differently. And if Mizu actually was as sick and muscular and thin as everyone seems to have headcanoned her as, then how the fuck is she mopping everyone she fights? If Mizu is “so active and low weight that she can’t be getting her period” then how do you explain the fact that she is able to preform at peak physical level while being so active? Make it make sense.

And for the love of god, please stop acting like menstruation is “special” or “other” or “weird”. It’s not. Get educated, and get over yourself.

[bajablasterrr]

Who You Gonna Call?

Chapter 1: Something Strange DC x DP Fic based off this post

Warnings: Major Character Death, Strong Language, Depictions of Violence

Rating: Mature

Author’s Note: For those who have been waiting for forever I apologize for how long it took me to crank out this one chapter this is my first time writing a Fic so any constructive criticism helps, also thank you soo much for the support ❤️. Update On Chapter 2 of “Who You Gonna Call?” It’s knots done jut need to finish a few final touches should be posted by Friday of Next Week

When you think about it, peace will never be the outcome. Not for him, not anymore.

Not while his Parents lay dead at his feet, not while his sister sobbed helplessly; never again will Danny Fenton ever know a peaceful life.

But he’s okay with that; he’s come to terms with how things stood and knew there wasn’t much left to figure out besides where he will go now.

He never thought he’d have to plan a life without his parents, never suspected that this family vacation would be the last.

Nor did he expect his sister to go from “Annoying Older Sibling.” To “My Only Living Family Member.” in less than a day.

This was inevitable with his line of work, but he never expected his life to be this crazy, at least not so soon.

For him, being half ghost used to feel like a gift, something he could use to help the people he cared about the most. Now it was a curse, a cancerous infection slowly seeping into everything he held close.

Because of his “gift.” everyone and everything he knew was gone, replaced by this empty confusing nothingness, all their hopes and dreams for him nothing more than lost memories.

His parents were gone, taken from him in some brutal twist of fate by some psychopathic clown they call “The Joker.” to be completely honest, Danny was feeling anger beyond rational thought every time he thought about him.

And the worst part about this was that everything everything that happened was all a ploy, some sort of elaborate trick to lure Batman to his hideout, and The Fenton’s were nothing more than pawns in The Joker’s scheme to kill him.

Not only did he kill his parents, but he did it with a smile as he made Danny watch, laughing at his suffering until he got what he wanted.

Danny was taken to the police station and asked to state what he experienced while begging held hostage by the Joker, but all he could do was stare blankly at the wall.

As he got interviewed by the police, news anchors, and other journalists, all he could think about was how he everyone down. His frustration was building up under the surface, and he felt sick.

“How could I let this happen.” he thought. 

His mind raced, his fingers felt numb, his chest heaved as if something was blocking his airway, and he felt like everything around him was closing in. The walls began to spin, and he could feel his throat closing up, tears welling in his eyes.

Jazz noticed his strange behaviour and tried her best to get him to calm him down, but the panic had already set in.

They were alone, he let this happen, and there was nothing he could do to fix this. Nothing at all

Dozens of forced statements later, Danny was drained.

Despite being the “Hero.” he was, he couldn’t help but feel so incredibly useless. They kept asking him the same questions repeatedly until the words melted into nothingness, his brain felt like swiss cheese, and he thought he would pass out at any second.

Jazz had to handle all of the legal proceedings, taking her parent’s estate, medical bills, funeral expenses, and everything else; She was overwhelmed, to say the least.

She had no idea what to do once they were done with the police, they had nowhere to go, and beyond that, they had nobody to help them.

Her head was swimming, and for a split second, she broke; Danny noticed his sister sobbing and went in to hug her.

“I’m sorry this happened, Jazz, really I am. I wish I could trade my life for theirs; I would,” he said, tears streaming down his face.

“Hey, I know this everything is so crazy, but don’t blame yourself for what happened. There’s nothing more you could’ve done, okay?” she replied, rubbing his head to soothe him.

“but I let everyone down. I’m the reason they’re dead; if I don’t do something to avenge them, then-” he said rapidly, beginning to panic again.

“Enough, no more vengeance, no more self-blame. You’re just a kid. Nobody should’ve put that responsibility on you-.” she tried to explain, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“That doesn’t matter anymore, Jazz. I’m not a kid anymore; I think I need to go for a walk and clear my head,” he said, pushing her off his and heading towards the door.

Jazz called out for him, but he was gone before she could get a word out.

As he walked the streets of Gotham City, he felt angry; at the world and at himself; he even felt anger towards his parents for suggesting this stupid trip. He wanted nothing more than to change the way things are right now, be somewhere different, and do something right for once.

He didn’t know what to do with himself; he walked around aimlessly for what felt like hours, looking for something, anything to do. He needed someone save; he wanted something to fight, anything in the world that would take his mind off things for a second.

all of a sudden, a blue mist leaves his mouth

“Finally.” he thought to himself

He changed into his ghost form quickly, and he waited. The tension in the air is thick, and he slowly looks around, hoping to see whatever is watching him.

“Don’t you know this place isn’t safe after dark?”

Danny looked around, trying to see where the voice came from,

“If I were you, I’d just turn around and head back home.”

“And why should I listen to you, wise and powerful shadow man?” Danny replied sarcastically

suddenly, he saw something jump from the fire escape down to the ground in front of him. He didn’t expect him to make that fall, let alone get up that easily.

He stood there frozen as the figure approached him, wearing a red helmet, a leather jacket, black pants, and a shirt with a red bat.

“I’ve heard of you before; you’re Red Hood, right?” Danny asked nonchalantly, trying to cut the tension of the situation

“In the flesh, and you’re that ghost kid “Phantom.” right?” he replied as he stepped closer to Danny, cornering him into a wall.

“Uh, Yep, in the flesh.” He said with a nervous chuckle

Danny was terrified; after the last couple of days he’s had, he didn’t want to take any chances with any more of the heroes or villains in Gotham.

Red Hood had him backed to a wall, his hand on the right side of Danny’s face.

“What’s your deal anyways, ghost boy? You want to run around being a vigilante, too?” he said, leaning in. 

“I-I’ve been a vigilante since the 9th grade,” he stuttered. “And for the record, I don’t need your permission to do anything, so why would you expect me to ask for it?.”

“Because if you don’t, I get to kick your ass and have you arrested for breaking curfew.” He replied

Danny chucked, “finally.”, he thought, “a reason to punch someone in the face.”

“respectfully, I’d like to see you try,” he said, cockiness radiating from his voice.

“fine, it is your funeral.”

@blackrabbitt3t @nedwec @blackstar-gazer @baykitthings @real-danny-phantom @hungrymentor @the-lokes @dizzydreamerzzz @phantom-phrases @sheep567 @lenoryt13 @theauthorandtheartist

@phantomskeep @arc-777 @dreamingasters @betinaplayingwriter @zeldomnyo @jaguarthecat @the-gay-florist @reinluna @gabrielandjackthenephilim @icepopstar5105us @skulld3mort-1fan

@batbootie @that-random-fangirl@cyber-geist@dat1angel@undead-essence@distractedducky@oddessy@dreamingasters@jarlyd@

[covid-safer-hotties]

NYC COVID cases up 250% in 2 months — and this variant's harder to duck

Published July 4, 2024

Also posted on our archive

New York is experiencing a bump in COVID cases that might put a damper on people’s summer plans.

Cases have been rising nationally and locally for about two months, driven by so-called “FLiRT” variants — versions of the virus that have evolved to evade immunity.

Mandatory COVID mitigation measures have largely been waived, and the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has eased its recommendations for how long people should isolate themselves after getting sick. But there are still precautions people can take to avoid getting COVID or spreading it to others.

Here’s what to know about the latest COVID wave.

How big is the current COVID wave?

New York City data shows an average of 687 cases of COVID reported per day during the week ending on June 22, 250% higher than the amount reported two months prior. That same week, there was an average of 53 COVID-related hospitalizations each day — primarily involving older adults — and one death, according to city data.

A decline in testing means COVID case counts don’t necessarily show the full picture, according to public health experts. Based on state wastewater testing data, New York City appears to be experiencing a bump in COVID similar to the increase seen last summer. Current levels of the virus, however, are far lower than what was detected during a surge last winter.

Infectious disease experts say COVID is starting to follow a predictable pattern, with a surge in the fall when temperatures start to drop and people gather indoors, and a smaller bump in the summer.

In the summer, “there are family gatherings, there are weddings,” noted Dr. Jessica Justman, an epidemiologist and professor at the Columbia Mailman School of Public Health. And while people are more likely to spend time outdoors, where the virus is less likely to spread, “we also spend time indoors when we have a heat wave like we had last week.”

What do we know about the FLiRT variants?

Many people have developed some level of immunity against the virus, either through vaccination or past infection. While “FLiRT” variants can slip past that immunity, having some immunity still tends to make symptoms milder, said Andrew Pekosz, a professor at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health who researches respiratory viruses.

“Overall, disease severity is dropping,” he added.

Dr. Aaron Glatt, chair of the medicine department and chief of infectious diseases at Mount Sinai South Nassau, agreed that the current strains of COVID that are circulating do not appear to be causing serious illness in most cases.

“It's the typical COVID presentations,” Glatt said of patients he’s seen. “They have a cough. They may have some upper respiratory symptoms like a cold, runny nose.”

Glatt said he has seen more severe cases where people are experiencing shortness of breath, and is still concerned about older patients and those who are otherwise at high risk for severe disease. But he said it’s now rare for COVID patients to need to be placed in intensive care units.

What should I do if I get sick?

Until recently, the CDC recommended that people who tested positive for COVID isolate themselves for several days. But in March, responding to declining cases and disease severity overall, it revised that guidance to instead focus on a given individual’s symptoms.

The latest guidance — which applies to a variety of respiratory illnesses — calls for sick people to stay away from others until their symptoms have been improving for at least 24 hours and they haven’t had fevers for at least 24 hours.

In the five days after isolating, the CDC suggests practicing good hygiene, wearing a mask and not standing too close to other people.

The CDC notes that a COVID test can give a “rough approximation” of whether someone is still infectious, but advises that people should follow the same guidance regardless of whether they're sick from COVID or another respiratory illness.

Glatt said people in recovery should use common sense, including avoiding visiting older relatives or people who are at high risk for severe COVID.

“When you're starting to feel better, I would certainly let the other people around you know, ‘I recently had COVID,’” he added.

Where can I get tested for COVID?

New York City's once ubiquitous dedicated COVID testing sites have largely disappeared. But tests are still available at NYC Health and Hospitals locations, urgent care centers and other medical providers.

Many New Yorkers are now more accustomed to reaching for home testing kits, but they are also more likely now to have to go to the pharmacy and pay for them out of pocket. Insurers may cover home testing kits but are no longer required to since the federal COVID public health emergency expired in spring of 2023. The federal program distributing free COVID tests has also ended.

The city previously distributed free kits as well, but that program ended in March after about 150 million free rapid tests were handed out, according to city health department spokesperson Patrick Gallahue.

Those who do take home tests should remember that it can take a couple of days after exposure to test positive. It’s possible to report home-testing results online here.

When should I get my next COVID shot?

Although the CDC says adults over 65 can get an updated COVID vaccine every four months, Glatt said once a year is likely appropriate for most people.

Pekosz said the vaccines that are currently available are not very well-suited to the strains of COVID that are circulating, and people who are looking to get a shot should likely wait until updated vaccines come out in a couple of months.

“This coming fall's COVID vaccine will be a better match, although again, it probably won't be perfect,” since the virus continues to evolve, he said.

[drawing-prompt-s]

Promphet update

Hey, I'll be gone for a little while longer but I wanted to give you guys an update because I know some of you have been concerned.

I moved out of the apartment and into a new unit today. This has a win and some losses.

The win is of course I am not at least no longer living with my roommate and basically her friends since those mfers should have paid rent for how nightly they're over. I live diagonal from her, but I will take what I can get. It also made the move easier.

Downside, she stole or destroyed basically everything of mine in the common areas that she could. What items she didn't just steal or use and never replace (and this goes for her friends/gusests as well), are thoroughly unusable. Aside from the most expensive at least - but I could have had her head on a spike for it.

But this damages ranges from now missing every cleaning product I owned (fabulosos, bleach, detergent, etc - so many etcs), to missing personal items or finding them in worse condition than they were left (my room was tiny, I only had so much room), to straight up just destroying my cookware or stealing it. She stole most of it and damaged pretty much all the rest - cookware less than a year old is now rusted beyond repair and had to be thrown out. I have one pot and 1 pan now everything else is missing. This coming from the girl who threw a whole fit in mediations about not wanting her things touched and separating our stuff out, only to help herself to using and destroying mine, of course).

On top of that she blatantly ignored mediation compromises and was just a general dick - even the maintenance men helping me move were commenting on it. After I realized she had stolen my things I didn't even want to both getting the food, but they told me to sit tight and they got what they could. She stole and kept most of my food as well, of course, because she got full dictation over what could and could not go.

The office provided me a $50 card to Walmart - which is nice because they're not technically responsible for anything of mine lost or stolen. But after the both the leasing and property managers came to talk to her the latter realized that this was going to go south quickly and decided to at least try and help cover some of my missing items. it wont be much of a dent considering Walmart prices, but it's a nicer gesture than I expected, and they got first hand experience with even a tip of her behavior that I have endured for the last 4 months.

4 months of this. I am so, so, so tired. I am certainly rambling but her and her friends did not let me get any sleep the night before. Which only made today worse - besides living off saltines and unsweetened apple sauce for more than a week (I ran out of the saltines 3 days ago - I splurged on take out with how hungry I was today though, and so I didn't pass out).

I am still made about the cookware though. Cookware is so expensive and most all of mine was gifted.

I can't sleep yet because I have to work, but god I want to. I am so tired. I have been so tired. I'm just crashing on the couch for the next few days.

2. Because I moved units today I was able to take Jolene to the vet and get her treated. She's doing good. A little mad at me for taking her and she got car sick, but she's cuddled up with me as I work and write this post. Looking sweet as can be and stealing my heart.

3. I feel like there was supposed to be a third part to this, and I started writing it, but for the last 4 months my mind has been fuzzy. Especially right now with the lack of sleep. So it just vanished from my head immediately. Sorry ya'll.

Give me a few more days and hopefully I'll be back good as new.

Your local, mostly friendly, eldritch Prompt Prophet

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 4

A Homelander X F! Reader and Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: if ya like to be taglisted plz leave a comment to be notified on the next release. got the writers block and too many wips so here is an early chapter. hope y'all like it. plz check my pin post for prev. chapters.

Tags: mild gore, angst, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Four

Seeing Stars

You had him agree to you working three days as his personal chef, and he couldn’t have you Sundays no matter how much he asked.

Within the week you had gotten a letter from your bank telling you that the pending investigation on your account had been closed and now you could access it, it had even accrue significant interest after being untouched for seven years it was better than an early christmas miracle as you sobbed in your bedroom with the letter in hand, you cried in the kitchen after calling a realtor to see an apartment, by the time you seen a couple of apartments you had come home to find an enveloped taped to your door. Inside paperwork and some keys– seeing red for a moment, but as Helena tugged at your shirt, your anger tucked itself away, you held her crying into her shoulder as you finished reading the letter.

Before the month ended, you had moved into a large, renovated and well located 2 bedroom, 1 office, 2 bathrooms apartment in the ground floor of a duplex, it had to be at least eighteen to twenty thousand dollars in rent but he had simply purchase it– writing in his letter that he wouldn’t allow you to continue raising his daughter in the projects or some refurbished new york closet, he had even collected information on local schools in your new neighborhood for you consider, informing you that he would take care of tuition cost.

As you settled in a space so big you had nothing to fill it with, as you watched your daughter actually behave like a seven year old for once, you laid on the floor by the open concept kitchen, feeling the rich wood underneath your skin, staring at the black granite benches and hardwood cabinetry– the floor was even heated! You heard a landing in one of the two thin yards, you knew your daughter was exploring the bathroom, so it felt safe to do this now.

“I’ll have my interior designer come by this week to help you select furniture and stuff.” He said upon entering, distubed by how barren it was, all your belonings in a a dozen boxes total, tucked in a corner of the living room.

“You are a bastard making me indebted to you.” You grumbled.

“I can’t have her live in a broom closet infested with rats. Kids need yards and space.” He looked at the cherry wood panels lining the outdoors, the vines and trees growing in a decent sized yard, extra big by New York standards– you could get her a puppy, a kitten or…?”

“She likes fish.”

“I could have a pond installed.” he said with a smirk crainign his back as he tried to look less imposing as you refused to lift your head from the heated hardwoods– you should be okay with utility bills, I left them on credit for your convenience. Have you had a chance to look at schools?”

“What are you actually planning, John.” You sat back up, switching names had taken him off-guard wondering what angle you were going at him from– haven’t even started work with you and now you are showering me with presents? This is beyond just wanting to see your kid is not like you actually seen her.”

“You said to take things slow.” He didn’t try hiding that devious grin– Ryan… needs a story.”

“Jesus Christ you are sick.” you now had to stand up for real– you want me to play mom to your kid? I don’t even look like him.”

“Genetics are weird. Helena looks like you and Ryan looks like me, like those dogs from ‘Beauty and the Tramp’."He touched your cheek with a bare hand– Can’t wait to see you next Thursday, mom.”

“Oh god…” You chuckle, losing your mind as his hand hurts without a scratch– How are you going to tell this to Helena?”

“Is in early development but the team will take care of it. I need Ryan to attend the same school as Helena so please hurry up.”

He left not before telling you to take Helena to MOMA this saturday at 2 pm, it wasn’t a suggestion or invitation, it was an order

You did as you were told that evening, one of the best schools in the city was under a half hour walk from this cell, knowing Helena had to be enrolled soon didn’t help, and your commute to Lucci had increased but now you could pay for gas and not cry. Sending him a texts about schools to the number he had given you in his many many notes seemed anticlimactic but that was it.

Helana had grown suspicious, but she played dumb and you knew it too, so you both played stupid when you headed to MOMA that weekend.

You just casually came the same day and the same time as Homelander and Ryan were about to have the whole museum closed off as they received a private tour,  but he asked you to join them not giving any real explanation for why but nobody questioned, neither kid spoke to each other much if any, Helena simply enjoying the silence, she looked at you as she asked about the pieces but it was Homelander who had the most to say about the works, leaving you left out but happy, you knew that face of his so well, to see it on your daughter’s face made your day.

He had taken the opportunity to discuss your employment not your relationship, giving you list of things Ryan should eat, would not eat, wanted to try and things he wanted to try himself, then your hours and some odd request about handling Ryan’s school lunches being instagram worthy, handing you socials to research for such task.

You started work that following week, the Vought kitchens were top of the line, your job was to meet all of his requirements, some of the chefs that recognized you looked at you with relief and curiosity, wanting to know what had happened to you but you were unwilling to share. That first breakfast was returned with clean plates, even the waiter was shocked when he saw empty plates come out of his penthouse.

It had been so long since you could play with such new equipment, this was it, this was the place you belong in, him or not involved this was your happy place now.

Two weeks had passed.

 As you headed for the staff elevator you met Homelander, who had honestly just been waiting for you.

“I got the paperwork sorted… you just have to sign and fill stuff. Nice school! Great stem program not that Helena will find it hard.” he said politely, his posture extra stiff.

“Did you do a background check on her?” you looked around for witnesses.

“Hard not to. Our kid is the captain of the math club… her school team has won most of the math competitions in the last four years. Not to mention the piano recitals, and science competitions”  He looked so proud– her grades are perfect. She might be the smartest little girl in the city.”

“She’s the smartest little girl in the world.”

“And her new school would let the whole world know just that.” He said matching your smug.

You watched him carefully waiting for him to spit out what he wanted to say, either about her schooling or something else.

Helena was allowed to continue attending her old school until you were ready for transfer, he had only briefly talked to you for school discussions, and with great disinterest on what made each school good or not, if anything you found yourself doing this for his son as well, thinking of what this school would do for his well being, and if it was the best choice for a homeschooled kid, and how would this new school commute affect Helena’s after school routine. 

On the days you didn’t work in Vought’s towers she was still babysat or stayed at Lucci’s, she was too young to be left at home, even if you knew she was perfectly safe, but no matter what she was still little. 

During the days you worked in the tower she was kept in the company daycare in the 20th floor, most of the kids there were normal but there was at least one other super-abled child her age, it made you happy to see her interact with a similar kid even if said kid abilities involved phasing thru objects all willy-nilly and make objects phase thru other objects, making you worry of what would happen if he lost focus and Helena got caught inside a wall.

“By the way our kid escaped the daycare.” He held the elevator open for you as he entered, before you could panic he shot you a charming smile– is okay she’s at the gym…”

Your eyes had welled up regardless, you jumped into the metal box pressing the bottom frantically.

“She’s perfectly safe… A-Train is there and so it's that… Noir… her and the only little Supe kid decided to do some mischief, but I kept my ears on her all day.”

Forcing yourself to take deep breaths as the elevator smoothly traveled to the lower floors.

“Is it not her that I am worried for.” you said firmly.

You followed him as he guided you through an unfamiliar floor, inside the large colosseum gym that had been fitted to test somebody’s athletic skills you found your daughter floating in her wavy bubble, but all you saw was your kid swaying in the air.

“Helena get down here immediately!!!” You ran after her reaching for the kid as her bored expression was replaced with embarrassment as she descended into your arms– you cannot run away from daycare!”

“I don’t want to be surrounded by babies.”

“Helena you are a baby!” you squeezed her against yourself, just glad she was still in one piece, you noticed the other small kid in the room– jesus…”

Carrying your kid you reached for the other one, taking his hand.

“Hey sweetie… let me take you back to daycare before your mommy or daddy gets worried.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked meekly.

“No, but Helena is so grounded.”

“Mom!”

“Don’t mom me! You have any idea how dangerous that was!”

“Oh don’t get mad at the kid, she was just acting like a kid. Don’t be such a buzzkill” he mocked you.

“I don’t want or need your opinion– now you got two seconds to explain yourself!”

You began to gently drag yourself and your kid’s victim out of the gym, A-Train absolutely shocked to see anybody talk to Homelander like that.

“Look I had A-Train and Noir come check them out, they were safe!” He chased after you.

“Oh that was your doing.” Helena said–  "I really wanted to meet A-Train” she waved innocently at the Supe, who returned the gesture as a true professional– and... Mom… I wanted to see the building, that’s all… sorry I used Elmo to escape… but his powers were just too useful”

“You cannot use people like that.” you said in shock.

“People like being used.” Her words were just cold as she wriggled herself out of your arms, falling without touching the ground, she took Elmo’s hand taking the small kid towards the exit– some people are born serfs.” She mumbled to herself.

Homelander's heart beat violently– oh his daughter was a brat and had a questionable attitude, he hadn’t even interacted much with her, but he was proud. His whole body went light and his smile couldn’t be contained as he saw the small girl with true love in his eyes, this was the moment he saw her as truly his own.

Ryan was still reluctant to accept his father’s philosophy, but this little one understood that she was born better from the start on her own.

She turned around to face you again, little Elmo sucked on his thumb as her eyes glowed pale blue.

“Is it alright if I come to the training gym if I ask permission first?” 

“I…”

“Of course all Supe’s should know to keep their powers top notch. You are more than welcome to use the facilities.” Homelander had cut you off, petting the little girl’s head as he approached the duo– Just ask your mother so she doesn’t have a heart attack. Then again this is one of the safest places in all of New York and little Helena over here is perfectly safe, after all I am here.” He said while staring at you.

His voice was sweet, you were defeated as Helena tried to contain that cheshire grin of hers while staring at you– he was your boss , and the Homelander so could you really go against him so publicly?

“You had a terrorist attack in this building… but I guess…” She ignored him again then looked straight at you– I learned something new today.” 

A-Train and Noir exchanged concerned looks taking a few step backs, Homelander seemed intrigued to watch your reaction, you gave way, unable to speak, just frustrated as your ex looked just as smug as his kid.

Little Elmo scoot behind her– in the round gymnasium a cement boulder hanged in chains, her eyes glowed the brightest you’ve ever seen, lifting her hand with one quick swipe the boulder broke in half, the dust showing the invisible blade bending light, it gain a blue color as it was touched before fading, she looked so proud of herself, you stared at Homelander and now you understood why nobody had informed you that your daughter was missing. It didn’t sit well with you.

“you’re still grounded for a whole week.”

“But Mom!!”

You had walked into a trap, one you did so willingly, jailed in a nice house, any hope of Homelander being driven away or losing interest in her was gone as he looked at her with pure adoration in his eyes.

You got used to it… this prison was lovely, it was nice to come back to a spacious cell. Homelander had indeed brought his decorator to your house but you didn’t want designer furniture and high end stuff, you kept it simple and cheap, most of your stuff second hand and from Ikea, only relenting to agree with the poor designer over the kitchen, his budget was absurd for the task, only taking advantage to purchase all the appliances of your dreams, you indeed needed a air fryer that matched your splashback.

Helena was happy to have a room that felt like a bedroom, large bookcases that could be filled with her own books, a small courtyard facing her doors, where she now could sit down and read with the breeze in her hair. She seemed happy, euphoric when she began her new school, making you forget what was happening in the background at times.

Homelander would come from time to time to speak to you about mundane stuff and work, his patience saintly as he allowed you to get used to his company once more, just so you could be okay with him entering her life, but then again he was your jailer.

He himself had begun forcing himself into her life when you weren’t around, it was all a matter of timing and perception.

Homelander watched the daycare center, from afar, a much needed service, it occupied a whole floor, the tower employed thousands of people in its 99th floor so there had to be help for those mothers and fathers who needed to work but had children with no babysitters, it was one of the many appealing things about being employed by Vought, and the center offered a variety of activities for all age groups.

Helena saw it as a jungle, all these children just a bunch of savages, keeping Elmo around not because she liked his company but because he was the only other Supe child in her age group, he was a sweet kid, afraid of bugs and that liked to talk about cartoons, frankly it was a challenge to figure out what to do with him. Homelander watched as she taught the kid to play chess, taking hours to explain the basics as the seven year old had very little clue what was happening, but in its own way it was nice to talk to another kid like himself.

Homelander even bothered to do a background check on the child– both of his dad’s both worked at Vought one in hero management and the other in marketing, both very busy bees it seems… he had done the same with all of Ryan’s new classmates, he knew their entire families before his kid even stepped foot and said hello to any of them, all done before he started school the same week as Helena– there was the big issue of her being on the 10th grade while her older brother just began the 6th grade, so he couldn’t enjoy seeing the both of them interacting, it was hard to witness for he wanted both kids to become closer so desperately.

Hence why he was standing on the foyer of the daycare center, a young lady that looked too cheerful for her own good, welcomed Homelander.

“Hi! How can I help you today, Homelander? Are you looking to enroll little Ryan?” She swayed side to side trying to see if the kid was behind him by any chance.

“Actually… am here to speak to one of the kids… hmm… Helena L/N.” He said with a firm tone– I believe her mother left a message.”

Homelander texted you an hour before cominf down, not even asking you that he was going to take her for training, you were stuck in the kitchen helping with some work function taking place tonite, a thousand canapes had to be made and you were stuck with the pistachio and lemon layer cakes.

You had no time to argue, taking your precious break time to make phone calls and try not to use your knife on the nearest asshole who pissed you off afterwards.

She hopped on the desk seeking for any notes, and he was indeed correct.

Now he had her all for himself, you prayed he wasn’t going to drop the news on her, but you couldn’t leave and abandoned your team, she was safe, you had to believe she was safe, she was smart, she was so smart and she could escape him, you just had to trust her.

“Can I bring Elmo?” Helena looked up at Homelander, a slight ache building on her neck as she looked up at the man– he might get lonely.”

“He’s not a dog.” He didn’t even try putting on a soft babied voice with her– and I wanted to talk to you.”

“But he’s always ‘The Dog’ when we play house.” She faked the most innocent voice she could muster, turning around to look at the glass doors  dividing the friends– … He will probably sneak out to the gym if he gets lonely, they got his favorite snacks today… he told me liked five times and I think they’re playing Bluey on the tv.”

“Oh! and you play mommy?” He grimaces so hard his eyebrows touch.

“No, the robber.”

He led the way and she was more than happy to explore the building as they headed downstairs.

“What do you think of them?”

“Elaborate.”

“Those without powers.” she wished she could see his expression– and be honest. None of this ‘Wednesday Addams’ crap.”

He looked around at the sea of smart casual fits and stress on the floors above, the world moving so fast paced, nothing but monkeys hurling shiny rocks while playing dress-up.

“They can be useful, if they are not… then they don’t matter to me.”

He smiled, his heart fluttering and his stomach filled with butterflies as he heard her speak– why did Ryan struggle so much to understand this? He thought.

“When you are born with such gifts–

“I might be a kid but I am very familiar with your Compound V, I already had this talk with my mother. Fascinating stuff… I am still trying to understand the whole dosage thing… How does your company decide which kid to give more versus others? Did they just look at who could provide the best backstory before deciding between 10 mils versus the whole vial.” 

She stared at the glass walls where the kids were housed, the tone of her voice still flat.

“Why you say that?”

“I’m a poor kid from the projects, with a single mom, formerly homeless and now with enough powers to make Athena envious. Not to mention how 92% of supes are white but the percentage below middle class to poor is almost the same as with the 6% blacks, while the percentage of upper class white supes is closer to the same percentage of 2% asians and latino supes… if anything a good chunk of latino and asian supes are upper class… something-something model minority yadah-yadah.” she pressed the elevator door– I’d make a good story. Shame that I can’t be a Supe.”

Homelander stared at her, placing his hand on the back of her head.

“You can be anything you want, Helena. You have been blessed beyond belief with powers… if you want to be Supe then you are ready for major leagues.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Only the 1% of superheroes ever make it to the major leagues, most supes never achieve anything beside D-list status and everybody is fighting for the crumbs left behind by your posse of clowns– is not a fiscally responsible decision. A career that can only exist on extreme gambling is not one that can make money. Not to mention am not cute or tall." She took the first step into the elevator– I never want my mother to worry about money. I want to buy her a mansion on top of a cliff staring at the ocean, have a dozen maids care for the house and she can just spend the rest of her life in luxury”

She turns to see him crossing her arms with a serious look on her tiny face.

“My goal is to take your job.”

“The Seven?” He grinned.

“Vought.”

“I can wait to see you try.” he grinned.

“It won’t be that hard… At least when I am in charge security will be tighter.”

Bottles of V dropped from above Homelander’s head, he caught most of them but a few were lost, those were hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of drops staining his pants and shoes, Helena caught one bottle, sliding it between nimble fingers back and forth.

“Don’t look so surprised, it seems this is a common occurence… Here's an unwanted tip: use biometrics and only allow lab techs to enter the 67th floor, not just rely on good will, clown.” sections of her body and clothes flicked back and forth between visible and invisible, taunting him about how easy it had been to steal them using her superpowers.

As his eyes took an extra tinge of red, he saw a brief flash of pale blue encasing her, he followed her to the entrance of the Gym, where she expected to be left alone with Homelander not to find another kid.

“The prodigal son.” she mumbles.

Ryan sat on top of some raised stepping stones in the recently established obstacle course, Helena imagined she needed to know parkour in lieu of flying abilities, which seemed redundant for the kid who could fly.

“Thought you two could practice together.” He shouted while placing the V on the nearest bench.

“Guess there are ways to successfully murder a child and get away with it.” She raised an eyebrow– and here I thought you wouldn’t be irked by the words of a little girl… like I said you’re a maladjusted person.”

“I don’t hurt children. I have no idea…” he said calmly while a little bit angry, as he returned to her side.

“I dunno– it would look really bad if the press found out that you’re a deadbeat.”

His expression dropped as the little girl's eyes glowed.

“Smartest little girl in the world… or...?” She said dryly, as she headed towards Ryan to save him the walk– my bubble refracts light, easy to spot if you notice images are wavering without the heat.”

The little boy ran cheerfully after his father, who for the first time ignored him, his eyes transfixed on the little girl, who had been playing stupid all along.

taglist-- @fromforeigntofamiliarity , @demodemo909 and @immyowndefender

here's the house:

[pastafossa]

The last day of 2023.

And holy shit has it been a chaotic ride, one which you all shared with me, or that's what it feels like!

The Major Moments:

Feb: Cato's cancer diagnosis and discovery of weird mutated cells that likely won't be explained until after he passes away. He's still with me, fortunately! No idea how much time he has left but I'm grateful for every second

April: a small leak in my dining room ceiling turned into a bigger leak which turned into a massive hole in the ceiling, at least it wasn't winter???

May: DD Born Again Photos give us all a goddamn heart attack

May: I FUCKING REACH MY OVERALL 1,000,000 WORD COUNT ON AO3. 🎊 🎉 🎊 Next stop is 1mill for TRT!

June: Went to my first con since Covid! Drove all the way down to Philly to see Charlie Cox, WHICH WAS FUCKING AMAZING, HE HELD THE RED THREAD FOR OUR PHOTO, MY FANFIC DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE, AND I TOLD HIM WHAT DD MEANS TO ME AND HE WAS SO NICE I COULD CRY

June: At that same con, I finally FINALLY got to meet my bff @wonderlandmind4 in person after many many many late nights of chatting, and we just CLICKED like we'd been friends for years, which I should have expected, but still! And then I got to meet a bunch of my readers, too! Best con experience EVER

July: enter Whoops Covid Finally Got Me After 3 Years But Charlie Was Worth It ™

July: Finally dusted off my draft of Pasta's First Dark Fic cause even if my brain was too fuzzy to write, I figured I could edit a bit. And I did! And was pretty happy with the results!

August: Shit Now There's A Long Covid Heart Issue And I Can't Be Seen Until Late November Thanks Covid ®

August: leak in the garage leads to me losing about 65% of all the beautiful, special woods pieces I'd gathered over the course of six years for carving. Within a week I am gifted a huge bin of wood from a kind soul at my local witchy shop

Sept: TRT's 6th anniversary!

Nov: I was slowly getting back into the swing of things, doing a bit of writing in between learning to manage whatever was going on with my heart (which we'll hopefully figure out in January when I get all the results of testing in Jan)

Early Dec, and the worst week of my life: mom got sick. Within one day she went from not feeling good to needing an ambulance. By the next day, she was in the ICU - flu induced double pneumonia that was interfering with her breathing and heart issues. And with one more day, she was put into an induced coma and ventilated, without any of us sure if she'd pull through. They told us she'd likely be under for two weeks, potentially longer even if she made it. The amount of messages and supportive comments I got from all of you, the talks I had with @wonderlandmind4 and @shouldbestudying41, just the general sense of having a community to help me means more than I can ever say as you all helped me through that terrible, horrible moment, even if it was just gently messaging me to remind me to try to eat.

Mid Dec: against ALL odds, Mom was off the ventilator in a week. By week 2, she was out of the ICU. By week 3? Off to the physical rehab center. She was there a grand total of 1 week before she was allowed to come home to finish her recovery. Early December was the worst moment of my life, and yet it was also bookended by the best Christmas of my life even if it was spent at the rehab center, because I got to have my mama back, and hug her and tell her I loved her and make jokes, and now she's home and we've been watching Christmas movies and eating grilled cheeses, and as far as I'm concerned, that's what the holiday is to me: not presents and snow and lights, but this moment, this time with her. 'In all the places you find love, it feels like Christmas.'

In just a few hours for me, it'll be 2024. I have no idea what to expect going forward, or even what to plan for, much less a resolution. I know I want to get back to TRT when mom's a bit better (she still needs a lot of help, understandably). I know there are wood carvings I want make; friends I want to visit; witchy events at my local shop I want to go to. But other than that... who knows? If I'm lucky, things will be calmer than this past year. But even if they aren't, at least I know I have dear friends, all of you, and my family, including Pasta Mama, to help me through it.

Goodbye, 2023. Hello, 2024.

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 9 - Dutch x Reader

This chapter is on ao3, too!

Summary: Your time at university has come to an end, and you and Dutch talk about the future.

Word count: 4,390

Content warnings: None

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Finally. Exams were over, and you were finished with university.  

That feeling you had upon leaving your final exam was akin to that of an out-of-body experience. You'd floated more than walked out of the hall until you reached the pub, and couldn't shake the looming feeling that you shouldn't be having fun, you should be at home studying. Everything you’d worked for throughout school, and specifically during the last three years, had all led up to this moment.  

Most of your group of friends had returned home after you were all partied out (poor Abigail being unable to drink but being a great sport nonetheless) to wait for the results to come through.  

You’d squealed when you saw yours, a top mark that was so overwhelming you'd immediately burst into tears. After you’d informed your family, you checked your phone to see two things: your group chat with thirty unread messages and a single one from Dutch, asking how you’d done.  

Unable to formulate coherent sentences, you opted for a screenshot.  

By some miracle, all your friends had passed too, even John. Abigail had done especially well, and you couldn’t have been prouder of her. You were beaming down at your phone, happy not only for yourself but for your friends too, when Dutch responded.   

Congratulations my girl. I knew you could do it. Can’t wait to celebrate with you ;)  

As always, Dutch’s timing was impeccable, a message from John coming through saying that he was hosting celebratory drinks at his house the following weekend. There were no prizes for guessing who put that idea in his head. Not that you weren't excited about the prospect; you truly were on cloud nine.  

-

John had been the one to pick you up, and you’d unfortunately been running late after having an interview for a graduate job the same day you were meant to travel down.   

There were more people than you’d expected at the Van der Linde residence aside from your group of friends when you arrived, some of Javier’s family, Abigail’s parents, and of course Tilly.   

“I can’t believe your parents are meeting Dutch,” you mused to Abigail who’d joined John for the ride and was walking you through the house and to the garden, where you could already see the small group chatting with drinks in hand.   

“I know,” she widened her eyes at you, “we’ve had to rush through a good number of things thanks to this little one.”  

Abigail gestured at her tummy, which was now impossible to hide in her clothes. She’d carried well, and the bump had been tiny for a great deal of her pregnancy, which was now a month and a half away from completion. She was having a hard time finding a dress for graduation and was unfortunately going to have to get one on the week of the event thanks to her ever-changing body. But still, she seemed to be glowing and the thought of her as a mother suited her greatly.

You paused in the kitchen to get a drink, John carrying on ahead while Abigail stayed with you.  

“How are you feeling?” you asked, pouring her a cup of juice. “Still going okay?”  

“Yeah, actually. I’ve been lucky. Thought that knowing my luck I’d be sick for the entire time and aching for nine full months. But touch wood,” she grazed her fingertips over the cabinet door, “it stays that way for a while longer. Can’t imagine I’ll be very comfortable during the last month either way.”  

“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do,” you said ernestly. “At least it sounds like baby will be less trouble than John.”  

“I hope so,” she chuckled. “I couldn’t bear the thought of minding two of them.”  

You snorted a laugh. “Yeah, rather you than me. Is John still staying at your house for the birth?”  

“He is,” she confirmed. While the two would be spending most of the time at the Van der Linde residence, Abigail wanted her parents to be there for the birth and the two had planned to make the journey to John’s after a couple of weeks. You’d been briefly concerned whether she’d be okay travelling so soon, but her place wasn’t too far away that it would be unmanageable, at least. “Surprised he even wants to be there for the birth.”  

“I can’t imagine he’ll be much use,” you took a sip of your drink, “but it’s good that he’s shown willing.”  

“Agree.”   

You placed a hand on her arm. Despite her façade, you knew deep down she must be scared. This was a big deal, bigger than anything any of you had ever dealt with. “You’re gonna do great.”  

Abigail pressed her lips together and blinked her eyes at the floor. “Don’t make me cry,” she half-laughed, “I’m too hormonal for you to get all soft on me.”  

“Alright,” you held up your hands with a grin. “Shall we head out?”  

“Yeah, let's do that.”  

The pair of you stepped out into the garden, Karen jumping to her feet to skip over and throw her arms around you. “I can finally spend time with you again!” She pulled away, her hands holding your upper arms. “You have finally been having time to yourself, right?”  

“I have,” you nodded fondly. “I plan to do so for at least a couple of months.”  

“Here’s the genius amongst us,” Javier proclaimed, and you rolled your eyes at him. “Congrats,” he knocked his drink against yours once you'd walked over, “I’d say you’ve definitely earnt it.”  

“Thanks Javi. You did great too.”  

Javier was one of those irritating people who could put in minimal effort, yet still come out with a decent performance. It was truly aggravating.  

You sat beside him, opposite Dutch, who was smiling proudly at you. Lest you blush like a teenager, you took your gaze away from him.  

Thankfully, he was chatting with Abigail’s dad about something or other while you and your friends caught up. Of course, Abigail and John were postponing their job hunt, something Dutch had been quite insistent on; after coming around to the idea of them having the child, he’d been very hands-on and was more than willing to support the pair while they got to grips with parenthood.  

Sean and Karen had made travel plans, the two of them deciding on doing some interrailing around Europe together. You’d poked fun at Karen, asking how she was going to survive months on end sharing an enclosed space with Sean. For all that she hid her affection towards him, she was incredibly fond of him and the two were truthfully a good match; seemingly comfortable in their created chaotic environment.  

Javier had been interviewing like you had, planning on going into software too since it allowed him to work from home – he had no interest in hauling himself to an office every day.  

The music and drinks had been flowing for a few hours when Abigail and Javier’s parents left, Arthur and Charles arriving soon after and updating everyone on how married life had been treating them. They’d recently bought a beat-up house with a decent amount of land and most of their time was spent renovating it while deciding what to do with the space. They hadn’t yet come to an agreement, but they were set on it having something to do with animals and or nature conservation. Once it was finished, Arthur had said you all had an open invitation to come and see it.  

All the talk of the future was wonderful, seeing your friends so happy and bright-eyed as they prepared to take on the world. You couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy, having such an uncertain aspect of your future that none of them knew a thing about.  

You quietly escaped the chatty group, opting to dawdle in the kitchen for a moment while you took your time pouring out another drink.  

“I believe a proper congratulations is in order.”  

That lovely deep voice was carried in by none other than Dutch, who’d taken your brief departure as a chance to have some alone time. You smiled at him bittersweetly, and his face fell a little.  

“What’s wrong?” he stepped closer, not knowing what to do with his hand that he wanted to wrap around you, instead flexing it at his side.

With a sip of your drink, you shrugged. “I think I’m just a little overwhelmed.”  

Dutch tilted his head, and you looked at the ground, the urge to cry coming on strong for a reason unbeknownst to you. “Sweetheart,” he said softly. “Let’s go to the study for a moment.”  

You nodded, and he led you to his office, which you hadn’t seen for some time.  

Once inside, he perched himself against the desk and gingerly pulled you into his chest. You lay your head there as he rubbed your back soothingly, the scent and feel of him causing your worries to begin to dissipate.   

“I don’t even know why I’m getting emotional,” you mumbled into him, then took your head from his chest to instead look at him directly, his hands moving to rest on your hips.  

“Now darlin’,” he soothed, looking at you with all the adoration in the world, “it’s an emotional time. This is all different, it’s a whole new beginning.”  

“I know, but...”  

His eyes were warm, projecting all the comfort he could muster onto you by gaze alone. “But what?”  

“Everyone’s out there,” you gestured away from yourself, “talking about their futures. I’ve got nothing to say. It’s all so uncertain.” It felt silly to get up in your feelings, considering your great grades and even greater prospects, but it wasn't something you could help.

“Trust you to be instantly thinking about the next thing,” he shook his head as he appraised you, swiping his thumbs under your eyes to dry your tears. “You even had your interview today, right? How did that go?”  

“Good, I think. The office isn’t far, but I’d only have to go in once a fortnight. Might be a good fit if I get it, but I have others lined up if not.”  

“Exactly. You have an incredible future. With your career,” he took your hands in his, “with me...”  

“Do I?”  

“Yes,” he assured, “we said we’d wait to talk about it once all this is over, that doesn’t mean I haven’t already been thinking about some things.”  

“Like what?” you asked quietly, hoping he could paint a pretty picture to soothe your worried heart.  

Dutch brushed a hand over your hair, a fond smirk on his face. “About how we’re gonna settle the score so we don’t have to hide this. If that’s still what you want?”  

“Yeah. Yes. I’m just apprehensive about how we’ll get to that point.”  

“Understandable,” he placed a hand on his chest genuinely, “as am I. But we’ll plan it together, do it together. Okay? We’ll have each other, throughout and at the end of it all.”  

You nodded, a little unconvinced. It suddenly seemed much less manageable now that you'd reached the proverbial bridge and were preparing to cross. “I don’t want to lose anyone.”  

“We will do everything to make sure that doesn’t happen. Like I said, I’ve been thinking.”  

“Go on?”  

“It’d be wise to tackle the most difficult one first. Once John’s out the way, the rest won’t seem so bad.”  

That was true. You nodded.  

“We need to let John and Abigail settle first. Once they have, we’ll take them out and tell them. Be good to have Abigail there for moral support, her presence will hopefully keep John calm, too.” He brought your hands up to kiss them. “By Christmas, it’ll be out there, and we can deal with it however we see fit.”  

“You really think John’ll be okay with it?”  

Dutch shrugged. “I won’t lie to you; I don’t think he will be. Eventually, he’ll come around. He has to.”  

“Does he?”  

“Darlin’, I know my son. You leave the planning to me, focus on that job of yours. It’ll all work out. I promise.”  

You brought your intertwined hands towards you, resting your chin on his knuckles, feeling guilty that Dutch would take the extra weight on his shoulders in order to lessen what was on yours. “Okay, I will.”  

“And in the meantime,” he broke your hands apart and tugged on your hips to bring you between his legs. “I say you and I get away for a week at least, go somewhere hot where we can walk along the beach and drink cocktails together.”  

A smile grew on your face, a holiday abroad with Dutch sounded like the perfect way to pass the time until then. “We should get a place with another hot tub.”  

“Now that,” Dutch edged his face towards yours, “is a fantastic idea.”

He kissed you, and your troubles began to melt away. His lips were so soft, so warm, and he smelled so good. He was Dutch. Your Dutch. The man always had a plan, was always two steps ahead of you and knew how to fix problems before they’d even arose.  

“My sweet girl. We’ll figure it out,” he nuzzled his nose against yours, “I’ll do everything I can to make this work. You just have to trust me.”  

“Okay. I trust you.” You brought your hands to his jaw, keeping his face on yours as the two of you deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around the small of your back and pulling you even further in.  

The faint thrumming of alcohol underneath your skin made itself known, and you shifted in your spot as you placed your hands on the base of Dutch’s neck, the two of you lost in the exchange as it solidified the promise of a future, whatever that was going to look like.  

“What the fuck?”  

You gasped as you pulled your lips from Dutch’s, his hands stilling at your waist at the sound of the all too familiar voice. Turning, you were met with John’s horrified expression as he stood in the doorway.  

“Son -” Dutch began, being cut off as John slammed the door open the rest of the way, making you jolt and pacing towards the two of you.  

You brushed Dutch’s hands away that were still on your hips, for some unknown reason, and turned fully, your heart rising up into your mouth and you felt as though you’d puke it out before he reached you.  

His gaze was fixed just behind you, on Dutch, and you stepped forward to get his attention. “John, John - it isn’t what it looks like.”  

Menacingly he stopped, his gaze shifting to you. “What the fuck is this,” he gritted.  

“I - I -” you stuttered, not a single excuse to explain any of it.   

“You,” he pointed at his father, “you’re a fucking pervert. And you,” he turned his gaze to you, “I didn’t have you down for a whore, but here we are.”  

“Johnathon,” Dutch snapped, standing, and you felt the heat radiating off both of them in waves.  

“What?!” John yelled. “You gonna make this my fault, somehow? Turn it around on me? Like you always do?!”  

“No, son – but you will not speak to her that way,” he snarled, and you looked back at him, willing him not to get riled up.  

Jogging footsteps preluded Arthur making his way through the door. “What the hell is all this yellin’ for?”  

John threw him a hateful look, and Arthur frowned, looking between you and Dutch. His expression then became one of anger mixed with disappointment as his eyes settled on Dutch. “Tell me you haven’t.”  

“Arthur, son, it is not how it seems -”  

“I goddamn knew I shouldn’t have believed you -”  

“Please, Arthur,” you interjected, placing a hand on his forearm to stop him from advancing further, “it really isn’t what it looks like.”  

“No?” John scoffed. “How about you enlighten us?”  

Your voice got stuck in your throat, and you cleared it a couple of times.  

“I’m waiting,” he lamented, and you noticed there was now an audience of Abigail and Karen at the door. “Please explain what earthly reason you have for putting your tongue in my father’s mouth. What’s the play here?” he waved his arms between the two of you angrily, “were you just gonna fuck on the desk if I hadn’t of come in?”  

You put a hand to your mouth, willing yourself not to hyperventilate; your worst fear was coming true, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. It was as though you were a third party, simply observing the situation as it played out with no way to intervene.

Realisation set in Arthur’s face first, and he muttered his brother’s name while glancing between you and Dutch.  

“No,” John scoffed, almost laughing, “ain’t no way. Don’t you dare,” he pointed a finger towards the two of you. “Don’t you fucking dare tell me that’s true.”  

You heard Dutch move from the desk behind you, and he walked past you with his hands out. “John. I need you to calm down.”  

“Calm down?! Calm down?!” John glared at Dutch, a face full of venomous anger, “you’ve been fucking my best friend and you want me to calm down?!”  

“John,” you choked, tears brimming at your eyes once again, and the look he gave you was enough to tell you that you were his best friend no more.   

“You should go upstairs,” Arthur said to you gently, keeping his gaze fixed on Dutch.  

“No, Arthur, I -”  

“Abigail, take up her upstairs.”  

“No -”  

“It’s alright,” Dutch tipped his chin at you, that same promise you’d seen earlier in his eyes still held there, “you go. It’s alright.”  

You shook your head, and he nodded his in response.   

“Abigail,” he beckoned her in, and she took slow steps in with poorly-concealed shock plastered over her face as though she didn’t even want to step into the tense atmosphere of the room. “Will you and Karen take her upstairs?”  

“Sure,” she said uncertainly, reaching an unsteady hand out to tug at your forearm.   

“Dutch -” you began.  

“Just go,” he stepped towards you, Arthur bristling as he did and causing him to stop in his tracks.  

Unable to think of any other option you hand, you shook your head and allowed Abigail to lead you out, she and Karen proceeding to walk you up the stairs in silence until you reached the spare room, where you sat on the end of the bed and they shut the door after you were all inside.  

There was nothing else to do except drop your head into your hands and sob.  

The girls approached, Abigail still uncertain but she sat beside you, Karen kneeling in front of you with a hand on your knee.  

They allowed you to cry, as you’d allowed them to do many times about their respective partners. Over the years, you’d been the one they’d go to when they had to let it all out, and over a hot drink, you’d chatted and taken their mind off it or talk it out until there were no more words or tears left.  

It appeared that you were crying your share of tears all in one sitting.  

“Sweetie,” Karen began tentatively once your sobs had turned to sniffles, “what on earth is going on?”  

You blinked up to see her concerned face swimming thanks to the wetness of your eyes, and Abigail stood to find tissues which she handed to you when she sat back down. After dabbing at your under eyes, you took a steadying breath.  

“John walked in on me kissing Dutch,” you said, your voice hoarse. “It isn’t exactly the first time we’ve done it.”  

“Did you really sleep with him?” Karen asked, and even in her serious tone, you could pick out a glint of admiration.  

You nodded.  

“Holy shit. How long has this been going on?” she asked hesitantly, and you only just met her gaze.  

“Since Easter...”  

“Well that’s not so -”  

“Of first year.”  

“Oh, you idiot.”  

At least you could rely on her to be honest. “I know. It’s terrible. I’m terrible.”  

Nobody argued against that, not that you'd expected them to. “I -” Abigail shifted beside you, “why didn’t you tell us?”  

“How could I? It all just happened... and then continued to happen,” you looked down at your hands, wringing them between each other. “We were gonna tell him, tell everyone,” you gave them both a desperate look, “just after the baby. We didn’t want all this stress...”  

“Wait,” Karen squeezed your thigh, “tell everyone what, exactly?”  

“About us,” you shrugged.  

“It’s... more than just a fling?”  

With a solemn nod, you cleared your throat. “It’s... much more.”  

“Oh Jesus,” Abigail rubbed disparagingly at her brow, “how could you let this happen?”  

“You’ve seen the man, right?” Karen asked.  

“Karen.”  

“What?” she laughed. “I can hardly blame ya for it.”  

“Sure,” Abigail snipped. “But what about John?”  

You were saved from answering that by a knock at the door, and Arthur’s voice behind it.  “It’s just me. Ya’ll mind if I come in?”  

Karen looked to you and you nodded. “Sure, come on in.”  

He did so, visibly radiating frustration but also trying to keep himself calm while in your company. “Ladies, would you give us a minute?”  

Karen checked in with you again, she and Abigail standing at your go-ahead. Once they'd left, Arthur took Karen’s place and kneeled in front of you. Your gaze remained firmly on the floor.  

“I’m gonna need you to look at me.”  

Your brow creased, but you did as he asked. You weren’t sure whether you should’ve been thankful for the pity on his face.  

“Arthur, I’m so sorry -”  

“Ain’t me you should be apologising to,” he began, “but I understand this ain’t entirely your fault. Dutch is... well I don’t like to be the one to tell you, but he’s done this before.”  

“I already know about Molly,” you said immediately, and Arthur’s face fell in surprise.  

“You do?”  

“Dutch told me.”  

“Oh,” he hummed. “Well, it don’t matter either way. Dutch shouldn’t have done what he did -”  

“Arthur,” you sighed his name. “Please listen to me. He hasn’t done anything. This was both of us.”  

“No, he has a responsibility -”  

“And he kept it! I came onto him. He refused! At least at the start.”  

Arthur shook his head. “That don’t mean much, he’s got a way about him -”  

“Christ, Arthur,” you huffed. “I’m an adult. In spite of that, I know how it looks, you don’t have to tell me. But it’s not the way it seems. It just isn’t like that. I -”  

“Don’t you dare say you love him,” Arthur’s face hardened.  

“I do. I’m sorry, but I do. Have done for a long time,” you said, full of regret. “It sounds crazy, I know that. But it’s the truth. We had a plan, a plan to tell John, and to -” you gestured vaguely, trailing off.  

“A plan to what?”  

You shrugged reluctantly. “Make it work.”  

“How? What kinda future do the two of you have?” he said pleadingly. “And is it worth it? Jeopardising your friendship with John, hell maybe even the others, so you can date him?”  

“I -” you sighed a defeated sigh.   

“Look, maybe it ain’t too late. But you can’t be serious about carrying this on, it... it ain’t right.”  

Arthur’s words stung almost as hard as the look on John’s face that would be imprinted on your mind for the foreseeable. Even if Arthur was wrong about the circumstances, he was right about one thing. There was only one way you could have a chance at salvaging your relationship with John.  

The way everyone had looked at you had you feeling insane. Like this was the worst thing in the world and only you couldn’t see it. It had never felt that way. It’d never felt wrong, or sick, even if you had been regretful and concerned about John at times. You and Dutch had always been right. He’d always been your sanctuary.  

But maybe, just maybe, Arthur was right. After all, was it true that everyone else was wrong? What was the likelihood that you weren’t being naïve and silly? You’d been in your own world with Dutch since the whole thing had begun, with no room or option for any outside opinions to make themselves known. Every disagreement the two of you had was worked out amongst yourselves, and not once had you had anyone in your ear to give you advice.  

And John. God, poor fucking John.  

You adored him, well and truly. He’d been your first proper friend at university, he’d driven you home for the breaks, introduced you to his flatmates who then became your closest friends, he’d gone out for food or drink when you needed to get away from the stress of university life. He wasn’t perfect, but who was? Certainly not you.  

Not once had you truly taken the time to think about what you were doing. Every time you came close, the thought was pushed to the back of your mind in the pursuit of self-indulgence. You’d erased his face far from your head while you kissed his father, fucked his father, all behind his back for two years.  

In truth, you weren’t convinced you even deserved him as a friend.  

Arthur was right. How could you and Dutch have a future? You’d believed it to be possible upon Dutch’s promise that John would come around, but how could you ever have believed that would happen? What a stupid dream that was. He’d never forgive you, rightfully so, yours and Dutch’s relationship would ultimately end, and you’d be left with nothing.  

For John, for once, you had to do the right thing. You had to make it up to him. You had to try, at least.  

“I want to go home.”   

Arthur nodded, standing, relieved to get you out of the picture for the time being. “I’ll drive ya to the station.”  

[everythingisliminal]

Day 20 of 75 Hard

When I complete today, it'll be the furthest I've ever been in this challenge (made it through day 10 then day 19 in 2021).

The journey so far:

Two 45+ minute workouts, 3+ hours apart, at least one of which must be outside. Because I work 10 hour days in wetland restoration navigating mucky, watery, and steep terrain with ~40lbs on my back, I count those 4 workdays as my outdoor workout. Yes it's already part of my routine, but I wasn't going to not do this challenge just because I'm not fitting another workout in before work.

My other outdoor workouts are all walking and/or running around the neighborhood or on trails. My indoor workouts are push, pull, and indoor cycling days with my buddy, bowling with my husband, and following walk/dance/box/lift/yoga vids at home.

Saturdays are wild because I need to get a walk/run in, then go straight to cycling, and then 3 hours later bowl bc my afternoons are booked and I have to get that outdoor workout in but 3 hours away from another workout. Making it work, though!

I did put together an idealized workout schedule to train for the 5 mile trail run my buddy and I signed up for 2 weekends after we complete 75 Hard. Already had to adjust because I twisted my ankle yesterday, so I used that opportunity to try Qigong (followed by 45 min yoga). We'll see if I should stick with walking today or if I can throw in a few 3-4 minute runs.

Honestly, the toughest part of this rule is the scheduling and getting started. I really enjoy the physical activity when I'm in the flow of it.

Take a progress picture. This has been beneficial for me in a way I couldn't predict. The mirror has always surprised me, like "oh, that's what I look like?" It always shows me as curvier, less athletic than I picture myself. Might stem from a grey area of body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria. It's one of the things I'm talking with my therapist about.

But now that I'm taking a picture of my body every day, I'm realizing that what I'm seeing in the mirror looks better than what I'm seeing in the photo, giving an element of valuing what I see in the mirror. Like, I can more positively accept that that's me. So that's cool.

10 pages of reading a "think about your life" nonfiction book. I read The Book on Mental Toughness, which the creator of 75 Hard wrote. 3 of 5 stars. I might write an extended review, but a lot of the book was like watching a car crash. Yeah, the author's mentally tough, but he's not very well read sociologically. It'll be a tougher read for anyone who's nonbinary, living with intergenerational trauma, or can't stand editing/formatting issues. But there was some insightful info about 75 Hard and the continued LIVEHARD program, and I really benefited from the chapter on drinking water.

Currently reading Weave the Liminal: Living Modern Traditional Witchcraft, which I'm fully enjoying.

Books I'm considering reading next are Rest is Resistance: Free Yourself from Grind Culture and Reclaim Your Life / How to Make Friends & Influence People / The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius / Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good / and Keeping It Living: Traditions of Plant Use and Cultivation on the Northwest Coast of North America.

If anyone has a recommendation for books on Inanna, Ishtar, Astarte, or Aphrodite/Aphroditus, I'm looking to learn more about their part in trans history.

Drink 1 gallon of water. I have to stick with a 90oz goal. I've tried multiple times in the past to drink a gallon a day and always wound up with a horribly sore throat after a few days. Last time, it made me sick for 2 weeks. So 90oz of unflavored water is definitely way more than I'd drink normally (32oz on a good day) but without dipping back into unhealthy territory. There are some days that I can drink more (allowing me to get in some Gatorade, preworkout, or BCAAs), but I also have a steady supply of good cough drops at hand.

I try to get in 32oz before lunch, another 32oz by 5pm, and 26oz+ before sleepy time.

Follow a diet. No cheat meals or alcohol. I'm focused on getting 100+ grams of protein a day (macro balancing and calorie deficit are secondary but seem to be happening naturally). I've also cut out chocolate (this is how I know I mean business), sugary drinks, gluten, and microwavable mac n' cheese type meals.

This is really forcing me to get my act together when it comes to planning/prepping. No more going to the coffee stand for a burrito and red bull before work. I have to either cook breakfast or nom on a protein bar. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and at least 2 snacks all have to be protein-centric for me to meet my goal. It's wild to think of how little protein I must have been getting. But now I'm full, and then I'm hungry! There's no middle ground of kinda-hungry filled with chips and milk teas. All this meal prepping and forcing myself to eat well for 75 days will probably be one of the most beneficial things I've ever done for myself.

Tangentially, cutting out chocolate meant cutting out my herbal calm chocolate supplements I always had at night to help myself wind down. Now I have to get off my phone earlier and stretch/meditate/read to get myself prepped for bed. It's good stuff.

Also, I don't drink alcohol, so there's no challenge for me there.

Overall: I'm so glad I'm doing this. This is helping me live my life the way I actually want to live it. I'm developing daily discipline and gaining insights into myself. I've lost 6lbs, my clothes fit better, and I can navigate terrain more easily. I'm enjoying trails in my free time. I was wishy-washy about my goals when I tried 75 Soft a couple months ago, and so didn't stick with them. With 75 Hard, my commitment is unquestionable. This is what my life looks like for the next 56 days. Afterward, I'll take what I like and ditch anything I don't.

If you're considering 75 Hard yourself, do make a game plan. Figure out what your diet is going to be and shop for it. Know how you'll track your water. Schedule a week or two of workouts that help you fulfill a goal (finding out what's fun for you, increasing strength/flexibility/speed, getting outside, hanging out with someone, whatever). Get a book. Give yourself this Day 0 to set yourself up for success.

Then START :D

[a-b-riddle]

Pen Pals Chapter Two: Confessions

We never really spoke over the phone that much after that. We still messaged constantly through text or via messenger. C made honest on his promise of financially supporting me. It was more money than I knew what to do with to be honest. I was constantly asking him what to do with it. I mentioned I had no furniture.

Why don't you get some? You should have more than enough in your account by now.

Can I?

Of course. You don't have to ask permission before making a big purchase, sweetheart.

Okay. Do you mind if I send you some pics? I've never had to buy furniture and I would like your opinion.

Of course. 

With that I went to work. I ordered most of my things from Ikea, but the one thing I got, which was stupid, but something I always wanted was a velvet chesterfield sofa. I sent C a couple of color options and asked which one he liked.

Blue. It's my favorite color and goes with just about anything.

So I ordered it. It came almost a week later and was the last thing I needed to really make my apartment feel like home. 

It looks good. Good job, gorgeous. 

I felt so proud of his approval. I did feel guilty about spending so much money on a couch, but he liked it and he was paying the bill for it.

A few months passed before I finally got the interview for Stark Industries lined up and C was less than pleased about it. 

It has nothing to do with your area of study. The whole point of me taking care of you was so that you could wait out a position at a university.

I understand that, but it's been months and it doesn't look like things are going to open up in time for me to start teaching in the fall. 

You're back tracking. I don't think you should just give up and settle on whatever job you can get. 

For some reason that struck a nerve. I wasn't giving up, but things happen. The entire world has been put on pause and who knows when life would return to normal. 

Nowhere is hiring and I need a job. I have been cooped up in this apartment for months and I can't take it anymore. At this point I don't care if it's in retail. My mental health can't take being alone and inside like this anymore. The only social interaction I get is either talking to you or going to the grocery story. I have been in the city for months and I haven't made a single friend. I understand your concern, but it's not your decision to make. I will eventually get there, but this is something I want to do. I appreciate all of your help, but as I said, it's not your decision to make.

I turned the messenger offline.

A few days had passed with nothing from C. However, when Friday rolled around, money was still deposited into my account. Maybe it was automated and it accidentally posted. This had been the longest we went without communicating since the start of our little arrangement. 

After a few glasses of liquid courage, I called him. It was late in the evening, way past my normal bedtime, but I wanted to talk to him. At least to let him know about the deposit.

"Hello?" He answered. His voice was scratchy and slow.

"What are you doing?" I asked stupidly.

"I am trying to sleep considering it is nearly 2 A.M." I heard him groan. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanted you to know the money got posted to my account." I swallowed. "I was wondering if you had venmo or something and I could send it back.

"Why would I want you to send it back?"

"Because I got a job and you don't approve."

"You don't have the job yet, you have an interview." He corrected.

"And because I don't think I was nice."

"Nice?"

"With how I spoke to you. Or 'typed' I guess." I huffed and laid down on the couch. "I shouldn't have caught an attitude like that. I'm sorry. You've been a saving grace these last few months and I really appreciate everything you've done for me." I finished off the glass of sweet moscato.

"It's okay." He reassured me. "I understand you probably are sick of staying inside, but I just want you to be safe and not settle." God, how was he so perfect?

"I got to thinking." I felt warmth of the wine start to get to my cheeks. "You know, we have been friends for like five years and I have no clue what you like and you know what I look like and you know I like you? Isn't that stupid? Like I have no clue what you look like and I like a stranger I've never met."

"You sound drunk." He chuckled. 

"I've had a couple of glasses of wine," I admitted. "But I'm not just saying that because I've had a few glasses of wine. And like I'm kind of glad I haven't seen you. I mean you're this person I can't even envision and you know that now you know where I live and I don't know."

"What are you trying to say? That it makes you uncomfortable that I know your address?"

"No, it's like..." The words embarrassed me as they came out of my mouth. "I don't want to say like aroused, but.. I don't know." I fell against the bed. "It's something that I think about sometimes." He was quiet and I felt like I had said something wrong. "I'm sorry that was too much. I shouldn't have called. I'm sorry, go back to sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow." And with that I hung up the phone. 

That was too much. Oh my god why did I say that? Did I seriously just tell him I thought it was hot that I didn't know what he looked like? Shit shit shit.

I got up and put my empty glass of wine in the sink, promising to unload the dishwasher when I didn't feel so lightheaded.

Suddenly, from across the room, my phone began to ring. It was him.

"Tell me what exactly you think about, Princess."