#but now I hate plastic 10× more than I used to

[blazehedgehog]

For the last 10-15 years I fall asleep listening to music, but following my mom dying in 2022, the intrusive thoughts were so loud and so difficult to ignore that just listening to music wouldn't cut it. So I started trying to listen to podcasts, but I was used to having the music on so softly it was barely audible, since I'm also a pretty light sleeper. So listening to a podcast at that level with speakers near my bed was tricky.

Until I caught a head cold about a year and a half ago and happened to fall asleep in bed with my headphones on. That turned into one of the most restful sleeps I'd had in months if not years. So I started trying to engineer a situation where I could sleep with headphones on, and ultimately ended up breaking two pairs of headphones as a result.

So... last christmas I ordered one of these.

It's a sleep mask with ultra-thin bluetooth headphones built in. If you're a side sleeper it's not always super comfortable on your ears, but it's better than destroying a $45 pair of headphones because the rigid plastic wasn't meant to bend that way.

So the long and short answer to the poll is that I listen to podcasts on Youtube while I fall asleep now. Phone is plugged in, charging, and I have the developer mode option enabled that doesn't let the phone go to sleep as long as it's plugged in (because Youtube will pause playback if the device goes to sleep). I also put it into do-not-disturb mode because the eyemask will receive notification sounds and I don't want to get those piped directly into my ears when I sleep.

And it helps! It helps a lot. I generally fall asleep faster now than I used to, in some aspects.

Which has lead me to discover a whole subgenre racket on Youtube of podcasts designed just for people falling asleep. The most notable one is Get Sleepy, which carries celebrity endorsements and half a million subscribers. They release a new story/episode every two days, which sounds amazing when you see that a lot of their episodes are 3-5 hours long:

The truth, which I discovered because I still occasionally have trouble falling asleep, is that a lot of these stories are only about 15-30 minutes long. The remaining hours and hours of audio is just, like, sound machine noise. Wind and soft string instruments and a little bit of piano.

It's a racket because, obviously, most people fall asleep and leave the podcast running for the full length. Which is mostly the equivalent of dead air. And in terms of Youtube payouts, view counts largely don't matter anymore and haven't mattered in ages -- what Youtube counts for advertising revenue is view length. So they're putting out 30 minutes of content and making bank on four hours of view length.

And I personally hate it. When I listen to Get Sleepy now, all I'm doing is listening for the story to end and the sound machine to begin. So I tend to look for a more substantial podcast or video series, just for peace of mind if nothing else.

Which is a minefield in itself! Get Sleepy is the genre leader here and the eagle eyed among you may already be able to tell all their thumbnails are AI generated. It's all down hill from there. For example, recently I found a channel called "Pure Unintentional ASMR"...

I put on the "Sleepiest Voice Ever" one once, one night. And it's just this old guy going on about his spirituality, and you quickly get inundated with a lot of recommendations for self-help sleep hypnosis. Things to help you ease your anxious mind, help you get a restful night's sleep, help you overcome negativity in your life, and...

...feed you ugly conspiracy theories.

Sleep safely, friends.

please reblog I'm curious

[bittersweetburnedcaramel]

Wood, glass, paper and metal, oh how I love you...

Plastic please go back to your primordial form and be forever buried underground-

When plastic first started to be used everyone loved it because of the bunch of new stuff made from it, it was not seem as a villain of pure unnatural horror yet

Now it's just, bad, makes me feel bad, looks bad, it's everywhere and we can't escape it, it's been arround for far too long, so boring, Booooo, get that guy OUT of here! Why did we become so dependant on that!? Worse mistake ever, just after the guy that poisoned the whole world.

[yeahlikethebird]

.

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

night out

a/n: we back babyyy!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about these two for fucking months, so i wrote both this aaaaand another part to wrap up their story and get it out of my system.

summary: “I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader x ex!peter parker, light smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, bffs kate bishop and yelena belova, french rave, dancing, kissing, over-the-clothes fun, foreplay, references to public sex, choking, manhandling, jealousness, possessiveness, angst, arguments, brat mode activated (though its totally justified), these hoes are not dealing with their emotions in a healthy way but it's just for the sake of yummy drama

word count: 1993

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“I thought we were just going to a cute little wine bar, not a fucking rave,” you yelled over the music as your friends dragged you further into the warehouse. 

“Oh, come on, babe,” Yelena boomed, slinking her arm around both yours and Kate's neck, “don’t be a chicken now.”

“Yeah,” your brunette friend on the other side of Yelena tilted her frame to catch your apprehensive eye, “you already sneaked out, so you might as well make it count.” 

“I hate it when you’re right,” you groaned, your gaze narrowed to a squint as you got used to the warm flashing lights that dully illuminated the club. 

“Then you must always hate me,” a smug smirk spread across her features before the trio of you ventured further into the crowded space. 

As the night faded away, you found yourselves bathing in the strobes of neon light as your bodies moved on their own accord, like you were all part of a hive, buzzing together in harmony.

But then when you tapped both of your dancing friends on their shoulders and ushered their ears to lean in close to your lips, you told them, “I’m gonna go get some water,” receiving two thumbs up before you made your way through the crowd to the curved bar in the corner. 

However, after the bartender handed you a plastic bottle and you tilted your head back to take a much-needed sip, a familiar voice found your ears from across the bar. 

“As I live and fucking breathe,” you tipped the bottle back down and glanced down the way at the unexpected figure moseying closer to where you stood. 

“Peter!” a surprised smile couldn’t help but spread across your features, “what are you doing here?” 

Settling in beside you, he said, “it’s a Saturday night, where else would I be?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Paris?” 

“Oh, what, am I not allowed to be in your city anymore since the breakup?” he joked.

“No, of course, you can be here.” 

Leaning in even closer so that he didn’t have to yell as loud, he asked, “so how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good, yeah,” your head bobbed in a nod, “how about you?”

“Can’t complain,” his gaze washed over you as if no time had passed at all, “so… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shifted the water bottle to your other hand. 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Oh, wow,” you half coughed, “Peter Parker, king of subtlety.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count, so I figured subtlety went out the window a long time ago,” he smirked, “so, are you?”

“I–, uhm…” your eyes averted a moment as you uttered, “no.” 

You weren’t, it was true. Though the reason for why you’d sneaked out in the first place did have to do with a matter of the heart. 

You’d asked your friends what their advice would be if you hypothetically needed to get over someone. They both of course assumed that you were referring to the man standing before you in the disco and not the person who watched you like a hawk every minute of every day. The method they had suggested wasn’t a sound one, though one that still found you desperate enough to try. 

To go out, meet someone else and bang the dude out of your system. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Peter asked again, ripping you out of your thoughts, away from your bodyguard and back in the moment. As you offered him a nod, he smiled brightly, “you wanna dance?”

And that’s how you found yourself in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, plastered against your ex.

It didn’t take long before your lips reunited as well, staying locked as you both let your hands wander, though for you it wasn’t entirely in the spirit of rekindling something that you’d missed, and more to help you forget about the person who you truly wished to lose yourself on a dancefloor with. 

“Fuck,” you heard Peter groan in your ear and his desperation poked your lower abdomen for the attention you used to give it, “you wanna go slip into the bathroom?”

“Uhh,” you giggled as his lips tickled the side of your neck, “what kinda woman do you take me to be?”

“Mine,” he smiled, “that’s who. I know you. A club bathroom is nothing… remember Amsterdam?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” your body tingled at the thought. 

“That’s also an option, if that’s the kind of mood you're in,” he winked. 

Chuckling as he squeezed your tit, you shook your head lightly, “I’m not fucking you here on the dancefloor.” 

“Oh, come on, it–”

But the rest of your ex’s sentence was cut short as a figure forced itself between you two and pried you apart.  

Instinctively reaching out for Peter as he was forcefully pushed back, your arm then faltered as you blinked up to discover who had shoved him. 

“Barnes,” a shiver ran down your spine at the stormy expression plastered all over his face, a side of him you’d never witnessed before, “I–”

But he cut you off, only to bark, “out, now.”

“But I–”

“Do you wanna walk on your own or should I just toss you over my shoulder?” he glared down at you just before you watched Peter’s hand plant itself on Bucky’s broad shoulder. 

“Hey, dude, don’t touch her, back off,” your ex tried to square up to the intimidating guard dog. 

“No, no, Peter, it’s alright,” you rushed to explain, knowing full well that your bodyguard could and would put him in the hospital, “he’s–…” your eyes briefly flickered up to Bucky’s steely blue eyes, still directed at you, “he’s my bodyguard,” before you let your touch graze Peter’s forearm, “I’m so sorry, it was great seeing you again, but I have to go.” 

Getting dragged out of the club like a perp from a crime scene was not the way you’d imagined your night would wrap up. 

After he’d virtually tossed you in the back and slammed the car door shut behind you, you fished out your phone and swiftly sent your friends an explanatory text while you half-watched Bucky march around the vehicle to the driver’s side. 

The silent treatment he then served you nearly felt worse than the heated words you imagined tumbled around in his head as he fumed, his knuckles nearly turned white from how fiercely he was gripping onto the steering wheel. 

But when you finally mustered the courage to break the eerie silence, your words came out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are you?” his eyes snapped up to find yours in the review mirror, “really? Because I don’t fucking buy it.” 

“Well, I am!” you threw up your arms, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Not sneak out like a fucking teenager to get drunk with your little boyfriend,” 

“I’m not drunk and he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Not taking any of your words to heart, Bucky went on, “you know how stupid this was, right? What if something had happened, huh? I know you didn’t personally read the threats you got back when I first got this job, but trust me when I tell you that if any of those fuckers had gotten their hands on you tonight, you’d be lucky if you were still breathing when the sun rose. This is exactly the sort of reckless behaviour that caused you to need my help in the first place.”

Your mouth then fell open, utterly stunned at his audacity, “oh my god… you’re unbelievable…” you uttered breathlessly before hazily commanding, “stop the car…”

“No–”

“Stop the fucking car!” you roared, casting your gaze to him once more till you felt his foot step on the break. 

As the car screeched to a stop, you wasted no time ripping the door open and storming out. 

Though you didn’t dare to look back, you still heard him exit the vehicle as well and shadow you as you wandered a few paces away, just far enough for you to be able to get some air. 

“Y/n,” you heard him from just a few meters behind you, “get back in the car–”

But you didn’t shift your feet as you then interrupted, back still turned to him.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

“What?”

“Well aren’t you?” you heatedly twisted around to face him, “because it sure fucking looks like it. Getting all fucking possessive, ripping me away from my ex before I can crawl my way back to him, before I get the chance to feel anyone inside of me but you–”

“Stop–”

“Is that it? You just want me all to yourself?” you kept on poking, too blind by your fury to consider the consequences, “you want it to be you that I’m so in love with that I’d make you personalised porn, which would consequently ruin my life and cause me to have a babysitter essentially stalking me.”

“Stop!” he took a step closer as he barked.

“Unless you’ve already seen the tape,” your feet shifted back, keeping him at a distance, “fantasising that it’s for you, getting yourself off to the image of me bouncing on that pretty pink dildo–”

Your sentence then crumbled into a shrivelled yelp as you felt his cold metal hand seize your neck and push you the last few inches up against the brick wall behind you. 

His fingers didn’t squeeze you in the slightest, though you still knew just how easy it would have been for him to tighten his grip and turn it into more than just a raging warning. 

“You done?” he spat as his eyes pieced directly into your soul, “or do you wanna give me more reasons why you’re nothing more than a spoiled little brat, why I should just quit now and not have to deal anymore with what a fucking pain you are in my ass?”

For the life of you, no attempts at offering him an answer were successful on your lips. 

He scared you. 

He’d never scared you before. 

Both because of the explosion you’d undoubtedly made even worse than it had to be, but also his fleeting threat of leaving you for good. 

It all terrified you… 

Though, there was also a different sensation that it awoke within you, one that caused your eyes to flutter down towards his lips, an action that your bodyguard surprisingly mirrored as well as your heated breaths synced up. 

You had no idea who moved first, if it was you or him, but the next thing you knew, you were kissing him.

With adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you clawed at his broad frame as you let your tongue flicker out and flutter against his own. The steely hand that had locked itself around your neck softened and whisked down your form, mirroring your own starving touch as he securely held you like you were about to fall. 

However, just as your palm slid down to find the bulge in his pants, rubbing it needily before your fingers tried to seize the short zipper, Bucky took a large step back, snapping to his senses and creating a wide distance between him and your melted form against the brick. 

His eyes refused to meet your foggy ones as he held them to the ground, slowly catching his breath before uttering, “get in the car,” defeat shining through in his low tone.

“Bucky–,” you tried, but without success as he then cut you off. 

“Please, just–…” his gaze fluttered shut a moment as you then heard him sombrely promise, “look, I’ll make sure your mom doesn’t hear word of what happened tonight. If we go now, then we’ll arrive before any of the staff wakes up, no one will notice.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[hellsquills]

Disclaimer: I know about the duffle bag Filbrick threw at him, but you can ignore that if you want

My thoughts below the cut! (this turned into a whole ass fic lmao)

My personal headcanon is that Filbrick is as much of a coward as he is of an asshole. Therefore, he wouldn't have kicked Stan when he did in canon. Probably not for a while after that.

However, he does try to send him to military school. He keeps talking about how this kid needs to learn discipline and respect, and if he's not gonna bring money to the house, then he should at least bring some honor to his family.

Stan obviously does NOT want to go. Not only because it's a pointless war ("what've the vietnamese done to us anyways?") but because he remembers his mother's face when Shermie got drafted and he will NOT make her go through that hell again. Also, he doesn't wanna die!!!! Hello?????

He talks it out over the phone with Ford, who's obviously just as against it as he is. He tells Stan that, if he gets into a PhD program, he could skip military. Stan laughs in his face. It'd be easier to jump off the plane without a parachute.

And so, he comes up with a plan. When he goes to take his physical, he tries his best to botch it. If he is bad enough, if it looks like he can't do it, maybe he won't have to. Unfortunately, the recruiters are far too used to this by now, and they don't buy it. Stan goes home with a recruitment letter hidden in his jacket.

Everything goes downhill after that. He runs away from home, changes his name several times, does some crime here and there... The military is after him, and it doesn't take rejection kindly.

Stan stays out of contact with his family for a few years. He can't risk getting them involved in this mess. They don't deserve it. So he just leaves, without saying a word, in the middle of the night. No phone calls, no notes, nothing. Not even he knows where he's going. But if it just looks like he abandoned them, maybe they'll hate him. That will make them sound more believable with the police. They aren't covering for him, because they genuinely have no idea where he is. It's the best way to keep them safe.

In that time, Ford doesn't stop looking for him. He finds him every once in a while, but only his phone number, and he knows that could give away his brother's location and get the family in trouble. So, against his deepest instincts, he doesn't call.

One, three, five, seven years pass. Stan has been around almost all the country, and is genuinely considering leaving it. Maybe going to Mexico, or Colombia. Those sound nice. Maybe they'll be nicer to him.

He's passing his time and thinking about this in a small town restaurant in wherever he's in (somewhere he's not banned from, yet), when a family enters. He doesn't make eye contact, but he can't help but stare at them: a man and a woman, probably in their 50s, with 7 kids; one must be older than him, the second one around his age, the third one a little younger, the fourth one a teenager, and the last three between 10 and 15, no more. Except for the last three, they're all taller than him, even the mother, and they have various degrees of blond hair. Their clothes (overalls and plastic boots) suggest they must work in one of the farms he's seen around the state. They don't wear any accessories, except for the glasses that the father and four of the kids have. They're talking loudly and laughing. They look exhausted from a morning of hard work. They seem happy. They... look nothing like his family, and yet, he can't help but think about it.

He can't help the sob that comes to his throat. It's loud and messy from trying to suppress it, which obviously makes it worse. He covers his mouth immediately, and at that point he notices the tears that have run down his cheeks. "Great", he thinks, "that will make it easier to hide, for sure".

He doesn't move. He wants to escape, but that will draw even more attention to him, and he hasn't even paid for the food yet (normally he'd leave without paying, but the old waitress was kind enough to give him some extra food when she saw how little he ordered). He settles for not moving, lowering his head and covering his face, hoping that no one heard (unlikely) or cared (very likely).

"Ya'lright, son?"

The voice startles him. I wasn't very deep, but it was close enough to send his body into immediate danger mode. He looks up at the man towering over him, who's standing in front of him at a prudential distance.

"Y-Yeah, yeah, no worries."

He hates how broken his voice sounds. He's spent more than enough time sweet-talking his way out of trouble, he should be better at this by now. The man looks about as convinced by it as he is himself.

" 'lright then. Can I help ya?"

Damn villagers and their welcoming demeanor. If he wasn't a wanted man, he would appreciate it. But right now, it couldn't be worse timing.

"Come get ya food, kids!" The waitress' yell yanks him out of his thoughts.

"No", he blurts out, and he turns to the man. Least he can do is show him some respect and look him in the eyes. "I'm fine, thank you."

The man smiles lightly and nods. "Okay. Welcome to the town."

Stan watches as the man goes back to his table. He wishes he had been more polite, the guy was just worrying about him, but he can't afford it. They already know his face, he can't risk anyone else recognizing him-

"Sweet Mother of God almighty."

Stan turns to his right. One of the kids, the one about his age, is looking at him like he just grew a second head. He's frozen in place, his eyes wide as plates behind thick glasses. He doesn't say a word, and it's getting increasingly unnerving. Was the bruising on his face still visible? Maybe it's more apparent in broad daylight than in the shitty light that last motel had in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, I- Can I ask your name?"

The fuck?

"No", answers Stan. Considering how nice his dad was, this guy is pretty rude.

"Son, leave him alone." The mother seems to have manners too, good to know.

The guy does pretty much the opposite. He comes closer to him, until he's right in his path, blocking his exit. That can't be good. Stan feels trapped.

"Are you Stanley Pines?"

Well, that's about it.

Stan tries his best to stay still. This guy doesn't look like a cop, not even an undercover one. But he knows his real name, so maybe someone in his family or friends works in the police; or worse, in the military.

"Listen man, I don't know who you're talking about, but that isn't my name. See?" He reaches for his wallet. He pulls out an ID, with a very clear Jackson Cage on it. He makes a mental note to change it soon, just in case his hunch is right and this guy has connections. "Now, if you excuse me, I'd like to pay for my food and leave. Move."

Stan is already on his feet, but the guy hasn't moved. Stan looks him up and down, trying to appear threatening despite his face probably still being a little red from before. He also gauges how feasible it'd be to escape if things turned bad; the dude is taller than him, sure, but he's also as thin as a toothpick, and by the anxious look on his face, he doesn't seem eager for a fight. The real problem would be evading the restaurant's staff and the other costumers, which include eight carbon copies of the guy in front of him. Probably better to try to de-escalate the situation.

"I- I can't let you leave. Please. I know who you are."

This man is making it really difficult to believe he's not a cop.

"No, you don't. I'm new in town. Move."

"Listen, I-"

"Move out of my way."

"I know your brother."

The words are like a bullet between his eyebrows.

"You look just like him-"

Against his better judgement, he quickly grabs he guy and pins him to the wood in between the booth benches, arm to his throat. If he knows Ford, he knows too much. God he just wanted to have lunch.

The commotion is immediate. He doesn't break eye contact with the guy who's grabbing his arm, whose strength is frankly surprising. He can hear, however, the screams from the dad and the siblings, as well as a couple of gasps from the other costumers. This is not going to go well, but fuck that. He's escaped worse.

"Stop!", the guy shouts as he keeps Stan's forearm from blocking his airway. "Don't hurt him! Don't get closer!"

It takes Stan a second to process what he said. The first part, sure, who wouldn't shout 'stop' when you're being attacked? But the second half doesn't make sense. Is he protecting him? The attacker?

Whatever it is, it works. The family stops in their tracks, still very ready to attack if needed. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the three younger kids moving closer to their mother. For a split second, he feels a pang of remorse for the scene he just caused.

"Hang up the phone, Clarisse, it's okay. Please."

Stan looks in the direction the guy was talking to. Right behind him, the waitress reluctantly puts the phone down.

He looks back at the guy. He looks a little shaken up, probably from the impact his back (and his head?) made with the wooden plank, but he doesn't look scared. He almost looks... sympathetic? Stan is confused as hell.

"I know who you are", the guy whispers, low enough for Stan to hear alone. "You're Stanley Pines, and you have a brother named Stanford. I know him, okay? He's my friend. I met him a few years ago in a quantum physics congress and we've been talking ever since. He told me about his family in New Jersey, and about you. About how he hasn't seen you in years, and how he was trying to find you, to no avail."

Stan is gradually loosening his grip on the guy's neck, who takes a deep breath. He should know better, but- shit, hearing that Ford was looking for him was not what he expected. Even if he doesn't know yet if this guy is lying out of his ass, it's enough to make him doubt.

"I know you were called to Vietnam. He told me. I spent a week with him in his place when he found out, he was unconsollable. When you ran away, he called me. He knew what it meant for you and he thought he'd never see you again, whether you got caught or not. All because of that stupid war." Stan is now trembling a little, he knows it. This guy must know it too, with how close they are. If he stays here any longer he'll break down, but he can't move. Anything to hear his brother's name a little longer. "I know what it's like. Three of my cousins were drafted last year, and I know at least one of them won't be coming back home. Please... let me help you."

Stan meets his eyes. They're green and brown-ish, not unlike the immense fields he's seen in his last journey, the one that led him to this town. With the years, he's learned not to trust beautiful eyes, because they are better at hiding. These ones, however, seem serene and honest, just like his words, and he can't help but believing them. This guy, whoever the fuck he is, knows just about enough.

Stan lowers his right arm. The guy still has his hand on it, but this time is much less defensive and much more comforting. He doesn't complain.

"My name's Fiddleford McGucket, and I'm gonna help you find your brother."

______________________________

Essentially, after this Fidds calls Ford as if nothing happened (per Stan's request, since he's still paranoid about the police tracking his calls) and asks him to come to Tennessee. Ford argues that he's very busy and all, but Fidds convinces him in the end.

Obviously the twins have a dual breakdown and cry their heart out. In this AU they're much less emotionally constipated lol

Ford tells Stan that he's gonna build a house in a small town in Oregon as a part of his research, and asks him to move in with him once it's finished. Stan, of course, accepts.

In the meantime, Stan stays in the McGucket farm and helps them out as a way of laying low. He has a great relationship with his family, and they're very proud of him for what he did (i believe that the McGuckets are hippies at heart, and they're VERY anti-war, especially when it already took three of them)

I don't know how much of the canon storyline would this AU follow, but it's pretty much your average Mystery Trio AU with some different backstory

[https-milo]

Hi I was wondering if u could do a shinsou x reader x tamaki story (either separately or poly) where reader is on her period and having very bad cramps and is having a lot of mood swings

my period is bouta hit soon I can feel her presence </3 THANKS FOR THE REQUEST!!

AW, CRAMP!

Hitoshi Shinso x reader, Tamaki Amajiki x reader

(F/S) = Favorite snack

Summary Headcanons and oneshots with Shinso and Amajiki (separate)

m. list

HITOSHI SHINSO

He wouldn't ignore you per se

HOWEVER.

If you're unessccesarily mean to him, his ass WILL make you take a breather

He'll leave the room and come back with your comfort food and favorite drink, along with chocolates and a heated blanket

But before you can get them, you HAVE to apologize

Once you do, expect some quality time with him <3

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE WOULD YOU?" You shouted angrily at your boyfriend as you were curled in your bed. You hadn't moved from that position all day and Shinso was getting worried.

Taken aback, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, "Ok, see you later." He didn't bother turning back as he left the room. You started to cry. Your eyes were puffy and snot was dripping down your face but you couldn't stop crying.

"I'm so stupid! He- he- he hates me!" You sobbed loudly, curling into your balled position tighter. It had only been 10 minutes since he left, but you were feeling terribly guilty. You heard a deep sigh behind you and saw your purple-haired boyfriend with a plastic bag from the cornerstone.

"I don't hate you, babe," He sighed and sat beside you in the bed. He pulled you from your depressive curl and laid your head against his chest, not caring for the mess of snot and tears that now covered his hoodie. "I left so we wouldn't fight over something like this. Neither of us would want to say something we regret later, hmm?" He stroked your hair gently and your tears slowly stopped flowing.

"I- I'm so sorry, 'Toshi," You sniffled. "I shouldn't have been so mean."

"You're fine, princess. Don't worry. I bought you some stuff," He replied with a casual shrug. He grabbed the bag from beside him and showed you the contents. Your favorite drink, food, snacks, and chocolates were all in there. "I also warmed your heated blanket up while we were arguing." He pulled said blanket from the foot of the bed where you hadn't even noticed it.

"You're too good for me," You sobbed as you stuffed your face with (F/S).

He sighed again and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, "Shhhh, pretty baby, it's okay."

TAMAKI AMAJIKI

He's tweaking out more than you especially if you raise your voice at him

He calls Hado immediately after you have a mood swing

He gets a bunch of products she recommended

He also makes sure to tidy your room so you don't cry about it being messy (has happened before)

He gets scared :(

"You hate me!" You sobbed as you threw one of the stuffed animals he had gifted you at him. He dodged it easily and tensed immediately at your aggression.

"W-what?" He asked confused. "I don't hate you."

"Yes you do! I can feel it!" You replied.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about... I'm sorry if I made you upset," He said sincerely.

You sobbed harder, "You're too good for me! Get out!" You sobbed loudly and shoved your face into your pillow as you clutched your stomach in pain.

"O-okay," Tamaki replied as he sadly left the room. As soon as he closed your door, he pulled out his phone and called Nejire. Twenty minutes later, he returned with MULTIPLE heated blankets, chicken wings, ibuprofen AND Tylenol, chocolate, and vitamins. "Hado-chan said a lot of things... so I got them all." He walked over to your bed humbly and hesitantly, worried you'd explode at him again.

You sniffled and gratefully pulled him into bed with you, embracing him tightly and apologizing profusely. "I love you so much, Tama."

He let out a breath of relief, "I'm glad. You- you're the love of my life."

"And you're mine," You said as you took the pain reliever he brought and started eating the wings.

© https-milo. please do not repost, steal, copy, or modify my works!

Thank you so much for reading <3

[spectrumgarden]

it feels like everywhere often im trying to grab onto something and shake it tobreak the barrier between me and others, shake it loose and watch it crumble, hit the glass wall between me nd the world until it breaks. i try it with words but often the more sincere i am, people think i joke. if they understand im sincere, they still often dont understand me, the saame way i dont understand them.

they dont understand my life and often its like "getting to know me" is people understand my interests and then just engage with me through them & i like when they do because it makes sense in some way but it feels like they still dont know me, but i also dont know me.

little bits and pieces.

walk in the waiting room and theres no two spots next to each other and my mother asks in which of the two seperate ones i wanna sit and i freeze, i dont move, i cant, i sit next to her, i dont have strangers on both sides. i sway on my feet. a woman gets up next to one of the empty seats, goes to the other across the room, says here u go, u can sit next to each other. smiles at my mother. i think i know the smile. the smile says here, i hope i make the day a bit easier, its hard with a disabled child. i end up pacing up and down the waiting room 10 minutes later anyways. i hate waiting rooms. they say 5 and its never five and i know its never five but then its past five and i want to jump and run and hide, they said its five.

"does he tolerate treatment?" i rock in the dentist chair. i want to scream but i cant. i want to leave but i try hard so i rock harder. we get food at the bakery downstairs. i only like one thing. i wish i liked more. maybe i like more, but not here, not now, my head says no, only this, only this, only this. my mother asks why i act worse than other doctors visits recently. "all new" cold screen on my fingertips.

all walls are white and all hallways are long and all rooms are square in some way and all doors are the same. now theres stickers on the floor of the workshop. one color bathroom, one color lunch room, one color quiet room. there is paintings and there is a glass door and there is things but all i know is they are there when i see them. sometimes my feet just take me to the right place, and im happy. i figured out how the two doors lead to the same place.

its loud. i get up and walk. i want a place to hide. sit between the cars. plastic creaks. i dont want to get yelled at for breaking. i get up and walk. "please go back" inside head. walk more. legs hurt. sit under a bridge. now its safe. im far away. alone. im happy there was the bridge. under it is good. i nearly went above, full of cars. im happy my body went below. because my body doesnt listen. the sun is bright and the air is cold and my hands freeze. i walk "back" but i dont know where that is. a carer rides up to me on his bike "did you get lost?" i take a step back. /punished. yelled at. send home, parents yell. / but he smiles and backs away. people are nice now, here. i tell him my body just walks, and he nods.

my sister gifts me a plushie. i hug it all morning. my sister always gifts me toys. i like them. she smiles and says "i know you!" and i wonder is plushies and lego who i am? Who am i?

thick plastic covered things the way of medical therapy space. praise for my hands work. sometimes im a good kid, when im better than the others. when they shake and my lines are clean. when they jump and i sit still.

i bite my hands but i dont bleed and they say nothing. my mother looks at the marks later. "did you bite again?" i dont understand why she asks. she can see it.

three or four carers. maybe 8 other teens and adults. down syndrome and ID and autism and others. i wander off and sit under the stairs and hit my head. "dont you want to look at this museum with us? Yes? come with me. stand up. grab your bag. come with me" i swear it sounds sweet to me when she says it. ("hey, are you gonna keep an eye on him in the exhibition?)

words are thrown away or maybe stored in a place i forget about them.

my friends often giggle when i hold my glass with both hands. "its cute, like a kid". i feel shaky. i try hard not to spill. i wonder do they understand what they say.

[partycatty]

dark star!johnny cage > against the world

what it's like dating the evil version of hollywood's golden boy. it's not all fun and games, even if that's how he sees it

warnings: lowkey abusive relationship like just straight up. yandere. lil smutty but nothing horrifically graphic.

notes: listened to "wrap me in plastic" and "watch me work" while writing LMFAO also please god the coat stays ON ‼️‼️‼️‼️ hes so scrummy i need him biblically

masterlist &lt;3

part 2* / part 3* / part 4* / part 5* / part 6*

•first of all, dark star!johnny is so incredibly emotionally immature. he's a whiny bastard fr. hell hath no fury like a white man that's in the wrong during an argument with his girlfriend

•"baaaabe what's wrong?? it was just a joke!" after he says you're a 6/10 compared to a model on his phone. ZERO awareness.

•WALL PUNCHER. IM JUST BEING HONEST. your beautiful pale pink walls have so many shoulder-height white patches from you having to fix the wall every time his water has an inadequate amount of cucumber slices.

•he's got the same upbringing as the better johnny, shitty dad and dead mom. he just never really knew how to cope with it. equally as famous as his counterpart, he prefers throwing punches in action flicks. he's just somehow more of a dick about it.

•pampered to holy hell between shots, all relaxed in his chair with his name embroidered on it while one woman tends to his makeup, another to his hair, a third feeding him water. it's how he wants it to be, he needs to be perfect. he is perfect.

•spends like two hours getting ready, most of the time is spent on his hair. you tell him it'd be more efficient to trim it down a couple inches but he likes the way it flops over. you also like the way it falls in front of his face during his stunts. he's just so effortlessly sexy.

•uses his height and physique to his advantage. he loves backing you into corners and looming above you menacingly to watch you squirm, flustered. his large sunglasses reflect your pathetic little face.

•now with you, he loves to show you off, but not enough for you to steal the spotlight. you're his favorite little accessory that hangs off his arm. he chooses your outfits when you make public appearances. INSISTS on matching all the time. misty blue dress with gold jewelry to match his obnoxiously large coat.

•the good johnny plays things up for the camera and saves the sweetness for behind closed doors. dark star!johnny doesn't know when to turn off "camera mode." bro will not be sweet with you unless it gets him brownie points after he fucks up.

•he's so unfair. women fawn over him constantly and he smiles all smugly and leans into their touches. but if a man so much as looks at you for more than a couple seconds, he's beating the guy in moments.

•hates it when you find joy in other people. he will constantly fill you with thoughts that everyone will leave you one day for one reason or another, and that you should feel lucky that a world famous actor wants you.

•will make you turn against people you hold dear, he cuts them out of your life so they can't influence you like he does. this man is a smooth talker and hardcore manipulator that'll leave you anxious when you talk to anyone but him. he has you thinking everyone's out to get you.

•"come on baby, you really think they'd love you like i do? don't be delusional. it's just you and me against the world, you got it?"

•you guys have had so many public scandals, you're the main source of income for the TMZ employees.

•sex tape here, public screaming match there

•speaking of which this dude FUCKS. HARD. :3

•johnny will literally pound you into oblivion whenever he pleases. he prefers doggystyle so he can use your hair as leverage. sometimes he reaches forward and holds your jaw, chest pressed against your back as he mercilessly fucks you. he totally gets himself off on your pathetic moans.

•records it every time. partially to jerk off to later, partially as leverage against you.

•"you like that?" he'll ask in that low growl, somehow hitting even deeper. "nobody can fuck you like i do. so don't even fucking think about leaving - ngh -"

•after an argument, you'll find gorgeous purses or necklaces on your shared vanity. not because he's sorry, but because he knows you'll forget about how annoying he can be when he shells out a couple thousand on a gift for you.

•you could honestly probably do better, but who's gonna say no to johnny cage?

[3liza]

are there any meds organizers/pill boxes that are

1. larger than a blush compact

3. have multiple compartments (more than 6)

4. not plastic

5. not ugly

i take about 10-20 pills a day. some of them are enormous, like big vitamins. many of them are as-needed and not daily or scheduled, so weekly organizers are NOT a good solution for me

i don't like distributing those pills into weekly organizer caddies for many reasons, the most important one being that I will just not do it because i don't want to. i find the process odious and difficult even though it's fast and easy. i suspect there is something about the executive function requirements that make doing that task difficult for the same reason I find mailing packages to be like performing a quadrille. i suspect this is due to medical issues relating to my brain

i want to have compartments, but NOT daily compartments. i want to dump all my vitamin b pills into compartment 1, and all my vitamin c pills into compartment 2, and all my Adderall into compartment 3, and so on. because I don't always need or want to take every type of pill I have, most of my medication is "as needed" and this doesn't work for weekly organizers. i have used weekly organizers to just hold different types of pills in each compartment and this works but it's annoying to deal with the days of the week labeling, and the organizers are ugly.

I currently have all my "usually have to take every day" pills which are mostly very small prescription pills in a set of three metal containers that are not ugly. there are 2 traditional "pill boxes" as seen in the 20th century to go in a lady's purse.

and then one Altoids tin that just has everything in it that wouldn't fit in the smaller boxes. and then dozens of bottles of larger pills in the kitchen.

so I have three boxes of pills I have to carry around from room to room all day. i don't like this. and I don't like how there are three separate boxes. i also don't like how everything bigger than this that I can find is made of plastic. and I don't like how the latches aren't secure enough to tolerate being occasionally dropped on the ground. what I want is the same form factor of the tiny pill boxes I have now, but 5x bigger. the weekly caddies are big enough but they're ugly.

i need like. a Mancala board with a secure lid:

they do make Mancala boards that fold shut. however that's still only six compartments. i need the Mancala board to have more pits in it and then it would be perfect. there are variations of Mancala with dozens of pits but they're too rare for me to be able to find the boards on ebay

wait what the fuck

also i DONT want one of these, they're not a good form factor for my use case:

I'm thinking probably a jewelry box or trinket box is the right move here but I want the compartments to be more secure than jewelry boxes usually are, and I also don't want them to be covered in velvet, because velvet is impossible to clean and pills constantly slough off various powders and dust.

simple wood trinket boxes are the right size and shape (about the size of a book) but are usually for putting your weed accoutrements and don't have internal compartments though. i can DIY internal compartments, but that requires effort and organization, the two resources that are least accessible to me. and if I'm going to do that much work it's sort of pointless buying anything to begin with, I may as well just make an entire box myself at home out of bamboo or something. which I might do because I'm fed up!!

something like this could work but I hate the plastic pouches. they will start falling apart in a year

[luvangelbreak]

Regret it

christopher sturniolo x layla venita summary: layla wants a fun night with her friends but when a man won't leave her alone, her best friend is always there to help. warnings: swearing, drinking, smut, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it) word count: 6.1k a/n: y'all sue me I was feeling whore knee and I needed to write it all out. this is the longest one-shot I've ever done so i hope u like it <3

not proofread!!

For once in their life, my best friends decided to throw a party at their new house in celebration of their 21st. I have known Nick, Matt and Chris for about 6 years now and have watched their rapid growth online unfold in front of my eyes. I decided to move to LA not long after them knowing that I had nothing left for me in Massachusetts. The triplets were my family and they had been from the moment I met them.

When they told me they wanted to throw a party at the house we had only just moved into together 2 weeks prior, I instantly agreed because I wanted the opportunity to meet the rest of their friends who lived in LA. I put on my prettiest short black dress, the cutest pair of black heels I owned and my hair straightened as perfectly as my curls would allow me to. I went with dark eye makeup and red lipstick, pulling the whole look together with my dark brown hair.

They initially set the party to start at 10 pm and luckily we now lived in a neighbourhood that was spaced far enough apart that blasting music until 3 am shouldn't be an issue. 2 hours into the party, people that none of us knew started showing up and it became much bigger than any of us were anticipating but no one was planning on slowing down anytime soon. People turned the living room into a dancefloor and the kitchen was littered with empty bottles and cans of alcohol in a makeshift bar. I decided not to think about the fact we would have to clean this all up tomorrow as I poured myself another shot of tequila as well as one for Tara.

"I thought this was supposed to be a chill party!" Jake yelled over the loud music as I handed the small plastic shot glass to Tara and we both downed the tequila quickly. She took a sip of the can of Pepsi we decided to share as a chaser before I took the can and followed her actions.

"It was but this is way more fun!" I cheered once I placed the can down on the counter and suddenly, Tara was dragging me to the living room as SOS by Rihanna blasted through the house. We began swinging our hips and dancing alone, singing the lyrics loudly since the music drowned out our voices. I suddenly felt a presence behind me and I turned around to see a guy I didn't know the name of. He began moving his body with mine and I made it known that I didn't want to dance with him as I moved closer to Tara.

Unfortunately for me, Tara was now dancing with Zach who was equally as drunk as she was and they lost themselves in the music. I tried to continue dancing, making it known that I wanted to dance by myself or with my friends but this guy didn't seem to get the hint as Right Round by Flo Rida and Kesha finished playing. I got sick of having to move across the makeshift dancefloor to get away from this guy and I knew Tara was with someone she trusted so I decided to walk away. I went back to the kitchen to see Jake and Chris in the corner talking loudly to each other over the music.

I lost my balance slightly as I leaned over the bench to grab the bottle of tequila when hands wrapped themselves around my waist to steady me. I turned around to thank the person who prevented me from falling but I paused when I realised it was the guy trying to dance with me.

"Can I help you?" I asked with annoyance laced in my tone at the fact he didn't get the hint yet. I took a moment to observe him, hating the way his glassy green eyes looked down at me and his light blonde hair swooped across his forehead.

"You move pretty quick," he stated with a smirk and I furrowed my eyebrows before I rolled my eyes. I reached over the counter again, grabbing the tequila bottle and a random cup. I poured a rough shot into the red plastic solo cup before I topped it up with a can of Pepsi from the makeshift cooler we had made in a plastic tub.

"I move quick when I'm trying to get away from someone," I mumbled as I threw the Pepsi can into the trash before I took a sip of the drink.

"Don't be like that, babe," he put his hand on my lower back and I immediately pushed his arm off of me causing him to look at me with a drunken frown.

"Don't touch me and don't call me that," I huffed as I had another sip of my drink as I leaned my back against the counter.

"No need to be such a bitch about it," he moved to stand in front of me as he placed his hands on the table on either side of me and I made it known how clearly uncomfortable I was, "You don't know how to have fun? Come on, give us a smile at least sweetheart."

"Dude, how much more obvious can I make it that I don't want to be near you. Fuck off!" I burst in annoyance and his face shifted from teasing to anger. Suddenly I wasn't just annoyed and uncomfortable but I didn't feel safe being trapped between his arms. I quickly downed the rest of my drink before I threw it in the overflowing trashcan. I tried to push his left arm off of the counter but judging from the muscles along his biceps and the fact his arm barely moved he was clearly stronger than I was.

"I said don't be a bitch about it," he grumbled at me as I looked back up to his face again, unease flooding my body at the look of lust and anger mixed in his eyes, "What? You have a boyfriend or something?"

"Yeah, she does," I heard a familiar voice say and relief flooded me when Chris stood directly behind the guy, a deadpan look on his face. Finally, the guy moved his arms away from the bench and I quickly moved to stand next to Chris as the guy spun around to look at him, "There a problem here?"

"You're not her boyfriend, bro. You were standing there the whole time," the guy chuckled and Chris just smirked at him as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I watched the guy just stare at us for a moment before Chris spoke again.

"She's a big girl, she can handle herself," he spoke much clearer than the guy in front of us whose words were slurred together messily and I let my body fall against Chris from the alcohol hitting me harder than expected, "Until drunk dickhead's like you pull up and harass her until I need to step in. Now do what she said and fuck off."

"You're not gonna share?" the guy asked cockily and Chris kept his composure as he swung his arm off of my shoulder, putting his arm in front of me as he pushed me behind him slightly.

"You have ten seconds to get the fuck out of my house before that pretty face gets so fucked up that you can't ever speak to another girl again," Chris spoke which such venom that I hadn't heard from him before and the guy instantly backed away once he realised how angry Chris was. Suddenly, he disappeared into the crowd of people in the living room and Chris's tense shoulders relaxed again.

"Thank you," I mumbled and Chris let out a sigh, turning around to face me as he gave me a half-hearted smile, "He freaked me out."

"How much have you drank already?" he asked, an amused smirk on his lips as he tipped my chin upwards to look into his eyes.

"I lost count," I shrugged, my movements slow and lazy. He shook his head with a smile before he swung his arm over my shoulders and he began pulling me outside. We exited the house and walked over to the firepit where the rest of our friends were.

"Where's Tara?" Nick asked from one of the white wooden chairs they placed around the fire.

"Dancing with Zach," I shrugged before Chris adjusted his arm around my shoulders to hold me closer to him protectively, "You don't have to hold me hostage. That guy left."

"He could still be here. I couldn't see if he actually left or not," Chris spoke matter-of-factly as he sipped on the bottle of beer he had in his right hand.

"What guy?" Matt slurred as he looked up at me from his place on the grass, his eyes glassy from the alcohol he had consumed. Seeing him drunk was funny to me because he was a fun but emotional drunk, "You look pretty."

"Thank you, Matt," I giggled and he scooted over to lean against my calf lazily as he closed his eyes.

"Some guy was being an asshole and wouldn't leave Layls alone," Chris rolled his eyes, his annoyance still lingering and I wrapped my arms around his torso. The blue sweater he wore slid up on his torso since he lifted his arm to take another sip of the beer so my hands were placed against the warm skin of his hip.

"Stop stressing about it Chris," I mumbled as his warmth kept me from freezing outside in my dress and he hummed in response. I looked down at Matt who was still slumped against my legs and I giggled, "Matt don't look up at me because you will see up my dress."

"I'm tired," he mumbled, completely ignoring my statement and my eyebrows threaded together in amusement. I looked up at Nick who sighed, rolling his eyes as he got up and walked over to Matt who was practically half-asleep against my legs.

"Come on. You're going to bed," Nick grumbled as he grabbed Matt's wrist to pull him to a standing position. Matt had outdone himself with the alcohol and that was clear as he almost fell as soon as Nick let go of him. As Nick rolled his eyes, he threw Matt's dead-weight body over his shoulder and trudged inside making me giggle.

Chris pulled me towards the chair that was previously where Nick had sat since it was the only chair still available, the other chairs had been taken by strangers. He unwrapped his arm from around me and sat down in the chair while, as per usual, manspreading with his black baggy jeans on.

He patted his lap before looking up at me, "You're gonna freeze. Sit down."

I sighed, placing myself on his right thigh as I crossed my legs over. I left my legs placed in between his parted thighs and he rolled his eyes before picking my legs up. He swung my legs over his other thigh before placing his right arm behind my back to prevent my back from digging into the armrest.

"Fuck it's cold out here," I shivered, the cold breeze covering my legs despite being fairly close to the fire.

"Well scoot closer and you wouldn't be cold," he mumbled before downing the rest of his beer. He placed the beer bottle on the ground beside the low chair and I moved to fall on his chest, my head resting on the back of the chair beside his, "Better?"

"Yup," I answered shortly as I wrapped my arms over my stomach. It wasn't strange for Chris and I to be this close, everyone knew he was my best friend. What was strange was when he moved his left arm to hang it over my thighs, pulling my legs closer to his torso as his right arm snaked around my waist even further, "You okay?"

"Mhm. You're like a little heater," he mumbled and I lifted my head away from the chair to look at him properly to see a smirk on his lips.

"We're sitting in front of a fire," I stated the obvious and my speech was slurred slightly from the amount of tequila I had consumed in such a short span of time.

"Yeah, but you're blocking half of it," he looked at me with raised eyebrows and I rolled my eyes.

Before I could respond, Nick returned outside and walked over to us, "Layls, your ass is almost out sitting like that."

I went to move my hand from around my stomach to pull my dress down but Chris beat me to it, using his left arm that was slung over my thighs to pull down the bottom of my dress. His cold fingers brushed against the back of my thighs, sending a jolt through my body at the sudden contact.

"Thanks," I mumbled, looking at him and he hummed in response. He kept a grip on my dress to hold it down as he let his hand rest on the back of my thigh. I ignored the fire that ignited in my stomach, knowing it was the tequila in my system making me react like this to my best friend. Nick sat down on the grass beside us to keep himself warm near the fire as he sipped on his drink lazily.

We stayed like that for a while before I noticed Tara stumbling through the backyard as if she were looking for something. Her eyes caught mine and her face lit up before she jogged towards me, her shoes now lost somewhere on the property and her feet bare on the grass.

"Come have a shot with me!" she cheered as she stopped beside us and I pursed my lips, "Chris, Nick, you too. Let's go!"

She grabbed my hand, pulling me off of Chris's lap and I heard Chris chuckle as she dragged me inside. I looked behind me to see Chris and Nick following suit as we entered the kitchen. Tara quickly poured us 4 shots before handing one to each of us.

"Link up!" she yelled over the loud music as I picked up the shot and looked at Chris. I wrapped my arm around his, our elbows connected and he winked at me before Tara screamed, "Three, two, one!"

We took the shot at the same time before untangling our arms and I saw Nick and Tara make disgusted faces as they unravelled their arms as well making me laugh.

"Don't run away from me this time. I'm gonna keep an eye on you," Chris told me sternly and I nodded in agreement, knowing he was protective over me whenever we went out.

+++

I lost track of time as we kept drinking and dancing, losing ourselves in the sea of people. Chris was always nearby, talking to different people and having various drinks but he was always in my line of sight as promised. At one point, he joined me on the makeshift dancefloor before he got dragged away by someone I didn't see the face of.

Tara and I once again got tired and decided we would sit on the couch that was shoved into the corner of the room. We flopped on them, giggling in our drunken state at the feeling of the leather against our skin.

"Thank you for inviting me!" she said happily as she sat up, adjusting her hair on her shoulders as I lay with my legs hanging over the armrest, looking at her upside down since I had to tilt my head back to look at her.

"Thanks for coming bitch!" I yelled back before we fell into a fit of giggles again. I suddenly felt a presence in front of me and I looked up to see Chris standing in front of my legs.

Without warning, he pulled me up by my wrists before he grabbed my waist and threw me over his shoulder. I squealed at the sudden movement, putting my palms on his lower back to make sure I didn't fall flat on my face if he let go of my legs.

"Chris! What are you doing?" I yelled, my voice drowned out by the music and he didn't say anything as he held down the bottom of my dress with his left hand. He began moving through the crowd of people before he carried me upstairs, "Christopher!"

He walked down the hallway, the thick walls now drowning out the sound of the music downstairs and we paused at the end of the hall. I heard something click before we stepped into a room which I quickly realised was his. He kicked the door closed, locking it quickly as I continued to try to wriggle out of his grip.

Suddenly, my back fell onto his bed with a thud and I let out a squeak from the impact. I flipped my hair out of my face before I sat up with a huff, the room spinning from how drunk I was and how quickly I had been thrown on the bed.

"What are you doing?" I asked, looking up at him to see he was staring down at me with no emotion. His eyes were glassy and his chest was heaving from carrying me across the house.

"I told you to not run away," he simply stated and I rolled my eyes, attempting to stand up again but he pushed my shoulders down again causing me to slump back onto the bed.

"I didn't run away. I went to the couch. We're in our house, Chris!" I groaned and he kept an emotionless expression as I looked up at him through my eyelashes, "I was having fun."

"I fucking hate when you don't listen to me," he grumbled as I leaned back on my palms.

"Why is it so fucking cold in your room?" I asked, the amount of tequila in my system made it so I had absolutely no filter between my brain and mouth. Chris didn't say anything, instead he slipped his sweater off and threw it onto my lap leaving him in only a white tank top, "What's this for?"

"You said it was cold. Put it on," he raised his eyebrows and his short tone made me want to argue with him. He knew I hated it when he talked to me like I was under his control and I was drunk enough to embarrass myself to prove a point.

I threw the sweater on the ground before I kicked off my heels and Chris furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at me. I stood up, grabbing the hem of my dress before I slid it over my head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, not looking anywhere but my face as he stared at me. He'd seen me in my underwear hundreds of times over the past 6 years but never in a situation like this.

"I'm not cold," I shrugged and I threw my dress on the ground before I started walking towards the door, "In fact I'm hot. I'm gonna go outside and cool off."

"Absolutely not," he grabbed my forearm and pulled me away from the door again so I stood in front of him, "Don't be an idiot just to prove a fucking point."

"Don't try to tell me what to do," I retorted as I pulled my arm away from his grip and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head in the process. His eyes finally travelled somewhere other than my face as he scanned me head to toe before he smirked.

"Planning ahead?" he asked, reaching his hand up to slide under my black bra strap before he snapped it back against my skin.

"Why do you care?" I questioned, glancing down at my underwear realising that I put on the most see-through lace bra and matching black panties. I stood there for a moment to think about the fact I was standing in Chris's room practically naked and more drunk than I wanted to be. The reality of the situation had sobered me up in a split second.

"It's cute," I heard the smirk in his voice and I looked up as I felt my face heat up, a smirk plastered on his lips as he looked at me, "Would look better off though."

I pursed my lips as I looked at him nervously, all my confidence being lost as he exuded his usual cocky energy. I was used to his flirty personality, Chris flirted with everyone and everything because he found it funny. But right now, it felt a lot more serious.

Suddenly, the flirting was real and the fire in my stomach ignited once again. I knew I wasn't in my right mind as he stepped towards me, his body mere inches from mine because I wrapped my arms around his neck.

I pulled him closer to me and he placed his hands on my hips before he whispered, "This is such a bad idea."

"Yeah, it is," I whispered back as my breathing got shallow, staring at nothing but his lips.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said impossibly quieter but didn't move away from me, only inches his lips closer to mine.

"No we shouldn't," I answered in the same tone once again, the tension in the room weighing heavy on my chest as I felt his fingers tighten their grip on the flesh of my hips.

"Fuck," he mumbled quickly and before I could register the look behind his eyes, his lips met mine feverishly. It felt as though my brain shut down and my body had a mind of its own as I pulled him impossibly closer to me, savouring the taste of alcohol on his lips and the feeling of his hands grasping my skin.

As he slid his hands down from my waist, he gripped my ass roughly making me gasp causing him to slide his tongue past my lips. He kept sliding his hands down until he reached under my thighs.

He pulled away from my mouth briefly to mumble, "Jump."

I followed his instructions and jumped with the guidance of his hands under my thighs. I wrapped my legs around his waist before I connected my lips with his again. He spun around, sitting down on the bed and I moved my legs so I could place my knees on either side of his thighs. I straddled his waist, unravelling my arms from around his neck before I pulled them down to tug on the hem of his tank top.

He removed his hands from my thighs as I slid the tank top up and he held his arms up for me to slide the material over his head. I threw it behind me lazily before I attached my lips to his once again, our movements rapid as if this would disappear at any moment. His hands found my ass once again, squeezing it slightly making me hum in content. He pulled his lips away from mine, travelling kisses down my jaw before he reached my neck, sucking and biting at the skin. He found a spot below my ear that sent shivers throughout my whole body and I knew he noticed my body's reaction because he stayed with his lips in that spot for a moment.

I subconsciously began grinding my hips down on his now hard dick creating friction against my aching core and I let out a whine from the sensation. I felt him smirk against my neck before he helped me move my hips against him by guiding me by my ass.

"You sound so pretty for me," he rasped in my ear and I let my eyes flutter closed for a moment, focusing on nothing but the feeling of his body against mine. His right hand removed itself from my ass and travelled up my back before I felt my bra straps become loose. I realised he had managed to unclasp my bra with one hand and I quickly slid it off of my arms, throwing it to the ground.

He pulled his lips away from my neck, staring at my now exposed boobs and he looked like he was going to drool the longer he looked at me. I lifted his chin with my hand, pressing a kiss to his rosy lips which were now slightly swollen.

"It's rude to stare," I teased as I whispered against his lips and he smirked before he kissed down my neck again. Eventually, he reached my chest, biting and sucking around my boobs before he attached his mouth around my right nipple. I whined at the contact and he used his hand to knead the other, rolling my nipple between his thumb and index finger as I breathed out, "Chris."

He hummed against me as he switched to my other nipple and I threaded my hands through his soft brown curls, tugging on the hair gently. Within a second, I was suddenly on my back in the bed and Chris stood at the edge of the bed between my parted legs. He unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down his legs, kicking them off of his feet to reveal the black boxers he wore underneath. He didn't waste a second before he grabbed my thighs, pulling my ass to the edge of the bed before he knelt down on the floor and kissed the inside of my thighs. I sighed in content as I threw my hands on either side of my body, holding the sheets between my fingers in anticipation.

"Chris," I groaned, shuffling my hips around impatiently and he smirked against my thigh before he looked up at me through his eyelashes.

"What's wrong?" he teased, still pressing gentle kisses to my thighs dangerously close to my core.

"Please," I whined as I arched my back against the soft sheets.

"Please what?" he taunted me even further, now throwing my legs over his shoulders but pausing kissing the skin of my legs, "Use those words, baby."

"Just do something. Please," I whined once again and he chuckled before he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. He pulled them down my legs at a teasingly slow pace before he threw them on the floor with the clothes already littered around the room. Without warning, he moved his head between my thighs and placed a kiss on my clit making me whimper from the contact.

That was all the confirmation he needed before he began tracing circles around my clit, lapping up the wetness that was pooling between my legs since we entered his room. I threw my head back as I let out a moan, my breathing picking up the more he worked his mouth on me. I felt the vibrations of the music blasting through the house, the faint sounds of people talking and feet stumbling up and down the house but I drowned it out the moment Chris wrapped his arms around my thighs to keep me still.

My hips habitually rolled upwards and he hummed against me, the vibrations making another moan tumble from my mouth with ease. I looked down to see he was staring at my face, his eyes full of lust and need as his tongue swirled around me creating pure bliss in my body. He removed his right arm from around my thigh and he pulled his mouth away from my pussy briefly, lapping up the wetness with his fingers as I bit my lip. He looked into my eyes, studying my reaction as he carefully inserted a finger into me and I closed my eyes, letting out another moan.

He began sucking and licking my clit again as he slid his finger in and out of me at a steady pace before he added a second. My hands flew to his hair again, tugging on it roughly as my hips bucked in the air. His fingers quickened their pace and I felt my stomach tighten, getting closer to my climax quickly.

"Chris, I'm gonna-" I cut off my own sentence with a moan and before I knew it, my legs were shaking on either side of his head as my orgasm hit me like a truck. He helped me ride out my high, slowing down as I whimpered and whined lazily. He pressed a kiss to my core once again as he slid his fingers out of me.

After unravelling his other arm from around my thigh, he stood up and I looked up to see him place his fingers between his lips before pulling them out with a pop. He climbed back over me, placing a kiss on my lips as he leaned on his left elbow for balance, his other hand kneading my boob gently. I tasted myself on his tongue as I wrapped my hands around his neck to pull him closer to me.

I pushed him onto his back on the bed beside me before I sat up and straddled him once again. I put my hands on his chest, smiling down at him when I noticed the shock on his face and my hair fell in front of my face. He moved his hands up to my face, tucking my hair behind my ears before he cupped my jaw with his rough hands.

"You look so beautiful," he whispered gently and I giggled as I leaned forward, placing a kiss on his lips before I began rolling my hips against his, "If I don't fuck you now, I'm gonna cum in my fucking boxers."

"Impatient as always," I mumbled, a giggle falling out of my lips again and he pulled away to look up at me. Suddenly, the reality of the situation settled in my stomach and I breathed heavily as I whispered, "Are you sure you won't regret it?"

His eyebrows furrowed slightly before he smiled, "You're asking me now?"

"I'm serious, Chris," my tone changed from flirtatious to cautious, "Will you regret this tomorrow?"

"I never regret anything with you," his voice softened as he ran his hand through my hair, looking up at me with a gentle gaze, "This isn't about to change that."

I took a deep breath, feeling more sober than before as I dragged my hands down his bare torso. I moved to stand at the edge of the bed and Chris sat up, leaning back on his elbows. I slid my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, biting my lip as I looked up at him. He smirked at me and that was my signal to slide them down.

I teasingly dragged them down and when the black material reached his thighs, his dick sprung out. I pursed my lips to hide my smile as I slid the boxers off of his legs. I leaned down, kitten licking the tip of his dick causing him to suck in a sharp breath.

"Fuck don't do that," he groaned making me giggle and I stood up, straddling his waist again. He leaned back on the bed as I carefully lined his tip with my entrance.

I slowly slid down, letting out a rough moan that drowned out his own before I reached the base of his dick. He knew I'd only ever had sex with one person but what he didn't know is he was much bigger than him. I placed my head on his chest as I let out a heavy breath, adjusting to his size before I began moving my hips up carefully. He let out a groan as I started moving and I sat back up, placing my hands on his chest as I let out a whine. He moved his hands to my ass, helping guide me over his length as I moved slowly. I hung my head with my jaw slack as I let out pants of pleasure.

"Fuck," I heard him groan as the grip on my ass tightened, "You're so fucking tight, baby."

The rasp in his voice and the pleasure that undertoned it gave me more confidence. I decided to move faster and he let out another moan as I picked up the pace. His hips began lifting into mine and I let out a whimper from the impact.

Suddenly, I was flipped onto my back and he was towering over me again. He placed my ankles over his shoulders before he pushed his way back into me and moans tumbled from my mouth at the new position.

My words were incoherent but the one clear thing was his name coming out as a moan. I looked up at him to see he was staring down at where our bodies met before he looked at my face, his eyebrows threaded in pleasure as his mouth hung open. His right hand reached up, placing itself at the base of my throat and I was thankful for all of the awkward conversations we had about our sex lives because he knew exactly what I liked. He tightened his grip on my neck and I let out a strained moan, my eyes fluttering closed.

"You look so fucking pretty, baby," he huffed, keeping a steady pace as his hips met mine continually, "Been wanting to see you fucked out like this for so long."

I let my eyes open again and he leaned down, pressing my knees to my shoulders as he let his hand unwrap from my throat. He gently kissed my lips, a stark contrast from him pounding into me and I moaned into his mouth. He placed his hands on the back of my knees, realising this new position would send me over the edge.

"Hold your legs for me, princess," he demanded and it felt like I was a dog in training because I immediately did as I was told. He placed his right hand on my lower stomach, using his thumb to rub circles on my clit and another moan ripped through my throat.

"Chris," I gasped as my eyes rolled to the back of my head, "I'm gonna cum. Please."

"Let go, baby," he spoke lowly and my body registered his words faster than my brain because as soon as his sentence finished, my orgasm flowed through my body. I gripped the sheets on either side of me as my body shook and I contracted around his dick, his pace began to get sloppy telling me he was close.

"Baby," I moaned as he drilled into me, taking his thumb off of my clit to not overstimulate me too much.

"I'm gonna-" his words were cut off by a raspy moan and he pulled out of me. I let my legs fall on either side of him before I sat up quickly, grabbing his dick as I pumped him in my hand quickly. I stuck my tongue out, looking up at him with doe eyes and he made eye contact with me.

The muscles on his stomach contracted as he tilted his head back, letting out a loud moan as he reached his climax. The warm liquid fell on my tongue and around my face as I stroked his through his high, smiling to myself as I watched his body shake slightly from overstimulation. I let go of his dick as he looked down at me, a dopey smile on his lips. I swallowed the cum that had fallen on my tongue before I smiled up at him.

"Hang on," he said quickly, reaching towards his bedside table to pick up his phone. He held the phone in front of my face as I smiled up at the camera, the flash turning on quickly before he locked his phone and threw it on the bed, "Never want to forget what you look like after I fucked you brainless."

"Can I get some tissues now?" I asked, giggling since my head was still in the clouds and alcohol in my system made me feel even better. He chuckled, grabbing the box of tissues that were on his bedside table before he picked a few out, grabbing my chin before he gently wiped my face clean. He threw the tissues into the trash before he looked down at me again.

"You okay?" he questioned, his voice gentle as he pushed my hair away from my face and I hummed in response, "You wanna go back to the party?"

"Can we just stay here?" I asked and he nodded, walking over to his drawers. He pulled out two clean pairs of boxers before crouching down in front of me, sliding one of the pairs up my legs. I lifted my hips to let him pull them up to my waist and once they were securely on, he slid the other pair on himself. He jumped in the bed and I crawled over to him, laying myself next to him as I placed my head on his chest.

He pulled me closer to him, wrapping his arms around me and the heat from his body kept me warm in the cold room. He slid the covers up, covering our bodies before he kissed the top of my head.

"I'll tell you what," he spoke and I looked up at him tiredly, "I definitely don't regret it."

tags: @dsturniolo @sturniolopepsi @chrissturnioloswifesblog @chrisstankyleg @lov3bug @stunza @pinklittleflower @v1nuswrites @trinity2058 @alorsxsturn @chrizznmetswife @junnniiieee07 @mattsobvimyfav

[causenessus]

try again

part 0.4. NEXT TIME

"the playground seemed so big when they were younger. and now they’re here again, 10 years later, and it looks small. their world is bigger than just this playset now. the metal that forms the foundation of the structure is still a shiny, vibrant red, but the cracked, faded plastic shows its age. where has time gone? 'who are you now?' she wants to ask. as a kid, time goes by slowly, and you tell your parents you can’t wait to grow old. they tell you to enjoy your childhood, but you never believe them. and even now, she’s not sure she does. she's not old, but old enough to know time goes by fast. since their meeting in her office, she’s reflected more on how she’s grown up. she doesn’t miss her childhood– she likes the freedom that has come with adulthood, but at the same time, it’s slowly weighing her down. she’s old enough, that she can no longer spend her summers relaxed in a quiet house, laying in bed all day with the door open while both her parents are at work. she can't spend the nights stretched out on her back, against wet, dewy grass, looking at the stars with him while staining her favorite shirt. now she has responsibilities to take care of every day, and any little mistake can no longer be taken back. she’s an adult now, and no one is there to pick her up when she falls."

content warnings + notes: calling atsumu a little cupid whore (/lh), drinking, y/n is having a crisis, pay attention to unsent messages :) very long written part... oops </3

she downs the last of her glass in one go. 

it’s cheap whiskey, and she hates the taste. it’s probably the worst she’s ever had, but the burn down her throat is a little pleasant. 

completely going against her plan to drink something light, she decided she would need some liquid courage if she was going to do this. her hands are splayed across the cold bar counter as she stands from her chair, mind buzzing a little as she grounds herself. 

akaashi doesn’t notice her absence in his drunken state, but iwaizumi does. kita looks up as well, but remains seated, keeping akaashi company after nodding to iwaizumi who stands up.

“where are you going?” he asks following her out of the bar, pushing past a few groups of people in their way. he's not asking it like he's accusing her of anything, he just sounds concerned.

but he doesn’t need to worry, and she faces him as they make it out. “going to see omi,” she practically sings the answer, her voice careless as the nickname spills out of her mouth before she even realizes it. it comes too naturally to her, and the thought ruins the nice numbness in her veins from the alcohol. instead, she starts to feel the guilt build up again.

iwaizumi still stands in front of her, arms crossed, matching her own stance. “you’re going to see sakusa?” he repeats, brows raised.

“mhm,” she hums, shifting from one foot to the other. her shoes are starting to bother her, too. she'll probably take them off as soon as iwaizumi lets her go.

“where?”

she sighs, starting to feel restless just standing there. the warm lights and ruckus from inside the bar invite her back in, and so does the pull she feels in the opposite direction down the street, where she'll see him. “an old park, can i go?”

“no, hold on,” he stops her before she can even take a step, “you’re going to go meet a man you haven’t talked to in years after a single interaction at a park this late at night?”

“yes?” she quirks a brow at him, “it’s an old park we used to go to a lot. it’s not far from here and i know him. i’ll be okay.”

“i’m not saying sakusa’s going to do anything to you, but i’m not letting you walk there alone. especially when you’ve been drinking. let me make sure you get there safely and then i’ll leave you, deal?” he proposes, and she sees how much he cares in his eyes. they’re a pretty olive green and despite how sharp they are, there’s so much love in them. it reminds her of her own eyes, and how she feels when she looks at sakusa; her head starts to panic in alarm and get defensive, but at the same time, her heart slows down, as if telling her he's safe.

she knows iwaizumi makes a good point, and there’s nothing wrong with having a little extra safety, or a human purse. “fine,” she sighs, “but only if you hold my shoes.”

their walk to the park is silent, but it’s a peaceful silence. she’s walking next to him barefoot, feeling even shorter than before. he questions her a few times, to make sure she actually knows where she’s going, and she insists that she does. she’s had a little bit to drink, yes, but she’s not drunk. and she's confident she could still find her way to this park blindfolded. she’s walked these sidewalks hundreds of times, ran to this park from every direction and route possible. it was always their spot, whether they lay in the wet grass or sat on the playset. the memories of being with him back then make her feel a little grim, and iwaizumi looks down at her, noticing.

“you okay?” he asks, nudging her shoulder closest to him with his arm.

“yeah,” she sighs, watching the way her shoes clank against each other in his hand with every step they take.

“what’re you thinking?” he asks, still looking down at her and she looks back up at him.

“i just don’t know what i’m doing,” she says, trying to voice her feelings while she turns to stare back ahead of them. “what are we gonna do? what does he like doing now? what if i’ve changed and he doesn’t like who i am anymore? i'm so scared of disappointing him.”

“you’re good enough as you are, y/n,” he silences her and she glances back at him in surprise. “don’t let a man change how you see yourself. you’re good as you are, and if he doesn’t think so, he can fuck off. there's no such thing as an expectation or a right way for you to act. he’s probably changed too, and that’s just how people work. did he text you or did you text him?”

she gives him a smile at his words, nudging him back with her shoulder as a way of thanking him, “he texted me.”

he gives her a grin at that, “he texted you? asking to see you?” when she nods he continues, "damn that's ballsy. he really wants you, y/n. and i hope he's a good person. i’ve seen him around and worked a little bit with him, he seems alright.”  

she flusters a little bit at his words, “i’m sure it’s not like that. we just used to be very good friends, you know that. i’ve never stopped missing him, maybe he felt a little bit of the same way.”

he nods at her words, giving a hum in thought. they’re walking along the fence that’s been set up around the park, and she can see the entrance coming up, where a lone lamp post is lighting the way. “but you want him, don’t you?”

she knows he’s asking it in a romantic sense, and she does. she knows what she feels for him is more than just friendly, and she’s felt stupid for never being able to fall in love with anyone else because she’s been stuck on him this entire time. “i’m happy with anything,” she decides to say, “if we start hanging out again, that’s enough for me. i just want him to be a part of my life.”

they stop at the park entrance, and she can see the playset from here, just a bit down the path. “do you want me to walk you there? or are you’re fine from here? i think the walk helped you sober up a little bit, so i feel better about leaving you here now. just make sure you text me if you feel even slightly off, got it?”

“got it!” she responds with a smile, giving him a small salute as a joke. “thank you for walking me here, iwa. i'll be fine on my own now and i’ll text you when i'm walking home.”

he rolls his eyes at the salute but gives her a smile, “sounds good. i’ll check in with you then as well. i might come meet you halfway or who knows, maybe your guy will want to walk you home?”

he’s giving her another shitty grin that she’d like to slap off his face, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes, “whatever, iwa. see you in a little bit.”

she pulls him into a hug, trying to tell him all her feelings at once, thanking him for his advice and for walking her here, and he’s quick to reciprocate it, rubbing her back for a second before they pull away. he gives her her shoes and waves her off, making sure she steps onto the playground before he leaves, and she sees him.

tonight, it seems they’ll be sitting on the top of the playset, above a tube that connects one platform to another. she steps up onto one of the platforms first, dropping her shoes on it before clambering on top of the structure.

he offers her a hand after watching her (probably ungraceful) climb which she hesitates to take for a second. her heart feels like it's trying to escape her chest as she takes it, the contact sending chills along her skin.

“hi,” she whispers after she's sat down, stealing a glance at him, unsure of where to start.

“hi,” he says back, already looking at her. he looks better than when she saw him last, but perhaps that's just because today has been better for him. there are still bags under his eyes that she can see despite the lack of light around them, but she can also see that his eyes look brighter today. she wants to mention it, say she’s glad to see that he looks like he's doing well today, but she shouldn’t. it’s too early–

“you look good today.”

the words spill out of her mouth and she immediately slaps a hand over it. she had drank more after texting him purposefully, knowing that it would mess with her ability to reason and this was the consequence, although she wasn't sure yet if it was a positive or negative one.

he laughs in response, giving her a small smile that she hasn’t seen in years. she missed seeing it; she missed him.

“thank you,” he says, holding her gaze and she’s unable to look away, “you look good too. although maybe a little drunk.”

her cheeks are burning red and she feels hot despite the fact that she was practically shivering the entire way here, latching onto iwaizumi and his body heat. “no i– well– yes, i have been drinking but i didn’t mean it that way– i mean you do look good–” she has to take a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, “i meant you look happier today, sorry.”

he’s still looking at her, smiling. and maybe it’s a tiny bit bigger than it was before, and she smiles back.

she has no idea it’s because of her–that he seems happier today. he’s only just found her again after so many years apart, and yet he’s glad she’s in his life again. this is only the second time they’ve seen each other after so long, and she’s already had this big of an impact on him. and maybe it was due to atsumu’s influence, and the way that he kept bringing her up, and how it had been their entire conversation over dinner, but he didn’t really care. he was happy to be talking about her again, and to see her again. they had been so close, and it felt strangely nostalgic whenever he saw her, as if he was a child again, tossing and turning on a bed stand, sick to his stomach for home.

but he had been homesick for her this entire time, and he didn’t want to talk about her as if their time together had passed; he wanted to be close to her again. but only if she let him: “that guy you came here with, are you guys–”

“oh, no no no,” she immediately cuts him off, shaking her head before he gets the wrong idea. “he’s just a friend. my roommates and i went out to dinner today and then we went drinking. he just didn’t want me to walk here alone.”

he nods, feeling strangely relieved to hear that. “i just came from eating out with my roommates, too. i cut it short because one of them was being annoying.”

she hums in thought, a smile breaking out on her face, “hm, that can’t possibly be atsumu, can it?”

he can’t even joke back, just rolls his eyes with a sigh at the mention of his friend.

“i just texted him earlier tonight. finally scolded him for setting up that entire meeting between us. i mean– who even thinks to do something like that?”

“just him. he’s got one brain cell working for him and it’s got a funny way of working,” sakusa responds, looking forward to the field in front of them. they used to spin around on that field, trying to stay standing the longest before they both fell onto wet grass, too dizzy to keep standing. “i think it worked out nice, but there were definitely other ways he could have planned that out.”

she can’t help but look at him, slightly surprised. so he was happy to see her? perhaps she should’ve understood that by now; here they were sitting side by side on an old playset. “yeah, it did,” she can’t help but say, not even thinking twice about agreeing with him. “and if you don’t mind me bringing it up, do you think you will come back for a second meeting? i was just wondering.”

“yeah, i’m thinking about it,” he answers, still not looking at her, and she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have asked the question. she’s brought the topic of conversation back to her job, and reminded herself of everything she shouldn’t be doing right now. she shouldn’t be doing any of this. she’s looking forward to seeing him in her office again, but she shouldn’t. she should be treating him as a client, not as an old face or a silly old crush. and she shouldn’t be seeing him outside of the office; it ruins that professional relationship she should be trying to maintain. she's giving into him too easily, even after he had been the one to accuse her of something hurtful upon their first words to each other in years.

a particularly cold wind blows through and she shivers, breathing in sharply as her shoulders raise towards her ears on instinct, trying to protect them from the cold. in her defense, she hadn't foreseen sitting on a playset in the middle of the night today and had not dressed accordingly.

“are you cold?” he asks, hand already reaching towards the open black jacket he was wearing, a plain white shirt underneath.

she’s looking at him, face completely blank. her mind is so far gone, thinking about countless other things, including every single way this interaction could go. ‘what was she even doing here? why did she agree to come?’ the moment he texted her she put up little to no resistance. she lasted one text, trying to set up a boundary between them to prevent herself from getting hurt and then completely dropped it. how could he be so casual about seeing her again? was their friendship something shallow to him? something he could easily replace or come back to?

he’s saying her name, and her mind returns to the boy in front of her, blinking twice before responding, “sorry. i was just thinking about something. i’m fine. you don’t need to give me your jacket or anything.”

“but if i want to?” he asks and this is where she failed last time, and will fail again, and will always fail, because she can never resist him.

“i–”

the jacket is already around her shoulders before she knows it. it’s warm, and the weight of it on top of her shoulders is comforting. the smell of him is enveloping all of her senses and her entire mind, and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but it.

it was simple, and really not that heavy or distinctive of a smell. just clean clothes–his detergent, and maybe a hint of lemon or lavender. it was easy to get used to, and it had become familiar to her after being around him so long in the past, but she hadn’t smelled it in so long, she felt like she was suffocating now. with the smell came so many memories associated with him, and it took everything in her not to let out a shaky breath, giving away her emotions.

he didn’t know what to say, looking at her. her chin was resting on top of her knees, pulled up close against her chest, and her eyes were closed, brows furrowed as if she was trying desperately to hold something in. had he come off too strongly? he liked to think he still knew her, could read her mind, tell when she was cold, and when she needed something, but maybe he was wrong, or just moving too fast. maybe she didn’t feel the same way, and didn’t want to be friends again.

“thanks,” she murmurs finally, eyes opening again, although she’s staring at the ground below them, and he’s unsure of where to look–at her, or the ground as well.

“yeah,” he replies, and the conversation falls quiet between them again.

it’s almost comfortable between them. it would be if she wasn't feeling like she was ruining everything and only digging herself a bigger hole. maybe they went quiet because he was sick of her now, and regretted asking to see her. and should she even care or not? should she get up and leave right now? what was the right thing to do right now, objectively? not what was right according to her heart, but according to her head?

she should be keeping her distance from him, not allowing him to get closer, giving him the chance to hurt her again. he had let them get distant, she reminded herself. he had let their friendship crumble without saying a word, he didn’t see her the way she saw him, and she couldn’t rely on him to be there for her.

“how are you?” he breaks the silence, and the question sets off every nerve in her body. it’s like her mind is being torn in two, trying to find an answer to the simple question. it’s not really that simple– he’s asking it, referring to the last 10 years of her life, and he’s asking her to be vulnerable and share about herself, and she can’t do that.

“don’t do that to me,” she says, shutting her eyes again.

“do what?” he’s looking at her, at his jacket draped around her shoulders, and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to hold himself back from reaching out to fix her hair, which has been slightly caught underneath the jacket. 

she lets out a heavy, quiet breath, “don’t ask me that– like you care.”

“i do care,” he responds immediately, and she’s sure if she looked up at him, he’d be looking at her. but if she looks at him, she’ll break.

“we shouldn’t be doing this. we can’t be doing this. i shouldn’t be seeing you outside of my office. i listened to you talk about your struggles for an hour that you would've otherwise paid for if it wasn't the first meeting. you can’t turn around and ask how i am for free. that’s not fair. we should be nothing more than a therapist and a client. it’s easier for me to look at you that way because–” her voice gets caught in her throat for a second as she tries to talk confidently, but her voice gives away her feelings. she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears before they even reach her eyes, but she blinks through them, “because i look at you and still see what we used to be. but so much happened between us, and then you left, and that still hurts.”

‘then will you let me make it up to you? then can we go back to what we were before? and can we be more?’ the words are heavy in his head, and too forward to say out loud, but he has to say something. he has to say something now because he didn’t say anything back then.

he had always assumed that she had just been disappearing from his life altogether–from his notifications, the school hallways, and his walks home, but he realized now she had done that on purpose. she had purposely removed herself from his life so they would never see each other, and he had never stopped her. of course she hadn’t believed him, when he had said it was good to see her in her office, and of course she hadn’t fully understood what his ulterior motives were when he texted her out of the blue about wanting to see her again, because he had never showed how much he cared back then. but he had to tell her now that she was worth everything.

“i don’t mind paying it,” he ends up saying, and finally gets her to look at him, “i don’t mind paying to see you for an hour. i’d pay to be around you anyday, especially if you’re going to refuse to see me anywhere else, then i’ll just force you to put up with me for an hour every week.”

she laughs with a shake of her head, “you’re not forcing me to see you. i want to see you outside of that time…i just–i shouldn’t.”

“why not?” he can’t help but ask. “you’re still friends with atsumu, too. you text him outside of your appointments all the time.”

“yes but–” i like you more than a friend. hell, i’ve been in love with you for the past 10 years of my life. actually, probably for even longer, but who’s even counting at this point– she takes a deep breath again. she should leave soon, and think about this. she’s going to end up letting him convince her if she keeps listening to him, “maybe next time. i’ll tell you how i’ve been next time, okay?”

she’s giving him a next time, and he’ll take whatever he can get. they can start slow again. being her client is like being her acquaintance. people are always acquaintances before they’re friends; they can grow from here.

"when is next time?" he responds quickly, realizing it sounds like she’s going to stand up and leave soon, but he's not losing sight of her again.

she avoids looking at him, keeping her knees are pulled to her chest as she picks at the worn-down plastic of the playground tube they're sitting on, "i don't know, sakusa. i really need time to think about all of this. i don’t know what i’m doing here, or why i showed up tonight.”

her words feel like a burn in his lungs, but even when his sides are aching on his morning runs, he keeps going. "but you showed up anyway."

she finally looks at him, and he swears he could get lost in her eyes forever. he can’t believe he went through their entire friendship without telling her how beautiful she was, in every single way. he can’t believe he ever let go of her. perhaps that cliche saying was true, that you never know how important something really is until you lose it.

"i did," she echoes, continuing to stare into his own eyes.

"are you going to leave?" he asks, unable to look away.

she looks back down at the threads of green plastic she was pulling at, and his eyes follow. they used to meet at this playset all the time. during the summer, when she’d sleep over, they’d stay up until three in the morning, and then she’d nudge him about sneaking out. he used to worry about what would happen if his parents checked on them and saw that they were gone if they sneaked out, but she always ended up convincing him in the end. they rarely fought or had disagreements. with enough talking, they always managed to persuade the other to agree with them.

“i am. because we both need time to think. you need to think about if you’re going to see me again for therapy and i just need to think. about everything," she replies, and he watches her grab the edge of the tube, steadying herself as she moves to stand before he slides himself off the tube onto the ground below. it’s not that far of a drop for him now, although it was the scariest drop ever as a kid. now he stands eye level with most of the playset, but she's looking at him like it's still that big of a fall, mouth slightly agape in surprise.

“i’ll help you down,” he says with a smile and she blinks.

“no, i’m fine–” her words die out as he looks at her, brows raised in expectancy. this is what he meant: they were always able to push the other to do something, no matter how much they tried to resist in the beginning.

she lets out a sigh, trying to buy time as she fixes her skirt, preparing herself to slip off the tube. it really shouldn't be that scary, but she exclaims as she drops, barely registering the hands on the sides of her waist that catch her while her own clamp down on his shoulders.

her face is red as he lowers her down gently to the ground. whether it’s from the embarrassing noise she let out or the fact that he caught her, she’s not sure. maybe it’s both. even when he lets go of her, she can feel his hands on her still, as if they've been permanently etched into her skin. he’s looking down at her, and there’s a hint of playfulness in his eyes and the smile on his lips. he's too close to her, and she can't stop looking at his lips so she looks down at the ground instead, clutching at the jacket around her shoulders before she remembers it’s not hers.

“oh, here’s your jacket back,” she starts, moving to take off the piece of clothing before he stops her with a hand over he own.

“you can keep it for a little longer if you– if you let me walk you home,” he says, on the verge of losing all of his confidence, but he just can’t let go of her. he doesn't want to watch her leave, but he knows she needs a break.

she looks up at him, feeling like her lips are quivering with how nervous and flustered she feels, “you don’t have to do that, really. i can walk home by myself.”

“but if i want to?”

it’s a repeat of a conversation they had earlier, because she can never give him a complete no, and he always knows to take that as a yes.

she’s ruining everything she’s trying to do for herself right now. she’s trying to set a boundary between them, and horribly failing. because what if he walks her home, and he happens to live nearby again? what if they start to see each other more often? or worst of all, what if he ends up leaving again?

well what if he doesn’t?

oh, whatever.

fuck the what ifs.

they can try again.

.

.

.

"it's gonna rain soon / and pull me back in.

"i had the words / you thought a hundred times

"oh darlin' / will you still walk me back home?'"

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

not really any extras! i just hope u enjoyed <3 and that this chapter was good and not too long or just a bunch of rambles!! i had like three ideas i had randomly wrote down and then just copied and pasted into this chapter and was trying to make them all fit 😭

IWAIZUMI AND Y/N HAVE A PLATONIC SIBLING-TYPE RELATIONSHIP!!! JUST MAKING THAT CLEAR also i'm a sucker for iwaizumi but that's besides the point

omi just kind of got up and left at some point during dinner when atsumu got tipsy and started talking to shoyo and bo. he said goodbye to osamu and then left

they all have each other's locations anyway and shoyo and bokuto trust him to know what he's doing

kita, akaashi, and iwa ended up going home soon after iwa got back from walking y/n to the park and then he and kita stayed up all night waiting for her to come home while akaashi was passed out <3

this fic lowkey goes a little bit off the rails!! but hopefully u guys enjoy it <33

AND I KEEP FORGETTING TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS I'VE KIND OF LOST IT NOW!! but y/n's pfp is a pufferfish because they symbolize protecting yourself and setting boundaries <3 interpret that as u will

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

[otakusheep15]

Hi there! I recently got diagnosed with discoid meniscus and I have an MRI and a surgery soon (as well as physio)

This hurts a lot and walking up stairs or a 10 minute walk is dreadful for me

Could you do it with the obey me bros pls? I don't see a lot about my condition much or at all, so it would be nice if u could bring some light to it :33

I actually have a pretty similar condition to you Anon! I've had about three surgeries to reconstruct my knees, so now I have a bunch of metal in them. I completely get the pain, and I'd be more than happy to write about it!

I am gonna try and keep this a bit more generic, but the reader/MC will have a major leg injury. Talks of surgery and injury will be included, but the reader/MC has not yet had any surgeries, just considering it.

Lucifer

Unlike most of his brothers, Lucifer is more practical about your injury. He's the only one who knew about it before the exchange program started, so he took the necessary precautions before you even showed up.

His biggest contribution is that he modified the stairs in the main hall. If you have a wheelchair/mobility aid, he cast a spell on the stairs so that they'll turn into a ramp so that it's easier for you to get up. He also added extra handrails/grips along the stairs so that you can hold on if needed.

He's very protective of you out in public. He constantly has his eyes on you, watching for any signs of discomfort. Constant reminders from him to take breaks when you need, and he punishes anyone who makes fun of you for needing a break.

If your legs ever feel sore, Lucifer is great at massages. He also regularly studies up on physical therapy-type exercises to help strengthen your legs. He never pushes you, but he does encourage you to do these exercises when you can.

If you ever consider surgery, Lucifer will help you look for the best doctor possible. Money is no obstacle for him, and he offers to pay for any and all expenses. He also stays with you in the Human World while you recover, as he doesn't want to risk you being down in the Devildom while you're still healing.

If you're ever injured, such as your knee popping out of socket or pulling a muscle, he's the first to look after you. Plenty of medicine and attention, and he makes sure to keep his brothers away so that they don't bother you while you rest. He's hesitant to use magic to help you, as he doesn't want you to become reliant on it for help, but if it's an extreme injury, he'll make an exception.

Mammon

He most likely is not aware of your injury unless you tell him. If you have a strange walk, such as a limp, he might make fun of you for it, not realizing it's because you're injured. After you and/or Lucifer explain to him how stupid he sounds, he apologizes, and he does genuinely feel bad.

Now he is your scary (adorable) guard dog. He's constantly going with you if you need to run an errand, and he gets upset if you ask him to let you go alone. Truthfully, he's scared for what might happen if you go out by yourself. He knows how cruel demons can be, and he'd hate it if he wasn't there to protect you. Still, if you're adamant, he'd agree to leave you be.

Definitely the type to bedazzle your mobility aid if you have one. Of course, he asks permission first, but if you let him, he's going all out. Stickers, glitter, and tacky, plastic jewels now adorn your mobility aids, and Mammon is very proud of himself.

Mammon is for sure the type to pick you up and walk you up the stairs himself. If you don't like it, he'll stop after the first time, but if you let him, he'll do it every time. If there's a set of stairs you need to go up, he's already picking you up before you even ask. Do his brothers make fun of him? Yes. Does he care? Absolutely not.

If you ever plan on having surgery, he's a bit afraid for you. Mammon has a tendency to overestimate how fragile humans can be, so when he hears the word 'surgery', his mind immediately jumps to the worst. Just reassure him that you'll be okay if you decide to go through with it, and he'll be fine. He definitely studies up on the best ways to help someone recover from a surgery, and he's a surprisingly good caretaker for you.

He's also good at caring for you if you get injured. If you hurt your leg somehow, he's immediately bringing you to the nearest private space and checking to see how bad your injury is. His first instinct is to use magic to heal your leg, but if that doesn't work, his next plan is most likely to call Lucifer and ask what he should do. He's mostly just panicking because he hates seeing you injured, but when he does manage to calm down, he is a lot better at caring for you.

Leviathan

As someone who experiences chronic pain, Levi gets it. He's in constant pain nearly all the time, so if you need help with finding ways to get comfortable, he's your guy. But beyond that, he's not much help with anything else. He barely takes care of his own pain, so the chances of him being able to help much with yours is slim at best. He does his best though.

If you feel sore, he's got lots of spaces to chill out and rest your legs. He has many different types of chairs, beanbags, the bathtub, and even his floor, which is surprisingly comfortable. He'd totally be down to build you a makeshift nest so that you have somewhere to rest and prop your leg up.

Out of all the brothers, Levi is one of the best at distraction and comfort. If you're feeling a lot of pain or soreness, his room is the best place to be. He can distract you with anime, games, manga, and more. Sometimes, you're just in pain and there's not much you can do about it, so having a distraction is usually the best option in these instances.

Still, despite what you may think, even Levi knows that there's a limit to how much you can distract yourself before you actually need help. His brothers have had to pull him out of his cave many times because they know he's in pain and ignoring it. If he ever sees you starting to develop the same destructive tendencies as him, he'll do his best to pull you out of it.

If you ever plan on getting surgery, his room is the best recovery zone you could ask for. There's a lot to do in his room, and none of it requires much physical activity, so your legs can heal while you hang out with him. He also knows a lot about how to work out your leg to keep it from stiffening up, even if he doesn't utilize these exercises himself all that much. Any pain meds you might have are tucked away in a secure location with all of his medicine, and he sets extra timers for you so that you remember to take them if needed.

If you injure your leg, Levi is not the best help unfortunately. He panics immediately, and there's not a very good chance he'll get himself out of his panic in time to help you. In cases like these, it's best to have someone else on speed dial, such as Lucifer or Barbatos. After your leg is healed, Levi is very apologetic that he couldn't be very helpful. He tries his best to overcome his own panic so that he'll be better able to help you in the future.

Satan

Out of everyone, Satan is the most likely to do actual research about your disability. Like, I'm talking hours in the library reading every medical journal he can find so that he can fully understand what you go through. He also asks you questions if you're comfortable answering them. He won't pressure you to answer though.

He will definitely get mad at anyone who makes fun of you or tries to make your life harder. If you don't want him to confront them, he won't for your sake, but he really wants to fight them. Please let him fight them for you.

If you have any mobility aids, he will help you modify them to be better suited for the Devildom, if you'd like him to of course. It's mch different down here compared to the human world, so having modified aids would be helpful to you during your stay. If you don't want them modified at all, he'd be more than happy to buy you some alternative aids instead.

Satan is very good at giving massages if you ever feel sore. Maybe you've been walking around all day, or maybe you just woke up sore. It happens, and he'll never judge you for why you feel sore. If you'd like him to, he has no problem giving you a massage. His room is not the best for relaxing since he has so many books piled everywhere, but he tries his best to clear a path for you so that you won't have to step over all of them.

If you ever plan on having surgery, Satan is your best bet for a caretaker. He's calm and patient, and he always knows what you need to feel better. He's a great cook and he doesn't mind taking care of chores. he also makes sure you take all of your prescribed medication and that you get enough rest. Satan would prefer it if you stayed in the human world during your recovery, as he believes it's safer and less stressful than staying in the Devildom, but if you'd rather stay in the Devildom, he'll gladly stay at the House of Lamentation with you.

If you're injured, Satan is one of the better demons to call on. He has a lot of medical knowledge, so he'd know better than most of his brothers about how to take care of you. He'd try to fix it on his own if he knew how to. He can fix a dislocated knee no problem, and he's fine with other small forms of injury. If it's a bigger injury, he'd be tempted to use magic to heal you, but only as a last resort.

Asmodeus

He may not know everything about your disability, and he may not be the best caretaker of all time, but Asmo is the best at hyping you up and making you feel good. Any insecurity you may have about your disability is gone when you're around him.

No one dares to insult you in his presence. If he even suspects that someone has been bullying you for having a disability, it's on sight. Or, more accurately, he's sending Satan and/or Beel to fight for him. Either way, that demon is dead.

If you let him, Asmo would absolutely bedazzle any mobility aids you might have. He'll design you a leg brace that's colorful and sparkly, all while still being fully functional. Any canes or walkers are covered in fun stickers and glitter, and wheelchairs are not spared either. If you'd rather he keep them plain, he'll be a little pouty, but he doesn't mind. Instead, he'll focus his efforts into creating a new line of fashionable mobility aids. He thinks it's fun to design something that's actually useful along with being cute.

He's also very good at helping you coordinate outfits that fit with your mobility aids. Leg braces tend to be hard to style around, and he knows that. Sometimes they can be bulky and stiff, meaning that picking out what to wear with them can be nearly impossible. If you ever need help finding something to wear, Asmo is your go-to. He won't judge you for needing help, and the two of you spend the whole day shopping and looking around for cute outfit ideas.

If you plan on having surgery, Asmo is not the best caretaker, but he tries his best for you. If he needs any help, he'll most likely call Satan or Lucifer and ask what he should do to help you. Most of his care involves him trying to keep you entertained. Resting all day can be boring, and he knows that he wouldn't enjoy being stuck inside all day. He finds movies and tv shows to binge with you, finds silly games you can play, and even puts on cute little fashion shows for you. Asmo is still a fairly responsible caretaker, but maybe have Lucifer on speed dial just in case.

If you're injured, maybe don't call Asmo right away. More likely than not, he'll freak out and panic instead of helping you. Instead, call someone else to help you with your injury, and then call Asmo after so that he can fawn over you. He'll act all offended that you didn't call on him first, but deep down he knows he wouldn't have been much help to you. He does try his best to work on himself so that he can help you more in the future.

Beelzebub

Beel may not be the most informed about human world disabilities, but he is also the most willing to learn. All he wants is to be helpful to those he cares about, and you're one of those people. If he needs to sort through every medical journal he can find to understand how to help you, he will. He may not understand most of the medical nonsense listen in the journals, but he tries his best for you, and he actually learns quite a lot in the process.

Most likely to carry you around if you need it. All of the brothers are more than capable of carrying you just fine, but Beel is most used to carrying others around. He does it for his brothers all the time, so it's no different for you in his mind. If you can't get up a flight of stairs or you broke/lost your mobility aid, Beel is right there to haul you to wherever you need.

Beel is also very good at caring for you, surprisingly. He deals with a lot of injuries because of how often he gets hurt during games/practice, so he knows a thing or two about first aid. He's not the best at it compared to an actual doctor, but if you need anything bandaged up, or perhaps a brace of some kind, he's got you. He's also got plenty of ice/heat packs if you feel sore, plus tons of muscle relaxers and other such drugs, although he's more hesitant to give anything like that to you since he's not sure what kind of dosage you'd need. If you have your own medication, he'd be more than willing to hold onto some for you in case of emergency.

If you plan on having surgery, Beel is a decent option as a caretaker. Not the best, but certainly not the worst either. He may be easily distracted by his own hunger, but as long as he's well-fed, he's good at taking care of you. Like I said, he knows a good amount already due to his own injuries, and anything he doesn't know he can just research. During recovery, you will not have to move an inch because he'll just get everything for you. If you want food or a drink, he already has it, and he doesn't mind running errands if you need anything specific. He's also good at helping you with physical therapy.

If you get an injury, he's a good option to call. Beel is best at short term solutions, like bandaging you up until you find a more permanent solution. Maybe not the best for serious injuries, as he can only do so much with his limited knowledge, but small injuries like a popped knee or sore muscles are where he can help the best.

Belphegor

If nothing else, Belphie is very good at helping you relax. If your muscles are tense or spasming, he's arguably your best go-to. He's shockingly good at massages, but his specific brand of magic is also good for relaxation, not just putting someone to sleep.

He's also the most understanding about how tired you must be all the time (besides Levi). Having any kind of leg injury is tiring and painful, and he knows good and well that you need breaks. If you're ever feeling tired or worn-out, his bed is always open to you, and so is the attic. He'll also fight anyone who makes fun of you for needing to rest, as he's most likely dealt with similar comments for how often he falls asleep.

He's not the most experienced with mobility aids, but he is good at making things comfortable. If you specifically wear any kind of brace that makes you uncomfortable, he's your best bet if you want to find something better. Maybe something with extra padding or something that sits on your leg better. If you wear one of those bigger braces that prevent your knee from bending, he's also good at helping you prop it up on some pillows. Basically, if you have a hard time getting comfy, go to Belphie. He's more than happy to help.

If you plan on having surgery, he's a fairly decent caretaker. I can't promise that he won't fall asleep in the middle of caring for you, but he's not bad while he's awake. He's the best at helping you find comfortable ways to place your leg while you sleep or rest, and he's also good at helping you relax after physical therapy. As for anything else, he has no problems running errands for you for food, but it might take him a while to get around to it.

If you're injured, maybe don't call Belphie. To be honest, he has no clue how to deal with major, or even minor, injuries, so you're better off calling for someone else to help you. However, he is good at taking care of you after your injury has been properly dealt with. If you do get majorly injured, he'll most likely feel bad that he couldn't help you, so he'll do his best to learn more about how to help you in the future.

[hivefleet-hellbender]

Out in the desert, no one can find you... (Hex Tiles 1)

A sharp wind whistles through the desert dunes, bringing no reprieve to the travelers following the thin paths left out in the sand. Don't drink from the river — the plants that grow along its shores contain toxins that could leave a grown man coughing up blood, and chemical spills float through the current. A faraway road carries the rare drone-tank, long abandoned from any sort of human use.

My newest hobby, to distract myself on months when the purse is a bit too tight to be buying plastic crack from Games Workshop, is to build modular hex tiles! It's super easy — I pick up a hundred of these wooden MDF tiles from Amazon for $10 (they're advertised as 2", but they're 1.75" from tip to tip, and each side is 1"), grab any spare craft supplies I have lying around, and get to work! They're super quick (this first batch of one hundred took me around a week) and they open the door to a lot of cool experimentation. A lot of this is inspired by the work of u/Marcus_Machiavelli over on Reddit, who makes these fantastic modular hive city components that I hope to someday be able to emulate. 

I'm making these for two purposes, neither of which I've put in practice yet but I'm hoping to get to do at some point. They're for:

Any mass-battle games played at 6mm. This could also work for Adeptus Titanicus or the upcoming Epic reboot that Games Workshop is working on. 

Tactical TTRPGs like Lancer that are played with large beings, who can operate on a 6mm scale.

Once I get some games in with them, I'm sure I'll encounter future problems and reassess how I approach them. But for now, this is what I've got!

I Hate Sand

The first set of tiles I made, to serve as the backdrop for the rest of them, are these sand tiles. I chose to make this a desert (and thus make a bunch of sand tiles) because I already had some sand lying around, and because it's really cheap and easy to work with. Be careful though! Anakin was right; sand sucks. Try and pick up a finer grain than what I went with, apply the sand in a more-controlled location than I did, and secure it better than I did too. But here's how I did them:

Coat the surface of the hex with a mix of PVA glue and water.

Sprinkle on a light dusting of gravel or small rocks.

Apply a thick coat of sand on top of the gravel.

Knock off excess sand and recycle it for next time.

Spray with 1-2 layers of varnish. (I would recommend a sealant instead, but I didn't have any at the time)

For the ones with little paths on them, I painted the path on with White before applying the gravel or sand, and it shows through well enough! The paths are unnecessary — they're a fun experiment, but I don't think I'll be making more of them in the future.

The Gurgling Creek

Making the river tiles was a bit more involved, but still pretty easy. The method I came up with I think looks a lot better than just painting on water, and is a lot easier to work with than resin or water effects. 

Use some kind of texture gel to build up the riverbanks, trying to have them end around 1/4" on the sides of the tiles where you want your river to connect.

Paint a strip Black where you want the river to flow, running from one edge to another.

Apply sand as before, everywhere except where you painted the black. (If you're worried about fucking this up, you can swap the order)

Varnish (or use sealant) as before. 

Take some gloss mod podge and mix it with a light blue paint, and apply in large goopy quantities everywhere you want water to be. Leave overnight to dry. (If you want the river to be less cloudy, apply many thin coats of mod podge instead, letting each layer dry before applying the next)

As an extra, stipple green along the edges of the water and use a dark green wash to create patches of vegetation.

The river pieces are my favorites, and I'm the most proud of them. The tiny bridge was a thin strip of balsa wood, painted white and then washed black. It turned out fine.

I did a solid mix of straight river pieces and curving river pieces. If I was going to do it again I'd make more curving pieces than straight river pieces, because the curving ones make more sense for how rivers work.

The Road To Nowhere

These road tiles turned out really well, perfect for a run-down highway in the middle of nowhere. Here's how I made them:

Take a piece of corkboard and cut it down to be 1.75" long and 1" wide.

Glue it on a hex with the two edges of the corkboard touching two sides of the hex.

Go at the edges with a knife, making it all worn down and busted up.

In some of these spots, I fucked up and glued the corkboard on wrong. To fix that, break off a chunk and reposition it so it'll connect correctly. This will look like a big fat crack in the middle of the road, which is perfect.

Coat in a layer of mod podge or PVA glue. Leave to dry.

Once dry, paint the cork entirely Gray.

Drybrush White onto the corkboard, focusing on the edges and exposed spots.

Paint two thin yellow lines along the middle of the road. (These are optional, but they do a lot to make the 6mm scale convincing)

Apply sand, as before, onto the ground and up the sides of the road, so it looks like the road is emerging from the sand. Maybe apply some sand in a couple spots in the cracks to make it look like the sand has gotten in there.

Varnish and/or sealant, as before.

Apply a Black wash to the road. (There's a lot of tricks here! If you want the yellow stripes to be more vibrant, you can only paint them on after the first black wash. You can also target spots of sand on the road to make it look like it's asphalt runoff, soaking black into the cracks.)

Apply a second Black wash to the road. 

The bridge was a bit more complicated, and took some finicky positioning and a trip to Kung-Fu Tea.

Take a boba tea straw and cut it into 1" segments, then cut them in half, gluing them to the middle of the hex as culverts.

Take corkboard and glue it over the culverts, bending it so it meets the two edges you want the bridge to run along. If it breaks, that's okay — this is a crumbling, middle-of-nowhere bridge.

Use texture gel and spare corkboard to fill in the gaps.

Use texture gel to define the steep edges of the river. Apply a little bit in between the culverts.

Do all the road steps to the road part of the bridge, and all the river steps to the river part of the bridge.

I'm exceedingly proud of the bridge hex. It turned out perfectly, and feels very emblematic of what I want this project to be like.

Why You, Too, Should Make 6mm Terrain

6mm terrain is amazing to make. Mistakes look like part of the landscape or the brain smudges them over due to the small size, and small changes look like fascinating little details. It really opens the imaginative space and I absolutely adore working at this scale. Plus I'm developing a ton of experience with various materials I've never worked with before, so I get to enjoy the triumph of carving foam or corkboard. It rules! I might even try to make a 28mm bridge after the success I had making a 6mm one.

My future plans for this project include cliffs, craters, 3D-printed shantytowns, and overpasses. But all that is for a later date — for now I'm gonna rest on my laurels, and spend the rest of the evening reconfiguring various tile combinations and cackling like a mad scientist.

[bulbabutt]

ok. elephant in the room or shit i thought about a while ago but didnt post, my going theory on the rise cancellation which idk if its a theory more-so as reading the room and putting the pieces together.

it seems like playmates fault to me on account of the toys being shit and then cancelled outright. like waves of toys ready to go in 2019, none saw the light of day.

obvs a lot of them were shit, not the point. the point being theres up to 6 waves of toys on the table at 2019 toy fair, only 1 and 2 were made. compare to the last toyfair showing the mutant mayhem toys.

playmates made both of these era of toys. do you see how much more effort went into one than the other. you can say movies are more popular blah blah blah. but playmates has made ALL tmnt toys since they ever existed, and comparing the rise toys to even the previous shows toys it seems obvious where they put the money.

anyway my theory here is playmates got told (or given or offered or whatever) mutant mayhem. they immediately went. oh. yeah this will make us money. lets start prepping moulds for this now, lets get ready to sell a shit ton of different stuff. and they just left all those rise things on the cutting room floor. they didnt tell anyone on the team they were gonna do that. they didnt say "yeah it doesnt matter what you do cuz we have this NEW thing coming" they just abandoned it. they pretended theyd give it a chance to come back if their movie went well just to appease them and us, cuz they saw more money elsewhere.

the dumb shit about that is like imagine saying that about like. batman or the avengers or something. yeah we wont make this cartoon anymore cuz we have a theatrical movie coming in 3 years. like. you can have more than one iteration YOU DID IT WITH 12.

truly this is nothing against mutant mayhem by all accounts it looks amazing, my point here is that im sick of playmates fucking over each tv show with their stupid hunks of plastic. it has in fact happened each time, rise was just faster

87 was good, then there were the 90s movies that got popular enough that the show needed to be closer in style to.

03 was good, then it got dark, told to be more fun (cuz kids like ben 10 now) so they made fast forward, which was also good but in its own way, but then tmnt 2007 came out and playmates literally said "nope nope, we want to save on moulds so change your show to look like this movie" then 07 didnt go well cuz warner bros didnt fucking market it (what i heard from a podcast w nolan north was that they were super preoccupied marketing the shit out of 300 at the time. which. ok very weird choice for kids toys)

then we have 2012 after nick buys the franchise. and 12 has the weird tonal dissonance of dark stuff and kid stuff, with the most "designed to be toys" characters in it, clearly messing w things in the show itself while it was going.

then bayverse comes out along side it and once its over we get rise, where the designs clearly take inspiration from that movie (donnie and raph specifically)

then mutant mayhem is announced and rise just. fades out of existence. planned seasons cut and cancelled. planned toys disappear.

anyway. none of those shows are bad. none of the movies that come out along side them are bad. its just the dumbassery of like. not being allowed more than one iteration at a time, and its nOT on account of popularity or brand synchronizing like youd think, its literally to not have to make as many DIFFERENT SHAPED hunks of plastic! its fucking stupid. rise's downfall seems to be POOR FUCKING PLANNING on playmates part for THEIR shitty toys and then also being cheap/unwilling to have TWO DIFFERENT KINDS OF TOYS AT ONCE (proof being the 03/07 thing)

anyway. thats my theory or whatever that fills me with rage. i hate playmates and i think its insane that the downfall of rise literally comes down to two stupid companies and their desire to sell garbage to children.

[ntls-24722]

I was thinking about @/artastic-friend's tags on my Comet post, and, first off thank you it was really sweet, but I had also realized that I wasn't even on tumblr to show the REEEAAALLY early designs of Comet, so here they are!

Comet had gone through a lot of changes, the most important one being... not looking exactly like DJMM! Comet originally looked exactly like DJMM since a good 80% of her body used to actually be mechanical, and her organism part was... very minimal and degenerate. But I very quickly found that lame - what's the pizzazz in being ~secretly a manmade organism~ if most of you is still mechanical anyway? I found an old picture of her transition from this (i apologize for the low quality, but much of the old sketches are super smudged n junk.) She still had motors and but much more of her internals filled up the plastic exoskeleton's empty space.

A detail i had actually forgotten now that I read back through old messages and pictures is that she used to be compatible with eating/drinking gasoline AND actual food? She had microbes that could eat it in her stomach and then she'd eat THOSE microbes like a cow??? that was kinda sick, past me, good job.

Comet's actual face being striped originated from her bony skeleton being full of bigbig holes (shown below, left) - they were meant to just be the frame for the plastic cover, but when the mechanical parts were taken out the holes condensed into stripes (shown below, right), partially being inspired from this Clownsuu post (AUGH ITS SO COOOOOL)

The 10 eyes thing stuck because it was like... representative of her kids' souls being infused with hers after she unknowingly ingested them after brain surgery?

She didn't like, pick them up and start chowing on her own children like you would with a bunch of dry cereal - in order to make the Comets less resource-needy the Oort Cloud would give some of the remnant they produced back to them? When Comet found out where it came from and where one of her missing kids went, she refused to eat or sleep at all until she almost died of exhaustion and finally went unconcious. The Oort Cloud took advantage of the fact she was finally not resisting and did the surgery as she slept. She didn't remember anything when she woke up and... ate for the first time in awhile not knowing what was in it, or that she even had kids in the first place.

Making the surgery easier is actually why the side of her head in this picture is exposed and Boneless (in some pictures there's actually huge stitches on there, too) but i realized that any behavioral disruptions would be directed to the frontal lobe, and that's why Modern comet actually has this little plate right between her eyes - that plate of exoskeleton is actually slightly loose and you can take it off n put it right back on for the least amount of scarring. It's also why Luz and Zoey don't have it.

For some reason I chose a marching band theme for her, maybe to cover up her skeleton-y Beneathness, and that is what made her into the star-spangled DJMM we know today. I chose a space-y theme since the Plex is.... somewhat space themed? Not entirely sure why but I'm glad I did it. She was intially accented with minty blue rather than the bold one she is now. This is where she also got her name, though it was initially "Comet Music Man."

She used to, temporarily, also have a 4 pairs of antennae coming from her wrists. I took it out cuz i couldn't find a reason for them

Comet wasn't based on any particular spider BUT there was the initial concept of having her be based off of the mirror spider and have a.... disco ball butt (you can kinda see it in the skeleton face pic) But in another universe, She could've been a spiny orb weaver, or a scorpion-tailed spider.

I did sometimes COMPLETELY go south with how her Beneath would look like in favor of a soft, fleshy interior, and I made...this! I hated it and I'm forever glad I didn't decide to go with this! jesus christ!

There were also the origins of the little harpoons - I had a headcanon that DJMM has little pedipalps on the inside of his mouth that looked like little STAFFbot hands and that got integrated with Comet, too

Alsoalso: the Neck

Couldn't figure out how to do it for a long time, since it's long and dragon-y and flexible and curvy, which is why half of it was exposed skin for awhile. In this outdated organ diagram i actually made the neck a bunch of layered "bowls" like one of those rainbow slug toys (not that you can.... see much of it lol) (also old sona jumpscare HOOH)

There's probably more considering Comet is now a year old and also her entire universe and story got REALLY derailed from a oneshot self-insert fic that i never even finished (the contents of which actually are why Comet and Fritz live where they are, in some abandoned factory - it was Fritz and DJMM's hideout) (also, Fritz predates Comet by a lot) because i thought WAYYYYY tooo hard about the implications of DJ Music Man, the giant spider, being alive

("what are you? are you a species or were you created? for what? By who? why are you pretending to be a robot? Are you pretending? What do you eat, and what's feeding you? Do you need to? Why do you have to be alive, and not an animatronic like everything else?) (also technically Bighand is just the alternate and anticlimatic version where he's just like "yeah I'm alive and I just work here") (both leave bc it sucks)

bonus patch notes that I couldn't cover:

neck became attached further up the head instead of below the jaw because keeping it the way it was was... not good

ALL of her became metallic-looking

She went from being a mirror spider to a sparklemuffin spider because of the coincidence that those spiders had the same yellow stripes from their eyes as she does.

The antennae became just 1 pair because the fact she had 2 pairs was also unnecessary

She used to have 2 little flesh strands from her top jaw and bottom jaw. They served no purpose only to get in the way of things so I got rid of them.

Her dewlap used to have music notes, stars, and lines

The tongue went from being thick n long to being flat and rounded. Fits in the mouth better