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yoditopascal · 11 months ago

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Cherry Cola

“She my cherry cola, she gon' keep me sober. Let me keep you closer, bum me like a soda. Sweeter than the champagne, smoother than this cold drink. Keep me from the chardonnay, I'm just sipping one thing.”

summary: Stressed with finals coming up you and your friend group decide to take a much needed break at the beach where Sanemi can’t keep his eyes to himself.

warnings: suggestive themes, shy reader

a/n: inspired by an ask I got from @cursetopia

You were waiting for your friends outside your apartment, Mitsuri and Shinobu were on their way to pick you up to go shopping. Stressed with studying for finals your friends had decided you needed a break so they decided a beach trip was needed in your life.

Naturally when the boys heard about the trip they just had to invite themselves along much to Shinobu’s dismay and Mitsuri’s delight. Which was how you found yourself getting ready to go shopping for a new swimsuit with Shinobu and Mitsuri tagging along so you didn’t pick out anything ugly they had said.

“What about this one?” You said holding up a black and purple one piece with built-in shorts.

They had bought you to mall around the corner from your place and while you were content with just getting whatever was the cheapest and most comfortable they were adamant about helping you pick something out that would grab a certain someone’s attention.

“Be so for real right now…” Shinobu deadpanned

“I am being for real, it’s cute!” You cried holding the piece up to your chest. It was the third bathing suit they had turned down.

“Come on, what will Sanemi think?” She smirked

The girls had found out about your not so little crush on the math major one drunken night of truth or dare and have held it over you ever since.

“What about this one?” Mitsuri pointed out. It was a skimpy little red two piece, the tiny triangles barely even covering the mannequin it was modeled on.

“Hard pass…” you said, cheeks heating up at the idea of him seeing you in something like that.

“You’ve passed on everything I’ve shown you!”

“That’s cuz you keep picking things you like Mitsuri!”

“Fine you pick one then and don’t pick one with shorts! You’re too cute to be all covered up plus it's way too hot for all that!”

You waved her off as you went back to your search. Looking through racks and racks of swimsuits until you found one you liked.

“Absolutely not.” Shinobu said taking the swim trunks and tank top out of your hands and putting them back.

“Oh come on!”

“That’s it we’re picking one for you!” Mitsuri cried as she hooked her arm in yours and dragged you back to the racks.

“Already got one, and it’s not too revealing either.” Shinobu said holding up a modest two piece, she had already picked one out just in case you grabbed another pair of shorts and she wasn’t wrong.

“Guys I can’t wear that!” You cried out cheeks heating up again. You had never worn anything like it before, usually when you dressed for class you wore baggy clothes and hoodies. This was brand new to you.

“Why not? It’ll look so good on you!” Mitsuri said, nodding her head as she held the fit up to your chest as if she was imagining you in it.

“I don’t know…” you said looking to the side skeptically

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Shinobu said putting her hands on her hips, that was her final word on the matter.

“….alright fine.”

With that you checked out with your new swimsuit in tow and headed back home to change and get ready for your trip.

At the beach you sat in a folding chair under a large umbrella, shadowing you from the sun’s harsh rays. Today was a scorcher and the longer you sat there in your cover up shorts and t-shirt the more miserable you felt.

“Why don’t you go get in the water, it’ll help you cool down.” Giyu suggested taking off his own shirt getting ready to follow Shinobu into the ocean.

“I-I’m ok thanks”

“Oh come on, I’m sure your swimsuit’s not that bad!” Makio said rubbing sunscreen over herself as Hinatsuru got her back, Tengen had brought his girlfriends along which you were grateful for since you got along with them the most besides Shinobu Mitsuri and Tengen himself.

“You haven’t seen it yet…”

“It’s really not that bad, I thought it was super cute at the store!”

“Besides, if you feel that uncomfortable you could always put your shirt back on.”

“…Fine.”

As you pulled your shirt up over your head Sanemi felt lilt the wind had been knocked right outta him.

There you stood in a low cut sage green two piece, his favorite color, that hugged your curves like he had never seen before.

Curves he hadn’t even known you had because you always wore those fucking hoodies to class all the time.

“You ok there Shinazugawa?” Tengen elbowed him as he draped an arm over Suma “You look a little stunned.” He laughed

“Shut up!” Sanemi snapped, shoving him away. His cheeks dusting pink as he tried his hardest not to stare at you.

Since when have you had such a nice chest? And your legs…. He’d kill to have them wrapped around his-

Shaking his head from his impure thoughts he pushed pass Tengen and reached into the bottom of the cooler Obanai bought and pulled out the coldest drink he could find.

You could feel the sun beating down on you from the shade of your umbrella, you knew that if you didn’t put sunscreen on you’d cook, quite literally.

Reaching into your bag you pulled out a bottle and got your arms and legs, rubbing in a generous amount so that you wouldn’t burn. Realizing you couldn’t quite reach your backside you looked around amongst your friends that were left.

“Does anyone mind rubbing sunscreen on my back?”

“Of course not!” Rengoku replied enthusiastically before Sanemi even had a chance, Sanemi glared him down as he jumped to his feet and strode over to you confidently.

It’s not like he wanted to do it anyways.

(He did.)

But did Rengoku have to be so ready to jump up like that? He didn’t have to be so enthusiastic about everything.

Sanemi watched from the corner of his eye as Rengoku rubbed the lotion on his hands, he sucked in a breath as he worked the lotion into your back, warm fingers ghosting over your skin before going lower and lower until-

Sanemi squeezed the can in his hand until it exploded. Soda flying all over the place and spilling down his hand.

“Dude!” Tengen shouted, wiping soda from his face.

“You good?” Obanai asks in a quiet but knowing tone.

“My bad…” Sanemi said not even looking at them. His eyes were glued to where Rengoku’s hands had been.

As the day drew on, the air around you grew hotter and hotter until it was damn near unbearable. Going in and out of the water didn’t seem to help much either so Rengoku offered to go and get everyone ice cream and slushies from a nearby vendor.

You sucked your popsicle absent-mindedly, watching the waves crash against the shoreline.

Sanemi discretely watched you drag your tongue up and down the popsicle, staring intensely as some of it had started to melt. Looking down you felt streams of the sticky treat run down over your fingers. You held your hand up to see where the trail of cherry popsicle had coated your fingers before drawing your tongue up your fingers, licking away the sticky mess.

Sanemi swallowed hard. His throat felt tight as did his swim shorts, the blood rushing to his face and a bit further down south. He squirmed slightly in his seat, as he watched you return to your frozen treat with little slurps and licks, eyes trailing a particular drop as it dripped down and hit your chest.

That did it for him.

Fuuuuuck," he groaned, nearly dropping his slushie on himself.

You turn your head to look at him, worriedly "You okay?" You ask .

“m’ fine!” He stammered back cheeks beginning to flush.

The coldness of the popsicle had caused your skin to blossom in goosebumps when it fell on your chest. Your nipples beginning to become visible through the flimsy material of your swimsuit. Sanemi’s ears turned red as his whole face lit up.

“It’s sooooo hot!” whined Mitsuri

“For real.” Agreed Makio as she fanned herself.

Sanemi agreed but he definitely wasn’t talking about the weather.

After finishing your snack you took a trip to the bathroom to clean yourself up as your friends went back to the water.

You could feel sweat dripping from your brow as you walked back. Holding a hand up to shield your eyes from the sun you scanned the crowded beach looking for any signs of your friends.

“ Well well well what do we have here?” A voice brought you out of your search, turning to the voice you spot a man followed closely by two others. “What’s a fine lady such as yourself doing all by your lonesome?” He grinned at you.

“Excuse me.” You tried to maneuver around him but he blocked your path.

“What’s the rush mama? We’re just being friendly.” Another smiled as they closed you in the middle of them. You backed up until your back was pressed against the wall of the restrooms behind you.

“I-I’m sorry I’m looking for my friends is all.” You stammered out eyes scanning around you for a way out but you found none.

“Maybe we could help you.” The other one suggested

“Yeah I mean if your friends are as cute as you then I definitely don’t mind helping you find em.” The first one said only half jokingly as he leaned against the wall getting closer to you.

“That’s ok I can-“

“No, we insist.” He said getting even closer. His face was practically in your own

“Hey fuckwad, she said she didn’t want your help!” A new voice snapped irately drawing everyone’s attention.

“And who the hell are you?” One of them asked

“Her friend shithead.” Sanemi said as he stomped over to you guys.

“Sanemi!” You cried out relieved.

“Let’s go.” He said shoving past the boys as he reached out to grab you by the wrist, dragging you along with him as he stomped away.

Once the pair of you were back at your spot on the beach Sanemi let you go as he plopped back down on his seat next to yours.

“Thank you… for coming to the rescue.” You said looking down at your feel embarrassed that you had to be saved in the first place

“You gotta learn how to stick up for yourself, I’m not gonna always be around to save your ass.” He replied, it came out harsher than he had meant.

“Right. Sorry...”

A wave of awkward silence fell over the two of you as you wrapped your arms around yourself, more self conscious than you had ever been.

“Here.”

Sanemi turned away as he threw his shirt at your face, it smelled like him, like matcha, mochi flour and a hint of an earthy musk. It was comforting.

“Oh Nemi you don’t have to do that.”

Nemi.

You called him Nemi.

His face and ears lit up bright red.

“‘s fine just take it.” He said refusing to look at you.

“…Thanks..”

Just as you opened your mouth to say something else a downpour of water rained down on you as Tengen stood over you wringing out his hair and clothes, wetting both you, Sanemi and his shirt.

“What the hell you flashy bastard?!” Sanemi growled, shoving Tengen away.

“If you two would stop flirting over here and get in the water with us I wouldn’t have to come over and bother ya!” Tengen said loudly, causing both yours and Sanemi’s cheeks to flush.

“Why would I wanna get in the water with you ?!” He snapped. You giggled at his frustration causing him to glare at you

“Come on Sanemi, it'll be fun!” You said standing as you hold your hand out to him

“…whatever.” Sanemi mutter under his breath as he took your hand roughly and stood.

Tengen made a whipping sound as he mimicked a whip causing Sanemi to glare back at him.

After getting in the water a splash flew up soaking both you and Sanemi once again, Giyu floated opposite of you both shaking his head as he emerged from the water.

“Sorry…” he said emotionlessly

“You’re dead!” Sanemi yelled, you laughed as he lunged for Giyu splashing water all around him as he did so.

You looked around yourself at all your friends, eyes finally settling on Sanemi, lingering there for a moment before you joined in on the fun with them. Even though there were some rough spots during your day overall you had to say this was a pretty good day at the beach.

#sanemi shinazugawa imagines #sanemi shinaguzawa x reader #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinaguzawa #kny sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

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vivisols · 10 months ago

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what’s the fizzyfaz theory

OK SO! THE FIZZYFAZ THEORY... THERES A LOT OF THINGS CONNECTED TO FIZZYFAZ. LIKE. A LOT A LOT. NOW I MEAN IT WHEN I SAY BE PREPARED BECAUSE THIS IS. A LOT LMAO

in fnaf security breach there are cans of fizzyfaz that you can collect right? theres also this message that goes along with them!

interestingly enough, this message mentions grape, lemonade, and cherry fizzyfaz. however, while you can get grape fizzyfaz in game, you cant actually get plain lemonade or cherry. there's only orange, sour lime, pink lemonade, as well as grape, which is strange. theyre mentioned in the message, so where did normal lemonade and cherry go? well before we get to that, lets take a look at the fizzyfaz flavors that we can actually get in game!

quite obviously glamrock branded! for freddy, we have orange, for monty, we have sour lime, for chica, we have pink lemonade, and for roxy we have grape.

considering what we know about the glamrocks, we can start to deduce what each flavor might mean about each bandmate personality wise, as its obvious that theres some tie in with their marketed personalities.

(the rest of it is under the cut for everyones sanity)

freddy makes sense as orange because he's sweet and mellow. monty makes sense as sour lime because he's more of a rebellious cool guy. chica makes sense as pink lemonade because she's also sweet, though she's even moreso than freddy is. and roxy makes sense as grape because she's cool and different like monty, though she is be shown to be sweet at times (as in with Cassie in ruin)

these four flavors seem pretty normal right? theyre obviously color/flavor coded to each member of the glamrocks. however the actual flavors that were chosen in game have always stuck out to me for one reason.

THEYRE ALL CITRUS EXCEPT FOR GRAPE. lemon, lime, and orange are all citrus fruits. strange, right?

now you could always argue that it is fazbear is making these things, and that it's cheapest to produce like idk. a base citrus flavor and then add the additional flavors accordingly. but then why is roxy's and ONLY Roxy's grape flavored instead of being another citrus? grape is a pretty weird flavor to pair with 3 citrus flavors. hold on to that for now.

plus, roxy has another connection with distinct and stand-out fizzyfaz flavors. she specifically has an advertisement for her own type of limited edition cola flavor.

no other animatronic has advertising in game for any limited edition flavors. just roxy which really peaked my interest! wouldn't they do a promo with every glamrock? ok well, maybe since its limited edition the other glamrocks' special flavor runs have already ended and hers just wrapped up/is about to.

but wait, theres even more to do with roxy and fizzyfaz.

in help wanted 2 in the staff bot food prep mini games for el chips and the kitchen, you can serve four flavors of soda. orange, sour lime, pink lemonade, and.... sodaroni. aka not grape fizzyfaz.

ISNT THAT WEIRD??? not to mention how specifically in the theater version of food prep, theres no fizzyfaz at all. instead, we can serve exotic beverage, dj music man's techno-cooler, chicachug, and.... sodaroni again.

isn't that weird? the theater is also an interesting choice for the final food prep level to take place in considering that it's clearly not the most popular attraction, as well as the fact that we're in a whole mall with multiple food stands. you can argue that it's also one of the few places with a kitchen, but i believe that this choice was made on purpose for a different reason.

after all, who is tied to the theater as well as the only character to actually talk about fizzyfaz in game?

thats right.

THE DAYCARE ATTENDANT.

I mean i was gonna tie them to this somehow! the connection is obvious!!

like… theres a soda dispenser in the ACTUAL DAYCARE ITSELF.

theres also numerous ones outside and in the theater lobby. interesting, right? so much soda promo in the daycare area, yet they dont even serve the main soda brand of fizzyfaz in the theater food prep level... how interesting.

and now for something ive seen literally no one talk about. in the theater basement theres a room with the purple stars painted on the walls outside. inside that room, sitting on a filing cabinet under gold balloons that spell out ‘5TAR’ as well as a sundrop poster, theres ANOTHER soda dispenser. yet instead of one of the fancy digital ones, it's just a simple soda dispenser like we see in the kitchen above.

interesting choice for a soda dispenser location, right? there aren’t any others in the theater basement. just this one.

let’s take a look at this room. specifically the vanity.

there’s a flower pot, a trophy, some makeup brushes, and interestingly enough, a whole nail polish stand with a variety of colors. the uniqueness of this whole room makes me think that it’s meant to stand out. not to mention the fact that there’s a connected bathroom with two stalls in it. after all, the other rooms are just standard dressing rooms.

maybe i’m just reaching here, but i think that this was a theater staff break room, as well as some kind of animatronic prep room for sun and moon’s performances. they used to be the theater bot, after all.

so sun and moon have obviously been around for a while, as evident by all the wear and tear they have. plus in the tales from the pizzaplex books the daycare is mentioned to be an attraction that was built later on. it wasn’t there when the pizzaplex first opened.

but the theater was.

and since the out of place soda dispenser was in a room in the theater basement, there’s a chance that it served fizzyfaz.

cherry fizzyfaz.

i may just be grasping at straws here, but cherry… kind of fits the DCA really well. i mean, it isn’t a citrus fruit like the glamrocks (minus Roxy) have. sun has red and yellow pants, moon has red eyes, and they both have red ribbons with two bells around their wrists. the overall theater is pretty red too.

besides the overall red coloring of the theater and the red on the DCA, the cherry flavoring would fit sun and moon pretty well too! cherries can be either sweet or sour, and are often a balanced mix of both, which would be a nice tie in to sun and moon’s good and evil double act in the theater!

so when the daycare got built and sun and moon were transferred over from the theater, the cherry flavor likely got pulled or discontinued. probably because the theater wasn't as popular as fazbear wanted it to be. and thus in help wanted 2 in their food prep minigame, there was no fizzyfaz. they lost fizzyfaz privileges from management when they were moved to the daycare LMAO

and there we have it. sun and moon are the probable answer for who the cherry fizzyfaz flavor belonged to.

but what about lemonade fizzyfaz?

well, lemonade has a much easier answer. it’s a citrus flavor too, of course. and every bowling alley i’ve ever been to has served an abundance of lemonade lmao

so YEAHHH it’s probably Glamrock Bonnie’s flavor. i mean, he's got a yellow star on his chest, a yellow bass, and yellow sunglasses. plus blue is the opposite of yellow...

though... personality wise, we know basically nothing about the guy other than he was maybe probably laid back considering how bonnie is in fazbear and friends. and lemonade is a pretty chill drink. i mean glamrock bonnie also died and was possessing all the wet floor bots or stuff in ruin and like theyre yellow too or something idk....

with this lineup the band would still have 3/4 citrus flavors, with... two lemonades. interestingly. and tbh i think that the majority of citrus is potentially the most important factor in this theory.

i mean freddy, chica, and bonnie are the OGs. the MAIN THREE from fnaf 1 days. so ofc they'd all be similar flavors (even if there are two lemonades... no idea what fazbear would have been cooking with that one lol) and yeah, foxy is an OG too, but he wasn't actually part of the main band until later on lol

yet in security breach, we don't get a glamrock foxy. we get roxanne wolf, who is an entirely new character, so it makes sense for her to not have a similarly citrus flavor.

grape is the only one mentioned in the message that you can actually get in game. and if the lemonade and cherry have been discontinued since bonnie was decommissioned and sun and moon were moved from the daycare to the theater, then...

it's clearly been a while. and if it's been a while and there's still grape fizzyfaz, which would make no sense for foxy to have (as the statue of him in kids cove is nowhere near purple) then roxy has been around for a while. and if she's been around since the dca was in the theater, then she never replaced foxy!!!! wild and crazy am I right

and yes! you could also argue the opposite and that bonnie's flavor was cherry while the dca's flavor was lemonade, which likely makes more sense.

the DCA has yellow as both sun and moon, with sun's overall coloring and his pants and stuff, and the stars on moon's pants and the bells on both of their wrists. and lemonade can be sweet or sour. like their act. and fazbear pulled it because nobody really cared about the theater or just plain lemonade fizzyfaz as opposed to the cool pink lemonade chica had.

plus bonnie is more red than yellow, with his reddish-pink jumpsuit and his red eyes. and cherry could maybe work for him? again, we barely know anything about his personality... then when he got decommissioned, they replaced his unique cherry flavor with another citrus to cut costs.

though we really have no way of telling which was the real flavors for each of them or if they even were flavors that were produced at all!! after all, the message says 'COPY FOR APPROVAL', so lemonade and cherry might have been scrapped all together....

this is all just speculation from yours truly, since im such a big flavored drink fan and i really want more people to talk about the fizzyfaz... ,:3c

and now onto my next theory, which is that the DCA is the real one have to killed glamrock bonnie...

#vivispeaks #ask #fizzyfaz theory #I JUST WANT CHERRY TO BE THE DCA FLAVOR OKAY. I LOVE CHERRY #fizzyfaz #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #dca fnaf #glamrock bonnie #glamrock chica #glamrock freddy #glamrock animatronics #montgomery gator #monty gator #roxanne wolf #roxy wolf #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #security breach

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neosartorya · 11 months ago

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So i was thinking about the whole solarpunk chobani oatmilk ad (as depicted here) and a comment someone made in a different post (that I now can't find) where they said something along the lines of (paraphrasing) 'the marketing people at chobani being unable to imagine a future where their brand had ditched single-use containers in favor of a sustainable alternative'. And I started thinking how will food packaging look like in the solarpunk utopia?

Modern food packaging responds (mostly) to the needs of the globalized supply chain, where food products need to be moved great distances without being damaged and while taking up as little space and energy as possible. Packaging also needs to be made of the cheapest materials available, hence the preference for disposable containers made of light materials (cardboard, plastic, aluminium, paper, etc.). You don't want your package to be worth more than what it contains (although with some food products, that is close to being the case).

The comment I referenced earlier suggested using reusable glass containers as an example of a sustainable alternative to single-use containers. That makes sense, and there is historical (and current) precedent for such kinds of food containers. Just ask your parents (or grandparents, I guess) how milk used to be delivered to homes in the good ol' days.

In a more recent example, some places still use reusable (returnable) containers for products such as beer and (even!) Coca-cola, where you pay an initial fee for the container and get reimbursed once you return it, or you can exchange the empty container for a full one by paying the price of the product minus the container fee.

This solution, however, is still within the framework of the global supply chain of modern capitalism. In the solarpunk utopia, the goal would be to reduce (reuse, repair, recycle) the breadth of our current supply chain by prioritizing local consumption and disinsentivizing long-distance trade.

This train of thought led me to the question of wether processed, pre-packaged food would even be a thing in the solarpunk utopia. After all, if we are trying to consume only what is locally sourced, one of the main purposes of preserved (and thus packaged) food goes away. No need for bottled orange juice when you can just go to the commons bin and grab a kilo of fresh oranges to make your own.

Further, once there is no capitalism, the "convenience" angle of processed, packaged food also appears to go away. You don't have to work 9 hours a day, 6 days a week anymore. You have the time and resources necessary to make your own damn fresh orange juice, so why bother with the bottled stuff?

Well for one, not everything is as easy and convenient to do by yourself as orange juice. Fermented foods (cheese, wine, beer, soy sauce, even pickles and yogurt), bread and pastries and cakes, carbonated drinks, jams and marmalade, butter, mayonnaise, cured meats and fish, and (yes) almond milk are all tricky to make properly, take a long time to be made and/or are energy and resource intensive. The need for these kinds of foods will remain as long as we are human and find pleasure in eating and trying new things. Also, the need for mass-produced food does not go away with capitalism, after all we have a population of 10 billion humans with different dietary needs that need to be fed. Food safety standards must still be enforced and probably will be even more stringent when corporate profits are no longer standing in the way of progress.

To add to this, a localized supply chain will make food preservation even more important. After all, if you want your population to survive mostly on what can be produced in a 100 km radius, you will have to prepare for food scarcity. Droughts, floods, earthquakes, blizzards, accidents, and even just regular ol' winter (once we've rescued it from the clutches of climate change) don't care how solar your punk is. They will wreck your food supply and your utopia needs to be ready.

So the need for packaged food will remain. The need for food that can stay in a cupboard undisturbed for months (if not years) and remain edible (and reasonably palatable!) will continue to be there.

With all this in mind... what does food packaging look in our solarpunk utopia? Single-use plastics have gone the way of the dodo, as have single-use paper, cardboard, aluminium, glass, and steel. What has replaced them?

I have some ideas, but this post is already ridiculously long, so I'll save them for later. All I'll say for now is I think glass containers are not the way to go. Glass is heavy, fragile, a poor thermal conductor (so heating and cooling processes with glass containers are energy innefficient), and takes up a lot of space. It is also very resource and energy intensive to produce and recycle (so not the most environmentaly friendly in that regard either).

What does a reusable aluminium container look like? That'd be cool I think.

#food science #solarpunk #long post #rant #science #gradblr #my posts

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bearcina · 15 days ago

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Rum and Nuka-Cola

An explicit Yes Man/Courier Six fanfic.

(AO3)

(Prev) (Next)

Finally, a day where she can drink and have all the chems she needed to forget all about her messy feelings. A few drinks, a night out at the Atomic Wrangler, and finishing off the evening with more liquor and all the chems she wanted.

Elisavet sat alone at the bar in the cocktail lounge of the Lucky 38, sipping a shallow glass of lukewarm whiskey over the better part of the past hour. She rested her elbows on the cool counter, trying to work up the courage to leave the casino. She sat back up and took a deep swig of the burning liquid, finishing off the last of the glass. Eugh. Maybe she shouldn’t have just grabbed the cheapest bottle from that caravan last week.

She uncorked her bottle again, poured another shallow drink of the shitty whiskey. She took a sip of it, holding back a sigh. She had to go, before she ended up drunk, trying to play blackjack against Yes Man and attempting to write code and flirt with him through the footnotes. A favorite pastime… but not one she needed now.

Elisavet checked the clock, and the evening was still young. She clicked on her radio, and picked up her heavy leather duster. She slipped it on, downed the last of her drink...

Like a warm blanket settling around her shoulders, the thick leather brought her a false comfort. It was fine, everything was fine. She was Courier Six, lady luck, the ruler of the Strip.

And just like that, she slipped right back into being the Courier Six she was before Hoover Dam. Before she realized she loved him. Before they went to war to protect the future of New Vegas. The future they had together.

She forced up a smile, and looked at Yes Man's camera in the room.

Elisavet took a deep breath and finally spoke, "I'm going out to the Atomic Wrangler, I'll be back in a few hours. May as well go check on the Garrett twins and mingle with the locals." Her own voice felt foreign to her as it fell from her lips. The careful, practiced line, feeling nothing more than that. A line she had to deliver to her partner, to obviously skim the details out of the way, a thin facade of words to keep the barrier between them.

Yes Man came in over the intercom just a moment later, with his typical line right in tow.

"Of course! Don't have too much fun with Beatrix!" Yes Man chimed, unusually chipper to hear she was leaving. Their typical exchange… but he continued, "I've got some very minor updates to do tonight, and you've got that dinner at the Ultra-Luxe tomorrow! Go relax and recharge!"

Elisavet faltered, her steady persona falling from her and leaving her mind reeling like she had gotten zapped. She nodded after a moment.

"Oh! Well, good luck with the update... I won't stay out long, then." She said, absently, responding before her mind caught up. She called the elevator and rode it down to the casino floor. She waved goodbye at the cameras inside, then slipped out the door.

They had backup security systems that ran independently of the mainframe. Yes Man wouldn't take a major risk without her. She wouldn't stay out too long. It would be fine.

Something twisted in her stomach as she quickly started down the steps to the road… she didn't like leaving while he was updating, and he knew that… but… he seemed happy that she was going out for once, and didn't ask any questions. She briskly walked past the Securitrons at the bottom, and past the many rolling around on patrols.

…Maybe she was just overthinking. She wouldn’t be gone long enough for someone to find out where she really was and overthrow their place while they were both busy… Right?

Elisavet held her breath as she walked through the Strip, passing between the Securutrons on patrol. It sent a cold chill down her metallic spine, the once comforting presence of their cameras now shameful as she walked towards Freeside.

She passed through the security checkpoint without any trouble, the group of Securitrons letting her pass through the gates as soon as she stopped in front of them.

She felt a little exposed without him at her side. They usually left together.

She palmed her side to check for her plasma defender nervously. The last time she went out to the Wrangler alone was a mess. She was ambushed while she was passing through Freeside… a thug sneaked up on her, pressing a dirty machete to her throat and dragging her into a back alley, then into the back of a rusted mail van once the Securitrons started looking.

A whole mess once Yes Man figured out she wasn’t returning on schedule. It was a very… inspiring… show of strength from him.

She never knew that a Securitron could rip a guy limb-from-limb until she saw it with her own two eyes. Quite a lot of blood, especially considering how small the group was.

She walked silently through Freeside, a mix of dread and an eager anxiety pooling in her stomach. She glanced left and right, weaving through stragglers walking towards her haven, and the robots protecting it all.

There was always the chance of getting caught. She hated that it was something she needed to worry about.

Elisavet shoved that thought to the back of her mind as she passed through the door to the busy casino. She walked up to the bar, and took her favorite seat at the end closest to the door. James was working tonight, thankfully. She won’t be heckled or watched, then. She smiled a little tensely, setting her shoulders and adjusting her posture. Letting Six slip back over her, just like she did every time she had to do something so nerve-wracking like this.

“Ah, evenin’, James…” Elisavet greeted bashfully. “How about a few shots of that mid-shelf whiskey I like?” She asked politely, trying to keep calm and act smooth. James nodded, with a quiet chuckle. He pulled out a clean shot glass, and an almost-empty bottle of whiskey off a high shelf behind him.

“‘Evening, Elisavet. You look nervous, take too much psycho again?” He asked her with a teasing smile, setting the small glass and the bottle on the bar between them.

Elisavet chuckled, “No, not yet. Just been a little heavy-handed at pouring my drinks at home.” She rolled her eyes, leaning against the bar. The male Garrett twin laughed, pouring her up a shot of the expensive liquor.

“Ah, guess that’s why you could walk in here in a mostly straight line, then!” He laughed as he teased her, sliding over the shot glass and setting the bottle down. “Go ahead and have the rest of this,” he slid the mostly-empty bottle towards her, “It’s not much, but you look like you need it.”

Elisavet nodded, her smile threatening to drop.

“Yeah, I do. Can't stand drinking at home like this.” She said quietly, grimly. She was still going to pay generously for the few shots left in the bottle, and leave a hefty tip. “It’s been a busy week, business has been really booming. Can’t seem to get my paperwork in order.” She said, groaning at the thought of all the paperwork she still had to do when she got home. She quickly downed her shot, and quietly set the glass back on the bar, nudging it back to the space between them. James nodded, and half-shrugged.

“Lots of people have been coming through Freeside recently, there’s been a lot of customers because of it.” He said, pouring Elisavet another shot. “Some of them have even been making good use of our joint investments.”

Elisavet sighed in relief, relaxing a little at the good news. Business for them meant more business to the Strip later… they never seem to stop at just the Wrangler if they come all this way.

“The Strip is absolutely packed with visitors at all hours of the day and night now.” Elisavet groaned. “I can hardly find any time to relax and take a break from the paperwork and meetings.” She picked up the shot and downed it almost as quickly as the first one. It was a really nice aged whiskey, smooth, and didn't burn too much on the way down. Would’ve paired well with a cold soda if she was back home in the cocktail lounge. She scanned the room, trying to take stock of all the people in the building. It was very busy tonight.

The ghoul on stage still joked with the crowd eagerly, with nearly every table packed. In the gaming hall, she could see the busy tables. No room at the blackjack tables for her, nor at the roulette tables… and she didn't want to see a show. Perfect atmosphere to slip away unnoticed.

“Ahh… I don’t have a lot of time before I have to get back to work, so how much for the whiskey?” Elisavet asked, already reaching for her bag of caps.

“For you? Twenty caps.” James answered, shrugging. “You bring in plenty of business, so I'll let you have that aged whiskey at the same price as your usual, twenty caps for it all.”

Elisavet counted out the aforementioned twenty caps, then another ten. She handed it all over, trying to keep her face set in a neutral expression, to not betray the butterflies in her stomach and the anxiety pooling alongside it.

“Elisavet, just twenty is fine.” James chuckled, taking the first twenty, leaving most of the ten extra remaining in the middle of the bar between them. Elisavet shook her head, and nudged the caps closer to him. She smiled tensely, and gave him a wink. “Don’t worry about it, just take the caps. You're always listening to my worries, I just want to show some of my appreciation.” She said quietly, quickly, nudging them the final distance to him, and quickly getting up from her seat. She downed the last drops of expensive liquor in the bottle, and tucked the empty bottle in her pocket.

James gave her a somewhat kind, knowing smile as she slipped away from the bar after her customary few shots of whiskey and small talk about business. She mustered up a wink for him, the only person in the entirety of the two cities combined who knew anything about her unusual preference in lovers.

Elisavet cleaned up and redressed after a very short nap to regain some of the feeling in her legs, then fixed her hair. She took a deep drink of water from her canteen, and left the Wrangler soon after without more than a half-smile and a wave to James as she walked out the front door.

As she passed back into the Strip silently in the late night, her legs somehow still numb and quivering, she felt somewhat satisfied. Mostly guilt, though.

Securitrons turned to watch her walk through the busy road. She weaved through drunken gamblers and tourists in the neon light, her gait unsteady and mind just as distracted as those around her. He was watching. Waiting for her to return. The pool of twisted feelings fermented in the pit of her stomach. She was disappointing him, running away from her feelings to come shamefully shuffling back late in the night to drink it all away again.

Elisavet stopped outside the casino door, avoiding looking at the security cameras and Securitrons. Guilt pooled in her stomach and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she lingered there in front of the doors. Her hand on the heavy handle, lost in her own mind again.

She needed to run away from it all. Run from those messy, complicated feelings that weighed in her gut like a lead ball. You can’t run from love.

She really, really, needed another drink. And some chems.

She can’t run away from love, but she can sure as hell try to drown and smother it out with all the alcohol and chems her caps can buy. She pulled open the heavy metal door to the 38 wordlessly, and quickly ducked into the familiar safe haven.

As the door slides shut behind her and engulfs her in the silence and darkness of the unused casino floor, she can’t possibly bring herself to say anything to her watching companion. She slowly took the few steps up to the elevator in the center of the casino, and softly clicked the button to go up, feeling every camera in the room turn and follow her on her walk of shame up to the cocktail lounge.

She couldn't say anything, not even a quip or a lie about the time she was gone. Elisavet kept her head down during the ride up to the lounge, leaning awkwardly against the metal of the elevator. Her legs were still weak, and getting weaker with the anxiety building up in her stomach.

She heard an awkward burst of static come over the intercom when she reached her destination. Did Yes Man want to say anything? Greet her?

Nothing was said.

Hopefully he just hadn’t finished updating. He just had to still be offline. He couldn’t see her like this.

Elisavet hastily reached into her pocket and pulled out her dented tin of mentats. She popped one into her mouth, her mouth set into a tight frown as it fizzed and dissolved in her mouth. Her stomach started to calm, the fermenting dread and anxiety starting to return to a state she could continue to ignore.

The elevator doors shuddered open with a quiet ding!

Elisavet held in a shudder of her own as she passed into the dark lounge, not bothering to turn on the overhead lights-- just illuminated from the Vegas lights outside the windows and the faint amber glow of the Pip-Boy strapped to her arm.

Still silent. The only noise in the room was the hum of electricity and electronics, and the rushing wind outside the windows. She lingered in the short hallway between the elevator and the room, listening to the ambiance of it all. The familiar noise of the cocktail lounge. Quiet. Alone. Peaceful.

Elisavet first went behind the bar, and picked a pretty green glass cup from the shelf built into the back wall. Next, Alcohol.

Whatever alcohol she could put her hands on first sounded like a good drink. She fumbled blindly under the bar and grabbed the first bottle her hand touched. A long, cold glass bottle, very heavy, felt completely full. She pulled it out and put it on the counter beside the cup, and hummed appreciatively at the worn, dusty label. Very expensive rum. That was much more than fine. She wanted to forget that the whole day had even happened. Nothing better to do it with than the best of House’s old liquor stash. She took a few steps farther behind the counter towards a humming fridge, and opened it up to find a few of her stashed Nuka-Colas-- there was even a new bottle of Nuka-Cola Victory there, with a note taped to it. Eliavet reached out and slowly peeled the note from the glass bottle, turning to hold it in the light of the fridge.

Hi there!

Thought you might like these cold, it's not often you pick up such a rare Nuka-Cola here!

Love,

Yes Man

Elisavet chuckled, her heart skipping a beat at the tender sign-off, a bittersweet thing. He was always doing the little things she appreciated the most. She didn’t even know she had a Nuka-Cola Victory, and here it was at her favorite drinking spot, ice-cold and dripping condensation. He had even signed the note with a sweet “Love, Yes Man.” He was the only robot she knew that ever signed off letters to her like that.

He was always doing little things for her. Making sure she had a cold Nuka-Cola hiding somewhere, printing out little reminders for her, making sure she eats at least once a day… and that was just the little stuff.

Elisavet smiled fondly. She folded the note into squares and put it in her breast pocket where she usually kept the Platinum Chip. She took the ice-cold vaguely-glowing red-orange soda, then shut the fridge with a soft click. She popped the cap off the bottle with a quick flick, dropped it in her pocket, and slowly made her way around the bar to scope out a perfect seat for people-watching. She walked around the circular room leisurely, peering through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows at the wasteland beyond. Eventually, she found her favorite seat with the best view of the Strip.

Elisavet set her bottles down on the counter and fixed a drink. Rum and Nuka, with a side of mentats. She walked to her seat facing the window and made herself somewhat comfortable, quickly taking off her beloved leather duster and tossing it haphazardly onto the seat beside her... And she set herself to consuming her alcohol.

She sipped the first drink for what felt like forever, listening to the wind pound against the windows. She eventually finished what she had poured herself, and stood up to make another.

She stumbled on the few steps back to where she left the rum and half a bottle of Nuka on the countertop, then returned to her perch and empty cup. She poured another drink, and contemplated if it was even a good idea. She had already had quite a few drinks today; some before leaving, more while she was gone, and now she was drinking again after coming back. Add to that two mentats now…

Didn't really matter at this point anyway, did it?

She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed deeply. She opened her eyes and sipped her drink, then clicked on the radio to break the crushing silence. Mr. New Vegas was leading into a song… and it felt just alright.

She leaned back into the couch and watched the Strip. Patrons just as drunk as she was littered the street. Securitrons patrolled, nudging the drunk bystanders towards the gates or towards an accommodating casino... Many of them being ushered to places where she would reap some of the reward.

Elisavet sipped her drink again, watching a drunkard fall over and get tripped over by their group of friends. She gripped her glass tightly, her leather gloves creaking against the glass. She felt alone. More alone than she had felt in a while.

But… was she really alone? Yes Man was technically always there now.

…He was only a word away. They could talk, play some cards, and just… enjoy eachothers company.

But she couldn't do it.

She couldn't stand to think of it. He would have to see her all fucked out and drunk like this... Which couldn't have been worse than any of the times he found her naked and chemmed out of her mind, admittedly. She took a long drink and closed her eyes and sighed again. Wondering if she should say anything about it.

Maybe get it on out there. Might make them both feel better-- ease his worries, and soothe her all-consuming guilt.

No, no she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t say anything about any of it.

She really didn’t want to confront those messy feelings right now.

Elisavet opened her eyes again, and took a swig of her cocktail. She set her cup down on the small table in front of her, wondering if she could do anything to feel any more… normal. Less like she was going to break from all the emotions churning in her. Another drink? Another Mentat? Maybe some Jet?

Another Mentat would help. Even if it wouldn’t do anything but make her feel smarter and giggly.

She fumbled with the metal tin again, pulled out another small, off-white, chalky tablet. She popped it in her mouth, and washed it away with a sip of her sweet cocktail before the bitter medicine could touch her tongue. She put the tin down with the rest of the bottle on the table, leaving it open so she could grab another later.

Elisavet hummed to the radio, a good song starting up. She shut her eyes, sipping her drink again. She was alone after all… what would it matter if she started singing to the radio? She smiled, chuckling as the words started to spill from her mouth.

Blue Moon was playing on the radio, Sinatra’s voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

“Blue Moon… You saw me standing alone…”

She frowned, she was still alone. Wasn’t she? She hadn’t had anyone but herself and her gun since she had been pulled from her grave, and everything before that was a painful blurry mess that she didn’t have the courage to pursue. She didn’t want to, either. She wanted what she had now, even if that had come painfully, and with side effects that she still felt every day.

Elisavet sipped her drink.

Alone. Without a dream, without love. Without that fuzzy memory of a redheaded girl. “Without a dream in my heart… Without a love of my own…” She quietly vocalized to the song, her heart singing along.

She was alive. The platinum chip was secure and in her possession, she had a safe home with electricity and heating in the winter, and a… a friend. But, still, her dreams had been achieved, and she didn’t know what to do but seek out what little happiness she could find. Gambling. Liquor. Chems. Bounty hunting.

She chuckled at her bittersweet fortune as Mr. New Vegas broke over the radio again, a quick witty one-liner about the next set of songs to break her from her spiraling thoughts.

She kept sipping her drink, humming along to the instrumental. Well.. maybe she could sing the next one, just singing that one line had felt nice. Somehow, it let out some of that building pressure of stress in her soul.

Before long, the song ended and Elisavet noticed her cup was empty again, and sighed. She poured another two shots into her cup, and the last of her soda over the top.

“How lucky can one guy be?” Elisavet sang quietly, just barely loud enough for her to hear herself over the radio on her arm, “I kissed her and she kissed me…” She continued, letting her head loll back and rest on the back of her seat.

“Like the fella once said… ‘ain’t that a kick in the head?’”

She continued to sing to the song, her voice slowly getting louder and more confident the longer she did.

One song became two, then two became three… Song after song, drink after drink, she continued to sing and watch the Strip below, her worries finally melting away as she relaxed for the first time in a long time. Eventually, her eyes slipped shut, and the last line fell from her lips before sleep claimed her.

“Blue moon… Now I’m no longer alone…”

The unforgiving darkness crept into her and she fell asleep on the couch, her body relaxing and forcing her to rest after quite a few too many drinks and drunken songs.

Cold metal wrapped around her upper torso, lifting her from her uncomfortable position. The world shifted, and with it her stomach... Elisavet groaned weakly, her eyes pinching shut, ready for the bout of vertigo to pass. Did she even have anything in her stomach to throw up?

…urk… Better not think of food.

Elisavet groaned again, much quieter though. Her stomach churned violently as the world spun around her. She reached out clumsily to find the ground, but didn’t find anything but air and quite a lot of metal, and some glass.

…metal? Glass?? Were those buttons?

Warmth pressed against her entire right side, and a faint fuzz tickled her neck and face. She hummed appreciatively, nuzzling into the source of the warmth. It was unwavering, steady, keeping her anchored as her senses swam. Definitely metal and glass. Like a…

“Mmgh…” She moaned weakly, pained, nauseous. “Yessie?” She asked quietly, trying to crack open just one eye a fraction just to try and see what was happening. No, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t open her eyes. She frowned, but pressed deeper against the unrelenting metal, finding it to be comfortingly warm. It had to be him. That just-barely-off clicking of a failing drive…

“I promise… I’ll… find a new drive. Soon.” She muttered, fumbling to pat him, but.. It must have been more of a weak pet than a pat because she didn’t get a response. “I… ‘magine that doesn’t feel right. Bet it’s…”

She yawned, losing her thought. Warmer, again. He was getting warmer. Was that his fans turning on higher? Elisavet smiled, and nuzzled into the soft fuzzy feeling. Her nose met glass, and she smiled more as warmth spread across her cheeks.

“Heheh… Your fans turned up higher…” she giggled to herself. She pressed deeper into the glass, smiling and giggly. She was still being held tightly, being moved to somewhere. It would be somewhere safe, it always was.

Time was passing strangely. It shouldn’t take long to go to any of her rooms in the building, but it felt like she was being held for a long time. It was comfortable, though. Warm, unyielding. The sound of his drives clicking was hypnotizing, lulling her in and out of a light sleep for what felt like hours.

#yes man fnv #courier six #yes man #fnv #fnv fanfic #elisavet #my fanfics #bear babbles

18 notes · View notes

lily-radiance · 11 months ago

Text

Picture Perfect Psychopath

Doctor Jonathan Crane/ fem reader.

3.9k words

(So far, this is just a drabble, but I do have an idea of where this story could go. I've been watching The Dark Knight trilogy and got inspired. Reader works at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist, sharing the field of study with Scarecrow and old flame Harley Quinn. Likely not canon-compliant. Kinda merged various movies since I'm no comic book expert.)

Arkham Asylum is a cesspool of depraved criminals, as it has been for the past few years. Typical people who are suffering from mental illnesses and were sent away without care were obvious. This institution was the cheapest and easiest way to lock up the sick, even before the creation of the vigilantes. Everyone in Gotham City knew to keep their eyes on the ground and act as if crimes were invisible. If you cause a fuss in any shape or form, don't be surprised if you get dragged away in a body bag. You hated the mere thought of disregarding the pain of the city, but what could you do if no one would listen? Criminals, no matter the type, always have a story to tell.

“Bruce, the next time you interrupt my work for a house call, I'm stealing your Batmobile!”

You've been sitting in Wayne Manor for the past two hours, all because your friend wanted to “check-in” on the status of the newest patients. On any other day, you might have given him leniency, but he's been siphoning you for information without a decent break. Now, you not only have to write and submit a few dozen reports before sunset, all while juggling Bruce Wayne. The billionaire rolls his eyes but smiles, enjoying a day where he can loosen up and act as a person instead of a shadow.

“Nice try, but the garage is foolproof. I learned my lesson when you took my ride for a spin last year.”

You sip the cola in your hand, amused at the memory of speeding around the house and getting the vehicle caked in dirt. You apologized to Alfred when realizing the butler had to clean it afterward.

“Too bad, I was hoping to test the maximum speed,” you said with a chuckle, “I'm kidding, of course.”

“Sometimes, I worry about your coworkers. Do they know how much damage you can cause when bored?”

You glare at him from the couch. Work was something you liked to keep separate from life; he knew that very well. After all, if someone identified Batman successfully, then Wayne Enterprises would crumble in on itself.

“Do you know how much damage you cause when I'm not around to cover your tracks? Honestly, you may give Alfred a heart attack.”

The butler frowns at your humor before taking your empty glass. You notice the lipstick mark left over, reminding yourself to reapply the makeup. Psychiatric professionals do their best to look formal, and this habit has followed them since college. When you consider the many polished individuals at the facility, one is always at the forefront of your mind: Doctor Jonathan Crane. No matter the time of day, his appearance is that of near perfection, or you like to think so. Today, you have a briefing with him, and the idea has prompted you to dress to impress; the shade of cherry red on your lips is a testament to that.

“I'm always careful, (Y/N). I have Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius for that very purpose. You know Arkham is filled with lunatics and, more specifically, the worst villains.”

“We've had this conversation before, Bruce. I'm good at my job, and the people you lock up are kept in the deepest parts. Plus, I always hear exciting stories, which makes time fly by!”

He gives you a stern glance, not happy with your unbothered attitude. You drop the smile and sigh.

“I know you think I can't handle myself in that place. You get up close and personal with villains more often than I do. Every floor has a ton of security guards, not to mention cameras and passcodes in each room!”

Eventually, he gives up the protective demeanor. If you needed his help, he was the first in line. If not, he would be prepared for the future.

“Right, I know you're responsible and cautious, (Y/N). It's still the institution with the most significant number of patients in Gotham, so I want you to stay alert. Tim and the others are patrolling tonight if you run into trouble. Remember, the GCPD is conducting investigations on a possible new perpetrator.”

You nod to his speech, tapping your heels underneath the coffee table. He is about to give you another piece of information, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps is your cue to leave. Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Jason Todd enter the room, waving a synchronous greeting in your direction. Your phone beeps in your jacket pocket, and you fumble the device when the caller is listed. Barbara notices your excitement and chuckles, watching as you answer the phone.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N); how may I help?”

“It's Dr. Crane, as you probably knew judging by how quickly you answered. The administration got caught up in other matters, so it's just you and me. Don't be late.”

The voice catches you off guard, your heart beating too quickly regarding the abrupt message. You lose your ability to speak, and like everything else, he's already caught a glimpse of it.

“Doctor—what about the meeting on security clearances? We still have much to discuss with the board; isn't this important?”

“I've already taken care of most of the concerns. Currently, my priority is talking to you about your individual endeavors regarding Arkham. Do you have an issue with this?”

As he asks, you know he's not looking for an honest answer. You swallow your pride, although tempting to draw on this further.

“No, Doctor. I'm on my way right now.”

“Good, I have high hopes you'll be fascinated by my newest work.”

You have nothing else to add as he hangs up, an annoying habit you wish didn't leave you bitter. Barbara steps over, raising a brow in examination. Your behavior, coupled with the alluring cosmetics on your face, indicates an attention to detail made to attract. The young woman tilts her head, examining your efforts, and pauses. She prevents your curiosity by grabbing a maroon scarf hung on the hat rack and placing it on your neck. As she wraps the fabric loosely around your collar, she discreetly whispers, “In case whoever you see leaves a mark or can't keep you warm. It also matches your lipstick.”

The redhead winks at you, knowing that finding worthwhile men in Gotham is a rare treat. If only you knew who you were falling for, maybe someone else could have turned your head. The likelihood of your coworker getting obsessed with another pretty face was nonexistent, especially when he knew every method of pushing your buttons.

Gotham weather stands to be frigid regardless of the season, and the cold water on your cheeks proves it. Hurriedly, you head to your car, jumping in the driver's seat and turning the hot air on. You flip the sun visor down, using the compartment mirror to double-check your appearance. You smile, wink, and perform other expressions to understand if this is too much. It's not like you dressed yourself in fancy attire, but the makeup sensation tells you this is different—the scarf clings to your shoulders, adding an extra layer of comfort.

The City appears as dreary as ever, with gray clouds looming over the skyscrapers. You knew this landscape was not as picturesque as the Bahamas, but it was familiar. In this place, you felt like a necessary presence, that your actions were genuinely helping people live. Others complain that they think soulless thoughts and have no purpose in a city of thugs, but they don't see the possibilities. No, you appreciated the constant ebb and flow pattern because it meant everything was up to chance. Unlike Harvey Dent, you had no interest in flipping a coin to decide your fate; if you wanted something and could achieve it, why worry about the downfall? Bruce told you to avoid trouble, and maybe if you tried harder, you could, but curiosity always took control. The night turned Gotham into a place of both dreams and nightmares. When the streets glow amber and the windows shine with the moon, the law is subject to change.

Rain slams against the windshield, the downpour forcing you to drive at a snail’s pace. Common sense doesn't stop other drivers from taking risky turns; some cars cut in front despite your right of way. You honk your horn at the reckless speeding, internally regretting this venture. At least twenty minutes have passed since you left, and yet you're still running late. Luckily, most security guards let you pass immediately, while one or two demand identification. If you weren't so anxious, you would see the multiple faults that made Arkham’s reputation. People were lazy, some slacking without a care. Others were too busy dealing with life changes to support this institution.

The repetitive sound of your heels clicking on the tile floor draws someone's attention. Unfortunately, you can barely avoid this girl regularly, so it makes sense that she would be another obstacle.

“Woah, pudding, you getting ready for the runway or something? I haven't seen you wear red in a long time. It makes a girl wonder, what's the occasion?”

Harleen Quinzel stands in her cell, dressed in a jumpsuit that does her no justice. Her usually dyed hair is unkempt and faded, now a dirty blonde with pigment spots. Despite her living situation, her personality is still bubbly. She holds a bent cigarette and takes a drag, then tosses the leftovers underneath her boots. The woman approaches the metal bars, wrapping her hands around two and leaning through the gap. A stream of smoke is exhaled into your face, the delinquent playfully puckering her lips.

“I have a critical meeting with Dr. Crane, and it was supposed to be with the rest of the board until something got in the way. I'm running late, and if I don't get to that office in time—”

Harley raises her index finger, pressing against your lips to stop your words.

“That does sound like a pretty jumbo deal, dollface! From one doctor to another, rescheduling an administrative meeting is unnecessarily convoluted!”

She moves her hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face in multiple angles to glimpse your handiwork. A smile spreads across her lips, her tongue licking the front of her teeth. It makes you nervous, and she knows it.

“I mean, he said he ‘took care of it,’ but I don't know if that necessarily means it was rescheduled. The board could have discussed several possibilities, so I can't guarantee anything.”

You don't know what she's trying to prove.

“Something tells me your lover boy isn't inviting you for a simple coffee. No, with a mind as unpredictable as his, I bet you'll leave here with more than a headache. That is, if you leave at all, dollface.”

Her voice digs further into your mind, higher-pitched as she giggles to herself. You adjust the scarf to distract yourself, but she won't let this topic rest.

“Harley, as much as I appreciate what I assume is a concern, I know what I'm doing.”

“Sure you do, pudding. You think he's all sweet and charming, right? Doctor Jonathan Crane, who wears a nice suit and never gets his hands dirty? He probably compliments your work and swears to get back to your questions. I'll even bet he holds your hand a little too long when he shakes it, and you don't say anything because you want his hand on yours.”

She sees the blush rising to your cheeks and continues to torment you. You can't breathe clearly, not when your lungs burn like this.

“Oh, I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you. When he holds your hand, do you imagine it somewhere else on your body? Do you think he'll have you by the waist while his other hand traces your neck? Will he squeeze your throat and bruise the pretty skin, rubbing his tongue up and down? Will you let him devour you as I did? I bet you'll have his handprints on your thighs for weeks, the dirty little secret that you keep to yourself?”

She plays with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around her fingers. You haven't been this close to her in years, and your proximity reminds you why. Getting close to villains is a quick path to insanity. You step away from the cell, regaining your focus. A pair of footsteps echo down the stairwell, slow and precise. When you turn, your coworker is impatiently waiting, a scowl etched onto his features as he stares between you and Harley Quinn. The blonde enthusiastically waves at him, earning a glare.

“Come along; we have lots to discuss and little time to waste. I thought I clarified that I wanted you in my office five minutes ago.”

You follow his figure, a knot in your stomach at his unusual mood. The doctor could be a pain when it came to protocols, but you two got along reasonably well. He gave you criteria to follow, and more often than not, he liked to debate your findings. You hoped this was a quick conversation, but then it didn't make sense that he instructed you to take a ferry for something he could have said on the phone.

“Yes, I had to drive through the rain and rush in traffic. I wasn't counting on the weather to be so awful or for Harley Quinn to pull me aside.”

He waits by the top of the stairwell for you, watching as your heels tap the concrete. It amazed him: the concept of walking on elevated stilts that could snap like a twig. You don't miss how he scans your legs or how the muscles in your calves tighten. He extends a hand, presenting the cordiality that made you admire him in the first place. You hesitate with trembling fingers, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he holds your palm. He's warm, and it gives you too much satisfaction. Instead of letting go, he merely continues walking, carefully trailing his fingers over your radial pulse. Each thrum of your heartbeat is now in his possession of knowledge, tipping him off on your anxiety. The door to his office is down a corridor, only accessible to visitors and himself.

“Had you considered wearing gloves, Doctor? You might want to invest in case the temperature drops. If you can't use your hands, I suppose the mind is sufficient, but exhausting yourself unnecessarily is no good to anyone.”

You sit in one of the two chairs, removing your scarf and placing it in your lap. Crane takes his place behind the desk and falls into the chair, folding his hands on the flat surface.

“Believe me, if I could grab a few extra layers, I would have. I was visiting a friend when you called, and since you requested I hurry, there was no point in going home to change. I've lived in Gotham for a long time, and a storm isn't enough to stop me from doing my job. Anyway, you said there was something you needed me to examine?”

He slides a manilla folder towards you, numerous papers spilling from the seam. You take the hint to inspect the documents, flipping through the pages and absorbing the content. MRI scans, coupled with test results and psychological jargon, cover the sheets. You wrinkle your nose in focus, recognizing the highlighted areas of the brain as the amygdala and the frontal lobe. The human brain structure separates information based on its importance, using the amygdala for the fear response and the frontal lobe for rational thought. If one of these locations is compromised, whether by neural chemicals or injuries, the body cannot regulate its reactions to stressful environments. You continue reading, wholly fascinated by the hypotheses listed. The last few pages are still being worked on, primarily blank except for messily written notes. While your train of thought is still understandable, you remove a pen from your coat pocket and begin scribbling. He stares in amusement, pride blooming at your coinciding wonder.

“Doctor Crane, this is beyond incredible! If you were to develop this drug, who knows what group might want it? Not to mention the possibility of designing a formula with the opposite goal of annihilating fear entirely!”

He doesn't bother to hide the smirk on his face as you supply him an ego boost. Initially, he worried you would have an adverse reaction given your good-natured spirit, but those doubts were put to rest by the sight of your smile. The longer he allows himself to relax, the more his eyes are drawn to your lips. Red was a beautiful color on you, contrasting the dim aura of this hospital. As you revel in this energized state, you do not anticipate the foreign sensation of his mouth against yours. Recognition dawns on you as the scent of his cologne lingers, and the papers fall to the ground. You cautiously lean into his touch, grasping his shoulders to bring him closer. The fabric of his shirt bunches as you dig your fingers into the material. He has no qualms with your proximity, but he recognizes the trepidation in your movements for what it is: the worry that you'll scare him away. It's ironic, and it tells him that the only way to disprove your doubt is to make sure you know that this encounter isn't based on the heat of the moment.

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him additional access, as well as the ability to overpower you. Never had you thought that the absurd fantasy of him kissing you would come to fruition, and certainly not in his office over research data. This was supposed to be a dull day of filing paperwork and overhearing business, not the instance where your co-worker, technically your boss, would be sharing saliva. His lips travel to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing down your neck. He has to remove the scarf and unbutton your collar to reach the desired location. You tilt your head back, moaning as he grows closer to your carotid vein. Similar to your earlier encounter, he locates your pulse, biting and sucking the skin as your heart rate increases. You admittedly have no idea what you're doing, but you do know that the image of him making out with you is extremely hot.

Yet, rational is a demon that you cannot leave behind. You're a scientist through and through, which means taking time to analyze the effects of this situation is necessary. Gently, you press against his chest, halting his actions and putting space between you. He looks down at you quizzically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen from the bridge of his nose.

“We could keep going with this course of action, not that I would complain, but maybe we should consider what we're getting ourselves into. I mean, we work together, and if we pursue a relationship, that could cause an entire slew of issues. Let’s cool our jets and think about this objectively before getting too deep.”

You feel a new weight on your chest as you try to analyze his expression. Most days, you could guess his emotions based on small talk, if he even spoke to you. Unfortunately, he's again acting like a blank slate, unreadable as the silence grows longer. Somehow, this enigma of a human specimen has become a magnetic field, drawing you in despite your better judgment. It's not that you don't want to see where this night goes, but the idea of committing to him, especially in the workplace, sends a chill down your spine.

“I see what you are getting at, (Y/N). It's not a problem if you want to think this over. Honestly, I prefer my opinion, but I see no fault in mulling it over. We wouldn't be scientists if we didn't leave decisions up to logic, would we?”

He seems calm enough, and that takes some of the pressure off. You breathe out a sigh before stretching your neck, still a bit unsure of what to do. Another beat of awkward silence follows before you work up enough courage to face him. Blue eyes catch your thousand-yard stare and dart back to the ground.

“It's getting late. D-do you need anything else from me, Jonathan?”

He is not expecting you to refer to him by his first name despite the circumstances. The sound of your hesitancy is still cute, and he wasn't expecting his name to sound so good on your tongue.

“No, I have everything I need. Do you want me to drive you home? The weather is still raining cats and dogs. Not only that, but Gotham is dangerous already, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

The offer seems adequate, and you know precisely the dangers lurking outside. If not for crime and insanity, you wouldn't have a job, but that doesn't mean you want to get caught up in legal shenanigans.

“I drove to the docking bay with my car, so assuming you drive, that would leave one of us without our respective vehicles…”

“You're partially correct. I take a taxi to get around town most of the time so that I won't abandon my car here. Then again, if I drove your car, I would still have to call a cab at one point or another.”

His analysis has you pondering the options until you decide to wing it. You've already made out with your boss, how much worse could it get?

“Screw it, I'll call you a taxi myself. If the weather gets too bad, you can stay at my place for the night.”

You pick up your scarf from the chair, throwing it around your neck in preparation for the cold air outside. The hallways are still empty, and for once, you're glad since the quiet gives you space to think. All that's left is to descend the stairs, pass security, and get the hell out of there. You place your hand in your pocket to grab your identification card but pause as your co-worker is two steps ahead of you, already swiping his badge across the checkpoint. That's right, he has a higher security clearance than you; no wonder he's always early to the office.

“There ya’ are pudding! How'd that meeting go—”

Harley Quinn wastes no time in asking questions as soon as she sees you approach. The doctor next to you gives her a scowl like last time, but the reason behind it is different. Before, he was irritated by her peppy attitude, and now it's jealousy. The blonde’s expression turns into a frown, but covers it with her usual distaste for nitpicky professionals. You would find their disagreement amusing if not for your fresh taste of humanity from the critical doctor, his shell still rough around the edges. You let your mind wander, barely recognizing the arm around your shoulder until you feel the support of his body against you.

These moments are the ones that make your heart race and your mind split. You know this guy, right? He has to be one of the good men in this rotten city. If not, what would you do anyway?

If you like this check the updating version on ao3: Click

#x reader #fanfiction #batman begins #dark knight #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #drabble #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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dinofur · 6 months ago

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Big list of my Mannequin Mark headcanons so far

Mark has autism and depression, neither of which are diagnosed. His special interest is woodworking and is often the only thing he has spoons for. He avoids getting a diagnosis out of the fear that it will mean there’s something “wrong with [him].”

He is ethnically Maya.

He in fluent in English and Spanish and is a native speaker of Yucatec.

They are 52 y/o currently. They escaped the cult in their early 20s, met Wallter in their early 30s, got married at 44, and got divorced at 50.

She identifies as a nonbinary gay man.

He was originally built as a dress form mannequin, something that made him extremely dysphoric. Once he got out of the cult he carved himself a new body without breasts.

Mark designed his arms himself and they’re something that makes him far more articulated than other mannequins, who can typically only rotate their arms at the shoulders (sagittal plane), upper arms (transverse plane), and wrists (transverse plane). He’s made a similar pair of arms for Jim. All mannequins can rotate on the transverse and sagittal planes at the chest joint.

Despite his comparative flexibility, Mark is still not as flexible as the average human would be; he’s made of oak wood and that wood is 1. heavy, and 2. not flexible. This means that making himself with a ball jointed style simply wasn’t possible. The most noticeable consequence of this is that he can only rotate his fingers on the frontal plane, meaning he can’t spread them.

Over the years as he’s sculpted new or altered pieces for his body he’s unintentionally made himself fatter each time. He likes being a fat guy, it just wasn’t on purpose.

The “hair” on their body are notches that they carved in, then carefully stained to be a darker color than the rest of them. They gave themself facial and chest hair for fun, but the arm hair does serve an actual function. The longer notches are exactly an inch apart each, with the shorter notches being half inches between. This allows them to use their arm as a measuring tool in a pinch.

Her face is drawn on, but it can still emote. When she blushes, black lines appear on her cheeks. The mouth doesn’t open, even when she’s speaking. Drinks just get tipped back and disappear, and bites vanish from food whenever nobody’s looking.

He’s a good cook! Self-taught for fun (he doesn’t need to eat to survive), then he had an actual reason to once he started seeing Wallter. He still cooks for himself nowadays, just less often.

Xer favorite food is rib eye steak.

His favorite drink is bloxy cola. His favorite alcoholic drink is a Mai Tai made with Charanda and the cheapest orange liqueur you can find.

Their favorite music genres are Bluegrass and Zydeco, and they hate when people reduce them to “banjo music” or “accordion music.”

He gets disability aid money from the government for technically being a bilateral amputee, something he got at Walter’s encouragement.

He gets payment through selling what he makes and taking commissions himself, which isn’t great considering he is very very bad at pricing his work. Wallter helped him with it before, but nowadays he has a bad habit of giving friends outrageous discounts and under-pricing his work because “[he does] it fer the love a’ wood!”

His work consists of anything from whittling, to toy making, to carving, to even just turning logs into planks. If it involves doing something to wood, he’ll do it.

They helped Jim escape the cult.

He met Lampert at Rokea while furniture shopping with Wallter. He later encountered him again at a gay bar looking very out of place, and that’s where they hit it off as friends. He has never felt paternalistic feelings towards Lampert.

They and Wallter met at a mixer for disabled people in construction jobs.

The scarf Wallter has was originally hers, and something she escaped the cult with. She gave it to Wallter in hopes she could give it a more positive association. It worked.

He’s always seen wood as the superior building material, but he didn’t actually hate concrete until Wallter started drinking Gray Stuff and he saw the effects it was having on his body; the stiff joints, the slowed movement, the memory issues… he still asks DrRETRO if he can see Wallter’s x-rays, even when the answer is always no.

Even if he got into a new relationship he’d still have feelings for Wallter, something that would bring him a lot of guilt.

#regretevator #mannequin mark #regretevator mannequin mark #my headcanons

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polyphonetic · 1 year ago

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To this day I'm astounded at how hard ManScape dropped the ball. One of the cheapest places on the web to advertise, they pretty much controlled all advertising, and they didn't conceptualize the actual userbase remotely. If they made an identical product at the same cost called "Girlscaped" for trimming girlballs they could have been the next coke of cola

#kassandra rambles

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bitterwaters · 6 months ago

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Lacquer Brands

so one day I went to a fugue and wrote a 2000 word essay on nail polish brands

We got four tiers of nail polish brands: overpriced luxury bullshit, drugstore, boutique, and indie.

Overpriced Luxury Bullshit

Don’t buy these! Just don’t! You’re paying for name, not quality. Chanel charges $32 for an 11 ml creme, the second cheapest polish type there is. That’s ludicrous. Every review I’ve seen of a “high-brand” from a real swatcher has been negative. Fuck ‘em all.

Drugstore

This is every other mainstream brand, whether it’s from CVS, Walmart, or Ulta. Wide range of price and quality. In general, you’ll probably get what you pay for. Sally Hensen Insta-Dry is classic and Acceptably Okay; if you don’t have the patience for a full manicure, just slap some of that on. Look for brands that are 3-free or 5-free--that means that won’t have a few nasty chemicals. Anything over 5 is fake and doesn’t matter.

My preferred drugstore brands:

Zoya: Jellies, glitters, shimmers. Tends to have a very thin formula--leave the cap off for a few minutes to thicken it up.

Orly: Cremes! The absolute best, well-pigmented, buttery smooth cremes. Persistent Memory is my perfect dark red. The bottles are generously sized, they have a nice paddle brush, and I love the big rubberized cap. They’re just really pleasant!

OPI: I only use their matte top coat but I use a lot of it. It’s the best! Get their matte top coat! I’ve seen recs to use their polishes over Essie’s, but I’ve never tried either.

Boutique

Now we’re getting into the Good Shit. There’s a price jump here, but there’s also a huge jump in quality. These are small- to medium-sized online-only businesses with semi-industrial production and ample stock. They’re big enough to ship within a few days. They use a LOT more pigment and glitter than drugstore brands, and have far more variety in finishes.

You might see them on Amazon or Etsy--skip it and go order from their sites instead. Shipping costs the same and you can save up reward points.

Charmed Lacquer: Brand new, recently announced, will open in a week or two. Started by a streamer named Janixa. I’m not familiar, but her followers seem excited enough to check it out.

Cirque Colors: CONTROVERSY! I like Cirque. I have a ton of their polishes. A little pricey, but they have frequent small sales and are high-quality. Best known for the jellies and some really stunning magnetics like Mood Ring and Black Swan (which have since been rampantly duped). So why the controversy?

Mystery bags: idk people get het up about ‘em. I kind of feel like if you gamble on a bunch of polishes you don’t choose, you risk pruglies.

Coronation: This is a purple polish with a red-green shift shimmer pigment called, I shit you not, Unicorn Pee. UP was made unavailable for public sale years ago (the suspicion is that it’s now used in some currency). Cirque keeps finding stashes and re-releasing Coronation. There have been complaints that it’s not the same shade as the original, that it’s over-priced ($18.50 is a LOT for a polish), and the FOMO marketing. It always sells out fast. I have a bottle. It’s okay.

Jaritos: The current teapot tempest. Cirque just put out a Jarito-themed line of jellies that’s FOURTEEN FUCKIN FIFTY a bottle. Their regular jellies are two bucks less because JELLIES ARE CHEAP. They have less pigment than other finishes. Cirque has also been caught editing pics from swatchers. Some of the Jaritos shades are outright dupes of existing Cirque colors--but when Cirque reposted swatcher pics that compared them, they changed things to make them look different. Little shady!

I still got Mxcn Cola

Holo Taco: I don’t go to this school. It seems fine. Owned by a YouTuber with a pretty big following, Simply Nailogical. The brand has devoted followers, but I’ve never been real impressed. I feel like I can get everything they do somewhere else for a buck or two cheaper. Lots of limited-time bundles.

ILNP: MY LOVE! Shimmers, glitters, holos. Their formulas are just fantastic. If you follow lacquer reddits you’ll see a TON of posts featuring Flower Child and Fairy Dust; they aren’t for me but I see why people love them. They’re really good with shimmers--Flicker glows like a candle in a dark window. I also like their flakie toppers and magnetics. You really can’t go wrong with anything from ILNP.

One of the rare lacquer companies that doesn’t do FOMO. They never remove anything from their line-up. New collections get a 10% discount for a week at release, and they have an annual Black Friday sale.

KBShimmer: They’re pretty good! They don’t get as much love as I think they deserve--probably because they aren’t quite as flashy and highly-marketed as other brands. They also aren’t as heavily pigmented/glittered. Still pretty good though! I really love All Fired Up. They have big 15 ml bottles for only $12, no matter what finish. KBShimmer is a great place to start if you’re just dipping your toe beyond drugstore brands. Pick up their polish thinner (suitable for every brand except Orly) and glitter smoothing top coat.

Lights Lacquer: Don’t. They have some nice shades, though they tend to be as subdued as drugstore polishes. I was really disappointed by their cremes--the formula isn’t at all self-leveling. That’s just weird in this day and age. And then I found out that black swatchers refuse to work with them because the owner has been openly racist. Her non-apologies did not improve relations. Skip it.

Mooncat: CONTROVERSY! I have over a dozen Mooncat polishes and do love most of them, but it's getting harder to recommend the brand. They specialize in intense shimmer/glitter/holo/flakie/magnetics--all the fancy stuff. They have a few unique polishes that I haven’t seen duped elsewhere. Their formula can be gloopy, especially their flakies; easily fixed by a few drops of thinner. Why controversy?

they’re fukkin expensive bro. Like $15 a bottle. I do feel that you get what you pay for--it’s good stuff. I’ve never been disappointed by a Mooncat. But part of what you’re paying for is brand aesthetic.

they’re fukkin annoying bro. Their site, marketing, and even customer service emails are all lower-case dramatic gothy stuff. Never “nails,” always “claws.”

Their bottles keep shattering. This has happened occasionally in the past, then become more frequent starting in April. Seems like there was some supply change that thinned the glass. Mooncat was also filling about 14 ml instead of the promised 12 ml. Temperature and air pressure changes during shipping started to cause a lot of bottles to break. One person ended up in urgent care to get her hand stitched. Mooncat has promised to make changes and has been quick to refund/replace broken bottles, but there’s still a lot of ill-will simmering in the community. I think we’re past the tipping point--I’m no longer seeing broken bottle posts, just love for their new Power Puff Girls collab--but if you like something, I would wish list and wait another month. That should be enough time to make sure the bottles are safe and the weather has cooled.

Indies

Every single indie nail polish company is one or two people working out of their basement. That is not a joke. They hand-makes every small batch, fill the bottles, pack, and ship by themselves. That’s in addition to designing and testing polishes, and just living their lives.

That means that if you order from an indie, expect to wait. Most list a turn-around time of up to a month (they usually say 7-21 business days--people read three weeks but it’s a month). That’s padded to give them safety--nearly all will ship within a week, maybe two. But if they get hit with life stuff or a ton of orders, it really can take a while. My longest order took over a month arrive. It was entirely worth it.

Indies tend to have a big focus on fancy finishes. The biggest trend right now is sheer lacquers that are loaded with aurora shimmer. They’re color-shifty and glowy, and a lot of fun. That’s starting to stagnate a bit--every base color/shimmer combination has been done, so a lot of dupes are emerging--but it’s also starting to evolve. I’m seeing more and more shimmers that also have holo, flakes, or reflective glitter. I’m betting we’ll get some thermal shimmers as fall rolls in and temperatures drop.

Indies have some phenomenal variety and creativity. They’re doing the coolest stuff with the most love. Many also rely heavily on FOMO, and some are just plain not open much of the time. Instead, they have monthly or seasonal release windows. They usually drop a new collection and may retire old ones.

How do you keep track? The Reddit Laquerists (sic) Nail Polish Release Calendar. You can also subscribe to brand newsletters--most give a small coupon on your first order. A lot are on Instagram and Facebook.

There are at least two dozen indie brands, and it’s hard to know where to start. I highly recommend Lyn B. Designs. I love her lacquers, absolutely flawless formula. She has big bottles, fast turn-around, and lots of variety. Get her top coat! It’s the best. But most importantly, she has a 50% off code for ALL products every time she launches a new collection. You can get top-quality lacquers for $6 each, and the big top coat refill for $12.50. No brand of any size can match that value. You can either follow her on Facebook for the code or check the calendar on launch day.

Others I like, in no particular order:

Bee’s Knees, Dam, Polished for Days, Great Lakes Lacquers for fantastic shimmers and reflectives. Garden Path and Rogue Lacquers have great flakies. Lurid Lacquer is pretty new, and she’s doing some really interesting things with intense shimmers and color-shifty chromes. Sassy Sauce keeps a small, tidy line-up, but it’s all quality and creative stuff. She’ll also have some nice thermals once October hits--she doesn’t ship them during summer, which I respect.

Cupcake is kind of a workhorse brand like KBShimmer: nothing too spectacular, but everything is solid and reasonably priced. Likewise, Glisten & Glow isn't too exciting but IS cheap and high-quality. Emily de Molly is Just Good. Drunk Fairy has really nice jellies and cremes. Wildflower Lacquers is closed for rebranding, back 09/06; I don’t have any from her yet but I gotta give props for big bottles, a fan brush, and surviving in Oklahoma.

Death Valley Nails is a little pricey but they’re doing the weirdest, most absolutely unique shit out there. They’re making polish out of rocks and wildflowers. One looks like the sink after your boyfriend shaves. It’s great.

Clionadh gets some hype but IMO they’re overpriced and overrated. They definitely up the saturation on swatch pics. I’m unimpressed by Femme Fatale’s formula and teeny 9 ml size. Shleee polishes don’t self level at all. Stella Chroma still sells Harry Potter themed polishes and I'm very over that.

But really, the best way to check out indie brands is…

Indie Preorders

There are two big indie collabs every month that work on a pre-order basis: Polish Pickup and Hella Handmade Creations. They open for a week each month and feature unique, one-time only products from a ton of indie brands. They can cause major FOMO. If you feel that might not be healthy for you, stay away! But if you’re okay with the possibility that you may never be able to replace a bottle you finish off, you’ll find some great stuff. They’re an excellent way to explore new brands, and creators get to be a little experimental. PPU has fun monthly themes; HHC doesn’t have a general theme, but many creators do a series of fandom-themed designed. Indie polish creators tend to be pretty nerdy.

If you want to try non-US brands, go to Color4Nails.They’re a stockist that carries several brands, drugstore, boutique, and indie. They also have monthly pre-orders for a few Brazilian brands like Phoenix Indie Polish and Penelope Luz. I find the Brazilian brands to be a little pricey, with smallish bottles and fairly thin consistency, but they’re doing some interesting stuff. I’m pretty consistently impressed with Phoenix; PL less so.

#nails #I have a few posts I'm going to schedule during the next week #they are not remotely this long

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rpmemesbyarat · 7 months ago

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RP Memes from Reddit’s Thread “What’s a casual unpopular opinion you will always stand on?”

“I really don't feel the need to update my wardrobe to "modernize" it. “

“People who tell you that they're "brutally honest" are usually just mean.” “Leagues don’t exist in dating. You never know who someone would be into.” “I prefer my water plain. Never liked any flavored, carbonated, sparkling water, or whatever else that isn't just plain water.” “Over half the dog owners are terrible pet owners, let their dogs do whatever it desires and don't deserve to own any pets.” “Here’s my hot take: I actually love rainy days!” “I think its great to be lazy and not be permanently on " The Grind" or giving your 100% in your day to day experience on a regular.” “Plain lettuce is delicious.” “People who don’t like cats are people who get offended by being told no or things don’t go their way.” “I don't like lemon in my water. If a restaurant serves me water with lemon in it, I'll fish it out with silverware.” “Winter is my favorite season.” “Grey vinyl plank floors are the ugliest, cheapest looking, tackiest thing you can install in a home and I wish they would be outlawed for assaulting my eyes for the past 10 years. “ “Barbecue sauce is disgusting on anything and always makes a dish worse.” “When eating a string cheese, I don’t pull it into “strings” I just bite it.” “Death is a part of life and shouldn't be feared in the way it is.” “Alcohol sucks in every way.” “You can typically fix being cold but it’s harder to fix being hot.” “New car smell is gross. It literally makes me want to vomit.” “There are much worse things in life than being alone.” “I think chocolate is boring and overrated.” “Tea is better than coffee.” “I refuse to sleep naked.” “Residential recycling doesn't work. More than half of that stuff ends up in the trash anyway.” “I could eat mustard straight. It’s the best.” “I love sleeping with socks on. It's like a blanket just for my feet.” “My unpopular opinion is I like QR code menus. And even more if I can order directly from it.” “Toast must be burnt. Unburned toast is just warm bread.” “Pineapple goes on pizza and it’s delicious.” “Pot is not as cool as everybody thinks it is. It is overrated and stinks way worse than people think.” “Fried eggs are the best food ever. If there were no side effects, I'd eat three meals of them everyday for the rest of my life.” “You can’t just change your sports team because they are losing. Pick a team and stay with them.” “Its pop not soda! The bubbles go pop. This is one of my strongest opinions and I will never back down to a soda-er.” “We can change at any age.” “It's never too early to decorate for a holiday you like.” “Iced coffee is INSANELY overrated.” “Don’t listen to those that have been successful. These people are an example of survivorship bias.” “Vegetables are actually very tasty in raw and all other forms. A carrot or a celery stick is as fun to me as chips or biscuits.” “I think it's a weird flex to brag you have no friends or that you hate people” “Salt and vinegar chips are amazing. I don't care how much it hurts my tongue.” “The tooth fairy is real.” “Milk should always be poured before cereal. Soggy cereal is disgusting.” “Mayonnaise doesn't taste good, and neither does ketchup.” “Flat soda is delicious. They should just make cola and rootbeer flavored water.” “Not every sandwich needs cheese on it.”

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp starters #roleplay starters #reddit

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jeanie-g · 1 month ago

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if it’s not too late for the spotify wrapped ficlets…#74 for trevor and jamie??

really loving all your fics, you’re super talented :)

ty!! <333 i'm having sm fun writing them ☺️ i banged this out in like a day and a half lol

[#74] Lavender Haze (Taylor Swift)

I feel the lavender haze creepin' up on me / Surreal, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

College parties are completely overrated, in Jamie's humble opinion. They're too loud, and too sweaty, and your only options for refreshments are warm, flat beer and the cheapest, grossest vodka you've ever tasted.

Besides, Jamie really wasn't feeling like socializing tonight. His Friday night plans were going to consist of ordering Hawaiian pizza and playing Tears of the Kingdom. The only reason he tagged along was because Yorkie practically begged him to. They played a game of beer pong, Yorkie disappeared with some girl, and Jamie wanted to slap him.

But then he spotted a window heading out to an abandoned fire escape—and, well, when in Rome. No one noticed him lift up the window and step out, so he took out his Mentos tin, rolled himself a nice, tight doobie, and lit up.

Ten minutes later, Jamie's enjoying himself just fine with his joint and the view of the street corner below him. So, of course someone has to choose then to pull up the window and tumble right out of it.

Jamie doesn't even have time to ask, "What the fuck?" before the guy sputters:

"The cops are here, man. Move outta sight of the window."

Jamie looks into the apartment, eyebrows raising when he sees the tip of a uniform boot entering the kitchen. He scooches up the metal stairs until he's out of view, and the guy joins him, perching two steps below him.

Jamie isn't doing anything illegal—he can pull out his medical marijuana card to prove it—but at a party that's overtaken by underage freshmen, it's best to stay out of any cop's sight, lest they charge you with alcohol distribution or endangering a minor or whatever bullshit they decide to come up with.

Jamie's underage, too, but he didn't drink tonight. He can't say the same about his stair-mate, whose breath reeks of cheap rum and Coca-Cola.

"So, what's good, man?" The guy asks, cheeks rosy from the alcohol. He looks to be around Jamie's age, but he's never seen him before.

"Uh, I'm alright. How long are you gonna be out here?"

Jamie kinda hopes he takes the question as a little mean, but he just purses his lips. "Probably like ten minutes or so. Till the cops leave."

Jamie nods, bringing the joint to his lips to take another hit. He supposes he can't be too annoyed at that.

The guy's eyes follow his movements, and Jamie inwardly sighs. He should probably offer some; it'd be rude not to. He thinks his Mom might be proud of him for remembering his manners—well, if drugs weren't involved.

"You want a hit?"

The guy looks surprised. Then, he smiles. "Sure. Thanks, man."

Jamie's starting to get annoyed with all the 'man's this guy is dropping.

"Jamie," he offers, passing the joint to his outstretched hand.

"Trevor," he says, bringing it to his lips and taking a modest puff. Jamie's grateful for that, at least. Most of the time he offers his good, hand-rolled shit, people take a gigantic puff and then wonder why Jamie snatches it right back. This Trevor guy isn't an absolute animal, then.

They sit quietly for a few moments, and Jamie figures he should keep breaking the ice. He hates awkward silences. "Do you go to Northeastern?"

Trevor shakes his head. "BU, but I've got a friend who goes here. He's in there somewhere, hopefully hiding in a closet or something."

That makes Jamie thinks back to Yorkie; he hopes the idiot isn't currently getting arrested. He takes another small hit.

"My buddy's in there, too," he says on the exhale. "I guess I picked a good time to go for a smoke."

Trevor chuckles. "Yeah, I didn't think anyone was gonna be out here. It's a bit nippy."

Jamie shrugs. "I'm used to it." Ugh, he can already feel the pot loosening his tongue. This is why he smokes alone. "'M from Canada."

Now, why did he say that? This stranger doesn't care about where he spent his formative years. But Trevor just grins.

"Really? That's so cool. I've got family up there. Which part?"

Well, he can't just leave him hanging. "Toronto."

Trevor clicks his tongue. "Ah. They're in Calgary. Close, though."

Not at all, Jamie thinks, but he (at least) keeps that in his head.

"What do you study?" Trevor asks, rubbing his arms.

Jamie sorta wishes he had a jacket or something to offer him. All he's got is weed, but it's better than nothing. He wordlessly passes it back to Trevor, who nods and takes another puff.

He considers lying—he sort of loves fabricating another version of himself when asked at parties by people he'll never see again—but he thinks it's pretty pointless here.

"Sociology," he says.

"Woah," Trevor replies. "You're, like, smart, then."

Jamie chuckles. "Yeah, I guess."

"So that's, like, identifiers and counter-cultures and institutions, right?"

"Yeah, that's... That's exactly right." He huffs out a little laugh. "Most people get it confused with psychology, or assume I'm gonna be a prison ward or something."

Trevor laughs. "What?"

Jamie smiles. "I know. I mean, I don't really know what I wanna do yet, but I was always fascinated by that stuff. You know, studying culture and behaviors. It's cool."

Trevor's smiling, too. Jamie shakes his head. He doesn't know where all that came from, but he wants to get the attention off of him now.

"What about you?"

Trevor shrugs. "Undeclared liberal arts. I'm here for hockey, though."

Oh. Jamie doesn't think he's ever met a hockey player—ones who play at the collegiate level, anyways. He's been to a few games at school because, duh—this is Boston—but he never really understood the game.

He can't help but look Trevor up and down. He's not small, but he's on the skinner side, lanky and long-limbed, and he has all his teeth. He'd peg him as a baseball player if anything. Maybe tennis. More than that, he seems too jolly for hockey. Isn't this the sport where they slam the opposition into the glass and throw punches at each other's heads?

Trevor seems to understand what he's thinking, because he laughs and pinks ever-so-slightly. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all, but they value skill over size these days, you know. My buddy Cole, he's 5'7", and he just got drafted to the Habs."

Jamie doesn't really know what that means. Is that a team, or a...place? From Trevor's intonation, it's supposed to be impressive, so Jamie widens his eyes and nods.

Trevor sees right through him. "You're not a hockey fan, I see."

"More of a video game guy."

"They have hockey video games."

Jamie snorts. "I mean, more like Sonic."

Trevor tips his head. "I prefer Mario."

Jamie's just now noticing the green of his eyes, not pure emerald, but tinted a sort of grey—like sage. They're pretty.

Trevor's pretty.

Jamie looks down at the joint in his hand. He needs to stop smoking for the night—or, maybe he needs to smoke more. He's not sure.

Trevor giggles out of nowhere, and Jamie's loathed to admit how it makes his chest squeeze. "That second puff is really hitting me now," he says, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "That's good stuff. Do you roll your own?"

"Yeah. My brother taught me how."

Trevor giggles again. "That's kinda crazy. But cute, though. I don't think I could ever do drugs with my siblings."

"Eh, it's not as weird as you'd think. But I mean, I've only ever done pot."

"I kind of always wanted to try cocaine," Trevor says.

Jamie has to stop from laughing out loud. If this is how Trevor is when he's drunk and stoned, this man does not need anymore energy.

A small giggle gets out anyways, and then Trevor's giggling, and then the two of them are howling on the fire escape, uncaring of the scene unfolding inside.

When they finally sober, Trevor looks at him, tilting his head again, not unlike a curious dog. "You're really handsome."

Jamie balks at that, ready to challenge it, but something in Trevor's expression makes him stop. He looks so sincere, so young, even though Jamie's got a feeling Trevor's older than him.

His brain turns to static; he can barely hear himself when he asks, "Can I kiss you?"

If Jamie was in the presence of any other hockey player, he's 90% sure he'd get punched in the mouth before he even got the 'you' out, but Trevor's different. Even if he hadn't outright said he thought Jamie was attractive, something tells him he wouldn't have been scared to ask anyways.

He sort of wants to bite it back, but he also really doesn't.

Trevor smiles small, nodding almost imperceptibly, and Jamie scooches down a step so they're at eye-level. He feels strangely calm, though he's fully aware how fucking wild this is. He puts out the joint and drops it, sending it down to the sidewalk. He only has half a mind that he's wasting it.

Trevor blinks a few times, eyes roaming around Jamie's face, and Jamie puts a single hand at the back of his neck. It's warm, despite the chill in the air. He leans in, giving Trevor plenty of time to change his mind, but he doesn't. Jamie watches his eyes flutter shut and hears him take in a breath. Jamie nudges their noses together, letting their lips barely brush a couple of times, and he can hear Trevor's heart jackrabbiting in his chest.

It feels so precarious, so delicate, like Jamie's looking out over a cliff-side, waiting to jump. It feels monumental, this kiss. Jamie doesn't know why. His chest tightens with sudden nerves, and he's stuck. He just needs a push.

"Kiss me," Trevor breathes, and oh, that's all Jamie needs. He tilts his head and closes the distance, capturing Trevor's lips.

Heat pools in his gut immediately, and he has to take a deep inhale through his nose where it's pressed against Trevor's skin. His mind is swimming, half from the high and half from something else, and the only word that can come to mind is more.

He pushes his tongue against Trevor's lips, and Trevor parts them with a little mewl. And from there, everything just clicks, and Jamie can't stop. It's so good, so warm... Kissing Trevor is scratching an itch he didn't even know he had. And Trevor is matching his energy, biting and sucking on Jamie's lips when his tongue isn't tangling with Jamie's.

It's just kissing, but it feels so intense. Jamie's grateful that he can't get hard when he's high (even though his dick is currently giving a valiant effort). It'd be so embarrassing, because he is so turned on right now, and he barely knows Trevor, and they're just kissing.

He barely registers the sound coming from a few feet away, something like the schtick of a window opening, until it's too late.

"Hey, is anyone—oh!"

Jamie pulls off of Trevor's mouth with a pop, eyes going wide at the sight of Yorkie framed by the open window. Jamie's about to ream him out when Trevor turns around and says, "Cam, what the hell!"

Jamie's eyes fall back on Trevor. "You know Yorkie?"

Trevor turns back to Jamie. "Yeah. He's the one who invited me."

Jamie looks back at Yorkie, who's just grinning. "I lose track of my friends for five minutes and they're making out on the fire escape? Figures."

Jamie flushes scarlet. "Yorkie, what are you even doing out here?"

Yorkie raises his hands in mock surrender. "Geez, sorry. Just wanted to tell whoever was out here that the cops are gone."

"Oh," Trevor says. "They are?"

"Yeah. Stuck Frosty with a noise complaint, but that's pretty much it." He purses his lips, and then a crash from inside makes all three of them jump. Yorkie turns his attention to the source. "Inez, what the fuck? I said to be careful with that bottle."

Yorkie sighs and goes to shut the window. "Just don't have sex out here, alright? You'll freeze your dicks off." He slams the window down and walks off, leaving the two of them alone again.

Jamie doesn't know if it was the embarrassment, the reality check, or just time—but he can feel his high receding. Suddenly things are looking and feeling a lot sharper, and Jamie's nerves come back in full force.

"How do you know Cam?" he asks, mouth dry. He has to say something.

"We're both from New York. We used to play together in middle school, but then he moved. We reconnected once we both figured out we'd be in Boston, though."

"I didn't know he played hockey."

Trevor snorts. "That's 'cause he was shit at it."

That makes Jamie laugh, though his nerves are scarily mounting now. He clicks his tongue. "Should we head back inside?"

If Jamie's starting to sober, he figures Trevor is, too. He expects him to say yes, and to forget this ever happened—but he just raises an eyebrow in question. "Why? I was having fun."

"You were?"

"I was. And not just kissing you. Talking. I'd like to do some more of it." He leans forward to whisper in his ear. "After some more kissing first, though."

Jamie's belly swirls, and some sort of phantom weight disappears from his shoulders. His mind is clearing up, and he still wants to kiss Trevor. And more importantly, Trevor still wants to kiss him.

Jamie smiles and leans back in, holding both of Trevor's cheeks this time as he seals the distance.

And, well, maybe college parties aren't so bad, after all.

#college boy trevor you will always be famous #also why do i write jamie as a stoner so often lol #fic request

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yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit · 10 months ago

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The great regular sleep experiment of 2024 part "I think I'm fucked"

Well, I went to be around 8pm, slept what felt like a decent 4 hours, started having weird vivid dreams that happen when I'm done getting restful sleep, and then when I got up and looked at the clock it was only 11:30, after laying around in bed for a while trying to go back to sleep.

So one REM cycle... 2 hours -ish

The weird things are that:

It did actually feel like restful sleep, even if my body is sore

I feel perfectly alert

If I was hyperthyroid enough to cause this level of insomnia, I'd be having extreme cardiac symptoms all day even before what covid did to my heart and that isn't happening [not that I am getting zero chest pains]. I'm running a little hot and hungry but not even problematically asides from it contributing maybe to not sleeping.

I'm not having to force myself awake anymore except occasionally just after 5 am during grocery time

I am not getting the extra *symptoms* insomnia usually comes with anymore, I would actually not realize I wasn't sleeping if I wasn't paying attention to the clock, currently [and maybe the sleep headache thing].

So unless I slept from 8pm on the 10th until past 11 on the 11th without noticing... I am getting what feels like actually restful sleep for at least 2 REM cycles per day, one in the morning, and one at night... But ONLY that much. And my morning shift is fucked up now too when it was stable.

The 6th weird thing is while I am sore in a way I would compare to doing crossfit face-first... I am not nearly as sore and not at all sleepy, compare to what I should be for sleeping less than 4 hours per day.

Usually this level of mental alertness on this little sleep is what happens when I take certain anti-depression meds and metabolize them weird. And -regardless of how it's happened- usually comes with something akin to mania, that has had me misdiagnosed as bipolar or manic depressive before [before they acknowledged the upswings were too slow, stable, and lasted months at a time and were my thyroid]. But like, I do not feel manic, or like I am acting or communicating in a way people would describe that way, and I always could before, I could feel it happening to me, feel the nervous energy and how fast I was talking etc...

Like I managed to make myself do chores almost every day without it being a struggle like usual to get started. Sometimes it doesn't even feel like I am forcing myself to do them.

And you might be thinking "well maybe it's the extra caffeine from the coke you've been drinking" NO! I ran out of the cherry cola 10 days after I did groceries!

The only thing from them that could still be in my system is phosphorus from the phosphoric acid. [coke brand cola is actually the cheapest way for me to even get bio-available phosphorus in my diet, so I am hopping we don't need another boycott, because supplements do not work the same way, and they and pork are expensive AF]

And as much as I have been trying to add a second cup of tea to my day I keep forgetting about it long enough that I am averaging closer to 1.2 bags of tea per day.

Which leads me to the only convincing theory, to me, right now, that I was low key "treating" insomnia by being at least somewhat phosphorus deficient most of the time, and that's why drinking coke would have me feeling more energetic for days at a time after the caffeine should have worn off [but ONLY coke brand coke], and this might only be possible because -in theory- part of my chronic fatigue could be that I'm one of the people who has a really hard time making Adenosine back into ATP, and needs extra phosphorus to make sure I am doing it as best I can.

The only hiccup in that theory is i think you mostly convert Adenosine back into ATP in your sleep, but I am getting 4 hours that feel actually restful for once, and I am unclear on whether your body also does this at a certain level of rest, even while awake.

This *could**** mean that drinking cola more regularly would mean having the energy to at least keep on top of housework without feeling like I have to force myself to do it every day. This sleep experiment may have inadvertently confirmed THAT suspicion beyond a doubt. It would of course be super helpful to have a doctor willing to IMMEDIATELY check my thyroid and ATP levels on request the moment I request it, so I can confirm things like this.

And I do think eating more ground beef is helping my iron levels.

But the problem is I need to sleep more than this. If I was feeling awake and alert off 8 hours I wouldn't question it... But this is 2 hours at a time twice a day at best. I'm not having terrors, or sleep adjacent hallucinations at present or "mis-seeing" things out of the corner of my eyes or anything... Which is great, because usually those symptoms would be more... Insistent for a lot longer... but I HAVE to doubt my judgement and ability to form memories properly on less than 4 hours of sleep per day, and I am starting to get a persistent headache threatening to be a migraine -and fairly constant tinnitus- that haven't been even this bad since I was last employed.

The fact that -at present- I mostly just feel pain/ache in my face and muscles as the only symptom of sleep deprivation doesn't mean I am not sleep deprived, and this isn't sustainable for someone with CFS... Usually any time this has carried on for any reason, there's a crash at some point and it's nasty.

In the meantime I AM going to be using this as best I can to get on top of housework and settling in, and getting things arranged and out of boxes... Because taking advantage of these upswings was how I was managing that kind of "catching up" for years before I stopped getting them. Is that ADVISABLE? WHO KNOWS!

#the great regular sleep experiment of 2024 #I still have another journal entry running in parallel but I haven't posted it yet sorry

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