#even though again I am insane about hygiene!!!!!!!!!!

[thornsent]

the very specific feeling of finding out something you were deeply ashamed of + assumed was happening because you were disgusting turns out to be a genetic disorder and is completely unrelated to your hygiene.

I thought I had like, athlete's foot that was spreading over my body for years and I tried everything but because this is america and I was homeless for 6 years I couldn't see a doctor. I thought maybe I was just vile and disgusting but lol it's eczema. it's just really bad eczema that was probably exacerbated by having to use harsh cleaning products when I was very small by my abusive adoptive family. I thought I was just gross and it was so bad that's why no basic remedies helped but it's the fucking eczema and eczema cream helps. I thought that it was a fungus and I was possibly going to just rot to the bone. it's a fucking skin condition I got from my bio dad and it's not my fault I have scarring from it

[nezz-cringe-crib]

LAWLIGHT HEADCANONS LAWLIGHT HEADCANONS LAWLIGHT HEADCANONS PLSS

Share your winsdom with us mortals

ALSO- Some L angst maybe? I like seeing him suffer bc he is my favorite blorbo and I love making my blorbos suffer

(only if you are comfortable with it, ofc. Don't wanna push anything :) )

OOOOUGHH AAAAAA ABSOLUTELY

i always suck at giving hcs off the fly, but here's some i've thought up of before and like to think about instead of sleeping :333 (be warned that they're all pretty vanilla lolz. my hcs are basic. i just like my blorbos.)

Lawlight hcs:

blorbbooo tiiimmeeeee :33 - i personally really like fluffy lawlight things, but a lot of those are usually for aus and everything (since i can't see them being very fluffy in the normal death note plot). but i like to imagine them having stupid teenage-like crush moments with each other. like maybe during the yotsuba arc or something, L wants more sweets but watari is already out doing something, so his dramatic ass is just whining about "oh woe is me....... there's nothing in the vicinity for me to munch on......... how will i ever go on......." and then to get him to shut up, light begrudgingly either bakes something for L (which could probably lead to a lot of silly shenanigans with stupid dorky smiles before light immediately takes it back and starts bickering with L again), or light convinces L to go buy some sweets from a bakery in town (and then L gets distracted because there's multiple sweet-filled stores and his greedy ass has to try all of them so now they're essentially just going on a date trip around all the sweet stores in town). - also to add onto that last bullet, there's this one fic i just read last night that was so stupid and adorable and i loved it. it's called "You can't have my name, but you can have my number" and i recommend checking it out if you like short and sweet fluffy fics. :] (and if you want more fluffy fics, go read everything @rawrlight has made. his fics are so fucking good please read them i am obsessed with them actually pleasepleasepleaseplease) - L is surprisingly good with kids and light won't admit it but he's kinda into it. - L nonchalantly shares food with light and light totally overthinks the shit out of it. - they totally pick at each other for everything. light picks at L for every unsanitary thing he does. L picks at light for having an unnecessarily long and complicated hygiene routine (i like to imagine he has a shit ton of hair and skincare products). anybody who walks past the bathroom while they're in it is bound to hear non-stop bickering. (or, if you really wanna match my freak, have matsuda open the bathroom door while they're getting ready only to see them in the middle of a fight. whether the pose they're in looks compromisingly homosexual is up to you my dear sillies).

uhhhhhh and that's all i can think of for now. awww zoinks.....

but now L angst headcanons yipeeeeeeeee :33333

L angst hcs:

ooougghhhh buckle up boyz... it's angsty tism time..... - i don't think L was ever good at making friends (this is very much a projected headcanon but shshshshshsh ignore that). despite being insanely intelligent and pretty damn good at whatever he sets his mind to, i don't think he ever got the hang of making deep, personal connections. and i feel like he wants to. throughout his whole life, maybe he wanted to make friends but it always just fell flat. maybe as a child there were times where thought he had made a friend, only to realize those feelings were not reciprocated. despite everything he tried, he was just never "human" enough to seemingly make all those lasting connections that he analyzes so deeply. and i think he probably gave up on trying at some point. and all of this is why i feel like his connection with light is so important. even though he knows it'll end in tragedy and that he will die by light's hand, he still can't help but feel... a little more human with light. and i think he'd risk death in order to feel like that one more time. - i don't usually like reading/seeing heavily angsty stuff, but i remember seeing somebody headcanon that they thought L went through solitary confinement as a child in the wammy house, and i always thought that was interesting. i'm not gonna expand on it though since heavy angst isn't really my vibe. (i love making my blorbos suffer, but not too much.) - yeah most of my L angst is him just being incredibly lonely. in the sense of "he doesn't cry about it (he's probably only cried once in his life and that was probably as a very young child), but there's always been some missing piece in his heart that just can't ever seem to be filled". - actually-- loneliness and his inhumanity. that's what i fuck with the most. though they kind of intertwine, so. yeah i kinda just sound like a broken record atp but sshhhhhhhhhhh it pays off (sometimes) i swear. - he also has a lot of religious trauma in my eyes (again, projection). i know he's not religious or anything, but i feel like he'd fit that song "Dear God" by XTC a lot. - oh and he also sulks a fuckton. he doesn't cry, he pouts and goes to stand in the rain while reminiscing on old memories. that's what his emo dramatic ass does and i fucking love him for it.

that's all i can really think of right now. hopefully that's somewhat entertaining. most of my headcanons are very basic compared to other people i've seen, but they are still special in my heart. :))))

[allwormdiet]

Insinuation 2.7

Finally, some good fucking interpersonal developments

They cheer when she joins the team? That's outrageously cute, stop that right now

Also yeah Taylor you're faking companionship for personal gain of course you feel bad, that's been like 10% of the torment you specifically have been subjected to (I'm not supposed to know about Julia's shit yet but whatever)

Again, very clever ideas made less clever by the ensuing practicalities of the situation. The thing with the spider silk all over again, but now the stakes are higher, and that's probably gonna be a recurring thing

God but it kills me how low Taylor's self-esteem is, poor girl. Emma and the others have done such heinous fucking damage. Someone rizz this girl up or something (am I using "rizz" right), let her feel like she can be attractive

Jesus how touch-starved is Taylor at this point in her life

How often does anyone just go for casual physical closeness with her

Does her dad even hug her that much anymore? Does she let him, or does she bristle at the vulnerability and push him away?

...I wonder if Lisa knows this and is taking it into account.

God, finally, a normal view of the Docks. I cannot begin to describe my relief at the fact that the narration here was like, fine, actually. Thank you for lightening up on them Taylor, please let this last

The Undersiders' hangout sounds about like what I'd expect, although the whole "abandoned factory beneath the loft" part I think escaped me before. Very Lost Boys of them

...I have to imagine it smells at least a little rank in there. Two teenage boys, plus dog smell, and I can't imagine Rachel is super observant of her hygiene, and I don't know enough about Tattletale to say whether she's bad about cleanliness but even if she was that's one against, I dunno, six if you count the dogs. Maybe they invest part of the team budget into Febreze or something

This is... sweet, actually. From both sides. They're making accommodations for Taylor, and Taylor is accepting those accommodations to do them all a favor

Insane that a Ward like, is actively trying to murder someone. What kind of beef does Sophi Shadow Stalker even have with Brian?

I feel some kind of sadness at how young Brian is and how much he acts like an adult. There's almost never a happy story behind kids or teenagers who act that way. It'd be nice if he got more opportunities to relax and act his age, buuuut I don't think this is that kind of story

What a cool power though, honestly. I know the migraines are a motherfucker and I'd probably be a huge baby about that if I had to deal with it, but just shortcutting so much guesswork about like, everything with people and things

Also it's great to see Taylor realize how bad she might have fucked up in trying to infiltrate this team

Heh, yeah, exactly

I wonder what Lisa's reading off of all this. She must have remarkable self-discipline to not be cackling evilly rn

Ruh roh Raggy

Current Thoughts

I love these kiiiiiiiids

It pains me to know they've all had a shit enough time in their lives to all trigger as parahumans, especially being spoiled on Alec's deal as a spawn of Heartbreaker and Lisa's borderline prison sentence under Coil and Brian's struggle with his family. Idk if we ever get more insight into Rachel's path, I'd like to hear it even though I don't think she'd be quick to talk about herself, but I'm gonna guess it's about as sad as the others

I want them all to be happy, and keep being friends without the pressure from Coil to all do crime shit

I know I don't get what I want

so I'll just enjoy the time spent with them best I can

...Anyway I wonder if Taylor's gonna get a mild fear of dogs after this or what

[1-deadgirlwalking-1]

11/3/2024

MY SCHOOL KEEPS HAVING EVENTS TO GO TO THE AQUARIUM BUT IT’S ALWAYS EVERY SINGLE TIME AT THE EXACT SAME AQUARIUM THAT IS 3 HOURS AWAY, I WANNA GOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!1!!1! PICK A DIFFERENT ONE THAT IS CLOSER TO ME FOR ONCE, THERE ARE A DOZEN AQUARIUMS IN OUR STATE. GOSH. I CANNOT DRIVE SIX HOURS FOR A SINGLE DAY ONE EVENT TRIP!!!!!! let me see the FISHIES !!!!!!

but anyway, as a recap:

The friend I said blocked me because I scared him away had actually done so because he got with an abusive girl who forced him to block literally everyone, including MY MOM. MY MOTHER. After he broke up with her he unblocked me and explained the situation and now we’re back to being #besties forever again. I got in a QPR with the friend who’s play I went to and then we “broke up” (I said I wasn’t comfortable with dating anymore and expressed that I didn’t want it to change our relationship, which they said it wouldn’t. Real SHOCKER that didn’t happen. Though I don’t believe they are “in the wrong” for this, they can’t control their feelings.) and now we aren’t talking much anymore. BUT I’ve been texting this SUPER cool person I met a year ago and got to speak to again at their joint birthday party. They’re so awesome and I wanna be bestest friends but it’s difficult cause they live so far awayyyy. ):

And now currently:

I’m tired. I’ve gotten better, I’ve improved in the past few months. I’ve improved significantly even from the days when I was talking about how I’ve gotten so much better. I am constantly consistently improving whether or not I’m able to notice it at the time. I know this logically. But right now I’m in a depression. I had a manic episode a minute ago and now I am quite depressed. My sleep is whack, my eating is just as bad, my hygiene is getting worse. There was a point a little bit ago where I was consistently sleeping well and brushing my teeth daily, which was insane bcus I didn’t even think that was possible. But because I always let my bipolar get the best of me and refuse to medicate I’m back to the habits I’ve always had.

To show how I’ve felt, because I’m too tired to articulate it all over again, here’s a copy-paste of some messages I sent to my best friend on 10/22, 13 days ago:

“this morning mama made me come into her room to work on my schoolwork while i was tired and annoyed, cause i have two late assignments, and it made me wanna get worse to like “punish” her or something. (edgy.) like oh im not doing good enough? im not doing as well as i was earlier in the year? im doing everything wrong and you need to supervise me to make sure im actually working when i want to sleep because im tired and dont want to be alive? well what if i starved and starting hurting myself again fucking god just let me sleep i dont want to exist but i have to get up and get on my stupid eye bleeding computer because mama isnt “doing this with me anymore” and says i cant sleep all day and stay up all night and i need to get all of my schoolwork done every day. which i logically understand is because she cares about me and wants me to listen to her and doesnt want me to spiral and get in a terrible place but i feel like what is even the point.”

“why do i do anything whats the point of being alive i hate doing anything and everything except being with my friends and thats barely something i get to do. i just want to sleep forever nothing makes me really actually happy or content anymore. why am i even alive. im really depressed right now if you csnt tell i think im habing an episode”

“manic goes straight to depression sigh”

“i hate being bipolar im gonna fucking kill myself” (/nsrs)

I was improving about this mentally, feeling better again. But me and my mom had another chat about my parents possibly getting divorced, which is something we’ve had discussions about for a while. Just me and her. And I have known in my heart, that despite what she says; My father will most likely not get better or improve and she will divorce him one day, I just don’t know when that day is. And I’ve been content with that because I know if it did happen a lot would change but it would be for the best, and all I want is for my parents to be the happiest they can be, living the best lives they can. If my mother were to make that decision it’d be because it was the only choice to protect her safety health and wellbeing, she would never do something like that lightly. But when we were talking she said if they got divorced they’d have to sell the house and we’d most likely move into an apartment, which made me start crying because I wasn’t aware of that. I’d never thought of that. That they wouldn’t be able to afford it anymore.

And now because of that, I’m currently feeling like. What’s the point of anything. Why do I even exist. Why do I do the things that make me happy if I’m just going to lose it all tomorrow. What will I even have by then. I’m going to lose everything, I’m going to lose my parents marriage and my house and my entire livelihood. There’ll be no chance for me at that point, the only reason I’ve been improving is because I’ve been here in a safe comfortable place. The whole ordeal is going to ruin me. And it’s going to be all my fault because everything is always my fault.

I’m so tired. I just want. To sleep. It’s 1:03 AM. So I will.

[dancedance-resolution]

p

i am so acutely aware how much money i am spending on these college classes. i do not need to be doing this; i am choosing to spend money on my education. so i don't want to waste that money or this opportunity; i don't want to shortchange myself here. which is part of why it sucks extra hard that i'm falling so behind and doing such a shit job! i've paid $2000 this semester to learn the definition of synecdoche and be so fucking overwhelmed that it's taking a toll on my physical health woohoo. i am getting nothing out of these classes right now because i cannot apply myself. and i don't know fucking why. my adhd is so unmanageable right now even when i was able to take my meds it feels exactly how it felt when my pmdd was affecting the adhd (though i'm not having the mood swings to the same extent as i was with the pmdd). so like what the fuck gives. i dont have a leutal cycle i am on the patch, and the patch has been working so fucking well. maybe i'm depressed but i don't think so? maybe i'm burnt out but i had two pretty significant breaks recently so again i don't think so. AGH what the fuck is wrong w me i want nothing more than to be engaged with my studies and learning everything i can but i just. Can't. i can't keep my living space organized or clean, i can't do basic fucking hygiene regularly, i havent even been crocheting for the past few days. the only bright spot was that insane little burst of Must Write that led to ch 1 of pants allergy fic and the stamps moment early last week. maybe i need to intentionally be more autistic. intentionally tell myself this is designated rocking back and forth and thinking about nothing time. i dont fucking know

i have a bunch of stockpiled 25mg zoloft pills so maybe i'll increase myself by 25mg daily. exercise doesn't seem to be the answer bc i did 8 minutes of very moderate exercise and immediately vommed and it wasn't even hot.

maybe i shall make an appoitnment with one of the guidance ppl at school except i always become unable to articulate anything the second i'm trying to get help. fuck if i know

update i made an appointment w the mental health service their soonest available isn’t until next tuesday which is whatever, its not nearly as long of a wait as it could be etc im grateful, but i am so terrified bc like. do you realize how much shit i will be behind on by tuesday. i’m already overwhelmed with everything that’s overdue rn LOLOL

[xoteajays]

Since when did you watch episode five? And since why am I now just hearing about this?! Maybe I should swat you with a newspaper then..

~

Exactly! I know shows would have recaps for an episode, maybe even a scene, if it does help you remember what happened in earlier plots.. But you did not have to do that whole sequence in every episode, just to annoy the fans by watching the whole beginning repeated like that either. That was completely unnecessary. I wish they'd never did that.

Well.. About the fighting techniques for Kuryu and Mighty Warriors in this situation. Obviously we know Ryu prefers his bladed weapons, so that one isn't too surprising. And even though most of these Warriors are mercenaries, most of the time they'd fight hand to hand combat.

Ice and Jesse just fight hand to hand combat. Obviously Sarah would prefer kicking people around. Pearl and Bernie fight hand to hand too - like everyone else. Anarchy likes curb stomping people any chances he gets. Pho is also hand to hand. So I do think it's bizarre that Kuryu, besides Ryu, would have weapons now. That's just too unusual to me.

Ryu's definitely stronger than Nikaido. But maybe they would actually consider Ryu as a warm up to hunting down Nikaido? I don't know.

~

Like I said! Most of my grandparents are dead. Only two out of six are still alive. And that's only two grandmothers, who so happen to be my biological paternal grandmother and step grandmother. The only four are dead now, one died when I was a teenager and the other three did die during the last year (only months apart). I have mixed feelings any time my family is involved. Mostly some negative feelings rather than positive feelings. And like I told you, my mother's one of thirteen from her side of the family... A huge family. Many of who have undiagnosed health conditions (mainly mental health); the gamblers, or alcoholics, drug addicts, sex addicts. Almost just like the real Shameless family.

~

Those bitches acting like Rocky never takes care of his hygiene.. He is a man who brushes his grillz when he brushes his teeth. This man is a very clean man, he's hygienic. So Strawberry Girls are stupid again.

Yes.. Especially Rocky frequently getting himself cuffed to the railings again. Someone who may be responsible enough to actually help him uncuffed himself from the railing. Kizzy would just blackmail him a lot of the time when he does that.. Not that I blame her. And, apparently, I don't know how true this is. But. Apparently Koo is almost like a very responsible butler to Rocky though. If that's true? That's funny to me.

That's what I thought when Hyuga was released from prison, back in the time when I first watched the franchise. Like.. If people joined the Daruma Ikka gang during Hyuga's imprisonment, they would be more used to the other three as leaders. Big, tall, even burly men (at least in comparison to Sakyo and Ukyo anyway). And then they met Hyuga. A guy who's short and scrawny in comparison to those three guys, even bowing - in their own way - to a man like Hyuga. "Like what's so great about this guy?" Until he really bites off a chunk of someone's skin, or rips out their hair, or even breaking an arm and a leg. Literally. Insane.

That will never fuck with Hyuga after they witnessed those fights.

I should send some close up pictures of the inside of the Itokan diner, since you actually see how Americanized the restaurant truly is in just about every way. English words for starters.. Albums and posters that are from American bands, American brands, American decorations. It really is Americanized. Same with the food. Combining both cultures. Almost like A West Meets East aesthetic to the the restaurant - along with the aesthetic for Mugen and Sannoh to some extent is how I see it. So I do like having a couple of them speaking English, even just the least amount of English. And two of the original men from Mugen did leave for America to become MMA fighters, so they probably may be able to speak English. And in the End Of Sky movie, don't forget that, y'know.. Kohaku and Tsukumo were in America for some time too. So you can't convince me one of them can't speak English. And if I could imagine Cobra speaking English (even a small amount), not only does he probably learn to speak from the other men of Mugen. But I would also imaging him idolizing American fighters too, which could be only one of many reasons why he wanted to learn English. In my opinion.

Orange wearing the Harley Davidson brand clothing like those Mugen and Sannoh gangs. Why does that not surprise me either.

~

I have conflicting feelings about this. Part of me wants to say that it's too fucked up that you would manipulate someone for your own gain. But, at the same time, the person they're manipulating is also a whole gang leader. He's a mafioso. But that is also awkward with the spouse in that same situation during this whole manipulation scenario is also happening. So I might have some conflicting feelings about this then.

Why am I not surprised? Every time someone becomes leader of their mafia, they always come from an abusive family. Like this guy.. Rocky and many others too. I won't say more because that spoils characters though. But many gang leader came from abusive family like this too.

i hadn’t watched it when i answered but i’ve watched it now! i just can’t count! up to ep6 now!

~

i think old kuryu used weapons, but it’s definitely strange for new kuryu to. other than ryu, because he’s been using his swords the whole time. but the rest of the warriors have been very hand-to-hand combat heavy. the guns and stuff in the warriors music video about them becoming kuryu kind of seems out of place for them. same with the suits. like. that’s not mighty warriors style ……

i think ryu would at least fight them. nikaido seems the type to run away, especially from the rude boys of all people since he has history with them. also. i mean. he couldn’t even fight smokey on his own. he brought in the whole force of kuryu’s lil army to beat one man to death.

~

strawberry girls dumb as hell. those things are probably expensive and a statement piece of his whole aesthetic, of course be takes good care of them! look at his fully white outfit! you think he doesn’t take care to keep his stuff clean?!

rocky cuffs himself to the railing once before he hires koo and kizzy and kaito are just like ‘welp, let’s cut it off!’. rocky assumes they mean the cuff, kizzykaito means his hand but act like they meant the cuff when they come back with something to cut with. one of the golden bomber boys has to run in like ‘i found the key!’ before anyone does anything stupid.

on later occasions - when they all know the specific spot where the key is kept - kizzy will blackmail rocky before uncuffing him to get something she wants.

newbies daruma guys seeing their original bosses who hired them bow to hyuga and announce him as their returned leader just wondering what the big deal is about this short dude. then hyuga goes buckwild in a fight and the newbies are like ‘oh. he’s insane actually.’ and don’t want to get on his bad side so they just go along with it. ‘sure, whatever you want from me, new boss, please don’t kill me.’

~

like yea, they’re manipulating a criminal but ……. cmon now. don’t do this my boy. don’t play with his heart like this when his feelings are so genuine. like okay, mess with him in his job, infiltrate his gang, but leave his heart out if it. you’re gonna play with his emotions when you know damn well how he feels about you?! that’s cold! and to be having some kind of fake emotional affair in front of your actual husband too?!!

like okay. criminal. murdering people and selling drugs. that’s bad……. but he’s also my boy and doesn’t deserve this.

it’s always like ‘hol on we need to give our gang leader a real sad backstory …………’ and then like 60% of the time it’s abuse. like okay. it worked. i feel bad for him. but this is like the fifth time yall have used abusive family member for your crime boss, get a new idea maybe.

[dzpenumbra]

5/8/23

Not the most eventful day, to be honest. I slept decently well. I think I got woken up once or twice by neighbors but got back to sleep okay. Oddly enough, ever since I ditched the earplugs I've been sleeping better. Maybe they were messing with me, idk. So much for trying to like... take preventative measures to practice sleep hygiene. The whole point of doing the earplugs was to get better sleep. I expected this massive night-and-day difference because I was finally getting undisturbed sleep, but naw... it somehow made it worse.

It's been a pretty cool week to be an insomniac, the moonset and sunrise have been syncing up, so I get to look out the window from bed and see the pale blue of morning start to soak the sky as the moon grows larger and yellow on its way down. Very picturesque, very memorable.

So yeah, again... not too much today. I had some dreams about my ex last night. Not my most recent ex (who I broke up with in 2018...), thank god... those dreams are rarely good... But my ex from college, actually. --- There's a duck quacking outside my window... at this hour, that's... not often a good sign... best of luck, buddy. --- After studying my dreams this long, I've started learning a lot of how my subconscious expresses itself symbolically. Despite the brevity of the relationship (that one was only about 8 months) and how... kinda horribly it ended... that relationship usually represents... idealism in a relationship, to me. At a subconscious level, at least. Because the experience of that relationship, for me at the time, was pure idealism. It was "I am so insanely lucky and blessed to have this opportunity". So, despite the blindness that came with that at the time... that's typically what she represents when she pops up in a dream. The focus of an ideal relationship or an ideal partner, even though the girl herself wasn't that in real life at all.

I wish I thought to record the dream, I've started to notice that I don't often journal the "normal" ones or the "good" ones as often as the "surreal" and "bad" ones. But, from my almost empty recollection, it was mostly just like... normal relationship stuff. Going and doing stuff in the world, buying things for the apartment, stuff like that. I remember it feeling very... normal. And that inspired me to hop on the dating app the second I woke up. And I went through everyone available, swiped a few that looked like we might mesh well, and... nothing came of it. As usual. 3 years of this, you think I'd learn by now not to get my hopes up with that.

I'm sure that was on my mind because I was watching a stream last night where the streamer was playing an FMV dating game, and one of the dates in the game was... a bit too close to my current identity. I mean, if you subtracted the kombucha, the veganism, the parents in political office, and the activism... and swapped genders... it wasn't far off from me. And there's one line from it that hit me pretty hard. This chick ran her own business making customized clothing and crafts and stuff, and the guy - on the first date - asked "wow, are you really making enough to do that full-time?" And that just... it's still stuck with me. That's a big insecurity and I have gotten a shit ton of judgment from former "friends" for it. I still don't like telling people what I do for work because of it. What helped me ground myself? The fact that the guy scoffing and rolling his eyes at a practical business like that... plays video games for a living on Twitch.

You can fucking scoff at any job, honestly. You really can, if you really try hard enough. "You answer phones for a living? That doesn't sound hard." "You pick up peoples' garbage? Why don't you just get a better job?" But creatives get shit on the hardest. Because people who have spent fuck-all time actually applying themselves to performative or expressive crafts, who wouldn't set foot on stage or put their art on a wall in front of an audience if you had a loaded gun to their head, just kinda feel like that person is "cheating at life" or something. It's like... if you love what you do, suddenly that means it's not hard... or demanding... or you don't deserve to be compensated for your labor or something. It's mind-blowing. I honestly don't get it. Starting your own cottage industry shop and pursuing your lifelong passion is like... the epitome of the American dream, isn't it? The whole "Land of Opportunity" thing? And yet... these people don't see your career as legitimate unless you're working... for someone else. Unless you're on someone else's payroll. It's very odd. Maybe that's just what they see as the definition of success, maybe they can't even process a freelance or business owner kind of thing. Idk. I've just had my head poisoned by that shit for well over a decade and a half and it sabotaged my future many times, and now I'm looking down the barrel of 37... and I'm just...

Okay, my thoughts are going too fast to keep up with so let me connect a bit here. I drew another ink drawing today - a big chunk of one, at least. I drew until my thumb ached to the bone, until I could feel the tendons in my forearm tight as guitar strings and straining, rubbing against the skin from underneath. I drew for close to 4 hours straight with a pee break and a break to get a banana and come right back. When I'm in the zone, I work until I can't anymore. And then I do more. I don't need money to motivate me to do it. I don't need fame or fortune or sex or drugs. I do it because it's what I'm here to do. And I have dedicated my life to putting as much of my life into that purpose as I possibly can. So... when I have people near me... who are supposed to be in a supportive position... instead of like... helping me connect with others who appreciate what I do, who benefit from my work, who see its importance, who value and support my work and its continued creation.... Instead, these people.. for years... convinced me that my time and efforts, were better suited laboring for someone else. At very least, the majority of my time and labor should be dedicated to someone else. And it really doesn't matter who benefits from it, or what I'm doing. Just literally anything else than what I do. Great support, yeah?

So... yeah, I'm still reeling a bit. That's a raw nerve for me. I took the leap of faith to finally embrace the title of artist again like... 4 years ago? And I'm still plunging. It's scary as shit to dedicate yourself fully to something that people actively tell you will not succeed. That takes a lot of faith. But for me... I mean... What the fuck else am I going to do?! It's what I'm wired to do! It's how I'm wired to function. I swear, I just need someone who knows like... social shit. Networking, gallery connections (?), community connections, shit like that. I'm just no good at that shit. I came from a family that considered their clients their "friends" and their idea of going out and socializing was going out to the same restaurant and ordering the same food and small-talking with the waitress for like 5 minutes while ordering food, while me and my brothers just sat there awkwardly... We barely even went on vacations and shit. I can do social shit, but it takes a lot of oomph and I really have to be in the right headspace. But good fucking lord, it would be so much easier if I had someone in my life who was willing to do that for me, who it actually did come naturally to - or at least... with me.

Ugh, I didn't want to get into that tonight. I did a good job of keeping the stitches in that wound last night, I guess it worked its way out now. My family and "friends" did a fucking number on me with that one. And yeah, I guess slaving away on this drawing for... nothing... nothing more than just another doodle in a notebook... It makes me feel really unvalued. And really unappreciated. And that hurts so bad, because I love doing this work so much, and I really feel like it is worth something. Like the decade and a half I've put into this work is worth supporting. Like this life is one that others can benefit from. But no one really seems to want to. They'd rather go to a "professional", or someone with 2k 5-star ratings, or buy something a computer made, or get an AI to make a cheap imitation for them.

Aaaaaand I'm cutting off this existential crisis right here. A big part of this is the void created when I finish a project. That void being filled with my only work today being a sketch, which... was actually really cool... but just... doesn't feel like it's going to help me get my rent paid. And that, combined with the thousands of chat reactions to a character from the stream last night, it just... it's tinder and a spark. But it's gonna take more than that to stop me. Sorry.

I don't know if I have any good vibes to end this with, honestly, though I could really use them right now. ... I'm overdue for a trip out into the world, honestly. I should go for a walk. Or, better yet, go take my electric board and go skating or something. Wow, I just have a ton of really anxious thoughts swirling around in my head right now... Like "I just don't want to go alone", and "I don't feel safe", shit like that. Over going skating on a sunny Monday. Welcome to trauma and severe anxiety, and depression. Yay.

Okay, well here's something, fuck it. I applied for the new RP server. I'm going to get declined, I guarantee it. Not dooming, I say that because people who have been RPing for years and have a video resume to back it up and paid to have their applications reviewed first? They are getting declined. So... I'm most likely not getting in. But I applied. And I barely felt anxious doing so, so that's a good step. And I didn't feel anxious on the dating app either, which is also good. So, there's some good vibes there. It's frustrating how quickly I can spiral with this shit, and how little it takes to tear apart the seams, but... I'm handling it much better than I used to. The thoughts swirl and poke through, but they don't overwhelm as much, it's not as visceral and emotional, it's just like... loud and overwhelming. But I can put it aside a bit better than I used to, and that's great progress.

[twohundred40-blog]

So where am I at?

I moved to a new city. It’s amazing here and I LOVE IT. My estate is insane … it’s gated and safe, it looks like something out of a movie the layout and architecture is SO unique. I have a balcony that overlooks the trees. It’s so calm and quiet here. I’m in love. The city is much nicer than Coventry, so many nice shops, cafes, history, farms ahhh. I do miss aspects of Coventry though, I loved the culture and being able to pop in and see my sisters or pop to the pub on a random evening. I need to learn to drive because I’m quite isolated here, nothing is about. I have a few friends here and they’re amazing but I do wish I had more. My anxiety is still bad in that sense… but better than it used to be.

I have the most amazing group of friends from uni. A proper solid friend group, we don’t meet up much but when we do it’s when I’m at my absolute happiest. The good thing about being far away is we get to have whole weekends together, we visit each other or go somewhere on an adventure. All we do is laugh. And there’s limited drama but when this is drama… I live for it.

I finally got a “proper” job. I’m still pretty anxious because I’m new at it and I’m much less confident than the other new girl. But everybody is so lovely so I’m hoping I slowly fit in more and be more confident. I spent my last shift doing maths and I can’t even explain how much I enjoyed it. Yeh nerdy, but it was like all the aspects of maths I love and so rewarding when I had that light bulb moment. I have no idea what the future is for my career but at the moment I’m happy there, getting qualifications and working for a genuine company. It feels good. I don’t think I’ll be there forever but who knows what the future holds.

My sister is having a BABY. I cannot begin to explain how happy it makes my heart. It’s all very surreal, our family is finally growing. I hate that I’m so far away and I’ll miss a lot of it but I hope I can bond with the baby and when they’re a bit older they can come stay here and I’m going to be the cool aunt. I’m going to absolutely spoil it, and make sure it has an amazing music taste.

Do I want kids? No idea. I go between desperate to have a baby to I’m not ready to I don’t want kids. I’m not entirely sure to be honest but I think it’ll come natural if it’s meant to be. I can’t lie friends and family having babies is making me broody as hell.

Mentally I’m doing pretty well, I’m far from perfect, I still laze around a lot and have my depressive episodes, and nap a lot. In general though I’m much better than I used to be, fairly normal sleep schedule, better hygiene and self care. I’m eating better but definitely in need of improvement and it’s a struggle sometimes. I’m going to take it slow and continue my journey of growth. I came a long way but then just kind of stopped… I guess I’m scared if I disappoint myself I’ll tip over the edge again. I want to be the kind of person who gets up and has breakfast, exercises, reads, draws, tries new things, drinks lots of water, showers every day. Sounds quite simple but for me … it’s a struggle. I have to remind myself of how far I’ve came though and know I’m strong enough to keep going. I’ve also been cigarette free for 13 days. I won’t lie it’s a huge struggle, my cravings are through the roof. I’m determined to jeep it up though no matter how hard it is.

I finally feel like I fit in with my partners family. I mean they’ve always been amazing and I’ve always loved them but at the start I always felt a bit like I didn’t fit in. Well now they are absolutely family to me. I’m so comfortable with them and I look forward to seeing them SO much. I’m going to be a bridesmaid at my partners mums wedding and I cannot WAIT!

As for my relationship. Wow. I didn’t realise I could be in such a healthy relationship, in fact I didn’t even think they existed… I kind of thought people just settled. There’s so much love there, we support each other, we grow together. We laugh together all the time, there’s so much passion ( the sex is …. still absolutely off the charts and it’s been over 4 years). He still gives me butterflies constantly and he’s my best friend at the same time, like my absolute best friend. The way he looks at me as well… oh my god. It’s literally like I feel like I’m in an epic love song or something. And I love love love me time and I have down days, I want to be alone a lot of the time but with him it’s like… he’s actually my other half, I feel incomplete without him. He lets me have me time of course but… I like him being here more.

And the best part, we’re going to get MARRIED!! I always had mixed views on marriage and to be honest I still do. But after meeting this man, I knew I wanted to marry him. It doesn’t have to be the worlds idea of marriage it can be ours. Honestly I’d happily elope with him and get married just us two but really I can’t wait to have a big party with everyone we love. I want SO MANY FLOWERS and plants, I want homemade decorations and cake. I want so much of our personalities put into it. A celebration of us. Then life after marriage? I really truly believe our fairy tale will just keep on going. I couldn’t imagine life without this man. He’s my obsession and … I’m his. We have no idea where our life will go, where we’ll live, what jobs we’ll do, if we’ll have kids but we know one thing, we’re in it together.

Basically I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I still need some self growth, I still have no idea what I’m doing. But I love it. Oh man I still want my glow up as well. To be honest I’m pretty happy with my appearance, the main thing for me is freaking out that other girls look like models and I look like a 16 year old … and my appearance never changes. Joe reminds me constantly though he thinks I’m perfect and he treats me like a god damn princess all the time, even when I’m difficult. I’ll still get a better hair cut, tan and get better at make up. Oh and hopefully grow some tits and ass. But I don’t really care what other people think anymore because I’m happy with myself and I know Joe loves me no matter what.

I’m enjoying this chapter of life … I cannot wait to see what comes next.

[bawkrya]

Uuuh something something flag (i want to hear about cdramas)

ok HI well you caught me at the most devastating time where im fixated on the worst of the three cdramas i rotate in my brain (or ginal sin again) LOL, im going to force yall to sit down and perceive my hyperspecific version of chi zhen (my girlfriend) in my brain

SO! if you have the patience take my essay length "summary" of OS/and how i perceive it to have more context for who chi zhen is and what he does

my transgender king. and NOT in the way u wld expect. chi zhen is like. Removed from a lot of things, but i think she esp wld be for LGBT stuff & similar topics. like he didnt know what a bisexual was until one of the girls at his club explained it to him removed. If you put this man through covid 2020 lockdown he would come out trans in some way which is WHAT I DO TO HIM!

ive kind of given her my gender which is no gender but in the opposite way where hes transfem vs me being transmasc. she still aligns with more masculine things but also sophie called him her 'favorite pretty girl' as a joke once and he had to sit down and dissect the feelings it put in his brain. i literally use she/her or he/him for her depending on what flows better with the sentence in my brain.

if i do commit to the rewrite though it wld be very very subplot that IS noted, but he literally wouldnt even have time to properly think about it in depth bc hes u know, trying to kill someone, someones trying to kill him, etc............ but also for the rewrite i am wanting to do 'spinoff' where i jst invest some writing into 'downtime' story for like. character development. Filler basically but its not being injected as to prevent the rewrite from getting too long bc I Promise You It Will.

2. going 2 go over this before my actual next point i wanted to go over but this mf has autism. he wears sunglasses p much everywhere & honestly jst seems like he has a sensitivity to light. the way he goes about certain social instances in the show. and i dont think we were shown Much of how she is in the courtroom but she very much seems to be a patterns sort of person when it comes to solving situations.

also i am autistic.

3. the actual thing iwanted to go over: herspecial interest is colognes/perfumes and he can identify a VERY good portion of such jst by smelling it. i literally dont know why this is wht i chose for him but hes Definitely like insanely prissy about personal hygiene and (covers the show with my hand) dresses herself well and i just think he shld have a cologne/perfume collection.

chi zhen doesnt really have too many REAL personal belongings, hes been in jail, where he lives is very purposely hidden so he doesnt really have an Option to keep many personal items. But. I think he wld have a pretty decent collection of different cologne/perfume. which is fueled when people give him such for birthdays/holidays

i dont think she wld specifically have a preference bc different perfumes suit different people, on top of different styles of perfumes and all that. ipersonally dont know enough abt perfumes to even go in depth for it but she would kno the intricacies. She would.

its not smth he like talks abt all the time bt by god u ask him one (1) thing related to it and it can turn into a good 45 minute conversation b4 she realizes whats happening and immediately goes :| BC IT GETS HIM EMBARRASSED ........... but he likes it a lot and of the ppl who kno abt her interest they usually ask her for suggestions on it bc she likes assigning certain scents 2 people. like a planned filler scene i got is based on her getting like really suddenly angry/antsy while trying to go over a case and its literally bc lu li unexpectedly changed colognes w/o saying anything and he fucking lectures him for it

but yeah um i thikn that is all i am goign to willingly post abt publicly for my hyperspecific hcs for this guy bc 4 some reason i think the cringe police will come and kill my ass if i go into anymore depth. i lvoe this mf so fucking much i want to dissect him like you would tear off a young branch from a tree and split its bark in order to see the stringy inside

[justjuiceyboy]

new beginnings

in which Happy is the readers tattoo artist

word count: 1,637

warnings: swearing 

(a/n: I’m basically becoming a blog for Happy, will get back to writing Juice soon, just got this idea and knew I had to run with it. Hope you all enjoy and if you ever want to request my asks are open! Love you all, thanks for supporting!)

———————————

7:45 p.m. The sun was setting, causing an array of colours over the buildings of Charming, lighting up the place like a movie. The air was fresh, warm as it was the middle of July. You strolled along the footpath and kicked a small rock as you walked, to calm your nerves. You had made the quick decision with your friend to get tattoos together on this day. But you were walking alone, friendless.

You were not ever going to get a tattoo alongside your ’friend’ who you had caught sleeping with your boyfriend of two years. Two years and he threw it down the drain. With your best friend nonetheless. You just packed your things as he tried to claim his innocence, even though you caught him in bed with her. You were lucky to find an apartment that day that someone was trying to get rid of. At least you had somewhere to stay, even if the entire situation wasn’t ideal.

You still decided to go through with the tattoo, wanting to use this as an opportunity for new beginnings. 

You were brought out of your daydream by the pinging of your phone, google maps telling you that you’ve reached your destination. You looked around, wide-eyed, not really knowing what to expect. But here you were, standing outside a small shop adorned with a sign stating “Mallen Tattoos”. This was the place you were looking for.

Pushing open the door, you were instantly met with the smell of cigarette smoke and disinfectant. At least they use disinfectant, you thought to yourself, trying not to show any emotion. 

You walked promptly up to the front counter and coughed to get the man's attention. He looked up at you from where he was sitting and gave you a warm smile, accompanied by “You alright Darling?” 

You were insanely put at ease by his kind demeanour and you smiled back at him, “Hi, I have an appointment for a tattoo at 8, booked it a few weeks ago?” He started flipping through a book that was on the desk and stopped, raising a brow, “says here that there’s gonna be two of you?” 

You sighed, having forgotten that obviously, your best friend was in on the booking too. You told that man that it was just you and handed over some ID, hoping he’d still allow you to be tattooed even though it was only one client. You handed over the money for the tattoo in hopes that that may persuade him further. But once again he smiled and got up from his seat, bringing you through a small hallway to a spacious room with four big leather chairs for tattooing. He gestured to one of them and you sat down.

He brought over a clipboard full of waivers for you to sign and then spoke once again. “Oh, I forgot to tell you Miss, but the artist you wanted, well, he’s sick today. Real bad infection! But anyways, we have a different guy here who gets tattooed all the time, very talented too, if you’ll take him instead?” You could tell he was nervous as to how you’d react. You’d spoken to the other artist on the phone and he’d done practice drawings of the tattoo and sent them to you so you were pretty nervous to let a new artist just take over but before you could weigh up the pros and cons you just nodded. New beginnings, right?

He let out a sigh of relief that he had been holding in and apologised for all this which made you laugh. But you stopped laughing as soon as you saw your new tattoo artist.

A tall figure entered the room, walking over to the man who had led you here. They seemed friendly with each other as they talked. Your nervousness was now back in full force as you surveyed the man who was about to ink your body. He was bald and you could see the tattoos going up his arms. He had an extensive collection which you assumed went much further than just his arms but your view was covered by the plain white T-Shirt he was wearing. He was quite scary, never creating a smile the entire time the other man was talking to him. Your tattoo artist was handed a few pages and he nodded after looking through them, finally making his way over to you who was sweating in the leather chair.

“This is Happy! He’ll take great care of you don’t worry! If you need anything you know where I am” the overly jolly man as he waved goodbye to you both and returned down the hall. Happy. The man in front of you was anything but Happy, with his scary look and overly built body. You knew he was a part of the Sons Of Anarchy biker gang.

You finally made eye contact with Happy and your nervousness increased once again. He was a good-looking man and you knew this tattoo could take some time. Being trapped in close contact with a man like this would terrify anyone. Also, he has some menacing eyes that you felt nearly bore holes into you when he looked.

“Do you know where you want it?” He questioned suddenly, you hearing his voice for the first time. Your mind instantly went to the wrong idea of what you want where and you choked out an exclamation of “what?!”

“The tattoo, where do you want it?” He stated not changing his expression. You mentally hit yourself in the face for going to the dirty side of things and once again was only barely able to speak when you said “ribs.”

He nodded and set up with the pre-made stencil as you lifted your shirt over one shoulder, half your body on display now. He focused on the task at hand and lay the stencil whilst you tried to look anywhere else but at him, knowing that he’d make your knees go weak and you’d say something stupid again. 

Once you agreed to the positioning, he began the process of the needlework. This was the first time you’d been tattooed and you didn’t know what to expect in regards to pain. The second he hit the skin, you jumped. He looked up at you and raised an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly so he continued on again. There was no small talk which you were thankful for. You were trying not to make a big deal of it but you could feel every touch, especially when he brushed off your boob whilst doing the linework.

He began filling the shape and shading and you let out a quiet ‘fuck’ and a breath. The man finally broke the silence as he stopped tattooing for a quick minute and rustled around in the pocket of his leather kutte. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and held it one out to you. Talk about a hygienic practice, but you couldn’t judge right now, anything to take your mind off the pain.

“It helps, especially first time,” he concluded, lighting the cigarette and bringing it up to your lips. You took a drag and felt more relaxed now so he continued on again, placing the cigarette in between his own lips. But this time he kept talking, probably to distract you.

“Why the tattoo?” He asked, without looking at you of course, as he was busy staring at the skin beside your breast. You decided to give in to the small talk, mainly because you wanted to see what you could find out about the man who held a needle to your ribs and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“I booked it with a friend but I found out she was sleeping with my boyfriend so I’m not really sure why I still came if I’m being honest,” you told him, not being wary that you were spilling the truth to a stranger.

“Sounds like a dick” he stated point-blank, making you laugh quietly. “Yeah, she was.”

“Meant the boyfriend. He was obviously stupid,” he mumbles, one eye flicking up to you as he pulled away again. He took the cigarette from his mouth and reached up to you again to let you have a puff. You weren’t sure if it was the air or the cigarette smoke clouding your judgment but the entire scene felt slightly erotic to you now. Hot man, feathery touched on your body and sharing a cigarette between both of your mouths. 

Happy seemed to have unwavering confidence as he watched you take a long drag as he spoke again, “You need a real man.” Now it was your turn to mumble, “beats me when I’ll find one of those.” It only took him another five or so minutes to finish on the tattoo and he then wrapped the area for you in silence.

He wrote a few things on a piece of printed paper and handed it to you, telling you it was just the care instructions and told you how to wash the area. You thanked him and he nodded again, signaling that you can go. You left the room and walked out the door of the shop, waving to the friendly man at the front desk.

The air was now brisk as you turned on your heel, ready to walk home. You were about to stuff the paper into your pocket as you noticed what he wrote at the bottom.

‘If you’re still looking for that real man, call me’

It was accompanied by his phone number and a small smiley face, which in turn made you smile. Looks like you’ll be seeing him again soon and not just for another tattoo. As you said, new beginnings, right?

[silhouetteofacedar]

Impersonal, Ch. 7

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, Rated E

The game had ended and he wasn’t surprised.

He expected this. He prepared himself all day Saturday by running six miles, jacking off twice, and mopping his entire apartment. He didn’t even own a mop; he actually went out and bought one. By the time Sunday morning rolled around he was ready for the inevitable collapse of their precarious sexual arrangement and greeted Scully with aplomb.

And then she paid for breakfast.

That was unexpected. When the FBI wasn’t footing the bill, they usually split the tab, or threw a “you can get the next one” down on the table alongside crumpled bills.

He had been joking about it being a date, but then she paid. And it meant something. Her big blue eyes pinned him to the booth, had him trapped and squirming like an insect on a card as she laid a hand over the check. “I’ve got it,” she said, and his senses were suddenly ignited. He could feel thick sunshine pouring over them, lighting up Scully’s hair like a smudge of cinnamon. Her lips looked so sweet and soft, and the very idea that he might never feel them again stole his breath. He felt dry and empty, a desiccated housefly body lying on a windowsill.

He thanked her for breakfast, and his throat was lined with dust.

Their parting was weird. Hinting that he was still available to her was an insane risk, and she turned it into a joke about Frohike. Unless she actually thought he was the one joking about Frohike, which he has to admit wouldn’t be out of character for him.

He’s tired of joking, tired of hiding, tired of dancing around his intentions. Tired of wanting and not asking, tired of being in his own damn way.

Scully has given him a graceful exit, a neatly drawn map back to their pre-sex starting point. And not for the first time, Mulder wads up the map and tosses it aside. Scully made her move; it was time for him do the same.

What that move would be, he has no idea.

It takes him eleven days. No wonder Scully took matters into her own hands the first time around. Inspiration strikes him during his drive from Alexandria to D.C. the next Thursday morning, when he crosses the Potomac and gets a glimpse of faraway blossoms.

He waits until 4:47 that afternoon to say anything.

“Hey Scully, you doing anything tonight?” he asks, rifling through a stack of papers as though he’s attending to FBI business and not trying to work up courage like a schoolboy.

Her glossy red head is bent over a file, pen at her lip. “Besides folding an obscenely large pile of laundry, my schedule seems fairly empty,” she replies. She looks up at him suspiciously. “Why, Mulder?”

“No reason, really. There’s just something I wanted to show you, get your opinion on.”

“Is it related to a case?”

He opens a desk drawer, pretending to look for something. “Well it could be a totally natural phenomenon, but who can say for certain without proper investigation?”

Scully sighs. “Fine, I’ll bite. And speaking of bites, I’m starving. If we’re going to work off the clock, can we at least eat?”

“Wanna stop for Chinese? We can take it with us. We’re not going far, the food should still be hot when we get to our secondary location.”

They take Mulder’s car, picking up several cartons of food from a restaurant in Chinatown a few blocks up from the Hoover building before making their way towards the National Mall. Mulder parks in the lot near the Washington Monument.

“You weren’t kidding when you said we weren’t going far,” Scully says, gathering up the bag of takeout. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“That,” he replies, pointing ahead.

Hundreds of cherry trees line the Tidal Basin, their leaves almost entirely obscured by tufts of blossoms. Scully steps onto the path, open-mouthed.

“Oh my god,” she murmurs.

Mulder shoves his hands in his pockets. “Pretty fantastic, huh?”

“Mulder,” she says in awe, looking sideways at him, “What are we doing here?”

He shrugs. “I just wanted to see them.”

“At night?”

“Daylight’s for tourists, Scully.”

———

They’re sitting on the damp grass, endeavoring to split the last egg roll using only their dueling pairs of chopsticks.

“This is impossible, Scully. I’m going to use my hands.”

“Then I definitely don’t want the other half,” she says.

“Are you implying something about my hygiene?”

“I’ve seen some of the places your hands have been, Mulder.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Not what I meant,” she says softly. “But the point still stands.”

Mulder lays back on the lawn, his long coat fanning wide. Scully pulls an edge of it towards her, scoots closer so she can rest her pantyhose-clad calves on it instead of the grass.

“I’ve always preferred the blossoms at night,” he says. “There’s something ghostly about them, all pink and white against the dark sky. Not an ominous kind of ghostly, however; if good spirits exist, I think they’d look like these trees. You know most early European religions feature some sort of reverence for trees or forests, whether as spiritual gathering places or deities themselves-“

“Mulder.”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to eat that egg roll, or can I have it?”

He passes her the carton. “And-”

“Why did you bring me here, Mulder?”

He glances at her and is surprised to see a tenderness in her eyes. His gaze returns to the branches above.

“I just figured I owe you a nice trip to a forest, and this one won’t require any paperwork.”

Scully smiles. “That’s a very considerate choice, Mulder, especially since I’m always the one doing said paperwork.”

“You’re more succinct and readable than I am, apparently. And Skinner clearly likes you better.”

“Didn’t you punch him in the face once?”

“That’s beside the point. I think he has a bit of a crush on you, Scully.”

She rolls her eyes. “What?” Mulder asks.

“I just… it’s nothing, It’s been a long day. And it’s cold out here.”

Mulder sits up and withdraws his arms from the sleeves of his overcoat.

“No- Mulder, don’t, I’m fine.”

“Move your legs,” he instructs, pulling the edge of the coat out from under her. He stands and drapes it around her shoulders before plopping back down on the grass next to her.

“Thanks,” she says. “Still, it’s getting late.”

He glances at his watch. “It’s seven-thirty on a Thursday. You got somewhere to be?” His arm bumps her shoulder companionably. “Come on, just a little longer. Maybe we’ll see something unidentified in the sky.”

He grins at her and the corner of her mouth twitches in reply. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice,” she sighs. “You drove us here.”

He feels a slight increase of pressure against his arm and realizes that Scully is ever so slightly leaning into him. A gentle warmth glows in his belly, and he glances sidelong at her.

I’m a lucky son of a bitch, he thinks.

“How so?” Scully asks.

Oh. He said it out loud. He clears his throat, tries to steer his thoughts back into safer waters.

“Well, for one thing, I’m not dead,” he says. “Not for lack of trying.”

Scully nods solemnly.

“I’ve seen incredible things, things people spend their whole lives looking for, hoping for, believing in. I’ve tasted proof, held the truth in my hands. And in spite of everything, I’m still here. We’re still here. That’s pretty goddamn lucky.”

“I don’t feel very lucky,” Scully says softly. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve fucked up every good thing I’ve ever had a chance at. My father certainly thought so, at least for a long time.”

They sit silently for a moment. “Without you, I’d be long dead,” Mulder admits.

“I know,” Scully replies. “I’m always awed by your resilience, actually. I can’t take all the credit for your continued survival.”

“Yeah, you can,” he says, getting to his feet and dusting stray blades of grass off his slacks. He holds out a hand and helps her to her feet. Her fingers are cool against his palm, and he wonders if she’d notice if he didn’t let go. Probably.

He wants to pull her in by the lapels of his coat, gather her to his chest, hold her for no reason other than he can. Kiss her brow, smell her hair, feel her small hands sliding under his suit jacket. He wants her just as she is, for exactly who she is.

But he’s a chickenshit, so instead he just walks beside her along the Tidal Basin, under the cherry blossoms, and doesn’t hold her hand.

They spend the five minute drive back to the Bureau in comfortable silence. Scully leans her head against the car window, and Mulder briefly wonders if she’ll fall asleep. He loves when she nods off while he’s driving; it makes him feel safe. She makes him feel safe.

He parks a few spots away from her car in the Bureau parking garage, turns off the engine. Scully gathers up her briefcase, leaving Mulder’s coat draped open on the passenger seat.

“Why are you getting out?” she asks, seeing Mulder unbuckling his seatbelt.

“I need a file from the office,” he lies. He exits the car and goes around to her side. “I’ll walk you to your door, it’s on my way.”

It’s twenty feet from her car to his. “Thank you, Mulder,” Scully says sardonically, fishing her keys out of her coat pocket. “If I weren’t armed, that would have been very thoughtful of you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies. He takes a step forward.

“What are you doing?” Scully asks, one hand on her car door, keys in the other.

“Nothing,” he replies quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” God, she’s so small, this could so easily go wrong-

He pitches forward, bending down, and presses his lips to the fullness of her cheek. His nose brushes the soft skin under her eye and he inhales sharply, drawing back.

They blink at each other. “Bye,” Mulder offers.

Scully nods. “Yes. Goodnight.” She glances to the elevators. “Was there actually a file you needed?”

He just looks at her, and she presses her lips together in understanding. “Right. Well, I’m leaving, so… see you tomorrow then.”

Right. Despite recent events, the earth was still spinning.

Later, when he hangs his overcoat, he notices the faintest scent of her shampoo on the collar.

[shorkbrian]

You’ll learn to love me back

Prelude - Yooo mayhaps I’ll do a thirst post soon for daddyzawa. This man is an absolute control freak but he’s also logical and so so soft. Reader may seem stupid and like they’re accepting the situation but like?? If someone kidnapped me I’d be like so scared. Bros I am so trusting a villian could be like ‘Yo there’s a dog down that dark alley, you just have to pass those two burly dudes with the chloroform.” And i’d be trotting on down looking for the puppy.

https://youtu.be/eCCtiK7KlSo This is the vibe 

Prompt - “I’m taking care of you now. That’s why you’re here”

Warnings - SFW until the very end. Mild groping and an intense build up to off scene NSFW.

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He knows it’s wrong. You know he knows that everything he is doing and has done to you is wrong. Problem is, he doesn’t care.

It had been hard to adjust at first. You thought the underground hero could be trusted, despite his ragged appearance and few words. Even though he mainly stayed in the shadows, not preferring the spotlight and the praise his counterparts received, everyone knew his trademark black hero outfit and yellow goggles. Plus, you had seen him a couple times around at work. So when the man dropped out of nowhere, rushing you to “come with him”, you immediately complied. Who were you to disobey a hero?

Confusion grew as it seemed like he was leading you to a slightly run-down apartment complex, the outside paint fading, the elevator out-of-order. But he was a hero, there was no reason for you not to trust him. There would be no reason for him to hurt or trick you, you were an upstanding citizen and did your job diligently. You worked at UA as a nighttime janitor, trying to supplement your meagre income that you earned working during the day at a nearby grocery store. Prices were insane these days and you always felt like you were barely scraping by.

Looking back, if you could give any advice to your past self it’d be to run away screaming. It would be futile, of course; the erasure hero was quick and efficient at immobilizing fleeing villains, so capturing a simple civilian would be a piece of cake for the man. He refused to answer your questions as the two of you climbed the stairs of the apartment complex, urging that there was “no time” and the two of you needed to hurry. Who were you to argue? 

It only started to register that something was wrong after he steered you through one of the doors on the seventh floor, immediately turning and fiddling with something on the door the second you were through. “Mr. Eraserhead?” You had tried, his back still turned as you timidly continued. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?” The man had faced you then, an off-putting smile dancing along his features. Your stomach filled with butterflies; something was wrong.

You tried to stay calm, I mean, that’s what they tell you to do in scary, bad situations right? But as he began talking, your heart felt like something was squeezing it, your limbs numb with cold. You were going to stay there now, he explained, and you weren’t going to leave. It was for your protection and safety, and the pro-hero would accept no arguments on the matter. There was water in the kitchen and the bathroom was in the back, next to the bedroom.

You had smiled uneasily, thinking it was some sort of joke. Heros did that sometimes, right? For TV commercials or elaborate pranks on celebrities. There were probably cameras hidden somewhere, and a man ready to jump out with a wide smile claiming you had won something or passed a test or something. There was no way that Mr. Eraserhead was serious about this. But as the seconds ticked on, your anxiety grew.  The man in front you shouldered past with a “Make yourself comfortable”, and promptly disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall. You were left in silence, confused, scared……. Should you still wait for the cameramen to jump out?

There were no cameramen.

It hadn’t seemed bad at first, technically, temporarily staying with Eraserhead. He preferred you to call him Shouta, but he also preferred you to not try and escape the clean, minimal apartment. There was something on the door that thwarted your attempts, and the windows were useless because you were seven feet off the ground. There was no fire escape, and there was no escape for you.

He treated you well enough, considering you were a prisoner in his home. You had learned that it was his apartment the first night when he had offered you the chance to sleep in his bed, which you shakily refused. The apartment matched the man; simple, practical, and quiet. The first three or so days you had been in shock, sitting numbly on the black leather couch, staring blankly at the equally-blank wall as you waited for Erase-Shouta to come and tell you it was all a cruel joke. 

He hardly said a word to you. 

Shouta was a relatively silent man, but when he did deign to speak it was practical, to-the-point, and his voice was soft and low, as if he was talking to a scared animal ready to bolt. In some way, you guess that’s what he saw you as, trembling nervously all the time, your eyes filled with fear as you continuously tried to take up as little space as possible. For the most part he left you alone, aside from asking what foods you preferred or if you wanted water at mealtimes. There was a TV in the living room, but it stayed off.  The only form of entertainment you could find was the small bookcase near one of the windows, filled with classics.

If Shouta wasn’t sleeping, he was hovering nearby, sipping coffee while he tapped away on his phone or worked on his laptop.  Whenever you glanced at him you were unsettled to find his eyes already trained on you. You would glance away as quickly as possible and return your focus to the book in your hand, heart thudding away beneath your ribcage.

A problem had arisen the fourth night, when you were getting ready to fall asleep on the couch, since you refused to go anywhere near Shouta and his bed. You didn’t know what the mans intentions with you were, but you didn’t want to take any chances or make things easier for him. He had come to the door of his bedroom, leaning against it lazily as he crossed his arms, that studious gaze never seeming to leave you. He had suggested you take a shower and change, and that he had clothes and towels and anything else you might need. 

You shook your head.

He had tried again, his voice just as soft as he reasoned with you. The man was logical for sure, but you had a queasy feeling in your stomach as he tried to convince you to change out of the same clothes you had been in since he lured you to his apartment. Yes, personal hygiene was important, but how could you be sure Shouta would leave you alone while you were vulnerable? The only bathroom in the place didn’t have a lock.

Shouta had sighed when you remained silent, only shaking you head. He had pushed himself away from the door, treading silently until he could crouch down and meet your gaze glued to the floor in front of you.  Immediately you shifted your eyes to your hands clasped nervously together in your lap. You felt clammy and sweaty and cold and hot and it was all too much. Mostly you just felt like crying. This was such a bizarre situation and you didn’t know what was going on. The man had tilted his head to try and catch your eye again, before giving up and sighing. “You can either shower by yourself, and then change into new clothes, or I’ll have to force you. The latter will not be as pleasant as the former.”

You had quickly chosen the former.

The clothes he provided were obviously his. They smelled like him, and he smelled like the shampoo nestled on one of the alcoves in the shower. He probably used the same brand for laundry detergent. You were grateful that he had provided you a toothbrush, slotted next to his own. Admittedly, you did feel better after cleaning up, but that feeling was quickly dashed after Shouta took your old clothes after you had exited the bathroom. He didn’t say anything as he dumped them in the trash. You distantly hoped it was because they smelled bad.

After a week of sleeping on his couch, Shouta had appeared in his hero outfit. He had to go back to work as a hero, and there were going to be rules from now on. They were simple and practical, like eating at mealtimes, taking care of your hygiene, and obviously, no trying to escape. Otherwise there would be consequences. You didn’t want to find out what those were.

The two of you fell into an easy routine. He worked mainly in the early morning, from 2-8, sometimes 9. While he was home with you, you would read or work on the crossword book he had let you mark in. He would go to bed around eight in the evening, and when he he left at 1:30 you would crawl into his empty bed. It had felt so nice the first night you had dared to do so. You usually tried to wake up and vacate his bedroom before the man returned, but on the days you didn’t Shouta said nothing. He didn’t seem to mind you using his space. 

By the third week of living with him, you were bored to the point of tears. There was nothing for you to do; there was seemingly no remote for the TV,  you didn’t feel like re-reading books you already knew, and you had completed the crossword book. Shouta seemed to pick up on your distress and had shown up one day with a tiny kitten and a giant bag filled with more reading material and activity books. You tried to ignore him as you cuddled the kitten in your arms, but you still heard his fond admission that you deserved a gift for being so good. 

You tried your best to hide your shiver.

When you confronted him (timidly and with the kitten clutched to your chest like a shield) about why he was keeping you locked up in his apartment, Shouta had turned his eyes from his phone, blinking slowly as you fidgeted uneasily under his gaze. 

“If I had been anyone else, you would’ve been dead the moment I got you away from the main streets. You’re too trusting. Furthermore,” Here he set down his phone, standing up from the small table and looming over you in a show of dominance. “You’re a complete pushover and your personality is so meek and submissive that I’m frankly surprised no one has taken advantage of you yet.” 

Shouta took a step forward, and you took a step back.  

“I’m keeping you safe.”

Another step forward, and you stepped back again.

“I’m protecting you.”

Another step. Your back hit a wall.

“Do you remember when you first started working at UA? You had let that senior janitor boss you around, making you do stupid things that had nothing to do with your job. Did you really think he needed you to bend over to pick up the supplies he dropped, or that holding your waist as you cleaned the top windows was necessary?”

Shouta slammed his hand into the wall next to your head, and you felt the vibrations in the back of your skull. Your breathed hitched, and your knees felt like buckling as you tightened your grip around the kitten. You wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out. Yes, the man who you worked with at UA had made you feel immensely uncomfortable, but you needed the job. As much as it disgusted you, the paycheck was worth the discomfort. 

“You never wondered why he disappeared?  Why you suddenly got promoted?”

Shouta was still talking in that soft, low voice, but that did nothing to quell your fear. 

“I took care of you then, and I’m taking care of you now. That’s why you’re here.”

His eyes held your gaze for another second, before the flickered away, down towards your lips. The waver in his attention was so brief that it was possible you imagined it, before the kitten in your arms mewed weakly.  Shouta tore himself away from you, and began to move towards his bedroom. Your mouth felt dry and your eyes were watering. Was Shouta implying that he had killed the man? Surely not, he had only fired him, or threatened him, or…. something. You didn’t want to think about it.  You had never exactly seen the pro-heros that worked at UA, but that’s because you had worked the night shift. But that didn’t mean it was impossible for Shouta to have been there, and it would explain the signs that someone was working late, like the coffee machine brewing in the break room.

Hot tears spilled over your cheeks.

Had he been watching you?  

Why you?

You voiced your last thought out loud. Your voice was barely above a whisper but Shouta stopped dead in his tracks, and you knew he had heard your question.

Silence.

Then he stormed into his room and shut the door.

You tried your best to avoid him after that conversation, feeling even worse whenever you caught him looking at you while you played with the kitten or read a book. It creeped you out to no end to know that the man had been watching you, stalking you. You couldn’t, didn’t want to think about what any of it meant, instead choosing to busy yourself with getting lost in fictional worlds.

You tried not to jump as the front door slammed, Shouta returning from a double shift. He had grime all over his face and his hair was a tangled mess, and you could sense something was off by the way he stomped into the bathroom to shower. When he re-emerged, the man was shirtless as usual after a shower. You were uncomfortable with the amount of naked skin, but at least he had pants on this time, usually opting to wrap a towel around his waist as he sauntered back to his room to get dressed. 

Barely sparing you a glance, Shouta grabbed your arm in his tight grip, ignoring your choked gasp as you dropped your book and tumbled off the couch as he pulled you after him.

“Shouta? What-what….. Hold on-“

His grip was unrelenting as he tugged you into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you two before the kitten could follow. The plaintive mews held the same confusion you felt in your mind, but quickly turned to cold, drenching fear as the muscular man shoved you onto the bed. You twisted onto your side, scrambling to your knees as Shouta advanced menacingly, his eyes flickering with an emotion that you had seen simmering beneath the surface ever since the day he locked you in his home.

“Shouta, wait please I don’t wanna….. you’re scaring me!”  You sprang to your feet and dashed towards the door, only to feel his strong arms wrap around your waist and lock you against his body. 

“I know you’re shy, but I’ll be as gentle as possible.” He grunted, trying to contain your panicked thrashing as he set you on the bed again. He forced you onto your back, kneeling over your waist and sitting on your hips to immobilize you. He reached forward and grabbed your wrists, despite your failing attempts to push him off of you. Who were you kidding; the man was fully grown and his career was capturing and detaining bad guys. Out of nowhere he produced a length of his capture weapon, and swiftly started looping it around your hands, tying you to the headboard. Where had he gotten his capture weapon from?  Your mind was racing so fast you lost the thought as soon as it entered, immediately moving on to the next desperate thought as you tried to rationalize what was happening.

“Shouta please, please! What are you doing-I don’t wan-mmfpgh!”

Wrists now effectively trapped, the man pressed a hand gently to your mouth, smoothing the other over your hair as he softly stroked your head. 

“Shhhhh…… it’s okay, I would never hurt you.” You wanted to scream, bite his hand and spit in his face. You felt so small and afraid, knots in your stomach and tears building up behind your eyes. 

“You asked “why you?””  The hand that wasn’t on your mouth moved to gently caress your chest before moving to the zipper on his pants. The tears in you eyes spilled over. You felt like vomiting.

“I’ve been wanting you since I first saw you…. So gentle, and weak, and submissive.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Something was on your chest, trapping you, holding you down and suffocating you slowly as Shouta talked while he unfastened his pants. Instead of taking them off, his hand moved to your (his) shirt, rubbing the fabric before pulling it up over your chest to bunch around your armpits. You screamed behind his hand.

“I tried to let you settle.” He was breathing heavily now, his calloused hand rubbing at your chest as you sobbed behind his other hand. “But you’re such a timid little thing, I realized it was pointless to let you make the decisions. We’ve lived your way-“ You tried to kick him, but your legs were in such a position that all your did was wriggle underneath him. “-now it’s time to do it my way.” At your anguished muffled screech, his eyes flicked from where he was focused on squeezing your chest up to your face. 

“Shhh, shhhhh. This’ll feel good…….  I’m doing this because I love you.” He paused, watching you shake your head, face puffy and red from all the tears.

“You’ll learn to love me back.”

[silvanoir]

Sorry I haven’t been online, my life has been eaten by my parents. 

I never wanted to be their sole caregiver and I thought this all happened by accident, because they didn’t know the financial and other decisions they were making, turns out they DID know and wanted me to be their “good daughter” to be a servant to them to “pay back” how they had to take care of me as a child.  The child they didn’t actually want or plan for but kept anyway because they’re such good catholics?  AUUUUGGGHHHH.

They purposely misled me by having all fiances, everything but my car, in all our names.  they said it would be better that way!  That it would make it easier for me to inherit their stocks and such.  If any of us died it would go to the remaining living and isnt that better?  ha! I believed them because they were my parents.   No, it was so I could never put them in a nursinghome because I’d be left with no money or home to live in myself if I did.

I’m so, so tired and they have destroyed my house (after destroying their own to an unlivable state-  mold, bugs, mice, no hot water, a toilet that had to be flushed with a bucket, etc, which is why they’re with me now).  They keep my once clean home in a perpetual mess, no matter how I try to clean, they’ll throw things around like angry toddlers.  They smoke and I hate smoke.  They’ve given up on all hygiene.  My father has turned my guestroom into a men’s bathroom because he doesn’t want to get up to pee so he shreds newspapers on the floor and goes on them like a goddamn animal (even though I put a commode in there!  And adult diapers!  No, he’d rather be an animal!). 

My mother (who has dementia) lives in the livingroom. Sometimes she screams and screams over who knows what and has no normal sleep schedule and has the TV on 24/7 so I have to keep multiple fans on in my room for white noise to sleep.   If I try to neaten up the kitchen to cook for myself and eat they instantly emerge like the smelly goblins they are an are up in my face and I beg them to leave me alone so I can have dinner in peace but they don’t.  I have to spray and wipe down the bathroom with bleach every time I need to use it (oh god the smears on the walls!).  All I have left to myself is my bedroom, which I keep locked... and my mom keeps talking about getting a locksmith, because she wants me to have nothing for myself.

It’s like being a teenager again but WORSE.  Since I have to do everything for them (shopping, cleaning, healthcare appts, taxes, bills, etc),  and work, don’t have time to go out with friends or do anything I enjoy, but am still treated like a lazy stupid child.  And relatives are no help, it’s “too upsetting” for them to deal with but they don’t care how its upsetting me.

My physical health is failng and my mental health?  I went insane months ago.  I was professionally diagnosed with burnout but no relief from said burnout.

I hired a housecleaner.  She came once and never again because they were racist to her.  I hired home health aides to help them bathe- they refuse.  The help, and to bathe, THEY REFUSE.

I wish I hadn’t cared.  They I hadn’t called 911 for mom mom last year, last spring, after she feel down sick.  That I’d let them rot in their rotten house.  Because that’s how they wanted to live, rotting, in rot.

I was hesitant to post about this because of internet judgey mcjudgertons but this is how it is.

[hermannsthumb]

From horny twitter: Hermann writes a very very detailed review of a vibrator online

not sfw below cut!!!!!!!!!!! 

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Now, usually, Newt doesn’t mess around when he’s on the clock, because that’d be very unprofessional of him and that’s totally not who he is, but he’s in a little bit of a rut with his current project and could use the distraction. Online shopping is his favorite go-to distraction these days: he can lose himself in size charts and color options and hunts for coupon codes and forget, even for a few minutes, that the end of the world is accelerating towards them at an intimidating rate. Plus, he can write off half his shit as work-related expenses. Win-win. Though maybe not this particular search.

Newt has a pretty reliable arsenal of sex toys he’s used on rotation since he packed up and shipped across the world for the PPDC, but the ten-year warranty vibe he’s used since PhD #3 (and his favorite of the bunch) finally crapped out on him last week after a historically intense fight with Hermann got him historically wound up. Eleven years ain’t bad. After testing out a different charger, poking around in the wiring, and even going so far as to zap it a few times with some sorta-stolen drift tech to see if it stirred any life back into it, he finally decided it was time to just mourn, move on, and buy a new one. (Even if, unfortunately, his particular favorite model was discontinued when the company’s factory was destroyed in a kaiju attack and they never quite managed to recover. More casualties of the war.)

The sex toy market is truthfully booming during the apocalypse. It makes sense, Newt guesses—anything for a distraction. Personally, for Newt, orgasms tend to dampen his own existential dread, even if it’s just for a few minutes. He scrolls idly through a few Top Ten For 2023 listicles on various sex magazine websites to see if anything jumps out at him (some of the recommended toys are dildos he already has, and vibes that are a little beyond his k-sci paycheck), just hoping for something to jump out at him. Apparently he missed out on a limited-edition run of jaeger and kaiju-themed vibes and dildos that came out in early January, which he’s honestly a little pissed about—he’s the top expert on kaiju biology, god damn it! Didn’t anyone want to consult with him about their hypothetical junk? Accuracy matters.

“It’s all off,” Newt mutters grumpily as he examines a 360 view of one of the kaiju dildos. Trespasser. “It’s not even the right color. Fucking amateurs. Did they even try?”

“What are you doing?” Hermann says.

Newt slams his laptop shut. Hermann decided to cut his lunch break short today, apparently. “Shopping,” he says.

“You sounded awfully angry about something, is all,” Hermann says. He clacks over to his half of the lab and shrugs off his big parka, then pauses. “Do you need to...talk about it?”

“No,” Newt says.

Hermann breathes out in obvious relief. “Good,” he says.

He takes his usual spot at his chalkboard and resumes his calculating. Newt re-opens his laptop and scrolls away from Trespasser before he can make himself angry over anatomical inaccuracies again. The jaeger vibes from the collection are pretty cool, actually; the designs are a lot cleaner, and their artistic license is a lot more forgivable. The highest-rated of the set is one obviously (but not enough to invoke copyright infringement, if that can even exist for a jaeger) modeled off of Coyote Tango, with like, a million different settings, and an astronomical cost to match. Newt eyes it enviously. He could be shoving that up his ass right now if he’d just signed up for a stupid email list last year.

He follows the link to Amazon to read through some of the reviews enviously, too. Life-changing; best money ever spent; warranty lasts a lifetime. Ten stars across the board. Sold out, obviously. No idea when it’ll be back in stock. He could get the Striker Eureka model for twice the original cost as when it came out, if he wanted, but the idea of constantly having to associate the twenty-something punk Hansen kid with his intimate affairs makes him shudder.

A nine-star review for the Coyote Tango model from someone named MathLover69 is the only one to make Newt really pause, on account of how absolutely insane it is.

I saved quite a few paychecks to purchase this vibrator, and though the cost is steep, I must say it is absolutely worth it. As opposed to my normal vibrator (here another vibe is linked, and Newt’s eyebrows jump at that price, too), which has only five settings, an admittedly bulky body, and average battery life, the CT2023 has a generous ten, a sleeker design, and charges fully in a matter of minutes. The orgasms I have experienced while using it are higher in quality (and more numerous) than any resulting previously from masturbation, though I have not tried beyond setting six yet. It also works wonders for stress relief. (I have an incredibly irritating colleague, and nothing calms me down so much as a quick round with the CT2023 after a spat with him.)

The body is versatile enough to be either inserted into one’s—

Newt feels heat rise to his cheeks in spite of himself, and he skims the second paragraph of MathLover69’s review to get the gist of it—that there are, uh, plenty of ways to utilize the vibe, that it’s discreet and small enough to wear to work (if you were inclined to do so, as MathLover69 implies he might’ve been) and that when combined with the Yamarashi dildo, the pleasurable experience increased tenfold. Talk about oversharing. Jeez.

My only complaint would be that the design is a poor approximation of the real Coyote Tango, and for that I’ve docked a star. I would recommend this product.

“This guy is a total nut,” Newt says to himself.

“Hm?” Hermann says.

Newt considers the implications of showing Hermann the vibrator listing: Hermann will know he was shopping for sex toys, Hermann will know he was shopping for kaiju and jaeger-themed sex toys, Hermann will know he was shopping for kaiju and jaeger-themed sex toys during working hours a mere ten feet away from him. Embarrassing, but on the other hand, MathLover69’s review is too funny to not share with someone else. “Hey, Hermann,” Newt says, angling his laptop towards Hermann. “Look. Who comments shit like this?”

Hermann descends his ladder carefully and inches up behind Newt’s shoulder, squinting at his laptop screen. He immediately turns bright red. Newt must’ve offended his Victorian sensibilities with the mere suggestion of self-abuse. “Oh,” he says. “Er.”

“Way TMI,” Newt says. “Listen to this line. ‘With the Yamarashi toy inserted into one’s mouth, and the CT2023 inserted up one’s—'”

“Well, how else is one meant to review a masturbatory aid?” Hermann snaps, surprising Newt. He looks oddly flustered. “Details can be—er—helpful. Can’t they?”

“Sure, dude,” Newt snorts. “Except they’re obviously just screwing with people. They literally have a 69 in their username.” He taps at the MathLover69, and doesn’t mention—on behalf of Hermann’s delicate mathematician feelings—that the MathLover part is obviously meant as a joke too.

“Well,” Hermann says. “Perhaps it’s just his—er, their birthdate.”

Newt turns around to stare at Hermann, taking in his red cheeks, his red ears, and the gaze he’s fixed steadily on his shoes. It’s all Newt can do to not to gape at him. “Hermann, you’re kidding,” he says. “Right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hermann says.

“You didn’t,” Newt says.

“I,” Hermann stammers. “Well—”

“I didn’t even know you—”

“That I what?” Hermann says.

Newt gives a half-shrug. Hermann doesn’t seem the type to engage in any sort of vice, let alone this kind. And especially not with the type of sex toys he apparently gravitates towards. (If Newt was a little bolder, and had a little less shame and care for hygiene, he might ask to check out the Yamarashi, because anatomical inaccuracies aside, wow that sounds awesome.) “I mean, you know,” Newt says. “You’re kinda you. No offense.”

Hermann takes offense. “I am human,” he says. “I am allowed to masturbate, Newton, and I was merely attempting to educate other customers about the—product—with my thoroughness.” He adds, awkwardly, “My review was voted very helpful, as you can see.”

“Okay,” Newt says with a grin. “I get it. Sorry.”

Hermann marches back over to his side of the lab with a scowl. Newt waits until he’s sure Hermann’s not watching him, and is too distracted by muttering angrily under his breath, to bookmark MathLover69’s page of reviews.

It turns out (as Newt revisits the page later that night, in the privacy of his bunk) Hermann buys and reviews a truly staggering amount of dildos and sex toys, and on top of that, has absolutely zero filter behind the wall of anonymity. It’s to the extent that some of his reviews read like goddamn sexts.

It took me three occasions to successfully work myself up to taking in the entire length…

My orgasm was so pleasurable I alarmed my colleague with the noise I made, who believed me to have injured myself…

The highest vibration setting is a bit of a disappointment…

These are excellent for double penetration…

It also turns out Hermann is a veritable sex fiend. Or at least a masturbation fiend. Judging by his reviews alone, Hermann’s purchased more than a dozen different toys in the past three years alone. That’s four a year. One every three months. That’s not even including buttplugs, which (according to other reviews) he sometimes just wears into the lab (“work”) for the hell of it, which Newt isn’t even going to think about right now. How the hell has Hermann kept this much of his life under wraps? When the hell does he have time to jerk off as much as he apparently does? No wonder they never seem to have any fucking funding; all of Hermann’s paychecks are funneled directly into his—well.

Newt recalls the faux-injury incident Hermann mentioned in a comment with mild embarrassment. No wonder Hermann had been so weird and flushed when he opened his door, and made excuses to say bye to him so quickly—Newt just caught him (oh, boy) immediately following the best orgasm of his life. Well, mild embarrassment, and a little more than mild arousal. What Newt would’ve given to have been there five minutes earlier, to watch Hermann in the act of the best orgasm of his life, to maybe even be the one to cause it…

What Newt would give to use Hermann’s fancy-shmancy vibrator on him, or literally anything from his giant masturbatory arsenal. Or even just watch him use it on himself. Hermann’s just so damned buttoned-up and uptight—it’s all about the contradictions. Juxtapositions. Newt unzips his jeans and sticks his hand down his boxers. “Stupid Hermann,” he moans, as he begins to bring himself off to the image of Hermann with that stupid kaiju dildo down his throat and that stupid jaeger vibe up his ass. Negotiator of peace between the two? Stupid joke, stupid Hermann. Or maybe he’s picturing Hermann showing up to the lab, all plugged up and loose from using a different vibe on himself that morning. Or maybe Hermann pushing two dildos into himself at once. How the hell can he even manage that? Ass his size— “Oh, goddamn it,” Newt moans again, and comes all over his hand.

Whatever. It’s not like Hermann’s ever going to find out about this.

[anxiouslyfred]

Mold on Me

for @dukexietyweek‘s prompt High School, I have no clue how american schools work so I’m just going with what I know.

Summary: Virgil had only heard about Remus as a kid who annoyed his friends in their classes but after finally seeing what the other student looks like and meeting him is torn between hiding away or trying to get to know Remus better. Remus is already decided on meeting the snarky student again, if only to learn his name.

Warnings: Knife mentions, Food mentions?, unsafe science lab practices mentioned,

/\/\/\/\/\

Virgil had been bullied badly when he was younger. It was why he hated being around the more populated areas of the school and now basically lived in the Library as much as he could. That didn’t mean he was against making friends, just that they’d usually be the ones deciding to make friends and he just wouldn’t question it at all.

“He almost blew up the lab today. Why did I have to get partnered with someone who clearly has no regard for any form of safety? Even when I stopped him and tried to correct the experiment from where he’d mixed all the chemicals up he was literally taking the ones I was trying to return to mix together again!” Logan had been ranting for most of their breaktime by this point. Virgil didn’t really mind, and actually was kind of curious about the student in question.

He hadn’t had a class with Remus King before but already knew plenty of views about him, just because his 2 friends shared different classes with him. Logan’s complaints were always regarding some form of danger or safety protocol but Patton’s were where his interest came from.

The food technology class that Patton shared with Remus did have a lot of interesting assignments getting set at various times, including making savoury ice creams near the time of the open evenings so they could, essentially, prank the children wondering if this would be a good school for them to come to next. Patton had somehow managed to make one that tasted delicious but  Virgil still couldn’t work out if the flavour combination he’d been told Remus made only sounded disgusting or actually tasted horrible too.

“Dude, surely the teach would have stopped him if it was that dangerous.” Virgil just couldn’t be bothered to add something more to his list of reasons not to trust the teachers. It was already too long for his comfort and Logan was never one to help.

Patton at least caught onto that and came up with a subject to divert their conversation onto for the rest of their break.

/\/\

The next time Virgil thought about Remus was a few days later as their lunch break ended and he was heading into the science block for his physics class. Patton hadn’t made it out to lunch that day since his food technology class was either side of it so they’d have more time for the practical lessons.

It at least made the corridor Virgil was passing down smell delightfully of chocolate but he was far more interested in, and slightly terrified by, the boy kicking the door of the food tech classroom open, storming down the classroom, yelling “It’s knife work! What about that can’t be turned into uses for a weapon? What planet are you from that blades and any work from them isn’t two steps from a use to attack or torture another!”

One last thought Virgil had about Remus was that his friends were disasters at describing what any human looked like. According to Logan, the boy had obviously dyed his hair and ignored any attempt his parents or brother made to teach him personal hygiene. Patton was a little kinder, saying Remus had a lovely wide grin and energetic eyes, although Virgil was still trying to figure out just what that meant.

His mental image so far had been of some slightly crossed-eyed younger version of the Joker from Batman, but the boy fitting all the stories he’d heard of Remus looked nothing less than gorgeous.

“They’re from the Health and Safety state, Dude. We’re meant to have forgotten the threatening uses of knives we use in cooking unless we are the ones being threatened by them.” Virgil muttered his reply, to anxious about being noticed to say it any louder.

He still got noticed and the boy halting in front of him. “Someone in this damn school gets it! Come join us in class!” Virgil didn’t have much of a choice to disagree as his arm was grabbed and he got dragged into the classroom, sheepishly waving to Patton when the other students turned to look at the rapid return.

“Mr King, I’ve told you before that you cannot drag your friends into here even on a lunch break.” the teacher sighed, confirming Virgil’s assumption over who it was.

“I actually was heading to class anyway. There’s only like 2 minutes left before...” Virgil began explaining, tugging on his arm to get it released just as the bell went off to officially end the lunch period. “Yeah. I guess I’ll have to properly meet you some other time, Remus.”

He ducked out of the classroom before anything else could be said, letting the flow of other students heading to class calm the spiralling emotions and only just hearing “No fair, I’ll learn your name next time, Stachybotrys.” yelled after him.

If only the insane boy wasn’t proving to be exactly Virgil’s type perhaps he’d have learnt something about physics that day.

/\/\

Logan was not amused when he reached their table today. “Do either of you know if Remus means a person or the mold when he mentions Stachbotrys? I have had to argue constantly to get any progress on our study for the entirity of our class.”

“I met him for like two minutes. That should not be enough time for him to have anything to say about me.” Virgil growled, hunching back into his hoodie.

“He met Virgil while trying to storm out of food tech yesterday. Apparently our anxious bean muttered something in agreement of what he was yelling about knives.” Patton added what more he could at Logan’s raised eyebrow.

At least amusement was replacing Logan’s frustration now, a smile clearly being held back. “At least I didn’t try suggesting he locates the mold on rice then. Remus does seem rather insistent that and I’m paraphrasing here, he’s going to find and make his the Stachbotrys that is all he could think of last night.”

There aren’t quite words for everything Virgil wanted to say to that, so in the attempt he let out a rather strangled noise, burying his head in his arms. He could take having a crush on a complete whirlwind maniac who seemed to drive both his friends up the wall but having even the merest suggestion the affections could be returned was too much to understand.

“If he brings it up next time we share class I’ll suggest visiting the library to look up the subject, shall I?” Logan offered. Virgil made a mental note that there had now been 3 instances of teasing pushed too much by the boy who insisted he only ever acted logically.

/\/\

“I don’t need to read about mold but my science partner has decided if I’m going to talk about my Stachybotrys so much our experiments can easily be adjusted to focus on mold.” Remus’s voice was loud as he marched over to the helpdesk in the library and Virgil was just grateful he had decided to read at one of the tables hidden among the shelves while waiting for his lift to arrive. “Apparently that means I do need books to source the information I already know so which shelves am I looking for?”

Definitely not the area Virgil was in. The shelves near him included cultures of the world, and how to books for various creative hobbies. The only thing that seemed even remotely likely to interest Remus were the history of war books near the end of the isle but they didn’t connect to mold at all.

Virgil’s reasoning and frantic checking that he could hopefully avoid the other boy distracted him enough that he didn’t realise Remus looking through the shelves opposite him. “Stachybotrys! I found you again!” He couldn’t miss the exclamation though.

“Didn’t realise we were playing hide and seek. I thought I was writing an essay for English Lit.” Virgil hissed back, really not wanting to give the librarian any cause to kick him out.

“Ooh, what’s it on? And what’s your name? You’ve been on my mind like a mold and it would be nice to have the right name for the newest mold I’ve encountered.” Remus clearly didn’t care about making some noise although he did quiet down dramatically when he saw how uncomfortable the noise was making Virgil.

“I’m Virgil though I’m fairly sure you’ve already got my friends convinced Stachybotrys should just be a nickname for me now.”  He was actually annoyed at that.

Patton always butchered the word, and would only try to use it when mentioning how besotted he thought Remus was since the only diversion of subject in their food tech class recently had been how the molds of different foods could make people sick or kill them.

Logan on the other hand would just randomly use the name for Virgil in the hopes Remus would be somewhere close by to hear him. That had never worked since Virgil was either in class, outside to eat or in the library.

Remus peered at him a little. “Still fits though. You definitely appear like a threat but ultimately leaving the world undecided over how dangerous you are. So assuming Logan’s one of your friends, who is the other I’ve got calling you it? And do they think I have a chance at dating you?”

“Patton and are you seriously asking me if my friends think you should ask me out? Dude, if you want to date me just ask me if I want to go on a date. Or is being ridiculously convoluted a game of yours?” Virgil scolded, shaking his head, trying to decide if there was some kind of mind game happening in the moment or not.

“Okay then, Date me, Emo kid! We can go ravage a farm search for signs of mold and decay among all their crops and end with a picnic of snacks I invented recipes for in class!” Remus just shrugged at the tone, moving on to what was requested of him,

That was even further from Virgil’s expectations of the response than Logan saying Remus was set on finding him had been. Most people were at least a little put off by how harshly he reacted whe uncertain of situations. “Can we start with the food? My brain will just panic over how I could die from being close to mold and then eating if we do it your way round.”

“Of course we can. Let’s meet at Gorse Hill farm at like 2pm on Saturday for our date then!” Remus jumped up from his spot then, a wild grin on his face as he waved, heading off. “Can’t wait for it, Stachbotrys.”

[dontshootmespence]

Through It All

Part 30

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,013

Warnings: BABY TIME! That shit is hard.

A/N: Just fluffy stuffs, my friends.

Morgan Diana Reid and Blake Xing Reid enter the world at 7:37 and 7:41 AM respectively. Morgan is five and a half pounds exactly and 18 inches long. Blake is 18 inches and clocks in at just over five pounds. They’re beautiful. Perfect. They have Ai’s full head of hair and Kyle’s nose and mouth.  

Ai is a champion. She had them both naturally (though you still contend there’s nothing natural about a bowling ball popping out of a vagina). Shortly after they were born, she passed out from exhaustion and slept for nearly 13 hours, which meant you and Spencer were thrown into the fire right from the frying pan. Honestly, it all goes by too fast to truly enjoy, but you know you’ll remember those little moments, just watching as Morgan opens her eyes or Blake moves his fingers.

Before you leave the hospital with them after about five days, you allow Ai time alone with them. It breaks your heart to hear her sobbing on the other side of the door.  “Mommy and Daddy couldn’t give you the life you deserve right now, but we’ll always love you.” When you hear that you stifle a choked sob into Spencer’s chest and subsequently promise Ai and Kyle that they’ll always have a place in your family.

And then the insanity begins.

You thought it was hard with Charlotte.

Now there’s two.

TWO.

And Charlotte.

Sleep is non-existent. Maybe an hour at a time at the most. You cry about as often as Morgan and Blake do, which is a whole hell of a lot. Even Spencer breaks every now and then. But they grow so fast. Almost too fast if you’re being honest. Their cheeks get chubbier. They move more. Limbs flying as fast as a cheetah despite being about 30 times as helpless.

Sex? Even more non-existent than sleep.

It’s harder because everything is doubled, but you also have more of an inkling when things go wrong, when they’re sick, when things need to be done. Instead of wondering what each kind of sound means, you know, and you can react accordingly, so you don’t feel as much of a fish out of water as you did last time.

Right now, your fun entails sitting still on the couch with one of the babies on your chest while Spencer sits beside you with the other. Charlotte is taking one of her now rare naps at Spencer’s side. Both of you have to pee but Charlotte, Morgan and Blake are all content and it feels like you’re playing with fire if you dare to move.

Charlotte is the most amazing big sister. She insists they be included in reading time, so when their crying allows, you bring them into Charlotte’s room for storytime at night. She’s even tried to help you change a diaper but ran away when she realized it was stinky. And man are they stinky. Newborn poop is something else. Otherworldly.

During the first three weeks, you shower about five times in total. Your legs are hair as hell. Shaving takes too much time. And even though your weight is pretty stable, you still feel gross. Hygiene takes time and you don’t have it until about a month after they come home.

You’ve managed to get them on a similar schedule so they wake up and go to sleep within a few minutes of each other. Thank the gods Spencer did some research on how to sync up their schedules before they were born otherwise you’d be fucked.

Once they’re down for the night and Charlotte’s been read to (she’s very obsessed with the one about the two princesses that fall in love right now), you sink into bed beside the man you love. “I think we’ve got about two hours before they wake up again,” you say, mouth stretching out into a yawn. “Talk to me before we fall asleep. I feel like we haven’t spoken in 10 years.”

Chuckling, Spencer rubs his hand up and down your arm. “We haven’t even known each other ten years.”

“Feels like forever.”

“Yea, it does,” He sighs happily. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything. Just talk to me. Give me stats.”

He pulls you into his lap and combs his hand through your hair. “Luckily, that’s my specialty. Okay, so listen to this-” Even through he can barely keep his eyes open you can hear the excitement in his voice. “Women with a higher body mass index are more likely to conceive twins. Obviously Ai is one of the exceptions. Anyway, higher body fat levels mean higher levels of estrogen which can cause the ovaries to release more than one egg at a time.

“Is that why it’s so hard for women to lose weight too?” You ask, annoyance tinging your sleep-deprived voice. “Like our bodies are holding on to fat because baby making?”

“Exactly. It’s bullshit, I know.”

He continues on, saying something about twins creating their own language, which you hope happens because that would be fascinating to watch. And then he talks about how twins can actually have different fathers, though it’s rare. You want to keep listening, but you drift off to sleep in his arms, only for you both to be rudely awakened by your screeching twins two hours later.

---

A week passes and Charlotte’s terrible twos get a little worse, but you and Spencer realize quickly that it's because she hasn’t been getting enough attention, so you actively try to remedy that.

While Spencer is taking care of the babies’ feeding, you play with Charlotte. She’s getting into playing pretend now, so she’s using two dolls to reenact her two princesses book. You’re merely an audience member, but Charlotte needs to tell the story. As the days go by, you make sure one of you is taking care of the babies while the other handles Charlotte. Again, it feels like you and Spencer don’t speak for ages.

But you got through it once before, right?

It’ll just take time.

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