#everyone knows carpal tunnel

[oflgtfol]

like back in oh i dont know 2017 maybe when i first went to the doctor for my wrists they said that the ligament in both of my wrists both had an identical, small tear at identical locations, and so like im not a doctor, and i havent gone back to the doctor for my wrists since then, and i kinda dont want to because at this point it is what it is its just a waste of money to just go to the doctor for the sake of it and nothing else whatever, but im assuming that the actual sprains have technically healed, but because they persisted for so long this is just the. long term effects of it.

[desultory-novice]

Apologies AU - Good Ending Drop

Hey, everyone. It was my goal to finish Apologies in tandem with the Tournament, but for health reasons, I won't be able to as I planned. Because I tied the story to the tournament and don't feel like untangling it again and making everyone wait more, I'm going to give you all the ending spoilers, as I promised I would if I became unable to finish the story.

What I'm about to describe is THE Good Ending. The True Ending I had planned out almost from the beginning!

-

In the main-verse...

Susie, who sees too much of herself in Adeleine, decides to take matters into her own hands to bring the girl's older brother back.

She takes the vial of Dark Matter Swordsman DNA that was harvested from King Dedede. Meta Knight catches up with her and argues against it. It's foolish, dangerous, and liable to be nothing but painful to all parties involved. But Susie anticipated interference and asked Zan to bodyguard her. When Zan arrives (late) to the lab, the argument has caused the vial to begin to react to all the negativity in the room. Zan recognizes its contents as Dark Matter and insists on calling Lord Hyness, who in his own quirky way, analyzes their problem and suggests that while the contents are too weak to survive on their own, a resurrection could be possible, using Void's powers to mimic a hive queen, supplying whatever creature emerges the power to survive on Popstar without burning up into ash...

-

In the tourney-verse...

White-Haired Noir is at peace with his life and has come to accept the death of his precious little sister many years ago, but...a part of him still wishes to make Adeleine happy.

Using his fairy-born dimension sight, he discovers an Alternate Noir who is 98% percent compatible with main-verse Noir. This is the Purgatory!Noir from the Re_Birthday post. And he drags this unstable, utterly clueless Noir out of this peaceful void without his permission and secretly "volunteers"  the massively confused, un-alive but un-dead teen boy for the Kirby OC Tournament.

It is White-Haired Noir that is the "good" voice on phone and in Noir's head, encouraging rationality. His goal? Get Noir some friends. Get him to face up to/open up to people about his past. And get him caring about his life enough that he wants to live...! 

White-Haired Noir has seen what the main-verse Star Allies are attempting and knows that the odds of them actually bringing "Noir" back instead of just an emotionless monster are low without a compatible "Noir Soul" (haha) to inhabit the new vessel.

Over the course of many in-tourney events, including Noir learning to have faith in the sibling bonds he built with Gooey despite being Dark Matter at the time, learning to separate himself and Adeleine as individuals instead of clinging to her to his own neglect, privately opening up to King Dedede, who put the pieces together post-possession, about some awful stuff Noir put up with for years in secret from Raquelle's father (who privately loathed Neichel AND her kids and took it out on Noir) to "pay" for Adeleine's good life...

And lastly, using the power of wishes to interrogate if THIS Noir's true wish is to die and be free, to have never been born, to have had a normal "perfect" life, or if he simply wishes for a second chance to be with those he cares about... White-Haired Noir determines that Tourney!Noir is ready and reveals his plan to him. Noir confesses to him that he really does want to live and be with his family again and offers up his stronger soul for Susie and the gang's vessel.

-

Back in the main-verse...

The experiment is a success! They have brought, well, something back. It is not quite like Dark Matter Swordsman in form, nor is it exactly a human boy. It looks a little bit like a spiky haired-Gooey.

After some tense questioning of the emotionless, memoryless, unresponsive goo, it...suddenly seems to awaken. With the voice of a deeply shaken and scared young boy, the violet-eyed blob questions the mad scientist, cultists, and masked man surrounding him... Where the hell is he? And where are his little brother and sister?

Meta Knight welcomes Noir back to the world of the living.

Later, after Noir has time to dress himself in an appropriate scarf, Adeleine and Gooey are brought in and it is a happy and tear-filled reunion all around as Noir confirms that, while this form is strange, it's not dangerous and he's not in pain. He is then re-introduced to King Dedede, whereupon it's revealed that even though Noir likes him, he's still a snarky teen punk at heart, as he sasses the king horribly. (Dedede has gained another kid, but at what cost? XD)

...And that's it.

That's the ending to Apologies I've held onto for nearly a year.

For reading through all that, here is a short comic I drew a while back of the reunited family having a snowball fight in White Wafers.

-

(Not to unnecessarily over-explain the story but because the comic is a little vague, I have to tell you that no, Noir does not ever return to human after his revival. I meant it when I wrote in several places that their parting on Shiver Star was the last time they'd see each other "...in this form." This is merely meant to depict a moment in which Adeleine, seeing her brother alive and smiling and laughing and having real fun for the first time in so long, is able to imagine his old self smiling and is at peace that her brother is finally free from the hurt and misery he bore up with for so long.)

(...And yes, he has a long, silly tongue just like Gooey. Which is why he hides all but his eyes behind the scarf. Gotta keep up that cool older brother look even as a little goo creature! While Noir can't become human - frankly, he doesn't miss having a human body, given the stuff in his adolescence and being over-stressed, underfed, under-slept and just overall sick all the time in his later teens - he does eventually acquire the ability to shift into his old "Swordsman" form for short bursts of time.)

-

(Lastly, you might wonder how I could have had this exact ending in mind from almost the beginning when so much of it is tied up in recent posts like the tourney? ...Well, originally what was going to happen to allow Noir to be properly resurrected into the Dark Matter Goo body is that the Dream Rod from Star Allies was going to appear in response to a grieving Adeleine's wishes to see her brother again, bringing Noir-as-Swordsman back. At least for a LITTLE while, as it would be revealed that with Zero dead, Noir, who was entirely composed of Dark Matter at this point, couldn't survive on Popstar. Every moment he was there, his body was burning.)

(Still, he lasts long enough to have one final talk with Adeleine that helps heal him from the torturous events of DL 3 - in which we learn a highly disappointed Zero drove Noir to the absolute breaking point, shattering his mind and his newly regained soul. Adeleine also tells Noir she has finally realized everything he did for her during their childhood and apologizes to him for not seeing it before. With dawn on the horizon, Noir asks to look over Adeleine's sketchbooks with her before the end... He dies one last time, peacefully, while Adeleine finally gets to properly mourn him.)

(Then, all the "main-verse" sections proceed to happen as stated above!)

-

(...Okay, okay. One last thing. There was also an alternate ending planned where Magolor, taking advantage of the fact that Merry Magoland was built on a nexus point, finds a way to reunite Adeleine and White-Haired Noir - still a teen in this version - using his theme park as a union point, as special birthday gift for Adeleine.)

(I was kinda fond of this one for reuniting the timelines, but it opened up a lot of questions such as, if Magolor made it so that Noir and Adeleine from two different dimensions can see each other as long as they're both in Magoland, could others from the WH Noir-verse see the main-verse this way? It invited too many questions, so that's why I scrapped that one and just let White-Haired Noir grow up instead.)

[officialrickshades]

realized this blog got 100 followers!! i figured i should try to post Something art AND rick related, its not much but a doodle, but my hands have REALLY been hurting lately so i need to give them a break...

[nekrosmos]

"Just a sketch", I say, cleaning up said sketch, putting more and more details into the lines, drawing a background, coloring, rendering. I blink and it's 2:30.

[foxfeast]

ok actually i don’t understand how people can create so often… if im working on a painting, i cant write, and if im writing, i cant paint…. how do some people just casually drop arts AND fics every other day?! guess ill die

[shirogane-oushirou]

meowdy... <3

[notthecity]

so I'm going to Tourdust in Berlin with a friend next month. she's been a fan of FOB longer than even me (for reference she's a millennial, got into them pre-hiatus and even saw them back in '08, her friend got a drumstick??). she has no FOB-related social media, so she has zero idea what this tour is all about, and she's asked me for no spoilers, so I can't tell her.

anyway, we were talking about tour expectations with our non-fobbie friends and she goes "oh I hope they play old songs. like sugar we're going down! :)"

y'all. guys. she has No Idea. Zero Idea. Good God

[fatal-blow]

trying to be normal and not randomly message everyone in the notes of the subcapularis post with Bonus Facts

[yardsards]

on one hand it's probably for the best that there were no jokes about rainer's disability but on the other hand, rainer absolutely strikes me as a fellow member of the "uses our visible disability for lame puns and prop comedy" gang

[seilon]

god I wish I could rip Instagram apart with my teeth I hate it I hate it I hate it

[pedgito]

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 | Javier Pena x reader

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | this is my own entry for the summer lovin' challenge, somehow torturing myself further by writing a fic amongst all my other wips and helping organize this challenge. there's sweaty javi p and office sex, that's all you need to know.

content warning | heavy smut, teasing upon teasing upon teasing, lots of mentions of heat/sweat, perfect use of ice in a situation like this, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, public-ish sex

word count — 5k

You curse quietly over your second paper cut of the day, nursing your pointer finger between your lips and silently reprimanding yourself for agreeing to help Steve—he was good at begging, you could give him that, and a hell of a sweet talker when he wanted to be. He always wore you down, a promise of coffee every day for a week on him, or lunch the following day, anything to sweeten the deal. This time it was neither.

“I rescheduled twice already,” He’s pointed out the reasons on his fingers, extending them out as he numbers them and using his finger to add emphasis as he pressed down on them as he went, “we finally have someone to watch Olivia for us this evening, and you know, you won’t even be alone—Pena’s staying late.”

He wiggled his three fingers like it was the best deal you’ve ever been offered, a smile growing on his face as he attempted to pass over the file that you took with reluctance, blowing out a puff of air and clutching it to your chest, arms crossed over the manila folder as you glance at your dainty watch—four in the afternoon. Not bad. Not great, either. You’ve stayed later—given your commute is only about five minutes. You tended to pick up the slack, for everyone, but mostly those boys. You weren’t sure how it ended up this way, but even Carillo acknowledged it. 

You did grunt work, small and miniscule things in the lives of two DEA agents who were out in the field hunting a notorious cartel leader every day—but you, you were dealing with papercuts and carpal tunnel, it wasn’t nearly as comparable.

And Javier Pena made sure to remind you every chance he had.

You pluck at the group of files labeled La Quica and El Limon, a hefty collection of data that has been compiled for the past several months and felt never ending—you were nearing the point of understanding every piece of information in this room back to front, knowing far too much about the cartel than you originally intended. It was terrifying; even seeing the look on either of the men’s faces when they returned back from a hard day of busts and undercover work.

And, maybe Javier just figured you didn’t care or wouldn’t be able to comprehend half of what was stored away in these files—but he sure wasn’t quiet about it.

It’s been around an hour now, tearing through the unorganized mess that the file room had become.

Mumbling the names under your breath as you drag your finger over the sticky note and kneeling down until your practically on all fours, digging through a box on the floor with your head tucked and oblivious to Javier as he rounds the corner to the secluded room, heavy footsteps falling on deaf ears, too entranced in the task to notice him.

He clears his throat with distinction and your head snaps up, looking clearly disturbed and annoyed—Javier offers a superficial smile and points a finger at the pile on the floor, his shoulder leaned against one of the tall shelves holding boxes upon boxes of crucial information.

Your eyebrows raise in expectation, head shaking slightly at him as you urge him to speak and get on with whatever comment he was dying to make as he continued to stare down, licking his lips briefly before they finally part and—

“Those the files we’ve been asking for?”

That Steve has been asking for—Not Javier, never Javier. He’s too macho and mighty for paperwork and sitting at a desk all day.

“It is part of them,” You say with emphasis, “I still have an entire section to go through. Steve asked me to pull everything we have on those two.”

“Well, everyone’s leaving—and I know where most of the shit is. I got it, you can head out.”

You seethe, jaw clenched and your eyebrow furrows as you stand, a pile of strewn papers in your arms.

“You know, instead of going through Steve to have me fetch the stuff you need—I don’t know, you could just man up and ask me directly.”

He has no idea what you’re talking about.

Except, he does.

He’s shoved off work to Steve who was enough of a pushover for his friend and partner, to pick it up when he had time, but this time it had landed on a busy day, a busy weekend, there just wasn’t enough time for him to handle it. 

“La Quica, El Limon—Carillo was talking to you about them this morning. What’s got you so tied up that you couldn’t handle it yourself?” You ask accusatory, back turned to him as you walk toward the table in the center of the room.

“We’ve got leads to check out, muñequita.” 

Out of your wheelhouse. Yeah—Okay, that explains it.

You roll your eyes at the nickname and drop the stack with a distinct thunk before moving past him, narrowly avoiding his broad shoulders as you walk past him, through the half-open door as you grab for one of the styrofoam cups on the water dispenser before spooning the ice into it and filling it with water, sipping with a distinct look of disdain as you eye Javier up and down, seeing that he’s followed you over, half in the doorway and half out.

“If you’re going to stand there the least you could do is help me,” You tell him, “that way we can both get out of here faster and not have to spend any more time together than we need to.”

“It’ll be faster if I do it myself,” He tells you, a metaphorical shoo-ing away as he nods toward the stairwell at the end of the hall, “I know this room like the back of my hand.”

“Have you been in here lately? It’s a mess. No one ever puts anything back in the right spot.” 

Javier’s got his signature pout on, looking downtrodden and pathetic behind his thick mustache perched on his upper lip, the constant look of being unimpressed by everything.

“I’m not leaving, Javier. You’re welcome to help, stay late, whatever—but I’ve been in this room, in this heat for an hour already and you’re not about to swoop in and snatch the credit for something you couldn’t be bothered doing yourself in the first place, alright?”

Javier looks surprised at that, not as much by the bite in your tone but the lack of snide comment, not calling him an asshole or a prick and storming off. Again, you brush past him with your drink in hand and take your seat, feeling the thin layer of sweat covering your body—it wasn’t that unbearable, but another hour and you would be a hell of a lot more crankier.

“Fine—” You respond, eyes tracking elsewhere as he moves form his place against the open door, only catching the lingering shadow of the door as it closed until it was far too late, “fuck, Javi! The—”

A loud click and Javier’s reaction time, given his ability to pull out a gun and have it propped at the ready in half a second, is far too slow. He turns, seeing the now closed door and turns back to you.

“Door,” You say, voice falling flat.

Javier backtracks and heads for the door, hoping and praying this was one of the days it wouldn’t lock—it was a tricky thing. Only working half of the time. Luckily, any other time it was during the day, surrounded by people who could help. But, now—it’s the two of you and no one else.

If you were pissed at Javier before, you were fuming now.

He jiggles the doorknob. Nothing. Fist pounding against the door. Nothing.

A quick shout out to anyone. Anything. Hoping someone would still be near.

Nothing. Not a sound.

“We’re stuck,” You sneer at him, “—sit down or that jiggling is going to drive me insane.”

He kicks the door for good measure, hoping by some miracle it might actually pop open.

You huff out an exhausted laugh under your breath and spread your hands out over the files, sorting out the important information and pictures from the notes and extra files that weren’t really needed. Javier approaches slowly and you take a sip of the water, thankful that you were at least able to reward yourself with that before you ended up in this mess.

Javier takes a look at his own watch and clicked his tongue before resigning to the fact that things weren’t going to go his way, dancing his fingers along the edge of the table as he took a seat, fingertips pressed into the surface as he settled, watching you casually under the flickering overhead light.

A few minutes slowly turn into several, quiet aside from the occasional shuffling of paper or sips of your water and you find that when no one else is around, Javier isn’t a total asshole. There’s no harsh quip or snide comment being lobbed your way but you can also tell that he’s just as frustrated as you, knowing that he needed to sift through this intel too.

But, the heat was sweltering—so distracting and despite the setting sun outside, had you reaching for a few buttons on your blouse as you leaned back, sighing as you picked up an empty file folder and fanned yourself in earnest, exposing your neck as you hung your head back.

You don’t hear Javier, but you feel him. His eyes on you as you lift your head back up.

Bewilderment. Annoyance. You can’t place it in the moment, he doesn’t even speak. But, you find yourself responding anyway.

“What? It’s hot.”

Javier throws a casual hand up in defense but his eyes follow your hand as they descend into your styrofoam cup, water long gone but the ice standing strong. You take a piece and cup it in your palm before rubbing it over your neck, instantly sighing at the crisp cold touch of it against your skin and aptly ignoring how it drips down the valley of your breasts, looking up to catch Javier at just the right time, his eyes looked on your movements and more pointedly—your chest.

“Here, try it,” You tell him, noticing the sheen of sweat on his neck, “it helps.”

He plucks a cigarette out of his half-empty pack and places it between his lips.

“I’m good.”

“Suit yourself, “ You shrug, but quickly lean forward to pluck the cigarette from his mouth and place it down on the table, “–hey, can you not?”

Javier looks at you in disbelief, snatching the cigarette off the table and tucking it away anyways.

“You smoke in this place all day, you can at least wait until we’re out of here.”

“Do you ever loosen up?” Javier pokes at you daringly, “I mean, what does it really take for you to pull that skirt out of your ass?”

“Not you,” You reply sharply, a smile spreading across your face, “but, putting away the cigarette is a start.”

Javier leans back in the chair with a dignified sigh, scratching at his forehead in frustration at the lack of progress and the fact that he literally has no way out of here.

“You know, he’s been off the grid for three weeks,” You speak out loud, knowing that Javier is well aware, “is there really anything in here that is going to help? Or is it just that all of the leads are dead?”

His demeanor breaks slightly, a shuffle in his shoulders as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Both—maybe. This shit is probably pointless.”

“And that’s why you wanted me to take care of it,” You respond conclusively, “but you’re impatient—you don’t have to argue with me, I know you are.”

“Really, muñequita, you think you know me so well?” Javier asks testingly, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, “What else do you know about me?”

“That you like your ego boosted,” You retort, “and I’m not about to do that. So—”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Javier says with a smirk, eyes glinting with a faint, creeping darkness.

“Shut up,” You say in a clipped town before looking around curiously, “and what are we supposed to do now? Sleep here? I really can’t believe you fucking locked us in.”

“No, no—” Javier's finger wags in a motion that makes you want to bite them off, jaw clenching forcefully, “if you hadn’t wasted so much time then maybe we could have flagged down someone.”

“Okay, but you still let that door close.”

Once again, both arms crossed over your chest, a staredown is initiated. 

It wasn’t the first, it wasn’t the last, but you wanted to ruin him.

Knock him down a beg—hell, kick him off the pedestal and wipe the goddamn floor with him.

That stupid smirk, the boiling tone of cockiness wrapped in self-righteousness.

“Don’t think too hard, cariño.”

You huff out a half-impressed laugh and organize the files after a moment, stacking them to the side and reaching into your cup for another piece of your melting ice, repeating the same motion as earlier as you slide the ice between your breasts, but with the immense amount of eye contact you didn’t give Javier the first time.

Stubborn girl. He knew that much about you.

Javier doesn’t break immediately, but the small flex in his jaw, the slightest of cracks in his hard exterior.

Attack. Attack. Attack.

You wipe your arm against your sleeve, subconsciously pressing your breasts together in the process and Javier looks like he might keel over, eyes flicking up to meet your gaze now—he’s been caught. Gazing. Admiring. Seering to his memory for a later time.

You’re not really sure but you’re not going to let him off easy either.

“Now, Pena—Don’t think too hard.” You tell him in a sickly sweet tone, “It’s just a pair of tits.”

I don’t bite—you want to add. But, you don’t.

Because even if you found Javier attractive…there was just no way. 

No. Not possible.

“What is it?” Javier asks curiously, seemingly snapped out of his stupor, and meeting your gaze like he hadn’t just been staring directly at your breasts for far too long. “About me, I mean?”

You raise an eyebrow, finger circling the styrofoam cup as you center on the table.

“What?” You ask with a soft laugh of disbelief. “It’s—it isn’t your looks, Javier. It’s all of you. You undermine me, you treat me like a fucking lap dog. I might be a bitch but—I am not your bitch.”

He wasn’t expecting that intense of a response, it felt even more eerie as your tone continued on steadily. He considers interrupting but you continue, holding a finger up to stop him.

“You know—I transferred here to help with the assignment, collect the intel and take down Pablo Escobar just like you, but for some reason, you seem to think I’m just a personal assistant. Or one of the few receptionists who all want to throw themselves at you.”

“There something wrong with that?”

You roll your eyes in silence, but the gesture is loud.

“Did I say there was?” You counter, “I think the problem for you is that it isn’t me. That someone might actually find you repulsive, right?”

Javier only looks slightly dumb-founded, following your movements as you stand and fetch the stack of files, returning them to their make-shift home for the moment, buried away on a shelf that could be reorganized later—he turns in his chair, glaring right back at you when you turn on your heels. 

“Your legs don’t work?” You ask him, nodding toward thfew smaller stacks of files scattered about the table, “If you want to get the work done so bad, clean up—or do you want me to—”

“I. Got it.” Javier responds stiffly, standing on his own two feet. He scoops up the remaining files and puts them away opposite of the shelf you had, resting a palm on an empty spot as you lean back to pick up a stray piece of paper. “But, don’t act like I don’t see you kissing Carillo’s—”

You stand and shove the paper into his chest, “Finish that sentence and you will regret it, Javier.”

“It’s alright. No shame in your game and all that.”

Fuck this.

You reach for the cup of melted ice, splashing it promptly in Javier’s face before crushing the cup in your hand out of frustration, a moment of frozen realization coming to you.

Had you actually just done that?

Javier blinks, looking down at his soaked front before promptly removing his jacket in haste watching as you slowly back away, slightly disturbed by his calmness until he’s rearing on you.

Slowly—oh, so fucking slow. 

Your chest rises in slow, deep breaths and is nearly hanging off your shoulders by now, riddled with red, hot rage.

“Tell me I don’t make you even a little bit nervous, muñequita.” 

Is this a challenge? Is this what he’s worried about?

“You don’t.”

Your response is quick, but you find yourself pressed against a file cabinet and a few inches of free space before he’s right there—so close you can feel the heat of his body, your heart races slightly.

Okay, maybe just…a little.

“Again,” Javier beckons, a sneer to his tone as he crowds you in—“Look at me and say it.”

And for the love of god, the words never come.

“You let me flirt with you because you like it. Never correct me when I give you those little nicknames—look at you, you can’t even deny it.”

A half-truth. You didn’t mind it, but it wasn’t some sort of sustenance keeping you alive. Besides, it didn’t make up for half of the times he’s belittled you in front of your shared boss.

The heat is suffocating now and Javier’s eyes follow the trail of sweat down your neck, over your breasts, watching your fingers twitch at your side because—

Why do you feel the need to touch him so badly now?

To receive that touch in return and tenfold. 

“¿Qué pasa, pobrecita?” 

His fingers curl around the edge of the file cabinet behind you, barricading you between the wall and him and if you decided to show any signs of discomfort you knew Javier would back off in a heartbeat—you didn’t even need to say anything.

“Is that what it took?” You ask, voice soft in the small gap he’s created, eyes softening slightly as he hears you speak, “Being locked in here with me, nothing else to do—that’s what it takes for you to see me as anything other than some lowly little assistant to you?”

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” Javier says fondly, holding back a chuckle in his throat before his free hand is reaching for your neck and forcing your chin up and back, his thumb rubbing into the soft spot where your jaw twitches under his touch, swallowing hard.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I can say the same for you,” Javier responds, tilting his head slightly.

You’re so hot under his touch, skin clammy and wet from the ice and broken AC.

“I’m not saying I don’t.”

Javier presses his body against you slowly, your hands reaching for his shirt instinctively, curling into the fabric and feeling it stick to his skin, feel the weight of his chest against yours, and the very obvious strain of his slacks against your thin pencil skirt.

“And I never said I did,” Javier counters, “doesn’t change the fact that you get under my skin, querida.”

Javier leans in slow, that heavy eye contact never breaking until he’s there—nose pressed against your own and you sigh, breathing into his mouth as your eyes fall closed and he knows.

His lips are soft, careful. It feels like a test.

Your resolve melts in an instant, damning Javier for whatever spell he’s placed on you but you want more, hands skirting slowly up his front until they’re molding around his neck, kissing back with a similar eagerness, still laced in trepidation.

Things ramp up quickly, Javier’s fingers finding the edge of your shirt where it’s tucked into your skirt, pulling it free and squeezing at your sides, forcing your ass down against his knee from where it's tucked between your legs, somehow finding its way there in the chaos.

“Jav—Javier,” You breathe, pulling away, “maybe—maybe this isn’t the best place…”

Your eyes trail toward the camera tucked away in the corner of the room, knowing that it had to have some pretty damning evidence by this point—the list was long and you tried not to think about it for too long before Javier’s voice is pulling you back.

“That thing hasn’t worked in weeks,” He reassures and the flickering light above dims slightly, almost on cue, “are you scared of getting caught?”

You shake your head slowly and his smile grows, lips pressed against your own as he speaks and his hands tight at your hips, pressing your core right at the center of his thigh and pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched over your ass. You throb at the pressure, breathing out shakily.

“Then let go, muñequita,” He coos.

You hum, breath catching as he pushes his thigh up, your hips instinctively rocking against the pressure and if the heat weren’t already overwhelming, you would’ve passed out from that alone.

“It’s cute,” His hands aid your movement, a slow but steady rock of your hips as you furrow your brow at his voice, “—yeah that, you do that little thing with your brow whenever I talk to you.”

“Because I can’t s—stand you,” You voice falters, feeling him pick up the pace slightly to match your sudden eagerness, months without a proper sexual partner outside of yourself and you couldn’t help but be just a little bit more open to the idea of fucking someone who wasn’t your first option, or second—not even your last. Javier was nowhere on your list, actually. 

But, here he was. Offering himself over to you.

Besides, you had an entire night stuck alone with him—it wasn’t the worst way to entertain yourselves.

“Doesn’t seem that way right now,” Javier counters, his ego shining through.

“Stop. Talking.” You plead, hands pulling at the seam of buttons on his shirt, pulling at it roughly in two quick, forceful movements until it splits open, mangling some of the buttons in the process but if upsets him, he doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he rips it away just as quick, pulling his leg away to descend to his knees, pushing your blouse up your chest until he can reach bare skin, mouthing at the soft skin of your stomach and—christ, it’s distracting. He yanks at the short zipper on your skirt, making a small noise of happy acknowledgement when he’s able to get it undone and pull your skirt down the rest of the way, breath hot over your underwear as he stares up at you, fingers curled around the thread at your hips.

You nod silently and he presses his mouth against your center, teasing kisses along your inner thighs that slowly turn into playful bites until you’re nearly squirming, begging with a softer version of his name that you never tried to let him catch you using.

“Javi, please.”

He pulls your panties down your legs, over your heels and to the floor with little care, too focused on settling your leg over his shoulder before a hand is curling over the top of your thigh, fingertips digging in as he licks a broad stripe through the center of your pussy, his other hand balled into the fabric of your shirt and you need less—less clothing, less restriction.

You fumble with your buttons, head falling back against the metal of the filing cabinet with a sigh as the tip of his tongue slides over your clit and down, a motion he repeats several times in your poor attempts to undress and chuckles against you when you curse, finally getting your top unbuttoned and letting it sag at your shoulders, your fingers buried in his hair as he groans, lapping at you eagerly as his hand rises blindly until he can squeeze at your breast.

You moan loudly, instinctively covering your mouth at the sound as Javier pulls back in subtle shock himself, surprised that you allowed yourself to be so vocal about how he was affecting you.

“Not a fucking word, Javi.” You berate him, pushing a finger into his forehead gently which he takes in stride, laughing quietly.

“No one is here.” He reminds you, “Listen.”

And you do, Javier slowly rising to his feet and pressing his lips against the side of your neck, working at his belt in time, shucking his pants open just enough for you to slip your hand into his boxers, gripping his cock tight in your hand—still, absolute silence.

“Let me fuck you,” Javier begs—begs with fervor, his breath hot against your ear, “please?”

You nod jerkily, feeling him settle his slacks just low enough that they aren’t a nuisance and pulling the thigh that was resting over his shoulder around his hip, his fingers digging into your ass as you tug at him testingly, enjoying the look on his face when you squeeze a little harder than he’s expecting, enjoying the heavy weight of him in your hand.

“Oh, I can fuck that hate right out, querida ” Javier admonishes, “don’t try me.”

“I dare you,” You challenge him, using your free hand to pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a soft grunt in return, “—just remember to pull out, yeah?”

Javier full on snorts at that, a noise muffled into your neck when he leans forward, guiding himself to press against your cunt before he sinks in, both of your momentary hostility turning to full bliss.

His hand curves around the back of your head, a simple gesture but maybe more of a warning, his hips snapping into you suddenly, quickly, jostling you against the hard surface. He was protecting your head from the sharp edge of the cabinet and you almost laughed at the thought, but his impatient, fevered movements are sending you into a spiral, eyes rolling back.

“Stay with me,” He teases softly, lips at the base of your neck,  “want you to look at me while I fuck you.”

And you do, boldly, despite how your heart races. You let your body do the work, shutting your mind off for the moment—the hesitation, the worry, the regret that would hit you five minutes after this was over. 

You don’t remember it feeling like this, either. The full body sensation, his gaze heating you from the inside out, your thumb slipping over his bottom lip curiously, his teeth biting down gently on the digit as he fucks you deeper into the surface of the cabinet, if that was possible. 

There are no words, just sounds—moans that could be heard across the bullpen if someone was close enough and Javier, who is plenty vocal and has shown himself to be, can’t even form words, grunting with every few sharp snaps of his hips, fucking you so thouroughly it aches.

“Touch yourself,” He instructs, “let me see, muñequita. Wanna know.”

It doesn’t matter if he’s thought about it before—or, if somewhere in the deep, dark shadows of your mind that you might have had the same thought about him too.

There is no convincing, feeling yourself so on the edge already that it wouldn’t take much. And it doesn’t, your hand descending until your fingers graze over your clit, steadily bringing yourself closer and closer, legs shaking under Javi’s grip until he has to bear most of your weight as you come, blunt fingernails digging into his shoulder as you cry out. And he’s there too, so close and hanging on by a thread, the unsteady thrust of his hips a tell-tale sign.

Your heart is racing, mind too, and the words that come out aren’t anything of rational thinking.

“In my mouth,” You tell him, sounding more earnest than you ever have.

“You sure?”

You laugh through the exhaustion.

“Are you really questioning that?”

He shakes his head in amusement before he’s patting the back of your neck gently and urging you to your knees, jerking himself into your open mouth a few seconds before he’s coming, somehow managing to keep the moment tender as he holds your chin and squeezes gently, watching you swallow down the heady taste of him with your eyes locked on his.

“So, what now?” You ask jokingly, taking the hand he offers to you after a moment of him tucking himself back into his jeans, cursing when you shoulder bumps a stack of files on the way up, dropping them to the floor in a pile. 

Javier fetches your clothes and hands them over, redressing himself before plucking at the files hastily.

You’re nearly dressed when you hear him curse behind you.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Hm?” You turn on your heels, busy tucking your shirt back into your skirt when you spot the item in his hands—a small gold key. “Well—don’t fucking stare at it. Try it.”

Javier approaches the door with quick footsteps, followed by your softer ones as you slip on your heels, gasping as the key turns in the lock and suddenly—the past couple of hours dissipates in an instant.

“Look at it this way,” Javier says lightly, “we’d still be stuck in here otherwise.”

Being that, if he hadn’t fucked you against the filing cabinet you’d be spending your night sleeping on the murky carpet of the file room floor—so, as usual, Javier Pena saves the day.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Javier suggests, “it’s the least I could do.”

“I live like three blocks away from—”

“Humor me?”

You chew at your bottom lip hesitantly.

Javier reaches forward suddenly, soothing the worry with his thumb.

“Pobrecita, if it isn’t all gone, we can try again?”

You slap his hand away gently, wordlessly taking his offer as you step past him, watching as his smile grows to a satisfied grin.

“You didn’t say no,” He adds.

Maybe he hadn’t fucked all of the hate out of you, but it was a start.

↝ special thanks to @undercoverpena for taking a look over this for me <3

↝ divider credit: yours truly.

[peachesofteal]

soap x cypher masterlist / 18+ mdni / dark and twisty themes overall but this is very soft / inspired by and written for @eilidh-eternal

Johnny is fuming.

You've skipped his lab. Not only have you skipped his lab, but you didn't even let him know. Where are you? He hasn’t even see you in days, getting in late from an op last night, collapsing into bed exhausted. All he wanted was to see your face this morning, peering at him from between the sea of students.

"Sir?"

"What?" He snaps, temper flaring, irritation running hot. The student, a transfer bomb tech from another unit, gulps. Get yerself together, he seethes. Ye're acting like a bloody fool. The tech voices a question, a complicated technical one, but easy to answer, and he rattles off a response before excusing everyone for the day.

He has more important things that need his attention.

He goes back and forth on punishment as he stalks over to the tech building. Overstimulation? Should he tie you to his bed and strap the head of a vibrator to your clit until you're crying? Denial? Humiliation? Should he shave your cunt, and then eat you out for hours, not letting you come once? Should he spank you until your ass is raw and you can't sit for a week?

Anger turns to worry when he steps onto your floor, and doesn't find you. You're not at your console. You're not in the bathrooms, or the break room. You're not anywhere.

He marches to Laswell's office, knocking twice before pushing the door wide, to her surprise.

"Soap?"

"Cypher not in today?" He skips the pleasantries, and she gives him a knowing look.

'She's out sick." Sick? You're sick? His mind is already scrambling, and he barely hears her parting words as he makes for the door, anger draining from his body and being replaced with worry, fear. Why didn't you tell him?

He gets his answer easily enough when you answer his incessant knocking with both wrists in braces, KT tape stretched from the back of your hands to your knuckles. Your face is twisted up, brow furrowed, and he immediately steps forward, hesitant to touch you, but yearning to provide you comfort, to help. To fix.

“Oh, Cy.” He murmurs and you look down to your feet.

“‘m sorry I missed class, I couldn’t… I can’t type, or pick anything up, so-“

“It’s okay. Let’s not worry about that now.” He herds you gently, turning you back into your room, relaxing as he feels you lean into him, one of his hands cradling yours carefully. “Carpal tunnel?” He knows all about it, of course. He has your medical file memorized. Knows about the flare ups that are really bad, knows you’re a perfect candidate for surgery, even though from the looks of it, you’re avoiding that option. He always thought he’d cross that bridge when he came to it, getting you to have the procedures scheduled, but it seems like that bridge is coming up now.

“It’s bad.” You croak. You can’t even work the door handle, trying in vain to flex your fingers, his heart sinking at the agony on your face, when you start to crumple, tears starting in the corners of your eyes.

“Shhh, I’m here, I’m here, wee sweet.” His arms wrap around you, holding you there for a second, rubbing your back, your shoulders, trying to reassure you. “I’ll take care of ye.” He promises, shutting the door with a firm click, and leading you over to your bed, encouraging you to sit, keeping his touch as gentle as he can, as to not jostle you or your hands. “What do ye need?” He smooths a hand over your hair, and you sigh.

“Something to eat.” Oh, sweet Cy. How long have ye felt like this? This is his fault. He should have been here last night. “And some ice, maybe?”

“Have ye taken anything?” He’s already pulling out his phone, shooting a text out to cash in on a favor owed to him by another Sergeant, essentially using them as a delivery service for your needs. “What sounds good to eat?”

“I don’t know, I can’t pick up-“

“I’ll take care of that.” He’s unmoored by your suffering, but a select piece of him is secretly delighted he’ll get to feed you, wash your hair, help you with your clothes, take care of all your needs. His mouth practically waters. You chew on your lip, wincing as you shift and he moves with you, encouraging you to lay down your back, tired eyes blinking up at the ceiling. Poor baby, probably hasnae sleep a wink. “I’ll pick for ye, Cy.”

“Okay.” You whisper, eyes slipping closed. He leans, lips dotting across your forehead.

“I’ve got ye. Want the lights off?” You nod, and he gets up to flick them off, clicking on the little bedside lamp that has the yellow shade, the dim one that you like “Whit feels good for yer hands? Ice? Elevation?”

“Both.” He tacks ice onto the ‘to be delivered list’ and then grabs a pillow, tucking it into your side to place your one wrist on top, arranging your giant quilt on the other to do the same.

He fusses over you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re content, propping you up on more pillows when everything is dropped at your door, and he stashes the ice in the freezer for after he feeds you.

“Got some soup.” He tells you sweetly, and you brighten a little.

“What kind?”

“Yer favorite. The cream of mushroom.” You smile at him and he holds you there, indulging in your sweet expression, until it starts to fade, drooping with realization. Confusion.

“Wait… how do you know it’s my favorite?”

[bunny584]

JUJUTSU KAISEN’S ANATOMY

Part II of this cute lil ask right here

A/N: Shit. You just graduated med school. And today…people expect you to…doctor? Mom come pick us up, we’re SCARED (real thought on my first day of residency).

S/N: Meet your first year surgical residency class. Undifferentiated little stem cells. The bottom of the surgical food chain. First shift last 36 hours and you work every second night until you drop. 

All you know is that you like to cut. Where/what/how that cutting comes will be decided later. Everyone has an idea of their subspecialty but…shit happens, preferences change and sometimes the spleen just bleeds for no fucking reason at 4 am when you’ve gotten 30 minutes of sleep in the last 3 days and you have to—what? Sorry. Forgive me. 

Let’s get into it.

For the love of God, interns — pick up your pagers. 

SURGICAL INTERNS ON CALL

Dr. Yuji Itadori 

Specialty Interest: ORTHOPEDIC SURGERY 

Don’t tell Dr. Sukuna about this but who here is shocked. This sack of muscles THROWS SUVS AT HIS MORTAL ENEMIES ON A RANDOM TUESDAY NIGHT??? Please???? He also does shit like watch Wormo-Man parts I-V and this is peak orthopod behavior. Yuji definitely has contests with his patients on rounds who can crush the cranberry juice or protein shakes the fastest. Spoiler, he always lets the patient win.

Everyone thinks he’s just joking around but it’s his way of getting post op patients to get their nutrition in. He’s a very thoughtful doctor, even though people assume he’s no thoughts just vibes between his eyes. 

Dr. Megumi Fushiguro

Specialty Interest: HAND SURGERY (can be achieved via Ortho or plastics)

Hand surgeons are a different BREED. Do me a favor and google “hand anatomy.” Not only will you find like 400 bones, there are 7,000 tiny tendons, lumbricals, digital arteries, veins and nerves all packed into the little mitts we take for granted. And to add insult to injury — all of the muscles and tendons are in latin. Like whoever decided that please take your seat on this one way train to hell :)

Nevertheless, Dr. Geto spotted Dr. Fushiguro on day ONE of intern year. How meticulous and neat he is. How intelligent he is in the O.R. As an intern, Megumi broke the record for the fastest carpal tunnel release for residents (4 minutes, 35 seconds — not faster than mine though, 3 mins, 52 seconds over here big dawg). Suguru is Megumi’s mentor within the first week. Two peas in one moody brunette, pod. 

Dr. Nobara Kugisaki

Specialty Interest: TRAUMA SURGERY 

Nobara is 100% resistant to the Satoru Gojo, MD charm. Unlike the rest of the residents, she isn’t squeezing into Dr. Gojo’s trauma ORs just to graze his gloved hand with theirs. Or make eyes over the surgical masks. No, Nobara did her first cricothyrotomy and became HOOKED. The day she had to climb on the gurney to tie off a patient’s external jugulars because after coding and ROSC (return of spontaneous circulation) they were SPURTING out of the large pipes in their neck — she was sold. Trauma surgery through and through.

Real story btw. It was insane. Whirlwind of a day from the trauma bay to the OR to the ice cream we all scarfed down after because we won that day. And you don’t win every day. So the days you get to tell the Angel of Death to fuck off, you savor them. 

Dr. Maki Zenin 

Specialty Interest: VASCULAR SURGERY 

Little known fact about vascular surgeons is that they are gangster as fuck. Hear me out. They like the blood PAPER thin, right? Small, rusty pipes need to get fluid through, so thin the fluid out as much as possible. Meaning patients are on aspirin, lovenox, heparin, and every other anticoagulant known to man.

Everyone else with a working amygdala is scared to DEATH of these patients bleeding because you look at them sideways and suddenly hemorrhage everywhere. Not vascular surgeons and not Maki Zenin. “Aorta ruptured..? No prob, just sew it up with a couple stitches. What—like it’s hard?” - Every Vascular Surgeon ever. Maki just gives unhinged-unbothered-let-them-bleed energy to me. Plus vascular surgeons do all of the amputations. Maki is doing that with her cursed tools and scrubbing in with hand sanitizer only. Period.

Dr. Yuta Okkotsu

Specialty Interest: TRANSPLANT SURGERY 

The OG lover boy is NO different in this AU. He is sentimental. He cries with patients. Dr. Nanami met him during the first month of his residency and immediately took him under his wing. Yuta is always the last to leave the anatomy lab, making sure to stitch the donors completely closed — even though no one will see. When asked why he spends hours post call doing it, he says: “Because they deserve respect until the very end.” Nanami And Yuta are a perfect match. After Yuta’s first liver transplant, Nanami takes him to the same hill he lays on by the airport. They both say goodbye to the donor together. 

Dr. Toge Inumaki

Specialty Interest: ….he switched to PSYCHIATRY, still tight with the surgical interns though.

Hello, please this is also obvious. Inumaki is the only one in the group who can listen intently for hours without interruptions lmao. He saw that aggressive surgery shit and said absolutely not I’ll take my talents ELSEWHERE 😂

And you know, funnily enough, a good majority of surgeons ALSO were torn between picking surg vs psychiatry. My mentor told me that its because its as invasive, just without the scalpel. The rest of us meatheads just like the scalpel a little too much to put it down. 

Panda:

Specialty Interest: N/A

He is the hospital emotional support animal. 

E/N: Alright interns. Do your best not to kill anyone. And if your chief resident (me) is sleeping, don’t page me. And if you do page me the patient better be knocking on heaven’s gates. And if they are knocking on heaven’s gates, they better not have crossed into the bright light before I get there. 

Real E/N: Kidding. I am so full of shit lol. I am the senior that brings my juniors cafecitos and treats and takes their pager to let them get some well deserved rest. 

Don’t be late to your OR cases, Shoo!

[goodluckclove]

On Not Writing

Hi! I'm back. i had a fun two days of doing absolutely nothing writing related, including scrolling this blog. Wife and I played a lot of Valheim. Took a lot of bike rides. Watched Interstellar for the first time - pretty good, kind of silly at the end. It was my first two-day weekend in probably three months, so it was much-needed, hard as it was.

And it got me thinking of some things I wanted to say to the community here. It's especially targeted towards younger writers, of which I used to be one, but I think it can apply to anyone who finds themselves despairing over how much they aren't writing.

Let's imagine you're sitting with me in this coffee shop. It's an overcast Portland morning and I just inadvertently vivisected a croissant. And as we sip our drinks (I ordered a lavender latte), you lament to me. I don't know what to do, Clove. I just haven't been writing!

You know what I say to that?

Good.

This is a new hot take of mine that I, once again, worry about upsetting people with. Because I see a lot of guides here about how to write, or how to write consistently, or how to write through writers block. But I haven't seen a single person talking about the inverse - how to not write. Or - perhaps more accurately - how to exist as a human being separate from your identity as a writer.

This is a problem for me.

Listen - I started young. I was 12 when I wrote my first novella, and 13 when I completed my first novel the next year. Adults in my life were impressed by the big-eyed child writing so many words. They encouraged me. I wrote two more novels, and they continued to encourage me. Because of the potential, right? I could be successful. I could be famous.

People stopped pushing me to try other things. I saw I was getting validation as a writer, so that only pushed me to continue fixating over something I was already enjoying and getting pretty good at. Dad had me writing two thousand words every day, because that's what Stephen King did. At 16 I finished four full-length novels, which everyone thought was really cool and interesting. I was also sporting dual hand braces every day throughout the winter to cope with the carpal tunnel I still struggle with to this day.

There is encouraging a person in their passion. There is also poisoning them with the belief that their self-worth comes from pursuing that passion. This is entirely, absolutely, even more true for younger writers and artists.

I am enraged for the young writer in my heart and in my head. Because they worried about a lot of the same things I see people worry about on here. Oh, if I don't write I'm not a writer! And to an extent they're right, as to be a writer you need to at some point write some stuff.

But here's the fucking thing, Young Clover - a child should not strive for the work ethic of a professional adult. You did not need to write 2k words a day to be a writer. You were a writer as soon as you updated that terrible Invader Zim fanfiction you wrote when you were 10.

And more than that, though, the most important thing to a person should not be their job and aspirations. If you don't write every day, you're still a writer. If you've never written anything, you aren't - and that's fine. You might write something later down the line, or you might not. Either way you are still entitled to exist on the planet and capable of living a full and passionate and wonderful life.

Hear my words: being a writer is not more important than being a human being.

If you aren't writing right now, maybe you're not supposed to be. Maybe you're meant to be nurturing your relationships, or nurturing yourself. Maybe you're supposed to be volunteering. Or meeting new people. Or gaining a new field of knowledge. Or getting really good at making focaccia bread. Or watching every Mark Wahlberg movie.

I don't like to hear this any more than you do. If I was told that I, for some reason, was not allowed to write for the rest of my life, I would be miserable for maybe a long time. After that passed it's my hope that I would move on and do other things, because my worth is not dependent on being a writer. I like doing it. I like being it, and I hope to be one for the rest of my life. But I never want it to be the first thing people see when they look at me. I don't even like bringing it up in conversation with people I don't already know.

So yeah, if you have "writer's block", maybe consider putting down the pickaxe and getting some rest. Step away entirely from the large boulder that stands between you being the next Stephen King or Brandon Sanderson or Teen Dystopia Writer no. 2321. Take a break, and I mean an ACTUAL break, not the kind where you spend the whole time sulking about work.

I am legitimately begging the writers on here to have developed lives and interests outside of writing. I am begging because I do not have that and it has consistently been one of the hardest things of my life.

You prioritize living outside your writing and it will improve the quality of your writing when you get back to it, as it'll allow you a frame of reference that extends beyond our niche industry. Or it might make you realize that, while you enjoy writing, what you really love is ceramics. Or game developing. Or mutual-aid activism. Or the movies of Mark Wahlberg.

It is not your job to treat yourself like you already have a dozen deadlines and an audience teetering on the edge of disappointment. That's ultimately not going to help you. Your job on this earth is to exist fully, for the sake of the universe that wants so desperately to live vicariously through you.

So breathe. Breathe and calm down. You aren't a failure and there's nothing you have to prove. All you have to do today is drink some water and have a nice snack while you look at a cloud.

Please be kind. All of us need to be kinder to each other and to ourselves.

That's all I want to say. I love you dearly. Please let me know if you need anything.

[zjasperwrites]

A Non-Exhaustive List of Tips For Managing Carpal Tunnel Syndrome

If you type, write, draw, craft, or do anything with your hands, you are at risk for carpal tunnel! If you're developing any pain, or have none but want to take preventive measures, feel free to try these. I'm not a doctor, but these help my case of severe CTS!

This advice may not apply to everyone, but these are all things you can do without receiving medical care. Yet know that options like pain prescriptions, steroids, and surgery are possible for relief.

Give your hands a break when necessary and feasible. Even just implementing one rest day a week can be extremely beneficial.

Stretch your hands, fingers, arms, and neck regularly. This video can get you started.

Look into a hand massager. I use this one. If your pain is severe, I find massaging before stretching is most effective.

Vary your positions. You can reduce strain by trying differing neutral angles of arm/wrist position while working. Elevation helps.

Use ergonomics. Ones I use include an ergonomic mouse and mousepad, and this support pen from PenAgain.

Explore temperature therapy. Both heat pads or ice packs can be helpful depending on your needs and preferences.

Work on grip strengthening. If you already have CTS pain, be careful, but some wrist/finger exercise can help. I use this tool.

Train yourself to work more gently. Lighten your grip on writing tools, slow down and don't press so hard while typing.

If you already have pain, GET WRIST BRACES. Sleep in them to start, then wear them during the day if needed. You can also...

Try out k-tape. I personally get more pain if I use a brace 24/7, so this k-tape wrap is nice for day-time support.

Look into finger splints too. Finger hypermobility or exertion can strain wrists much more quickly, especially when typing.

Compression gloves also help. These are my "lowest tier" for support when my pain is mildest.

Get comfortable with voice-typing. Adjusting to this can be hard, but its an excellent way to keep writing without hurting yourself.

Especially if you have severe pain, consider tools marketed at amputees. Obviously be mindful of the resources you take up, but accessibility tools are for anyone who needs them. When my pain is at my worst, I am unable to use my arm/hand and can't even raise it, so tools to facilitate one-handed use are helpful.

And finally, not so much a tip, but a warning. Most likely, you'll get CTS pain in your dominant hand first. When that happens, do not switch to your non-dom hand and continue on. That hand is not in the clear, its next. Implement treatment and management in both hands, and use your non-dom hand when necessary while not overworking it either. Don't let yourself fall into denial because you can "get by" without adjustments. I promise the initial ability to keep working without inconvenience is not worth developing CTS in both hands lol.

If anyone else has advice please add on! I live as a walking warning to my husband who crochets to take care of his hands, so here's to hoping I can help others too!

[smrtnik07]

librarians redesigned!!! by me!!! :)

the designs are free to use, i used this as a character design exercise for myself while recovering from carpal tunnel issues! read more for all the individual designs + me ranting :*

first off roland!! i included an angelica in here, i designed her before him, shes very triangular to me.. maybe a bit more messed up than roland tells us about, he is a biased narrator afterall. anyways i wanted his design to match hers nicely, so hes like a rounded square type of guy... i think projmoon designed him to be Just A Guy intentionally, so i played into it. overall the least interesting design of the bunch imo. its on purpose :)

angela !!! my baby :) an important thing here is her bangs. i dont want her hair to be able to recover from however many years she spent with the hard middle part in lobcorp, i think its cute to incorporate it still. swoopy, fluffy hair for her! and the clothes are just a bit more casual idk the librarian uniforms were kinda boring and stiff to me, as much as it does go with her character.. if u wanna be human u gotta experience the joy of sweatpants or whatever. also i didnt add color but i dont want her to be fully white<3 or fully clear skinned.. give her sunspots on her face. she finally gets to experience sun. :)

guess ill go in order of appearance lol. malkuth! whats the headband for if it doesnt keep anything out of her face!! since shes a bit more active than some of her colleagues, i also gave her a ponytail(its also for the silhouette...) also gave her some chubbier thighs.. also maybe a butler-esque coat, at least to me; i just made it a bit more form fitting than the original. playing into her personality or whatever. shes cute.. remember to take deep breaths!!

yesod!! i want to play into the skin issues a bit more, i still removed his gloves but i gave him a poncho, not just for the square silhouette im trying to build but for more coverage. also emo hair over eyes was funny. also wide flare pants for you, boy. just very square and put together in general

hod! this ones my favorite (i even cared enough to give her a pattern on that skirt!!) it was kinda bugging me how in the artbook i couldnt tell who was writing because hod's, malkuth's, and tiphereth's colors are so similar. so hod is pink now, and malkuth a bit more orange. i kinda went for a romantic poet thing here, dunno how much that worked out, but i think out of everyone you can tell shes the literature girl. gave her pigtails !! theyre cute :> also since i removed the coat decoration off of angela, i gave part of it to hod in the bottom of her coat :). cute and round!

netzach is a very strange man to me.. ellipse shape and loose fitting clothes for u. if i saw him irl i wouldnt approach him. not to say i dont like him as a character, i love him, but i want him to look like a depressed guy who would pick up art as a hobby to distract himself and it works. bro is just surviving out there. also gave him comfy clothes to make the surviving easier, down to the shoes and wide, id assume non-denim pants - maybe cotton? maybe sweatpants that dont fit around the ankle? who knows.

tiphereth!! since she's like the teen girl of the group i gave her a skater dress, converse, and a tied coat around her waist.. like how i used to wear as a teen when i was being a hater and recovering from a death in the family that changed my entire life (im still a teen ... 9 more days till im 20 as of posting this). also gave her fishnets i think she would like that. i imagine she would get headaches bc of those dumb braids on her head<3 or maybe bc her coworkers are kinda dumb<3

gebura :) round face, reverse triangle shaped body.. like a true butch lesbian stereotype.. i decided a leather jacket, docs and pants i see metalheads wear would fit her! red leather jacket, of course. also gave her spiky hair just like projmoon did<3 my favorite detail here are the eyebrows, i think their shape is rlly neat! nvm i think its just that gebura is rlly neat. anyways the eyebrows fit her

chesed my boy.. idk i just saw him and hit him with the transmasc beam and gave him , as the kids say, wh0re eyes. i wanted him to have rounder hips and just be round in general. turtleneck and cardigan combo also, i think he would like wearing that. also somewhat curlier hair, or at least wavy would do him well! and a tote bag, i dont doubt that he would go out to read in coffee shops if he could - so he gets a tote bag to carry his sociology books. i want him to look like he would give the warmest, comfiest hugs and be friend shaped

binah!! this one was the most challenging, trying to find the right place for the colors - to not use too little or too much yellow. i still dont think i got it right but this is as close as im getting. long face, long nose, siren-ish eyes.. messed up in the head bird lady that speaks like hannibal! i also dont think a dress really suits her so i opted for wide pants and a fancy black button up .. maybe angela styled her, who knows. also black fingertips which is a trait i like to give the arbiters (including an oc).. just my own little consistency thing i like to do :)

hi grandpa! ok for hokma i dont think the changes are that big? i gave him O shaped legs and his sword thing i turned into a walking cane, gave him a vest (didnt want to opt for a corset but i think he would enjoy the back support for proper posture) . also gave him a mild gradient from darker gray to lighter gray, since he IS the gray part of the ABC trio. gave him salt and pepper hair and an older face. forgot to draw it, but i wanted to give him a silicone tip for the sword so it doesnt dull out, which he can take off when recieving guests

honorary mention to go along with the angelica i mentioned with roland, i mildly changed up her twin(k) brother. i gave argalia and angie the same hair but mirrored, his a bit more curly and hers a bit more spikey, his face a bit more edgy, hers a bit rounder and kinder. not much else to say here, i liked his design as is, but wanted to add him here :)