#everything is thrifted and kinda nasty

[spontaneousmusicalnumber]

Toxic pokeweed root dye (kyll) update: I have obtained all of the necessary materials to cook some up!

A cutting board, knives, tongs, and pots that will never again touch food (a big dye pot was last on my list). I also got a portable hot plate so I don't have to worry about keeping my kitchen safe and can cook in the garage. I have the old, now-dried, pokeweed roots, and have just dug another half dozen fresh roots that I actually WASHED. (Yeah I didn't wash the others. Oops.)

I'm gonna cut up the fresh roots to boil tonight and see if I can get a dye from them! Good news or bad news, it looks like I won't ever run out of pokeweed on this property.

The roots I got today are quite young and small. I'll be curious if young roots and more mature roots are different.

[icarusredwings]

Subway (b)Rat

Rated Explicit for sexy romantic comedy.

~6k words.

Consider this a gift for my Kinktober fans (I KNOW IT'S THE 29TH SHUT UP) and an apology on the behalf of @bougiebutchbinch for making you all so sad with THIS post.

Authors note: Mentions of cablepool because I think every time this man is mentioned, Logan feels the undying urge to reclaim Wade. The Summer's bloodline is intertwined with his too much, and it's ruining his life lmao. Summers is to Logan how Dinkleberg is to Timmy’s dad.

And yes, I'm aware this is pretty vanilla/Tame, but you know what? You're gonna read it anyway because I wrote it for you. And it would be rude if you didn't. Also, shout out to the font change method because I was STUCK stuck.

CW: Semi public, teasing, an unGODLY amount of kissing, choking, spanking, stretching, praise kink, mind breaking, biting, scratching, blood, cancerous cysts, prostate cancer, mentioned sub drop, physical exhaustion, Lovey dovey shit, Logan being a good top, drippy creampie, self hate talk, mentions of a dead pigeon, breath play, god what else uhhmm, puppy play if you squint, overstimulation, hair pulling, breeding kink, free use, light public humiliation, fourth wall break.

Thinking about how Wade sometimes insults himself too much to the point of comparing himself to a diseased subway rat with mange or a filthy gas station bathroom. How they stink are collectively hated, and everyone abuses them because of how disgustingly ugly they are.

This is Logan's breaking point. He's tired of hearing this. Tired of telling him to shut up. Tired of him truly thinking that he could only love him all dolled up. Well, guess what, honey? Maybe the Wolverine is into naked subway rats. They were scavengers, after all.

So he decided to do something about it. After a joke, when he compared himself to a dead pigeon on the tracks, Logan growled lowly in his throat. It was the final straw. Grabbing his wrist, he pulled him off of the locomotive and across the platform deck as he held their bags of household items and their lunch.

"Hey! Peanut, We're gonna miss our stop! I know you don't get the subway because of how old you are and everything but-"

Taking him into the bathroom, he threw him into a stall with a 'omph', slamming the door shut behind them.

"What? Am I in timeout or are you araid to piss by yourself, handsome? Kind of fitting that you picked the grossest one for me. There's piss on the floor right ther-"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, he growls close to his face. "SHUT. UP."

Of course, he only licked his palm. It's not like he cared, though. He's done far more nasty stuff before. And far uglier people.

Wade always thought that he was Sooooo bad. And soooo ugly, but in truth, he was just an annoyingly loveable idiot with cancer.

That's not his fault. Logan would never judge him for something that wasn't his fault and couldn't help. The only way he'd ever get better is if the CIA stopped killing everyone who cures cancer. Hank got close once, but he got told to stop immediately or else.

Letting him go, he put the bags on one of those purse hooks, moving them so that he was sitting and Wade was on his lap, his dirty white and black, improperly tied converse reaching the floor.

"You're a fucking moron, you know that?"

"Aww thanks muffin, Oh wait-" He gasps, "Omg wolvie are you about to fuck me in a dirty bathroom!?"

"Shh! Not if you don't shut up."

"Loagie you know I can't. It's a medical condition." He says in a dead serious whine.

Logan smirked, scoffing as he put a hand on his L.A. idol's. (You know the ones with the rhinestone cross on the ass? Yeah. Something about making his 'butt look good' and how they were 'all the craze back in his day' so now whenever he found them at thrift stores he snatched a pair or two.) And another on his tattered gray New York hoodie, pulling his hood off as he grabbed the front.

Whining a bit, he tried to put the hood back up, but Logan pulled the strings so tight that he couldn't.

"Nice try. Not happenin' I like seein' yer pretty face." He smirks, pulling the strings so he is close to him, showing those canines of his as he smirked in triumph, having felt cocky for thinking a step ahead of him.

This only led him to use his arms instead, putting his face into them instead. "Nnooo... Stop lying to me.."

Rolling his eyes, Logan leaned back against the toilet, shifting his hand to grab at his arms, moving those too. "Are you really gonna fight me for a kiss?"

A small, cheeky nod.

"Alright. But remember, you started this, not me."

Giving his ass a good slap, Wade let out a yip, giving Logan enough time to grab him by the wrists, shifting to pin his back against the stall wall. With the other hand, he gave a little tug at the bottom of the oversized hoodie.

"Wait, is this mine?"

Wade giggled but still tried to hide in his shoulder, not wanting him to see at all and now that they've made it a game? Even better.

"Oh yeah? So that's how we're going to be? God, you're such a brat."

Another nod. "Nu-uh."

"Guess you won't mind if I flip ya then?"

"Huh?" Turning just slightly, Logan stole a peck, making him squeal and his face get darker, quickly shoving it back into his arm, giggling.

"That wasn't fair!" He whined, muffled from the fabric.

"Sorry, what was that? Can't hear you over how big of a pussy you're being."

Gasping again, he turned to scold him, only to be kissed yet again. "Wolvie!! Not fair!"

"Mmh.. so fair." He whispers, kissing down the part of the jawline, he let stay exposed, nipping his ear and working his way down.

The soft groans into the arms of the hoodie were nice, but he would rather them be clear. Flipping him over, he put his fingers over the side of the stall. "Keep them there, Got it?" He says, Letting a hand run over his sides and another over the hard plastic stones that covered his ass cheeks.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll stop and force you to wait until we get home."

"Hm..What happens when we get home?"

"You'd have to wait another 6 stops to find out. Do you really want that?"

Thinking for a moment, Wade loved a good tease, a nice edging, but 6 stops?? No, thank you. Far too long. He shook his head.

"So are you going to keep them there?"

A quick nod.

"Good." Again, he slapped him, one of the rougher ones that he always liked. They made him feel wanted and appreciated. Logan knew this because, as embarrassed and growly, he got it whenever Wade stole a slap, he felt the same warm feelings run up his spine into his chest.

"Eehh!! K-keep doing that and you won't even get to touch me." He teases.

"Man you're weird... did you just say if I hit you enough you'll cum?"

"Probably." He shrugs, jolting his hips forward a bit as Logan rubbed over the front.

"I don't know how you could cum at all in pants 2 sizes too small.." he mumbles, leaning his chin on his shoulder as one hand tried to slide in the back but barely could get his fingers half way in the seams.

"They aren't tight tight, I just have a big ass and a boner all the time."

"Or all that squat training you do."

"Mmmh yes... 'squat training’... hey you don't think we could-"

"Shut it. Do your job." Pushing a couple fingers in his mouth, Wade let out a groan, immediately beginning to work on them, sucking and licking all over, a bit of a chew once in a while. Oral fixation and whatnot.

While he did this, Logan began to unbutton the front, slowly unzipping the front, carefully as he knew damn well just by the feeling that he didn't have any underwear on. It's the whole reason they came out, actually. To get laundry detergent and dish soap.

But now he was letting him grind forward into his hand and back into his, less sparkly, rougher looking jeans. Pulling his fingers out a bit, Wade was quick to press them back in, nipping gently as he whined, not wanting him to take away his favorite chew toys.

"Yeah? You like those, don't you?" He asks, putting his nose into his neck.

"Mmmhm~" He was happy here, teased and doing a good job. He knew he was because those fingers were soaked and he hadn't even gagged yet.

He loved being touched and muttered too while pressed up against a wall. It was one of his favorite things. He didn't mind however long he wanted to tease him either but only could hope he'd let him return the favor.

Logan could touch him all he wanted, anywhere, for hours and still not let him touch him at all so when he did let him it was like throwing a dog a bone with meat still on it. A treat.

Taking his hand from between his legs, Wade whined in protest but didn't let him pull out the fingers just yet. He wasn't done with them. "W-mh wohlvie"

Running his hand up under his hoodie, Logan thumbed over every dip, scar, nook and cranny that he could possibly feel, kissing the back of his neck until the hand met him in the front. Grabbing him by the throat, he squeezed a bit.

"Drop'em." He breathed behind him.

Almost instantly, Wade moved a hand to push his jeans down to his knees, shimmying a bit for them to get off his thighs before returning his hands to the top of the stall.

He liked his pants snug. He said they felt like 'leg hugs'. Honestly, Logan thought it just made him look more like a wannabe emo, city boy. The kinds that wore studded belts but their panties still showed on their hips.

“Touch me, Peanut! Please?”

Logan was much different with his pants preferences. He liked his inseems deep, his waist high, and the bottom boot cut.

Putting pressure on his sides, he pushed him until his head laid back against him. "Didn't I tell you not to move those hands?! Hm!? Since when are you fucking deaf?!" The gravel in his voice was enough for Wade to moan through the fingers. "HOh mmh gohd-"

He never knew if he wanted him to completely fuck him up or not. It was only natural for him to feel scared. I mean, a big bad wolfie like Logan holding you by the neck, and within a second, he could shove those claws through your face with how deep his fingers were in his mouth? Almost touching the back of his throat if not curved perfectly? But at the same time, it only made him stand at attention.

When he took his hand away, Wade whined. "Nooo.. I'm sorry! I'll behave! Giv'em back, Wolvie. Please?"

"You sure?"

He nods.

"So you don't want me to shove these right up your ass?"

Pausing, he quickly shook his head. "I do want it."

"Want what?" He teases, drawing the fingers over the curve multiple times.

"I want you to shove'em in me!"

"Hmm..that's it?"

"Erm... please??" Glancing at him, he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but his back was already arching at the slightest touches.

Chuckling softly, Logan gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "What a good boy. I've trained you a bit too well with manners, haven't I? But that's not what I meant. You want me to fuckya?"

"Heh- Yeah. Obviously.... sooo...now?"

"Settle down. I'm getting there." He mutters, debating if he wanted to let go of his neck or not. Deciding against it, he went ahead and slid in a finger, the front of his own jeans becoming tight from the noise he made.

"I'm just saying. You're taking foreve-Ahoohoh...fuck."

"Mmh?"

"Mmhmm~"

"Mh... You planned this, didn't you?"

"N-ngh?" He whined questionably, biting his tongue to try to stay quiet, focusing on the fingers with that overly large shit eating grin on his face.

"Wade?"

"Hngh.." His eyes went up to the ceiling.

"You did it on purpose. You wanted me to bring you in here and tell you how much of a fucking liar you are, didn't you?"

Pressing back against them, Wade stepped his feet apart, trying to bend over a bit more. As much as he could in tight jeans and in such a small stall. But that's alright. He didn't mind. Only let him press up against him more.

Wade hadn't noticed much, but his hands slipped from the top of the wall again, still above his head, but now he was gripping his own wrist.

"I have no clue what's even going on.." He muttered, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back, grateful that while he pressed back, Logan pushed forward, curling his fingers as he used one to keep him open, The other two slowly pressing in and pulling out with pressure towards the bottom.

Yeah, okay, that checked out.

"Hey.. when you uhm.." Wade starts, as if he just remembered something.

"Yeah?"

"Could you.. oh god this is so embarrassing.. can you be extra rough on my...you know...c-Cancer stuff." He mumbles. "I know, It's disgusting. I'm so gross."

Stepping closer, He made his back bend a little deeper as he turned his head towards him. Kissing him, Logan grunted. "You're not gross.. but yeah. Show me where it hurts, darlin’, I’ll fuck away your pain.”

He blushes, embarrassed. “.. prostate?”

“Heh, sure, I can destroy your prostate for ya."

Wade giggled.

"Sure you wanna do that here, though?"

"I-i rather scream here than with Al yelling at me..." He admits. “She doesn't get it. Sometimes a guy just has to get violently fucked in the ass as part of his pain management plan.” He tells him.

Logan nods, agreeing with him. As stupid as it sounded, by helping his cysts pop, he felt a lot better. Though in Al's defense it did involve a lot screaming.

Sure, he'd help him with his dirty little curse but he wanted to hear those magic words.

“Well.. What do ya say princess?”

“Fuck me like you hate me?” he rubs himself against him further with a high pitched, demanding whine, already impatient.

Logan chuckles at the questioning tone, shaking his head softly.

“Not yet. I'm gonna take my time with you.”

Keeping him close, Logan matched his hand movements with his words, dragging them out if the phrase was elongated, quickly stuffing them back in if he thought he deserved it.

Various whispers of praise fell from his lips.

“Your ass is super tight, you know that?”

Okay maybe some were sweeter than others but come on, This meant much more to wade than just a “You're Beautiful.” though in truth he liked them both equally. He liked any attention even if he didn't believe it… or it wasn't good..

“You're so much hotter than a dead pigeon-”

“PFFT Your fingers are in my rectum and THAT'S what you lead with!? That's like.. the bare minimum! The bar is in HELL!” He laughs.

Embarrassed, he blushes deeply. “I never said I was good at words, damn it. Now shut up and listen.”

“Watch next he's gonna say I'm prettier then the pissy gas station bathroom..”

“No!!... though maybe I should have done this there- at least there was a lock.” He mumbles, knowing he wasn't talking to him rather than you.

Yeah. You.

You freak. Why are you even here? Just wash your hands and leave. God..rude.. Ever hear about privacy? No?? Good. Wade likes to give a good show. Sit down. Just.. watch the pee right there.. unless.. you know …you're into that. But this is New York so.. I hope you're up to date on all your shots!

“Wade!”

“What?” He asks, glancing back at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Huh? What? What did you say?” He blinks.

Logan grunts. “I just- Uugh I just gave this whole spiel about how sexy you are and how I wouldn't choose anyone else over you. How.. How did you miss that!?”

“Look we've talked about this, I don't know what's going on half the time, what do you want from me?”

About to scold him for not hearing a single word of his beautiful 5 full minute long speech, he just groans. “..Just give me all of you and I'll be happy. Okay?”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why me?”

“Oh shut the fuck up! You know I want you, it's not a secret I try to hide, okay!? Were fucking in a bathroom for crying out loud! Literally!”

Wade giggles a bit. “Sorry Wolvie.. Can you say some of the stuff again?”

“You're killing the mood, Mouth!” He growls, becoming a little frustrated seeing as it took a lot for him to put the words together in the first place.

“Oh pleeaasse, Peanut? Pretty please?” He bats those magic eyelashes.

“Fine… Are you listening?” He asks, curling his fingers up, deep within him.

“...You're the one I was meant to find in life. I was never truly happy where I was until you found me. I think you're an idiot for thinking you don't deserve to be loved because... you know you're sexy right? You're gorgeous. You're so damn pretty and you can't see a single bit of it. I mean- genuinely. But I don't even care about any of that and…and- you know what this is stupid..” he starts.

“No, no!! Please! I was almost there-”

“What? Oh- Wade!! What did I tell you about hands!?” Jerking his hand away, he pushes it to his back, growling. “Do you want me to bite it the fuck off!?”

He squeals, a little too excited. “Nooo!! Don't eat me Wolvie- Unless?”

“No, Wade! Bad!”

“Aww….. Anyway, what were you saying before you so rudely stopped me?”

Sighing, he pulls his hip back, wrapping an arm around his chest, holding him with his chin on his shoulder, listening to his breathing lining up with each curl and press of his fingers.

“and.. I love you. I really do. But I LIKE you too, H-heh.. You're funny, you're so smart even though you act like you and puppins share a brain cell.. and she has it most times.”

Wade giggles, which makes Logan smile, gaining enough confidence to keep going. “I love that stupid fucking smile you do when ever you make the most terrible joke in history- and I know- Im 206.”

Another giggle as Wade reached the hand that was on the stall back to wrap around Logan’s neck, Nuzzling him gently.

“I-i love your freaky bright eyes. I mean really, why do they look like that?”

He chuckles, truly listening to every word. Logan didn't speak much but when he asked for Wade's attention, he got it fully. “I really don't know… do you actually like them or..?” The nervousness in his voice made Logan's heart beat hitch, quickening.

“I really do. They're like nothing I've ever seen before… and they change colors. They're white, clear, and milky-”

“Ha! That's what she said-”

“Shut up…” He rolled his eyes but smiled, knowing he walked right into that one.

“I was GOING to say they're like my own personal moons to light my dark days, and when they are yellow they are like suns that shine on my face in the morning.. but…That's another thing. You get me… A lot..”

“Oh, Logan….stop..”

“No, I mean it. Really. They told me you were too immature for me but.. you're perfect. I'm tired of feeling old. I'm tired of feeling like there's no one who will be able to be lazy and lay with me when I need it but play around or be rough when I want too… until you.”

Swallowing, Wade pulled his hand from him, turning to stare at him with an oblivious look of realization.

“.. Holy shit.. You really think that.. a-all of it?”

He nods. “i-.. I wasn't done either..”

“There's more!?”

Blushing, the old fart nodded, semi embarrassed.

“Oh my god, baby you're gonna make me cry….Tell me you're lying..”

He shook his head. “No.. I won't. I refuse.”

Pulling him close, Logan hugs him tight, Wade squeezing him back around the back of his neck, teary eyed and trying not to ugly sob. For a few moments they stayed like this before he kissed him, the same way he planned to in a few months once he found a perfect ring.

“I'll never let you go. I want you to be with me until you get tired of me. And even then you'd have to get a restraining order.”

“Oh Wolvie… I could never get tired of you.”

“And you know how you feel right now? That's how I feel about you… Unfortunately..”

“... I love you, Logan.. you're too good to me.. I hope I'm enough for you.. I know you deserve better. To be happier…”

“As long as you're here with me, I'll have a smile on my face, princess.” He teases, leaning up to kiss him again (For the 50th time) “And if it was up to me I'd keep you just like this all day but-”

“Do it, coward.”

Logan snorts, giggling a bit. “You want fucked or not?”

“Yes!! I take it back, You're not a coward, Please fuck me, Mr. Wilde! Pound me with your huge poetic cock!”

Before he could shout anymore, Logan kissed him, shutting him up as he entered, being sure to stay still for a couple of seconds. The deeper the kiss got, the more he pressed in. This was until Wade pushed himself back, breaking the kiss and moaned.

“Hah~ Fuck, not so much of a peanut anymore, huh?”

To tease him, Logan pulls away just to slam back in. The squeal that came from him through the kiss pleased Logan greatly, doing this a couple more times.

Pulling away, his breath was already a little heavy from such tender intimacy. “You good?”

“Best I've ever been, Big boy!” He tells him, cheek against the wall, but something about his smell said he was lying.

“Mmh… spit on these.” He muttered, putting his fingers up to his mouth for Wade to spit, wiggling around back there. Gripping his hips to hold them still, he slipped the fingers in, spreading the slick around before pressing back in.

Wade lets a deep groan fall out of his mouth seeing as his jaw hasn't shut practically since they've been in here, drooly and excited. It wasn't often that Loagie wanted to fuck him in a public space. They already got caught in central park one night, and now were banned from the Subway down the street- the actual sandwich subway, not the public transportation system.

Picking up the pace, He tries to keep him quiet, shoving his fingers in his mouth, Telling him to shut up, shushing him between thrusts, covering his mouth and even (of course) kissing him.

Nothing seemed to work though, especially when Wade spread his legs, letting him have further access, his body just begging to be held down and used.

And who was Logan to deny that?

“Lo- Ooh shit- Oh shit- Oh fuck shit damn!” He calls through breathy moans and tries to keep his knees from buckling by shifting his weight, though Logan doesn't want any of that. Who does he think he is? Trying to get away now? Not going to happen.

Biting the side of his neck, he made an animalistic noise that made Wade's knees shake, the pain from both the teeth seeping blood out of his neck, and his ass being obliterated.

He can't help but smile through the skin in his teeth, letting out a huff of a chuckle. Really? Fuck shit damn?

“Ooh- Ow- Mmh fuck! Ow- Shit! Ohh mmMy God Loagie it hurts so good!” He whimpers, reaching up to hold the top of the stall, becoming still and instantly quiet.

This was always the part where Logan got nervous. Scared that he had actually hurt him somehow and he just didn't want to say anything in fear he'd be mad at him.

“yuh gud?” He asks through the mouthful.

Silence. His eyes were closed tight and he was tensing slightly, as if trying to hold still in this exact position.

Letting go of him, Logan slowed. Immediately Wade began to plead with him, begging him not to stop, pushing himself against him in hopes he'd get the gist.

“Are you-”

“Harder.” He says and immediately Logan understands, giving a nod. Adjusting himself, he holds him in place, thrusting up a few dozen times. Harder.

The squeak that came from Wade and watching him grit his teeth. It said all he needed to know. Kissing his shoulder blade, he listened to each quiet whine, felt each tense in his legs, and could smell the discomfort.

Logan has come to train himself that he was allowed to keep going, having usually backed off at even the slightest sign of pain but he understood that what he was doing was best for him. He’s seen the clots, boils and welts that happened so he could only imagine what this felt like on the inside. Just thinking about it made him want to stop. To tell him no more.

But this was Wade's request. And probably why he's felt so down here recently, it was hard to feel handsome or pretty when your insides hurt like this.

“Breathe.” He reminded him, feeling Wade hitch his breath and still, tensing his legs up as he let his head hang. This one hurt. He knew it did just by how he felt.

But he didn't.

“Wade?..Breathe for me.” He whispers, trying his best to get this over with as fast as he could. He knew how painful it was just from him shutting down, no longer moaning or even saying ‘ow’. Just silence.

The sound of slapping and the jangly hinges of the stall were all that was at the moment until He let out a large gasp, sounding more of a “Hah-” of relief.

Before you could blink, Logan stopped, pulling away as he held him up, beginning to kiss all over the back of his neck. “There's my good boy. Breathe. You're okay. I got you. Bit a blood never killed anybody.” He reassured him, noticing that more than usual was dripping down his leg, his dick covered in the hot infectious red slick.

Nuzzling his cheek, Wade had tears in his eyes, giggling a bit embarrassed but happy with the bit of praise and care he was receiving. “Sttoopp..” he whined. “You're so embarrassing..”

“Oh sure like I'm the one about to be screaming here in a minute-”

“What?”

He flips him around, shoving his back to the wall again as he kisses him, nipping at him and tugging at his lip.

Blushing, Wade squealed. “Jeez Wolvie! What, you got a blood kink or something? You freak!”

“I got a ‘helping you' kink, Asshole. There's a difference.” He grunts in between bites at his neck, sending his head back to give him a big moan.

The best part about busting a prostate cyst is that it meant what once was hiding it, was now gone. Meaning Logan could hit it as many times as he wanted.

Giggling, Wade yelped when picked up, hands placed on the back of the stall, his legs immediately retreating to around his waist. “What are you doing?!”

“Stay.” He growls, shifting his hands to get a better hold of him. “You know what I want.”

And with this, it started. The first couple of times, Wade gasped through, whimpering from the residing pain only to grin, letting his head lean back as tried to focus on holding the stall and not running his hands through those thick locks of his. “H-oH Fuck!”

As the moans flowed through each messy smooch, Giggles, praises, dirty talk, the whole nine yards in this tiny space of theirs, Logan didn't even stop when he heard someone walking in. Since the door had flown open a long time ago, He only glared at the passer byer who stopped for a second to look, Only to jump back and leave when full on snarled at. (Because if not you'd probably die today)

“What the fuck are you looking at!?”

In fact he only fucked him better, rolling his hips up to him, pulling Wade's hips into him enough to make him give a high pitched scream of joy and pleasure. “AAAH!! Logan!! Oh fuck- Logan! Logan, please- Please fuck me- No kiss me! Kiss- mMPhm mh, Mh, MHMmh!” Even though the kisses he'd let everyone in this station know who was fucking him.

Logan.

“Don't be ashamed if you wanna scream my name, sweetheart~” he purrs into his neck, trying to keep his breaths stable and resist the urge to put more holes into him.

“Ah!! H-hah! Logan! There! Yes! Ohh- Yes! yesyesyesyes-” He grunts under his breath, now letting out whiny moans. “Oh Fuck!! Yes! Right there! Cable could never hit there-” he blurted out through his screaming whimpers of pleasure, clawing at the side of the bathroom stall as if Logan was trying to drag him down to hell.

For a split second he stopped, pulling his waist back, hand on his stomach as he positioned him in a certain way again.

Wade whines, assuming Logan quit, starting to complain in a high pitched voice of sexual frustration. “Nooo! That's not fair you know I can't contr-” Only to gasp loudly, like a thick new breath of air would help him any.

He failed.

Sinking his teeth in, Logan began to hit this spot on purpose, Over and over and over. He knew Wade didn't mean it. He said all sorts of random thoughts of his brain decided to say without his consent, but it still made him jealous enough to decide that he didn't give a fuck if anyone heard him anymore, he wanted to ease his brain into that numb state of babbling to him his own name.

How could he ever forget such a thing when someone so hot as Wade was screaming it?

“EEHHh!! Please! Please- Logan. Oh god oh god oh god- Fuck! Logan-” The screams grew quiet, evolving Into more of a pleading whimper, whispering under the harshness of the breath he was trying so desperately to keep and yet couldn't keep anything inside at the moment.

“Logan.. Logan please.. Logan fuck- Logan” he whispers, breathy moans into his face, letting his hands finally drop, coming to hold around his neck, scratching his back instead.

“Oh Logan please- please.. yes.. yes fuck- Logan, hold me- please..”

Logan could have come right then and there from the babbling. It was his favorite part. The perfect balance of his mind drifting into a deep subspace, being relieved from pain, and filled with intimacy.

He knew these moans were just for him, and only him. Quiet enough just so he could hear the sweet sympathy that his loving boy could make for him.

“Logan- Logan.. L-Logan! F-fuck- Logan please.”

He was close. He knew he was. He could feel it from how tightly the coil in his stomach was causing him to stiffen, he could already smell the precum, feel his toes curling in his converse, the hot blood still dripping from him onto his legs.

“Logan.. logan- fuck- Logan.. Logan!” He cried, breaths unevenly hitching as tears came to his eyes. It could be a lot. The pain, the intensity, the numbness in his mind that couldn't quite validate the reason for said pain and intense feeling in his lungs. Subconsciously he was asking for help, to regulate himself and his emotions.

The soft panic of overstimulation that was settling in made Logan slow a moment, taking his time to push himself into the perfect places. Kissing him gently yet hungry, letting out small purrs of appreciation to restart the brain, keep him leveled.

“Hi, bub.” He whispers, kissing away his tears knowing by now just how mindbroke he truly was. And he loved it. God he was so sexy like this. Calling his name, begging him to save him, worried that he'll drop. Both physically and metaphorically. “Shhh. You're alright. I won't drop ya, I got you… ready?”

Wade nods, practically salivating at the offer, arms tight around his neck and much happier despite knowing he would be a bit sore on the ride home.

Taking another bite out of him, He was shoved against the wall in a way that made him gasp and moan deeply, the other kind of sounds Logan adored. Sure, he liked the high pitched ones too but something about that deep voice of his made him go a bit insane, trusting into him like a buck in a rut FINALLY given what was his.

With every balls deep slap of skin, Wade groaned lowly. Shifting his hand position from on his back to placing one hand on his shoulder, the other on his head, petting him as he gripped A fistful of curls, pulling him closer. Pressing his teeth deeper into his skin as he decided to grunt and growl with each thrust, nails digging into Wade’s hips as if it were his birthright to breed him in a dirty subway bathroom.

“Ah fuck- gimmekitsgimmekits PLEASE gimmekits” he mumbles, gritting his teeth, closing his eyes as he held him, legs unwrapping to let him use him how he pleased, trusting him fully not to drop him.

The orgasm hit stronger than a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle. Logan kept their hips together, keeping him pinned, his ass almost touching the wall as he bucked a few more times, wanting as deep as possible. It was only natural for him to pump him full. Not like Wade minded either, having already made a mess on the hoodie and now was limp against the wall.

With his head back, he breathed heavily, beginning to chuckle, moaning at a final buck. Bringing his hands to his hair, Wade giggled, pulling his chin up for a sloppy kiss.

Moving to hold his cheeks in his hands, he smirked. “Who's a good boy?”

Logan scoffed, grumbling a bit, blushing.

“... me”

“That's right. My big strong boy~ Fucks me so good!” he coes, making Logan chuckle, shaking his head. “You're a freak..”

“I'm not the one that dragged me in here.”

“.. touché….. Alright. I guess we better get going before the cops come or something.”

“Why would the cops come?”

“Oh I don't know. Public indecency, you screaming your lungs out bloody murder, it looks like a crime scene in here, Wade.” he mutters, holding his thighs as he pulls out with a groan.

Almost immediately their foreheads came together to watch as the cum spilled out onto his jeans and continued to drop down his legs.

“Aw my pants..”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Certainly not the last.” He commented, now glancing away. “Well uhm.. thanks for.. you know.. turning my guts into strawberry jam..”

He pulls his chin to face him, kissing him again with that shit eating grin that really made wish he could get pregnant just so his children could have the same stupid smirk.

“Darlin’ I'd do it even if you didn't ask me to.”

About 10 minutes later between Logan cleaning up his mess by licking up his thigh (only for more to just replace it seconds later), Helping a jelly legged Wade get dressed again, and slobbering all over him as he kissed him to death- Logan now stood with Wade on his hip, like holding an oversized sleepy toddler in his one arm, their shopping in the other.

Wade's tired snores into his neck was music to his ears as he snuggled up to him, used to the screeches of the train's brakes and nonsense being blared over the speakers.

At time's he would kiss his head, not minding the fact that they both now had Cum stained onto their fronts and just how soaked Wade's bottom was. Either way- He was beautiful like this. Happy, relieved of his pain, and filled to the brim with such love, mixed bodily fluids and- Logan had a feeling he was forgetting something.

He forgot their lunch bag...

“...well shit.”

Hello, if you made it this far, congratulations! ⭐️ you get a gold star. Thank you so much for reading ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it.

[trojanteapot]

Infinity Train Boots!

Made these a while back as part of my Simon cosplay, must have been almost a month, but I didn't post the process!

(EDIT: hey I did some fixing up of my cosplay which you can see here in this post!)

Not actually sure if anybody would care because it's so niche, unlike my Spider-Gwen suit, but I did write about how I did the Infinity Train harpoon pack, so I'll discuss this too!

STEP 0: Acquire reference pictures:

Yep, pretty straightforward.

Note that Simon's boots have an extra bar/strap thingy, whereas Ryan and Min-Gi's do not.

I didn't include it because it kinda looks ugly and I didn't know how fragile the strap might be.

NEXT!

STEP 1: Acquire Boots!

I got these MIA boots from Journeys Canada. They only cost around 60 bucks which is a bit pricey for cosplay, but I'm not about to go thrift shopping when I'm in a time crunch and I can just order online and get free delivery within 2 days. (Also these days 60 bucks for boots from a retail store is considered cheap. Inflation is nasty.)

They came with these cardboard thingies inside to keep the structure of the boots. They have "left" and "right" written on them in Chinese which was helpful for me when I got a bit confused about which side was which.

Save those for later. You'll need them.

STEP 2: Paint the soles silver

Literally any acrylic silver paint works. May take several layers. Make sure to put masking tape around the top edge of the soles.

I didn't use a primer on the base but you probably should. Any white acrylic paint or Gesso would do and you wouldn't need like 8 coats of silver. Do as I say not as I do.

And make sure to seal everything with a varnish or mod podge!

Here are also the cut toe caps and some silver craft foam. The craft foam was kind of a mistake I'll get into it soon.

STEP 3: Make toe caps

Here's me making sure the placement is good.

I glued the craft foam onto the cardboard caps, and then I was thinking "well the little bit hanging over it isn't going to be a problem, nope! I'll just glue them down and it'll blend right in!"

HAHAHAHA. WRONG.

STEP 3.1: Fuck up the toe caps because you were winging this and you have no idea how crafting materials work you idiot

GROSS. DISGUSTING. VILE.

The hot glue melted the craft foam and now it's got this weird melty edge all around it that's all goopy and shit. Anyway you dont want your boots to look fucked up, you want them to look smooth like polished steel, or whatever they were made of in the show.

STEP 3.2: Fix toe caps

Everything can be fixed with Model Magic and acrylic paint! (and seal your paint with a sealant again!)

I just took some model magic (a type of lightweight air dry clay from Crayola, the cheapest you can get. Other more legit craft supply brands make similar materials as well), and squished it into the ugly bits, making a mostly seemless transition from craft foam to clay to sole.

TIP: to make model magic smooth before sanding, dab your fingers in some water to smooth it out! This also works for Paperclay as well if you decide to use a more higher end type of air dry clay.

STEP 4: Make the back metal thing that goes around the heel

So I did this kinda in tandem with the toe caps which is why the pics will look a little out of order but essentially, I took the parts of the cardboard that I cut off, and I cut them in half, put some other cardboard in between, and then sandwiched the thing in metallic craft foam.

This time it was a bit more successful because I was able to hide the weird gross melted edges on the inside. Also paint that shit silver!

Now you can glue the "heel caps(?)" directly to your boots, but I decided to use stick-on velcro instead so they're kinda removable, and may be easier to transport or clean or something? ehhh.

STEP 5: Make those handle things

So I also hit a bit of a snag with these. I ordered EVA foam dowels with a semi-circle cross-section as well as a triangular one, but I quickly realized they would be too flimsy sticking out like that unless I put something hard in between them.

So this isn't pictured, but I got some thin crafting wire from Dollarama and just bent them into L shapes, and glued the smaller dowels around them. I also shoved them into the bigger down and glued it down.

You can also see from these pictures that that leaves a weird gap in between the smaller dowels. Again I just used model magic to cover them up. There's probably a better solution but this was the one I went with.

I also lengthened the top "handle" part eventually because it looks better that way. (Please ignore the mess on my desk >_<)

Then I just paint them silver like everything else!

COMPLETE!

The nut and bolts are actual nuts and bolts. Since the base was just craft foam and cardboard, you can poke a hole in them easily and insert the bolt.

Hope you found this helpful! Or are just willing to indulge me and my notes on my silly crafting journey!

[astralglam]

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

1. What does your muse smell like?

without soap or perfume, 683 smells bizarrely sterile, chemical-ish, like a dentist’s office, bleach or cleaning supplies.  like hand sanitizer that kills 99.9% of germs.  they have that faint smell of powdery clean cosmetics, only because they wear so much foundation, face powder and setting spray.  humans like things that smell less artificial, so 683 takes to using cheap perfume (think a teenager who just learned to douse themselves with axe or bath and bodyworks spray), which is artificial in a slightly more palatable way.  their clothes (which are almost all second hand) have that mothball-musty smell of a thrifted dress that hasn’t been washed yet, like an old book.    

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?

cold, frigid and icy, almost like a mannequin’s if you left the mannequin in the freezer. their skin is tight over their tendons and fingers, with almost waxy, plasticy skin stretched over their joints and knuckles, which makes them seem very fragile.  sometimes their palms are uncannily clammy.  their skin on their palms isn’t rough or calloused but they’re starting to get scars on their fingertips from their voyages into the realm of string instruments.  they used to have very neat, clean and unpainted nails, but nowadays, they have divots and cracks because 683 is clumsy with the strings.  

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day?

683 is often at the mercy of when their friends will decide to cook for them/buy them food.  they don’t have any cooking skills and can barely wash and cut an apple (this isn’t because they’re stupid, on atomina they were used to communal dining with a designated set of people who cooked for everyone in their unit).  683 is naturally accustomed to eating plant matter and (unlike us humans) has a way better digestive system for breaking down cellulose and gets a lot more out of their vegetarian diet than you might expect (two stomachs aint for nothin).  left to their own devices they just eat Whatever (orange? handfuls of spinach, unwashed, pesticides dont hurt them.  microwave a tomato and watch it explode.  brave cutting open an avocado and just eating it with a spoon).  dinner is when priscilla either buys him take out or sid cooks something for him (and sid is an amazing cook!!!).  sid isn’t vegetarian, but his family is, so he knows how to make all kinds of dishes perfect for 683 -- substitute the dairy for nondiary alternatives and 683′s getting matter paneer (with tofu instead), malai kofta (with coconut milk), and aloo gobi (no butter), all sorts of things !!! 

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?

sort of.  683′s voice, by itself, is nasally and weird and a little grating, but their devotion to music lets them make the most out of their “strange” voice and almost use it to their benefit to sound unique, different, super far out !11!11111  their lyrics, instrumentals and emotion combined is what makes them a talented musician rather than just a good quality voice.  so while they might not have a very pretty voice, they’re still a skilled singer due to their delivery.  

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?

im assuming this is about bad (physical) habits rather than personality deficiencies (of which 683 has many).  683 stares, like, really just stares at people with reckless abandon, they havent figured out it’s rude.  they arent good at even pretending to listen so if they’re disinterested in what you have to say, they’ll look elsewhere, pick at their nails, mumble or interrupt you.  always finds a way to make the conversation about themself.  very disorganized and messy, has a hard time taking care of objects even if they value them (ex. dropping his guitar, misplacing jewelry, yanking a belt off and breaking it).  definitely self pities and has no problem trying to guilt you for everything and anything.  is a pretty frequent smoker, but is polite enough not to smoke if you ask him not to.  

683 is always a little nervous so their nervous ticks are just their baseline state of being (wringing hands, stammering, talking really fast, making insane gestures all around you but being too afraid to touch you, etc)

6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?

683 looks very put together at all times -- not necessarily polished or professional, but very intentional, in that you can tell they definitely made a conscious choice to dress the way they do.  he wore the same dumb uniform every day for the first 20 years of his life, so he’s very excited to try new clothing options.  

more femme-ish clothing preferences go to boxy, sleeveless a-line dresses, miniskirts, bright floral patterns, big plastic earrings, headbands, scarves, etc.  they like clunky platforms and prefer to wear boots.  very 60s mod and colorblocked.  she loves bright eyeshadow but tends to go for more neutral lipstick.  can never figure out what to do with her hair so she usually leaves it down or does a half-up half-down bun kinda deal.  

more masc clothing preferences are bell bottoms, button ups with butterfly collars, paisley print, turtlenecks and fringe jackets, etc. earthy tones and weird nasty olive green.  very late 60s / early 70s. prog rock flavor or glam rock flavor.  never got into the disco style only because he cant pull it off because he’s so scrawny and twitchy and has no chest hair to impress the ladies.    

one thing about 683 is that he hates tight long sleeves and goes insane if he has to wear them.  his uniform was sleeveless, so even short sleeves feel really weird and horrible on his arms.  prefers sleeveless, can do with short sleeves, 3/4ths sleeve or loose long sleeve, really tries to avoid tight/constricting long sleeves.  

i have a pinterest board of potential fits for him although i havent updated it because i barely know how to use pinterest.

7. Is your muse affectionate?  How much?  How so?

to most people, not really, he’s kind of a weird cagey asshole.  oscillates between fascinated with physical touch (suddenly wanting to hug his friends or snuggle with them or grabbing strangers when he’s trying to talk to them) to despising contact (cringes if you touch his hand when you pass him a cup).  he didnt grown up with a culture very big on it, so he isn’t sure if he likes it or not yet.  

to people he does care about, he tends to take his friends for granted but overperform affection for those he has romantic interest in.  not that he doesnt also dearly love and adore his friends, he’s just not the best at expressing his care for them other than random bursts of kindness and dissolving back into his weird normal self.  his understanding of romance has come from a very commercial, media-influenced place (he learns about it through television, novels and commercials, it’s not really inherent to his species) so he thinks romance is about buying flowers, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes for three hours, etc. if he has romantic interest in you, he will constantly over and over again tell you how much he likes you and your company and you are soooo funny hahahhahhfhh, and will be unusually touchy (clings to your arm, sits RIGHT next to you, drops his head on your shoulder, etc).  

8. What position does your muse sleep in?

683 didnt know what blankets were until he came to earth (or deep space nine) !!! his old room was perfectly temperature controlled and he already has a lower natural body temperature, so there was no need for blankets at all.  human beds with big pillows and blankets are THE COOLEST, so he either curls up underneath a blanket with only the top of his head poking out or he sprawls out like a starfish to take advantage of as many pillows as possible.  his special move is to roll up in the blanket like some kind of little alien lumpia.  

he’s a fitful sleeper so if you sleep in the same bed as him, he’ll punch you or kick you on accident.  he does appreciate company, though, and will also plaster himself up against you and leech your body heat with his weird cold body.

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?

depends.  they have a very average speaking voice and aren’t necessarily very loud (plus platforms dull footsteps), but if they were excited, they might raise their voice or yell or exclaim something.  and then they’re very shrill, so yes, you would hear her.  

Tagged by:  @sampati im sorry i took like a week it was really fun i love to type letters and words on the computer Tagging: @dynaura or @pataparty (for whoever you want) / @phantombs / @ofgentleresolve (for lamon? or anyone you want, really!!) / @bystcrdust / @kyrieleisen / @baelends / @bup1957

[prettyvacanttt]

21 23 30 39 for the horror asks! mwah🖤

Ian!!!! Thank you so much omg these are so good ok

21. is there a scary story that really frightens you or that just really stuck with you? a legend, a myth, something purely fictitious?

So my family is full of crazies(as you know) who can talk to God and ghosts and see visions and so on so growing up spirit/alien/creature stories were told frequently and by both my mother and father's sides of the family. I'm gonna share two, starting with when my mother was a child. Her and my aunties bedroom had huge twin windows and they had a light on the front porch, so when someone walks by at night you could see the shadows from her bed. Usually nothing out of the ordinary walks by, some drunks or late night joggers, whatever. Well one night she can't sleep cuz the porch light keeps flashing on and off but nobody walks by...after this happens a few more times she has sworn on her dead father she saw a huge man with massive horns walk right past her house. Says she even heard it laugh in a deep voice as it walked by. She has soooo many good stories and she tells em better and spookier cuz it happened to her but this was the jist of it lol. My other favorite is when I was little and lived in North Carolina with my cousins my Uncle Kenny and their dad got chased by the devil that lives at the Devil's tramping grounds by bear creek!

23. what are some things that give you the total creeps? places, items, even certain times that you try to avoid whenever possible?

I mean I'm kinda weary about what I pick up at antique/thrift stores but that's rarely something I'm legitimately worried by. If I'm honest I know this is spooky themed but what I'm truly most weary about and what comes to mind first is being approached by a group of men when I'm alone. I'm sure you hear about all the crazy shit going on around town the last few years(not to say it was never a problem before, plus we're older so active consuming news daily sure helps lol) but I really don't wanna be fucked with while I'm just trying to shop or get gas that's why you gotta stay strapped!!

30. what have you always wanted to dress up as on halloween but never had the chance to do?

Ya know I've always thought I'd be a wonderful Morticia but I've just never put any effort into it...maybe this year though...

39. what do you think of modern horror? in general, but also in comparison to horror of the past?

So funnily enough I haven't seen a lot of the more popular newer horror movies like Us, Midsommer, Hereditary, Get out, etc. BUT I would very much like to watch them all at some point so most stuff 2018-present I'm not super familiar with atm but hopefully in the near future. I've seen plenty of wonderful horror films from all different time periods and I think they all have their own unique charm and tropes but what I really miss is beautiful horror films!!!! I loooooove the sensuality and colors and blood(and frequent lesbianism) in lots of movies from around the 70's but I also never get sick of 80's body horror! I'd complain about the constant and casual sexual assault/rape plots or scenes but realistically that part hasn't really changed much. I enjoy campy 90's, early 2000s horror and then the nasty age when they were pumping out Saw, Hostile, Final destination, the human centipede and so on. Every decade of horror has its pros and cons and you always wade through a few medicore ones before you find one that actually takes your breath away, but I think they're all enjoyable! When I was a kid I considered Alice in wonderland horror because imagine you are 8 and fall down a hole, no guardian to comfort you, and end up in a world where everything is terribly different and frightening and you can't do anything about it! Doesn't that sound scary?? Same with Labrinyth!! I feel like I'm just rambling at this point, I just really like the genre and grew up on it and both my parents love horror and it's just good lol

Thank you so much for choosing such thought provoking questions!! I actually had to think about these ones and I feel I didn't quite articulate as elegantly as I wanted considering how fast I typed this out but it was a lot of fun! So thank you and I hope everything in your life is good💖✨🔮

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @azothel donated $50, and requested ‘jealous Sam with implied Dean/John.’ Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

Summer in Arizona. Sam thinks it might actually be hell. He’s laying spread eagle on his bed, stripped down to t-shirt and boxers, and this absolute dump of a motel only has an evaporative cooler and so the whole place smells like wet dust. He’s got his eyes closed, concentrated on not moving, and if he doesn’t move then he can pretend like it’s damp instead of sticky--cool, instead of muggy--but unfortunately it doesn’t stop his ears from working, because Dean’s on the phone with Dad. Again.

“Yessir,” Dean says, quiet. Corded phone up near the door and he’s got it pulled all the way over by the mini-fridge. Like if he’s far enough away somehow Sam won’t notice. “Yeah, we got it taken care of. When do you think you’ll--”

Be back, cut off. That’s what Dean always wants--Dad, back, the three of them faking at happy families. Sam opens his eyes and looks at the ceiling fan, slow its only speed. They aren’t exactly a Norman Rockwell painting. Sam doesn’t know why Dean pretends otherwise.

“Yeah,” Dean says, soft, and it’s nasty the way Sam’s gut immediately takes a downward turn. He draws up on his elbows, looking past the screen into the tiny kitchenette. Dean, leaning against the wall with his shoulders hunched in, the cord tangled in his fingers. Chick from a movie talking to her crush, Sam thinks, and his second thought is--worse. “Yeah, Dad. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs. When he turns around he’s surprised for some reason, seeing Sam watching him. “Dad’s gonna be another week,” Dean says, and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. He’s still wearing jeans, and that Ozzy tour t-shirt they found at the thrift mart. Overdressed, to Sam’s mind. Dean flaps his shirt, his white belly showing. “How do people live here. It’s so frickin’ hot, man.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, sounding braindead. How do they live.

They weren’t supposed to be here. California, Dad had promised, and Dean lit up with talking about going to the beach, cool breezes and girls in bikinis. Of course, when they stalled out here with five hundred miles to go, because Dad caught wind of weird deaths in the Chiricahua Mountains, Dean didn’t complain a peep. He went out with Dad one night--left Sam alone, in this same dumpy motel, to stew and worry--and then he came back by himself the next morning, fretful but loyal. Told Sam, Dad’s got it covered, don’t worry. Like that was what Sam was worried about. Dean had a bruise, on his shoulder, when he came back. Sam laid awake, wondering--knowing. Knowing. He’s always known.

The motel has a pool, if you can call it that. A crappy small kidney bean with no shade, carved out of bleached-white kool deck. It gets locked up at night but they figured out pretty quick that the motel manager’s a drunk and doesn’t give a damn what they do, and so it’s something to occupy them at night--a padlock Sam could’ve picked when he was nine, a six pack of beer they share because Dean can actually get it legally, now. “Not as fun that way,” Dean says, shrugging. Sam rolls his eyes and shoves water at his face, which makes Dean splutter predictable as ever--which makes him dive for Sam, predictable as ever--which means they wrestle, trying to dunk each other, and Sam’s got new height but Dean’s got more experience, and Sam wants to win but--but Dean’s skin is slick-silk, even in the over-chlorinated water, and he’s warm and weightless, and whoever wins Sam’s held right up close against his body and has Dean laughing and right here, right here, with him and nowhere else.

Nobody comes out this way. Not this time of year. There’s a tired hispanic family that checks in, one night, and they have a pretty daughter maybe Sam’s age--who smiles at Dean, shy but interested, and Dean grins at her, blows her a kiss, until her dad sees and she gets berated in a quiet barrage of Spanish. “Dude, I am an international man of mystery,” Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes and says, “Okay, Austin Powers,” and that was--shit, a mistake, because he knows that instantly Dean’s going to do his terrible Mike Myers impression--but then the phone rings in their room, and Dean’s face changes instantly, and he disappears inside while Sam bangs his head back against the stucco. He doesn’t need to hear to know Dean’s saying, obedient, yessir. Sam looks out at the fire-colored sunset and wonders, bitter, if Dean’s dick gets hard every time he does.

Sick. Not that Sam has room to throw stones. When they finally drag themselves out of the pool--one a.m., four beers under Dean’s belt and two under Sam’s--half the time Dean’ll just change right there, in the kitchenette on, making a puddle on the linoleum. “Dude,” Sam will always say, throwing up hands like it’s gross--because he knows he’s supposed to find it gross--and Dean always says, “Like you don’t love it,” smug. They hardly go out in the day, too damn hot, and so he’s pale, pale, everywhere, his back and the pretty curve of his ass and his legs, bowed out at the knee where Sam knows he’d fit, where he’d slide his hips between them and it’d feel--right. Cowboy legs, Dad called ‘em once, kind of drunk, and Dean had immediately darted a look at Sam and his ears had gone bright red--and Sam had looked away, thinking, yeah. Made for riding.

Seriously, sick. Sicker that he bets he wasn’t the only one in the room having that thought. Sicker, that when Dean tugs up dry boxers and turns around, Sam doesn’t look away fast enough, and Dean sees him and his face does--some strange thing, something Sam doesn’t know how to interpret. His amulet swings in the middle of his pale chest and Sam wants to get up, grab him by it, pull him in. Ask him--why not Sam? Why, if it was going to be anyone--

“Dude, earth to Samuel,” Dean says, and Sam blinks and refocuses. Dean frowns at him, kinda smiling-kinda not. “You gonna sleep in your wet trunks? Get a move on, weirdo.”

“You’re weird,” Sam says, automatic and dumb, and Dean rolls his eyes, throws himself back onto his own bed. Sam looks at him--his knees, spread--his nipples getting hard in the damp cool air--and then looks away. He has to, because if he doesn’t then he has to do something, and he just doesn’t know what to do.

Dad swings by--middle of the night, the next night. Sam’s asleep until the door opens, and then his eyes slam open at the wall away from the door, listening to the low conversation happening behind his back. Everything okay? Yeah, kiddo. Just needed a resupply. Salt and a few other things. Gotta head back into the mountains but I think I’ve about got it cleaned out. Can I help? No--this is a stealth mission, can’t risk it. I’m just taking a shower before I head out. Wanted to stop by and make sure you boys were okay. We’re okay, Dad. Do you...

The bathroom door closes, very quietly. Sam breathes, twice, and sits up, and the room’s empty. He looks at the bathroom door, and the water rushes on, and he can’t hear talking--it’s not Dean sitting on the toilet giving a debrief while Dad cleans up blood and guts, not like they’ve done before--and it takes Sam a minute to realize that he’s chubbing up, his mouth dry because he’s just staring at the pale pink paintjob, and he’s imagining--cowboy legs. Fuck.

They don’t try to wake Sam up, before Dad leaves. The room door closes and Dean fixes up the locks again, and when Sam turns over he’s got his forehead pressed against the paint, his hair still wet and his boxers barely tugged on, and Sam--jesus, how’s he supposed to take it? There’s an engine sound--the peel-out of tires on gravel. Dad’s gone, again. “Good visit?” Sam says, and Dean jumps, looks at Sam over his shoulder.

“Shit, dude, nearly gave me a heart attack,” Dean says. Frowns, after a second. “You woke up?”

“I’ve been here the whole time, Dean,” Sam says, and Dean’s frown gets deeper before his eyes go wide. It’d be kind of funny if Sam weren’t pissed. “Like--I’m not deaf, you know?”

Dean doesn’t say anything. Sam gets up, crosses the room, and Dean doesn’t say anything still until Sam’s right in front of him--both of them in their bare feet and Sam’s got half an inch on him, even if he’s still trying to get the muscle--and Dean says finally, “Sammy, what--” but it’s a little late because Sam’s got his hands on Dean’s arms--damp, warm--and presses him back, against the door.

This close, Sam can see a red mark--a circle, on Dean’s shoulder where normally it’d be covered by a t-shirt--and he thinks, sudden sick certainty, that soon it’ll turn into a bruise. “You let him,” Sam says, and Dean looks--actually panicked. Sam squeezes his arms, rocks him a little against the door. “You let him.”

He does. Eager, like a puppy thrilled that its master came home. Dean stares back and forth between Sam’s eyes, mouth half-open waiting for an excuse to come--but there’s no excuse, they both know it, because Sam’s not deaf and he’s not blind and Dean was just in the shower, too, and there’s a mark on his shoulder, and Sam leans forward in raw stupid hope and kisses Dean. Clumsy--too much force, and their teeth clack--but he pushes in, pins their hips together, holds Dean tight, and realigns their mouths right and licks in. Dean breathes shock, doesn’t participate, and Sam tastes inside--beer, but--whiskey, too--and they haven’t had whiskey, not for weeks, and that means--that means--

Dean flinches--licks at him, too--gets his hands up and pushes at Sam’s ribs and breaks their mouths apart. Sam pants at him, an inch away. Dean’s eyes are bright, wide, his lips wet. “Sammy, what are you doing?” he says, like that’s not fucking obvious.

Sam licks his lips, tastes that phantom flavor. He lets Dean’s arms go and slides down his sides, to his hips, and presses forward until his knee’s between Dean’s knees--that open space. Space that’s maybe already been filled tonight, and the thought makes Sam’s gut lurch. Sloppy seconds. “You gonna let me, too?” he says. Dean’s hand splays against his stomach, holding, while his face goes slowly and deeply red. Sam ducks in, kisses his mouth soft and brief. Dean inhales sharp and his face, when Sam pulls back again, looks somehow dazed. Like soft isn’t what he expected. “We’re supposed to take care of each other. You and me.”

“Sam,” Dean says, rougher, and Sam cups his face in both hands and kisses him, soft, and again, and on the third Dean makes a weird small noise and holds Sam’s waist, fingers digging in, clutching and desperate. Yes, Sam thinks, groaning--yes, Dean touching him--yes, he thinks, at the car driving off into the night--because he’s Dean’s but Dean is his, and maybe with this, finally, he won’t be anyone else’s.

[blondsauduun-reads]

Really Something

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Flu? I think some light swearing? 

Plot: Request from @riverdalefan2019​ - The guys all went to college and Luke meets his roommate Julie instant attraction but neither want to mess up there room situation but one week it changes and Luke gets sick with the flu and Julie takes care of him, and while bed ridden truths are admitted about falling for each other and they get together please.

A/N: This was my first request ever so. Be nice. Also I hope I did well and did more or less what you had in mind!!!

Ah, first day of college. You can smell the nervousness and the panic of the freshmen, the exasperation and exhaustion of the sophomores and juniors, and the will to finally pass this year of the seniors.

Wasn’t like that for Julie Molina though. She was excited, full of life, willing to ace every single test and assignment.

She was strolling through campus, looking at the buildings, the people, listening to music. Looking everywhere but ahead and listening to nothing except Harry Styles on her earbuds.

“Hey! Watch out!” A brunet guy raised his voice, bringing her back to the real world, where she’d just thrown this guy’s stuff on the ground.

“Shi- I’m so sorry, wait, let me help,” she immediately dropped to the floor and helped the guy pick up his stuff, which was all cables and CDs. 

“I’m Julie. Hi.” Once everything was back in the box, she tried to introduce herself.

“Luke, a pleasure.” He smiled. 

A brief moment of epiphany where he realized Julie was absolutely stunning, and she realized Luke was breathtakingly cute.

“Luke!” Some other masculine voice broke him out of his trance. “C’mon, we have to get the room, now!” The guy, presumably Luke’s future roommate, had blond and very shiny hair, and was accompanied by a punk-looking black-haired guy too.

“See you around!” She said, also turning to where her dorm room was

.

Julie walked into the building, looking for room 195.

Entering the building, finding the correct floor, the right wing and making all the right turns in the hallways.

It was a lovely room, had two beds, two desks, two dressers, and a questionable rug on the floor.

“They really got you two a double room? And what about me, man?” Luke said from outside, kind of jumping around. “Who gon’ be my roomie?”

“Dude, calm down.” The blond guy from earlier said, grabbing his shoulders, so he stopped jumping around. “Me and Reg two doors down that way. Chill.”

“Yeah!” Reggie said, “And maybe, you even get that cute girl you were talking to earlier, huh?” he added, wiggling his brows.

“You mean me?” Julie said, popping her head out the door to the hall.

“Yeah!” He said. “I’m Reggie, this is Alex, and this,” Reggie shoved Luke inside the room. “Is your roomie.” He waved bye and dragged the blond along back to their dorm.

“Luke, right?” Julie asked, not that she’d ever forget his name, though.

“Yep, and you're Julie” He smiled, she smiled, they set ground rules, like not bringing boyfriends or girlfriends over and like not going through each others’ stuff, and they got to decorating and unpacking.

“Damn, the theater majors really are blasting Hamilton across the hall, geez.” Julie said, coming into the room she and Luke had been sharing for five weeks, with a plastic bag with their dinner in it inside. 

“Oh I know.” Luke spun around with his desk chair and stood up to greet Julie and help her set the table -which they bought one week after moving in, at a thrift shop for like, five bucks- “It’s been like that since you left.” He rolled his eyes, making her laugh. It was nice to know that he could make her laugh.

“I hate this rug, it’s like, stepping on sandpaper.” She mentioned the almost brown rug under their feet, which hadn’t been clean since the university bought it. That made him snicker and nod. “We should clean it.”

Christmas break was finally here. The roommates of dorm nº195 and dorm nº190 -Alex and Reg- were pretty tight knit by then, and all of them were staying at campus for the holiday, because Julie couldn’t afford going to Puerto Rico on Christmas, and the boys didn’t really like family time anyway, so they stayed with Julie.

For Christmas they had lunch at Julie and Luke’s dorm, because surprisingly it was the least messy of the two rooms, and because somehow, their kitchenette had a stove, which wasn’t actually allowed, but, whatever, it’s just soup. So, their Christmas lunch was soup and a rotisserie chicken.

Gifts were exchanged! Alex got some new fancy socks, a snapback with a goat and some new drumsticks because Reggie accidentally broke them two weeks ago, Reggie got some fierce new boots, an ugly christmas sweater which he actually loved and a goldfish from Petco, Luke got a collection of new notebooks -because he seemed to burn through an entire one in less than a month-, yet another flannel shirt, and some fuzzy socks -from Julie, because he always stole hers, despite the rule that said to not go through each others’ stuff, and always ended up stretching them out so that they didn’t fit her anymore-, and Julie received a denim jacket -which she had deemed her favorite since that day-, a couple of potted plants, and a big hoodie -which wasn’t actually big, it was Luke’s size, which apparently she loved, because she had stolen every single one of his hoodies without asking (he was out and the dorm didn’t have any heating, ok?), and always seemed to put them back in their place, until the day Luke saw her wearing one, almost fainted because of how cute she looked, and suddenly it made sense why his hoodies always smelt like her (not that he ever mentioned that, though)-. So yeah, they had a nice Christmas.

Today was December 27th and the two of them were cleaning the rug (outside and on the pavement, which had been lined with a piece of plastic), because today was the sunniest day they’d had all the month.)

“Hey!” Julie laughed when Luke splashed some of the water-soap solution on her.

“What?” He acted as if he was doing a completely normal, mature thing. “Looks like you need a thorough scrubbing too, Julie.” Oh boy.

“Uh? Excuse you sir, at least I wear sleeves.” She soaked up good her sponge in the soapy water, “Because, if you had actual tees, I wouldn’t be able-” No sleeves, and as usual, the arm hole on his shirt was so big it reached his lower ribs. “- to do this!” Shaboom. She threw the sponge into the sleeve hole, directly into his shirt.

“You just started a war, Molina!” He fished the wet sponge out of his clothes and threw it at her face.

Julie soaked the sponge up again and threw it at his face, somehow he lost balance and fell onto the semi-dirty wet rug. 

“A war that you have lost, Patterson.” She said, hovering over him, claiming her victory.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He pulled on the arm that was supporting her over him, so now she lost balance, fell on the wet rug too, and somehow threw the whole bucket of water on them.

“Well, it’s soap and water, so we’re not technically dirty, right?” He chuckled.

“You’re really something Luke. Really something.” Well. In that particular moment, he was a wet music major with a tummy full of christmas food. But Julie meant that he was really something, to her.

But unfortunately, and in that case, really something also meant he was really prone to catching nasty colds.

“Luke, your fever is getting real high, real fast.” Julie said, looking at the thermometer which clearly indicated 104ºF and 40ºC.

“If I’d have known that all it takes is a fever for you to call me hot, I would’ve gotten sick earlier.” He answered, from under his blanket.

“Shit, he’s even worse than usual.” Alex said through Julie’s phone, which was on speaker and on the table.

“We’ll come by after class, bring him some antipyretics or something. Good luck!” He said, before hanging up.

“That’s it.” She said. “I’m going to the store.” She couldn’t stand Luke looking so sick and weak, she missed the healthy and boyish Luke. She was going to get soup ingredients at the store.

“Luke, you’ll-” She turned around to tell him he should rest, but found him sleeping already. “Rest, and get better.” She kissed his forehead, still feeling him burning up, and went on her way. Luke smiled in his sleep.

“Hey, Luke.” She shook his shoulder gently to wake him up. “You’ve slept the whole afternoon, I made dinner.” 

Luke woke up, kinda. He could smell spices.

“But it’s not done yet, and you need to take a shower.”

“What, why?” 

“Well, you’re sweaty and feverish, so a room temperature shower will do you good.” She said, going to grab something out of her drawer. “And use this with your body soap.”She handed him a fancy little bottle that spelled Alcoholado on the front in a very worn down paper stuck to it. 

“Okay.” He put up no resistance, just grabbing his Manly Man 2-in-1 Shampoo and Soap, his towel, some crocs for the shower (which everyone complained about, but whatever) a clean set of pjs, the bottle she had given him, stuffed it into his backpack, and went to the bathrooms.

Twenty minutes after, he was back, the table was almost set, two big bowls of something that looked like soup on the table, the trashcan full of plastic wrappers and veggie rests from the soup, the leftover ingredients tucked away in the only cabinet their kitchenette had, and a medium pot of soup on the stove, which wasn’t on anymore, but the soup on the inside still steamed a bit. And Julie in her christmas-gift-hoodie and some sweats.

“What was that thing you gave me?” Luke asked, looking at the bottle he held in his hand and throwing his bag on his bed.

“Alcoholado, my Abuela made it and gave me half a dozen bottles for college. It’s supposed to calm fevers and help with colds.” Julie said, putting the cutlery on the table and sitting down. 

“And this is chicken Asopao, my Abuela also made it for me when I was sick.”

“Julie, you really didn’t-”

“In first place, yeah I did, it’s my fault you’re sick; and in second, I care about you, Luke.”

Luke almost fucking fainted, but decided that sitting on the chair and eating the Asopao she’d made was way better.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said, cleaning up the table and everything with her. “ I feel a lot better.”

“I’m happy I did!” She said, somehow earning a nice hug from him.

After they broke apart the hug, they turned off the lights and went to sleep.

Julie was woken up at 4 am by Luke’s coughing, and went to check on him immediately.

She checked his temperature, which was somehow very cold, despite him being wrapped in a pair of blankets.

“I-I’m cold,” He muttered half asleep.

“Yeah, I can feel that.” She rushed to her bed again and pulled a thick duvet from under it, went back to Luke and laid it on him. “Better?”

“No.” He said, hesitantly. “Cuddle with me maybe?”

Julie thought about it. This would only make her heart flutter and turn her feelings towards him more intense, but he was sick because of her and she’d lose a bit of her dignity to make him feel better if that’s what it took.

“Scoot over.” She said softly, holding up the blankets so she could get under them.

Twenty seconds after, they were both cuddling very comfortably in his bed, Luke was beginning to warm up, when he made a comment;

“I know why I’m in love with you, Julie.” She opened her eyes in a heartbeat, but stood still, thinking about what to tell him, and if she should respond at all. 

“It’s because you’re caring and lovable and kind and just, overall amazing.” He said sleepily, before she could say anything.

“I love you too, Luke.” She kissed the crown of his head, Yes they were spooning and she was big spoon. “Sleep now, though. You need it.” 

They wiggled closer to one another, and finally fell asleep, under three blankets and had very sweet dreams.

[wee-guy]

                                 Why did you climb the mountain?

A rant sketch inspired by @insertdisc5​ post that I just reblogged. I haven’t been feeling great tonight and it’s always sat with me that these children climbed a big ass mountain without adult supervision. Especially Frisk. 

Below the cut is some headcannons for a kinda mental health AU? Idk, it was therapeutic to write.

It makes me think of a sort of AU were MC/reader purposefully goes to the mountain because of the rumours and obviously isn’t successful but meets a bunch of monsters who know why they came to the mountain and want to help.

Classic Sans: knows what it’s like to feel hopeless, to not want to get out of bed, how some things become so difficult to achieve. Knows what it’s like to have to hide how you feel, be happy and funny to make sure others don’t worry. If you need to do the thing, he will do the thing with you being “helpful” with his puns. He’s always there with soft encouragement and always praises the small things. Will probably make you those star stickers, “you got out of bed!” “you brushed your teeth!” “you managed social interaction!” “you didn’t cry today!”. Is interested in what you want to do in education and/or work. Will help you plan and work towards whatever that is. He knows some folk. 

Classic Papyrus: obviously is your personal cheer squad. Knows just how to motivate you but if it isn’t working and it’s a bad day knows when to calm down and let you take things at your own pace. Tell him your deepest desires, your biggest dreams, no matter how unattainable or silly it seems. You want to be an astronaut? You need to be physically healthy, go to school to get good grades and do training to achieve that? Pffft, that’s only three things, you can totally do that! Teaches you how to hold onto a dream and keep back the bad thoughts that say you can’t do it. You’ll show them! Will cook and bake with you while making some idle chatter. Afterwards will sit with you and watch MTT or something you’re currently interested in cuddled under a blanket.

Fell Sans (Red): the worst kept secret is that he is a softie. Will chill out with you and give you as much physical touch as you’re comfortable with. Little thumb strokes, hair strokes, hip bumps, squeezes and full on “you are now my personal squish, now chill out and watch the tv show”. Is your protector, there behind you to make sure no one walks over you or just there as silent encouragement when you need to do scary adult things. Knows what it’s like to have manic lows were the sadness is energetic and wants out. Knows how hard it is to stay strong when you need to be supported. Is there for you when this happens, even if he just silently holds you.

Fell Papyrus (Edge): you are the only one he is soft and gentle to. You know what that means? You are worthy of the terrible Papyrus! These other humans are merely jealous of your brilliance! Actual fashion icon who encourages you to express yourself however you want. Cut or dye your hair? Edge is there critiquing cuts and colours and of course approving of your choices. Your style is very much worthy of the terrible Papyrus’s approval. Humans are staring? Yes, how could they not? You look amazing! And the commoners are weak to resisting such style! Will absolutely call you by your preferred pronouns or name without question, although all skeles will do so too. Teaches you to be comfortable with yourself and that you are worth your own existence. 

Swap Sans (Blue): Another very energetic cheer squad! Preaches the importance of routine and activities. Won’t push you with exercise if you aren’t into that, gentle jogs or walks or swimming, anything calming and enjoyable. After all, what’s the point if you don’t enjoy it! Will help you figure out what the best times are you to do things, are you an early bird or a night owl? When do you get hungry? Do you have medication? When do you need to take them? He makes a very cool schedule with reminders on your phone so you don’t forget. Is very interested in your hyperfixations and is eager to learn all about it! Info dump your little heart out! Blue won’t judge and is 9/10 more likely to want to become involved too! He secretly knows what it’s like to not be respected for being yourself, whether that be for the things you love or how you look. He’s very well aware of what other monsters see him as. But! He will show you how the magnificent Sans achieves what he wants, does what he wants all the while being true to himself!

Swap Papyrus (Stretch): Another chill boy. He’s always there for you if you need to chill, talk or be distracted. No, literally. He always seems to be close to you wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, without actually moving at all...Is not at all a therapist but will listen to you when you need to talk or vent or explain something you love or have just learned. Will go with you to any doctors appointments or therapy sessions and be there for you, slouched down in his chair. Pull up a beanbag, pal, tell him all about it. Very good at distracting you with music or games or some sweet treats. A rock of a skeleton boy. Knows what it’s like to be so overwhelmed by your feelings being trapped inside you that you loose interest in things and become numb. Will show you coping mechanisms he learned himself and will always never let you forget that he is always there for you.

SwapFell Sans (Blackberry): This is a very smart boy. He clawed his way up to royal guard status without the usual violence, he doesn’t need to. Is an expert and obsessed with cheating the system and getting clever sneaky payback. Any trouble and he has it sorted, he’s both better and worse than a Karen. Will talk to a manager, teacher, professional and come out the victor. That person who bullied you? Strangely bolts whenever you are in their proximity ... Teaches you what you can do to help yourself in certain situations and how to come across confident in yourself even when you’re not. Somehow knows everything about everyone and is always doing things like reminding you that your medication is running low, you need to book another doctors appointment, even tells you that that thing you were eyeing up is much cheaper elsewhere and he’s already ordered it for you so don’t worry about it. His literal moto is “you don’t need to worry about it anymore, I’ll handle it.” But he knows when to slow down and teach you how to do things yourself. He is also a master at pet names. Darling? Sweetheart? Love? Baby? He’ll find out what you prefer and use it to his advantage, and you’ll love it. Knows how things can build and build and how sometimes the littlest thing can be the domino effect that makes everything crash. Shows you how to prioritise and take it one task at a time. 

Swapfell Papyrus (Russ): Just...a sweet boy. A little nasty, but sweet. Why do you sometimes have the urge to protect him and then suddenly feel submissive to his protection? Is a firm believer in therapy through action. You like art? He’s found this little group where you just be calm and do art and maybe talk about your feeling, lets both go. Is music your thing? Here, if you’re sad how about you press all the low keys at once? BOOOOOAAAAAMMMMM. Writing? Writing how you feel is very important to both understand yourself and how you’re feeling, to be able to reflect and point out things that triggered you and also be able to show a professional symptoms and explain how you feel without having to strain to remember. But you can also write for the pure enjoyment of words and the movement of your pen or the rhythmic click of your keyboard. Will help you with prompts and inspirations. Will never judge you for using a fandom or interest to help you get through this. Will definitely show you some of his own stuff. Knows how lonely you can feel even when surrounded by people, even when it doesn’t make sense to feel lonely or sad. Teaches you that it’s ok to feel these emotions but shows you when you need to stop in order not to become consumed by it. 

Horror Sans (Mars...?): Is deeply knowledgeable about trauma. He had a long road recovering from his. His trauma might make you feel stupid for your feelings but he will shut that down immediately. His broken leg doesn’t make your broken arm any less painful. Will be able to understand how you feel about your trauma and how that has affected you. He’s very careful to put down boundaries so neither of you trigger the other. He’s your mental health buddy, someone close who’s going through the same thing that you can talk to and know that you are fully understood. You can ask questions to help understand yourself and your own journey. Will show you how to focus and enjoy small things. Believes that people are either water people or earth people. Does the sound and sight of water make you calm? Just the rhythmic movement and sound drift you away while you both pick up cool looking rocks and smooth sea glass and sometimes even a shell! Or do you like big grassy parks or forests you can walk to your hearts content and just breathe? You both pick up some cool leaves to press between a book, take some pictures of plants and trees and sunsets. Whenever you need a break, whether you realise or not, he will whisk you away to just bask in silence for a while. A big cuddler, he has a blanket nest, hop on in and have a nap. 

Horror Papyrus (Sweetie): Knows deeply how hard it is to adapt sometimes, and how your adapting to situations can hurt you later. Knows what it’s like to be judged by how you look, especially if there are things you need to hide. Helps you with Edge’s quest, especially with clothes. He’s very good at finding unique objects that no one else has. Often comes back from thrift and charity shops with a few things he think’s you’ll like. Will cuddle up with you and listen to how you feel about yourself and the way you look. Helps you come to terms with yourself, accept yourself. Always has a compliment for you, building it up from small things so you can learn to believe and accept them. Knows ways to help you if you sometimes dissociate and especially if it’s triggered by photos or mirrors. If you need to go to the dentist or the doctor for operations or procedures, he’s right there with you holding your hand. He himself has some very cool braces for his teeth, some funky glasses and some support of his posture. Loves to teach you how to solve puzzles and will sit behind you and point out words he finds in the word searches. A very good bonding buddy. Also, he always has snacks, he is a snack mom. Sometimes he even slips food and water into your bag and pockets. 

[colorfulstudentllama-thethird]

Comparing "problems only girls will understand" and "problems only guys will understand" posts/videos/lists is honestly so fucking wild.

Things Only Girls Understand

Nearly debilitating period cramps

Bleeding from your vagina and all of the discomfort with it

Fashion and makeup companies specifically targeting our insecurities until we have panic attacks

The clothing marketed towards us not being fully functioning (WHERE ARE THE FUCKING POCKETS?!?!?) and often uncomfortable/revealing/low quality unless you're willing to spend a lot of money or scour thrift stores

Literally being terrified of men on a daily basis because we may be attacked

Am I having a heart attack or is that just my boob hurting? Am I having a cramp or did my appendix burst? Hell if I know!

When I leave the house today, do I need pepper spray and sharp keys in case I'm attacked in some way?

Letting all of my friends and family know the name, age, and appearance of my date, the place we're supposed to go, the place I'm being picked up, the licence plate number and car color, and anything other info that may be needed in case I'm kidnapped and left for dead

When I walk down the street am I going to be whistled at or otherwise objectified in my daily life?

Years of having all of our self worth being tied to whether or not we're deemed "desirable"

Do I have breast cancer or do they just look like that?

Wow, to be a super model *casually develops serious self esteem issues*

Literally bleeding through our clothing

All of this being presented in a mostly humorous manner as a coping mechanism and as solidarity, we're all in this shit hole of a world together

Things Only Guys Will Understand

Getting boners at random times

Getting boners at uncomfortable times

Getting boners for no reason

Boners hurting

An inability to pee straight

The fear that women will randomly accuse them of being evil, misogynistic douchebags or something along those lines

Morning boners

The sudden inability to get a boner when wanted

Penises shrinking in the pool???

Having to stand several urinals away lest you be mistaken for gay. 8 urinals and 4 are taken? Wait your turn. (Wtf, do you guys not have fucking STALLS????)

Being hairy????? (Guys, I'm sorry, but that's a choice right there)

"oh no my girlfriend/wife wants me to go sHoPpiNG😭😭😭R.I.P, bored af"

I'll be honest, I really don't get most of these, and the ones I do...I don't see the big deal

Peeing with a boner?

Toxic masculinity! (Completely valid guy problem! It's terrible! You guys deserve to have feelings! But that has, for the most part, been pushed for and carried on...by other guys. Over centuries. That's mostly on you guys to fix, sorry)

Women are crazy! Or taken! Or won't date me!!!

In that same vein, "nice guys finish last"

Women are so mean and evil

Their balls stick to their legs???

Often delivered either as jokes or as the most awful burdensome terrible experience ever endured by a human being

Now, it probably seems like I'm making fun here, right? Like I'm intentionally making it look like guys are just lazy, entitled, douchebags with no problems.

But here's the thing.

That's all stuff that guys, men, people of the male species WROTE. Those are their own, self described, terrible problems that women just can't fathom.

Guys, if any of you read this, please understand a few things. Women are not evil, but there are evil women. There ARE woman who will look for reasons to be offended, there ARE woman who will lie about you for attention, there ARE women who will treat you like shit, there ARE women are evil, nasty, violent, spiteful, vindictive, abusive, just truly AWFUL people.

But those women, why do not make up the majority, are not representative of ALL women. So if you choose to judge an entire group of people based off of the actions of a select few weeks have hurt you or others, you are narrow minded at least. At worst? Either just as awful as those women (depending on the offense of course), kinda sexist, or EXTREMELY judgmental.

Take for instance this, I have had TONS of guys treat me like shit, be abusive, belittle me, etc. "Friends", family members, significant others, people I rejected, so on. Most women would understand if I just flat out said that I hated men and renounced them as a collective, sticking them all into a box labeled as "abusers". But I don't do that. I may be wary of men, and I might still have trust issues in regards to them, but I generally try not to shut myself in a box of my own, so I understand the fact that the men that have hurt me do not and cannot represent an entire group of people as a whole

And before you come in with, "well women do the same things to men!" Our fear is based on actual statistical probability that men are the most likely group to hurt us, and the fact that culturally, we are often quite literally raised to fear men because of those statistics. Y'all's fear is based off of various "nice guys finish last" tropes as far as I know. So while, yes, there are truly awful women who hurt men, and belittle them, and dismiss them, and generalize about them. The abusers are not a majority. And the generalizers have like, an actual reason to generalize even if it's not entirely fair to you specifically.

Also like, fucking check yourselves. I'm giving a lot of "not all men" here but like, I know there'll be someone who can read all of this, have it all apply to him, and still think, "oh well I'm clearly not one of the assholes she's talking about, I'm a NICE GUY!" You sure about that? Really? Really really? Check. Multiple times. Evaluate yourself. Self reflect. Adjust yourself. My excuses do not apply to you.

Another thing, toxic masculinity was created BY MEN. Men are the ones who perpetuate the stereotype of the "True Man's Man" and force eachother to conform to being tough, emotionless, bricks ruled by anger, pride, and/or other equally dangerous things. It may not be your personal fault, but it is something that you personally can affect. You can choose to be who you want to be, and raise your sons differently. And if other guys try to ridicule you for that then I have to ask, are those really the people you WANT to have around? Or be like? People who'll bully you until you meet their absurd standards? Toxic masculinity is awful and you guys shouldn't EVER have to deal with it, but at the end of the day, it is something that, the majority of the time (I will fully acknowledge that there are women who help enforce it, those women are typically shit though, so do you really want them in your life either?), is enforced by men. That being the case, it's something that you all have to make an effort to fix yourselves. Women can help! They should! Women should be understanding of men's issues in society even if they seem like "less" by comparison to some women(they aren't). Because men's and women's issues are often interwoven and are best solved when tackled together. Women should make an effort to not encourage toxic masculinity in their friends, acquaintances, and family members. But again, it is something that men have to do a lot of the work for, because it's a men's issue that is mostly caused kept up by men.

Long story short

Men: please understand that women are not out to get you and that sometimes you need to look at the other side of things and that you shouldn't blame issues created by yourselves on others. Your problems are valid but like, please understand the difference between certain issues, and please understand that not everything is actually a problem (*cough* "girls don't like NiceGuys™ like me!!!!!!" *cough* you're actually not that great you narcissistic prick *cough*). And like, stop blaming women as a whole for the fact that you're single or unhappy, like, stop. It's pathetic. Also, y'all have like, actual problems but you all choose to talk about how inconvenient your genitalia is until someone brings up feminism and THEN y'all start to bring up, "but men have problems too!" You do, don't use them to shut down different conversations though wtf

Women: yes, being wary of men is valid. Generally distrusting or disliking them based off of your experiences is valid. But they're not born evil, if we can help things improve then we should where we can (but it's not our job to fix them, let me make that very clear! You do not have to fix a guy! Not your problem girlie, if he treats you like crap, please run away). And honestly, not all men (uck, I know) are dicks.

So yeah. Me rambling around midnight xvlxlffA

[thesinglesjukebox]

FULL TAC FT. LIL MARIKO - WHERE'S MY JUUL??

[6.11]

Do we choose rule, or do we choose suck?

Alex Clifton: Juuls. Juuls. Juuls. Oh my god, Juuls. [7]

Katie Gill: It's a little bit telling how all the comments on the YouTube video are comparing this song to other meme songs and not talking about the merits of the song itself. Still, there will always be a place in the world for meme songs that are serviceable memes but less than serviceable songs that teenagers can obnoxiously quote on the bus. "Where's My Juul" fits that niche perfectly. I expect a fleet of TikToks featuring people lip-syncing to this and will be very disappointed when this inevitably doesn't happen because I am out of touch with the youth. [6]

Kalani Leblanc: I can see there's already an abundance of blurbs submitted for this song, and the number will have risen by the time I finish this. After thinking so hard about how to go about being the fifteenth person to say "It sounds like "Shoes"," I'm realizing it's not really "Shoes" anyway. While they're both jokes that bear a resemblance in the thrash of a breakdown, "Where's My Juul??" is also listenable. The comparison is getting tired because it's like did anyone listen to "Shoes"? As a song? In earnest??? While this is not an entirely impressive piece, no concerto or FKA Twigs production, it's enough. Since 2006, we've been making everything into jokes, so it makes perfect sense. Nicotine-induced freakouts would've been the subject of an after school special ten years ago, but now they're joke material for hypebeasts and others on Twitter. Lil Mariko makes an impressive case while trying to find her Juul; I can't find anything this song did wrong, sorry. [8]

Will Adams: The mid-song 0-to-11 ramp is what takes this past the mean-spiritedness of "#Selfie" and the meme-spiritedness of "Phone" into effortless "Shoes"/"Let Me Borrow That Top" absurdity. The Juul is a placeholder; sub in any other monosyllabic cultural artifact, and Lil Mariko's rage against Full Tac's electroclash-y beat would cut through just as effectively. "Sorry, guys!" she says at the end, except there's nothing to apologize for. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I wrote 20 pages about Juul culture in 2018 so I should in theory be the exact target audience for this. Yet "Where's My Juul??" doesn't really click for me. It's charming and funny in parts (Lil Mariko's spoken verses, which transmit nervy anxiety and barely restrained fury effectively) but the hook, which takes up most of the very long minute-forty-five, is comedy via brute force principles: repeat a phrase enough and it will transfigure into a joke. [5]

Brad Shoup: About as funny as the related TikTok meme, though not as menacing, surprisingly. I wish so badly that Full Tac had gone full hardcore -- or even brostep! -- but am glad that Lil Mariko's Danny Brownian ad-libs and sudden reversals grind "#SELFIE" into the dirt. [7]

Oliver Maier: I need not catalogue the myriad ways in which this is transparently designed to blast off on TikTok -- you would probably know better than me -- but that cynicism detracts from "Where's My Juul??" for me. There's none of the spontaneity or sense of genuine fun that animates certain other genre-agnostic, threat-spewing, extremely online weirdo duos, more savvy than it is genuinely silly. It's not badly executed, but I felt like I got the picture before even hitting play. [4]

Will Rivitz: I get this is supposed to be more meme than song, but I so wish it had leaned into the latter for more than half its runtime. The "FUCK!!!" at the beginning of its second chorus is worth at least a [7] on its own, and its redlining nu-metal production is such a tight fusion of XXXTENTACION's sonic fingerprint and simplified TikTok trap that I'm surprised the "oh my God" ad-libs aren't followed by a "Ronny." As it stands, "Where's My Juul??" and its just-a-little-too-long interludes that grate after listen number four or so functions as a sort of "Thrift Shop" for the current day, a track defined by its novelty that we as an Internet music-Twitter hivemind all agree was genuinely good about five years after it's exited the public consciousness. It deserves more. [8]

Ian Mathers: Both less musically compelling and with less of a point than "Can I Get a Box?". [5]

Katherine St Asaph: It's kind of amazing how it took seven years for Rebecca Martinson to release her debut. [1]

Nortey Dowuona: Lil Mariko is actually kinda weird in the lol so random funny way that people think that [insert overrated white comic who had a Comedy Central show] is and has a really great metal screaming voice. I don't know who made this dull approximation of Kenny Beats and Pi'erre Bourne, nor do I care. Lil Mariko will hopefully get a recurring cameo role on Nora From Queens and get her own show from that. [5]

Mo Kim: The best joke here is the escalation of nonchalance (hey, where's my Juul?) into something desperate, and therefore dangerous: it hits like the drop in a rollercoaster when Lil Mariko finally breaks out the deep-throated metal screams, but the moment wouldn't have half the thrill without the masterful way she gradually ups the heat on the song's first chorus before that. Both of her spoken monologues, where she merges Valley Girl affect with murderous menace, only sweeten the deal. [8]

Ryo Miyauchi: "Where's My Juul??" gets spiked with an infectious dose of adrenaline when it suddenly turns a lot more aggro than you'd expect from a meme-y cross-section of Rico Nasty's mosh-pop and PC Music's ironic bubblegum. The demented beat stings with a pungent metallic sourness, and while her Valley Girl accent scans as an obvious put-on, Lil Mariko's blood-curdling scream is legitimately hair-raising. The song rapidly combusts, ensuring the joke doesn't overstay its welcome. [7]

Joshua Lu: Yes, hearing the unassuming Lil Mariko scream and snarl over a missing Juul is intrinsically funny, especially accompanied by a music video that knows exactly how to push the limits of its concept. But the real strength of "Where's My Juul??" lies in its sheer relatability. The title could be anything -- where's my wallet, my phone, my eraser -- because anyone who has ever misplaced anything can relate to the escalating panic and rage in not only the cataclysmic vocals, but also Full Tac's discordant production. Also crucial to the song is its sense of plot, as it steadily progresses from confusion to blame to outright violence. The ending, though predictable (Lizzo used the exact same twist not that long ago), is a necessary denouement, as it provides the moment where everyone involved can look back on the last minute and a half of chaos and laugh. [8]

Iain Mew: As a song structure trick, I love the fake-out final verse, those ones that seem like something slowly developing before the artist brutally cuts it off for the chorus or instrumental to come back stronger than ever; the "Don't Speak" and "Your Best American Girl" kind of thing. The key moment of "Where's My Juul??" comes in taking that same trick to a ludicrous, brilliant extreme. It has a drawn-out, jittery verse, a cartoon scowl of a chorus, and then one question into verse two it veers straight into swearing, screaming and fucking everything up. That's perfect enough that it would ideally be even shorter than it ends up. [7]

Kylo Nocom: Full Tac and Lil Mariko do in less than two minutes what took Justice five. The gimmick is the least fun part, and judging by my sample size of BigKlit's "Liar" and Full Tac's very own "CHOP" the producers behind this might not even be as funny as this video would imply. But I've long settled with music that's good on the merits of just being fun; when the production here is layered with discordant guitar sampling, analog drum kits, and distant screams of "piss!" and "fuck," I'm willing to buy into the ugliness. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Full Tac returns with another take on "Liar," succeeding because the goofy conceit here finds an appropriately goofy (that is, unexpected) vocal performance. Part of the appeal is how "Where's My Juul??" could sit comfortably alongside songs from Rico Nasty and Rina Sawayama, but has the appeal of shoddy viral videos from yesteryear. It's that "Kombucha Girl"-type reaction it's striving to elicit, and it accomplishes that as soon as the screaming starts. The best detail, though, is the most subtle: the moment Lil Mariko stops herself from saying "who" and politely asks "have you seen it?" [7]

Michael Hong: Have you ever been dragged to a party only for your only friend to disappear, leaving you to mingle with a group of people you don't know? And one person makes a comment so absurd that you just giggle along with the rest of the group even though you're not really sure if they're layering their statement with even a hint of irony or if there's something much more unsettling lurking underneath? But the jokes are getting more and more uncomfortable and suddenly fewer people are laughing along, instead furtively glancing across each other with an exasperated look as if to say "is this person for real?" And instead of backing away, that person instead starts doubling down, getting more and more aggressive, screaming across the room for what feels like hours and surely people must be ready to head out. Instead, when you finally catch a moment to glance down at your phone, you find that only two minutes have elapsed since you arrived and you realize that not even a quarter of the time has passed before your ride will come and you can leave this godforsaken party. You have absolutely no choice but to continue standing in the group in discomfort, waiting for this moment that feels like an eternity to finally finish, with the only background noise being the stereos blaring what sounds like someone's first attempt at using GarageBand. [0]

Crystal Leww: While I was digging through "likes" on SoundCloud, I noticed that a friend of mine had liked "Baby Let Me Know" by Full Tac, which sounds like the synth heavy dreamy pop that was popular at the beginning of last decade. I did not stick around for "Where's My Juul??" so imagine my surprise today when I turned this on and it's umm, screaming. A consistent genre as an essential part of an up-and-coming artist's brand is less essential than ever, especially in an age where (waves hands) dance music has eaten itself alive in its swirling storm of troll energy. Chaos in and of itself is a brand -- from 100 gecs to Alice Longyu Gao's dueling sister tracks "Rich Bitch Juice"/"Dumb Bitch Juice" to any DJ Bus Replacement Service set, it has fully infiltrated dance music. How this goes from sweetly threatening to full-on psychotic and back to cutely apologetic is chaotic so yes, I think Full Tac could make some noise (both in creating a fanbase and also like literally) with this. [8]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox]

[chradi]

Hi! I was wondering how much it cost you to go to bicolline? Did you use The Voyage North?

Hey!! I live 2 hours away from bicolline! and I’m billingual, so I didn’t really need to use the Voyage North, but me and my friends were often in the Ordo Cervi camp just because the people there are so nice (and more around our age).So. TVN is about 1250-1545 US(used to be 1800 US), which is A LOT, but it includes a tent to sleep in+ camp cot, people who take care of the whole camp so you don’t have to, training sessions for the battlefield, weapons you can use during fights, a really pretty tabard(you keep the tabard, not the other things) and I think it includes food (I’ve read that it doesn’t so I’m not sure) and basically a free family (The Ordo Cervi) It’s a really great way to be introduced to Bico especially if you only speak english and are coming alone, but is it worth the price?? You be the judge of that

Now, without TVN, for the whole week. It costs 320 CAN (If you are not a member and you don’t preorder. If you are, it costs 240 for the week), but this price “only” includes the events, fights, contests, and concerts. And also basic stuff like drinking water and chemical toilets. Now, for the other stuff…Before I get further. Decorum= Things that look and feel “medieval/pirate/viking/fantasy” or at the very least won’t ruin someone’s “immersion”Food: If you bring about 50$ of non-perishable snacks, you can pretty much live off of two meals per day for about 20-30$. That’s the bare minimum though. Which would mean about 200$ of food. Like I said, water is free, and there’s a few water spots scattered around the site. That obviously goes down if you manage to cook stuff.Tent: A 1-2 person canvas tent can easily be found on ebay for about 100-200 CAN. But a bigger more comfortable tent can go up to 2kCAN. Canvas tents are obviously more expensive than typical tents, but you need one if you want to be in the decorum zone (See the decorum part). You’ll also need sleeping bags+blankets+camp cots/mattress, because it gets real cold and humid during the night.Clothes: You need to plan these even if you are with TVN. Everything you wear that can be seen needs to be decorum, but you can wash your clothes in the river throughout the week. So you can easily make it through the week with 1-2 pair of pants and 2-3 shirts +a few accessories. Watch out for shoes too! Brown sandals from a thrift store work well. My favourites are leather army boots. I bought some for 80 CAN and they are durable, water proof, and neutral enough to be decorum.Showers:  Warm showers cost money, cold showers and bathing in the river doesn’t. Me, personally, taking 2-3 warm showers during the week is what keeps me sane and not feeling nasty (about 5$/showers). The river….is kinda gross tbh, there are parts that are not gross, but I won’t say where because that’s where I go…(SORRY). It’s not disgusting, but its kind of cloudy because of the muddy floor of it and also people higher up in the river wash their clothes and their plates in it….so yeah. People probably obviously pee in it too. There are also free cold showers out in the open, I’ve never seen them though. BIODEGRADABLE SOAPS. PLEASE.Alcohol: Most people drink every single day at bico, bring your own booze, BUT, if you don’t bring anything, I can guarantee you you can get drunk for free if you know where to go and when and if you’re nice to people. It’s a bit rude though if you never offer anything in exchange. Also, sometimes in the morning people will talk to you and you won’t remember them until they go “we drank together last night!!”. There’s also weed a bit everywhere if that’s your thing (I personally hate it and I think there’s too much of it around the site) WARNING: Some people are assholes and WILL try to drug you, only accept drinks from people you know or if you’ve seen them take a lot of their drink they offer. Always move around in a small group and don’t go off on your own.Decorum vs Non-decorum: I’m putting this one at the end, but it will definitely affect the price of your experience. You can tent in the non-decorum place, which means you can have a modern tent, modern cooking things, and modern everything, until you leave the non-decorum zone. Obviously, that makes everything cheaper especially if you have a tent already and if you want to cook your own things.Price run down:TVN: 1250-1600$ US.Without TVN first year in decorum: BARE MINIMUM 820CAN(625 US)and easily up into the 1ks, but can be lower if you have friends to tent with+ if you tent in the non-decorum area.Without TVN second year in deocrum (no need to get another tent and such): Bare minimum 550$CAN (420$US) and easily into the 800s$, but once again that can go down if you’re with a group of friends and cook/buy stuff in bulk.So, in the long run, TVN is really expensive, but it can definitely help on the first year.Feel free to ask more questions!

[buildingshitwithcrab]

Monster High and outlet stuffs. Sometimes overlapping!

I thrifted Heath months ago, but finally ordered & received his replacement hands. He’s going to be an Ignis someday, and the glasses really help to bring out the look, already. They’re the kind your get by the dozen from Chinese eBay sellers and the frames are really thick; they look a lot better on MH big noggins than they do Barbies and Kens. The blond Bratz Boy I kept from January’s outlet dig is finally on a Deuce body, and is mostly waiting on extra hair rooting, to become a Kingsglaive Ravus.

The middle pics are some of the first actual modded dolls I’ve ever done, that weren’t just body swapped. Nefera matches Hunter Huntsman’s skintone perfectly; I took off the lipstick and he now makes a very tan Neferoth. I’d like to reroot him in silver at some point, but then again, Nefera’s hair fiber is really nice. The two silicone snakes came out of a grab bag, but Neferoth likes them a lot.

I posted Babybelle not long ago, and the blond is one of a seeming thousand variations of Rapunzel heads (yet somehow, I have three of this one. I can’t resist restoring their hair.) I took off the eyelashes and eyeshadow, and put the head on another Deuce body. I love the resulting doll, but really need to think of a name for them, sometime. They remind me a lot of a long-haired Prompto.

They’re on display in the one part of the MH Deadluxe High School that didn’t break down to fit into the box I have for it. I found about 2/3rds of the school at the outlet, this past Thursday. It’s missing one staircase, and the wall piece that has the cafeteria and classroom. This thing originally cost, like, $130 new. I paid maybe $4, for digging the pieces out of a bin. I didn’t have the heart to leave it behind, after I’d gathered up the visible pieces of the 2012 TMNT sewer lair playset in a box, early last year, only to decide not to take it. Hope someone after me scooped that box up, fast. I mean, why not? I’d already done the work of gathering it together from like three different bins and I’d guess 90% of it was there.

The bin next to the school had a bunch of incomplete MH girls that I gathered up for potential parts. Some had absolutely awful cases of glue-head, but the ones I like most are fine. Found out that for a werewolf Luna, the specific Clawdeen I want to use is the ‘ghostly’ one with the pearlized skin (left of Spectra,) but she’s missing everything past the elbows and knees. A regular Clawdeen still has her full legs, at least. The ghostly Clawdeen would cost $13 for replacement parts from Mattel (if her parts are even available,) and for that, I might as well buy one NIB online. Misses the point. So, I’ll wait a while and see what thrifting brings in the future. Freaky Fusion Ghoulia is missing her forearms and hands, but her hair and paint are perfect.

MyScene dude’s nasty hair scrubbed clean, easily enough. My first MC2 was missing a hand, but I had a slightly mismatched hand that works fine for now. She was getting passed over by other diggers because her hair was tangled around a round hairbrush. This pic is after everyone got a comb-through but before washing, and you can see in the lower left corner that she came out of it just fine. She’s kind of a better Scarlet O’Hara by accident than most GWTW dolls are by design. Weird. Jasmine’s hair was butchered, but not enough to expose her scalp anywhere, so I wanted to see if I could tidy it up into an on-purpose short style. The two Barbies weren’t remarkable, but together, they make one Fashionista-level articulated body. Counting MyScene (Ellis?) I found five complete, highly articulated dolls at the outlet this time. That’s frankly amazing, and more than I’ve found on many stops at Valley Thrift, down the street, that has a dedicated doll section. 

Anna has an articulated Hasbro body, which I’ve never seen before. I kinda love it, but don’t know who to use it on yet. Her hair was fried, for whatever reason. Just dry as hell. I didn’t comb her out before her wash & condition for fear it just would’ve shattered. Post-conditioning, it’s still a little frizzy, but put back into braids, she’s perfectly presentable. Or would be, if she still had her body. Her head is hard as a rock and got popped off while it was softened from the hot water.

It’s a really nice head, but I’ve got a thrifted Disney Store Elsa and Anna pair, and don’t really need it. But x2, I’ve also got a Hasbro Elsa head from a static body on a Hasbro Descendants body that this Anna would match. But x3, I’m not invested in Frozen things beyond the ice castle and slowly amassing a princess collection, which I’ve already done for those two, that match the bulk of the others, that originally came from the Disney Store. Sigh. I could always say “what’s one more doll?” but a) I wanted her joints for someone else to begin with, b) I’m still in the process of sticking heads I’ll never use on static bodies so I can re-donate them and clear them out, and c) I don’t need more than one of any princess. The fact that I have princesses at all, beyond my four childhood ones, is a testament to the problem of “why the hell not?”.

[loveraids]

advice for incoming freshmen

hey guys! here’s a list of some tips i made for incoming freshmen. i thought i’d share some advice/knowledge i’ve accumulated over the years too. everything’s under the cut. if you have any questions/concerns, feel free to message me! ☀️ (tw: long post)

1. one of the biggest fears many people have entering high school is not making friends. however, there are MANY opportunities where you can make friends! besides being friendly with who you sit with in class, try joining a sport, club, extra curricular, etc. i’m not saying making friends is the easiest thing in the world- i still struggle with it today. but don’t put yourself down if you’re not immediately friends with everyone in the school in the first week- it’ll take some time to develop. remember that everyone else is just as scared as you are, and they aren’t gonna come out of their shells until you do as well.

2. depending on your school, they may start throwing college shit at u on day one (although unlikely). no matter what, don’t stress right now!! the college process really doesn’t begin until the weeks leading up to the summer of junior year. you have time!! it’s ok to not know what you want to do. college has an “undecided” major for a reason.

3. V O L U N T E E R. i cannot stress this enough. it has soso many benefits and freshman year will most likely be the most time-free year you have. find a position at your local zoo, library, camp, hospital, etc. it’s a great resume booster and can aid you in the college application process (additionally, if you have an honors society that requires volunteer hours, you’ll need them anyways). also, you get to help people !

4. freshman year is going to teach you what real high school work is. you may struggle, and it’s ok! i was one of the “bright” kids that had their grades drop once i entered high school, and yeah, it did a lot to my self esteem. but throughout the years i picked myself up- i embraced help from my peers/teachers, i figured out what method of studying works best (pro tip: studying for math? look over the basic rules and do thousands of practice problems. science that isn’t math based? quizlet and khan academy. history? quizlet.), i learned that it’s OK to get a grade under a 90/A-. it’s going to seem tough at first, but just remember that you’re adjusting to a completely new environment and work ethic. you will get through it!! please shoot me an ask if you ever need help i’ll always answer. (edit: also do ur homework!!! it could be the difference between a B+ and an A-.)

5. imagine the crustiest person in your grade right now. now imagine them trying to hit on a kid that’s four years younger than you. gross, right? that’s exactly what a senior hitting on a freshman is like!! do not do that shit!!! there is NO reason why a senior should be trying to hook up with you when they’re 17-18 and you’re 14-15. that shit is NASTY. do NOT date seniors (even juniors are sketchy).

6. high school is where you will probably encounter alcohol/drugs/sex/etc at some point. do not be pressured!! if you don’t wanna smoke or drink then don’t do it (if you’re with the type of people who pressure, you better run). ive personally never had an experience where i was pressured, and people were usually respectful, but i can’t speak the same for everyone else. wanna get fucked up and party with your friends? be careful! i’m not promoting underage drinking but lets be honest a lot of kids do it. no sense in trying to pretend like that isn’t the real world. if you’re invited to some party by someone you KNOW has a bad rep, then don’t go!! you’ll have more opportunities.

7. if you’re worried about SATs/college admissions exams, you have a year. kids in my school are kinda crazy and were studying freshman year which made NO sense to me. end of sophomore year/beginning of junior year is usually adequate (plus- the main rule with SATs/ACTs is that you should take the test NO MORE than three times- that’s three chances!! i personally did well on my SAT, so if u have any questions feel free to ask me.

8. back to the point of pressure - if you’re going to a gifted and talented program/school, you will most likely feel academic pressure. with so many bright and smart peers, your standards will end up being much higher than the general population. i’m speaking from experience.

9. student government is usually a popularity contest. if you don’t win, don’t beat yourself up. if you do, congrats!

10. take pictures! save holiday cards! make memories!! i sincerely regret not taking photos (with me in them!!) during my freshman and sophomore years. there are a lot of great memories that i didn’t record because i was too embarrassed to get in front of a camera. i’ve learned that i’d rather cringe at a photo i look bad in in the privacy of my own phone, rather than not have a picture at all.

11. start developing good studying habits right away. what motivated me was getting cute/colorful pens, highlighters, erasers, post-its, etc., and making my notes look really pretty. i have my own personal post-it collection now. if you find ways to make studying even remotely fun/interesting, it will be extremely beneficial in the long run. i remember the summer before my junior year, i was excited to go back literally because i wanted to use my new pens.

12. this is a future piece of advice, but i would say there’s a 99% chance that you will be friends with mostly different people by senior year. you might have a core few, or a bestie, but myself and many others know that there are people who we were best friends with freshman year that don’t say hi to us in the halls senior year.

13. listen, there are gonna be some snake ass bitches. there’s no avoiding it. just don’t pay attention to them!! they get off on thinking they’re better than you. the best way to no longer deal with someone you don’t like is to just not associate with them. i’m obviously over simplifying these situations, but its usually not that deep. if it’s to the point where it’s causing you a great amount of stress, then it may be something you need to talk to a guidance counselor about.

14. please. do. not. run. and scream. in. the. halls. who do u think u are?? it’s 8 AM i don’t want to hear your screeching voice as you run into 7 people!!!!!

15. the freshmen are usually the joke of the school. you’ll hear you guys referred to as gremlins in some way, shape, or form. just deal with it, you’ll understand when you’re no longer freshmen (unless someone’s being unnecessarily mean!!).

16. make friends with your teachers!!!!!!!!! stay after class to have a little conversation with them. email them after school. bring them gifts on major holidays. IT WILL PAY OFF. letters of recommendation? done! need a teacher to sign off on something? done! minorly messed up in class? they’ll let it go bc they like you! this will also probably result in an increase in your character/participation grades.

17. make a travel pack that you keep in your bag - a few small bills,  pads/tampons (for those who need), pen, pencil, bobby pins, nail file, hair elastic, gum/mints, small perfume, band-aids, charger, etc.

18. thrift books sells books for really cheap!! also, ALWAYS check other places before ordering from normal bookstores (i’m looking at u barnes & noble)- they’re most likely cheaper.

19. i’m not gonna be one of those people who is like “school is the best!! it can be great for anyone if you just try!!” bc that shit aint true. it might suck ass for some of you. just know that high school isn’t your life. some people act like your life ends after high school. we’re 14-18 years old and still have so much to learn and see. if you set up a countdown to the end of high school your first day of freshman year, so be it.

20. your teachers are people too. they’re not there for you to use and abuse. they have families, problems, LIVES. they also have 3289472 students besides yourself, and assuming they should put you above the rest will only end up in disappointment.

21. social media is not all that matters. esp in this day and age, people will definitely be using snapchat and instagram (and hey! tumblr too). but don’t think you need social media to fit in. one of the most popular girls in my school literally made her instagram just the other day. to reiterate: it’s not that deep!!

22. you’re gonna change a lot (which is ok!!). freshman year i only wore hot topic and watched supernatural & doctor who. now, i just watch cooking vids and fawn over shawn mendes. it’s ok to change!! even just though freshman year you’ll change. i know i got like. super gay

23. if you find yourself having free time (or having study hall), do your homework!!! once you get home you’ll probably get distracted/lazy. what i used to do was go to my local library after school and get all my homework done so that i wouldn’t leave my school mindset and not wanna do anything. even if you don’t get everything done, you’ll thank yourself later.

24. there’s a difference between “forming your own opinion” on someone and completely ignoring their reputation/what your friends say. i can’t tell you how many people have gotten burned by the SAME guy in my school because none of them even kept in mind the warnings they had heard about him. it’s ok to give people a chance, but remember that most people’s reputations hold some truth (but not everyone!).

25. this seems pretty obvious but like. be nice. don’t talk mad shit about people you don’t know. rumors fly FAST in high school. what’s even worse is when they’re not true. fact check your shit if you ARE gonna gossip.

26. ok last point (for now). everything is gonna be new. there’s no getting around it. you WILL feel out of place. you’ll most likely be anxious. but everything will end up ok (cheesy, i know). the first week of high school is one the scariest weeks you’ll have in high school. things need time to settle. you’ll make friends, you’ll find things you like, you’ll be happy!! enter high school with a growth mindset. it may not seem like it, but your attitude WILL impact how things turn out.

overall, you guys will be fine. good luck to all of you !! if you have any questions or need advice on a specific thing, please feel free to send me an ask!! i’m always here. love u bbies

[blesspastacraig]

You Better Treat Me Like Church (SP Drabble Bomb Day 3 - Ex)

How fucking dare he, Tweek of all people, tell him how to parent?

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765684/chapters/34179495

There’s references to past mpreg in this, so if that’s not your cup of tea all g. 

Chapter Track - Church - Alison Wonderland

Someone’s pounding on the door. Not just knocking but like, really beating the shit out of it. Craig groans and rolls over. The clock on his bedside table reads 12:30 AM. He was actually asleep; it’s been the first consecutive couple of hours of sleep he’s gotten in a good while. The person keeps pounding on the door, and it’s followed by the sharp shriek of a baby. Craig moans again.

Why would the universe do this to him? He finally got her to sleep.

The person banging on his door isn’t giving up, so Craig rolls out of bed, hoping he can at least get the noise to stop. He feels terrible about leaving his daughter screaming in her bassinet, but this area is dodgy. There’s no way he will open his door to some weirdo in the middle of the night with a baby in his arms. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time he’s gotten up in the dead of night to tell some crackhead to stop yelling, or to call the cops because of a domestic dispute.

The first thing he sees through that scratched-up peephole is wild blond hair.

Tweek.

Fuck.

He can’t even pretend he isn’t home, because Tweek knows he never goes out—not anymore, anyway. Where would he be at 12:30 AM with a baby? Certainly not with Tweek in the backseat of his parents’ car. Never again. Those days are long dead.

Craig still opens the door, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He’s sort of relieved that it’s Tweek, though, and that he won’t have to call the cops again. All the same, he blocks the doorway so Tweek can’t rush in.

“It’s asshole o’clock at night,” he gripes, the tiredness making his voice sound thick instead of the tough he was going for. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Craig,” Tweek says dumbly. “Craig, you’ve gotta -ah- let me in. I can’t stay with my parents anymore man, it’s messing with my head.”

Craig wishes he had a working brain cell, but between the tiredness and his daughter screaming from their bedroom, he’s got nothing.

“I don’t want to,” is his answer. “You left us.”

“Craig,” Tweek repeats his name like it’ll make Craig change his mind. He cranes his neck to look behind Craig and into the messy apartment. It’s a shithole, Craig knows that, but it’s all he can afford. He hasn’t got the energy to keep it neat and tidy the way he did his childhood bedroom. Maybe he’d care more if he wasn’t covered in baby puke and dribble the majority of the time.

Technically, Tweek is still on the lease, too.

“Craig, she’s crying,” Tweek points out.

Craig wants to slam the door in his face right then and there, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays, like an idiot.

How fucking dare he, Tweek of all people, tell him how to parent?

“Yeah, thanks to you, asshole. I got her to sleep and I was actually sleeping for once in my fucking life.”

“Sorry,” Tweek says meekly. “I couldn’t stay there any longer, man. They -hnn- they make me crazier than I already am.”

“Fuck,” Craig sighs, and then he finally relents, standing aside for Tweek to come in.

Tweek looks cold, and skinny, but apart from that he looks healthier than he did before he left. That’s a surprise, but not a bad one. His eyes look kind of far away, though, and Craig’s not about to place any bets for his sobriety.

He’s still skinnier than Craig, which Craig absolutely despises.

Pre-pregnancy, Craig had been much skinnier than Tweek. Now, not so much. Like he really had the fucking time to diet when he could barely afford to feed his kid. It’s all well and good for Tweek, to come and go as he pleases while Craig is alone, stretchmark-riddled, and fat.

“I have to go get her,” he says, and heads towards the tiny bedroom that he (and Tweek, once) shares with his daughter. He couldn’t afford a two-bedroom flat and he can’t really afford this one-bedroom either. Not without Tweek’s income as well, and the idea of asking his parents for money makes Craig feel nauseous.

She’s still screaming, and Craig thinks it’s because he’s left her alone after being woken so suddenly. She’s so clingy that he wants to scream sometimes. He loves her, but he hasn’t gotten to do a single thing for himself since she was born. Even when Tweek was still there, he was essentially useless - either too high or too depressed to get out of bed.

He reaches into the bassinet (secondhand from a thrift store) to lift her up, and brings her to his chest, where she feels safest. Craig shushes her and rocks back and forth a little, but she’s still whining. He figures since they’re all up, he’ll just feed her now instead of within the next half hour or so. (If she wanted to sleep, Craig would have totally let her.)

He brings her back out into the living room/kitchen - it’s all sort of just one room crammed into a tiny space. Tweek is sitting on the old, disgusting couch they found on the side of the road when they first moved in. He watches Craig try to comfort their crying kid like he’s magic or something.

Craig goes to place her on the play mat he has in the middle of the living room floor, but he has to be careful: she can roll now. But what else can he do? There’s only one of him, and he only has so many hands.

“I can hold her, man,” Tweek says quietly. Now he wants to be quiet. Wonderful.

Craig frowns at him, unsure.

“I can hold her,” Tweek insists, more determined this time. “I’ve held her before, Craig.”

“Not for months,” Craig says. He’s not sure if he trusts Tweek anymore, but a break would be so freaking nice.

“I took care of her at the hospital, when you were all -nnn- zonked out after your c-section.”

“You had help,” Craig says bitterly, but he hands her to Tweek anyway.

Tweek seems to have retained whatever basic baby-holding knowledge he had before taking off. “She’s so big,” he remarks wistfully. Of course she fucking is, she’s a baby, babies grow you goddamn moron.

Craig heads for the fridge to fix up a bottle. He can hear Tweek talking to her in the background, like he knows anything about her at all. All he really knows is her name: Bijou. Craig kind of hates it now, but that’s mainly because Tweek chose it. Tweek had been so passionate about it: “she’s our precious gemstone Craig!” And Craig had kind of just gotten caught up in his excitement. They were definitely too young, but they loved each other, or so he thought. Tweek had been so excited, and he appealed to Craig’s sentimental side - the one he really only has for Tweek. Tweek went on about how the baby was half him and half Craig, how could they kill something they created together and Craig totally bought it. It’s not that he would take her back now—he wouldn’t—she’s here and she’s his. But he’s so tired, and upset that Tweek made all these promises only to break them.

He heads back over to the couch and tries to take his baby back from Tweek. Tweek resists. “I can feed my own kid, man,” he says, and Craig hands him the bottle out of sheer exhaustion.

Craig flops down beside them on the couch and puts his head in his hands.

“You can stay on the couch,” he states. “I’m not having you screw me anymore.”

“That’s fair,” Tweek replies, still intently watching Bijou drink. “I went to the hospital you know, like -ah- like you wanted me to.”

“You did?” Craig’s surprised; that was the main reason he kicked Tweek out in the first place: because his episodes were getting worse and he just wouldn’t go. He just self-medicated and made everything so much worse. After that, Tweek had just fallen off the face of the earth. Craig thought he’d at least want to see Bijou, but there was nothing.

“They held me against my will at first, but I went and I stayed. They put me on this heavy shit man, that’s why I’m -nghh- talking kinda weird, but it works,” says Tweek. Craig has noticed him talking slower, but it’s actually more of a normal speed, as opposed to Tweek’s regular mile-a-minute rambling. “I’m sober though,” he adds. “Except for this antipsychotic stuff.”

Craig isn’t sure if he believes it, but he supposes he’ll find out if he lets Tweek stay here indefinitely. “You can’t just come back like this and think I’ll be okay with it,” he says. He’s more flabbergasted than annoyed at this stage. If he wasn’t so tired, he might have yelled, but he just hasn’t got the same bravado that he used to have before he had Bijou.

“I know, I just couldn’t stop thinking about -nnn- you and her in the hospital. I knew you’d be angry at me so I went -ah- back to my parents’ thinking maybe I’d call you and you’d let me see her but like, they’re awful, Craig. I just can’t.”

“I know,” Craig says sadly. “That’s why I said you can stay. I hate them more than I hate you.”

Craig burned a lot of bridges when he had Bijou, including with his own parents. They’d been so angry with him, which only doubled when he dropped out of school. After a particularly nasty argument he packed up his shit and headed to Tweek’s - he ended up staying there until they found this apartment. Tweek’s mom helped them get it, but other than that, they hadn’t helped financially. Especially not after Tweek left; they’ve seen Bijou maybe once since she was born.

Tricia would sometimes come to visit, and tell Craig that his parents weren’t that mad anymore and he should just come home. Or at least ask for help, but his pride won’t let him. He doesn’t want to admit he made the bad choices that he did. Accepting their help now feels oddly like failure.

“I can help, if you want,” Tweek offers. “I don’t have a job but I could -ah- look after her, like how we originally planned.”

“I’m not making any decisions about you tonight,” sighs Craig. “Show me, don’t tell me.” Tweek nods, and he looks down at Bijou.

“She’s nearly done, man she’s hungry!” He laughs fondly. Craig just wants to go to bed, but he doesn’t trust Tweek to be any good at putting her down. He yawns and tries to keep himself awake.

“Do you wanna burp her?” he asks. Do you remember how?

“Okay,” Tweek answers. “Do you have a towel, or…?”

“Mhmm,” Craig says, before dragging himself to the laundry to grab the first clean towel he can see. He throws it at Tweek, who catches it somehow. How is he not tired? Craig is tired to his bones. He’s crying-silent-tears-at-3am-while-Bijou-is-being-fed tired. Or sobbing into his pillow as she screams because she got her first cold, and Tweek isn’t there. When he hasn’t had a break or slept in days, when she cries every time he tries to put her down.

If Tweek stays, maybe, just maybe, he’ll get some respite.

Tweek is doing okay with burping her, but he keeps looking over at Craig for validation, like he’s not sure he’s doing it right. Craig doesn’t want to put him out of his misery just yet. “Do you think you’ll be able to get her back to -hnn- sleep?” Tweek asks.

“Yeah,” Craig replies. “She passes out after being fed. She might not stay asleep though.”

He reaches for her. “She’s clingy,” he adds. “She’ll fall asleep on me.” Ultimately, she doesn’t know Tweek. Craig is the only consistent person in her life, even if she’s too young to truly know it.

“I’m taking her up to bed,” Craig says as he settles the sleepy baby in his arms. “The couch is yours, but you know I don’t have any spare pillows or blankets that aren’t hers.”

“I know,” says Tweek. “Thank you Craig.”

“Help me with the baby, and you’re okay.”

He doesn’t know if Tweek will actually keep his word, or if he’ll even keep taking his medication and stay sober. Craig does know that he loves him in a stupid, self-destructive way and that even if he does break his promises all over again, Craig will probably still open that door.

[whatdidijustwrite]

Long Way to Go: Damien 2

Synopsis: MC reaches out across the web to find someone to talk to about Alex and how much he misses her while he struggles to raise his eldest daughter. He finds it in a single dad living in his old hometown of Maple Bay…

GothDad123,

I met my wife in college. We’d been paired up for a lab and I counted myself lucky- she was easily the smartest of the entire class and hey, easy marks. I was completely wrong- she did not let me do what I want like I thought and instead made me work hard for our marks, even when I got my roommate (who had been very hot) to try and charm her.

I respected her after that, and we got talking a bit. We didn’t start dating until she came out as trans to me, not wanting our relationship to begin without me knowing. I was fully accepting and we ended up dating throughout college. We got married (or as close to it) after college and almost right away debated kids. We both loved the idea so we got a close friend of ours to agree to carry the baby, mixing our sperm and having our daughter.

My wife was brilliant. She played piano, could debate any political question, had a thousand ideas under the sun. She’d gone to school for business, opened a hardware store with her brother. I took over the paperwork side, and we were… we were very happy together. We were thrilled when we legally got married. Our daughter was our flower girl.

My wife never liked staying still and was constantly trying new things, hence her many, many, many DIY projects.  She was the one to turn the hardware store into a chain, opening up other locations in surrounding cities. She was so happy with it all.

It was a car accident that killed her. Just a random accident. She was driving home from work when someone ran the red light. Instant death they told me, she didn’t suffer.

But we’re suffering now. My daughter’s getting better but… it feels like everything is crashing down on me. I tried therapy but quit when the woman made remarks about my wife I nearly punched her for.

I’m not sure where my head is anymore. I’m just taking it one day at a time, but… it feels like that might not help me in the long run.

-PandaFather

Damien read over the message once more, feeling his heart ache for the man.

Loving your spouse for years only to lose them so suddenly, and then to deal with bigots who don’t understand a damn thing.

Lucien was busy with yet another project he’d found- something similar to the patio furniture. A desk, made out of crates and plywood, painted black once he was done. But they did have dinner together before, and Lucien had asked after the man, curious as to why he hadn’t responded back yet.

Damien had figured the man was trying to think of what to write. After all, it was a subject most would shy away from. But he had still reached out to him. To him. Damien, the goth IT worker.

Damien bit his lip, rubbing at his chin in thought.

How best to reply… how best to convey…

-0-

PandaFather,

Your wife sounds like she was the most amazing woman in the world. You were blessed to have her in your life.

I cannot offer much to comfort you. I have been told I speak of death far too much for people to be comfortable, that my fascination with it concerns people.

But I do know that someone who shares your love would never want you to break down completely. The therapist was an awful person, but perhaps seeking out another one might help? If you do not think so, do not do so- forcing it would only make things worse for you in the end. Therapy is in the end, a selfish choice. It is for you to get better, not for anyone else.

Taking it one day at a time is the best choice now, but as you said, make sure it continues to be.

-GothDad123

Edited: Here is a link to sheet music for your daughter. I believe she may find the song perfect for melancholy moods.

The sounds of haunting piano keys filled the small house as Amanda let loose on the sheet music her dad had gotten from the guy who was messaging him.

M.C. listened to her play, eyes closed softly. It was almost as if Alex was back, playing her music on the keyboard she’d gotten before it died a nasty death a week before the accident in the form of Alex accidentally flipping it over while… otherwise engaged with M.C..

Opening his eyes, M.C. rubbed at them, thinking of GD (Amanda’s name for him) and his reply.

It was things he’d heard before- other than the therapy bit. He’d never heard it put like that, but god it made so much sense put like that. Therapy was for himself, to get better. It was so he could be selfish, not selfless.

He wanted to get better. He wanted to talk about his feelings, he’d admit. He knew he needed help. Alex had been a rock for him, struggling with his various issues, and losing her… it had hurt. It had hurt so much.

Sighing, M.C. looked over the list of LGBT friendly therapists he’d gotten from the internet. Some were in his area, some did skype sessions.

Maybe it would work out.

-0-

GothDad123,

Panda (my daughter) will not stop playing that song. Over and over and over again. She adores it, so thank you but I might go crazy from it soon enough.

I’ve been looking into therapists again. I found one who looks pretty promising, so I’m making arrangements. She’s an LGBT friendly therapist who helps with transitions, but she also helps with those experiencing loss, so let’s hope.

How is your son doing? Is he enjoying the new furniture he built? I know when my wife built ours we ate outside like all the time until it got to cold to do so.

Here’s another link for him if he’s getting bored.

-PandaFather

“Another message from PF dad?” asked Lucien, upon spotting the grin on his dad’s face.

“Quite… and PF?” Lucien shrugged, shoving in some macaroni into his mouth. Damien chuckled, putting his phone down. “He sent another link if you’re interested.”

“YES!” Lucien said, grinning. “What is it?” Damien eyed the half-eaten pile of vegetables and Lucien groaned but obeyed the wordless command. Damien smirked and waited until they finished their supper- eating outside of course given Lucien had to enjoy the furniture he built, much like PandaFather’s wife had- before he opened the link.

It was full of spice rack ideas, one of which involved taking old fashion casserole dishes and turning them on the side.

“Cool!” Lucien said, grinning at the pictures. Damien chuckled. His son was looking much happier then he had been before, getting all of his anger out through crafts apparently. It was a nice sight, to see his son so happy again.

“We’ll see what we can dig up in the thrift store, shall we?” Damien asked his son who nodded eagerly.

“Can we also like send some stuff to his kid? More music?” Lucien asked. “As a thank you, right?” Damien blinked in surprise before he nodded, grinning.

“Why, I think we shall.”

-0-

PandaFather,

I am glad you have decided to seek out more therapy. I hope it will do you well. I am also pleased your daughter enjoys the music I sent her, though I understand the frustration of the same song being played over and over again. My son particularly enjoys doing that.

My son expresses his thanks for the new project idea you have sent him as well. He’s very eager to start it up. I feel you have created a monster, though I believe it’s better then him picking fights every few days with kids in his school.

Here is a few links to some more music sheets for your daughter, as a thank you from my son.

-GothDad123

“You and this guy are talking a lot, huh dad,” Amanda said, watching her father read whatever it was that was on his phone.

“More or less kiddo.” M.C. agreed. “He’s helping- and he’s sent more music for you so…” Amanda pumped her fist in glee.

“Sweet. But dad, what do you know about him? I mean, you’re kinda friends right?” Amanda asked. M.C. blinked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… like I get you need help and stuff, but like you told me friendship was a two-way street and that all parties need to communicate so…” Amanda trailed off as M.C. frowned.

Well… she wasn’t wrong.

“I… huh. I think you might be right kiddo. I’ll ask him a few questions about himself, how bout?”

“Sounds good to me pops.”

-0-

GothDad123,

Panda has been playing her new songs over and over again but there’s more then one so yay. It’s nice to hear. I still haven’t gone to meet my therapist yet but she is willing to skype our sessions so I don’t need to drive two hours out one a week.

I realize now I’ve been kind of a bad corresponder. I haven’t asked you anything about yourself, though I do know you do have a fascination with death. So… what are your favorite things? Do you have a favorite band? Have you ever been married?

My daughter wishes to ask if you or your son enjoy strawberry ice cream.

Here is a few more links for your son.

-PandaFather

Damien looked over the projects sent over, deciding to keep two to himself until Lucien was a bit older. The other two- a bookshelf made out of a ladder, plywood and crates and a table made out of similar material- were easy enough for a ten-year-old to do.

He was more surprised by the questions about himself. He hadn’t expected that. Most of the time, people tended to focus on themselves more then they focused on others. And with PandaFather so recently having experienced a great loss… he felt it odd that the man would reach out more, but well, people deal with loss in different ways.

Humming, Damien considered the questions. He didn’t want to lie to PandaFather but he was also uncertain of what he should tell him. He didn’t want to push that far… but he didn’t want to hide who he was.

What should he write?

-0-

PandaFather,

I’m glad your daughter enjoys her new music, and that you are able to meet your therapist in a way that is more convenient for yourself.

As for your questions, well, I enjoy gardening, animals and the Victorian Era is very much a pleasured area of study as you must have observed from my penname. I very much embrace the goth lifestyle and deeply enjoy the various attributes of it. I listen to a range of goth music, though my favorite music tends to be classical violin music or piano music. It’s a lovely set.

I have never been married no. My son was the result of a one night stand, though he has never been a mistake. I have had a variety of relationships but none that have stuck around long enough for marriage to be in the cards.

My son and I do in fact enjoy strawberry ice cream. The both of us are vegetarian though not vegan and ice cream is very much a pleasured treat.

Thank you again for the projects, here is a few more songs she may enjoy.

-GothDad123

M.C. tapped his fingers as he waited for his therapist to appear on screen, feeling nervous and worried. Unbidden his father’s words of men needing therapy being sissies and weaklings came to mind though he shoved them right out of said mind.

He was not going to go down that road, thank you.

When the screen flicked on, he made a mental note to reply to GD as soon as he could. Maybe it would help.

So… ages.

Amanda is thirteen. Lucien is ten. I’m putting MC and Damien at like 36 for MC and maybe 34 for Damien?

Also- when I was eight I was helping my dad put up fences and build stuff. As long as it’s proper supervision, it’s fine. Damien might let Lucien do like painting and stuff by himself but the heavy stuff no.

 Hope you all enjoyed this!

[phipitology]

It’s a mix of procrastination and millions of distractions that keeps me away from updating in this blog. But trust me, im still alive and been trying to take baby steps towards zero-waste and concious consumption.

In the rare occasion of starting a new (yet short) life on the other side of the continent, i guess it will be the perfect timing for me to break up with the old, nasty habit. I believe in the little things we did, it could impact to something bigger in the long run.

Of course, im still keeping the good habit like bringing my own bottle water and grocery bag (it’s a delight to see my life with less plastic, the lowest drawer in my old apartment used to haunt me with a never ending pile of plastics)

When it comes to personal care, im sure us girls are really curious with all variation products out there, yet very picky in terms of preferences. As a low maintenance girl, i still can admit that going to beauty stores or even drug stores (especially kusuri in japan) often times therapeutic. With the dream of going to lush stores and choosing everything i want, but im limited to indonesian local stores which surprisingly offers product just as good!

I started to use soap, shampoo, and conditioner bar now. Thanks to the internet, i can look through various stores that produce home-made and sustainable toiletries! (And most importantly, support your local business guize. Wootwoot! ;)). This is kinda tricky and more demanding, but i want to limit myself to cruelty free and vegan friendly product. Not just because you have to investigate through and through about the product, but it also cost extra and let’s be frank, it’s not as common to get such products in an abundance rack of varieties. (Let alone keeping your guards up for the green-label marketing ploy, though i feel like beauty industry is not as ‘evil’ as the fashion industry since they get legit certificate for that)

Moving on to clothing, I’ve also done this in recent years which is thrifting. The special feeling you get when finding a rare cloth piece that probably no one in your neighborhood could own is as satisfying to know that you’re helping to reduce the waste in the landfill. Go watch patriot act with hasan minhaj from the latest season which unveil the ugly truth of fast fashion, it’s making you want to curse at the big fashion corporate not only for their mediocre quality with ridiculous price, but also for the selfish act they did in the name of profit. My noob tip for thrifting is:

whether doing your prior research or just stumble upon a funky looking store on the streets, before you enter the store, leave your particular objectives to find your wish-items behind. Sometimes the more you’re off guard, the more unique items you’ll find (lol)

If you have watch cowspiracy, you know that cow is the enemy. Not that they’re evil, but humans are. The process they put through is sometimes unethical and people are layering the facts for the sake of keeping the meat industry alive. (Any further than this it will get more complicated and id rather keep my opinion to myself. For futher note please watch what the health and rotten series too! It’s really eye opening to start changing your diet)

Nonetheless, it’s still hard for me to change my dietary and i will keep this writing to get me back on track. Recently im really into mushroom for my protein, and trying to get rid of my picky ass self with eating more greens, let’s just pray for me this time.

Beyond these concerns, im also facing difficulties on my waste management. Back in japan i bought water filter so i could drink directly from the tap, reducing my bottled drinks consumption. Though my landlady told me the tap water in warsaw is not really safe, so i have to bought bottled water everytime. Furthermore, warsaw is pretty much like jakarta in terms of recycling. we don’t have to seperate our waste which is sad because I couldn’t know whether my trash is doing the deed after or nah. With the strict policy of recycling in japan, at least im rest assured that they’ll take a really good care of those waste and reducing the bad impact to the environment. In jakarta, there are some private-owned recycling business in town. Go check waste4change and other bank sampah nearby, and you can fetch your trash by gosend (please make sure that every trash is included on their designated categories and read the guidelines before sending them your waste!)

Im sure there are a lot of technology that already do their sustainability deeds. Recently, boyan slat fly to indonesia to install his latest innovation to clean jakarta’s most polluted river. There are more out there but im not too familiar with tech news, so ill leave this randomly appeared exxon ads when i have to clean up after my spilling greentea.

Self-note: Being responsible is indeed a lot of effort but im sure it is satisfying. It’s okay if you think you haven’t done a life changing improvement, but your baby steps still count!