#gonna need minimal chaos today

[molliemoo3]

Im gonna need fhe f2 guys to behave, i cant be having car related heart attacks on the bus

[d1s1ntegrated]

Imagine Shigaraki with shy bookworm reader, who just hides her face blushes behind a book when she feels like he’s nearby?🤭

bookworm (nsfw)

shigaraki x shy!reader oneshot

summary: shigaraki catches you reading a verrryyyy dirty novella, and makes those chapters feel real.

btw this wasnt proofread, sorry if there are some minor mistakes!

cw: dirty talk, p/v, rough sex, overstimulation, corruption kink, slight breeding kink?, oral (fem rec), groping, shiggy is a hugeeee perv, mean shiggy, shy reader, missionary, teasing, dacryphilia, begging, minimal use of y/n, degradation, slight book abuse (sorry! but its for the plot)

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

"what are you doing?" shigaraki's voice cuts through the paragraph you were halfway through, causing you to jump. you slide your bookmark slowly between the pages.

"just reading" you answer him softly, and he scoffs.

"tch, again?" he rolls his eyes, "are you gonna do anything else today?"

you shake your head, reopening to the page you left off on. "probably not. it just got good" you retort, and refocus your eyes onto the dramatic scene. you look up at him over the top of the book- he's perched up on the arm of the old couch, picking at the already-ripped hangnails on his calloused hands. you watch him secretly for a few seconds before you plant your nose back into the book again, sighing contentedly. he suddenly interrupts you again by sliding down the arm and plopping down onto the worn seat. he audibly sighs and groans, and you tilt your head at him.

"is something wrong, shigaraki?" you ask innocently, and he huffs.

"tch. no. i'll leave you be" he slinks off the couch and heads over to the bar. you watch as he runs his slender fingers through his baby blue hair, and smile to yourself. he throws himself onto a barstool dramatically and you giggle lightly, but catch yourself.

"you know" he starts from across the room, "if you spent half as much time with the league as you do reading, you might actually learn something useful" he says matter-of-factly, and you bite your lip, fighting the urge to say something back.

its not that you weren't involved with the leagues missions- you were their perfect alibi. a small bookshop owner who just so happened to settle into the wrong part of town. it wasn't your fault the league found you useful, and it certainly wasn't your fault that their bribe was far too good to pass up. keep the shop, and you, out of chaos's way, and they use your place as not only a hideout, but a resource for information.

over the past few months playing pretend with them, you actually grew comfortable with the villains. toga came to the shop regularly with magne to read every trashy romance novel and gossip with you about boys. kurogiri would pop in and out on the premise of "needing information per tomura's request", and twice and spinner both enjoyed the comic section from time to time. you didn't see much of dabi, but when you did, he'd flit through the horror section, then secretly the romance section, ultimately to leave without a word, with a few books tucked under his coat. you acted like you didn't notice, because after a week or so, they'd return to their spots on the shelves. the only one you didn't see regularly was shigaraki.

shigaraki avoided seeing you as much as possible, and you subconsciously did the same. he liked to stay in his secluded hideaway, left to his own devices (literally, his devices. aka his PC). but when you started living at their base because your lease ended, and you didn't have the money to renew it AND keep the bookshop running (undercover work is hard, y'know!), you realized fast why exactly you didn't like coming face to face with tomura.

not only was he kind of an asshole, not to mention competitive, with a sharp and venomous tongue, he was so, so hot. his scars decorated his face like little strokes of paint on a canvas. his angular nose and carmine eyes were placed so perfectly on his pale skin. his thin lips dragging upwards into a predatory grin whenever he spoke of all things horrid. withal, the little birthmark just below those lips, that you found yourself fantasizing about kissing from time to time. just to see what it'd be like, of course. pure curiosity, nothing more. overall, the man was a picture-perfect portrait of your worst nightmare antagonist from the books you loved so much.

you weren't afraid of him per se, but you damn sure were intimidated. so you kept your head low, and your voice down around him. you were typically the quiet type, but something about him made you silent. as if one wrong word would cause him to turn and grip you tightly with all five fingers, turning you to nothing more than a fleeting memory.

he got off on your timidity. he looked at you like a helpless bunny, and he was the big scary wolf. you'd never admit it, but you got off on it equally the same. so when he'd approach you, you'd shove your face further into the pages of your book, as if getting closer to the words would save you from his vermillion gaze.

"i'm sorry, shigaraki. i just figured the further i stay away from the league's...well, anything, it would be safer for us overall." you masterfully answer him as to not provoke him. he stands from his seat and cracks his knuckles, dragging out his next reply.

"that doesn't mean you have to be completely oblivious to the world around you." he slowly approaches the back of the couch, and you feel yourself heat up at the proximity. he leans over the couch slightly to get closer, and you instinctively raise the book to cover everything up to your eyes. you blink at him and he smirks.

"what are you reading, anyways?" he snatches the book from your hands with three fingers and flips through it, eyes widening at the passage he lands on. he raises his eyebrows and you sink into yourself, covering your face with the sleeves of your oversized jumper.

"please," you croak out, "can i have it back?". your pleading sends a devilish smile to creep onto his face, and he shoves the book back into your hands.

"i didn't know our perfect little y/n was so, so filthy" he draws your name out with a teasing tone.

your face flushes and he chuckles.

"and here i thought you were the spitting image of innocence. seems as though i thought wrong for once" his face is inches from yours, his fingers tapping against the back of the couch. you can smell the combination of redbull and musky cologne on him, he's so close. you inhale sharply, breath hitching in your chest as he saunters around, swinging himself back over onto the unoccupied seat of the couch.

you don't answer as he asks another tantalizing question, causing him to lean over onto your legs, repeating it.

"i said," he raises his eyes to meet yours, "why'd you turn so quiet all of a sudden?"

you shake your head and look up at him, hovering over you.

"i'm always quiet..." you reply shakily, and he laughs.

"you're so pitiful, y/n, you know that?" he snakes a hand up to your thigh, drumming four fingers against the exposed skin under your shorts.

you nod and try to ignore him best as possible by reopening the book. this makes him even bolder, as he pinches your thigh, between thumb and forefinger, causing you to gasp out from behind the novel.

"don't act like i didn't see what you were reading there, slut." his voice is lower now, and his words slice through the core of your stomach and send pangs of heat through you. you giggle nervously as he creeps further, covering your very obvious desire with chapter 32 of your now clearly smutty book. he chuckles and drags his fingers under your sweater, tucking his ring finger down as not to hurt you. he trails up, underneath the hem of your bra, and forcefully pinches at one of your already-puffy nipples. you stifle a moan as you feel your core liquify, and he groans at the contact of your soft flesh on his cold, rough fingers. he pushes himself on top of you, your legs automatically spreading open for him as he drives his still-clothed hips down to meet yours. the friction alone drives you both wild, and he growls.

"you ever read any books where the villain gets the girl?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. you don't answer, but peer at him over the top of the book again and nod.

"is this one of them?" he flicks the back of the book and you jump, but nod again.

he hums passionately at your reaction and answer. then, without warning, he grips onto the hem of your shorts with all five fingers, sending them off of you into a pile of dust. your eyes widen, and you frown slightly. at least they were old, and already kind of ready to be replaced. he laughs and undoes the button of his jeans, yanking his pants and boxers down with them. you watch as his cock springs free, taken aback by the sheer size of it. it's not huge, but it's lengthy still, with a pretty dusty rose tint to the tip. it glistens with precum already, and he strokes it with three fingers as he watches you squirm, body clearly acting faster than your mind.

he grinds his dick down between your legs, brushing against the soft cotton of your underwear. he exhales sharply at the contact, and you bite your lip, feeling your wetness pressed against the material.

he pushed the seam of your panties to the side and dips a slender finger inside of you, and you gasp. he curls it, massaging one of your spots before promptly removing the finger and placing it into his mouth, sucking your essence off his finger with a slick pop, moaning.

"fuck, you taste better than i expected" he grumbles, and you whimper out a "hmm?"

"i don't know why i expected you to taste like paper or somethin'" he snickers and lowers his head down to your heat, licking your clit lazily. you moan out loud this time, with breathy little pants as his tongue dips into you. where he learned this, you're unsure, but his devouring sends your head back against the arm of the couch, unable to stifle your desperation anymore. he shoves a finger back inside while his mouth licks and nips at your swollen clit, and you feel yourself cresting towards orgasm. your eyes flutter shut as the tension inside of you builds, further and further, driving you insane. you whimper at his rapid movements, and the tight strings inside of you snap suddenly, sending white-hot currents to ripple through you. you clench tightly around his finger and he laps up your cum greedily, groaning at your collapse.

"i'm gonna show you why it's so important to pay attention to the outside world, baby" he whispers in your ear as he positions his cock to your opening. you nod and he presses the tip in slowly, emitting a small gasp from the both of you. he shudders as he slips it in, feeling you already clenched around his length.

he yanks the book from your hands, uncovering your face. he tosses the book to the floor and wraps four fingers around your neck gently.

"need you to pay attention to me baby, those words aren't gonna fuck you like i will" he thrusts into you hard, disallowing you to adjust fully. he pulls out and you breathe deeply, but he doesn't wait. he shoves it back in forcefully, the tip smacking against your cervix. you groan out in a mix of pleasure and pain, and he tightens the grasp on your neck slightly.

"look so good like this, slut, taking the big villains cock like this" he grumbles out into your ear, and you melt into a pool of desire. his words are enough to send you, but you hold back, craving more of him. he begins rutting into you rhythmically, slamming into your core with soft "slaps". he brings his hand off your neck to grab your face, pressing his cracked lips to yours. he shoves his tongue into your mouth and you taste yourself, sending a shiver down your spine. his moans tangle with yours as he picks up speed, and you feel as he sequentially grinds against your clit, the soft hair creating friction on your sensitive spot. you whimper at the contact and he bites on your lower lip.

"tell me how much you like this, filthy whore. tell me how badly you want my vile seed inside of you." he growls against your lips and you shiver again.

"i, shigaraki, please, i need it" you stutter out, and he groans.

"you're so pathetic. you want me to ruin you, huh?" he ends the question with a hard thrust, a shockwave of pain coursing through you. you nod and he continues, "what a depraved thing you are. you sit in front of me every fucking day and tease me, you know that?" he snarls.

"yes, i'm sorry, shigaraki, i'm sorry for being so filthy" you cry out, and he sends a swift slap to your thigh.

"don't apologize. i don't need an apology. i want to hear you beg." he sneers.

"please, shigaraki, please" you follow his orders dutifully, and he smiles wide.

"please what, wicked baby?" he thrusts into you hard and fast, his breathing staggering.

"please, let me cum, please, i need it, i need you to break me" you admit with tears rolling down your cheeks. he growls again and smacks your thigh again, digging four fingers into the pliable flesh again.

"break you? oh no, slut. i'm going to make it so that even the gods will turn their backs to you. you're mine, and by that, you're just as sick as i am now" he snaps, his voice a raspy and heavy breath. you clench tightly around him, his cock stretching you painfully still as you feel every ounce of purity in you dissipate. your moans and cries permeate the air with a sharpness that the whole city could hear, and you shatter forcefully around him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer as your hips buck up, riding up to the intensity of the orgasm with a rushed mantra of "fucks, please's, and yes's." your own voice shocks you as the peak hits you, causing you to shout his name out with offensive indulgence.

"fuck, tomu, oh fuckfuckfuck, tomura" his name spills from your lips like honey, and he fractures inside of you at the sound. he pushes himself as deep as he can, hissing as he spills inside of you. the heat seeps through your entire body, feeling the stickiness coating your walls deeply. he twitches inside of you as he crashes down from his own orgasm, and sucks in air sharply as he pulls out slowly. the pain immediately hits you, choking a sharp cry out of you.

he hovers over you still, nipping at your neck. you sob out from overstimulation as he pumps his cum inside you more with a finger again for a few seconds before pulling it out.

"had to make sure it was really in there" he whispers, and you huff weakly.

"so?" he asks quietly, growling next to your ear, "was it comparable to your shitty book?" he teases. you nod and glance at the book strewn on the floor.

"better than." your voice is strained from the screaming, and he chuckles. you reach down and grab the title off the floor, shoving it into his hands, and on instinct he grabs hold of it with only a few fingers. you shake your head and motion with your hands.

"get rid of it." you say dismissively, and he gives you a confused look.

"it was only a placeholder for you anyways" you shrug, and with a snicker, he wraps his hands fully around the book as it crumbles to dust in his hands.

"does this mean you're done with the reading?" he asks snarkily, and you shake your head.

"no, it just means i'm done trying to compare you to a few chapters."

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

eeeenjoy! i went kinda hard with this one ngl. i lowkey really wanted a reason to write a little out of my usual loser!shiggy style, and something took over me for this.

thank you as always for the request <3

[bogwaterparasite]

Stalking

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Paring: Miles Morales-42 x Reader

WC: 2.1k

CW: None

A/N: Third chapter and oh lord… no wonder this project was abandoned LMFAOOOO, uhm, well!! I hope you guys enjoy this? I practically rewrote the entire thing but kept the whole plot I had in mind at the moment, so you might see a change in the writing. It seems like I also only had 3 chapters, and honestly? I don’t know where to take it from here.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Growing up teaches you a harsh reality that not many are able to accept, days off are a myth. Even when you're supposed to be relaxing, there's always something demanding your attention. For high school students like me, "free time" is just another opportunity to study, to prepare for the next exam, to keep that perfect grade that might not even matter in the grand scheme of things. Weekends become a continuous cycle of burning words and numbers into your brain, hoping to maintain that elusive 100 on a piece of paper.

This particular weekend, I found myself drawn home to study, seeking some undefined comfort in family proximity. Looking back, I'm not sure it was the smartest decision.

The cacophony of my family home crashed against my already frayed nerves. My mother's music battled with the construction-level noise of my younger nephews, her occasional disciplinary yells cutting through the chaos. The two earbuds wedged in my ears offered minimal protection, more a psychological shield than an actual sound barrier. Typically this wouldn’t have bothered me, my family is huge and the years of being in this exact position should’ve made me immune to the noise, but no. Stress has a way of amplifying every sound, every movement, until the world feels like it's pressing down on you.

When my nephew's cry pierced through my music, something inside me cracked. I needed to escape before I joined him in tears.

"Alvaro Deja eso ah- Mija? Where are you going? Do you have practice today or something?"

My mom paused her cleaning, lowering the vacuum's roar and dimming her music. I fumbled with my shoes, leaning against the wall for support as I struggled to slip on the boots.

"No, I'm gonna head to the coffee shop for something to eat. I'm craving a croissant," I replied, managing a light chuckle.

She rolled her eyes. "Tu y esas cochinadas.. Be back before dinner, alright? And don't fill yourself up with food, it's bad for you!"

"Yeah yeah, I know."

After finally getting able to get the shoes on my feet, I proceeded to pick up the bag on the floor, quickly slipping it over my shoulder before walking to her side, giving a quick kiss on her cheek, and practically bolting through the door.

Brooklyn's streets were a symphony of urban noise - horns honking, construction drilling, people chattering. But with my earbuds firmly in place, the world transformed. As corny as it sounds, the music became my runway, and suddenly, I was more than just a stressed teenager. I was a model, head high, stride confident, face stoic. It was a momentary escape, a fantasy that I fabricated to escape the reality that haunted me, a fantasy that lasted right up until the mortifying thought of someone reading my mind would snap me back to reality.

The familiar cafe welcomed me, a sanctuary of warmth and routine. In the corner behind the counter you could see, and hear, Linda and her husband, an elderly couple who'd run this place for decades, who continued their eternal love story. They laughed like teenagers, their connection a beacon of hope in a world of fleeting connections and situationships. Some part of me hoped someday I would be able to have something like that, a relationship so full of love despite being together for so long. But during this day and age? It’s highly unlikely

I took out the earbuds from my ears, pausing the music from my phone as Linda greeted me with her usual brightness. We chatted about school, her children, their latest adventures. Talking with her was like a breath of fresh air, a small moment of genuine human connection that could lift even the heaviest mood.

After our conversation, I settled at a window counter, laptop out, diving deep into my studies. The world around me dissolved. Sounds became a distant buzz, my focus laser-sharp on the screen, analyzing every word, every detail.

"Weirdo..."

The coffee shop had always been his sanctuary - a place of quiet study just blocks from home. Today, however, something felt different. Different, because *she* was also there.

Miles caught sight of her hunched over her laptop, that distinctive hairstyle instantly recognizable. A smile crept across his lips before he could stop it. He'd never considered himself particularly social. Just days ago, she was just another face in his biology class - someone who existed out of the corner of his eye, boring and easily ignored. So why couldn't he stop thinking about her now?

Grabbing his usual drink, Miles approached her table with a casualness that mimicked his usual demeanor. He sat down besides her, avoiding any direct interaction with her. Don't seem desperate. Don't seem like you're trying

The window became his focal point, the shield against his confusing emotions. Each sip of his drink was calculated, each glance carefully measured. But concentration proved impossible. Ten minutes passed, and she remained completely absorbed in her studies, unaware of his presence.

An unfamiliar restlessness grew inside him. Irritation? Curiosity? His emotions tangled themselves into something he couldn't quite name..

Finally, he turned. His cheek rested against his knuckles while studying her profile. *Should I say something? Would she even notice?* The internal debate felt ridiculous. He, Miles Morales, was overthinking an interaction with a classmate who’s name he couldn’t even remember… ironic.

When she finally looked up, the shift in her expression was fascinating. Initial confusion transformed into recognition, surprise prominent in her face. His own lips quirked into an unexpected smile, a small laugh following afterward.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you," he found himself speaking first, the words coming out more confident than he felt. "You need to be more aware of your surroundings, especially in public spaces. Someone could've stolen something, and you'd have no clue."

It was a deflection, really. A way to cover the fact that he'd been watching her, wondering about her, trying to understand this sudden fascination that seemed to consume him whole these last few days. His friends would never believe this. The guy known for his stoic demeanor, practically staking out a spot just to sit near someone who, mere days ago, he'd found merely tolerable? It was ridiculous.. laughable, and that just made him feel even more ridiculous.

"Are you stalking me or something?"

The words slipped out of my mouth before I could fully comprehend the situation. Before the day he lost his sketchbook, he could be compared to a ghost. A person I only saw during biology, but now? He was everywhere!! The library, the hallways, the goddamned coffee shop that I frequented.. it was only plausible to assume he was doing it on purpose!

To my surprise, he laughed at the accusation. Not a small chuckle, but a genuine, full-bodied laugh that seemed to surprise even him. His usual sharp features softened, revealing a vulnerability I'd never seen before. This all just made it contagious, a smile tugging at my lips before I started to laugh as well.

“I think it should be me asking you that question.. suddenly you’re everywhere I go. It’s getting creepy” he spoke, his laugh diminishing yet leaving a small smile remaining on his lips.

“Let me remind you that I was here first” I answered, resting my elbow on the table and leaning my cheek against the palm of my hand, “and besides, I am not the weirdo that sat there staring at an oblivious person for god knows how long”

My intentions were to tease him, however, his reaction made me realize that it indeed wasn’t the way it played out. His smile faded, his eyes falling on the window once more as he coughed to clear his throat. My smile slowly faded as well, looking away sheepishly. Maybe I’m getting too comfortable too soon? I mean, we just started talking to each other not too long ago.. I’m definitely being weird.

“Anywho..” Imitating his actions, I coughed to clear my throat. Shutting my computer close and stuffing it back into the bag. “I was already done either way. I’ll get out of your territory now”

As I was about to stand up he reached over for my bag, yanking it away and looking up to meet my eyes once again

“Chill ma, I didn’t say you had to leave” he replied nonchalantly, placing the bag back on the floor next to the bar stool where I once sat “what test were you studying for?”

As we talked, the initial awkwardness I had created dissipated. He wasn't just the intimidating boy from biology class anymore, he was something more like… a friend? I couldn’t quite place what I could associate him with. He spoke passionately about his art, his hands moving expressively, his eyes lighting up with each story. I found myself captivated, not just by his words, but by the way he revealed layers of himself I'd never imagined existed.

My gaze drifted, tracing the lines of his face - his long braids, those sharp yet soft eyes, the subtle curve of his lips, simple and minuscule details I hadn’t ever taken the time to notice. Part of me felt regret for not seeking out a relationship with him before, despite all the opportunities that I was given at the time.

Those thoughts consumed me whole, given away by the fact that I continued shamelessly staring. When he caught onto the fact, I quickly looked away, heat rising to my cheeks.

"Hey, are you even listening?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I zoned out," I mumbled.

“Figured.” He replied quickly, taking out his phone from his pocket and checking the time “it’s getting pretty late out. You should head home soon”

Checking my phone, I realized I was well past my mother's expected return time. Panic seized me.

"Shit... I've got to go!"

I gathered my things in a whirlwind, promising to see him at school, leaving Miles alone in the cafe.

Miles found himself trapped in a dangerous dance of denial. He was spending time with someone he'd previously dismissed, and the very thought made him uncomfortable. People had always seemed to speak about her fondly - mentions in passing during lunch, casual comments about her wit or intelligence, even his own friends had made a few comments about her in some of their classes, but he'd never paid attention. To it

When she sat back down, a strange mix of relief coursed through him, straightening himself out for a moment before returning to his typical relaxed stance

The conversation was typical of those who were just beginning to meet each other, casual comments about their classes, stuff at school.. but then the inevitable topic slipped from her lips. Art.

His whole life, art had become somewhat of a lifeline for him, an escape from a world that could either be your worst enemy or your best friend. He began talking about his passion, the way colors blended, how a single brushstroke could tell an entire story. His hands moved animatedly, revealing a vulnerability he rarely showed. Each word was a piece of himself, carefully being unwrapped and presented to her with an ease that seemed to amaze even himself.

But something was off. Her gaze seemed... different. Not quite listening, but not disinterested either. She was looking at him with an intensity that made him simultaneously uncomfortable and exhilarated.

'Am I boring her?' The thought crashed into him like a tidal wave, a new sense of nervousness beginning to rise within him. Stopping mid sentence, he began eying her carefully. Her gaze was fixed on him, her attention also focused on his being, yet not really his words. Something about her stare felt different. Admiring? Analyzing? The distinction blurred.

"Hey..? Are you listening to me?"

The spell broke. She apologized, something shifting in the air between them. He had planned to ask for her number, to formally start... something. A friendship? More? But before he could gather his thoughts, she was gone.

The walk home was a wind whirl of emotions. His mind battled with the newfound sense of intrigue that overwhelmed him whenever she was around. The questions circled like vultures, offering no resolution to his problem.

His home greeted him with a familiar emptiness. "Pa, Ma, I'm back!" The words echoed through silent rooms. His father was perpetually chasing a promotion, his mother working endless hospital shifts. Loneliness was a familiar companion.

Dropping into his chair, Miles pulled out his books. Study materials stared back, a reminder of why he'd gone to the coffee shop in the first place. Yet all he could think about was her - the way she looked at him, the conversation they'd shared.

"Stupid"

Hi hi!!! I hope you enjoyed this one last snippet, just as I was finishing with the edits I remembered some of the original story that I was gonna go with! Yet, I don’t really find the whole plot line of the female character becoming Spider-Man very interesting… I know a lot of yall don’t comment, but if you have been enjoying the story so far and decide that’s something you would like, please let me know! Otherwise I have a few alternatives to it.

[cyberrose2001]

Hello! May I request a TFP Ratchet x Gn! reader, scenario.

maybe Reader is always kinda just butting heads with Ratchet when it comes to the kids, care and health cause Rewder is a nurse.

TFP Ratchet x Nurse!GN!Reader

Being a nurse myself, I wrote a little bit of this from my own experience, so that's kinda fun :)

Here a lil oneshot for you anon, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SFW, Medical talk/terminology/tools (aka sharp object)

Word count: 781

You're exhausted. The pounding headache radiates to your sore feet as you shuffle into the Autobot base. You probably look like shit, and there's a good reason. You've come into contact with too many bodily fluids of different kinds today, and you sorely need a decontamination shower. Not to mention the number of times you've had to re-insert IV lines in a very, very confused elderly woman. You had given up the fight and called her doctor to tell him that you were not willing to get sucker punched in the guts again. Days like today make you question your career choice.

But as sucky as it is, it's also rewarding. Your knowledge and expertise have often helped the kids when they're injured, sick or straight-up infected by the blood of an ancient god of chaos inhabiting the very planet your sore legs are walking upon.

Yeah, other healthcare professionals could learn a thing or two from you.

Speaking of other 'healthcare professionals', Ratchet has been getting on your nerves more than usual lately. Ever since Raf almost died at the hands of dark energon, he insists that he helps with the health and wellbeing of the kids, despite knowing next to nothing about the anatomy and homeostasis of humans other than the fact that "If they get underfoot, they will go… squish." in his words. So, in his minimal spare time, he researched different diseases and injuries common among humans and the treatments for each. And while you appreciated his dedication to better his understanding of humans, he was becoming a hypochondriac in the process.

Like right now. You had walked in on Ratchet, giving Jack a complete head-to-toe assessment. The poor kid was lying face down on one of the human-sized gurneys while Ratchet poked and prodded at his back, and oh my god, is that a scalpel.

"Ratchet!" You call out, running over to the gurney as fast as your tired legs can manage, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Nurse Y/n, you're just in time!" Ratchet exclaims, "I have detected a malignant mass of cells on the left periscapular region of Jack's skin and require your assistance in its removal."

You could not have deadpanned at him any harder, "You got all that just by looking at it? Let me see."

Ratchet steps back as your dermatitis-ridden hands touch the 'malignant mass of cells' to examine it, and you roll your eyes to find that it's not what Ratchet thinks it was.

"Ratchet, that's just a mole." You say, then you give Jack a few pats on the back, "It's alright, nothing to worry about. You're free to go."

Jack drags himself off the gurney and hastily puts his shirt back on, mouthing a silent 'thank you' as he speed walks as fast as he can away from a very stunned Ratchet, who still wields his scalpel. You look back up at him with a very unimpressed look, folding your arms.

"Are you serious?" You say, "You were just gonna slice off a mole because you thought it was malignant?"

Ratchet huffs, putting down the scalpel before throwing his servos on his hips, rolling his optics, "If you had any competence at all, you would've already examined it months ago and determined that this 'mole' is, in fact, deadly!"

"He's had that thing for years since he was born!" You growl. Your patience is wearing thin like your skin that's been abused from all the alcohol gel you used today, "June told me he's already had it looked at. You need proper reason and consent from the patient before taking a blade to the skin. Jack was clearly unwilling. Did they not teach you this stuff in 'Robot Medical Ethics 101' or whatever the hell you call it?"

"Jack is a child," Ratchet scoffs yet again, and it's taking all of your strength not to climb up his chassis and strangle his neck cabling into oblivion, "I am a physician. I had merely overridden his consent and took matters into my own servos."

You facepalm so hard that you are sure your face has condensed into a black hole from the force. Frustrated, you then rub your forehead, "Look, I know you're trying to help the kids. I can see that. But I really need to shower before my legs collapse. How about I do that and then come back to teach you the proper method of patient evaluation and consent procedures?"

Ratchet quirks an optic ridge before a small smile ever so slightly creeps onto his dermas, "As much as I dislike the thought of a human teaching me about medical procedures, I would very much appreciate the gesture."

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February Day 29 (Late BUT Done!): Fresh

SWTOR

Time: Anytime after SOR

~~

C2-N2 was most gratified by the Captain’s latest adjustments to his boards.  They were most appropriate to his current task.  They would also be utilized in other similar operations during the year (leading the task force in cleaning Odessen seasonally, and yes, he was the head of that task force.  It was the greatest honor a Hollis could have imagined.)

She had given him the ability to hum.

Yes, the notes were regimented and perfectly on pitch, with little variation beyond his synthesized voicebox.  Yes, the songs were limited to ten (10), and she’d have to find a memory card expansion to store more without infringing on other vital operations. 

That all said, C2 could now hum.  He did not care for whistling; other droids could whistle, mostly as an error notification or a “look at me!” demand.   Master Coros Riggs whistled, regularly, but it suited him.  C2-N2 didn’t think whistling suited him; it suited astromechs or perhaps a gonk droid.  Not him.

And so C2 hummed as he began the spring cleaning of Virtue’s Thief.  All was quiet, and soon, the ship would be in top condition, at least in terms of the interior.  He had already opened all of the viewports to permit the fresh, cool air of Odessen to filter in.  The ship was empty, for now. 

…unfortunately, he had not anticipated the chaos of the day to begin so early. 

The pounding of feet across the catwalk was his first signal that his task would not be completed today. 

The Captain knew she’d fouled up his plans the second her boots crossed the threshold, and she smelled the lemon-scented cleaner he always used.  “C2!  Ah, hell, I’m sorry, but the Thief’s gotta fly.” 

And then everyone burst past her as the entire crew: Corso, Risha, Bowdaar, Akaavi, and Guss, plus Lord Beniko and Agent Shan, piled onto the ship for the next adventure

“Watch your step --!!”

“AIIIIEEE!”

“I need all of these viewports shut for launch!”

“He put my toolkit up out of the way – Bowdaar, get it for me!”

“…I need to change.  I hit the bucket.” 

“If I dragged your ass around the ship, we’d be able to mop the floor for him.”

“Have you ever considered using lavender and vanilla?  Might add a calming effect to this place.”

“That would be false advertising, Master Tuno.”

“Ehhh, we’ve done worse things.” 

“Can you tell him it should be a fast hop?  One pick-up, minimal shooting if any, then right back home.”

“I can’t believe they demanded such a fast turnaround on the decision and the execution.”

“Welcome to Alliance, Lana, where we do things that the Republic won’t and the Empire can’t.”

“…bloody hell, I’ll make tea.  It’s 1600 anyway.” 

“I’m still flashing red lights on the viewports.  I need them shut or this is gonna be a real fast trip into the void.”

…

…

C2-N2 hummed as he did his best to tidy up one small piece of the ship’s interior at a time.  Today, it would be the lounge, the one vacant part of the ship at the moment.  The Thief would eventually be fresh this spring… but there were always delays, every year.

And C2 did not mind. 

~~

@fluffyfebruary

[auxiliarydetective]

OC Pride Challenge: Day 29

You can find the challenge here

We're officially in the last two days of pride month and this challenge. Today's prompt is: Here's my Review... Not Gay Enough which means you're supposed to take a classic het romance and put a queer spin on it. For my het romance, I decided to use the myth of Eros and Psyche with Eros being played by none other than Chandrah aka Charlie Drake. This project became so huge that this story is gonna have two parts, so stay tuned for part 2!

Chandrah sat in its temple, overlooking the vast fields beyond it. This was where all the spirits from Earth who died in love lived, be it romantic love, platonic love, or love for an activity. Whenever there was a passion and they died while it still burned bright, they found themselves under Chandrah’s reign. This was because Chandrah was a deity of love with the power to cause love but also destroy it. If it wasn’t for its servitude to Gozer, destroyer of worlds, one could even say that Chandrah was a peaceful god. Well, demigod. Normally, this place would be a peaceful place, too. But with the next coming of Gozer on the horizon and Earth being the victim, the entire afterlife was chaotic with spirits coming in and out.

Amid this chaos, Chandrah was called by Gozer. So, it made its way to the Destructor’s palace, bowing deeply before the Goddess of Gods.

“Chandrah,” Gozer said. “I have a task for you to carry out in the mortal realm. Are you aware of the group of mortals trying to halt my arrival?”

“Yes, my lord,” Chandrah replied.

“Use your powers to drive them apart.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

It was as simple as that. Whenever Gozer demanded something, Chandrah was there to comply. Even though it much preferred using his powers on a whimsy - and it did, on its various visits to Earth and other worlds, answering prayers not meant for it - when Gozer gave an order, it was an order to be followed and Chandrah had to abuse its powers for it.

So, bow and quiver of gleaming arrows over its shoulder, Chandrah entered the human realm in the middle of a fall evening, beneath dark clouds. It quickly found the firehouse the so-called “Ghostbusters” resided in. Now, the only thing to do was to figure out how to carry out this order. Taking the form of a dove, Chandrah sat down on a street lamp next to it. From here, it could look in through the windows. But, as it turned out, it didn’t need to. A man came out of the firehouse with a woman, saying:

“Come on, Dana, just give me one chance. I can be pretty amazing.”

“Dr. Venkman,” the woman replied, “you should probably focus on solving my case instead.”

“But your case is exactly what I have in mind - besides the beauty that you are, of course. Wouldn’t you like to spend time away from your ghost-infested fridge and go out on a date with me instead? The night is still young, I’ll take you to dinner right now.”

“No, Venkman. Solve my ghost problem first, then we’ll talk.”

And just like that, the solution had presented itself. This man - Doctor Peter Venkman, as Chandrah gathered by reading his mind - was in love with this woman, Dana Barrett. The only thing Chandrah had to do now was make one of his colleagues fall in love with that same woman, maybe make Venkman a little more madly in love, and they would start going at each other’s throat! So, Chandrah waited until it got dark, then climbed the firehouse wall like a spider. One of the windows was open. How foolish. Chandrah easily climbed inside and found itself in a bedroom with only minimal furniture but four beds. One for each of the Ghostbusters, obviously. Three of them were empty, but in one lay a man. Chandrah approached the sleeping man slowly and carefully, all while pulling out one of its rose gold arrows. The man was tall with a more or less large nose and dark, curly hair that was partially combed back, partially ruffled by sleep. He was handsome, Chandrah thought, which was why he would do nicely for this little scheme.

Suddenly, an alarm blared throughout the entire firehouse, causing Chandrah to jump. The man started moving with an annoyed groan. For a few seconds, Chandrah was frozen, its heart beating a hundred times a second, suddenly feeling very hot. Then, it sprinted to the window, completely forgetting that it could just turn to smoke or turn invisible. Only when it jumped out the window was when it remembered to turn into a bird and fly away. But it only got to the next roof over before turning back into its demon form, clutching its chest. What was this burning feeling? And why was that man suddenly all that occupied the demon’s mind? That was when a realization crept upon Chandrah: When the alarm had gone off, it had dropped the arrow - and the arrows must have gotten under its skin. But then that meant… Yes, that meant Chandrah was now in love. Madly in love, even. It should be impossible. Chandrah should be beyond human feelings such as love. But somehow, its own arrows were too strong for it to overcome.

The only question that remained was to figure out what to do now. In this light, Chandrah couldn’t bring itself to carry out its plan, or even its orders. Suddenly, it wanted no harm to come to this man, a man it didn’t even know the name of. Petrified, Chandrah watched a white car with sirens and lights rush out of the firehouse. Then, a choice was made. Chandrah had to somehow get inside that firehouse, get close to the man, get him to fall in love.

But things weren’t meant to be this easy. As it turned out, the man - Dr. Egon Spengler - was a lot more interested in researching the paranormal than he was in romance. Why, of all people, did it have to be him? His colleagues would have been a lot easier to persuade. Especially Peter Venkman, though he was currently in love with someone else. All it would take would be to turn into a particularly beautiful, more willing woman and he’d be stolen. Winston Zeddemore, the newest addition to the Ghostbusters’ theme, seemed like a decent man, loyal and dependable, but also easily persuaded. Dr. Ray Stantz was also science-inclined and the other half of the brains of the Ghostbusters, though Egon was clearly the stronger half. What Chandrah found out fairly quickly was that Ray’s mind was quick and easy to take possession of and seducing him would be a matter of minutes if done right. But Egon… Chandrah wondered if he was capable of falling in love at all. After all, there were people who had no romantic attraction to speak of. But by the gods, if Chandrah wouldn’t try! So, Chandrah turned into Charlie Drake, a young man with a love for jewelry, messy brown hair and deep brown eyes. An appointment with the Ghostbusters was made and so, Charlie found himself walking freely into the firehouse.

The front part was empty, probably because there was usually a car here, the infamous Ecto-1. But now that it wasn’t here, the view was open right up to the secretary’s desk where a woman by the name of Janine Melnitz sat, filing her nails. Charlie walked right up to her, a kind smile on his face.

“Good morning,” he said, “I’m Charlie Drake, I’m here for my appointment.”

“Right, Mr. Drake,” Janine said in a monotonous or annoyed voice. “The Ghostbusters are out on a call right now. They’ll get to you once they come back but they might be a bit cranky. They’ve been out all night.”

“That’s no problem for me.” But then Charlie realized these might not be the best circumstances to meet someone who should like him under. “Or should I come back some other day?” he asked.

“I’m afraid you’d probably have the same problem then. Things are very busy here these days.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“Would you like some coffee, Mr Drake?”

“If you can spare some.”

Janine smiled. “Of course. Just one second.”

So, Charlie waited with his cup of coffee and as he did, he talked to Janine about various things - when they weren’t interrupted by calls, of course. The Ghostbusters really were busy.

Finally, the Ecto-1 pulled into the firehouse. Charlie’s heart gave a flutter and he started shivering all over. Egon, Ray, Peter and Winston climbed out of the car in their flight suits, looking perfectly exhausted.

“Janine, who’s this?” Peter asked, pointing at Charlie.

“This is Charlie Drake, he’s here for his appointment,” Janine explained.

“Great, wonderful, my colleagues will take care of you.”

With that, he disappeared up the staircase. Egon, Ray and Winston looked at each other. Immediately, Ray and Winston appeared very busy - which was good for Charlie because it meant Egon was the one to greet him. Or maybe it wasn’t that good, because when Egon approached him, Charlie jumped up from his chair as if it had been electrocuted, his heartbeat picking up again. Maybe it was the coffee, he told himself. That was a lie, it definitely wasn’t the coffee. But he tried to convince himself it was. Luckily, Egon seemed too tired to be bothered by Charlie’s behaviour.

“I’m Doctor Spengler, that back there is Doctor Stantz, the man at the car right now is our colleague Winston Zeddemore and the one who just disappeared is Doctor Venkman. Why did you come in today?”

Hopefully, Charlie thought, his plan would work out, and hopefully he wouldn’t start fumbling because of how freaking nervous he was.

“I think I’ve been possessed,” he said.

Once again, Egon wasn’t very impressed. He simply pulled a device from his belt and pointed it at Charlie. Immediately, two arms sprung out from the sides of the device, the lights on them blinking rapidly, accompanied by frantic whirring. The moment he saw this, Egon’s expression changed. He had taken the bait.

“Ray,” he called, looking over his shoulder.

Ray came over and suddenly sparked with excitement.

“I’m going to set up the Aura Video-Analyzer,” Egon declared, then climbed the staircase, skipping multiple steps so he would get to his destination faster.

“Winston, we’re gonna need some coffee,” Ray blurted out.

Winston seemed to have caught on too and followed Egon upstairs. Once that was taken care of, Ray beamed at Charlie, putting an arm around him. “Right this way, Mr Drake,” he said, moving him towards the stairs. “We’re gonna run some tests on you to see what we’re dealing with. First, we’re going to ask you some standardized questions that you should answer as precisely as possible. We know possession can lead to symptoms like memory loss and confusion, so just try your best, okay?”

“Okay. - That device Doctor Spengler just pointed at me, what was that?” Charlie asked as he climbed the stairs.

“That’s a P.K.E Meter or Aurascope, one of our most basic tools,” Ray explained. “It detects psychokinetic energy - and from our readings just now, whatever came in contact with you must’ve been crazy strong and left a big signature.”

“So you really think I’ve been possessed?” Charlie asked excitedly. His plan was working!

“I can’t imagine what else would cause these types of readings - chances are you still are! Do you feel- No, I’m getting ahead of myself. - Sit down over here, please.”

They were in a living area now, but the place Ray pointed Charlie to was on a table next to a set of computers. As soon as he sat there, Egon put a sort of helmet with countless wires on his head.

“Alright, Mr. Drake, please tell us why you think you may have been possessed. What happened right before the possession?”

“Well, it was close to midnight,” Charlie lied, “and I was just about to go to bed. That’s when I heard this voice outside, sort of echoing. It was calling my name. So, I opened the window and looked outside - and that’s about all I remember. Next thing I know, I was on the floor in my room - and it was three days later.”

“Interesting, very interesting,” Egon murmured.

“And you hadn’t been drinking or taking drugs?” Winston asked, carrying over the coffee can and some cups.

“No, of course not,” Charlie scoffed. “And even if I had, I wouldn’t lose three whole days, right?”

“You’re probably right.”

“Take a look at this,” Egon said, pointing at a computer screen outside of Charlie’s view. He leaned forwards to try and look at it but Egon pushed him back. Immediately, a rush of… a rush of whatever this was travelled through Charlie’s body. Meanwhile, Ray, Winston and Egon stared at the screen.

“My God,” Winston gasped. “That’s not good, is it?”

“Are you kidding? This is wonderful!” Ray called out. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“I’d like to run some more tests on you,” Egon told Charlie, switching off the screen and taking the helmet off of him. “ESP, precognition, telekinesis and other potentially supernatural capabilities.”

“You did great coming here, Charlie,” Ray said, patting his back. “Do you want some coffee? Tea? We also have some cookies somewhere - right?”

What started now was a little game. Well, to Charlie it was a game. To the Ghostbusters, it had to be peak scientific research. A breakthrough even. Charlie was shown only the back of a card and was supposed to say what symbol was at the back of it. Easy for a demon, but probably hard for a human. All throughout, Egon was hovering around Charlie. Sometimes, he held up the cards, sometimes he sat a bit off to the side, watching everything and taking notes, and sometimes he sat next to Charlie, those deep brown eyes watching him through his glasses.

They could have gone on like this for hours, but another alarm interrupted them. Overwhelmed with the situation, the Ghostbusters looked at each other. Venkman came out of the bedroom, brushing past them.

“Ghostbusting time, chop chop!”

“Well, uh,” Ray stammered, “it’s been absolutely incredible. You’re a real ESP phenomenon.”

“C’mon, we gotta go,” Winston said. “Thanks for stopping by, Charlie.”

“If you have time, come back tomorrow,” Egon murmured, scribbling down the last of his notes. “There’s still a lot of tests I’d like to run.”

“Alright,” Charlie agreed with a smile. “I look forward to it. This is fun!”

And then it happened. Egon flashed him a smile. A genuine smile. And it made Charlie’s heart melt, if he even had a heart to speak of. But before Charlie could even process all that, Egon had disappeared down the fire pole.

[suicideisntpoeticffs]

Running from my disorganized chaos won't save me. Getting materials to be in it helps.

What's helpful in a thing of fries and milkshake and sub sandwich that I can't go home and save money with my strainer, funnel, deep fryer, and bundle of potatoes?

The feeling of stress relief. All of it is for stress relief, and the stress stems from my inability to complete straightforward tasks only from the perspective of "this irks me, I am not finding joy in it" and then my 3 different plays all fall short of anything that I wanted in them.

[What could be done instead? If buying the potatoes and supplies to add sufficiency won't fully stabilize you, what could be done to promote ease?]

- scheduling 3 hour time frames to be task oriented, with 30 minute intervals dedicated to the tasks. Truthfully I still want to get both, the supplies and the food, and still stay away from people. That my former crush who I want to be friends with genuinely has responded and that my ex-best friend is silent leads me to to only wanting minimal interaction with anybody. I only talk to SWers because my lust is still the dopamine mechanism that I'm Just recovering after the "hey I ALSO have a bad shower memory" and I...loathe everything. Not my family, not my friends, not people in general, but Everything in totality. That shit just keeps going is frustrating, and it's needed. Cause emotions are like that. Here today and gone to-MArrrrrrrrrrrr...

The point being, get the supplies. I WANT the food, and to get away from the feeling of my messy room that I have to clean up. But I don't need it (I say, thinking of how I poorly made rice and broccoli to pair with days old black beans)

What I want is a get away, repeatedly. Unfortunately, there is not a get away in the firehouse sub, shit is still there. There isn't a get away in the thicc shake, at the bottom of it my loathing is still present. There's food in the fries I made myself and bettering of my skill, there's pride and ease in making myself a full meal that I have the recipe to and can repeat in whatever quantity thaT I Want, there's peace in seeing me use the 30 minute intervals effectively or even somewhat effectively and get actual movement on my tasks. It feels good when I'm able to show up for future me, cause I know she needs it. I don't even know how to show up for her a lot of the time but I'm gonna get it going!

[privacyredux]

45oz water

4:14pm - los angeles

today has been kind of slow tbh. not in a bad way though. i got to catch up a bit more with charlie and eric. i made plans or well, i guess i'll get to that bit later. since i wasn't going to dinner at charlie's i went shopping with them for the shit she'd need. honestly she's who encouraged me to come down in the first place and ive had a really good week plus in los angeles. better than usual actually. it's honestly not my favorite place in general, but i don't really feel like i have any complaints. i got my ass handed to me by ai again, but i guess that's just how shit goes. at least im not alone bc she did too.

the reason i can't go to dinner is bc i have other dinner plans. last night i went to see valeria at work again. it was kind of funny bc i offered to bring her some candy (sour patch watermelons) she was talking about doordashing and she kept insisting that she needed to pay for it and give me the tip she had planned on giving them. which turned into offering to pay for my drinks and me saying id just give her that money and more in tips. i guess she really has strict feelings about owing other people or something. regardless, even though i said i didn't think she owed me anything, we settled on dinner tonight as a compromise. i'm looking forward to it.

but anyway, uh it was fun. i did some karaoke. *nsync at her request and then doing bastille's laura palmer brought us around to talking about twin peaks, which she had never seen. and truly isn't even optimistic about enjoying, bc apparently she hasn't enjoyed much david lynch. she was gonna give it a try though, so even if it's pure complaints it'll be interesting to get her take. i dunno what it is, i do find most of valeria's views interesting, but even in general i just like hearing what people think about shit. like barring some offensive shit, even if i completely disagree and want to debate what they're getting out of it, it still keeps me completely occupied hearing another person's take on it.

yeah so that's how i had dinner plans for today. otherwise, i spoke a bit with blair again about lotr bc i was watching a minimal amount of rings of power just to do it. if i start it, i'll be more likely to continue and feel caught up for the new season. freya has been pretty busy so i haven't talked to her as much as i had the week prior. and im trying to make some direct plans with sabrina so i don't miss her before she's crazy busy. as much as i have a tour starting next weekend it's just for a little bit and hers is a whole ass thing. so hopefully i'll see her at the event and hang out a bit. i plan on coming to see her on tour too, but i know how that goes. it's all chaotic for me and i don't have nearly as much shit going when im on tour. i really doubt i understand the chaos of that level pop tour.

other than what's going on this week, and packing and cleaning up my place a bit, i think i'm ready for tour. ready to be pulled out of everything for a little bit and just immersed in work. especially in japan. i know i'll have a good time and i can kind of just enjoy everything around me and revisit places i love. i don't know there's an awful lot of love that i get out of visiting there. i'm positive it'll make me feel good regardless.

i watched something this week, i forget what, where one of the characters pretended to be an eels fan and it's just had them on the brain. also, i mentioned liking myself less when i was numb and it came together. and it's true. eric is keeping an eye on things too which is nice. probably not necessary, but i probably would've said that even when it was. so i'll accept the help and attention there.

falling apart - slow pulp

why do i cry - margo guryan

novocaine for the soul - eels

[kagejima]

alright so i've noticed an uptick in followers recently because of the latest ushi fic, and to those i say, welcome! i think you made a mistake following this chaotic blog, but glad you're here!

second of all, i wanna say some things about the next few weeks for moots and old followers and new followers so you aren't in the dark! 💖

okay I'll say this up top so no one panics. I'm not going anywhere!! No worries!

lately i have experienced massive burnout on and off (i think that's because I was posting something like every fucking day when i started this back in may) and i have like ten thousand wips (mm, an exaggeration, but it's probably like 50 to 75 now and i got five collab pieces too i need to work on hahahahahahahha 😵‍💫. literally the reason i don't take requests is because keeping up with my brain is hard enough fjdjjfjejfne)

AND SO i will probably be going a little silent fic-wise as i prepare and queue up fics for y'all! i really do enjoy writing but the pressure to be relevant is starting to-- woooooo it's starting to get to me.

I want to make it very clear to moots and followers that I am not going anywhere, I will still be on here pretty much every day bringing chaos to the dash and you can still send thirsts and headcanons and things but as far as my fics, it will be a little bit before I post anything new 😌

also @ my beta readers, i'm not gonna drown you guys in fics in these coming weeks, its still low commitment like i promised, i'm only gonna be sending you like my bigger projects 😋 👍🏻

also!! i want to get better about reading fics! my "to read for later" tag got out of hand so I'm going to rectify that during this time xnenjfjejf i have been slacking on it, im so sorry everybody. you guys deserve better but i got such bad adhd, please forgive me 🙇🏻‍♀️ okay anyways! my point!

TO MUTUALS ONLY: i see the frustration you're having of minimal interaction (it sucks, i get it. i face it too 😮‍💨) so i wanna be tagged in your fics starting today!! this is my permission for you to do so, you'd never be bothering me, i promise!! you got a tag list? add me to it. you wanna just slap my handle in the comments to let me know you got something new? i got you! I'll read anything, even if I know nothing about them, you can still tag me. Tag away. Tag me in any and every fic, i don't care if i know them or not fjdnjfdjfnej. Or send it to me. Whatever is most comfortable for you! I wanna see it! Wanna display it like the little masterpiece it is! Because of my weird schedule, i miss a lot of things but i desperately wanna see what new things you guys got! The only thing I ask is to not be tagged in angst! I don't handle that well 🥲

okay I think that's everything.

ok, thank you!!

[paradoxesofgalaxies]

It's been a week of resting and minimizing activity to care for my body. and while I probably should keep resting (especially after falling yesterday), there's too much that needs to get done. I've run out of certain necessary pieces of clothes and needed to do laundry two days ago, so I couldn't push that off anymore. And the kitchen has fallen into a state of chaos as I've been doing the bare minimum for the past week and I need to do something about it.

So I'm gonna try to rest in between doing things, but I'm just gonna have to push through the pain today to get shit done

[avgvstvs-rookwood]

@bastilleavery​

“Don’t forget I have that meeting this afternoon, so you’re going to lunch with the Carrows.” With a cat on the table, and a dog’s head in his lap, it was a little difficult to remain strict on table rules, and it was clear he’d given up on them when he fed Jack a bite directly from his plate, shaking his head as he scratched the dog’s ear. “Are you gonna leave these guys here, today, or take them back to the farm? ‘Cause Jos is probably gonna be around tonight, so if we’re gonna be chaos we need to get settled in before she shows up, minimize the barking.”

[teamfreewill56-blog]

Oh My God They’re Real

I’ve been watching too much KnY MMD so now this exists. I’m so sorry.

“Okay Kyojuro we need you to grab one of the audience members and bring them on stage to dance.” Their manager said, looking at the notes she’d written on a clipboard.

“Yes! I like it! That will add a fantastic dramatic flair, they’ll love it!” Uzui smiled showing his teeth, turning his fuschia eyes to the literal flame boy of their group. Kyojuro sat with his arms folded across his chest in a proper but still casual manner, raising his dark eyebrows he lowered them in a frown to match the expression on his lips.

“Hmm, that sounds like it would be violating boundaries, I think it’s best we not.”

“Nah it’ll be fine, all of the people there love The Pillars, that’s the whole reason they’re coming. Besides, you’ll put them right back, it’s not like you’re gonna bite them, right?” Uzui prodded his friend while gently batting away his concern with his multi-painted fingers. He moved his hand out of the way of his make-up artist’s arm as they finished braiding the left side of his hair, the rest of his hair up in a high ponytail. Another one applying his trade-mark red circles.

“Very well, as long as it’s agreed we don’t swarm them once they’re on stage.” Kyojuro gave the manager an expectant look with his unflinching sun eyes.

“They’ll be like an extra who’s dancing with you, promise. Everyone else will keep their regular dance routines.” The manager promised, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ve got to go check in with Sanemi and Muichiro and their make-up artists, the show starts in ten minutes but be at the center stage in five. Good luck boys.” She waved and walked out.

“What’s with you today?” Tengen asked tilting his head back and looking at Kyojuro.

“Mr. Uzui please keep your head up.” The make-up artist asked and he did so while keeping his eyes on Kyojuro.

“Hm?”

“Our favorite ray of sunshine was being a bit snippy just now.”

“Hm? No, I’m fine!” Kyojuro smiled with an innocent look.

Uzui gave Kyojuro a look. “Senjuro’s fever still hasn’t gone down, has it?” He grinned as the fiery man’s eyes darkened, “Aha I thought so! HEY DON’T TOUCH MY FLAMBOYANT HAIR!”

“Mr. Rengoku please! You’re gonna fall out of your chair!”

Cassy squealed for what had to have been the ten thousandth time, and the concert hadn’t even started yet. Although with how the lights were starting to move in the stadium Y/N guessed it was going to be kicking off soon. “Oh my gosh we’re so close to the stage we can touch them!”

“We can also trip them….” Y/N said thoughtfully.

“Y/N! Don’t you dare!” She pouted at them and glared.

“I won’t, but you didn’t bring me along as your accomplice to kidnap one of them did you Cassy?” Y/N asked giving their friend a suspicious look.

“No...but if one of them falls off the stage you’ll help me take them home right?” She smiled sweetly.

“Well I’m already here so sure.” Y/N replied teasingly. “Who’s your favorite again? Or are you in love with all of them?”

Cassy put her hand over her heart, “I am in love with all of them but Tengen Uzui is my bae.” She adjusted her silver plated headband with a grin and Y/N looked down at the pamphlet, “Oh the one with the tattoo on his eye.” They said picking out the one wearing the matching headband of their friend. “ Oh my god look at the blond’s eyebrows!” Y/N turned the photo to Cassy, “Are those real!? And how is he still in the band? He clearly pilfered everyone else’s eyebrows.”

“Of course they’re--” Cassy paused, “Oh my god what if they’re not.” Y/N laughed and Cassy slapped their arm, “Don’t do this to me right before the concert! And I dare you to ask him!”

“If I somehow by a weird coincidence get to meet….” They looked at the booklet and realized the names weren’t on it.

“Kyojuro Rengoku.” Cassy filled in for them.

“Kyojuro Rengoku, I will ask him.” And Y/N wasn’t going to admit it to Cassy but he was the most attractive one out of the group, eyebrows and all. The pair looked up as the lightning changed and the music grew louder as it flowed out of the speakers. The colored beams shifted to the center of the stage and the floor opened, another stage lifted up with Sanemi, Uzui, Rengoku and Muichiro and the concert started. Y/N smiled every once in a while hearing Cassy scream or jump in place, singing along with the songs that she of course knew word for word and occasionally yelling about her love for Uzui which Y/N wondered if he could even hear although they highly doubted it. They loved seeing their best friend so excited and pumped and honestly The Pillars were the only thing that would really hype her up that way. The music was a little too Pop-ish for Y/N’s tastes but they had to admit The Pillars knew how to dance, and the music was fitting for dancing to, unconsciously they started predicting the dance movements of the group, recognizing patterns and certain giveaways in the three men and boy’s movements. Y/N couldn’t help it, they’d studied dance all their life. Rengoku and Uzui were particularly good, and luckily for Cassy pretty close to where the two of them were standing. Y/N thought they were imagining it, but they could have sworn Rengoku kept looking at them.

Kyojuro was absolutely looking at them. He knew he could probably jump into the crowd and jump back out without getting kidnapped--he hoped--but he figured it was probably his best bet to grab someone as close to the front as possible. Y/N very quickly caught his eye and he was spared gawking by his muscle memory for the dances as well as having to sing his vocals. From the looks of it, and the easy comparison to the girl next to them, this person wasn’t one of their fans, and that realization pricked him for some odd reason. Their eyes, fully reflecting the lights so it was as though the night sky was trapped there---watched with practiced focus, Kyojuro smirked as he came to the quick realization that Y/N was decoding and following their dance moves. That was perfect, not only were they clearly not a fan but had some kind of knowledge about dance, so it minimized the risk in two major ways. Kyojuro danced over to the edge of the stage, kneeling down he held his hand out to Y/N and winked. Poor Y/N didn’t really get to respond properly because Cassy shoved them at Kyojuro, he quickly grabbed their hands and lifted them onto the stage so they didn’t slam their head into the stage, Kyojuro a little alarmed the girl had done that, had he been wrong in assuming the two were friends? But with the glare Y/N shot at the girl Kyojuro got confirmation he had been right. He winked at Y/N and resumed dancing, to his pleasure they hardly missed a literal beat and moved right along with him as though they’d rehearsed it. Kyojuro led them into a partnered dance and Y/N followed effortlessly, “Hey can I ask you something?” Y/N asked, their voice drowned out by the music, singing and chaos of the overall stadium, Kyojuro spun them and winked with a nod, not able to answer being right in the middle of a song, he caught them and dipped them back, bringing them back up, they reached a finger out and stroked his eyebrows, Kyojuro’s eyes widened and Y/N’s mouth dropped open, “Oh my god they’re real.” He almost dropped them.

[jjmaydank]

Love Language

summary: love languages come in every shape and size. If there are only truly five, How do you and JJ express yours? 

a/n: Not sure if I am thrilled with how his came out but I wanted to post anyway. I might write a part two about how JJ appreciates words of affirmation and physical touch too depending on how this one does. 

If you ask any adult they’d say that 16-year-old’s have no idea what love is, and for the most part they’d be right. You weren’t naive, you didn’t expect to end up engaged, married, and living full kook with JJ, but every time he looked at you. Man, your heart skipped a beat and maybe just maybe you thought about how losing him would be like losing everything. You’d been together since the summer of 2019, one year together and yet the genuine ‘I love you’ statements were reserved for more intimate moments. Moments where only you, JJ, and the four walls in John B’s guest room could hear. Or hushed moments in the hammock watching the sunset for the who-knows-hundredth time. Sometimes the love pours into everyday moments, whether with words or with actions.

Acts of Service 

The group was huddled in John B’s kitchen yet again.

“JJ don’t” Kie pleads. He only glances at her “I have a stomach of steel Kie don’t worry” JJ boasts proudly. Just as he finished putting together his sandwich, the front porch door opens. “Hey guys” You say carrying in a white plastic bag in your left hand. They all mumble out their course of hellos and you walk over to JJ. He begins to wrap his arms around your waist and lean in to kiss you, you lean back. A confused look spreads on his face and you look at the sandwich on the plate, “did you eat any of that?” You ask, disgusted? “Nah, but I’m about to” he says, removing his arms from your waist and going towards the sandwich.

“Don’t” you say seriously, taking his bicep in your hand. “I bought you something to eat”, you put the bag on the counter and slide it towards him. “Fuck I don’t deserve you” he says. Removing the layers of the food as fast as possible. You kiss his cheek and turn your attention back to the gang. “Why do I feel like I’m the only one who goes to school anymore?” you question sitting down on the couch. John B shrugs, Kie and Pope are engrossed in a conversation, and then JJ speaks up, “School is for losers” he says with his mouth stuffed. You give him a look from the couch that translates to ‘you wanna rethink that’. “...and pretty girls” he says after swallowing and grinning at you. “Nice save” Pope comments sarcastically. JJ just winks at him and decides to sit next to you.

Words of Affirmation & Physical Touch 

The scholarship you had applied for was supposed to send out the finalist email beginning today. You nervously kept refreshing your email, although you were too far out in the marsh for it to get signal. You enjoyed spending time with the group on the boat but right now, getting that email was all you could think about.

“Babe, Beer?” JJ says walking up to you and offering you a fresh can. 

You look up briefly before returning your attention to your phone screen “No thanks”. He picks up on your distressed tone quickly. I guess that’s what dating for a year will do to you. You could always tell when JJ needed you with just one look and he could always tell with your choice of words and the way you said them. “What’s up?” He sounds so concerned, you almost feel bad for coming to this outing. Everyone else is having fun but you’ve been sober and sitting down since you arrived. “I just- Remember that scholarship I told you I applied for? The one where I got really vulnerable for and poured out everything I had? Well they are sending out the results today and I haven’t gotten anything yet” you feel relieved to have finally told someone how stressed you were feeling. “They’d be stupid not to choose you Y/N” he says. “What if I didn’t even stand out? I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford any university without that scholarship J” you voice getting quieter towards the ends. “You already have a full ride to a university,” he says nonchalantly. You give him a questioning look before he grabs your hand and holds it against his chest. “The university of my heart” he says kissing your cheek. You pull your hand away, “ oh my god you dork I’m being serious” yet you can’t help and smile at his antics.

He reaches out and for a second you think he’ll pull you onto his lap or rest his hand dangerously close on your upper hand as he usually does. To your surprise he does either, instead he puts a hand on the knee and uses his thumb to rub comforting circles onto your thigh. You sigh peacefully and choose not to say anything. In this moment you feel as if every little circle motion his thumb makes is a secret language of its own. ‘I love you’ ‘you’re gonna get in’ ‘you’re amazing and crazy smart’ things he’d typically say to you out-loud. You choose to embrace the silence and revel in the secret language for as long as possible until you hear the familiar chime of your phone and break out of your trace to check it. “The application Status of Y/N L/N” reads the subject line, the opening line begins with congratulations and right then and there you know. You were chosen as finalist. “Holy shit I made the finalist list” you whisper to yourself but JJ hears. “You made it?” JJ says a bit louder. “Hey guys she made the finalist list” JJ calls out to the group The music. They all express delight for you and John B hands you a beer, “Cheers, I’ll drink to that” he says clicking his cab against everyone else’s. You feel JJ’s hand give a small squeeze to your hand before you turn to him, “I knew you could do it” he says, removing his hand from your knee and opting to place it on the back of your seat.

Quality Time & Gifts 

Feeling the sand under your bare feet and the night breeze, you curl up closer to the warm body next to you. Keeping your eyes closed as you pay attention to your breathing and try to sync up with JJ’s. 

“Considering you’re trying to jump onto me at any given moment, I’m surprised you haven’t tried anything” You say eyes still closed and adjusting your position against his chest. It’s moments like these that become rarer and rarer with all the chaos of John B possibly being put in foster care at any given moment, and in general always being around the gang. It wasn’t like you and JJ were a secret but you weren’t a fan of couples that made out in the hallways during passing-period, so PDA was kept minimal out of respect for pogue rules. “Pretty sure it's always you who wants to jump on me” he says and although your eyes are still closed, you can tell he’s smirking. You say nothing and let the conversation die there. No matter how terrible a day is, just being in JJ’s arms makes it better. 

“Do you think we’re together by chance or Fate? You ask quietly. You wonder if JJ would have even pursed you had you been a kook or missed at the party the night you met . “Does it matter?” He asks, “I’m just wondering” you whisper back. The silence that washes over you two feels comfortable. Your thoughts run wild thinking about how JJ is really a whole person stubborn but with feelings and thoughts. Out of all the people that you could have come across that night, it was him and out of girls that consistently admire him, he was here with you. Will this last forever? And if not how would it end? What if-

“I love you” JJ says, kissing the top of your hair. “What for?” you happily accept the head kiss but still inquire why the random love confession. “I always love you, but you were thinking so hard I could hear your thoughts” He explains. He begins to shift to sit up and you pull away to give me the room to do so. You knew that you couldn’t stay out there all night long, it was cold and dark but you were willing to bear the environment if it meant more alone time with JJ. You wait for him to get up and extend an arm to pick you up. Instead, he sits up and begins to reach around his neck. He takes off his shark tooth necklace with ease and motions for you to sweep your hair to the side. You do as you're told and he slips the necklace on admiring how it looks against your skin. You reach up and grab at the necklace slowly as if it could break at any given moment. “JJ you don’t have to, it’s yours” you say not wanting to take one of the most important things away from him. “You’re mine too, I want you to have it” He says running a hand through his hair, leaving his hair messier but framing his face nicely. “Well I love it and I love you” grabbing onto either side of his face and bringing him in for a kiss. He easily lays you down against the sand and crawls on top and you know exactly where this might be going. You push his face away and look into his eyes, it's cold and dark but you stare into him like he holds the answer to every question in the universe. JJ goes in to kiss you again and you roll to the side. You love him but you aren’t risking ending up covered in sand and with hypothermia.

“Inside?” You question while lifting yourself up and dusting off the remaining sand.

“Fuck yeah” He responds, ready to go.

[krakenbait]

kraken bait 3.5: this is why we can’t have nice things

me on july 11: yes! the expansion draft is in 10 days, my last kraken bait list is finished, everything is good!

me on july 15: gravy to the devils? ok, ok i dig it! messes up my kraken bait list, but oh well.

me on july 17: why are the gms are having a panic sale and fucking everything up

me on july 18: *looks at the protection lists* well fuck.

welcome back for the actual last kraken bait list! the last several days involved a lot of chaos and now a good chunk of my previous list is defunct. lovely. 

you guys know the drill by now. it’s a mock expansion draft with some actual predictions and a few funny theories, i had help from my buddy corwin (@chaos-hockey) and a few other folks. i’ll try to keep this short today, so there will be minimal commentary for anything that hasn’t changed from the last list.

*sigh* let’s get on with it. list under the cut.

Anaheim Ducks: Haydn Fleury

going by casey’s reaction, anaheim fucked up their protection list and leaving fleury exposed was a surprise and a mistake. guess it makes sense that the next expansion team also has a fleury (even if marc-andre and haydn aren’t related)

Arizona Coyotes: Christian Fischer

same as last time. next!

Boston Bruins: Jeremy Lauzon

see above. next!

Buffalo Sabres: William Borgen

i went with rasmus asplund last time around, but he got protected by the sabres. guess they want to keep all three rasmi (rasmusses?). so let’s go with... this dude, who is a defenseman one of the writers from The Athletic picked.

Calgary Flames: Mark Giordano

the flames picked tanev over giordano, but i had a feeling that might be the case. giordano will be a good veteran presence in seattle, etc. next!

Carolina Hurricanes: Nino Niederreiter

brady skjei, my pick last time around, got protected. kinga is probably happy, but i had to take a different route. i had a few other ideas (jake bean, petr mrazek), but corwin liked nino to seattle, so here we are! here’s hoping i spelled his name right.

Chicago: Nikita Zadorov

i had adam gaudette here last time around, and while he’s still available, i just think zadorov is a more interesting option to take from chicago. i might have said dylan strome if he wasn’t protected (sabs’ dreams are crushed)

Colorado Avalanche: JT Compher

as i mentioned in my intro, ryan graves, my previous pick, got traded to the devils (woohoo!)- savy joe sakic didn’t want to give him up for nothing. it was between compher and joonas donskoi to take gravy’s place, but i went with JT since he’s a little younger and his contract is a little less. donskoi is the better performer though, so honestly it could go either way.

Columbus Blue Jackets: Dean Kukan

boone jenner was protected, so there goes corwin’s idea. sticking with the same pick from last time. next!

Dallas Stars: Jamie Oleksiak

jason dickinson got traded to the canucks instead of being kraken bait, so that pick was toast. i didn’t really know who else could go here, but corwin liked the idea of oleksiak, so that settled it.

Detroit Red Wings: Vladislav Namestnikov

i’m sticking with it. next!

Edmonton Oilers: Tyson Barrie

this pick is maybe a little more likely now than it was last time since barrie wasn’t protected, but the odds aren’t necessarily great. i still enjoy my wishful thinking. next!

Florida Panthers: Chris Driedger

i think this is my slam dunk pick now, considering it seems like driedger’s already been talking to seattle. next!

Los Angeles Kings: Olli Maata

viktor arvidsson got protected (corwin was wrong), so it was back to the drawing board for the kings. i wanted to pick andreas athanasiou here, but i needed another player who wasn’t a 2021 free agent and i wanted the same forwards/defensemen ratio as last round, so i went with maata instead.

Minnesota Wild: Kaapo Kakhonen

matt dumba got protected, so my wild pick was toast. i also had to make up for a lost goalie spot (more on that soon), so i went with the young goalie out of minnesota.

Montreal Canadiens: Philip Danault

the habs protected jake allen after carey price waived his no move clause, so i was tempted to pick price to fill that goalie spot, but i don’t think it’s gonna happen on account of price’s hefty contract. instead, i went with ufa but good performer danault. i heard his name a lot watching the cup finals, so it works, right?

Nashville Predators: Calle Jarnkrok

calle jarn-kraken. it’s happenin’

New Jersey Devils: Andreas Johnsson

i will talk about my resentment and anxiety that nate bastian was exposed another time. in the meantime, i am trying to hypnotize ron francis from across the country into taking mango.

New York Islanders: Jordan Eberle

keeping it the same. next!

New York Rangers: Colin Blackwell

i honestly can’t believe the rangers protected kevin rooney. so i’ll go with my second choice for the pick from the rags, which is definitely seeming likely right now.

Ottawa Senators: Chris Tierney

didn’t change. next!

Philadelphia Flyers: James van Riemsdyk

corwin got their wish and nolan patrick got traded. this pick stayed the same regardless. next!

Pittsburgh Penguins: Zach Aston-Reese

i briefly considered changing it up here, probably for brandon “sees ghosts” tanev, but why complicate things? next!

San Jose Sharks: Ryan Donato

keeping it simple. next!

St Louis Blues: Vince Dunn

i’m running out of snappy ways to say “i didn’t change the pick.” next!

Tampa Bay Lightning: Blake Coleman

no more likely than it was last time, still enjoying my wishful thinking. next!

Toronto Maple Leafs: Travis Dermott

another static pick. next!

Vancouver Canuck: Zack MacEwen

i didn’t have to change this pick, i just felt like it. he has a cute dog, so i think macewen makes decent kraken bait.

Washington Capitals: Vitek Vanecek

second verse, same as the first. next!

Winnipeg Jets: Mason Appleton

kept the apple pie in a mason jar on skates around. won’t say “next!” because that’s it.

and there we go, a somewhat coherent response to all the recent chaos. in summary, it’s 3 goalies, 16 forwards, and 11 defensemen, which is the same ratio as the previous list, and a cap hit of 72.3M, which is actually less than before (it was 76.4M last time).

this is decidedly the last kraken bait list, but i may have some more commentary on the expansion draft on wednesday and an analysis of who, if anyone, i got right. in the meantime, hope you enjoyed!

credits, or thank you to everyone who helped me on the last list and therefore this one: @dantonheinens @summerteukka @doubleminor @jakejuentzel @bigmouthnatebastian @18minutemajor @powerblais @heddy

[wilwheaton]

The Purge.

Earlier this year, I made some significant and substantial changes to my life, continuing the process of growth and reflection that I started when I quit drinking almost four years ago. (Sidebar: it's remarkable how much clarity I got, and shocking how much pain I was self medicating for so much of my life. I'm so grateful for the love and support of my friends, my wife, and my kids, who supported me when it was clear that I needed to get alcohol out of my life. Be honest with yourself: if you're self medicating emotional pain and/or childhood trauma like I was, give some serious consideration to working on the root issues you're using booze to avoid. I'm so much happier and healthier since I quit, and that's almost entirely because I was able to confront, head on, why I was so sad and hurting so much of the time. I'm not the boss of you, but if you need a gentle nudge to ask for help, here it is: nudge.)

Anyway.

As I was cleaning up my emotional baggage, working on strategies to protect myself from my abusers, and practicing mindfulness daily, I realized that I had a ton of STUFF just sitting around my house, cluttering up my physical living space the way my emotional trauma and pain was cluttering up my emotional space. So I made a call, and hired a professional organizer to come to my house, go through all my bullshit with me, and help me get rid of all the things I didn't need any more.

This process was, in many ways, a metaphor.

We spent several days going through my closets, my game room, my storage spaces in my attic and shed, and eventually ended up with FIVE TRUCKLOADS of stuff I didn't need. Most of it was clothes and books and things that we donated to shelters, which was really easy to unload. I acquire T-shirts so much, I regularly go through my wardrobe and unload half of what I have, so it's easy to get rid of stuff without any emotional attachments.

But there were some things that were more difficult to get rid of, things that represented opportunities I once had but didn't pursue, things that represented ideas that I was really into for a minute, but didn't see through to completion, things that seemed like a good idea at the time but didn't really fit into my life, etc.

I clearly recall giving away a TON of electronic project kits to my friend's son, because he's 11, he loves building things, and he'll actually USE the stuff I bought to amuse myself while I tried to make a meaningful connection to my own 11 year-old self, who loved those things back then too. When I looked at all of these things, I had to accept and admit that 47 year-old me isn't going to make that connection through building a small robot, or writing a little bit of code to make a camera take pictures. I can still connect to that version of myself, but I do it now through therapy, through my own writing, my own meditation. For the longest time, I didn't want to let these things go, because I felt like I was giving up on finding that connection I was seeking, but what I didn't realize (and didn't know until I made the decision to let it go) was that I didn't need STUFF to recover something I'd lost and wanted to revisit.

I think that, by holding on to these kits and similar things, I was trying to give myself the opportunity to explore science and engineering and robotics in a way that young me was never given. Just about everything I wanted to do, that I was interested in when I was 11, was pushed aside, minimized, and sort of taken away from me by my parents. My dad made fun of everything I liked, and my mom made me feel like the only thing I should care about was the pursuit of fame and celebrity. Without parental support and encouragement, I never got the chance to find out if any of these other things would be interesting enough to me to think about pursuing them in higher education. Yes, for some reason, even when I was a really small kid, I was already thinking about where and when I would go to college. I never took even a single class, because I was so afraid of so many things when I was college age, but that's its own story, for another time.

As we went through just piles and piles of bullshit, it got easier and easier to just mark stuff for donation. That drone I used to fly for fun, that I kinda sorta told myself would eventually be used to film something I wrote? Get rid of it, that's never gonna happen. The guitar I kinda played a little bit when I was a teenager, but never really learned how to play properly? Give it to someone who is going to love it and play it so much, it lets them express their creativity in ways I was never able to. All those books I bought to make me a better poker player? Gone. All the books I bought to learn how to program in Python, Perl, Java, and even that old, used, BASIC book I picked up because I thought it would be fun to finally write that game I always dreamed about when I was ten? Give them all to someone who is actually going to *do* that, instead of just think about it.

It was, at first, really hard to get rid of this stuff, because I felt like I was admitting to myself that, even though I *could* paint all these minis (like I did when I was a teenager), even though I *could* study all of these books on Python and Arduino hacking, and probably make something kind of cool with that knowledge, I was never going to. I came to realize that having these things was more about holding on to the *possibility* that they represented. It was more about maintaining a connection to some things that once made me really happy. When I was a kid, I LOVED copying Atari BASIC programs out of a magazine and playing the games that resulted, because it was an escape from my father's bullying and my mother's neediness. When I was a teenager, I LOVED the time I spent (badly) painting Space Marines and Chaos Marines, because it gave me an escape from everything that was so hard about being me when I was 14. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I spent hundreds of hours trying to learn the same five songs on the guitar, never mastering a single one of them. My time would have been much more wisely invested in learning the scales and chords that I declared were more boring than picking my way through the tablature for Goodbye Blue Sky.

And that all brings me to the thing that was simultaneously the hardest and most obvious thing to donate: all my Rock Band gear.

Did you know that the first Rock Band, which I and my kids and my friends played for literally a thousand hours, came out twelve years ago? Beatles Rock Band is a decade old this year. Rock Band 3 is ten years old, too.

I hadn't played Rock Band in almost five years when my friend asked me what I wanted to do with all these plastic guitars, both sets of pretend drums, and all the accessories that were stacked up neatly in the corner of my gameroom.

But a decade ago, Anne and I would send the kids off to their biodad's house, or to their friends' for a sleepover, have some beers, and play the FUCK out of Rock Band, almost every Saturday night. My god, it was so much fun for us to pretend that we were rocking all over the world, me on the drums, Anne on the vocals. Frequently, we'd get the whole family together to play, and we'd spend an entire evening pretending to be on tour together, blasting and rocking our way through the Who, Boston, Green Day, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Dead Kennedys, and others. It brought us all closer together, and was incredibly valuable for our bonding, at a time when we really needed that.

And I was holding onto all these things, these fake plastic guitars and who even knows how many gigs of DLC, because I didn't want to lose my connection to those days. Part of me hoped that we'd all get together and play again, like we did when my kids were in their teens, like I would when I hosted epic Rock Band parties at Phoenix Comicon, or PAX, back before the world was on fire.

But when I looked at those things, neatly stacked up and untouched except by dust for years, I knew that we weren't going to play again, and that I didn't need these things in my house to validate the memories.

Back in those days, when Ryan and I would spend an entire Saturday afternoon and evening trying to complete the Endless Setlist on Expert (we never did, but we got to Green Grass and High Tides more than once), real musicians would smugly tell us that we were having fun the wrong way, that we should be learning REAL instruments instead of pretending to have already mastered them. I would always argue that the whole POINT of Rock Band was the fantasy. Can you imagine telling a 100 pound kid that he should be playing real football instead of Madden? Of course not, and yet.

But it kinda turns out that some of those smug musicians were right. As I packed up those plastic fake guitars and drum kits, put them into the truck with my real guitar, I had a small twinge of regret, that I had been focused on the fantasy, instead of developing a skill that I could still use today (the last time I attempted Rock Band, maybe four years ago, I couldn't get through a single song on Hard, much less Expert. My skills had faded, and it wasn't worth the effort to restore them). And then I stopped myself, because that's EXACTLY the kind of thinking that stopped me from following my dreams when I was a kid. What was important to me ten years ago, what's still important to me today, was the time I spent with my wife, with my kids, with our family, with my friends, pretending that we were something we weren't. We were doing something together, and that is what matters. Today, I can't recall anything specific about all the nights Anne and I played, though I know we worked our way through hundreds of songs together. But I can clearly recall how much fun it was.

Ryan and I still talk about the time I accidentally turned the Xbox off, when I meant to just power down my toy guitar, after we'd been trying to play the Endless Setlist on Expert for five hours.

Over the years, I had accumulated all this stuff that I was unwilling to let go of, because I felt like that would also mean letting go of the memories that were associated with those things. I felt like getting rid of things without following through on their intended use was admitting defeat, or being a quitter.

But after a year or so of daily, intense, therapy and reflection, after ending contact with toxic and abusive people who were exerting tremendous control over me, these things stopped being the keys to unopened doors, and they just became THINGS that I had to constantly move around to get them out of my way. Because I didn't need them anymore. I didn't need to pain minis like I did when I was 15, because I'm not 15. I'm not living with an abuser and his enabler. I'm not working for a producer who makes it clear to me at every opportunity that he owns me and has complete control over whether or not I'll have a film career.

I didn't need ANY of these things, and once I realized that, unloading them and getting them to people who DO need them felt as freeing and empowering as writing a goodbye letter.

I kept a few things that were still useful, or brought me joy. Books, mostly, and of course all my dice and games. It felt GOOD to admit that I'm never going to learn guitar, or build an Arduino-controlled anything. It felt GOOD and empowering to know that I'm a writer. I get my joy and explore my possibilities through storytelling and character development. THAT is what I love, and by getting rid of all this old stuff (and its emotional baggage) I created space in my life to be the person I am now, a person I love, in a life that is amazing.

I still have some emotional clutter, which is to be expected and isn't a big deal. The really cool thing is that I have physical and emotional space, now, to deal with it.

[atc74]

Heartbeat - Chapter One

Warnings: COVID-19, Croatoan, Fluff, quarantine (Each chapter will have additional warnings). 

Summary: Sam, Dean, and Y/N are sheltering in place at the Bunker, researching this new virus that has created a world pandemic. But what happens when one of your own is immune compromised?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1630

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches​ because she’s the best

A/N: I’M BAAAAACCKKKK, well, mostly :) I know I’m not the only one struggling with life right now, and writing has been hard. Thank you all for sticking it out until I was able to get something together for you guys. This is only temporary and will pass. Keep your chin up and try on your jeans every few days. 

Italics indicate flashbacks

Like Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

“Son of a bitch!” Dean’s voice echoed throughout the halls of the Bunker. Y/N just smiled softly, shaking her head, and returned to her research. The state of the world was part chaos, part terror as a new virus spread far and wide, creating a worldwide pandemic, the likes of which have not been seen in a century. The medical community was calling it COVID-19, but the Winchesters weren’t convinced it was what they were saying it was. The way it spread screamed supernatural to them. 

They had been hunkered down in the Bunker for two weeks, but even Y/N noticed they were running low on the staples and Sam would only tolerate frozen vegetables for so long. She also needed to refill her prescriptions if they were going to quarantine themselves for the foreseeable future. She’d had the foresight to call in a three month supply earlier in the week and just got the text this morning that they were ready for pick up. 

Y/N was diagnosed in her mid-twenties with Multiple Sclerosis. She had good days and bad days. Growing up in a hunting family made things more difficult for her but she kept going despite the tingling, the weakness, and the numbness she had been experiencing. However, when she realized she was more of a liability than an asset, Y/N stepped down and became the go-to for information, quickly becoming an expert in most things in regards to the Lore. The guilt of not being able to contribute physically nearly crippled her when two of her brothers were killed on a hunt. Her mother was long gone, and now it was just her and her dad left. She had no other choice and called some other hunters, and old family friends; the Winchesters. 

Sam and Dean did not hesitate to lend their assistance, and with their help, they were able to neutralize the pack of wolves that had taken part of her family. The Winchesters invited her and her dad to stay with them in the Bunker permanently, and she accepted, not having much left. Her dad came and went, continuing to hunt either solo, or with others. It wasn’t long after she moved in that she and Dean married, unable to deny their feelings any longer. 

“Sammy! We need to make a supply run,” Dean announced, walking into the library, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Hey, honey. How are you feeling today?” 

“Pretty good today, Winchester.” She smiled up at her husband. “I already started a list.” 

“You’re the best. How’d I get so damn lucky?” Dean pressed a kiss to her lips. 

“I’m a sucker for that car of yours,” she giggled, picking up her notebook and pen to finish the list. 

“It’s always the car,” Dean smiled, shaking his head.

As Y/N finished the list, her left hand started shaking, her wedding band shining in the brightly lit room. Her mind drifted back to the day she and Dean exchanged vows. 

Y/N slipped the circle of silver over Dean’s ring finger, her damp eyes finding his. His verdant irises widened at the sensation he felt when she placed the ring on his finger. He brushed it off as nerves, combined with butterflies, but after a few pictures, and a few drinks, the sensation wasn’t lessening. If anything, it got stronger. 

“Sam, what the hell? I think my ring is cursed!” Dean exclaimed in a hushed voice, cornering his brother in the kitchen. Dean ripped the ring off his finger and the sensation went away. He shoved the ring at his brother. “Go get Y/N’s ring and fix this!” 

“Dean, the rings aren’t cursed,” Sam laughed, opening another beer. 

“It’s giving me a weird feeling man. Like it’s, and this is gonna sound weird, even for me, but I think it’s beating,” Dean whispered the last word, looking expectantly at his brother, waiting for a response, an explanation, anything.

“That’s because it is, Dean,” Sam shrugged, taking a long sip off his beer. 

“What the hell?” Dean said, looking down at the ring in his hand. Tentatively, he turned it over, inspecting it closely, seeing nothing but the heartbeats engraved in the silver, before placing it back on his finger. There it was...ba boom, ba boom, ba boom, just slightly faster than his own. 

“There you are,” Y/N smiled as she entered the kitchen, gliding over to Dean to wrap her arms about his middle. “I love you, husband.” 

“I love you, too, wife,” Dean echoed, kissing her soundly. 

Making his exit, Sam glanced over his shoulder at the bride and groom, a smile playing at his lips. He could relax a little for now; his brother was happy. 

“Hey, honey, um, this is gonna sound weird, but, I think my ring is … beating,” Dean swallowed thickly. It still sounded stupid even as the words left his lips. 

“Mine, too, babe,” Y/N told him. The perplexed look on Dean’s face prompted her to continue. “You know how I always worry about you on a hunt? When you don’t answer, or your phone’s dead, or smashed to bits by yet another monster? I brought the idea to Sam and we spelled the rings. Mine reflects your heartbeat, and yours, mine. This way, I’ll always know you’re okay.” 

“So, it’s not my imagination. I was beginning to think I’d lost my damn mind!” Dean revealed, looking relieved at the information Y/N had supplied. He glanced down at the simple ring, feeling her steady heartbeat inside of it. He smiled. “You’ll always be with me even when we’re apart. I kinda love this.” 

“I kinda love it, too, Dean. it makes me feel better knowing I can always feel you right here.” She held up her ring, wiggling her finger, smiling as it caught the light. 

“Babe!” Y/N called out, waving the list in the air. 

“Got it!” Dean dodged around the table, snatching the slip of paper from her fingers, slowing only enough to place a kiss to the top of her head. He scanned the list as he headed toward the hall leading to the garage. “Really?” 

“Yes, really!” Y/N laughed in response, knowing he hit the part of the list with the tampons and pads on it. “The joys of being married, babe!” 

“This part still sucks ass!” he groaned. “Sammy, get a move on!” 

Y/N grabbed her cane, slowly making her way to the kitchen. She was slightly worried as several times while they’d been gone, did the heartbeat in her ring pick up, like Dean was filled with adrenaline. Things must be getting worse out there, and she wanted to be able to see Dean as soon as he was home, to ensure herself that he was okay. As good as she was with research and theoretical information, she really was a tangible person and knew the worry wouldn’t ease until she had her arms wrapped firmly around him. 

She heard Baby’s engine and doors before she heard Sam or Dean. She waited patiently in the kitchen as Sam came in, arms loaded down with bags. “How was it?” Y/N looked up at Sam for confirmation, knowing Dean tended to sugarcoat information in an effort to protect her. She didn’t need protecting, she just needed the truth. 

“It’s not great. We had to drive over to Smithville to get everything we needed. It’s getting worse by the hour, Y/N,” Sam replied solemnly. “I think this is the last trip we’re making together. It’ll be better if I go alone. If I get sick, I can isolate myself. If you or Dean get sick, I don't know...” Sam stopped, taking a moment. 

“Sam, I’m sure you both took the necessary precautions. Dean’s a germaphobe by nature so I’m sure he is out there now, sanitizing his Baby already. He wore a mask, didn’t he? And gloves?” 

“He sure did. Got some strange looks and things got a little dicey at the liquor store, and the drugstore. I don’t know why people are still hoarding toilet paper and feminine hygiene products,” Sam said, a look of disbelief on his face. 

“It’s actually a psychological response to minimize risk. It’s an emotional contagion as well, so when it starts happening in one part of the country, that news spreads and it drives people, either by fear, anxiety, or panic, into doing the same thing. I get the toilet paper, since that is a need everyone has, but tampons, really? I don't know why I’m surprised by anything at this point,” Y/N chuckled a bit as she reached for one of the bags to help Sam. 

“No!” Sam pulled the bags back from her. “Sorry. It’s just, um, can you please go wait in the library until I get all of this unpacked and sanitized? Please?”

“Yes, I can. Thank you, Sam. I appreciate you and am thankful for your concern,” Y/N smiled as she rose to her feet and made her way down the hall. She loved Sam as more than just a brother and her best friend. He had become her physical therapist of sorts, designing different workouts for her to keep her body strong when the MS wanted to take it from her. Sam had also done extensive research on different dietary and nutrition plans that people with MS have had success with combating their symptoms. Dean was her emotional rock, while Sam became the physical one. She lowered herself into one of the recliners and picked up a book. She’d had enough research for the day and some Harry Potter was what she needed to take her mind off things.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @meganwinchester1999​ @cherrycokegirls1​ @closetspngirl​  @roxyspearing​ @flamencodiva​ @blacktithe7​ @sis-tafics​ @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten​ @amanda-teaches​ @hannahindie​ @wotinspntarnation​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @winecatsandpizza​ @kickingitwithkirk​  @wi-deangirl77​ @hobby27​ @mogaruke​ @gh0stgurl​ @alleiradayne​ @idreamofplaid​ @seenashwrite​ @manawhaat​ @crashdevlin​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @emoryhemsworth​

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @maddiepants​  @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-jackles​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @akshi8278​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​