#i also rarely consider pms or think about my period at all until it's actually happening

[hartlow]

Any other transmascs like...completely oblivious of their period though? One of the reasons my cramps are bedridden-level-bad on the first day is bc I will literally have to cramp for like 45 minutes until I realize my stomach might hurt for a reason. And I feel like period cramps are a very specific kind of pain that you'd recognize immediately if you aren't an idiot like me 😭

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Ateez: GF Having PMS

PMS: Pre-menstrual syndrome. Aka, those 1-2 weeks before a girl gets her period, they have symptoms like acne, bloating, cramps, food cravings, fatigue, increased sexual libido, mood swings, tender breasts and irritability among other things. It's not actually when you are on your period, for those of you who don't know. Also girls: it's totally normal and don't feel bad about any of these symptoms or talking about them ♡♡♡♡

Kim Hongjoong:

Hongjoong didn't know what was going on with you. One minute you're happy and wanting to cuddle, and then a minute later you're mad for no reason. It was making him angry honestly. You two have been dating for almost a month, he thought you were past the push and pull game already.

"What is wrong with you Y/N?!" He blurted out one day when your mood swings were too much.

He felt really bad when you started crying though.

"I'm sorry... it's not your fault. I get like this when I'm PMSing and I don't even notice...I'm sorry." You said while wiping tears out of your face.

Now it clicked in his brain and he felt even more bad. Carefully he sat down next to you and rubbed your back.

"Hey it's ok, don't worry. I didn't mean to raise my voice at you, so I'm sorry for that."

He pulled you into a hug and just held you there till you stopped crying.

"Better now?" He asked once you calmed down to which you nodded.

"Good. Now do you wanna go get ice cream?"

He got better at dealing with your mood swings every time they happened. He learned to back off when you were irritated and to hold you when you were sad.

Park Seonghwa:

Technically you weren't on your period, but for some reason you only got cramps during PMS and they were horrible.

All Seonghwa heard was "cramps" and he was very much on it. He ran out the door to the nearest store, bought a heating pad, bought chamomile tea to make for you, ibuprofen for the pain and even picked up a cute teddy bear for you.

So then Seonghwa handed you the bear while he placed the the heating pad on your tummy and gave you a glass of water for you to take one of the pills. The tea was already being brewed in the kitchen. Making sure it wasn't too hot to burn you, he took it to you and insisted on helping you sip on it.

"Are you feeling any better?" He asked you with a lot of tenderness.

You nodded and smiled at him. "Yes I am. Thank you, you're the perfect boyfriend."

You asked him to cuddle with you, which he was happy to oblige. However he made sure not to squeeze you too hard, worried that he might accidentally put pressure on your tummy and make your cramps worse.

Jeong Yunho:

You were fatigued, just laying on your bed, blankets covering you. It was well past 11 a.m and you still didn't feel the energy to get up. Your plan was to lay in bed for the whole day, or if you had to get up, do very minimal activity.

Suddenly a loud door slamming open and a loud:

"Honey! I'm home!!"

Yunho's energetic voice resonated through the house.

"Baby?! Where are you?!" He asked loudly.

You groaned, unable to even tell him where you were.

"There you are! So I got the day off and I thought we could- is something wrong?" He was worried when he saw your low state.

"I'm just really tired that's all. I don't feel like getting out of bed." You responded.

He was really worried though, wondering if you were sick or something. That's when you explained you just had fatigue due to PMS and just wanted rest.

"I'm sorry we can't go out like you wanted to."

"No! It's ok. We can just stay indoors and watch movies all day long. I'm always in a cuddling mood you know." He said as he joined you on the bed and wrapped his arms around you.

Kang Yeosang:

Movie nights with your boyfriend were a regular occurrence. You guys rarely payed attention to the movie, you both ended up talking very comfortably to each other. This particular night, your PMS symptom of tender breasts was acting up more than normal. Usually, you could go about your day without it bothering you, tonight it was too much though. And unconsciously your hands went in your shirt, kneading at them.

"Uh.....what are you doing?" Yeosang's voice snapped you back to reality.

"Oh.....my boobs are sore." You simply answered.

Yeosang just nodded like he understood and just looked back at the tv as he sipped on his apple juice. Wanting to mess with him a bit, you asked:

"Want to help me out?"

The juice box suddenly flattened as he sucked in all of the juice, flustered at your question. He looked at you with a look that asked "seriously?" You simply pouted at him.

"Ok." He shrugged and put his juice down.

"Wait what?" It was now your turn to be flustered.

Choi San:

Days leading up to your period were super annoying. Not only did you get killer headaches randomly, but your body decides to bloat out of nowhere and so the jeans that fit you perfectly yesterday now couldn't zip up.

"Oh fuck off!" You huffed out when the zipper ended up breaking from you pulling on it so much.

"I didn't even do anything??" San's voice from the bedroom reminded you that you weren't alone.

"Not you! I was talking about my jeans!" You explained.

"Why what's wrong?" He asked.

"They don't fit and the zipper broke." You whined.

San came inside the bathroom, seeing what the problem was.

"They fit fine yesterday?" He was confused about what happened.

And so a mini lesson on your body changes during PMS ensued. San ate up all the information for next time.

"Why don't I just buy you stretchy pants so you're more comfortable?" He suggested.

"Aww that's so nice of you." You awed at his kind gesture.

"But between you and me, I'd rather have you with no pants on." He winked at you.

You grabbed a towel and threw it at him.

"Choi San! Now you fuck off!"

Song Mingi:

You were avoiding seeing your boyfriend for the past 2 days, feeling embarrassing about the tiny breakouts that popped out on your cheeks. You didn't like looking at them and hated if anyone saw you like that. But Mingi was clingy and couldn't go one day without seeing you and so one day you were startled when he tapped on your bedroom window and then proceeded to crawl his way in.

"What are you doing here?!" You screeched as you covered your face with the blanket.

"I needed to make sure you weren't dead or kidnapped!" He responded as he got up from the floor.

He looked at your weird position and asked what it was about, and you refused to answer. Mingi just strode over to you and pulled the blanket off you.

"Don't! I look horrible!" You tried reaching for something else to cover up.

"You look fine. What are you talking about?" He was genuine confused what you meant.

"No I don't! Look at this! Stupid breakouts! I hate it!" You crossed your arms and looked down.

Mingi's heart dropped at your words.

"Honey listen.." He sat down next to you and held your hand. "Those things are totally normal. Everyone gets them once in a while, so don't feel bad. You're still beautiful no matter what."

He smiled brightly at you, hoping to cheer you up. You smiled back and didn't feel so self conscious about it anymore.

Jung Wooyoung:

Wooyoung honestly loved annoying you with his love. Usually you were very patient with him, except when you were PMSing, then you were irritable almost every day and had no patience for anyone, including him. If you think that'd stop him and leave you alone, you're wrong. That's when he likes annoying you the most. He thinks you look like cute whenever you yell at him to stop or to leave you alone.

"Who's the cutest kitten here?" He said in a sing song voice as he ruffled your hair.

"Stooop!" You whined out, getting annoyed.

"Oooh feisty kitten! Maybe if I tickle your-"

"Noooo!" You moved away from him when he tried to touch your face.

"Y/N baby.." He continued.

"Go away!" You swatted his hand away and marched to the bathroom to cool off for a little bit.

Wooyoung laughed at you stomping away in annoyance.

"One day she might actually kill you." Yeosang pointed out.

"Nah she won't, she loves me too much. Besides, isn't she hot when she's angry?" Wooyoung said.

"I seriously hold onto my theory that you're a masochist and a weirdo." Yeosang shook his head.

Choi Jongho:

Honestly you felt blessed that your only PMS symptom was weird cravings that turned you into a foodie. You had heard horror stories from your friends about how their PMS was unbearable, so you considered yourself lucky. In fact, sometimes you even forgot it was a PMS symptom.

Jongho never noticed anything unusual about your cravings, thinking you were hungry or something, until you pulled out a really weird combination that seemed to last days.

"You're eating that again?" He asked as he stared at the food in front of you.

"Yeah. I've been really craving it recently."

Jongho's heart stopped for a moment, panic rushing through him.

"Oh my God! I think I got you pregnant!" He exclaimed, his hands going to his head.

You bursted out laughing at that.

"What? No you didn't you silly goose." It was so amusing to you that he came to that conclusion.

"Then how else do you explain it?!" You honestly felt bad at how he was freaking out.

Pulling out a chair, you gestured for him to sit on it.

"Make yourself comfortable Jongho. Time for a little biology lesson."

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

[samwrights]

Two Little Lines

Let’s just keep playing around with the pregnancy/baby theme, shall we? 😂😈 it’s going to be on the fluffier side, however, we are gonna sprinkle in some very mild NSFW. And we got real angsty with Kenma and we’re just gonna make em all real long. Sorry this took me a few days to do!

Kenma;

Let’s be honest, Kenma would be the cautious one that would more so plan for pregnancy.

Life’s going great for Kenma—great job, cushy life, hot wife??? How did he get so lucky?

Cause he’s cute af that’s how

He was finally ready to add another player to the party.

However, life can’t always be perfect and apparently neither can the two of you trying for a baby.

For the last year and a half now, Friday nights were your thing. No streaming, no work, no phone calls. You and Kenma—that’s it. And while he definitely had become very explorative in that time, every negative pregnancy test was wearing his drive down.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that Kenma isn’t a fan of going to the doctor, even to check on how his little swimmers are doing. “If it’s not meant to be, we’ll find another way.” But you could tell it was breaking his heart a little bit.

Frisky Friday’s became fragile Friday’s, in which the two of you really just cuddled in bed together, fireplace lit, and talked about hopeful dreams of finally having a child together, until one of you hopefully got in the mood.

Shit, this whole ordeal was even making your marriage rough. Kenma had been so hard on himself lately that he could barely look at you, which caused you to start to feel insecure, causing the both of you to fight.

It’s Friday night. No streaming, no work, and no phone calls. That was how it was supposed to be. But instead, Kenma is naked in bed atop the comforter, playing with his switch.

It’s pissing you off.

“I don’t know what you wanna do anymore, Kenma. Do you even want a family? Do you even want to be with me anymore?”

“Why would you even say that?” It’s Friday night. The two of you are supposed to be hanging out in bed, naked and just being together, not picking fights with each other. But since that seems to be the case, you see Kenma flush with anger.

“Maybe because you’re playing Animal Crossing instead of looking at me??” Your husband sighs before putting his switch on the night stand before taking down the loose knot that his hair typically resides in. He’s anxious. “You’re acting like I’m not upset about this too.”

As you’re talking to him, you cautiously clamber over him, your face filled with raw emotion. And, after being married for the better half of a decade, you can see what he’s feeling. Failure, distress, and pain were only the start of it. “Please, Kenma. One more time, and we’ll start looking at other options.”

Apparently one more time was all it took, according to the three pregnancy tests you’d taken a month later. Seeing those two little lines on one of the tests that your husband had bought in bulk sent your heart into palpitations. You were going to be a mom.

Kenma comes home from work that Friday—you decided to surprise him. “What do you want to do tonight Kenma?”

??? “Honey, it’s Friday. Don’t we usually...” he stops. Either you were giving up on trying, which you two would have discussed, or... “wait, you don’t mean...”

Holding up the positive pregnancy test, you begin to cry. Kenma does too.

“Baby Kozume has joined the party.”

Kuroo;

Only the two of you would get pregnant while having an IUD implant. Literally, that was just your luck. But it was still possible.

Which you had yet to tell Kuroo—at the moment you were thankful the two of you weren’t cohabitating yet because you were able to hide your unbearable morning sickness.

You were at least waiting to see your doctor to have your IUD removed before telling him, mostly out of fear but also because, if he did notice your morning sickness, you could pawn it off as symptoms of the removal.

You hoped that this wouldn’t take too long or as be as painful as it was going in, but then again you were going to be pushing a human out in nearly 8 months.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon; Kuroo has already finished classes for the day while you’re still out at your appointment. He did have a key to your appointment, but it was strange that you weren’t home considering you didn’t have classes.

He wasn’t gonna call you out on it though—Kuroo trusted you. Instead, he opted to just rummaging around your apartment, cleaning up dishes that were left standing in the sink and making lunch for the two of you.

The minute you walked through your door, the smell of his cooking wafted through the air and absolutely did not agree with you or the baby’s sense of smell. “Fuck,” you grit out before bolting to the bathroom to hurl.

??? = Kuroo.

“Babe? You okay?” Your response was more vomiting, which was apparent both by sound and by visual—you hadn’t even closed the door to the bathroom and Kuroo got to witness the scene clear as day.

In comfort, Kuroo rubs your lower back in an attempt to coax the remaining bile from your body. Disturbing, was the only way Kuroo could describe it, considering you rarely ever puked. In the last six years of dating, he’s only seen it once while you drunk.

When the nausea finally passed, Kuroo cleaned your face up with a warm rag before sitting you on his knee while he sat at the edge of the tub. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“That, actually.”

“What?” Kuroo’s a smart guy, however it took him a few minutes to decipher your two word puzzle. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, I was gonna tell you today, actually. I just had to go get my IUD removed.” For a moment he’s stunned—the IUD was supposed to be nearly foolproof. But nearly is the key word.

“Babe, you’re pregnant! Holy shit, I gotta call Kenma and Bo and tell them they’re gonna be uncles!” 💀💀💀

“Sooo, you’re okay with it...?” After all, there was a reason you had chosen to go with an IUD after your guys’ last pregnancy scare two years ago.

After all, being a freshman in college wasn’t necessarily an ideal time to start a family.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He balks.

“Because we’re college students that still have another year to graduate?” You deadpan as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“And? Now we’re gonna be married college graduates with little baby Kuroo.” M a r r i e d?

“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, Tetsu.”

“What, you don’t wanna marry me?” For a minute, his face contorts with...confusion? Sadness? Anger? A myriad of all the above? “I’ve wanted to marry you since high school.”

“Is this a proposal?”

“The rings been in my gym bag since senior year.”

Akaashi;

Akaashi Keiji, contrary to popular opinion, was a real romantic.

Even as college students, while your focus should be on your studies, Akaashi never slacked on making you feel special and loved. He knew it, you knew it, and your poor neighbors that shared the wall between your bedrooms knew it.

Kinda made it awkward when the two of you would leave for class and you’d meet your neighbors’ eyes in the apartment hallway. But ya know, it is what it is.

Honestly, it’s too challenging not to go at it every day when your boyfriend is the sweetest, most endearing human to walk the planet.

But enough gushing about Akaashi. Four years into your relationship, you had never felt so off in your life. The last three weeks, all you wanted to do was sleep and eat, you couldn’t focus on anything at all. You couldn’t even have sex with Akaashi.

You know, your wonderful partner that you literally boned everyday? Yeah.

It felt like a permanent, three week PMS for a period that never came. Not that that was entirely abnormal for you—intense amounts of stress can throw off your menstrual cycle and stress was certainly no stranger to you.

But no. You knew your body and you knew it well. Something was wrong.

Just in case things went awry, you scheduled a doctor’s appointment with Keiji’s knowledge. After all, it could very well be nothing and there was no point in causing your man to worry.

“Miss, were you aware that you’re nearly six weeks pregnant?” 💀💀💀 obviously not, doc.

Not entirely convinced, whether because you’re a tad dense or because you really just don’t want to believe the doctor, you swing by a local drug store to grab a test. Just in case, like somehow the doctor would be wrong.

Thankfully, you get home before Akaashi is back from work for the evening, giving you the privacy of seeing your results with your own eyes. Even though you literally could go look at the results and notes from your doctors visit, but ya know.

You don’t even know how long you sat on the floor of your shared bathroom, just staring at the two little lines. You didn’t even realize Akaashi came home.

He calls your name, at first not necessarily concerned that the only light in the apartment was peeking from under the bathroom door. But with no answer, he calls out your name again. No answer. “Honey, is it okay if I come in?”

“Y-yeah?” You aren’t really sure how to answer. How the hell was Akaashi going to react? You guys didn’t have time for a kid?? You’re completely zoned out, staring blankly at the bathtub in front of you. Lowkey, you’re freaking out Akaashi.

Even more so when he sees your hand loosely cradling the pregnancy test—judging by your reaction, he knows what the result is. But he can’t think of anything to say, what is there even to say?

He’s not upset, no. Shocked? Obviously. Mad, not at all considering he’s just as much responsible. The “R” word is what triggers him.

Responsible, in the sense that in less than a year, the two of you were going to be parents. It swelled joy within him. While the two of still had yet to speak, Akaashi comes to your side, sliding down the wall to sit beside you before wrapping his arms around you.

“So, are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

[purplesurveys]

1264

Who are you subscribed to on YouTube?  Oh man, I’m probably subscribed to over a hundred, if not 200. I’ve subscribed to channels relevant to interests I’ve had over the years, and since it’s not my habit to do spring cleaning on my feeds, the subscriptions have just keep piling up even if I no longer keep up with literally like 98% of them.

Do you like to go to the farmer's market?  I don’t think I’ve ever been in one yet. They aren’t very common here and the ones we do have are pricey and mostly inaccessible to the everyday consumer, I’m sure.

What will (or was) the color of your wedding dress be?  I wouldn’t want any other color than white.

What's your favorite melon?  I don’t like fruits.

What was the name of the last pet of yours that died?  Arlee. Technically my family mostly considered her as just Nina’s pet, but the sting was felt all the same when we learned she died.

When was the last time you wished the day would just get over with?  Yesterday, because it was Friday. Pretty self-explanatory, I wanted to get to the weekend so I can finally let go of work for a couple of days.

Name one person you've never had a fight with:  Andi. I think we’re both afraid of pissing the other off, which works out for us lol.

What are you currently listening to?  I can just hear the really loud whirring of my electric fan because it’s a grossly humid day today.

What would you rather have: cat or dog?  Dogs.

Who is your least favorite person in real life?  I have a lot of uncles I just don’t like.

Do you ever watch anybody's live stream of... anything, really?  Technically, yeah. I will sometimes tune in to livestreams of lofi music on YouTube, but I do it to listen, not to watch. 

Does your house have security cameras?  No.

If you go grey as you age, would you dye your hair or let it be?  I think I might dye it for a certain period of time, but I also think I would eventually reach the point where I’ll just accept it and slowly let go of the dye.

What was the last establishment you stopped going to due to bad service? What happened?  I haven’t run into much bad service, but I’ll never forget how long my order and bill took for Mad Mark’s. I never really vowed per se to never go back there again and I definitely didn’t confront the staff, but I haven’t eaten there since that incident.

What soundtrack do you listen to the most?  Not a big soundtrack listener.

Was there a family secret you weren’t told about until you were an adult?  Nah, they’re kept from us until now. The biggest one I’ve heard about was having a kleptomaniac in the family but we were never told who it is.

Do you have an opinion most people you meet seem to disagree with you?  Yeah, my dislike for fruits.

What’s something you like to have many options to choose from?  Clothes, I guess, like bucket hats. I don’t shop a lot and clothes aren’t a priority in my budget, so when I do pick out clothes, it has to be exactly what I want so that I don’t feel it was a waste of money.

What’s the strangest decorative object you own?  We have several quirky, disconnected decor in the living room from gifts we’ve acquired over the years. One object I can tell you about is the polar bear glass figurine we have on the coffee table.

What’s a thing you couldn’t imagine doing with your life right now?  Dating around.

What’s been your proudest moment?  Managing to stay alive this year and turn my life around for the better when I thought there was no hope.

What’s the filthiest non-pornographic movie you’ve seen?  Eyes Wide Shut, probably.

Do you know anyone who doesn't seem to be fond of animals?  I don’t think so. Like any animal...? I would find that quite odd, honestly. And I wouldn’t want to be friends with them if we weren’t already close .

Are you planning any outings or trips anytime soon? Whereabouts?  No, nothing set in stone. I do want to fly out to South Korea soon, though.

Do you know anyone who has a phobia of a certain animal?  I know a few people who are afraid of dogs.

Is there a particular brand of technology/electronics that you prefer?  Yeah, Apple.

Is there a singer whose voice gives you goosebumps/chills?  Hayley Williams and Jin, especially when he’s belting; and I don’t listen to her much, but I find that Billie Eilish has a unique voice that sounds really nice.

And is there a singer whose voice you simply can't stand?  Selena Gomez for some of her songs, Meghan Trainor for most of her songs.

Are there any authors that are particularly dominant on your bookshelf?  No.

Have you seen any photographs or videos that made you smile today?  Sure.

Which item in your fridge are you most looking forward to consuming? My aunt sent over this gigantic-ass slab of salmon that I can’t wait to eat as sashimi. I already had a few pieces last night and it was hea ven ly.

Has anyone you know got into a new relationship lately?  Hmm, I don’t think so. I know my coworker Dev got into a relationship a few weeks ago but it fizzled out as soon as it started because the guy was shitty.

If you menstruate, do you experience much PMS prior to it?  Only on the emotional side; I rarely get physical symptoms. I usually feel down or emotionally heavy a few days before my period.

Have you ever had a tattoo covered up or added to?  No, I don’t have any tattoos. Can you remember the last time you had a sudden change of mind?  Hmm, like last night. I wanted to stay up to maximize the weekend, buuuut I decided against it and slept instead since I had been up since 2 in the morning.

When was the last time you did something on a whim?  Two weeks ago when I impulsively dropped a thousand bucks to have cheese tarts delivered to Angela and Reena, hahaha.

Were you raised by both of your parents? If not, then who raised you?  My mom, grandma, and one of my aunts were the main people who raised me. Dad works overseas, so he was never at home much.

Have you ever began a relationship with someone you knew for less than a week?  No, I wouldn’t do that.

Has one of your friends ever tried to ‘hook you up?’  Mik tried to pair me with one of his friends just days before I finally implied on social media that I was no longer in a relationship. It was a cool ego boost but I declined, since my emotions were still super turbulent then. Andi tried to initiate sex with me once too, but I also declined.

What is your card game of choice?  I hate card games; I can never seem to understand them lmao, though that’s really more of a me problem than anything else.

What is your favourite books series?  Growing up, I really loved the Septimus Heap series. But the thing about it was that I got into it while the series was still ongoing; and with how bad my attention span is, I always forgot the events/plot whenever the newest book came out. 

So whenever that happened I had to read the entire series from Book 1; eventually the number of books I had to reread/revisit became too many (it was a seven-part series) and I simply just lost the time to read and I never got to know about the conclusion.

Do you prefer landmarks or street names when being given directions?  Street names – more precise. Landmarks to me can be pretty subjective – a green building might look blue to me, and I could just end up being lost.

Do you read the prologues in the beginnings of books?  Sure.

What was your favourite gym class moment?  If I genuinely like or already play the sport that was being taught. That’s why PE table tennis was a lot of fun for me.

Do you think that ocean boardwalks are fun?  I’ve never been on one but I imagine they are fun, yeah.

Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks?  That’s not a tradition here.

Do you have a favourite Scooby-Doo movie?  No. I was too young for Scooby-Doo in a sense that I do remember watching the movies as a 3/4 year old as they were kept on in the background at home, but I didn’t get any of the plots/didn’t really appreciate the films.

Do you think it’s cute when toddlers try to run away and fall down?  Sometimes, yeah. If the fall looked nasty I would obviously be concerned.

Do you enjoy listening to your grandparents tell stories of their past?  Honestly, only one of my grandparents would be the type to do this but he’s been dead for six years now. It’s a big shame he passed before I could bond with him the way I had always wanted to. My three other grandparents are either too closed off or too quiet to share stories from their youth.

Do you have a crush on someone? Nah, nothing more than a celebrity crush.

If so... what does his/her name begin with? 

What attracts you to them? 

Do they know that you like them? 

If they don't know, why didn't you tell them? 

Name two people that you miss:  Angela and Laurice.

Have you ever seen Titanic?  More times than I can count. I’m sure I memorize like 80% of the script, too.

Have you ever swam with dolphins?  No. I’m not so sure if I’ve seen dolphins, either. Maybe I have? Or maybe I’m confusing it with whales...idrk.

When was the last time you had a stomachache?  Wednesday.

What's going to bed early for you?  11 PM or midnight.

Do you want to have a big family in the future?  I used to, but I don’t think that’s the future I want anymore. One or two kids should be okay.

What was the last thing you did that gave you a rush?  Technically speaking, an orgasm, I guess?? Lmao idk

Favorite Nicholas Cage movie?  I don’t think I have one.

Have you had your Covid vaccine yet? Which one, if you have?  Yeah, I’m fully dosed. Sinovac.

If you've had your vaccine, did you experience any side effects?  I was suuuuuuper tired right after my first dose and I wanted to be knocked the fuck out, but I went right back to work after the shot because I am allergic to filing leaves hahaha. Second dose went smoothly.

What's the next item of clothing that you intend to buy for yourself?  A bucket hat or maybe one of the Fila x BTS shirts because the collection is actually quite cute!

What Facebook groups have you found the most helpful?  I join Facebook groups to be entertained, not because I actively look for advice.

Do you like your butt? Why or why not?  Yeah. It...has a good form hahahahahaha.

Have you ever personally been a victim of homophobia?  Yes, a few years ago I went to a food park with my ex-girlfriend. I was already not feeling my best that day to begin with, so having to see an old woman stare daggers at us for what felt like years really stung. I felt small under her look and almost cried, but in the end I felt angry that I momentarily felt shame about my relationship. I decided to just piss the woman off on purpose and do PDA right in front of her.

Do you think you’d be happier if you had a pet? I have two dogs at present and I know they make me extremely happy.

Who was the last person you went on a date with?  Gabie.

Were you ever hospitalized as a little kid?  No. The first and only time I was hospitalized (other than being birthed), I was about 12, I think.

What’s your favorite way to curl your hair?  I don’t do that. I rarely style my hair.

At what age did you start swearing?  I was 11.

What is something you physically can’t do?  Ride a bike.

What do like better, apples or oranges?  I don’t like any fruits; but in terms of flavored stuff, I like orange-flavored food, especially chewy candy, slightly more.

Around the holidays, do you hope for snow?  Well, no.

What are your top two favorite bands?  Paramore and Against Me!

How many people do you 100% trust?  There are a handful. I generally trust easily just because I like to believe all people are kind and loyal – but I can also take it away in the snap of a finger.

Do you care what others think about you?  Not so much.

Has anyone ever called you a bitch?  Sure.

Did you watch Teletubbies when you were younger?  Yeah but just super super faint memories. It wasn’t one of my main shows.

Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license?  I don’t.

Could you live the rest of your life without eating meat?  I doubt it. I could try, but I think I’d get cranky and start looking for meat way earlier than I would like to admit.

Have you ever had a rolling backpack?  Yup, if you mean a stroller. I think I’ve answered this on a previous survey.

Did you make any money today?  No, because it’s a weekend. What was the highest place you've ever jumped from?  Nothing dramatically high. I’ve had acrophobia-themed nightmares in the past, so even though I don’t actually have a fear of heights, the idea of jumping from a high place still makes me antsy.

Have you ever gone swimming in a river?  Not that I can recall.

What was the last souvenir someone got you?  I dunno if it counts but Andi bought merch from the AEW shop but made sure to also get a CM Punk sticker set for me :(

Do you have a favorite remix of a song?  Remixes have never been my thing. What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument?  Piano.

Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies?  Yeah they can definitely affect the level of appreciation I hold towards a film. For instance, if I genuinely enjoyed a movie only to find out it has average to bad reviews, it invites me to think more critically about the movie.

Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar/etc.)?  No.

If you had $500,000, what would you do with it?  Give half to my parents and let them do whatever they wish it. With the remaining P12,500,000, I’d probably get myself my own condo and have it fully furnished, then get braces, then get a new phone and laptop. I’ll have a bunch of money still left, I’m pretty sure – the rest of it I’ll save.

Did the last person you touched lips with have a kid?  No. I mean, I have honestly no clue what’s going on in her life now, but I know she doesn’t want kids so this is very unlikely.

"First loves are never really over." Is this true for you?  It’s true in a sense that she left me a lot of trauma and self-esteem issues that will irrevocably always be a part of me now even though I’ve worked hard to resolved most of them by myself.

Did you like Michael Jackson before he died?  Yes, because he has always been my favorite singer’s role model.

What are some things that would make you break up with someone?  I don’t know how to answer this question, honestly. All the red flags were thrown and tossed and slapped into my face and down my throat for six years yet I never left. I don’t actually know what my limits are, and I believe it’s because my coping mechanism has to just accept things and suck them up no matter how bad they get. That’s what I’m trying to change for myself now.

What was the worst breakup you've ever had?  I’ve had two breakups with the same person, and the second one was worse.

[1iam]

ADVANCED MENTAL ALCHEMY “The All Is Mind; The Universe Is Mental.” - The Kybalion

The Universe is the product of an entity of intellect and it is entirely mental.  Through scientific research we know that all forms of "matter" are actually energy under law.  Also, with the advent of Quantum physics we are just beginning to understand the relationship between consciousness (the observer) and the Universal energy.  As stated above, the mind is all, and being all, it has the ability to place its will upon the material Universe (material reality).  The Mind is not human but its greatest expression in the mental mechanics of material reality is in the form of Man.  A man/woman, is the Mind in flesh.  The walking, talking creator of material reality.  The Universe that we live in is a mental energy arrangement that responds to the collective mental activity of us all to produce an experience of material reality for the Mind to exercise and entertain itself.  At any point of material observation (person), the Mind can awaken from its dream in character personage and exercise its will upon all of material reality (The Universe). The Universe (material reality) is an energy arrangement that is constantly changing and adjusting based upon the mental commands it receives from people, who are basically for lack of a better term, "God in the flesh."  The energy of this mental matrix does not obey the rules of time, distance, and matter when making adjustments and changes but it does do its best to stay within the present storyline of material reality so as not to cause the matrix to become meaningless.  Probably 99.9% of the time, the changes and adjustments made by the energy matrix are complete and unnoticeable to the unawake human family.  But, if you'll just look around right now and consider your daily life so far, I'm sure you can imagine that there is an enormous amount of information under law here and hiccups can occur in the process.

During the week of April 11, 2021 to April 17, 2021 I had a doctors appointment that Monday the 12th that required me to take the day off from my trucking job with CMAC Transportation.  The doctors appointment didn't take long and I was actually happy about having the day off because that would leave me with a four day work week.  Driving a semi is not an easy job and five day work weeks take a toll on you, so I was happy to have a doctors appointment to excuse one of those days.  I had that Monday the 12th off but my boss (Rich) at the CMAC account where I work informed me that week that he needed me to work on Saturday, April 17, 2021.   I'm all about making the company and our customers as successful as possible.  I didn't want to work the Saturday, but they needed me and I was there.  It turned my four day work week back into a five day work week with only Sunday the 18th before Monday again and at least another 5 day work week.  That stuck with me in my mind!  I worked Saturday the 17th of April, carried a load of WestRock cartons to Kelloggs in Battlecreek, MI.  I started at 6:00 AM, got my paperwork, logged into the Qualcomm in my tractor, called dispatch for a load number and logged that into the Qualcomm.  I did a pretrip inspection on my tractor and logged it into the Qualcomm.  You know, the whole nine!  The GPS on the Qualcomm was logging my whole trip.  When I got to Kelloggs I signed a gate pass and went and got signatures for the load from the receiving department.  I drove back to Brownstown MI with the Qualcomm logging my trip the whole way.  I did a post trip inspection of my vehicle, certified the day and logged out of the Qualcomm.  I turned in signed paperwork at WestRock insuring that the load was received in Battlecreek in good condition.  I went home.  It wasn't a long day, I was done by 1:00 PM.

I had an appointment at the Secretary Of State office to have my driver's license renewed on April 27, 2021.  My license expires on my birthday in July this year.  Because of the pandemic I got an early appointment.  If I missed my April appointment the next opening was in October!  I notified CMAC Transportation of that and of course, they gave me the day off to go and handle my CDL-A situation.  I was happy about that because it wouldn't take that long and it turned my five day work week into a four day work week.  I went and handled that business on Tuesday, April 27, 2021 and had a great day off from work.  Near the end of the work week, my boss at WestRock, Rich, notified me that he really needed me to work Saturday the 1st of May.  In my mind, I'm like "All hell naw!  That's blowing my four day work week!"  Of course, I'm about being of value to the company and the customer.  They will never regret hiring me.  All I said was "Yes Sir, I'll see you in the morning."  But, in my mind, I'm thinking I see how they're going to play me, every time I get a day off during the week they're going to work me on Saturday.  Anyway, I worked Saturday the 1st of May as well.  But these two Saturdays are in my mind because I worked them and they blew my four day work weeks. When the April 11, 2021 to April 17, 2021 pay period came around, guess what?  Saturday, April 17, 2021 wasn't in my pay!  Okay, okay, they slipped up, it can happen.  I'll just call CMAC Transportation and notify them that they missed paying me for Saturday April the 17th, no problem, right?  WRONG!  CMAC notifies me that they have no record of me working Saturday, April 17th.  Now, not only was my four day work week screwed up, but CMAC is telling me I didn't work on Saturday April the 17th and they're not paying me.  At this point, in my mind, I'm like, "Hey!  You got me fu*ked up!"  I tell CMAC Transportation to go back to April 17, pull up my truck number and the Qualcomm record of the whole day, logged as me, the driver, working!  CMAC Transportation tells me that they have no Qualcomm records, nothing that says I worked on Saturday April the 17th. Okay, at this point, I'm thinking, obviously, CMAC is another sleazy trucking company trying to rip me off and I'm done!  I don't let companies, people, nobody mistreat me and  just move along as though nothing happened.  I told my wife, Debbie, that I was going to resign from CMAC Transportation.  Debbie talked to me about the trucking profession, trucking companies and how unethical they have been all around.  She said, if you're going to be a company driver, you can't run every time they screw you.  She was right, but at the same time, I just couldn't eat them screwing me out of my Saturday pay as though nothing happened.  As a happy medium between my wife Debbie and myself, I didn't resign CMAC Transportation but I did notify CMAC that I was done working Saturday's until they paid me for working Saturday, April the 17th.  Now, wherever that led was up to them, but I keep my word.  We started going back and forth about me not working any more Saturdays with text messages and an administration person named Tiffany was attempting to help me understand that they have no record of me working that day and if I did work that day, I must have done so without logging into the Qualcomm.  She insinuated I was just driving the truck without taking care of any business and the truck itself never reported unauthorized driving that day, which is totally ridiculous and even insulting to me, being the professional driver that I am. My boss at the CMAC WestRock account, Rich, said he remembered me working that day but he was kind of hazy about it.  Rich is very busy everyday and the day in question was almost three weeks back, so he didn't seem absolute about it like I was.  Rich said he would try and get me paid for that Saturday, even though there was absolutely no record of me working that Saturday according to CMAC Transportation. Long story short, WestRock and CMAC Transportation valued my service and respected me as a driver so much that they paid me for Saturday April the 17th, 2021 even though they say they have absolutely no record of me ever working that day.  I want WestRock and CMAC Transportation to know that I am truly honored by that.  I do understand pay procedures and processes and how difficult it is to pay with no record of what you're paying for.  The pay was a respect thing and I'm honored by that. A few days ago Google send me an email with my April Timeline recorded.  This is a GPS Timeline that tracks the movement of my cellphone everyday, all day.  Finally, I would have proof that I went to Battlecreek MI on Saturday April 17, 2021.   I opened the email and rushed to that Saturday and boom!  There was no record of me going to Battlecreek MI on Saturday April 17,2021. Only then, did I realize that the energy matrix had made a change that was incomplete.  The matrix flipped my Saturday in every way except my memory.  By leaving the Saturday worked in my memory, it created a conflict that could have cost me my job had WestRock and CMAC Transportation not been so generous. Rarely does the energy matrix miss a detail when making changes and adjustments but it does happen from time to time.  CMAC Transportation not having any record of the Saturday should have tipped me off, but this rarely happens and the Google Timeline made me aware of it.

I did list some other examples of energy matrix slip ups in my Teachable course on Mental Manifestation.  Thanks for listening.  The experience was enjoyable when I think about it.  It took me through a range of different emotions and was worth the observation. https://mental-manifestation-school.teachable.com/

[cinemaocd]

Victorian undergarments: a guide for Terror fans

AKA the truth about men’s corsets, leather gear, garters, over the knee stockings, drop front versus front fly trousers and More Terror Shit Shirt Posting

My hot mess of a shirt post continues to get notes. I continue to get lovely asks and pms, so I’m going to bring you more shirt information as well as more info about other articles of historic clothing worn in the Terror. My hope is that this will be useful for fic writers and artists as well as giving fans a deep dive into one of my favorite obsessions: historical dress.

The style of shirt that Francis wears was an all purpose undergarment. It was almost always white, or unbleached linen (though cotton was used for shirts at that point in the 19th century). It was cut with a very full sleeve (up to twenty inches) to allow ease of movement and long tails which were tucked under the groin to form a protective layer between the body and trousers. The shirt was not a button down as we know it, but had a pullover V-neck with two buttons at the throat as on this extant example:

One of the things that interesting about this shirt was how little it changed over the years. This cut of shirt had a 150+ year reign. It was a practical design that provided a washable layer next to the body. The generous sleeve allowed for a variety of clothing to be worn with it. It had the downside of requiring a lot of fabric (more than 3 yards of linen for each shirt) and as such patterns could be a complex patchwork of sewn together squares that helped avoid waste.

By the 1840s men’s shirts were changing. The front was often decorated with pintucking, the fabric was lighter weight cotton, rather than linen, but the full sleeves and long tails were still in evidence.

Those would gradually be lost over the next decades as the popularity of knitted drawers, union suits and other types of underwear came into being and as sewing machines made mass production of shirts possible.

But obviously our Francis cares nothing for these modern shirts and wears his old favorite that he has owned forever, possibly made by a family member, as was common in the period especially for officers in the military. Mind you, it doesn’t really matter most of the time that his shirt is very old as it was never meant to be seen. One of the worst costume fantasies that has been perpetrated in so many period films is the gentleman walking around in his shirt. At least Andrew Davies Mr. Darcy had the good sense to be embarrassed to be caught in his shirt. Joe Wright’s Darcy actually goes a courtin half dressed...but I digress. We only see Crozier in his shirt sleeves after they’ve left the ship, have been hauling for a few days and during the mutiny. I like to think that Crozier realizes that wearing his old shirt will help the men identify with him more. 

If you were an officer in the military you would be provided with a steward or valet to assist in your dressing. This man would also help to keep your uniform clean and and in good repair. (Honestly one of the best relationships in all of fiction is the one between Captain Jack Aubrey and his steward, Killick, who lives in a state of constant paranoia about Aubrey’s uniforms.) An officer would have several shirts so that they could have a clean one at all times and they would probably keep a best one for dress. (Maybe Francis has a cotton shirt with pintucking, folded away in a trunk somewhere, guarded feverishly by Jopson) The sailors who had no access to regular laundry would have a few as well, though they might be made of cheaper, rougher cloth, with ticking or striped patterns on them, like the one Hickey wears during his trail.

Again, Francis appearing hauling alongside the men in his shirt is his way of signaling to them that he is one of them. Mr. Goodsir, also appears in his shirtsleeves after the mutiny, a sign that his civilized veneer is scraped away along with his outer uniform.

Drops and drawers

Well into the 19th century both men and women had no such thing as drawers, pants, underpants, knickers etc. as a rule. For men, the long shirt tails were tucked under the groin, front and back and created a little, er..nest for their equipage. For women, the shift, just a long shirt really, provided a layer of protection between menstrual blood and valuable gowns and stays, as well as protecting less washable layers from sweat and grime.

But for the men of the Terror, there was layer of knitted wool underwear, that may have been either two pieces or one suit, with buttons running the length of the body. There are very few examples of these garments, but we do know they existed thanks to the Maritime Museum saving Lord Nelson’s stuff.:

Interesting that this shirt has the long tails for tucking. But by the time of Franklin expedition, knitted long drawers would have been available as well. The full long underwear suit wasn’t patented until the 1860s in America (where it’s use by soldiers in the Civil War earned it the moniker “union suit.”) However that doesn’t mean some kind of full suit of long underwear wasn’t available in England at the time of the expedition. My guess is that Francis has a separate shirt, the top of which is visible during the crisis over Mr. Morfin, and woolen or cotton “drawers” which he mentions to Jopson on the morning after Morfin’s death like these from 1840s made by John Smedley:

Hickey is shown in his underwear after Irving’s murder and then after the mutiny he adopts it as a sort of uniform (complete with stolen boots and great coat) of the new regime. It’s such a wonderful little detail that this BASE creature is wearing only a BASE layer.

Garters, Stockings, Corsets and other Kinkwear from Military history

Men’s and women’s stocking differed very little in the 19th century. Over the knee stockings of embroidered silk would have been kept for dress, but every day socks of cotton and wool with embroidery near the top or “clocking” (because the pattern was often of a clock) were worn by all.

Lord Nelson’s stockings had a crown insignia instead of a clock, which I just think is neat. (His undershirt has the same insignia at the neck...whether it was Emma Hamilton or Lady Nelson doing this embroidery, we’ll leave to Terrence Rattigan to decide...)

Officers would have had dress socks that were held up by sock garters (elastic garters for men and women were patented in the 1820s.) Given that their shirt tails were cut to mid thigh and their socks were over the knee, it’s fairly plausible that they used a double ended garter which clipped at one end to the shirt tail and the other to the top of the stocking. If all of this is sounding like some of the racier James Fitzjames fanart that is not my fault. Blame history!

Speaking of which, did you know that men sometimes wore corsets to make their uniforms fit better?  This 1830s Royal Marines uniform at the Maritime Museum is specified to have required a corset for proper fit. Sadly the corset didn’t survive! (If anyone wants to draw Tozier, Pilkington or Hedges in a corset, I would very much like to see that.)

As if all of that weren���t kinky enough, there is this leather and rope jock strap, which was attached to a corset, also from the very naughty nautical museum in slutty, slutty Greenwich. The less said about the white crust on the jock strap the better.

Waistcoat Discourse

Well this will probably be a bit pedestrian after that section, but I think it’s worth talking about waistcoats as well. In the flashback scenes Francis wears a fancy silk waistcoat that has the same cut as the other wool one he wears.

Again this is Francis’ practical nature. Navy uniform patterns were sent out in 1843 with changes to the uniform, including a different waistcoat, so he’s having his man make the waistcoat off the same pattern, saving him money. An interesting footnote was that the Lieutenants uniform in 1843 had a bunch of additional gold braiding and there were many complaints to the admiralty about the cost of these additions. There was also a thriving second hand market in used uniform jackets.

Fitzjames has a white waistcoat cut from the same pattern.

Which is based off of the portrait of real life Fitzjames.

Wool flannel would have been the fabric of choice for arctic explorers. It’s a nice little detail, that The Real Mr. Hickey had a plaid flannel waistcoat in the flashback scene:

That striped shirt looks familiar! I wonder if the imposter Hickey took his clothes after he dabbed him?!

And finally: STOCKS

In the 18th and 19th centuries men went so far as to cover the collar of the shirt with a stock (think of it as a cumberbund for the neck) so that their collar wasn’t peaking out from their tie. It also helped to make for the appearance of a long, graceful neck. I mean scroll back up and check out the giraffe neck on historical JFJ. Stocks have generally fallen into the vast pit of forgotten fashion and it’s the rare historical costume nerd that even knows what they are, yet for almost 200 years they were considered essential kit for men. Officers in the military HAD to wear a stock as part of their uniform, and it was often uncomfortable (the base of the stock was made of leather, horsehair or WOOD) and covered with fabric. It buckled in the back, requiring a servant to help put it on. Here is a 1845 silk and leather stock from the Maritime Museum:

Though it isn’t exactly undergear, trouser fronts were in flux during this period. Here is the 1843 uniform with the fall front trouser opening. But in the world outside the navy, fly front trousers are starting to pop up around 1840ish.You are welcome to my JFJ has newfangled fly front trousers head canon...

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 7 - Galar’s National Treasure

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

Galar’s National Treasure

(aka 'Like A Normal Person')

...

...

[Snippet about Leon from Galar Daily Times: Selfless, humble and kind, Leon has swiftly become Galar’s National Treasure in a short period of time.

He has captured the hearts of all the women of Galar. As one fan states, "It's impossible to look at him without smiling."]

...

...

The ring of your alarm forces you to wake up and you are in a questionable mood following yesterday’s events.

It’s the afternoon and usually you wouldn’t wake up so early but you have to try and visit Leon before the end of the day and so you push yourself off the mattress, groaning loudly.

You perform several mild stretches in bed before you slide off to stand. You’ve woken at an unnatural hour. You are unused to this. You like light but hell, this light is blinding…you can’t help but hiss with distaste under your breath.

And downstairs, you can hear the muffled sounds of the TV.

You get dressed, head to the bathroom to wash up, remembering that you are also supposed to return Leon's snapback if possible.

Visiting hours officially ends at seven pm which you think is generous so when you return to the room, you pack your bag with his hat and some other essentials should you decide to pull another all-nighter in the Wild Area. You highly doubt you will considering how exhausted you are and you head downstairs with bag in tow where you see Magnolia, Sonia, Cutiefly and Polteageist in the lounge watching the news.

Once they hear you come down, they rise from their seats and embrace you. As usual, Cutiefly dives for your hair and Poltea wraps his arms around your head.

“Are you alright, dear?” Magnolia asks, glancing up at you from behind her half-moon specs as your pokemon greet you affectionately.

“Yeah,” you murmur, rubbing your arm, before you notice a cheque on the table. Lifting it up, you see it’s addressed to you and it’s a large amount. Your eyes grow wide and you croak out, “What’s this??”

“Inspector Graves came by this morning and told us everything. That’s your reward for finding the missing gym challengers,” she murmurs as she lets go of you.

“I don’t need this. I didn’t do it for the money.”

“Oooh, can I have it then? I can go shopping with Nessa!” Sonia exclaims as she reaches for it, but Magnolia whacks her hand with the tip of her cane none too gently. “Ow…Gran!”

“Sonia.” Magnolia says sternly, shaking her head. Sonia pouts and cradles her hand to herself. Turning to you, Magnolia says, “I don’t want you to work on such dangerous cases from now on. Just leave it to the police, that’s why they’re here. Your mother wouldn’t want any harm to befall you and I promised to her I would keep you safe.”

“…Understood.”

“Good.”

Sonia glances between you and Magnolia and decides to return to sit on the couch silently, hugging Yamper to herself.

“Anyway, did you sleep well, dear?”

“Yes, professor.”

“We’re having roast today, I do hope you will join us.”

“Yeah, I will,” you reply, and Magnolia pats you on the shoulder; you will be joining them for lunch on this occasion, which is very rare.

She shoves her feet into her slippers and slowly leaves the lounge whilst you join Sonia on the couch with Yamper squashed between you and he scrambles into your lap.

“Gran can be scary, huh?” she whispers.

“She’s just worried,” you mutter, "How's your hand?"

"My hand is fine. How's your hand?"

"Still sore," you murmur as you glance at your bandaged palm, before you look at the cheque again. The money would be good to stock up on some supplies... “Sonnie, if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Hmm, well, I did see a very nice dress in the boutique the other day,” she mutters, “It’s okay, I don’t need it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright."

You avert your attention to the news, using your finger to stroke Cutiefly’s fuzzy body whilst Polteageist pours some tea for you into a cup he fished from the kitchen for you. Chairman Rose is on screen and standing in front of many microphones shoved in his face, providing a speech on the Giant’s Seat incidence. Despite the pressure he should be facing, he seems undisturbed.

“I am deeply saddened by the news and my heart goes out to the families and loved ones of the deceased,” he says, “However, the gym challenge will not be cancelled this year. The Pokemon League has roots dating back to the sixth century and is a beloved tradition of Galar….”

Rose goes mute following those words but his mouth keeps moving, indicating that he is still speaking and the news had decided to blot out his voice for some reason.

The clip abruptly ends and returns to the news reporter who briefly talks about the dead gym challengers being found in an unregistered pokemon den in the mountains of the Giant’s Seat then it shows their mourning family members and friends. Finally, an update on Leon’s status is provided; he is in stable condition and will make a full recovery.

The news then switches to a small group outside Rose Tower carrying posters and picket signs, protesting against the gym challenge. The group consists of middle-aged women and men. Mothers and fathers, you assume.

“We have Evan at the scene right now. Evan, how does it look?” says the reporter, and the screen changes to a skinny tall man holding a microphone in hand standing in front of the crowd.

“Thank you, Sarah, I’m standing in front of Rose Tower and as you can see behind me, there is a massive crowd of frustrated parents who want their voices to be heard. After Rose issued his statement earlier this morning…”

As the reporter drones on and on, Sonia sighs. “This is awful, I’ve never seen anything like this. I don’t think this has ever happened in the history of the Pokemon League.”

The reporter is now walking towards the crowd with the camera focused on him. He goes over to a random protestor and inches the microphone towards her, asking her to share some words.

The woman is livid. “Yeah, I got some words for you, Chairman Rose! You won’t call off the gym challenge? Then I’m gonna pull my son out! You’re not gonna get a single pokedollar from me!” bellows the woman. She is holding a sign that says ‘No to the Gym Challenge!’ and ‘Boycott Macro Cosmos!’. “We want safer measures introduced into the Wild Area! I’m not going to send my child to his death!”

“Oh dear,” Sonia adds as Yamper buries himself into her arms, “I wonder what this means for the future of the gym challenge.”

“Rose is pretty clear that the gym challenge isn’t going to be called off,” you reply. “It’s tradition.”

“Poor Leon, I hope he’s okay,” Sonia replies, hugging Yamper to herself tightly, “I mean, he is the Champion of Galar. He endorses the League more than anyone else.”

This is really negative press for the League, the worst, in fact. Cripes, you feel responsible for this. You hope Leon doesn’t lose his job or lose popularity or anything because of this incident…

“Sonnie, I’m going to visit him later, do you want to come with me?”

“No, it’s fine, I already went this morning. He was asking about you. He was asking me so many questions," she turns to you with a wide smile, "...Is there something going on between you two? He seemed awfully interested in you all of a sudden."

"No," you're quick to quip and Poltea pulls on your wrist, gesturing you to drink the tea he’s made for you which is growing cold.

It's a good way to get out of this conversation but Sonia doesn't look satisfied with your answer. Nevertheless, you lift the cup and down a sip. It’s perfect as expected and you smile at Polteageist, patting him on the head. He lets out a warble of affection and spins around in his teapot, before he lifts the teapot lid off the top of his head and begins dancing in mid-air with it. You and Sonia giggle at his actions.

You had once studied Polteageist, but nothing entirely fruitful really came from the investigation.

He was just...haunted tea.

The news moves onto an unenlightened article and you change to a channel showing a documentary about conspiracy theorists who believe the pokearth is actually flat until Magnolia calls you both for lunch and you leave the lounge to sit at the dining table to enjoy the meal. The three of you chat amiably though you do find your thoughts drifting to Leon often.

Once you finish, you help Magnolia wash up and Sonia scurries upstairs to the bedroom.

You check Rotom for any messages you received when you were asleep; Jace has messaged asking if you were alright and you reply, telling him you are fine and that you will return his belongings to him.

Graves has left a voicemail for you, informing you that he knows you have Froslass and you are to hand her over to the authorities when you have the time. You can feel your head hurting and you look at some other messages you have received. Some of the mothers of the dead gym challengers have also attempted to call and have left messages, thanking you for your work.

Next, you see that you have received a message from Leon and your heart skips a beat when you open it. It says:

Leon: Hi, this is Leon.

“Yes, I know it’s you, Leon,” you say aloud before you can stop yourself. You wonder if he’s going to say this each time he sends a message to you. There are also no smiley faces, no emojis in his messages. This must be Leon’s way of messaging. He must be keeping it professional at all times though you can’t help but think that he texts like an old man.

Leon: Will you be visiting me today?

You inhale the gasp that’s threatening to escape and type a reply.

You: hi leon! i was going to head over right now if ur free!

Wait a second, you sound too enthusiastic. Deciding to keep it neutral, you delete the exclamation marks and tidy the message up.

You: Hi Leon, I was going to head over right now if you are free.

You hit send and you’re stunned to see Leon is typing a reply, the top of the screen indicating that he has immediately gone online the moment you fired the response. However, Leon suddenly stops typing and then a few seconds later, your phone screen changes, indicating Leon is calling you.

"Holy Combee," you utter as you swipe the screen and put it to your ear, "...H-hello?"

"Hi, this is Leon."

"Hi, what's up?"

"Not much, I....I wanted to hear your voice."

"Oh," your face goes ten shades of red and you gulp. "H-how are you feeling?"

"I'm much better now. And yeah, I'm free."

"Great, I'll pop over now."

"Okay," he replies. You can hear him smiling.

"Bye, see you soon."

"Bye."

You both hang up. That was rather tense. Nevertheless, you will go visit Leon right now.

As you grab your bag, your phone goes off once more and you thought it’d be Leon again but it’s your haunted house client. He’s asking if he can speak to you earlier as he’s currently in Wedgehurst and you sigh. You haven’t said no to a client before and therefore you ask if he can come now despite the short notice and he says indeed he can.

You message Leon, telling him you will be at the hospital in an hour and he messages back with a simple ‘okay’.

“Oh my Arceus, are you and Leon text buddies?”

At the sound of Sonia’s voice, you emit a squeak of surprise and turn round to see Sonia standing behind you with a wide smile on her face. “EEP!! Sonnie! What are you doing???”

She giggles, leaning away from your shoulder and twirling her hair in her hands.

“Were you looking over my shoulder the entire time???”

“No. Well, yes, kind of. Sorry, I couldn’t resist! There is something going on between you!"

"No, there isn't..." you wail and as she giggles, your cheeks grow pink and you march away from her. “A-anyway, I don't have time for this; my client’s arriving in five minutes. I need to get ready.”

You hurry up the stairs to get dressed and your client arrives in a few minutes; you escort him to the conservatory where you recount your experience of the haunted house which seems to be such a long time ago, and he seems satisfied with the result.

He’s already paid you the initial consulting fee which was three thousand pokedollars and then you charge an hourly rate of five thousand dollars due to the nature of your work. You investigated for roughly five hours so he owes you a total of twenty five thousand.

When you see him pulling out his beaten-up wallet from his equally beaten-up bag and you see there's a Popplio along with faded, discoloured initials stitched on the cheap leather, you realise you're basically charging a thirteen year old kid a rather extortionate amount, the same price as ten Max Potions.

And so you feel bad for taking all his money when you remember that he had told you no-one believed him and that none of his friends or parents had pooled in for funds to ask for your help so your empathetic nature kicks in and you give him a discount of fifteen per cent.

The look on his face makes you smile as he leaves in high spirits to return to his gym challenger journey.

You also give him a good luck charm and tell him to stay away from abandoned houses from now on. He agrees and waves and you wave back.

It’s time to visit Leon so you leave the house shortly and take a Corviknight taxi to the hospital. During the ride, you read more signs on how to identify if a guy likes you ranging from playful teasing, talking about a future with you, opening up, putting his phone away when you’re around and then there are some that sound bizarre such as his pupils dilating in your presence.

You close the page, unsure what to think about these tips and you’re certainly trying not to overthink yet as the hospital looms into view, you find yourself growing rather anxious.

You enter the hospital and it’s a lot different during daylight. All the Lampents are gone and you hurriedly register your name down on the visitor’s sign-in book before the nurse allows you passage into the ward. You thank her and rush down the corridor, arriving at Leon’s designated room.

You take a deep breath as you stop at his door, adjust your clothing and ensure your hair is neat and tidy, then you nervously rap your knuckles over the surface and hear a jovial “Come in!” from inside.

At the invitation, you push down on the handle, open the door and peer inside.

You wonder if he would look injured or gravely ill but you’re pleasantly surprised to see Leon sitting in bed with the duvet pulled over his lap, grinning widely from ear to ear; he’s dressed in a white hospital gown with his long purple hair cascading freely down his shoulders and over his back and if it’s true, then he’s naked underneath.

…But that’s not something you should concern yourself with so you quickly brush away those thoughts and make your way towards him.

He’s holding a pink box of chocolates in hands and he’s surrounded by a bunch of ‘Get Well Soon’ cards, fruit baskets, metallic balloons and all sorts of other outlandish gifts. Interesting, so this must be how it feels to be popular and well-liked. You gape at the huge amount of boxes and once Leon’s gaze lands on your form, his eyes widen briefly before he hastily puts the box down, smooths his large hand over his untamed hair and turns to you with a somewhat awkward grin.

“H-hey, you’re here.”

He sounds nervous.

“Hi Leon,” you say as you enter the room, trying not to step on anything, “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods rigorously to convince you.

You’re not convinced though and as you walk closer to him, it’s then you notice his cheeks are a little pink. You don’t say anything to his demeanor and instead, glance at the stacks of gifts in his room.

“Oh, uh…these are presents from fans,” he replies, and Charizard, who is sitting in one corner of the room immediately rises from his spot and bounds towards you, huffing excitedly.

"Hey Charizard," you greet him happily as the flame Pokemon lunges at you and begins nuzzling your palms and rubbing his snout over you. Charizard buries his head underneath your hand and you have no choice but to pet him, then he begins licking your cheek and you start laughing whilst Leon stares with widened eyes. You've heard of puppy kisses so you guess this is Charizard kisses.

"I heard someone like belly rubs," you say when he stops licking you, before you begin raking your fingers over his yellow tummy. Charizard thumps his tail over the ground energetically and folds his wings properly before he sprawls over the floor, growling loudly as you continue rubbing his stomach. Looking up at Leon, you say, "He's like a big pupper, isn't he?"

"Yeah..." Leon replies, flashing you a smile.

Charizard rolls back upright and you give him an affectionate pat on his head before he nudges you closer to Leon. "Alright, alright..." you mutter as you're finally nudged all the way in front of the Champion and Charizard lets out a wheezy snort of content and returns to the corner, settling down to rest.

You give Leon an awkward smile and as you look around, you realise there are no chairs in the room and you’re not sure why but Leon says, “You can sit on the bed with me.”

“Okay."

With Leon’s permission, you carefully climb onto the bed and sit cross-legged in front of him over the blanket.

"You should've seen him, Leon. He was really worried for you but he was so brave," you say, glancing at Charizard as he curls up on his paws with his tail in the air.

Leon nods, grinning. "He did great."

"He did."

You both turn to each other with a smile and Charizard emits a huffing snort of glee, looking at you two with a toothy, all-knowing grin. Throwing your glance down, you see that Leon has a box of chocolates in hands and he lifts it up to you.

“Try one,” Leon says, and you choose a cute little heart-shaped chocolate before promptly popping it into your mouth. He watches you carefully as you eat. “What do you think?”

“It’s good.”

He grabs a chocolate and munches on it before he beams. Overall, you’re relieved to see that he is well despite the incident. “Have another one.”

With a nod, you pluck another chocolate out of the box and he does the same. You both eat the chocolates at the same time, looking at each other as you chew before you exchange a smile. Leon is sharing food with you…it’s identical to when you were camping with him…

“Let’s see here,” Leon gulps down the confectionary and scoops up the card that came with it, “This is a homemade recipe by… Leigh from Circhester. Thank you, Leigh from Circhester.”

Your grin widens as Leon puts the box down and turns to a pile of unopened letters in another corner. Love letters, most likely.

“I don’t think I have enough time to go through these,” he muses, “There’s so many.”

“Are these from your fangirls?”

His cheeks flush brilliantly. “Y-yeah, I guess….which is…which is really nice of them,” he remarks, stuttering slightly as he throws his gaze to the side.

You’re quite entertained if the reason he is so nervous could possibly be you but you’re not sure. You cannot see his eyes dilating that’s for sure, but he seems to be unable to look at you in the eye.

“Well, here’s my gift,” you say, before you pull out a small wooden carving with a red string looped around it from your bag. It has a weird shape, a bit on the oblong side and it’s carved with a grotesque-looking face but when you give it to Leon, he is fascinated as he balances it in his hands. “I made it myself. It will protect you from being spirited away. I also brought your hat,” you add as you open your bag and pull out his snapback.

“Great, I was wondering where it went,” he thanks you again as he accepts it from you and settles it neatly over the bedside table, “Thanks for the gift and thanks for coming to visit me. I was really hoping for you to come.”

“Of course. I had to see if you were okay.”

His face visibly flushes again and he clears his throat, finally swerving his glance up to you. He holds the gaze and you’re both staring at each other. Your heart thumps harder the moment your eyes meet.

You look away to pick up one of his letters; it’s pink and covered in love hearts. “Not subtle at all," you utter and you can feel his gaze on you but you are too nervous to look up.

“You can read one if you like,” he says.

“Nah, that would be an invasion of privacy,” you reply and you put it back down. You force yourself to look up and indeed, he’s been staring at you the entire time. Your cheeks feel hot now, the heat spreading uncontrollably to your ears and the back of your neck. “I-I guess you’re, uh…used to receiving so many gifts?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make it easier for me to accept them…It’s a bit too much sometimes. If I could send some back, I would.”

“Ohh, don’t be so modest. Everyone loves you, Leon. You’re Galar’s National Treasure.”

Your compliment takes him off guard and his cheeks grow pink again.

An awkward silence settles between you two until he asks, “Do you want to go through these together?”

You want this tense silence to go away so you nod and he picks up the next gift which is wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a matching ribbon and bow.

He brings the box to his ears and shakes it and there is no sound but when he opens it, he sees it is a set consisting of a mini pink hairbrush, a fake pink tiara, giant plastic pink hairclip, fake pink scissors and finally, a matching princess handheld mirror with fake jewels that is also a bright shade of neon pink.

“Ah….interesting,” he mutters, whilst you giggle in response. He pulls the brush out, revealing a little piece of folded paper underneath. Picking it up, he unfolds it and there are messy words written all over the place in pink crayon and he reads aloud, “To Leon, from Princess Natasha, aged five. I brush my dolls with these so you should brush your hair with them too. They’re very special to me so I want you to have them. PS. Please be my Prince.”

“That is so cute!” you can’t help but squeal and he chuckles as he places the box down. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

You scoop the tiny brush, sit up properly in your spot and lean forwards. It could be the trick of the eye but you swear you see him stiffening slightly when he realizes you’re inching closer to him.

With brush in hand, Leon blinks blankly as you rake the bristles over his thick bangs until they become tame and Leon stares at you wide-eyed as you swipe the brush over the frames of his face and over the back of his head and his face flushes in response.

You finish the look by grabbing the hideous pink clip and brush some of his thick purple hair to the left and slide the clip over, pressing down until you hear it snapping shut. To your utmost surprise, it stays on.

Next, you grab the scissors and pretend you’re trimming his beard, humming cheerfully under your breath, but it does look like he has more stubble than usual. When you realise Leon is staring at you intently, you quickly put the toys back into the box and clear your throat. You got carried away…

You quickly pick up the mirror and show him his reflection. “There. Don’t you look ravishing?”

Leon stares at himself before he chuckles and you join in, laughing lightly until he removes the clip, looks at your direction and as he reaches forwards, you stiffen as he gently brushes fingers against the side of your cheek and over the side of your head, pushing a few strands and tucking them behind your ear.

Your cheeks grow warm as he clips the plastic atrocity in place and grins. “I think it suits you better.”

Your heart beats like crazy but you force yourself to laugh in response though it sounds like you were doing an impression of a honking Ducklett.

“About last night….thanks for saving me,” Leon says, and he’s staring rather intensely. "Chairman Rose knows what you did and he wants to thank you."

“I-it was nothing, but uh…did you watch the news?”

“Yeah, and I’ve to issue a statement in a few days but…” Leon leaves his sentence trailing, sighs and his gaze softens as he gives you a thin smile, “The Wild Area and the League will introduce safer measures. It’s a good thing and it will be a difficult time ahead, but I know we’ll be able to pull through. Even though Chairman Rose is having a tough time right now….and what happened to those gym challengers…As Champion of Galar, I can’t help but feel responsible for this but I want people to continue to believe in the gym challenge and be the best trainer they can possibly be.”

“Leon, it’s not your fault at all.”

He throws his glance to the side however, "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to go on like that."

"It's okay. Remember I told you before? Whatever it is you're feeling, feel free to get it out of your system. I'm all ears."

Leon pauses, blinking at you in surprise before he utters, "Thanks."

"No problem."

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about last night?"

"Not at all, ask away."

"How exactly did you find me?"

"Well, I was doing my research on the case with the missing people from the Giant's Seat."

"I remember you telling me that. We deliberately stayed away."

You don't say anything to that because he still ended up there anyway and so you continue, "I was at the Research lab, looking at all the missing folk and trying to suss out a pattern...and figured it was a Froslass. Went home with Jace to talk about-"

"Who's Jace?"

"Just a friend," you reply and Leon suddenly has a rather undecipherable expression on his face, "Anyway, suddenly Charizard arrived outside my house in Wedgehurst and I got on his back and he flew all the way to the Giant's Seat where he lost you. I used a...um...well," you show him your bandaged palm, "I used an advanced divination technique to find you. You can ask Charizard for further details if you want."

Leon nods, a little perplexed. He's listening though, completely hooked in.

"I followed the trail all the way to this mountain, to this summit, and dropped into a Pokemon den and..." you leave your sentence trailing, inhaling a shaky breath, "....They were there. All the missing people. And then I found you."

A brief silence spawns following your response.

"If you're wondering what the stone is, it's an Odd Keystone."

He nods, hand under his chin, "I read about those."

"My mentor let me borrow it."

"Ezra, right?"

You look at him surprise. "You remembered...?"

"Yeah." Leon replies with a grin.

Your cheeks feel warm. "W-well...Ezra and I have collected about eighty or something spirits over the past few years, so we're almost there," you're wondering why you are sharing so much with Leon but he is such a great listener and he genuinely looks interested. "He taught me how to use it to trap evil spirits. In fact, he's taught me pretty much everything I know."

After your long revelation, Leon offers you a smile when you exhale loudly, seemingly exhausted. "Thanks for telling me."

"Of course. You have a right to know."

"Do you want to go for a walk? I haven’t left the room since lunchtime. It would be nice to get some fresh air.”

“Sure,” you remove the pink clip and you’re quick to stand, immediately knocking over several giftboxes with your leg and causing a domino effect as they topple against other boxes one by one and they collapse over the floor loudly. You turn round to Leon with a wince. “Sorry.”

He laughs as he hops off the bed and grabs his white hoodie from his bedside table which he pulls over his head, slotting his arms in. “It’s alright. Let’s go.” Turning to Charizard, he says, "You wanna come along, bud?"

Charizard shakes his head, possibly because he knows he'll be a third wheel, so you and Leon head to the door and he opens it for you; still a gentleman, no matter what. You thank him, leave the room and he closes the door behind him.

“Let’s go this way.” Leon says, guiding you towards a corridor to your left.

He walks close beside you and your shoulders occasionally nudge together. The corridor’s wide enough and there’s no-one in your way but you both seem to be stepping in line together, gravitating towards each other and staying close.

Eventually, the corridor leads you to a large area where you see a number of patients sitting at tables playing chess, reading the newspaper, watching TV or walking around aimlessly.

As you walk with Leon, everyone greets him and waves.

You can only watch in silence as Leon greets them politely. Even though he’s only been in the hospital for a few hours or so he’s already made friends with everyone…. It’s a skill you wish you had for people usually look at you with disdain the moment they lay eyes on you and avoid you like the plague.

You pass an old man in a nightrobe, seated in a comfy-looking armchair who pipes up, “Hello Leon, is this your girlfriend?”

The two of you abruptly stop in your tracks, your jaws hanging open with shock. Leon’s face grows bright red before he splutters, “N-no, we’re just friends!”

And you don’t know what’s worse: how quick Leon had responded to the assumption or his words. Maybe both.

The old man merely chuckles and winks at him. “That’s what they always say at the beginning! I’ll be keeping my eye on you two, mark my words!”

You cringe like crazy, leaving the ward as quickly as possible and Leon heads towards a door that seems to lead to the exit. It’s a short trip but Leon does not make eye contact with you nor does he say anything until you have left the ward.

Leon has brought you to a large yard with a fountain in the middle. There’s also nobody here.

“Oh wow, this is nice,” you mutter, before you rush over to the fountain and peer over the ledge, gazing into the pool. A few Goldeen and Seaking are inside, swimming around gracefully.

Yep,” he agrees as he joins your side, grinning.

You see some Swanna swimming in a small group so you pull out some snacks from your bag and break it into smaller chunks, throwing tidbits into the water; the pokemon gather round the morsels and gobble them greedily.

Leon watches as you feed the pokemon happily before he rubs the back of his neck. “Hey, uh…I have something to tell you.”

“Yes?”

"Would you like to have dinner?"

Your eyes grow wide as you stop feeding the Swanna to stand up, facing him with your jaw hanging open. "D-dinner?!"

"Yeah. My family would like to meet you.”

"Oh. Right. Gotcha. Family with the dinner. Uh, I mean dinner with family."

"My mum wants to thank you for saving me and Hop really wants to meet you too,” Leon says whilst you mentally kick yourself, “I’m getting discharged first thing in the morning and Chairman Rose has given me a few days off so…it would be great if you could come over to my house for a barbecue tomorrow. It would mean a lot to them… and it would mean a lot to me as well.”

You’re stunned; his words have stolen your breath away but you manage to choke out a meek, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and as you gawk in silence, Leon’s cheeks grow pink and he slides his gaze to the side. “T-that is, if you’re free.”

You snap yourself out of your stupor and nod, “O-of course! Sure, I’d love to. That sounds great. Thank you, Leon.”

"Have you been to a barbecue before?"

"No."

"You're gonna love it," he replies with a wide smile on his face, causing your heart to thump harder than usual. “I’ll give you the time and send you my address later…I live in Postwick and my house is the biggest one on the right, you can’t miss it.”

You can’t help but giggle and soon it grows silent as you stand together, staring at each other again.

“...You’re really…different," Leon suddenly says.

"Different?"

"Yeah."

"Uh, you mean that in a good way or a bad way?"

"Good way, of course!" he exclaims quickly to shake off any misunderstandings, "I find it relaxing to be around with you."

"Oh, well, I've been told I have an old soul," you reply with a hum under your breath, and you wonder if that had anything to do with what he just said.

"And I saw what you did back in the cave with Froslass," Leon continues, "You’re an amazing person….it’s people like you who really help Galar during times of need. I want everyone to know that you saved my life if…if that’s okay with you.”

Your face grows hot at his compliment. “That’s very kind of you, Leon, but you don’t need to do anything for me and I’m not looking for any kind of reward. I-it’s my work, you know? Well, maybe not just work but…” As you struggle to explain yourself, fighting for words, he chuckles. You add, “Remember I told you that my line of work revolves around dead things?”

“Yeah.”

"People around me get hurt, Leon. And I don’t want you or anyone to get hurt because of me. People don’t understand.”

“I understand.”

“I know I have my blog but what I’m trying to say is – oh,” you pause at once, and he chuckles.

Following that, a nurse steps inside the yard and says, “Excuse me, Mr Champion? You have another visitor.”

You both throw your glance to the nurse as Leon acknowledges her and she departs. "I'll take my leave," you say, a tad reluctantly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

“Dinner tomorrow?”

You nod.

“Any allergies we should be aware of?”

You shake your head.

He plants his palm on your shoulder, giving you a firm squeeze. “Great! See you then. I’m looking forward to it,” he says, before he gives you a wink and your stomach does a backflip.

When you leave the hospital, you pass the gym leader of Hammerlocke in the corridor and he's with a rather timid-looking girl whom you believe is his girlfriend. You throw a quick glance at them but they don't seem to notice you, and you look at their hands which are entwined tightly together. You hear the girl talking about something or someone called 'Driffie'.

They must be visiting Leon. He knows so many people compared to you. Off the top of your head, you can only count Jace, Graves and Ezra. That's about it. You want some boy advice, but it's not a good idea to ask Graves or Ezra, so you might ask Jace later.

You’re confused and inwardly hating yourself for once again, mistaking Leon’s friendliness for perhaps flirting and hints of romantic feelings, the usual. It dawns to you that you had spent the entire time with Leon as a blushing mess and also, your heart wouldn’t stop thrashing against your ribs.

And when you arrive home, Magnolia’s asleep and Sonia’s lounging upstairs in the bedroom. You immediately rush up the stairs, opening the door wide.

“Sonnie,” you exclaim, and she looks up from her magazine, “I have been invited to a dinner tomorrow. Like a normal person.”

”That’s fantastic! With who?”

“Leon and his family. It's gonna be a barbecue. They want to thank me for finding him,” you reply, and Sonia’s eyes widens abruptly before she sits up. “Wait, no, why am I doing this? I...I shouldn't be associated with Leon. He might get hurt because of me. Oh wait, it's sort of happened already..."

"No, no! You should go. Come on, don't be like that..."

"O-okay, but I’m really nervous about this. Help me.”

“What do you mean? You’ll be fine! Just be yourself.”

“Be myself?” you utter, before your eyes bulge, “That’s the worst possible me I could be.”

Sonia shakes her head wildly. “Don’t be silly! Arceus, this is exciting!” she exclaims as she slides out of bed. “Do you have anything to wear?”

“No…but I do want to wear something nice though.”

She giggles. “Leave it to me! This is like those movies where the girl gets a makeover!”

“You don’t say,” is your reply as she hurries over to you, circling you and checking your hair and nails and your complexion. You add, “I need your help, Sonnie, but I want this to be as painless as possible.”

“Of course,” she utters as she continues to inspect you. Placing a hand under her chin, she snaps her fingers and smiles widely. “I know what to do!”

...

[mthofferings2020]

wynnesome

See wynnesome’s existing works here and here.

Preferred contact methods: Discord: wynnesome#4442 Dreamwidth: stargraven

Preferred organizations: - Amazon Conservation Association - Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) - Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN) - St. Jude Children's Research Hospital - World Central Kitchen (See the list of approved organizations here)

Will create works that contain: Angst wants: Dark characters/themes, unhealthy relationships, questionable power dynamics, shady morals/ethics, under-negotiated kink, dub-con, non-con, miscommunication trainwreck, physical and/or emotional torment, break-it, break-it-worse, ending leaves you bleeding out on the floor. Fluff wants: Banter, wordplay, crack, crack treated seriously, mutual pining, get-together, first-time, porn with feelings, emotionally cathartic sex/kink, aftercare, tooth-rotting-they're-so-married domesticity.

Will not create works that contain: Daddy kink, mpreg, scatplay, underage/de-aged, genderswap, Avengers: Endgame or post-Endgame.

  -- Fic or Other Writing --

Auction ID: 1239

Will create works for the following relationships: Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom - 616

Work Description: This auction is for a fic that will fall between 1k and 5k. To keep to the word length I'm comfortable committing to, the prompt or starting point needs to be concise. For me and the way I write, that usually means a prompt of no more than a few words to one sentence, defining a central theme or pivotal moment, and then the fic will take shape to bring that about. For general style of my writing, my AO3 has a range, and my Dreamwidth has a bunch of recent angst fics/ficlets. Here are links to two works I've written for Doom and Strange: - Doctor Doom crack/fluff - DoomStrange angst ficlet I haven't posted a lot of Doom or DoomStrange fic yet, but I am raring to go for this ship. I have taken part in many hours of brainstorming and RP for the pairing, and I have a brain full of headcanon and a folder full of ideas I'd like to write for these two. For a prompt that hits me in the right spot, I could also write DoomStrange/Tony Stark. I'd consider writing DoomStrange with a different third, but please ask me if you have something like that in mind. I love Battleworld DoomStrange: God-Emperor Doom and Sheriff Strange, and their canonical partnership. I do like to play with dark, problematic, and manipulative power dynamics in their relationship. If it seems soft, that's probably because somewhere behind it is a knife so sharp you won't feel it till the blood loss hits. But I can also write them in bantery, humorous, and outright ridiculous interactions. On that side, I love their "snipe and bicker but would sacrifice myself for you in a heartbeat" relationship a la Savage Avengers. When I write angst, I tend to focus on breaking it hard rather than fixing it, especially in a shorter fic. However, as long as I feel it's a prompt I can accomplish in under 5k, I'm open to the idea of hurt/comfort, of heavy angst with a positive resolution, or the kinds of lighter angst that come from mutual pining, misunderstandings that will get worked out, etc. Those situations where it hurts along the way, but everything is going to be ok. I write by letting my brain get a hook into a particular idea - or maybe more like, letting a particular idea get its hooks into my brain - to where it takes me over that threshold from "interesting concept" to "I have actual words insistently demanding to be let out now." With that in mind - if you have a very specific idea for a fic you'd like, please contact me before bidding, to make sure it's something I feel like I can hook and be hooked by. Otherwise, please be prepared to chat/brainstorm with me after the auction, so we can come up with an idea that we're both enthusiastic about. OR, I can also take a very small prompt as a starting point and just run with it. By "very small," I mean something like a word prompt or a kink or trope that might be found on a Bingo square. I'd take the prompt, and your preference for the general tone (humor, romance, angst, etc.), roll it around till I land on a compelling hook to get me started, and follow it from there. As far as my pile of "ideas I'd like to write," I'm open to discussing some of those that I think could be accomplished within a 5k fic. Time Frames: I'll be able to begin brainstorming/discussing prompts anytime after the auction week. I do have one pre-existing fic-writing commitment that I aim to finish by the end of 2020. So assuming we've worked out a prompt, I should potentially be available to start writing for this pretty early in 2021. Pinning down actual writing time is tricky, but once I've actually begun writing, a fic of this length usually takes me anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to complete. Please feel free to contact me to talk over any questions or ideas!

Ratings: Teen, Mature, Explicit

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

-- Beta Service --

Auction ID: 2091

Will create works for the following relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Any Universe Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - MCU Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers - MCU Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark - MCU Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom - 616 Tony Stark/Victor von Doom - 616 Jean Grey/Logan/Scott Summers - 616 Tony Stark/Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom - 616

Work Description: This auction is for beta reading of one fic up to 10k words, or two fics totaling up to 10k words. For beta-reading, barring my DNW, I'm generally wide open for characters, ships, universes, genres, kinks, and tropes, and for gen fics. A fic doesn't have to be "my ship" or "my kink" for me to read with care and give well-considered feedback on your writing, including elements of plot, continuity, characterization, tone, and theme, as presented within the fic itself. That said, my "Wants" and my Relationships section for this auction touch upon characters, ships, and kinds of works I read, write, and engage with the most for my own personal enjoyment. So those are where I'll be able to give the most detailed feedback on more levels, such as character voice, canon storylines, and general fluency with those characters and their worlds. My first Marvel ship is Steve-Tony, and I'm happy to read for them in any universe. I've spent the most time with them in 616, MCU, and early Ults comics, with light knowledge of AvAc, Avengers Assemble, and EMH. DoomStrange is my newer ship that I'm loving a lot: Battleworld God-Emperor Doom/Sheriff Strange; Triumph and Torment; Savage Avengers. Plus other pairings for either character, or threesomes/moresomes with the pair of them involved. Another area I'm VERY much here for is any and all fics related to Jonathan Hickman's X-Men comics: HoXPoX; Dawn of X; X of Swords. I jumped on board with X-Men at HoXPox last year, and am up to date with reading all of the current X-Men titles. I have almost no knowledge of prior X-Men canon, so, as mentioned above, I'm still happily willing to beta for other X-Men works, but I won't have that same degree of connection to canon and characters. As a beta reader, I can work on several levels, ranging from simple SPaG/proofreading, to detailed suggestions for sentence structure, flow, and word choice. I can help advise in regard to (American) English-language phrasing and word usage. I also really enjoy delving into emotional dynamics and thematic development. In terms of personal areas of expertise, I'm a musician and recording engineer. So I can give a lot of "what it's like" and some light scientific "how it works" if you have a fic where someone is a musician, in a band, playing a gig or concert, recording in a studio, or a variety of other possible situations involving the music industry and/or audio and sound systems. I prefer to beta-read in Gdocs where possible, where I can leave a lot of suggestions and comments. My goal is always to help the author feel good about their work and about making it the best it can be. So I appreciate your guidance in ways to give you feedback and/or critique that will be helpful, positive, and constructive for you. If I haven't beta-read anything for you before, I'll want to talk with you before I begin, to get an idea of the kinds of feedback you're looking for. Then I'll probably work through a page or two and wait to go further until you've had the chance to take a look. From there, you can tell me if there's anything I could approach differently, address, or avoid, in order to be more helpful for you. Time Frames/Schedule: I have a couple of pre-existing fandom commitments that I'm aiming to complete before the end of 2020. I'd prefer to say "early 2021" as the soonest I'll most likely be available to fulfill this auction. I give a lot of attention during beta reading, and often work in short sections at a time, over a period of days. For a 10k-ish fic, I might take anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks to work through the entirety. Generally, once I've worked through the fic, I'm also happy to continue exchanging comments, or take a look to see how see how things are working after changes are made. For any questions, please feel free to contact me!

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

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[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 2: The Racism of the Conductor’s Baton (Part 5)

TIER: Meanwhile, minutes in the future, a new character wanders about the desert wasteland. A PEREGRINE MENDICANT.

CHEL: This character resembles WV, except plain white in colour and noticeably taller, also wrapped in rags and pushing what appears to be a shopping trolley full of mailboxes.

WV heads for the passageway outside, the door to the bunker slamming shut behind him and glowing with a touchscreen; interacting with that causes the antechamber to spin around and a door to open into a new room, containing more computers. One of the two screens depicts Earth, while the other shows four spirographs orbiting around a fifth spirograph, with one set of two dots (one large, one small) next to the centre and another set of dots outside the orbit range. Looks familiar? A smaller screen below shows coordinates and times.

The room also contains a meter stick, which WV considers combining with his knife (really a strip of rusty metal) and a strip of rag to form a spear, but he hasn’t got his knife with him, and a bizarre contraption which looks like a ray gun pointing at a circular platform. When WV presses the big blue button on the console, the machine is proved to be an APPEARIFYER, which produces a pumpkin apparently out of thin air. Closer examination proves it to have taken the pumpkin from the coordinates entered on the console; there is a symbol carved on the pumpkin in the shape of what appears to be a pointy-eared animal’s face.

WV experiments a bit more with the machine, successfully summoning his knife back and using it to cut open the pumpkin (we are spared the apparently gruesome sight of him devouring the innards messily). The spirograph switch is immovable without a key. WV is also able to rescue the firefly from within the amber chunk, and this being a cartoon the firefly is miraculously alive and very happy about this! Awww.

TIER: The APPEARIFYER seems to be capable of grabbing thing from anywhere and anywhen, as long as doing so doesn't create a time paradox of all things. Attempting to do so causes the machine to activate a failsafe that turns whatever someone tried to get into a pile of paradox slime.

CHEL: With seconds to spare and dramatic music playing, WV appearifies the grate over the entrance to provide himself with an exit route, then scrambles around cramming all his cans and equipment into the hollow pumpkin, much to the consternation of the firefly, now named Serenity (of course). Frantically, he rushes up the ladder towards outside and safety… only to slip and fall back down at the last second, cans landing all over him, cutting to a scene reading “PSYCHE?” The next page states simply “UNPSYCHE”, the text beneath declaring a failure of the rare and highly dangerous 5X CLIFFHANGER COMBO, and we lead into another animation.

WV makes it to the top of the ladder just as the countdown finishes. Fortunately, the explosion doesn’t kill him; instead, it turns out to be the starting of rocket engines which propel the entire bunker into the air, setting it flying westward. Cut to John’s suburb, noted to be A CONTINENT WESTWARD AND YEARS IN THE PAST (BUT NOT MANY), where a meteor plummets to Earth, destroying all life and construction around it. Wind fills up the crater with soil again and a large white tree sprouts in its centre over a time period then revealed to be the years between its destruction and WV’s arrival.

Meanwhile, Peregrine Mendicant pushes their cart full of mailboxes along in the desert, oblivious to the bunker which is heading right overhead. WV observes, and the camera pans out to show PM’s outside another bunker with the same green house symbol on it. AN OCEAN WESTWARD AND YEARS IN THE PAST, but not “not many” this time, a spirograph opens up in space, shooting out a meteor, which crashes beside an active volcano. Millennia pass; the volcano dies, the crater fills up with greenery, and a tall building of green stone with a frog statue on the top is erected by unseen beings. As water levels rise, the building is covered almost completely and the volcano becomes an ocean island. Pterosaurs fly past, so we can presume the building was not made by humans.

Cut to Rose, cornered by the fire, frantically hitting and screaming at the generator until a flaming tree falls, shattering the generator and forcing Rose to leap to safety - or not safety, as the fire is still surrounding her. Mom Lalonde observes from the window of the house and presses a button on a keypad, opening up a secret passage in the mausoleum, leading downwards.

In a mysterious purple tower, Dad Egbert is handcuffed and hurried along by two imps, until he breaks free of the cuffs and attacks with cake and shaving cream. (If you pay close attention, you'll discover the cuffs were the trick ones from John's chest, according to another reader - I never did notice.) Atop another tower, this one Dave’s apartment building, Dave faces down Bro and Cal under a bright orange sky, and we finally see Bro Strider in non-silhouette. He bears a striking resemblance to the photo of the GameBro writer, right down to the popped collar. I don’t know if he’s actually supposed to be said writer, though.

Finally, WV’s flying bunker comes to a gentle stop in the middle of another desert, and he finds himself at the foot of a third tower, this one the remains of the frog-topped building, the ocean now long dry. The animation ends, and the curtains close on Act 2.

Now this is how to get across a lot of information fast! Much better. Very little text needed (in fact, what is there might not be strictly necessary, though it’s useful for immediately parsing what’s shown), no messing about. It’s a sharp improvement over sylladex shenanigans.

Okay, what do you guys think of Act 2? What does it do better than Act 1, or worse? Do you think it’s doing a good job of storytelling?

TIER: The pacing has improved.

CHEL: Technically speaking there are more instances of GET ON WITH IT (five to Act 1’s three), but this act is also longer and some of those instances were unnecessary single pages and not endless faffing about like in Act 1, so yes, that’s getting better. I think Hussie now knows better where his plot is going, and I don’t know if he originally did in the early stages of Act 1, so he’s better able to stick to a route to the goal.

FAILURE ARTIST: It is interesting seeing Rose’s and Dave’s home situation in light of later developments. I don’t think Hussie intended any deep commentary on child abuse when he wrote those scenes. I think it was edgy humor.

I hadn’t paid much attention to Rose’s FAQ or Sassacre’s book and I am disappointed by the racism in the excerpts. Worse, I know Hussie reuses the ethnic wedding metaphor later.

But on a positive note, the walkabout game is a cool new use of the medium.

BRIGHT: There’s a lot more meat to this act. More things happen, we get introduced to some of the background characters and find out more about how the game is set up. We also have more characterisation, which is a definite plus.

CHEL: So, for our hypothetical rewrite, removing the racism is obvious. “Edgy” humour was in at the time of writing, but even with that excuse, this is icky. It doesn’t really have the self-awareness of the awfulness of, say, Something Positive, it’s just a guy saying offensive things and it’s not quite clear how aware he is that they’re offensive.

Also obvious is removing the redundancy. I’d also add in a better reaction for John learning that Earth is doomed. I considered possibly moving that part of the reveal to a later point when it could be explored a bit more, but it does work nicely as a wham line with little info given yet. Also, figure out what the fuck we should be going for with Rose’s and Dave’s parental figures and stick to it. I could certainly see it being possible to lull the reader into falsely thinking of awful situations as funny in context and slowly revealing ways it fucked the kids up as we go, but in HS it’s handled clumsily, and there’s far too much going on already for an idea like that to have space to do it justice, I think. Oh, also, if John’s dream sequence was necessary, I’d have had it with him being knocked out, not just randomly deciding to nap while still surrounded by monsters. That was just kind of weird, especially since his friend is still in danger at that point.

Anything else you all can think of, readers? I don’t think we have any huge holes in the plot yet or anything. It’s certainly still much better than most of the works sporked here, but we'd appreciate it if you point out anything we missed.

COUNTS ALL THE LUCK: 0 ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 6 CALL CPA PLEASE: 2 CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 6 GET ON WITH IT!: 8 GORE GALORE: 0 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 13 HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 3 IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 0 RELATIONSHIP GOALS?: 0 SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 0 SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS: 0 WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 1 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 6 TOTAL: 45

[iloveurscratchybeard]

Moirae - Part 10

Episode: “Irresistible”  PREVIOUS CHAPTERS   |   AO3

Scully knows too well what it feels like to be waiting to die. Hands bound, mouth silenced, the monster waits for her outside of the trunk while the lights in the sky approach. He waits in the house with a hot bath running and little shampoo bottles lined up in tidy rows.

She knows the taste of blood, the metallic bitter of iron and sweat, knows the drowning feeling of slipping into an unconsciousness and losing control over yourself. She knows all of those final prayers by heart, had the slideshow of her life play out in her head several times. She knows how it feels to almost die. But she also knows what it's like to be a survivor. She won't make it easy for them. She will fight with every fiber of her being for her life. She refuses to let them win. God never lets the Devil steal the show, she had told Mulder once, and she's fairly certain that Pfaster may actually be the devil.

Until Mulder delicately lifted her chin with his fingertips and all of her emotions came flooding out, she hadn't realized how much she had been bottling up. Her life lately had been a never-ending coaster of highs and lows and the punches kept coming. She became good at grinding her teeth through them, never one to easily allow what she was feeling to bleed through. Growing up, that was Melissa. She was the one with plunging, never-ending emotions. Crying that her life was over when Bobby Jacobs dumped her at the sophomore year homecoming dance. Threatening to run away when their father grounded her for a month when he found cigarettes in her backpack. She started studying the color of people's auras when she befriended a group of girls who were known as "witches." Of course, their father disapproved and that spurred her interest further, but it seemed to Dana that that was when Melissa finally became content in her life. Among her crystals, she was infused with nature and the elements and it brought a sense of inner peace to her that Dana wholeheartedly envied. She wished that she could be that sure with her own life. Melissa always said Dana's aura were shades of blues, which are very strong and calm individuals, interlaced with some brown and tan shades, which indicate people that tend to overthink normal conundrums, and can often be perceived by others as uptight and elusive. She couldn't argue with her sister. As much as she wanted to be a free spirit, she just never could let go and allow that of herself. She always kept within these lines that she had drawn at an early age. You must do A before you can do B and then work towards C. Precise and exact measurements. Go to bed by 10 pm and wake up at 6 am. Do all of the homework and then as much extra credit as you can muster in. Be the best, and then be a little bit more...

Melissa had informed Dana over wine and some vegan take-out one night recently that Mulder's aura was magenta and red. She explained how rare of a combination that was. People with dominant magenta are a bit eccentric and constantly have the compulsion to go against the status quo. Magenta is a color symbolizing struggle but isn’t necessarily negative. It is often an indicator of artistic abilities that have yet to be realized. When it's mixed with red, it means these people are extraordinarily passionate and make the very best kind of lovers. She couldn't hide the blush in her cheeks and that's when Melissa Scully became acutely aware of just how much her sister could validate that statement.

"Dana Katherine! Why haven't you told me? I want ALL the details. Spill!"

Scully had shaken her head and buried her face into her wine glass, forcing several large gulps down.

"You've been sleeping with that hot partner of yours and I'm just now finding out about it?"

"It's not like we're a couple, Missy. It was just one time at first. It just happened. And then I almost lost him again and..."

"And what?"

Scully's face dropped. "I didn't know what I would do without him."

Melissa, ever the intuitive one to her younger sister's emotions, became serious. "You're in love with him."

"I haven't really thought about it, Melissa. I've been through a lot lately."

"You are! I can see it in your face." Her sister was too damn perceptive.

"It's not like that. We rely on each other."

"Dana, you should have seen him when you were in the hospital. He was circling the drain. He was ready to kill everyone in his path to avenge what they did to you. He's in deep."

She thinks about the time before she was taken. They were spending more time together outside of the FBI since they were no longer partners. It started innocently enough, him stopping by in the evenings to get her medical opinion on some findings as a guise for just wanting to see her. It usually ended up with mind-blowing sex and falling asleep in each other's arms. They never talked about the shift in their relationship, but they both felt the drive to be together, missing the other's presence in their life.

Being with Mulder was easy. He didn't place the expectations on her that Ethan always had. They understood each other and were two like minds on opposite sides of the spectrum. The physical side of their relationship was just a bonus- a way to expel all of the energy that sparked continuously between them. She didn't overthink it. She was still on the pill from her relationship with Ethan, but with the stress of the work she had slipped and forgotten to take it a few times. Her period was weeks late before Duane Barry abducted her. If only she had been able to take the pregnancy test. It was probably for the best that she didn't because it would have just been another devastation from the unknown horrors that were done to her without her consent during those missing weeks of her life that she can't get back. To live with a question mark over your head is a terrible burden. To have to fight the devil with your bare hands and have your newly healed body battered and bruised only compounds it all.

And now, here she was, another night from hell and Mulder is the one putting her back together. Melissa's words from weeks earlier rang in her head. 'You're in love with him.' He is the brick wall with which she puts her back up against. He is the roof keeping her dry from the downpour. He is magenta with a hint of red. Fine, long bones with swimmer's muscle and brilliance encapsulated. He is a full bottom lip, strong angular nose, and pupils that reflect the dark storm of his past. He is hands on her hips, tongue spreading lips, and a thick cock filling her to the brim. He is passion and lust and sarcasm and truth. And maybe Missy isn't so off base, after all. Maybe she is in love with him.

He brings her to his motel room for the night and regulations be damned. He helps dress her in her satin pajamas, careful over her bruises, and kisses the rope burns of her wrists. He tucks her in with tenderness and climbs into bed behind her, willing her demons away with the pressure and weight of his body wrapped tightly around her. When she closes her eyes, she sees the devil's vile stare in between flashes of white light and anonymous faces with surgical masks.

"Mulder, tell me a story."

He nuzzles his nose into the back of her hair. "Hmmm?" his baritone vibrates into her body, the ripples of it sending warm comfort where she is cold all the way through. He's quiet for a moment. She knows he is considering what to tell her, searching his mind for something that doesn't fall into the dark realm of his morning slideshow stories. Finally, a low chuckle rumbles into her neck and he places a single kiss there before clearing his throat.

"So did I ever tell you about the time that Langly tried to make waffles on a CPU?"

She doesn't hear the story, instead focusing on the even rumble of his voice, the comforting drabble reminiscent of late night phone calls that she's been drifting off to since their first case. Blanketed in the sound of his voice surrounding her like a shroud, the devil retreats back to hell, and Dana Scully falls asleep in the arms of her lover.

Tagging @today-in-fic and my writing motivators @pickingoutchinapatterns @alabama-metal-man @baronessblixen @frangipanidownunder @scully-eats-sushi @shyromanticfreak @spookydarlablack @observeroftheuniverse @i-gaze-at-scully @peacenik0 @tumblessuckthis and @tshining

A/N: I am always open for prompts if you have anything you’d love to see with this story moving forward! Things will probably be slower in the next few weeks with the busy holiday upon us, but hopefully will have one more chapter out before the end of the year! Thank you!

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 5 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: The Youth of Bacchus is listed publicly as being part of a “private collection”, so AU-fictionally-speaking, who knows, it could theoretically belong to the Shepherds. I’ve been meaning to feature Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata in some kind of story for ages, as I’ve loved it all my life (I listened to this version a lot while I wrote this part). I had to include a little nod to my fellow Sagittarius, Jane Austen, with her famous line, spoken by Darcy to Lizzie in a moment of passionate abandon, from Pride & Prejudice (“you have bewitched me, body and soul”), though the title of my fic came originally from the song Hypnotised by Years & Years, as I’ve mentioned before. I mirrored the “breathing” advice from their mothers on purpose. That moment Kenzie stares at Duncan with tears in her eyes over dinner was my homage to that gif floating around of Mallory looking across the table (I always imagine she’s looking at Michael). I’m learning some fascinating stuff from my research for this fic, including the fact that in order to be issued a Black AmEx (“Centurion Card”) you need a special invitation and are required to pay an initiation fee of $7500 with an annual fee of $2500. Rumor has it (it hasn’t been confirmed on record) that Black Card holders need a net worth of around $16 million to qualify. I also learned that Bordeaux goes well with duck a l’orange, which, as a vegetarian, is a thing I probably would have never known otherwise. The line “Then I must be thy lady, but I know / When thou hast stolen away from fairy land” is from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The Bouguereau cunnilingus I came up with in my sleep last night and I’m totally in love with it. His painting Evening Mood (which Duncan thinks of when Kenzie is standing there naked in the candlelight) is enshrined at the Museum of Fine Arts, in Cuba. I’m so proud of this part; I worked really hard on it and put a lot of my own emotions into it. I’m proud of what I’ve written here and what I’ve done so far with this story, and that’s a wonderful feeling. If anyone else wants to do visual edits or moodboards for the fic, I’d be so thrilled. The one @nat-de-lioncourt made (here) made me ecstatically happy. I posted some screenshots of the playlist I made for writing the fic on my Twitter, if you’re interested in my music influences/the mood I’m trying to create so far.  And as ever, if you’re reading and enjoying, your comments mean everything to me.

Duncan felt as though his spirit was trying to break free from his body. He was leaning against the obsidian counter in his spotless kitchen, his sleek black phone clutched in his hands, tapping it every now and again to check the time, quiet strains of classical music coming from the turntable in the corner of his office; Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. He fiddled with the cufflinks of his shirt again; they were rose gold with black onyx stones. He ran his fingers down his Balmain one-button velvet jacket, breathing deep, letting it out at a measured pace, re-adjusting the collar of his black shirt, though it had already been perfectly straight. Annette had taught him to breathe carefully from the time she had begun to bring him to public events with her when he was still in elementary school. “Never let them see your nervousness,” she had insisted, holding his small hand in hers, pushing at his back so he’d stand straight. “These people feed on weakness, and you must appear to be untouchable them. Breathe until your fear fades away. You can’t use it where you’re going.”

Oddly, he often thought it was the best advice his mother had ever given him. You can’t use it where you’re going; as if his destiny was to do something great, no matter his own doubts about himself. She had always said it with absolute conviction. He knew his mother loved him. That was an absolute, unshakeable truth. Maybe she could accept Kenzie, because I think I love her. He brought his hand to his chin in that familiar tick, running his right index and middle fingers over his bottom lip. That thought had come unbidden, like a tide to the shore. God. I think I do. I don’t know her yet, but I think I love her. It’s so strange.

He made himself breathe out again, focusing his attention on the strains of the Sonata’s first movement; it had always made him think of the dead of night, some abandoned moor far from civilization, bathed in the glow of the moon and a universe full of a million stars hovering above, looking down on the tiny rock of humanity with a studied, sympathetic indifference. Wretched humankind, he thought, moving slowly to the study, all alone in an empty cosmos. It was a thought he’d had many times before, but this time, oddly, his resolute conviction in it faltered. Maybe alone. Maybe not. His eyes fell over the painting that stretched, colossal, against the wall facing his desk.

It was Bouguereau's The Youth of Bacchus. His mother had bought it for him for his 18th birthday: yes, the original. The Shepherds had a net worth of over 3 billion, and she had insisted he needed a legitimate piece when he’d moved into his penthouse alone. He’d always loved it; “it reminds me of when you were a boy and I bought you those mythology books you’d read for hours and hours,” Annette had said, her finger stroking his cheek. He’d gone through a period in his adolescence where he was obsessed with Greek and Roman mythology; had practically every book ever published on the subject, most of them still on his study shelves, though Edith Hamilton’s was always his favorite. He had gazed at the bacchanalia depicted in the painting countless times, its naked, dancing figures, feverish in their revelry; sometimes he would come here and sit in the leather chair behind the mahogany desk, just to stare at it until whatever vinyl he’d placed on the turntable wound down to silence. It had always been odd to him that though the painting referred to Bacchus’ youth (he, the god of hedonism), he was depicted as a pot-bellied old man in it, teetering on a donkey. Duncan had long-ago decided that Bouguereau meant it in reference to Bacchus’ spirit, his essence, one of endless mischief and debauchery. He thought back on the many nights he’d indulged in debauchery himself; the women and men he’d taken into his bed, careless to know their names, content with the pleasures of the flesh, rarely feeling the impulse to see them again. When your mother was Annette Shepherd, you could afford to pay off any troublesome, tiresome attentions. Duncan found that though he’d often felt lust, any experience he’d had until last night had not deigned to come close to the wild, somehow almost painful, intoxicating energy he’d felt when Mackenzie Stone was in his arms. It was as if he’d never known what passion truly was until the moment he’d kissed her, her mouth opening to him; hadn’t understood the winding way of the universe at all until she’d been under him, her sweet whisper in his ear, her small hands on his skin, around his length, in his hair. Her smell, her touch, her presence was like waking up for the first time on a cool spring morning after winter, seeing the sunlight course over some distant hill, watching auburn clouds float into the ether as dawn kissed the world. She had reminded him, or perhaps made him realize truly for the first time, that being alive was miraculous indeed; and he wanted the feeling again, the grip of the desire to live. And that was passion, he thought. Passion was her eyes, where he’d seen her soul floating behind them, seeing his, as though they’d been long lost from each other, and now, finally, had found each other again, through time.

Bewitched, body and soul, he thought, and he could not remember what the line was from. God, but that’s how I feel. He’d considered himself a staunch atheist since he was little more than a child, but something about this woman, this wondrous angel so she seemed, made his resolve falter for the first time in memory. Maybe there is something out there, he thought, surprising himself, a shiver falling down his spine under the weight of his velvet jacket, the C-sharp minor of the Sonata boring into his mind. She exists, and she is some kind of miracle, so maybe something is. Fuck. It was as if someone else had entered his body since last night; the better version of himself, desperate to be good enough for her, desperate to hope for a world where she truly existed, and was not some free-falling fantasy of his own invention.

He fiddled with his onyx cufflinks, clearing his throat, moving to where he kept a small bar cart beside the table the record player rested on, an ornate, priceless Tiffany lamp beside it. He poured a finger of bourbon and drank it down, wiping his lips on the back of his hand as the final strokes of the first movement ended. He glanced at his watch (the Cartier again); it was 8:20 PM. It was time to go; time to go to her.

Surprising himself again, he thought out a silent prayer for the first time since he was a boy: if anyone is out there, give me courage.

------

Samuel shut the door behind Duncan as he slid into the backseat of the black BMW. Duncan felt as though he could jump out of his skin at any moment; his resolve was trembling, and the feeling was truly putting him off-guard. Am I actually good enough for this woman? The thought flitted across his mind and he felt utterly shaken by it, as though someone else had invaded his mind. But he knew the thought was his own. He knew he was truly wondering what he’d done to deserve her in his bed, enraptured, the euphoria of her seeping into his senses. He couldn’t believe he was about to see her again. His body felt like it was vibrating, the bourbon he had drunk to calm his nerves giving them an edge instead, an overwhelming intensity.

“Are you alright, Mr. Shepherd?” Samuel was sitting in the driver’s seat again, peering at Duncan over his glasses, a combination of concern and amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Samuel, I need your good thoughts tonight,” Duncan replied, his guard down. “I need all the help I can get. I’m enamoured with this woman. I’m crazy about her.”

“Let your heart be your guide, Mr. Shepherd.” Samuel held his gaze for a moment, and then looked down, toward the stretch of asphalt in front of Duncan’s high rise. The car moved forward, streamlined, humming quietly, toward Duncan’s destiny.

----

Duncan had texted Mackenzie again a few hours before; after the conversation during which she’d gazed at her phone in awe, falling into the constellation of Cancer on her bed, unbeknownst to him. He’d asked for her address; it was now programmed into Samuel’s GPS, so he could see the minutes counting down to their arrival. He took another deep breath; let it out in a steady stream, opposing thumb pressing into his palm; his eyes, sapphire-like, gazed out the window, reflecting the glowing lights of a Washington evening. He thought of Kenzie in her little black dress, her ankles wrapped in laces, the crystal floating at her throat, her eyes, gazing at him, full of hidden emotion. Her voice rising in his shower; baby, I want you to come. He closed his eyes and his head, crowned in curls, fell back on the leather seat. God, her fingers in mine, her hard little nipples and sweet clit in my mouth and the feeling of her body clenching around mine, how was that real, how is it still all so real and yet like a dream, the smell of vetiver and her skin, her moans, her hair glowing in the light over the bed--

“Mr. Shepherd, we’re here.”

His eyes snapped open, an involuntary fear rising in them. They’d pulled up to an apartment complex, relatively modern, with glass doors leading to an entryway and the doors of the inner apartments visible within.

Kenzie.

“Here I go.”

Samuel nodded, the wry smile playing around his mouth again.

“Mr. Shepherd.”

For the breadth of a heartbeat, Duncan paused, then he pushed the door of the BMW open and stepped onto the sidewalk. Apartment 1R was Mackenzie’s; she’d texted even her apartment number to him. She was trusting him with it, and he understood this innately. He straightened his Balmain jacket (already straight), rubbed the finger into his palm again, ran that nervous, constant hand against his bottom lip, and walked to the glass door, pulling it open. The second door was locked; he saw a neat row of buzzers beside it, each with a tile clearly printed with apartment numbers underneath. 1R. Stone. He breathed in again, long and low, and pressed the buzzer.

He held the breath as the moment hung there, unmoving.

Then a buzzing sound emanated from the foyer where he stood; he pulled the second door open.

Inside, there were four apartments in a long row, and a corner where the hallway turned towards more apartments along the next wall. He walked (wearing black Saint Laurent Wyatt boots tonight, the buckles hidden beneath the hem of his tailored slacks) to the end, where the corner began; 1R. A gold crescent moon ornament, hung from a small nail and a gold-painted, braided length of rope, shimmered in the hallway light against the door. There was a one-sided peephole facing him; he stared at it for a moment; he breathed again, and then he knocked.

An aching pause again; and then she opened the door.

Mackenzie stood there, her chestnut waves falling down over her shoulders and her back (moons along her head, he thought, stunned, moonlight in her hair), and she met his gaze, her hazel eyes aglow with silent fire, though her expression was full of apprehension she clearly had not been able to conceal. He went to speak, but his breath seemed caught in his lungs; he looked at her and his heart was struck with a quiver of aching need. Her mouth was darkly colored; her eyelids were dark, black kohl around her eyes; tonight she was like the hidden face of the moon, and he was immediately beguiled, under her spell.

She was wearing a dress that seemed to be cut out of the air itself; its neckline plunged down through the space between her breasts, coming together beneath them in a deep V, the skin there luminous in the light (I want to kiss that skin now); it was black like the dress she’d been wearing the night before, but it had long sleeves that came down to past her wrists, pointing towards her knuckles. It had been tailored to her small waist, tailored so it hugged against the rise of her chest and the elegant inclines of her arms, and then it fell from her hips, in waves of more silken velvet an inch above her knee, waves he wanted to kneel into, bury himself inside. Knee-high heeled boots stretched along her slender legs (the legs whose ankles I kissed, their redness building an ache in me, he thought), their toes coming to points, but the stretch of skin between where the boots began and her skirt ended was entrancing to him; he wanted to press his mouth there and move it up between her legs again; he ached at the thought. Around her neck was a velvet choker (my hands there my lips on her mouth), and hanging from it was a black inverted moon, its crescent points hanging down towards her shoulder blades. The sight of it sent a cool chill along the back of his neck; it seemed an omen, occult and knowing, a feminine eye that knew him and could see all of his secrets. He resigned himself to this; I would tell her anything. And he knew it was true.

“Kenzie,” he said breathlessly, overwhelmed. She was real. He hadn’t dreamt her; not last night, not this morning, when her light scattered along the hall as she ran away from him. And she was beautiful beyond all words to him; her realness, her weight, her beauty, within and without, shining like a darkened star in the twilight.

“God, you look beautiful.”

“So do you,” a nervous smile spread over her little mouth, and he thought of honey, roses, wine, the sweetness of your soul, Kenzie--and he moved forward, his lips capturing hers, his hands burying themselves in her cascade of hair, and he felt lost for a moment, lost in the tangibility of touching her again, full of relief at her reality. “You’re real,” he whispered into her mouth; he couldn’t stop. “You’re real, and I didn’t dream you.” He breathed in her smell; her perfume was the same. Vetiver, geranium, roses. He wanted to drink it like nectar.

“I know. I was afraid of the same thing. That I’d imagined you.” Her little face was turned up to him, and her darkly-shadowed eyes glistened with moisture. He was filled with a terrible fear that she would begin to cry; he felt a twinge around his heart, a wrenching horror at the idea of her sadness.

“I’m here.” He pressed his forehead into hers for a moment, his fingers trailing through her hair, his eyes closing, overwhelmed. “We’re both here. Everything was real. Everything is real. This is real.”

Her little hands went around his wrists for a moment as he held her, twining her fingers through his on either side of her face, clutching him to her, and he felt a burst of energy, as if her sweetness, her care, her nature of goodness, seeped through her into him, bathing him in warmth, and then she stepped away, out of his grasp. “Take me to dinner, Duncan Shepherd. I’m fucking starving.” She smiled again, like honey, he thought, and he smiled back at her (he watched her face blush towards him at his smile and his heart clenched again), and then he grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her through the door, his fingers pressing into her, the warmth of hand spreading into him like the glow of home after a long, cold walk in the dark.

-----

Duncan grasped Mackenzie’s little hand as she slid into the backseat of the BMW, her eyes meeting Samuel’s through his rearview mirror as they always did Duncan’s. Duncan could see the smile in Samuel’s eyes; he was delighted. Duncan slid in beside her and pulled the door shut, anxious to be near her; Kenzie looked so unbelievably beautiful, he felt dazed, blinded, disoriented once again, wistful for them to be alone together.

“Samuel--this is Mackenzie Stone.”

Duncan watched the clouded patina that immediately came into Samuel’s usually clear brown eyes. “Stone. You wouldn’t be Madeline Stone’s daughter now, would you?”

Kenzie put her chin up, meeting Samuel’s gaze through the mirror, bringing her hands together in her lap over her little purse (it was different than the clutch she’d had at the party; this one had a strap to go over her shoulder, and a gold buckle shaped like a crescent moon, this one facing in a waxing direction). Duncan felt a sort of fierce pride wash over him as he gazed at her lovely, shadowed face, the blush of her cheek and the incline of her neck. She’s brave; she’s honest. She’s so easy to fall in love with.

“I am.”

Samuel didn’t miss a beat, letting his concern slide away. Duncan silently thanked him. “Delighted to finally meet you, Miss Stone. Duncan has said only the best of you.”

“He doesn’t know me that well yet,” she laughed a little, glancing at Duncan, and he was full suddenly to the brim with the desire to hold her, kiss her again, melt into her. Samuel chuckled with her, his very white teeth flashing, his eyes dancing behind his square glasses. He liked her very much; Duncan could tell. How could you not, Duncan thought. Look at her.

“I can’t wait to know you more,” he said to her, Samuel’s watchful eye be damned. He reached to her lap and grasped her hand, looking at her carefully. He wanted her to see how sincerely he meant what he was saying. “I want to know you more than anything.” Kenzie looked at him, her hazel eyes taking on that strange dark hue again, and then she looked down at his hands, as if she felt overwhelmed by his gaze. Samuel’s attention seemed to strategically slide away from them; Duncan didn’t even need to ask him, the partition between the front and back seats rolled up languidly, almost absent-mindedly, and the car moved forward. By the time it arrived in front of Le Diplomate, Duncan and Kenzie were breathless, eyes glittering, breath hitching from the wild locking of their mouths, and Duncan’s lips were smeared with her dark lipstick. She put her delicate thumb up to his mouth as the car stopped, to wipe it away; Duncan captured the finger in his mouth, and sucked at it for a moment, lost in the ecstasy of her touch, the taste of her.

“Duncan,” she whispered, the longing in her voice inconcealable. “My lipstick is all over you.”

“Good. I want it there.”

She smiled at him, and he couldn’t hold back the moan; “Kenzie, baby,” he tried to kiss her again, his mouth hovering over hers, but she pulled away, the smile turning mischievous, and he knew she was watching the yearning in his gaze and his body with satisfaction; she quickly wiped the stain from his mouth before he could bite her finger again, and pulled her hand away.

“Later,” she said, their eyes meeting, and the core of his body tingled, as if touched by a live wire. “Later, I belong to you.” A chill coursed down his spine. He wanted to press his mouth between her legs and make her scream again. He wanted to press his face into the hollow of her neck, buried inside her. But patience was a virtue. He owed her his patience.

The partition went down, languidly; “Samuel, I’ll text you when we need the car. Thank you,” Duncan said. Samuel replied with the smile still dancing on his features, his bright eyes on Mackenzie. “Certainly, Mr. Shepherd.”

“Thank you, Samuel,” Kenzie said shyly, smiling back at him sweetly.

“It is truly a pleasure, Miss Stone,” Samuel replied, and she grinned.

Duncan helped her from the backseat, his large hand grasping her small fingers with fervent attention. “I like him very much,” she said to him quietly, smoothing her dress nervously; his other hand came around and felt at her waist, moving up and down for a moment, lost in the soft feeling of her, steadying her. “He likes you too,” he replied, bringing his face close to her again, breathing in her intoxicating scent. “Samuel’s worked for my family since before I was born, and I trust him with my life. I know when he likes or dislikes someone right away. He thought you were lovely. And you are. You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met.”

He couldn’t stop himself; the words tumbled out of him, fervently.

“God, Duncan,” she said, her hair shimmering in the lamps outside the entrance, her breath sweet against his face, her eyes glowing, hypnotizing him in their ethereal embrace. “How are you so wonderful?”

“Kenzie, it’s for you. It’s all for you. Anything you want, I want to give it to you.”

She laughed. “Right now, I want dinner. And a glass of wine. That would be nice.”

“So much dinner and so many glasses of wine are in store for you, Madame.” He pulled away, grasping her little hand tightly, the eyes of DC society be damned for now. He’d reserved a private room, but he didn’t care who saw them on their way to it (and he noticed several unfamiliar but attentive eyes follow them through the dining hall--clearly they recognized him); he felt an encroaching abandon, as though nothing and no one could tear him away from her now; let everyone see her, let everyone see them together, and he would do whatever it took to protect her, to sway his immovable mother to good graces when the time came. But first, this evening. First, Kenzie. Angel.

He saw Kenzie’s hesitant face as the waiter helped her into her seat; she saw the exhaustive wine menu and an overwhelmed look came into her eyes at its massive length.

“May I order the wine?” He asked her, his eyes on her, gentle.

“Yes, please.” He wanted to soothe the worry from her; he wanted her to feel comfortable to let her guard down, to be herself with him. Wine menus could get fucked if they made her doubt herself. Anything and anyone could get fucked, as far as he was concerned, if they looked at her the wrong way.

“Château Trotte Vieille Bordeaux, please,” he murmured to the waiter after he perused its exhaustive length for a short minute; he’d looked over this particular menu many times before. He watched Mackenzie’s wide, beautiful eyes glance down at the menu, searching for the wine he’d chosen; they widened further and he knew she’d noticed the price tag. The waiter (a tall young man with a thin face, a long nose and close-cropped hair) nodded, eyeing Mackenzie very briefly with badly-veiled interest; Duncan could see that the waiter recognized him as well, and was clearly curious about the beauty sitting with him in a private room. A less observant person would have perhaps missed the look, but Duncan was almost preternatural in his ability to read others; a useful talent he’d learned from watching his mother and listening to her through years of gains on political stages. He wondered how much a future reporter would pay the man to give them information about Duncan Shepherd’s date at Le Diplomate on a recent Sunday in May, the details of Mackenzie’s appearance, the coy Instagram shots that could potentially materialize of them later. He could see the headlines on the gossip websites now. Duncan Shepherd Spotted Arriving and Leaving with Political Enemy’s Daughter From Intimate Dinner At Posh French Restaurant.

I don’t care, he thought, staring into Kenzie’s eyes, which met his with a mixture of hesitance and open avidity, and that crushing feeling around his heart recurred. He reached out and took her hand. I just don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this woman mine.

“$245. I saw that. Oh my god,” Kenzie breathed, holding his fingers tightly. “That’s the money I spend on groceries in a month.” Nervousness had seeped into her eyes as she stared at him, her mouth open in a kind of stunned realization.

“Kenzie. It’s nothing. My mother spends that much every week on cold-pressed juice.”

“Duncan.”

“You’ll love it. It’s wonderful. It’s perfect with the duck a l’orange, which is, by the way, better here than the duck I’ve had in Paris.”

“Duncan.”

“Kenzie.”

“I feel strange.”

She was biting her lip, and her eyes looked frightened. They pierced his heart; he ached to soothe her again, ached to calm her.

“Mackenzie, listen to me. Please don’t. This is my life. I understand that it may be strange to you, but I will do whatever I can to make you feel more comfortable, more at ease. Anything. Don’t be afraid, Kenzie. I want you here. I want you to be here with me right now, and no one else. Mackenzie Stone, I don’t care about anything else right now except being here with you.”

He watched her face, her eyes growing shiny with the tears hiding behind them, and her little mouth trembled ever-so-slightly, a strange smile falling over her features. She sniffed a little, and a single tear fell from her eye, dropping down onto the immaculate white tablecloth, spreading into a damp orb. He grasped her hand desperately, his thumb rubbing against her wrist. “Baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

She breathed, silently, her overwhelmed expression clinging to the certainty in his blue eyes; he watched her throat and the rise of her collarbones, wanting to press his lips against her there; he watched the whiteness of the skin between the plunging neckline of her extraordinarily beautiful dress. And then her expression seemed to clear from what she saw in his face; she nodded a little, the smile trembling still but steadying for him. “Okay, baby,” she whispered. And he squeezed her hand, his smile widening to her, nodding back.

----

The duck tasted even more wonderful tonight; it was simultaneously the best meal he’d ever had and the one he felt he’d remember the least, somehow; he could only think of and focus on her eyes and her hair and her throat and her gold headband adorned with moons and the tiny movements of her hands and fingers as she ate her bread or stabbed a forkful of spinach or a morsel of perfectly roasted duck or drank the (absolutely exquisite) vintage Bordeaux from her wine glass, catching the dim, romantic evening candlelight from their table in its reflection. He somehow felt he’d never seen another person so clearly and entirely before this night; she was a revelation, so real and so beautiful and her eyes were full of emotion and so open to him, it absolutely took his breath away. He watched her ease into the meal and into his words as they talked; she told him about her father, far away in LaLa land, writing about film, forgetting to send her birthday cards, about her best friend Claire (“shares her name with the president, oddly enough”), and the love she shared with her mother. And there we can agree, he’d said, and told her about his mother, too. “I know how she can seem,” he said, looking away, referring to Annette’s sharp television interviews and her well-chronicled contentions with the press, “but I love her deeply, and she loves me. That’s an unshakeable truth, and it gives me comfort in life.” Kenzie had nodded, understanding. “I feel the same way about my mother,” she had agreed. “She’s there for me when no one else is. She’s given me so much advice that has helped me survive; she’s been a guiding light to me. I admire her strength and fearlessness so much.” Throughout the meal and as they talked, they continued to reach for each other’s hands every now and then; Duncan pressing his thumb gently into circles in her palm, his hands trailing down the expanse of her slender fingers. She’d grasp his fingers one by one, caressing the shape of his knuckles, making him shiver. At one point as he gazed at her left hand in his between staring into her eyes (god, her eyes, I love them so much, like stars), he wondered what it would look like with a ring from him adorning it. He blushed at the imagining; and then he wondered, quietly, what kind of ring she would love. A moonstone, he thought immediately, somehow sure right away, as though she’d told him herself. A moonstone, because she’s like the face of the moon to me, penetrating my spirit, exquisite and divine. He kept the thought to himself, tucking it away to look at later, as she told him about her work as a journalist, how much it made her hope for and want to fight for a kinder, better world. His eyes clouded with her sincerity; he was shaken with a moment of doubt regarding the work he did for his mother, and he knew it was dark work, cloudy work, and not for the first time, he felt deeply conflicted, perhaps now more than he ever had, especially hearing her sincerity. “I feel as though I can’t say no to her, my mother is the only person who has always been there for me,” he murmured. The sympathy shone out from Mackenzie’s eyes, and he knew she did not judge him harshly; knew she understood his confusion.

“I’ve seen and felt how wonderful you are,” she said. “I feel it now. We can always work to be better, be kinder, be gentler. I think it’s something you do every day, little by little, work at like a sculptor chipping away at a stone. Eventually it becomes something extraordinary. But that’s from hundreds of days of tiny work. For me, working on a story is like that. A tiny chipping away to find the essence of truth in something. I think that’s what life is, really. Hundreds and hundreds of days of little work.”

“I want to try to do that with you, Kenzie. Work together like that, a little bit at a time, for hundreds of days.”

Her eyes settled into his. He watched her breathe out, slowly, setting her fork down, the velvet choker at her throat, its moon charm catching the light.

He said it before he lost his nerve. “Mackenzie. Would you...be with me? Would you be mine?”

“Duncan. Oh, my god. I…” Mackenzie trailed off, staring at him. Her shock seemed to extend, and she was quiet. Her eyes had taken on that greenish hue that startled him deeply again. Her soul, deep in thought, full of tangled emotion.

He bit his lip, his eyes darkening, and he looked down for a moment, grasped his wine glass, drank deeply. He set it down, slowly, carefully.

“I know...this all seems so sudden, so fast. But I feel something for you that I’ve never felt for anyone. I meant everything I said to you today. You’ve brought an ache into my heart. I want you. Not just in my bed. I want you in my life. I want you, Kenzie. All of you.”

The moment hovered, quieted. They regarded each other. He felt her eyes rove over him as soft, pulsing music played in the background of the room; down from his dark hair, thrown back, to his eyes, meeting hers with hope and desire, his lips (which would kiss you every day, kiss you always, Kenzie), the fine sheen of ever-present stubble on his cheeks, the bob of his throat, the high collar of his dark shirt, the fall of his velvet blazer over his tall frame, down his arm and to his wrists, his silver Cartier watch shining against the candlelight, down his long hands, one resting against his thigh, the other hovering an inch away from hers on the table, index finger stretched. Light seemed to cascade behind her head, and he was reminded of the way she’d looked last night, like there was a halo around her head, golden and iridescent. It was as if he could see the outline of her soul, and it shook him to the core, again, trembling. He was bare under her gaze; he felt like she was looking into the essence of him, weighing him, deciding his fate. He waited. He had decided what he wanted, and had spoken it to her, and so at least he had had the courage to be honest. At least, he said to himself, I was brave in the sight of her wonder.

She lifted her head a little, and the light danced off her headband adorned with moons. She looked like a queen to him in that moment; like a Waterhouse priestess, throwing gold dust and magick into the night, and he was struck by her lovely, coiled energy, her power over him. She smiled at him, and it was like the sun breaking through clouds. It was blinding, overwhelming, filling him with her brightness, the beauty that shined out of her spirit.

“Yes,” she said, her voice steady, smooth, like honey. “Yes, I will, Duncan. Yes.”

He grinned, grabbed onto her hand, leaned toward her, his joy immediate.

“On one condition.”

He stopped. “Anything, Mackenzie. Anything.”

“Be mine, too, Duncan Shepherd. Will you be mine?” A little laugh flitted through her words. He could see the joy in her eyes, and it moved him deeply.

He breathed a sigh of relief; it felt like a weight was lifting off his heart, like wings were beating inside his ribcage.

“Kenzie, yes. Yes, a hundred times, yes. I’m yours.”

-----

They were anxious to be alone together, then; Duncan ached for her, and she whispered “let’s go”, draining her wine glass, the flash of her white throat setting his nerves on edge; Duncan had hurriedly passed his Black AmEx to the waiter, who brought it back to him with a swiftness that seemed almost supernatural. The evening seemed to be pushing them toward their private rendezvous; Duncan no longer wanted anyone else to be near them. He wanted her to himself, this divine goddess who had said she would be his; he still couldn’t grasp that she had accepted him, still felt terrified she’d disappear. He wondered if that feeling would ever fade, or if he’d always feel that fear, that ache for her, already dreading the moment she would leave.

Duncan had texted Samuel and as they practically ran from the entrance of the brightly-lit facade of the buzzing brasserie, their hands clasped together tightly, not noticing the eyes of some of the diners following them this time, not caring, he was struck with relief to see the BMW quietly humming on the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the lamps along the sidewalk. He opened the door for Mackenzie, catching her in his arms for a moment, pressing his lips into the soft space between her ear and her jaw, achingly. She leaned into him, her little body folding into his arms, sucking the air from his lungs, intoxicating. Angel baby. His own. She flitted away from him, disappearing into the backseat, and he followed her eagerly; Then I must be thy lady; but I know / When thou hast stolen away from a fairy land...the line hovered in his subconscious. She was like Titania, queen of the fae, scattering gold, her laugh making flowers burst into bloom, and as he pressed into her in the backseat, the flowers bloomed in his mind and his senses as he kissed her and her little mouth opened against him, her hair tangled in his fingers.

-----

When they’d finally arrived back at his penthouse, she hushed him when he tried to press into her again, impatient for her, his arms around her back, under her shoulder blades, trying to be delicate, afraid he might break her apart with his urgency. “I want a little bit more wine, baby, get me some?” The way she said baby, into his mouth, caused heat to pool in the bottom of his stomach. “Kenzie, baby...” he groaned into her softly, he couldn’t stop. Last night felt like it had happened a hundred days ago--he was starving for her again. He shook his head a little, dizzy, loathe to let go of her.

She grabbed the sides of his velvet jacket with her little fingers; “get it for me baby, I want it,” and he loved the pout on her lips, loved it like he loved her eyelashes, her glowing cheeks, her sweet smell, her insistence. “Kiss me first,” he begged, and he knew he was begging, and he didn’t care, he was lost in her. She pressed her open mouth into his bottom lip, sucking it carefully, slowly, and he pressed his hands into her breasts, trying to hold back the rough desire he felt, the skin between held in her plunging neckline, feeling her hot skin there. “There,” she breathed, releasing him. “Now, baby, give me what I want.”

“Mhmm,” he murmured, his head swimming, letting go of her, aching. He looked back as he moved through his vast living room with its lush carpet and low leather couch, trailing his finger absently along its back, watching her watch him (with eyes ringed in gold) move into his study, where he kept an opulently stacked wine rack beside the standing bar. He pulled a Chablis Grand Cru from the middle rack of the temperature-controlled glass case (a bottle worth an absurd amount of money--at least a grand--but his head swam and he couldn’t care at all, money meant nothing to him right now next to her) and as he turned, he saw that she had followed him, boots cast aside somewhere, on soft, bare feet, into his study behind him, hair shimmering, the gold of her glimmering. She pouted. “I wanted to scare you,” she whispered, eyes glowing.

“You look like an angel,” he replied, the bottle dangling carelessly from his fingers. She smiled, turning, looking at him over her shoulder, the dress falling in the light, beautiful beyond words to him. She turned her face towards the wall that faced his desk (her hair in waves of gold); and she gasped, her eyes falling over the huge expanse of The Youth of Bacchus. She paused for a moment, staring, and then took two hesitant, soft steps toward it, clearly in awe. He came up behind her, setting the bottle to the side of his polished mahogany desk, folding his arms around her waist, nuzzling his mouth into her neck.

“Is this real?” she whispered, leaning into him.

“Yes,” he murmured, kissing under her ear, kissing the incline of her neck falling into her shoulders. “It’s real. It’s called The Youth of Bacchus. My mother gave it to me when I was 18.”

“God. Duncan. It’s so beautiful. It’s beautiful beyond words.”

“No,” he whispered into her ear, kissing it, capturing the lobe in his lips, “you are, Kenzie, you are, only you…”

He turned her face to him, kissing her deeply, his tongue in her mouth, her scent crashing into him, and his arms turned her so he could grasp her hips, and he lifted her, light as air, onto the edge of his desk, her little elegant feet suspended several feet in the air, dangling over its edge. She pressed her hands back onto its smooth surface, and he leaned into her, tasting her, hands running over her in ardent waves, whispering into her, “angel, beloved, baby” and he moved his head down, pushing up the velvet folds of her flowing dress, cut to her body like it was part of her, finding her panties (wet against her for him again, god, he loved it so much), these ones made of soft lace, and his hands pulled them off her, hurried, impatient, and he buried his mouth on her clit, sucking with urgency, and she threw her head back, “oh my god, Duncan, fuck, babyyy,” and he saw her eyes floating back and forth between him and the gigantic painting against the wall of his study, caught up in its beauty, caught up in him, and her eyes clouded with green and gold, as he worked his mouth against her, her hand finding the back of his head, holding him flush to her sweetness, and as she came, crying out with a sound that threatened to overwhelm him in the crashing wave of his desire, he saw a tear fall from her eyes, catching the low, soft light, and he thought about god again, thought that maybe there was something in the universe that had brought her to him, into his arms, and he was full of joy.

----

He led her into the bathroom, the joy still dancing in his heart, inside his blue eyes. “Keep your eyes closed,” he said, and she giggled, clutching his hand, feeling carefully along the doorway with the other one, bare feet padding onto the cold, seamless stone tiles. She stopped; he pressed the fingers of his right hand, hot with his want, along the white skin between her breasts where the dress fell down into the void of her, against her neck, thumb trailing over her bottom lip.

“Okay, baby, open them.”

She opened her eyes wide and gasped again; all along the edges of his claw-foot tub there were roses, so many roses, dozens and dozens of roses, their stems stripped of their thorns and woven together in a tapestry, all the deep carmine red of her lips last night when she’d kissed him under the night sky for the first time; handfuls of petals floated over the surface of the water, steaming into the air, and the bath itself was surrounded by white pillar candles, illuminating the otherwise-dark bathroom with a soft, melting glow. He watched her delighted face with relief; “do you like it?” he asked, unable to keep the hopeful, wistful edge from his voice.

“Oh, Duncan, I love it. I love it so much. It’s wondrous. It’s divine.”

You are, you are, you are, he thought, his mind repeating it over and over, the only prayer he ever wanted to recite. Kenzie, Kenzie, Kenzie.

He watched her, aching, in the candlelight. She gazed at him, her face aglow. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Undress me.”

He leaned into her, desperately; his hands found the zipper at her back, pulling it down with soft urgency as she ran her fingers along his neck and his chest and against the rise of his crotch, pressing carefully and insistently. He moaned, shivering, pushing the heaven-soft sleeves down her arms, feeling her skin with his fingers, relishing the way her breasts, nipples hard, emerged from the cupped embrace of her plunging bodice, his mouth on her neck again. Her dress fell to the ground in a soft heap; she stood before him and he thought of another Bouguereau painting, its beauty flashing in his mind yet paling to her before him in the flesh, one called Evening Mood, the white-skinned nymph of twilight hovering over soft waves, her head softly turned in ecstasy, a crescent moon hanging behind her bowing head.

“You look like the moon,” he said, wonderingly, as her hands pulled at his jacket and pushed it away and her demanding fingers undid his shirt and unbuckled his belt, pulling the zipper of his pants down, pulling out his hard, aching length, her mouth open, her face looking up to him, her eyes impatient, her moon headband and black choker, hugging her neck like a lover (him, her lover) the only things she now wore. He loved that she was wearing her adorning jewelry again, like last night, as they were about to fuck; he loved the artistry of her, unpretentious, unstudied, gold and soft and starry and his, his own, for she’d accepted him, and she was his now, and he was hers, and that was all he knew and all he wanted to know. Her hands drifted over the length of his cock, languid but concentrated, and he pulled away from her touch, leading her to the steaming bathtub, the roses making way for them as he pulled her down into it with him, pulling her on top of him again, loving the feeling of her body hovering above him that way. She reached down into the hot, almost scalding water, its heat causing goosebumps to rise on both of them; gripped the length of his cock again, fingers grazing his sensitive head, her face hovering over his, her mouth almost kissing his, but not quite, her breath cascading into him and she moaned as she stroked him and he moaned into her in return, lost in her, his impossibly blue eyes falling into the night of her, “Mackenzie, baby, that feels so fucking good, you’re as beautiful as an angel, oh god, Kenzie, I love you--”, and the roses clung to the sides of her white skin, the steam that rose off the water enshrining her, and her mouth finally clashed into his, stifling his ardent admission, and he thought again that he could die and be content in the death, content because his last moments had belonged to her.

“Come for me this time, baby love, come for me, okay?” She murmured these sweet words into him, and he nodded, his brow furrowed, completely lost in her touch and her voice; she stopped the firm stroke of her hand around his hardness, and moving her hips, eased down onto him until he was buried in her, gasping, and she moved again, grinding down on him, causing him to stutter “fu-fu-uu-ckk” into her neck, against the softness of her chin, into her skin, and she said “I love you too, I’m yours baby, all yours, come for me,” and he couldn’t stop it, his release was so deep and so consuming that his moan bled into a wild cry that he tried to stifle between the space of her breasts where her dress had plunged, showing her heart to him under the shadow of her delicate bones, and he couldn’t believe that he could have ever felt so good, clutching her little body against him, her soul held in his hands this way. She was his, she had said yes, she was his, this angel, an angel, she loved him and heaven had fallen to earth, and he was holding it, her, she was heaven, heaven in his hands, heaven on his lips, heaven, heaven, heaven...

[quakerjoe]

Facebook post made by Callista Kline on February 16, 2018 at 6:05 pm

My brother’s response to my mom’s email about the recent shooting. I want to share, particularly because of the way he explains things. As a veteran and a gun owner, he knows much more about guns than I do. Hopefully his arguments and information can help any of my friends trying to sway people on gun control laws.

“Completely agree with the sentiment here, Mom. However, in order to make educated arguments for gun control, it’s important to actually know what you’re proposing and use the right language. Otherwise, you’ll just get completely shut down as “not knowing anything about guns” to people you’re trying to convince. And if you don’t know anything about guns, you can’t really advocate for responsible gun policy.

AR15s are not the problem alone. Yes, it’s the most popular military-style rifle, and it is designed to kill people effectively. But banning one model of weapon will just make people switch to other, equally effective killing machines. If you banned the Toyota Camry, would people stop buying midsize sedans? No, you’d just end up with more Honda Accords on the road. If you want to fix the problem, you have to ban all semi-automatic rifles. Semi-automatic means the weapon is loaded with a magazine (or belt in some cases) with multiple rounds; and for every trigger squeeze, one bullet is discharged. There is no real need for these weapons in civilian use. They aren’t necessary for hunting, where the point is to kill the animal with one shot. It is only useful for killing a lot of things in a short amount of time or having fun at a gun range. I think our children’s lives are more important than a fraction of the population’s fun shooting a bunch of rounds quickly at a range. They’ll cope.

Handguns are far more responsible for gun deaths in America than semi-auto rifles. You mentioned the kid who brought a gun to school as only having a “handgun, not a semi-automatic.” Well, almost all handguns are semi-automatic. They have magazines and one bullet per trigger squeeze. Though most handgun rounds aren’t as deadly as rifle rounds, it’s inconsequential at short range. And handguns are far easier to conceal than a rifle. With the exception of maybe revolvers (which have 5-6 rounds max before reloading), I believe handguns should be outlawed. The Virginia Tech massacre, the most deadly school shooting in American history, was accomplished with handguns only. Don’t underestimate their lethality. I think military-style rifles only account for about 2% of gun deaths each year. If you want to solve the problem, semi-auto handguns have to go, as well.

If we really want to make a difference in gun deaths, we have to do WAY more than universal background checks and better mental health screening. Banning all semi-automatic weapons would make that difference. Keeping shotguns, revolvers, and bolt-action rifles legal accomplish all the typical, common uses of guns. (Bolt-action rifles are typical hunting rifles that you have to reload between shots.) With these types of firearms legal, you can still hunt, defend your home, and compete in sport shooting.

Combine the following with the semi-auto ban.

1.       Government buy back program of all semi-automatic weapons. Once a grace period for turn-ins ends, possession will be a felony without a special (and rare) license for Federally approved dealers and collectors.

2.       Gun licenses for all who want to continue to own approved firearms. Licenses will be granted by completing a comprehensive background check, psych evaluation, safety training, marksmanship training, and meeting strict storage requirements.

3.       Storage requirements would include safes, weapons unloaded, with ammo stored separately. Licenses expire after a certain number of years and all the requirements must be completed again for license renewal.

4.       Registration of all firearms.

5.       Insurance for all firearms. If your gun is used in a crime or if there’s a accident with your gun, your insurance company is liable for damages. Let the insurance market set rates based on their analysis of risk. Then, people can decide if it’s financially worth it to own a gun.

Finally, here’s your counterarguments for the most common pro-gun arguments:

A.      Pro-gun argument – assault weapons aren’t an actual thing. Banning them won’t make a difference. Counterargument – none. This is true. Classifying a gun as an “assault weapon” is something people who know nothing about guns do. Having a bayonet stud (a place to mount a bayonet) used to be one way to classify a gun as an assault weapon. Last I checked, we don’t have a bayonet problem in this country. Talk about banning semi-auto guns instead of made up things like “assault weapons.”

B.      Pro-gun argument – 2nd Amendment guarantees my right to bear arms! Counterargument – sure, it does, but there can be limitations. And in case anyone needs a history lesson, the individual right to bear arms has only existed since 2008. From the adoption of the Constitution until the DC v. Heller decision in 2008, the 2nd Amendment had never been interpreted to mean private citizens have a right to own guns. (Thanks, Scalia.) But that decision is now the law of the land and precedent for future court decisions. Nevertheless, even in Scalia’s majority opinion, he asserts that there are limits to the 2nd Amendment. Weapons allowed should be those in common use at the time. And limitations should be made on “dangerous and unusual” weapons, per previous precedent in United States v. Miller. I argue that semi-auto firearms should now be considered “dangerous and unusual,” given their lethality.

C.      Pro-gun argument – if law-abiding citizens get rid of their guns, criminals won’t follow the law, and we’ll be in more danger. Counterargument – this is an argument against having laws. Since criminals don’t follow the law, there should be no limits on anything. Also, when we do outlaw things, it can work. Purchases of large quantities of ammonium nitrate fertilizer was restricted after the Oklahoma City bombing, and there hasn’t been a similar bombing since. We outlawed fully automatic weapons, grenades, rocket launchers, etc. in the 20th century, and what has happened? We don’t see violence with those types of weapons. Most weapons used to commit crimes are purchased lawfully. If we change the laws, it will work to reduce gun deaths.

D.      Pro-gun argument – if we ban guns, people will just use knives or baseball bats Counterargument – there are plenty of incidents around the world of mass stabbings or clubbings, etc. Show me one that is as lethal as a mass shooting.

E.       Pro-gun argument – we need armed security guards in every school Counterargument – do you trust the security guard won’t become a mass shooter? The Texas church shooter was an Air Force veteran. The Pulse nightclub shooter was a security guard. Further, it’s relatively easy to get the drop on a security guard. Shoot him first when he’s not expecting, then keep going. That’s what the Pulse nightclub shooter did. It’s not difficult if you draw first. Columbine had armed security, too. Adding more guns to schools adds more risk, it doesn’t reduce it.

F.       Pro-gun argument – it’s a mental health issue, not a gun issue *or* guns don’t kill people, people kill people Counterargument – The United States has the same rates of mental illness as other developed Western countries, but we’re the only ones with this type of violence. The mentally ill are actually less likely to commit crime than those who aren’t mentally ill, which many find surprising. Also, those who are mentally ill are more likely to become the victim of a crime than those who don’t have mental illness. It’s a common refrain to hear “anyone who would do that must be crazy.” That’s not true. Being a murderer doesn’t actually mean you are mentally ill, which is why you hardly ever see successful insanity defenses in trials. And if “people kill people,” then we really should stop giving all these people guns, right? We don’t allow private F-22s or nuclear weapons, do we? Why? Because people would use them to kill other people. People use people-killing machines to kill people. Go figure.

G.      Pro-gun argument – We, as a society, have turned our backs on God. This is why crime is getting worse. We need God/Jesus to heal people’s hearts, not get rid of law-abiding citizens’ guns. Counterargument – Crime has actually decreased overall in recent decades. Things are getting better, not worse. Murder rates and violent crime overall have trended down as we’ve advanced as a society. Mass shootings have remained steady, though, because angry people have easy access to guns.

H.      Pro-gun argument – we need guns to fight against the government in case it becomes tyrannical. Counterargument – I doubt semi-automatic weapons will defeat a tyrannical government with fighter jets, bombers, tanks, artillery, drones, advanced cyber capabilities, and nuclear weapons.

I.         Pro-gun argument – gun registrations will make it easier for the government to disarm us Counterargument – The registration is necessary to keep track of deadly weapons in case they are used in a crime, or in case a law-abiding citizen commits a crime that revokes their right to guns. There’s over 300 million privately owned guns in America. If the government wanted to take everyone’s guns, they’d do it the same way they would if there wasn’t a registry: by going door to door and searching everyone.

I truly believe we need to do far more than anything advocated by most mainstream gun control organizations like Everytown and Moms Demand Action. We need to follow the lead of countries like the UK, Australia, and Canada. They’ve figured it out. Why can’t we?

[6ad6ro]

an explanation post and small update about that thing that recently happened with that one ex friend. just fyi, this is very long:

first, some backstory. i have an issue where i often end up staying in abusive relationships (friends/family/dating) for way too long for various reasons. that said, this friend. they were always problematic. they would continue aggressively making passes at me even tho i rejected them constantly. like really gross passes that reminded me of why i “hate (stereotypical) men”. bc it was real bro-style creeping. hitting on me incessantly. always hanging all over me and making any excuse to have physical contact. making gross innuendo “jokes” that went too far just… always. at one point they licked my ear when we were taking a photo together. etc.

now i confronted them on this many times. asked them to tone it down. explained how uncomfortable and stressed they made me. told them “i’m sorry but i just don’t feel that way and i wanna be friends” like god SO often. my sister (used to be friends w them too) even would sit and we’d try to explain to them why they needed to stop.

but of course, they’d always reply to this with extreme defensiveness. say i was just over thinking it. that this is just who they were. that they joke with ALL their friends this way (sidenote i’ve seen how squeamish they can make their other friends). that “maybe i should rethink my standards for what is okay and not okay”. would even accuse me of being paranoid and “gaslighting” them. even when it got better, they were always making little jokes like “oh srry i wanted to pat you on the back but idk if you’ll get mad at me” like they really wanted to let me know i was in the wrong. and beyond that, they always seemed to be like actively trying to find new avenues of hitting on me.

and that was just the personal space issues. they’d also like rage at games when we played together? like slamming my controller to the floor when they lost. being overly competitive. being rude to my other friends if they were “holding them back” in a game. they’d actually criticize people who didn’t agree with how they wanted to play as being “unskilled” and “not real gamers”. and if you ever were beating them, they’d be all angry and say stuff like you were being “ cheap”. any mistake they made in a game was “people cheating”. but any time they did well (including purposeful exploiting), it was a boast worthy achievement. trashtalk all day but only they were allowed to do it.

it was weird too bc TBH THEY AREN’T EVEN ALL THAT GOOD. like overall, i’d almost always beat them. my sister too. they were mediocre at best. but of course… they’d literally make statements like “i almost always beat you” and “i usually win” when it was just… such a rare occurrence. its just… when it came to trying to have a fun play session with people, they put the game and winning above… you know… having fun w the rest of us? and sidenote they were always SUPER picky about what game we played. and when it came to options like “what guns to use” or “what stage to play”… you know how often people take turns so everyone is happy? on their turn, they’d get respect. but on everyone elses turn, they’d always like… fuck around and change options back to theirs and like revert stuff and just…

not that age matters but did i mention they were 27. i mean idk i only bring it up bc they reminded me so much of a little kid like esp about videogames. but there were a lot of other issues with them too. but i’ll just bring up the last big one. they… morally/politically? they tended to be in a cool direction in general. v “supports human rights overall” kinda person. but… they were the type who were idk v quick to judge? they would make extreme judgement calls with no information. they’d always end up fixated on conspiracies rather than perceiving things with moderation. people can think what they want imo, but the issue here is how they needed anyone close to them to agree with them too? 

example: one time i was driving w them in an area that had very little shops and it was late and i had forgotten to pick up a gift for someone we were meeting. just a small thing to thank them for a favor. the ONLY store open and around was walmart. yes fine walmart sucks but  idk i needed a gift. i mentioned i was gonna stop by there and they were like “no not walmart”. and i’m like “yeah i know lol” and they were like “no seriously we cant go in there”. long story they refused to go in, wouldn’t wait in the car, and made it out like if i went in that there would be a big problem. i ended up showing up to the person empty handed and it sucked. another time just recently i was gonna get some lays potato chips and they were like “ew no you can’t buy anything from the cocacola company” and like shamed me and walked off so i couldn’t get them. idk this kinda stuff happens all the time tbh? but it doesn’t stop at just like pretentious annoyance. they’d go HARD with political opinions too and if you disagreed w them they’d HATE you. not just internet forums or strangers. but friends. one time my sister (who for the sake of the story is pan and leaning towards non-binary) disagreed with them when they made a sweeping statement on fb about how some specific thing made everyone “transphobic”. anyways when my sister tried to discuss it with them they literally sicked their friends on her and insulted and browbeat her until she just had to leave. she got stressed at the end and yelled back finally and then they sent her a pm like “i’m really disappointed in you. i’ll be waiting for an apology when you’re ready to give it”. lol long story short my sis dropped them at that point. as she put it “i thought highschool was over”. she was already super mad at them for how they were treating me sexually anyhow tho like... srry but i guess one of my points is my sister is like one of the coolest, nicest, best people i know. she never drops people. but she dropped THEM. over the years i’ve asked them why they go from 0 to 11 so fast and why they don’t... idk... “lead” people into agreeing with them rather than angrily and violently just immediately demanding it? and as they put it “people with strong opinions will never change so don’t bother with them” and “i act how i do as an example to others of how to be a good person”. but god i guess just recently i came to realize that they were just... i don’t think they cared about other people. they just wanted to protect THEMSELVES above all else? they wanted a reason to judge people. it was all an excuse for them to feel self-righteous and act entitled and superior. oops i forgot to mention that they’re pan and gender-neutral as well? maybe they identify as trans but idk. the only reason i mention it is bc they definitely use it as a way to shame people and feel superior. i know it’s easy to be sensitive about that stuff considering, but they go above and beyond. and it’s weird that they’re all about human rights and w/e bc GOD they’re so gross sexually and... srry another example. so they’re a furry. totally fine imo. but one day we were walking around a downtown area with a lot of bars late at night and they were wearing fox ears/tail and bein themselves nbd. but we passed by a “drunkbus” right as cookie-cutter bros spilled out of it. one of them was like “hey i didn’t know the furry convention was in town” and i immediately got super angry and turned to say something. but then i looked to see my friend had just continued to walk away? i took a breath and walked back to them and was like “i’m so sorry like do you want me to say something?” and they were like “it’s okay some day i’ll fuck them until they like it” or “until i turn them” or god idk i think they maybe even used the term “rape”... alarm bells tbh. blahh i won’t go into any more details but lets just say how they act and how they say a person SHOULD act is a dictionary definition of hypocrisy. well anyways, i guess my point i wanted to make with this backstory is, as i’ve finally come to realize... they’re an immature, self-righteous, spoiled person with a pretty distinct martyr complex. and they’re kinda rapey. they always used to complain about all this drama they had and how awful everyone was to them... and it always sounded like “really bad luck”? but i realize now that they were just a tornado of selfishness with like no emotional control and they couldn’t keep friends for too long before it just had to end in a big flaming ball. sorry like i should point out i know they’re obv full of mental illness... but i don’t think they really go to therapy or seek help for any of it? like so many of us on here are pretty messed up but we do our best? this person is not doing their best. they clearly feel the world should change before they do. anyways anyways anyways. this friendship lasted for idk 2 years? 3? it was weird that i didn’t notice my own reactions as warning signs. like when i don’t know someone too well or am having issues... i’ll often bring another friend to hangouts as a sort of buffer. maybe uncool, but it helps. usually this only lasts for like one or two hangouts. but with this ex friend, it lasted the entire period. whenever i tried to hang out w them alone, a much bigger incident would always happen, and i’d go back to square one. but okay. the actual story of the incident: so i was always trying to get them to hang out with me and another friend bc i felt like we all had v similar hobbies, and this past tuesday it finally happened. we all hung out at other friend’s place and played games and ate food and outside of exfriend’s usual little issues, it went really well. at some point it was mentioned that sonic mania released that day. it was something we had all been very excited about, but we already had plans that day and some of us (me) didn’t want to experience the game the first time in a distracted social environment. but i mentioned “ugh i have a doc appointment early tomorrow but i’ll still dl it right when i get home. i better not play it tho lol weh”! when they heard i was buying it, they were like “oh man you gotta let me come over and try it”. i knew they were a big fan of the guy who made it and a huge sonic fan, but also that they had just lost their job and money was tight (i had to buy their food that day). i had a feeling they’d morally be against pirating it temporarily until they could afford it. so idk i was like “hey listen as long as we only play like the first act each, i could take you to my place before i drive you home. but only if you’re okay with being v quick bc i have dr in the morning”. sidenote they refuse to drive and don’t use a bike so hanging out with them always involved carting them around. and no before they lost their job (v recently), they coulda def afforded it. they literally were constantly buying insanely expensive collectibles like think of the most expensive gaming stuff you can and they prob have it. sealed panzer dragoon saga. vectrex with every game. fami twin with working disc system parts. ique with most games loaded. mint physical laserdisc copy (beta?) of dragons lair from the arcade machine. whatever. my point is they spent all their money on toys instaid of bettering themselves. we all do it but they took it to an extreme. one other thing... they only would communicate over their parent’s lan line phone and over facebook. they refused to have a cellphone. back to story. they excitedly agreed to my conditions and we went back to my place and installed the game. i started playing and god it was amazing (obv)! i got to the end of act 1 in a couple of minutes and was like “okay i should rly quit and hand it to you” but they were like “no no finish the zone” and tbh it was so good i agreed. so i played until i beat the boss and then i was like “okay i can’t go further” and quit and then handed it to them. i think the whole zone took me like... 5 minutes? this is when it started getting weird. i noticed my gf had called and like idk she was a bit worried bc i normally call her after i get home from my other friend’s place (we hang every tuesday like clockwork) and it had gotten really late but i forgot to let her know. it was really sweet and i didn’t want her to worry so i was like “hey uh shoot do you mind if i call her?” and tbh they were like already so absorbed in playing the game they weren’t even paying attention to me. but i had given them the rly comfy chair but it blocked the exit to the room. i couldn’t even squeeze by unless they moved first. so i started like asking them ‘hey uh do you mind pausing and moving so i could get by?”... nothing. again i asked. ignored. this went on for like idk 30 sec? a minute? until i finally was like hovering my finger over to hit the pause button like “can you please just pause so i can leave” like... and only then did they finally say “well fine but i don’t even know how to pause”. let me take the time to point out that they are prob the most techy person i know. esp about old game systems. they build flashcarts and repair ancient consoles and solder and mod and they worked the past 4(?) years at a legit retro game store. and they were amazing to begin with. it’s a small thing, but they coulda figured out how to pause a switch. they’d played one many times before too. so finally i have them pause it. and i’m like still standing there for 30 sec or so and they still aren’t budging? and i’m like “you uhh gotta get up so i can get by the chair is blocking me”. they continue to idk ignore??? i finally have to literally pick up the chair WITH them still in it and move it aside. only then could i pass. idk but i didn’t get angry or anything bc i was just relieved to finally get by. as i walked out of the room i mentioned to them “hey if i take too long just keep playing obv but when i walk in please pause it and quit immediately so i don’t see later level content plz” (i’m a big baby and have been avoiding all details for so long and was looking forward to the surprise lol). and they were like “okay” or something. i went out to my car and talked w my gf for god idk 15 or 20 min? i didn’t want to talk that long but she was going to bed soon and was a bit down/ill and i still wanted to talk to her and idk i knew worst case my one friend would love the extra time to play. and i felt like if i stayed out that long i could go in to a very satisfied friend, you know? so i get off the phone and head inside. i enter the room and am like “okay i’m back plz pause it like we gotta go”! ignored. i ask again kinda lol trying to plug my ears and not look. ignored. at that point i notice the same song from the first zone is playing and i look over and it is in fact the same level and i’m like ??? “wait how are you still on the first level??” and they were like “oh i’m completing all of the special stages”. the first thought i had was like oh wow cool they really wanted to stick to my initial request of only playing the first zone? unnecessary but v nice of them! i guess i was really reaching for an explanation lol... so whatever they still are playing so i sit down next to them and am watching them play for another minute or so. i was about to say something bc they still weren’t stopping but then i notice how close they are to the boss and am like “oh okay cool you’re p much to the boss so you’ll be done super quick”. they keep playing. at that point i notice they’;re like... taking sonic up and around the level kinda in circles? and backtracking? like? it’s really weird and i’m like “wait what are you doing” and they’re like “trying to get rings to complete the special stages”... so i’m like “uhh sorry tbh but i’m already way past when i wanted to go to bed is there any way you can just... go to the boss”?? and they’re still doing their thing and ignoring me and so i speak up again like “cmon like i’m really sorry but this doctors appointment is an obligation and i really need to get to bed”. and at that point they pause the game. stand up angrily. kinda fling the controller so it hits the table and falls onto the hard floor. they start kinda flailing their arms angrily and say in this really sour tone “oh im sorry i just thought you were gonna idk let me PLAY the GAME”??? i start replying like “listen i’m sorry i just like i don’t have a choice in the matter like i have to go to bed like you had like 3 times as much time as i did and idk maybe you can take the switch into the car or something idk??” and they just kinda angrily say “whatever whatever just stop yelling at me”. btw i’m not yelling. i’m definitely definitely not yelling. i’m not even angry. calm. nice. confused at best? and this isn’t one of those things where it’s like “im not yelling bc when i yell you really KNOW it”... i just wasn’t yelling by anyone’s terms. at that point i’m like “listen i’m sorry i just don’t know why this is becoming such an issue like idk maybe you can wear headphones in the car and keep playing later levels or...” and that’s when they’re like “it doesn’t matter just STOP yelling at me”. and the chair is in the way of the exit and needs to be like lifted and moved so we can leave. but at that point they take their foot and just KICK the chair across the room. at that point i’m kinda like “listen i’m sorry if i have a tone in my voice or am hurting your feelings but tbh it’s kinda hard to remain perfectly calm when you’re sorta throwing a temper tantrum and..” and that’s when they shouted as loud as they could “OKAY NOPE UH UH BYEEE” and swung open the door and ran through the house to the exit door. i’m trying to call after them like “shit i’m really sorry but i don’t have time to chase after you i gotta go to bed please can i just take you home like if you leave i gotta just let you and go to bed” and they ignore me and run outside. it’s like 2am at this point btw. i kinda go outside to check if they’re standing there cooling down but no. long gone. ran down the street i think. so i go back inside. turn the light out. and lock the door. i just dont have time to deal with this. i want to but i can’t. but i sit there for a few minutes. and... (maybe) the mentally ill/abused side of me is like “well you COULD go look for them and try to calm them down and drive them home and it wouldn’t take THAT much longer than you were gonna already spend driving them, right? worst case if you don’t find them you can just go home and go to bed”. and so i head outside.as i enter my car tho, i get this weird gut awful feeling of deja vu? i realise pretty quickly that this scenario was pretty similar to the ones i had pretty regularly with my one really bad ex gf. the one who was a manipulative sociopath that used me and cheated on me and also had no emotional control etc etc etc lol? and idk i was surprised bc... i thought that this part of my life had been over. but still... the dumb side of my brain ignored that and carried on. i drove along the path i assumed they walked, thinking maybe they woulda taken the time to calm down. after a bit i finally caught up to them. i pulled up slowly and kinda called out like “hey i’m really sorry like i never wanted it to go down that way like you’re my friend like let me take you home i’m really sorry”. they ignored me for a bit and kept doing that angry car walk thing as i had to slowly follow behind and continue apologizing. finally they stopped and came to the window. they were like “listen you can’t talk to me like that and abuse me like that like what you did was so awful and bullying and ..” and went on like that for a min. and i was like “listen i’m sorry and i know me using that one word in particular must have really set you off but idk..” like trying to explain to them why i said “temper tantrum” (BC THATS WHAT THEY FUCKING HAD BTW THATS WHAT IT GD WAS) but i was trying to be nice about it? so i continued on “well i mean the reason i said that was okay like i know you were agitated but you kinda like tossed my controller haphazardly and it hit the floor and yeah i’m sure it was an accident...” and at that point they stuck their head inside the window like super close to my face and shouted as loud and angrily and full of spittle as they fucking could “WELL MAYBE IT WAS A FUCKING ACCIDENT THEN”!!!! i’m like... idk... adrenaline just dumps into my body. i’m giving this person so so so many chances tonight. being so nice. and this is a problematic friend to begin with. and they’re shouting in my face like this as i try to apologize to them so i can drive them home after they ran off. but i’m a pacifist and i try to avoid conflict. but still... i’m like, probably quietly, “you... you can’t just yell at me like that. you aren’t allowed to yell at me like that.” and they open their mouth and start shouting more. and that’s when i shout back “I WON’T LET YOU SHOUT AT ME LIKE THAT”!!! idk if it scared them or what like i know i’m pretty booming and alarming when i shout idk but regardless they yanked their head out of the window and backed away from the car and i split second checked they were clear and i just floored it. but... i quickly slammed on the breaks. took a breath. decided i didn’t want it to be like this (do you see how stupid/messed up i am). i put it in reverse and turned around to back up. but i have to slam on the breaks. thank god i was only idling at that point. bc they’re pressed RIGHT up against my back bumper. i’m trying to comprehend all this bc there’s a v big sidewalk and they were on it when i started to speed off so why are they right behind my car now? a BIG alarm bell goes off in my head but i ignore it. i stare at them as they wait pressed against my bumper for like half a minute, giving them “what are you doing” eyes and gestures. finally they come back to the window. i’m like “listen. i’m really really sorry. it’s okay if you hate me. we don’t have to talk about it or at all. i made a mistake. i’m very sorry. can i just... take you home? i feel bad. we can try and work out this stuff later if we have to”. at that point they start yelling at me again (not screaming but just normal yelling) and telling me how awful and bullying and abusive etc i am and how their reactions were justified and idek bc they started walking off again. FINALLY. FINALLLLLY. my brain accepts this situation as fairly impossible and unreasonable and i decide i gotta be done. i just... can’t? anymore?? even if i wanted to... i don’t have time? so i pull up next to them and say sternly “you know what? you can’t treat your friends like this or they will LEAVE you.” and i sped off. i think i heard them screaming after me like “YOU SHOULD TAKE YOUR OWN ADVICE” but god knows like my car is junk but i had floored it so they were long gone. okay so that’s PRETTY much the end of it. i decided pretty quickly after that that i was DONE with this person forever. that this wasn’t the kind of friendship i wanted. over the next few days i came to realize i should have been done with this person almost immediately. again, weird parallels to my worst ex. you don’t have to be dating someone or romantic w them for it to be a super abusive relationship. well anyhow i decided to avoid facebook or communicating w them for a bit so i could figure out how to like “officially end it”. because i was sure that they’d have gone on fb and written one of their common “i’m sorry i acted that way BUT” fake apologies where they pretend to be sorry but then negate the apologies by justifying all their behavior by making me out as some super abusive monster. 3 days later, i bite the bullet and check facebook, bc i realize this also is a pretty easy way for me to like... end it with them in a polite and cordial way? to pretend i don’t hate them. to talk to them in a way that hopefully keeps them from freaking out at me the next time our paths cross? also bc deep down i still do remember the good times and have a bit of respect for them. sure enough, it was there. the half-apology that leads into “you need to learn how to talk to people”. “you bullied me just like this person”. “when you talk to anyone you should use this tone”. tbh i only barely glazed over it. i started my reply along the lines of “i don’t want to get into a big discussion about what happened, but i think it would be best if we parted ways. i don’t think we’re compatible as friends. i hope we can be polite if we ever run into each other again. i’m really sorry that it turned out this way.” etc etc etc. part way in, i noticed their last short msg. sent way after the initial bunch of “sorry not sorry”s. it was just a half sentence. “i guess i should apologize for jumping in front of your car...” ... THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE. THAT BASTARD. THEY REALLY DID IT. THEY REALLY WERE TRYING TO FORCE ME TO INJURE THEM WITH MY CAR SO THEY COULD ENTRAP ME OR SUE ME OR FUCK MY LIFE UP. I THOUGHT I WAS BEING CRAZY AND PARANOID WHEN I HAD THAT THOUGHT BUT IT WAS TRUE. THAT ABSOLUTE LUNATIC. *deep breath* i’m still shaken. it was just a fluke that i didn’t step on the gas before i noticed them against my bumper. it EASILY could’ve gone down in the worst way. god. and all this over me asking them to stop playing sonic mania. tbh the experience kinda soured the game a bit for me? i mean... thank god it’s so good but really who even gives a shit bc it’s just a game like GOD fucking DAMN i can’t believe i had something so FUCKED happen at this stage in my life. i know it’s a really self-hating thing to do to blame myself for having someone like that around but... my. god. i ended up sending the fb message that i was initially planning and ignoring all the impulses to scream at them or call some authority (idek what i could do here) or tell them they need immediate help or what bc what the fuck. and i haven’t checked fb since. i wanna be done forever. i don’t ever wanna see or hear or hear about this person again. it’s a bit silly but i’m cleaning house and getting rid of all the stuff they got for me (i rejected most of their “wooing” gifts but a few still got through bc general gift exchange”. i know it’s messed up but i even washed all the clothes i was wearing w them regardless if it needed a wash or not. maybe it was symbolic. but they’re dead to me. god. it’s not just for the best it’s goddamn mandatory.

ANYWAYS so that’s it i guess. sorry i know how long this was. i don’t REALLY expect anyone to read through all this. but if you do, plz lmk so i can say thanks i guess lol? it’s just nice to get it all out there bc it kinda messed me up... really bad? idk. and oh um i’ll still reply to people individually for asking about the previous post that related to this? but it’s taking me a bit to do replies bc i’m just... kinda scared regarding social stuff rn considering.  i guess the last thing i’ll say is if part of you is telling yourself that someone is abusive and you find yourself constantly making really big considerations or umm excuses just to hang out with someone? maybe don’t. there are many good people out there for you. abusive people can be dangerous. be careful and try to surround yourself with nice, happy people. <3

[rainhearts-hatchery]

Let’s talk Buying and Selling

((This is one of those posts that has come about because of Flight Rising, but I’m going to be sharing it on my other blog as well.)) Anytime, you agree to exchange currency for a product or service, you are buying. Anytime you agree to give an item to someone for currency, you are selling. I don’t care if the currency is dollars, pounds, bottle caps, shiny rocks, or in-game, on-site pixel money that has no real world value, because it cannot be converted to RL cash. It is buying and selling. It is a business transaction. Communication is expected of both buyer and seller. I’m going to get on both buyer and seller tails here.

If you are pushing a “Purchase” button, you are communicating your intent to buy an item. Equally, if you list an item for sale, you are communicating that you want to exchange something for what you consider a fair amount of currency. If this is all the communication you can handle, self checkouts exist. Good luck with fast food (at least until the robots take the jobs). Flight Rising has an Auction House, where you just have to push a button, and have the currency on your account if buying, and your transaction is done. You never have to directly interact with another user for as long as you use the site.

BUYERS

Once you remove the third party of the Auction House, and directly interact with other users, you need to remember you are not interacting with a machine, but you are interacting with another human. If you are buying art, or a custom item off Etsy, you are interacting with another human. You have a responsibility here. Your responsibilities are: a) Be polite. b) Be honest. c) Be respectful. Be Polite I mean, actually polite. Please and thank you go a long way. Your parents weren’t lying. Rarely will someone anywhere in life ask for OviPets levels of “politeness”, with thank yous after automated transactions or they block you, but when you are working with a person? A “May I please buy/have a spot for” to open your request and a “thank you” at the end of a transaction goes a long way. Especially if your transaction has had a bump or hiccup in the middle. Along with this, don’t demean other buyers in the thread. If they can afford something you can’t, keep your mouth shut. If you can’t afford something, your “I would if I could!” comment isn’t wanted, unless you’re following up with “but let me link my friend/group/etc” Be Honest If you change your mind on a purchase, PM the seller. “Hey, can I cancel my order?” Not, “Can I have a few more days to pay?” when you’re not sure if you want to buy it. Not waiting until the last day, after you’ve promised to pay by then, then trying to resell the item in front of the seller. Be Respectful There is an amount of respect that you should give everyone. At the very least, you treat them like fellow humans. “Respect is earned, not given,” meaning you only respect someone after they’ve proven themselves to you is a load of horse crap and is a saying that needs to die. This goes along with the above: Be Honest. If a seller asks you for payment, do not attempt to guilt them. For any reason. Sellers do not care that you’ve been in a coma for 2 weeks because you saw a bag of kittens dropped off a bridge and you jumped in to save them. We just want to know: are you paying or not. You do not have to explain why you haven’t been able to pay them. If you aren’t buying, they need to know so they can move to a new buyer. It’s okay to ask to be moved to a ping list or a wait list. If a seller needs 5 of 10 pre-orders paid to run an accent, and you’re the 5th, you are the hold up. It’s rude and disrespectful. It’s rude and disrespectful to not respond to someone. If someone says “Hey, I need payment/info,” and you reply with anything that amounts to “k, brb” and never get back to them, don’t be surprised when they say they’re reselling your spot. If you need a refund, or to decline a spot, talk to the seller. If you’re buying art, and it has mostly been finished, don’t be surprised if you don’t get a refund. If the art is done and delivered? Do not ask for a refund. If you’ve paid via PayPal, don’t charge back unless the artist hasn’t replied to you, AT ALL (give people at least 24 hours to reply). That just makes you scum. In the end: The customer is not always right. Do not abuse people, anywhere, who are selling to you. I don’t care if they work in fast food, retail, a movie theater, or are selling online.

SELLERS

I’m not letting you off either. You have responsibilities too. Some of these, you’ll wish were in place before you started selling directly to people. Your responsibilities are: a) Be polite. b) Be honest. c) Be respectful. Oh, they’re the same. Be Polite Do not demean buyers. Do not insult them. Remain calm with them. If you need to rant, come here to Tumblr, go to DreamWidth or LiveJournal (if you want to risk the Russians), or Facebook. Remember, you can get banned on most pet and art sites for publicly calling out a user, even if they have screwed you over. Be Honest If you have an issue that will prevent you from fulfilling an order, tell your customer. Do not lie and say “Oh, it’s on the way!” when it’s not. If you will not be able to deliver it at all, and they have paid, refund them. If it will be a delayed delivery, offer the option of a refund, or at least keep them informed. I know that on Flight Rising, the exact date an accent or skin comes back can vary. The site says 5-7 days. Sometimes, you’ll have accents/skins rejected, so you have to edit them and send them back in. I know that sometimes RL can get in the way of doing art. Regardless of what it is, it is YOUR responsibility, if there is a hiccup, to inform your buyers. Those are your customers. Be Respectful Again, this goes along with the above. Be respectful to your buyers. Don’t suddenly spring rules on them. Before you begin selling, do yourself and them a favor and have a Terms of Service. You see this on Flight Rising a lot as someones “Rules.” Just call it what it is: Terms of Service. They are the terms of which you and your buyers agree to do business under, under which you agree to provide a service. Thus: Terms of Service. They need to be clear and concise. Keep it short, people, as a whole, don’t want to read. There should be no ambiguity. If you are doing accent pre-orders, someone’s payment is considered “due” from the point that they place the pre-order. But put a hard deadline on when they have to pay. For example, mine is now the day the accent is returned + 72 hours from the time I post the reminder/notification ping is the last of the payment period. Save yourself the trouble of someone trying to extend this. If you’re do art commissions, say you will only discuss details via PM. Say you will promise updates on art at this list of stages or at this set of times, which ever happens first. You might be thinking, how is this respectful? Because it sets up a means through which you and the buyer communicate. It’s a set of expectations for both parties. A known is better than an unknown. I made the mistake of not having a ToS when I started accent sales, because I was not expecting the response I got. Someone took advantage of this. It won’t happen again. All that said: don’t spring a new ToS on customers in the middle of a transaction. If you update or add a ToS, it should apply only to new customers, not your current ones. Also: Do not press someone for details if they need to back down from something. They are not required to tell you their life story.

So what does all this boil down to?

Don’t be rude to each other. Have some respect. Remember that you are dealing with another human. Rules are not all bad. Don’t complain about prices. Be friendly, even if you’re not friends. (Artists are not doing art to be your friend. Don’t befriend artists to get art. That’s rude.)

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

7 is considered a lucky number, no?

I’m naming chapters now btw; this one is called, “in which there’s improvised sex ed?” it’s not meant to be a joke btw because there is, indeed, period talk

“Aaare you done?” comes the question from beyond the door right as the bells start ringing outside. The tower is right in view from where he stands, so he can tell that it's apparently half past nine. He cannot believe that they wasted over an hour with shenanigans and idle chitchat. She surely gave him more than ten minutes, too. Not that he wasted the extra time; he put away the clothes that didn't make the cut, after all, and also made her bed while he was at it. She needs some order in this room, every flat surface that's not the floor is a catastrophe. Sheesh.

“Yep, you can come in,” he sighs, placing Kikoku on top of the clothes resting neatly on the end of the bed.

“Oh...” Kat looks surprised to find said piece of furniture looking so organized. “Thanks, you really didn't have to.”

“Eh, had enough time to kill.” In fact, he was already ogling the haphazard book pile on the cabinet a minute ago. “What took you so long anyway?”

She looks to the side, then back at him, then down. “Well, before I came over... um...” Sigh. “It's dumb and kinda irrelevant, to be honest,” she says finally, scratching her neck.

An incredulous but understanding 'okay' is all that he can answer to that. He also had something dumb happen to him that he couldn't solve, after all. Might as well inform her. “By the way, just so you know... I didn't even try to change your underwear.” Is what it is, had no idea where to look, and he's not one for going commando, either.

She slaps her temple, almost flinging the hat off. “Damn, I knew I forgot something.” Before he could answer, she presents him a pair of shoes that are, just by appearance, a lot more comfortable than what she had on. “Will get some stuff asap. And here, you take these instead of the fancy ones.”

He's more than happy to ditch the cute shoes for action ones. Something hits him on the head- she just threw a pair of socks at him.

“Get rid of the cheap nylon socks and put those on,” she instructs while digging into what looks like a textile bag inside a drawer. “I'm gonna go ahead and not put anything extra regarding panties for you.... like this one.... I need to get rid of the lace ones...” she mutters to herself.

Now, he doesn't know what kind of stuff she has, but he's getting worried nonetheless. “Um... those are really not that... necessary.” She's yet to mention bras, thinking about it... well, she definitely wasn't wearing any with the dress. Not sure if he should be happy or more concerned, though. On one hand, this is definitely the more comfortable alternative, on the other... having two wobbly humps all of a sudden is weird and distracting, even if they are small. He'd rather they stayed put...

“Sssh... it's okay, gotcha. They aren't that necessary, you can use your own junk.” She says waving a few other pair of socks trying to calm him down, then slams the drawer back on the curious bags made of some fabric.

“Um... wording,” is what he says after staring at her. It doesn't take her long to take an immature snort at that- and here he was already thinking she actually was taking these issues as a maturely as possible. Never mind.

“Unless, of course,” she adds, “you cannot fit your trunks on me. Then it's a moot argument.”

He's about to make a snide remark, but then he realizes something else. She knows what's under his jeans...

“Wait, when did you...?” He should probably be less alarmed by that because of the circumstances, but still.

“I was late because of a loo test run, man.” She blurts out, tossing the couple of socks on her bed. “Needed some mental preparation, alright? And puh-lease, I know the color and shape of what you have on right now. As do you.” She adds, being aware of the fact that she's way too amused by this; that, and his rosy cheeks. He's likewise displeased with her being entertained... try to adult this, woman. This reminds her of something important, though, something that stifles her smile... shit, when was the last time again? At least two weeks ago... no, as of yesterday, it's been... three...

“Oooh...” Is the only thing she can muster as it dawns on her. He's left wondering in the room as she takes another quick detour to the bathroom. Coming back, she's holding an opened package of something in her hand. “Stay strong... but if I can't get you back really soon, you will need these.” She says in an empathetic voice, giving the thing to him.

It's pads.

“Oh.” Okay. He kind of didn't even think about this aspect of the issue. And now that he did... he'd prefer to forget about it altogether. All he can think of are worst case scenarios.

Seeing the disgruntled expression of internal panic and how he's standing there frozen, she decides to enter Extra Personal mode. Time to be unnecessarily honest with a near total stranger, today with some weighty reasons to boot. Leaning onto a knee with one hand so she's about eye to eye with her own body, and lightly putting another on his shoulder, she speaks up:

“Law, a little heart-to-heart, if you please... while we are alone, okay?” She seems to have his attention, there's nothing more to ask for. She takes a deep breath, looking for a starting point. “First things first, the PMS business... I rarely have bad cramps, so you probably won't have to drug yourself into oblivion, and even if it really was that bad, I'd rather you asked me about my usual method first. Then, the first two or three days are a literal bloodbath. The sludge does feel really fucking weird, and often uncomfortable, and it's still like that twelve years down the road, so it will probably hit you harder. Pad accidents where the thing doesn't quite align with the goo just... happen sometimes. Don't sweat it, proceed as if the stains just didn't exist until you can change. Any of this bullshit can easily ruin your day- needing more space or being clingy on them days is a-ok. Keep hydrated, eat sweets if you need to, and change these bad boys every few hours to minimize feeling gross,” she finishes, tapping the near-full package. “How-to is included on the wrapping. Any questions?”

“Nope.” None he can think of. She said everything he'd ever need to prepare for, some of which he was well aware of anyway. The detailed rundown and comfort on his shoulder did help make the likely extra ordeal less intimidating, though.

“Okay... if you need anything, ask me or any of the girls, really.” So far, so good. She wants to address something else, too, however. “Now... let's talk about another thing that seems to be bugging you. Please, just be honest here... do I appear to be the bigger person about... all of this?”

He's certain she doesn't actually need him to confirm this. All this time, he's been as stiff as a board and was a brat about a short trip. There's little he can say to defend himself. Meanwhile she's been the same as before, with a dash of altering smug and aloof.

Yes, she does; this, he acknowledges with a nod.

“Alright... then, let me tell you this- you don't have to believe me, but listen... I know exactly how you feel. Like, I was late because I had to go to the toilet, right? And guess what, I needed my own ten minutes just back there before using the fucking thing. As soon as it will be bath time and it comes to stripping? I'll back out immediately and postpone it until who knows when. Except I shouldn't do that, because it's not my body to get smelly and gross, and you will also take care of mine. You as a doc have the advantage of being more desensitized towards naked people, but that's no excuse. Oh, and dare I say we do enter the 24-hour limit of me going to work, and I still have your body? I'll be freaking the fuck out. Won't get an ounce of sleep all night. I... know I look as if I was over it with a shrug, but it's the calm before the storm. I'll be fucking dying in due time, even if I don't meet anybody who wants you dead.” Having all the small worries that have been piling up out, she needs a minute to come to a coherent conclusion. He's waiting patiently. “We both are in a pickle here, so... let's not be afraid of kicking each other in the shin when necessary... and take care of each other, alright?” she says finally, straightening herself.

He can't help but let a lenient smile creep itself onto his face; her mixed personality of silly and earnest is rather charming. Sounds like a plan. “You know... forget what I've said at the entrance. You actually are pretty good at pep talk once you get going.”

It's her turn to blush while fidgeting her fingers; “Heh... thanks.”

He sighs- seeing himself act like that is not getting any less weird, though.

[asterinjapan]

A walk through history and the rain

Hi everyone, and late greetings from a once again rainy Tokyo! You know, I’d swear the rainy season should be over by now…

Today, I was meeting up with my Japanese friend again, this time at 10 AM. And oh boy, my Japanese has detoriated, it’s really embarrassing. I hope it’s because of the residual jetlag and general tiredness, but man, I had to think about every other word and felt like my vocabulary was on the same level as a one year old, gosh. Oh well, shikata ga nai, it can’t be helped; my brain just wasn’t cooperating for today. Luckily my friend talks to me in English, so it all sort of worked out.

Anyway, we were heading to Ueno today, one of the big and famous stations of Tokyo. It has a park nearby, fittingly called Ueno Park, which is home to several musea and a zoo. The zoo has a pair of pandas, and actually, a little baby panda was born a while ago. So no matter where you look in Ueno, you’re bound to find panda imagery there, haha. Barely any need to visit the actual zoo! That wasn’t the plan for today anyway. No, we went to the National Museum of Tokyo.

This was actually very interesting, the museum consisting of several buildings in total with different themes. We only had time for one, so we went into the main building, which has two pretty big floors. There were exhibitions on lacquer, samurai swords, masks, books from around the world about Japan in past centuries (including some Dutch ones!), screen paintings, the introduction of Buddhism in Japan, and even the earliest history starting around 20,000 BC, which has always really fascinated me. It wasn’t much, but there were a couple of figurines from that area and later. Oh, and a room on Ainu and the Ryukyu islands, in the north and south of Japan respectively, people and places with their very own culture separate from mainland Japan. Although it was mostly Ryukyu; information about the Ainu was suspiciously absent, considering the room was called after them (that part of Japanese history isn’t pretty, so that might be why).

After the museum, we made our way to Asakusa, part of Tokyo which is home to the temple Sensoji. I went there already last year, but today, the summer fireworks festival was held in the area, so I figured I’d combine them. You can just take the subway to Asakusa, but my friend suggested we’d walk there – it’s only 1.5 km, which is fine, but not if it’s 2:30 PM and you haven’t had lunch yet, haha. So we hopped into a convenience store for a bite and started walking.

Sadly, it started raining when we made the turn towards the temple, so we fled to a tree and waited it out. My friend treated me on shaved ice, which you can pour the flavors of your choice on, so I went with a rainbow of lemon, melon and strawberry. I don’t want to know just how much sugar I ingested that way, haha, but it was very nice.

For a little while, the skies cleared up, so I took the chance to take some pictures. We also went to the nearby Asakusa shrine. You see, the Sensoji is a buddhist temple; Senso-ji, temple of Senso (Senso is the same characters as Asakusa, but pronounced differently). A shrine is related to shintoism and is usually the place where you find those red gates, but it’s only been since the Meiji period (1868) that temples and shrines were forced to become separate entities. It’s not super rare for that reason to see a shrine on a temple complex, just like here. It’s just a small shrine, but it offers some interesting omamori, protective charms (usually small bags with characters on it indicating what it’s protecting you for or against. They get pretty specific, such as luck in school or easy childbirth or even safe driving). The one I wanted was here: the one that just says daijoubu, ‘it’ll be fine’, haha. I‘m definitely someone who needs to hear that, so I bought that charm in particular.

Since the rain had started again, we fled into the Sensoji, but alas, it was 5 PM. The temple closes at that time, which in practice means they ring the bells repeatedly and then start yelling REALLY LOUDLY that everyone should get out. I’d never been in a temple until closing time, I was super startled! Anyway, we waited outside under the temple roof, but the rain didn’t seem to stop and we started wondering if the fireworks festival would even be held at this point.

Eventually, we decided that waiting in the rain and maybe or maybe not watching fireworks while drenched wasn’t what we had in mind for the evening, so we went back to Ikebukuro. That sounds easier than it was, because we were not the only ones with the plan to leave early. The subway station Asakusa was super close, but thousands of others thought so too, so I got the lovely experience we all associate with Tokyo – being pushed into the subway! Fun! I ended up squished together so much that I could only stand on my tiptoes. Just a little more and my feet wouldn’t have even touched the ground, pff.

Luckily Ueno station was only a couple of stops ahead, and half the people inside needed to get off here too. From Ueno, we took the Yamanote-line to Ikebukuro, which was blissfully quiet. I mean, we still had to stand, but we could actually breathe and we’d fall over if the train suddenly moved, rather than being plastered against someone else’s back, so. (I’m not actually complaining, I mean, I knew what to expect when I went to Tokyo and I’ve experienced it before. I’ve had nicer train rides is all, haha.)

After dinner inside Ikebukuro station, we went to a karaoke building, but not to actually sing. No, here in Japan you can rent a room for as many people as you want, whether that’s one or twenty, and apparently you can even rent rooms with DVD players. My friend ordered one of those rooms for the two of us, so we could watch the concert DVD he’d brought from KOKIA’s concert in November last year. You know, the one I missed by a week… And now I’m even sadder I missed that concert, because it was amazing! I really hope to get my hands on the DVD myself, because wow. I could write an entire report on how much I loved a concert I didn’t even attend myself, haha.

Anyway, it was already 10:30 PM by then, so we walked back to the station so that my friend could take his train and I could reorient myself towards my hotel. I’m notoriously good at getting lost; even if I know my way somewhere, I usually stick to specific routes or I just get lost again, haha. Luckily, I know my way just fine inside Ikebukuro station, so that all worked out. We said goodbyes and see you next weeks, as on August 7, we’ll be meeting up in Sendai for the Tanabata festival.

And now I’m in bed, definitely ready to get some sleep. My legs don’t like me, but they definitely don’t like bugs either. Geesh, I have about a dozen bites on each leg, and my Dutch spray doesn’t work against them, pfff. I’ll get something Japanese tomorrow and take it easy. I was going to visit the Imperial East Gardens again, but guess what, they’re predicting rain, so eh, we’ll see. Otherwise, maybe a karaoke room to actually do karaoke this time? Haha, I’m keeping it calm walking wise, because Monday is Disneyland!

That’s it for now, good night!