pegbandy1

[fingertipsmp3]

2024 if you fuck me up I will never forgive you

[namedaftercommunists]

'Promise?' Daisuke (Mouthwashing) X Reader -TwoShot

[Story is set before he boarded the Tulpa] [Fluff] [Platonic and - or Romantic] [Gender Neutral Reader]

“-like, I don’t know man. Should I be worried?” Daisuke asks with a sigh after a long rant about something you guiltily didn’t pay too much attention to, leaning his head on the wall of his bedroom. His hands keep fiddling with the Rubix cube he still hasn’t solved yet since buying it two weeks ago.

“About?” You ask with a raised brow, turning your head to the side to see him, still laying flat on your stomach on his bed, your hands on your phone a you look for new shoes to buy on the internet.

“The future, my career, everything my folks keep talking to me about.” Daisuke elaborates, still thoughtfully fiddling with his Rubix cube. “And? You weren't worried about -that- before.” You ask again, Daisuke wasn’t one to worry often -so when he is, it’s most probably something that’s been bugging him heavily.

“But it’s all they ever talk about these days, you know? I can’t be -not- worried.” He explains, with a scratch on his head, his long hair sticking out in whichever direction as he looks at a random corner in his bedroom with another sigh.

You've always thought it was a nice place -despite its smaller size. Daisuke’s bedroom walls were filled with posters of bands and games he’d been interested in over the years. Instruments he’s learned during his youth were laid out on the other side of his bed, with academic books he half-heartedly reads stacked atop it -it’s very ‘Daisuke’ for lack of a better term.

You just wish he learned the habit of putting his laundry in the basket and not just have them lying atop his study chair and bed so that he can re-wear them for another day.

“I get that. My parents are the same.” You empathize with his plight, taking an e-cig from your pocket and taking a quick puff. Vanilla fills your lungs and the air.

“Oh- come on! Not here! You know my parents are going to kill me.” Daisuke half-heartedly scolds you, waving his hand around in the air to get rid of the smell, the action making you chuckle. “Sorry -sorry, couldn’t help it.” You say with a half-serious shrug making Daisuke groan in slight annoyance. You pocket the stick back -for his sake.

“You’re also getting scolded?” He asks with a tilt of his head after simmering down. “More like getting nagged.” You correct with a scoff and roll of your eyes, and Daisuke only softens some more at this.

“Right now I’m just doing what they’re telling me to do -studying for a major I could care less about but still have to pull all-nighters for because God forbid I get anything less than perfect.” You go on a small rant, ending it with an exasperated sigh and a dramatic roll of your eyes.

Daisuke combs at your hair with his fingers at this, petting you as if you were some antsy cat. It’s an action you’ve long gotten used to, and you'll never admit to this -but it works in calming you down.

There’s a short comfortable silence before Daisuke speaks again. “My mom got me an internship.” He says, his voice softer as he continues petting your hair. His words gain your attention.

“Really?” You ask, wanting him to elaborate, your tone curious. “Yeah.” He says with a nod, opting to look to the ceiling now.

“An internship as a mechanic on the Pony Express.” Daisuke expands, making you cringe. “Isn’t that -that shady delivering service company though?” You ask, a sour taste in your tongue as you turn your head to the side to look at him again.

“Can you believe they put up hiring flyers looking for orphans to apply? Only a company that doesn’t care about their employees would specifically look for people like that.” You continue with a scoff.

“Yeah.” He says again with a shrug. “Why would your mom get you to apply for something like that?” You ask, your brows furrowing. “She means the best, you know? She just wants me to get some experience, try something new, do something productive.” He says, getting somewhat defensive over his mom.

"Oh spare me, you sound just like her." You say with a dismissive wave of your hand, despite being apologetic for your words and what they were implying. You know Daisuke's parents just wanted the best for him -just like yours did for you, but it just overwhelms you both sometimes -their care sometimes causing more harm than good.

He scoffs at your comment, taking his hand away from your hair as if punishment. You purse your lips in annoyance at his hand's retreat -but don't express it verbally.

"I'm going to be gone for about a year." He says, and that instantly gets you to sit upright on his bed in surprise and shock. "What?" You ask, facing him.

"What do you mean 'you'll be gone for about a year'?" You repeat, your brows furrowing in confusion. "Like, I'll be gone for a year." He repeats, not meeting your eyes, and guilt slowly creeping up on him. "I'll get deployed on the first day for some actual on-hand experience." He continues, and you can't help but feel a hint of betrayal and worry fill your chest.

"What?! But you barely know your way around the back of a fridge, much less a literal carrier ship." You say, your breath becoming more labored. “No offense.” You quickly add, and Daisuke only waves his hand in dismissal at this. Not taking it to heart. "I'm not going to be alone," He says, still not meeting your eyes. "I'll just be learning from the actual mechanic, like, look over his shoulder and copy what he does -you know?" He continues.

"For a full year though?" You rhetorically ask with an exasperated groan. "Are you even getting paid for this -or is this one of those 'you get paid by experience' bullshit people do?" You ask, and Daisuke can only awkwardly purse his lips at this. Just from that, you already know it's the latter, you let out another groan at this.

"It's not that bad. Look on the bright side, at least I don't have to pay my folks rent while I'm up there." He jokes with a chuckle, but you can only deadpan at this, worry furrowing your brows. It's his turn to sigh at this.

"Look, I'll be fine, man." He says, sitting straighter and closer so that he can pet your hair again. "You don't gotta be -this- worried for me," Daisuke says with a chuckle, meeting your eyes. It's your turn to look away this time.

You continue to stew in your combined feelings of worry and slight betrayal before inevitably hitting him on the side of his face with a throw pillow. Daisuke lets out a small 'oof' at this, but is overall already used to getting hit with his pillows by you.

"Hey now, that hurt." He dramatically says, despite not being hurt at all. "Like hell it did." You say with a roll of your eyes, hitting him in the head with his throw pillow again.

"You're going to die up there." You voice out your worry, disguising it under an irritated tone as you get up from his bed to just pace around his room. Your feet hit his soft carpet as well as the usual discarded sock that he can never seem to find the other pair of.

"Oh come on, that's a bit much don't you think?" Daisuke says with a chuckle. "I'm already going on a spaceship. You didn't have to wish death upon me to add to that."

"I wasn't wishing you death." You say with a roll of your eyes. "I'm just -saying-, nothing good ever comes from being stuck in a ship with how many strangers for a whole year in space." You continue with a dramatic motion of your hands, looking through the catalog of books Daisuke had lying around on his 'study' desk.

"You say that as if you've already been to space with a bunch of strangers for a year," Daisuke says with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, parroting your words. "I don't need prior experience to know that -that's what's going to happen." You say with a huff.

"Call it off." You continue, almost sounding like a command. Daisuke can only sigh at this. "You know I can't. Mom already set everything up." He explains. "Besides, even if I could -I don't want to." He continues, catching you by slight surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

"This could be good for me, you know? Like, maybe -this- is my calling." He says, looking a bit more hopeful. You scoff some more at this, looking to the side with your arms crossed to your chest.

“You’re going to die up there.” You state again, worry eating you alive. “Stop it -you’re manifesting at this point.” Daisuke half-heartedly scolds.

“I’m not manifesting anything!” You raise your voice, becoming more and more agitated. “Think about it, man! These people could be crazies or just outright mean. You could be stuck with sickos and creeps for a whole year!”

“-or, they could be normal. Ever thought about that?” He counterargues, and it just makes you even more frustrated -throwing your head back with a groan and facing away from him to stare at a random corner of his bedroom.

Your eyes just so happen to land on an old picture of the two of you -little kids smiling in their wonky Halloween costumes where they felt like the coolest kids in grade school.

Your smile is missing a few teeth, but that’s fine in comparison to Daisuke’s missing eyebrow. A failed attempt at giving himself an eyebrow slit to look like the cool older kids from before.

“Hey-” Daisuke starts, and given the sound of rustling sheets and feet hitting the carpeted floor, you already know he’s walking towards you –even with your back turned to him.

“I’ll be fine, promise.” He says, putting a hand on your shoulder and slowly turning you to look at him. Daisuke had grown just a few inches taller than you over the years, it annoyed you to no end since you two had always been the same height before.

“Don’t say that -you can’t promise something like that.” You say with a roll of your eyes, still facing him. “Like -I’ll try and keep myself safe.” He says something more doable. “There -happy?” He jokingly asks, and you can only deadpan at him.

“I’d be happier if you didn’t go.” You admit with a sigh, and Daisuke puts a hand on your cheek to keep your eyes on him. “I’ll keep myself safe.” He repeats, sincere, brown eyes slowly but surely softening your demeanor.

It’s hard believing Daisuke -it really is. You’ve known him for far too long for you to not to know that he has the intrinsict need to be needed. Too enthusiastic to help, to the point that he’ll throw any doubt or apprehension in his mind just to be of service to anyone.

Nonetheless, those brown eyes of his and his boyish smile slowly chip their way through your resolve, and your shoulders slump in defeat. “Please do.” You say, your voice softer in defeat.

“Nice,” Daisuke says with a grin before doing a dramatic fist pump in the air -you can only deadpan at this.

“Be serious, man! You need to keep yourself safe!” You say, getting a little more exasperated at his carefree nature. “I am -I am! And I will -promise!” Daisuke defends himself with a chuckle.

“Just trying to lighten the mood, you know?” He says with a smile. “Trying to get that frown off your face. You already got enough wrinkles as is.” He teases, and you kick at his shin at this -making him yelp.

“You’re an ass.” You say with a huff, and Daisuke can only grin through the pain.

There’s a short comfortable silence before he speaks again -his voice soft. “I’ll miss you…a lot.” He confesses, and you can only weaken by his tone.

“I’ll miss you too.” You reply, your voice just as soft as his. You two have been joined at the hip since -forever. It’s a terrifying thought to be apart, for nearly a year no less.

“I’ll write letters.” He says. “I won’t be able to send them to you or anything -I think? But I could write in my notebook, like, a diary or something, and give it to you after.” Daisuke continues.

“Just my day-to-day on the ship, you know? So it’d be like you were there with me.” He says with a softer smile, and you can only chuckle at this -the tips of your ears burning at the thought of him going through such an effort.

“I doubt anything interesting would happen in a delivery express ship.” You say, still chuckling a bit. “But I’ll do the same.” You continue. “I’ll write about my days here too. So you aren’t left out on anything either.” You say with a smile that matches his.

“Promise?” Daisuke cheekily asks, still grinning, his cheeks slowly burning red as well. You nod at this, committing his face to memory for the year you won’t be seeing him. Not that you could ever forget his face. “Promise.” You parrot back with the same softness.

[paloma-ascends-into-hellfire]

eating disorder harm reduction

no one ever compiled this so that it what we are doing today. for people with eds and people whose loved ones do. please note: i’m not a doctor. this is a compilation of things from books and ed resource sites.

for people whose loved ones have an eating disorder:

try to make sure they know these things.

try not to force them to eat, they might feel uncomfortable eating in front of people. also, risk of refeeding syndrome.

if their life is in danger and you are seeking help for them, consult the person beforehand to make sure they will be safe and give them a heads-up so that they aren’t startled (especially if they’re neurodivergent! giving them notice will aid control!)

offer them ways of controlling things aside from food - practice consent, include them in conversations, don’t talk about them behind their back, compliment their makeup or hair.

be patient. the person may be irritable from lack of sleep, feelings of depression, worthlessness, etc., or malnutrition.

keep in mind that you can’t tell if someone has an eating disorder by looking at them. people of all weights do - only 17% of anorexics are underweight - and also, men and non binary people can also have eds.

general:

drink lots of water, especially if you’re drinking lots of caffeine.

drink some electrolytes at least once a week - gatorade, electrolyte tablets, coconut water, doesn’t matter, just get it into your system.

if you are getting dizzy or flushed and can feel your heart beating, quick carbs will raise your blood sugar - sweets, bread, fruit, juice, non diet soda, whatever. keep snacks around pls.

your brain uses 400-500 calories daily. eat more than this.

take your supplements!

you still need protein, have an egg or something.

don’t take adderal or insulin unless you are actually diabetic or neurodivergent, because you are raising the price by buying them and denying access to those who need it.

throw a towel over the mirror. it’s not worth it if it’ll cause you anxiety.

try to limit disordered behaviours like body checking, purging, and weigh ins.

practice good dental hygiene.

put your scale somewhere where you have to actively look for it to weigh yourself.

avoid social media and for your sake don’t go on pro ed tiktok or tumblr or twitter or insta.

get a buddy who also struggles with the same thing if possible to support each other.

get regular medical check ups (if you can afford it)

practice things within your control - makeup, hair, clothing, etc.

push your rules - eat 5 minutes before your time, or 50 calories over your limit.

for people with restrictive disorders (e.g. anorexia):

do weight and resistance training at least twice a week to prevent musculoskeletal conditions such as osteoporosis.

don’t drink on an empty stomach.

try to put gaps between fasting periods.

don’t fast for more than 72 hours.

wear lots of layers to keep warm.

eat an extra 100-200 calories on your period if you menstruate.

have a metabolism day.

take care of your hair.

as horrifying as this is to many people, please go to the hospital if you’re experiencing heart problems or if you’re passing out for more than 30 seconds.

for people with purging disorders (e.g. bulimia):

if you would like to purge, wait 15 minutes first.

after purging: drink lots of water - the emptiness you feel is dehydration. don’t brush your teeth but rinse your mouth out, preferably with an alkaline mouthwash or baking soda mixed into water. do something you want to do, like reading a book or watching a show. don’t smoke. don’t have anything acidic. eat a banana or some chocolate or a rice cake to keep your blood sugar levels in check.

if you vomit blood or your vomit looks like coffee grounds, this is a sign of internal bleeding. you could be drowning in your own blood from a hole in your esophagus, essentially. go to the hospital or call 911/999/the emergency number in your area.

stay safe everyone. i hope this helps. also, i do not use these tags - i have them blocked - but i am using them so that people on these tags will find this because they need it most.

[ghostie-in-wonderland]

Dancing with a ghost - any character x reader

angst; gn!reader; break-ups

My eyes opened up, the sun blinding me, causing me to flinch backwards. I groaned, pushing my body up. My bed cold on the side that used to be warm. I don’t think I can remember their warmth anymore. The pillow doesn’t smell like them either. I got up, walking to the bathroom, starting to get ready. One toothbrush, one face wash, everything that used to be a pair was now just one. My eyes looking up at the ceiling as I rinsed my mouthwash, tears flooding my eyes as I remembered only a few weeks ago. 

I spat my mouthwash in the sink. A laugh leaving my lips as I looked at them. Their response being a goofy look. I looked down at the sink, a wide smile on my face, as their arms wrapped around my waist. “I love you.” 

A frown coming to my face as I lifted my body away from the sink, their voice flowing through the air like a light breeze. My cheeks remembering the old burn from how much I smiled. I stepped out of the bathroom, walking to the closet. Their laugh echoing in my mind as I remember gently tossing them items to wear for the day. Every step breaking my heart more and more, although I don’t know if a heart this broken could break more. 

"Do I look good?” They always knew the answer. Of course they looked good, they were perfect to me, they never looked bad in my eyes. A tear falling down my cheek, my hand quickly going up to wipe at it. A sob leaving my lips as more memories flooded my brain, memories that were engrained into the walls. 

“What’s your problem?” Their voice wasn’t usually so sharp towards me, but maybe it made sense. 

“You’ve been gone for so long.” My voice echoing. “It feels like you’re a figment of my imagination.” 

"Maybe I don’t want to deal with you. Have you thought about how difficult you are?” 

I pulled my shirt on over my head. Maybe if I did things differently, maybe if I had been different. What could I have done better for them not to go? My hands going to my hair, holding my head like I was in pain, another sob leaving my lips. I could practically feel their arms wrapping around me to comfort me. Their soft whispers flooding my mind, except it was all gone. They weren’t here and they weren’t going to be coming back. I walked towards the kitchen, memories continuously flooding my memories. My foot falls seeming to dance with a ghost of someone who was long gone. 

“It’s for the best. I can’t be with you anymore. I can’t deal with this.” I was too much. I needed to be less. How does one be less though? My friends kept saying that they were the problem. They were the issue. I wish I could believe them. 

“Here’s your lunch, love.” My voice echoing in my empty apartment as I could hear their response. “Thank you, gorgeous. I’m so in love you. Have a good day.” Their lips brushing against my cheek. The memory of that look, that burning look. It wasn’t a bad burning though, one that made me feel warm, made it feel like I was whole. The feeling almost there. It was so light now, I could barely remember how either of them felt. Everyone kept telling me it’ll get better. How is something supposed to get better when it feels so wrong to be without them? 

I grabbed my keys off the counter, the jingle of multiple keys, an item short though. Our matching charms on our keychains, little reminders of each other to get us through the day. They had taken their’s off a couple days before they left. Mine broke off though. The jingle was wrong because of that. I walked to my door, their footsteps dancing around mine in the empty apartment. A tear falling from my eyes as I quickly wiped it away. After all, they were gone, and I was left to dance with a ghost. My door shut behind me, I turned, double checking it was locked, before finally heading towards the exit. My heart turning into a finer powder every day as I came and went from that apartment. As I remembered every detail, the good and the bad, of us.

[jekinabox]

some rambles on my takes on Curly from Mouthwashing

I understand that a lot of people see Curly’s reaction to Anya telling him about her SA and what he did after as him ignoring it for Jimmy’s sake- and maybe that’s true, the point could very well be that people (especially those close to the abuser, especially men) will just set that kind of thing aside because the abuser “wouldn’t do that” or “will be better” or whatever, especially because Swansea ends up doing the same thing when Anya tells him, as well as the consistent theming of responsibility and trying to fix things.

But I think that maybe there’s more to it? If you don’t, feel free to look away, this is just my thoughts and take. But I think If the story is about SA and the consequences of not rooting the people out, I don’t understand what Diasuke’s role in it could be, so that just isn’t the moral of the story that I see. Of course, if this is how you see the story, that’s ok! People can have different views on media, and art is as much about people’s different responses to it as it is about what the creators meant.

Onto my little ramblings about the guy!

1- I think it’s very probable that Curly’s been manipulated by Jimmy, and for a long time. They’re “best friends,” and Curly believes Jimmy “won’t try that bullshit with me” even though he clearly does. Even at the birthday party, Jimmy is uncaring to his “best friend,” and during the confrontation near the cockpit, Jimmy outright twists what Curly’s said in the past. (Not to mention what he does to Curly afterward, but that doesn’t exactly count since it’s afterward.) I also wouldn’t be surprised if Jimmy helped Curly out of some situation in the past due to his savior complex and Curly now feels like he owes Jimmy something. It’d be easy for him to overlook Jimmy’s smaller problems if he feels he owes Jimmy something, especially if it’s something bigger, and he seems more of the “deal with it” kind of person anyways, so he’d obviously toss any grievances aside since he thinks everyone needs multiple chances. At first, Jimmy probably unsettled him. But he got used to it, just like his job. He deals with it for the last day, then another, then another.

2- Curly seems legitimately concerned when Anya tells him about everything, at least when he gets confirmation. We don’t see much after the she asks him about the locks on the doors, and we don’t see how much he actually learns, and thus no clue as to how bad he believes the situation may be (Harassment is nothing to scoff at, but if he just believes someone’s being a creep or annoying her, he’s obviously going to try to learn more and deescalate before anything else.) We also never see how much or what they say when she asks for the gun, but what we know is that Curly is freaking out when he thinks she has it, and actually believes it at first to be that she wants to kill herself due to the recent termination of their jobs. He’s first confused, then after her few words of explanation says he’ll talk to Jimmy. We never see an actual talk, but he learns definitively of what happened only “1 day before the crash,” and it takes time to sort through emotions, plans, and decisions, let alone when someone you thought was good did something like that and if you realize that they were a shitty person all along. Curly also then needs to decide what they’re going to do with Jimmy (they can’t lock him in the cockpit or medical because they need those, nor the hold because he would obviously mess up whatever they’re shipping as a hissy fit against them, and considering you get pay docked for complaining, using the cryopod or the gun would probably make this whole deal worthless for practically everyone.) Even if he did decide to just get rid of Jimmy, he’s not going to tell anyone that in case Jimmy finds out, and especially not Anya, since she seems forgiving enough and in a bad enough spot he has no clue what she may try to do if he tells her “I’m going to go kill Jimmy.”

3- Inaction and not taking responsibility doesn’t feel like Curly’s issue. Curly has the responsibility of everything on the ship, even baking a cake, and even when told not to tell his crew about the loss of their jobs, he still does. He even takes roles that aren’t his, like doing Jimmy’s psych evaluation when he sees Anya’s uncomfortable. This is why he and Jimmy are the two characters we play as, and are seen as opposites and each other’s foils. Jimmy’s whole thing is unreliable narration. By the end of the game, he’s convinced himself Curly crashed the ship and he’s the better man for leaving Curly alive after what he “did.” Jimmy’s an aggressive man who uses people for just what they can give him, and he causes problems for the express purpose of trying to fix him so people worship him, but messes up even with all the time in the world to “fix” things. Curly’s the one blamed, but he’s a genuine guy who tried his best and gave people the benefit of the doubt until he couldn’t anymore, but didn’t have the time to fix anything because Jimmy broke that chance.

4- My main bit is over, but another piece of his psychology- Curly probably hates himself, considering how Jimmy talks about him seeming like he’s at the edge of a bridge with cinderblocks on his feet, and if he hates himself, a way he may try to cope is by insisting everyone isn’t tied to their worst moments! Just like how he talks about how pain is a symbol one’s alive, which sounds like another coping mechanism. Jimmy isn’t the only one who hopes it hurts.

5- And Curly was right, most of the time, about how bad things don’t define people. Swansea’s rude and abrasive at times, but a pretty good man in a bad life. Diasuke was unplanned for the journey, but he’s a good intern who’s trying his best. Anya may have only completed the Pony Express medical course, but she keeps Curly alive for four months, even despite his quadruple amputations and missing skin and the complete lack of a lot of medical equipment that she could’ve used. The unfortunate thing is- his kind nature let bad things in, and it was so slow and manipulative he didn’t even necessarily know, consciously, how bad it was, until Jimmy crashed the ship, got everyone killed, and fed him his own leg. 99.9% indeed.

[unicyclehippo]

Hmmm...how about a one word prompt of...Skin?

for @possibilistfanfiction i hope it makes u laugh

//

two

//

every week, superion talks to beatrice late tuesday night. at the end of every call, she asks to speak to you and you let her.

are you struggling with anything? she’ll ask, or what has your week been like? or, how are you, ava? she doesn’t ask that one often because it makes you hang up on her fast. like. what the fuck are you supposed to do? she says your name nicely, makes it sound like she wants to know about you, not the halo, and yeah. it’s a bit much to deal with.

‘we went to the thrift shop,’ you tell her week two, ‘and spent half the money you sent us on clothes. beatrice got new pyjamas.’ from the kitchen, beatrice sends you a betrayed look. you wave at her. you’re not going to tell superion that you picked out boxers for her—black, comfortable—and that you think you’re going to have a heart attack every night because beatrice has surprisingly buff legs, toned, and the first time she came out of the bathroom in boxers you had to put your hands under your head, pin them down with your heavy fucking skull so you didn’t touch her legs, her knees. how knees could be sweet, you have no fucking clue, but beatrice’s knees are sweet, soft in repose and then sharp and strong when she moves and. yeah. anyway.

‘i’ve never bought clothes before,’ you tell superion, and beatrice looks startled and a little sad and you laugh because it’s funny, actually, not sad. ‘i stole the hottest dress from this rich lady’s house—um, borrowed, i mean. they don’t really have high fashion here but i picked up some cute stuff. right, bea?’ beatrice ducks her head. ‘she says yes and also wants to know if spending this money means i’m your sugar baby now. or the pope’s. ow! okay, she didn’t say that but she did throw a pen at me. i’m your halobearer, that’s so rude!’

‘phase through it next time,’ beatrice suggests, and almost smiles when you flip her off.

//

‘hello, ava. is there anything you wish to talk about tonight?’

you have been thinking of things to say all week that’ll make superion hang up on you and so, when you pluck the phone out of beatrice’s hand, you’re grinning. she picks up on your energy and excuses herself to the bathroom.

‘so much. where to start? bea has been kicking my ass in training. i think she’s enjoying it. is that allowed? i thought nuns were supposed to not enjoy things.’

‘i’m sure any and all enjoyment pertains to the pleasure all instructors feel when their student shows improvement.’

‘no,’ you muse. beatrice is for sure eavesdropping so you raise your voice a little and say, ‘i think she’s a sadist.’

the bathroom door slides open half an inch, just enough for beatrice to shoot a forbidding look out at you. it’s undermined by the way some of her hair hangs free of her bun and the toothpaste smeared at the corner of her mouth and she’s brushing neatly and you want so badly to squash up next to her and clean your teeth there with her, in your stupidly small bathroom, so you forget all your nun jokes you’ve prepared and say,

‘all good here, supes. catch you next week,’ and hang up on her.

beatrice is in boxers that show off her knees. her sleep shirt is tucked into the waistband of her boxers, which is so endearing you think you might explode. you press your fingers to her hip and nudge her away from the sink so you can get in there and wet your brush. you do the same thing every night. she ought to know by now. she does know by now. you think she wants you to touch her, to lay your hand gently on her hip and make her space into your space. the toothpaste is minty and froths up as you brush enthusiastically. beatrice swishes her mouthwash. puts her hand on your wrist. you obediently shuffle away from the sink so she can spit neatly into it. 

‘short conversation with mother superion tonight.’

you shrug. ‘tired, i guess.’ it’s half true. you would have happily made a nuisance of yourself but tonight, you just want to brush your teeth next to beatrice and go to bed.

‘am i pushing you too hard?’

you consider the question. tuck your hair behind your ears so it doesn’t get in the way when you bend, spit into the sink too, like beatrice did. rinse. wash your brush, strick it into the polka dot toothbrush holder on the counter.

‘i want to learn. i’ll do whatever i have to do.’ beatrice eyes you like you’ve said something really interesting, which is worrisome because you don’t know what about that was interesting. ‘bedtime. wanna be little spoon tonight?’

beatrice goes pink at the offer and you can’t resist lifting a hand to her cheek, to touch it. she doesn’t pull away, but her eyes go wide.

‘sorry.’

‘no, sorry,’ you say almost immediately. ‘um. i’ll check the front door is locked.’ you run out of the bathroom, through to the kitchen and the front door. thunk your head hard against the wood and swear under your breath. blindly reach for the door handle. turn it gently. it hits the lock and you release it. you stand there for a few long minutes, hearing the sounds of the bedsheets and beatrice shuffling and the click of the lamp turning off and then the apartment is dark and still and there’s a longing right on the centre of your tongue, dry and empty like a wafer sucking the moisture from your mouth, and you want to pick up the phone and tell superion, i want to live. i don’t want beatrice to teach me how to fight, i don’t want you to know my name, i want this to be real. a home in the mountains and a girl who wants me to touch her. 

beatrice pretends to be asleep when you finally join her, crawling into bed and pulling the sheets up to your shoulders. you’re always careful about touching her, when and where you do it, and tonight is no exception.

‘bea?’ you whisper.

‘yes, ava?’

‘can i –‘ you reach over. hover your hand over her forearm.

beatrice shuffles in the bed. the lamps in the street outside are dim and they have covers that keep the light shining down to the street instead of filling the sky. it’s not enough to see beatrice by. you light the halo—the tiniest bit—and her expression goes awed and nervous all at once.

‘you shouldn’t.’

touch her? use the halo?

‘i want to. feels good.’ beatrice breaths out. she won’t say it, and won’t ask you, but when you move your hand to hover over her wrist, sidle close enough to hold her, she doesn’t stop you. ‘g’dnight, bea.’

‘goodnight, ava. sleep well.’

//

‘good evening, ava. i trust you are well?’

‘we got jobs!’

‘beatrice informed me.’

‘of course she did,’ you roll your eyes. catch sight of the brim of the pink cowboy hat still squashed onto your head you had been given tonight as a prize, the only thing you had wanted. it's a little small, maybe made for a kid, but whatever. ‘did she tell you it’s at a bar? she doesn’t drink but she’s killing it at the books. i don’t have the same hang ups – hans is teaching me everything about being a great bartender and it involves a lot of alcohol. i can – he’s german and i drunk him under the table. i think the halo helped. do you – can the halo heal being drunk, do you think? did i cheat? maybe i should give him this hat back.’

‘i will ask you not to test the limits of the halo in this manner.’

‘i know, i know, control the halo, don’t draw attention, blah blah blah—bea already gave me the speech. i’m being safe. it was just some fun, mother,’ you tease, feeling loose and good and happy. ‘the hat suits me, though. it’s pink.’

superion’s smile bleeds into her voice. you grin, imagining it. a smile on that stern face. that’s the best, that’s one of the things you love the most, making people smile, making people laugh, especially when you have to find the right way to come at it. this feels almost too easy? you’re just…telling her about your day and your job and the hat you won but you know that she’s smiling and you’re a little drunk so you decide not to think about whether she likes you or is showing some softer side of herself for your benefit and just enjoy it. 

‘you are entitled to some fun, ava.’

‘tell bea that. and her too. she can have fun too. she doesn’t have to drink, just relax a tiny bit. right?’

‘sister beatrice will attend her duty as she sees fit, you know that. and,’ she adds dryly, ‘i believe she is more likely to listen to you when it comes to relaxation.’

‘what you’re saying is i need to convince her. i need to tempt her.’

superion sighs. ‘drink some water, please, ava. look after yourself. and beatrice.’

‘yeah, always.’

//

there’s a girl who comes to your bar to flirt with you specifically. you know that because she told you, because she pressed her teeth to the pink of her lip and pressed against the hardwood bar, leaning over it to give you a good—really good—view of her chest and for a second you’d forgotten that there was anyone else in the bar when she looked at you so intently. and she told you.

‘you know i’ve been flirting with you, right?’

‘you? no way, this is a huge surprise,’ you’d teased, because she’s been super unsubtle.

the other night, she’d let the condensation from her beer bottle drip onto her chest and asked so sweetly for a napkin and laughed when you went tongue-tied and clumsy, dropping the cocktail shaker. which was fine because it was empty but it had clanged on the stone floor and hans had looked over with this stupidly knowing grin and only laughed when you flipped him off. 

‘sometimes girls don’t know,’ she’d shrugged. ‘and i don’t like to waste my time. you like girls?’

you spin the beer bottle in your hand, because it’s a fun trick and because it makes girls look at your hands. dani is no exception. you haven’t said it out loud before but you want to. should you wait for a special moment? or does the moment become special when you say it?

‘girls are incredible,’ is what you end up saying. it’s not that you’re scared, it’s just that beatrice isn’t here and some part of you kind of expected to say it to her first, the way she’d shared that with you. 

dani doesn’t take it as a cop out, thank god. she grins, big and bold, and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. ‘yeah. incredible. let me take you out, ava—dinner, dancing, drinks. what do you say?’

you should say no. for multiple reasons, but chief among them the fact that when dani used her water on her tits trick, you’d thought about beatrice and what her reaction would be if you tried it on her. probably, it’s a dick move to think about another girl when one is being so kind as to show you her tits. but. beatrice is a nun and dani is not. super not. she’s portuguese and taller than you—most people are, to be fair—and you like that the bar is lifted over where the customers sit so she has to look up at you, but you also like looking up at her and the way she crowds you a little, smirks down at you when you sit a little sluttily on the barstool next to her, hand on her knee. she wears, like, a dozen silver rings and her earrings dangle and glitter when she shakes her head, which she does when you make her laugh really hard, and when you think about kissing her it’s, yeah. good. it makes you a little tongue-tied and you stumble over your words and dani looks at you like she knows what you were thinking about which is. yeah. good. 

you say yes.

//

'—compromising our mission here, compromising the halo, compromising herself—'

'whoa! where does the halo come into this? i'm not whipping my top off for her, it's a date.'

beatrice glares at you. she's standing tall and straight—well, rigid—and with the dark clouds gathering outside the window you're a little worried god will mistake her for a lightning rod, but mostly you're worried that you've actually hurt her by agreeing to go on this date. but then she goes and says,

'this is a stupid risk, you can't just - just--'

and you hate being called stupid so instead of trying to calm her down, you rise up to meet her. 'just what? say yes when a girl asks me out?'

'yes!'

'why not?' beatrice glares over your head, unable to meet your eyes. 'give me the phone.'

'what? no!'

'yes, give me the phone.'

'i'm still debriefing mother s—'

'give me the phone or i'll debrief on my date,' you tell her, and you can feel the anger and spite spitting on your tongue and sparking in your eyes. now she does meet your eyes; hers are black with fury, her jaw tense, and you're doubly pissed because you'd said yes to the date because dani is hot and has this quick flirty humour and because she looked at you like she could eat you up and it's a hell of a feeling to be on the receiving end of a look like that, but beatrice... beatrice is pissed and you're nearly positive it isn't because of the mission, and god, whatever your rules are about thinking nuns are hot, she looks hot with her jaw clenched and the muscles of her neck and shoulders tense like she's thinking about keeping you from the door by whatever means necessary. but she is a nun and you're not an asshole, or entirely selfish, so you said yes to dani because if you can't kiss the girl you like, you should be able to kiss a girl you like. right? 

beatrice flicks a look over your outfit—high-waisted jeans, a shirt that shrunk in the one laundry load you did so now it shows off a decent strip of belly, and a blue sweater tied around your waist that you'd found over the back of the couch, in case it ends up raining—and she scowls.

'fine. fine.'

she grabs your wrist. your skin sears where she touches you—god, is this allowed? is this allowed? i'm gonna be thinking about this tonight in my alone time, is this allowed, dude?—and you open your hand, you'll take whatever she'll give you. you're so startled by her hand on you that you forget to be angry. if she weren't a nun, if she were a little more open, if she liked you the way you like her... 

she drops the phone into your hand. it’s heavy and you nearly drop it, focused on—god forgive you, or better yet, mind your own fucking business dude—her. ask me out. ask me on a date. look at me like you want to push me against the brick wall outside where we work together and kiss me. she must see some of that in your eyes because she drags in a shaky breath and all the anger leaves her. she doesn’t move away. you look at her lips. 

‘ava…’

your thumb flickers to mute the phone. ��tell me not to go.’

beatrice huffs. ‘you want to.’

‘i’ll stay. i won’t go. if you ask.’

her hand goes to your hip. you want to know how much of her hand can fit there, on your skin where your top rides up. but she doesn’t touch you, even though you’re aching for it, even though she can see that you’re aching for it. it’s like there’s an invisible barrier that blocks her from moving those last few centimetres. 

‘i’m taking a shift tonight,’ she says. ‘hans is sick.’

‘oh.’

‘i won’t be home. after. i’ll be back tomorrow,’ she says hurriedly, before your heart can totally break. ‘but not tonight.’

‘i’m not bringing her home. you know that, right?’

‘it would be fine if you did,’ beatrice lies, and pushes past you into the kitchen to collect her things. 

you let her go. lift the phone to your ear. 

‘hey. what’s the company policy on halobearers going out with girls? also, like, your personal policy. not that it fucking matters, i’m gonna do it anyway, but i suppose i’m curious. lesbians…thoughts?’

beatrice slams the front door behind her. 

superion doesn't talk straight away—ha. you hear a chair dragging on stone and then a creak as she sits. 

'well,' she says, and you forget about beatrice as much as you can because superion doesn't sound angry or disgusted. only considering. and this question isn’t totally about beatrice, it’s about you too, and you don’t care what superion thinks of you, you don’t. but. 'there is nothing written to specifically bar halobearers from dating girls.' nuns, on the other hand, she doesn't say but you hear it loud and clear. 'as for my personal policies... they revolve around, and are cemented in, caring for and protecting my order and my girls.’

‘what kind of protection?’

‘physical and emotional strength is paramount, as you know. if you are being safe, and if it is something that will make you happy, then i have no reason to forbid it.’

you think on that for a minute. then, in a small voice you don’t recognise, you ask her, ‘are you excited for me? can you be excited for me?’ tears sting your eyes and the back of your throat prickles with heat like you’ve drunk hot sauce again, or whiskey, and before superion can say anything, you break in again with, ‘i’m going to be late,’ kind of brusquely. ‘bye.’

//

after dinner and dancing and drinks, all the things she had promised, dani offers to walk you home. 

you lean back against a lamppost and wind your fingers into the lapels of her lilac blazer and tug her forward, kiss her eagerly. the streetlight is almost the same warm gold as the halo, which is snug and silent between your shoulders. dani tastes like coffee, from her espresso martini. she kisses you, bold and unafraid. you’ve thought a couple times tonight about going home with her and you think about it again now, about letting her walk you home, about holding her hand as you let her into the apartment and pushing the same hand down the front of your jeans, into the underwear you bought new for precisely this reason, to where you’re slick between your legs and wanting but–

‘this was fun,’ you tell her, panting just a little. 

she groans. kisses your jaw, your neck. fuck. ‘why does it sound like you’re saying goodnight?’

‘i - well - you’re making it fucking hard -’ you say, and laugh, and your stomach twists a little because if you had said that to bea she would press her lips together and shake her head and the way her laugh escapes as a huff makes you feel like you could walk over oceans, shoot up into the fucking sky. you make that joke in front of dani and she laughs, sure, but then half a second later her teeth are on your skin over your pulse and neither of you are thinking about the joke. which is fair. but while you want dani to touch you, she doesn’t make you feel like you can take on the world. she kiss you again. puts her hands on your waist, thumbs sliding up to brush over your belly. hands sliding up until her thumbs are dipping beneath your shirt, fingers wrapping around your hips, and you feel fucking incredible, delicate and wanted and hot. but. 

‘dani, fuck -’

‘yeah, i know, saying goodnight.’ she sounds pretty wrecked too, which is a huge boost to your self-esteem because all you’re doing is clinging to her but apparently that’s fine. ‘you’re sure i can’t walk you to your door?’

‘if you walked me back, i’d take you upstairs,’ you tell her, and put a hand to her chest, push her gently away. ‘which - i had a lot of fun, but i can’t.’

dani nods. ‘text me when you get home though.’

‘of course, yeah.’

she takes a step back. out of the halo of the streetlight. you rake your eyes over her—she turned up in matching lilac blazer and slacks with this tiny white crop under the blazer and perfectly white sneakers, a few silver necklaces—and it reminds you a little of seeing doctor salvius for the first time, honestly, in her full pantsuit moment, and maybe you have a thing for women who look like they know what the fuck they want and how to get it. 

‘fuck.’

‘baby, i’m trying.’

you flip her off and push away from the lamppost. ‘thanks for tonight. i had a really good time.’

she smiles and watches you leave. you look back when you reach the end of the road and she’s still there, waves. 

by the time you get into the apartment, you’re considerably more drunk than you’d felt when you left the bar. you get the door unlocked, kick it closed behind you, and text dani as you struggle out of your jeans, kicking them vaguely in the direction of the wardrobe.

made it home thx for tonight

she doesn’t answer immediately. which is fair, she was drunk too and maybe she went back into the bar or whatever and you don’t really care but beatrice isn’t home and the apartment is quiet and cold and you’re standing pantless in the middle of the room and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut when you realise that you’re sad. it’s not fair. it’s not fair. 

the phone is hidden away under a loose floorboard, because of course it is. you hear the wood snap as you peel it up. you’re alive and super strong and drunk and it's fine, the phone shouldn't be hidden away anyway, you shouldn't be hidden away. you pull it out, call the only number programmed into this stupid, bulky phone. 

‘beatrice?’ 

‘no, it’s me.’

‘ah, ava. hello.’ 

you climb to your knees, push onto your feet. she sounds fine that you’ve called, totally unbothered. ‘i’m not struggling,’ you tell her. 

‘i’m glad to hear it.’

‘i’m fine.’ 

she’s quiet. you think about her towering over you. i know you killed yourself. you are a coward. you think about her standing in front of you, putting herself between you and harm. you are worthy. you are. 

‘i’m fine,’ you say again, anger hot on your tongue, hot down your spine. ‘i’ve been fine this whole fucking time but you keep asking so, so if you don’t believe me, let me tell you and maybe you’ll listen this time. i am fine. i’m not struggling. we’re hiding away from the fight and camila is in danger all the time and mary is gone and you - you talk to me but you don’t know me! you don’t know anything about me, and i know you don’t because you still think i’m going to run, or kill myself, but i never did, i never did and i won’t so stop asking me about my fucking life.’

‘ava,’ 

‘and stop saying my name! scolding me? poor crippled girl out on the streets—i have a job! i have friends! i’m really not fucking interested in what you think of me! fuck. you’re all the same. you nuns…you think b-because i’m not on my knees, crying and praying that i’m not grateful? i died! i’m alive! i’m grateful. you want me to thank you? you w-want me to learn how to be perfect from bea so that i’m worthy of the halo? so you don’t decide you’ve had enough of me? lighten the fucking burden of me? fuck perfection, fuck worthiness, fuck your god, and fuck your halo!’ you yell into the phone. anger stings your lungs; there’s not enough space around it for all the air you need. 

‘breathe, ava.’ superion’s voice is muffled by distance and the crackling of the phone line and the dizzy swirl of your head. ‘ava,’ she says more sharply. ‘breathe.’

you breathe in. 

‘good. again.’

you breathe in again, til your chest hurts with it. stumble over to the couch and curl into the arm of it, hand on your chest, feeling the trembling of your muscles, the desperation of your body to breathe, to live. 

superion can hear when you settle a little. ‘i am sorry. my questions have never been about doubt.’ you scoff. ‘if you had come to the OCS another way, i would have asked you these things. i would have taken the time to know you. it is not doubt, ava.’

‘then what the fuck is it?’

‘it is care.’

‘fuck you.’

‘ava,’ 

‘no! fuck you. you’re not my mother.’ you want to cry. you want your scars back. you want anything that tells you you’ve been wanted even once, even if it’s that—a sick, dreamy, drowning memory of a twisting road by the ocean, and scars where a parade of people worked to save your life. your skin is blemish free. ‘i had a mother.’ you pick yourself up from the couch. slam through the kitchen cupboards until you find the vodka hans gifted you. you pour a shot into a stripey mug, clear liquid sloshing onto the tabletop. ‘i had a mother and she died and you’re not her. and the nun who cared for me killed me twice, you know. so. fuck.’ you throw back the shot. it stings. ‘you’re not my mother and i hate your stupid god and you don’t get to care about me. i don’t care. i don’t care. it’s not fair. my mum would—i could’ve told her, i could’ve come home to her. hey mum, i went on a date with a girl tonight and it was really nice. but i can’t tell her because she’s dead and you’re a shitty substitute.’

you drink again. and then—because the anger doesn’t feel as good as you hoped it would and doesn’t do anything about the sadness unspooling in your stomach, glossy and tangled like the tape out of a cassette—you twist the cap back onto the vodka and set it back into the cupboard. 

superion says, ‘i’m not your mother. that’s true. but i am here to listen to you, and guide you. and i was unduly harsh on you but there is no doubt in my mind or my heart that you are worthy, not only of the halo but of the extraordinary life you will lead. and i am sorry that you cannot kiss someone and go home and call your mother.’

you’re standing, still pantless, in the kitchen and superion is being nice to you when you’ve just yelled at her more than you’ve yelled at anyone, ever. you sniffle. ‘a girl. kiss a girl and call my mother.’

‘yes. a girl.’

‘that’s important.’

‘i understand.’

‘it’s scary,’ you admit. ‘but it’s really awesome. and - and i don’t want to give any time to people and the church who think it’s a sin, i really don’t. because there are people who think - who have been made to think that it is a sin, that they’re bad and they’re not. they’re really wonderful, they’re beautiful and incredible and good. and i know you have faith in something, i don’t want - i don’t want to disrespect that - you love god and that’s cool or whatever. but if god has a plan for me, it’s shitty and it hurt and it’s not fair and i don’t want - i don’t believe in anything that cruel, i’m not going to and you can’t make me.’ you’re really tired all of a sudden. and very drunk. ‘i want my mum. do you have - you can talk to the pope, right? can he talk to god for me? can he make sure my mum is happy? i don’t believe but i think she did. can you - can you tell me if she’s happy? do you think she’d be proud of me?’

superion’s voice is thick with something you are too drunk to decipher. ‘yes, ava. she would.’ you feel turned inside out. like she’s touching raw, exposed nerves when she says, ‘thank you for talking to me.’

‘had to get drunk ‘n’ sad to do it. hooray.’ 

‘please drink some water and ensure the door is locked.’

‘’kay.’ you shuffle around to lock the door. pour a glass of water. it spills a little down your front but, whatever, it’s just water. ‘okay,’ you say again when you’re done. ‘sorry. for yelling.’

‘you are forgiven. and ava… you are fine. you are good. you do not believe, but i do, that God has made you in His image.’

‘wow. god’s really hot, huh? that’s cool.’ 

//

you sleep. beatrice is home when you wake up, sitting at the kitchen table with a book, a bowl of cut-up fruit, and a croissant. you don’t have a headache—thanks, halo—but your mouth is dry like you’ve eaten a mouthful of fucking sand and when you stumble out of bed to dunk your head in the kitchen sink, drinking straight from the table, she watches you, hawk-eyed. 

it’s only when you stand, wipe your chin with your wrist, and flop into the chair opposite beatrice, stealing a piece of her fruit, that you realise you are pantless. without pants. 

the tips of beatrice’s ears are red. her jaw is tight. ‘please put your pants away when you take them off,’ she says, and turns the page of her book even though you’re pretty sure she wasn’t done reading the last one. 

‘uh. yeah. i will.’

her finger taps against the spine of the book. ‘did you - was it fun?’

‘yeah.’ 

‘good. i’m glad.’ beatrice pushes the croissant over to you. ‘pain au chocolat,’ she says, and you realise that the croissant isn’t hers, it’s yours, she bought it for you because she never buys herself chocolate croissants. you think of her standing in the beautiful, warm bakery after a stupid long shift and buying you a pastry to eat after you went on a date with another woman and she watches your hands for a while as you split the croissant, which flakes between your fingers, smears buttery goodness everywhere. you break off a tiny bit and hold it out to her. ‘it’s  for you,’ she says, shakes her head. 

‘try it.’

she gives in. she gives in, beautiful when she does it. hungry. takes the little piece and pops it between her lips, which curl upwards, pastry melting, chocolate melting on her tongue. there’s a bit of pastry on her lip and the whole room is full of light. 

[mulletpermsicantlookaway]

The Jockification of Jeremy, Part 4: Chase Starts Changing

(For Parts 1-3 and the earlier stories on which this was based, see the earlier posts)

Chase and I ate lunch together again that day. He attacked his lunch with gusto, and he had seconds again. I’d never seen him eat so much, but when I commented on it, he said that he was always hungry after being sick. To me, he was already starting to look a little bigger, and taller, but I said nothing about that.

His voice wasn’t hoarse or squeaky any longer, but he was still clearing his throat a lot because he thought he sounded as if he had a cold. In reality, he didn’t sound sick at all. His voice was simply lower, but he hadn’t realized it yet. I thought it was cute and very sexy. He kept saying things like, “I still sound sick” and “I sound weird” in a husky baritone that did not go at all with his small frame. I was sure his voice would get lower and sexier still; he was nowhere near being a bro yet. The thought of the changes he was going to go through filled me with an almost unbearable anticipation. I was impatient for him to complete his transformation, and yet I wanted to savor every step along the way.

We didn’t see each other that evening. I had wrestling practice, but the next day was Friday, and I had a basketball game in the evening. Chase was going to come to the game to see me play, and then he was going to spend the night at my house.

After I’d showered and changed, I walked him home with me. Up in my room, I unzipped my duffel bag and took out my dirty clothes. “Here’s a little present for you, babe,” I said, holding out my jockstrap.

“Honestly, Jeremy. That is so nasty! Do you really expect me to wear that?”

“I just thought you might want some fresh essence of Jeremy. It’s the one I wore during the game. How’s the other one I gave you doing?”

“Oh yeah, I have that. I washed it. You’re right; they really do shrink up. I can wear it just fine now. It’s weird; even though it’s clean, I just keep imagining I can smell that jock smell. It just seems to stick with me all the time, even when I’m not wearing it. I even imagine I smell it right after I get out of the shower.”

I didn’t tell him that it really hadn’t shrunk at all; his package was noticeably starting to fill it out. “Why don’t we get our homework for the weekend done now, before it’s late, and then we can relax and have some fun.”

Chase agreed eagerly. He knew exactly what I wanted to do for fun.

After we’d finished, we played some video games, and we went to bed late. It was a weekend, after all. I got Chase to wear my game jock to bed. “It’s funny how it’s all warm and tingly when I get it from you. But are you sure you don’t want to throw this in the hamper? It’s a little, well, gamey. Kind of makes me feel a bit light-headed.”

“You’re just not used to jock smell the way I am, bro.”

“Sure, Jeremy,” he said. “It’s your room,” he yawned. “If you can put up with it, so can I.” He was getting sleepy. Soon we were both out.

The next morning, I woke up before he did and took a good look at him in the early morning light. He was starting to show signs of some muscle tone. His legs were noticeably hairier, his package much larger, especially his balls. His armpits were a jungle, and soft hairs were starting to grow up to his belly button and around his nipples. His Adam’s apple was bigger and sharper than ever, and his face was looking scruffy enough to benefit from a shave. I’d better talk to Coach Sanders again on Monday, I thought. If Chase was starting to change this rapidly, he might be ready to talk to the coach before the week was out.

After he was up and out of the shower, he said in deep, smooth, sexy rumble, “Dude, have you, like, got any mouthwash or anything like that? I don’t know what’s up with my voice, but maybe gargling will help.”

Gargling didn’t help, but I just kept telling him that he sounded fine to me, which he did. I loved his sexy new voice, but Chase kept thinking he sounded weird. He went home after lunch. As it happened, I had a wrestling meet in the afternoon, and, while we texted several times, I didn’t see him again until Monday.

On Monday when I met Chase for lunch, I was almost shocked at how quickly he was changing. His pants were noticeably tight and short on him, and his shirt was tight as well. A few of the bros were looking at us funny, some of them with knowing looks. James and Steve were obviously trying not to look, but Derek and Tyler were just as obviously staring. With all that, Chase seemed not to notice his ill-fitting clothes. He seemed mostly like himself, but he acted a little spacey, as if he was having trouble concentrating. I decided I’d better talk to Coach Sanders right away. I managed to catch him between classes. He agreed that he should try to talk to Chase either tomorrow or the next day. He also assured me he would make his own observations before the end of the school day.

I didn’t hear from Chase at all that night, which was a little worrying. But the next morning, he texted me right before school: “Can u walk me to skul? Feel strange.”

I rushed to his house as fast as I could. When I got there, he looked a bit taller than the day before, but what I really noticed was his face. He was less cute but way hotter, and my cock responded by springing to attention. But he looked sweaty and pale, and when he saw me, he said, “Oh, Jeremy, babe, I’m so glad to see you! Something’s, like, really wrong with me. I feel so weird!”

He sounded pitiful and sexy and lost at the same time, and I was heartbroken. I hadn’t wanted him to suffer like this, and I needed to make it right. I wanted desperately to hold him close, cuddle, and take his fears away, but if I really wanted to help him, I needed to get him to Coach Sanders as fast as I could.

“Oh, babe, I am so sorry you’re feeling like this! I can help you,” I said, “but do you think you can walk to school with me? I can get you help as soon as we get there.”

“Um,” he considered. “Yeah, fresh air. Fresh air should help. I can make it. I think. My shoes are tight. They’re so fucking tight. Why are my shoes tight?”

Encouraging him every few steps, I managed to get him to school without an incident, but the farther we walked, the less Chase seemed to know where he was or what he was doing. It was good he was still a pretty small dude, because toward the end I had to half lift and half drag him along. Fortunately, as we got to the edge of the campus, I saw my bro Derek standing with his girlfriend Becky, talking to Tyler and Brittney. Zach Davis was standing there, too.

“Yo, Derek, Tyler, Zach!” I said, “Hey, Becky, Brittney,” I nodded at the girls. “Bros, could you do me a solid? Could you help me get my bud to Coach Sanders’s office? He’s a little out of it right now. I’m sure Coach can help.”

Derek and Tyler exchanged a meaningful look, and Zach stared at Chase, considering, as if he’d never really seen him before. Derek took charge. “No worries, bro,” he said. “We’ll take care of him. Tyler, why don’t you see Brittney and Becky to class, and I’ll catch you later. Zach, could you run and find Coach Sanders and let him know we’d like to see him in his office right away.”

Whatever he may have been thinking, Zach took off immediately with long, loping strides like the running back he was. In a flash, he’d disappeared inside the building. Tyler had quickly put his bulky frame between the girls and Chase, and he seemed anxious to get Brittney and Becky away from the scene as soon as possible. As they moved toward the main entrance, Becky seemed to be trying to get a look at what was going on, although I’m not sure how much success she had trying to peek around a large, immovable object like Tyler.

Derek was an even larger immovable object. He put a huge, calloused hand firmly on Chase’s shoulder, stared him right in the face and said loudly, “Dude, little bro, let’s go for a little walk, eh? Not much farther.” Chase gave no indication that he heard, but he did as he was told. “Don’t worry, bro,” Derek said in a quiet aside to me, “I can pick him up and carry him if I have to.”

“You’re fucking awesome, Derek,” I said. “Thanks so much. I got him all the way here by myself, but I’m not as big as you are, and I’m almost worn out.”

“No worries, bro. He’s still a little dude. Not as little as he was last week, though. Maybe in a couple more months even I might have some trouble picking him up, you think?”

Stumbling between the two of us, we shuffled and half-carried him to the coach’s office. Coach Sanders was waiting for us.

“Chase, son,” he said pleasantly. “I’m so glad you came to see me. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I think you’d better sit down on the couch until you feel a little better.” Chase looked at him blankly. He hadn’t said a word since we’d started for school, and he still gave no sign of knowing where he was or what was going on. Coach Sanders had us bring Chase through the locker room to the room with the old couch and the TV set. Then he brought Chase a small bottle of something that looked like a sports drink. “Son, I think you’re a bit dehydrated. Drink some of this.” Chase still said nothing, gazing at him with unfocused eyes, but when the coach put the bottle to his lips, he drank several swallows. After that, he seemed calmer. He looked more relaxed and less pale and sweaty. “I think you’d better sit here a bit longer until you’ve fully recovered. Don’t worry about your classes; I’ll take care of that.”  The coach continued, “Let me set up the TV for you. I have a video that I think you’ll enjoy.” He turned on the TV and queued up the video. Chase sat silent in the middle of the couch, eyes locked on the screen, his eyes now half closed.

“Derek, Jeremy,” the coach said more briskly, “Those clothes of his are too tight; he’s going to need room to breathe. Derek, could you grab a pair of shorts and a tank top from the spare practice uniforms, and Jeremy, get his pants and shirt off.”

Chase limply allowed me to take off his too-tight shoes, undo his pants and pull them off. Under his pants, he was wearing nothing but a very well-filled jockstrap, undoubtedly one of mine. Derek and I slid a pair of basketball shorts on over the jock. Removing his shirt was easier, and then we put the spare tank top on him. Coach Sanders put a headset on his ears and adjusted the audio, then he dimmed the lights.

“Is he going to be all right, Coach?” I asked in a whisper. “I’m really worried about him. He seems so out of it.”

“He’ll be fine, big guy, don’t worry! Derek, you can head to class now, but check in with me a little later, please. And thanks for your help, as always! Jeremy, plan to drop by right after school, and then you can take Chase with you to practice. He probably won’t remember much of what happened today.”

When Derek was gone, the coach added, “I’ll tell you a secret, Jeremy; Derek reacted just like Chase, and you can see how strong Derek is. Chase just started to change physically a bit faster than his mind could handle.”

It was easy for Coach Sanders to tell me not to worry, but he seemed completely calm and in control, so I tried to put my fears to rest. Again, though, I wondered what he was trying to tell me. Derek hadn’t always been a jock? That was hard to believe. Seriously, the guy was the dictionary definition of a stereotypical jock. If Derek hadn’t always been a jock, when had he changed, and what had he been like before? I mean, he was a super nice guy and an amazing football player, but even for a jock he seemed a little dense. What if Chase turned out dumb? I’d do anything for him, of course, including helping him with his homework, but how much help could I be? As Coach Sanders had pointed out weeks ago, I wasn’t the smartest guy in school. At best, I’d been a B- student before. My grades hadn’t really dropped any since my change, but school just seemed harder with all the practices and games on my schedule. I was keeping up, and I didn’t, you know, feel slow or anything, but classwork just seemed not to come easily anymore. Part of the problem, I had to admit, was that my only motivation for going to school was playing sports and hanging out with my bros. Maybe Chase was right; maybe I really was just a dumb jock now.

Whether I really was dumber or not, my classwork for that day was not going to help any of my grades; I might as well have skipped all my classes. All I could think about was Chase. The worst was my modern European history class. I had completely zoned out during the teacher’s lecture. Suddenly he flung a question at me, but I didn’t know it until some nerd, Ben something-or-other, I think, actually had to tap me on the shoulder and say, “Hey, wake up, you dumb jock, he’s asking you a question!”

It was humiliating. Of course, I had no idea what the question was, and I’m sure I sounded every bit as stupid as I felt. The whole class laughed. At least it woke me up and got me out of my funk for a bit, but I was so mad I could hardly see straight. I spent the rest of the class imagining what I was going to do to hurt that little shit Ben later, but by the time class ended, I decided he wasn’t worth the trouble. Ben wasn’t important; Chase was. Once we were out in the hall again, I glared at Ben and threw a fake punch that made him flinch, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

I could hear one of his little nerd friends, Devin, I think, saying something like, “Geez, Ben, don’t rattle the jocks’ cages. You’re just asking for it. Seriously,” he continued in a kind of stage whisper, “you don’t want to be next on their list.” Ben asked what the fuck he was talking about, and Devin said in the same whisper, “Not here, Ben, just drop it. I’ll tell you later.” And then to me he said in a more normal voice, “Ben’s really sorry, uh, Jeremy. He didn’t mean it. No need to get him in trouble.” And he hustled Ben down the hallway.

I yelled after them, “Next time it’ll be your face, nerd!”

By lunchtime, I was feeling about as low as I could remember ever feeling. There was no sign of Chase, but I didn’t expect him, of course. I sat with some of the other bros, but I just stared at my food and didn’t say much. I kept imagining people were talking about me and Chase behind my back, even though I thought only Derek and maybe Zach really knew what was going on. I didn’t see either one of them anywhere in the lunchroom. But right when lunch was ending, Derek suddenly appeared. He came up to me and said, “Look, bro, stop worrying about Chase. Coach is taking care of him. He’ll be fine. You’ll see him at practice. Trust me, bro. And Becky told me about what happened to you in your history class. Don’t worry; I talked to Coach about that, too. Your bros’ll always have your back.”

I knew Derek was trying to help, and I really appreciated it, but it was hard to be okay with Chase suffering because of me. I felt worse and worse as the afternoon dragged on. Zach reappeared later in the afternoon. He came up to me in the hall between periods and said, “Bro, cheer up, okay? Seriously, your boyfriend’s really cute, and he’ll only be getting cuter. Stop moping, dude!”

I finally reminded myself that the important thing was whether Chase was happy. I hoped he would be, but I wouldn’t find out until after school. I tried to psych myself up for how hot Chase would be once he was fully a jock, and how great it was going to be to share the same interests again the way we did before. But when the last bell rang, my heart sank. Making my way slowly down to the locker room, I wasn’t looking forward to practice at all this time. I felt as if I were going to the gallows for my own execution.

To be continued

[emotional-moss]

physical self care tips for folks who don’t have the emotional/physical capacity to do so

disclaimer: these are not going to work for everyone nor are they a cure-all. sometimes you need additional help or sometimes these just aren’t going to work for you. this is not me assuming that every single mentally or physically disabled person is able to do all these. at the lowest points in my life i wasn’t even to get out of bed for days on end and once didn’t brush my teeth for several months. but these help some folks, and that’s all i’m going for!

can’t brush/floss your teeth? mouthwash. mouthwash always. plus you can get it in fun flavors :)

- additionally: are physically capable of brushing/flossing but can’t find the emotional capacity to do so? put on a video/show you like in the background. it helps me !

- oh also you can get toothpaste in fun flavors too if that helps

- you only really need to wash your face like once a day with a fairly gentle soap. like even a bar soap or a diluted hand soap works.

- don’t wanna deal with acne and stuff? pimple patches are your best friend (but wash your face first)

- additionally, acne is normal and common. you don’t have to have “perfect skin” and it’s super rare that people do (and if they do, they most likely invest in a bunch of expensive skincare products and routines).

- don’t/can’t shower? deodorant on stinky/sweaty areas. your armpits, your neck and upper back (trust me on this one), your crotch area, all that stuff.

- or you can just use a washcloth. wet it, put some soap on it, and then rub it on stinky areas. make sure there’s more water on it than soap so that you can wipe it off with a dry washcloth after.

- if you don’t wanna take care of your hair and you don’t need/want to keep it long, buzz it. or just cut it short!

- alternately, if you want/need to keep your hair long but can’t take care of it:

- if you have a looser hair type, run through it every now and then with a brush or your fingers. if you’re able, run through it with your fingers at least a few times a day. running it under water for a little and then gently running through it with your fingers/a comb works as well. also, dry shampoo is your best friend if you’ve got oily hair. if you don’t want to brush/wash it often, keep it in easy to maintain styles like regular braids.

- for black/coiled hair types: i’m not black and have 2c/3a wavy/curly hair so i really don’t know much about this so please do not take this as if i have firsthand experience, this is all internet knowledge/from black peers. i always open to better information, please tell me if you have any! from what i’ve heard and learned black/coiled hair doesn’t need to be washed as much. keeping it short helps because it shrinks easily and means you don’t have to wash/clean it often. but if you want to keep it long, it can get dry easily. separating it into sections and then running through it with a detangling brush helps (a good option is the Spornette DeVille Cushion Paddle Boar Bristle 344). protective hairstyles mean you don’t have to wash it that often as well. 

- some foods may not be healthy but if they’re easy to prepare and leave you sustained for some time, fucking go for it. as long as you don’t have any dietary/medical restrictions regarding them.

- foods like omelettes, oatmeal, microwavable burritos/ramen/etc, peanut butter on toast, tuna sandwiches, frozen chicken nuggets, bag salads, and mixed nuts are all easy to make and/or good sources of vitamins and protein.

- fatness isn’t a bad thing. you don’t need to work out or eat specifically to “stay in shape.”

- but if you do want to work out: i am not a physical therapist, personal trainer, etc. nor do i have much gym experience. listen to your body and consult legitimate medical sources/medical professionals. i am also not physically disabled. i cannot judge what is right for your body; only you and medical professionals can do that.

- remember to warm up and cool down. wear comfortable clothes that make you feel good. drink plenty of water!!!! and listen to what your body is telling you !!! if you experience pain/nausea, it’s time to stop for a bit and there’s no shame in that.

- simple workouts! focus on one specific thing, like flexibility or strength or something. walking/pacing is an easy one if you’re able to do that. listening to music while doing it helps too. - stretches are awesome. yoga is awesome. simple things that increase flexibility and don’t require a lot of physical activity are awesome. just a simple stretch now and then is rad as fuck.

- as always, laziness is a myth. sometimes your mind or your body just doesn’t want to do something and that’s perfectly fine. 

- that’s all i can think of for now i might add more later

[phillipfancypants]

On flossing

This post is for people who want to look after their teeth/mouth but can’t bring themselves to change anything due to sensory/adhd/too busy/bad at changing routines.

I’ve never been someone who flossed. I hated when they did it for me at the dentist. My parents didn’t floss when I was growing up and neither did my friends or my sister. Children’s TV told me that only nerds floss.

But now that I’m an adult, when I go to the dentist, they always tell me I have inflamed gums and really I should be worried and I should promise to floss every day from now on etc.

But flossing HURTS. I mean, what is pleasant about slicing open part of your mouth every night for the rest of your life, right? And the dentist says “oh well once you get started, it won’t hurt as much you’ll get used to it” which honestly scares me more—I play guitar and it took ages to build up calluses on my fingers and having those inside my mouth sounds mildly horrifying.

Turns out that none of that is what’s actually going on inside your mouth. And after 15+ years of believing all this, it took ONE dental hygienist to explain why it wasn’t working for me.

Let’s start with gingivitis. You may have heard of it before, maybe been told you have it. Been lectured on how it’s tied to heart disease and low life expectancy and you can prevent it by flossing. But what IS it?

Basically it’s your body trying to protect you. Have you ever heard the statistic that a dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s? Afaik that’s true, due to a bunch of bacteria we pick up from our varied human diet. And aside from some important gut flora, our immune system does NOT like it when there’s a lot of bacteria around. So what does it do? It sends white blood cells to scope out the threat. The closest battlefront to the action is your gums, so your body sends a bunch if reinforcements to keep the invaders at bay. The only problem is that the bacteria is perfectly happy living in your mouth, and really has very little interest in entering your blood stream. So all these extra white blood cells are gathering at your gums, but none are ever seeing battle and they can never truly eliminate the threat. This causes swelling and inflammation. It’s basically chronic arthritis but in your mouth instead of your joints. And funny enough, when part of your bloodstream is CONSTANTLY fighting a losing battle, that can hurt the rest of your body over time.

Where does flossing come into all of this? Basically the further away you can keep the bacteria from your gums, the better. They want you to floss because it basically scrapes off the bacteria from your teeth right next to your gum line which is the main war zone. If the white blood cells sense that the danger is gone, they leave, and the swelling leaves with them. The “resistance” you build up over time isn’t physical calluses, it’s just that, when all those white blood cells are around, your gums are like a fresh wound. Of course they bleed when you slice them with floss. When they sense the danger is gone, they can leave and that fresh wound can heal to a normal, tougher thickness. No calluses required.

But OP, I still hate flossing and I can never get through the painful first phase.

Lucky for you, there’s a much easier way: mouthwash.

If you’re like me, you probably thought that mouthwash is just for bad breath. So why would you use it if your breath isn’t bad? Well it turns out that they make a bunch of different mouthwashes that specifically target gingivitis bacteria. I use the store brand but name brand works too (just look for “anti-gingivitis” or “antibacterial” on the bottle). I don’t mind the kind with alcohol (it’s cheaper too) but if you get overstimulated by the burning sensation, they make non-alcohol ones too. (Other fun fact my hygienist told me is that the alcohol actually doesn’t do much to kill the bacteria, it’s just there as a solvent to stop the other ingredients from solidifying over time)

After a couple weeks of using mouthwash, I went to floss this morning and for the first time in my life it didn’t hurt. There was still a little bleeding (which I guess will go away with time) but it didn’t hurt! By using mouthwash, I had killed enough bacteria that my mouth could finally heal.

But I guess, the moral of the story is that there is a way to meet the dentist halfway, and you will see improvement. You don’t have to go all or nothing.

If you’re already in the habit of brushing once or twice a day, it only adds 30 seconds to your routine, but to your immune system, it’ll mean the world.

Sorry if this is obvious to some people, or if you’ve heard it before, but I genuinely had no idea how all of this worked until that one hygienist explained it to me. So thank you to him, and I hope this helps someone!

TLDR; use mouthwash even if your breath doesn’t stink

[detective-inspector-her]

Incorrect Quotes: Alive Gordon AU that I semi-abandoned but want to share the dynamics for.

China: Self-care is suppressing all your trauma until it comes back and hits you in the face with the force of 7 very large trucks.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: I desire moisture.

Desmond: Please just say "I want water" like a normal person.

Desmond is helping Skulduggery break out of prison

Desmond: Sooo… Does this make us partners in crime?

Skulduggery: Don’t push it.

Desmond: Oh my gosh, we can be like Harley Quinn and the Joker!

Skulduggery: If you don’t stop talking, they’re adding “murder” to the charges.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: We can’t tell you because you’re not a member of the club.

Skulduggery: What club?

Desmond: The hating Serpine club.

Skulduggery: …The fuck? I should be the leader of that club!

Desmond: ‘Technically legal’, the two best words in the the English language, right before ‘cowboy spectacular.'

Stephanie/Valkyrie: Dad… I’m bleeding…

Desmond: Oh god… what’s your blood type?!

Stephanie/Valkyrie: B positive…

Desmond: I’m trying to but you’re bleeding-

Skulduggery: Please confirm to your knowledge that you are not a fully robotic being, were born an organic creature, and do in fact possess what many cultures would call a soul.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: What? “To my knowledge”? Do a lot of people not know if they’re robots?

Skulduggery: Thank you for your confirmation.

Desmond: Oh, so you two are getting along very… cordial now?

Skulduggery: Cordial? Nah, we're friends.

Desmond: Friends?

Skulduggery: Yeah. After you stopped us fighting, we got to talking. Seems like we have some common interests.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: We both love butterflies.

Desmond: Aww–

Stephanie/Valkyrie: And beating people up.

Desmond: Oh, okay.

Desmond: Nice rock.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: Thanks, Skulduggery gave it to me.

Skulduggery: I threw it at you!

Stephanie/Valkyrie: Isn't he the sweetest?

Stephanie/Valkyrie: Just be yourself. Say something nice.

Desmond: Which one? I can't do both.

Desmond: How do you want your coffee?

Stephanie/Valkyrie: Black, like my soul.

Desmond:

Desmond: Steph, your soul is a latte.

Desmond: Do you want this handful of moss?

Skulduggery: Why would I want a handful of fucking moss?

Desmond: Damn, you could’ve just said no.

at a zoo

Stephanie/Valkyrie: What are they in for?

China: Valkyrie, this isn't a prison.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: So they can leave?

China: No, but-

Stephanie/Valkyrie, pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

Desmond: How do you tell someone their breath stinks?

China: Hey, I'm bored, let's drink mouthwash.

Skulduggery: Valkyrie doesn’t look very happy.

Desmond: She's happy. She's just like that.

China: Alright, listen up you little shits.

China: Not you Valkyrie. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

Desmond, driving and singing to the Little Einstein's theme song: We’re Going on a Trip-

Skulduggery: In our favourite piece of shit!

Tanith: Doing 95!

Stephanie/Valkyrie: We’re gonna fucking die!

Skulduggery: Accidentally indulged in too much ‘free time’, turns out I’ve been reported missing for over six months and presumed dead by most local and national authorities.

Desmond: When I get Doordash I order 20 Cheeseburgers at a time and heat them up throughout the week so that I don’t have to pay the delivery fee multiple times.

China: I hope you understand how food poisoning works.

Desmond: I hope food poisoning understands how I work. I never met a burger i couldn’t eat.

Ghastly: Say no to drugs.

Skulduggery: Say yes to drugs.

China: It doesn't matter if you say yes or no to drugs. If you're talking to drugs.. then you're on drugs.

Skulduggery: gets set on fire and screams in agony

Skulduggery: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

Cop: What are your names?

Desmond: Don't tell them, Skulduggery.

Cop, writing: Skulduggery…

Desmond: Crap.

Skulduggery: Nice going, Desmond.

Cop:

Skulduggery: Uh oh.

Tanith: Unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, I cannot just 'walk up and join a circle of people talking', but it does sound lovely, thank you.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: I don't follow the rules. I follow dogs on social media.

China: What’s the dumbest thing you believed as a child?

Stephanie/Valkyrie: That naptime was a punishment.

Tanith: Sweet dog you got there.

Police: Yes, this is our new drug sniffing dog.

Tanith: Still training huh?

Police: What do you mean?

Tanith:

Tanith: Never mind.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: Can we get a birthday cake?

Desmond: It’s not your birthday.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: The cake won’t know!

Desmond: You believe me?

Ghastly: Desmond, you’re the last good person on this planet. I‘d believe cartoon birds braided your hair this morning.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: Your Honor, I hereby submit the following to the court:

Stephanie/Valkyrie: China, what the actual FUCK?

China: We need a distraction.

Skulduggery: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Desmond, whispering: My time has come.

China: Sometimes I like to place my hands on someone’s cheeks, look into their eyes…

China: …And violently jerk their head until it snaps.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: …That took an unexpected turn.

Tanith: So did their neck.

Desmond: I don’t know, this plan seems complicated.

Stephanie/Valkyrie: You once said that about an orange.

Desmond: They don’t make sense. Apples, you eat their clothes but oranges you don’t.

[8000000cherries]

Johnny

I met Johnny at a park. At a coffee shop. At the university dining hall. I was eighteen, nineteen, and twenty years old dangling at the loose hands of tenterhooks. I knew I first liked Johnny when he came to my dorm and we sat on my raggedy dark pink rug. When I caught him catching glances at me. He had an Adam's apple that shone like a gem and eyelids that hung low like crescent moons dipping into the river. We talked for hours that night. Then he apologized for oversharing. Johnny complains about being alone.  Even though he has a girlfriend. He says he doesn't know exactly what he wants to do for money yet but he wants to make his art. His films, his poems, his auto-fiction. He says he wants to run away to a place where no one knows. He dreams because he’s young enough to afford to. 

Johnny is in love with someone else. I know what they say about you, Johnny. He loves my Pavlovian responses when he calls me to come over at night. He tells me how he broke up with his girlfriend. They didn’t have much in common. Johnny and I have a lot in common. He made me a PB&J. And let me sleep with him in his bed until sunrise. That must mean he loves me right? Johnny tells me he wants kids. I told him that he would make a great dad one day. 

Johnny loves his family. Johnny tells me all the right things. But it’s not enough. Johnny tells me I'm pretty and apologizes for kissing me too much. Johnny made me a perfect mix CD. Johnny makes all his girlfriends mix CDs. That must mean he wants me to be his girlfriend right? 

He smells like slow mornings and two-in-one shampoo. Johnny stays up late every night because he's young enough to afford it. He cries in front of me. He doesn’t hug me in public. Only when we’re in his car and he drops me off in his Volkswagen. He wears a lot of black. He has never brought up commitment. Johnny doesn’t make promises to anyone. He wants to move to New York. 

We like the same movies. We go to the same concerts. We’re just friends, right? He says he’s nervous because I'm nervous. But I think it’s because I scare him. I never know when I'm going to hear back from Johnny. I made him a playlist but then deleted it. Johnny is just a good friend of mine. A good, good friend.

Johnny is in love with someone else. Something is wrong and I don’t know what it is. 

I can feel him slipping from my grasp again. He says he’s just depressed. He doesn’t believe in therapy. Sometimes I think I hate Johnny. Sometimes I think I want to try to hurt his feelings. But I don’t and never do. Sometimes it feels like we invented a language that only we know.  That everyone else is just too dumb to understand. I can’t want Johnny because the knot in my stomach tells me to run. Johnny lives in my periphery and he floats. He says he likes talking to me. So he must mean it right.

He says he’s sorry for being distant, and that life has been busy and weird. When he’s gone, I wait like a dog for him to return. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. I can’t stop loving him.

 I’m an open wound that won't scab over.  I can’t tell him I love him unless he says it first. 

At least I think it’s love. Johnny hasn’t told anyone about us. Johnny just doesn’t like opening up.

At some point, I stopped looking for the hidden meanings with Johnny. 

And realized there was nothing there. 

My friends say I'm too good for him. I would clear my schedule this week if it meant I could see him. Johnny isn’t ready for a relationship. Neither am I. Johnny loves relationships. I find another girl’s tampons in his cabinet. Her toothbrush, contact case, and night retainers. I take a swig of her mouthwash and hope she doesn’t mind. I feel it in the basement of my throat. 

Johnny can’t want me, and I am not forever. 

[whitegoldtower]

Panic attack tips from someone who has them pretty much every day, and is currently having one:

- wash your face with cold water. Wash your hands and your feet. Put something cold on the back of your neck.

- Take a shit. No, seriously. Take a shit and tell yourself that you’re shitting out the panic. It’s disgusting but if/when you do take a shit, it’s probably going to be loose, and isn’t gonna look like a normal shit. This is fine, it’s just because your body is telling you that you’re in danger, so you’ve gotta evacuate your guts so you can run quicker.

- Sip ice cold water.

- if you get chills, grab a hot water bottle and cuddle it. Grab a person and cuddle them. If you have a pet, pet them. If you have other people in your house, there’s no shame in needing their company. There’s also no shame in waking them up if you have them at 3AM (as I usually do).

- Inhale for six, exhale for six, hold for three or four.

- if you feel sick, sip water and/or take a stomach settler like omeprazole.

- Relax your shoulders, unclench your jaw.

- gently tap your face with your fingertips. Gently scrape your chest outwards. Rub your stomach clockwise. Rub your feet against the bedsheets.

- Pick a colour and count every object you can see in that colour.

- Brush your teeth / use mouthwash. Strong mint taste usually helps bring me out of an attack.

- Sometimes it’s best to just lay down and shake for a bit. Just let it happen, as scary as it seems. If you feel really restless, just shake your fucking leg. Shake it like a polaroid picture.

- Acknowledge that it’s just a panic attack. When you feel one coming on, don’t start googling your symptoms. You know it’s just a panic attack. You know your brain is being goofy. When I feel my pulse about to spike, I press my fingers to my pulse and go “it’s nothing to worry about. Watch now; it’s going to go up.” And when it does go up, “See? There it is. And now my chest is going to start hurting.”

- Make it funny. Your body is shitting itself and being fucking goofy as hell. I picture cartoon skedaddle sounds when my pulse goes up and explosive fart sounds when my brain tries to convince me I’m dying. I look off to an imaginary camera like I’m having a fleabag moment.

- Remember that a panic attack won’t kill you. It’s scary as fuck and feels horrific, but it won’t hurt you. You’re okay.

- Keep yourself occupied. Do something that requires you to think, so that your brain doesn’t get the chance to make you worry about your symptoms.

- The pain in your chest isn’t a fucking heart attack. You’re not dying, you’re just panicking. That sense of impending doom? Yeah, that’s part of the panic attack. You’re fine, you’re safe.

- It’s okay to go to sleep. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. If you feel really scared, have someone sleep next to you. If you’re alone and it’s unbearable, go to the hospital, or just somewhere with other humans that you feel comfortable taking a nap: humans generally tend to rush to help each other, so if anything bad does happen (which it won’t), someone will help you.

- if you’re struggling to relax, hit your brain with ye olde factory reset and watch a show you used to watch as a child. It is a fairly common occurrence to see me (a fully grown man) shaking like a shitting dog, rubbing his feet together, cuddling a pillow and watching that little blue twat Iggle Piggle dancing around on screen with ya boy Makka Pakka.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Writing ✍️ Commissions!

Baby’s First Commission page so be gentle. The only real reason I’m even making this is so I can commission other people for art. Probs will change where I use the extras for like. Stuff. But over all my commissions are for fun. So never any sweat or pressure. For the time being. I’m disabled AF after all

Prices 💰

10$ per 1k words

5$ for 500 of course

Extra 10$ for NSFW ((Depending on what the NSFW is does play heavily. So talk to me! : D))

For NSFW we will discuss in DM’s about such, and see if I need to toss on a extra 5 bucks if you want some elaborate stuff/Really out there stuff

CashApp/Paypal/Kofi For Payment!

$BellaDonnaBucks

FishyArtist/paypal

CherryPopElf/Kofi

Fandoms I Write ✏️

Harry Potter

Harry Potter Magic Awakened

Borderlands ((Tell Tale included))

Hellboy/BPRD

Monster Prom/Camp/RoadTrip

Avatar The Last Airbender

Legend Of Korra

Marvel Movies/Comics

DC Movies/Comics

Strawdew Valley

Dont Starve

Assortment of Slashers

Disney Princess’s/Villains

Mouthwashing

Dead Plate

Will add more when I remember I have a personaility 😭

ASK! It’ll probs cost an extra 5 buck if I don’t know them, because I’ll want to make sure I properly research after all so you get what you want!

What I Write ✅

NSFW

Fluff

Graphic Violence/Horror

Oc x Canon

Canon x Canon

Diary Entries

Letter style

Self Insert

GrimDark

ASK! : D

NO GO ❌

Underage NSFW ((Duh

Real People ((Eeeeeee

I guess the more extreme kinks. Like honey, you gonna have to pay me a extra fifty bucks if you want scat

Uhhhhh. Damn, the internet kinda ruined me, so I’m not sure if I have limits. So I guess things of more taboo/extreme will cost EXTRA EXTRA boo boo 💵 💵 💵 💵

ASK! : D

Don’t Be Shy!

Healthy Communication Is Key!

Don’t be shy! I get it!

Maybe you want something very personal, I get it!

Maybe you want to gift it!

We HAVE to have a healthy communication about this. Ok?

Maybe you are on a budget, talk to me!

Don’t be shy and give me all your Headcanons and details! It’s suppose to be for YOU after all!

Love you all!

[whats-wild-to-you]

I’d like to request smth too 👉👈 you have sex with Jay at a friend’s wedding and find out you got pregnant. you try to contact Jay and tell him but he calls you a liar 🥺

I kinda wanted to turn this into a story but I held myself back (maybe I’ll do it at a later time). Can you imagine that? Jay with a little girl? 🥹🥹🥹🥹____________________________________________

You washed your mouth with mouthwash and returned to your desk.

“Wow, you look horrible. Are you sick or something?”

“I’ve had a stomach bug for weeks. I went to a friend’s wedding, probably got it there.”

Your colleague nodded supportively and returned to his work.

The next morning you called in sick and went to see your doctor. He examined you thoroughly but couldn’t find the cause of your discomfort. He then drew blood and told you to call in two days for the results.

Two days later you called your doctor, asking for the results of your blood test.

‘Is it possible you’re pregnant?’ He asked cautiously.

“Impossible!” You fired back immediately.

But then you remembered.

It happened at the reception, after your friend’s wedding. You were sad because now you were the only one in your class who hadn’t gotten married yet. That’s why you hung out at the bar and drowned your sorrow in liqueur. Soon a stranger joined you. He was a friend of the groom. You saw him when he arrived and for a moment you thought about asking your friend for his name.

“Not a fan of weddings?”

“Singles shouldn’t be allowed at weddings.” You said, looking at him dead in the eye. You already had enough to drink and you had zero inhibitions.

“I agree!” He laughed and ordered another round.

An hour later you were both intoxicated and ready to leave. Since neither of you lived in that town, you decided to go to a hotel. You split the bill and the bed. Naturally one thing led to another and you found yourself naked the next morning, with the stranger cupping your breasts from behind.

You failed to leave without waking him up, and apologized saying that you both should just forget what had happened.

You raked your brain trying to remember if you used a condom but since you were drunk, most memories had vanished.

“Shit!”

That same day you went to see your gyno, and he eventually confirmed your pregnancy.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

You didn’t know what to do but somehow you found yourself calling your friend who had gotten married that day.

“Hey, how are? I called to ask you for a favor.”

Without revealing too much, you were able to get the guy’s name and number. 

With shaky hands you called, asking to meet up.

Jay never asked the reason why you wanted to talk to him but agreed to meet you for coffee.

“I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like that but it is important.” You began but noticed that Jay wasn’t paying attention. You realized that you knew nothing about the guy. Who was he? What did he do for a living? Was he even single?

Instinctively you looked at his hands. No ring on his ring finger.

“To be honest, I was a little surprised. I thought we had agreed to forget that night.”

His comment was like a knife to the chest. It was true, you wanted to forget it too, but now the situation had changed.

Suddenly you weren’t so sure it was the best idea to tell him. Clearly, he had already forgotten you and all that happened with you. What would happen if you told him you were expecting his child?

Probably nothing, you concluded. But still you called him out here, you owed him an explanation.

“Today I found out I’m pregnant.” You blurted out, deciding to just rip off the bandaid.

“Congratulations, I guess?!”

When you remained silent, just gazing at him, it slowly dawned on him.

“No. That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Do you recall anything from that night? Because I don’t.”

He kept shaking his head violently, and stopped short of calling you a liar.

“I don’t want anything to do with it.”

There you had it. The answer you were hoping for. At least that’s what you thought. But hearing him say those words hurt you. You needed him to care, at least a little bit. Abortion was out of the question for you. Even if it was an accident, you didn’t have the heart to kill an unborn child.

You didn’t even notice when he left, and only realized a long time had passed when the barista told you they were closing up.

At home you got a call from your friend, asking you if it was true. If you were really pregnant.

“Wow! News travel fast I see!”

‘It’s just that, Jay isn’t an ordinary guy. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize him!’

You talked with your friend for an hour and when you hung up, realized you were in much bigger trouble.

“Please arrange a meeting with him again. Please!” You had asked her before she ended the call.

“I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything.”

A week later you met Jay again. This time he insisted on meeting you in your apartment. Before he had a chance to further insult you, you painted the picture for him.

“Prior to my conversation with my friend last week I didn’t even know who you were. Even now I don’t really know much but I also don’t care to find out.

The reasons I informed you about my pregnancy are very private. I couldn’t find it in me to end a life without informing you of its existence first.”

“I already told you, this is not my problem!”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t need to believe you because I don’t care. You’re not the first woman who tries that trick on me. I’m sorry to disappoint you. I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have hooked up with you.”

“Yeah, ditto.”

You got up and opened the door. “Sorry to have wasted your time.”

He left thinking you’d never see each other again.

Two years later you saw him again at your godchild’s first birthday.

Panicking, you pulled your friend away from the other guests.

“Why the hell did you invite him?”

“My husband and him are good friends.” She shrugged but then realized her mistake.

“Oh shit! Well, I’m sure he won’t stay long.”

You couldn’t even hide since you were the godmother so sooner or later he would spot you. Determined, you walked up to your godson and helped him stand on the chair.

“Ready to blow out the candles? Like we practiced, okay?”

The guests snapped photos with their phones and cheered loudly when the little boy blew out his candles. Looking up, you locked eyes with Jay but then turned away without acknowledging him.

For the rest of the afternoon you successfully avoided him, but when you glanced over at him you swore he was staring at you.

“Did you talk to Jay?”

“No. And I don’t plan to.”

You helped your friend clear the table and carry out some snacks and wine for the adults since the kids were taking a nap.

Just in that moment you heard footsteps approaching, then your daughter called you out, running towards you when she spotted you.

You didn’t dare to look in Jay’s direction. Even if he was shocked he had no right to.

“Mummy, where are all the other kids?” Your toddler asked looking around.

“They went to sleep. Don’t you want to join them?” You asked even though she had just woken up from her nap.

Your daughter looked up at you with her adorable grin. Being a carbon copy of her father didn’t really help in this situation. When Jay approached you, your friend quickly grabbed her and carried her away.

“I thought you had gotten an abortion?”

“I thought you didn’t care?”

“Fuck!” He rubbed his temples, visibly affected by the sight of his daughter.

“Listen, I respected your decision back then. I never bothered you again, did I? Now it’s your turn to walk away.”

“How can I-”

“Why? You didn’t even believe me in the first place!”

“That was before.”

“I won’t turn my daughter’s life upside down just because you changed your mind!” You were yelling now and your friend and her husband tried to calm you and Jay down.

“You had your chance but you thought I was trying to pin you down? Using what? A fake pregnancy? Someone else’s child? You thought I was a fraud? Sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn’t lying.”

You walked in and put a coat on your daughter, carrying her out, shielding her from Jay. Your friend was blocking him from getting to you and you made it to your car, put your daughter in her car seat and drove off, leaving Jay to wonder if he had just made a huge mistake by not going after you.

[sadnesslaughs]

The 10 sit around the table in horror as the final decision is revealed. Their stomachs sink as they all remember the last time the entire Guild of Dentists were in agreement.

The guild of dentists all frantically looked at one another. Every member waiting for someone to speak an ill word towards the Hyaio brand of peppermint toothpaste that laid on the table. They couldn’t all agree for once. There had to be a mistake. Mark, the youngest of the dentists, looked at Agitha. Hoping she might have some choice words for this new brand of toothpaste.

“Agitha. Even you agree this is the best product on the market? You’re practically a dental fossil at this point. Don’t you hate all the new stuff? You tried to convince me to brush my teeth with strawberries when I first joined, you can’t be in favor of this.” Henry pleaded, trying to sway her opinion.

“A fossil? Call me that again and I’ll be giving you a tooth extraction with my foot.” The older woman pushed up her glasses, using her middle finger to perform the action. “I didn’t tell you to brush your teeth with the strawberries. I told you it helps to whiten them. I was giving you advice because any person who enters your office will run in horror when they see those decaying teeth of yours.” She commented. Her words making Mark cover his mouth. “As I was saying. It’s flawless. The product can’t be beat.”

Gasps echoed through the guild hall. How long had it been since they agreed on a product? Rumors in the guild said that the last agreement was in Pompeii. This agreement bringing about the volcanic destruction of both Pompeii and Herculaneum. Even now, the lava that surrounded the dental guild bubbled as a few of the dentists gave it nervous glances.

The dental guild built to be hard to find, filled with labyrinths of dental floss triplines and shark infested mouthwash waters. Weirdly enough, the mouthwash didn’t kill the sharks. Only giving them minty breath that would smell rather pleasant before you were devoured. As they all sat in silence, leaning against the tooth covered stone table, a voice spoke up.

“Why don’t we lie? I’ll say I disagree with it, and everything will be fine.” Hayley offered, willing to throw her pearly white dental record away for the salvation of the world. Like Mark, she was one of the younger members of the guild. Hayley being the first dentist to implement the placebo anesthetic trick in her dental office. As everyone knows, dentists compete to make their offices the most unpleasant place imaginable. With Hayley having revolutionized the dental pain experience. Even getting the golden tooth for her innovation at the dental torment award show.

“You can lie to us, but you can’t lie to her.” Graham pointed to the hanging overhead statue of the tooth fairy. The beautiful woman holding a bloodied tooth that swung over the table. Her marble wings looking spectacular under the dim light of the hall. “She knows the truth. We have to accept the consequences. If an agreement has been made, we must hope she has mercy on the world. Praise be to the one true god. The almighty tooth giver and taker. May our teeth be cavity free in her name.”

“For the last time, Graham, it’s a statue, not a god. How much happy gas did you huff before you came here?” Agitha groaned, rubbing her temple. The guild really was letting anybody in these days. Back in her day, everyone here was a respected academic, not a member of the dental circus.

“So, how do we go about this? Got some weird home remedy that can spare us? Going to pull out some strawberries?” Mark teased, only to scoot back in his seat when Agitha stomped her foot down, scaring the young dentist.

“No, I’m proposing something more sensible. Who owns Hyaio?”

“Ah, now you’re speaking my language.” A tooth drill was heard as Nichole spoke, leaning forward in her chair. She was the only dentist missing three of her teeth, replacing them with ones that could hold an assortment of weaponized pills. Using them for any dental assassinations she needed to perform. “Are you thinking of killing the product before it hits the market?”

“I’m not… I thought we could reason with the CEO?” Agitha didn’t want to admit that the thought of assassination had crossed her mind. She considered herself above these degenerates, not wanting to lower herself to their standards.

“Heh, you want to reason with them? You can’t reason with CEOs. They crave money over anything. It’s like asking a leech not to suck your blood. At the end of the day, it’s a leech, that’s what it does. You can’t even really fault them for it. It’s in their DNA. So, I suggest we give them a checkup, if you know what I mean.”

“But we aren’t murderers.” Agitha protested.

“We still aren’t. Nichole’s the one doing it.” Mark answered.

“Yeah, our hands are clean and ready for the next patient.” Hayley said.

“Praise the tooth fairy in the spreading of teeth and blood.” Graham chanted, standing up from his chair, throwing his hands into the sky, praising the giant tooth fairy statue. The group stared at Graham, making a mental note not to invite him to the next meeting.

“So, what am I doing? Am I giving him a checkup?” Nichole asked. The group muttered a little indecisively before nodding. Soon, they gave their votes and all ten dentists agreed that this was the best course of action to take. “Funny, who would have thought all ten dentists would agree on something twice in one day? Don’t worry, he will be saying Ahhhh before the toothpaste hits the shelves. Once he’s out of the way, we can impose a shadow CEO into the company and get them to pull the product. I’ll leave that stage to the rest of you. May your teeth sparkle.”

“May your teeth sparkle.” The group responded, watching as Nichole left. Hoping she could prevent the doom that would soon be coming for them.

[coconutcows]

Augh Reddit's terrible about that sort of thing, I'm sorry they question your competence over literally any comment... It's very frustrating too how, when you tell them that insult was absolutely unnecessary, they say it's a public forum and they don't NEED to ask for your permission to speak. Even if they're deliberately being an asshole!!! 😒 (That's been my experience, at least.)

Honestly, it doesn't make any sense why people act so put-upon because other people need more explanations- not everyone can glean what the story is trying to say in it's totality; isn't that kinda what fandom's about anyways????

You're not alone either! I didn't know about Anya's sexual assault at Jimmy's hands!! Like yourself, I thought it was domestic violence and the two already had an established romantic relationship, NOT that she was violated and forced to interact with her abuser. Only figured that out after... you guessed it, looking at the comments!

On a more positive note, your posts about Mouthwash made me finally see what all the fuss was about, and it's a very, VERY good game! I've even recommended it to a friend who's very interested in it, and that wouldn't have been possible without your passion! :>

It was very intriguing seeing how the characters interacted and what their thought processes were, all from the perspectives of people who were pretty biased. Anya, Swansea, and Daisuke grew on me the most but all the characters have personality! Speaking of characters, which one(s) are your favorite(s) and why? I'd love to know!

P.S. Congrats on the new lease! May your new home be sturdy and lacking mold!

Ah, I’m sorry to hear people have been so rude to you on Reddit, I don’t know why people are so brazen and self-centred there. Luckily the worst encounter I’ve had was someone calling me “Smoothbrained” for saying men and women aren’t actually that different about a picture of cis female athletes being called men (Don’t go on the facepalm subreddit, it’s a nasty one). Mostly though I just get people asserting their intelligence over mine, even if they’re just like completely wrong. I once commented that Lagoona Blue from Monster High is amphibious like a frog meaning she can breathe on land and in water. Someone replied to me saying “Frogs can’t breathe in water”, which puzzled me so hard I had to google it because I thought I’d missed out on some big frog news since I was in third grade. Nope, they do breathe underwater, I mean how else would they hibernate right??

And yeah, I’ve always thought that’s what fandom is about!!! Sharing thoughts and opinions and appreciation for something with likeminded people. Attitudes like that are what make people scared to become involved with a fandom community. Interesting way to put it also, about a story’s totality, because I’ve actually been thinking about making a post about how little information we actually get in Mouthwashing, and how what we get is tightly connected to the story it tells without branching out. You know, despite my lack of media literacy lol.

But yeah, the first couple watches I just thought maybe they had a casual thing, or a fling, and Anya wound up pregnant with the more common plot line being She wants to Keep It and He wants her to Get Rid of It, willing to kill her to get his way. Which is unfortunately common irl and realistic enough I didn’t question it. With the lock question I thought she was worried about him attacking or killing her, not that she had already been violated y’know? Im not used to rape and sexual assault being taken seriously, least of all in the horror genre where it’s normally used for shock value.

And that’s huge if true!!!! My thoughts and stuff being the reason someone checks something out is super cool, I’d never think something like that’d happen tbh. I’m super self conscious so I hold back a lot on saying things and making posts about stuff. I’m glad you enjoyed it!!! I couldn’t say why, but you know how people will talk about a piece of media fundamentally changing them as a person?? Mouthwashing is that for me. It scratched something in my brain and it will not let go.

I love all the characters!!! Well, except Jimmy, but even admittedly he is a good well written character. There’s purpose behind hating him rather than just someone people find annoying.

Anya is a sweetheart, she’s trying so hard, she wants to help people, and out of everyone on the ship she’s the loneliest. I hate that she kills herself so much but in a bittersweet way it is nice she went out on her own terms rather than at Jimmy’s hands. We also know so so little about her, everything we know is tied to her womanhood rather than her as a person, and I think most people can see her experience growing up, or know someone who did, with her being meek, quiet, and withdrawn.

Swansea I’ve mentioned in the tags of some reblogs but he reminds me a lot of some of my family members, particularly my deceased Great Uncle, who was very gruff and liked to pick and tease and wouldn’t mince words but had a big heart. Plus an older character willing to go apeshit to protect younger/more vulnerable people is always aces in my book (and the developers seem to have a soft spot for him so they’ve done some fun stuff)

Daisuke really is a little angel with a halo made of hibiscus flowers. He’s miserable there but he’s trying so hard. All he wants is to make people proud and in the end it got him killed.

And Curly, I could write a long block of text for him but I’ll try to keep it shortish. I love Curly, he’s been the image of the game forever. My opinion of him did sully when I realized what happened with Anya, but I can’t hate him. Partially I just grew too attached to post crash Curly, but also some people act as though he literally helped Jimmy with the assault when really all the pre crash stuff took place over a week. I don’t think he was going to Help Jimmy, I think he was just trying to figure out what to do and keep Jimmy calm until they could get to some form of authority. If he knew Jimmy was volatile he wouldn’t want to jostle that bomb, which makes sense as to why he got panicky when Anya told Jimmy alone and when Jimmy decided the best course of action was KILLING THEM ALL IN A CRASH TO HIDE HIS CRIME.

I have so many more thoughts since this game has been rotating in my brain for nearly a month now. There’s so much more there and I really look forward to Wrong Organs future endeavours (also really recommend How Fish is Made and it’s DLC, The Last One and Then Another which features Curly post crash if you haven’t already. AlphaBetaGamer has playthroughs of both those as well)

And thank you!!! 😊 it’s a very nice place and definitely mold free lol