#i’m the total package of repulsiveness

[waste-0f-spacee]

i always thought my body dysmorphia was mostly me seeing myself as bigger than i am but these days i see myself as smaller. and that’s worse

[the-infinite-jukebox]

Sam Smith - Gloria (Album Review)

Ever since their 2014 debut album In the Lonely Hour, Sam Smith has been a somewhat polarizing figure in the music industry. For some, they are capable of standing up alongside the likes of Adele as one of the great balladeers of this era of music. Others, such as myself, remain put to sleep by the majority of their relatively lifeless catalogue. Gloria, Smith's latest studio album, seemed to have more artistic motivation than any of their previous works immediately after announcement. Everything on Gloria ends up going awry even despite some admirable attempts at creative growth.

The entirety of Gloria feels too thrown together. As far as individual songs go, there are some new paths taken by Smith as a performer that sound intriguing for them on paper. However, Gloria barely cracks thirty minutes in length overall. This leads to a listening experience that comes across as hollow as well as disjointed. It could certainly be argued that a continuous and fluid record tonally could save Gloria from disaster, but too many brands of pop music are attempted on this album for such a short runtime. Tracks like the disco-influenced "I'm Not Here to Make Friends" and the over-polished singer/songwriter cut "How to Cry" simply don't belong on the same album without some sort of reasonable bridge between them. Put simply, Gloria does not make sense as an album and lacks any appreciation for cohesion. The songwriting here is equally questionable, as Gloria is neither heartfelt nor engaging. There are many songs here that were obviously lyrically structured in a manner meant to appeal to a general audience. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this, of course. That being said, those same aforementioned songs fail to introduce any new ideas to the realm of party-ready pop music. With flavorless instrumentals to back them up, Smith's work in this corner of their abilities falls flat. The balladry-focused cuts like "Who We Love" are just as disingenuous as the more uptempo cuts they're packaged with. Smith really does do a disservice to what feels like a slightly stereotypical contemporary R&B sound, as they don't seem to add much of substance to the album as a whole. If there is one thing that can be said about Sam Smith's career as a whole, it is that they have a legitimately strong voice. While they may not be the dramatic note-belter that some of their peers are, Smith has a smooth voice and impressive range that should make for praise-worthy music. Even with their entire discography at this point being built around uninteresting melodrama, I still firmly believe they could pull something interesting and unique off if given the chance. This is solely based around the capacity of their vocal abilities. Unfortunately, the experimentation that they do take up on songs like the single "Unholy" with Kim Petras (also on this record) is more often repulsive than it is respectable. I digress, another solid vocal performance from Sam Smith is the only thing saving Gloria from being a totally worthless mess. Although they certainly have the voice for it, Sam Smith seemingly can't find their own niche to create great music. I really do feel that, in time, Smith may be able to find themself more artistically and put out an at least above-average piece of work. They have an aptitude for vocal performances. It is everything else surrounding their vocal work that is failing them musically. Gloria, while trying to fiddle with a variety of pop subgenres, fails to be anything worthy of even the slightest attention.

Final Rating: 2.5/5 (Meh)

Essential Tracks: N/A

[from-mars-to-flyingwhales]

So me and my twin sister have this thing we like to say, that we both got different perks/qualities in the “twin package.” For example, she’s a total morning person and I only function at night. Pickles are her favorite food, and I can’t stand them.

So here’s the best part: she’s a rather sex-favorable person, and she recently came out as bisexual and polyamorous. And me? I’m a sex-repulsed aroace.

So not only did she get all the love for pickles in the twin package, but she also got literally all sexual attraction and desire for sex.

[legoshi-plz]

Hello!! May I please get 11: "May I kiss you" with Bill pls? 👉👈🥺

A/N: I don’t like that Beefy Bastard but I cant deny, his character as a Soft! Yandere ? HOT 🥵

///////////

Bill’s lips were uncomfortably pressed against yours, his body curving almost awkwardly to reach your height. He had one hand on your shoulder. It was a painful sight to watch.

“Ok, Cut!” Louis called from below the stage. You and Bill broke apart instantly.

“This is atrocious. Y/N, you’re annoyingly short. Just pick her up, Bill,” Louis droned and the two of you started again.

Bill grabbed your waist and swooped you up before crashing his lips onto yours. It was much more aggressive this time and you swore you felt him slipping in a bit of tongue. He hooked one paw under your thigh, heisting your leg up to wrap around his waist as he dipped you low, never breaking the kiss.

“Okay Big Guy, calm down. This is still a stage production, not some raunchy feature film,” Louis called and Bill set you back down on the ground.

You and Bill had been cast as major characters in the school play which involved the two of you having to share an impassioned kiss right before the final Act. A lot of things came to mind when you thought of Bill: irritating, overconfident, narcissistic, even self-centered but you could hardly bring yourself to picture him as desirable. While other girls (Carnivores, of course, and a few adventurous Herbivores) in the Drama club would swoon at the opportunity to lock lips with the Tiger in front of the whole school, you could think of nothing more repulsive.

As the two of you continued rehearsal, you noticed Bill was more dedicated to his role than ever, his acting skyrocketed to probably impress Louis and keep the admonishments to a minimum.

You performed your role to the best of your abilities and before you knew it, rehearsal was over. You were heading back to your dorms that night when a certain tiger decided you needed company.

“Y/N, wait, hold up a sec,” Bill said jogging towards you. You didn’t stop but you turned your head slightly to acknowledge you’d heard him.

“Hey, glad I was able to catch you before you left. Where ya headed?”

“To my dorm room....”

“Oh yeah? Cool, it’s not too far from mine-

“Because we’re both Carnivores,”

“Exactly! We have like so much in common! Anyways I’ll walk you home,” he said excitedly.

“There’s no need for that, I’m fine.” You said increasing your speed slightly.

“Oh c’mon, it’s a dangerous world out here, Y/N. You never know who has you in their sights,” Bill chuckled darkly and you rolled your eyes.

“No one is attacking Carnivores, at least not at Cherryton. I’m fine, Bill,” you scoffed but he continued to walk with you until you reached your dormatory.

“Well this is me,” you said, obviously annoyed as you went to open the door of the building.

“Wait- uh, there’s something.... I need to ask you,” Bill said awkwardly. You had a feeling he was beating around the bush to ask for something, using the ‘walking you home’ excuse to look for an opening.

“Well? Spit it out, Bill, it’s already late.”

“I- um, I really felt like we.... had something.... today during rehearsal. Like a real connection and I was wondering.... Can I kiss you? Again, but forreal this time. No audience,” Bill gulped and to say your jaw was on the floor was an understatement.

You took a moment to assess the tiger. He was tall, good-looking as far as felines go, had a ridiculously strong build and was usually pretty charming with the ladies (as long as those ladies weren’t you.) He would easily be considered the total package, a great catch to anyone..... anyone except you.

“No.” You answered shutting the door behind you as you entered your dormitory.

[ohblackdiamond]

“you win again” fic tidbit (ace/paul, 1988) (pg-13)

I mentioned that this story was in the works awhile back. It’s about 40 percent there, I’d say. I stuck it under a cut because it’s a bit long. There’s a very obvious gap between the second and third parts that needs cleaning up, but the gist is there.

teaser: The truth is, his own distaste for the era makes it obvious he’s not a part of it. Paul can’t keep up with what’s in now, and that’s the surest sign he’s out. Thirty-six is too close to forty. Too old to play the game. He’s square. He’s fucking square.

“you win again”

by Ruriruri

No one knows the man he may become when he loses his self-respect. —Camille

There’s nothing to recommend the Cat Club. The big names don’t come here, just the has-beens. The security’s perfunctory. The parties laughable. But Paul comes anyway. Frequently. All the Cat Club asks out of him is a shave and a bit of halfassed charm, and all he gets in return is a drink and maybe a lay and the vaguest passing memory of the way things used to be.

Studio 54, the Ice Palace, all the old haunts are carcasses. Paul’s heard that the Limelight’s in now, their club owner some one-eyed, painfully straight Canadian, which is a sure sign the scene’s got to be dead in the water. Kids ten, fifteen years younger than him run the promotions. The shit that he remembers, aquariums underfoot at the discotheques, coke handed out at the door, orgies downstairs, all that’s gone. The big clubs get their pull from day-glo bright mascot characters and raunchy freakshows, pure excess that makes for a lousy bedfellow with AIDS and designer drugs. He doesn’t understand the appeal. He gets cynicism; he gets hedonism. But the nihilism he finds utterly repulsive.

The truth is, his own distaste for the era makes it obvious he’s not a part of it. Paul can’t keep up with what’s in now, and that’s the surest sign he’s out. Thirty-six is too close to forty. Too old to play the game. He’s square. He’s fucking square.

The lines on his face aren’t too bad. His cheekbones are maybe more prominent than they need to be. Paul’s watched Gene’s weight fluctuate over the years and hated the way it scared the hell out of him. They’d sworn to each other way back that they’d diet off at least twenty pounds apiece before they’d dare get a real band together. Paul’d kept that weight off, and more, but to Gene, it’s just become another mostly tossed aside tenet. The way he looks doesn’t matter to him. Maybe it shouldn’t anymore. He’s had Cher and Diana Ross and he has Shannon Tweed now. Great girls, all of them, better than the vapidly beautiful women Paul’s tried to make a go of it with. If Gene can attract all of them without giving a shit about his weight or his looks, maybe Paul ought not to care so much.

Except, as always, Gene’s looks just aren’t the appeal. Gene’s being in a band isn’t even exactly the appeal, no; Gene would probably still be stacking away entire albums of Polaroids if he were a senator or a school superintendent. Gene’s appeal is Gene. The total package. Confidence glimmering like grease on a burger.

Paul’s no total package of anything. Some assembly required. Batteries not included. His looks get him into beds, sometimes, and his personality gets him right back out of them before too long. Twenty-one years with Hilsen and there’s still nothing he can do about the latter, but he can at least try to preserve the former.

But what really bothers him about his mirror’s reflection isn’t the age imprinting itself on his face, or the three or four grays he plucks every month, or even the way his hair’s gradually gotten thinner, the curls more like frayed wires, brittle from years of dye and bleach and teasing. It’s the look in his eyes. Sometimes he catches a glimpse of something wholly desperate in them. And it’s not just in scattered, low moments on tour or in the privacy of his own bathroom. He’s caught that look playing back tapes of himself guest-VJing and interviewing on MTV. It’s the look of somebody—somebody scraping for relevance.

He’s ashamed of that. Ashamed because that look got in his eyes so fast, ashamed because he wasn’t able to savor those scant moments of being on top. He remembers thinking ten years ago, so cocky and self-assured, that the Stones were getting sloppy and long in the tooth, that maybe they needed to bow out before they got to be a bigger embarrassment onstage. They’d come out with Some Girls later that year, so what the hell did he know. What the hell did he know about anything.

There’s legends, real legends. Real greatness. There’s rockstars and then there’s rock gods. Chuck Berry. Muddy Waters. The Beatles, the Stones, fuck, even the Beach Boys with their obnoxious California sound created something eternal. KISS hasn’t. KISS won’t. KISS peaked at lunchboxes and pinball machines, and KISS descended—well, KISS is still descending. It’s just a matter of time before Gene lets the whole enterprise fold like a lawn chair.

Too close to forty, Paul takes a seat at an empty table and orders a Pepsi, and he tries to look for a girl the way a security guard might look for a shoplifter. His vantage point isn’t great. The crowd isn’t great. But maybe there’s someone he could waste his time with, someone that would humor him for an evening.

He hasn’t had that in longer than he wants to admit.

Oh, he’s with people. He’s with Samantha, but the age gap depresses the hell out of him. There’s always that tacit understanding between entertainers, anyhow, the knowledge that they’re both going to fool around on each other that goes almost unmentioned. Sometimes he wants to make a clean break of it, start something sincere, whether with her or some other girl, stripped away from the publicity rags, but then his own lonesomeness gets the better of him. Like right now. It’s just not enough to be wanted by one girl when he used to be wanted by thousands. It’s not enough to fill two-thirds of an auditorium when he’d once played Madison Square Garden.

It’s just empty.

He sees a tall, pretty blonde before too long, by herself and practically poured into a sparkling silver dress, hair wildly permed. He’s about to make a move towards her when he hears a sound that stops him dead in his tracks. It’s not so much a laugh as a cackle. He hasn’t heard it in two years at least, but he’d recognize it on his deathbed.

It’s Ace Frehley. Ace Frehley, here at the Cat Club.

--

Paul’s never known Ace to go anywhere unaccompanied. Now’s no exception. Standing with him is some long-haired guy that Paul doesn’t recognize from the rock scene. Not that that means much, these days. Ace’s arm is looped behind the guy’s shoulders, though the guy doesn’t seem too comfortable with it. Paul purses his lips, trying to gauge their relationship from fifteen feet away, but it doesn’t end up mattering. Ace spots him after not even five seconds, and stumbles to him, with the guy in tow.

“Paul! How are you, man?”

“Ace,” he says, standing up on automatic, reaching for Ace’s free hand. Ace’s palm is damp in his.

“Oh, oh, lemme introduce you, Paulie, this is--” and Ace untangles his other arm from the guy, “this is Gordon. Gordon, y’know who this is.”

“Paul Stanley,” Paul says anyway, offering his hand again. Gordon takes it with all the cursory indifference of being introduced to a fourth cousin at a funeral.

“Gordon plays keyboard,” Ace says. “He’s real good.”

“Cool.” Paul can feel his mouth twist a bit. It’s petty to already be bristling a bit, only a few sentences in, but he can’t seem to stop himself. He’s so used to faking being cordial that the words still come out warmly enough to his own ear. “C’mon, have a seat. Plenty of room.”

--

“He’s using you.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you care?”

Ace shrugs.

“I’m running low on friends, Paul.” A quick quirk to his mouth. “Maybe you are, too.”

“I only ever had the one.”

“Bullshit. You still got at least three, if you want them.”

--

“I’ve got a place in California. This is just a rental,” Paul lies. He owns this shitty apartment outright. “My parents are getting older, y’know, it’s good to have somewhere close by. And Ericka--”

“She’s gotta be in high school now.”

“She’s graduating in May.”

“Shit, man.” Ace shakes his head. “Monique’s gonna be eight this year.”

“I’ll send her something.”

Ace waves his hand absently.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“C’mon, let me--”

“You ain’t sent her anything in six years. Don’t start now.” Ace pauses, glancing at Paul in a flickering, fleeting way, and then he shakes his head. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean it bad.”

Paul doesn’t say anything else for awhile, just crosses over to the kitchenette and opens the refrigerator. He takes out two Diet Cokes, handing one over to Ace, who looks at it before handing it back.

“’S fine. I’m not thirsty.”

“I don’t have any alcohol, Ace.”

“I don’t really want it.”

“You don’t?”

Ace shakes his head.

“What do you want?”

“Dinner and a movie, Paulie.” Ace’s mouth quirks up. “Dinner, we’ll have some of your fucking Lucky Charms; movie, we’ll put on an porno.”

“Ace--”

“What’ve you got, anyway?” And he’s scurrying to the T.V. set. Beneath it is his tape player and a few stacks of movies still in their packaging. His workout tapes. And there--

[punchesco]

Ultimate Aqua Teen Hunger Force Body Horror Masterlist

ATHF was on just before the age of streaming, so a lot of my memories of the show are fragmented half-truths from bleary-eyed 3 AM viewing sessions. Upon a disorganized loose rewatch of the series I’ve discovered that is just as bizarre and disturbing as my sleep-deprived memories recalled, so I’ve made a fun little list of all the most disgusting and vile things this beloved cratoon enticed me to suffer through. 

TONIGHT!

Fry Legs

In an attempt to woo a computer repair technician he’s stalking, Frylock liquefies her boyfriend in public. He then poorly reassembles his corpse and tapes his brain into the shambling monstrosity, assuming his identity in order to marry the technician. As he’s proposing, his legs snap off like dry twigs and Cary Mean’s howl of pain is genuinely upsetting, as is the bluebird picking at his exposed brain, and the chilling implication at the end that Frylock is now permanently trapped in this decaying body. Great work all around. Also, the technician lady is revealed to be a C.H.U.D. who has sex with animals.

Hypno-Germ

Shake sits on a gas station toilet seat in New Joisey and is infected with the eponymous Hypnogerms. To be fair, this is more psychological than body horror, with Shake’s life slowly being overtaken by a persistent fantasy world primarily populated with talking file cabinets who slip him psychic commands to do things like “lock yourself in a cold, dark room”, “smear yourself with garbage and try to cross the freeway” and “eat your own dung”. Also, at the end of the episode Shake farts via his eyes. 

Antenna

ATHF predicts 5G: The Episode. Aliens install a massive satellite tower above Carl’s house. It replaces any TV or phone signals with a monotonous video of two aliens passing a cardboard box back and forth, which also causes torrential nosebleeds and swelling of the cranium/eyes. Special Guest Star Voice Over Artist George Lowe.

She Creature

Carl’s pool has turned stagnant with neglect, breeding hundreds of mosquitoes as well as some huge, unidentifiable creature. Carl lets the mob use it to dispose of bodies to help alleviate his debt with them, but ultimately the Aqua Teens “help” him chlorinate his pool and install a filter. The creature is revealed to be a beautiful mermaid, who offers to give Carl an “indescribable pleasure” for 30 bucks, 50 if the Aqua Teens watch. After she swims into his penis, Carl then explodes in a torrent of eggs, as does Frylock, Meatwad, but not Shake. Not even the sea monster wanted to fuck Shake.

Piranha Germs 

This one is pretty repulsive, even for me. Shake gets a job as a “viral marketer” from a floating severed head, who assigns him tasks such as eating raw ground beef with a fork from off the ground, or dipping his hands in unpasteurized milk and squeezing raw chicken before walking around a conference hall shaking hands/giving high fives with as many people as possible. Shake eventually contracts a disease that literally devours him at the cellular level, slowly disintegrating his body. The head takes Shake to the company health care provider (another floating head) who has Shake inject himself with more of the virus. Eventually Frylock takes action, hooking Shake up to a machine that “boils and bleaches the blood”, an agonizing process that lasts at least 3 days straight. That over with, Frylock tells a bloated Shake that his blood has been replaced with a highly explosive substance and promptly freezes him. A really unpleasant experience to watch overall, which makes for an excellent ATHF episode. It’s marred somewhat by the fact that its ending is essentially just a less-funny rehash of the next featured episode, and one of ATHF’s best...

The Clowning

I feel like the image above should be all you need to know about The Clowning. Carl gets a wig infected by an alien clown disease. ATHF’s writers seem to have something of a predilection towards horrible viruses, and I gotta say that Carl-centric episodes are always my favourite. He’s just such a delightfully crass and obnoxious character, the writers and animators seem to find such joy in coming up with these nightmarish fates for him. Anyway with Carl fully clownified, Frylock freezes him in the hopes of someday developing a cure. Cut to many years later with the Aqua Teens elderly and senile in a zombie apocalypse, with Clown Carl still frozen, used as a coat rack. Then he falls over and shatters.

Total Re-Carl

And here we are at the logical conclusion of this exercise, the single best episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force ever made, the one that scarred me as a teen, and the one that inspired this list in the first place.

I really love that Carl begins the episode trying to avoid talking to Frylock, to the point where he turns his lights off and hides behind the couch muttering “Go away, dammit. Just go away.” It’s like he knows what’s coming for him. He just wants to sit around drinking beer and watching porno, but these horrible talking foodmin keep ruining his life. He’s trying so desperately to have some peace, which makes what happens to him in this episode that much more horrifying and hilarious. 

Frylock breaks into Carl’s house and talks him into coming out to try his new jet engine powered vacuum toilet (that, of course, is sitting on Carl’s lawn in plain sight, although Frylock assures Carl he has built a state-of-the-art invisibility curtain for privacy (a Lie)), and provides him with a care package of fiber tablets, espresso beans, and other laxatives. 

After surreptitiously locking Carl out of his house, Frylock and Meatwad watch from a distance as Carl is forced to try out the new toilet and is immediately and violently sucked into the toilet bowl, his body ejected out the back as a red mist, only his head left unmulched. Frylock hooks up Carl’s head to his computer to keep him alive and to translate his brain output to text, and the little flash of dialogue we see on the screen makes me laugh every time:

The Aqua Teens then fail several times to find a replacement for Carl’s body. The first is the corpse of an elderly black man whose body immediately “rejects the head transplant” and begins savagely attempting to rip Carl off his shoulders. 

The next try is easily the worst mental image I have ever experienced on syndicated television, and while I love this episode I’m thankful for the simple artstyle and the relative restraint they showed compared to later as far as gore goes. 

Frylock tells Shake to order some body parts from online, but Shake buys from “we-got-us-some-medical-waste.com” and receives a soggy cardboard box filled entirely with loose eyeballs. Carl wakes to find his head attached a Heaping Golem of Eyes, which honestly sounds like a Bloodborne enemy 12 years ahead of its time. At Frylock’s behest, he takes a step forward to try out his new “legs” and Dave Willis’s voice acting for this scene still scares the shit out of me, if I’m being honest. Those screams are every bit as excruciating as I would expect for someone whose feet are made from dozens of lidless corneas. 

The third and final replacement is a gleaming exoskeleton of weaponized powerarmour, which they quickly realize is a terrible idea seeing as how he just tried to murder Frylock with this eye arms. They end up putting his severed head on a RC car while Meatwad obliterates Shake with the exoskeleton.

Thanks for reading!

[queerplatonicpositivity]

There’s a post going around about closeted lesbians and bi women pretending not to stare at Victoria’s Secret window displays.  It’s 100% valid for people to relate to that, but it resulted in Some Thoughts and I wanted to share them here.  (I’m purposefully not reblogging the post and adding the thoughts onto there because I don’t want drama and I don’t want to invalidate the people who do resonate with the post because, again, it’s totally valid.)

As a fat, demisexual person, I absolutely cannot relate to the idea of “repressed lesbian teen culture is averting your eyes when you pass a lingerie store.”

As a demisexual person, the hypersexualized “tits and ass” of lingerie displays is -- and always has been -- super gross to me.  Why would I want to look at half-naked female bodies, many of which have their heads cropped out in a bizarre form of dehumanization?  I don’t know them at all and I have no attraction to them.  They’re kind of repulsive to me.  I can’t even find aesthetic attraction in those circumstances, when it feels so inhuman and packaged for sexual consumption.

And as someone who was a fat teen (and is still fat), lingerie displays were a reminder that I failed, that my body did not meet dominant beauty standards.  Not only did my body not meet those standards, but those lingerie stores did not even sell anything in my size.  It’s not just a matter of thin women or slightly chubby women who might also receive the body shaming messages but can still at least wear the merchandise in question.  I have been to entire malls that do not have a single store that carries something I can fit over my torso or over my hips and butt.  So lingerie displays are a reminder that my body is so wrong and gross and offensive that it’s not even worth selling to.  That’s a pretty powerful message, when capitalism doesn’t even bother trying to profit off of your body.

Anyway...

I can’t be alone as the only ace person or only fat person who can’t relate to the seemingly shared experience of that other post.  So I wanted to share my experience here, in the hopes that maybe other people can relate to it.

[killscreencinema]

Death Stranding (PS4)

The first week of quarantine, I lost my job.  It wasn’t COVID related, more like “I hated my job and my employers finally realized it” related.  So it was actually really good timing that I began this game while unemployed, as virtually delivering packages to people made me at least feel like I still had a job! 

Death Stranding, released by Hideo Kojima’s new independent studio in 2019, is set in a bleak, post-Apocalyptic future where the world of the living and the dead have converged in a catastrophic event called, well, the “death stranding”.  Dangerous phantoms, called “BTs”, roam the countryside, dragging anyone unlucky enough to encounter them into their world.  The only person who can stand up to them is a porter named Sam Bridges (Norman Reedus), who has a unique condition called DOOMS which allows him to sense a BTs presence (who are otherwise invisible to the naked eye).  Paired with a child bred to act as a link between the living and dead, called a  Bridge Baby, or BB, Sam can even see a BT, making him the only candidate who can possibly bring the world back together by traveling the wastelands of the former United States, delivering packages and connecting the surviving human cities via something called the “chiral network”.

So it’s basically a fucked up, but better, version of that Kevin Costner movie The Postman.

Also, if it seems like my story summary took longer than usual, welcome to the world of Hideo Kojima!  I tried my best to explain the story in a brief synopsis, but I still didn’t even scratch the surface of it.  For example, I didn’t even mention how Mads Mikkelson intermittently drags Sam to a battlefield-like purgatory so he can steal his BB; or how Sam’s mysterious connection to the BTs makes his bodily fluids deadly to them, so you will often use weaponry made from his piss, blood, and shit to fight them; or how his primary objective is to rescue an enigmatic woman named Amelie, who may or may not be the daughter of the recently deceased President of the United States, from terrorists who want to use Amelie to bring about the extinction of humanity.

This game is bananas, ya’ll... but in the best way.

I started this game with extremely low expectations, as it had been critically lambasted by most of the major gaming sites and YouTubers.  From the previews of the game I watched, it just seemed.... weird.  I didn’t understand what the hell I was looking at - Norman Reedus with a pod baby strapped to his chest, and a strange flappy doodad on his shoulder, while walking on a tar beach strewn about with dead whales?  What the fuck, Hideo?  Visually alone the game was such a stark (and I mean *stark*) departure from the Metal Gear games, so when I found out the gameplay was delivering packages, I became convinced that Hideo Kojima had done lost his goddamn mind. 

Turns out... and this should hardly come as a surprise... the man is a goddamn genius.

Truly brilliant art always offends and bewilders the senses at first because your mind doesn’t know how to cope with what its experiencing.  Watch any given David Lynch movie and you’ll see what I mean.  The human mind has trouble processing totally new information that has no frame of reference in memory or cultural awareness, which is why “weird” art initially repulses before it gains a following (and many great artists die in poverty before they are recognized for their genius).  Imagine introducing a peasant from the Middle Ages to a helicopter - they’d think it looks absolutely ridiculous, so when you tell them it can fly, just IMAGINE their incredulity. 

Anyway, I think that is why initial impressions of Death Stranding were so negative - it was a lot to take in for a lot of gamers used to being spoon fed repackaged versions of the same games but with different titles.  Even things that seem at first “original” have recognizable gaming mechanics that ease the player in.  I mean a game set in the apocalypse where the core gameplay is centralized on package delivery???   There’s nothing like this!  So your reaction is either going to be “This is brilliant” or, like the medieval peasant, “this is ridiculous”.

Mind you, I’m not saying if you don’t like this game, you’re as stupid as a medieval peasant.

I get why people would hate this game - it’s very different than a lot of games out there.  Death Stranding is bold and audacious in its storytelling and its gameplay.  It takes a lot of risks that most AAA publishers (like Konami for example) would balk at, which is why Kojima had to create his own company to make it.

The gameplay seems simplistic at first - deliver packages from point A to point B.  However, it’s a little more complicated than that.  For one, the key element of the game is item management and learning not to bite off more than you can chew.  Sam can only carry so many boxes, and the more you stack on top of him, the more difficult the journey will be, especially when crossing BT territory or bandits (called MULES) nipping at your heels.  You also have to take into account the rocky terrain, river crossings, and weather (oh, did I mention that rain in this game, referred to as “Time Fall”, can rapidly age items and people?).  The game is all about carefully choosing equipment you’ll think you will need, whether it be weapons, ladders (for climbing large cliff faces or crossing deep rivers or chasms), sprays for repairing damage to packages, or even a spare pair of boots in case the shoes you’re wearing wear out.  So to say that the game is “just delivering packages” greatly diminishes some of the nuance going on here.  Yes, there are lots of long stretches of just walking across a landscape to some of the most melancholy music ever assembled on a soundtrack, but I’d argue that having patience for those moments is part of the gameplay. 

The game can be frustrating, such as when Sam refuses to climb a ledge you KNOW is climbable, so he just trips and falls over instead.  The vehicles that you eventually unlock are some of the most goddamn frustrating vehicles in video game history.  At first, I figured it was because I would eventually unlock better modes of conveyance more adequately adapted to crossing rough terrain, but no - they all drive like shit.  Just getting the truck to drive up a hill without spinning out and rolling backwards can fray on one’s nerves.  It’s hard to discern how much of it is the vehicle and how much might be poor controls.

The story, as alluded to above, is ambitious at best and pretentiously bloated at worst.  However, if you’ve played any of the Metal Gear games, you know what you’re signing up for when it comes to high concept, over-indulgent story.  I would say that for the most part, Death Stranding’s story is coherent enough to enjoy, although there are long expository cut scenes that convolute the plot more than clear it up.  Fortunately, the characters are well developed enough, and are interesting enough, to keep you invested (a storytelling skill that is perhaps Kojima’s saving grace).  Also, the more dramatic beats of the story are impactful enough to still resonate, even if you’re not entirely sure what the fuck is going on.  It helps to have talent like Norman Reedus, Mads Mikkelson, and Lea Seydoux in the cast, whose performances bring the characters to life.  Sam in particular might have been an insufferable loner, were it not for Reedus’ gruff likeability that made him famous from Walking Dead. 

If you’ve avoided this game because, like me, you were convinced by bad reviews that it sucks, I would highly suggest that you reconsider.  It may not be as fun, or compelling, as a Metal Gear Solid game, but it’s an interesting departure and one worth experiencing.

[awesomegamereviews]

Awesome Game Review #25 - Destroy All Humans! 2 (PS2, XBOX)

Destroy All Humans! 2 is an action-adventure video game that was developed by Pandemic Studios and published by THQ in 2006. In this thrilling and retro-inspired title, the player takes control of a shorter-than-short, cosmic hooligan, Cryptosporidium-138, ten years after the events of the first game. His old clone, Crypto-137, is now in the bin, as his new copy is fully intoxicated with power, especially since he managed to fool the citizens of the United States of America that he’s the president and he’s here to rock ‘n roll. Since the story takes place during the 60s, the start of the game showcases some K.G.B. agents investigating our mischievous protagonist, posing him as a threat to the Soviet Union due to the fact that Crypto-138 is the first clone to possess genitalia, which is appropriately code-named as the “package”. After a whole bunch of crazy events occur after that exposition, Crypto, along with the assistance of his commander, Orthopox, and a rogue K.G.B. agent, Natalia Ivanova, goes on an adventure around the world and eventually on the moon to stop a rival alien race and a crazed communist from irradiating the Earth, all while trying to get his Russian ally under the sheets with the power of his one-eyed, alien snake.. If you think that’s pretty difficult to digest, then grab some top-shelf antacids, because it’s only going to get crappier from here.

Right off the bat, the game starts you off with a crummy rifle that fires short and weak bursts of electricity that can barely light up a second-hand light bulb in a janitor’s closet. What kind of mockery is this?! I mean, sure, the commies blow up your mother-ship after the game’s introduction, so weapons in the beginning are going to be a little scarce, but they could’ve given you some sort of interstellar sorbet spoon that would’ve allowed you to scoop out eyeballs and plasma with ease. A wasted opportunity, honestly.

When it comes to our little alien protagonist, I can only say that he’s nothing short of auditory poison. Crypto-138 luckily doesn’t speak that often, sans for the occasional grunts during combat, but whenever he does get a chance to verbally express himself... Dear God, make it stop! Crypto just won’t cease calling human beings “stupid monkeys”, like he’s any smarter after impersonating the president of the United States without caring about the inevitable repercussions. And his cheesy lines while he’s flirting with Natalia are just repulsive. What a slimy character!

As for the general composition, I can only say that it’s inconsistent and ludicrously uninspiring. Ah, not to mention that it’s offensive, too. To make my point clear, allow me to offer you two examples that just might cause at least one tear to emerge from one of your eyes: when you arrive in Soviet Russia, the music transforms into this myriad of depressing, dystopian, and downright dejecting notes that make you feel like you’ve made a wrong turn on a highway straight into some torture facility. And when you drop your alien man in Japan, you suddenly hear melodies that can be perfectly mixed with that one kabuki expression that goes like “YOOOOOOOO.” In other words, the soundtrack, excluding the boring psychedelic songs, is filled with stereotypes, which is a crime against originality and a clear representation of the ignorance that lurked within the minds of the developers. If they had used balalaikas or doorbell orchestras to get the job done, then I would’ve have had to painstakingly endure this colossal laughingstock of a musical setting at all!

Speaking of the locations, they are, unfortunately, borderline yawn-inducing due to the limiting nature of their presence. In this game, progressing through the story gradually unlocks new places around the planet which you can visit at your own leisure (including the aforementioned moon base), but what stinks is that you can only cause chaos in five total areas. You read that right: only five. If you thought you could fly to Africa, the South pole, Eastern Europe, or anywhere that’s remotely more clever than the U.S., the U.K., Japan, Soviet Russia, and the moon, then you’ll most likely find yourself frothing from pure rage from the intense disappointment that’ll bubble in your blood stream. Personally, I’m too aggravated to say more about this fatal flaw on Pandemic’s end.

The saucer is pretty underwhelming. Sure, you can level buildings and monuments (which, unsurprisingly, get immediately rebuilt upon refreshing the map you’re on), but its design is abominably boring and the weapons, once again, could’ve been better. Just a laser beam, sonic blast, B.F.G. rip-off, you name it. It would’ve been sweet if Crypto could chug some vodka behind the wheel and steer the saucer while he’s completely wasted. There could’ve been humorous lines from the drunken alien, special alcohol-fueled abilities, and maybe the option to crash into buildings, fully decimating your vehicle. Crypto could’ve had a hangover after he respawned. Alas, such creativity will never be seen.

So, what are my final thoughts on this game? Pandemic had a great idea in their hands, and they just had to stretch it too hard like it was some sort of expired Turkish delight. For a game called “Destroy All Humans”, the story sure is focused too hard on saving them, which is an utter disgrace. I’m afraid this game doesn’t deserve any compassion or sympathy from me, but if I must be frank, I like that there are ninjas in this game, so I’ll give it a 7.2/10 for that.

Thanks for reading!

[queerhargreeves]

Hey this is dark af but if you’re taking requests still: can you write one of the siblings finding out Luther has an eating disorder that’s actually pretty severe? In canon he only really drinks those juice pouches and then binge eats hotdogs when he’s having a breakdown but maybe he also purges? And then it gets really bad after the apocalypse as he feels guilty for being so dismissive towards his siblings for so long? If you’re not comfy I understand ~

ive actually been toying with an idea very similar to this for a week or so now, so this gave me the push to finally write it out. i hope this is ok!!

BIG TW: graphic descriptions of body dysmorphia, restricting, and disordered eating ideations. explicitly written binge/purging. if this is something you’re not comfortable with pls do not read !

Perfection. That’s what Luther Hargreeves defines himself as. Well, used to define himself as that is. He was Sir Reginald Hargreeves perfectly crafted soldier: 6’5 in frame, blonde hair, blue eyes, washboard abs, strong arms, thick thighs, massive shoulders, unmatched super human strength. He was the spitting image of the dream boy next store.

Or Luther used to be said dream boy. Reginald defiled him, stripped him of the agency he once had over his own body. He was no longer gorgeous, no, far from it. He was a monster. He turned into this hideous, heinous creature. His body, something he took so much pride in, something that quite literally defined him, was no longer what he knew. It was something he despised. After all, Reginald sent him away because he couldn’t stand to look at what he turned Luther into. So how could anyone stand to look at him? Look at this eyesore? Especially after he hurt them all so terribly. He was too blinded by his intense dedication to a man who could never be pleased. His siblings all learned that light years ago but it took quite literally the end of the world for him to realize.

So he just stopped. He stopped coming downstairs for breakfast with the rest of them. He could smell the bacon and french toast from his room, hear the light chatter and the sound of laughing fits, but he refused to budge. They would never want his company. He was doing them a favor - he was saving them from the inevitable pain he would cause to his siblings. Really they should be thanking him.

He was as content as could be with his cooler packed full of juice pouches thank you very much. This body, it demanded food. A lot of it. But he didn’t deserve food, didn’t deserve to be healthy. This body needed to suffer. His mirrors were no longer intact but in pieces scattering the floor. He didn’t bother wearing shoes; If he bled, he bled. He liked to bleed.

Sometimes though, like tonight, Luther would find himself in front of the fridge at the wee hours of the morning. 3:20 AM to be exact. His siblings aren’t opposed to being up at this hour themselves, but they don’t bother each other unless there’s a reason to be concerned. And this does not concern them.

He hadn’t left his room in a couple of days other than to restock his cooler earlier that day. He ran into Vanya, who started to shrink in on herself upon seeing him. Of course she would - he hurt her. He hurt his baby sister who needed him so desperately. He betrayed her just like he’s betrayed all of them.

He couldn’t handle it. He can’t live with himself. He can’t, he can’t he can’t.

So here he is, wearing four layers during the dead of summer, grabbing every single hot dog package he can possibly fit in his grotesque arms. He walks over to the pantry, grabbing the five packs of buns and rushing back to his room. His hands shook, the sound of the bun package crinkling in his arms. He can’t stop the way his arms tremble, he couldn’t quiet himself down. But Luther needed to do this in his own little personal solitary confinement he called a bedroom.

He quickened his pace as he made his way up the stairs and down the hall, beelining right to his cave. He closed the door behind him as softly as he could manage with his arms full. He drops the pile of food on the floor before turning on the lamp on his desk. His room is softly lit, the lamp being the only light source. He hadn’t really bothered to keep any lights on in his room anymore. The darkness was comforting - it helped him feel like he didn’t really exist.

He finally takes a seat on the ground, criss cross applesauce and inspects the pile in front of him. He knows what he’s doing - the empty ache in his stomach is growing more intense as each second passes. He wastes no time ripping the hot dogs packages open, placing each of the eight hot dogs in their respective buns until all five packages are in a crumpled mess beside him. The smell of hot dog juice on his fingers wafts through the room and his stomach tightens at the aroma. It’s been a while since he’s had anything solid.

He has 40 total hot dogs in front of him. He eyes each one, fully aware of what he is doing. Luther is about to eat each and every one of these hot dogs. Why? Because he needed this. He needed this fix. He needed to taste. He needed to suffer. He needed to repent.

He finally brings the first cold hot dog to his lips and carefully takes a bite. The flavor explodes in his mouth within a millisecond and his brain just shuts off. Well, at least the part of his brain that tells him he’s worthless does. All he can think about is the food in front of him. He hasn’t had anything other than the taste of fruit and water in almost two weeks. He finishes the hot dog in two bites, the next hot dog in one. He’s chewing loudly at this point. He’s established a comfortable rhythm now: pick up hot dog, take one to two enormous bites, swallow. And repeat. Repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat.

This mindless, repetitive motion goes on for the next ten minutes. He doesn’t think about a thing. He doesn’t have a single anxiety, a single doubt in his mind. He can only process the taste and the feeling of food going into his body. But just as quick as it started, he’s on his last hot dog. He savors this one, taking it in three bites instead of one or two.

Luther takes a few moments before regaining his thoughts. He leans back against his bed, his ungloved hand resting lightly on his stomach. His stomach felt tight and hard and he found it was getting harder to fully take breaths in. He isn’t a stranger to this though, absolutely not. But it didn’t mean that this feeling was exactly comfortable or welcoming. But it didn’t matter anywho because he was going to get rid of it anyway. His body is already repulsive, so what’s a few extra pounds going to do? It’s not like he can get worse.

But it didn’t matter. Phase two is about to commence: Luther needed to expel the food from his body. He doesn’t deserve the nutrients or calories albeit his binge was few in nutrients and large in calorie. He gives himself five minutes before enforcing the next part of the process. He’s played this song and dance before.

He got up from the pile of wrappers and stumbled to the closest bathroom that was just a room over. He was thankful he turned out the lights. His feet padded against the wood floor as he walked the few short steps. Once in the bathroom, he locked the door behind him and fell to his knees within seconds. He pushed the toilet lid open and got in position, his large elbows leaning on the bowl.

He took a deep breath and shoved two fingers in his mouth, moving them up and down in haphazard, frantic motions. He felt the back of his throat, his fingers grazing at his epiglottis. It took a few more jabs before the the familiar feeling of nausea hit him like a wave. He promptly removed his fingers before he could vomit on them. This was a deep one. He hurled loudly, a seemingly never ending stream of contents escaped from his mouth. He tried his best to keep his volume down. Tears were flowing freely down his face and the front his skull was throbbing with intense pressure. It didn’t matter though - he certainly had more food left in his body that he needed to get rid of.

He shoved his fingers back in, gagging a few times but his body not cooperating with how he wanted it to. It never did. It took a few more valiant attempts before he was victorious and another round of food landed in the toilet. He couldn’t hear the hushed whisper shouting from outside the door over the sound of the contents of his stomach splashing against the water and his intense gagging filling the air.

In a sudden flash of blue light, Five appeared into the bathroom and he opened the door from the inside. The remaining five siblings were outside the door, all with varying degrees of concern on their face.

“Oh Luther…” Vanya gasped, her hands covering her mouth as a tear trailed down her face.

Luther’s head whipped up from the toilet bowl, his eyes meeting the six pairs staring back at him. His stomach dropped, this time not from his own doing.

They couldn’t see him like this. No, no, no. They couldn’t see him weak. They couldn’t see him vulnerable. Some number one he is. He’s a failure of a leader, incompetent. Some Number One he is.

He flushed the toilet before doing anything else, unsure of even what to do. He’s never felt so small before, a feeling he once thought would be welcoming.

“Luther? You..? Jesus christ, man I’m..” Klaus spoke up softly, being the first one to enter the bathroom. He fell to the floor next to his brother and wordlessly brought him into a hug, one arm around his wide shoulders and the other cradling his head into his neck.

Luther tensed at the contact, his arms hung loosely at his side. He doesn’t deserve their kindness. He doesn’t deserve Klaus’, not after he had his hands around his neck just a few months ago. Not after he flung him across the room, abusing his power once again. Not after Klaus quite literally died trying to look after his inept self. He wanted to shrug Klaus’ wiry arms off of him. He wanted to disappear.

“Lu, please.” Klaus’ voice shook, “It’s okay. Fuck, I promise it’s okay. You don’t have to do that shit, being strong and all that. You can let go…God knows we’re not going to judge you for it.”

And with that, his shoulders began to tremble and he let himself be held. He let himself break for the first time in god knows how long. Too long. Klaus rubbed circles along the man’s back as he felt his shirt dampen with tears, whispering soft affirmations as his brother sobbed.

The rest of the siblings watched the scene unfold in front of them. None of them had expected this. They just thought Luther was brooding. Processing. Needing time alone as that’s what he was used to and what they had assumed comfortable with. They had hashed out their apologies a few months back, so they thought that they were fine. He was fine. The Hargreeves couldn’t imagine anything like this. After a minute or so Luther’s breathing started to even, his sobs subsiding. All that remained were just tears silently streaming down his face. He felt Klaus kiss the top of his head, his heart fluttering tightly in his chest. “Ben told me…he saw your room and fuck.” Klaus breathed, after a few moments of silence.

“I’m sorry, for not realizing sooner. We just,” Klaus paused, thinking carefully on how to word the next part. “We didn’t think. Us Hargreeves are famous for that, ya know?”

Luther could hear the small smile in Klaus’ voice. He slowly lifted his head from his brothers shoulders and gulped. His throat was raw from both crying and the episode that they all had intercepted.

“Luther, we love you man. I’m sorry I called you a-a monster.” Diego affirmed, his tone without it’s usual defensive edge it tends to hold when talking to Luther. “You’re not, okay? We’re gonna do better this time, we promised that. That means you too.”

“I,” Luther cleared his throat, wincing slightly as he did so. “How can you be so kind? I’ve hurt you all. I’m…not good.” He said simply, refusing to meet any of their eyes.

“Luther, listen to me.” Five started, walking over to Luther and demanding he meet his eyes. “I’ve killed hundreds of people. People that you said were innocent. But do you remember what you told me? You said I was still a good person, that you could see that. I see that in you too. We all do. You don’t have to isolate yourself from us. We care about you. So let us.”

“You need help, Lu. Let us help you.” Allison strained, her voice still not fully recovered but she was adamant on making sure he heard her.

Vanya finally shoved her way into the bathroom and practically fell into Luther’s arms. She was unable to speak clearly, her soft cries becoming louder with each second.

“I’m not scared of you. I-I don’t hate you. I love you so much Luther, god I love you, I love you..” She sobbed. This sound, this scene, was all too familiar to Luther. But he hurt her then, and he’s hurting her now. He wrapped his little sister in his arms, her small frame shaking in his.

“I’m sorry, Van. Everyone. I just…I don’t know how to…” Luther trailed, unsure how to even begin to explain himself.

“You don’t need to know how to. We’ll help you through this. You’re going to be okay.” Ben said, finally corporeal from behind Klaus. Luther met his eyes and nodded, his mouth pursed in a thin line before he devoted his attention back to Vanya in his arms.

For the first time in years, he felt like things might be okay. They won’t be okay for a while, no. But it’s a start. It’s a god damn start.

[prorevenge]

Owner screws me over, screws up(s) his business.

To start, I won’t be saying the name of the shipping company franchise I worked for, suffice to say the title is very telling. This is a rather long story, so buckle in. You can skip the backstory and look for the revenge near the bottom. TL:DR at the end.

The Backstory

About five or six years ago I was relatively new to the workforce, having worked one minimum wage job at Mickey D’s. I had been there almost two years, but had little experience elsewhere. Well this one lady always came through early every morning to order a large Diet Coke, and would take a few minutes to talk to me. I mentioned to her that I was displeased with my bosses and the working conditions, and she invited me to come apply for a job at Not FedEx because they were always running low on employees! That should have been my first red flag.

The second red flag went completely over my head, because at this point I was 17 with no previous job experience. When I walked in for an interview, the boss (who I will call Jeph, because it sounds close enough to his name to allow him to remain anonymous) told me it would take five minutes. I wasn’t asked about my relevant experience, my goals within the company, or even told what position I was applying for. I assumed all interviews were different and went along with it, and started the next week with training. Everything went well for the first month. I basically just packed boxes, took down customer information, and sorted mail into the mailboxes we managed. The real trouble started after I was given my one month performance review.

I was deemed to be a valuable asset to Jeph’s franchise, and rightfully so. At 17 I was able to lift more and work better than the 20 and 30 something employees, and due to the work ethic my parents drilled into me I was never slacking off while at work. I was then informed that I would be swapping between Jeph’s two franchises, roughly 30 miles apart. (For context, the franchise I APPLIED TO WORK AT was roughly a mile from my house, so I could walk if I couldn’t get a ride.) Every other day I had to drive out to the location and somehow justify this with my slightly above minimum wage job. ($7.50 for those not in Texas.)

Overall my boss was a massive douche. His physical appearance could best be described as “troll like” with a shirt almost bursting, the top always undone to showcase his aging chest hair, and a face not unlike that of A&F owner Mike Jeffries. He openly cheated on his wife, bragging to coworkers about it constantly. He charged people one dollar for any amount of extra tape they needed on their package, despite the fact that we got roughly two rolls for that price in bulk. He had a special price calculator installed on the computers that charged people roughly 10% more than the package would be elsewhere. He would push employees (who he insisted didn’t work in customer service but sales) to never offer anything less than three day shipping even though we offered standard 7+ days and even cheaper options. I watched him actively lie to customers, claiming it was the price they had to pay blah blah blah, and almost yell at them to go to another store if they didn’t like it. But I digress.

Now here was the first dickish thing that my boss did to me specifically. Until this point, I was only working around 20 hours. After I graduated to working at both stores, Jeph had me sign a brand new W-2 for his second store, which was under a different company. (He owned both, naming one Blue (name for a .44 caliber bullet) and Blue (proper name for visible light)). Again, I had very little idea that this wrong because I had never had to deal with this before. He proceed to add another 20 or so hours to my schedule, bringing me up to 40 hours or more. But since I worked for two separate companies I never earned a dime of overtime or benefits of any kind.

At this point, I started accruing more and more duties, as my boss and coworkers started to trust me more and more. Buy my fourth month of employment (out of a total of eight) I was performing managerial duties such as: opening the store, counting the registers, closing the store, ordering product such as boxes and tape, and preparing shipments for transport. The work alone justified a raise, not to mention the hours I was being asked to work. However when I floated this idea by my boss, he very rudely insisted that since he had a manager for each store already, I was just doing my job and couldn’t earn a cent more.

Then came the second dickish move. We had a large company contract some drop off stuff with us, a telecom company we will say rhymes with Hey Tea and Tea. Customers would bring in their old cable boxes, wires, remotes and the like, and we would scan them and ship them back to Hey Tea and Tea, the company THAT LEGALLY OWNED ALL OF THIS HARDWARE. The customers would not pay us a nickel, but the telecom company would pay almost double what it actually cost to ship the package. There is no way Jeph could look that gift horse in the mouth and decide he was still owed the stable and all the horse’s tack as well, right? Surprise, surprise, Jeph had to take it one step further. ANY and ALL parts/cables/WiFi adapters/USB drives the customer returned to us that didn’t have a scan tag on them, Jeph would pull aside and either strip for copper or sell on eBay. And he would force us, the employees to package his eBay sales or copper wiring into boxes and ship them for him. He even popped batteries out of remotes and recycled them somewhere to get a tax credit. None of his employees ever saw a penny of this money (not that I would have accepted it). We estimated he raked in roughly three to four thousand a month just from stealing alone. For those of you bad at math, that is the price of TWO brand new 2018 Honda Civics.

The Revenge

The third (and fourth) final dick moves are what solidified my hatred for this boss, and my desire to strike back. They both came in the same week, roughly the same time, and both viscerally repulsive. My favorite coworker had recently gotten pregnant, and although the father got the hell out of dodge when he found out, she was doing very well for herself. She and I frequently closed together, and she promised she would bring the baby to sit in the back for the dull hours we had to kill from 6-10. We also had an annual store review from corporate that week, so our boss called a late night meeting after we closed one day. Our boss started out by saying that he was proud of our pregnant coworker for working so hard even with her “disability.” (Yes, even his sense of humor was slimy.) Then, in front of all fifteen employees, HE FIRED HER. He told her that because the Christmas season was coming up, and she would only slow down the store being pregnant and all, he had to let her go.

After she left, hatred seething in her eyes, he turned back to the fourteen of us who were left stunned, and continued on like nothing had happened. He proceeded to tell each of us our jobs for this weekend, leaving mine for last. My job, because I used to drive a decently sized mini van, was to ferry the corporate required supplies, cash for the safe, and OUR ONE WORKING FIRE EXTINGUISHER between the two stores while he kept corporate distracted between visits.

At this point I had taken enough shit from this guy, and I formulated my plan. I started by calling the Hey Tea and Tea fraud department, and telling them everything I knew. I took pictures and emailed them directly to the rep I was talking to, who seemed a little too excited about fraud being committed. I then scheduled a visit from a Hey Tea and Tea rep at the same time corporate was supposed to show up. My next step was to call Not FedEx and explain exactly what I just told y’all, with a few extra things thrown in that I couldn’t share for privacy reasons. They promised to send a rep as well, to the same store, at the same time.

The final step was put into action that Saturday. I dutifully loaded up my van with the supplies, cash (upwards of $4000 if I remember correctly), and fire extinguisher, and headed out. Except I did the exact OPPOSITE of what Jeph wanted. I took the crap to the first store he owned, which was the second one to receive a visit. After he texted the team saying they were moving on, I packed up all the shit and drove it to the other store they just left. Now I am unsure exactly what happened at the other store, but from some coworkers I pieced together that the Not FedEx rep showed up right after I left, but didn’t stay long, and the Hey Tea and Tea rep showed up just before Jeph had arrived and had time to hide his ill gotten gains in his office. The one coworker who was close enough to the office during the corporate meeting said there was lots of angry words being thrown and threats being made towards Jeph and his position as a franchisee. He also lost his franchises the ability to ship for Hey Tea and Tea, at least for a period of time.

Regardless, the very next day I was off because I was (and as cliché as this sounds I swear to God it’s true) helping my grandfather who just got out of the hospital. I receive a call from Jeph, saying I needed to come in right away, and work a double shift as well as close the store. I told him I couldn’t do that, and I was taking a personal day. He fired me right then and there, citing my usage of the work computer to run a photoshop business during work hours. (I’m assuming he was referring to the graphic design work I did FOR HIM, FOR FREE, which he asked me to learn how to do.)

The sad epilogue to this whole story is that he is currently still in business, and still running the same scams he was before. He WAS however fined for not having proper supplies in his stores, as well as forced to use corporate’s package rates rather than his own. So in some small way my revenge worked. He currently has a two star review on Yelp for both of his his businesses, and I hope to have a party outside his store one day when it goes belly up.

TL:DR: Boss is a total douche bag to me and customers, steals from a contract company, fires a pregnant woman for “slowing down the store” then gets his ass reamed by corporate and loses the major contract.

(source) (story by Chewbacca_Q_Wookie)

[minnie-marvel]

A Hellish Form of Jealous (Loki x Reader) Part 1

You were beautiful, you were confident, you were smart. If these midgardians couldn’t handle your total package then maybe a god could.

Loki x reader

Words:2,127

A/N: AHHHHH OKAY I DON’T KNOW IF YALL PEEPED IT BUT THIS FIC IS BASED OFF OF NICK JONAS’ JEALOUS BWAHAHAHA

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You sighed softly as you stared at the empty calendar at your cubicle. Your weekends were unbearably and unnaturally free for the past few weeks but that was about to change. You stood from your desk and pulled your hair out of its ponytail letting your fingers comb out through your locks.  You sauntered over to the break room eyes scanning for your co-worker Harry. He was so handsome with his curly blonde hair and sweet brown eyes. His laughter bounced off the walls of the break room like a ball until it reached your ears making the edges of your lips curl into a smile.

Your feet seemed to carry themselves as you approached him fixing your hair before flashing him a charming smile. “Harry hey! haven’t bumped into you in a while,” Oh man, you were just so smooth, weren’t you?

His smile faltered after meeting with your eyes and suddenly lifted back again but different this time. You felt your eyes awkwardly dart to the side. He was definitely forcing that smile.

“Ohhhh Y/N!! Good to see you!! What have you been up to?” He asked cordially. You could have rolled your eyes. Don’t push yourself now Harry, you might puncture an organ.

“Oh you know, working, keeping the earth’s safety in balance, the usual compound stuff…” You joked flatly watching him look over to the side. Man, it was as if he’d seen a ghost or something. “Anywho, I was wondering if you were doing anything this weekend? Maybe we could grab a drink or two get some dinner….” Your words trailed off of your lips as you saw Harry visibly pale at the mere mention of a date with you. 

“Unless the idea of that completely repulses you…?! Oh my god man!!!” You snapped suddenly planting your hands on your hips. “Damn, you could just say something instead of staring at me like I’ve got two heads on my body!!!” 

You saw Harry’s eyes glue to the floor in shame as he scratched the back of his curls. Now you really were rolling your eyes. You turned on your heels not believing that you actually had experienced this in person. You were angry, you were embarrassed, you were upset.

“Wait!!” Harry called for you. You didn’t know why you even graced him with a look over your shoulder. “Look… I’m sorry Y/N… it’s just…ugh.” He put his hands over his face and your expression scrunched up in disgust. 

“Harry you’re embarrassing yourself. I’m the one who you just rejected and somehow I still look more competent than you. Pull yourself together for Pete’s sake.” You scoffed walking off again crossing your arms over your chest as you left an icy air behind you.

“God… no wonder he likes you so much.” You heard him mutter under his breath.

“Do you still have something you want to say to me? Or are you just going to keep mumbling to yourself like a baboon?” You asked. Your eyes could have rolled out of your head and onto the floor and it wasn’t even noon yet. When his reply didn’t come you sighed leaving the room again a familiar face catching up to you. 

“Wow Y/N, that’s like… the second rejection you’ve gotten this month!!” Your coworker Lila chirped unnaturally chipper.

“You say that like it’s a good thing, Lila,” You retorted. You shook your head slightly. Your ice queen demeanor was still showing. 

“I’m sorry Lila… it’s just… it’s not fun getting rejected all the time by attractive men,” You explained while making your way down the hall with her. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’m confident, I’m intelligent! I’m not too bad on the eyes either,” You noted with a swing of your finger as you listed your positive qualities.

“You’re practically perfect Y/N! All these wimpy guys are just intimidated by you!! You need a real man who’s going to know how to treat you like the queen that you are!!” She said with a nod. You rolled your eyes as she put a smile on your face. 

“And who do you think could handle all of this?” You asked motioning to your body laying a hand on your butt. “I mean I don’t even think God could handle all this in heels and a nice dress without double-taking.” 

You both stopped dead in your tracks as you saw a very muscular Thor exit a training room, a towel wrapped around his thick neck and shoulders that somehow glistened in the artificial lighting.

“Well…. Why don’t you find out??” Lila whispered to you. She planted her hands firmly on your back.

“Lila!! Shit no- I was just kidding don’t you fucking dare-” It was too late. She gave your body a rough shove and soon you were fumbling over your feet straight into the Norse god. 

He caught you easily one strong arm resting on your abdomen before he set you back on your feet seemingly without effort.

“Ah!! Lady Y/N, we meet again!! Tell me, what pleasure do I owe to be graced with your smile this day?” You felt your face flush. You weren’t sure if it was the glistening biceps or the heavenly smile that he shot you, but you definitely felt your knees almost wobble as you stared on.

“Thor!! Last time I saw you, you caused a power outage!!” You recalled.

“Ah, so you remember that do you? Tell me, have you seen Loki anywhere? I’ve been looking for him all day and you two are usually on the same wavelength.”

It was true; Loki had been your friend since you had first uttered your first fuck you’s to Tony for ruining one of your favorite pumps due to an accident that involved no fire and Dum-E. You guys were the same, quick-witted, silver-tongued and not afraid to put a bitch in their place. But besides the occasional lunch or coffee, Loki never really wanted to hang out with you. You figured as much, you two were both so similar that you were sure he’d come to hate you if he stayed around too long. You didn’t mind although, it just made the moments you did spend with him that much more memorable, you never conversed about the same things twice.

“I actually haven’t run into him today yet… but…” You felt your words get caught in your throat. Were you really about to ask this god out? Was that like, blasphemy? 

He looked up at you with those stormy blue eyes and you almost swooned. You didn’t care about blasphemy. You were determined to get at least ONE date this month and if these average Joes couldn’t handle you then maybe a god could.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out for drinks this weekend?” You were hopeful, Thor was such a sweet person and now that he and Jane weren’t together anymore, it meant he was available.

He looked utterly perplexed and apologized immediately almost making you groan in exhaustion.

“Not you too… Geeze do I have some hot man repellent hormones on me or something?? What gives!!” You threw your hands in frustration and rubbed one of your temples.

“I apologize, Y/N…. I just thought well… my brother has always been so fond of you…” He said thoughtfully as he scratched his beard watching you just about boil over in anger.

“What??” You suddenly searched his eyes looking into their still confused expression. 

“Are you not going out with my brother?”

You felt yourself blush. The idea of it didn’t repulse you, in fact, someone might say that it would seem like a match made in heaven. But Loki never liked spending time with you for too long. If you even tried to go on a date with him you were pretty sure he’d eventually end up trying to disappear in the middle of it.

“No… I’m not.” You answered him finally after clearly your thought obviously embarrassed by the question. “Loki would probably hate dating me we’re just too similar,” You said mostly trying to reassure the thoughts in your head. Great, Thor just had to plant this seed into you. 

“Well, why don’t you talk to him first, I’m almost certain he has some sort of complicated feelings on you last time I talked with him,” He rested a hand on your shoulder now and gave you smile that you thought made angels sing.

“If he denies my intuition then I would be happy to take you out for the evening,” Thor offered. He took his hand back slowly before taking the towel off his shoulders. “I’ll see you soon hopefully,”

You watched him disappear down the hallway before Lila ran back over to your side grabbing at your arm. “What did I tell you??? Thor’s got his eyes on you!!” She encouraged jumping up and down happily.

“And Loki might too…” You said thoughtfully feeling your heart skip a beat. You bit your lip gently before walking off, headed to the one place you knew where Loki had to be.

“Hey, where are you going???” Lila shouted after you.

“Just have to see something, I’ll be back later!!!”

Before you knew it you walked into the compound library where Loki sat in a dark corner one leg propped properly on the other a book in his hands. His green eyes lifted up to you slowly before he arched an eyebrow and smirked.

“Ah Y/N, I was wondering when you would come to find me today,” He set his book down on the coffee table next to him and pointed off to another chair close by. 

“What have you been up to all day hmm lord of mischief? You asked pulling the chair right from across from him. You sat yourself down and crossed your legs staring him down. 

He didn’t stare at your legs, or your obvious attempt to look a little more ravishing than usual. You wanted to slap him upside the head with a brick that said ‘I’M TRYING TO FLIRT YOU, IDIOT’.

“Nothing entertaining that’s for certain,” he showed off his book before setting it down again. “And you?” He took up a cup of hot tea in his hands the steam from it dancing upwards into the air.

You tried to hold back your sigh. Obviously, you weren’t going to get anywhere with him. You were pulling out all your tricks, letting your hair out of its usual ponytail, wearing your best blazer, crossing your legs so that he got a nice view of your calves (you had been working out quite a bit!). Nothing was working, and you knew exactly why. You let your body posture relax and shifted your legs off of one another so that you looked like you weren’t trying to eat him alive.

“I had an interesting conversation, with your brother actually! He offered to take me out for a date this weekend, he’s looking for you by the way.” Loki nearly choked on his tea coughing softly to himself before wiping his lips of any tea that dripped from his mouth.

“A date?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow at his reaction. No way…

“yeah, do you….mind?” You asked resting your chin on a propped fist. “Because if you don’t want me to go out with Thor I can totally stay behind and we could hang out on our own or something,” You offered. You saw his eyebrows raise in shock.

“What?? Me?? And..and you, preposterous,” He said whisking away the thought with another sip of tea. 

“Y/N darling, you know that I’m fond of your company but we’re from two different worlds!! This is beneath both of us,” He shook his head in soft laughter and you felt your face heat with embarrassment and rage.

“Fine then, I didn’t know I was so obviously repulsive,” You hissed standing up from your chair. You took out your phone from your pocket and started tapping away furiously.

“What- now Y/N, you know I didn’t mean it like- what are you doing?” 

You pressed send. “I just texted Thor that I’ll be ready tomorrow at eight,” You said simply. You flipped some of your hair over your shoulder as you watched Loki’s eyes lower in an underlying jealous anger.

“What?”

“Dating me might be beneath you but apparently it’s not beneath Thor, I’m going to go out with him,” You said simply. 

“Hey, this was a good chat,” You said sarcastically already turning to leave. “Bye Loki,” You left him behind in the library with himself his jaw clenched as a harsh breath escaped his nose.

He was almost glad he was wearing green, it suited his obvious envy quite well.

Part 2

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[cherry-kirsch]

1. i don’t recognise myself in the mirror/i feel like i’m floating away : build me up, buttercup

iwaoi || mature || multi-chaptered || hanahaki au

“I missed you a lot you know. Especially when I wasn’t sure if you were okay, I’m glad you are now.” Hajime says sincerely before he starts rifling through the cupboard.

Tooru shrugs noncommittally and pokes at the rice cooker. “I wouldn’t say I’m okay.” He says quietly. “I’m getting better. Not okay. But better.”

Hajime pauses, considering, before he looks back to Tooru with a smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re getting better then.” He says and Tooru, encouraged, smiles.

[ AO3 ]

Tooru is sixteen, and he is suffocating.

He is staring blankly up at a ceiling that isn’t his own, it doesn’t have the glow-in-the-dark star stickers plastered all over it, and he is uneasy, it stirs in his belly until he can’t stand it anymore and he has to clamber up out of this unfamiliar bed and into the nearest bathroom. He slumps over the sink and retches until he can’t anymore, then he looks up into the smudgy mirror and eyes the red petals clinging to his lips and swipes them off with a hand. He scoops up the flower heads in the sink and dumps them into the toilet and looks back into the mirror.

He doesn’t recognize the person staring back at him.

As Tooru flushes, a pair of hands slip around his waist, he feels lips pressing a feather-light kiss that he wants to recoil from in the middle of his back. But he doesn’t move away, he turns around and smiles at the person in front of him.

They are nameless and blank; he hardly hears them when they speak. “Are you alright, Oikawa? Do you want… to go back to bed?”

He doesn’t. Not really.

Instead he smiles and presses a kiss to their exposed collar bone. “I’m fine.” He says, and it makes him feel sick. “I’d love to.”

In the morning, he won’t call back. This person will be just that, one more person. Hajime will be mad, he’ll scold him for getting someone into his bed on a school night, he’ll tell Tooru that he should know better. But, as he takes This Person’s hand and allows them to lead him to their bed, watching as they shuck off their night shirt like a second skin, vulnerable, bare, all for him — he can’t bring himself to care.

Like this, basking in the scent and feeling of another person, it makes him everything he is not without it. He feels invincible.

And, as he reaches out to cup This Person’s face with his hands and capture their lips with his own, he ignores how repulsed he knows he will be in the morning. He ignores all of it in favor of the pleasure, of feeling more than broken.

He hates himself for it.

* * *

Hajime is smiling triumphantly in front of him as he lounges on an armchair in the common room, waving around some piece of paper that Tooru doesn’t particularly care about. He has his own problems currently, mostly trying to paint his nails ‘Cuddle Bug’ which had confused him to no end when Kiyoko had gifted it to him. It was a rather pleasant shade of pale green.

He didn’t quite know what was ‘Cuddle Bug’ about it.

“I have good news.” Hajime says enthusiastically as Tooru looks up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Did someone invent a nail polish that doesn’t have a bullshit paint color name?” He asks, tilting his nails back in front of himself with a frown. “I don’t even know if I like this shade…”

Hajime rolls his eyes and swats Tooru on the arm, ignoring when Tooru yelps about the risk of spilt nail polish. “No, idiot,” he says and Tooru pouts. “You can be discharged now. I’ve told Takeda and Ukai that you can live with me, seeing as we go to the same university.”

Tooru falls silent, stares down at his nails with renewed vigor. “I don’t know if I want roommates.” He says dismissively. “Don’t you have that guy living with you? The one with the hair and the eyes?” Tooru says vaguely and Hajime fixes him with a deadpan.

“People tend to have eyes and hair, Kurokawa.” Hajime says before he shrugs dismissively. “He moved out.”

Tooru perks up at that, trying to stop a smile stretching his lips. “He did?” he questions. “When?”

Hajime shifts slightly on his feet. “A week or two ago; he wanted to move in with someone who had the same major.” He fixes Tooru with a serious look. “Well? What do you say? Wanna move in with me, Oikawa?”

Tooru stares up at him a minute before he finally smiles. “I would totally hug you right now if my nails weren’t drying.” He said seriously. “You’re so super cool, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime bends down to Tooru’s level, his own serious look on his face. “If they smudge, I’ll repaint your nails myself. So, give me a hug, Tooru, you beautiful idiot.”

For a moment, they stare at each other and then Tooru grins and throws his arms around Hajime’s neck. He doesn’t really care about his nails; they can be repainted. He basks in the feeling of Hajime’s hands around his waist, they’re a welcome and warm weight, comforting even and he knows that the only person he ever wants touching him from this point onwards Is Hajime.

After all, Hajime is his best friend. The man he’s always loved.

Tentatively Tooru thinks that moving in with Hajime could be a good thing. Maybe it would be okay to wake up with the person he knows the best and trusts the most, maybe it would be good to start his life again.

“Okay,” Tooru says before he pulls back to look Hajime in the eye. “I’ll move in with you.”

Hajime smiles so wide that it makes Tooru breathless. “I’m glad.” He says. “I love you.”

Despite the relentless pounding in his chest Tooru places a smacking kiss to Hajime’s cheek. “I love you too.”

Tooru remembers where he is and slowly slinks back into his seat, a pink flush on his cheeks as he lifts his hands up to pat them. Hajime just smiles and reaches out to pat him gently on the head, ignoring the way Tooru protests when he does, knowing it was halfhearted.

“When would I be moving in?” Tooru asks curiously, smoothing down his hair when Hajime retreats. “Have Takeda and Ukai approved? Does that mean I’d be leaving before or after Shou?”

Hajime hands the piece of paper over to Tooru, tapping the bottom of the page. “I already got Ukai and Takeda’s signatures and a leaving date. All you need to do is sign to show you consent to it.” He says as Tooru’s eyes flit up and down the page. “I didn’t read all the conditions, I just signed the bit they told me to. I thought you should be the one to read all of it.”

Inside his chest, Tooru’s heart warms and he smiles happily to himself. “That’s very good of you, Iwa.” Tooru says proudly as he reaches out to pinch Hajime’s cheek, his smile stretching further when Hajime grumbles but allows his action. “You’re such a good partner.”

At that, Hajime’s eyebrow shoots up. “Partners?” He asks. “Like in the cowboy movies?”

Tooru flushes. “No… I mean like…” He flounders, flustered by Hajime’s questioning. “Significant other…”

Hajime chuckles and reaches out to place his hand over Tooru’s. “You can call me your boyfriend if you like.” He says and Tooru goes as red as a tomato. “Or your partner, or your whatever-the-fuck-you-want. I don’t care, as long as we’re together. That’s all that matters.”

Tooru coos and cups Hajime’s head in his hands. “You are sappier than a pine tree. And I’m proud to call you my boyfriend.” He says with a grin. “The only condition I have for us moving in together is Saturdays watching alien documentaries.”

Hajime nose wrinkles at the sound of the words ‘alien’ and ‘documentaries’ being used in a sentence together but he nods anyway. “Okay. Sounds good.” He agrees. “I’ll make sure we have milk bread the day you move in.”

“I knew I kept you around for a reason.” Tooru says happily as he reaches out to boop Hajime on the nose. “Good boyfriend.”

With an affectionate sigh Hajime reaches out to ruffle Tooru’s hair again. “Good boyfriend.” He says back.

Tooru beams.

A week later Tooru finds himself standing in the genkan of a slightly familiar apartment.

He toes off his shoes and steps up onto the wooden floor, looking around to scan his surroundings. The walls in the living room were no longer bare but instead had frames carrying Godzilla posters hanging from them. Tooru smiles at that and drops his bags beside the sofa to pick up a frame resting on the coffee table, his grin stretching further when he sees the photo inside.

It’s one of the photos they took of the team just before graduation, all smiling at the camera. His eyes flit back to the table where a smaller frame containing a picture of Hajime and Tooru after graduation rests.

Tooru places the frame back down when he hears Hajime come up behind him.

“You’re so sentimental Iwa-chan,” Tooru coos as Hajime huffs and picks up his bags, turning on his heel to place them in his new room. “I didn’t know you had photos of me and the team! That’s so sweet!”

“Of course I’m sentimental. And, of course, I have photos.” Hajime tells him as Tooru him follows him from the bedroom to the kitchen. “I missed you a lot you know. Especially when I wasn’t sure if you were okay, I’m glad you are now.” He says sincerely before he starts rifling through the cupboard.

Tooru shrugs noncommittally and pokes at the rice cooker. “I wouldn’t say I’m okay.” He says quietly. “I’m getting better. Not okay. But better.”

Hajime pauses, considering, before he looks back to Tooru with a smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re getting better then.” He says and Tooru, encouraged, smiles. “Milk bread?” he asks and Tooru nods enthusiastically, reaching out with a grabbing motion to Hajime.

“Gimme.” Tooru says happily.

Hajime rolls his eyes and tosses a milk bread roll to Oikawa. “Don’t be rude.” He says and Tooru scoffs as he opens the packaging and takes his first bite, humming happily. “Do you want to go out tonight and catch up with old friends?” He asks and Tooru thinks, chewing slowly.

“Who?” He asks.

“Uh… Yahaba and Tobio.” Hajime replies and Tooru’s face hardens. “It’ll be the first time they’ve seen you since you went into hospital.”

Tooru huffs, turns and pads out of the kitchen and into the living room. “I don’t want to go out.” He says.

“Okay,” Hajime agrees, following after him. “We’ll stay in. Watch some documentaries.”

Just as Tooru is about to agree he pauses, thinking before he turns to Hajime. “You can go out.” He says. “I don’t mind.”

Hajime looks at him. “That’s really okay with you?” He asks, watching Tooru nod, unconvinced. “It’s your first day back. I don’t want to leave you alone. I’m not going out.”

“I don’t want to keep you.” Tooru mumbles into his bread.

“Hey.” Hajime says seriously and Tooru looks at him. “I’m not gonna leave you okay? And you’re not keeping me; I want to stay. Yahaba and Tobio will just have to wait for another day.” Tooru looks away. “What do you want to do tonight?”

Tooru thinks for a moment as he finishes off his milk bread roll. “Help me unpack and then we’ll watch documentaries?” He suggests and Hajime smiles.

“Sounds good.” He says. “Tea or alcohol?”

“Tea.” Tooru replies as Hajime heads back into the kitchen. “I don’t drink.”

Hajime chuckles at that and Tooru smiles nervously. “You’re certainly not like the Oikawa Tooru I remember.” He says as he opens the cupboard over his head and takes down a mug before he reaches into the fridge for a beer for himself. “A lot has changed.”

Tooru nods slowly, watching as Hajime fills up the kettle and puts it on to boil. “Yeah.” He agrees before he hesitates, looking down at his slippers. “Is that bad?”

His voice is small and tentative and Hajime turns to him. “Of course not.” Hajime tells him, padding over to Tooru so he can caress his cheek and stroke back his hair. “It just means I have to relearn you, that’s all. A few things are different, and of course you’ve changed. I look forward to getting to know you all over again.”

The kettle whistles, stops bubbling furiously and Hajime smiles at Tooru one last time before he pads back over to it, dropping a tea bag into the mug before he pours the boiling water over it. Wordlessly, and without Tooru having to tell him, he reaches back into the fridge for the milk to pour into the mug and dumps three laden spoons of sugars into it before he hands the mug over to Tooru.

Tooru smiles. “You’re such a sap, Iwa-chan.” He teases as he lifts the mug to his lips to take a sip. “You remembered how I like my tea and got me milk bread.”

Hajime just rolls his eyes and swats at Tooru’s arm as he giggles and leads Hajime into his room, taking a long gulp of his tea before he places it on his dresser and reaches for the first box. Hajime sits cross-legged on the floor and digs into the first box, groaning when inside he finds Tooru’s collection of cryptid and alien memorabilia.

From its depths Hajime pulls a Mothman plush and holds it up to Tooru. “You still believe this stuff?” he asks, and, when Tooru looks over he pouts. “There’s no way that there could be a moth… thing the size of a man."

Tooru marches over and snatches the plush from Hajime, clutching it to his chest to stroke its head softly. “That’s what a non-believer would say.” Tooru comments haughtily. “What kind of a man would tell another that something doesn’t exist? What if I told you that Godzilla and Mothra don’t exist?”

“I know they don’t exist.” Hajime says with a shrug of his shoulders. “They’re not real.”

“There’s nowhere that says Mothman doesn’t exist.” Tooru says.

Hajime falls silent at that and then glares down at the box. “I hate when you’re right.” He says as Tooru smiles triumphantly and places the Mothman plush on his bedside table. Hajime pushes the box of ‘things-that-maybe exist’ memorabilia away from him and choses a much smaller one, tearing it open to find it full to the brim with makeup. “Do you have any containers for this stuff?”

Tooru nods and tears open another box to retrieve his plastic makeup storage, smiling as he hands it to Hajime. “I’ll trust you to organize them nicely, Iwa-chan.” He says as Hajime gently tips all the makeup onto the carpet and begins placing things down. “Meanwhile I’m going to unpack my unmentionables and high fashion.”

Hajime frowns at an eyelash curler as he fiddles with it. “Just say your underwear and clothes like a normal person.” He says before he looks to Tooru, thrusting the eyelash curler at him. “What the fuck is this? Is it some kind of torture contraption?”

Tooru coos and wiggles his way through the labyrinth of boxes to pinch Hajime’s cheek. “Oh, Iwa-chan!” He cries affectionately, hardly bothered when Hajime smacks his hand away. “You’re so clueless! It’s a cute look on you.”

“Shut up.” Hajime mutters. “Go back to folding your underwear.”

“Fine, fine!” Tooru concedes after Hajime looks about ready to smack him again, giggling slightly as he makes his way back to his boxes of clothes and his dresser. “Try not to injure yourself on my beauty supplies. Or, as you call them, torture weapons.”

Hajime scowls.

They lapse into a comfortable silence as Hajime organizes Tooru’s make-up while Tooru hums as he folds and stores away his clothes. Only when he spots something familiar, does he stop dead for a moment before taking the garment into his arms to caress the stitching on the inside label and the fabric.

Hajime looks up and over to him. “What’s up? You stopped humming.” He says, before he looks down at Tooru’s hands and stills. “Oh… Tooru…”

“Remember when we used to wear these all the time?” Tooru asks as he looks over to Hajime, straining to put on a brave face. “You used to tie yours around your waist and I’d yell… you kept creasing yours and the arms were too stretched out. We were a team then, you and I. When we wore these. I loved this jersey.”

The Aoba Johsai jersey looks now just a little bit too small for Tooru, and that gives him a certain melancholy feeling that he can’t quite place. After all, he hadn’t worn it since first year. Before everything happened and he got hospitalized. Not being able to play hit him hard, and, after a while, he just didn’t return to the team; he’s sure that if he got on a court now (not that he would, his doctor told him not to) he wouldn’t know what to do.

Volleyball used to be his life.

His present and his bright, beautiful future.

Now it was just his history, something that would never be repeated. His lungs were too weak for it.

“Tooru.” Hajime says and Tooru’s watering eyes flit over to him. “You don’t have to keep that, y’know. If it’s too hard for you. With you not being able to do volleyball anymore.”

Slowly, Tooru shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I want to keep it. I think. To remind me of all the good times, I’ve had with you on the team.”

Hajime almost looks flattered, and then he places down the foundation brush in his hand and looks very seriously at Tooru. “We’re still a team now. I’m your biggest supporter, I’m Team Tooru.” He tells him and Tooru flushes red, lifting a sleeve of the jersey to cover the lower half of his face. “I’m always going to be here for you, and I’m always gonna want the best for you.”

Tooru stares at Hajime, speechless before he starts smiling into the jersey sleeve. “Hajime…” He whispers quietly. “That’s so cute.”

“It’s not cute!” Hajime protests, his cheeks bright pink. “It’s an honest declaration. I mean it, Tooru.”

“You’re not Mister Darcy coming to ask for Elizabeth Bennet’s hand in marriage!” Tooru says, giggling as Hajime blinks at him owlishly, thoroughly confused at the words coming out of Tooru’s mouth. “You’re a twenty-one-year-old man who’s studying law at a University in Tokyo! You’re so serious all the time, Iwa-chan.”

After a moment, Hajime scowls. “I was trying to have a moment, Trashikawa!” He protests as Tooru giggles at his outburst.

Tooru pats Iwaizumi gently on his arm, giving him a sympathetic pout. Hajime hates how Tooru doesn’t seem fazed by his glare. “I know, and I respect that.” He says before he clears his throat and settles himself opposite from Hajime, their knees touching as Tooru stares deeply into his eyes. “I’m team Hajime.” Tooru tells Hajime. “I’m always going to be there for you, and support you for everything. I’m so proud of you and only want the best for you.”

Hajime blinks at Tooru and Tooru watches as Hajime sniffs once, his eyes welling up with tears before he squeezes then shut and turns away to furiously wipe at them. Tooru immediately dissolves into coos and a wide smile.

“Oh, Iwa-chan!” He says as he lifts himself onto his knees to wrap Hajime in his arms. “Don’t cry! You’re so emotional.”

Hajime struggles half-heartedly for a moment before he settles into Tooru’s arms, burying his face into Tooru’s chest. “Shut up.” He grumbles as Tooru chuckles. “I hate you really.”

Tooru smiles.

“I love you too.” He says before he reaches into his box of nail polishes and brings out a sparkly blue. “Lemme paint your nails, Iwa-chan.”

“After we unpack your stuff.” Hajime says and as Tooru scowls, Hajime reaches up to pinch his cheek. “Don’t make that face. You know, if the wind blows the wrong way your face will be stuck like that.”

Tooru pulls away from Hajime’s grip and scowls deeper. “Don’t mention my face in a negative connotation, Iwa-chan, that’s the highest form of evil.” Hajime chuckles and Tooru crawls over to his box and pulls out a long scarf, wrapping it around his own neck with a flourish. “You’ve committed a crime.”

Hajime points a blush brush at Tooru. “That’s a little dramatic don’t you think?”

Tooru raises his eyebrow. “Me? Dramatic?” He asks as he pluck a large hat from a box and places it on his head. “Never.”

“You look like Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” Hajime says and Tooru gasps happily, a grin stretching his lips.

“Hajime.” Tooru says, crawling back over to clasp Hajime’s hand in his as he stares very deeply and sincerely into his eyes. “That’s the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me.”

Hajime whistles lowly. “You have very low standards for someone being nice to you.” He says, laughing when Tooru pulls his hat from his head and begins to smack Iwaizumi on the arm with it. “I’m kidding! Stop hitting me, Kurokawa!”

Tooru pouts and frisbees the hat back into the box. “Thin line, Hajime,” Tooru warns ominously as Hajime rolls his eyes, takes a long gulp of his beer and slots makeup into the holders, hardly watching as Tooru begins placing his shirts into the chest of drawers in his wardrobe. “Thin line.”

For a while, they sort in silence. Tooru moves on from his shirts to his socks and underwear, and Hajime begins arranging Tooru’s books on the bookshelf above his desk.

“Hey,” Hajime says, and Tooru’s eyes snap up, his consciousness returning from the world he’d been sucked into while sorting. “I’m going to get another beer; do you want another tea? Or something cold?”

Tooru considers this carefully. “Soda?” He asks, grinning when Hajime nods and heads for the door. “Thank you, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime makes a noise of agreement from the kitchen. Tooru turns back to his box of underwear and socks, and he pauses very suddenly, his hands trembling.

In an instant, Tooru feels like his entire being has left his body, and that he’s staring at himself from a third-person perspective. Like those video games Kuroo and Bokuto used to play in the ward. Weeks could have passed by in the moment it takes Tooru to blink and place the socks back in the box, bringing his knees up to his chin so he can wrap his arms around himself and hug them tight.

Some separated part of himself is terrified, but the part that is present, most prominent, the part that keep him tethered to the semblance that is his body, is not. Like this, he doesn’t feel, not emotionally, not physically – actually, Tooru feels like he’s floating away slowly but surely, unaware of the hard wood floor beneath him despite being sat on it.

Fingernails, his, dig into his forearms, sharp and jagged and hard. He will bruise. But he feels. His arms tingle with the sensation of it, so he digs in harder. He feels.

Then, he remembers Hajime.

“Hajime.” Tooru calls, his voice hoarse, and he can hear Hajime still in the kitchen. “Hajime. I need you, okay? Can you come in here?”

He hears the clatter of something (a cap opener maybe) dropping into the sink, turning his head towards the door just as Hajime rounds the corner into the room, and, if he could, Tooru would feel guilty about the utterly anxious look on his face. Instead, Tooru just drinks in Hajime as he approaches.

“What is it?” Hajime asks as he kneels in front of Tooru, prying his claw-like grip from his arms to grasp firmly at his hands. “What’s the matter? Is it another attack? Do you need your suppressors?”

Tooru shakes his head and grips at Hajime tighter, he feels light headed and heavy all at once. “No.” He says and he feels Hajime relax in front of him. “I’m just disassociating. I need you here to help me because I feel like I’m floating away.”

“Just disassociating?” Hajime repeats in disbelief. “You’re very calm about feeling detached.”

Tooru sways slightly. “It happens all the time.” He says, and, by the look on Hajime’s face, that doesn’t seem to relax him. “I just need you to either lie on top of me or hold me, okay?”

Hajime nods, his hands trembling over Tooru’s. “Okay, where do you need me to hold you?”

Tooru breaks his hands away from Hajime and holds them in between them, watching as Hajime blinks down at them and then back up at Tooru. “I need you to hold my wrists. Put a fair amount of pressure. I need to feel present.”

“Okay.” Hajime agrees, and he takes a deep breath before his fingers close around Tooru’s wrists, applying a fair amount of pressure on them. He looks up at Tooru, who doesn’t seem to be looking into the distance anymore, neither do his eyes seem to be flitting about the room like a trapped butterfly. “Is this okay?”

Tooru nods quickly. “It’s good. Thank you.”

Tooru feels instantly more at ease with Hajime’s fingers like handcuffs around his wrists—a firm and ever present pressure that isn’t him. They sit for what seems like seconds and days simultaneously, Tooru with his eyes closed resting against Hajime’s chest and Hajime with his hands around Tooru’s wrists resting his chin on Tooru’s head.

“Let’s get you some water.” Hajime says, and Tooru’s heart leaps into his chest in panic at the thought of Hajime breaking contact with him, even for a second. Much to Tooru’s relief, Hajime stands and helps Tooru to his feet with his hands still around his wrists. Although Tooru feels guilty about it, he is glad that Hajime still held onto him.

Hajime leads Tooru into the kitchen, breaking his grip with one of Tooru’s wrists so he can reach into the cupboard for a glass and fill it beneath the tap. Tooru sips slowly and shakily and Hajime patiently waits until Tooru is done before he takes the glass and places it in the sink for him.

“I’m going to let go now, okay?” Hajime says quietly and Tooru takes a moment to gather himself before he nods.

The moment Hajime’s hands leave him, Tooru feels gone. He sways gently on his feet before he lowers himself to sit on the kitchen floor, and then to lie on his back, the cool wood beneath him heaven on his hot and numb skin. And he feels the cold creeping beneath his joggers and shirt and he lets out a shaky sigh and closes his eyes, hardly noticing the concerned look that Hajime is throwing his way.

Tooru opens his eyes and sends a half-lidded, half-there look to Hajime. “It’s okay.” He says, his voice quiet and dreamlike. “This happens all the time.”

Hajime lowers himself opposite Tooru, his legs crossed. “Is there anything I can do?” He asks.

“No,” Tooru says with a slow shake of his head. “Just… wait for it to pass.”

“Okay.” Hajime says, and he gives Tooru’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I love you.”

He wishes he could say it back and mean it. But he is gone, like a satellite lost in space, or a submarine beneath the sea—and where he is, whether that be amongst the fish or the stars, nothing can reach him, not emotions, not thoughts, nothing but the chilling loneliness of being entirely numb and weightless.

So, he doesn’t say it back.

Instead he squeezes Hajime’s hand and hopes that he understands.

Tooru comes back to himself at two o’clock in the morning, surrounded by the sheets of a bed he doesn’t remember making, and a room that he doesn’t remember putting together. It must have been Hajime who had done it for him. Tooru’s mind strains to bring up the memory of Hajime’s face correctly, it feels too off in some way that he can’t place, and fear creeps into his chest at the thought of not remembering his boyfriend’s face.

Now, more than anything, he wants to see Hajime and memorize the planes of his face.

He slips out of bed and pads across the hall to Hajime’s room, knocking twice quietly before he turns the door knob and pushes the door open, shutting it carefully behind him.

Hajime is nothing more than a shuffling lump in the middle of a bed on the right side of a dark room, and, as Tooru’s eyes adjust quickly to the darkness, Hajime’s head pokes up, squinting as he struggles to make out Tooru’s form. He lets out a mumble that would probably be Tooru’s name if he was anywhere as near awake as Tooru was as Tooru lifts the covers and slips into bed beside him.

Gathering himself, Hajime tries again. “Tooru?” He manages, his voice heavy with sleep.

Tooru lifts his hands to cradle Hajime’s face, tracing his thumb across Hajime’s cheek. “I didn’t remember you.” Tooru says, his voice a whisper between them. “I couldn’t remember your face. It was like I last saw you seven years ago.”

Hajime leans into his touch, presses Tooru’s hand against his cheek with his own hand, holding it there. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

“What color are your eyes?” Tooru asks quietly. “I feel like I’ve forgotten.”

“Green.” Hajime tells him. “Like trees.”

Tooru nods and rests his forehead against Hajime’s. “Thank you.” Hajime presses a kiss to the tip of his nose and Tooru feels the weight of fatigue hit him like a truck. “Can I stay and sleep with you tonight, Hajime? Please?”

“Of course.” Hajime says. “You don’t even need to ask.”

Tooru feels the telltale burn of tears in his eyes and shuffles until his face is pressing into the front of Hajime’s shirt, trying desperately to hide his face and escape the tears threatening to spill over. “You’re so good to me.” He manages against Hajime’s chest. “You’re so good. When I’m like this, or earlier. You’re always… good to me.”

Hajime cards his hands slowly through Tooru’s hair as he gives in and sobs quietly into Hajime’s shirt. “You’re my best friend. You mean the world to me.” He says and Tooru sobs just a little bit harder. “Even if life is unfair and cruel, I will always be good to you.”

“I don’t deserve it.” Tooru says his voice thick with tears.

“You do.” Hajime says firmly. “And I’m going to keep saying it until you believe it. You deserve all the love and happiness in the world, Tooru. You’ve suffered enough.”

Tooru falls asleep to the sound of Hajime whispering him soft and loving words, his cheeks stiff with fallen tears and Hajime’s arms wrapped around him in comfort. He falls asleep thinking (albeit guiltily) that maybe Hajime is right, maybe he deserves some happiness now. Maybe he has suffered enough.

Maybe he does deserve all the love and happiness Hajime gives him.

He wants to believe it, and so he decides that he will. Whatever it takes.

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Safety; PG

idk i was thinking about taem smoking for some reason

tw for smoking

“Hey,” Jonghyun says when he gets back outside. Taemin perks up immediately behind the fence, eyes automatically zooming in on the white box in his hand. “It’s sealed, but they’re probably still stale,” he says as he hands it over.

ao3

From: Choi 3:24pm No fucko it’s a real honest real life set of pink weights right here in the middle of the sports store up to like 50 lbs do you want me to buy them for you or not

To: Choi 3:25pm i still dont believe u send me a pic

From: Choi 3:25pm You Know my phone camera is broken

To: Choi 3:26pm suspicious

From: Choi 3:27pm Oh My God

“Hey, uh, excuse me?”

Jonghyun blinks and looks up from his phone, looking around his tiny backyard for the human that voice came out of.

“Jonghyun, right?” it says, and Jonghyun turns to his left to find his neighbor leaning up against the tall iron fence that separates them. His black hair is a little messier than his usual soft mop and his little hands grip the bars of the fence nervously.

“Uh,” Jonghyun says, sticking his phone into his pocket. “Yeah, hi, Taemin,” he says. “What’s up?” he asks. He’s always cool to help a neighbor, even one he’s only spoken to one or twice before when they just happened to see each other. Taemin gives him a weak little smile, but looks down quickly, biting his lip, before looking back up.

“Okay, I know this is gonna sound really weird, and sudden, and sorry if it makes you uncomfortable or anything, but, uh,” he starts. Jonghyun grimaces, not liking where this is going. What the fuck. He doesn’t think he wants to know what kind of request will follow that kind of preface.

“Can I bum a cigarette off of you?” Taemin asks. His cheeks flush pink as he says it and his fingers clench open and closed on the fence, a look of shame and guilt, but Jonghyun just raises his brows, surprised.

“Oh,” he says. That’s much less weird or unsettling than he was expecting. He’s a little relieved, honestly, but that emotion is quickly pushed away to make room for regret. “Um,” he says. “I don’t smoke?” He hasn’t for a while, ever since he quit a few years back.

“Yeah, but you used to, didn’t you?” Taemin asks. He leans closer, shoulder pressing up against one of the iron bars. “Don’t you have, like, a safety pack or something?” He pouts that, almost whines it in desperation, and Jonghyun gasps softly.

“Heck,” he says. “I do, actually, shit.” He stands up from the little table he was sitting at, pats his pocket to make sure his phone won’t fall out, and frowns a the ground, trying to remember where he put it. He thinks… in the kitchen, maybe. Yeah, in the kitchen, on top of the box in the fridge because it was easier for him to avoid grabbing one if he knew he couldn’t reach it easily. “Give me a minute, hold on,” he says, holding up a finger to Taemin before hopping up his little porch steps and heading back inside.

He jogs to his kitchen, pulls out his stepping stool from behind the recycling bin, and nudges it gently in front of the fridge. A little stretch and a lot of feeling up around old dust later and he finds the package, grabbing it triumphantly and hopping down. He blows dust off of it and rubs it against his pants as he walks back outside.

“Hey,” he says when he gets out there. Taemin perks up immediately behind the fence, eyes automatically zooming in on the white box in his hand. “It’s sealed, but they’re probably still stale,” he says as he hands it over through the fence.

“Yeah that’s fine,” Taemin says quickly. He fumbles with the plastic wrapping, pulling it open and clumsily taking one cigarette out. It’s then that Jonghyun realizes that he forgot to also grab a lighter, but Taemin pulls one from his jacket pocket. Without wasting a second he brings the stick to his lips and lights the end of it. Jonghyun watches as he takes a long, slow drag, eyes closed, other hand gripping his lighter tightly.

After a few moments, Taemin lowers his head and blows the smoke towards the ground, away from Jonghyun, towards his own house. Jonghyun appreciates that. Cigarette smoke is weird for him in that it both repulses him and makes him start having his old cravings again at the same time. Taemin takes another silent drag without looking at Jonghyun. This time, when he lets the smoke out, he just opens his mouth and lets it puff out. Jonghyun watches him sniff it all back in through his nose, mildly impressed. He never could nail the french inhale himself.

“Thanks,” Taemin mumbles then. He blows the rest of the smoke out before looking back up at Jonghyun through the bars. He hands him back his box of cigarettes, then halfway covers his mouth with a sweater paw before he speaks again. “I’ve been trying to quit too, but I’m a little, uh. Stressed. At the moment,” he says. He shrugs guiltily. “I already went through my own safety.” He lifts his cigarette under his hand for another drag as Jonghyun tsks sympathetically.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks. He’s always down for a feels jam. Taemin snorts, though, the air coming out of his nose as smoke, and shakes his head.

“Talking makes me more stressed,” he says. “I just internalize all of my shit and smother it under apathy and bad jokes until I can get to dance practise on Thursdays. Or smoke, I guess,” he adds, lifting his cigarette an inch. Jonghyun snorts. He figured that part out already.

“Yeah, well,” he says. “I hope you feel better.” He really does; Taemin always struck him as a really nice dude whenever they had a brief neighborly chat. Taemin smiles weakly back.

“Thanks,” he says. “If you start wanting to smoke again or something because of me I’ll buy you dinner to apologize,” he says.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jonghyun says. He looks at the little pack of nicotine in his hand. Now that he’s remembered he has this he’s going to be thinking about it a lot more than usual. “I’ll even let you kiss me on that first date if you don’t taste like cigarettes,” he grins. Taemin cocks a brow back, tapping ashes onto the concrete below them.

“Since when is it a date dinner?” he asks. He leans closer, lips tugged up into a little smirk, like he thinks Jonghyun is going to be flustered or something.

“Since I told my boyfriend you were pretty cute a few months ago and if you ever asked I was totally going to take you up on it,” he says. He has nothing to be ashamed of. Taemin laughs softly, shaking his head and looking down so he can take another drag.

“We’ll see about that,” he says. He blows a clumsy smoke ring towards the ground, coughs, sniffs, and looks back up. “Anyway, thanks, again,” he says, holding up his cigarette. “I gotta. Go back to dealing with my stress, so.”

“Mmhmm,” Jonghyun hums. “Good luck,” he says. Taemin pushes off of the fence, waves, and turns to shuffle back into his house, cigarette smoke trailing behind him.

[cutiecrates]

Cutie Reviews: TokyoTreat April 20

Hello, here I am :3 bringing you guys another review. I’ve got time to kill while I wait for my Switch remotes to finish charging so that I can get back to the new Harvest Moon game. I also had this review ready for almost a week now and really should have gotten it up sooner <_< 

For anyone new or unfamiliar with my blog, I wanted to mention that item I’ve already reviewed in the past I tend to skip as a result of not having much to say about it. Unless for some reason my opinion would have changed. If you really want to know what I think about an item I skipped, you can message me and I’ll give you the details.

“Sakura season is one of the most fun times in Japan! While enjoying the sakura and nature is great, hanging out with friends and enjoying picnics is the best part about spring! The weather is getting warmer and we’re heading to the park to party until late! Japanese parks light up the sakura at night to highlight their beautiful pink color, and people stay late eating, drinking, and having a great time! Wanna come too?“

Lucky Treat & Photo Prize

This month’s Lucky Treat and photo prize are full of adorable Pokemon goods!

Also, the last page of the booklet discusses some items Japanese like to bring with them to sakura viewing. In the past, they would normally pack bento or handmade snacks, but lately you would see things like sakura themed drinks and sweets, to the less-likely (but super-yummy) sushi, burgers, and pizza!

Frozen Coca-Cola Lemon

This is our drink this month, I was very excited. Not only because I love cola (I bought coke tic tacs if that’s any indication ;p), but because I was obsessed with lemon pepsi when I was younger, and it’s since long been discontinued. Lately, Wendy’s has been having lemon/lime cola though, and it’s amazing! I’d also recommend the strawberry Dr. Pepper if you see it. 

Anyhoozles, this is a drink meant to be put into the freezer. The back marks it as 15-20 minutes wait time, but I actually had mine in there for at least an hour and it wasn’t frozen at all. Just super cold. It could be my fault because it was nearly a year old, I’m not sure, I decided to drink it anyway. It was... it reminded me of the syrupy taste you might sometimes get while drinking a slushie. It wasn’t terrible or anything, but not exactly what I was hoping for either.

Sankaku Crackers Veg. Flavor & Ham and Potato Porickey

I’ve had the first one before, so we’ll be skipping to the Porickey, which are basically savory, un-coated pocky I like to think. These were okay, but there’s barely any flavor on them; for me that’s probably a good thing because I hate ham.

Sakura Mochi Chocolate & Apple Jelly

These chocolate’s I’m very familiar with, we’ve had them once or twice before. I really like them though, I wish we’d see more of this brand in the box.

Meanwhile, the apple jelly was very much new! I love little jellies like this x3 I buy a mixed pack from the store every now and then, and when I was younger my dad used to bring some home from work, so they’ve become fairly nostalgic for me now as an adult. This one was lightly sweet with a pleasant green apple flavor, it wasn’t sour or anything.

Sakura Matcha Collon & Matcha Coconut Cookies

Our next two items are pretty unique, both featuring matcha/green tea flavoring. Collon is a fairly common snack item, they usually remind me of Combo’s, little pretzel snacks filled with a flavored cheese.

I don’t believe I’ve seen this flavor before, but I don’t dislike it. The box has a label on it saying fragrant sakura, which I would agree with. These have a flowery-sort of taste with a hint of green tea. The taste has been lingering in my mouth when I eat a couple, but it’s a nice taste.

Also, I like how this box they come in is re-sealable. That’s always very appreciated.

- - - - -

These cookies feature a sugary green tea glaze on top, giving them a lightly crunchy texture. They also come in a large pack composed of four smaller packs, each with so many cookies inside.

I really feel like green tea has been growing on me because as of late, I haven’t been completely repulsed by it like I used to be. However, I had no idea there was any coconut in them! They don’t taste like it at all, but that’s good for me again, because I also hate coconut! 

Sakura Sake Kit Kats & Choco-Taro

These kit kats I remember clearly, not only because of their pretty pale pink coloring, but their strong alcohol taste. There is 0.7 alcohol, which is extremely weak I assume, but you should be careful with anyone under drinking age or those who cannot have it at all.

I’m not really fond of alcohol, but it’s okay for special occasions. These are pretty good, so I would recommend giving them a try if you really want something unique, as long as you can have alcohol.

- - - - -

The choco-taro, I feel like we’ve had before but I can’t entirely remember. It was a mildly sweet chocolate with a very soft, flaky inside that melts in the mouth a little. It wasn’t too remarkable, but it was good.

Chicken Ramen Snacks & Cabbage Chips

Nothing new here, moving on~

Taro Beans, Pollock Umaibo & Soy Sauce and Butter Popcorn

Umaibo isn’t new, and I can’t really recall if we’ve had the taro beans or not before. Kinda feel like we have, but basically they’re little crunchy, slightly salted crackers.

- - - -

The popcorn meanwhile, is a product of Fritolay under the Mike brand. They were pretty good, they tasted mostly like butter, with maybe a hint of soy sauce. They seemed to go stale a little quickly after opening though.

Ramune Candies, Burger Gummy, & Hello Kitty Sakura Candy

Sorry guys, this last pic is kinda mehhh. I accidentally deleted the original because I assumed it had been uploaded onto the computer like my others. For some reason it didn’t work. I don’t have the burger gummy in this picture now, but you’re not missing much. It was hard and unpleasant due to being so old, so after a few chews it pretty much got thrown away.

- - - - -

Our next item is this cute little pack of ramune candies, which are pressed powdered tablets. When put in water or in the mouth they dissolve, and this specific brand includes a variety of flavors, each with a cute design on the front.

Before when I had these, I had melon, so I was very happy to get a new one, more or less my most favorite fruit x3 These are lightly sweet and delicious. The melon was good too, but I think I like this one a bit more. They also come in grape, lemon, and orange.

- - - - -

Our final item is a pack of sakura-shaped hard candies, available in cherry, orange, and apple! The packaging features adorable hello kitty designs and pretty flowers. The candies are very yummy too, the orange one tasted like orange soda pop, and the cherry doesn’t taste medicinal. I haven’t tried apple yet, but I assume it’ll be really good.

♥ Cutie Ranking ♥

Content - 4 out of 5. I liked everything, and only one or two items suffered from aging I think, but only the one was actually inedible in my personal opinion. A bit repetitive, but not overwhelming. Two items in this box were present in their prior sakura-themed boxes if I recall right. 

Theme - 4 out of 5. Yeah I’d say they fit the snacking theme perfectly well, there’s nothing to really complain. But if I had to, I would say that they weren’t as on point as usual with this theme as they were in prior years.

Total Rank: 8 out of 10. I really don’t have too much to leave with this time around. It featured a pleasant mix of unique snacks with more common/basic flavors, so there was something for everyone. I kinda wish they included some more savory items, but I think they cut down because of how much they were featured in March’s box.

[dawnasiler]

Reviewed: The Baby Foot Peel for Dead Skin and Calluses (Is It Safe and Does It Really Work?)

Contents

What is Baby Foot?

Baby Foot Peel Instructions

Baby Foot Peel Safety

Baby Foot Peel Dupes

Conclusion + My Results

Where to Buy

If your feet are prone to dry skin and calluses, keeping them smooth and soft is a constant struggle.

Welcome to my life. Over the years, I've tried countless foot creams, foot files, salon pedicures and even high-tech buffing gadgets to keep the rough, dead skin at bay. (The Emjoi Micro-Pedi seemed to work okay for a while, but having to constantly buy new replacement heads really adds up!)

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But then I heard about Baby Foot from a beauty editor friend.

This was before it went viral, mind you, and this new foot-care category—the foot PEEL—was still unheard of here in North America.

The way she described the little plastic booties, flooded with acid, was enough to get me excited. And then (spoiler alert) how it made all your dead skin shed off like a snake?!?! 

Totally disgusting. But duh! I wanted IN.

Fast-forward to the present, and I'm still Baby Foot-ing a few times a year as my foot maintenance product of choice.

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Read on to find out how it works, how to use it and what results you can expect—including my very own Baby Foot before and after. Look away now if you're grossed out by feet!

What is Baby Foot?

The Baby Foot peel.

Baby Foot is a chemical peel for your feet. A very STRONG chemical peel.

It's also the OG foot peel, created all the way back in 1997 in Tokyo, Japan. 

Unlike other foot treatments, which require regular filing sessions or daily product applications, Baby Foot is something you only need to use once every couple of months.

It's THAT intense, thanks to a high concentration of alpha-hydroxy acids (AHAs) combined with alcohol, as well as various botanical extracts. 

According to the manufacturer, the glycolic and citric acids break down the bonds between the layers of dead skin cells. The alcohol softens the skin (making it easier to remove), and the lactic and salicylic acids stimulate a flaking effect—all without damaging the fresh skin underneath.

Here's a look at the ingredients:

Aqua (Water), Alcohol, Isopropyl Alcohol, Lactic Acid, Glycolic Acid, Arginine, Parfum, Butylene Glycol, Peg-60 Hydrogenated Castor Oil, Glucose, O-Cymen-5-Ol, Citric Acid, Malic Acid (Apple), Citrus Aurantium Dulcis (Orange) Peel Oil, Citrus Grandis (Grapefruit) Peel Oil, Dipotassium Glycyrrhizate, Cymbopogon Schoenanthus Oil (Camel Grass), Nasturtium Officinale Extract (Watercress), Arctium Lappa Root Extract (Burdock Root), Saponaria Officinalis Leaf Extract (Soapwort), Hedera Helix (Ivy) Extract, Salvia Officinalis (Sage) Leaf Extract, Citrus (Lemon) Fruit Extract, Clematis Vitalba Leaf Extract (Clematis), Spiraea Ulmaria Extract (Meadowsweet), Equisetum Arvense Extract (Horsetail Herb), Fucus Vesiculosus Extract (Bladderwrack), Chamomilla Recutita (Matricaria) Flower Extract (Chamomile), Camellia Sinensis Leaf Extract (Tea Plant), Houttuynia Cordata Extract (Chameleon), Phenoxyethanol, Hydroxyethyl Cellulose, Salicylic Acid, Sodium Nitrate, Glyoxal, Disodium Phosphate, Linalool, Limonene.

According to the manufacturer, none of these were tested on animals (Baby Foot is cruelty-free).

The formula has the consistency of a gel, and comes pre-filled inside a set of disposable plastic booties for you to wear. That way, the booties can keep it in contact with your skin for maximum absorption. It's sort of like a sheet mask for your feet, except it is exfoliating instead of hydrating.

The results aren't instantaneous, though. It can take up to a week to start seeing the dead skin peel away—a process that I'll show you in just a second. Let me say that it is equal parts horrifying and life-changing!

Who should try Baby Foot? Anyone who experiences dry, rough skin on their soles, heels or toes. The dead skin accumulates due to pressure and friction from standing, exercising or even wearing certain shoes. (I'm know I'm definitely guilty of suffering for fashion and not wearing my orthotics like I should!)

Baby Foot Peel Instructions

Using Baby Foot is simple—you just need to set aside an hour or two to prepare for and then apply the peel.

Before you start, you may want to remove any nail polish you're wearing, because the acids will destroy the shine and make it look dull.

Alright, here's what you'll find in the box:

The Baby Foot instructions.

First of all, the instructions. They can be a bit confusing, so I'm going to walk you through them here.

Each Baby Foot package contains one pouch.

You also get a sealed pouch. This contains your acid-soaked booties. But wait! Before you pop those bad boys on, you want to soak your feet first.

I fill my tub with a few inches of warm water and then sit my feet in it for a good 15 to 20 minutes. The idea is to soften the dead skin, so the gel can penetrate more effectively. Amongst Baby Foot devotees on the Internet, this pre-soak step is the KEY to an effective peel.

(Weirdly, Baby Foot's instructions fail to mention this until step two, after they've already told you to put on the booties. Then, the instructions are like, by the way: "We recommend taking a footbath to enhance the effects BEFORE and AFTER using this product." So don't make the mistake I did of reading step one and thinking the Baby Foot scientists had suddenly determined soaking was no longer necessary—it is.)

The Baby Foot booties.

So here's what the plastic booties look like. These are for one-time use only. Not pictured: the peel-off adhesives that you'll use to secure the booties around your ankles. 

Cut along the dotted line to open the Baby Foot bootie.

Since the tops of the booties are sealed (to prevent the gel from leaking out), you'll need to cut along the dotted lines to open them up.

Wearing the Baby Foot booties.

Roll up your pants and stick a foot in each bootie. Don't worry, it doesn't hurt or sting, despite all the acids.

To keep the gel in place, secure the booties snugly around your ankles with the enclosed adhesives. (If you can't find them, just use regular tape.) Since the booties are designed to accommodate up to a size 12 foot, they can be a little loose, so I like to put a pair of socks on over top, to make them fit tightly. 

Also, don't do what I'm doing here, which is sticking my foot in the air. You want to be sitting upright, so the acid is pooling under your soles—not working on the tops of your feet, where there's no dead skin to target.

You need to wear the booties for ONE HOUR before you take them off and wash your feet with soap and water. 

For the next seven days, do not apply any creams or lotions to your feet, and be sure to soak your feet daily. According to Baby Foot, the water is essential to activate the peeling process.

WARNING: Do not scroll down unless you want to see the graphic results!

The Baby Foot peeling process starts within two to seven days.

This is what starts to happen within two to seven days after the initial Baby Foot application. The dead skin literally starts to peel off in SHEETS. 

You just need to be patient and let it happen. I can still remember the first time I did this, and I was convinced it hadn't worked. Four days passed, and if anything, my feet were looking worse: much drier and more callused than before. Damn you, Baby Foot, I was thinking.

Then, a day later, I was taking off a pair of tights when much to my alarm, a whole bunch of flakes fell out on the floor. FOOT FLAKES. I was repulsed, but elated. The grotesque sloughing-off can continue for up to two weeks, so you will definitely need to change your sheets, and vacuum. 

But it's all worth it, because a pair of soft, smooth and yes, baby-like feet will finally emerge!

Baby Foot Peel Safety

The Baby Foot peel.

Is Baby Foot safe? For most people, yes—as long as you use it according to the manufacturer's instructions

Here are some frequently asked questions about Baby Foot safety:

Who should NOT use Baby Foot? Avoid Baby Foot if you have open cuts or sores, warts, corns or any skin disease affecting the soles of your feet. Also steer clear if you have diabetes or an immune deficiency. People with very sensitive skin may also find the strong acids too irritating. 

Can you leave Baby Foot on longer than one hour? The instructions suggest one hour—any longer and you're taking a risk. A lot of Baby Foot reviewers recommend two hours, but I've found that makes areas with thinner skin, like the tops of the feet, uncomfortably itchy for days later. I think it's just too long for them to be in contact with the acid!

Can you speed up the process by peeling off skin with your fingers or a foot file? It's tempting to want to "help" things along by peeling off skin with your fingers or going at your soles with a foot file. But this could be too aggressive, and you could inadvertently take off skin before it's ready. Instead, the manufacturer recommends gently rubbing your feet with your hands after bathing.

How often can you use Baby Foot? If your feet have a lot of dry skin build-up, the manufacturer suggests a second application after four weeks. For maintenance, you can use Baby Foot about every two months.

Did I buy a fake Baby Foot? If you didn't get results, it's possible that you purchased a counterfeit Baby Foot. Before you use the product, make sure it says Baby Foot (not "Baby Feet") and that the contents match the photos here. Otherwise, the peel could be ineffective or even harmful.

Baby Foot Peel Dupes

If you're looking for an alternative to Baby Foot, you're in luck. These are the closest dupes on the market, which contain almost identical peeling ingredients:

Conclusion + My Results

During the Baby Foot peeling process (left) and after (right).

So here's what my feet looked like during the Baby Foot peeling process, and after.

I was well overdue for a peel before this session, so I'm pretty darn impressed! I still have some callused skin in a few spots because I over-pronate (roll inward). I could repeat the treatment in a month to work on them some more, but it's never going to be a permanent solution.

Still, it's one that I am extremely happy with! Since Baby Foot is only removing dead skin, not living tissue, it is not traumatizing the skin in any way or encouraging calluses to build up faster.

Not only is it more effective than any other treatment I've tried, but it also involves less manual labour than filing, and is way cheaper than a pedicure.

The only catch? You need to do Baby Foot when your feet are going to be under wraps (like during the winter). Sheets of dead skin falling off your feet just doesn't go well with sandals, you know?

Where to Buy

Have you tried Baby Foot yet? What were your results?

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Reviewed: The Baby Foot Peel for Dead Skin and Calluses (Is It Safe and Does It Really Work?) syndicated from The Skincare Edit