#it better not have bedbugs

[pancakesmythie]

why tf do they let some ppl use ebay?! anyway i tried drawing an parasaurolophus w slightly diff line style. idk if i like this.

[nombitenary]

Thanks to everyone who sent kind messages I love you all so so much and wanted to say I am crawling a little out of my hiatus to be able to get commissions worked on!!! Money is a little tight right now also so I am Still Taking them if anyone would like a lil piece of art from me to you 💛

[evilandcrazygirl]

this nasty motel couldn’t even put a fitted sheet on the bed so I don’t have to worry about touching the dirty mattress…come on

[plushiebi]

harry is soooooo babygirl he’s literally such a baby when he’s w mj. literally the 🥺 emoji personified

[toastyghostieofthewoods]

‘night everybody 🫶

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

No one has been more convincing about encouraging me to play fallout new Vegas than the queer people in my phone. Literally every straight man I know in real life could not be half as convincing as the autistic queer people on this website

[robinsnest2111]

cannot wait to get out of this house some day ✌

[ceaselessbasher]

I'm sorry but I find it funny to receive a Very Formal email and also see Very Formal posters around that basically say, "Unlike those other cringefail schools around campus, we do not have bugs. Stop asking us about the bugs."

[sttoru]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.

toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.

megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn’t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.

toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.

with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”

you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.

on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.

toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”

you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.

there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.

“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”

megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.

toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.

your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.

“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.

your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.

toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”

megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.

“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”

“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.

megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.

toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.

you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.

you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.

“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.

however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.

you can see right through him.

“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.

toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.

you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.

toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.

“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.

your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.

“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”

[3liza]

here's what I've learned to never pay full price for, because people are giving these items away for free or almost free on Craigslist, Nextdoor, Facebook, at Goodwill, and on eBay (which has a local pickup section) in every sufficiently populated location in the USA.

cost of acquiring these items ranges from "carrying it home from the sidewalk" to "getting a friend with a car to help you pick it up" which is the same amount of effort as going to IKEA for worse quality that costs more, with the notable exception of it being a pain in the ass to coordinate with craigslist sellers, and you often have to wait and watch for what you want to actually show up. it took me about a year to find an acceptable gamer chair left out on the sidewalk, for example. but they cost $100+ new, so I chose to wait.

a lot of this stuff is the kind of thing you don't necessarily intend to keep, just to use in transitional housing or until you can afford a better one.

1. printers of any kind. basic office inkjets are free. ink is easily refillable or has generic ink cartridges way cheaper than brand name for any inkjet up to about 2015, not sure how difficult the newer smart printers are to hack but there's no reason to own a newer one because printing technology has not improved since about 2005. you want a color laser for making zines and wheatpastes? it's on Craigslist RN and someone's mom is desperate to get rid of it

2. bedframes

3. desks

4. tables

5. chairs

6. bookshelves, nice oak bookshelves that don't bend like al dente spaghetti when you put books on them, are rotting on sidewalks rn because they didn't fit in someone's house. go get them

7. scanners. I find a working scanner by a dumpster at least once a quarter, and I don't pick them up because I already have one that I picked up from a dumpster years ago

8. hot tubs. everyone thinks they want a hot tub and that the maintenance and upkeep will be worth it, and they are wrong. Craigslist.

9. sofas, with the caveat that if you are in a bedbug region like New York State you need to be very confident in your bedbug screening skills

10. quality leather shoes. these last forever and are expensive new. eBay is best for these

11. plates, glassware, silverware. all of these are able to be sterilized to whatever standard you feel comfortable with but if you eat in restaurants you've already put a fork in your mouth that hundreds of people have drooled on so try not to fool yourself

12. televisions and computer monitors

13. houseplants. similar to the bedbug warning above, you need to screen these for pests like fungus gnats and mealybugs

14. dressers, wardrobes, china hutches, cabinets, chests of drawers, etc

15. mirrors

16. clothes hangers

17. moving boxes

18. mattresses to a certain extent. I don't like secondhand used mattresses but unstained, unused mattresses are surprisingly common, especially since the foam mail order mattress boom started and people keep getting told by the mattress companies to just get rid of/keep any mattresses they want to return for flaws or wrong sizes or whatever. bedbug warning on this obviously

19. sheets and towels. you gotta launder them obviously

20. basic clothing, especially for kids. normie type clothing is so numerous people often just throw them away because they can't get anyone to take them

21. kitchenware like cooking utensils and pots n pans. don't use chipped or scratched Teflon/nonstick if you can help it. everyone needs one basic steel chef knife, which can be sharpened and maintained indefinitely. people throw these away CONSTANTLY

22. household consumables like laundry soap and dish soap. people often accidentally buy the wrong brand, scent, or develop allergies and want to get rid of extra

23. pet supplies like collars, leashes, dog crates, litter boxes, litter itself, dog beds, toys, carriers, etc

24. medical equipment of all kinds. people who take care of all kinds of patients end up with tons of leftover, sealed, miscellaneous stuff when that person recovers or dies, and they often give it away. adult diapers, hospital beds, IV stands, crutches, walkers, wheelchairs, fracture boots and splints, knee braces, canes, catheter packs, ice packs, heat packs, sterile paper sheeting, gauze, slings, over-the-door stretching and rehab pulleys, mattress protectors, etc

25. washers and dryers, both the basic household cube type and the small twin tub or rock tumbler type. people upgrade these when the old ones are still working, just squeaky or a little weird or sometimes just old

26. vacuum cleaners. secondhand ones are sort of icky but you can get rid of the ickiness by wiping them down with a rag and isopropyl alcohol inside and out. use an exacto or utility knife to slice off the hair and string wrapped around the roller. buy a new filter on Amazon. people throw away vacuums that work perfectly all the time because they don't actually know how to clean them out or do maintenance. bedbug and pet hair warning obviously

27. microwaves

28. refrigerators

30. lamps

31. any kind of exercise equipment including stationary bikes, ellipticals and weights/weight benches

32. any kind of piano. there's a grand on my local Craigslist for free rn

33. scrap wood and lumber

34. pallets

35. wood shipping crates

36. newborn, toddler and baby equipment like breast milk pumps and storage, bottles, bottle racks, diapers, etc. anything a little guy will grow out of fast will end up being given away

37. air conditioners, humidifiers and dehumidifiers. these will be most numerous during their respective off seasons

list updated 2/13/24 based on recent Craigslist trawling

38. jars, both canning type jars and clean food jars like from pickled or jelly bought at the store

39. rugs. most of my rugs are sidewalk finds. rugs will almost always be dirty. a decent consumer grade rug cleaner costs under $100, it's cheaper to just buy one if you have the space to store it. flushing the scavenged rug with soap, hot water, vinegar, alcohol, etc will clean almost anything but huge bedbug and allergen warning on this item

[d0youc0py]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you could do something where Ghost and fem!reader (or can be GN!reader, whatever you prefer :)) work alongside each other in 141 and have secret romantic feelings for each other? And the team is sent on a mission, and Ghost and reader have to share a room with each other and it just gets super fluffy and cute, with a side of banter? Maybe they even reveal their crush?

If not, that’s totally fine! I hope you have a marvellous week 🤍💗

warnings: none really, fluffy, female reader, one bed trope (kinda)

He did a quick sweep of the safe house, rolling his eyes as he already heard the sound of your gear thumping to the floor.

“What did I tell you about letting your guard down?” He scolded, beginning to peels off his own gear. His mask was the first to go, a soft sigh leaving him as the tight fabric hit the floor.

“You looked like you had it covered.” You smiled. You reached into your bag grabbing a pack of wipes.

“Not a chance. Last time you cleaned my face you scrubbed me raw.” He huffed, his feet moving backwards. You paused, soaking up his handsome face before he tugged a clean mask on.

“Fine, but don’t get upset when you get pink eye.” You playfully sneered. He rolled his eyes at you before plopping down on the rickety mattress. “Umm, excuse me? What’re you doing?” You asked slowly.

“Relaxing.” He responded. He stretched, his back cracking back into place. He laid down, wanting so badly to kick off his tight boots.

“You always let me have the bed.” You reminded. You pushed his knee softly to get his attention.

“You don’t want this thing. Trust me, pretty girl, it’ll give you bedbugs.” He pressed, hitting you back with his foot.

“Well I’d rather have bedbugs than termites.” You insisted, sitting down on the edge.

“Suit yourself.” He groaned, moving to get off of it.

“Wait.” Your hand reached out gripping his shoulder. You could feel him tense and twitch under your hand. “It’s pretty big.” You began slowly.

“I know I’ve been trying that new workou”-

“The bed, not your shoulder dummy.” You huffed.

“Oh.” He sighed. “Oh.” He repeated, your words hitting him like a boulder. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Sweetheart. I don’t really sleep out here anyways- you know that.”

You laughed like you suddenly remembered that little fact about him.

“You’re right. I forgot.” You said flashing a fake smile. You always had trouble sleeping- especially on missions. You had never admitted it but one of the best night of sleep you’ve gotten was when you and Simon crashed on Gaz’s couch when you all got a little too tipsy. You woke up sandwiched between him and the cushion, his strong arms seemingly shielding you from whatever bad things crept into your mind while you slept. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been chasing that feeling since. He’d never admit it, but the same scenario flashed through his mind- and he’d be a liar too if he said it didn’t have the same effect on him.

It had gotten dark quick. The hooting owls provided a ambience you wished you could someone manipulate into being romantic. He had settled by a window smoking cigarette after cigarette to pass the time. His preferred activity was sneaking peaks of you ‘sleeping.’ He could tell you were faking it, nobody- not even you could look that perfect as they slept.

“We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, pretty girl. Better get to sleep.” His voice caused you to jump.

“I was.” You snipped. He ‘tsked’ putting out his cigarette with his boot. He stood up, grabbing his gun, propping it up next to the bed. “Make some room? If you haven’t changed your mind.”

You quickly scooted towards the wall and he rested his hand on your side to keep you from bumping into it.

“Don’t have to go that far. Don’t have scabies.” He huffed. You were shoulder to shoulder. “Don’t you usually sleep on your side?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Yeah.” You agreed. You rolled over, facing him and you quickly realized he probably intended for you to roll the other way. Yet you were so close to getting what you wanted it felt weak to give up now.

“Si?” You asked quietly. He grunted, urging you to continue. “Could I- maybe.” You stopped yourself. You saw his blonde lashes flutter open again, his hazel eyes meeting yours. Without a word he lifted his arm up, the invitation being one you were dying for. You huddled close to him, your head finding its way to the crook of his neck. Your hand tangled itself in his sweatshirt (that you swore couldn’t be tactical). His head rested against your own and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the perfect fit.

“Thank you.” You murmured.

“Course.” He muttered back.

[lunerabo]

bedbug

cw: sub!Mahito, dom!AFAB!Reader, can we even call this pegging, dark content, stabbing, gore, evisceration (kinda), fauxjob, throatfucking (a new definition of it), dawg why did I write this

If you’re a sorcerer, you’re either here against your will, or you’re insane, they’d said.

You’re the latter; something’s been knocked just slightly off course in your mind to make you say the things you do, act the way you do. You enjoy the job far more than anyone in your field should. While others long to escape, you dream of plunging further in.

And plunge you do, just how the creature beneath you begs, its need for torture insatiable.

Blue hair swings and bobs beneath you, the curse’s throat making way for you as you fuck his mouth like you hate him. You do, you think. He’s terrific fun, though. Perhaps that’s why you let him live long enough to have him visit you like this.

He looks up at you, and you don’t like it. You sneer at him, gripping his bangs and shoving his head back downward to keep him from meeting your gaze. A giggle escapes him, cheeky, composed, far too much for your liking. Those sloppy gagging noises please you far more.

He slides off of you with a wet puah sound, tongue still out as he does. He licks his lips.

“Want to see something cool?”

That’s never good, coming out of his mouth. You make a face at him, something between a disapproving sneer and an exasperated grimace, lips pulled taut and brow furrowed. But against your better judgement, you nod at him once, the kind of casual ‘what’s up’ motion you’d send his way if you walked past him on the street.

Slender fingers stretch into talons that rend his own flesh, tearing into the soft, yielding skin beneath his chin and ungracefully ripping down and outward, spraying blood with the force of his pull. Skin stretches and tears like a plastic bag, becoming thin and white before it begins to rip. He bleeds profusely down his chest, more so when he reaches in and causes even more aimless damage. No move he makes is calculated; he may as well have stuck a potato masher in there.

Yet you watch, transfixed, and most amazingly, not nauseated by the sight. Your gaze follows in amazement as he draws the cut a little ways down his chest, ripping out anything he can grab that the opening allows. Torn nerves and skin and muscle and part of what you think is his esophagus hang limply outside his body, and he bleeds all over his lap before you, grinning and smug and eager to put on a show.

His tongue lolls out when he opens his jaw, no longer attached to anything except the bottom of his mouth. He swipes it down across his chin, something that shouldn’t be possible, with him having severed its connection in his throat.

And fuck, he’s beautiful.

Mahito shows you what surely awaits you in hell. He’s a picture of the horrors that plagued the minds of the disturbed across centuries, depicted in paintings of demons and monsters and those meeting their due punishments. You’re not likely to be grinning that much, but perhaps he knows that, and finds his own pleasure in that knowledge.

He scrambles towards you, bloodied hands clawing up your thighs, and he begs wordlessly. A hand wraps around your toy, sets it against his face. He looks up at you.

“My, you are a pretty creature, aren’t you?”

Soft, tender hands brush hair from his face as though they love him, a finger sliding underneath to run up the length of the exposed flesh to feel what he feels like on the inside. It presses down on his tongue, cleaning itself of the blood it has collected.

You force your way in, not through his mouth, but now through the new hole he has so graciously made for you.

Warm blood gushes down your thighs and a downright pornographic groan rips from his ruined throat despite his severed vocal cords. For a moment, you actually wonder how it is his body works to make that possible.

He clings to you desperately, begging for more, more, more, holding your waist flush against his opened neck. The fleshy bulge bobbing at the back of his throat bursts with the pressure he forces on it, and the bulbous head of the strap pokes through. It disappears and reappears through a hole in the flesh that doesn’t even appear to be there when you aren’t poking through it, and Mahito seems to revel in having his throat fucked backwards far more than anything else you’ve done to him. His eyes roll back and the corners of his lips pull upward, his tongue hanging out and moving a little each time the strap presses against the back of it. Blood and drool pour from his mouth, and he fucks into his fist beneath you like he’s about to burst at the seams.

He looks up at you, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed, and a warmth that definitely doesn’t flow like more blood trickles down your leg.

You withdraw, and he looks down at himself for a second. He’s drenched the both of you in blood but the wound seals in an instant, and he licks his lips and swallows, as if to make sure he put everything back correctly.

You coo at him, tone sickly sweet, feeding him words of hatred and disgust that he eats right up with a grin.

“That was a lot of fun!” He exclaims, voice light and airy, “but I’ve done something bad, though, haven’t I?” That familiar cheekiness returns, a telltale sign that he knows he’s not done. But he doesn’t want to be.

“That you have, boy.”

The curse leans back, gesturing for you to look at the whole expanse of his body.

“So where do you want me to make the next hole?”

[lynxfrost13]

KLBR-S2306 “Wanze”

commissioned art by Phosology!

- pretty typical sierpinski-23 kolibri unit for a while there. She was a less seasoned kolibri and tended to be very clingy with her cadre. Her cadremates liked to tease her affectionately about it.

- Really loves physical touch of all sorts, especially having her hair played with and her face touched, it’s very soothing to her!

- Her name Wanze comes from the German word for bug/bedbug! She got it due to her clinginess. Eventually she also received the name Fehler in a derogatory way, it means bug but more in the context of an error or failure.

- Her usual duties involved shifts down in the mines to monitor gestalt workers and ensure that they weren’t being disruptive and decreasing productivity.

- during one of these shifts a few gestalts were VERY disruptive and during a scuffle involving the gestalts, Wanze, and a poor mynah unit equipped with a mining laser, Wanze received a severe head injury from the mynah suddenly misdirecting the laser and hitting her.

- That injury would have killed her if she were a gestalt, but thanks to that handy titanium skull and nearby protektors rushing her to the hospital wing to be patched up, she survived. She had to get her faceplate replaced :(

- Wanze also completely lost her bioresonance due to the accident, and the medical officer who oversaw her care, a eule named Holt, was unable to restore it, leaving her with a pretty useless kolibri.

- Holt stepped in to keep her patient alive, and after arguing that Wanze was harmless to the kolibri hivemind (now simply just not a part of it) and through being very persistent (annoying), Adler allowed for Wanze to be reassigned to more standard protektor duties since she could still be useful, with occasional check ins to make sure she wasn’t degrading.

- This was hell for Wanze for a while, adjusting to the lack of mental noise and connection to her fellow kolibris was a shock, and she was expecting to be decommissioned.

- After finding out that she had to keep living without the hivemind, Wanze became incredibly frustrated both with herself and Holt, blaming the medic for extending her suffering. The two of them had a tense relationship for a bit due to Holt not fully understanding Wanze’s grief and Wanze refusing to cooperate with Holt. They come to understand each other after some hard talks and the two become friends, and eventually fall in love.

- In many ways Holt was the only thing in Wanze’s life that made her feel comfortable, Wanze still had to sleep and share a living space with the other kolibris, which was awkward and awful for her. There was a coldness and a distance that there hadn’t been before between them. It constantly reminds her that she’s not like them anymore.

- After the accident she also tries to avoid looking at her face, especially her forehead, where there’s three dead bioresonance crystals ready to look back at her. To make her feel better Holt likes to kiss them <3

- Her days in her relationship with Holt are some of her happiest, the two of them spend a lot of time together whenever possible. Wanze loves reading with her and pestering her as part of her “patrol route”. They love bugging each other generally and are just ridiculous your honor

- Of course those happy days don’t last :)

- I talked about this before, but tldr Holt falls ill with the sickness overtaking sierpinski, and Wanze stays by her side in the hospital in between shifts. When coming in from one of those shifts Holt tried to attack her, fully corrupted by the disease. Wanze shot and killed her in self defense… now she’s all alone :(

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for intentionally giving someone bedbugs?

So, a few years ago, I (17 at the time) got bedbugs. I'm still not sure where from because it was only me who had them. Maybe from visiting a friend's house, maybe from the hotel I went to for a convention, or maybe I was just unlucky and picked them up off someone in public. Regardless, I had bedbugs and was the only one in my house that did. Because of my relationship with my parents and a very intense fear of getting in trouble, I was convinced I'd be scolded for having them/seen as gross, so I didn't tell anyone I had them. I just killed them on sight and every other day used the vacuum on every side of my mattress.

Now, while this was happening, my parents were arranging for a family friend's daughter "K" (15 at the time) to move in with us. Her and I really didn't get along. She was generally rude to me, shittalked my little sister constantly. My friend had told her about something that happened between me and a family member where I was abused, something that I didn't tell the rest of our family, and K was threatening to tell them about it. The issue is this would cause a LOT of unrest and stress on my family that I thought would be worse than keeping the event a secret, so I told her not to. She said she wouldn't, and then went back on that and told my parents anyways. I barely managed to convince them she got it mixed up with something else that happened, and everything was mostly fine.

Anyways, point is, I REALLY did not like K. She was moving in with us because her parents are, frankly, terrible people and don't really take proper care of her. So, my parents wanted to give her a better environment for a little while. I wanted to give her a chance because I knew she didn't have the best background or anything, even if I didn't like her.

She got here and didn't have a bed get (we set up an air mattress and the plan was to get a new bed for me and give my old one to her since it was still a really good bed, but I was due for a new one because of growing). I was trying to figure out how to come clean about the bedbugs before the switch.

That is, until she started being a jerk while at our house. She was stealing from the fridge and then blaming it on me. She was lying to my parents and sneaking out. She was lying ABOUT me and my parents to hers, telling them and her friends that we were abusing and neglecting her. She cut the screen of the guest room window to sneak a boy into our house in the middle of the night. She refused to help me and my sister with chores, which got ALL of us into trouble when they didn't get done.

I don't know if it was just the cumulative stress of the situation, school, and the bedbugs or if I just really felt like being terrible, but I didn't tell anyone about the bedbugs.

Then, we put my old bed in the guest room, and I got a new bed after a while. She started getting bug bites and after maybe two weeks my parents found out about the bed bugs. We deep-cleaned the house and had to get rid of the whole bed set.

To this day, my family believes K brought the bedbugs because of her home situation. I have only told a few of my friends about this. In hindsight, I feel bad because bedbugs are terrible and I made it seem like she'd brought them herself. I'm conflicted because I generally feel guilty over lying about it, but I also feel a little justified for my little bit of revenge. AITA??

[eowynstwin]

Hi everyone. It's been a while—exactly a month since I last posted to this blog. How have you been?

A month isn't really all that long, but it's enough time to be able to look at everything that happened and understand it better. In the end, the whole situation (I've been calling it The Fuckening in my head) really didn't have anything to do with me. I was unlucky enough to run across someone willing to hurt anyone they could for attention, but also lucky enough that everyone who mattered to me in this fandom went to bat for me.

So I’ve decided to come back to this blog. I'll be posting about call of duty again as well as posting my writing. I also plan to blog about other fandoms (I’d already been doing it anyway); I've been getting back into rdr2, for example, and there's some writing I'd like to do for that.

There’s more context which I’ll put below the cut, but that’s the most important part of what I have to say; I often regret how long winded I can be, so the rest is just self indulgence if you can forgive it. I’ve thought a lot about this choice and I’m satisfied with my decision. I hope none of you will mind.

So, lol, things were not great outside of fandom stuff when it all kicked off, though I didn’t mention it publicly because we all know by now that asking for any sympathy when you’re the target of a mob is more likely to just get you raked over the coals harder. I’m still not entirely sure about talking about all of this, but I have a bad tendency to clam up when I really should be asking for support. So:

I mentioned briefly before the accusations started flying that I was dealing with bedbugs—turns out it was actually something else, but leading up to a doctor’s visit I was convinced I had an infestation, and I was stripping my bed every day to look for them. I had alarms set to wake me up twice a night to see if I could catch them, so I was not sleeping all that well. I couldn’t find anything, but I had no other explanation, and it was driving me fucking crazy. Post doctor visit it turns out I had a viral infection. No idea where I caught it, and nothing to do but wait it out. I had a massive, gnarly looking rash all over my body, and to add insult to injury I developed a fever that took me out for a whole weekend. (I’m recovered now but I have a nifty new scar on my hip from getting a biopsy.)

Next to that, I was having some PTSD flareups of my own. This was (mostly) unrelated to The Fuckening. Now, I understand that that might be hard to believe, given “Myka’s” claims, and I can’t make you believe me. Nor will I provide details to convince you, other than to say there were some things going on in my neighborhood that recalled a period of time in my life that was extremely unstable, and I found myself irrationally terrified to go home every day. For those of you who don’t experience the symptoms of PTSD, I think it’s appropriate to note that it isn’t just emotional turmoil; I, personally, experience physical pain in my entire body that lingers for hours, days, or even weeks after being triggered. (Everything regarding this, too, is fine now. I have a great therapist and a supportive family.)

All of this to say, I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally when I decided to leave this blog and fandom. And I regretted the decision almost instantly.

However, I didn’t want to let grief make any decisions for me, and also I was still VERY scared Myka was going to hunt down my personal information and either dox or harass me elsewhere. I think this fear was justified; it has happened to other writers in this fandom before.* So I decided to take some time to cool off and watch the situation develop without me.

I don’t think I need to get into the details—although if you’re interested in them, @fulltacs has been keeping track of the drama. Given the most recent development with the four obviously sock puppet blogs that popped up and immediately began stirring shit up again, I realized Myka probably would have done what she did with or without me. I just so happened to give her the ammunition she needed to do something REALLY big. It was pure bad luck.

(Also—and I’m sorry if this is just stirring the pot, but after everything they did to me I feel I deserve to make the accusation—I’ve suspected for a while that the two loudest blogs leading the witch hunt against me were far more involved in this farce than anyone has assumed. I have no proof and I do not want anyone to do anything about it on my behalf, leave them the fuck alone. But I will not forget the distress they caused me for a long fucking time, and the only way for me to let this go is to say my piece. So there. Done. Let that be the end of it.)

Having this hindsight, I feel comfortable coming back. I’m still very touched by everyone’s support, which in the end was louder than the harassment. I also think it’s important for people who care about fighting racism in any community not to run at the first sign of trouble, which I did, and I feel pretty sorry for.

That’s the gist of things. If you’ve read all of this, thank you for doing so!

*I was going to add a paragraph about halfmoth-halfman’s situation but decided against it. For one thing, she wants to be left alone, and for another, talking about the experiences of fans of color, particularly black fans, deserves its own post separate from my white experience, if I should even post about it at all.

[vodika-vibes]

I love your writing. It always leaves me feeling hopeful.

Could you write a story where f!reader doesn't like her body.

I personally dislike my body. My breasts are small and disproportionate, then my butt is flattish. Compared to my mom and sisters I feel unlovable. Doesn't help I've never dated or had anyone interested in me and I'm going on 40.

Sorry that was long. Anyway if you could wrote something with either Fox, Wolffe or Hunter that would be lovely.

Thank you.

You're Perfect

Summary: Wolffe gets home late and finds his mesh’la curled up in bed, upset. And he decides that that’s not going to stand.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 1027

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: That might be the sweetest compliment I've ever been giving. Making people feel hopeful. Gosh, you're so sweet. I'm sorry that you feel that way about yourself, and I hope this story helps you feel a little bit better!

Wolffe pushes his hand through his short hair in annoyance as he irritably punches in the door code for his apartment. He loves his brothers, he does, but sometimes they are the most irritating di’kut to walk on any planet.

Not to mention, they made him late.

He was supposed to be home over an hour ago.

He had a plan. Dinner and dancing with his perfect mesh’la, something to help her get her mind off the hard week that she’s been having at work.

But no. Now it’s not going to happen. All because Sinker decided to push the Corries and got himself thrown into a holding cell.

He should have let him cool his heels there for the night.

The door slides open and Wolffe pushes into the apartment, only to pause when he notes that none of the lights are on. His gaze flickers to the coat rack, taking note that her favorite jacket and her purse are still hanging there. Not to mention all of her shoes are lined up neatly on the shoe rack.

So she is home. Yet all of the lights are off, and there’s no sound indicating that she’s listening to music or watching a show or playing any of her games-

Slowly, Wolffe sits on the bench to pull off his armor, all of his senses turned towards the apartment, searching for any hint of what’s going on. 

Something is clearly wrong.

Maybe she’s upset that he’s home later than he said he would be? If that’s the case then he’s going to beat Sinker black and blue tomorrow.

He finishes pulling off his armor, and stacks it neatly near the door, and then he heads to the gun safe, and he puts his weapons in it, before shutting and locking the door.

Only then does he head further into the apartment. 

“Mesh’la?”

There’s a sniffle from the bedroom, and Wolffe’s gaze snaps to the closed door. He doesn’t even bother knocking on the door, since it’s his room too, and he peers at the large lump under the blanket.

“Mesh’la? 

“There’s no one here but us bedbugs,” Her voice is shaky, as though she’s been crying. 

Wolffe sighs silently, she’s upset. He’s definitely going to beat Sinker black and blue tomorrow. He sits on the edge of the bed and presses his hand against her back, rubbing soothingly as he feels her trembling under his touch, “I’m sorry I’m late, mesh’la. Sinker got arrested, and-”

Slowly the blanket tugs down so she’s able to peer up at him. Her pretty eyes are rimmed with red, and he feels his heart sink. “Sinker got arrested?”

“Yeah, he picked an argument with Thorn and-” Wolffe sighs, “I’m so sorry that I’m late, I know we had plans. I should have commed…I didn’t mean to make you cry-”

She blinks at him, and then hastily wipes her eyes, though that didn’t help. “I…I’m not crying-”

“You are though.” Wolffe replies gently as he brushes a tear off her cheek.

“Oh.” She pauses, and then she leans into his touch, “Not because of you, or Sinker.”

Quickly, Wolffe reassesses the situation, and his eyes narrow, “Someone upset you to the point of tears.”

“It’s…dumb.”

“If they upset you enough that you came home and cried, it’s obviously not.” Wolffe points out, “Come on, mesh’la. What happened?”

She ducks her head, “It’s just…” She pauses, “Someone said something and-”

“What did they say?” He prods gently.

She seems to curl in on herself, “That I’m not pretty enough to land someone who looks like you. That you’re probably only using me because I’m…I’m easy,” She spits out the word like it’s a curse, “That you don’t really love me-”

Wolffe leans in and kisses her to stop the flood of words. “Well, whoever told you that is clearly jealous of how amazing you are.”

“They-”

“Let’s go over this point by point, shall we?” Wolffe interrupts, “You not being pretty enough for me is nonsense, you’re gorgeous, all of the time. About you being easy-” He makes a face, “If you were easy, mesh’la, it wouldn’t have taken me almost a year to convince you to go on a date with me.”

A flush spreads across her face, and Wolffe grins.

“That was a very long, very miserable year for me, Mesh’la. I can’t believe you spent so long running from me.”

“It made sense, at the time.” She mumbles, and Wolffe presses a light kiss to her forehead.

“As for me not loving you,” Wolffe says, “I spent a year trying to make you even look at me. Is my love for you really in doubt here?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize.” He kisses her forehead again, “I would, however, like to know who exactly made you cry.” She shoots him a look, “I just wanna talk to them. Really.”

“Right. Talk.” She scoffs, “Since when is ‘talk’ a euphemism for ‘beat them senseless’?”

“Since always.” Wolffe replies, he slips under the blanket with her and draws her into a tight hug, “But I’m much more concerned about the fact that you seem to believe them.”

“I…well…”

“Yes?”

“I’m not pretty, Wolffe. Not compared to some of the women that your brothers date. I’m just…bleh.”

“You’re not just bleh.” Wolffe corrects, “And the fact that I haven’t managed to convince you of this yet makes me a terrible boyfriend.” He leans in and kisses her gently. “How can I convince you to see yourself like I see you?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Slowly Wolffe kicks the blanket off the bed and rolls so that she’s laying on top of him, “I have a pretty good idea.” He teases with a wicked grin, “I know exactly how to make you see yourself like how I see you.”

She stares down at him, startled, and then a slightly flustered look crosses her face as correctly identifies the look on his face.

“Ah, you’re so cute and I love you so much.” Wolffe says with a boyish, lovesick, grin on his face. 

Somehow, she looks even more flustered, “I love you too.”