#it was supposed to be an extra christmas gift for them but i didn't feel like waiting

[systelon]

hi i drew mine n a friend's own guys in sky

[dilf-docs]

Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i two i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

[crsssie]

its the most wonderful time of the year

decorating home/sickfic/civilian!reader || LSS gift for @delphi-shield

Summary: deck the home with warmth and laughter, falalalalalalalala

"Really, Claire. It's fine." You wrap the garland around the porch. "He's busy. I get it."

"Yeah, but it's not really an excuse for it." She mumbles. "I'm sorry, I really did try and convince them."

"It's alright." You sniffle. "I'll just rest up at home. Even if he comes late, it's fine." 

"And you're working up a cold! Ugh. Where's the man of the house when he's supposed to be helping you?" She mumbles. "I'd drop by, but Chris is kind of..."

"It's fine." You laugh. "I'm not dying."

"Are you sure? It's so snowy in the neighborhoods. Isn't the snow stacked up already where you are? And you're out on the porch? Ugh, wish there was an HOA service for shoveling snow off the driveways. They only do the streets." She sighs. "Oh, Chris is calling. Call me if you need anything! Happy Holidays!"

"Happy Holidays." You laugh. "See you around."

You sneeze as soon as the call ends, and you glance at the finished porch. 

Really, it's a shame Leon isn't coming home until a little bit later. It's cold and lonely alone, but you suppose you knew it was coming when you first got married to him.

The ring makes your ring finger feel extra cold. Stupid metal.

You kick the plastic box back inside and shut the door, glancing one last time at the wall of snow that's built up around your porch. Even if Leon wanted to come home, he'd probably have to stay out. No way he would be able to get through all that snow. 

You reach for the mistletoe and get the hook ready, humming slowly to yourself as you twist the hook into the hole as you peel back the tape. A fun little tradition. Most couples walked in together anyway, and on occasion there would be two unfortunate souls. It's not like you were really enforcing it as a rule anyway. You bring a folded chair over to get the final bit of the screw into the door.

The mistletoe glimmers under the houselights, and you step down from the chair after hooking it on.

The front door jingles with the sound of keys, and you spin around with the chair in hand to a sight of a very sweaty Leon and a hole in the snow.

"What— oh, oh my god? What? HELLO? HI?!" You gasp, tossing the chair as your arms find themselves around Leon's neck, and he laughs, squeezing you back. "How did you get here? You're supposed to be back tomorrow? What?!" 

Leon's laugh rumbles through his chest to yours, and he rests his cheek in the crook of your shoulder. "Hi sweetheart."

"Oh my god!" You pinch at his cheek, eyes sparkling as he hums. "Did you dig through the snow? Honey, we're snowed in!"

He glances up at the mistletoe and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

"You were snowed in. Nothing stops a man from getting to his spouse." He hums, raising a brow at the color on your nose. "Have you been sniffling?"

"A little. Just winter chills."

"Oh, sweetheart." He mumbles, hauling you up into his arms as you yell.

"Wait, wait, Leon the chair."

"No. I was about to start on the tree since I finished the porch."

"I'll deal with that later." He hums. "I'll shovel out the driveway too. Did you run up a fever?"

"No, just chills. I'm just congested and sniffly." You hum, and he presses his forehead to yours.

"You're fine. At least you're not burning up. Did you make yourself a cup of tea?"

"Leon, I'll be fine. I just need—"

"I'll get you a cup of tea, light the fireplace, and then you can tell me which ornaments go on the tree." He hums. "I know where the box is. I'm horrible at driving, not cooking."

"I'm shocked you didn't crash the car in the snow."

"Almost did."

"What."

"I couldn't possibly die before I get to see you for Christmas again." He hums.

"And if I get you sick?"

"Then hot tea on the couch for us both with the fireplace and TV on."

"Sounds fun." You sniffle. "Not the part where you get sick, though. I think I'll be fine."

"You want me to get you some ginger?"

You grimace. "...sure."

Leon hands you a glass of tea and bundles you up as he sits on the ground, pulling out ornaments from the box.

"Which ones are you feeling?"

"Shouldn't you shower first?"

"I'm clean, sweetheart. I swear." He hums. "It wasn't a mission this time. Showered at the gym before I came."

You sigh, humming as you press the tea to your lips. "I want the white ornaments."

"A boring white christmas?"

"The house is set up with white and blue this year for some reason. Maybe that's what I'm leaning towards."

"Thoughts on gold?"

"Yes."

"Thoughts on green."

"Too many colors." You hum. "Gold white and blue."

"Sounds good. No silver?"

"No. Need something warm." You hum. "The gold is a nice pop."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." He hums. "You got a placement you want?"

"Nah. Put em where you think they look good."

Leon hangs the ornaments up, the crystal ones he got for each year on display next to them, and the crystal droplets he had made a while back when he had been bored at home over break. Leon does a lot around the house, and it seems he found joy in making things for fun. 

The mug in your hand warms your heart as you watch Leon hang everything up and look back at you for nods of encouragement and hums of approval.

"Look good?"

"Looks wonderful." You hum quietly to yourself. "Nicely done, Leon."

He walks around the couch with the box, not forgetting to lean down and catch a quick kiss before he puts everything back into storage.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Do you want anything for dinner? Did you eat already?"

"I had dinner already." You hum. "Leftovers are in the fridge."

"Alright."

You huddle on the couch and turn the TV on, catching up on a show you had missed out on while decoration, humming as Leon heats the food in the back.

"Food on the couch?"

"As long as you don't stain." You hum, throwing the blanket over his legs as you lean on him. "Anything fun happen at work?"

"Nah. Just the usual. I'm offended the president made me stay behind just to toast me in private."

"It's an honor, honey."

"Yes, but it's the handful of days before Christmas." Leon mumbles. "I'd like to spend time with you for as long as possible before they send me back to the middle of nowhere."

"Fair." You hum. 

"Did you open today's advent calendar?"

You blink at him, and he raises a brow back at you.

"Day... twenty five?"

"Merry Christmas, baby." He laughs, kicking off the blanket and putting his plate of food down. 

He hands you a box, and you raise a brow. "gold bars."

"Guess again."

"Plane tickets."

"God, how the hell do you even guess shit like that?!"

"Plane tickets?!" You gasp, tearing the envelope open as you scream. "Where the hell are you flying us?"

"To your retirement home. It's bingo time for you, sweetheart."

"Leon Scott Kennedy, if anything, you're the one who'll be stuck in a retirement home." You huff. "You and your broken joints."

"It's a box, sweetheart."

"Is it a plush." You hum, opening the box as you gasp. A weighted pokemon?!" 

Leon nods. "Saw you looking at them."

"Did you stalk down my amazon wishlist?"

He averts his eyes, and you laugh. 

"I have a gift for you too, honey."

"Is it a new watch?"

"You might want to check the garage." You kick at the blanket and take your mug with you. Leon stops to wrap the blanket around you before tugging you along with him.

"You got me something to crash again?"

"Maybe." You hum. "You'll live. Your health insurance covers everything."

"Aren't you happy one of us risks our life in our day to day to pay little to nothing for insurance?"

"Fuck, yeah." You hit the lights to the garage as Leon opens the door, and he blinks.

"My bike?"

"Not yours, but the same model and everything. I found it while I was—"

Leon wraps his arms around you, forcing the arm with the hot tea to the side as he takes it from you, letting you wrap your arms back around him. 

"You like it?"

"I love it, baby." He mumbles. "You wonderful thing. Love you so much."

"Love you too." You hum. "I bought full coverage insurance, so they'll replace it if you crash it again."

"God, I think I must've done something better than save Ashley in a past life or something." He mumbles into your skin as you laugh.

"Maybe you were a survivor of war or something." You hum, running your hand through his hair. "You like it?"

"I love it, sweetheart. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Leon."

@leonsecretsanta 2024 ❤️

[blackmoonowl]

𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨

Robert Joseph MacCready x reader

Contents: Your first Christmas out of the vault, and you try to cling to the past with a small celebration with your new wasteland partner.

A/N: This one was late chat, my bad.

"You old people really love your holidays, don't you?"

MacCready leaned against the outside wall of your home, cigarette hanging between his lips. For ten minutes he's been watching your sad attempts at decoration.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up," you grumbled in return as you 'accidentally' let a part of the Christmas lights fall, letting it drop onto his head, knocking his hat down onto the ground.

"Hey! Watch where you're swinging that thing!" MacCready scolded you as he knelt to pick it back up. "Where'd you get that thing anyway? Never seen it before."

"Picked it up while I was searching one of the grocery stores when I was looking for pre-war food," you replied with a smile as you stood on the ladder. "Lucky find."

"Found something actually useful? Could use a few extra caps in my pockets." You rolled your eyes at those words, looking down at him.

"Caps, that's all you ever think about, huh?" You replied, hanging up the rest of the lights.

"Mostly, I also think of you, sometimes." He showed you a cheeky smile, showing off his crooked and messed up teeth, worn down by the wasteland.

"Charming," you replied as you finished, stepping down from the ladder, landing on the ground with a small thud. You looked up at the lights decorating your humble new home. Not all of them worked, but it was better than nothing.

"Can we go inside now? Don't fancy freezing out here." The mercenary wrapped his arm around you, his head on your shoulder with a mildly annoyed expression.

"Oh, stop complaining, Christmas spirit and all that," you teased, gently smacking his hat down in front of his eyes as you walked past him towards your crooked front door.

"Never really had much with Christmas, not like anyone left me a gift," MacCready replied, fixing his hat and trudging behind. "Never had anyone to celebrate with. Well, not anymore, I suppose."

A small frown crept on your face as you rubbed his back. The mercenary's muscles relaxed under your touch, a sigh escaping his lips.

"You have me now... right?" You tried to cheer him up. "I know that doesn't fix anything... but it's something." MacCready didn't reply at first, opening your front door and shutting it after both of you had entered.

You prevented it from going further, your hands planted on his shoulders. MacCready looked at you.

"Sorry, I just..." he rubbed his face with his hand, trying to find the words to explain how he felt.

"Don't apologize, I understand. You've had it rough." You gently grabbed the back of his hand, gently pulling it off his face, wrapping your fingers around his rougher, calloused ones. "I'm just glad you're here."

"Thanks doll, you just know how to make me feel better." It was meant to sound like his usual flirting, but you could hear his emotions brewing beneath the surface as he leaned down to press a swift peck against your lips before pulling back.

"That's it?" You asked with a small smile on your face. You gently grabbed his face with both your hands, pulling him close again so you could kiss him, allowing the moment to linger.

MacCready's eyes lit up slightly despite his complex feelings. He moved his head slightly to kiss the inside of your palm before you pulled your hands away from him.

"Next year we'll celebrate with Duncan, I promise," you finally mumbled, and he nodded.

"Thanks, I'd like that," MacCready replied. There was an awkward moment of emotionally charged silence between the two of you before he spoke again.

"Still so damn cold around here, I'm gonna go get firewood if you make us some decent grub to eat." He grumbled as he tossed his hat onto the table before making his way out the door.

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to make the best Christmas dinner you ever had," you replied, leaning on the old, worn-out couch you had somehow managed to drag into your house.

"That's putting the bar pretty low," he retorted his hand on the doorknob. His brief grin turned into a softer smile. "Still though... thanks, for everything. I really don't deserve you."

"Don't be ridiculous," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest as you shot him a scolding look. "I'd be dead without you, you know?"

"Guess that makes two of us." Was the last thing he said before disappearing out the door, wrapping his arms around himself to keep somewhat warmer. You on the other hand, began searching through your rations. There was leftover Radstag meat with wasteland vegetables like corn and tato's. There wasn't a whole lot to work with, but you were determined. Grabbing old, sharpened knives you scavenged from a vault, you got to work.

As you worked, MacCready walked back in with his arms full of firewood. He dumped it in the makeshift fireplace as he got to work, making a fire.

After rubbing the limited range of wasteland spices into the meat, you put it in an old pot before placing it above the fire, standing next to your partner.

"Smells good," he commented, placing his arm around you. "You might just convince me to like Christmas. Got a gift for me next?"

"Greedy much?" You huffed in response, bumping your hip against his, causing him to chuckle.

"Worth a shot," he hummed, smiling more genuinely now. "You're the best gift I could hope for, though. I've felt more at peace now than I have in years." MacCready walked over to the couch, plopping down and pulling you with him. You let out a small laugh as you were squeezed to his side.

"I mean it," he spoke, leaning on you. "I love you."

Glancing up at him, your smile widened.

"I love you too."

[polkadotsunshine]

It lives up to the hype

An inverted review of I Saw the TV Glow

In 2015, a few days before Christmas break, my friend Heather told me that Undertale, "lives up to the hype." We were on The Bridge in our highschool - a connector between the building with all the classrooms and the building with the cafeteria, gym, and music rooms. The Bridge doubled as the senior lounge; only juniors and seniors were supposed to sit at the tables lining its edges. I thought that rule was stupid. Unfortunately, it didn't really matter what I thought about the rule anymore, since I was already a senior.

I had seen the Steam store page for Undertale but I didn't really know anything about it. I pretended like I knew things about it because I wanted to be someone who knew things about it. She told me that I should play it.

I didn't really know how to act around Heather. I didn't not have a crush on her, but I couldn't sort out my feelings. A year before, an upperclassman dared me to confess my love to her. It was clear to everyone that I was weird around Heather. For reasons irrelevant, completing the dare would earn me cash that I desperately needed and failing to undertake it would result in a loss of extra credit for a class I was in. Confronted with the actual possibility of dating someone, I was too terrified to take the dare.

Nearly a decade later, my mom mentioned Heather in passing, briefly talking about the massive crush she had on our mutual friend Justin, to make some other unrelated point. I felt surprised and stupid that I never noticed her crush in highschool. To be honest, back on The Bridge in 2015, I don't remember if Heather was talking to me. It feels more likely that she was talking to Justin or some other friend sitting nearby and I experienced the conversation through proxy.

I downloaded Undertale to my laptop before I traveled to my grandma's house for Christmas. By saying the game, "lives up to the hype," Heather had communicated two things. First, the game had considerable critical acclaim and popular appeal. Second, the game spoke for itself better than any analysis could. The indirectness of her praise made it feel more true, in the same way you know a movie spoiler is more true if you overhear it between two friends than if someone obnoxiously tells you, "Guess what? He dies in the end!"

In the winter of 2015 I was working on a game of my own. It was a tactics game where each class of units had a unique combat minigame because I found automatic battles boring at the time. When I got to the second combat encounter in Undertale, when I realized each enemy had a unique combat minigame, my mind exploded straight out of my skull. Undertale actualized the goal for my game far better than I ever could, even if I could pull perfect imagination out of my brain and into a computer. Just a few days later, I would beat Undertale, tears streaming down my face.

I loved going to my grandma's for Christmas. I got heaps of presents from 11 extended family members in addition to my normal gifts. I would play with them and my Dad's childhood toys while exploring my grandma's beautifully huge house. My cousins James and Emma, only a couple years older than me and my brother Jayson, would spend the whole time with us. We got to play on their GameCube and, once it came out, their Xbox 360. Jayson and I were usually only allowed to play video games on weekends and for only two hours per week; but at my grandma's, we were allowed to play as much as we wanted. It was the best time of the year. It was a time when things were different.

Unfortunately, in 2015, I didn't like going to my grandma's anymore. James, Emma, and Jayson had all gone to college. I felt like a kid, still playing video games. Our separate table for dinner - the kids table - no longer existed. All 18 of us, long term girlfriends and stay-in doctors included, sat around the same table eating the same food. I didn't like traditional Chinese food, but my mom's insistence that I should be cooked a special meal made me feel worse. I couldn't keep up with everyone's clever jokes and serious questions. I was angry, confused, and I acted out. My family was frustrated with me. So was I. I went back to playing video games, alone.

I used to wake up before sunrise and run around the whole house waiting for James and Emma to wake up. In 2015, I woke up late and I stayed in later. I hid under my blanket and read webcomics on my iPod. I had just started reading some sci-fi comic that had good reviews on Reddit. At the end of the first chapter, the main character peeps through a door crack and watches his sister have sex with another woman. It felt wrong. I must be such a sick pervert to enjoy reading about lesbians. I felt like the brother, watching from the outside. I must be a sick pervert because sometimes I wished that-

I locked myself in the bathroom and didn't talk to anyone.

At the start of Undertale, it prompts you to enter your name. For the first time in my life, I wrote Maya. Each time I died, the game would ask me, plead me, command me to never give up. It would call me Maya and I would try again. I clawed my way to the end of that game and it promised, "Despite everything, it's still you." At the end of the true pacifist route, I walked backwards then forwards through every room in the game and interacted with everything one last time. I beat Undertale, tears streaming down my face.

The next morning was Christmas day. Jayson noticed I had a new iPod background set to a screenshot of Flowey. He expressed surprise that I had done such a thing so soon after beating the game. If it were anything else, I would have defensively walked back my decision, gone silent, and coldly left the room. That same trip, I had reacted this way when Jayson asked about the Vocaloid wallpaper on my laptop. But with Undertale, I was confident. It had lived up to the hype. I knew it was great. I told Jayson, "It's that good."

On Friday, October 11 2024, I found myself saying, "I Saw the TV Glow lives up to the hype." I have sparingly used this phrase over the years to convey my ultimate love for something. I hope that it will spark the same curiosity and confidence that Heather gave me when I played Undertale. Only now, I realize how fitting it is to use this story to describe that film.

Undertale was my Pink Opaques. When real life was a string of shameful dissociated events, I lived through my so-called immature interests in video games and comics. I desperately latched onto anything that was different than my terrible life. Before I became myself, I couldn't imagine being in a relationship because it felt like my heart had been cut out of me. I was dying. Undertale showed me I could be loved and powerful. It showed me that Maya was still me. I Saw the TV Glow parallels these events, understanding me like nothing and no one ever has.

When I finished film, heart palpitations overwhelmed me for an hour. I couldn't speak. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop imagining my life if I had been more like Owen. I heaved deep gulps of air to remind myself what I'd done. I was alive. Twelve hours later I couldn't sleep, so I switched on the lights and began reading Tumblr tags for the movie.

I expected devastated sobs of scattered thoughts, like my own. Instead, I saw reviews from writers who had ample time to sort their feelings. Every post was hopeful. They repeated words I had initially glazed over: "It's never too late." I've never really related to trans stories or experiences until now, but this film has connected me to an entire community of people like me.

The film had asked me, pleaded me, commanded me to never give up. Its passion will live with me, haunting me and empowering me until the day I die. I Saw the TV Glow lives up to the hype.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Santa Clause is Coming to Town: Single Mom Au

Disclaimer: Buckle up, y'all. This is a long one.

Kela: (steps into the house and kicks the snow off her boots)

Blake: Welcome home, sweetheart. (steps out from her office with a book in hand) How was school? Are you excited for holiday break?

Kela: (looks up at Blake with tears in her eyes and sniffles)

Blake: Oh, baby. (immediately tosses her book to the nearest surface that isn't the floor and rushes to Kela's side, kneeling down to look her in the eyes) Honey, what's wrong?

Kela: (wipes the tears from her eyes aggressively and hiccups) T-The kids at school... *sniff - hic* ...they said that Santa doesn't visit Faunus houses. He doesn't visit animals.... Is that true, Mama?

Blake: (blood boils as she pulls Kela in for a hug) Baby girl, absolutely not. You know Santa shows up every year.

Kela: (crying silently into Blake's shoulder) But we're living with Yang now. What if Santa realizes that this house has mostly Faunus? What if he only visited our apartment before because there were a lot of humans there that he didn't want to skip?

Blake: (mentally making a hitlist for children and contemplating if it's a horrible thing for adults to beat the shit out of students as she holds Kela tight and pets her hair)

Yang: (steps in from the garage, oil and grime cover her jeans and work shirt) There's my favorite ladies! (notices Kela crying) Little Fighter, what's wrong?

Blake: Some kids at school told Kela that Santa doesn't visit Faunus houses because they're animals.

Yang: (eyes flash red) Is that so? ......Excuse me. I think I hear my work phone going off in the garage. (steps out into the garage and the sound of a truck engine turning over fills the house before fading away)

Blake: (mentally) Yang, don't do anything stupid.

-A Few Days Later: Middle of the night, Christmas Eve-

Blake: (green, white, and red lights flash across her face through the cracked open door, pulling her groggily from slumber) What in Remnant? (notices Yang's empty side of the bed) Yang?

Thunk! .....Thunk! .....Thunk!

Blake: (follows the noise to the common room and gasps)

The living room has completely undergone a holiday explosion. The tree has more ornaments, garland and lights are strung in bows along the walls, candles and giant decorative candy canes frame the tree, three brand new stockings with Yang, Blake, and Kela written on them are hung up on a hastily constructed mantle, a fake snowman, and all sorts of glittering decorations are trickled around the room with a few extra presents set up underneath the tree. The presents gift tags read "to Blake" and "to Kela."

Yang: (wearing a Santa hat, white tank top, red trousers with a black belt and suspenders, a red Santa jacket is draped over the arm of the couch, and a pair of brand new work boots on her feet as she steps around the room carefully - leaving behind flour footprints with speckles of glitter on the hardwood floor as she slowly backtracks towards the mantle)

Blake: (mostly speechless and in awe) Yang, what is all this? Where have you been? I've had to tell Kela that you were on an important work project. (realizes she's supposed to be angry and props her hands on her hips) You better have a good explanation for why I had to lie to my daughter.

Yang: (beams a smile that's brighter than the sun reflecting on freshly fallen snow) Hey, babe! Sorry about just dipping out for a few days. After hearing Kela say that Santa wasn't going to show up, I had to make a trip to "Santa's Workshop" to pick up some extra decorations and make a chimney.

Blake: (anger fades) .....You did not go buy all these decorations and a fake fireplace just to make Kela feel better...

Yang: What do you think I am? Made of money? No! (finishes backtracking and slips out of her boots, tossing them in the garage, before going over to Blake in her stocking feet) I went to Patch to get some more decorations, hit up the shop to make this mantle and fireplace out of some plywood and concrete, and asked Weiss for a favor.

Blake: (blinks in disbelief) You asked Weiss for a favor?

Yang: (pulls a white envelope with Kela's name written in fancy calligraphy, red wax seal and glitter out of her back pocket) Couldn't write the letter from Santa myself. Kela would recognize my handwriting. (places the letter next to an empty plate and glass on the coffee table)

Blake: (tearing up) I don't know whether I want to slap you or kiss you right now.

Yang: Well (plucks the Santa hat off her head and places it on Blake's head) you could start with a kiss and decide whether or not to hit me after?

Blake: (adjusts the hat so her ears are more comfortable) Or I could give you a special present early~

Yang: (blushes excitedly) Lead the way, Ms. Clause!

[hypegirl1]

Underneath the tree(Rodrick Heffley x

AN:MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS EVERYONE AND HAPPY MEW YEAR,I OWE Y'ALL AN APOLOGY IM SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING 😭 School killed me and I had no motivation to write,but now I'm on Christmas break so be ready!

Summary:Spending Christmas with your bf Rodrick and opening presents,he tells you he has an extra present he didn't gave you yet

TW:Brainrot(i feel like that's a tw) Word count:744

-Come onnn,do it for me Rod,just once,pretty please??

You were trying to convince your boyfriend to match Christmas sweaters with you,they were the typical ugly sweaters that an auntie would get their nieces for Christmas and would force them to wear them,and you weren't the exception today. You bought 2 matching sweaters for you and Rodrick,and even though he was playing hard to convince,you knew that in the end he REALLY wanted to match with you.

+Fine,but just once,alright?

-Yay!You sure look good Mr Handsome

+Whatever you say Ms Claus

He ruffled your hair,he would do that really often,that's how he showed he loved you

+Well,did you liked your presents?

-Of course! What question is that? I even feel bad you got me all of this stuff...

+Come on,don't say that,anything for my little skibidi

-You need to stop watching youtube kids with Manny you know...and don't call me that,it's weird

+Fiiiine,but,as I said,don't feel bad,you also got me a lot of presents!

-Well I couldn't figure out which one you would like more so I just got everything

And it was true,both of you had gotten each other a lot of presents,but at least now you knew what the other one wanted for next year

+Anything would be fine,if you gave me a rock I would still love it

-Don't say that,of course you wouldn't

+Whatever,are you ready to open your last present?

-My last present?But there aren't any more presents under the tree

+Because I have to-

>Y/N!!!Can you help me find Manny? I don't know where he went!

-Coming Greg! Hold on Rod,I'll be back

+Don't worry princess,I'll just go get your present

You went upstairs to meet nobody,didn't Greg just called you?

-Greg?Manny?Where are you guys?

You tried searching around the house but you couldn't find nobody,thinking this was another prank from Greg,you went back to the living room

-Maybe I just imagined it but I swear-oh! Greg! What are you doing here?

>Oh Rodrick told me that he was going to get your present and it was going to take him some time,so you can just go home by now

-Fine,you better behave when I'm not here

>Yes sir!

You gave the younger sibling a warm smile,you picked up your coat and hat,and of course your presents,and left the Heffley's house,it stopped snowing,the neighborhood was covered in a cold white coat,it looked really beautiful. After walking a few roads down the street you finally arrived home.

-I'm home!

~Hi honey,how did it go?what did you got?

-Hey mom,it went good of course,here,check it by yourself

~Oh no no,I was just asking,I don't wanna go over all your stuff,maybe I'll break something

-If you say so,I'll go put this away

~Why don't you go get your present?

-Hmm?Present?what present?I already have yours and Rodrick's presents?

What was your mom talking about?This morning you had received presents from both your parents ans your boyfriend,did your family from other city sent you something?

~Why don't you go check it by yourself?It's under the tree

You put all your stuff away and headed to the living room where the present was supposed to be,and...it was?Under the tree there was a big present wrapped in red and green paper,with a big red bow on top of it and a tag with a poorly written "Y/N",it had a weird shape,you couldn't tell exactly what it was

-Who's this gift from?

~Open it and you'll see

Your mom was trying her best to hide her laugh,but it didn't worked of course,you gave her a weird look before you started to carefully,usually you wouldn't think twice before agressively tearing of the paper from a gift,but it was different this time as there was something off from this misterious present.

You finally removed all the tape that it had,now it was time to open it...it hadn't even been a second before-

+Merry Christmas!

-Aaahh!!!What the?!Rodrick?What is-what are you-why-what is going on?!

+It's me!I'm your Christmas present!

So THAT was the present that Rodrick was talking about...himself

-You scared the living hell out of me,was that necessary?

+Well I just wanted to try and send you a message

-That the best gift I could ask for Christmas is you?

+Yes!You're so smart

He ruffled your hair and proceeded to give you the biggest and warmest hug ever

-Next time,don't scare me to death

+Sorry

Even though,you found this cute,adorable,the best present you could ask for,the love of your life.

[yume-fanfare]

mitsuba's deaths and almost deaths: my ranking!

he has died 3 times in canon, and has had some other close calls in both canon and aus, so it's ranking time! this will of course contain several spoilers under the cut!

CANON DEATHS

number 3: his severance death

this one has a LOT of potential! it had been a while since his last death! he broke into pieces right in front of kou, and just as he was having the most peaceful cutest sleep! was vanishing physically painful? who was more emotionally hurt by it, kou or mitsuba? how did it feel Falling Apart into pieces later? i need to know! but unfortunately we haven't yet gotten an actual severance chapter from their pov, only vague flashbacks. we don't even quite know what natsuhiko told kou and it's haunting me. can we go back to the kou becoming a supernatural plotline please. but anyways yeah this is why it is the worst (in terms of thematic importance and story focus) death to me. need those extra details

number 2: his first death

car accident. when he was buying potatoes. on his mom's birthday. when curry doesn't even actually need potatoes. need i say more. there's even the extra irony in the fact that kou's earring, which he so hates, says "traffic safety" in it. it's simply so perfect. it aligns so well. it's an everyday tragedy, yet it somehow is the cause behind the plot of the entire manga. has led to some of the most heartbreaking official art. like the one where baby kou is holdin g an empty uniform whose owner has vanished into a pile of flower petals. fucked up.

number 1: the death of m1tsuba

PERFECT. SHOWSTOPPING. HE DIED IN KOU'S ARMS!!!

the scene that actually got me Invested in this manga. ive watched it around three hundred times, in the anime, the manga and the musical and it can still bring me to tears. while death number 2 hangs heavier, this one ranks higher for me because it is. a cataclysm. this event seriously changed the trajectory of kou's life forever. HAS THE "this... this isn't you, mitsuba! the mitsuba i know i-is... sassy. girly. sarcastic. selfish. and... and his voice was annoying. obsessed with cameras. went emo sometimes and was only fake-nice. and... and he was my friend!" LINE AND and it cut to the shot of their first meeting as first years but with mitsuba getting up and leaving and! man. it is so good. i wouldn't change a single detail. something important to me... maybe

ALMOST DEATHS (CANON AND NON-CANON)

only the ones i remember off the top of my head and wanted to talk about sowwy

if you have not read any of the aus i mentioned you Definitely should check them out they are SO good!

honorary mention: the times he's (almost) been turned into a mokke

didn't know whether to count this one but i really like it it's so funny. his pyon pyon pink bunny era. the most mokke-coded character. i did cringe a little in that christmas event where his gift was being turned into a mokke because come on. horrors for him again? on christmas? but no one had that great of a time then so ill forgive it

number 5: his transformation into a familiar in hanako-kun of magic

he didn't die at all in this one, yes, but it's supposed to parallel his becoming a supernatural, so it's going into the ranking. it was kind of lame though 😭 ik it was public voting yadda yadda but like it only happened like that to fill aidairo's monthly quota of bad things happening to mitsuba. the alicorn concept and clothes were cute though ill give them that. can we get a colored front-facing ref

number 4: his almost-death in chapter 98

it sucked so bad. like ok. when i was reading the chapter i was not surprised by it at all. this is a horror manga so something bad Had to happen, and like hell he was actually going to die Again in that moment. and it was executed in a really cool way! kou's single page that only had a "SQUELCH" speech bubble was bone-chilling and there is almost a eurydice flavor to the whole fleeing and turning around to see the ghost of the person you love and finding that you're holding Only their hand.

but as much as ive joked about this manga inventing a new level of bury your gays, there Are some unfortunate implications to two boys having a cute date and then immediately almost-killing one off them. (this could indeed also be applied to mitsuba's death in a way too). im usually not too harsh w this stuff because even if the implications are there i have faith that this wasn't quite meant like that.

but ultimately this scene was there only for shock value to end the chapter in a cliffhanger so! not ranked very high

number 4: his afterlife as a mummy in the ghost hotel café

ok we barely have anything on his death here so it's not too high but just those four lines are so funny. guy who owns the land but is too scared to act out on it. is secretly planning on taking over the hotel. has cried when kou bit him. is his pastissier apprentice. i hope he's better at baking than mit2uba is at cooking. the idea of them having a silly afterlife baking together and chasing after each other is so funny i love them

number 3: his youkai transformation in the bakeneko ryokan hanakotei

his most recent almost-death! we don't know much about it yet but it is such a cute concept!!! he turned into a kitty youkai and now works at the hot springs! it's just like spirited away!!!! super invested on this one i want more so badly

number 2: the time he got poisoned in hanako of the opera

chef's kiss! this one is Almost perfect, if only because the number 1 spot is my favorite scene in any manga ever. mitsuba drinks poisoned peach juice and thanks to the subsequent investigation and hanako's intervention, he is able to escape from the oppressive opera environment with kou! but here is the catch: every night, natsuhiko left a glass of juice for him, and mitsuba never once drank it. what changed this time? why did he drink it? well, the one who left the juice and poisoned him was not natsuhiko, but kou. did mitsuba know? kou. poisoned mitsuba, who in this au is his Childhood Friend. to see if, by taking him out of the opera, he'd be able to help him regain his love of music. and mitsuba willingly drank the poison. probably knowingly. he trusted kou not to kill him. and then they elope. there are sooo many levels to this one i love it

number 1: chapter 48, picture perfect arc

EVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR THE BEST ROMANCE EVER!!! SHOWSTOPPING!!!! BREATHTAKING!!! NO ONE DOES IT LIKE THEM!!!

it's so perfect. the way the the page where kou jumps off the building is angled and composed so that the panels themselves are falling with them too. kou's promise. the way he literally jumped off a building just to have a chance to understand mitsuba better. and then they'd work their way back to life together! it gets me every time. no one does it like them. i love them so much. <333

and that is all, thanks for sticking by!

but how about YOU guys? what is Your favorite mitsuba death? how would you change my ranking? im always up for talking about mitsuba!

[creator-of-bs]

Christmas and Autism

Christmas is dreading the whole holiday from months away.

Christmas is spiraling into dark mental places due to the extra stress.

Christmas is hating yourself for being such a downer and ruining this fun and festive time for everyone.

Christmas is taking a one-hour detour to deliver some cabbages to your parents, only to be yelled at for something entirely unrelated thing which you forgot to do two weeks ago.

Christmas is hating receiving presents, and hating the forced reactions of the people whom you gifted something, because you didn't know what to get them. You can't read people's minds, and asking them what they want is rude.

Christmas is locking yourself in the upstairs bathroom of your grandparents' place, but leaving the lights off in order to avoid being seen and praying that no one will come to check up on you, because you know for a fact that the panic attack you're having would have you written off as an attention whore.

Christmas is feeling such visceral hatred for the people who are supposed to be closest to you, and then hating yourself for believing you're a bad person because you feel this way.

Christmas is my least favorite holiday, yet every year I choose not to abandon it out of fear that doing so would degenerate me more. I've been hard-wired to believe that taking two steps back from tradition is going to be the end of me, and I'm so genuinely frightened by the thought that I do things which I know are extremely bad for me.

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3792

merry crismis

it's crismis!

merry crisis

merry chrysler

today was a damn good day.

i did wake up early because we were supposed to start doing stuff before 9:30, but i woke up early enough to talk to leo for a while. that was nice.

i eventually got up and threw on a bra and robe and made my way downstairs. of course the lights were on and everything was exactly as i left it last night since i was the last one up (as per usual), but it was daylight and i was less sleepy so that was good.

i went to bother chels and james when they didn't show up at 9:30, and they made their way out to the living room and we dove right in.

we always start with stockings first, and so i got up to hand them out from their location on the stairs. the additions to them in terms of stuff i got when i went out last night were exactly what were needed. beef jerky for chels, a giant kitkat for james, macadamia nuts for mom, goobers for dad. of course, when i got stuff for myself i just got a couple things because i didn't need a whole lot, but i wanted to spoil everybody else because they all have different tastes and it's nice to spoil them.

gifts went well! i got mom a potato ricer, a mug warmer, a new mount for her phone for her car, and a planner. james i gave fleece lined beanies with lights built in and a waterproof bluetooth speaker. chelsea i gave cowtales and a sticker of caitlyn from arcane as a mongoose, and i gave my papa a book about the production of a war movie that he likes.

i received a BUNCH of woobles kits that i wanted and a few extra accessories (yay!) from papa. mom got me a new northeastern sweatshirt because at some point in the last year and a half i lost my original one. but momma got me an identical one and i was so pleased to receive it. and the gift i got from chelsea and james was both hilarious and perfect:

a rice cooker.

a month ago or so, chelsea and i were making dinner. i'm fairly certain it was stir fry, so we had to make rice. but we've been the people who use a regular-ass pot to cook rice on the stove like normal, i guess. but i looked at this, and i said to chelsea, "how white does our family gotta be to not have a RICE COOKER." and she laughed because it's both hilarious and true.

and so she and james got me a rice cooker.

so now we have a rice cooker.

and it's fucking awesome.

after we finished with our gifts, i went and showered and got dressed and put on my new sweatshirt (which fits perfectly). i got myself together and i grabbed a big box at the table that had gifts for aunt wendy and gramma in it, and mom and i headed to manchester.

aunt wendy is a little bit miserable being back at gramma's since she's sleeping in gramma's den because it's the only place aunt wendy can sleep sitting up. but we brought the gifts over and were there while they opened stuff. mom and i made a christmas quilt and we gave it to aunt wendy. she loves it.

every year mom gets aunt wendy a snow globe from the san francisco snow globe company. it's a tradition from their dad who passed in 2001. it happens every year. and every year they both cry. christmas was grampa's favorite holiday, so it's tough on them.

but gramma gave me some gingerbread cookies which i'm thoroughly addicted to (the recipe is 302 years old, homie. this shit's been like crack cocaine for generations), but this time she made them into piggies!! they were delightful. what a great shape for a gingerbread cookie.

after being there for maybe 20 minutes, mom and i had to leave again. she was NOT feeling good, and being in gramma's company drains her quickly. so we headed back home.

the rest of the afternoon consisted of playing uno show em no mercy (which mom has dubbed "uno mega kill" because she can't remember the name), eating cookies, and watching battle bots. eventually i got up to make dinner.

yesterday i made the executive decision to make chicken taco salad for dinner. it was the right call.

i cut the chicken first, into little pieces that were often too big, but i had so much that i had to cut and cook in batches. thankfully, one batch took the same time to cook as the next batch did to cut. i started with putting the salsa into a crock pot, turned it on high, and then as the chicken got cooked, i dumped it right in to keep it hot and cook it together.

when that was all done, it was time for the ultimate gift:

the rice cooker.

i pulled it out, washed it and dried it all, and then got to making the mexican rice. the packages filled just over three times of the little cup that it came with. filled it with water to the line, plugged it in, pressed the buttons, closed the lid. and away it went. fucking superb.

i left the slow cooker and the rice cooker on the stove while i went and talked to my sister who showed me her gifts and stuff. i went back and forth between the kitchen, the eggs' space, and the living room. it took about half an hour to finish totally, which gave the chicken enough time to get salsa juice, cook the rice completely, and then get some beans heated up.

dinner was perfect. and there was so much choke i cooked that there's PLENTY for leftovers. james, chels, and dad will be very happy with their leftovers. there's enough of all of it.

i did, however, fuck up when cleaning the rice cooker, but i fixed it by disassembling it further lmao. i put it back together without issue.

after cleaning up after myself, i grabbed some stuff from my car and came upstairs. i watched an episode and a half of ncis with mom and moved my shit into my room.

i checked in with joel while i was cooking dinner. he's been chillin. i'll probably see him on friday, which will be nice. but that means i gotta wrap all the gifts i have for him and his family, since their christmas is saturday.

and all day i've been talking to leo. leo, who is as incredibly sweet as he is incredibly horny, is simply very cute. i am planning on seeing him next week for the standard sleepover, complete with vidya games, drinking, dinner, dick, and diner food in the morning. it's a great arrangement, but i wish i had more money so i could see him more often. he's one of my very best friends and i love hanging out with him.

but that leads us to now. i am in bed, my eyes are tired, and i have to get up at a stupid hour tomorrow because we have someone coming to deal with our heating. at 8am. which is rude.

but that's all. merry crimbo to all and to all a happy hanukkah and happy kwanzaa. :)

[apprenticestanheight]

Never Again, and Never By Choice - Chainshipping

okay!! two days into july and I'm posting the fic that was supposed to come out in June but didn't bc I also happened to learn how to make hexagon cardigans in june and that pretty much mostly swallowed me whole. I'm taking a break from crocheting, however, until I can find a job and buy loads of yarn ahead of needing to make people christmas gifts and the like, so hopefully this month will genuinely be productive.

Fic type - this is a balance between fluff and hurt/comfort that tilts more in the

Warnings - there are a few mentions of sex and sex related things! Enough are in the fic for me to say that this fic is for an audience of 18+, minors do not interact! Some of (most, if not all) occur in tandem with references to weed, and a lot of the fic deals with weed use, including using weed to self medicate for things like anxiety. There are also depictions of PTSD symptoms and some are talked about in depth or mentioned a few times, like Adams fear of the water being so bad that he can't get himself to shower unless he follows a hyperspecific routine. Adam is v e r y knowledgable about the things he uses to self medicate so there are some specifics about the weed type he usually smokes, and this differs from canon in that gabriela doesn't die and john is at least alive until 2006-ish. strahm also survives, as does lynn, mark, and amanda.

When Amanda rescues Adam from the trap, the initial feelings are confusion and anger. He'd not known it was her until the memory hit him a weeks out from his time in the hospital, and by then, the confusion and the anger had shifted into resentment. Not particularly at his circumstances or at her, but at John Kramer, at life as a whole.

They're stupid things to be angry about, even if one is entirely justified. How he manages to be pissed off at life, at the world, over the actions of another person, mystifies him for a long time.

He keeps his anger at John under wraps even after he's agreed to become one of Johns apprentices, one of Jigsaws disciples. It's boiling, it'll burn you if you touch it and it'll scald you if you dare even think about getting too close, but he lets it dull into a simmer as the years go by.

His anger, his spite, and the money John provides him for the photos he takes are enough to make him let his anger turn into something less than it was initially, and in late December, when he finds himself reeling after taking a photo of a headless body in Mexico, he wonders why he does it.

There's, of course, the obvious answer--each job he does gets him around $500, and the most recent of the lot came for double the price plus the remainder of the cost of Gabrielas plane ticket. The condition was, Adam flew down to Mexico and first talked to Gabriela, tried to convince her to join their mission. When it'd worked, Adam bought her the last available ticket on his flight back to Jersey and was met with $1000 wired to an offshore bank account that Adam would transfer directly to his regular bank a day or two after once again arriving on Jerseys shores.

All in all, taking a few photos and dropping them at the local police station while wearing nondescript clothes, not speaking a word, and shrinking in on himself in a way that made him look like your average Joe to the cameras that were undoubtedly watching had yielded just barely more than $1100.

Thanks to a couple extra sets of hands--namely, Detective Mark Hoffman, Agent Peter Strahm, Amanda Young, Lynn Denlon, and Lawrence fucking Gordon himself--things were quick, and Adam was making a decent amount of money by doing the jobs John had given him every week-ish, if not every three or four days.

John chose the people, Amanda, and Hoffman abducted them, Lynn and Strahm set up the traps, and Lawrence handled the medical side of said traps. Gabriela had started with helping setting traps up initially but had since been the one who recorded the casette tapes of that stupid fucking puppet, and Adam had been the one who took the photos from the beginning.

All in all, Adam didn't totally hate his role in it--it meant, while he'd occasionally brush hairs with Amanda, Hoffman, Strahm or Lynn, he'd never really seen or talked with Lawrence.

He misses Lawrence like hell, if he's being honest with himself, but--it's better they don't talk.

Not until at least a bit of time has passed, even though Adam is a little miffed at the idea of reaching out to Lawrence on the anniversary of one tragedy to be like "hey, old friend! Remember when we spent nine hours in a bathroom together, right before you sawed off your own foot and crawled away, leaving me for dead? Amanda stole my shirt from evidence and even though I've washed it, the bloody handprint you left stained the shirt and I entirely lack the heart to put some peroxide or bleach to an otherwise perfectly good piece of clothing." Which would, in the process, be a direct reminder of another.

He doesn't see Lawrence, and he only acknowledges that he misses him on the nights he chooses to be honest with himself or the days wherein he chooses the same.

Adam just--he does what John needs him to do. He takes the money John gives him after a job, makes sure he has enough to make the rent of the crappy apartment he lives in, and he makes sure he has groceries that will feed him and keep him full.

Gabriela occasionally tags along on the jobs, and all that to say brings him to the very beginning of September 2005. It's the first day of the month, Gabriela has decided to tag along because she's finished setting up the traps for the insurance broker they're going to put through the ringer after the traps have been tested a few times, and she's keeping Adam company because she's one of the four or five people he talks to in his day-to-day, and she's apparently worried.

She's talking about how Lynn needed her to help because Strahm had been busy with Mark cleaning up the messes that they, as the apprentices, left behind. Adam is zoning in and out as he snaps one photo after the next, all of which pertain to the crime scene and all of which will be dropped off at the nearest police precinct once they've developed fully.

He knows he has to visit John today, too--John wants to have a chat, apparently. He's having these little chats with everyone, which is something Adam picks up from Gabriela at a point in their interactions when he's zoned in. He'd started with Amanda, then went to Lawrence, then to Strahm and Lynn and then to Gabriela. She'd joked he was saving the best for last and skipping the worst, like a parent refusing to acknowledge the child they'd silently disowned.

It's when she brings up Lawrence that he brightens up like a goddamned Christmas tree--his ears and cheeks go lightly pink with embarrassment as soon as he's registered the way that his head snaps up when his name falls off her lips.

"Amanda and Lynn were talking about it," she says when she notices his face. "Lynn joked that the two of you needed couples therapy. You two haven't talked since Lawrence left you, and--Amanda thinks it's killing you piece by piece. She's right, isn't she?"

Gabriela is only ten months younger than he is, and while he appreciates having an apprentice in their little group who's about as close in age to him as she can get, it's not always the best thing for his mental health.

"You too?" He asks. "And I thought hearing it from Amanda, Lynn, Hoffman, and Strahm every other damn day was bad enough. Now you're in on it?"

He takes the last photo and pivots on his feet, heading for the exit as Gabriela laughs.

"You two do have something weird going on," she says.

"How can we?" Adam rebuts. "It's been four years, almost, and we haven't spoken at all."

"Thats what it is," Gabriela responds. "It's that--you care about him, clearly, or at least enough to think of him once every week. Lawrence, though, he does care, too. He's apparently more vocal about his caring than you are, but Amanda says he's always been the more open type. She says he's "less apt to have reservations about the people he works with, and he lets his feelings just exist in the open.""

Adam laughs. "That sounds nothing like him," he wonders, for a minute, if he really has the authority to say something like that. He hasn't talked to Lawrence in four years just about, even if he has thought about him multiple times a day, every single day, since they last spoke.

"Well--Amanda wanted me to tell you his new phone number is in the phone book," she says. "If you wanna give him a call, maybe give him a few minutes of your time to ease both your mind and his."

Adam shakes his head. "You headin' back around to your hotel? I gotta pay John a visit and then get these photos printed and developed. How much longer til you get to head back to your place?"

"The hotel stay is for the next two days, while they clear the infestation out of the units. I'm gonna grab some food and then go to the hotel, all this walking has made me hungry."

Adam snorts. "You need a ride? Your hotel is like, ten minutes east of Johns place."

She shakes her head, but hugs him anyway. "Thank you," she says. "But I'm gonna walk the way to the restaurant, build up more of an appetite and then get something good for supper."

He hugs her back, lets himself acknowledge just how much he's needed her friendship these past few years. She's kept him sane for a good bit, and without her, he's half sure he'd have killed himself by now.

They go their separate ways, Adam going to his car and heading to Johns while Gabriela went to grab food and then go home.

Johns place is also, coincidentally, Amandas place. He's living in her apartment and she's taking care of him in the last of his days. Adam suspects Johns not got long left, and he knows that this visit could very well be their last.

John is, surprisingly, well enough to be sat up in his wheelchair. He's got a black jumper on that looks to be a few sizes too big, and what of his hair remains has gone completely white. His eyes are pale, his skin the same color, and generally, John looks like what he is, someone fast-tracking it on the highway to hell.

"I thought it important to have you here to discuss this arrangement," John says. He invites Adam further into the room--he's leaned against the door, while John is sat by his desk and in front of the window, curtains open to a surprisingly sunny day while Jersey rides out the coattails of summer.

Adam steps in, walking until he can sit in the desk chair to Johns left. John tells him to do so, and he does.

"You and I have an arrangement that allows you to be given a certain amount of money for every job you do," he says. "If you weren't lying to me when you told me the time you'd handle doing said job today, you should've just arrived from having finished up there. I have arranged through the correct, most trusted of my channels to ensure that our arrangement can continue for half a decade, at minimum, after my passing, on one condition."

Adam has the decency to fight his grimace, even though he loses.

"Don't worry, Adam," he says. "It doesn't mean you'll be getting any more involved with things than you already are. It, actually, pertains to your trap-mate, Lawrence Gordon."

Adam shakes his head. "Whatever it is, I can always find something different to do other than what I've been doing."

"Adam, I'm not asking for much," John says in that diplomatic tone that used to make Adam punch-a-hole-in-the-wall type angry. It's eased into a scream-into-a-forest level anger, though not by too much as the years have passed them both by. "Just--call him. It's been four years since, almost. Amanda and I have tried time and time again, but he's convinced we're as deluded as he is. He thinks you're dead."

"Almost was," Adam says before he can stop himself. "I mean--could you not have sent Amanda in before I'd been stuck in the dark for a week?"

"We're all entitled to our mistakes from time to time," John shrugs. Adam has the brain to hate that remark--people who've dared make mistakes in his line of sight, even ones so minimal as smoking a cigarette while leaned against an alley wall, have died or been severely maimed for it, but John gives himself the courtesy to make a mistake like it's nothing. Typical. "Call him. I have no method of verifying that you'll have called by the end of my life, but if you lie to Amanda, she'll know and she'll tell me you lied to her."

Adam purses his lips. Of course Amanda would know he's not the greatest liar.

"I'll call," Adam resents how quick he is to give in, but he needs the money. That money has his rent paid off in full within the first two weeks of the month because of how frequently traps are coming and going, how many new victims John has within a week despite only having maybe a hundred survivors in total, less than 1/3rd of that group willing to tell their tales.

John smiles knowingly. "I know you will," he says. "Have you yet moved out of your apartment? The one with the cockroaches?"

Adam sighs. "Workin' on that," he says. "My buddys gonna let me sublet his place starting on the one year anniversary of the trap, he's moving down to LA so that he can try to legitimise his band or something like that--I'm assuming I won't be put back in chains for admitting I hadn't really listened when he offered to sublet his 1000 a month apartment for less than half the cost."

John shakes his head. "You have a good rest of your day, Adam," he says. "The payment for todays job will get to you by the end of this week."

Adam gets up, leaves the apartment and drives back home. One part of him wants to shower the odd feeling off of himself as he gets into his car, but he knows he can't do that without having a breakdown. It's been four fucking years of not being able to do it without losing his mind, why would it be any different that time around?

--

A few days later, the night before the four year anniversary of their trap, Adam calls. Lawrence picks up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey," Adam greets tiredly. It's seven and he's prepping a bowl so that he can smoke, jerk off til the memories blur and it's Lawrence he's thinking about, then eat half of the oreos in the sleeve he'd picked up from the convenience and conk out at around 10:30 only to wake up, still high but reeling from a nightmare at around two in the morning. "Uh--this is Adam Stanheight. I found your number in the phone book."

"Adam," Lawrences voice sounds relieved. Incredibly so. "Hi. It's been a bit."

"Four years, thereabouts," he says. "Look--I was thinking, maybe we could grab dinner or something? I've gotta move into my new place tomorrow and get that stuff sorted, but if you want, there's a couple good spots around ten minutes out from it by foot."

"Yeah," Lawrence nods. "Tomorrow works--give me a place and I'll meet you there for eight?"

"I was thinking Lilahs--it's a great, sit-down style restaurant that has deals on most of their menu all the time. My mom knows the owner and I've eaten there a few times, it's really good food. I dunno if you drive, but I can pick you up if you need me to."

"I drive," Lawrence says. "Lilahs?"

"Lilahs Diner," Adam nods. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, at eight?"

"You most certainly will."

Adam licks his lips, finishes prepping his bowl and scrounges around his jeans pocket until he finds the lighter as he waits for Lawrence to speak again.

"Adam, are you still there?"

"Don't tell me you've got more to say?" He wants Lawrence to have more to say, but the sarcasm is easier than not these days. "Go ahead, if you do. Spit it out."

Lawrence laughs, and Adam swallows thickly--it sounds like it comes out easy, like he's laughed so much and found so much joy in things since their trap that none of it is difficult for him anymore.

"It just--it's really good to hear your voice, is all. I've missed it, and I've missed you."

"Damn you, Lawrence," he laughs dryly. "It's seven o'clock on a Saturday night and I'm trying to prep a bowl, but you and your sentimental ass are gonna make me cry where I stand in this kitchen."

"Well, I can't help it," Lawrence answers simply. "I'm a sentimental ass from time to time. Are you helping John still? I hear whispers about it from Amanda on occasion."

Adam snorts. "Yeah, lets not talk about that on the phone. I'll have to smoke two bowls if we do, and even though I'm going to have to smoke two anyway, I'd really rather space them out by at least six hours so that I have time for the first high to wear off."

Lawrence laughs again. Adam has a terrifying moment, a terrifying thought, that he could drown in the sound of it and die happily in the process.

"All right," Lawrence says. "Tomorrow night. Lilahs Diner. Eight on the dot."

Adam nods. "Tomorrow night, Lilahs, eight," he says. "Goodbye, Lawrence."

He hangs up before Lawrence has the chance to respond, grabs his bowl and his lighter and heads out onto his fire escape.

He smokes, jerks off until the memories blur and all he can think about is how Lawrences hands would feel draped against his hips, holding them loosely, and falls asleep for half past midnight, after he's eaten the entire oreo sleeve and somehow managed to cook a frozen pizza successfully and subsequently, eaten it in it's entirety.

-

For the first time in four years, Adam wakes up after getting eight hours of sleep, which does mean eight hours of nightmares, but he decides he's fine with it as he brushes his teeth, narrowly avoiding getting his hands wet because the fear of water is at it's worst when he's fresh off of a night like that one.

He spends his morning getting what little of his life he didn't donate or take to the dump into his car, putting the total of four boxes and two heavy weight garbage bags worth of clothes into the backseat of his car and the trunk.

His mother gives him the couch his father had hated and Scotts left behind a tv, coffee table, rocking chair and all of his bedroom furniture because they weren't his taste, so all Adam has to do is change the sheets on the mattress to his own and wash and donate the other ones.

All in all, Adam is getting way more than he deserves out of that apartment even though he knows Scott probably thinks he'll sell most of it. He has no plans to sell most of it, though, and it's a hell of a lot more than he'd thought he'd be getting for a two bedroom priced at $350 a month.

He runs his only decent pair of black jeans and an appropriately casual button down through the wash once he figures out how the washer works, spends most of his day outside of that tidying up, unpacking the four boxes he'd brought along and making lists of things to grab in the coming weeks.

The list is mostly menial stuff--a few new pots and pans because the last set he'd owned had been older than he was, a few more mugs to compensate for just how lonely the Nespresso Scott had left behind looked sitting on the counter, some new bedding and a few books to fill up the bookshelves Scott had left either half empty or completely bare bones.

Come half-six, Adam goes through the motions of showering--it's a whole step-by-step process he's created over the years, a tried and true method that's been perfected as the time has gone on, though not always successful in the avoiding-a-breakdown part. He's out of the shower for around 7:20, spends the next twenty minutes taking a 1mg edible and waiting for it to kick in.

One milligram is so menial that it almost does nothing, except it does have it's pros--it takes just enough of the edge off for Adam to not loathe social interaction and for him to feel comfortable enough in his skin to not want to crawl out of it at the smallest inconvenience.

It takes the edge off in a way that makes him certain he'll be as close to normal as he was five years beforehand, a little standoffish and more than a little sarcastic, but well meaning and well mannered enough considering his traumas.

He leaves the house at 7:45 and is at Lilahs with five minutes still to spare.

Lilahs is exactly what it sounds like--a family owned, sit-down style restaurant. It caters to the lower-budget families and individuals in the broader Jersey area, and it's been Adams favorite spot to eat since it initially opened when he was sixteen.

It's got a rustic kind of feel to it--the hardwood flooring has been washed to a dark but-not-yet-black kind of brown colour, and the tables and seats match. There's local artwork hung up on the walls, a jukebox that feels so nineties it hurts and has exclusively 90s country and rock to match, and a bar at the back with a smiling bartender behind it.

Adam has a second where he remembers the last happy memory he has with his mother, her taking him to eat dinner there the night before he was kicked out by his father at seventeen.

The memory is quickly soured by the bitterness he'd felt the next day, grabbing everything he could fit into his backpack while his father screamed at him and his mother stood by his door, her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face. His father was a shit person, but his mother wasn't the greatest either, even if it's tough to remember as much when there are more positive memories than not. He's low-contact with her now too, something he's only been able to find peace with since she told him of her divorcing her father and mellowing out of her bitterness at him in the past little while.

Everything changes when he spots Lawrence, though--he's sat in a booth near the back, and he looks so good that Adam bounce\s between gobsmacked and jealous like he's sitting on alternating ends of a see-saw depending on the second.

His hair, though less blonde, has grown out just enough to be attractive to a point where Adam, dimly, feels woozy. He's cleaned up good--no stubble lines his face, though Adam knows he'd still be able to pull it off some-fucking-how, and he's dressed as close to casual as a person like him can get.

He's wearing a white button down with the top few buttons unbuttoned just enough to let his neck breathe, and the sleeves have been rolled up relaxedly to his elbows. He hasn't seen Adam yet, and Adam takes in what appears to be a mostly peaceful expression.

Adam makes his way over and slides into the seat across from him, smiling gently. "Hi," he greets.

Lawrences face breaks out into a grin. Adam wishes he'd agreed to meet with Lawrence four years earlier.

"Hello," he greets. "Been a while."

Adam nods. "Too long," he doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out, and fuck it if it isn't how he feels. "I'm sorry--I wanted to reach out, and I've been wanting to reach out for the last four years, but it was just too much. I couldn't deal with it at first. I still have trouble dealing with it."

There's the edible--making him a bit honest, a bit more willing to open up. He knows Lawrence won't pry too much, but is scared that, if he does, Adam will soften up like butter and say everything on his mind. The good, the bad, and the ugly all the same.

Lawrence shakes his head. "You don't owe me an apology," he says. "But--Amanda told me how long you'd been left to rot for, and I'm sorry about that. Nobody should ever be left in the dark that long." It was a week, but it'd felt like a year.

"You didn't leave me in the dark," Adam responds. "John did that, and he pays me so I think he's exempt from feeling guilt-- he probably thinks he is, too."

It makes Lawrence laugh, and Adams heart flutters in a way he chooses to ignore.

"So how've you been?" Adam asks, finally getting to a question that's at least a little easier to answer, a topic that doesn't hurt nearly as much to talk about.

"I've been good," Lawrence responds. "Things have been finalized for a bit, and I see my daughter two weekends a month and on holidays. I've had time to sort my shit out, start in therapy, and I like where things are in my life. You?"

Adam blinks--the last four years of his life have been shit.

"I've--it's--damn it, Lawrence," he laughs. "You sound so put together compared to me. I hit thirty next month and still, my life is shit. I just moved into a new apartment and therapy hasn't even been on my radar because I don't have insurance."

"I've been doing EMDR," Lawrence says. "It's designed to help you recover from trauma, and--I hate to say it because I was skeptical at first, but it's been a really big help."

Adam nods. "I'll keep that option on my radar," he says.

It's at this point that a waitress comes around, passes them menus and brings their odd small talk to a halt.

There comes a point, while they're looking at the menus, wherein Adam starts up with something sarcastic about John. In the end, he's glad for it because making the remark is like breaking a dam and watching the floodgates open, because that's all it takes for them to be like they were in the bathroom--Adam being sarcastic and Lawrence responding in kin.

The rest of the dinner follows that same formula. Adam is quick to settle into an almost abrasive kind of sarcasm and Lawrence is quick to respond in a way that makes Adams heart damn near rise out of his chest.

They're done with dinner at half past nine, and Lawrence offers to drive Adam home but Adam declines, wants to walk himself home so that he can conk out without thinking too much about Lawrence or how the dinner had gone.

And that he does--he gets home for quarter to ten, is out by ten thirty thanks to the edible finally doing what it does best.

-

A few days go by, and suddenly, it's the end of the week. Lawrence is spending the night at Adams because Adam has convinced him to smoke a joint with him, and Adam is thrilled by the prospect of seeing Lawrence stoned out of his mind.

"These joints are indica dominant," Adam explains. "They'll make you tired--they're like a superpowered melatonin, almost, if melatonin got you so stoned that you genuinely stopped believing time was real. These bad boys help me with nightmares more often than sativa. I'm not usually one for joints, but I figure this is either your first time ever indulging in weed or your first time in more than a decade, so joints would be easiest."

Lawrence smiles in a way that Adam can tell indicates Lawrence didn't expect him to be so knowledgeable about his self medication of choice, and the notion almost makes him laugh.

"A joint also takes longer to smoke, and edibles are torturous if getting high right out the gate is your game," Adam continues. "Edibles take anywhere from fifteen minutes to half an hour before they've kicked in, and I hate the waiting game unless i'm walking somewhere or have something to do. It makes me antsy, and then when the high does hit it doesn't flow naturally. For me, taking an edible without having something to do between here and there is one of the most frustrating things I've ever dealt with because the high just--it smacks me across the face when I've got nothing to do, nowhere to go, and am just sitting in front of my TV waiting."

Lawrence says nothing. Adam continues rolling the joint and rambles all the while.

"Joints, though? I don't really find they hit while I'm smoking 'em, but the second I step off the fire escape and come inside, they hit me whip quick. Bowls tend to have the same effect, but unlike bowls, joints keep me asleep longer. I haven't gotten a full eight hours of sleep without a full eight hours of nightmares in four years, but with a joint, I can sometimes nab eight hours and get two without nightmares when I get lucky."

They head out onto the fire escape, and Adam takes the first puff for the sake of mercy. When Lawrence takes the second, he coughs. Adam laughs, rubs his back and moves to sit with his back leaned against the rickety railing, across from Lawrence, who sits with his back leaned against the window that leads to the fire escape.

"Coughing happens," he says. "And the burn in your throat sucks, but I'll get you some water once we've smoked our way through the joint, and it'll help."

They smoke the joint in it's entirety, which ends with Adam laughing when he burns his fingers taking the last puff. However, Lawrence makes no move to go inside, just stares at the bleary mid-Septembers night sky with his mouth slightly open and his shoulders slumped.

"What's on your mind?" Adam asks.

"When John goes, do you think you're going to keep up with it?"

"I'll keep taking the photos until I either get caught or the money runs out," Adam says. "I've barely started to get my life together and I'm almost thirty, Larry. Unethical as this all might be, I've gotta pay rent for the next few years, and while I've been looking at getting my GED and going to college, college will put me so far in debt that I'm somewhat scared I won't be able to climb out of it."

"But don't you hate it?" Lawrence asks, meeting Adams gaze. His eyes meet Adams with a ferocity, the likes of which Adam has never seen in his life, but craves more of like it's one of the cigarettes he used to hold so dear. "I don't understand how you don't hate any of this."

Adam laughs before he can stop himself, crab-walks closer to Lawrence and rests his feet against Lawrences calves.

"I do," he says. "I hate John, I hate what he does and everything he's stood for since his diagnosis and quite possibly even beforehand, but--it's a job. I hated the stalking, but I still did it because I needed the money. This, for me, is no different. One payment every week-ish, I make rent in half the time it would've taken me to make it this time five years ago, and I still have money for groceries and other expenses. I hate it, but this is the first time I've lived in true comfort since I was a kid with a father that hadn't started hating me yet. I take it where I can get it, Lawrence."

"A person starved will eat anything," Lawrence says. "You've finally gotten a taste of luxury--"

"It's not luxurious by any means," Adam laughs. "Sorry to cut you off, but I've never lived like that. I went from a home with termites and a father owned by his bitterness to a variety of cockroach infested couches, then to an apartment so full of the fuckers you could hear them running through the goddamned walls. This place is the first decent place I've lived in throughout the course of my entire life, and yeah, the buddy whose subletting it to me left a lot of his shit behind, but he's an asshole without much care for me unless I can be of use to him, so it seems a fair trade to me."

Scott was his best friend for a time, had been such since elementary through to when he dropped out of high school and up until the trap. After Adam had escaped, he'd become so riddled by his trauma that it took him over, practically, for those first two years.

Scott had decided he'd not much wanted to deal with all of Adams baggage and had gone pretty low contact up until he'd decided to move, figuring Adam could use his old place after being stuck in the same apartment he'd been taken from.

It'd been one of the only things Scott had been completely and totally right about on a very short list of other victories, and Adam had been grateful for it from the get-go despite knowing his and Scotts conversations wouldn't likely be about more than the rent or random issues with the apartment he couldn't fix on his own, seeing as Scott was pretty much his landlord.

"Well--it's a nice place," Lawrence says.

"Yeah," Adam shrugs. "Back to the topic at hand, why ask? Are you not going to keep up with it? Keep doing it? I thought you'd believed in Johns mission."

Lawrence laughs. "It's complicated," he says. "I mean--the idea of it is understandable, I guess. The morals are questionable at best and despicable at worst, but I just don't know how ethical the execution is."

Adam moves further up, resting his feet against Lawrences thighs while making sure to not put his full weight on Lawrences right leg for the fear of irritating the stump one way or another.

"We get stoned and wind up talkin' about John Kramers ethics, hm? That's quite the interesting turn of events."

Lawrence shrugs. "I'm not going to have this conversation with anyone except for someone I can trust completely," his hands rest limply by Adams calves. Adam can tell by the flash of desire through Lawrences eyes that he wants to tug Adam closer.

Adam gets as close as he thinks Lawrence will be comfortable with--he sits in his lap, bends his knees and plants his feet by Lawrences hips. Lawrence seems entirely too happy to use Adams kneecaps as elbow rests, and he does.

"First off, you sayin' you trust me completely like that is--woah," Adam laughs before he can stop himself. As he laughs, he lets his arms find their resting places on Lawrences broad shoulders. "And secondly, I don't think the execution is ethical whatsoever. Matter of fact, if we're talkin' about how ethical this stuff is, it's the opposite. It's not ethical. I heard Amanda talking about putting a diabetic and a smoker in a trap last weekend. I wouldn't do that to a person just because they smoke cigarettes, but that's just me. To each their own, I guess."

Lawrence smiles. "I've been thinking about this for so long," he says. "Not--not this specifically, but just--oh my God. I've missed you a lot this past little bit."

Adam has to fight every single urge he has to kiss Lawrence. "I've wanted to reach out since I was rescued," he says. "Just couldn't. I couldn't pinpoint why for the longest time, but I realized the night I reached out, over the phone."

Lawrence nods. "I remember," he says. "When we agreed to meet for dinner."

Adam licks his lips, lets his gaze move to Lawrences.

"I realized that that day--hell, the time from the moment I woke up in that bathtub to the moment I was released from the hospital--felt like an open wound. That time of my life has felt like an open wound every single day since I left the hospital, every single day since John asked me to join his cause, and I couldn't bear messing with it. I just wanted to leave it to fester or to heal, deal with the implications until it did on it's own, but that's just not how things like this are meant to be handled," Adam says. "I'm gonna get myself into DSME--"

"EMDR," Lawrence corrects. "Eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing."

"I'm gonna look into that," Adam says. "And--I'm gonna keep doing this. Keep talking to you, keep buggin' you whenever I can because it's the only way. I can't do this recovery shit alone, and it's been four years of trying and then failing and then trying again, and I'm sick of it."

Lawrence smiles softly. Adam gives into the urge to press his forehead against Lawrences, lets his hands go to Lawrences neck.

"All that I ask is this," Adam whispers. "Promise me you won't go anywhere?"

Lawrence licks his lips. Adam can feel Lawrences breathing against his mouth, is so close that he can almost taste what it'd feel like to have Lawrences lips against his own.

"I promise," he says. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm not going to abandon you like that. Never again, and never by choice."

Adam doesn't know if it's the weed, or the exhaustion, or his own, unadulterated, unfiltered stupidity, but he leans in.

"Tell me if I'm reading this wrong," he whispers, praying to God that he's not.

"You're reading this just fine," Lawrence says.

Then his lips are against Adams, and Adam is so awestruck by it that he almost feels like he's flying. It's the best kiss he's ever had in his life, a statement he can make knowing damn good and well that it's not the weed talking but rather the way that Lawrences lips feel against his own, the sureness of his hands as they find Adams hips and the way he reacts when Adams hands instinctively trail right up Lawrences neck and into his gorgeous hair.

They don't pull away until they're breathless, and Adam wants more but knows better than to be greedy.

Lawrence chortles. "How long have you been wanting to do that?"

"Since I walked into the dinner, lightly stoned, and saw you in that white button up," Adam laughs, presses his forehead against Lawrences shoulder. "Oh, my God. You looked so good in that, y'know? Almost lost it. You looked so good it made me woozy."

"That might've been the weed," Lawrence says. "How much did you take?"

"Only one milligram," Adam responds. "Enough to soften me up a little, like when you set butter out on the counter for an hour or two when you're planning to bake and need the butter not to be as hard as a rock."

Lawrence laughs. Adam presses himself as close as he can get, cherishes the feeling of being that close after so long spent being literal miles apart in physicality but feeling an ocean apart in every other aspect.

Time passes. They sit outside, practically moulded together, and in silence. Adam catches himself zoning out just before he starts to doze, wonders briefly if they kept themselves that way until they starved to death, if he'd die happy to have been in Lawrences arms. As he thinks further on it, he realizes he would've died happily in the bathroom that day, if in a little bit of pain, if Lawrence had stayed and died with him.

"I think I'm in love with you," Lawrence whispers. "You're not the only one at fault for us not seeing each other sooner, and I think I was scared to admit it, but I know now that that's the reason why."

Adam smiles. "I love you too," he whispers back. "C'mon--inside. I'm tired, but I am not going to fall asleep with you on my fire escape."

He gets himself out of Lawrences lap and heads back in, Lawrence hot on his heels.

Adam strips, changes into a baggy pair of sweatpants and leaves himself without a shirt. Lawrence changes into a pair of basketball shorts and leaves the button-up he's wearing unbuttoned, and after Adam gawks at the view for a good few minutes, they cuddle up in bed together.

In the end, Adam sleeps for a solid fourteen hours, and for the first time in ages, he doesn't have any nightmares. Part of him thinks it's the high and another part of him thinks it's because of Lawrence, but he chooses, at the end of the day, to believe that it's both.

[stingslikeabee]

❛ and who are you supposed to be? ❜ from megumi

unscripted asks . always accepting

The end of the year was a bittersweet period for Melissa - there was a lot of work to do around Christmas, when the inn was arguably the busiest after Valentine's Day; but it was also a time filled with memories that just could not be erased, no matter how hard she tried.

Her own family - or rather, her sisters; whatever fate had met them once they separated, never to be reunited, still haunted the madame. Attempts to track them had been futile, and while Melissa had quite the beehive to look after, there was still a wound that never fully healed in her soul in relation to her own traumatic past.

It was one of the reasons that explained why the woman took on extra risks to travel all the way to the Sector 5 slums, only to bring donations to the Leaf House and the other benefactors that worked away from Corneo's influences. To keep orphanages and homes running in Wall Market was almost impossible - the tentacles of the Don reached almost everywhere.

Besides - even if the Honey Bee Inn had been the home to the queen bee for as long as most people remembered, the girl named Lilian had been born in Sector 5. It was still home - although just an almost erased, faded shadow of it.

Usually, the children from the charities that Melissa supported knew her - enough to come running and screaming with joy whenever her figure appeared, even if the madame was never as elegantly put up together as she did when holding court. They didn't care for how beautiful her clothes were or the perfectly applied make-up - these kids were much more into the hugs which were freely offered and the gifts that were trailing behind. All sorts of toys from aboveplate and beyond, imported through her connections or sourced from skilled artesans.

Melissa just wanted these children to have what she never did growing up, depending on the kindness of neighbors and strangers alike.

On that Christmas eve, however - there was a new face at the Leaf House which she didn't recognize. A young boy with dark her and inquisitive eyes who did not join the others when she arrived, unfazed by the bag with gifts and the basket with baked treats. Melissa frowned, picking some of the food up with clean napkins and walking over the child, crouching at his level and extending the muffin with a warm smile.

"Here, have one - otherwise they will leave nothing for you," the woman motioned for the boy to take it, but he seemed suspicious; even if it smelled good, the kid did not try to pick it up and instead looked at her again, gazing at Melissa as if she was some sort of unknown danger or a figment of his imagination.

"And who are you supposed to be?" he asked, sounding decided and not at all afraid of the newcomer. That made the madame smile a bit more, although the voice tone was gentle when words came next and there were no further forceful gestures on her part. She had been an intimidated child left among strangers once, too - maybe he was feeling the same.

"I am Melissa - and I come here whenever I can to look after the kids. I was born here many years ago too," she explained first, and then took a bite of the food. Maybe, by watching her eat, the boy would convince himself that she posed no danger, as intended from the beginning, "What is your name?"

"...Megumi," he said eventually, but still not looking like the talkative type. Nodding, the madame took another bite and straightened herself up, clearly not about to offer half-eaten food to him anymore - but if they didn't tarry, there would still be enough for him to sample.

"Nice meeting you, Megumi. Why don't you come with me to look at the things I brought? I'm sure there's something you like," a free hand was offered, but Melissa was careful never to make a move that could lead the child to feel forced - she knew all too well how it felt when she was the small, young one once, "You can ask anyone around about me - I promise the food is good and the gifts are safe."

Megumi left his seat then - but did not take the offered hand; instead, he moved forward to the area where the other children gathered, but that was enough for Melissa. As long as he didn't feel alone and abandoned during the holidays... She was content.

Perhaps next year she would get a hug from him.

[hylianengineer]

Recent family drama has me pissed off about gender roles, and for some reason I'm thinking about how that plays out through food. Almost none of the men on either side of my family cook unless it's on a grill. My dad does a little bit sometimes but it's nowhere near what my mom does. I know he knows how, he just doesn't.

When I became a vegetarian my uncle tried to demand I cook meat for him. I said I wouldn't, I'd cook what I wanted to eat and maybe share that with him but I wouldn't cook something I didn't want to eat. He tried to make me feel like the asshole in this conversation. He was never entitled to any of my cooking in the first place, it was a gift and people who are assholes about gifts don't deserve them. I still wonder how much of this conversation he thought was a joke - maybe all of it, but if it was it was in rather poor taste.

My (paternal) grandfather does not cook almost at all. He grills, he makes fudge every Christmas, and he makes spaghetti sauce out of the tomatoes he grows. When my grandma had knee surgery, she cooked a lot of extra food ahead of time to put in the freezer because god forbid he cook for himself and his wife who was recovering from surgery. God forbid he be an independent adult for once in his life.

My dad can cook. But again, he doesn't do it very often. He makes salads and he grills meat and he knows how to throw a roast in a crock pot. There's this one marinated cucumber dish that's his specialty. My mom does easily 75% of the cooking, and I guess she must be okay with that - she's not like my grandma (her mother-in-law), she doesn't put up with gender role bullshit. My mother is a female electrical engineer who grew up with an absent father and a mom who did everything. My dad raised two AFAB kids (both nonbinary, though he doesn't know it) to use power tools, fix cars, and not need a man to do anything for us.

Every holiday, my grandma calls the shots. She orders everyone around - women in the kitchen and men out of it. I remember a memorable incident last year when she was trying to get all the women (and my sibling who she's been told is a trans man although they're secretly enby - she still calls them 'she') to cook things and the men to move furniture and I (her as-far-as-she-knows cisgender granddaughter) said no actually I want to go move furniture. She didn't fight me on it but I'm kind of fuming about it to this day - the way she thinks labor is supposed to be divided.

It's funny - my parents think they have a daughter and a transgender son. They actually have two nonbinary children, but shh, we're in the closet about that part. What's funny is that I, the supposed daughter, am the one doing traditionally masc stuff. I'm the car person in this duo. I'm the scientist, they're the arts major. I'm the one who owns work boots. I'm the one who likes tools and wants to carry a pocket knife. My twin actually DID get a pocketknife as a gift a few years back, but the only use it sees is when I borrow it.

My twin is a better cook than me. They're better at sewing than me. They want to spend their life making art and I want to spend mine playing in the dirt. We're very much not putting up with the roles our family has tried to put us in. Neither of us cooks very much, but what cooking does occur in this household is NOT split along gender lines.

[thessalian]

Thess vs The Yearly Dilemma

Actually, to be fair, The Yearly Dilemma is a little different this year. Because, of course, it is now December and the holidays will be upon us sooner than we probably care to think about. So as always, the question is: what do I get for the parentals?

Now, see, the parentals know damn well what the economic situation in this country is. Now, they might feel a little better about my getting them much of anything because of the sheer amount of overtime I've put in the last few months, but still, their whole thing is "DO NOT SPEND TOO MUCH MONEY ON US". So that puts some limiters on the whole thing. Still, if you're remotely creative (and I like to think I am), that still leaves a lot of options.

Now, my mother's more or less handled this year, though I need to consider something for her birthday. I was talking to my stepdad one of the times he was over and happened to point out my Foozies - big warm chunky alpaca-fleece slipper-socks. My stepdad didn't want a pair, as apparently he is one of those lucky sods whose extremities do not get cold, but he thought my mother might like a pair. I wanted a spare pair for myself anyway so when I went to order, I ordered two - one for me and one for her. They'll probably keep her feet warmer than her little ballerina slipper-looking things.

Now, for the last couple of years, the whole thing about "Do not make food for your stepdad; we generally have enough food around this time of year already" has gone effectively out the window. This is mostly because they know that's the least expensive way I have of gifting my stepdad with something he'd actually want (I mean, he's shit at even dropping hints anyway) ... but I think part of it is that, especially after the tidbits of my baking that have come his way this year, and last year's peanut butter fudge triumph, my stepdad is in no way going to turn away my cooking.

The question is ... what do I make the man?

I mean, it's probably going to be a selection anyway, because at least some of it is going to be a shared gift for him and my mother. But some of it has to be just for him. He's fond of peanut butter where my mother isn't, so there could be peanut butter bread. Also he really enjoyed my Admiral's Gingerbread, and showed keen interest when I mentioned making gingrebread cookies, so ginger's another flavour note I guess he likes. But honestly, he is not a picky person so just as long as it tastes good, it doesn't really matter. Which in a way is a pity because that really fuels the fires of my raging executive dysfunction.

As for me? Well, I've had Christmas and birthday gifts from the parentals this year already, and I have the autographs in my Tal'Dorei Campaign Setting guide to prove it. If they ask about smallish things this year ... I dunno. Depends on what they consider 'smallish', I suppose. Honestly, even just an extra set of measuring cups and measuring spoons would be nice. Seriously, my wants this year are relatively few, and a lot of them involve kitchen stuff. Well, that and just about anything off my Steam wish list - the bit I am going to miss this year is spending Steam gift cards in the Christmas sales.

(Still totally worth it.)

The kitchen stuff ... well ... I have an entire Amazon wish list specifically for the kitchen stuff I want. I've been chipping away at it a few items at a time, but there's always something else. Still, I can take these things slowly. At some point this week I'll be making gołąbki (it's pronounced go-WUMP-ki or go-LUMP-ki and it's basically Polish cabbage rolls), and that's mostly going to need the Le Creuset baking dish that I still love so very, very much. That and pierogi, which is mostly pots and my good skillet if I want to brown them after steaming. And I get a whole big chunk of overtime pay just in time for the after-Christmas sales, so I can probably whittle that list down a fair bit.

Oh, yeah, on the subject of cooking experiments, I made chicken katsu today. It actually came out really well, and I had real chicken katsu curry for the first time in aaaaaaaaaaaages. Go, me!

[erigold13261]

Will Carna and Maragold have a different gender identity or how they wear clothes as they grow up? (I see them wearing more feminine outfits in your art so…)

Clothes don't depict your gender. Also, I don't think I've really drawn either of them in feminine clothes that much.

Just took a look at my art of them, and Maragold's initial outfit was a dress that they had before being upgraded. Then there was the nonbinary comic with what looked like a dress, but I was going more for either a night gown or a shirt someone gave them to wear to be more comfortable. Everything else I think I've drawn them in either pants or shorts. (well there was the Christmas pic like 2 years ago with Maragold and Carna in the skirt version of the uniform that Zimelu wears)

I think you might be mistaking other people drawing Maragold for my own art, because looking back there are a lot of gifts I got with Maragold in dresses and skirts. There was also a lot of feminization of Maragold in those art gifts. I didn't mind them but they are not what I had in mind for older Maragold. Even humanized Mara's seem to have orange skin when my human Maragold would have like green or something like that.

However, Maragold does actually like to wear more feminine clothes and will probably stick with they/them or possibly go back to using she/her at times, making their pronouns they/she. I don't think they will ever go back to identifying as a girl though, at least not in a complete sense. They are gonna stick with nonbinary, or if they do change it's gonna be something under the nonbinary umbrella. Maybe genderfluid.

[Oops, wait, just went into the Orange tag, because I never fully retagged all my Orange pics as Maragold. Though that only brought up one extra picture not in the Maragold tag. I did draw Maragold in a dresss/skirt that Zimelu made them, but all the other drawings have Maragold either in their doll dress, or in shorts. So yeah, point still stands from before]

As for Carna, I don't think I ever actually drawn faer with feminine clothes. The pictures I am remembering are either faer with the 1010 kid uniform thing, or with masc/androgynous clothes. Or at least that is what I was trying to go for with the outfits I put faer in. I could be forgetting though.

Looking at Carana's tag, yeah, I've only drawn faer in a skirt once and that was the Christmas one from a few years ago. The only other one I could think of that might be seen as feminine is the halloween outfit fae wore, but that was supposed to be a combination of a suit and dress. Everything else has been shorts. Not even pants lol. (not counting Carna as a doll with a skirt, which doesn't even show up in faer tag because it is tagged as Pink and not Carana)

Carna likes masc clothes, things that are fancy like suits, though doesn't mind if they have a feminine flare to them. So like a suit with a skirt attached to it, or pants with a flowy top or something. Fae is not going to just straight up wear a dress or skirt by itself.

With gender, I do see Carna changing, but never going back to seeing faerself as a girl. If anything, Carna would lean more towards something masculine I feel. I can see faer trying out agender or even libragender (leaning towards libramasculine) as gender identities. Fae might try out he/him pronouns but would most likely go back to neopronouns and either just stick with fae/faer or add a new set and keep fae/faer as well.

So yeah, after going through all of this I realized something. I need to draw Carna and Maragold more lol! Those two definitely are lacking in art. Even Dew has more content than those two and I made them before him!

[autisticlee]

every year I get angry? depressed? some sort of bad feeling???? around my birthday. and not just because im getting older and still have done nothing with my life...

I dont have friends. we all know that already. but I never truly did. I never had a birthday party with friends. only seen every kid around me have them and most adults too tbh. every year since i was like 10 probably, I try to convince people I know irl to at least pretend to be my friends and do something with me. no one will. the excuse used to be "im busy because it's close to Christmas" but now just everyone straight up ignores me more than anything. guess they got tired of making up excuses? (maybe it's true though and i'm overthinking that people couldn't possibly be busy days after Christmas for 20 years in a row...)

every year my birthday has been trash. I had little baby family parties until I was I think 5. and I only remember one of these parties. the last one. I only remember being really sick, sleeping through the party, and waking up to everyone being gone. I was very upset. wanted a redo my whole childhood. but my sister was born the next year and she got the parties instead of me now. (parents could only afford one and mine was too close to Christmas so it was "too hard")

I was determined to make up for only having one party I remembered that went bad. so when I turned 10 or 11 or 12 (forget east year) I invited school friends and classmates to my party. had my parents make food and a cake and buy decorations and set it all up. then we waited. for hours. my dad made me call everyone I had phone numbers for. their parents all said they weren't home. but they never showed up at my party! not a single person did! then when we went back to school, they all laughed and made fun of me because they hung out together and skipped my party 🫠

after years of failing irl, I started trying to do twitch streams and coop games with online friends. had a few people here and there do a game with me. but it was never a large turnout to do games I really wanted, and the 1 or 2 times I got 1 or 2 people werent the most fun. (like a few years ago trying to do a silly game and getting yelled at by the 2 playing with me for goofing around and being unserious,,,,when I told them beforehand I wanted to goof around and laugh and be unserious!!!!)

but playing games still isnt the same as having a birthday party where you are celebrated and get to do what you want with people who want to be there for you and have a good time or whatever you do for those idk.

Last year I bought plane tickets for a friend I met online to visit for about a month as a birthday gift to myself. everything that could have gone wrong did basically though. 🙃 her flight experience was a nightmare (delays making her nearly a day late. lost luggage. many tears. etc.) the day she got here I started getting sick. we planned to go to a con for my birthday weekend. she had us drive 2 hours meet up with her other friends so they can see her. she invited her other friend to come here at my house and stay for Christmas week to visit her and go to the con with us. my parents didn't like this sudden other person staying. they threw a fit at me the whole time. she got another friend to come to the con. I ended up getting everyone sick. when we got to the hotel for the con, I was so sick that I had to stay in the hotel and missed the con. we were supposed to drive the 3rd person home like 8 hours away and stay there for a night, but we were too sick so they ended up staying at my house too until they could take a train home like 5 days later. my family was extra angry at me for that. but it wasn't my fault or plan!

now i'm not allowed to have any friend visit amd stay again. they have to stay at a hotel (no one can afford that) so I guess it will never happen again. none of these people really talk to me anymore after this happened :/

basically that was supposed to be my bday thing to make up for all my lost and shitty birthdays before this by having my friend visit and going to a con and having a little hotel bday party. but ended up being more for my friend to see all her friends and no one caring about my bday and then I got really sick and everyone else sick and they were all mad at me for it and for other things (i ended up most sick though and was sick for almost 5 months, dislocated a rib or 2 from coughing so hard, and seem to have either developed or got worsened POTS symptoms that never got better ugh) and my family was yelling at me about everything the whole time and for months after. I didn't make up for anything. instead I had the worst birthday yet!!!!!! because I can never have anything nice!!!

this year im throwing myself a surprise birthday party. by that mean actually logged onto facebook and figured out how to make an event and invited everyone on there. the surprise would be if anyone comes. but looks like it won't be a surprise party after all, since no one is coming :(

just talked family into going out to dinner at the very least. but they're also very sick and might not make it anyway. so might just be only me in the end (maybe my mom tho since my bday is finally not on a work day)

I appreciate family agreeing to it at least. but i'd still like to experience a (successful) birthday outing/celebration/party with friends like most other people get to experience at least once in their lives, where I have one day where it's all about me (since every other day of the year I do not want to be perceived at all lmao and never ask for anything or try to "get my way" if that makes sense) but looks like the universe bans me from having nice things for some reason :((

today/tomorrow i'm trying to have people play games online with me. that never works out but it's my backup for my friendless birthday dinner. I know I won't get to play the games I want to most. I never get to. i'll be surprised if I can get someone to play something with me D:

starting to think I should completely give up trying to have one day of the year that's mine. couldn't have it as a kid (where I remembered it, since i'm sure when I turned 2 or 3 it was a very me centric day) and I definitely can't seem to have it as am adult when everyone tells me adults don't get to have nice things like friends anymore :/ sighs what's the point of life when no one cares about you even once a year on the anniversary of your existence 😭

I hate having a birthday. why does it exist. it's here to mock and make fun of me. birthdays are fpr people with friends and money and a life purpose and life and a life worth celebrating and all that stuff I don't have 🥲 the "do it for my birthday" excuse has never worked for me. so why do I even try!!!!!!