#like they have put me on whole ass steroids

[michkit]

Have my lungs considered. Working. Or nah

[blainesebastian]

safe

words: 7,823 ship: austin butler x female reader rating: R (for violence) summary: obviously inspo is coming from seeing bikeriders and this image and my extensive knowledge of sons of anarchy. you don't have to watch that show to read this, but it takes place in that sort of universe, with inspo from the show *u* just wanted biker austin x you notes: feel free to visit my austin masterlist warnings: none, but check the rating.

Every time Austin thinks he knows exactly who you are, you throw him through a wash cycle on steroids. You came back to Charming, a place you said you’d never step foot in again, for what? It’s certainly not for fucking him, that’s for damn sure. As much as he loves you, still after all this time, Austin knows you have to be running away from something…because running towards what you want with full abandon has never been your strong suit.

And you’re certainly not returning to St. Thomas for the great fucking medical plan.

“I just needed a change of scenery.” You tell him in those mint green scrubs that always highlight the perfect swell of your ass.

Austin rolls his eyes but doesn’t tell you that he thinks you’re full of shit.

Chicago’s too fast paced, maybe you’ll try New York—there’s a beautiful, hopeful smile on your face—like you don’t know that the minute you stepped foot back in Charming that you’d never leave. You’ll get sucked back into the black hole of this place and you’ll never be able to find your way out. Will probably die here.

Whatever—it’s really not Austin’s problem anymore, is it? You are not his girlfriend, he’s not responsible for your happiness or your decisions. That ship sailed a long time ago when you left straight out of high school—went to a fancy college, got your medical degree, and began a new life.

Without him.

And yet Austin also understands the utter pull of you, consistently keeping him directly in your orbit, your wants and needs incredibly important because they always have been. Which is why Austin doesn’t believe you when you say that you didn’t come back for any sort of reason.

He doesn’t believe this ‘change of scenery’ nonsense.

You patch up a split knuckle, dig out glass—Austin doesn’t even flinch, just watches you the whole time like he doesn’t have blood on his face. You have no idea what he’s gotten into lately—and you don’t want to know.

“Think I’m gonna make it doc?” He asks, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

You hum lightly, “Barely.” And pour the antiseptic without warning him.

You hate that you came back here, back home—but Austin’s always been your safe place.

--

“I think you’re scared.” Austin says one evening while dropping you off at your dad’s house, empty now, a living and breathing reminder of all the shit you went through in high school.

You never wanted to live here, in your drunken father’s home, always more satisfied with the concept of burning the thing down. Yet here you are, taking off Austin’s motorcycle helmet and handing it back to him, looking for your keys to get inside. You’re living here, attempting to reorganize and rebuild the place to make it your own.

“I think you don’t know me as well as you used to.” You throw back and there’s a hint of teasing there, like you don’t want to turn this conversation into something serious.

Austin rubs one of his eyebrows, itching for a cigarette but now’s not the time, he’s not staying long. “I think…I’m the only person who does know you.” He’s not afraid to admit that. You’ve done this dance so many times that you practically own the rights to the choreography.

You’ve proven time and time again that you’ve got nails and teeth sunk into one another, so wrapped up that you can’t unravel it as hard as you try. No matter how much time or distance passes between you two. It’s so beyond anything that Austin can put into words—he doesn’t really believe in soulmates or fate but, if he did, he thinks him and you could put a definition to that.

That’s why Austin knows that you’re never going to leave Charming, not really anyways.

You’ll be in love until it kills both of you, figuratively or quite literally.

“That’s the real reason you came back, isn’t it?”

You sigh softly—after a long day, your hair is a little unruly on the top of your head. You’re ready for a long hot shower and to get out of these scrubs. Austin only wishes he could assist with that. He lets his eyes travel over your form, purposely checking you out when you look at him. But you both know it’s more than just a sexual attraction here, that Austin defaults to that because it’s easier for him to work out in his head. While it’s very clear that there’s only one face he sees when he’s inside of someone, no one will ever know or understand him as you do.

That line of deeply knowing goes both ways.

“I told you why I came back here.”

Austin smiles a little and starts his bike. Fine, if you wants to play this game, he’s got nothing but time.

“Right,” He puts his helmet on, making sure it’s fastened. “I just don’t believe you.”

And he backs the bike out of the driveway and goes home.

--

Austin doesn’t figure out what’s going on until you ask for a ride home in the middle of the day. It’s a little weird, to say the least, he’s in the midst of things with the club, his club leader riding his ass about certain decisions he needs to uphold as Vice President. But literally, he couldn’t be bothered less, not having one iota of a regret driving his bike to the hospital to pick up you instead.

You seem a bit frazzled when you climb on the back of Austin’s bike, your arms squeezing around his waist just a little too tightly. Austin frowns, looking over his shoulder as he hands you the helmet to put on,

“You alright?” He asks.

You nod quickly, forcing a soft smile, “Yeah, just a long shift. M’tired.”

“You didn’t drive today?” Austin starts his bike—not that he’s complaining.

“Oh I did but the…it’s making a weird noise when I use the break.”

Austin raises his eyebrows, putting a pair of sunglasses on. “You know I work at a garage, right?”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound fluttering Austin’s stomach even after all this time. “Just take me home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He does a fake salute before pulling out of the hospital parking lot.

--

Austin’s got this wicked sense of observation mixed with paranoia—and he’s convinced this is why it makes him a decent V.P., being able to notice when things are off, when things appear altered than how they should. Sometimes catching tiny mistakes and misnomers are the difference between a good deal going sour, life and death.

So he instantly picks up on the fact that there’s a car following you both, all the way from the hospital to your house. Even though the vehicle doesn’t stop, it passes and parks a little further down, but it’s there, nonetheless.

You get off the bike, handing the helmet back to him, a soft coy smile on your face that makes Austin want to kiss you. Your hair is wild, cheeks a bit pink from the wind blowing, beautiful and stunning all at once.

“Thanks.” You say, adjusting your satchel from sitting on your back to your hip, “Think I’m finally getting used to this thing again.”

Austin hums a bit, parking it before he slips off the bike. He runs his hands through his hair, removing his riding gloves and pocketing them, before adjusting the leather cut that sits easily on his shoulders.

Easy and yet heavy sometimes, all at once.

“Yeah I never understood why you hated ridin’ it, I’m an excellent driver.” Which, alright, he’s a decent driver—he goes through turns too fast but he tries not to if you’re on with him.

You’re distracted though, not picking up the bait, glancing around your driveway as if you’re…looking for something, or someone. Austin licks his lips, putting the helmet on the back of the seat.

“Hey, this uneasiness that I’m sensin’ right now—have anythin’ to do with that car that followed us from the hospital?” He motions with his chin to the car he’s referring to idling down a few houses.

Your entire body suddenly goes rigid, eyes widening over Austin’s words. You follow Austin’s direction down the street and you look sick when your eyes land on the car. There’s this instinctual step back, like you’re afraid, and Austin moves closer to touch your arm.

He steadies you, squeezing gently, thumb running along the inside of your wrist, “Hey, what’s going on? Who is that?”

You sigh, running a shaking hand over your face. You swallow and finally bring your eyes to meet Austin’s, “His name is Rick—when I was in Chicago, I—I met him at a conference and we went out a few times. When I tried to end it, it got violent and he started stalking me,” You shake your head, embarrassment clear on your choked voice even though you have nothing to be ashamed for. “I tried getting a restraining order but you can see how well that worked out.”

Austin feels himself go cold, which is never a good sign. That’s how his rage works, like a slow ticking clock, never heated, never like an explosion of emotion. It sits on him calmly, like a wave lapping the shore of a beach. He straightens his shoulders, shaking his head as he goes to turn and address this fucking asshole who can’t take no for an answer.

“Austin, no,” You reach for him, managing to tug his arm to stop him from walking, “Rick’s—he’s an ATF agent and dangerous.”

Austin almost scoffs because so am I, but he knows what you mean. You know exactly what kind of business his club does and getting involved with an ATF agent will only bring trouble down upon everyone.

But Austin’s so fucking angry that he doesn’t care, he’s always felt like he’s had the uncanny ability to think in steps ahead, consider his future, but if you’re here? You’re a part of that future now. And he’s not going to let this Rick guy think he can just follow you here all the way from Chicago and threaten you.

“Go inside, Y/N.” Austin motions to the house, not looking back as he walks towards the car in question.

Rick, who has fucking binoculars, drops them quickly when he realizes Austin is approaching the car and not stopping. He also seems to get the point when Austin pulls his weapon of choice, a hunting knife, from the holster on his jeans and sticks right through the grill of Rick’s car.

Rick quickly gets out, his face red with pinched anger as the car begins to smoke. “Vandalism, deadly weapon.” He snaps and slams the car door closed. He’s shorter than Austin and a lot angrier, which is amusing to him, “That's six months in County, asshole.”

Austin can see what you maybe thought about this guy. He’s handsome with his strong jaw and cropped hair, eyes intense. Any member of law enforcement gives off a false aura of calm because they’re supposed to be people anyone can trust. It’s almost ironic that you feel safer with a criminal. Almost.

He throws shit right back at Rick as he takes his knife out of the grill, putting it back in the holster, “Violating a restraining order? You'll be in the cell next to mine.” He grins then, licking his lips as his eyes skitter over Rick’s body, “They reach how to suck dick in ATF school?”

Rick laughs, not even looking remotely interested but Austin doesn’t care. He’s trying to make him uncomfortable because clearly he doesn’t give a shit about doing the same to you. Besides, Austin knows that he’s not really angry about the car, or even about Austin approaching him per say, he’s pissed off that someone is getting in the way of him fucking around with you.

“Badass biker.” Rick tuts, shaking his head as he looks over Austin, like it would be a pleasure of his to ruin his life.

Austin is not fucking scared of this piece of shit, “You harassing Y/N? That ends here.” He tells him, “Or the next time it won't be this car that I'm drainin’ fluid from.” He goes to take a step back because regardless of the stance Rick is pulling, he can tell that he’s rattled him just a little bit.

All of this is probably a terrible idea given the situation that the club is in right now but he refuses to let you take the brunt of dealing with this asshole alone.

“You threatening a federal agent?” Rick snaps out, pissed off that he’s been made to look like an idiot. Which, Austin doesn’t think that’s too far of a stretch, really.

He turns, giving Rick a good once over before taking a few steps into his space. He purposely uses his height difference to look down at him when he speaks, “I'm threaten’ you. Go away—it's my last warning.”

As Austin walks away, he just hopes it’s enough.

--

Things slightly escalate from there. Rick does not fuck off like Austin hoped or intended but he supposes he shouldn’t exactly be surprised, either. He suspects that he might hang around, maybe show up at your work, but what he doesn’t expect is when Rick surprises him when Austin is attempting to run errands. And not just any type of errand, though most don’t know that, but he’s not really just visiting this deli because he enjoys the chipped ham.

Rick wanders in as Austin talks to the butcher, their conversation shifting to something safer because of the company.

One thing happens after another, Rick gets in his face and Austin can’t control his temper even though he knows he should—that this is one giant trap to catch him off guard. And yet he falls right into it because the minute Rick opens his mouth about you, Austin’s fist is flying through the air.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rick smirks, sticking his hands in his pockets as he stands by one of the display cases with meat inside, pretending to look interested. “Y/N and I have unfinished business…and I intend on talking that out with her, in bed, with her spread out beneath me.” It’s very much a whether you like it or not attitude and Austin hits Rick so fucking hard that he sails through the glass window of the deli.

Not his finest moment.

And yet he has zero regrets as he sits in a police interview room, icing his right fist as another ATF agent graces him with his presence. Greg Thornson with his bony-ass frame, closing the door with his foot because he’s knee-deep in a file that no doubt has every wrongdoing he’s ever committed since high school.

The usual dog and pony show that any of these police agents try to shake them up with.

Austin’s so used to this, he knows his expression screams ‘boredom’ and that for some reason makes Greg smile, putting the file down on the table. He sits across from him, regarding Austin for a moment and he bites his tongue on saying anything he might regret.

The point in all this is to get back to you, not to end up in a holding cell for the night. So he straightens his shoulders and looks right back at Greg, a challenging look to his eye.

The shorter smiles, “So, we’re not going to hold you—even though you assaulted a federal agent.”

Austin purses his lips and lightly shrugs his shoulders, not saying a goddamn word. He knows exactly what story Ronnie Peterson, the deli owner, gave to the police.

“Mr. Peterson corroborates your story that Rick Clarington came at you first.” Greg sounds not moved at the slightest by that but Austin doesn’t care.

He smiles, “Can I go now?”

Greg hums but before Austin can stand and leave, “Why does Clarington have a hard-on for you?”

“Who doesn't?” The corners of Austin’s mouth twitch up but then sighs—Thornson might enjoy a little game of distractions but Austin’s goal is to keep himself as much under the radar as possible. So he shifts gears, giving him a long look, “You know why.”

Greg smiles, closing the file in front of him. Austin obviously doesn’t know Greg very well, other than the briefest of introductions when he first walked in (just what he needs, another ATF agent up his ass), but he can tell that he’s in this job title for the ‘cat and mouse’ game of it all. Austin’s not a typical criminal, he doesn’t squirm, especially when he knows that that’s the goal Greg has with this conversation.

He’s digging, pulling at straws, anything to give him the upper hand.

“You're right, I do.” Greg taps the table with his fingertips, “Y/N L/N, the charming ingenue. High school sweethearts, right?”

Austin’s face gives nothing away but he does nod softly in confirmation, “Yeah.”

He can literally see the wheels turning in Greg’s head, the shorter making an impressed noise as he glances down at Austin’s bloody knuckles, “She fears for her life so she comes back home to the only man she knows loves her enough to protect her.”

His expression matches stone, unsure of what Greg wants out of this other than to just catch him off guard, but he’s literally got nothing to say as far as he and you are concerned. There’s also not that much to tell—he and you were dating in high school; it was one of the strongest connections he’s ever had to anyone. And that hasn’t changed—Austin doesn’t think it ever will.

“A guy…” Greg trails off for a moment, “who would have no problem punching a federal agent through a glass window.”

“The glass window part was an accident.”

Greg lets out a soft laugh, nodding, “So Ronnie the butcher says. Rick apparently pulled a weapon on you—made threats, you had no choice.” There’s practically disbelief hanging on every syllable.

Austin shrugs again, flexing his sore fingers against the ice pack, “Well, if that’s what Ronnie said.”

Greg licks his lips, glancing over his shoulder as the door opens up, another officer with paperwork to detail the statement Austin gave. He nods his head, knowing he’ll have to let him go soon, despite the sparring conversation.

“Beautiful, really, it is. I wish I had that kind of pull over for someone. You're a lucky man.”

Austin feels something ugly dig under his skin at the sentiment because he knows it’s not a compliment by any means. He refuses to give Greg the satisfaction that he obviously craves but a few thoughts do worm their way in the back of Austin’s mind: did you come back to Charming because of him? Because you knew what he’d do the moment Austin learned about Rick threatening you? Because you felt safe? Wanted? Loved here? Does any of that really matter since you’re back? Austin may feel slightly manipulated given the situation but…even if you only came back for this very reason, you’re still here, aren’t you?

Somehow, that’s all Austin cares about.

“You done?” Austin asks, a little steel to his voice.

Greg smiles and nods lightly, Austin getting up from the table and leaving the ice pack behind.

--

Austin leans against the back of your couch, watching the you pace for a few moments. He’s not trying to pressure you into talking or anything, he’s practically got the CliffsNotes of what’s happening anyways. In general, he’d just like to touch base with you because it’s been a week since Austin’s made threats at Rick and nothing has really happened (other than that lovely conversation with Thornson, time he’ll never get back, but he supposes that’s his fault for throwing a punch at a federal agent).

Austin suspects anything else is only a matter of time. Rick doesn’t seem like the type to respond to warnings well or go away quietly.

“I’m confused, what else did you want me to do?”

You stop pacing, looking up at Austin with an almost startled expression as you’re drawn out of your thoughts. You’re in a pair of blue jeans and a nice button-down sheer blouse—so different than the scrubs you usually wear but just as beautiful.

“I didn’t want you to do anything.”

Austin narrows his eyes, “Right, really?”

You give him a look as you slowly cross your arms over your chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He lets out a slow breath, leaning up from the couch. He doesn’t want to argue with you at any rate and maybe he is letting the conversation with Thornson get to him, but the longer Austin thinks about it, the more it starts to make sense.

Austin rubs the back of his neck, “I think you know exactly what it means.” He raises his eyebrows, taking a long look at you, someone he’s always known like the back of his hand and yet feels so distant to him within this conversation.

“Did you come here because you knew what I’d do to Rick?”

Your mouth opens and closes, “Know…what’d you do?” You scoff, “You—you haven’t done anything.” And there’s the slightest hesitancy in saying that, like there might be something you don’t know.

Austin shakes his head, confirming with a single, “No,” Then, “I haven’t. But push comes to shove, you know I would.”

It doesn’t take much for Austin to figure out how you feel, you practically wear all of your emotions directly on your face. And okay, given this reaction, maybe that’s not why you came home but are you really going to act like that’s not some sort of benefit?

“I didn’t come back for you.” You state and it’s not supposed to sound cruel—that’s not who you are. Meanwhile, Austin on the other hand makes it his mission to dig underneath people’s skin, to read them and know them to understand how to hurt them.

“I didn’t even know if you’d still be here.” You sigh, taking a step towards where Austin is standing, “But if you’re asking if I came back to the last place I felt…put together? Safe? Then yes. That’s why I came back.”

Austin smiles ever so softly, picking his hand up to cup the side of your head. There seems to be a distinct moment where you close your eyes, a rush of relief, a breath you didn’t realize you were holding being released from your chest. “And none of that has to do with me?”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head but you don’t pull away, even when Austin slips one of your loose strands of hair around your ear. You turn your head to press a kiss to Austin’s palm, his other hand moving to bracket the other side of your face. His fingers eventually slip down to hold the sides of your neck, rubbing along the skin soothingly.

“Maybe just a little bit to do with you.” You smile.

Austin licks his lips, smirking, pressing your foreheads together and leaving them to rest for a few long moments. There’s a familiarity there that pulls him in, keeps him treading water, keeping them connected in such a way where it’s hard to tell where you end and Austin begins. He’s never been so much a part of someone and vice versa.

“Regardless of what happens,” Austin says after a moment, “I’m not gonna let anythin’ happen to you, okay?”

You swallow and nod, your noses grazing as he tips your chin.

And that kiss you share feels like home.

--

It’s a pretty regular night at the clubhouse, another party in half swing where everyone is either piss drunk or on their way to being it. Some other members are playing pool or taking shots directly off of women’s chests, some practically fucking croweaters on the commune couches. Austin is so used to seeing this shit that, at this point, it’s just another Thursday night.

Sam, one of his club leader’s right-hand men, leans against the bar with a boyish grin that deflects from all the terrible things he’s done. The blood Austin has seen in that long blonde hair, the way his hands close around another man’s throat, the bullets he’s fired, the knives he’s cut with. It’s so ironic because you’d never think any of that just by looking at him,

“You don’t want to get in on this?” He asks, motioning to the intoxicating chaos.

Austin takes a brief look around, lifting his beer and taking a sip. “Even if there were half naked women practically throwing themselves at me? Nah,” He pauses, “Just not in the mood tonight.”

Austin’s known Sam nearly his whole life—they grew up together, been through all possible scenarios of the term ‘thick and thin’. Sam sticks around because he knows Austin will take this crown someday, will lead this club, take the reins, or whatever the fuck all this means. He didn’t know his father, not really, only through all the observations and stories and photographs from others.

How is he supposed to figure that shit out?

He doesn’t want it, inherited club royalty or not. Austin would be more satisfied with running away, with taking you out of this fucking place, far away from Charming where no one knows either of you. Starting over like a brand-new book, writing their own chapters.

Even though he knows how unrealistic that is. Doesn’t mean he wants it any less.

“Is this about Y/N?” Sam asks, breaking his concentration.

Austin blinks, considering the question as he takes a long sip of beer. Isn’t it always? Sam can read him far too well and of course knows all about you, what you mean to him—what you’ll always mean to him. He was there when you both first met, when this whole thing started, when you both clutched onto one another tight and refused to let go.

You coming back has just thrown him through an impossible loop.

“No,” He straightens his shoulders, putting a wall up between him and Sam with a grin that masks his face, “Just can’t find anyone who sucks dick as well as you do.”

Sam snorts out a laugh and grabs a bottle from behind the bar to pour shots, “It’s the lips.” He teases.

Austin takes a shot with his friend when he pours it and then decides he’s gotta get out of there before he ends up spending the night with a faceless nobody and a wave of regrets. It’s funny how he hasn’t really thought like that in a while and that definitely has to do with your influence in being back.

He takes a step outside and breathes in the cool Californian air, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. Austin lights a cigarette, taking a long drag that puffs like fog into the atmosphere—he and you have not decided anything about one another. But he knows you, you and him can pick up right where you left off.

It’s hard not to.

His burner cell starts buzzing in his pocket and there’s a half smile on his lips as he sees your number—case in point.

Austin barely gets through a greeting when you are choking out I need you. He has no idea what’s going on and part of him doesn’t want to ask but the sound of your voice causes a sheet of ice to cover the entire inside of his chest as he throws down the cigarette and walks quickly to his bike.

“What happened?”

You sniffle over the line and sigh out syllables that make Austin’s blood run cold, “Rick. Please, can you just—”

“I’m on my way.” Austin hangs up the call, starting his motorcycle and pulling out of the garage parking lot with barely a second thought.

--

Austin has no idea what’s going on, no clue what he’s walking into but he doesn’t care either (which he may or may not regret later). He didn’t have you elaborate over the phone, wanting to concentrate on getting here faster instead. He parks his bike and rushes off the thing, nearly knocking it over as he goes to the front door of your father’s home and knocks.

You throw open the door, half dressed—bra, underwear, a long sweater barely over top, face with tear tracks on them and—and a gun hanging loosely in your fingertips.

“Jesus Christ,” Austin mumbles, eyes wide and confused as he takes a look at you and slowly closes the front door, “What the fuck happened?”

Though…based off the way you are dressed and the time of night—Austin swallows down a bout of anger as heavy as a cinder block to take care of what’s right in front of him.

“I couldn't stop him.” You shake your head, your entire face pinching. Austin sighs and wraps a strong arm around your shoulders, drawing you into your chest. He squeezes you, his hand working firm circles along your spine, “He came in-in through my back door and just—”

Austin shakes his head, holding you even tighter against him, his jaw working as he puts two and two together. You must have been getting ready for bed or something close to it and Rick put the drop on you.

“Did he—”

A whimpered noise leaves your lips and you press your face further into Austin’s neck. His one hand comes up and laces his fingers through your hair, shushing you gently. He pulls back after a moment—you both need to get ahead of this disaster, whatever is awaiting him, Austin will take care of it.

“Where is he?” He asks, cupping your cheek. He removes a tear track with his thumb.

You sniffle, “The bedroom—”

A short breath leaves Austin’s lips, glancing down at the gun that’s still in your hand. It must be your father’s because you never have been interested in weapons before, not even for means of protection. Whatever happened, it must have been bad enough that you needed to defend yourself.

“Give me that.” Austin takes the gun from you, walking down the long hallway that leads to the bedroom.

Nothing really prepares him for what he sees—the bedroom is a mess, sheets disheveled and Austin really fucking tries to not picture you struggling on top of them to push Rick off. A chair is overturned, broken glass from picture frames falling off the nightstand, and Rick on the ground in the corner—his pants are undone and he’s got his shirt off.

He’s currently holding onto his gut to keep his insides from pouring out, panting, face a sheet white and sweaty. And then he makes eye contact with Austin, a struggled laugh leaving his lips like, you’ve got to be kidding me.

“Oh you stupid bitch.” Rick spits, referring to you, “You called him?”

Austin does his best to assess the situation, figuring out what’s best for you with all of this. He’s used to putting himself in the line of fire at this point, at burying himself so deep that there’s not a way out. He could give a shit about Rick surviving or not—there’s only one person that needs to end up on the other side.

You are kind and good and leading a decent life beyond all of this and if Austin has one goal? It’s to make sure none of this pain, blood, or filth, sticks to you.

You tug on Austin’s sleeve, yanking him back into the hallway and away from the scene, “I didn’t know what to do, I shot him, Austin.” You try to explain, your hands shaking so bad as you run them through your hair. Austin shakes his head, wanting to tell you that he doesn’t have to clarify anything, “I had to. What do I—what do I do? What do we do?”

Austin runs his hand along your shoulder, squeezing, glancing back in to Rick because…there’s really only one of two things you could do. And he’ll give you the other option just in case you want to entertain it.

“Okay, okay,” Austin soothes, getting you to breathe for a moment before he continues, “We call this in—you're not going to get charged, he is.” There’s a choked laugh from Rick—the only saving grace is that you have that restraining order in place. Austin takes a long look at you, cupping your one cheek. He waits until your eyes meet his, wanting to make sure you understand what he’s saying.

“They're gonna patch him up, he'll do a few years for assault. But then he's gonna be out—free to do this again.”

He barely gets the last word out before there’s a visceral reaction from you, a choking sob where you grab Austin’s leather jacket and dig your fingers into it, “No,” You snap out, nearly pushing him away despite the fact that Austin only pulls you closer, “No, he can't do this again, Austin. Please.”

Austin rests his lips along your forehead, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he takes a steadying breath into his lungs. There’s only one thing to do then—because clearly, Rick is beyond reason or idle threats.

Not to mention that bullet wound in his side really complicates things. 

“Butler’s your solution?” Rick spits from the other room, making you hold onto Austin tighter.

“I can't do this.” You whisper against Austin’s neck, breath hot along his skin, “Please.”

If Austin was going to approach this with a cool head, all of that goes out the window when Rick opens his mouth again. The combination of you shaking against him, the heat of your body pressed along his own, the way your hands are pulling at his clothes in an attempt to ground yourself—and then Rick’s fucking mouth, spouting disgusting language towards you that he can’t accept in a levelheaded manner.

“You pathetic whore—”

Austin takes two long strides, aiming the gun right at Rick’s head and fires.

The blowback spatters blood all over the wallpaper in the bedroom and there’s a soft curl of smoke leaving the gun, metal hot to the touch. He can hear you yelling over the slight ringing in his ears. Austin lets out a sharp breath—this is not the first time he’s murdered someone in cold blood and it certainly won’t be the last.

At least this time it actually feels like it’s been paired with a purpose.

Austin stares at the blood for a long moment, watching it roll down the ugly wallpaper before backing up slowly. He puts the gun on the dresser and turns to where you are standing in the hallway, wide eyed like a deer in headlights, hands over your mouth.

Austin gently tugs you away, forces your sight off it and takes you back into the living room.

--

Austin takes a shallow breath and hands you a short glass of scotch, which you take with trembling fingers. You tip it back into your mouth quickly and almost choke on the swallow, coughing, but Austin figures you might need to take it like that. He motions to hold the glass out and when you do, he fills it up again.

You sniffle, shaking your head as you run a hand over your face. Austin knows how you’re feeling without you even needing to say anything. While this might have been the only choice, the right choice, you didn’t want Rick to meet an end like this. You continue to be a better person than him—Austin thinks he got exactly what he deserved.

And he regrets none of his actions here tonight, especially if this means you are safe.

Austin runs a hand along his jawline—it’s still dark out, if he’s going to clean this up, he needs to get started.

You glance up at him, wide eyes somehow a shade darker than he’s ever seen them. Austin tries to offer you the smallest of smiles, something comforting, even though it feels a bit strange on his face.

“I’ll take care of this.” He assures you.

You scoff out a choked noise— “What does that mean?”

Austin shakes his head, not giving you a verbal answer. Honestly, it’s better if you don’t know, just in case, so you can claim some kind of ignorance with all this. You seem to catch on within that moment, making a soft noise of discontent as you cover your face with both of your hands. There are so many things that Austin wants to say, to be able to tell you, but he doesn’t know where to start.

This nightmare is over though—it may not seem like it, but it is.

Austin turns to walk out of the kitchen and check your garage for supplies when he feels fingers wrap around his wrist. He stops, looking down at your hand, following it up your arm until he looks at you again. Austin watches you stand, taking a soft breath in, grounding yourself in the touch of his skin and your proximity.

This can’t be easy for you; Austin knows this is why you ran away from Charming in the first place—so you wouldn’t have to wonder what kind of terrible shit he was getting himself into with the club and Austin finding a way to apologize for it. Though, this ironically has nothing to do with the motorcycle club.

He moves his thumb to brush over the inside of your wrist, his high school sweetheart, the girl he’s loved since he was sixteen, his soulmate regardless of tragedy that most likely follows.

“Thank you,” You whisper and step into Austin’s space, “I love you.”

Austin hums softly and nods, leaning his head down to press your foreheads together. “I know.” He teases lightly and despite everything that’s happened, he can feel the hint of a smile on your lips as you kiss.

--

A week passes, and then two, and eventually Austin feels like he can draw oxygen into his lungs without looking over his shoulder. At this point, he knows how dispose of a body—an unfortunate byproduct of the work he does. The goal is to make it look like Rick’s just left, disappeared, with the threat of violating his restraining order, he decided it was best to fuck off out of Charming and you for good.

That should be a story that’s easily passible, since no one from Charming P.D. or that aggravating ATF agent have kicked down any doors demanding questioning of any sort.

Austin’s limited exposure about the whole thing, just him and you know, that way there can be no blowback on the club. Even then, Austin’s the only one who has details about the murder weapon (and where it is) and what truly happened to Rick (as in, where his body is buried). And it’s going to stay like that.

The man is exactly where he belongs.

Austin pauses in front of a freezer in the grocery store looking down at a set of steaks. He knows that it’s not exactly your favorite thing to eat but…he’s feeling weirdly celebratory and he can cook it in a way that you will enjoy it. Lots of pepper, garlic, onions—grilling it outside (maybe at his house instead of your father’s place), beer, mashed potatoes. You both can turn that into a good night, maybe even get back on a track that makes sense.

As long as you both avoid any more capital murder, should be just fine.

“Huh, never pictured you as a fillet kind of guy.”

Austin’s eyes roll back into his head as he turns to see Greg Thornson hovering nearby. Spoke too soon.

He doesn’t see any other agents milling around to make a grand arrest, or sirens and SWAT cars pulling up outside the grocery store windows. So he supposes that’s a bonus. And yet—

“Shouldn’t have to pound meat out for it to be tender.” He says wryly, dropping two steaks into his basket. Austin moves out and around Greg, who doesn’t even appear to be shopping—what, did he just track him down for a not-so-friendly chat?

Austin’s assuming that this isn’t an interrogation but Greg very much seems like the kind of agent that tries to catch you off guard and unaware. He’s probing just by being in his space, nonchalantly following him around the store, pretending to look at things he has no intention in buying.

“Putting a nice dinner together for Y/N?” Greg asks curiously, picking up a can of lima beans.

Austin sighs evenly, slowly making his way towards the front of the store. The quicker he cashes out, the faster he can leave this disaster behind. He glances over his shoulder at the indifferent question,

“Yeah—I know this might be a foreign concept to you, goin’ on dates.” Austin says with a smile to his face but it’s anything but kind. Greg’s eyes dart to Austin’s, fire burning along his irises, and then Austin adds a cushion to the blow – “Cause you know, you’re married to your work and all.”

Greg hums but his smile is all pinched, “I’m surprised Y/N’s even staying put.”

Austin moves to set his basket down near the conveyor belt, unpacking his groceries so that the cashier can ring him out. He offers a small smile at the girl, despite his annoyance with the ATF agent behind him. He slips his wallet out of his back pocket, glancing at Greg as he comes up into his line of vision,

“She’s a runner. Isn’t that why Y/N found herself in Chicago in the first place? Wanted to get out—find things this little pissant town couldn’t offer? Bigger dreams than what you’ve got here, Butler. Smart, beautiful women like Y/N? They get bored. They want more.”

Austin swallows, his hand that’s out of Greg’s line of sight is clenching his fingers into a fist. He refuses to give away that Greg’s words are hitting a particularly raw nerve. You did run away—because that’s what you do. When something gets too hard or real or intense, you make a run for it, that last time landing you in Chicago. And yeah, you ended up with a medical degree to show for it, but you also trailed back to Charming with a psycho ex.

He watches the cashier scan in his items, the muscle in Austin’s working. Despite the fact that Y/N’s seemingly tied to this place for the foreseeable future, Greg unfortunately has a point. And that digs under his skin more than anything else.

Austin pays the cashier and picks up his grocery bag, “Why don’t you let me worry about Y/N, yeah?” He throws back at Greg, moving to leave the store. He then pauses, a sudden thought occurring to him as he turns to look back at the ATF agent.

Greg’s decided to buy a pack of chips near the checkout aisle, pulling out a few ones from his wallet. 

“Hey,” Austin says, gaining Greg’s attention. The smile he gives him is slow and patient, somehow innocent on the edges like he’s about to talk about the weather. “You ever hear from Rick?”

It takes a moment for the question to settle on Greg’s face, the light somehow disappearing from his eyes, the silent conversation passing between the two men as Greg realizes Austin is asking this question for a very specific, deadly reason.

Austin licks his lips, shrugging his one shoulder, his gaze hardening, “Dangerous being a Fed.”

He slowly backs up, getting ready to turn out of the grocery store. He’s delivered more direct threats before but he is in public, and the look on Greg’s face still registers the same. Realization masking fear—makes it completely worth it. Austin clutches the grocery bag in his hand and puts his sunglasses on as he leaves the store to walk back to his truck.

They understand one another now.

--

Austin looks at you over his shoulder as he cooks dinner in the backyard of his home, in comfortable clothes that look a lot like jeans and a t-shirt, minus the leather cut. You’re leaning against the patio door, in a yellow sundress, watching Austin with a soft, fond expression, sipping on your beer.

Austin’s struck with the sudden thought that it could always be like this—warm, and safe, and comfortable, cooking dinner with beers and pretending his business doesn’t get him involved with unsavory people or situations.

Sometimes it feels like they can survive in that version of themselves, even though it’s all a lie.

You move into the yard and set your beer down, pressing into Austin’s side as he looks at the grill.

“You’re overcooking the steak.”

Austin crinkles his nose, peeking under the grill hood just a little, “No I’m not.” He opens it up all the way and while he doesn’t cook steak very often, they look perfectly fine. You use that opportunity to reach for the tongs and Austin playfully taps your wrist,

“I got it, they’re fine.”

“Oh you know how to handle meat, do you?” You tease, your hand resting on Austin’s waist instead.

Austin bites down on his lower lip as he grins, cupping your cheek to lean down and kiss you. “Class act, Y/N.” He pulls back after a moment, closing the grill lid after flipping the steaks once.

He moves to grab his own beer, taking a long sip. Despite everything you’ve been through, you seem to be doing okay. You don’t really bring up Rick at all and Austin doesn’t ask—maybe that’s a good thing, finally moving past that chapter in your life.

And even though Greg’s commentary in the grocery store rattled him a little bit, it does feel like you’re on solid ground now. That you’re not going anywhere—that they’re a team, no matter what might come their way.

Austin lets out a soft sigh, taking a step towards you. He rests his hand on your hip, angling you towards his body so he can look down at you. He waits until that gaze falls upon his own,

“No more running.”

You nod softly and press yourself on your toes to kiss the corner of Austin’s mouth, “No more running,” You agree. Austin leans down to press their foreheads together. “I’m here.”

And for better, or for worse, Austin believes you.

[transzilla]

Need a sub who is going to let me forcemasc him and kick his fucking ass like 80s rough trade style. Like some real neanderthal low IQ bdsm. Like I want to put him in the hospital. LMAO

You like a dom when it's one of your skinny fucking chainsmoking cis boys, like you honestly think you're hard because you let some skateboarder who can't lift a spare tire smack you around a little bit.

Your problem is that you're scared because you don't know what pain is. So believe me when I say I'm going to teach you what pain is.

I am literally on steroids and I do this shit for my own enjoyment.

Have you ever been hit in your liver? Like right on your ribs, a real body shot? It's like somebody lights you on fucking fire from the inside out and your whole body burns worse and worse by the millisecond. And you can taste it. Like I'm making you suck on some pennies. Lmao.

When your nose bleeds it will taste bad but you should be fine provided it doesn't obstruct your breathing. When your nose gets broken, that sinus fracture won't hurt right away from the adrenaline but as soon as it wears off it hurts like fucking hell and you can't touch it without it crunching or cracking around under your skin. You will feel nauseous and then fucking sick at the way your face breaks in ways you didn't know was possible, pieces of your inner cheekbone breaking and getting loose in your eye socket, the devil's own human anatomy lesson. When you get knocked out by getting punched in the face you think you're fine for the first half second but when the momentum catches up and your brain hits the other side of your skull in your head it's good night from there. And after you come to your face will be valentine's red and pink and swollen and nigh unrecognizable and from there is just going to turn so many pretty colors you'll look like a goddamn renaissance painting.

I'm going to make you scared that you're gonna die. And then you're gonna be scared that you might not.

You can complain, you can scream, you can beg, try to run, try to fight back, hold your hands up, there's honestly no point because you know you're going to take it and you know you like it because I say you will so you will. You're a faggot. There is something wrong with you. If you didn't come to me to try to fuck you would have just spent your time trying to run away from the first chucklefuck who knew how to fight and had a problem with you. You made it clear that this is how you accept love, so I will make you wear it on your face.

I am not going to afford you the ability to hide behind a mild, vanilla, effeminate or weak front. I am going to hurt you so badly your friends and your family and your significant other can't even bear to look at you without feeling your pain as badly as you felt it. They can't hold your perfect pretty girly face in their mind anymore, even after you eventually heal your nose has been bent into a new shape and the symmetry your teeth grew into has been rearranged into a haunted graveyard of broken and missing teeth like tombstones. And you can't exploit their safe conditional acceptance anymore. And you have to find a way to live as an ugly fucked up man when you can't get by looking pretty and doing nothing.

And idk maybe after I'll let you suck my dick a little bit.

[snaillock]

this fandom dry as shitttttt cause why am i barely seeing anyone talk about the new trailer? i know there are people talking about it if you scroll enough through the blue lock tag but for an animanga fan base that just had a season 2 of it’s anime drop? it’s a whole damn desert up in here.

anyways here are my thoughts on the trailer and the upcoming season:

good god blue lock deserved a better studio if i’m being completely honest here.

i really really don’t like the harsh look of the dominant and completely black shadows. i feel like it just does not at all fit with the art style and just clashes weirdly. it just gives off the vibe of them trying something and just going too far with it.

ofc a lot of stuff about the art direction is pretty subjective and everyone can have their own thoughts about it. personally, i don’t enjoy it that much and a lot of the screencaps are pretty unappealing to look at.

also not sure if this is just me but i have always hated is how absurdly lean the characters’ bodies looked in the anime. not completely sure if this is a thing unique to this anime or not. in the manga, they obviously looked fit and athletic but it was still believable that they were teenage athletes that have only really played on a high school/local level. meanwhile the adaptation made it appear like they have 0% body fat and are completely dehydrated. they looked like they were on steroids or some shit. is ego over there sneaking tren into their bloodstreams when they’re sleeping? and it certainly does not look this pet peeve of mine will get any better in season 2.

anyways onto the more positive stuff i’m looking forward to:

one thing i am excited for is isagis final goal in the u-20 match. i love that specific chapter in the series and i do feel like they’ll put a lot of effort into that part since it’s a pretty significant moment. so yeah i do have hopes for that. same with rin’s backstory. based on the little clip of it in the trailer, it does seem promising and i bet they’ll do a good job on that as well since it is a defining moment for his character.

another thing im quite happy about is my pookie sae’s new design. i’m so happy they changed his look to reflect the manga art style improve post-second selection arc. he looks soooo goodddd!

i’m also hella excited for the additional times. i really enjoyed those the first time i watched the anime and definitely was a little sad when i found out they weren’t canon in the actual manga. so i can’t wait to see what they’ll add to the characters this round.

even if the new season does inevitably its noticeable flaws, i bet i still will be extremely hyped when watching just like with season one. this series doesn’t fail to make me feel like a typical sports bro in a bar whenever someone makes a goal. and you bet my ass will be tuning in (🏴‍☠️) each and every week.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

WE HAVE A FLOOR

OH THANK FUCK

So, for those of you who don't know or don't recall or just love seeing this fucking story again and again because this shit has HAUNTED me for NEARLY TWO YEARS, let's turn back the clock:

2022:

By the end of June 2022, the following things had happened to me in the year 2022:

Six sinus infections, one right after the other. Tested for Covid each and every time. Not Covid. When to the doctor on day 12, got the antibiotics, shit cleared up. And basically the moment the antibiotics cleared my system, new sinus infection.

Had so many in a row, in fact, that my my ashtma wouldn't calm down, and we had to get me on steroids for ten days to basically reset my lungs.

Went to a family wedding, first big trip since lockdown.

Came home from the family wedding and had Covid. I regularly get body pain with my fevers, and this was the worst body pain of my life. I barely remember going to the doctor for the test so I could take time off. It was bad.

Was very close to a major realization that a friendship I thought was going to last my whole life had become utterly toxic and abusive.

And then the end of June hit. And I woke up one morning to Sean cursing, which was alarming. Because I curse like a sailor, but he does not. I get up to see what the problem is.

The problem is a quarter-inch of water through most of our apartment. It was coming through our light fixtures. We are in a renovated basement of a house from the 1920s. I ran outside then up the stairs to see what was going on up there.

The house is two stories. Overnight, the toilet supply line on the second story had begun to leak. This kind of leak is a silent affair. We don't know when it started. But when we woke up, the entire living/kitchen area was flooded. The laundry room/bathroom was flooded. The water had soaked into the bedroom carpet so far that it was sopping wet from the door to about two feet in.

The office had, miraculously, not taken a drop. Still not sure how that worked.

We call the management company. We call insurance. I swear my ass off because Sean has to go to work, which means I'm stuck alone all day with the mess and a dog who does NOT understand why her paws keep getting wet.

Demo guys show up. They are very, very nice. By the time they're done on day one, there are two dehumidifiers and several large fans going in my house.

We don't have A/C by the way. And it's late June, and even in PDX, that's not great.

Three days later, the demo guys show back up to take out everything that can't be fixed. Our place looked like this:

Once they took all the wet out, we had this hole in our ceiling:

And were walking around on this floor:

That's the original cement floor that was put in when the house was built, by the way.

And then, we spent the ENTIRE SUMMER waiting for someone to FIX OUR FUCKING HOUSE. From the end of June until FUCKING SEPTEMBER we were living with an open ceiling and no actual floor.

I'd email the management company. I'd call. They'd say "Oh, we're working on it. The owner is dragging his feet."

Put a pin in that claim. We'll come back to it.

At the end of July, I ended that friendship I mentioned. I am using it as a measurement here so you understand that a month into my house being like this, I was also going through a massive emotionally fucked up situation.

Work was so fucking busy I nearly burned out. On top of trying to get some answers about when I was gonna get a fucking ceiling and floor again.

By August, I snapped and sent a terselye worded email about how it should not take this long to make some fucking decisions. I got back, "Oh, we're trying, but the owner isn't communicating with us."

Put a pin in that claim, too.

Finally. FINALLY. After FOUR contractors came and looked and gave estimates, we got told "Okay, we're gonna fix your place. In September. It'll take three weeks."

So, for three weeks, we moved into a hotel, and it was...it was fine. But it's not home, okay. I just wanted to be in my fucking house with a fucking ceiling and floor.

Finally, three weeks later, we moved back in, and we had a ceiling! And a floor!

And then I got what I thought was food poisoning. 48 hours of some of the worst pain I've ever had, and my endometriosis is severe enough I had a full hysterectomy at 31 or 32 (I honestly don't recall). Okay. I know from pain. Went to the doctor. Got an anti-nausea injection from the biggest needle I have ever seen in my LIFE. The doctor pushed on my gall bladder and asked if it hurt. I'd been continuously sick for 48 hours. Everything hurt. I said, in all honesty, I couldn't tell.

Went home. Rehydrated. Things seemed fine. They guessed it was my gall bladder anyway, and since I had no history of issues, said "Let's try to change your diet before we go through surgery."

Fine. Whatever. Didn't care.

A week later, in the first week of October, I ended up in the ER because I was sick again. So sick, in fact, I could not keep down apple juice. It took TWO DAYS to get a surgical spot. I went through caffeine withdrawal. The Try Guys released their video about firing Ned. All I wanted to do was go home to my finally fixed house and fucking sleep.

Surgery went fine. Had a full-room hallucination that Sean and I were Chucky and Tiffany from the Chucky movies. Kept telling Sean to kill the nurse so we'd get a larger cut of the money. This has never happened before, but I've also never been on Dilaudid for several days in a row to control my pain. Apparently, when that happens, I think I'm a serial killing doll.

Go home. Rest up. Things seem fine.

In November, I walk into the kitchen one day, look down, and see a space between two of the floorboards that should not be there.

I refuse to deal with it and throw a rug over it.

Over the next several months, more boards start bubbling and warping.

The floor, it appears, has some fucking issues.

I ignore it for almost a year. Yes, I know what you're thinking, "Gayle, why?"

Because 2022 was a fucking disaster, and a major part of it was the flood, and sometimes you just gotta avoid that shit, okay?

But, finally, it's bad enough I know I gotta say something. I send the management company a note. They send a guy. He's great. Says I'll hear back in a week.

I don't.

And then I don't.

And then I don't.

And then the owner asks to inspect the property to see how things are looking.

He sees the floor and is shocked. This is not good. Why is it like this? How long has it been like this? When did I put in a maintenance request? And what was the last thing I heard?

This is November.

In December, we are informed via letter from the owner that he would like to be cc'ed on every request we send to the management company because he is not pleased with their performance.

Well, okay.

In January, we get a hard freeze. And then we got a pinhole leak in a pipe. That I discovered when walking into the kitchen and stepping into--you guessed it--a quarter-inch of water on the floor.

It was comin up from under the boards, but the hole was actually in our wall. We had glare ice. No one in PDX knows how to handle glare ice. The owner made the trip from the deep suburbs to us every day he could (he got stuck once) to get the problem fixed as quickly and neatly as possible.

I heard him on the phone with the management company several times explaining what he was doing, how long he thought it would take, and thanking them for communicating with us.

Which.

It took 4 days. I got one email. At 6:30 PM. On a day I heard him call them at 10 AM.

So. Suddenly "the owner isn't responding" and "the owner won't communicate" seem like complete fucking bullshit. Because he sure as hell responded when he found out there was a leak (we cc'ed him on the email as requested), and I fucking HEARD HIM communicate.

And then we found out that the owner had not had final say on the floor, which now had to be replaced not just for bubbling but for being fucking wrecked from NEW water damage.

But for this new floor, we just went through him, and would you look at that. Clear communication. Regular updates. We were on the concrete again for about three weeks because that's just how far out contractors are booking right now. But the work was done when he said it would be, and by god, it's clearly a much higher quality of flooring.

So. It's done. It's fucking done. It looks beautiful. The owner scrubbed our bathroom before he left for some fucking reason and was worried he'd lost the knob off our washing machine (we bought it used; it's never had that knob). When I met him the first time after the big leak, I thought he was a complete asshole, and it turns out he's actually all right. He gave us money for dinner this week and is also gonna get us a few days of rent comped for having to have people in and out. I'm never renting through this management company again, but if that dude's got other properties through someone else, I'd go there in a second.

April 5, 2024. May it be the last reference I ever have to make to a fucking floor repair in this house.

[silverusso]

What about Terry and Mike in the OT3? are they a thing to or do they only agree to share Daniel?

My boy always gets sidelined, and this dynamic gets ignored even more than Labarnes, which is also criminally underrated. I get it, cause Mike and Terry spent most of their screentime separately and with Daniel, in kk3 and ck s5, and so we really don’t have much to go on, unfortunately. But I’m gonna go full meta on this, even if I sound delulu.

So look, Terry says "perfect" like 4 times? And it’s always in reference to Mike. He’s just like me fr.

Mike is sort of the Johnny to Terry’s Kreese, in a sense? I say this loosely because there’s a sort of fatherly attachment in that dynamic that isn’t present here. Kreese trained Johnny, and so he sort of molded him and contributed to Johnny’s success as a two-time avt champ. Mike came to Terry already a national champion, and going by his reputation as "Karate’s Bad Boy", whoever trained him was either giving him the Cobra Kai kool-aid on steroids, or Mike was just that fucked up naturally lol. And Mike really is perfect because Terry doesn’t need to put any time or effort into him. Mike is just another financial investment, and Terry loves throwing his money around. And Mike even negotiates with him like a boss. He walked in there, not batting an eye at Terry being butt ass naked in a tub, and really said "50% or I walk" and Terry was just like "bet." AND Mike says he wants that shit in writing, and Terry draws up a whole contract with a real lawyer?? Promising 50% of Cobra Kai to this kid??? Mike is honestly so iconic. I said this before, but Mike was pretty much poised to become the face of Cobra Kai. He was supposed to be their champion and their saving grace. They were going to open dojos all over the valley when not if he won. Half of which he’d legally own. So he was basically inheriting Terry’s legacy as well.

was this really necessary sir

and this

Granted, Terry has a personal space issue with like everyone, apparently, but still, grabbing his hair? It’s not even like Mike has long hair for him to grab in the first place. And I don’t think you have to practically spit in his mouth to pretend threaten him.💀

literally, why are they standing this way

just look at the way Daniel and Kreese look at him😭

It’s giving

And then in s5, Terry burned down Mike’s store, and of course everyone links that to his jealousy over Daniel. But that store was Mike’s father-in-law’s store. So yeah it affected Mike, but it obviously affected his wife much worse lbr. And what did this lead to? Supposedly, Mike’s wife leaving him. So he basically ruined Mike’s marriage the same way he tried to do with Daniel and Amanda. 👀

And okay idc if this is a reach but Mike being on something even "stronger" than alcohol...While Terry confirmed he was on crack back in the 80s.......Remember Daniel's "your ponytailed pimp" line.

And when he mocks Johnny for being dumb and "attacking me on my own turf" which technically was Mike’s idea, BUT earlier he also said, "Uh oh, fellas, I don’t think this is gonna turn out like you thought it would." only AFTER Mike got knocked out. Because even though they would have still been outnumbered with Mike in the fight, he knew none of his little foot fist ninjas were going to stand a chance against Mike. So Mike is taken out of the fight and just like tossed in another room, which puts him conveniently out of harm's way. It’s not like he was locked in or whatever so I don’t think the major concern here was keeping him from waking up and rejoining the fight.

And btw, Mike’s plan was what ended up saving the day, cause Terry arrived too late to the dojo and was in no condition to fight Daniel. King Shit.💅

Then Terry leaves Chozen for dead in his pool and tells the senseis to pull an mk fatality on Johnny. And Mike? Just let him sleep it off. <33

like hello??

Terry knew what he was doing. He wanted Mike back by his side on a pretty leash and Daniel on his knees for him.

[arctic-hands]

Drug hysteria is so dumb. My sleep specialist says my anxiety isn't being controlled by coping strats and that's why I can't sleep and I should be on a medication for it, but then she emphasized "not benzos!" and like my psych clinic isn't even authorized to prescribe benzos in the first place, which the receptionist repeated when I asked to schedule with my psychiatrist which I already knew because I asked for some motherfucking valium a few years ago because I had frequent panic attacks. So I'm not entirely sure what even I could be on in the first place to ease my anxiety enough to sleep at night

And like the whole basis for refusing to apply for a benzos license or whatever they need to do to be able to prescribe it is because they don't want to create or fuel a drug addiction but it's not being addicted to drugs if you genuinely need to be on a medicine to function or have an improved quality of life. Like I'm not addicted to the lamictal they're prescribing for me as a mood stabilizer even tho missing just one dose will put me in excruciating withdrawal that makes me feel like I'm dying. My friend was on cymbalta for fibro and that's known as one of the worst withdrawals in medicine but she still wasn't addicted to it just because she needed it. I frequently take high doses of prednisone for my Crohn's and withdrawal from that without tapering off could give me a heart attack–it still doesn't mean I'm addicted to steroids.

To top it all off I've never even displayed any risk factors for addiction and I've been on a fuckton of medication. Hell I'm not even addicted to coffee, I suffer no withdrawal signs at all when I stop even tho I drink obscene amounts of it. I just go back to sleeping fourteen or sixteen hours a day like I was my chronically ill ass was doing before I started drinking the stuff. And you know what? That shouldn't matter in the first place because even those with risk factors for addiction deserve to be treated for whatever medical condition they have.

And do not even get me started on being disabled and a chronic pain patient who needs opioids to have any sort of pain reduction that would improve their Q.o.L

[astro-nomaly]

Graveyard Shift AU

I desperately need to talk ab my ninjago ghost au, and I'm making all of you listen to my yap session (seriously i have a Pinterest board and a playlist I've gone insane)

OKAY so first of all this is technically a modern au that takes place in vaguely america bc that's where i live and the culture is most familiar to me but Lloyd is asian (vietnamese mother, japanese father) and technically the continent is still called Ninjago. Anyways Lloyd lives with his mother Misako in Ninjago City (like in the movie). To his knowledge, his father walked out on them when he was 4-5, and his mom had a HUGE fight with his uncle shortly after, which has led to Wu being extremely estranged from him. Lloyd knows next to nothing ab his dad or uncle bc Misako hates talking ab both of them. Lloyd is routinely left home alone for weeks at a time bc Misako is an archeologist who frequently leaves the country to go on digs or whatever archeologists do. She's like borderline neglectful but not a bad person okay. Anyways backstory aside I guess the inciting incident is Lloyd getting relocated by CPS. His mom has been out of the country for 2 months now, way longer than she should be, and hasn't so much as left him on read for like two weeks, which is a problem since he ran out of money for food, so he's been eating like ramen for two weeks straight.

Anyways a neighbor gets concerned and calls CPS on his ass, and they're like "yeah no this is fucked" so after they can't get ahold of Misako, they relocate him with his uncle in Jamanakai Village, which is probably the Worst Possible Place

Anyways Lloyd fuckin HATES Wu just on principle and also abandonment issues. Plus going from a parent who barely knows what ur favorite color is to an estranged uncle up your ass ab grades and leaving the room for an hour a day is a hell of a transition. Anyways their relationship is rocky at best until Lloyd gets shot which I'll get to

Basically Lloyd attends school for a few weeks where he immediately befriends Harumi (his stalker and a cultist) and Akita (a shapeshifting fae who Really Wants Him Dead). For now, Akita isn't a problem, and Harumi isn't... much of a problem

After a while of Lloyd getting into fights (he has a history of getting bullied bc shocker his freaky ghost powers give him demon eyes ((he doesn't know he has these powers yet)) and his grades slipping Wu makes him get a job as like a discipline thing. Instead of working in his uncle's tea shop where'd he probably get more than minimum wage bc nepotism, he spites Wu by choosing to work at a goddamn graveyard (get it? Graveyard Shift?) run by Mystake. At first Wu hates this bc it's a graveyard and also he knows shit ab Lloyd that Lloyd doesn't (COUGH ghost powers COUGH) but he eventually relents (IDIOT)

So Lloyd works at a graveyard for a few weeks, during which he meets a random stray cat he names Jade (the cat is Harumi. I promise I will explain the whole Harumi thing in another post but this is strictly storyline shit rn) and one night while he's walking home from work, he gets followed and shot by some hooded figure. One near death experience later he's waking up in a hospital after like a week with even freakier eyeballs and the ability to see ghosts. Basically, his powers were stunted by a deepstone ring his mother gave him, but a near death experience rendered it basically useless since it brought out too much power for the ring to really do anything about.

So Lloyd basically kicks off a vigilante arc when almost immediately the town starts getting attacked by ghosts determined to cause chaos everywhere Danny-Phantom-style. He denies being a vigilante bc he thinks it's cringey but his other option is calling himself a ghostbuster.

Anyways it's later revealed that someone called The Quiet One is the one summoning and putting ghosts on steroids to like. Make Lloyd use his powers a whole bunch bc she really wants him to go with her back to her cult. At the same time, a shapeshifting girl in a wolf mask starts trying to murder both of them and she absolutely refuses to explain why. So an episodic type structure ensues with villain-of-the-week ghosts popping up for Lloyd to test his powers on while QO stands around in the background trying to either a) convince him to go with her to her cult bc she just has so many answers or b) flat out kidnap him with increasingly ridiculous schemes that never work, either bc of Red the Murderous Wolf with a Very Big Knife, or general Looney-Tunes shenanigans, while Red is still trying to murder them both with equal levels of Looney-Tunes shenanigans. Also, Lloyd gets a boyfriend. This is a Problem. At the same time, Lloyd is trying to figure out Ghost Lore by himself while simultaneously hiding his vigilante/ghostbuster shit from his friends and boyfriend, one (technically two) of which already know ab said ghostbuster bullshit. Also, his mom is still missing.

Eventually everything goes to shit and the horror genre of this really kicks in when Dareth (Lloyd's social worker) reveals that Misako never so much as checked into her hotel room, which is weird since Lloyd had gotten texts from her for like over a month where she told him all kinds of stuff ab work. He comes to the conclusion that she up and abandoned him, and in an attempt to run away from this conclusion, decides to impulsively explore the tomb in the middle of the graveyard, which the ghost gang (uh. the ninja and morro. The ninja are all ghosts in this au) thinks has tons of Ghost Lore inside. It's during this that he finds a scroll about a Realm Crystal and its location/how to use it. Jade, who followed him into the tomb, tries to use Mystake's appearance to manipulate him into handing it over, and it's revealed that she's been stalking him and impersonating like half the people in his life. (I promise I'll explain her deal in another post) anyways the psychological horror kicks in and the whole thing dominoes into Wu getting kidnapped when Harumi gives up on the friendship ruse (not that she isn't actually Lloyd's friend. She loves him and Akita, she's just really fuckin desperate and in the middle of a breakdown), and Lloyd getting portalled away. He calls Akita for help, Akita figures out he's Conduit (uh. that's his code name) and her identity is also revealed when she tries to murder him (she's also having big emotions ab this)

So now Lloyd is attempting to get to the Realm Crystal/save his parents and uncle from a cult while both Harumi and Akita are chasing him and trying to kidnap/murder him. which is what was already happening but now it's three-way angst fests and mental breakdowns. Also Lloyd gets saddled with Dareth, who is strapped and has no other competent qualities aside from his ability to make dumplings. Blah blah blah they eventually have a big three-way fight at like idk a temple, Lloyd is kidnapped, Harumi has a crisis and decides "fuck wait i love these guys and i hate this cult. also i don't want the world to end" and does a 180 and switches sides. Akita is deciding that she isn't okay with killing her friends while she teams up with Dareth to un-kidnap Lloyd. Redemptions and forgiveness underway, Lloyd gets possessed by the Preeminent, body horror ensues, boss fight ensues, bam down. In case you haven't noticed I plot aus like they're fanfics and I've been thinking about this one for a hot fuckin second

Thanks for attending the yap session y'all you can leave now

[saintlaurentproblems]

I lowkey think Niall wanted to bang Olivia Rodrigo during 2021. I know you can say he was a fan and such but idc. He gave off im down if ur down vibes lol. And Miley Cyrus deffo wanted to fuvk Harry in 2013, she said he was her vibe. They really make sense cause they are two rock stars.

Olivia gives me mean girl vibes. Her friend Cameron and her dad were shading Sabrina during 2021. https://www.youtube.com/shorts/AEXIn1zeYGk

Her fans were dragging Sabrina for making Skin and calling Sabrina the mean girl for standing up against her fans AND Olivia. I do believe the energy you put out there is the energy you receive and it shows now with Sabrinas success. Olivia was being envious of Sabrinas beauty and personalty. People calling Sabrina a flop and now 2024 is her year. Sabrina did not bitch and moan about Olivia, she fr locked in during her big L (and I do believe it shook her-this younger girl swooped in and took a bunch of a Grammys home on her first album...like I know that hurt lmao).

Justin Bieber is an asshole to fans. I dont know why he still has fans and I thought we all agreed to leave him in 2015. Justin acts like we put a gun to his head and forced him to be famous. Just cause you hate your life doesnt mean the fans have to. Giving people the stink eye when they ask for photos. Just ignore them but he spends more energy to be mean. Even last year he was acting weird to fans, https://www.tiktok.com/@noahglenncarter/video/7238756012759452971?lang=en Bro thinks hes the main character 24/7. Relax bro this isnt about you. People are recording cause this a public celeb event. Just stay your ass home. He is stuck in time and thinks we are in 2016 wtf. Another example: https://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/the-hot-button/did-justin-bieber-really-call-a-fan-a-beached-whale-in-australia/article15855402/

Harry Styles gotta be the smartest male singer in terms of image. Besides the whole zionism claims (which we know he supports). There is no slip up..ever. Its so impressive like you will never catch him lacking. Being quiet really takes you so many places.

Selena Gomez is only fucking Benny Blanco cause her looks fell off...and he is associated with JB. You really think 2015 Selena would date Benny? She wouldn't even date Charlie Puth and he is easy on the eyes. People calling her looks nowadays plastic surgery is so sad. Her face was perfect before lupus and its the moon face from her steroid medications that fucked her looks up. People who went though the same: https://www.reddit.com/r/kidneydisease/comments/14x28ix/before_and_after_prednisone/ This why her body is shaped like an apple now: https://www.quora.com/What-are-the-side-effects-of-prednisone https://prednisonepharmacist.com/prednisone-parables/prednisone-parables/ Thats why sometimes her face looks lopsided or looks like she got fillers in her cheeks.

Okay this was A LOT to read.

1. I don’t think Niall wanted to necessarily fuck Olivia but I think he wanted some of her hype and appeal to her demo. Niall had a smart team.

2. I don’t really agree.

3. Hmmm I think the Olivia and Sabrina beef is complicated. And it was smart to lean into it for press and clicks. Imagine if Joshua didn’t lean into the Jesus brand and playing to the next pop boy. We could actually have some interesting content now. I do hope we get an Olivia and Sabrina collab.

4. Yes I’ve heard Justin is so rude to fans. Especially during his peak douchebag years 2015ish. He apparently kicked a girl out of his Uber in the middle of a highway. I think he has mellowed out now. I just don’t think he is good at handle stress. I have way more compassion for him now tho.

5. Harry’s team is so polished. And he is smart to actually listen to him. Idk who ever gave him advice during 1D deserves an award or something. He gives me a pretentious vibe tho. Almost like he has to put on this image to be taken seriously as an artist. He seems inauthentic most of the time.

6. Selena has dated hot and successful men who have treated her like shit. So if dating Bennie is what makes her happy then good for her! And yes she has a round face so when she puts on weight or swells from her meds it really shows in her face. She’s still stunning.

[originemesis]

@deathinfeathers xxx

"Are you going to keep rubbing that shit in my face for the rest of our brimstone besprinkled lives? I wasn't hunting you down! You were dead!! I was hunting down the bitch who I assumed was wearing your GODDAMNED GRUB EATEN SKIN!!" It sounds significantly more deranged when you say it out loud, doesn't it? But it seemed reasonable enough of an assumption at the time. More reasonable than the notion that he'd survived the pygmy slut's assault and crawled off to suck on some flat-faced degenerate plutocrat in a shitty suit anyhow. "And for your information--" There she goes, swinging her legs over the lip of the sill she'd been riveted to for the past five hours and taking to her feet. An accusatory finger is jabbed in his direction like the business end of a blessed spear. She presses onwards. "--he was actually pretty torn up about the whole ordeal!" Torn up about how torn up she was, rather, but torn up all the same. Of course that had changed when the true extent of his dirty dealings had come to light...at this point in time she wouldn't put it past Michael to do a little celebratory jig if he did manage to relieve Adam of his head. God, his fatalistic frame of mind is infuriating. She wants to fight, make no mistake about that. She wants the catharsis that always accompanies a good ol' noisy squabble, it never lasts but it feels good in the moment; a release. But she wants to feel bad afterwards, because she was unduly cruel, maybe stew in it for an hour or two before the compulsion to apologize takes the reigns and she drags her feet over to do just that. Apoligize. And when she has said her sorries, and he has said his, then she wants everything to be alright again. To bid adieu to another shitty ass day, crawl under the sheets and fall asleep to the smell of his skin, the sound of his breathing, the feeling of his warmth seeping into her flesh... She wants to fight—but it's all so exhausting. That scornful digit falls from the air to hang limply at her side like a popped balloon, before she has a chance to prod at his chest with it. "Adam—" A breath squeezed through pinched lips, she turns to hunch over the kitchen counter, elbows on the edge, head planted firmly in the cradle of her palms. "—can you please—please try to work with me here. Or, alternatively, tell me to fuck off if that's what you'd prefer...to go back to whatever life and identity you've carved out for yourself here? I will. I'll leave you be if you tell me to...I'll handle Michael, he's not going to be a persistent hurdle to you...but I need to hear you say it...if you don't want me around i need you to tell me—right now."

"I JUST SO HAPPENED TO BE 'THAT BITCH'- in case you forgot!? Like shit, Lute! I mean, I appreciate the sentiment and all, but you really couldn't recognize me? MY helmet at least stayed the fucking same!" Unlike hers...her whole being, really. He's still not sure what sorts of angel steroids that Sera could have sprinkled her with, but the evidence of a promotion that never was supposed to come to pass under his leadership was evident even now without all the frills of a uniform in place. Granted, he was never supposed to end up face first in a used condom filled ditch in hell either, so maybe she was on to something... grotesque as she had to put it- like always.

Sending a still sore about it scowl over towards her perch, it's with a lesson learned back pivot that he slides the hulking weight of his frame back onto a heel as she jabs at him. Her angelic weapon might not be out for another branding round, but he'd had enough of an encounter with it skinning the neck flap of his helmet that even the gesture of a spear had his remaining feathers fluffed in alarm. "Please- it's not like you're obligated to pat my ass down here. We both know he could give zero fucks with that mic-ropenis of his." No, he wasn't against making Mic-centric jokes still. If anything, they helped smooth his feathers down as he paced the length of the apartment under her unrelenting gaze. Considering he's all she has left now up behind the big, pearly-gates, the late Commander's not sure she'll share in his cathartic name calling, but it can't hurt that its brought his voice down a couple of octaves and the weight of his gaze light enough to swivel up under heavy lashes to listlessly consider her next round of tumultuous tweets.

"Babe—?"

He huffs back before she can project more of what he can only assume is more of her frustrations with the situation-... with him. Her complaints don't fall on deaf ears, though the hints of hell-grown feathers near where the tufts of his hair and the tops of his lobes meet flare backwards as if to cover them or at least filter the tone of her request until it convinced him to ride the long, hissing exhale of his lungs to a patch of level ground between them- mainly the counter top. Tucking in beside her, he propped his chin up on a palm and a fanned set of talons while the golden pinpricks in his toasted gaze swiveled sideways to regard her the way an entirely too tired cat might observe a bird through a bay window. "I didn't carve shit, y'know? I never wanted you to have to be around me like...well-" Gaze dropping to study the curves of the set of claws he rested upon the counter in front of him, he curled their tips under the harmless ends of hell-charred knuckles and sighed. "-like this...zero dick energy disaster." A light shuffle of his weight from one shoulder to the one closest to her indicated he still felt some magnetism to her despite the shame-riddled sentiment. "But that never changed the fact that I needed you...that I don't know how to even be without you. All this life you say I carved? Was just me clawing the fuck out of everything just to keep my head above the surface of this complete and utter shit show!"

With a dropped sigh, he scooted the balled up fist over to where she'd tucked her head. A light press of knuckles against the side of her cheek coaxed another cautious rumble out of his chest. "You gotta understand- I been through this before. Always falling short of what they wanted...expected. Ending up alone. I can't handle it again- not with you. Because unlike my previous 'tasks' from heaven, I actually chose this. I chose YOU...so I can't be here when you decide this-" A soft grunt aimed down at himself and the flick of a tail as it coiled around his calf signaled his unease, but he shook at it like a wet dog. "-was never what you wanted in the end."

With a shift, he swiveled on the barstool to face inwards, cheek still propped precariously in his palm as he addressed her with a strained frown, lips a twitch from parting into a puff. "Because I-...fucking hell, Lute..." Thoughts of her perched in his lap with clumsy fingers lingering over the notes on an old bass he'd insisted on showing her coaxed the lightest quirk to the corner of his mouth, his eyes flashing with the sentiment his lips seemed hung on.

I fucking love you. "...don't leave."

[hellsbroadcaster]

I feel bad because I haven't really done much here. I don't really like using my health as an excuse but its genuinely what it is. I'm exhausted all the time. This steroid medication is the worst and its going on 8 whole month's I've been taking it. I've gained a ton of weight, like it doesn't feel normal. my body aches all the time. I feel like I'm pregnant. none of my clothes fit me anymore which only leads to more of my inner self loathing which I hate because after my last relationship i really worked hard to build myself up. And it felts like every time I think I'm getting better SOMETHING happens. and I try so hard to not let it get to me.

It took me years to stop being in denial about diabetes. i almost had to die before I started to accept that this was my life. and ive been proud and worked very hard to get where I am with it. not I feel like I'm failing again cuz the steroids work against them. my A1C went up, and i'm just so disappointed by it. I've been having some manner of fatigue about taking my meds. which i usually dont but i find myself taking them later and later in the day. Sunday, I opted to not take the steroid and with only ONE day it made me feel horribly sick. this blood disorder really is the worst. the fact that i cant go one day without it or it'll really make me sick just annoys the crap out of me. I hate it. i hate not having control on it. also when i talked to my therapist she talks about how trauma has a lot to do with your health and how it effects your body. and when I think back to all the trauma i've experienced within the last 6 years? it makes sense the way my body is just trying to kill me. because what are the odds I get a rare blood disease like really.

and I hate talking about it because I feel like such a burden. when people ask me how i'm doing and i say okay because if I tell them its day three and I still feel like shit like ppl get tired eventually. i always have to act like i'm good at home anyway because otherwise I'll hear my mom say 'oh its always something with you' like i asked for this shit.

I guess my point is, I really wanna be more active but I put all my energy into work because its such a complicated job, and if I slack off even a little its a pain in the ass to get caught back up and so its always frustrating when I have to take off and i come back to a mess despite me leaving it perfect for the person who is backing me up. they wont pay me FMLA, and I have to take off at least one day a week to make appointments for this illness. i technically work the full 80 hours but on the days i work 12s i cant take a lunch, i have to get up earlier. and its already draining for me. so by the time I get off work, I don't even wanna transition to my laptop. but I love being here and i have so much fun so i try my best. lately tho, I look at my drafts and I have so much muse but no energy at all. i promise i am working on it. I really just ask for patience. being in this fandom has been the most fun i've had on tumblr in a very long time.

my hope with this new medication I am getting, they will start to tamper me off the steroids, and my energy will start to come back as the dose goes down. my fingers are crossed honestly.

[bitchy-peachy]

Update:

One of my tenants is a nurse and she's gonna help teach me how to put special shots on my stomach (my doctor prescribed shots to deal with my chemo better).

My pharmacy delivered the shots home personally and now they're in the fridge waiting for tomorrow.

I have chemo on Monday so yay I guess.

Sorry I haven't talked to anybody but I'm trying to learn how to calm myself down cos my drug induced depression really made me asocial af.

Thanks to my studies I know what's my real emotions and what are drug induced ones. I would never recommend self-diagnosis but considering the knowledge I have... yeah, I went down that route and gave my self-diagnosis to a psychiatrist as well as a med list i believed would help me and she listened to me unlike the male doctor I was given the first time.

So I'm on my way to getting better.

My steroids caused me the most hard-core depression that my teen suicidal tendencies had returned with a vengeance so bad that my head doctor had to take me off steroids earlier than expected.

I'm getting better now but now I'm starting to feel my REAL depression. No suicidal tendencies or anything... just feeling very exhausted and unworthy of the care I'm getting cos people are too damned good to my messy ass and i don't know how to handle kindness so i cry like an idiot.

It'll take awhile for the effects of the steroids to be completely out of my system and my prescribed meds to start finally kicking in so I'll be gloomy for awhile longer. (Weeks or months even. This is why I hate steroids)

I wanna handle this depression first before resuming my regular social activities again cos I feel like I'm unintentionally dragging people down into my misery and I feel even worse for it.

I don't want pretend to be happy. I want genuine happiness. My family knows when I'm faking shit. They don't like it and call me out pretty fast.

I'll need to take my percocet at 10 cos my doctor wasn't around all week and couldn't give me the pain patches that really took my hip pain away like a switch.

Strangely I'm walking better and am managing to cook, but I need my roller walker to move but I'm doing a lot stuff on my own. (Still need some assistance but not as much as before so that's good I guess)

The pain is bad when I wake up, sit on the edge of the bed and stand up. After that if I'm walking or standing for awhile... I'm fine.

Made Luthian and I some Mediterranean sandwiches since I've changed my diet for a "cancer friendly" one and we were by ourselves in the house. Turns out Luthian loves my diet so every time I say I'm preparing something, they ask me to make extra and they gobble it all up. First time I've seen them eat that fast. 🤣 Gotta sneak out of my room to make us more food since relatives don't want me outta my bed. If I had gotten busted I wouldn't been allowed to cook, lol. I like cooking new recipes as soon as I learn them (found a sweet soup dumpling recipe I wanna try. I can't fry them but I can boil for my soups and homemade sauces)

That's a good food for Luthian too. These diets not only fight cancers but also prevents them so my kid being healthier makes me a lot calmer. They tend to be picky with food and now they eat and leave the plate clean... so I guess my kid just needed different foods with different spices.

Unto other things: My arms get tired quickly but it's cos I'm using them a lot. 😔😥 I need the exercise and I know it but damn my shoulders pop so loud whenever I roll them after doing strenuous activities. My whole skeleton is an orchestra.

Then there's the tiredness.

Like "lifting my whole body weight with my noodle arms" kinda tired. (Quite literally. I'm like teke-teke lifting my entire body, useless leg and all, with my arms. If i start walking with my hands only i know Luthian would hate my guts cos they fear teke-teke big time)

Anyways, my pills are giving me hot flashes again and I feel strangely horny by myself in here. I'm hoping it passes quickly cos I know it's another drug induced thing.

Like what's up with that? My doctor told me my estrogen restricting pills could take or lower my libido completely due to early menopause (It stopped my period since last year)...

Another doctor told me I could have a different reaction sexually... like a higher sex drive despite no longer ovulating since every woman takes to hormone treatments differently.

These reactions are so damned weird.

Well that's all for now. Hopefully my chemo on Monday won't fuck me up like the last one that literally gave me a severe gastritis that had me hospitalized for 8 days. (No freaking joke. That's why I lost 40 pounds so fast. 😭)

PS: checked my newest percocet instructions and the doc had actually upped it to twice the dose in less time. Damn, I must have looked like shit... my family said I'm looking better since getting my gastritis taken care off but the doctor really went "you need stronger meds asap!"

Took them properly now. Within 40 or so minutes I'll feel numb af. Might bother people on whatsapp until I pass out. I get chatty af when on pain meds.

[pumpkin321xxx]

BORED CLOWN

I had no wifi for a few days, on the verge of losing my sanity so I wrote this to cope with the broken router</3

"Say, Dos-Kun! I'm bored af!!" Whined the clown who sluggishly waved his left hand with his head resting on the table.

The said man raised his eyes off the book and looked over to his bored partner with a sigh. "I assign you a mission to kidnap a kid and play around with them until your boredom is cured. Now let me read in peace." Nikolai's eyes widened along with his whole demeanor changing up with the mention of that strange mission. Proccessing whatever Fyodor said for a moment, he gave away a nod with a look of skepticism and lifted up the end of his coat to disappear away to his mission in search of a playmate. "A small kid would be a pain in the ass…" Nikolai muttered as he was looking at the playground filled with little children who would most likely run away. And he knows for sure they have demands that can be quite annoying to deal with, not to forget the tantrums of those spawns of demons. "Teenagers… NO GROSS!" He immediately shook off the idea of dealing with one just because they have a worse attitude than any kid. They are mature, yes, but they are quite rebellious and won't listen to sane adults, let alone some clown who would probably get laughed at. And he can't risk to scare them off with knives and guns simply because it's the easiest way to put someone under control and they are boring too with time using that technique.

"Young adults might be fine… No! They think they know better than me just because they're growing into an adult!" And for the first time, he took something seriously just because he didn't want any annoying human to kill off the mood and splatter the room in red. He let out a frustrated growl before he was shaken off from what he was doing when he heard some rattling from the trash can. Nikolai stepped closer to the can and took a peek inside to see a raccoon looking through the trash. There was some suspicious white powder and the hungry raccoon licked it all without a second thought.

Nikolai stared at it intently as the time passed by. A few minutes later, the raccoon acted… bizarre… He can't believe he's assuming this but the raccoon was most likely high on steroids, he confirmed it with the scent it was emitting from the can. Staring at the high on steroids raccoon for another hot minute, a sinister smile began to stretch on his face with the amazing idea filling up his head.

"RANPO-KUN!!! RANPO-KUN!! KARL MY BUDDY IS MISSING!!" Panicked Poe barged into the office of Detective Agency. It was… empty…

"THEY TOOK OVER THE ADA!! WHO WILL BE MY BEST RIVAL?! WILL I EVER FIND A RIVAL LIKE RANPO-KUN?!!" A slap at Poe's head shut him up and before he could turn to see who it was, he was snatched into the dark.

Poe's vision adjusted through the dark atmosphere. He slowly looked around only to see the raccoons.. all around…

"BREAKING NEWS!! The raccoons in the peaceful city of Yokohama have gone berserk. Rumors stated that they might be high on steroids."

Sigma narrowed his eyes upon hearing the news and sighed when he realized what happened.

"Why.. raccoons" "Why not?!" Nikolai beamed in reply to Fyodor's question. "You have nikolaid this shit... I guess a clown and boredom is the worst of the combinations God himself has to forbid.." Fyodor sighed again as the raccoon snatched the Ushanka hat from his head and shredded it.

SN: Don't mind the shitty font cuz I lack experience and it's my first time posting a one-shot here-

[wolfsclothing6]

“Come here bro, give me a hug.”

“What the fuck Daniel, is that you?”

“Yeah man. Just finished my workout. You getting ready to lift to bro?”

“Jesus man, what the hell happened to you? You are huge! And where did all that chest hair come from?”

“I got a new personal trainer this week. He’s really put me through my paces and it’s showing.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but that’s not normal. Fuck, even steroids couldn’t make a guy grow that big that fast.”

“No man, it’s nothing like that. Other than working my ass off, the only thing different we did was that he chilled with me in the steam room for a bit after we lifted. He just gave me a couple pointers, I don’t exactly remember what they were, and before you knew it I’m a big bear of a man!”

“I should call your parents or something. This is really messed up. Hey, what the hell?”

“Shhhh, don’t worry bro. I’m just giving you a big hug, that’s all. My shirt’s pretty sweaty. Hell, I guess my whole body is sweaty. That’s what you’re feeling after all. My manly sweat, getting all over your clothes and skin. Looks like your body’s practically absorbing it bro.”

“Ugggh…what…can’t think…”

“Bro, you aren’t here to think. You’re here to lift. Even though I just finished my workout I will spot you. I will stand nice and close, to make sure your form is good. And also to make sure I get plenty of sweat on you too. By the time the workout is over we are going to hit the steam room together. In that small room, when my body is sweating that much, it’ll do wonders for you. You’ll stop worrying so much, and you will see tremendous gains. Your whole body will grow bigger, and plus it’ll really put hair on your chest. Looks like my big old bear hug is going to make a bear of a man out of you! Now let’s get over to the bench press. Nothing like having my big sweaty crotch right above your face to motivate you to work hard and lift like a bro!”

[incorrect-mordet-quotes]

Best SAO Abridged Lines As RP Starters Pt.2

“I said JUMP you delightful ______ stereotype!”

“So... I have my book. I have my bourbon. Gather ‘round children!”

“Our magical journey began in... April... apparently. Guess we’re going for a slow burn on this one.”

“Who are you people and why are you at my table?”

“I thought I had that set to private?”

“So my crew and I - I call them my crew by the way - were thinking that you should join us.”

“Now I know what you’re thinking. ‘Am I REALLY worthy to join these awesome dudes?’ ”

“I have literally never thought that about anyone.”

“We could certainly use someone with your... ass-ets.”

“Hey, hey, my eyes are down here.”

“So let me introduce you to the crew. I call them the crew by the way.”

“Uhm... is that important?”

“And uh, he’s from the tutorial. Its not a good tutorial.”

“Winners don’t use drugs. Except steroids! In which case... use lots of drugs!”

“Wait, so you never finished the tutorial?”

“Hey, just because I can’t play the game, doesn’t mean I can’t PLAY the game. Wink.”

“I feel like you don’t know how winking works.”

“Sweet merciful Buddha! What the fuck?!”

“Grab the women and children! We’ll use them as shields!”

“Haha... what shenanigans! Four people died in that fire...”

“From the ashes sprouted a powerful friendship, and in time, ______ found that he could almost tolerate them, much like a fat man tolerates tapeworms in his intestines. And like those tapeworms, that group burrowed deep into his innards, and gorged themselves on his leftovers, until they began causing him abdominal pain and diarrhea! I realize the metaphor’s broken down a bit... but granny didn’t raise no quitter!”

“And since I know its your day off, I included a little motivation.”

“Is it supposed to hurt like that?”

"Well, shit... I don’t know how to mock that.......... Oh god, that’s never happened before!”

“Uh hah... okay... but what’s the point of other people if not to mock them?”

“You know, I’m starting to see why people think you’re an asshole.”

“People think I’m an asshole?!”

“And if you think that sounds like a cop-out, congratulations! You get a cookie.”

“Wow, you’ve really opened my eyes. I’ve been such a jerk. Well no more, you’re looking at a whole new me! From now on, I’m gonna be nicer, and show people the compassion they deserve!”

“So can we talk about my problems now?”

“Ugh, no one cares.”

“Hey, I thought you said you were gonna black out from the pain...”

“Guess I’m just a lot tougher than I thou--AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

“The good news is, we’re in debt to the Mob! No, wait... that’s the bad news. Also there’s NO good news!”

“Well... see... I... kinda sold it... and now...”

“The bandits are coming!”

“Well, let me put it this way... Take the most horrific, awful thing you can think of... and multiply it by cancer!”

“Well no offense, but that’s the most--- ...probably fine idea I’ve ever heard...”

“That’s a weird way to phrase that.”

“Don’t push me on this!”

“We really need to take that hat away from him.”

“Uh... did they even tell us what item we’re looking for?”

“Oh yeah, this looks legit... come on, even WE’RE not dumb enough to fall for this.”

“...you set them to auto-loot, didn’t you?”

“Oh yeeeaaah... we’re sprinting to our deaths at RECORD speed!”

“Well... it might not be a trap... maybe we just won a prize or something?”

“I thought you were gonna be nicer?”

“Baby steps!”

“Christ, I need more bourbon.”

“I’ve been having this weird pain in my chest. I suppose it started after I watched my entire group get slaughtered... but I mean, I didn’t take any damage, so that can’t be it.”

“Well, as many questions as this raises... I’m gonna keep this brief.”

“You’re not injured, you’re sad that your friends died!”

“Wow, I never thought about it like that.”

“Yeah. Big shock, you friggin’ sociopath.”

“Don’t ruin this for me!”

“And it was there that he spotted the big man himself, streaking through the snowy sky, on a sleigh full of Christmas cheer! The patron saint of prostitutes - look it up - old Saint Nick!”

“Does this look like the face of victory to you?”

“Wear it... poop in it... I don’t really care anymore.”

“I do suppose I should thank you. You made me realize that by being nice and letting people in, they’ll just die. But even still, thank you for showing me that there’s still a part of me that can feel like this, because now that I know where to find it, I’ve killed it forever.”

“No... no! You were so close! You were almost a person! You were so close!”

“And so they say, _____’s heart grew three sizes that day... and immediately shrank six, imploding into a black hole from which no love could escape.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting a happy ending? Well I’m afraid the real world doesn’t work that way, bucko! The only thing you can hope for in life is that you make enough money to fill the void left behind by the woman you love when she takes your children to some island in Tahiti with a cabana boy half her fucking age!”

“Well look at me now you harlot! I’m still alone with all my money!”

“God, I’m alone... so alone...”

“Oh god... its in the Persian rug!”

“I can’t believe I have to explain why you can’t SKIN MY FRIEND!”

“And I can’t believe I need to explain why I need leather pants.”

“I don’t want to wear my pet you monster!”

“Well there’s just no pleasing you, is there?”

“This is not awesome! This is the opposite of awesome!”

“Okay... well... I didn’t mean a literal second, but you couldn’t know that.”

“I said, can you stop staring at me? Its creepy!”

“I’ll just find myself a spot that isn’t full of crying children... oh look! There’s one now.”

“Aren’t you gonna ask me what’s wrong?”

“Yeah I’m not pulling the pin on that grenade.”

“Well, I guess it all started when I was born... my mom was a bit of a drinker. Sober? That was just not in the cards--”

“God, do I ever! I can never UN-know! These brain cells could’ve been used to formulate the perfect strategy, instead, they’ve memorized what kind of crayons you liked to eat when you were four!”

“I liked the purple ones.”

“Yeah, I know... and the blue ones were too tart.”

“If I tell you how to resurrect your hamster, will you leave me alone?”

“No language on earth has a word for how little I care. A quantum super computer calculating for a thousand years could not even approach the number of fucks I do not give.”

“Uhp-puhp-puhp, cool your jets, Zippy, there’s more to it than that.”

“--and since you just spent the last seven hours making me consider the pros and cons of a lobotomy via soup spoon, I’d say you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“What do you mean you’re not going?! I could die out there!”

“I believe I made myself clear about my number of fucks and willingness to give them.”

“Aw, that’s too bad... did you at least manage to make some good pants out of her?”

“She’s right you know... dragon leather IS surprisingly comfortable.”

“Oh, no no no, its cute. I love the whole tough guy persona you’ve got going on there. Very convincing.”

“Come on... we’ve got a hamster to save.”

“So, hey... uh... random question. You didn’t hear anything... WEIRD last night, did you?”

“Don’t look up my skirt!”

“Uhm... I think you have more pressing concerns!”

“Just stay calm. You already have everything you need to defeat it!”

“The power to believe in myself?”

“Noooooo, a knife! Stab it!”

“Sigh... this is gonna be my whole day, isn’t it?”

“That’s insane! Who designed a game this way?!”

“You don’t... play a lot of RPGs, do you?”

“Oh my god, will you just come out already?”

“______?! Oh - my - god! How ARE yo--oh god, wow, that’s enough of that. Jesus, how do you put up that act all day?”

“Wow, I thought you might be someone dangerous like _____, I’ve never even heard of you.”

“Ooo-hoo, impressive! You can frighten people who think SLIMES are terrifying!”

“Have you seen their eyes?! They have no souls!”

“Ah... so quick with the snark. Of course, that’s all you really have going on, isn’t it? A witty retort to distract everyone from what you really are. A sad, lonely little boy with no one who loves him. Someone so dead inside, he’d use a child as bait to lure me out.”

“_____ would never do something so horrible!”

“No, she’s right, I totally did that.”

“Aw, that’s adorable... you think they’re a threat! Well, you just sit tight. Show’s about to start. Careful though, the first three rows are a splaaaash zooone~”

“Um, Boss... a thought occurs. This guy thought he was going up against _______, but he still just brought himself and a small child. You sure we want to mess with this guy?”

“...Boss, I think this might be a trap.”

“But, I’ve got good news. Y’see, there’s no need to wonder where your god is! Cuz he’s right here! And he’s fresh out of mercy.”

“I’m getting real tired of your first year psych student bullshit.”

“Enjoy this while you can. Its the deepest you’ll ever be in a woman.”

“Yeah, well... you’re dead! So........................ DAMN IT.”

“Well... you did just kill someone. Doesn’t that make you feel.... something?”

“Oh, feelings? Yeah, I don’t have those anymore. Went cold turkey.”

“What?! You can't just do that! What's the point in living if you can't feel happiness, wonder, love...?"

"...or the sweet taste of revenge! You're right! What's the point in living if I can't enjoy such simple things?"

"Um... I don't think so. Don't take this the wrong way. I'm grateful for your help, but you're... like... the worst person I've ever met."

"Is that your big plan here, huh? Make me feel feelings so you can cut me down a peg? That cuts deep, kid... but I respect that."

"Yeah... that's kinda the problem."

"I'm.... sorry for your loss."

[winderlylandchime]

2/3 ‘Look it’s Emy and Bri!! Are they finally going to be good friends?’ ‘Oh Brian, is BORED BORED! He is not used of being without Justin. I love it but i hate it…exactly Ben, Brian is hurting!!! finally someone kno- FUCK YOU DEB�� *pauses tv on Mel and Linds fighting* ‘idk anything about *flaps his hand towards me* uterus stuff but can she really have a kid cause of a new procedure? (Craig comes up on screen) OH ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOT! NO NO NO NOOOOO!’ I need you to know that when he watched s1 and Craig gave Justin rules, he actually physically left the house and went to a store 5 minutes away (it took him 15 bc he could barely walk and yes, i did go after him bc he’s an idiot) but this time he stayed seated so maybe he’s maturing. ‘No Justin, there are better ways to pay for tuition than going to your bitch ass dad. Like becoming a hitman is always an option or selling your feet pics! But don’t throw your dignity away for that fucker. OH SO NOW BRIAN IS GOOD FOR YOUR SON? WHEN HE PAYS HIS SHIT. everyone uses him! The lesbians *quickly makes a fist for ally*, Mike, Deb, he has no one in his corner except me! THATS RIGHT YOU ARE NEVER GONNA BE STRAIGHT, take it from me Justin, it’s not all that pretty. I mean the girls are pretty and they smell nice and wear cute lipsticks but the dudes give us bad rep *looks at me in fear* am i one of the dudes?’ Craig says that Justins biggest priority as a kid was to make him proud ‘oh go fuck yourself’ *pauses and leaves the house for a smoke break* ‘Did Ben always wear glasses? Or is he just so boring that I didn’t even notice that change until now? Why is he so boring? Is it to like show the total opposite of Brian for Michael?…BEN is literally the only one in this whole show that is thinking logical about the whole moving in thing. Michael in s1! Justin now with that lil freak.. WHAT IS THIS? I didn’t even wanna move in with you for a few months after this surgery and I’ve known you my whole life..’ ‘so Emmett cheated on Ted, Justin cheated on Brian..i see a pattern but only one of those doesn’t make me want to puke..is this what their relationship is gonna be like?’ The school tuition scene is finally up!!! ‘NOW WHY IN THE FUCK IS HE HERE? Why would they put him in a scene where Justin has to talk to his school about HIS education? Whats next? He goes with him to a job interview? (The cringe lines are said) god, i wish the world was deprived of you. ITS ALREADY BEEN PAID?! LADY TELL ME WHO PAID IT! I REFUSE TO GIVE CRAIG A REDEMPTION ARC! JUSTIN IS LOOKING DOWN! CMON CAMERA PAN THE FUCK DOWN I WANNA SEE THE NAME.’ He paused the ep to give me an example of how they shouldve done a reveal of the person that paid tuition so when Justin looked down, the camera would reveal it. He is very upset that they didn’t do it like that because he would like to know who paid for the tuition and is threatening with arson if they end up treating him like Justin when it comes to Brian and the hospital visits.

Are Emy and Bri now going to be good friends? Brother is on the platonic KinneyCutt train. I love that for us.

HE PHYSICALLY LEFT THE HOUSE when Craig laid down his rules in S1? I love that. (ally!)

Becoming a hit man or selling your feet pics. I die.

Everyone uses him! I know, right?

am i one of the dudes? Brother Anon, I think I speak for all of us when I say, no you are not. You are one of us.

Ben is boring but he does think logically. I love his theory about showing Michael with the opposite of Brian… and I’m dying a little. I can’t wait for his reaction to Ben’s steroid use and his ‘roid rage towards Brian in the locker room.

The school scene. Absolutely why is Justin’s brand new boyfriend at the registrar’s office except to deliver those cringiest lines. (Excuse me while I puke)

Quickly going to the next one because we know what happens and it is so romantic…