#like they still work together on a lot of activities

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 14 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: Life with him is really good...Right?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, threatening, penetration, breeding kink, degradation kink, cockwarming, edging, overstimulation, sleepy sex (both consent!), not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Life was good.

Uncharacteristically so even.

There was still a tiny part of you that was tense around him and that was for various reasons. One of them being, that you never really knew when his evil persona would take over. So far you could tell, albeit roughly, but there were always moments, when he would simply snap and there was nothing you could do about it. Was that a problem? Probably, but not to you, anyways. Why? Because life was good.

The little trip to the balcony hadn’t been a one-time thing. In fact, it happened more and more regular. Not only to get naughty, because he was a freak, who liked the thought of possibly getting caught – but also because, as he said, you’ve been such a good girl for me all this time. And I told you, sweet girl, I don’t want to keep you locked away. I just needed to make sure you’re mine.

That you were. Quite obviously.

That one time when you told him you wanted to leave, it had been exactly that. One time. The reasons for that outburst were in the past so far. There were still moments when you feared punishment and rightfully so. But to your great relief, you were both learning.

You were learning not to expect a painful blow, whenever you went out of your way to speak your mind (which wasn’t quite as often as you wished, but you were getting there). Slow and steady.

And he? He was learning, too. He was learning to leave you be and control the wild beast that lived inside his mind and soul. The darkness that surrounded him became lighter every day or so it felt to you. Of course he wouldn’t let you downright insult him, without at least some punishment in sight. But he was working on himself and his behavior. He didn’t hurt you without a reason. He didn’t hurt severely. And on some lucky days, he didn’t hurt you at all.

Slow and steady.

What was probably the greatest part of it all, it felt like a relationship. A real one. Two people who shared a life together, doing all kinds of things, sharing an intimate relation, but most importantly, you talked.

You talked a lot.

And now it wasn’t only through games and the fear of punishment. It wasn’t even only you who was forced to talk. No, he talked as well. The important things were still a big issue, obviously. He didn’t have a name, an identity or a past, when it came to you. But you had the great, undying hope that one day he would trust you. Trust you enough to let you know who he was and where he came from, what made him who he was and what was truly important to him.

Sometimes you’d get those tiny, little flickers that shone through his façade, his tight mask. The moments when the look in his eyes became faraway and distant, when his voice became softer and the tension in his body gave way to something quiet. Maybe one day that would be the version of him that you would get. Entirely and without question. Without the filter to rule out his emotions for him.

Until then, though, you would make do with what you had. And what did you have?

His favorite movie? The good, the bad and the ugly. What a question. Actually, anything with Clint Eastwood in it. Haven’t you seen the man?

His favorite musician? Ennio Morricone. Did you watch that scene in Inglourious Basterds, right before the Bear Jew comes out of the cave? That scene – and that composition – it’s reason enough to watch the movie. Aside from all the Nazis getting burned, of course.

His favorite food? Tteokbokki. But they have to be spicy enough to make your tongue fall off.

You smirked to yourself as you stood by the stove, slowly stirring the rice cakes in a black pan. He was talking movies all the time and that was a language you understood well.

In a minute you needed to add the spices and that disturbingly hot, red sauce. It was something you had cooked before, back in England. You had been scrolling aimlessly through one of your countless apps, which you normally used so you wouldn’t have to think and there you found some recipe that had been viral for a while. A Korean recipe with rice cakes in a sauce, topped with sesame and green onions. It had been quite the ordeal to find rice cakes back where you lived, but when you finally did and you tasted the recipe you had so carefully and lovingly prepared, you found it was worth it. It had actually been the first step into the life you were now living.

South-Korea, you had thought. Why not?

You poured the sauce in and wanted to try it, but decided against it in the end. You’d spend the next hour trying to soothe the pain in your mouth with bread and milk. With a soft sigh, you turned off the stove and served the food on two plates. You set the table with the gentle precision of a lovely homemaker. Even the napkins were folded prettily, giving the whole scene the last touch it needed to come off as…thoughtful.

Of course you never mentioned to him that you knew the dish. He had mostly likely thought it was just another Korean word he threw around and you’d forget immediately. And you had made no attempts to make him believe differently. So, when you began to cook this, it was with the intention to surprise him. A short glance at the clock showed you that it was almost ten in the evening, so he would most likely be home soon.

Home. What an odd thought.

You sighed again and washed your hands. A lecture you had to learn only once before in your life – spicy food didn’t quite match well with eyes.

You glanced around the kitchen once more, half-expecting him to be late. After he luckily gave you the books back, you asked yourself if you should go and read something, until he arrived, but that question answered itself, the moment you heard the door creak open. A nervous smile grew on your face and you nibbled on your lower lip. For some reason, a part of you was still afraid. A tiny bit, at least. It was like you expected him to punish you for good things. For being affectionate or caring.

But the moment you saw his head perk through the door, you knew you wouldn’t get punished tonight. Well, at least not, until you gave him a reason to…or asked him to.

His face lit up in surprised delight, his brows furrowed in a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

“Hello?” He murmured as he stepped closer and set the briefcase down on a chair. Your smile grew somewhat and you folded your hands behind your back.

“Hey.” You took a step closer and tilted your head to the side. “I made dinner.”

“I can see that.” He glanced at the lovely decorated kitchen table. You had put in quite some effort, looking through all the drawers until you found a tablecloth, lit some candles and then there was his favorite food. He looked from the table to you and smiled.

“And what exactly did I do to deserve this?” He raised a brow in suspicion. You returned the smile.

“I just felt like it.”

“So, you know Tteokbokki!”

You laughed quietly. “We’ll see about that. You should try it first.”

He hummed softly and stepped closer. You expected him to head for the sink and wash his hands, which he most definitely would, but before that, he stepped close to you, so close that you felt the warmth radiating off him and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Then your cheek and then your lips.

You closed eyes and leaned into the kiss, immediately aching for more. But a second later he pulled his head back and smiled again.

“I just know I’m going to love it. Thank you.”

You felt yourself blush and so you averted your gaze. He finished up getting ready and then pulled out your chair for you, like the gentleman he was, or well, he could be.

The both of you settled down and you kept a keen eye on him to check his reaction, the second he brought the fork to his lips. You half-expected him to recoil in disgust, but instead, his brows furrowed and he hummed in approval.

“This is perfect.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Stop bullshitting me.”

“No, I mean it. It’s perfectly spicy, just the way I like it. And it’s homemade. Do you know how much that me-“ He stopped himself and cleared his throat. The filter. “I really love it. Thank you.” He squeezed your hand under the table.

You smiled again and leaned back in your chair, taking a moment to simply watch him eat.

When he saw you were staring at him, he cocked a brow. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Now it’s you bullshitting me, huh?”

That made you laugh. God, how beautiful this was. Just simple, plain banter. Back and forth, like normal couples shared. You loved it.

You loved him.

When you laughed, a cocky grin grew on his face. “Mhm. I still have it in me, don’t I?”

You smirked. “Oh, shut up. For an old man.”

His grin widened and he picked up the fork, bringing it to your lips. Wordlessly, you parted them and took the food in your mouth. It was painful, of course, but you tried to keep a strong façade. And failed.

He laughed and held out a glass with milk to you, of which you took a big, grateful sip.

“Why are you making it, if you can’t even eat it?”

“You like it.”

He hummed softly. “And you remembered.”

“It’s not that hard. I collect the few things I know about you like postage stamps.”

He snorted. “Oh, so now we collect stamps, do we?”

You grinned cheekily and gently nudged his shoulder. “Eat your abnormal spicy food and shush.”

He shot you another smirk and eyed you up and down for a moment. It left you feeling oddly comfortable.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbled before he took another bite. Your brows shot up and you titled your head to the side. You were better now, when it came to this. Compliments and accepting them. After all, he had no reason to lie to you whatsoever, now, did he?

“Thank you. But why are you saying that?” Not as good as you thought, but better.

He brows furrowed. “And why wouldn’t I?”

You shrugged and he shot you a long, suspicious look. “I’m not taking it back.”

That made you laugh again. He sounded like petulant child and you loved him even more when he was like this. Just…easy.

Easy to love.

“Why are you laughing at me?” He joined your laughter.

You smirked and took another sip of your milk. “If you can’t tell, it’s already too late.”

Days passed, weeks even, and life was still good. Very much so.

Every now and then you would ask yourself, when will things take a dark turn again? You couldn’t help yourself. These first few weeks were stuck in your mind like a nightmare you hardly remembered and yet felt in every inch of your body. Even when you didn’t...

Your body remembered.

He had that in him. That dark, that evil. It would undoubtedly come out again at some point. That’s why you always tried to remind yourself, not to dive too deep into what you called your perfect world. At some point, you’d surely be in pain again.

Though, you had to admit, you were hardly in pain nowadays. Your mysterious man was a gentle man, when he wanted to be and that happened more and more these days. Whenever he came home, he’d make a habit of kissing you and asking you about your day. His smile came out, more and more often. On very rare occasions, when you got really lucky, you even heard him laugh. And not the mock-kind of laugh he’d have so well-rehearsed in his repertoire of masks, he had for the world to see, but the real kind. A sound so unbridled and genuine, so warm and endearing, it made something inside of you ache. Why was it so rare?

Of course he still hurt you sometimes, but that was more of a consented kind of thing. In most cases.

Whenever he decided it was time for you to cockwarm him, for example. God, you hated, when he did. Because you loved it.

You loved the feeling of having him inside you on any occasion, really. Sometimes he’d be reading the newspaper and have you on his lap, his free hand on your hip to hold you perfectly still. You always asked yourself, how on earth did he manage to read like that, without even cocking an eye brow, while you were nearly fainting in agony, because all you wanted was for him to move?

On other nights, and you were ashamed to admit how much you enjoyed it, you’d even sleep like that. You’d lay either facing away or facing him, but often clenched around him. He’d nuzzle his face in your hair and after a while he’d usually drift off like that, his breathing slowly soothing down to a soft sound. Sometimes, when he’d wake up in the middle of the night, you felt him move and grind his hips against yours, giving you the friction you so desperately desired. Sometimes it happened quickly, sometimes it took a few hours and sometimes it didn’t happen at all. But when it did and when it did take hours to get to that point, you’d normally be half-asleep and yet desperate. The second you felt him move inside you, it was as though a switch got flipped. You became needy and…

Wicked.

 For you, it didn’t matter how many times he fucked you. How many times he made you cum. When you felt him like that, you needed him. Ardently.

But in most cases you managed to be good for him, just like he asked you to. Good and perfectly still. When you did, you got rewarded. Which, in most cases, consisted of him going down on you and making you feel things with his tongue that made your toes curl and your breath stutter. He made you cum so good that you nearly forgot your own name.

At times, you did forget it. But odd enough, you didn’t really miss it. Names weren’t important. Not with him.

And then there were those other times. The times, when you got too needy, too desperate and, despite your better will, you found yourself moving against him, desperate for any kind of friction. That was when you got punished still.

Sometimes with a firm slap to get you back on track. That wasn’t enough to make you forget about your need for him though. Normally, you’d just fall back into the same pattern, given enough time. And after a while, he got more creative with his punishments. When he realized that pain was something that you were rather immune to, compared to other things, you were fucked.

Quite literally.

When you moved and disobeyed his orders not to…

He fucked you. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not at all, actually.

That was until…

You came. You came every time with him, which was something you had highly doubted, before you started this thing between you. But to your surprise, you were more than relaxed with him. And so you came.

But he didn’t stop there. No, it was a punishment after all, right?

So, he kept fucking into you, like a feral animal. Even after you came and the pleasure quickly shifted into overstimulation. You got so sensitive, it was close to painful. But he kept going.

And then, oh God, you’d come again. Of course you did. He was good at what he was doing. You came again, shuddering and gasping.

And he still wouldn’t stop.

Even when your body arched into the air and you tried to get away from him, all desperate, he’d continue fucking you, until your mind was a mess and all you could do was stutter and whimper, cry even.

It was one of his favorite ways to punish you.

When he didn’t keep you on edge or withdrew your release for the time being, he made you cum until you begged him to stop, sobbing and whimpering.

Oh, the crying turned him on, you could tell. Because it normally ended with him filling you up to the brim. And then he’d go back to sleep, wouldn’t he? With his length still buried deep inside to keep warm.

Let’s just hope you learned your lesson now, darling. I’d hate to punish you again.

He had done exactly that the night before and so you found yourself lying on the sofa, feeling sore and exhausted. When he came home that night, you were still passed out on the couch, too sleepy to even open your eyes. He regarded your broken frame with a warm, yet subtle smile and set his briefcase down. He took a few slow steps closer and watched over you for a long moment, before he reached for the nearby blanket and pulled it up to your shoulders. You weren’t really fast asleep, just somewhere in-between, so you felt his knuckles gently caress your cheek. You mumbled something in response and you heard the way he smiled, before he vanished to the bathroom and you heard the way the water got turned on.

After a while you slowly blinked your eyes open and yawned. When you saw the blanket, a smile crept onto your face and you hugged the material tightly to your body. Slowly and carefully, you sat up and rubbed your eyes, before you decided to try and cook something for a change. You got better and better at it, considering how little you knew about the Korean cuisine. Yet you had to admit, it seemed healthier than anything you had ever eaten back home.

When you couldn’t think of anything, you decided to be safe and went for Bibimbap. It was a mixture of near everything and also the fastest thing you could think of. But before you even started, you went back to your room to grab a claw clip for your hair. You swiftly did it up and made your way through the hallway, when you saw that the door to his bedroom stood open. You saw his white shirt splayed out on the bed and you just knew it smelled like him. You bit your lip as you slowly tiptoed inside and picked the shirt up, only to bury your face in the material and inhale softly.

If this wasn’t home, what would ever be?

You hummed softly to yourself, before you swiftly slid off your caramel colored skirt and your black tank top, to put his button down shirt on instead. The material hugged your body like a gentle hug and you smiled to yourself as you rolled the sleeves up in the way he would. Of course the shirt looked fairly huge on you. You took a long glance at the big mirror and smirked. It looked like a dress on you, albeit a short one. You twirled around like a ballerina and took in the way your thighs were barely covered by the material. That gave you a wicked idea.

Of course your body was begging you to leave it be, especially after last night, but the devil inside your mind forced you to keep the shirt on and make your way back to the kitchen.

In the meantime, he had finished his shower and now he sat on the couch, with the newspaper in his hand. He wore a pair of grey sweatpants (the damned bastard) and a black shirt. His hair was still damp and hung loosely into his face. He looked delicious.

When he heard you approach, he looked up, ready to greet you, when he hesitated. His gaze roamed up and down your body in a way that made you bite back a smirk.

“Hello, darling.” He murmured, without ever looking up at your face.

“Why, hello.” You purred cheerfully and approached him with slow, tiptoed steps. His gaze wandered up your legs and torso, until he finally met your gaze.

“You look…”

“I thought it suits me better than you.” You teased.

His lips curved up into a slow smile. “I can’t disagree.” He took your hand, ready to pull you onto his lap. But after last night, you felt in dire need to take some action and control.

Not, that you didn’t somehow enjoy it. But still.

You briefly squeezed his hand, before you pulled yours away. You gave him a quick peck on the lips, then took a step back.

“I’ll go cook.”

His brows shot up. “I can-“

“No.”

You hid your smirk, until you had your back facing him. With quick, measured steps, you disappeared into the kitchen, all the while pretending not to hear his frustrated groan.

The next few minutes went by rather quickly. You did a great job cooking up some ingredients and even an egg, Sunny Side Up. You quickly set the table and eventually left some rice on the stove, to slowly simmer. With a soft, exaggerated sigh you made your way back to the living room.

“It’s almost done.” You murmured as you slowly approached him. When you looked at him, you deliberately missed his face and his expression became more and more dour.

“Good. I was thinking-“

“I nearly finished my book.” You interrupted him in a sweet voice, as you sat down on his lap, causing him to freeze for a moment. It only took him a second to relax, though he seemed to have forgotten that you had interrupted him and what he even intended to say in the first place.

“That’s…good.” He murmured.

“Just two more pages. I’ll finish it quickly, before dinner, okay?”

He cocked a brow and shrugged slowly. “Sure. Suit yourself.”

His shirt rode up your thighs and revealed more and more of your skin to his gaze. He didn’t even try to be secretive about it, he was straight-up ogling you. All the while you buried your nose in your book, without reading a single word. You had to save up all your energy as not to smile.

His fingertips brushed over the skin of your thigh and you did your best to keep your expression neutral. And he, he was just…

“Are you-“

“Oh God, I didn’t see that twist coming.” You closed the book and sighed. Then you shot him an innocent look and smiled. “That was a really good book.”

You leaned back against his chest and kept up your innocent façade, all the while the look in his eyes equaled that of a bear with his fish.

“You really-“

“I’d better go and get myself another one. I’m sure the rice needs a few more minutes.”

His hand ended up in the middle of the air, while you practically jumped off of his lap. He let out a soft grunt of frustration, while you slowly swayed your way back to the bookshelf. Of course your hips swayed along and obviously his gaze did the same.

You held a finger against your lips, pretending to think, while you slowly went about the rows and rows of books. And then, what a coincidence, a book in the last row caught your attention. You smiled and bent down, pretending to read.

At the same time, his patience snapped. When his shirt rode up further, exposing just a hint of your rear to him, he let out a low growl.

“That’s enough.” He hissed. You smirked, before you slowly turned and replaced the smirk with innocent surprise.

“What? What’s enough?”

“Oh, stop this.” He slammed the newspaper down on the coffee table and stood up in a swift movement. “Stop acting all innocent. You’ve been parading around here, half-naked and ready to…”

“To what?” You murmured and tilted your head to the side in feigned curiosity. He growled again and ran a hand over his chin. Only then did you see the obvious tent in his grey sweatpants. It cost you half your life not to look down there and trust your peripheral view.

“Don’t play dumb.” He murmured. “Get over here. Now.”

You licked your lips. “But the rice-“

“Now!”

That made you laugh and there went your innocent act out of the window.

“You minx! You’re doing this on purpose!”

You chuckled. “Well…”

The look on his face was near rabid. Only the foam was missing.

“I’ll forgive you this once, if you’ll be a good girl for me and get your ass over here.”

You smirked and took a step back, circling the sofa. “And if I don’t?

He hissed in response. “You don’t want to test me today.”

And for some inexplicable reason, right then and there, you weren’t scared. That tiny part of your brain that had continued to keep up the fear, albeit briefly and barely, was completely silent. And you knew he wasn’t going to hurt you, no matter what you did.

“Make me then.”

His eyes widened and he tilted his chin up. “Oh, that’s a mistake.”

You grinned. “Oh, that’s a mistake.” You mocked his voice.

With a movement so quick that it almost made you wince, he jumped over the back of the couch and stood before you, eyeing you like a predator. You let out a soft shriek and turned on your heel, running and laughing, without looking over your shoulder.

It took him only a second to put his hand on your shoulder, but it took you only a second to shrug him off and circle the coffee table.

“That all you got, old man?”

You could have sworn you saw his lip twitch, but that would have been too easy. He tried hard to keep his expression serious.

“Grew a backbone, did you?”

You raised a brow and smirked. “Oh, boo-hoo. Did I hurt you, oppa?” You hinted a mocking curtsy.

“Oh, you just wait!” He rushed to catch you from one side, but you quickly ran the other way. When he tried the other way, you went the other way, yet again. He gave a frustrated growl.

“What now, hm?” You smirked. “Giving up already?”

He gave you a long, wild look. For a moment you almost thought he was indeed giving up, but then he rushed forward and kicked the table out of the way. It rolled over and crashed against the wall loudly. Your eyes widened in surprise and you took a step back, but before you knew it, your back was already pressed against the wall and you had to tilt your head back to stare up at him.

“You caught me.” You whispered.

He clenched his jaw and reached out a hand. You were sure. You were still sure, that you were safe.

And then…

His hand slowly tangled in your hair and gently grasped the back of your neck. He leaned down so that your lips nearly met.

“I caught you.” He whispered back, before he captured your lips in a bruising kiss.

And you let the rice burn.

A few days later, you couldn’t even tell which day it was, because every day was but a collection of memories you kept replaying in your head, he was off to work.

And to no one’s great surprise, you missed him.

Every waking moment without him was empty. The emptiness was so intense, it left you nearly suffocating. All the while, all you could do was wait. Wait and eat. Wait and sleep. Wait and read.

Sometimes, you wrote. You remembered that one time you told him about your greatest dream.

To become an author one day. You didn’t even care, if anyone knew your real name, you just wanted to touch people with your words. Like the Bronte-sisters.

Ellis Bell, huh? And who would you be?

Hana, maybe. The thought made you equally as sad as it filled you with hope.

But that was about all you did. And after hours and hours, the day neared its end. Eventually it was far past eleven, so you were sure he would be late tonight. Of course you were concerned. As you always were. You had no idea what his job was, but you could tell it was dangerous.

The man in his clean suit and a briefcase full of secrets.

When it got closer to midnight and he still wasn’t back, you decided to distract yourself, by getting yourself ready. You changed into a beautiful, white negligee with a neckline made of pretty, see-through lace. You loved it. The silk made you feel like you were the most beautiful girl on earth. And you were sure, once he saw you in it, he would totally destroy it. Chew it off or tear it down, whatever worked faster.

You did your hair down (it was slowly growing back and you barely thought back to the dreadful day that he cut it) and took a last glance at your appearance in the mirror. You smiled at yourself, something you rarely did, and eventually made your way back to his bedroom to surprise him. On his bed, wearing nothing but the negligee and a pair of…

Where were the handcuffs? You frowned as you glanced around and didn’t immediately find them. You bent down to look under the bed, but still no cuffs in sight. Your frown deepened and you gave another quick onceover, before you decided that they most likely were in the wardrobe.

You opened it and knelt down, finding the knife and several guns in the process. The small shudder brought you back to reality and you exhaled softly, before you sat back and looked at the countless weapons. Had he ever killed someone with them? Most likely.

But for a strange, inexplicable reason, you didn’t really care. Not really. Because it wasn’t real. Not then, not there, not in that moment. What was real, was him and his…

Desires.

You opened your mouth and closed it, before your fingers slowly closed around a small handgun. You swallowed thickly and carefully held it up, only to realize it was far heavier than you always assumed. The material felt cold and wrong in your hand.

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the day he pressed one of them against your temple or…his. You closed your eyes. The thought of him…

Him…

With a shuddery gasp, the gun slipped through your fingers and landed on the carpet.

There was no thought more painful than that one. You couldn’t lose him. Not ever.

You loved him. And you loved him far too much.

Enough, to be what he wanted.

Enough, to give in to his desires.

You took another deep breath and picked up the gun again, determined to take it back to bed with you. You wanted to surprise him, right?

All you had to do beforehand was to make sure that it wasn’t loaded.

A frown formed on your face, when you realized you didn’t even know how to do that. The thought of accidentally shooting yourself, while waiting for him to come home…It didn’t sound all too appealing, though it did sound like something that could happen to you.

You sighed and already gave up the thought of ever finding the cuffs, when you caught sight of something else instead. It was far in the back of the wardrobe and you were sure, for some reason, you weren’t supposed to see it.

Of course you weren’t supposed to touch his gun, either, but you felt he would forgive you, once he realized you were slowly submitting to his every desire.

Even if it meant him fucking you, while he held a gun to your head. In your mouth…Or, God help you, somewhere else.

You were twisted. You were sure you were. Because you felt it. You felt how the thought did things to you.

But for now you tried to push the thought aside and instead glanced back at the box.

Then again, what terrible thing could be inside there?

Someone’s teeth maybe?

Your soft smile disappeared the second you realized it was possible. You nearly recoiled in disgust. But then you realized, you had to know.

It couldn’t be teeth. It was too sick. Too deranged.

Too…him?

No. No, no, no.

As if in a trance, you picked up the light, wooden box and took off the lid.

No teeth inside. Only…

Fuck.

What was in there was so much worse than teeth.

Your forehead creased into a small frown, which grew further with every second.

And suddenly you felt nauseous.

No.

Oh, no.

You nearly dropped the box and backed away like you’d been struck, the moment you heard it.

“Goddamn it." He sighed impatiently and the door slowly closed behind him. "You weren’t supposed to see that.”

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Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Author's note: Did I lately mention that I love you, guys?

Ps. The Tteokbokki and the teasing were anon requests! I loved them and I hope I did them justice!

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Marriage Problems Chapter 3

Summary: They’ve been married for 19 years, their 20th anniversary coming up soon.  Older, busier, and stuck on the repeat of their daily lives, Y/N and Bucky are struggling.  Their marriage is good, but feeling rocky the last few years as they’ve settled into this stage of their lives.  Can they get their spark back?  Or is it better to do the unthinkable, and move on without each other?

Warnings:  language, forced kiss, eventual smut

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Bucky was putting his lunch in his lunch box when a rumble of footsteps came thundering down the stairs and he looked up as Y/N burst into the kitchen looking frazzled.  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” She asked him incredulously.  “Where are the kids?”

“On the bus,” he answered nonchalantly.

“What?” she sputtered.  “H-how…what do you–”

“They got themselves ready, lunches packed, homework done, and I made sure they were out of the house on time,” he said, smirking at her.  He grabbed a plate of food next to him and slid it toward her on the island, accompanying it with a mug of her favorite drink.  “I wanted to let you sleep.  Now sit down and relax.”

Y/N stared at him, the surprise evident in her expression.  She glanced at the plate of food then slowly walked over to the island, pulling out the stool chair and sitting down.  She grabbed the toast and took a bite.  “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky smiled.  He rounded the island and stood next to her, his fingers pulling her chin to make her look up at him.  “We need to talk about what happened last night,” he said, and her eyes fluttered in sadness.  “But, not right now.  I’m about to leave for work, but I want you to take today to do nothing.”

“Nothing?” Y/N frowned.

“Absolutely nothing,” Bucky nodded.  “Don’t you dare cook or clean, just rot on the couch and get caught up on your shows.  I’ve already got dinner set up for delivery later.  And we’ll have a good, long conversation about everything over ice cream.”

Y/N still looked surprised, but a small, happy smile crept up on her lips.  “Sherbet ice cream?”

Bucky huffed a laugh.  “Whatever my pretty mama wants,” he said.  

***

That night after the kids went to bed they sat on the couch downstairs, a gallon of rainbow sherbet ice cream between them that they took bites from as they talked about everything.  Bucky felt like they had come to a good understanding with each other, and they agreed to actively work towards reigniting their marriage.  

“Well, I have a work party next weekend that you can come to,” Bucky said.  “We’re celebrating that presentation going well and getting that client.”  He hadn’t told her about the bonus yet, wanting to keep it a surprise.  

“Oh you know I’m not a huge fan of work hangouts,” Y/N waved him away.  “As much as I love Steve, it’s just a lot of awkward moments for me being the odd one out on everyone’s work inside jokes and what not.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky smiled and nodded.  “Then how about the next day?  We’ll go out together, just the two of us.”

Y/N smiled.  “That would be nice.”

“It’s a date,” Bucky smiled back.  

***

That next Friday he found himself in a bar downtown.  He felt too old to be there, just keeping a watchful eye on the younger employees as he nursed his one and only beer for the night.  He and Steve took the time to catch up with each other, since they were both married, family men who didn’t get to hang out as often as they used to or would have liked.  Steve stood from the small table they were at to get himself another drink.  Bucky finished his beer, setting the bottle aside when someone else sat in front of him.

“Hey boss,” Natasha greeted him with a flirtatious smile.

Bucky inwardly groaned, but politely smiled.  “Nat,” he greeted her.  “Hope you’re having fun with the rest of the team.”  He had to tread carefully with her.  Natasha was young, beautiful, and had made it clear a while ago that her conversations with him were her attempt at flirty banter, sliding in sexual innuendos and compliments towards him.  He’d tried ignoring it, not playing into it with her at all, but she was nothing if not persistent and ambitious.  That was what made her a great part of the team.  He just wished she would take the hint.

“You look ridiculously hot, as usual,” Natasha said, maneuvering herself to sit closer to him, leaning forward on the table to show off her cleavage.

“Oh, um, thank you,” Bucky said, trying to lean away from her.  “You look nice.”

“Just nice?” Natasha laughed teasingly.  “Looks like I’ll need to up my game next time.”

Bucky’s lips tightened as he tried to subtly look for Steve to save him.  “Well, I don’t want you to waste your time with me—”

She reached a hand out and slid her fingers across the back of his hand.  “Oh there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, sir,” she purred.  

Bucky pulled his hand away and frowned.  “Nat, I’m not sure how else to say this without it sounding mean, so I’m just going to say it.  I’m married.  Happily married–”

“No you’re not,” Natasha smirked.  “You’re having marriage problems.”  She leaned forward again so she was close to his ear, the alcohol on her breath making him scowl.  “I can help you feel better.”

Bucky pushed away from her.  “Where did you hear I was having marriage problems?” he asked angrily.

“I could just tell,” Natasha shrugged.  “And Peter likes to gossip.”

Bucky rolled his eyes then closed them as he rubbed his face, and she took the opportunity to corner him against the wall, her hand holding the back of his neck and pulling him forward, kissing him right on the mouth.  Bucky froze in shock for just a moment before he pushed her away and stood.  “What the fuck was that?” he yelled.

“Hey, woah, what’s going on?” Steve asked, finally coming back over to the table with a new beer in his hand.

“She just fucking kissed me!” Bucky replied, wiping his mouth.

“Natasha,” Steve groaned, looking at her with deep disappointment.

“What?” she pouted.  “I’m drunk.”

Bucky shook his head incredulously as Steve sighed.  “Okay, it’s time for you to go home,” he said, pulling her up by the arm.  “I’m calling you an Uber.  And we’ll be having a discussion with HR on Monday.”

“What?  No!  I’m not ready to leave!” Natasha whined, pulling against his hold as he directed her toward the front door.  Bucky stood there in shock until Steve came back a few minutes later.  

“She’s gone,” Steve said.  “I’m sorry, Buck.  I knew she was flirtatious with you, I just didn’t think she’d do something like that, even while drunk.”

“Y/N,” Bucky whispered, his eyes wide as he looked at Steve.  “I have to tell her, Steve.”  Steve’s eyes widened with him.  

@cjand10 @sebastians-love @sherwoodforesttales @shanksstrawhat @sagexsenorita @abaker74

[writingdevil]

hiiiiii! Thank you for the Tongues and teeth and for every additional ask you wrote after that. Soooo interesting! I would love to see your take on skeptic / opportunist if you don't mind. It might not be romantical, anything you're comfortable with really. Have a good day!

(Thank you! I really like Skeptunist and I was debating for awhile on whether to write something for them, but they also felt like a ship that would be tricky to write for, but I'll try my best for you! Enjoy!)

Skeptic was never one to back down from a mystery, or the challenge of figuring out a complicated question. The journey from the beginning to the conclusion, watching as logic took control and let all the pieces fall into place, was an experience that Skeptic loved every single time.

This extended to his flock as well. There was just something about watching the way his flockmates lived, now that they had their own freedom and forms, that intrigued Skeptic. Why did Cheated get so angry at every little thing he deemed an injustice? Why did Contrarian spend his whole day goofing off and cracking jokes at anyone who would listen?

His fellow birds were an enigma that he wanted to solve as well, as a way of understanding them, and his latest subject was Opportunist.

If Skeptic took a step back to observe all the others with their odd behaviours at once, Oppy was the one that stood out to him.

He was never outwardly malicious or cruel, but everyone at this point knew that he was merely pretending so that he could get the upper hand. But why? They weren't trapped in a cycle of death anymore, so what reason would Oppy have for keeping up appearances? He looked like someone doing a one man play, but there was no audience to watch him.

Except Skeptic. He wanted to understand why Oppy behaved the way he did, because for as tricky and annoying as he was, he was genuinely an intriguing person, in Skeptic's opinion.

Oppy had a habit of just appearing in front of people and talking their ears off, and while most others would bat him away, Skeptic had started hearing him out, and even going so far as to seek him out to spend time together.

Once Skeptic started listening and taking notes on Oppy, he realised that, on the surface, Oppy would go through a cycle of talking about himself and then commenting and complimenting Skeptic on his intelligence.

At first, it sounded like a whole lot of nothing. It just looked like Oppy was still attempting to cosy up to people for his own benefit, and Skeptic was about to write him off as a self serving fool, but then he stopped himself.

Why?

Why did Oppy insist on acting like this, when it's been proven that there's no danger, therefore no need to grab control over others?

Skeptic had a few theories, ones that ranged from a secret intense insecurity, to an obsession with staying ahead of everyone else. Either way, Skeptic was determined to peer behind his mask, to see what it truly hid.

So he started engaging with Oppy more, actually listening and offering his own perspective to topics. It was actually-fun, to talk to someone who thought in a similar way to him, who used logic in different ways.

Skeptic used logic to understand the world around him and all his questions. Oppy used logic to understand the people around them and what their goals were. It was just different enough that it had Skeptic yearning to understand Oppy's mind even more, to the point where Skeptic was actually starting to look forward to spending time with Oppy.

He liked being around Oppy. He liked being around a sharp mind who appreciated the way his brain worked, and who actively enjoyed listening to Skeptic ramble about his many theories-to the point where it made his heart start to beat faster.

The realisation didn't dawn on him until he found him replaying Oppy's words in his head-'I never would've thought of that,Skeptic. You have such a brilliant mind, Skeptic. You're truly as smart as you look, Skeptic.' Just Skeptic, Skeptic, Skeptic.

Oppy kept saying his name in that sugary sweet tone, and Skeptic started to crave the taste of it, and he wouldn't even care if it was poisonous. He liked the way Oppy thought, the way he crafted his words perfectly to the person, the way he was perfectly in control of his image, whereas Skeptic always felt like he was a frenzied mess everyday.

So-he had fallen for the backstabber, and he had somehow come no closer to seeing his true self in all that time. What was meant to be a calm and controlled observation and investigation, had diverted into a mess of feelings that Skeptic hadn't a hope of deciphering, so he went to the only person who could possibly understand-his brother, Smitten.

But what his brother told him in response to his woes was advice, and suffice to say, Smitten's suggestion was worth testing out.

So, one day, he decided to.

"I've got the cards, Skeptic!" Oppy announced, already sitting at the kitchen table and waving a deck of cards in his hand. Skeptic had asked to play a few rounds with Oppy, one of many activities that they found themselves doing together. But as Skeptic walked into the kitchen, he abruptly halted, pretending to look confused, patting down his feathery body, until eventually Oppy asked, "What's wrong?"

Skeptic sighed in frustration, impressed by how well he was doing. He glared at the ground in annoyance and said, "Nothing. I just forgot my notebook, is all." Skeptic always carried a notebook with him in case he suddenly had an epiphany about anything.

He had barely finished speaking before Oppy was up and out of his seat, handing the deck to him as he said, "Let me get it for you, friend. You sit and deal the cards." Skeptic smiled in success as Oppy quickly walked away before he could protest, his need to feel useful to others coming in handy right now.

A few minutes later, Oppy returned, sitting down and sliding the book over to him while also managing to pick up his whole deck in one hand. Oppy's eyes scanned his cards, and Skeptic saw a flash of excitement that he rarely witnessed in Oppy.

Oppy genuinely liked playing these games with people, no matter how much it involved his skills of lying and bluffing.

Skeptic's eyes lingered on Oppy's face, before he shook himself out of it, placing one hand firmly on his notebook. "Thank you, Oppy," he quietly said, Oppy looked over his cards to give him a big smile, and Skeptic found that he liked it, no matter if that was the whole purpose of the mask.

"Don't even worry about it. If I was thinking as deeply as you do on a daily basis, I feel like I'd be allowed to let some little things slip." Although Skeptic wasn't actually one to forget things, the words still reassured him over something he wasn't even aware he worried about.

Oppy placed the first card down, and Skeptic couldn't wait any longer, and made his move.

His hand shot out, not to put a card down, but to place it over Oppy's hand, gripping it gently as he firmly said, "Really, Oppy-you're very kind."

He could feel the way Oppy tensed up underneath him, and when Skeptic looked up at him, he found his smile frozen inbetween confidence and shock, making him just look nervous and terrified now. He could practically see the way his eyes clouded over, his mind probably searching for the correct act to sell him to allow him to stay on top of this.

But Skeptic wanted to push this further, so he gave Oppy's hand a little squeeze, and that was when he saw Oppy let a small gasp out, his face falling into such a soft expression that Skeptic wondered if Oppy had even realised he had let the mask fall.

But it only lasted a few seconds, as Oppy blinked, and a cold calm washed over him. He smiled bitterly, shaking his head as he went, "No,"and tried to pull his hand back, but Skeptic just tightened his hold on him.

Oppy finally looked up at him, but it was with such a wide and intense look that it made Skeptic's feathers bristle. Oppy chuckled emptily, and now Skeptic was just wishing for Oppy to be dramatic or performative, because that would be so much better than the defeated expression he wore.

"No," Oppy repeated, "we're not doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Don't do that!" Oppy snapped, his smile trembling in rage and his voice bordering on a yell. "Did Smitten put you up to this?"

"He didn't exactly put me up to-"

Oppy rolled his eyes with a harsh sigh. "I'm not stupid, Skeptic. I know what you're doing." Oppy's smile turned cruel and sharp as he nodded towards his notebook. "I know you've been studying me and my habits. Read it on the way here," he admitted, but it was as if he was happy to reveal that to Skeptic, to admit to the invasion of privacy.

But Skeptic knew that Oppy would look through his notebook. He hadn't cared, because he had nothing to really hide.

Skeptic kept his voice calm and level, giving Oppy's hand a reassuring squeeze, to which Oppy tried and failed to hide his reaction to, but Skeptic heard the quiet yet sharp intake of breath.

"Oppy, it's true that I was-observing you, but that was because I was trying to figure you out."

Oppy hummed. "I know," he replied bluntly, "although, I'll have to mark one of your theories as incorrect. I am in no way touch-starved-"

"Smitten begs to differ." Oppy tensed up at the mention of the passionate bird, and Skeptic warily watched as Oppy balled his free hand into a fist on the table. The silence was beginning to suffocate Skeptic, so he explained,"Smitten just told me that it seemed as if you really enjoyed touch and being praised-"

"No!" Oppy snapped, shaking his head with a disbelieving and nervous chuckle. Skeptic wasn't sure if Oppy realised he was accidentally squeezing his hand for comfort, but he wasn't about to say anything. "No," he repeated, panic now evident in his eyes, his mask cracking more and more, "no, that would be ridiculous. Me? Be desperate to have someone treat me like a pet? You scheming brothers must have me confused with Broken, because I would never let myself be so weak and pathetic-"

"It's not a bad thing," Skeptic softly insisted, stunning Oppy into silence. Skeptic refused to break eye contact with him as he lifted up their joint hands, showing how tightly Oppy was clutching his hand. Oppy stared as if he couldn't believe what was happening. "It's okay to want people to appreciate you and to make you feel loved. You're not weak for wanting that."

Oppy shook his head, but Skeptic leaned closer and said, "I'm sorry if I made you feel like I wasn't treating you with respect. I genuinely just wanted to figure out how you worked, because then I could learn how to be a better friend to you-I'm not very good with assuming what the right thing to do is."

With every word he spoke, he saw Oppy's anger and mortification slowly dissipate, until he just looked tired, his feathers still puffed up in caution.

"I don't think-" Oppy quietly said, so quiet it could be considered a whisper, "-I don't think I'm very good at-accepting stuff like that. I'm not used to it, and that scares me."

Skeptic chuckled softly. "It scares me too, if I'm honest." Oppy looked up at him in surprise, and Skeptic found that he couldn't look away as he continued, "But I'd be happy to practice it with you."

Skeptic was waiting for the moment that Oppy dismissed him, that he regarded him and Smitten as a threat to his safety now, and distanced himself from them. Skeptic didn't want that, but the longer the silence went on, the more he was sure that was going to be the case.

He was busy trying to ignore his heart crying out in protest, when he felt it- a single squeeze back.

His head shot up to look at Oppy, who's face was flushing deeply as he refused to look anywhere near Skeptic. "I'm willing to test it with you," he mumbled, but it was more than loud enough for Skeptic.

Mask or no mask, Skeptic just wanted Oppy, and he would be sure to give him all the love he deserved.

[alaia777]

omg I got so excited when I saw your recent post😚😚 can I request “of course it’s you, confessing to someone at a time like this!” OR “we should just run away” with rin?🙏🏼 tysmmmm🫶🏼

helloooo! i might’ve gone a little crazy with this one—it’s got like 1800 words—but i really hope you like it! :’)

you heard from the cashier at the store that rin was back in town. you lived a couple of houses down from his parents place, but you two were never really close. sure, you were in the same class, but he was always too proud to actually acknowledge any of you.

you did, however, have a little crush on him. okay—a lot of a crush. at school, you always used to greet him loudly with “hey, rin!”, sit next to him whenever you could, conveniently “forget” your pen just so you could borrow his even though you had at least three in your bag, and ask him if he needed help with homework. you’d fake confusion on assignments just to make him explain them to you, cheer way too loudly when he got picked for sports activities—even if you weren’t on his team—and accidentally run into him in the hallways like, whoops, sorry! (it was never an accident).

honestly, looking back, you have no idea how he didn’t just move schools.

but that crush you used to have on him? yeah, that was long gone—at least, that’s what you told yourself. after all, he had chosen to follow his dream and leave this town behind, and you didn’t blame him one bit. if you had the chance, you probably would’ve done the same.

but now, sitting face-to-face with him, divided only by a dinner table, you started to realize maybe that crush wasn’t as gone as you thought.

this whole dinner was your neighbor’s idea. ever since her husband passed, she had been hosting these little gatherings every couple of months, saying it made her feel less alone. your family, along with two others who lived nearby—one of them being the itoshis—would all come together to keep her company. usually, these dinners bored you out of your mind, forcing you to sit through hours of polite small talk about things like gardening, overpriced home repairs, or who was getting promoted at the bank.

but today was different.

rin was here. in front of you. somehow, that one fact alone had completely changed the trajectory of this dinner.

should you get up and make a toast because rin is back? no, that would be ridiculous. you could already picture it: “to rin, the brother of the football prodigy, the underdog, the man who’s clearly still trying to outdo his older brother—let’s hope he finally does it.” you could already feel the awkward silence that would follow and the way he’d probably shoot daggers toward you. no, you weren’t that person anymore. and honestly, it would probably kill any chance of ever getting together with him, not that you were daydreaming about being with him or anything.

you were so lost in your daydream that you didn’t even hear your name being called. it was your sweet neighbor, who had been talking to you the whole evening with that warm smile of hers.

“honey, can you please go upstairs? in the closet next to the bathroom, there are some gifts i prepared for everyone. i just want to show my appreciation for always being here for me, and it’s something i worked really hard on doing.”

“sure, of course,” you said without hesitation, already moving toward the stairs. but as you started to climb, you overheard the conversation at the table.

“rin, be a sweetheart and help her, i’m afraid she might lose track of time in there,” your neighbor said.

you almost tripped on the stairs. rin? you glanced back over your shoulder, not sure whether to be annoyed or grateful. but there he was, with that usual uninterested look on his face, standing up from his chair with the slightest hint of reluctance.

he didn’t even glance your way as he walked past you, but you could feel the faintest hint of warmth creeping up your neck. maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. you weren’t sure whether to feel irritated by his presence or oddly comforted, but you were about to find out.

when you got to the top of the stairs, he was already inside the tiny room, looking around for that pair of gifts. you gasped when you saw the inside of it—it was full of dolls, cool antiquities, and books. it literally felt like you’d walked into an antique store.

“oh my god, look at this doll, it looks just like you!” you said, bolting into the room and past rin, causing the door to close behind you by mistake.

“do you think if i pinch its cheeks, you’ll feel it?” you teased, holding up the doll and inspecting it, completely oblivious to rin’s reaction.

while you were looking around the room and trying not to touch everything that sparked your interest, rin had already found the gifts and was preparing to open the door to leave you in here alone. except the door wouldn’t budge when he tried to open it.

“what did you do?” you heard him ask, his voice edged with irritation.

“what are you talking about? i didn’t do anything.”

“you locked us in here.”

“no, i didn’t.”

you definitely didn’t, but maybe this was the universe giving you a chance to finally confess your feelings? or maybe this was your neighbor’s plan, or maybe your body subconsciously did it. or maybe—while you were thinking of all the possibilities—rin was trying to fix the door, trying the lock, pushing it. you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. it would be so funny to hear him scream for help to the guests downstairs.

“can you actually do something instead of making that weird face and holding that doll? you look creepy,” he muttered, frustration evident in his voice.

“it’s not just a doll,” you said, holding it up with an exaggerated amount of pride, “it’s you. look, it has your hair, your eyes, and it even has that little wrinkle between its eyebrows from frowning.”

you grinned widely, clearly enjoying the situation, but rin’s face was still set in a frown, his impatience growing by the second.

“can you try and smile a little? how did little me even have a crush on such a grumpy person?” you said, absentmindedly stroking the doll’s bangs. it wasn’t until you were met with silence—no snarky remark, no scoff, nothing—that you realized your mistake.

“oh my god, i didn’t mean it like that! like, it’s not like i could ever see myself dating you or anything because you’re so uptight—wait, no, that sounded worse—i mean, there’s nothing wrong with having a little crush! not that i still have one! maybe just a tiny bit, but that’s normal, right? i mean, you see—”

“of course it’s you, confessing to someone at a time like this,” rin deadpanned, looking thoroughly unimpressed—but you swore the tips of his ears were red.

and was this really a bad time? sure, the dolls in the room were a little creepy, the light kept flickering like a horror movie cliché, and, okay, you were technically stuck. but if rin would just get down on one knee and declare his undying love for you, this could actually be kind of romantic—

before you could finish that thought, you heard a soft click, and the door swung open to reveal your mom standing there, her eyes flicking between the two of you with mild suspicion.

“oh, there you are,” she said, raising an eyebrow before turning to rin. “come on, i’ll help you with the gifts.”

without another word, she stepped inside and started gathering the neatly wrapped packages, completely unaware of whatever just happened in that tiny room. rin, on the other hand, shot you a glance—one that very clearly said this conversation is not over.

you need to disappear. yep, that’s it. this is easily top five most embarrassing moments of your life. you need to buy a ticket to another country, get plastic surgery, change your hairstyle, and become an oil rig worker. maybe even change your name—something dramatic.

you’re still cycling through options when you finally make it back downstairs, sliding into your seat at the table without a word. you don’t even realize rin isn’t sitting in front of you anymore—not until he speaks.

“i’m picking up a cake for my mom tomorrow at the local bakery.” his voice is casual, like he’s commenting on the weather. then, just as effortlessly, he adds, “you can come if you want.”

you turn your head so fast it’s a miracle you don’t get whiplash, staring at him speechlessly. he, on the other hand, doesn’t even look at you, eyes fixed straight ahead like this is the most normal thing in the world.

at what, you don’t know. you don’t care. all you know is that your brain is short-circuiting, and you might need to add “fake your own death” to your escape plan.

“oh yeah, sure, totally dude.” why did you say dude? that was so weird. he’s definitely going to leave this table and never talk to you again. say goodbye to the little bakery date. i mean, at least you hope it’s a date, right?

but then, you catch a glimpse of him. his lips twitch, forming the tiniest smile—one that’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. for a second, you’re frozen, unsure of what to make of it.

you sit there for a moment, your mind racing. was that smile real? was he actually okay with this? the uncertainty swirls in your chest, but strangely enough, it doesn’t feel as overwhelming anymore. maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something new.

[rainderthesomeone]

Hot take and possibly controversial opinion…

I think chapter 4 left a lot to be desired, there are still a lot of plot holes regarding Leith peair, Stella and all others responsible for this, Pianosaurs was underutilized, the Yarnaby section was crammed together and very scripted, the Doctor was rushed to the side very quickly, it just feels like there was so much left out and I find it hard to believe everything will be resolved in chapter 5 unless that chapter is going to be 5 hours long XD

Pianosaurs should have been bigger and should have had his own boss fight a short one that was rhythm based with the clashing of keys signaling different attacks, and when he’s weakened enough Doey comes in and eats him that way we can see how ruthless Doey can be.

Yarnabys section should have been more tense and creepy in my opinion.

Huggy showing up was an interesting plot hole, and cliffhanger, Chapter Four for me is alright, great story, just a little rushed and filled with some poorly scripted segments…

Now to the meat and potatoes of this post, Harley aka the Doctor, the man who helped in the creation of the bigger bodies project, the man who actively tested on kids and felt no remorse, the man who actively thought his experiments were flawless as well as the procedure of it all, is working with the prototype? For a egotistical and narcissistic man as him that felt out of no where, zero mention or leading up to it at all, just offhandedly mentioned by Doey and Ollie felt very lazy and forced, personally I was hoping for him to be his own operating entity and not connected to the prototype, Poppy literally says to us in chapter three that Catnap is the last obstacle the prototype has for us, I mean I guess she didn’t know the doctor was still alive or around but Doey and Ollie do so how come there was no mention of that prior?

Im probably being very nitpickey again this is indie horror and its not the most refined of content sine half the audience is children who only watch brain rot videos of it, but mob set up a very good and renewed starting point in chapter three, for chapter four to be slightly mid at best with it’s gameplay, it felt like we were heading in a good direction for poppy playtime to take over Bendy’s spot since the new games meatly is making are in development limbo, once they come out they will probably be bangers.

Anyway back to the doctor and all the other segments that should have gone in a better direction.

Mob should have had the Doctor as this slightly antagonistic hermit character, a man who thought he was in disposable for playtime co, a man who thought he had all the cards in his hands, to be blindsided and tossed out and shoved into a monitor to only be used for information, would probably be more reclusive and agitated as well as tired, he wouldn’t be a ally nor a good guy since there’s no way to excuse all the horrible things he’s done, but he wouldn’t have a side either, his trust and loyalty to others would probably have been destroyed, he wouldn’t be killed off either, think of Glados by the end of portal 2 she just wants us gone, this version of Harley would be the same, he just wants everyone gone and to stop pestering him, plus it would leave him open for any possibility’s of coming back, and maybe there would be some development for him, especially for the prototype, he wouldn’t admit it but deep down he regrets its creation and sees it as the failure of man kind some kinda Jurassic park what have we done shit.

He would very much operate like Glados, throwing things at us to see if they’ll kill us, leading us to things that can probably kill us, once he sees no way of getting rid of us he begrudgingly slightly helps us get us to his location while also continuing to try and kill us, basically some very confusing morals, and then the big boss fight would play out differently how I’m not sure yet, but the doctor would give us an option, shut off his life support system aka his brain, killing him and taking the Omni hand, or spare him, the sparing route would give us a longer chapter and segment with him, he wouldn’t give up his Omni hand but he would show the player how to make there own, it’s a fetch quest pretty much with the Doctor leading us and guiding us to the materials we would need to make it, there would be some banter with him talking to us, messing with us, like Glados destroy enough of his cameras watching us he’ll respond with “You know I can still hear you right?” Do it enough and he’ll stop watching us and or talking to us, leave the cameras alone he’ll drop some lore and secrets, eventually we get the pieces to make the Omni hand and we’re free to leave but not without him chasing us one more time to frick with us, game resumes as normal.

That’s the interpretation I was hoping for slightly, mob has there reasons for underutilizing him, he’s not the main villain he’s just a fun extra character.

I just wish we could have seen more of him oh well.

Here’s my take on what I was hoping for him to look like. Brain in jar works and makes sense but object head was a fun and different design from all the other toys and entities we have run into.

Thinking about writing a fan fic on this interpretation of him…would like to see one? Or is it to cringy?

Welp I’ve yapped long enough back to watching YouTube for the rest of the night lol

What were yall hoping for chapter 4 to have been? What are some things you think could have gone better?

[breelandwalker]

Hi hi, beginner witch in practice here, but I've had interest for ages. I've read multiple books on the history of witchcraft, and I've been doing a lot of research, but I'm a bit (very) overwhelmed on where to start. I know protection magic/spells are where I should start, but I don't know how? Do I find someone else's spell? Craft my own? Make a sigil??

And then what's the next step after protection? (I'm drawn to chaos/eclectic magic - it calls to me and my adhd)

Hello and welcome, witchling! Glad to hear you're doing the homework. I know it's a lot, but it's a very good place to start. Let me see if I can provide a little direction.

Protection magic is often recommended as a good place to start, and it's an opinion that I happen to agree with. For one thing, it's a nice low-stakes type of magic that involves a lot of concepts and visualizations that you'll be able to apply to other types of magic later on. And for another, as with any new hobby or craft, it's usually a good idea to learn the safety guidelines first.

That being said, that still leaves you with a lot of options for your entry into spellcasting. And the answer is kind of Yes To All, in this case. It might be easiest to pick a simple protection spell that someone else has written and give that a try, just to have a premade example to work from. Take note of what does and doesn't work for you with regard to materials, methodology, and the casting process - these will help you hone your skills later.

Writing your own spells and creating sigils are EXCELLENT creative exercises at any experience level. You don't even necessarily have to do anything with them right away, you can just make them as a way of figuring out how things fit together and what works best for you.

As for where to go next, there's really no One Correct Answer. What I recommend is to choose something that interests you, research it, then maybe give it a try if it seems doable. (And yes, that means I encourage dabbling.) There's no need to choose a particular path or archetype right away (or ever). Nothing wrong with a bit of freeform exploration, especially if you, like me, are in Club ADHD and thrive off that New Discoveries dopamine hit.

If you'd like some ideas, I have a post of Witchcraft Exercises that might get your mind moving in new directions, help you parse what you've learned, and maybe give you a few activities to try.

Best of luck to you and keep asking questions!!!

[poisonsage808]

somethin’ stupid

john munch coming to terms with being stupidly, hopelessly, painfully in love

Some altruistic, smitten fools doped on endorphins wrote songs and poems and books about the great wonders of love. Every single one of them is not only a thick-skulled, injudicious nutjob, but a lying one at that. See they all failed to mention the little deaths, the fucking agonies that balance out the ecstasy of being in love.

Munch was already burdened with a ceaseless mind.

The only thing that spared himself, and the world, from his stream of consciousness was slumber. You sleep better next to the one you love, they said, yeah well, try not sleeping without them there. Fitfully, John stares at the ceiling, the wall, the phone and debates if he could call despite the unideal time. He didn’t realize sleep would completely evade him unless he was a tangled mess of limbs around you.

At first he compared you to a ghost haunting him. Or the plague. You’re with him even when you’re not, be it your voice or a vivid flash of your smile or your hands (somehow) mercilessly squeezing his heart. He misses you. He saw you twenty minutes ago, and he misses you? That’s unfair, downright inhumane.

Presently, you consume every waking thought. Now he had to go about his day seeing and hearing you everywhere. The color of the sky in the morning? He wonders if you’d like it, if you two could talk all night and see it together. That hotdog stand on 48th street? You don’t like that one, but there’s a good pretzel stand nearby.

Oh, and guess what’s worse than thinking these things? Saying them aloud to his partner who already disparages him.

He sees something that he thinks you’d like and his first instinct is to get it, which is weird for him. Contrary to popular belief he’s not cheap, it just so happens that the scale tips in favor of things not being worth spending money on. He didn’t even put all his money into a bar he actively wanted! Would he drop a tenner on a vinyl of your favorite band in a heartbeat, though? Yeah, he’d also listen to it with you— not silently, mind you, he’s still arguably sane— but it should say a lot more than the money thing.

Love languages are crap, pseudoscience for those in need to label themselves. Munch doesn’t think twice about your hand as it slips into his; doesn’t memorize every callous, every divot, crescent and scar he finds. Sure, he becomes involuntarily vigilant when your leg touches his, he’s a cop! Every reaction your touch gives him is explainable, he’s not going to seek it out because of bogus thaumaturgy. With that on the record, he does seek it out.

Ring, ring.

His eye twitches as he reaches for his phone, assuming it’s work.

“Munch.”

“Hi!” You laughed nervously, “I didn’t think you’d be awake— crap, unless I woke you up.”

He’s sitting up at the sound of your voice, like you were on your ninth cup of coffee, “You didn’t, you didn’t. I was just thinking.”

“Don’t you ever stop?”

“The sun doesn’t stop shining, why should I?” A smile cracks across his face when you huff out some amusement, “What’s goin’ on, sweetheart? You ok?”

He can hear the piano fall on you, the weight of calling a detective in the dead of night.

“Christ, I’m so— Yeah, no, I’m fine, I didn’t think— or, actually, I was thinking and that’s the problem.”

The unspoken travels through the wires of both your phones, an inkling of what was on the other’s mind.

“Why don’t I come over,” he suggests casually, betraying his racing heart, “we could think together.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

Relief and excitement tingles from where the phone’s pressed to John’s ear. He was already grabbing his keys, turning back for spare clothes.

He supposes, if he has to be perturbed and encumbered by proclivities of love, it’s nice to know his agony is shared by the person who causes it.

[derpyy-y]

my kiddos again! been forever since i did a group shot lol

i got a new one named fish (the one with the fish. they/he/she) who isnt REALLY new- i scrapped them back in 2021 but i never stopped thinking about them so 😭 welcome back bud!

friendly reminder mathilde is a camper who is just very tall

if you have oc questions id love to answer!!! :)

[theoldkyokodied]

Uploading all my Tomgreg art at once from the past few week before season 4 hits, who knows in what kind of mental state i'm gonna be once it does :')

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

For anyone annoyed by the Tumblr changes, if you're on desktop I would recommend using XKit Rewritten (and New XKit for any other odd changes you'd like to try out, including even older aspects of Tumblr). It's the older version of Rewritten but most of the extensions on it are still supported/do work). I can't guarantee they'll definitely make a fix for it/a direct fix for this particular UI change, but it's possible that they might since they usually make extensions that allow you to essentially revert changes made to the UI. Other various UI extensions (such as old ones from Tumblr's past UIs that the extensions basically just revert you to) may also help fix up your UI.

As you might expect these extensions need to be on to work/revert the appearance of the UI (so if you turn them off you'll revert to the current state of Tumblr), but while they are on you can curate your UI to look how you want it. This goes for both New XKit and XKit Rewritten. I use both and I couldn't live without them lol. You can get some big oldies of Tumblr's, like classic search on Rewritten or the Tweaks extension (full of various UI tweaks) on New XKit (including the old shade of blue Tumblr used a long time ago that I never stopped using!).

Unfortunately I don't know of any solution for mobile if it affects mobile at any point (or if it already has), but whenever you're on desktop, I would definitely recommend both these versions of XKit. I have so many extensions from them that I often don't even realize when there are UI changes (remember how Tumblr added themes for your dashboard? I didn't even notice for the longest time because I've had New XKit on the whole time) because Tumblr's default coding is overwritten by the extensions I have on.

[swaghaver69]

i feel a heavy pressure like someone is sitting on my chest making it so i can’t breathe whenever i think about how every single structure in society and social conditioning makes it so that women have no choice but to inevitably end up with a male and it is pushed so hard as the only possible viable option and it feels choking and inescapable (personal rambling vent in tags)

[anonymusbosch]

.

[infinitethree]

So, Aster is kind of in hell right now.

Daz has, evidently, decided to quadruple down on being a bastard by abusing the fact that Aster is forced to see their future– a future where they’re happily married– to torment him.

Horrifyingly, his torment comes primarily in the form of things that one would consider flirting under any other circumstances.

Pretty much his only reprieve is his time at the Swords and Shields’ training hall. Not even his own goddamned home is sacred, because Daz can just– fucking teleport in, like an asshole!

It does not help that the visions seem to come primarily when he’s around Daz. The more Daz inflicts his presence on Aster, the more he sees of some unknown point in the future where they’re deeply in love.

So basically, on top of the active torment, there’s the fucky surreal mood whiplash of future-Daz clearly enjoying his company…and then current-Daz, who wields his knowledge like a knife to inflict shallow wounds on his psyche.

Thank fuck that he at least doesn’t have to deal with whatever the hell their more intimate time is like. All he’s seen is what seems like the aftermath– but is enough to make it clear that they definitely do get up to…that.

Uhg. The idea makes him vaguely queasy currently, even if future-him seems to enjoy it.

There’s no further information about what led to that shift, unfortunately. At this point, Aster would try to trigger it just to lessen Daz’s wrath.

Sure, he’s not entirely sure he even wants his love. But it’d be infinitely better than the shit he’s currently dealing with.

And, well, if nothing else– he could definitely appreciate that Daz does seem to enjoy both acts of service and gifts.

As far as he can tell, future-him exclusively wears clothes that future-Daz makes for him and mostly eats his cooking– something that he is actually jealous of.

At no point has Aster ever looked at food Daz has made and not been tempted. Even when he knew it was fucked with in some capacity, a little voice in the back of his head told him, but it’ll be so damn good. It’s worth whatever he did, probably.

A few times he’s listened. He regretted it later, sure, but in the moment…

In the moment he had desperately wished Daz wasn’t such a catty asshole towards him and him alone.

Well, now he knows why he was singled out. And even though that reason has been resolved, he’s now the subject of Daz’s actual wrath. Thus, even considering taking a bite of anything Daz has touched is a level of stupidity that Aster isn’t willing to rise to. 

Beyond the clothes and food, though? Future-Daz seems to have given plenty of other gifts and forms of his affection.

It sure as hell seems like they live in a completely redone version of Aster’s house. It’s a hell of a lot bigger with a completely different layout, but those familiar blue and white wisteria trees can be seen through the windows sometimes.

All of that seems nice, sure, but the thing that really piques Aster’s interest is a simple fact that seems to be driven home over and over and over–

Future-Daz is clingy as hell.

He seems to want to be cuddled with more than anything. Aster has even watched as he goes from fully alert to completely conked out just from future-Aster playing with his hair.

It– honestly, as weird as it is to admit to himself?

It was almost cute.

Of course, he’d come back to the present and that feeling was ruined by Daz asking if he saw them in the bedroom again. But for a brief moment, he almost felt a bit of fondness for that asshole.

The Swords and Shields have definitely noticed his bad mood. Thankfully, none of them are willing to pry into his life enough to say anything.

All of them respect him. Even if they joined under the banner of Lee, they ultimately answer to Aster.

Daz’s domain is the Welcome Wagon; Aster’s is the Swords and Shields. Those that want to seriously hone their skills aren’t coddled here– sure, they get guidance and shit.

But if they fuck around, Aster does not hesitate to let them find out.

He only belatedly notices that the gym has gone quiet. A feeling of dread rises up as he turns to look and–

Oh Prime fucking damnit, Daz is here.

His heart sinks as he realizes that instead of his usual outfit, Daz is in something far more suited to actually breaking a sweat.

No, no, no, this absolute fucking sociopath can’t possibly be–

“Aster!” Face lighting up like he’s excited to see him, Daz trots up and looks at him like an excited puppy.

He knows better. This is a viscous tiger who only looks harmless as a defense mechanism.

Daz beams at him and says, “I figured it was, like, kinda time for me to actually get training and stuff! I know I technically don’t have to, but I mean…”

There’s a little giggle. “I kinda do encourage new people to sign up, right? So like, it’s only reasonable to learn about it firsthand!”

The room is dead quiet. Not a single person here believes that Daz is actually capable of keeping up with them, but Aster knows better.

If he so choose, Daz could become the single strongest fighter on the server. He’s probably already better than most people in this room.

Aster would know. Daz is the reason he stopped trying to become Theo 2.0 and became something wholly himself.

That ‘fight’, if you could call it that, had been years ago. It’s still seared into his memory– still a reminder that Daz is very much a physical threat when he so chooses.

He realizes he’s been quiet for too long. “...I don’t know that that’s a good idea.”

Arguing is pointless, he knows. But he can’t not do that– not only does he desperately not want Daz to be here, but everyone knows he’s not exactly fond of the guy.

Meekly letting him join would be suspicious and, more importantly, humiliating.

Daz deflates. “But…I really want to get better. I know I’m not really good enough, but maybe if I can, like– actually be kinda okay, then I won’t have so many nightmares…”

Yep, this is about how he pictured it would go.

There was no possible way for him to wiggle out of having Daz here. As soon as this sociopath decided to expand his torment into Aster’s last safe haven, this was always how this would play out.

He sighs deeply. “...Fine. You’re gonna take the same test as everyone else, though. I’m not giving you special treatment.”

Once again Daz perks up. “Thank you! I don’t expect any special treatment or anything, I can totally handle it!”

That’s exactly what Aster is afraid of.

Fuuuck. He’ll have to fight against this bastard with a huge audience. They’re going to be curious what exactly his skill level is.

Pretty much his only hope is that Daz has played up how helpless he is. Surely he won’t…actually be serious about this, right?

But as they go to the main floor and he lays down the parameters of the test– five minutes of using whatever weapons the testee wants to try and hit Aster, followed by them trying to survive against his retaliation for as long as they can– he’s got a horrible feeling that Daz won’t play even remotely nice.

That feeling is confirmed when he clicks the timer and Daz lunges at him with clear intent.

It’s– horrifyingly, a hell of a lot better than most people present. Aster has to actually put some effort into dodging, though it’s thankfully way less of him getting his ass handed to him than the first time they has a match.

There’s an eerie, blank calm in Daz’s face as he gives no quarter. Not a single second to catch his breath and regroup; just an interminable onslaught that speaks all too clearly of having been heavily trained before.

And like he feared might happen, a memory is shown to him.

Daz, younger and with a look in his eyes that screams he’s hungry to be taught, listens intently to his mentor.

“You can’t just throw everything at your opponent without focus,” Dream tells him. Daz scoffs and retorts, “Worked against you, didn’t it?”

Dream rolls his eyes. “I was holding back a lot, and you know that. Not everyone will show you that same courtesy. If you try to use brute force, you’ll wear yourself out faster. No; the way to really win…is to use your head.”

And then Aster finds his legs being swept out from under him as Daz aims one of his daggers at his throat.

Thankfully, years of muscle memory and fighting against Theo make it easy enough to recover and dodge.

He feels the timer in his pocket go off, and feels a surge of relief. He’s the one who pushes the offense now, forcing Daz to play it more defensively.

But…Daz lasts a while. Hell, he even gets a few nicks in, taking full advantage of Aster’s closeness.

Eventually, though, Aster is still able to slam his axe into him and force him to respawn.

He’s actually breathing a little heavy, after that. Not a lot of people can actually get his blood pumping like that.

…Fuck, did he actually enjoy fighting that bastard?

As he’s trying to sort that feeling out, Daz appears in front of him again– probably having teleported back from his spawn. He smiles sheepishly at Aster and says, “I know I wasn’t really that good, but…was I at least okay?”

This goddamned asshole is going to act like he thinks that level of skill is nothing?

No, actually, it makes perfect sense. If he wants to reconcile his actual skill with his personality, this is probably one of the only paths he can take.

Aster squints at him. He knows he’s supposed to play along, but this still pisses him off. “You thought that was bad?”

“Yeah? Didn’t everyone here do way better? I only gave you some scratches, that’s nothing!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and resists the urge to deck him. “Who told you that your current level isn’t any good?”

Daz’s face falls a little, and he fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, uhm…D– Dream did. ‘Cause, I needed to be protected…I was too weak. So I’m not any good, or I wouldn’t have needed protection…”

He’s shown another flash of the past. Daz, the agony of his enchantment searing him from the inside out, sobs as Dream strokes his hair and murmurs, “It’s okay. It’s for your own good. You’ll thank me someday.”

A shudder goes down his spine as he’s sent back to the present. He hates seeing shit about Daz and his former mentor, because he knows that’s some of the things Daz least wants him to see.

“Hasn’t he been proven as a liar by now? You’re fine.”

Daz tilts his head, brow creasing. “...Fine?” “You–” Aster sighs, and admits, “You’ve probably had the best assessment out of anyone. I don’t think you even need training, just confidence.”

He jerks his thumb at the assembled Swords and Shields, who are dead silent with shock that Daz is that good. “I literally don’t think anyone else here can even begin to keep up with you.”

There’s a few quick blinks, like this is news to Daz. “That…can’t be right. I’m not any good.”

“There is literally no reason for me to lie about that.” Aster turns to the group and calls, “Do any of you actually think you can beat him?”

Only a few hands raise, but none confidently. When Aster gives them a stern look, all of them slowly sink back down. Daz’s expression only becomes more confused. “That– what? Then…”

He turns to look at Aster, and there’s a gleam of something awful in his eyes. “Then does that mean the only person I’d really be able to like, spar with is you?”

And now, Aster sees the trap that was laid for him.

There is no actual way for him to escape this. Foisting him off on anyone else would just be unfair to them, and call into question his ability to be fair. He’d probably be accused of running like a coward, too.

Gritting his teeth, Aster concedes, “...Yes.”

Daz lights up with joy. “So, like– we can be sparring buddies?! I can be friends with you, finally?!”

“Fin– what?” “‘Cause, like, I always assumed you didn’t like me much ‘cause I’m bad at fighting! But if I’m actually really good, and we spend time together, we can be friends!”

There’s a moment of hesitation, and Daz stares at him with sudden hesitation. “We…can be friends, right? I’ve always really admired you, but I didn’t wanna bother you without a good reason…that’s why it, uhm, took so long to finally do this. I– I didn’t want to make you waste too much time…”

Now he’s not meeting Aster’s eyes. He rambles, “I, uhm, I told Raine a bit about– a bit about some of…some of my past. And he encouraged me to come here, said it’d be good for me…”

Not for a single second does Aster actually believe that.

“Since if I’m, like, actually strong, maybe I can– can stop being so scared from my nightmares.”

When Aster doesn’t respond, Daz’s face crumbles and he hangs his head. “I– I’m sorry, that was dumb of me. I– I shouldn’t have come here, this was a bad idea–”

It’s only when Daz starts to turn away, voice cracking as if he’s actually going to cry, that Aster unfreezes enough to grab his wrist.

“I’m not going to promise you friendship, but I’m not going to be an asshole either. You’re still a member of the group…and a good one, at that. You’re probably the root reason why nearly everyone in the Swords and Shields joined.”

Daz mumbles, “But you don’t like me.” “I–”

He sighs, hating that he has to play nice with this goddamned bastard like this. “It’s not because of you. You’ve got your trauma, I’ve got mine.”

Once again, he’s shown a vision.

Thank fucking Prime though, this time it’s the future.

Despite that, though, it seems like this might be the earliest time he’s seen so far. They’re in the Council HQ, with future-Daz openly glaring at him.

Future-Aster hums, “I know how you think. And I know that even if you are interested, you’ll ignore or repress it rather than act on it. That’s why the only way I can be sure that you truly don’t want it is to force your hand.” “That’s– you can’t just– just–!”

“I can, actually. Don’t you know me well enough by now to know that if I decide to do something, no force on heaven or earth can stop me?”

A soft chuckle escapes from future-Aster as he adds, “My next step is to start getting even more obvious with it. I’ll pull a dozen pages from your playbook, make it so that your refusal makes you into a massive asshole. I don’t even need to act all that much for it.”

Future-Daz seethes, “You can’t threaten me into dating you.” “Once again…I’m pretty sure I can, actually.”

…What?

So, wait– they get together, and get married…all of that is because he blackmails Daz?

But they seemed happy. Even in quiet moments that they’re alone, Future-Daz seems deeply in love with him. Surely that’s…not fake, right?

He’s left reeling as he’s sent back to the present.

How the actual hell is that–

Wait.

If Daz would never be willing to even try it without that big of a push…and assuming that he does actually end up happy…

Is it actually that awful?

Sure, it’s definitely not great, ethically. Aster would rather die than force him to do anything too crazy, too, but…

What if it’s just dating? Being, like– romantic and shit in public? Going on actual dates and that kind of thing.

…He kind of feels like a scumbag for even considering it. But he also can’t help but be faced with the fact that future-him clearly knows something. He spoke with absolute confidence that Daz would ignore any actual interest in favor of ignoring and repressing it.

And more than that, they seemed so damn happy together. Sure, it could be fake, but–

If that were the case, future-Daz was doing a flawless job of acting at all times. He was clingy and sweet, doing things that he clearly put a lot of meaning behind.

Shit– Aster has noticed that they both had obvious claims! A bracelet for him, a necklace/brooch thing for Daz.

Maybe….

Maybe this is what he’s supposed to do.

He sees a hand being waved in front of his face. “Uhm, Aster? Are you, like…okay? I didn’t trigger anything, right?”

He blinks and realizes he must have been in the present for a little while now. He reaches out and ruffles Daz’s hair, partly out of curiosity and partly as retaliation for all this bullshit.

“You’re fine,” he huffs, as the bastard squeaks. He seems at a loss of words for once, but Aster can’t help but notice…

He’s leaning into it a bit.

…Holy shit, is future-Daz so clingy because this Daz is touch starved?

As an experiment, he puts an arm over his shoulder in what he hopes seems friendly to everyone else, and steers him towards his office. “Let’s go figure out what days you’re actually able to come in. I know the Welcome Wagon takes up a lot of time…probably your admin training too, right?”

Daz nods, still seeming speechless and more than a little awkward as they make their way there.

[wereh0gz]

I've been thinking abt opening comms soon and how to do it. I'll be old enough for a paypal soon so I might be able to open them by june or july. I've also seen ppl use ko-fi but idk how that one works so I'll have to look into it more

[bowtiestash]

i’m going to try to be more active on tumblr because of the way twitter’s going, just a heads up

[scientia-rex]

A lot of younger people have no idea what aging actually looks and feels like, and the reasons behind it. That ignorance is so dangerous. If you don’t want to “be old,” you aren’t talking about a number of years. I have patients in their late 80s who could still handily beat me in a race—one couple still runs marathons together, in their late 80s—and I lost someone who was in her early 60s to COPD last year. What you want is not youth, it is health.

If you want to still be able to enjoy doing things in your 60s and 70s and 80s and even 90s, what you want to do, right now, is quit smoking, get some activity on a regular basis (a couple of walks a week is WAY better for you than nothing; increasing from 1 hour a day of cardio to 1.5 will buy you very little), and eat some plants. That’s it. No magic to it. No secret weird tricks. Don’t poison yourself, move around so your body doesn’t forget how, and eat plants.

If you have trouble moving around now because of mobility limitations, bad news: you still need to move around, not because it’s immoral not to, but because that’s still the best advice we have. I highly recommend looking up the Sit and Be Fit series; it is freely available and has exercises that can be done in a chair, which are suitable for people with limited mobility or poor balance. POTS sufferers, I’m looking at you.

If you have trouble eating plants because of dietary issues (they cause gas, etc.) or just because they’re bitter (super taster with texture issues here!), bad news. You still want to find a way to get some plants into your body on a regular basis. I know. It sucks. The only way I can do it is restaurants—they can make salads taste like food. I can also tolerate some bagged salads. On bad weeks, the OCD with contamination focus gets so bad I just can’t. However, canned beans always seem “safe,” and they taste a bit like candy, so they’re a good fallback.

If you smoke and you have tried quitting a million times and you’re just not ready to, bad news. You still need to quit. Your body needs you to try and keep trying. Your brain needs it, too. Damaging small blood vessels racks up cumulative damage over time that your body can start trying to reverse as soon as you quit. I know it’s insanely, absurdly addictive. You still need to.

You cannot rules lawyer your way past your body’s basic needs. It needs food, sleep, activity, and the absence of poison. Those are both small things and big asks. You cannot sustain a routine based on punishment, so don’t punish your body. Find ways to include these things that are enjoyable and rewarding instead. Experiment. There is no reason not to experiment—you don’t have to know instantly what’s going to work for you and what won’t, you just need to be willing to try things and make changes when things aren’t working for you.

You will still age. Your body will stop making collagen and elastin. Tissues you can see and tissues you can’t see will both sag. Cushioning tissues under your skin will get thinner. You’ll bruise more easily. Skin will tear more easily. Accumulated sun damage will start to show more and more. Joints will begin to show arthritis. Tendons and ligaments will get weaker and get injured more easily, as will muscles. Bones will lose mass and get easier to break. You’ll get tired more easily.

But you know what makes the difference between being dead, or as good as, in your 60s vs your 90s? Activity, plants, and quitting smoking. And don’t do meth. Saw a 58-year-old guy this week who is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t quit whatever stimulant he’s on. I pretended to believe it was just the cigarettes, and maybe it is, but meth and cocaine will kill you quicker. Stop poisoning yourself.

Baby steps; take it one step at a time; you don’t need to have everything figured out right now. But you do need to be working on figuring things out.