#my boss is the kind of person who overshares everything

[reality-schmality]

I have done nearly no work at all in the last week because I cannot focus for the life of me and it’s baaaaaaaaaad.

My period has gone completely off the rails and my hormones are all over the map. I’m overwhelmingly depressed and crying at the drop of a hat and just I can’t function.

[ninetiescoppola]

LIVING, LEARNING, YELLING

Last week I was taking a look at my family album and I saw something peculiar: thousands of pictures of me smiling. I can’t remember when was the last time that I had a good time and felt relieved of stress, pain and anxiety. I felt that eventually everything that was so colorful and joyful turned gray and meaningless. I wondered if a girl’s life is a spectrum: childhood, pre-rebellious-teen, teenager (a.k.a. living hell with trauma development) and angry adult with mental issues and addicted to substances. This week I was watching Twin Peaks and I started to think if Laura Palmer’s iconic scream is our inner will. Are all girls the same but with different addresses?

Women invented arts to channel their rage. Writing, painting, drawing, creating and making are a very subtle way to tell people to get the fuck away before you stab them in the neck. I keep trying to find out where all this anger came from, maybe it was the society, relatives with the most cruel and intentional body shaming comments or even our judging parents made us feel like that. The pressure of being perfect in everything and having no failures or flaws, the big effort that we have to make to feel loved and accepted and last but not least, the beauty standards. 

In my last job I experienced everything at once. I was working as assistant’s manager in a coffee house downtown, the position of manager was open and I was the best option. In summary, I wasn’t picked and my boss chose his friend who was from another city miles away from where I live. According to him, I was a “too hard to handle kind of person”, bullshit. I admit that I’m no cookie, but better being harsh than a suck up. When I got home, I screamed against a pillow till I got voiceless and scratched all my face. I felt used by him. So, after almost two and a half years being his puppet and with a very heavy heart, I quit. My world was falling apart, still is, all the employees and customers were like a huge family to me. We had this special bond that I can’t explain. Now I live like Nosferatu, hiding in the shadows and only leaving my cute and pretty girly girl castle (my room) when it’s something extremely mandatory. The truth is that I’m done being the Martyr, but I feel that If I couldn’t even be able to do that job that I thought I was perfect at, could I be good at doing anything else? Does his opinion affect me that much?

Last year, before I quit, I was so messed up that I started to drink heavily and mix pills and alcohol like it was candy and kool-aid. Everyday after work I went to a different bar or finished a bottle of wine and vodka at my ex’s house. One day I took a look in the mirror and saw how that affected me and my body, so I decided that I should change my life, lose weight and take care of myself. It went all wrong. I became obsessed with my body and stopped eating, spent all my money on clothes and makeup, started to blow off my therapist and quit my meds. Later that month I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. After that my weekly schedule was reduced to: drugstore, therapist’s office and the gas station to buy my cigarettes. 

Being away from all of this made me a little better, not completely, but feels ok. I’m trying to understand that if something bothers me, I should go and not look back. This can be applied for jobs, relationships and people who are not worth your inner peace. 

Today, comparing to not-so-old days, I became a fucking (medicated, not so angry and oversharing) badass, of course that I’m still sad and have panic and anxiety attacks, but at least I’m cool.

[redwinediary]

entry 1: emotions

this is my first entry!! yay :D

what you should know about me is that I'm a very very emotional person. i don't know how and who to blame for that but i am; i cry doing anything and that's just how it is. someone yelling at me? crying. someone showing that they care about me? crying. it's something that i don't like since i would like to show other basic human emotion that isn't crying. a part of me wants to blame astrology since my moon, sun and rising is all three water signs but blaming my emotions on stars is fucked. my upbringing isn't any better and not to play into the stereotype of oversharing online but my family is fucked up to say the least.

if you've watched inside out, sadness and anxiety for sure ar the bosses in my mind (i have not watched the second movie so i do not know what it is about). in relationships, it's even worse but that's another topic for another day since that in itself is going to be a L O N G post, but recently i kind of got my heart broken by a man who i gave a chance to, i can't get into that now either cause it's fresh in my mind. fresh meaning it's been 2 weeks and I'm dumb and can't move on. you really do know a heartbreak is bad when I've spent my hard-earned money on self-help books to help me regulate my emotions.

i do get attached to the men, even in the talking stage since i have attachment issues. it is bad for me, i am more than self-aware and i am trying my best to work on it. again, that's another story for another day.

emotionally i feel so mature and also immature if that makes sense? in comparison to other people i know how to regulate and communicate my emotions but in hindsight, i have tendencies of shutting down completely and masking my emotions to protect the other person. in other words, I'm aware.

i feel like it just strained from just bottling everything up since i just don't want to burden or hinder people with my problems since I've been called "a lot" for emoting and letting my feelings known. so personally it's just better for me to stop telling everyone to make everyone else happy and content. i know it's bad and i should not. self-awareness is key, but doing something to change your habits is even better.

anyways, that's it for now <3

bella xx

[mlleclaudine]

Kristen Kish, the New Face of Top Chef, on Graza, Gay Bars, and Getting Married

Interview magazine - March 1, 2024. Photographed by Huy Luong; styled by Lucy Gaston

In 10 short years, Kristen Kish went from Top Chef champ to Top Chef host, after being tapped to replace Padma Lakshmi as the one charged with telling crestfallen cooks to pack their knives and go. But before the 40-year-old Midwesterner enters the pressure-cooker environment of the legendary show’s 21st season, she sounds off on Instacart, IV drips, and getting married.

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CHILI CRISP

“God, every chef has one. There are some really good ones. There’s only been one that I’ve had to throw away because I didn’t enjoy it, and no, I’m not going to tell you whose that is.”

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INSTACART 

“Saved me during the pandemic. Having your groceries delivered? Who knew what a luxury that would be, not having to haul bags over your shoulders once a month to avoid the things that were happening in 2020.”

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POP-TARTS

“Toaster Strudels are far superior.”

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ANXIETY 

“Got it. So does everyone else.”

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CAESAR SALAD

“The real Caesar salad, I’m all for. The dressings that are made with globs of mayonnaise, that’s not a Caesar salad.”

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PACKING

“I have the best wife. She efficiently packs for me most trips. I pull everything out of the closet, and she somehow fits it into the smallest carry-on that we have. I love her for that.”

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KNIVES

“I have far too many, but a lot of home cooks don’t have enough. Somewhere in the middle is where you should be. Maybe I should start selling mine on eBay or something.”

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SNACKS

“Crispy, crunchy, salty—anything salt and vinegar.”

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SNACKING

“I’m a volume eater, and I want to eat a meal. When I have to eat a snack, I feel like I’m that person that says, ‘I just need to eat to live.’ So if I’m feeling low-energy and I need something in order to keep going, I’ll have a snack. But my preferred way of eating is a meal.”

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IV DRIPS

“I had one once when I was in the hospital, because I had the flu. I got so ill that I could not keep liquids down, and I felt like shit. I know that there’s clinics around where you go if you’re hungover, but IV drips for me remain in hospitals.”

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EXECUTIVES

“Many are my bosses. I am also one because I am an executive chef.”

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GRAZA OLIVE OIL

“Right, okay. It’s very affordable and they really, really crushed it with the squeeze bottle, but there are tastier olive oils out there, in my opinion.”

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FAST CASUAL

“Big fan. I love anything fast casual. I am not a three-hour, go-to-dinner, sit-there-all-night kind of person anymore, unless it’s something really special.”

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OVERSHARING

“It depends on what you’re sharing and who you’re sharing it with. A lot of times we are guilty of undersharing, and everything remains surface-level. Oversharing in some contexts is an opportunity to be vulnerable, to connect with people. It’s an opportunity for someone to not feel alone, by hearing how someone else feels. If that’s oversharing, I’m a fan.”

TOPS

“I love a cotton t-shirt or a hoodie.”

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CHEFS

“Oh, I see what you did there.”

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FAST FOOD

“Love-hate relationship. I hate it for all the reasons that it’s not good for you, but there are moments in everyone’s lives where we need fast, easy, cheap, and convenient. It is what it is.”

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BURNS

“I cover mine up with tattoos, but if you’re a cook who has burns and scars all the way up your arms, you’re doing something wrong. It’s time to rethink and reconfigure the way you’re cooking.”

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GAY BARS

“I came out when I was 28. My big bar times were 21 to 26. By the time I hit 28, I was phasing my way outside of bars in general. But I’m all for a place where people can gather and feel safe amongst like-minded people who make you feel not alone.”

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AUSTIN

“Arlo Grey is one of the best restaurants in Austin, Texas. I’m not saying that because it’s mine. I’m saying it because I have a great group of people running it day-to-day, so I can be here with you doing things like this.”

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MARRIAGE

“I used to never want to get married, because less than 10 years ago, I wasn’t allowed to by way of the Supreme Court. But I’m now happily married to the greatest human to walk this earth.”

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Hair: Yu Nakata using Living Proof at 87 Artists.

Makeup: Ayaka Nihei using Dior Rouge.

Nails: Nori using Chanel at See Management.

Retouching: Sacnetinc.

Photography Assistant: Madeleine Dalla.

Fashion Assistant: Nicholson Baird.

Location: Chalet Studios.

[doublegoblin]

Howdy howdy! Name is Maxwell Alabaster and I would love the excuse to discuss my writing for an audience of one!

So my big baby WIP is Rituals and Red Tape it started life as a big ol' book but I thought better of it and how to do the pacing so it has been split into multiple. Right now I'm in the process of editing up the first draft to something a bit more concrete and comprehensive. On this tumblr I post the first first drafts but the Wattpad is where I will be posting thing more edited stuff.

The basic premise of the story is that there is a reality created by this council of eldritch gods. This reality is one find their way to accidentally through their dreams. When you go to sleep there is a small chance that a nugget of your consciousness slips through the cracks that divide the realities and ends up in this dream world becoming what is known as a Dreamer. This Dreamer has no knowledge of who they were, where they were from, when they were from (well I mean at first but that information fades away shortly).

The story follows one such Dreamer, Alex. They are a follower of one of these gods and acts as their head cultist. The rub is though; how these cults and gods are understood by those under them is like a big business. So instead of being a head cultist they are instead the manager of the auditing department. Their entire purpose is to make sure the rules of reality aren't left broken for too long or ya know bad stuff happens. They are overworked, overexerted, and just done with other Dreamers causing problems. Also their boss is quite overbearing.

So part horror, part dark fantasy, and part dark comedy about the mundane horrors of working for a large corporation that literally runs the entire universe.

Some fun facts I guess!

Each of the department bosses is suppose to be play on an archetype of a bad boss.

Also nods to different kinds of horror or horror situations.

Dreamer bodies are considered 'optional', freely able to be changed on a whim or torn apart for whatever needs

There are concepts that The Board (the eldritch council) have no way to comprehend, like death :D so lots of horrible experiences to be expected, there are always things worse than death.

There is magic in this reality but it is more tweaking the coding of the world to accomplish something.

So in a way there is this fantasy outer cover but there are some unintentional but still present sci-fi elements under it.

There is a hot anime boy. Like black outline and everything.

I could go on and on about this more but I'll stop

Thank for the platform to overshare about my personal blorbos!

okay so every couple of weeks i have the thought 'wow people dont reblog writing like they used too anymore' and it's true but what's the point in having that thought and doing nothing to change it?

you all should reblog this post and share some of your writing or art or moodboards or fun facts off of it! give me something to look at and reblog!

even better, try and check out the notes once this gets spreading, and do the same!

[elulsdr]

MY FIRST TUMBLR POST EVER !!

hi everyone ! these are just my observations i hope you enjoy it <3

💋💋💋

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS

sag and capricorn placements LOOOVE coffee. or doing anything while drinking coffee. some of them may use it as a coping mechanism because it relaxes them.

virgo placements with leo influence people are SO bossy. they dgaf. they will always be there for you and expect you to do the same. they value loyalty more than anything.

cancers love to show you their cute side but bestie their sister sign is capricorn so they will show you who the boss is.

leo mars people are so scary when they're angry. they could get angry at anything.

sag placements are so blunt, it's actually so funny. they could say the most absurd shit out of nowhere. and the more you expect them to shut up the more they keep going💀

scorpio placements love to keep things secret. like they could have a crush on someone and NOBODY would even know. and most of them do it because they don't want to make this a big deal. BUT they're the most secret keeper person ever. they could know everbodys secret but no one would've know theirs.

venus influence in a natal chart along with pisces could make a person really easy going and well liked. but if they don't have strong mars/mercury influences they may keep silent at anything. ex: they could get bullied by their friends as a joke, even if they don't like it, they would laugh it off. they may be very sensitive. they care sm about their friends.

i know i've said too much about sag placements but they're the type to be "know it alls" they love to brag about it. and they always have something to keep their time with. whether it's a new movie, book anything. they're always the one who knows it first and better.

capricorn placements dress so well. i reaaalllyy love their style. it's always so clean and cute.

libra placements feel so misunderstood sometimes that they don't want to explain themselves. they know that they can fix things by themselves so why would they tell someone to help them.

- also they're not flirting they're just being kind. people who don't understand this always misunderstoods and labels them as big flirts. yes they have charm and all that but they know themselves best. they are aware of their presence and everything.

having leo placements doesn't always mean being confident. if they're undeveloped or harsh aspected they could be so shy and self conscious.

yes libra placements are social butterflies but have you seen geminis??? they could speak to annyyyone and be friends with them but that would be literally it. no further than that. because they're ruled by mercury and are very chatty that makes them really talkative. they may tend to overshare.

cancer moon 8H undeveloped could be SO toxic. they would care for you so much but once you put your attention to something else they would get so jealous and toxic. once they trust you enough they won't let you go. they don't want you to be anyone's but themselves. "i hate everyone but you" kinda trope.

having scorpio moon 1H is really hard because scorpio is all about being secret when 1H is about 'self'. these natives have so many paradoxes in them because they have TOO much mood swings and it scares them. and because of that they are scared that their feelings are gonna scare their partner so they keep it secret </3 i am a scorpio moon 1H myself :')

virgo/aquarius/6H/11H placements may love astrology, mbti types, enneagram etc. because they LOVE LOVE analyzing themselves, their friends and family. it helps them to understand everyone and themselves better. because they are so logical they want to understand why they feel or act like that.

yes mercury signs love to talk but they are completely different. a gemini could talk nonstop, 24/7 about how their day went while a virgo would get straight to the point. virgos don't like long and slow things. they are practical and value their time so much that they will tell a 15 page story in 3 sentences.

-Rum

💋💋💋

AHHH HI EVERYONE!!! i am literally so excited i actually never posted anything here and my first post is this?!?! i hope you like it please let me know <3

[cixthotshit]

A Cup of Rose Americano

Pairing: Bae Jinyoung x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Poor Girl/Rich Boy, Coffee Shop/Gangster AU (IDEK how I got here, just go with it)

Summary: There's more than meets the eye with every person, including Bae Jinyoung, the world's finest barista at Personal Barista Cafe

Word count: 4.7k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content: Porn With Some Plot, Kissing, Mirror Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie

Author’s Note: I wanted to write a fluffy Coffee Shop AU but NGL something else has been preoccupying my mind and the world building to this fic kind of went off the rails and transformed into a completely different story. Enjoy this smut, readers! I really want to explore this world a lot more but IDK if I can commit to anything beyond this RN. So please, please enjoy this! Sorry in advance for mistakes! I don't always catch everything when I proofread.

I always appreciate some feedback on my writings!

"Really, it'll be a...new coffee experience," Hyeon assured Sandy. She handed Sandy a green card. It felt like an expensive platinum credit card, the card made of metal, feeling heavy and cold in her hand. "All you have to do is fill out a survey after you get your free coffee. Once you make it inside, hand the card over to your barista."

"Aren't you supposed to find actual volunteers?" Sandy asked, looking at the shiny card. The only thing on the card was the name of the new test cafe, PB Cafe.

“Trust me,” Hyeon said with a grin. “You’ve never had coffee like this. This is free, too. You’re going to say no to free coffee? And I swear, this is really me saying it, their coffee is really good.”

“Fine, thanks for the free coffee.”

“Enjoy!” Hyeon turned her back to Sandy, most likely scanning for potential test subjects for her new marketing event. Being her best friend, Sandy was always her first test subject. She didn’t know if Hyeon’s bosses approved of her taking advantage of all the free stuff she was receiving.

Sandy walked over to a shop that was setup at the southwest corner of a 3 story building. The walls were white and the windows were covered by white curtains. “PB Cafe” was written in black on the front door, though there were no door handles. Standing in front of the door, Sandy noticed a black square pad beside the right side of the door. She pressed the green card to the black pad and jumped slightly as the glass door slid open. A short piano tune played, sounding old but familiar, reminding her of old Hollywood movies from the mid-20th Century.

Tentatively, she stepped in. Walking past the white curtains, she found herself inside a small room. At the back end of the room was a small bar with one wooden chair in front of it. It only took her 4 steps to reach the chair, so she pulled it out and sat down. The wall behind the bar slid down to the floor and a broad shouldered man walked out from what looked like a bright white light before the wall slid back up behind him.

Too shocked to react, Sandy set the green card down onto the smooth marble countertop. Her eyes couldn’t leave the face of her barista. He was very handsome and his small grin softened his masculine exterior. Wordlessly, he took the green card and placed it in the front left pocket of his black apron.

“Welcome to Personal Barista Cafe,” he said in a soft, sultry voice. “My name is Bae Jinyoung, your Personal Barista today. How shall I address you?”

“Uh, just call me Sandy, I don’t like formalities much.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sandy. If you don’t like formalities feel free to call me BaeJin or BaeBae.” She gave a soft chuckle and threw her hand over her mouth, feeling her cheeks warm up. Such a sultry man telling her to call him something as cute as BaeBae tickled her. “Is this your first drink with PB Cafe?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t know anything about this cafe, except that you have good coffee.”

“A Personal Barista will make you a personalized drink,” he explained, pulling out a menu form. “Whatever you order, I will make it in front of you. If you want to know how I prepare your drink, please let me know and I will explain as I go. If you want small talk instead, I enjoy a small conversation as I prepare you a drink. If you want silence, for any reason, please don’t feel pressured to speak if you don’t want to.”

“Can I get an Americano?” she asked, after glancing at the long list of coffee drinks. The menu was simple and elegant, the writings were in cursive but the paper was black and the ink white. She liked the seemingly simple attention to detail. “How long have you been a barista, BaeJin?”

“Almost a year,” he replied. He poured fresh ground coffee into a metal contraption with a long neck. She pressed her lips together as her eyes were fixed on his skilled, large hands. He was using a device to compact the coffee grounds.

“Do you enjoy being a barista?”

“I do. It allows me to be creative. My regular job is stressful.”

He put the coffee grounds into the machine and pressed a few buttons. She watched him place a small white espresso mug under the spout of the machine. He grabbed a large white mug of coffee, and looked at her with a soft grin.

“This is your side hustle?” she asked. PB Cafe seemed like it paid well.

“Most people have more than one job these days,” he replied.

“That’s true,” she replied. “I have a day job and a night job.”

“What are your jobs?”

“I’m interning at a law firm, helping a paralegal out. I’m hoping to get my private investigator’s license soon.”

“You want to be a private investigator?” he asked.

“I want to be a lawyer,” she answered, “but having a private investigator’s license helps me pick up skills. Research is the true gift of being a good lawyer.”

“Research. You must be very smart and hard working.”

“You are sweet,” she said, resting an elbow onto the counter, leaning forward. “I wish my smarts and hard work were enough to give me success. I’m lacking in luck lately.” His eyes drifted away from the espresso machine and looked into her eyes. She felt her cheeks turn hot, realizing she had overshared. It’d been a sad thought, too. “I feel very lucky right now.”

“Sandy, I don’t mean to make assumptions about people but if I were to guess you are someone with expensive tastes,” he said. He pulled out two small brown glass bottles from a drawer. “But, you settle for less.”

“I..” she breathed out.

She should have been insulted, but her barista BaeJin was right. Sandy had always been envious of people who could afford designer things or had the means to go on extravagant vacations, but all of that had always been a dream. The closest she got was free shit from Hyeon. A drink from PB Cafe was likely three times that of a drink from Starbucks, and Sandy could only afford Starbucks for special occasions.

“Why are you saying this?”

“I want to make you a drink in which you will appreciate,” he replied, pulling out a single stemmed pink rose from under the counter, and handed it to her. She felt her cheeks flush with heat as she accepted it. “Refined, seemingly ostentatious, but simple and hopefully, delicious.”

He poured hot water from a glass kettle into the mug. She felt her cheeks turn hot again as he reached over and plucked a single petal from the rose she held. He tilted a single drop of liquid from one of the brown bottles onto the petal.

“Rose water,” he said to her as he locked eyes with her for a second. He placed the rose petal into the mug, letting it float in the hot water. He poured the espresso into the mug of water, and took a spoon to scoop out the wilted petal, tossing it away before handing the drink to her.

She gave it a sip, and shut her eyes, a smile on her lips. Using a flower as aromatic as a rose was difficult to pull off in cuisine. Oftentimes the rose aroma was too overpowering, reminding one’s nose of perfume instead of food. Baejin’s Rose Americano, though, was the perfect balance of a good cup of coffee elevated with some elegance, refined by the subtlest hint of a rose’s sweet scent. The warm breath she exhaled after a hot sip of Americano filled her senses with flowery comfort.

“This is the most...beautiful cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted,” she replied, setting the mug down when she was half finished. “It tastes...beautiful.”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile any wider than she already was. He was incredibly cute, grinning in reaction to her compliment. How could a man exude the amount of sensuality like BaeJin yet be so cute that she wanted to squish him like a marshmallow?

“You like it?” he asked.

“I do,” she replied. “I didn’t know a cup of Americano could be improved. Thank you for this cup of coffee. You’re a gifted barista.”

“Thank you. I would love to make you another drink.”

“I’ll try to come back one day,” she said earnestly.

She sipped her drink and glanced at her phone. Thanking her talented, handsome (and cute) barista BaeJin one last time, Sandy finished her drink and sprinted out of the odd, surreal cafe. She had to get ready for work. Smelling the pink rose in her hand, Sandy smiled to herself. Who knew her barista would be the first man to give her a rose?

--

“Diamond! Malibu was accidentally double booked,” Danielle called out into the dressing room. “Can you give a lap dance in the Blue Champagne Room before going home?”

“Wait,” Sandy said, holding the gold hoop earring she’d just taken off her left earlobe, “I’m not going to chase Malibu for the flat fee. The last time I covered for her, not only did her John not tip me but I had to chase her for 4 days before she gave me the cash.”

“I have a hard time chasing her down, too,” Danielle said with a heavy sigh, handing her purple vape pen to Sandy to hold. She dug into her pink and purple Bedazzled fanny pack, and fished out a few bills. She handed a bag of clothing to Sandy. “Let me know if this John is handsy or out of line. He’s a new customer. You have five minutes, babe. Fix your makeup.”

Handing the vape pen back to her boss, Sandy put the cash into her purse before shutting and locking the drawer to her vanity. She put her earring back on and retouched her eye makeup and lipstick. Her locks of hair looked good as she combed her fingers through her hair, looking into the mirror before getting up to change.

Sandy hadn’t exactly planned on becoming a stripper, but during her freshman year in college, she took a class on feminist studies, specifically on sex work. What started out as a learning experience in respecting sex work, and educating herself on the legal struggles of sex workers’ rights, Sandy soon found herself stripping as a means of extra income. She herself was in need of money, and recognized her beauty was valued enough that she could make capital from it.

Having walked out on her dysfunctional family as soon as she turned 18, Sandy had been hustling on her own for years. She was still working towards a career in law, but in the meantime, she was balancing between her day job as an unpaid intern at a shitty law firm and her night job as a stripper at a club called Blue Paradise. Giving lap dances were only nice when she received good tips, but they didn’t happen often enough. All she wanted was a good tip.

Pulling out the outfit Danielle handed to her, she took off her clothes and put on her new outfit. She wore a neon pink G-string bikini bottom with her matching lace bra under a black pencil skirt and a white costume button up office dress shirt. She put on a loose blue tie around her neck, and put on a pair of thick black framed glasses, matching it with her black leather knee high boots. Apparently, this new customer had a librarian kink.

Walking down the hall, toward the other side of the back of the club, she entered the room with the blue door at the end of the hall. The Champagne Rooms, where customers received their private lap dances, were color coded. The Blue Room was where the clients with specific kinks went.

Opening the door, Sandy pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and looked up to see her John seated on the black couch. The dim lighting of the room cast a shadow over his body, making it hard for her to make out his face. She blinked, and closed her mouth, realizing that her customer was her barista from PB Cafe, BaeJin. It had been days since she had her cup of Rose Americano.

He was wearing a loosely worn grey sweater with black denim jeans. She didn’t think it was possible but he looked more handsome than she last remembered. Perhaps, with her body so close to his, knowing that he was there for devious reasons, her face flushed and her nipples hardened as heat rushed through her body from head to toe.

“BaeJin!” she said, forgetting her sexy librarian character.

“Don’t move,” he said, looking alarmed. She stood completely still, one hand on the door handle. “You’re a stripper, Sandy?”

“You...you remember me?” He nodded. “Stripping is helping me pay for my law degree.” She licked her lips and tilted her head, pushing her chest forward slightly. “I can give you what you want.”

“I can’t do this,” he replied, crossing his left leg over his right. His eyes left her, and diverted to the ground. Her ego was bruised. Not only did she need the money, but her vanity made her feel upset that he didn’t want a lap dance from her. “I should go.”

“I have to try to keep you here,” she said shyly, pressing her back against the door. “If I don’t, that means I’m not good at my job.”

“How long should we be in here for you to be considered good at your job?” he asked, his eyes returning to meet her gaze.

“You don’t want a lap dance? Am I not cute? My tits too small?”

He gave a chuckle, and looked away when his eyes moved to her chest as she talked.

“You’re very cute,” he replied, “but that’s the problem. As a barista, I don’t date customers. Since you didn’t actually pay for your drink, I thought it’d be OK to ask you out if I ever saw you again. But if I pay for this lap dance, I wouldn’t want to ask you out. It’s not fair for me to proposition you while you’re working.”

“You’ve been thinking hard about me?” Her cheeks felt hot and goosebumps formed on her arms. “Would you accept my invitation if I asked you out after this? I’m actually supposed to be off work by now, but this is my last job tonight. If I don’t give you a lap dance, we didn’t cross any lines, right?”

He nodded, and she gave a nervous chuckle.

“You said that being a barista was your side hustle,” she said, noticing the expensive watch and ring on his left hand. Sex workers had to know street codes to keep themselves safe, and watches and rings were how gang members communicated their loyalties and rankings. “What’s your main job? You said it’s stressful.”

His right hand wrapped around his platinum watch, the case of the watch encrusted with diamonds. The C9 Gang was a wealthy gang with origins in Tokyo, Japan, platinum was their calling card. BaeJin’s gold band emerald ring sat on his middle finger, indicating he was a made man of high rank. Sandy was impressed; BaeJin had acclimated to a high status in a gang at a young age.

“How long have you been working here, Sandy?” he asked in response.

“Diamond,” she answered, her grip remaining firm on the door. “My stage name is Diamond.”

“Sandy...Diamond,” he said with a grin. He stood, and she took a deep inhale of breath as he took a step forward and pressed his body against hers, his left arm wrapping around her waist as his hand gripped onto her wrist. Her hold on the door handle loosened. “You are the diamond in the rough in Blue Paradise. You still want to invite me out on a date?”

She took a gulp of breath, staring deeply into his dark brown eyes. He licked his lips and her eyes drifted to his mouth. Giving the most gentle nod of her head, she said, “Yes.”

“I drive a blue Ferrari F60 America,” he said as the tip of his nose touched hers.

“I don’t know anything about cars,” she replied, shutting her eyes. His breath was warm, making it hard for her to breathe. He chuckled and she felt his head rest onto her shoulder.

She opened her eyes when she felt a hand touch her chin.

“I drive a blue car,” he said, his eyes drifting down her face to her lips. His thumb ran across her bottom lip gently, sending heat deep into her groin. Her stomach ached at the touch. “It’ll be the most expensive looking car you’ll see when you walk outside.” He looked directly into her eyes again. “I’m a dangerous man, Sandy...Diamond. I have to ask you one more time, do you want to keep talking to me?”

She chewed on the inside of her left cheek nervously, and furrowed her eyebrows. Given how close she was to getting the paid job as a paralegal at Johnston’s &Partners, Sandy was one step closer to her dreams of becoming a lawyer. Would it be ethical to date a gangster?

“Will you take me home or will we be going to your place?” she answered. Life was too short not to take risks.

--

Upon his request, she left work wearing her costume. BaeJin’s description of having the most expensive looking car was accurate. The navy blue car shone brighter than any other car, and the curves of the body created an elegant design to the car. He’d opened the passenger door for her. She realized her skirt barely covered her ass as the cold leather from the seat hit the back of her thighs.

He drove them up a curvy hill to get to his expensive mansion, placed behind a small forest. It sat atop of a mountainous hill, overlooking the bright lights of the city far below. BaeJin was a man of very high rank by the looks of his home. It was large and designed with multiple floor to ceiling windows. Sandy took a soft gulp of air as her mouth felt dry.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said when he led her into his home, the hallway lined with expensively framed paintings. The jade vase that held 3 white lilies beside the coat hanger looked like it was worth more than everything she owned, including the small amount of cash she had in her bank account.

BaeJin’s home aesthetic was minimalist, though each room had a piece of furniture that popped out, like the jade vase in the front entrance. In his bedroom, he had a rose gold encrusted full length mirror sitting at the foot of his bed. It was shameless, but did not surprise her. Their eyes locked as BaeJin sat down at the foot of the bed. Their fingers intertwined when she reached her left hand out to his outstretched right hand.

“I spent a week trying not to think about you,” he said, pulling her easily onto his lap. His free hand wrapped around her waist. “The closest thing to you was trying to get a stripper to dress up like a sexy librarian.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” she said, squeezing his hand. “You went to Blue Paradise wanting a fantasy. Instead, you left with your fantasy.”

His hand released hers and she felt his hand between her legs, sliding up against her slit. Shutting her eyes she gave a soft moan, surprised at his swift movement.

“You deserve the best in life,” he said into her ear before grazing his teeth gently against her neck. “Don’t ever settle for less.”

He kissed her, his lips warm and firm. His tongue parted her lips and she gave a soft hum. She pushed his tongue out of her mouth, appreciating the taste of floral green tea from him. Her fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him closer to her. He tasted better than the beautiful cup of Rose Americano.

With a clouded head, she helped him pull his sweater off as he aggressively pulled her top off of her, the cheap buttons popping loudly as they flew into the air. Her skirt failed to exist when he ripped the zipper and tore the fabric apart with his bare hands.

“Are you going to rip me apart?” she asked breathlessly when his fingers found their way under her bra, fondling her erect nipple. She gave a soft moan and he grinned as he pinched her sensitive bud.

“I’ll be as hard or soft as you want,” he assured her. The pad of his thumb grazed against her nipple. Her back shivered as a sharp heat rode up her back.

“I like a bit of both,” she said, her cheeks hot. It felt like a dream to have BaeJin telling her he would do as she wanted. “You ruined my skirt.”

“The cheap costume skirt?” he asked, his hand returning to rubbing her slit. “You don’t have to settle, remember?” She shut her eyes, her hand grabbing his arm as two of his fingers pressed against her clit. “I like you best without clothes anyway.” The heat intensified as his fingers moved down lower, moistening her panties with the slick heat coming out of her pussy. Her back shook again as his fingers moved up against her slit, and then back down. “Your voice is lovely.”

She moaned as she rested her head against his chest, his fingers continually creating more heat between her legs. One finger slipped under her panties, pulling the fabric away from her wet cunt. The back of his knuckle pressed against the engorged bud of her clit, and she mewled as he rubbed up and down against her.

“BaeBae,” she could only speak with a shaky breath, “BaeBae, I’m going to come.”

Her hips thrust haphazardly against his knuckle as a small flash of heat washed over her, goosebumps forming up the back of her neck. Her orgasm disappeared as soon as it came and she breathed through her mouth. Her pussy felt wet as her slick heat dripped out of her.

“I was just playing with you,” he said with an amused smile, his eyes locked onto the mess between her legs, including his wet fingers. He spread her juices onto her folds, and moved the pads of his index and middle fingers to draw small circles onto her clit. She mewled, shutting her eyes, as her hips rutted against the motions of his fingers. “But with you this wet, I can fuck you right now.”

“BaeBae,” she breathed out, opening her eyes.

Her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at him. Wordlessly, she stood as their hands began removing each other’s clothes off. His expensive jewelry remained on as he pulled her back to his front, making her stand between his legs. His hand went between her legs and he massaged the inside of her thigh. She hummed a soft moan, enjoying the way his hand relaxed her muscles.

Both of his hands wrapped around her waist, and his lips kissed her neck. He requested she trust him, and one hand reached down to her right knee and had her stretch her leg out to rest over his. As his other hand went to her left knee, she understood what he was doing. He wanted a full view of her pussy so she sat on his lap with her legs hooked over his.

“Ready to put this to use?” he asked, his hands kneading her hips. His reflection from the mirror was staring at her. She saw the cheeks of her flushed face turn a bright red, and she tilted her head down to look away from the mirror. The blood coursing through her chest up to her head clouded her vision. “Look at us.”

His right hand cupped her face, and she felt his wrist press up against the front of her neck. The pulse from his wrist beat rapidly against the pulse on her neck, and she struggled to breathe as her eyes locked onto his from the reflection in the mirror. Hot blood rushed to her groin and her hips jerked forward, out of her control. His left arm wrapped around her waist had her firmly in his hold, so all she could do was wiggle in his lap. Feeling the muscles of his thighs flex under her made her buttocks tighten, her body anticipating his cock.

“If you let me take you raw,” he said softly against her ear, his eyes locked with hers through the reflection of the mirror, “that’ll make you mine.”

His hold on her face was gone as his hand grabbed his cock. He rubbed his hard cock against her slit. She bit her bottom lip as his heat caused more juices to pool out of her cunt. It made her nerves shake, itching her skin in unbearable heat. He blinked, and his eyebrows furrowed as she opened her mouth to breathe loudly.

“I’m yours,” she said clearly. He groaned as he pushed the tip of his cock into her entrance. “Give me everything, BaeJin.” Pleasure blinded her vision as she saw nothing but white and gold flecks of stars. She gave a loud gulp when she felt his hand grip onto her chin again, his wrist pressing against her throat. Her grip on his arms tightened as she held onto him for leverage. His cock pushed in deeper, and the walls of her pussy trembled as heat filled her body in overwhelming waves. “I’m yours.”

His lips were on her neck and when her vision cleared all her eyes could focus was on the way his cock was fucking her pussy. He started with shallow pushes, the rhythm steady as she bounced on his lap. She came and she gave a gentle mewl, blurting out his name as her walls squeezed his cock. A gentle chuckle escaped her lips as she saw him shut his eyes tight.

“You’re so easy to please,” he said as he pushed in deep. She gave a loud groan as he pulled out roughly before pushing in fast, going in balls deep. He started a steady, deep rhythm and she cried as she was filled with undiluted pleasure.

“You fuck so good,” she moaned, her hand reaching back to grab his hair. He sucked on her neck, leaving a red mark before he kissed her shoulder. “BaeJin, fuck me. I’m gonna - I’m - I’m gonna come.”

His grip around her waist tightened as he pushed faster into her, and they bent forward together as he came into her in deep pushes. Her fingers dug into his skin as she shut her eyes, taking in the sensation of his hot seed filling up her insides.

“Come,” he panted out heavily as she felt him withdraw from her. She whimpered as she felt his middle finger push into her come-filled cunt. His thumb rubbed up against her clit, making her nerves dance in hot waves. She cried out a soft orgasm as she came again. She breathed heavily as she rested against his body.

“We barely know each other,” she said after a while. She didn’t know how long they sat together, staring at their reflection before she finally spoke.

“We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other,” he said, running a hand up and down her thigh, sending heat up and down her back. “You are mine now.”

He pulled her off his lap, and they laid in bed together. A shiver went down her back as he kissed her shoulder. They were facing each other, her left leg locked between his muscular thighs.

Giving a laugh, she watched him grab her wrist. He kissed the inside of her wrist before kissing the inside of her elbow. She shut her eyes as she felt his lips on her shoulder. Every kiss sent a vibrating heat under her skin. His mouth sucked on her neck and she grabbed onto the back of his hair as his teeth grazed against her skin. The muscles in her stomach tightened. The world ceased to exist as BaeJin’s embrace consumed her.

[swanpyart]

The Short Lived Adventures of RAPH and Casey Jones

This is an old pic that was made for a zine that was never published. So I’ll leave it here. It might not ever be finished, but I think the story is decent enough on its own.

Part 1:

Casey was completely fine by herself.

Sure, her parents never really paid her any mind, but she never needed them to; Casey was a fast learner, and was able to cook, clean, and do pretty much anything the adults could do.

“Look!” Ten-year-old Casey held up an English vocabulary test, with an “100%” written in the corner in cursive. “I passed!”

“Honey,” her mother barely looked at her from her seat at her desk, “One hundred percent is the bare minimum. Anything less means you practically failed.”

There was always an empty space in the bleachers whenever Casey had a hockey game. She would cross her arms as she waited for her parents to pick her up and watched as the people in the audience rushed down and hugged their own children after a game, regardless of whether they won or lost. When her parents finally showed up, she sat in the car quietly as they drove.

Casey spent almost everyday after school at her Granny’s while her parents were at work. The old woman’s house was always warm, mostly because she was always baking; cakes, cookies, and especially her famous brownies - made with a special ingredient.

At twelve years old, Casey had failed a math test for the first time, and burst into tears as she walked through her Granny’s front door. “I’m a failure!”

“Sweetie, everyone fails every now and then,” her Granny wiped a tear from Casey’s cheek and got out an antique mixing bowl, “but I can tell you tried really hard. That’s what matters; that you don’t stop trying your best.”

Afterwards, Casey and her Granny spent the afternoon baking brownies, and that was when she was granted the knowledge of the secret ingredient. She swore her secrecy and never told anyone.

Of course, that was a while ago; her grandmother had passed away sometime afterwards. Her parents reacted with more emotion when Casey had shaved her head than when they attended the funeral.

They also seemed only mildly surprised when, at thirteen years old, Casey was accepted into the Foot Clan and never came back home.

There, Casey promised to herself to show the world just how much of a not-failure she really is! Even if she had to work with the most vile Clan in all the world to achieve it and release the Shredder, the ultimate evil, unto the world. She had worked above and beyond to get where she is, and no one could stop her!

At least, that’s what she thought before the Shredder disappeared, and with him, the Clan’s purpose. And way before those strange, overgrown turtles with no sense of honor or discipline showed up and destroyed their chances, time and time again.

Suddenly, the group she had worked with since she was a preteen, and the closest thing she had to any family, were dragged away by outside obligations she never understood.

Foot Brute and Lieutenant were better parents than her own, but, in the end, they were her bosses and coworkers, and no replacement for a family.

Sure, everyone else may have given up, but she would stay committed to the Clan’s ultimate vision, even if she had to use her dear Granny’s recipe for evil. Grandma CJ’s Brownies were an absolute bust, but she had to try something.

Then, she met this weird, giant, smelly rat with a Japanese accent dressed like a teenager who somehow turned out to be the father of those overgrown turtles.

And, as weird as it was, despite not even being human, he sat next to her and heard what she had to say; and, for those few minutes, it was almost like being next to her Granny again.

“Just because you failed doesn’t make you a failure.”

If she had been smarter, maybe she should have listened a bit harder to what he was saying. If she had been smarter, maybe she would have calmed down and talked to the girl that was beating up the Girl Scouts. There were so many opportunities to just talk.

But then the Shredder was restored, and she really thought it would be the return of her Clan’s glory. Even as she looked at the beaten down forms of her previous bosses. Even as she saw Splinter and his family struggling for their lives. Even as she realized winning would mean the end of everything, including her.

There was no more Clan. She was still alone. She was just alone with a giant evil suit of demon armor.

But, now, she wasn’t.

Even after everything, Splinter offered her an invitation into their...

Family.

------------------------------------------------------

He had invited her to the lair a few weeks after the fight with Shredder.

“I’m working at the Foot Shack. After my former clan disbanded, they got bought out by another company, Splinter, sir.” She squeezed the mug of tea in her hands.

“Just ‘Splinter’ is fine,” Splinter had opened a bag of chips, and was reclining in his seat. The turtles were out with April at the arcade, taking a break from repairing the lair. “Where are you staying? Do you have a place to live?”

“Yes, I actually have my own apartment.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. Splinter sighed. “Listen, Casey, I know that it’s probably hard having to... uh, sort things out by yourself-”

“What?! No, I’m fine!” She flapped her hand dismissively. “My life is fantastic! It’s definitely not in complete shambles after losing everything I know.” She blinked, realizing that she overshared, and collected herself. “I’m doing great.”

“I-I never said it was in shambles,” He massaged his temple with two clawed fingers, his beady eyes squinting in frustration. “Look, all I am saying is that, if you ever need help, or if you ever get lonely and just want to talk, I am here. And my sons would probably say the same thing. You’re a Hamato now, at least in spirit.”

Casey’s eyes widened, then she looked down. “Thank you, but I’m a very independent person. I’ll be sure to not bug you unless it’s an emergency.”

Splinter nodded, but he’d dealt with enough children to see that Casey was a bit lonely. Still, he said nothing.

For a good while, Casey stuck to what she said; she didn’t really come by the lair unless she really felt the need to or if they needed an extra set of hands with repairing.

But… occasionally, she found herself asking questions. She found out Michelangelo loved cooking, and somehow he got her to agree to bake her Granny’s brownies together. She realized that Leonardo wasn’t just annoying in battle, but all the time, and that she started getting more and more used to it, even occasionally laughing along. She found out while playing video games with them, that Donnatello was just as vicious as her, and that April was equally as competitive.

And Raph, well… they didn’t talk very much. But he seemed nice every time they spoke.

But she kept her distance. After all, it was better if she didn’t get too attached.

She occasionally goes down to the local hockey rink and plays a few rounds with total strangers, and usually gets kicked out due to a combo of delinquent children and complaining parents.

So, here she is, lying on her bed, staring blankly at her phone, with a half eaten sandwich laying on her chest, and old sweatpants that she’s been wearing for a week because her clothes are in the laundromat. For a ninja-slash-ex-cult-member, her life had fallen into a fairly mundane pattern.

Everything could always be worse. So why did she still feel like such a failure?

And for some reason, Casey found herself at the sewer grate. She didn’t even know why she came here, really.

She was about to turn back when a feminine voice spoke from behind her. “Hey, CJ, what’s up?”

She spun around. It was April.

“I was just coming to visit.” Casey tensed up. She hadn’t expected to run into someone else.

“Oh, me too!” She opened up the grate, and started climbing down the ladder. “You coming or what?”

Casey gulped. She couldn’t back out now.

------------------------------------------------------

Raph paced the lair, quietly groaning as he tapped his chin.

It had been about six months since the fight with Shredder, but another challenge had presented itself; cleaning up the lair after it had been almost completely demolished. Thankfully, with Draxum’s help and Donnie being able to scavenge some old tech that didn’t get destroyed and whip up some devices for reconstruction, the place was finally fixed up after about a month and a half.

Now what? Well, in Leo’s words, it was the time for “rest and relaxation.”

That was pretty easy for the rest of his family to do.

Leo’s entire existence hinged on “rest and relaxation”; Mikey has an assortment of hobbies to keep him busy; Donnie had a tight schedule trying to repair all of his broken inventions; April was trying to adjust to all of the changes at school due to all of New York recovering from the recent Battle Nexus catastrophe; and Splinter, of course, was parked in front of the TV, finally at peace after the Shredder was defeated, and helping himself to milk and cake.

Raph should be relaxing, or at least recovering from all that’s happened to them. The fight with the Shredder was the most stressful and terrifying time of their lives. They lost their Gram-Gram, and even if she was now able to rest with their ancestors and her father, it still stung.

But it’s been such a long time since he’s been in a real fight, and he can tell he’s going a little bit stir-crazy.

Of course, the turtles would spend a lot of time out of the lair; but whenever Raph gets a call on the phone, he finds himself hoping it’s some kind of an emergency, only to turn out to be Todd calling them about the puppy farm, or Leo pestering Senior Hueso with an order for pick-up. It seemed like even their strongest enemies have gone on hiatus as well; there was no word of Big Mama as of late, and every other major bad guy they fought recently seemed to have been exhausted by the Shredder ordeal as well.

Raph’s usual sparring partner, Frankenfoot, is absolutely wonderful, but fighting him wasn’t exactly what Raph had in mind; it was fun, but couldn’t really be compared to the thrill of a real fight.

“Come on, guys,” Raph stood in front of the screen, blocking Leo and Mikey’s view of a Jupiter Jim rerun while Pops was passed out on the couch, snoring, a bag of chips lying open on his stomach. “We’ve been cooped up in the lair for a million years. Who wants to go wreck some bad guys?” He pounded his fist in his opposite hand for emphasis.

“Raph, I can’t see!” Mikey waved his hand in a dismissive way as he said it, and leaned to peek around his older brother and continue watching the screen.

“Ugh, we’ve been over this,” Leo exasperated from his spot on the ground, on his stomach and his head resting on his propped arms. “No crime fighting while we’re on vacation! This is the time to chillax, my guy.”

“How long are we gonna be chillaxing, exactly?” Raph put his hands on his hips, an inquisitive look on his face, even if, deep down, he knew what response he’d get.

“I don’t know, until some other crazy evil mutant guy tries to take over the city? There’s bound to be another one of those eventually.”

“What, so we just wait until some evil mastermind has some evil plan and gets all of New York in their evil clutches? It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Raph tried to summon the energy he usually exudes when he attempts to make a rousing speech, but the rolling eyes and groans from his youngest brothers quickly made its effect futile.

“You know,” Donnie said from the back of the room, the other three having not noticed him walk in, “We did, oh, I don’t know, save all of New York City, take down Big Mama’s Battle Nexus scheme, and, most importantly, defeat our bloodline’s greatest enemy?!”

Raph furrowed his brow, his sharp fang digging into his lower lip.

“We deserve an indefinite break, and I need it, because I actually refuse to do any fighting until I have all my stuff back online. I’d love to fight with only my impeccable mind, but let’s be realistic.” The sandwich in his hand was brought to his face and he swallowed it whole. Donnie knew he had made an excellent point.

“Don’t worry,” Mikey beamed, tucking his arms and legs into his shell, “We’ll get back into the groove of things before you know it!”

“Yeah,” Leo agreed, “Think of it as, like, you know, self-care. Sometimes, you need a break from what you’re used to. Now, can you move out of the way?”

Raph sulked out of his siblings’ view of the screen and sunk into a beanbag, next to the couch their father was snoring in.

------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, guys!” The turtles turn around to see April and... Foot Recruit walk in.

Raph didn’t really know what to think of Foot Recruit, or Casey, as she preferred to be called. Pops insisted that she wasn’t dangerous anymore, but it was hard for him not to be a little wary; I mean, come on, she used to work with the Shredder!

 She’d been over only a handful of times over the past few months, usually to speak with Splinter and Mikey.

“Casey! April!” Mikey stuck his hands out of his shell in joy. He ran over and hugged them both. “It’s been a while.”

“Hey, Apes. And, hi to you too, Casey.” Leo kicked his legs up behind him.

“Above ground has been pretty hectic,” April leaned on Donnie’s shoulder as she spoke, “Everyone has been freaking out about disappearing from New York for a few days. Relaxing on a yacht sure beats coming back to the city in shambles. And finding another job is so hard when everyone’s paranoid we’re gonna all disappear again. Ugh, I wish we did, then I’d get another break!”

“Well, if you want a job, you can help me repair what’s left of my s- I mean, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. The Shredder tore him apart.” Donnie put his hands on his hips and relaxed his posture to cover his slip-up.

“Aw, your cute robot son isn’t repaired yet?” April teased.

As the two bickered while walking towards the lab, Raph looked back at Casey, who was standing by the entrance, visibly tense. 

“Hey, Casey. Um, why are you here?” Raph asked innocently, not realizing how rude he sounded.

“Smooth,” Leo chimed in unhelpfully.

Before he could take it back, Casey spoke, with a glare on her face. “I’m here for the orange one.”

Raph blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re gonna bake brownies!” Mikey clarified, his chest puffed out with pride. “Casey decided that I’m worthy of learning an old family recipe.”

“Yes!” Casey grinned, in a way that was far too menacing for someone talking about brownies. “I decided that, as a new member of your- um…” clan? Group? Committee?

“...Family?” Raph assisted.

“Uh, yes, that,” she turned shy for a few brief seconds, only to return to her previous bravado, pumping her fist in the air, “I will honor you with the knowledge of my grandmother’s most nefarious secret!”

------------------------------------------------------

Raph peeked into the kitchen as Mikey and Casey got to work. Of course, he trusted Mikey; but he had a hunch that Casey might be up to something.

Or maybe the boredom was just making him a bit more paranoid than usual.

Dirty dishes, half-full cups and brownie mix were strewn about the kitchen counter. Whatever this recipe pertained, it must be pretty intense.

“And, now, for the final ingredient. This one was given to me by my grandmother.” Casey pulled a canister of brown powder. She leaned over and whispered close to Mikey’s head. Whatever she was saying, Raph couldn’t hear.

Mikey gasped. “PUMPKIN SPICE?!”

Casey shushed him, then yelled herself. “It’s a secret, remember?!” She poured a generous amount into the mixing bowl full of batter.

The two of them looked so happy baking together, and Raph felt a pit of guilt in his stomach for assuming the worst. He really needed to chill out.

------------------------------------------------------

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Leo sunk into the bean bag chair, “You’re a fan of Lou Jitsu, right?”

“That is correct.” Casey was sitting stiffly in her seat. Her expressions were intense, like she was about to strangle someone, but Raph had realized pretty quickly that this was just her default.

“You have all of the movies memorized?”

“Of course! I used his guidelines for self improvement in my schemes to take over the world! I mean, that’s not really relevant now, but-”

“And you said you spend almost all of your available money on Lou Jitsu merch?”

“I hide them all so my guests don’t see.”

“And, yet, you’ve never watched a Jupiter Jim film? The Jupiter Jim, his longtime franchise rival and co-star in Jupiter Jim Vs Lou Jitsu?” Leo clutched at his chest, as he held up the DVD case of the movie he was talking about for emphasis.

“Leo,” Raph warned, looking up from his phone, “don’t make her feel bad-”

Leo chuckled. “Oh ho ho, trust me I won’t. I’m definitely putting on a Jupiter Jim Vs. The Galaxy Riders Part 1 and Part 2, and you are going to love it!”

Casey cackled ominously. “You really think this ‘Jupiter Jim-’” She made quotation marks with her fingers for emphasis, “-can measure up to the greatness that is Lou Jitsu? Fine, I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Raph ended up dozing off after the fifth film, and woke up to see Casey and his brother still openly debating whether Lou Jitsu would beat Jupiter Jim if they were both in a desert completely unarmed and at full strength.

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“I’m not scared of much,” Donnie mentions offhandedly one day, while Raph was doing a bicep curl, “but she -”

He points to Casey eating a sandwich like a hyena, while April sat next to her, texting.

“She terrifies me to no end.”

Donnie’s strange relationship with their new friend took Raph a while to comprehend. Then it became clear as day. If anyone could match Casey in moral ambiguity, it was his immediate younger brother.

“I made you a little gift,” the softshell grinned smugly, as he handed Casey what looked like a metal hockey stick.

“Oh, um,” Casey's eyes were wide, and a little watery, and her lips were in a warbly smile. “Thank you… no one’s ever given me something so nice.”

Donnie grinned. “Press the button on the side.”

When she did, the widest end of the hockey stick flipped open like a lighter, and a stream of fire shot out of the tip. Casey’s tears of joy gave way to maniacal laughter. “Those kids at the hockey rink won’t know what hit ‘em!”

Donnie joined her in glee, his eyes and teeth shining menacingly in the light of the flames. Raph watched in mild horror (He was plenty used to Donnie’s antics), at least until the fire alarm sounded and they were all drenched from the sprinklers.

------------------------------------------------------

Another month had passed since Casey started coming around, and Raph seemed like the only one in the lair who hadn’t quite jived with her yet. Sure, his suspicion had pretty much subsided, and he liked her company plenty, but the two of them hadn’t really clicked.

However, he noticed some slight changes over time. Casey’s eyes had bags under them which were more obvious in brighter lights, and sometimes she fell asleep on April’s shoulder (and snored louder than his Pops, somehow). Sometimes, there were hints of sadness on her face, even when she was laughing along with everyone.

Raph didn’t mention it for fear of being rude, but he couldn’t help his concern. After all, if she was upset, she probably wouldn’t mention to him all of the people.

------------------------------------------------------

Hockey wasn’t a sport Raph and his brothers knew much about, but he couldn’t help but get excited as Casey gushed about it, holding tightly onto the treasured tech-hockey stick Donnie had gifted her, wearing a huge grin on her face.

The two humans and four turtles (disguised as humans, of course) were just entering the hockey rink. The hall to the auditorium was cold and echoey.

“I come here every other Friday. The regulars here know my face, and they fear it. It’s ‘cause they know I’ll decimate everyone in my path!” She pumped her fist as she spoke, a sinister grin on her face, before she caught herself and straightened out. “Well, I do until the rink’s supervisors kick me out for making a scene and being mean to children.”

“Don’t sweat it, Casey,” Donnie spoke up, “You’re not the only one whose been kicked out of establishments for scaring kids.”

“Uh huh, exactly!” April agreed a bit too eagerly, and Raph looked back to see the distant, traumatized look in her eyes, and he could tell she was remembering the screams of children and the  sinister laughter of animatronics at a certain pizza joint.

The six teens got to the rink’s auditorium, and put their bags down on the bleachers. There weren’t too many people around.

Mikey whistled. “This place is massive!”

As Raph put on a maroon hoodie and pulled on his skates, Casey rolled onto the rink, over to a huddle of teenagers wearing hockey gear. “Hey!”

One of the teenagers - a boy with messy brown hair covering his eyes - responded. “Oh, you again. Guys, look, it’s that crazy girl from last week.”

“The name is Cassandra Jones!” Casey pulled down the hockey mask she was wearing and held up her stick. “I’m challenging you to another round! Did you really think you’d escape my wrath?!”

The kids started laughing. “You challenge us every time we’re here, and you always lose. What makes today so different?”

Casey laughed. “Well, for one thing, I’ve got my own team now, so you better get ready to go crying to your mommy!”

The group hadn’t stopped laughing, even as Casey walked back to the bleachers. Raph raised a brow. “Uh, what was all of that?”

She looked down. “Those are my enemies,” She clenched her fists, “A group of jerks who manage to beat me every time I come here.”

Raph paused for a second. The look on her face was determined, but had a hint of sadness to it. Raph understood how she felt; wanting to fight, but getting beaten down time and time again. He’d realized a while ago that he didn’t have to do it alone; and neither did she.

Raph put an arm around Casey’s shoulders, and cupped a hand to his mouth, shouting to the teenagers from across the rink. “Hey, knuckleheads! You get ready for a match; you’re not just dealing with Cassandra Jones anymore! you’re dealing with the Mad Dogs, now!”

“Yeah, right!” One of the kids, a girl with a ponytail, shouts back.

He turned to face his brothers and April, who were sitting on the bleachers, their attention already on Raph from his shouting. “Hey, those guys over there are saying we’re gonna lose! What do we say to that?!”

“Oh ho ho, I like this energy!” Leo stood up on the bleachers, joining in the hype. April and Mikey stood up beside him.

“Yeah, you chumps aren’t even at our level!”

“Ya’ll ain’t seen nothing yet!”

Donnie stood up slowly, his arms crossed from the cold. “Yeah, we’ll definitely beat you! But-” He switched to his normal volume, “let’s not make promises we can’t keep.”

Raph dismissed him, and looked at Casey, who was smiling. Together, they were able to beat the Shredder. This would be a piece of cake.

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“Are we done? My mom is here to pick me up,” One of the kids, a girl with pigtails, mentioned as she walked towards her belongings on the bleachers.

Raph was gasping for air from his spot on the cold ground. Hockey was hard. Like, really, really hard.

In hindsight, their loss made sense; this was the turtles and April’s first time playing hockey, and even Casey, who’d been playing since she was a kid, wasn’t able to beat these kids. They really were just that good.

“Is that all you’ve got?!” Leo had fallen in front of the goal, two huge purple bruises visible on his face; one on his forehead, and the other under his eye, popping out from his green skin and red birthmarks.  

Mikey was crying on his knees, while April patted his shell, cussing out one of the kids who she felt pushed him too hard. Even as the kid was walking away. “And another thing-”

Donnie lay flat nearby, looking like a purple stain on the white shiny floor. He was never good at sports, but he tried. Geez, it was almost more embarrassing, with just how hard he tried.

------------------------------------------------------

They found a vending machine, and after Raph gave Leo a cold soda can to hold over his bruises, he walked past Casey, sitting with her head in her hands.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and looked around to see if the others were watching. April, Mikey and Donnie were going off about losing the match, while Leo sat dejectedly in the corner, nursing his injuries. “Are you alright?”

She looked up, tears in her eyes, and her lower lip wobbling. She hastily rubbed at her face with her sleeve, her eyeliner smearing. “I’m...I’m fine.”

“Is this about us losing?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” She sighed. “It’s a lot of different things- It’s just…”

She trailed off, and Raph sat down next to her on the bleacher. He realized this had definitely been bubbling up for a while. If only he’d talked to her sooner.

“Ugh, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a success. Taking over the world was everything for me- helping the Foot, working for the Shredder, making that whole brownie pyramid-scheme. But now? I don’t have anything. I’ve hit rock bottom. Now, I’m stuck in a stupid rivalry with a bunch of kids in a hockey rink.”

She began to cry again. “What am I going to do? Am I just doomed to be a failure?”

“Just ‘cause you’re not taking over the world doesn’t make you a failure. Most people just stick to regular, everyday stuff and they turn out fine.”

“It’s not just about taking over the world,” Casey sighed. “I don’t have a purpose. No Clan, no commitments, no future. It’s like everything I do is a failure. I’m a failure.”

Raph felt himself start to tear up, too. What she was saying felt way too familiar. “You’re not the only one whose failed.”

“Huh?”

“My Pops told us we were supposed to die in order to protect the Dark Armor. We failed to do that, but we realized how messed up that was, and we decided to do our own thing. And it totally worked out for us, ‘cause we ended up destroying Shred-face once and for all.”

He stood, wiping the small tears from the corners of his eyes. “Think about it. So what that you don’t got a purpose? I get it, but your ‘purpose’ was handed to you by those Foot-faces. What do you wanna do? What do you wanna succeed at?”

Casey sat quietly for a few moments, thinking, and Raph feared that he might have said something hurtful. He was never as savvy with people as Leo or Mikey.

Then she spoke. “I spent all of my life trying to be the best, even if it meant being the biggest bad guy in the world. Now, I want to be the best good guy!”

Her expression softened. “I guess what I really want - I want to stop people who were like me once. I want to stop evil people who want to control others. But...how?”

Raph thought. Then, an idea struck him. “You and me can team up!”

“For what?”

“I was a vigilante for a little while. I mean, I used to be, but I guess since I was already part of a team, and with the whole Shredder thing, I just sort of stopped. But, since my bros are on hiatus, you and me could fight crime undercover!”

Casey was looking at her lap, her head bowed. Raph cleared his throat. “I mean, only if you wanna, it’s just a suggestion-”

“That sounds amazing.” Casey looked up at him in awe, her dark eyes glossy with unshed tears. Suddenly, she stands up, and pumps a fist into the air. “Raph and Casey, the most feared vigilante duo in all of New York!”

“Yeah, Go big or go home!”  Raph pounded his fist into his other hand in excitement.

“Oh me gosh, stop yelling!” The two look behind them to Leo, still holding the can to his face. He turned in the direction of his twin. “Donnie, get me another can! This one’s warm!”

Casey was giving him a big smile, a far cry from her previous mood. Raph smiled back. Finally, he’d be able to go out and fight crime again; and this time, he wouldn’t be at it alone.

[redhawtriot]

Valentines 💕Weekend 💕(BNHA x Reader)

Part 1: TYPE

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I was just thinking about this as I was pumping out the matchups and I really wanted to jot them down lol 

This is just the first things that came to mind when I thought of what people they probably would gravitate towards during Valentines Day! 

Comment whose type you are! I am curious lol

HnM💕

🐒Ojirou: Deep Thinker

I can see him with someone who is really sweet and considerate.

If you say, “remember when…” and then continue to bring up a fond memory between the two of you, he would probably like that a lot. You remembered!

I feel like the poor guy just wants to make a bigger impact.

Their s/o would be the type to remind them of their worth a lot

He would really appreciate a person that would try really hard to get to know him on a different level,

“Would you rather eat 50 tiny spiders or a one big fat juicy tarantula?” He would just look at you with so much confusion but so much LOVE bc Like wtf who asks that?? but he would simultaneously get hit in the feels because you are taking time out of your day to get to know little ol him.

If you’re the type that isn’t very doting, then you’re probably not the best for him.

🎤Jirou: I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T

Wants someone independent, but also who doesn’t have a problem on depending on her.

Like do your thing and live your life, but if she sees you struggling and wants to help you, don’t you fucking dare turn her down.

She would most definitely love it if you were a musician, however If you are not but are interested in music, I could see the two of you having dates with each other where she would teach you how to play guitar.

She needs someone who isn’t too sexual. I feel like she would get annoyed with someone who wanted to have sex every day.

She would much rather spend her time just chilling out with you—existing within each other’s spaces.

If you’re the type that needs constant attention from your s/o when you’re with them, then she prolly isn’t for you.

🥦Midoriya: “I ain’t got no Type”

He is literally a walking, talking puppy dog. He would pretty much like anyone who has well-meaning motives and admirable goals.

You’re loud? Okay you must just be passionate.

You’re quiet? Okay you’re prolly just very pensive

I feel like he is the type that can fall in love with multiple types of people, but they would all have to be the kind of person that makes the first move because woo, chile… he is a nervous wreck. He would probably have an aneurysm in the midst of trying to ask you out, so just take the pressure off of the poor cinnamon roll and do it yourself.

If you’re not the type that likes chasing and would rather be chased, he isn’t for you.

Also get ready to talk about your problems because he is a Cancer and most definitely is willing to deal with emotions.

🐸Tsuyu: Logical

She would certainly like someone who is calm. Bakugou gets on her fucking nerves I can just tell lol.

You can have passion and determination for sure, but she would rather be with someone who carries those attributes quietly, with purpose, rather than boastful.

Like with Jirou, she would probably need someone who would just be okay with existing around each other.

You gotta be okay with her blunt nature.

If you are very sensitive to how people word things to you, and would rather have someone sugarcoat, then she ain’t the one for you, dawg.

💥Bakugou: Ballsy/Not a waste of space

You would have to be persistent as hell to wear down his walls, but not too overbearing or needy. Little things you would do here and there would add up

You would have to solidify yourself as an equal to him as well.

He probably would get annoyed as fuck if you were shy or timid or anything else that he would associate with weakness.

You would have be a person who has their shit together enough to have drive. You gotta have goals in mind and actually be working toward them. He don’t want no scrubs.

I think he would be the type of person to be protective over you, but that certainly doesn’t mean he wants a damsel in distress. You have to be able to hold your own, academically, physically and all.

(Literally just Kirishima whoops)

If you are the type of person who cant speak their mind and is overall nervous or timid you ain’t the one for him.

🏃🏻 Iida: Horse Girl/Guy

He would want someone who is on the same wavelength as him (Lets keep in mind that the wavelength is very hard to come by so he would eventually change his expectations)

He would love if his s/o was as driven as him and held very strong morals.

If you are the kind of person that works out everyday and has a strict diet or color codes your notes and make your own yearly planner or get on Pinterest for room ideas and have a bulletin board in your room with your schedule HAVE I GOT SOME NEWS FOR YOU.

I also feel like he would like horse girls/guys (horse people???) for some reason…

If you’re unnecessarily brash or overconfident or rude you are not the one for him.

😷Shoji: Plain Jane

He probably would want someone who isn’t very chatty, however if you talk a lot, that isn’t a total turn off. He would just want every conversation to have a deeper meaning behind it.

He is also a minimalist so if you are the kind of person who hoards things, you might have to change your lifestyle a bit to be with him.

If you ask questions like, “what is your plan for the zombie apocalypse,” he would certainly entertain this idea and go along with it, trying his best to give you a full, thoughtful answer, but don’t try to make meaningless small talk with him

Also be okay with just existing with each other rather than going out on dates.

If you are extravagant and extra tm then he aint the one for you chief.

😈Tokoyami: Edge Lord

You have to be the kind of person that is okay with his self-deprecation.

You two would make very dark jokes together probably.

If you have ever threatened to gouge your own eyes out or jump off a McDonalds sign to your death Im lookin at you.

Obviously its all jokes—a release to your perpetual state of existentialism.

You would also have to be the person that makes the first move. He would probably get a hint and close the space in between the two of you unlike Midoriya but he would most definitely still need you to make the first move.

He would love it if the two of you could just existent near one another, but would also be understanding if you needed more attention. He would find a happy medium by reading some poetry books aloud to you while you're cuddled up.

👀 Koda: A Soft Boss

You would have to be patient—he has a lot of reservations over pretty much everything.

So he needs someone to be more in charge in the relationship to pull him out of his comfort zone a little.

You have to be okay with being the one in the relationship to kill all of the house spiders (actually probably not kill—more like catch and release)

👣Hagakure: Preppy

You would have to be on pretty much the same vibe as her—energetic, upbeat and unafraid to speak your mind.

She likes people who are overall positive (girl, honestly, idk what else to put for her ass)

🦈Kirishima: One of the Dudes

Manly

You would have to make it very obvious that you were into him. He has a lot of things going on in the little brain of his, so a crush would probably fly over his head. He would just think that he admires you because you're so awesome.

The fact that he wants to hold you would translate into “I wanna arm wrestle them”

The fact that he wants to take you out on dates would turn into, “I want to hang out with my bro.”

You would practically have to scream at him that you wanted him to be more than friends. The friend zone is pretty much an inescapable abyss with this one, so you would have to try extra hard.

If you are the type of person that can sit through hours of action movies and still get pumped during the twelfth high speed chase scene, this might just be your mans.

If you don’t mind him being completely ignorant to your romantic needs at times and you basically just being best friends in your relationship then this might be the man for you.

If you have a habit of lying or a vindictive nature then he isn’t the one for you.

❄️🔥Todoroki: A Therapist

I could see him being with multiple different personalities since he is overall confused with human interaction. I feel like he would be willing to get to know anyone.

You gotta be patient with him though since he takes everything so literal (If you live off sarcasm then it will be super difficult for you)

He would like someone who is very understanding

A good listener, but also can give good feedback.

If you're the kind of person that gets uncomfortable with oversharing or can’t handle when people come to you with their problems all the time he ain’t the one for you.

🎹Yaoyorozu: Cheer-leading Captain

Someone to hype her up, but also lead.

She would certainly certainly be attracted to someone that is of a type A personality. She admires people who are driven and successful, so as long as she sees that you are putting in effort and have a strong sense of determination you're good!

This girl doubts herself so much, so you have to be willing to spend your time hyping her up.

Be willing to try 50 different types of tea.

She would certainly want to go out on dates all of the time, so if you are more of a home body she aint the one.

⚡️Kaminari: Mean Girl/guy

Literally anyone who will give him the time of day, but this boy loves a challenge.

If you are the standoffish, sarcastic, vindictive type then this might be your mans.

He loves rough banter and would totally be the type to pick on you just to see your adorable angry face. He thinks that it ‘spices things up’.

Probably into the more sensual typee of person as well (if you consider yourself a man-eater he would literally fall in love so quickly so be gentle okay? Don’t hurt our pikachu)

I feel like he’s the type of person that would ask you to “Yaaas! Please stomp on my face, kween”

Bonus points if your last name ends in an ‘o’ sound (shinsou, bakugou, jirou, ashido)

He is the type to want to show you off to everyone so if you’re the bashful or timid type then he might not be the one for you.

Mineta: Ew

Moving on… Nothing to see here folks.

🐷Ashido: Two halfs of a Whole Idiot

 Needs someone who will hype her up.

You would certainly have to be the one to sweep her off of her feet because I feel like she is so friendly that she just might accidentally friend-zone you without even knowing it.

If you quote vine/tiktoc daily then I am looking at you.

You would probably also live on social media so I could see the two of you being that cute couple on YouTube or Instagram that does silly/sweet things with one another. 

If you have a problem with a very loud, obvious relationship then she prolly isn't the one for you. 

😴Shinsou: The Mom Friend

He probably wouldn't enjoy someone who was constantly in his face (although if he did end up with someone like this it would be hella slow-burn-- an acquired taste if you will)

He would probably gravitate toward someone who calmly checks up on him and who he could lean on to give him motivational speeches. 

This boy is low-key emotional and has low self esteem, so if you are good at reaching through to him then he would certainly fall for you. 

I think that he would be the type to eventually become very affectionate and want to take you out on hella dates to (passively) show you off to the world.

If you are hyperactive and loud that might make him close himself off before you can break his emotional wall, so he might not be the one for you.

✨Aoyama: Ego Booster/Ballerina

someone who will believe in him and compliment him (or even just acknowledge his existence actually)

I could totally see him dating a ballerina, because he would be so enamored by their majesty. 

Like he finally found someone as magnifique as him, wow. 

You would have to be the type of person that is okay with very forward advances. 

Like get prepared for “will you go out with me?” spelled in cheese by your front door. 

If you cant handle people who chase this hard, then he might not be the one for you. 

🎞Sero: Not the Sharpest Tool in the Shed

He is idiot sexual and no one can change my mind

If you find yourself searching your kitchen every five minutes to check if there is new food, walking into a room of your friends to annoy them for five minutes before leaving, or have a album in your phone with over 1,000 reaction pics, I am lookin at youuuuu!

He would most definitely be the person to chase, but he would do it very carefully to test the waters.

He wouldn't chase too hard, so if his advancements would go over your head the first time you're in trouble!

☁️Uraraka: Girl/Boy Next Door

She would fall for a sweet guy/girl. 

they would have to be an overall, kind spirit, but still have great goals.

If you're the type of person that can goes “Oh look at the moon!” and then ends up talking about a random topic like Bigfoot or aliens while looking at the stars, I could see her falling for you.

More than anything I feel like she admires driven people, so if you have shaky or unsure morals or goals, she probably isnt the one for you.

[leo-culture-technology]

I don't really have anything specific in mind, I'm actually kinda lost as to what to look for jkjsksjk I know I identify with some traits, like sensory issues and difficulty communicating (I do have a diagnosis of social phobia, though I've been thinking maybe autism would better explain other aspects of my life beyond social interaction). I've been reading some articles regarding late discovering of autism and mostly looking for experiences, so I can compare to my own. I feel like I should be looking for something else but I don't really know what? lmao I don't think that was really helpful, anything you can share would be good to me

This is a really long post so I'm going to put it under a read more to not clog up other people's feeds but I think the main areas to cover are:

- verbal communication issues

was your vocabulary/reading ever under/over developed as a child? Having a really advanced vocabulary is just as much a sign of autism as having delayed development in this area. Also, having a very hard to pin down accent, or taking on others' accents Really easily is common amongst autistic people. Do you ever have trouble speaking? I experience selective mutism and when I'm overwhelmed/stressed/upset I often find it hard to speak out loud and have to communicate through messages/notes, though when I'm not mute I'm very eloquent and have always had a vocabulary that was advanced, other kids found it hard to talk to me when I was younger bc they couldn't understand me, but equally comprehension/vocabulary can be delayed/compromised and you might find it hard to understand others because you struggle with that sort of thing yourself. Do you have issues with your tone of voice ever? I find that I can't read my own tone of voice or my volume, some things will come out really bitchy-sounding or angry-sounding and I won't be able to tell, or I might be shouting and not know it because it all sounds the same in my head really.

- sensory issues

do you have issues with certain types of sound? volume? quantity? volume doesn't bother me, but too many different sources of noise will send me into a meltdown so fast. Do you struggle with certain smells, bright lights, tastes, textures of food or of clothing, certain sensations, for example I get really stressed out by having wet skin/hair, and I can't stand the sound/feeling of something rubbing over carpet. I also find some tastes to be overwhelming. Under-sensitivity or processing issues can also be a symptom. Do you ever struggle to process reading/listening to something? I have absolutely awful retention for auditory information, I can't hold more than around 4-5 words in my mind at any one time, and I can't follow auditory instructions at all if there's more than one step, it needs to be written down. I also often struggle to read things because I don't process the words and they just look like meaningless letters on a page to me. I also really struggle to process my own thoughts and order them, I'm able to talk out loud but there are times where I can't write my thoughts without speaking them first because ordering my thoughts while they're still inside my head is very difficult. I also have an under-sensitive sense of smell and taste at times. I can't even smell when meat has gone bad and everyone else I know says it really stinks, and like I can't tell the difference between chicken gravy and onion gravy, for example, because they taste almost identical to me. And senses aren't just the basic five, either. Do you have a particularly high OR low pain threshold? interoception is the perception of bodily functions. Do you have trouble identifying/noticing when you're hungry/thirsty or when you need to go to the toilet e.g. you didn't need to go pee a minute ago but now you're Suddenly absolutely bursting to go because you didn't notice it earlier at all. Proprioception is your perception of your movements, balance and of where your limbs are in relation to your surroundings. Do you bump into things or fall over seemingly nothing a lot? Have you ever been told/noticed you move "strangely"? Do you ever walk sort of on your tiptoes or toes-first rather than heels-first?

- social issues

do you have trouble reading body language? facial expressions? figurative language? tone of voice? not every autistic person will experience all of the above, I know people who can't read body language but can read tone of voice, or can't read figurative language but can read facial expressions, etc. etc. Personally I struggle with tone of voice a lot, I can't tell when people are being serious or not, or whether they're upset or not, tone of voice doesn't really tell me anything about how they're feeling of what they mean. Figurative language varies, I understand metaphors and I often understand sarcasm, although I won't get it if it's too deadpan, and I sometimes miss hyperbole and think people are being serious. I also can't tell whether people are teasing me or genuinely being mean the vast majority of the time. I tend to rely on speech patterns and word choice a lot to understand people, personally. I pick up on what sorts of words they use in what moods and use that largely to inform my interpretations of their current mood based on the words they're choosing. Do you ever struggle understanding what is/isn't socially appropriate? I overshare a lot bc I don't rlly understand what is "too much information" and what isn't, and I also don't understand really how to treat people differently based on their "social role", like I treat someone like a friend regardless of whether they're a stranger, a classmate, a friend, a family member, a colleague, a boss, a teacher, etc.

- need for routine/dislike of sudden/significant change

this isn't always as clear as like needing an entire day to be a routine, it can be little things. I'll give some examples: I have to brush my teeth in a specific way - I count the number of passes of the brush over each section of my teeth, I have to eat a sandwich in a specific order of bites, many food places I will order the same thing every/nearly every time and I will eat that order in the same way, I wash my body/hair in a certain way/order in the shower every time, sometimes I get weirdly obsessed with symmetry and I have to walk in a certain way and if I step "wrong" I have to hop around on one leg until I feel "balanced" again, I have to do my daily tasks on genshin impact in a certain order, etc. etc. I could probably think of more if I tried. I will often get distressed/overwhelmed/upset if any of these "routines" are disrupted somehow. My original method of eating a sandwich applied to when they're cut across into rectangles, so I used to hate eating triangle sandwiches because I couldn't eat them "correctly" until I figured out a similar way to eat triangle sandwiches, and now I Have to eat them in that way because it's "correct" and I'll feel uncomfortable otherwise. Note that this isn't like OCD because it's not anxiety-based, it's based on the fact that it feels like the "correct" way to do it, and that any other way is simply "wrong" and you don't like doing it "wrong". The need for routine and dislike of change might also manifest in needing to plan things ahead days in advance, you also might be like me and be very capable of impulsively doing things like going out if You decide to do it, but if someone Else suggests it, then you need the preparation time. - stimming/special interests

stimming can be honestly anything. I tap my foot, I sing, I have a whole folder names "stim games" on my phone, I type, I eat, I chew gum, I flap my arms, I scratch fabrics, I smell blankets/clothing. Stimming just means self-stimulation and is absolutely any repeated action that you find soothing/cathartic in any way. Under here I'm also going to mention samefoods: foods that you feel comfortable eating even when you don't feel comfortable eating anything else. Like if too much flavour/smell/texture feels overwhelming, most autistic people will have food/s that aren't at all stressful to eat and they can default to at those times. Mine is a specific brand of chicken nuggets, I'll often fall back on those when eating anything else feels overwhelming but I need to eat Something, and I can usually handle those when I can't handle other things.

as for special interests, they are anything that you're kind of obsessed with. You can have multiple, they can change over your life, but your interest tends to go much deeper than that of a neurotypical person's and you feel a need to know everything about it and struggle to hold conversations about other topics because it kind of just takes over your brain. when I was younger some of my special interests were final fantasy, anime, hello kitty, languages/linguistics has always been a special interest of mine, kpop is definitely one, astrology is also for sure one. I fall in and out of being obsessed enough with genshin to call it a special interest. I had a friend in highschool whose special interest was the periodic table, for a while they were obsessed with the 8 times table, and then it became dinosaurs. My little brother is autistic and his special interest has always been video games, he's really interested in retro games, he loves Minecraft and Mario too, when he was younger it was ben 10 for a while, there was also a period where all he wanted to do as a kid was rewatch the cars movies. Media likes to portray special interests as being academic but they can truly be absolutely anything. A desire to know absolutely everything about trains or flowers or kpop is just as much a special interest as neurology or maths or physics or smth like that.

Another thing I've just thought of to be noted, is hygiene:

some autistic people might appear to have borderline OCD tendencies where they can't handle dirt/mess and need everything to be tidy/clean all the time. This is definitely one of the stereotypes. But struggling with hygiene is just as much a symptom of autism. If you struggle to remember to shower/wash hands/brush teeth/do laundry/etc. that could well be an autism symptom. I found out I'm sensitive to mint and especially to toothpaste, it makes my mouth feel like it's burning and like I'll actually cry if it touches my tongue bc it hurts that much lmao. I discovered a toothpaste that's unflavoured and doesn't foam up and now I can brush my teeth without pain but for a long time I struggled with consistently brushing teeth bc of that. I also struggle with showering bc of being stressed out by wet hair/skin. Sometimes it's also a memory thing, and I forget to do these things. I also absolutely suck at keeping my room clean, idk why I just Really Can't lmaoooooo

I'm certain there are things I haven't covered, these are mostly pulling from my own experiences of autism from myself and those around me. All of this might apply to you, it might not, but I hope it makes sense and has given you a good starting point of things to examine within yourself and questions to ask yourself <3 I wish you well bub and please always feel free to ask more questions and/or talk to me more about your experiences <3

[hydra-collector]

love & death & kisses

AO3

Pairings: Anxceit, platonic Analogical

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Janus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders (mentioned), Remus Sanders (mentioned)

TW: suicide attempts, self-harm, cursing, panic attacks, v v v slightly implied sexual content, food

Words: 4,153

Summary: Virgil meets someone.

Note: Human AU, I’m bad at naming, bad at summaries, Janus is ooc, i swear this is one of my better fics

Rain seeped into Virgil’s clothes, making him even colder than he already was. He’d forgotten his umbrella at work, so he’d have to get it tomorrow. Funny how things work that way. You put things off to the side for a rainy day, but when you need them they’re not there.

A tall, slim man stood beside him. He would usually avoid other people at the train station as much as he could, but he didn’t care at this point. He was cold, tired, in a depressive episode, and frankly too out of it to care.

The other man didn’t have an umbrella either, but seemed much less bothered by it. He checked his phone occasionally, but only typed something once or twice, aside from a seemingly frustrating venture on Google Maps from what Virgil could see. He was more on edge by whatever he was seeing on his phone than the weather.

“Excuse me, do you know where the nearest hotel is?”

The first thing he noticed was that the man was absolutely beautiful.

The second was his scar.

A wide scar, seemingly a burn mark, covered the entirety of the left side of his face. It traveled down his neck and past his shirt where Virgil couldn’t see it. His left hand had it as well, a pair of gloves stuffed in his pocket. His eyes were also heterochromatic, one much paler than the dark brown of the other.

Virgil didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially after the earlier events of the day, but he tried his best. He subtly hugged his side to provide pressure comfort.

“I think there’s one a couple blocks from Edwards Station. I don’t remember if it’s south or north. I can check.”

Virgil pulled out his own phone and found that it was half a mile north. Logan had sent him a text asking him why he was so late. He didn’t want to explain that he had to spend an hour on a bench in the pouring rain, trying to calm down from a panic attack. The stranger confirmed and checked his phone again, sighing when he didn’t find what he wanted.

Virgil could see his screen slightly. He’d been talking to a contact named April, both of them using a lot of cursewords angrily at each other. It looked like a pretty bad breakup. He figured he’d been kicked out.

The train arrived a few minutes after that. Virgil was never going to be comfortable with the thought of a big, heavy object rocketing in his general direction, but he wasn’t attempting suicide or anything at the moment. He learned to deal with it.

“Sorry, Logan, I’m here now.”

Logan had been Virgil’s roommate for almost three years now. He’d been his best friend even longer. He was the one there for him when he needed it most.

“What happened?”

Logan was making dinner for the two of them, which Virgil was disappointed to find out. The rule was they could make each other meals, but whoever made it got to choose what it was, and Virgil has never known Logan to make anything junkier than chili. Virgil had got him to eat macaroni and cheese a few times, so he counted that as a win.

“I… had a pretty bad panic attack.”

“Is there anything I can do to help now?”

“I think I’ll be okay. You don’t give bad hugs, though.”

Logan smiled slightly and hugged his friend firmly. He’d looked up the best ways to comfort people physically and figured out what was best for Virgil.

“Thanks, L. What’s for dinner?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to make it yourself.”

“Hey, you have plenty! You’re using two pans!”

“You hate fish, Virgil.”

“That’s fish? Ew.”

“What did you think it was?”

Virgil shrugged.

“Go get dry clothes.”

Virgil changed into another, softer hoodie and sweatpants. He figured he’d get something to eat later. He could go a couple hours scrolling on Tumblr or something before he’d be really hungry.

When he turned his phone on, it was still open to the hotel directions.

I hope that guy’s alright.

He’d seen him a few times before, he realized. The unmistakable bleached hair against the man’s dark clothing he recognized had never been put to a face, but he’d been at the train station a few times before. Virgil vaguely wondered if he got off work at the same time as he did and it was a coincidence seeing him today since his whole thing with April, or whoever.

You don’t know what happened, shut up.

Virgil squeezed his arm with his fingernails, hoping to make his self-hate go away.

Today was exhausting.

He didn’t want to go to work the next day.

~~

He’d had another bad day. His boss complained about the quality of his work again. It seemed he was fucking everything up lately. He’d gotten Roman angry at him for an insult accidentally personal, and Logan angry at him because he’d started cutting again. Who could blame him, though? It was just so much easier to cope by hurting than actually trying to help himself. At least he was still showering.

At least it wasn’t raining.

It felt like it, though. There was weight on his shoulders and chest, and he needed to cry. He wished he could afford a therapist. Then again, did he even deserve help?

Stop.

His inner voice was right. He should stop being so self-deprecating, it was annoying, he’d always been an attention seek-

Stop.

Virgil exhaled, rubbing his forehead and sitting down on the bench instead of standing for the train.

“Didn’t get to thank you. For the directions.”

“Hm?”

It was the man again. This was the first time he’d seen him in the few days since then.

“I needed a place to stay, thanks for telling me where it was. I tried looking it up, then texting my girlfriend to ask her if… I ran out of data, I wouldn’t have been able to get there if you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh. You’re welcome. Glad you found the hotel.”

He half-wished he didn’t have to talk to anyone right now, but something drew him towards this man.

And then he initiated a conversation. For once in his life.

“You just get off work?”

“Yeah. I work at the zoo. Reptile house.”

“Wow. I just have a boring tech job. I’m assuming you like reptiles, which one’s your favorite?”

“It’s basic, but I’ve always liked snakes. I have three.”

“I could never handle snakes. I know they probably won’t hurt me, but I’m anxious about everything.”

Am I oversharing? Should I be talking about my anxiety? Is that weird?

“I have a deathly fear of spiders, so that’s valid.”

Virgil would have said something else, but the train came, and it was difficult to talk onboard. It was weird how easy it was to talk to this person, even though he’d just met him.

~~

They’d got to talking about snakes.

Big breeds, small breeds, the most dangerous, the least dangerous kinds of snakes. Virgil swore he was being converted to like reptiles by this man. He talked about them with so much excitement, more than he showed any other time. Mostly he was calm and collected, a bit like Logan.

“I never got your name.”

“Oh, it’s Janus.”

Like, Janice?

“As in the Roman god, not like suburban mom.”

“Ah. Virgil.”

Neither of them smiled often, so whenever someone who knew them saw the smile, it always made them a bit happier as well. It was already happening with them, even a week or two into knowing each other.

“What kind of snakes do you have?”

“I’ve got a green tree python, a corn snake, and a ball python. Diana, Mercury, Liber.”

“All Roman names, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a nerd.”

“It’s fitting.”

It was so easy to talk to him. More so than any other stranger. Usually he’d get anxious and all his energy would be expended (he usually had a mental breakdown if it was a lot of people). Something about him, the way he talks, moves, looks at Virgil. He’s like a reptile.

Don’t get a crush on him. He’s probably straight.

Maybe he isn’t, though. He could be bi or pan or something.

The train interrupted their conversation, but Virgil kept glancing over at Janus throughout. He was looking down at his phone, he must’ve gotten more service. Virgil got off after him, but it gave him time to consider Janus before he got home.

“Logan, I’m getting a crush on a straight guy and I just found out his name today.”

“You’re odd, Virgil.”

“He’s hot. And he likes snakes.”

“You hate snakes. Wouldn’t someone with an interest in spiders be more akin to you?”

“...He’s scared of spiders.”

“Virgil…”

~~

And he did get a crush on Janus.

They talked every day they saw each other, finally remembering they could exchange numbers. They spent months getting to know each other with pretty limited interactions, as neither of them texted or called much anyway. It wasn’t exactly a good thing, though, because he either spent his time at work thinking about Janus, panicking because his boss was mad at him because he wasn’t doing his work (because he was thinking about Janus), or completely depressed because he was angry at her for giving him a panic attack. And the cycle would continue.

It turned out April was his girlfriend, and they’d been in an unhappy relationship for a year or so. He was glad she’d broke it off, but was left without a house for a while. He’d managed to share an apartment with his friend Remus and that was going okay. Virgil didn’t tell him about his depression, but was open enough about his anxiety. Luckily for Virgil, he mentioned an ex-boyfriend.

He was not straight. Maybe he had a chance.

Are you kidding? He’s not gonna want to date you, worthless bitch. You can’t make him deal with your mental health, and he probably hates you anyway.

Their interactions were mostly limited to the train station, but that only meant Virgil appreciated them even more.

Still, he wished he could be happy.

The only times he was were, well, when he was talking to Janus and when Logan gave him hugs. Talking to Logan was enjoyable, but he kept reminding himself about everything going on, everything wrong with himself, how he kept fucking up, and cutting and wanting to kill himself. With Janus, he forgot. It was so easy to smile and laugh at sarcastic jokes and the cute things he did, like blush when he laughed and stick out his tongue unintentionally.

Time flew by when they were together. There wasn’t enough time before the train came to talk nearly as long as Virgil would have liked. Still, every interaction was worth it. His love for Janus grew the more he talked about what he does, and he actually seemed interested in Virgil’s job, even though he swore it must be the most boring on the planet.

“I think you’ve conquered my fear of snakes, Janus.”

“What’s this? I’ve shown my little ball of anxiety the ways of the snake with my own love for him and reptiles.”

My little ball of anxiety? And did he just say he loved me?

Was he thinking about this too much?

One corner of his mouth was raised in a smile and Virgil couldn’t help but blush, however much he wanted to ignore it. Janus chuckled slightly and picked up the conversation again, mentioning how Diana had gotten out and managed to get herself on the couch. Virgil proceeded as well, debating whether it meant anything or not.

~~

Virgil felt sick.

He felt all things horrible. Depressed, anxious, angry, hopeless, and worthless.

Over and over it repeated.

“I’m afraid someone as unstable as you isn’t fit to work here.”

Unstable.

Unhealthy.

Worthless.

Useless.

What was he going to do? He wouldn’t have money to keep living with Logan, he had to go through the stress of finding another job, people would judge him, he wouldn’t even be able to eat.

There was nothing he could do.

He trembled as he made his way to the train station. He was going to have a panic attack. Hell, maybe he was already having a panic attack. He wanted to cry but he wouldn’t cry. He had to go home and explain to Logan and he’d just have to live until-

No you don’t.

Of course he didn’t.

He was going to the train station, goddamnit.

He rubbed his hands on his face, static buzzing in his ears as tears almost came. This was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. Finally.

He went up a different set of stairs, avoiding Janus. As he walked, the static slowly faded and was replaced with silence. Chosen silence, that is. He could hear the cars and the wind and the rain that had just begun to fall.

Fitting.

The train was early today, thank God. Its rumbling was familiar from the distance.

He took his last few steps to the edge of the platform, ignoring the tiny bit of anxiety that came with jumping down. He vaguely heard his name called over and over by the deep voice he knew well by now. He ignored it as well, starting with a slow walk, letting the raindrops soak into his hoodie. The walk sped up, and the rain got heavier, blurring out the train’s lights in a pretty way. He forced the muffled sound of his name out again, but it was getting louder.

There’s nothing you can do.

The walk got faster and turned into a run. He needed to catch the train before it slowed down.

Funny. Catching the train.

His ears pounded with the silence. So many things to distract him, things he loved. The awful sound of rain, knowing you’re going to get wet, but reveling in it anyway. The patter of feet on ground, now wood and gravel. And his voice, his beautiful voice.

The screech from the train stopped all other sounds, even splitting the silence in the bubble he created. It was warm, he hoped it was blood, so warm, so wonderfully warm.

Janus had never hugged Virgil.

He’d assumed he wasn’t one for being touchy-feely. He was tall and handsome, like the stereotypical distant, sexy man. But he wasn’t distant. He was there when Virgil needed him, even if he didn’t always know it. He put a hand on his shoulder or took Virgil’s hands in his to calm him down. He wished he’d gotten to know what kind of embrace he would have. Was it soft? Was it firm like Logan’s? Was it too tight? Was it always awkward like some people’s?

More than that, he wanted to know how his kisses were.

He imagined them soft, then passionate. Like something Virgil had always needed, the sweet feeling of pure love. He imagined he was the type to give solemn forehead kisses when a moment was serious, and short nose ones when the moments were playful. He imagined he’d kiss wherever he could on someone’s face, on his cheeks and chin, nose, lips, neck. They’d all be perfect for the occasion. There was a difference between a peck on someone’s cheek and smushing his lips against someone’s face. A slow kiss to the jaw was different from a badly-aimed one. Every subtle difference in position would say something new.

“I love you.”

“Shut up.”

“I need you right now.”

“You need me.”

He wished he’d learned every message. He wished he’d kissed Janus before today. He wished he’d at least told him and got rejected like he knew he would. He wished he could have everything. A hug and a kiss saying ‘it’s going to be okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. It’s-’

“-going to be okay.”

The sound of the rain hit the stones sharply, akin to the feeling on his back. Voices shouting, his voice, and a new sound.

His heart.

Virgil let himself sink into the rhythm and the feeling of warmth that encompassed him. Something was soft through the damp fabric, moving slightly every now and then. It was the pressure of something, a body-

-Janus.

He opened his eyes to see the blurry outline of blond hair covering Janus’s face. He raised his arm slowly to push it away, just then noticing the arms wrapped tightly around him, using the most of their surface area.

Janus’s eyes were beautiful and sad, was he- crying? Virgil couldn’t tell if it was the rain or tears until he sobbed, hugging Virgil even tighter, burying his face in his shoulder and muttering words Virgil couldn’t hear.

Virgil realized he was crying too. Of course he was crying, he was… alive.

He was alive.

“I’m sorry, Virgil. Please, please know I’m here for you.”

Virgil said nothing, still mute from shock. So many things happened just then, and now he was being hugged. And it was perfect, despite the rain.

“I could’ve- should’ve died.”

“No, Virgil, you shouldn’t have. You couldn’t have, I’d never let you.”

Did he really care?

“I need to- I need to tell you something.”

This could go horribly wrong.

I don’t care anymore. I’ve made the most impulsive decision of my life today, might as well make another.

Virgil took his hand to push Janus’s chin up, thumb tracing the scar closer to his lips.

“Can I-”

“Can I kiss you, Jan?”

He let his head drop towards Virgil’s, lips so close now. He would have smiled his snake smile if he could have felt an ounce of a smile.

Virgil pressed his parted lips to Janus’s, hand resting on the back of his neck. He pulled his fingers through his wet hair, feeling its softness even now.

It was everything he had imagined.

At first it was soft and tender, but Janus deepened it, hand wriggling out from under Virgil to hold his face. The raindrops drowned out that moment from the outside world. Janus’s heart quickened, as did Virgil’s, but they both relaxed into it. The scar was rough against Virgil’s face sometimes, but it only made him want him more. All either of them could hear were the raindrops contrasting with their hearts.

Virgil wanted to kiss him longer, hold this forever. When they did break, Janus laid his burned cheek against Virgil’s.

“Do you need to go home?”

He thought of Logan and how upset he was when Virgil cut, how hard he tried and how bad he felt for him. And how bad Virgil felt for hurting him.

“Can we go to your place? It’s... closer.”

“Oh- I suppose we could. I doubt Remus will be there.”

They avoided the people trying to help Virgil, weaving through the few scattered onlookers, Janus’s arm resting around Virgil’s waist. Virgil was scared he would have a panic attack again and tried to focus on Janus.

He called a cab as he wasn’t about to take the train after that, and sat in the backseat with Virgil, not letting him go for a second. It was expensive and Virgil tried to get Janus to let him pay, but he didn’t have much of an argument. Janus half-carried Virgil up the stairs and into his apartment.

It was clean, which Virgil guessed was Janus’s doing given what he’d said about Remus, and fairly dark. It wasn’t the kind of dark that made you feel uneasy, but rather as in lighted only with soft ambient light. He didn’t get a good look at their living room before Janus pulled him into his bedroom. It was painted a pretty yellow and lit with a color changing lamp, which Janus turned to purple.

He sat Virgil down on the bed, who was still rather dazed from the day. Janus rummaged through his clothing drawers until he found a shirt smaller than the others and an old-looking pair of sweatpants.

“Here, you can change into this.”

Janus grabbed some clothes for himself and left the room for a moment, allowing him privacy. Virgil removed his soaked hoodie and Evanescence t-shirt, putting on the soft purple one Janus had found. It had short sleeves, but he didn’t have anything to lose at this point. He put on the sweatpants, soft and warm and opened the door for Janus. He was changed into a big hoodie that Virgil would kill to wear.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, I- I think so. Sorry about the, the cuts.”

“It’s okay, Virgil. If you want me to get you something with long sleeves-”

“I think I’ll just end up stealing your hoodie at some point. Otherwise… it’s fine.”

“Okay.”

Virgil sat down on the bed again, craving the soft blankets. Janus took his spot beside him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks, Jan. It- I’m, I’m alive because of you. I don’t know how I could repay that.”

“Tell me when this happens, and I’d die happy.”

Virgil smiled, leaning against Janus. He pushed himself against the wall, pulling Virgil along with him. He heaved the thick blanket around him and Virgil, but mostly Virgil. He snuggled into the weight and comfort, still sitting against Janus as if he were the only thing keeping him balanced.

“What happened today?”

“I got… fired. ‘Cause I’m too depressed to work. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“I can help you find a job, V. It doesn’t have to be the end.”

“Sometimes it just… feels that way. Like you’re never going to get out of this pit of loneliness and you’re sure everyone hates you, and you’re so scared something will go wrong all the time even though you don’t really care.”

“I don’t hate you. And I know you can end this the healthy way. Shall we start with some ice cream?”

“Ice cream’s not exactly healthy, Janus.”

“Ssshh.”

He left for a moment and returned with two tubs of chocolate ice cream and a spoon for each of them.

“No bowls? And two whole tubs?”

“Mhm. It’s better that way. And you could have both of them if you asked.”

“Nah, you deserve some ice cream too. I probably hurt you a lot by doing that.”

“Mm-mm, Virgil. You’re hurting, not me. Self-care rule number one: you’re better than everyone for a while, put your feelings first.”

“I’m not.”

“Pretend. Now, what would you like to do?”

Virgil considered the question for a moment. It might be nice to listen to music, or to distract himself with a game or movie, but he didn’t really want that.

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“I… want to kiss you.”

Janus turned pink for a moment, before smiling his smile with one corner of his mouth.

Before he could say anything that he wanted to, Virgil kissed that smile. He wondered what it would be like to do so many times, so he wasn’t going to miss his opportunity. He put his ice cream down to hold Janus’s face with cold fingers, savoring the feeling of the little half-smile turning surprised and then into a giddy smile that began to kiss back. Virgil grinned when it ended, looking back into Janus’s eyes.

“So you’re going to surprise kiss me now?”

“Yep-”

Janus, just as quickly as Virgil had, kissed him quick on the nose, eliciting a blush from Virgil this time.

“Unfair, Janus.”

“Nah.”

“I’m gonna pout and eat my ice cream now.”

“Is there anything else we can do while eating ice cream?”

“I suppose we could watch a movie.”

“Lion King?”

“...Lion King? I mean, yeah, sure, okay!”

He smiled as Janus put the movie on, his familiar excitement seeping through. Virgil managed to wrestle the soft hoodie from him, revealing that one, he had no shirt, and two, that Virgil would cuddle Janus’s burn marks and he appreciated that. As Virgil fell asleep next to him, he pressed his lips to his forehead, who was just awake enough to feel.

And one by one, the messages were unlocked to him. Once, after a dance, came the desperate, passionate kiss that told him “I need to kiss you.” One Disney marathon he came to feel the peppered kisses on his cheeks that said “You’re adorable.” After a weekend trip alone he got the long cheek kiss that said ‘I missed you.’ When he finally got a job, he was given the messy kiss, cheeks held tight that said “I’m so proud of you.” One tired night he blushed at the kisses on his jaw and neck that said “You’re hot and I’m bored.”

And again and again and again, the tender forehead kisses that said “I’m here for you. I love you.”

[greatfay]

since ur answering asks and shit can u explain what u meant by generational differences in communication

Damn it’s like 2015 tumblr when my inbox used to be WET. So if you’re talking about the controversial opinions post, YES, like I totally understand where people are coming from when they say that generational divides aren’t real (because they aren’t, they’re arbitrary) and distract us from real problems and yes they paint past generations as collectively bigoted when Civil Rights protestors in the 60s (who are in their 70s and 80s now) are mirrors to BLM protestors today, who could be of any age, but the most vocal and famous (at least online, especially irt to the founders, like Patrisse Cullors who is 37.

But how we communicate is sooooo different. I really point to the Internet and Social Media as a major influence in how younger millennials (more Tom Hollands and less Seth Rogans—see even there, I feel like there are two different types of Millennials) and Gen Zrs/Zoomers and even Generation Alpha behave and communicate. We live in a world where we grew up either knowing right out the gate or discovering the hard way that what we say and do has permanence, the kind of permanence that prior generations have never experienced until today. The dumb things kids have been saying since forever can now follow them... forever. We have an inherent understanding of how online spaces work. Compare that to, idk, let’s say you posted on your Facebook (for the first time in 18 months) “All these big and bad grown ass Senators going after actual child Greta Gerwig lol ok, you’re so brave for attacking a CHILD over climate change” and then your aunt, who’s turning “forty-fifteen” in May replies to your post with “So happy to see my passionate niece! Much love from us, hope you’re doing well. Paul is doing great, waiting on his screening results. Tell your mom I said we miss her, we need to get together, we forgive her for last Christmas.”

Like... ok there’s a lot going on there, but your hypothetical aunt is oversharing on a publicly accessible post. And even with the most strict of privacy settings, she’s oversharing where your other Facebook friends (which may include classmates, coworkers, etc.) can see. But she’s saying things that would only be appropriate in a 1-on-1 conversation. This Aunt doesn’t have an understanding of such boundaries, she’s not as technologically literate and hasn’t grown up in a world of Virtual Space, she still gets most of her news from TV, she trusts what a reporter on Channel 4 will read off a script more than what actual video footage of an incident might reveal on Twitter, and she has no clue that she’s been sharing her location data with every post she makes.

There’s such a huge difference. I think it even affects how we experience and express stress and frustration. I think growing up partially in online spaces has made me more accustomed to conflict and consequence-free arguing than someone who never had to worry about that. I’ve been exposed so much to harassment and bullying, triangulating and echo chambers in forums and threads, and vastly opposing point of views at such an early age that it’s had an effect on how I see the world. Compare this to a customer I helped two weeks ago who was looking for a specific type of supplement for children. I found it for her, I handed her exactly what she was looking for, even though her description of the product actually matched several different products; to make sure I’d done my job thoroughly and that she leaves happy and satisfied and doesn’t bother me again, I then show her more products that match her description so that she knows she has options. And she proceeds to freak out, saying “NO, NO, I’M LOOKING FOR [X] AND IT HAS TO BE [XYZ]” and when I say freak out, she looked stressed and PANICKED. And being a retail employee wears you down bit by bit, and add COVID on top of it and little shit like this makes you snap, sometimes. So I have to cut her off like “Why are you screaming and freaking out, jfc you’re holding what you said you wanted. It’s in your hands. I gave you what you wanted, I’m just showing you more things.”

That customer is not an exception, she’s not a unique case. She’s representative of a frightening percentage of her generation, the kids who watched Grease and The Breakfast Club and Ghost in theaters when they were originally released. This is how they communicate and process information. She could not, for some reason, register that her need had been fulfilled, and defaulted to an extreme emotional response when given new and different information.

I’ve yet to deal with someone younger than 35 act the same way, the exceptions being the kids of very wealthy people at my new job who reek of privilege I gag when they walk in—but even they are like *shrugs* “ok whatever” and understanding when there’s something I can’t do for them.

Me: “sorry, we are totally out of that one in your size, but I can order it for you, it’s 2-3 day shipping at no cost to you and we ship it straight to your house”

A rich, white, attractive 22-year-old who’s had access to organic food, a rigorous dermatologist, and financial security since she was born: “mmm... sure, I’ll order it”

A 47-year-old of any socioeconomic background, of any race, in the same situation: “AHHHHHHHHHHH”

I just think it’s crazy how three generations of kids and young adults raised in a world where everything moves so much faster, where knowledge and entertainment and communication can be gathered so much faster, are often so much more polite and patient and understanding. Yesterday I told an older man (mid-50s) whose native tongue is the same as mine, as clearly and succinct as possible, that what he’s looking for is “in aisle 4.” He proceeded to repeat back, “Aisle 7?” four time before I dropped everything to show him what he needed in aisle 4, despite his insistence that he didn’t need me to walk him there. 4 and 7 sound nothing alike in English. There’s just something going on up there 🧠 that’s different.

Oh, other generational divides!!! We have different approaches to labor and working. Totally different! I’m a “young” millennial where I’m almost Gen Z, and I’ve noticed an awful trend among my demographic where people actually brag about working 90 hour work weeks. Or brag about how they skip breaks and live on-call to get the job done for “the hustle” like this “hustle, become a millionaire by 30″ culture that’s dominated these kids, idk where tf that came from. Like why are you proud of being a wage slave, getting taken advantage of by your millionaire/billionaire overlords. Compare this to my mother’s generation (she’s a borderline Genius X’er, she and her best friend were a year too young to watch Grease when it came out and had a random older woman buy tickets for her; she went to Prince concerts, took photos of him, then sold the photos on buttons at school, that’s her culture and teenage experience), where she’s insistent on her rights and entitlements as an employee, and these things she instilled me: “whatchu mean they didn’t schedule a break for you and you’re working 12 hrs today? oh no, you’re off, don’t answer your phone cuz you are NOT available!” There are Gen X’ers who entered the workforce at a time that America was drifting toward this corporate world, with more strictly defined regulations, roles, and understandings of labor rights (and also, let’s talk about how the 80s there was so much more attention on workplace harassment, misogyny and gender divides in wage gaps, etc. etc... not that much has changed, but at least it was talked about!). There are young people today who are taken advantage of because they aren’t as informed or don’t feel as secure and valuable enough to claim what belongs to them.

At the same time, those generations (Gen X and older) have a different viewpoint of hierarchies in the workplace and respect irt our direct supervisors. That’s how you get this blurring of boundaries between Work Life and one’s Personal Life that leads to common tropes in media written by their generations, where oh no! I’m having my boss over for dinner and the roast beef is still defrosting :O is such a “relatable thing” for them... meanwhile us younger generations are like I don’t even like that you know where I live, and if I see your 2017 Honda Civic pass my place one day, we’re going to have a problem. I think older generations have a different relationship with the word “Respect” than we do. Like, my grandma, who’s turning 87 (?) this year, and the other seniors in my area, they have a different concept of honor and an expectation of professional boundaries that I, and my mom and her generation, just don’t see (so then there’s something in common with Gen X’ers and the rest of us.) My dad grew up in a world where talking and acting like George Bailey and knocking on someone’s door with a big smile could get you a job, a job that could pay for college and rent no problem. My mom grew up in a world that demanded more prestige, where cover letters and references could get you into some cushy jobs if you’re persistent and ballsy enough. And I grew up in a world where potential employers literally don’t see your face when you apply unless they lurk on any social media profiles you have publicly available and they hold all the cards, and you need all those CVs and reference letters just to make minimum wage... so I feel like I am powerless in the face of such employers.

[un-piorthos-et-tous-pour-un]

The thrilling adventures of a PA- Chapter Six: Better late than never. (Adam Sackler x Reader)

[quick note here: i’ve been meaning to finish that one sooner but things got overly complicated for me and I couldn’t really write as much as I wanted. Got a bit frustrated because I had so many new ideas for prompts & stuff but no time to write but my dear friends @aloneandsleepless reminded me it’s not about how much you write that counts so I wanted to thank her for keeping me in check there ;) Here’s the nex chapter, still got a few in store for this one, just hope you’ll still like it ‘till then.] After your little trip downhill, you pulled yourself up again (thanks to a long conversation over the phine with your mom) & got back on your feet quickly, regaining your usually warmer demeanour at work. And this despite the fact that Adam grew more and more distant as you grew closer to Dominic. It was hard to get over him, you’re not gonna lie but you managed to at least accept your fate as being,a distraction for him. getting to know Dom helped too. As you guessed, you two have pretty similar backgrounds growing up. He’s a single child, raised in a loving household, his parents both working hard to raise him good & you liked the same things, both of you bookworms for most of your childhood (& still today to be fair). He’s fun to be around, has a good sense of humor and seems genuinelyto be a nice guy. All the more reasons for you to really give it a try, after all you deserve to be with someone who wants to be around you.

It’s been almost 2 months now since Adam kissed you so you finally agreed to go on a date with Dominic as you’re over that ordeal. Or at least you think you are. You’re a little giddy when yo arrive at the studios this morning, looking forward to it even if you wonder if everything will be ok because it might change your relation with him if all goes wrong. Which given your track record is a real possibility. You brought some clothes with you since you’re not going back home after work and put them in your locker until tonight. Then you set off to the canteen in order to get coffee for Adam & you. He starts early today so you know he’ll need it in order to wake up fully. A week ago that simple fact would’ve put you in shambles but now you simply get on with it. It’s just a job, you get things done and that’s it. No more fraternizing with actors, you’ve learned your lesson. or so you thought.When you knock on his door, you can hear his footsteps approaching & judging by the sound of it, as you expected, he’s not really awake & as usual, that look makes your heart skip a beat. - ”That should help you, careful it’s very hot”, you mention to him as you hand him the cup. - ”Doubt it but thanks”, he mutters, voice still hoarse, sending a little chill down your spine. Why must he have so much pull over you, damn him you think as you try your best to keep your composed face. - “You’re expected in the make up trailer in 40 minutes, do you think it’ll be enough ?”, you ask gently, as he steps back into his bedroom, cup in his hand? He mumbles something that sounds like an agreement and you let him change, standing by the table, going through your phone to avoid the temptation of looking over there while he’s undressed. A few moments later, he’s coming back, dressed appropriately & you both exit the trailer silently. You’re not sure if he’s still not fully awaked now to have a conversation or if he’s just not talking to you anymore outside of work related topics but to be honest, it doesn’t make a difference anymore. You’re used to it and it’s better that way, it saves you both the time & energy of pretending everything’s okay since there’s nobody around for the time being. Once you’re at the trailer, you let him get inside and announce you’ll pick him back when the make up team will be done. - “So you’re abandonning me ?”, he throws at you as you’re leaving. - “You’re a big boy, you’ll survive just fine”, you retort without looking back, knowing it’s just another trick to mess with you but you’re not having any of this anymore. He had his chance & he blew it, you should let him suffer the consequences. You make your way to the catering tent and grab another coffee but it’s for Shirley as you’re supposed to meet up with her in a few minutes when she’d have dropped off her actor to his location. It has become a sort of habbit between you PA’s to do that kind of stuff, to make time go a little faster when you have to wait up for your ‘‘bosses”“. You chat of your evening a bit but of course, rapidely she asks you how you feel for your date. Confessing that you’re nervous, you discuss for a good 20 minutes about what could happend or not, what you should avoid to say (you tend to overshare when you’re uncomfortable) and she encourages you to simply enjoy the night. A sound advice but will you be able to follow it once you’ll be there tonight ? That’s the question. You part when your break is over and get back to your daily routine, running errands & walk Adam from one place to another, without sharing more thant a few words here & there. So when you leave him at this trailer, your day is over as far as work is concerned and you head to the lockers, mind already focused on what’s to come. You hope that what you picked up for the occasion isn’t too simple or too plain as you don’t know where you’ll be going. It’s supposed to be a date after all, you need to dress up a little. Checking nobody’s in there in order to change, you open your locker and trade your shirt for a silky blouse. You’re dealing with the last button as well as getting your hair out of the collar when you hear the door behind you. But it’s not another Pa who shows up as you thought, no. It’s Adam and he looks out of breath. - “You’re not supposed to be here!”, you tell him as you turn back to your locker, reaching for your bag to get your make up. - “Don’t go”, he blurts out without any other form of introduction. - “I’m done for the day, if you need something you can order it”, you respond without looking at him. He shakes his head as he gets closer. - “I didn’t mea-..; Don’t go to your date”, he says almost pleading and you stop moving on the spot. There’s a few secondes of deafening silence before you finally look at him. - “You’re un-fucking-believable... Almost 2 months without saying a single word after you kissed me & now that I’m getting over it, you burst in and ask me to bail on him just because you ask me ?”, you huff, still stunned by his cockyness. “Why do you even care ? You’ve clearly showed it all this time that you don’t and you can have anyone you want, so why are you doing that ?”, you ask, starting to lose your temper. - “isn’t it obvious ?”, he dares say like it was, looking at you as if you were able to read his mind or something & it angers you even more. - “No! No, it’s fucking not!”, you roar, clsing your locker’s door in a sweep motion before you turn to face him (which is somewhat ironic since there’s a good 6 inches gap between the 2 of them, given your height difference).”Out of nowhere you kiss me and then you act like nothing happened and now that you realize I’m slipping away, suddenly you think you can do that ? Well I’ve got some bad news for you”, you spit out, blood boiling inside of you. “You had your chance and you blew it. So why are you doing this to me ? Is it funny for you ? Does it make you feel better to mess with me like that ? Answer me!”. But it’s not words he’s throwing your way as an answer, nope, it’s his lips as he takes your face in his hands. Your first thought is to step back. As you’ve said, he had his chance but your body’s not responding anymore and you give in. You can feel his breath on your skin, feel the warmth of his hands and the power of his grip on your neck as one of his hands lands there as you’re still kissing, your hands unconsciously grasping the hem of his shirt. You don’t know how long it’s been now but you’re brought back to reality when the door opens again and you finally part from him, short of breath and flustered. The person catches the scene and gets back out without saying anything, offering you the chance to regain your senses just enough to take a step back from Adam. - “Ok... that’s a good point but it still doesn’t answers my question”, you mumble as you’re still catching your breath, your hand running over your lips swiftly. - “Can we talk about that somewhere else ?”, he asks, his gaze focused on you & you can read the plea in his eyes. - “I’ll text you my address, meet me there in an hour”, you sigh heavily, knowing what you’ll have to do before you can have that conversation with him. “There’s something I need to do first”, you add  he nods, knowing all too well what you’re talking about. You both stay silent, unsure what to say or do but you tell him he can go and you leave the locker a few seconds behind him, heading to the studio’s entrance where you said you’d meet Dominic. When he sees you, he can sense something’s up and you hate yourself for what’s following. He didn’t deserve this and as you walk home after you both part ways, your guilt’s eating at your stomach for most of the journey. Once you’re in your appartment, you go straight to the bathroom and wash your face with some water & look at yourself in the mirror. What was wrong with you, you kept asking yourself, before you would never have done anything like that but there was just something about Adam that made you falter when he looked at you like he did in the locker room. A long sigh escapes your lips and you jump a little when your phone vibrates in your pocket. He’s in front of the building. You give him the code to pass the main door  you pace for a few seconds in your living room before his knocks resonates on the door. One last huff to collect yourself and you open the door. - “Come in”, you invite him as you step to the side to let him get inside. - “Thanks”, he says, hands in his vest and he scans your place for a few seconds before turning to face you. “How didi it go ?”, he asks and you just shrug. - “What do you think ? He was pissed & he had the right to be”, you simply answer, not really wanting to go into the details of that confrontation. “Do you want something ? I was about to make some coffee”, you mention as you walk towards your kitchen. - “No thanks, wouldn’t do me any good at this point”, he comments and you raise a brow but since you’ve got your back turned on him, he can’t see it. The only sound you can hear is your cofee machine for now and none of you say a single word. You grad your mug and turn around, to find him eyes fixed on you. - “So... I’m still waiting for you to answer my question...”, you point out calmly, bringing the mug to your lips, taking a sip in hopes this will help you go through that conversation more easily. - “I fucked up”, he says running a hand in his hair while sighing deeply. “I know I fucked up but I didn’t know what to do”, he adds, fidgeting on the spot. You give him a look that says he needs to elaborate because you don’t know what eaxctly he’s talking about; “i realized I was falling for you and it freaked me out because I didn’t want to screw what we had going on ‘cause the last two times I felt like this for someone, it blew in my face big time”. You can feel it’s hard for him to talk about that so you stay silent and try to encourage him with a nod. “They had problems on their own & I’m not exactly a pinnacle of stability myself so I freaked out because I didn’t want to hurt you with all that crap. Which I ended up doing anyway, acting like a 12 year old worked up by his hormones”, he lets out in a hurry & you can almost feel the weight coming off of his shoulders from saying it out loud. - “ And you couldn’t just- don’t take this the wrong way but... talk to me about that ? I wasn’t going to yell or anything if I had any inkling of all that from the start, instead of feeling I was being played with”, you explain to him, eyes locked with his. You put your mug aside and walk up to him. “It’s sweet that you wanted to protect me like this but if you really want whatever this is going to be to work out, you’ll have to talk to me, okay ?”, you say as your hand slowly reaches his cheek and he almost freezes at the touch at first, & it pains you to see that what happend with his exes must have been something else entirely if he’s so afraid of making a mistake with you. - “I’m sorry I fucked up”, he repeats, this time leaning in your hand a bit, guilt visible in his eyes & you smile softly to him. - “It’s okay now, stop thinking about it”, you reassure him and you stare at each other for a couple of seconds. You can see so much going on in those eyes... But yours close for now as he bends over slowly and captures your lips tenderly. This kiss is different, gentle & less needy but you can feel the message it’s supposed to convey. He’s not playing with you anymore, this is real. Which makes you step back after a few moments, even though you’d stay that way for quite some times. “Not that this wasn’t enjoyable but we still have some things to sort out first...”, you mention before your gaze rises up to meet his again & he nods in agreement. The both of you settle on your couch, sitting so that you somehow face each other and start talking. First you question him about what exactly happened with his ex-girlfriends and boy, no wonder he was so unsure of himself after what he wen through. Between Hannah’s selfish & childish behaviour & Jenna’s destructive habbits, it’s a miracle he even allows himself to love again so soon. You know he’s got issues on his own but you understand now why he acted the way he did. He keeps talking then, letting out what he kept inside for too long you guess & you just listen to him (probably another change for him). The more you learn and the more you’re relieved to see that your guts didn’t lie to you when you felt it fall for him in the early moments. You can almost see his mind getting lighter as time goes by, so much so that, in the end, you only stop talking around midnight as you both start to feel the length of the day. He asks if he can crash you couch for the night and you tell him he can join you in your bed. It’s big enough enough for the both of you after all and it wasn’t as if something was gonna happen tonight. You’re both too exhausted by now, physically & mentally for any other activity you usually can do in a bed with someone you fancy. You lend him some old clothes what could fit him and change while he’s doing the same in your bathroom. Alarm set for the next morning, you wish him good night & he leans in slowly, kissing you softly; making you smile against his lips as you let your hand rest on his cheek for a few seconds. Your eyes remain closed after that, sleep coming swiftly to snatch you, unaware that Adam spends a couple of minutes staring at you before he drifts off too, a small grin showing on his face...

[meli-productions]

Angel in the Gallery

Was able to get this one in earlier in the day! My next piece for the #ineffablehusbandsauweek by @ineffablehusbandsweek​. 

Available on my AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664100

Professor Fell was everyone’s favorite. He was warm and friendly, with a bit of a bastard streak that his older students loved. And he made his subject come alive with his teaching - almost as if he’d been there among the salons of Paris or at Michelangelo's side as he painted the Sistine. 

And the best part of the Professor were his capricious trips to the museums - 

“How can I expect you to learn without being embraced by history and art itself?” he asked his students.

And really, who would argue?

It was a breezy October when Professor Fell decided to sweep his students up for a last-minute outing to the nearest art museum to see the Roman statues. 

The crowd huddled around him for warmth - and he did look the coziest wrapped in his tan cardigan and camel-hair overcoat. There was an inner warmth to the man, too, which the students just wanted to bask in as much as they did in the light of his smile.

“Come around, there’s a love,” he said. “Now, wander around a bit and take notes of what you see: subject, material, style all of it is indicative of something we’ve learned in the past few weeks. And don’t be lazy. I will be sitting in the new exhibit for you to meet up with in an hour.”

He waved them off and, hands clasped behind his back, made his way into the exhibit of the featured artist - one Anthony Crowley.

Professor Fell wandered around, taking in the beautiful contours and almost renaissance-like beauty of the artwork. He hummed happily as he came before a landscape - lush and green - with a snake wrapped around the trunk of a tree.

“Nice, huh,” a voice behind him said. “Heard it’s supposed to be an interpretation of Eden.”

He turned around and came across a handsome, angular face. The only discernible characteristics of the man before him were the wide smile and the red-hair that was tied back at the top letting the rest fall in soft waves around his shoulders. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses that turned to the painting.

“It’s lovely,” said Professor Fell, turning back to the art. “I can tell that the artist really loves what he does - and this medium does him well. The oils really allow for the scenery to reach for its own light. Truly a master in their own right.”

The man gave a little hum, “Is that right? I’d love to hear your opinions on his other work…that is, if you have the time.”

Bright hazel eyes, sparkling with the intensity of his smile, “My dear boy, I have an hour before I’m swarmed by young academics wanting to share their discovery. I would love to take in the exhibit with someone.”

“And what can I call you, angel?”

“Oh, terribly rude of me. My name is Azra, Azra Fell. And you, dear?” asked Professor Fell, looking up at the man through his eyelashes.

“Just call me Tony.” 

As the hour wound down, students started circling around the exhibit where they were told to wait for their professor but not coming in just yet. The first two to arrive and slip in were a mischievous pair that flocked to Fell like chicks to a mother hen - Warlock and Adam - and they were surprised by what they saw. 

While every student knew everything there was to know about the oversharing professor -  from his home in London to the cat he’d had in uni that he’d named Oscar - and were protective about him - defending him from his hardass boss, Dr. Archer - there was one thing that only these two were privy to and more protective of than anything else. And that was Fell’s heart.

So when they found their dear Professor hiding a stream of chuckles behind a hand as he sat - a little too close - next to a stranger, the pair were immediately on high-alert.

“Who’s the twink?” asked Warlock, sliding in close to Adam and stare at the couple keeping their quiet laughter to themselves. “And why is he so close to Professor Fell?”

Adam shrugged, “I don’t know - but I think the professor likes them. And I think the twink likes him back.”

“Well, I don’t like him,” Warlock said, crossing his arms. “He looks like a love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Not good enough for Fell. Could break his heart.”

“There’s only one way to test him. Why don’t we go and find out what his intentions are,” said Adam, his eyes twinking with mischief. “If he can’t handle us hellions then he has no right to Fell. If he can - we can give him a chance, right ‘Lock?”

The other young man grunted his approval and allowed Adam to drag him forward as he rushed over to the blushing professor and his new friend. 

“Hey, prof,” said Adam, plopping down at Fell’s feet. “The exhibit was nice - got a lot of notes for the presentation. Can’t wait to show you what ‘Lock and I got. Who’s your new friend?”

Without waiting for Fell to respond, the man reached a hand out, “Tony, nice to meet you kid. You too,” this he directed at Warlock, “nice kicks, by the way.”

Warlock glanced down to his burgundy Docs and mumbled a thanks, choosing to sit on Professor Fell’s open side rather than the floor. For his part, the professor was alight with joy as he presented the boys to Tony, commenting that these two were his best students and sharing with boys the wonderful time that he and Tony had while looking through the new exhibit. 

“You like art?” Adam asked. 

Tony smiled, “I do. Love it - would make a career out of it. Like having someone to talk about art just as much.”

This was directed at Fell, who blushed once again and gave a wiggle that the boys had only seen him give when eating a good meal. Warlock and Adam shared a look, sharing a silent conversation between eyebrow raises and mouthed out words, then focused on Tony and the dopey smile he was giving their professor. 

It was Warlock that broke the silence with an exaggerated sigh, dropping his forehead against Fell’s soft cardigan, “I’m glad that you found someone to talk to, Professor. Must’ve been nice not to be bored waiting for us.”

A hand came up to smooth the long, black hair as Fell smiled back at Tony and said, “It is when the company is good.”

Tony shifted, bashful, and Adam rolled his eyes, but continued to study the two as Tony cleared his throat, “You know, Azra, I’ve been invited to the public opening of the exhibit - terribly boring, wouldn’t want to come alone - would you like to accompany me? Keep me from dashing my brains out?”

Warlock’s head shot up, looking at Adam with wide eyes and finding that his friend was in a similar state. Between them, Fell fiddled with his ring.

“Oh, I’d love to, dear boy, but - I don’t think I would fit in at such an event,” he said, the light in his face starting to dim. “I’m too - much too - outdated, fuddy-duddy- ”

“That’s not true.”

“You should go.”

“Go, Professor Fell, you’re smarter than the lot of them.”

The boys went up in arms, tugging on his shoulder and hand and trying to convince him to accompany Tony. Fell, surprised, turned from the two boys to Tony who was also a little taken aback if the slight drop of his mouth was to be believed.

Fell smiled, easing the boys off his extremities, “Well, dear. I guess I will be accompanying you after all.”

Tony beamed and the boys around them did, too. 

“Then it’s a date.”

Anthony J. Crowley - Crowley to those he liked - was in a frenzy. 

The minute he’d gotten back to his flat from the museum he’d swept into his studio and started sketching. One sketch turned into two - and then into a dozen - all of soft, Rubenesque round rolls of fat and sparkling eyes. Oils of blue, green, greys, and browns mixed to try and capture the right shade of dancing hazel.

“It has to be perfect,” he muttered, eyes narrowed at the canvas as he fixed the fluffiness of white curls with his fingers. “Perfect like him - an angel in the room.”

Since the moment he sauntered into the exhibit of his own work, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off the only other person in there. The way that the sunlight from above had fallen onto the fluffy curls of cloud-white and the rapture on the face, cute nose tilted up as he looked up at the hanging artwork - well, it was artwork in itself.

Azira Fell, stunning and soft and brilliant, had fallen into his path like a light to guide him towards new inspiration.

His subject matter had always been biblical - repenting demons and places like Eden and Babel - but never an angel. Until this one had appeared.

His phone rang and, with a press of paint-dirty fingers, he put it on speaker to continue working, “Crowley here.”

“Are you getting ready for the opening?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “Nice to hear from you too, Bee, and I’m in the middle of a creative outpour so no, not yet. But I will be there, don’t worry your fuzzy little fly-head. You see, I have a date.”

From the other end of the line, there was a little hiss of laughter, “Who did you hoodwink into being your date to this thing.”

“Not hoodwinked, charmed,” he said, taking a break and sighing until his body was relaxed. “Bee, this is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met and he’s kind and simply amazing. I think I’m in love.”

“You said that both about Lilith and Lucian and look at what happened there,” said Bee,. “Just watch yourself, I don’t want you to go down that spiral again.”

Crowley cooed, “Aww, Bee-Bee, you do care.”

“Shut it, punk. Just finish up and get ready. Send me a few pictures of your work…see if we have another exhibit on our hands.”

And without letting him get another word in edgewise, Bee hung up and Crowley found himself facing the unfinished painting. The crinkles at his eyes and the soft curve of that smile that Crowley followed with the tip of his finger.

“He won’t be like the others. He’s different. I can tell,” he said. “You are.”

Azra was waiting outside of the exhibit, afraid to walk in alone and have eyes on him. He tugged the cream waistcoat down, wishing it didn’t press so tight against his stomach. 

Nerves danced within him until he felt like there was no other option but to turn around and go home - what was he doing in a place like this anyway? He didn’t fit - and Tony would be better off without someone like him.

This way he can find someone more like him.

Mind made up, Azra turned around and bumped into someone.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry, I was just on my way out,” he said, bending down to pick up the glasses that ended up on the floor.

“I certainly hope not,” the person he bumped into said. “Considering you’d be standing me up.”

Azra straightened up to meet the gorgeous, uncovered gold eyes of Tony who was giving him a shy smile. He let himself look the man over, a pang in his stomach as he took in the sleek black outfit, sinfully tight, and scattered with red sequins.

When he met the eyes again, Tony’s smile had slipped a little, “Are you really about to leave?”

“I - I just don’t belong here,” said Azra, pouting. “Everyone is so fashionable and beautiful and far beyond my league.”

Tony grabbed his hand where they were twirling the pair of sunglasses, “Hey, it’s alright, angel. You’re not here for them anyway, you’re here for me. And you’re just as beautiful as anyone in there - more, because those are just money hoarding, elites who have no heart. Now what do you say - will you come in with me?”

With a weak nod, Azra allowed Tony to take the glasses and tuck his hand into the fold of his elbow.

“There’s a love. Let’s go in, gorgeous.”

When they walked in, a short guest fell at Tony’s unoccupied side, eyes glued onto the phone in their hand.

“Okay, so they’ve been waiting for you. You probably will have a good ten minutes where everyone will want to schmooze, then another five for photo ops, and then one good one in front of the piece that you choose. Got it?”

Tony rolled his eyes, “I got it, Bee. Let me introduce my date, Azra. Azra, this is my - manager Bee.”

Bee looked around and their eyes got bigger at the sight of the professor, “Oh. Nice to meet you. I can see why he spent all afternoon doodling. Might have another hit series - won’t we, Crowley?”

Azra’s face paled as another moment of bickering passed between Bee and Tony, “Crowley? As in - as in Anthony Crowley? The - the artist of this exhibit?”

Around the artist in question, Bee gave a little snort, “Okay, so I know you’re not in it for the fame. Good to know. Keep an eye - and hand - on him, Crowley. You’ve got a keeper for once.”

Crowley turned around, hand scratching his neck, “Yeah, I - I didn’t want you to feel obligated to like anything just because of who I am. I really enjoyed our time this morning and didn’t want it ruined by - by my name.”

Azra sputtered, “My - my dear, your artwork is stunning. This is your celebration. I shouldn’t,” he tried to pull out of Crowley’s grasp which made him only hold on tighter.

“Please, don’t,” said Crowley, thumb rubbing over Azra’s knuckles. “I don’t care what all these people think - or what they’ll say. Please just let me enjoy the exhibit with someone that actually like me for me and not because my name is under all these paintings.”

“You could do much better than me, my dear, just look around.”

“Azra, listen to me,” Crowley said, turning him over so that they were face to face. He held Azra’s face in his hands and looked at him from above the rim of his glasses. “I think you are stunning - thought so since I laid eyes on you. I - ngk - here, let me show you.”

Crowley grappled with his phone and held it out for inspection. Pictures after pictures of the work he’d poured over that afternoon with one subject - Azra.

“You see, angel,” he said. “I don’t want any of these people on my arm or around it - I just want you. Please? Will you let me have tonight and then, if you want, not another second more.”

The open earnestness in Crowley’s eyes made Azra sigh, a small smile on his lips, “Tonight and - maybe dinner tomorrow? My treat?”

A giddy smile spread on Crowley’s face, “Absolutely, yes. Anything. Dinner, breakfast, a movie, a play - anything, hell, feed me to those boys of yours.”

Azra laughed and looped his arm into Crowley’s again, “Not anything so drastic, love. But, come now. I believe Bee said you had ten minutes of schmoozing to get through.”

Arm in arm and laughing, Crowley led Azra through the crowd of elites presenting him to all as ‘my angel and my muse’.

The next morning, Adam dropped a newspaper in front of Warlock, a giddy smile on his face when his friend looked up.

“Professor Fell’s dating the artist.”

Warlock for his part looked at the picture taken of the two - besotted smile on both their faces - and gave a little grin of his own.

“Good. He better know he has a treasure in his hands.”

Adam shrugged, “If he doesn’t, we’ll let him know.”

[feynavaley]

Headcanon: America is some sort of Instagram celebrity.

It happens almost by mistake. He’s not the only personification with an Instagram account – however, unlike most of the others, he sets it as public. And, since Alfred is a handsome and extroverted 19-year-old who posts a lot of pictures and videos (goofy selfies, snaps of mundane and relatable moments, outdoor activities, places he’s visiting...) he quickly gains followers.

Along with his growing fame, the ‘mystery’ surrounding his identity develops as well. The thing is that, in spite of being extremely extroverted and bubbly and posting many daily anecdotes, America doesn’t actually reveal much personal info. This only makes the interest bloom. He’s known as ‘Al Jones’ (and his handle is ‘alamericajones’), there are many speculations on what his full name is. Ironically, Alfred is very low on the list as it’s almost unheard of for a modern teenager. There are also different theories on where he lives as he posts from all over the United States. Some of the more accredited speculations are NYC, Washington DC, or Los Angeles, but nobody knows for sure and there are many others.

With time, people start noticing that pictures Al claims are taken at his own house don’t match, they clearly belong to different buildings. Somebody says he’s lying – a teen who isn’t even old enough to drink alcohol owning multiple apartments is ridiculous. Others suggest that he may come from a very rich family and the houses belong to his parents.

Al’s family is another puzzle, however. He never posts pictures with his parents or even mentions them, which is kind of odd, considering he overshares in many other departments. (Somebody says it might be to respect their privacy, but then again, it’s still weird that there isn’t even a single mention. Besides, Al doesn’t seem to worry too much about privacy when it comes to other people who are often featured on his account.) A frequent feature on Al’s Instagram is, instead, another teen-aged guy who looks a lot like him and Al calls his ‘little bro’ in the caption of their first picture he posted. The event causes an uproar, but the enthusiasm turns into disappointment as people realize that the brother’s profile is set as private. All they can see is his name, Matthew W. (The ‘W’ is universally assumed to be the first letter of his second name – the most accredited guess being ‘William’ – as his surname, logically, must be Jones.) What immediately jumps to the eye is Matthew’s handle, ‘matthew.canada’. People are ready to shrug it off as just an oddity until somebody notices that many pictures featuring Matthew are, indeed, taken in Canada; almost as if Matthew lived there. Al never gives an explanation. The first tentative guess is that Matthew is studying or working in Canada, but as time goes by, it becomes clearer and clearer that Matthew has a distinctly Canadian feel to him. In addition to his handle, he often has a stylized maple leaf somewhere on his clothes, Al says complains in some captions that ‘Mattie’ doesn’t feel the cold and mocks him in others for how he cannot handle the heat... Moreover, the few times Matthew comments under Al’s pictures, he uses the British spelling and Canadian idioms. He gives the impression of being somebody born and raised in Canada. However, the tentative guess that Al might have moved out for work is shot down as Al is, instead, undeniably American to the core. In the end, the most accredited theory is that one of their parents is American and the other Canadian. Al doesn’t comment, and any further attempt to get an insight on the matter is thwarted by the fact nobody can find a Matthew Jones matching the face in Al’s pictures.

Even odder is the second person Alfred refers to as his brother, a grumpy guy named Arthur who, instead, doesn’t look like Alfred at all. He appears less than Matthew, always scowling, and his pictures are often deleted not long later. He also frequently posts sarcastic comments under Al’s pictures, though. His profile is private as well, but his name is listed as ‘Arthur Kirkland’ and his profile picture shows the Big Ben. Not to mention, he undeniably uses BrE in his comments. People are confused. Alfred’s unhelpful answer, this time, is ‘my family’s complicated 🙂’ and he leaves it there. Some people claim Arthur is Alfred’s half-brother or step-brother, somebody even suggests Arthur isn’t related to Alfred at all but a person Alfred calls his ‘older brother’ in a metaphorical sense as he looks up to him. (Nobody knows that Alfred has to use all his self-control not to correct the assumption and accidentally reveal something, nor do they have any idea of the smug smile curving Arthur’s lips as he reads the comment and calls an intern to have it screenshotted. From time to time, he brings it up to tease Alfred.) Once again, however, nothing concrete can be found.

There is also the mystery of what Al’s job is. The option he’s attending university/college is soon discarded as Al never mentions studying but some comments allude to him having a job. From time to time, he complains about his boss being unreasonable. Al isn’t even just a blogger as, anytime he mentioned his job, he talked about paperwork (something like a selfie of him at the desk with a sad face and a caption that said ‘wasting this sunny day inside bc I’m buried in paperwork 😞😭’) or having a meeting. Al is oddly cryptic about the nature of these meetings, but it’s clear he often has to go abroad for them. There are also pictures of him with people he calls his coworkers or colleagues – all young people of different nationalities, none of which looks older than their mid-twenties. Nobody can figure out which job can entail something like that. When a person suggests they’re all international spies or agents, it’s laughed off as a joke. (The theory keeps resurfacing from time to time, though. It’s clearly not the truth, and at the same time, it’s the only one that could logically explain everything...)

But this isn’t where the oddities stop. Al is good-natured and goofy, but some of the pictures and stories he posts are... concerning. His parkour stunts hardly raise any eyebrow as he clearly knows what he’s doing, but other things... getting way too close to dangerous wild animals... hiking away from the trail and in bad weather condition... and once Al posts a picture showing a bandaged arm with the caption ‘Mattie’s bear didn’t want to cuddle with me 😟’. It would be taken as a joke, if it weren’t for the polar bear cub (with an oddly smug expression) in a corner of the photo. The uproar is so big – people calling Al stupid for getting close to a bear, saying he’s a bad role-model for celebrating this act of idiocy that didn’t end badly only thanks to his spectacular luck, people worried for a bear being kept in a house, people threatening to report Al and Matthew for animal abuse – that it ends up being deleted. The incident is fresh on many people’s minds, however. Al may always come out of his adventures unscathed, but they start making some people uncomfortable. The most charitable ones are worried about Alfred’s recklessness, others start saying that it’s all a hoax of a bored teen who wanted to be an online celebrity or even a social experiment. Either way, it’s all fake. The pictures are photoshopped (even if with incredible skills, as there’s no visible evidence of that), and he uses friends’ houses to pretend to be in different locations. Al proclaims himself innocent, he seems genuinely upset for not being believed. He doesn’t spend too much energy trying to clear his name, though.

After a bit, people are genuinely confused about what’s going on with Al. The theories – on his behaviour, on whether it’s fake or real, on which part is real and which part invented – keep multiplying and becoming wilder and wilder. And in all this, America doesn’t care. He finds all the speculations amusing (and, unlike other personifications, he isn’t concerned about them as nobody ever got close to the truth, he doesn’t think there’s any danger of his identity being exposed) – but what he truly enjoys is sharing his days with people who are genuinely interested. Even if it’s all virtual, it’s still a part of the human interactions he craves for so much.

[violetsystems]

#personal

I can’t really tell if my mood is better or worse on Sunday mornings rather than the typical Saturday.  Things have reached a point where it’s just not worth explaining how awful life can be.  My life story at this point is slightly more convoluted than a side job in Cyberpunk 2077.  It’s also seemingly just as insignificant.  That is until I realize I’ve been writing here weekly for over two years at this point.  I’ve been posting on this platform for what seems like over a decade.  The value of this kind of journaling has been impossible to gauge.  I just paid a full year for LinkedIn to keep my career contacts alive.  I post in the hashtag cybersecurity almost every day.  I have a solid list of five contacts that follow my company.  I post the zero day news as it happens.  I promote my brand and employability.  As if this is the only thing that is valuable.  A twenty year resume with management experience that gets picked over by AI and human just the same.  I also forget sometimes I’m a musician.  I was reminded last night when I posted the RP Boo “Bangin’ on King Drive” video.  I was at that video shoot.  Years ago I would just run into Bu in the street with his wife randomly.  I appear nowhere in that video as I was edited out much like I was the only artist edited out of a Pitchfork review for a footwork compilation from Japan that protested Nuclear proliferation.  If there were any more alarming trend for me it’s that most of what I try to succeed at is locked beyond a brick wall.  I sit here from week to week trying to figure out ways to keep myself from disappearing.  I worry about where I can actually pivot and when.  I lay awake at night alone in my bed calculating what my runway for cash positivity is before I have to leave this city altogether.  It sometimes feels completely futile and useless.  Everybody in America is winner take all when there’s nothing left to take.  It’s cutthroat and we’re all in this together at the same time.  The amount of bullying I have to process per day has left me broken down and angry ninety percent of the time.  And yet angry is a shitty look for me.  I lose at video games all the time.  And lately I feel as if I’m living in one.  To explain that any further gets into some territory of oversharing.  I’ve written paragraphs upon paragraphs about my life here.  And yet nobody seems to acknowledge I exist other than here.  Which leads me to believe a very few amount of people actually have the reading comprehension over 140 characters to look deeper into someone’s life, liberty and value therein.  I think sometimes that it shouldn’t be this hard.  That something is very wrong and deeply troubled about it all.  And there’s not much I can really do about the things I’m up against when it’s only me fighting it from day to day out here.  So I’ve fallen back to what I know.  We are still very much in the middle of a pandemic.  I’m happy the relief bill has passed.  I’m waiting to pay my taxes until it’s official.  Which puts me back in the same mood I’ve been in the last eight months.  A complete state of abandon.  This nefarious field of people watching you every day waiting to pin something on you.  It never comes because I know better than to fall back into that trap as much as I can these days.  

The worst of this mindfuck is over for me.  I don’t actually really care too deeply about how wrong things are.  Mostly because I’ve done my best to make due under impossible circumstances.  You’d think someone like me after all these years would have something to celebrate.  I kind of do.  My birthday didn’t matter to anyone really out here much last month.  It was a clear indicator that I had no real peers out here anymore.  As evidenced as how everyone in footwork I helped back in 2014 has literally just ghosted like the rest of my professional network.  I had a couple of things to fall back on.  But it’s impossible to fall back onto anything when people would rather pretend you didn’t exist.  I’m always supposed to read into these psychotic projections by society because somehow I’m supposed to realize more is expected out of me.  I can’t figure this out completely.  Like I brought all this upon myself.  That’s the vibe I get from day to day.  That because I don’t share my plans, agenda, or strategy with the real world I’m shit out of luck.  The irony is that I do share it verbatim.  Week to week.  In a very coy, oblique way this is true.  But I am also a writer.  This is another talent I’ve been taught by society that has no value.  I wrote emails for my bosses for years on my days off.  On my birthday even.  This doesn’t mean it is worthless.  The audience is out there.  If it weren’t I would have quit sharing my feelings a long time ago.  I’m fairly aware at some point I’m going to have to put this all behind me.  Hopefully when the world wakes up and returns to normal like nothing ever happened.  That’s going on as we speak and I don’t even have a vaccine in my arm.  It’s a constant state of fear and missing out projected back at you.  That the reason I’m not happy is totally because of what I choose to take on in my life.  And I’m supposed to get the message when people don’t actually communicate.  I had this strange realization yesterday when I discovered all my videos were closed captioned.  I watch movies with subtitles all the time simply because I love to read.  My videos barely get ten views if that.  I often think content is content.  If you put it out there someone will eventually find it and wonder about it’s value.  In the age of semi-spiritual machines it’s true that the algorithms seem to be the only curators out there listening.  Everything I say out loud is transcribed and mothballed somewhere on Siri’s or Alexa’s servers.  When I take a screen shot of the things I say off the top of my head, I’m often aware that something acknowledges I actually said them.  It’s just nobody human really wants to pay attention. They are hardcoded over my videos as proof of the value of my words.  Not like you can sell the speculative value of it yet.  The first tweet is being auctioned off as a NFT and you wonder how worthless I have to feel at this point.  I’m sure we all feel a little of this deep down.  Disconnected and in some sort of weird emotional exile.  I think it just makes me realize more of what I am connected to.  A history of authenticity.  A life that trades the catwalk for the streets as brutal and unforgiving as they are.  Nobody can stop talking shit about me.  But it’s almost always a hallucination.  For a person who puts it all out there, I must be a shitty fucking writer.  I can spend week to week writing the same thing.  That I’m completely abandoned and ghosted out here on my own.  And how it’s less unsafe and more simply a degraded quality of life when it comes to my rights as a human being to be happy.  I’m supposed to get the message when nobody can bother to read mine.  The writing is on the wall I guess.

So instead of pining on and on about it which I just did for two paragraphs, I still look for solutions.  I still broadcast weekly to let people know I’m still alive.  I make funny jokes to myself and screencap them to mask deep emotional scarring that is no fault of my own.  I literally feel trapped and under duress almost all of the time.  And yet, I don’t really have the luxury of taking the shit when I’ve had the hope choked out of me until I can’t breathe.  If the answer is to keep ignoring the problem, it’s hard to be me.  Because nobody can leave me alone.  No one seems to have any sense of dignity as to what I’ve been through.  I never claimed to be a victim.  That’s not really me.  I’ve survived and been resilient.  I can see that working a six figure corporate job in New York or China is probably more worth my time in the not so distant future.  I can also see that I’m worth more than what people sell me short for.  I know we are in a dangerous time of confidence tricks.  I don’t really have much to lose other than cash positivity.  I can wait this out until the end of the summer for sure.  And then I start to think about spending another winter being hunted and shunned at the same time.  Mentally I can’t fuck with this city after what it’s done to me alone.  I can’t keep being a superhero for people who can’t be bothered to understand how painful it is to be taken for granted after all these years.  I just give up on everything in the past that isn’t working and move forward as best as I can.  Just like they threw the entire contents of my office in the trash I can let it go.  There is a very real emotional exhaustion I have to deal with from day to day.  The level of psychological torture and abuse I’ve witnessed first hand in this city is at a level that is unlawful and unhealthy.  I know too much about what it’s all connected to.  And I know I’m better than all of this.  I don’t know how to proceed.  And this is a very real and dangerous situation that I am stuck in the middle of a shark tank feeding frenzy of well meaning but rabid idiots and the pricks that prod them with a sharp stick.  I don’t have a future here in this city.  I don’t have a future in this state or country if you wanted me to be real about.  And yet I have so much potential if I just hold on for one more year.  For one more decade.  For another forty years when they turn my blog into a NFT after my death like I’m the next Van Gogh.  Everybody will talk about how they knew me and how tortured an artist I was.  I was so misunderstood and it was beautiful.  They’ll fund a school with the proceeds that kicked me out the door because I was a blight on their payroll and budget.  And I’ll be a digital ghost just the same.  I feel like that very ghost now every waking fucking moment.  It is a pain I cannot describe in words.  It is a suffering that is goaded on in the worst syndicate driven way.  I have nothing good to say about any of this shit anymore.  I have no more room to break down and make things worse for myself.  I just have to adjust my schedule and manage my emotions with it all because it’s my fault.  This is the message I keep hearing in my head projected by silent looks as I picked up my prescriptions on foot avoiding everyone who wants to see if it’s true.  If I really am the bogeyman.  The source of the problem.  Someone to blame.  The scapegoat for everything that is wrong with the world.  Convenient but ultimately not worth my time to humor.  Which is why I don’t really know what to do anymore other than to stay inside and wait for justice.  If there’s anything poetic about it, it’s that it runs pretty seamlessly at 1440p.  Much clearer resolution than what this city wants to offer me after what it’s put me through.  <3 Tim